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Glyn Robbins

January 15th, 2025

Finding hope in America’s volatile times

0 comments | 5 shares

Estimated reading time: 8 minutes

Glyn Robbins

January 15th, 2025

Finding hope in America’s volatile times

0 comments | 5 shares

Estimated reading time: 8 minutes

In this personal reflection on a recently completed Fulbright scholarship with the Rutgers University Honors Living-Learning Community in Newark, New Jersey, UK housing campaigner Glyn Robbins writes on how the 2024 presidential election results have been viewed in that community and how Americans may be able to find hope in volatile times. 

As January 20th looms, it feels like the US – and much of the rest of the world – is holding its breath. The full impact of a second Trump Presidency remains to be seen, but the omens aren’t good. What’s unfolding is less reminiscent of fascism than the House of Medici, the Italian 15th century political and banking dynasty. Relatives, friends, business partners and courtiers, most of them unelected, are being appointed to jobs many of them seem barely qualified for, including Linda McMahon, the presumptive Education Secretary, who has more experience promoting wrestling than learning. Meanwhile, to mix historic metaphors, Elon Musk increasingly resembles a latter-day Rasputin and Robert F Kennedy, a crank snake-oil salesman.

The view of the election from Newark, New Jersey

I watched the November elections from New Jersey. I was a Visiting Fulbright Scholar at Rutgers University, Newark, attached to a remarkable institution, the Honors Living Learning Community (HLLC). The experience gave me a unique insight into the nation’s psyche, in the throes of what it was told was “the most consequential election of a generation”.

One of my abiding memories of November 5th is how quickly the result turned from shocking to mundane. Despite some of Trump’s outrageous comments and lies, his victory quickly came to feel inevitable. This was almost entirely the result of the abject failure of Vice President Kamala Harris’ campaign, above all, its inability to persuade working class Americans that another Democratic presidency would do anything to improve their lives.

This was very apparent in New Jersey and its noisy neighbour, New York. Both states saw relatively small, but still significant, shifts towards the Republicans. As has been widely, if not always entirely accurately, reported, some of this was centred on the Latino community. In a bitter irony – and despite his repeated dog-whistle racism – Trump successfully appealed to a sense of national unity, while, perversely, presenting his opponents as divisive and elitist.

Poor choices and no alternatives

In Newark, this was reflected in apathy and Democratic Party complacency Moving around the city on Election Day, there were no signs that anything out of the ordinary was happening. There were no leaflets, speaker cars or rallies reminding people to vote – no sense of urgency, or awareness that, even if Newark is solid blue, its citizens may know people in places that weren’t. Sure enough, nearby Paterson, a place with an illustrious, radical working-class history, voted for Trump. This is anecdote rather than evidence, but I met several African American Newarkers who were deeply unimpressed with Harris.

I also saw nothing to indicate that there may be an alternative to the binary choice. The old saw that “the Third Party is the future of American politics and always will be” may be true. But it certainly is, if other parties don’t campaign. In Newark, I saw no alternatives until after election day, when, bizarrely, the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) started putting up posters urging people to reject the political status quo.

All these issues were felt keenly in the HLLC classroom. My group of 80 scholars were predominantly young people of colour, from Newark or its surrounding area, with “non-traditional” academic backgrounds. Some of them were first generation immigrants, who may now be worrying about Trump’s threatened mass deportations.

When we met on November 7th, there was a palpable sense of anxiety and anger. But again, this came as no real surprise. Throughout the semester, the HLLC scholars had repeatedly expressed a sense of alienation from establishment US politics. While some of them were committed to making positive change in their local communities, few had any faith in the national parties doing so. Many of them shared experiences of endemic racism they seemed almost resigned to. None of them had any confidence that the issue most likely to damage their futures – environmental catastrophe – will be averted, or even acknowledged, by the party duopoly.

Nonetheless, HLLC and life in Newark brought a resounding renewal of my love and affection for the US. The students I had the privilege of working with were delightful, courageous and creative – distilling the best essence of the nation. Despite all the threats, they were determined to resist the doom-loop and fight for a better future. Newark is a troubled city in some ways, but the people I met beyond the university were almost uniformly friendly and optimistic.

Quiet desperation with little end in sight

But this is not the prevailing national mood. It may be a difficult thing to measure, but not only is happiness in the US declining, but this is particularly true for young Americans. This is most graphically reflected in mass shootings but is more accurately seen in the quiet desperation of too many US citizens, trying to deal with debt, addiction and ill-health. During my time in Newark, I passed through the city’s Penn Station on numerous occasions. I suspect like many people, I became, almost desensitised to the weight of human misery, with scores of people (almost all African American) using the station as a shelter from homelessness, loneliness and mental illness. I was left with the abiding feeling that the only surprise about outbursts of crazed, violent anger – like those on the New York subway – is that they don’t happen more often.

Image credit: Glyn Robbins

As a long-time housing worker and campaigner, I’d be remiss not to mention that housing is often – and increasingly – the underlying cause of many of America’s woes. Again, November’s election campaign singularly failed to offer any solutions or hope for meeting the growing need for genuinely secure, safe and affordable homes. On the contrary, the only policies being preferred were worn-out retreads of private developer dominated “partnerships” that only really work to enrich people like Trump.

In some ways, November 5th felt like a desperate cry for help, but one that will go unanswered. I don’t accept the characterisation of Trump as a fascist, yet. But I do think there’s a real danger that his second term will mark a very significant and worrying move to the authoritarian right. The US economy, like most others in the capitalist world, is in a state of deep crisis. As with past fascist regimes, the response of the forthcoming Trump administration will be to distract attention by scapegoating minorities, while stamping down on the rights and freedoms of the majority. But this is where the fascist comparison breaks down. The American working class is not cowed. US labor unions have seen a recent surge in organising and action, against the background of the rising cost of living and stagnating wages. While I was in Newark, the local port was part of a strike by dockworkers, estimated to cost the US economy at least $1 billion a day. Unsurprisingly, the dispute was quickly settled, with a significant pay rise won, and a vivid reminder of where the real power in society lies.

Trump has claimed he can unleash an economic miracle, but he will face a serious challenge if he doesn’t deliver on his promises, or if the beneficiaries are only his wealthy friends. No amount of social media manipulation will hide this truth. There’s no doubt the US is entering a period of extreme volatility, terrifyingly demonstrated by the ongoing LA fires. I expect this to be the first of many such emergencies in the next four years. But my time in New Jersey has left me with a strong sense that, in the words of poet, author and activist, Langston Hughes, “on the rack and ruin of our gangster death”, America can be “that great strong land of love”.


About the author

Glyn Robbins

Glyn Robbins was born in London and has worked in housing since 1991, when he was a student of Professor Anne Power on the LSE's housing Masters course. In 2013 he completed a Ph.D in planning and urban policy. Since 2017, he has helped support students on the LSE's Cities Programme and became an LSE Visiting Fellow in 2019 and a Fulbright Scholar in 2020/21. He also manages a north London council estate. Glyn's writing about housing and urban policy has been widely published and he has frequently been interviewed by the media on the subject. In addition to his professional and academic involvement, Glyn is a long-time housing campaigner.

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