I have to admit it: the American election process has won me over. I don’t understand the process, or the accumulation of delegates, bound or unbound, super or ordinary – it is all far beyond me. But the madness and drama have hooked me. I can’t believe it: I even watch the appalling Fox news for breaking news and commentary on the populist Trump phenomenon.
I don’t see that anything good will come out of this election and instead have a sense that we are watching a political system unravel as the raw effects of globalisation on the one hand, and on the other hand, a privileged class controlling the political and financial machinery, collide. One dimly remembers student riots in Paris 1968 and, not so long ago, the now poisonous memory of the Arab Spring.
Yeats’ poem ‘The Second Coming’ springs to mind with its ominous apocalyptic closure:
“What rough beast, its hour come round as last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”