All over the world strident populists, such as Donald Trump, Geert Wilders and Marine Le Pen are on the march. Here we give insights into their rise and explain how critics can tackle their Teflon like ability to survive and indeed flourish in the face of controversy.

For the purpose of analysis, take Trump – probably the best known of this ilk and recently referred to by Alastair Campbell as the ‘biggest baboon in the jungle’. His most immediate concern will be the outcome of his ongoing hush money trial, and it is fitting that we begin our discussion of him here. As well as this case, he faces three other criminal cases, one concerning the capitol riots, another his efforts to overturn the 2020 election in Georgia and the final his handling of classified documents. It is well observed that none of these seem to have materially shifted the dial with respect to his support. Indeed, the progression of these cases seems to have coincided instead with a strengthening of his polling.

But it is not just legal issues that he has been able to shrug off. His comments, which frequently stray into the outrageous, include proposing injecting disinfectant into the body as a potential alleviant for Covid and bragging that, as a star, he could do anything he wanted to women – which he then followed with an infamous expletive.

Many politicians in years gone by have seen their careers derailed for more innocuous comments and controversies. Yet Trump continues a seemingly inexorable march forward. The solidity of his support has led him to believe that he could ‘stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody… [without] los[ing] any voters’. Many observers look on with bemusement, and are asking themselves ‘how does he get away with all of this?’

To understand, it is important to take note of the underlying mood of the electorate. A frequently disseminated Gallup survey asks Americans ‘In general, are you satisfied or dissatisfied with the way things are going in the United States at this time?’ Over the 1980s, the average reported satisfaction level was 43%, in the 1990s it was down to 41%, in the 2000s it slipped further to 39%, before dropping sharply in the 2010s to 26%. This downward trajectory has since continued, and satisfaction was down to 23% at the last measuring in April 2024.

Various polling confirms that disaffection is now the prevailing mood across much of the developed world. The numbers in the UK, for example, make for similarly desultory reading. A YouGov survey found that in September 2023, 67% of adults in the UK believed that ‘generally speaking… for the majority of children growing up today, life will be worse… than it [has been for themselves and their] generation so far’, compared to only 14% who believe life will be better.

There are two reasons why this is relevant in the present context. First, there is a tendency during times of struggle and desperation for higher values to be superseded by more tangible needs. Akin to how humans can only strive for ‘self-actualisation’ in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs once the more basal requirements have been satisfied. People today may therefore be more willing to tolerate moral transgressions on the part of their politicians so long as they believe that appropriate policy, which addresses fundamental issues, is being pursued. The problem that Americans currently regard as most important, according to another Gallup survey, is immigration – which of course has been a central feature in Trump’s speeches.

But he is certainly not alone in advancing a tough stance on immigration. Ron DeSantis and Vivek Ramaswamy, for example, were both equally vociferous on the issue whilst running for the Republican nomination – clearly there is something else setting Trump apart.

This brings us to the second reason that high dissatisfaction is relevant. In despondent environments, those perceived to be credibly offering change are likely to appeal most to the electorate. And credibility here is bolstered by doing things differently to traditional political figures. Headlines such as ‘Trump found guilty of X in unprecedented trial’ or ‘Trump shocks listeners by suggesting Y’ emotionally registers to many as ‘Trump is a disruptive force that offers something new’.

Viewed through this lens, the resilience of support for the likes of Donald Trump, Geert Wilders and Marine Le Pen is much more understandable. In an environment where people want change, anything that grabs the headline and looks unusual or different is likely to play well. Never has the adage ‘there is no such thing as bad publicity’ been more appropriate for politicians.

Journalists and politicians criticising Trump have often highlighted his infractions and eccentricity. In doing this, they have only played into his image of being a disruptive and radical force at a time when this is exactly what a huge swathe of the electorate wants.

A far more pernicious, but infrequently adopted, line of attack would be to really question what change he is offering. Underneath his insouciant and provocative style, it is important to interrogate whether the substance of his policy – beyond sensational but impractical ideas designed only to grab attention – is really that radical or different. In the current political environment, he would be far less successful if thought of as a boring and stale member of the establishment representing continuity rather than a shocking outsider who will smash up the system.

Going into the election campaign, his critics ought to challenge the extent to which he is advocating fresh ideas to arrest or reverse the downward momentum in satisfaction – which incidentally slid from 30% to 11% during his first term. Perhaps if he does win in 2024, some of the extraordinary predictions advanced, for example that US democracy would collapse, will not materialise. The experience he is offering domestically, beyond the inevitable noise and drama, may be far less dramatic: a disappointing and flaccid continuation of business as usual.