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The Screaming Twenties: How Elite Overproduction May Lead to a Decade of Discord in the United States

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Fighting was common in Congress in the Antebellum United States. Congressmen frequently brawled and dueled one another, and some openly carried knives and pistols.
Photo Credit: US Library of Congress

One of the great stories about the United States in recent years has been the rise of political polarisation and instability. Though the growing strife at the heart of the nation has been in the making for decades, the last year alone has seen the Covid Crisis, the death of George Floyd and the subsequent Black Lives Matter movement, as well as an election process that climaxed with the storming of the U.S Capitol Building. To any observer, it is apparent that these events have continued to exacerbate cleavages in American political life, and it seems that such divides will not be bridged anytime soon. The great fear is that US in the 21st Century may be facing a period of political instability, competing radical ideologies and ever-widening inequality. The last century in the US saw a post-World War One resurgence in the Roaring of the 1920s- will the 2020s in contrast see us dragged Screaming through the decade?

The United States is not alone in facing this problem. France has faced nationwide protests since 2018 with the gilets jaune movement, whilst the United Kingdom faced political paralysis and partisan infighting with the Brexit referendum (while Northern Ireland faced some of the worst riots its seen in years  in part due to the Irish Sea Border).  Many hypotheses have been put forward about the source of the discontent that has been rising in the United States and the rest of the Western world.  Yet no theorisation, I believe, can claim to be as unique or intriguing as that of elite overproduction, and there is reason to believe that the 2020s will continue to see increasing political instability because of it.

Peter Turchin, whose work has been gaining increased recognition as of late, uses Structural Demographic Theory alongside a way of studying the long-term dynamics that create conditions for political stability, and in turn, political disintegration, and uses this to analyse history. Turchin proposes that all structural-demographic variables that influence the (in)stability of a given society are encompassed within three forces: the population, the state, and the elites (with each of these categories subject to change in response to structural shifts).

The main components of Structural-Demographic Theory. Photo Credit: Peter Turchin

Though there is more to this theory that can be outlined here (if interested, Turchin’s Ages of Discord and blog come highly recommended), what is perhaps most compelling are the dynamics of intra-elite warfare, caused by what Turchin dubs elite overproduction.

Who are the elites? It is not just the capitalist class as such, but also lawyers, professionals, journalists, and cultural figures. These are the most highly vaunted positions within society that aspiring elites seek to enter in order to move up the social ladder. Yet what happens when the numbers of the elite and those who wish to enter the elite classes become too high for the society to adequately accommodate? This is what is known as elite overproduction.

When there is an oversupply of elites and elite aspirants, this creates the conditions for elite overproduction. Elite overproduction is usually created and influenced by factors such as labour oversupply which leads to increased competition for resources and jobs), popular immiseration, and declining living standards thus further swelling the ranks of elite aspirants seeking to work their way into the elite classes in order to secure a future for themselves,  as well as the revenues of the state and its ability to absorb these candidates. The result of these factors can be an increasingly large class of elite aspirants who find themselves spurned, a government and society that hasn’t the capacity to absorb them, as well as an elite class that benefits from these conditions and will often go to great lengths to protect their position.

Elite Overproduction mapped against popular well-being in the US. Image Credit: Peter Turchin

So where can we see elite overproduction? Turchin uses the case of Law graduates in the United States, as well as US wealth inequality as measurements of this phenomenon. Law happens to be one of the most popular degrees chosen by those wishing to enter politics, and is seen by aspiring elites as a way to attain professional prestige.  Yet the value of a Law degree is relative and is not above the laws of supply and demand. Of those graduating in 2015, only 63% of law graduates entered jobs that required the bar, and as of July 2020, those who majored in Criminal Justice had an underemployment rate of 73% ( meaning they are working jobs that don’t utilise their skills and are unable to work the hours they’d wish to).

Whilst it is certainly true that not all those that graduate in Law intend to practice it, there is a great deal of evidence to suggest that a large surplus of Law graduates is created in the U.S every year- a problem that is only compounded by the large student debt that they are left with, as well as the high hopes that many had for themselves. And this is only looking at Law graduates in the US. In the UK for example, nearly one-third of graduates were underemployed pre-Covid, and this likely to be much higher in the near future with the added complications of the Covid Crisis and the recession that followed it. When this is combined with declining living standards and anemic economic growth, you will see the creation of a class of embittered and scorned counter-elites, who hopes to join the elite classes has transmuted into resentment against them. It was understanding this frustration that led to the rise of politicians like Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn, who capitalised on the anger of many elite aspirants in the U.S and the U.K respectively.

Yet elite overproduction is not just about the elite rejects per se, but also about conflict amongst the elites themselves. It is no secret that wealth inequality has been on the increase for decades, leading to vast wealth gains not only amongst the economic hyper-elite, but also creating a proliferation in the number of millionaires within the US. What is perhaps less well understood is the effect this has on inter-elite dynamics. Wealthier citizens are typically more politically engaged than the rest of the populace and may even run for office themselves. Yet the supply of political offices to pursue within the United States has largely remained flat. For example, the number of congressional seats has remained at  435 since 1913, whilst the supply of those seeking political influence and potential candidates only continues to rise.  Elite overproduction can therefore even lead to a kind of elite class warfare, where the elites who feel themselves to left out of power and influence begin to fight those who they see as standing in their way, and the elite class itself begins to fracture under such conditions.

So how do elites react to these circumstances, and how does it lead to further political destabilisation? Turchin argues that there are essentially three cardinal sins that the elites often make in these conditions. Firstly, when there is a labour oversupply, the elite classes stand to benefit most from this as they are frequently the beneficiaries of cheaper labour and may even promote mass immigration for this very reason, and thus inequality begins to sky-rocket. Secondly, in an attempt to make their own positions more secure, they raise the bar to elite entry, kicking the ladder away from their would-be competitors and securing not only their own position but also that of their offspring, who will benefit from their built-up economic and social resources and stand a better chance of circumventing the obstacles they have raised. Lastly, the top earners of the society will often do anything to resist taxation and to maintain their own wealth at the expense of public spending – which leads to a dysfunctional and indebted state that people begin to lose faith in and respect for. Fundamentally, these elites stand to gain from the status quo, and many of them would rather defend their privileges than reform the system for the betterment of their country. This is a failing that does not go unnoticed. As Turchin writes, ‘Such selfish elites lead the way to revolutions’.

So what happens when the established elites and the counter-elites (both the spurned elite-aspirants as well as the excluded, competing elites) clash?. The elites who seek to maintain their own positions end up fighting amongst themselves over power and begin to fragment as a result, and they also face the embittered counter-elites that seek reform (and even revenge). The resulting situation is an increasingly unstable society in which the elites themselves attempt to hold onto their privileges at all costs against their competitors, whilst the counter-elites, who view themselves as having been betrayed by the status quo, fight to change this situation and seek the recruit some of the aggrieved population to join their cause. The political situation in such a society sees a breakdown in cooperation in the elite classes as they squabble over power, the breaking of acceptable norms as the fighting becomes more vicious, and an increasing amount of political instability and violence. With the events of 2020 still fresh in our memories, one cannot help but see some truth in this analysis. But what is concerning is that, as seen in the graphs above, is that the events of 2020 may not, in fact, be an aberration. Instead, 2020 may be a particularly memorable representative of a wider trend. As popular immiseration only deepens, as government debt only increases, and as elite overproduction shows no meaningful signs of slowing down,  2020 may have only been a warm-up for what is coming next.

So, what does this mean for the next decade? Though there seems to have been some stability restored to American politics with the election of Joe Biden, one would have to be very optimistic that the political polarisation and increasing levels of violence and protest in the United States are gone for good. Some 45% of Republicans according to one poll actually supported the actions of the Capitol Hill rioters, and some 68% didn’t consider it a threat to democracy- a worrying sign that extreme action is becoming increasingly acceptable in some quarters of American politics. Though the Democratic party controls both legislative chambers in Congress, their majorities are slim, and will likely require a great deal of political skill from Joe Biden to pass even the most modest legislation, never mind offering up bold solutions to America’s woes. It is highly unlikely that the increasing levels of polarisation and instability that 2020 seemed to typify are going anywhere anytime soon.

What the work done by Turchin seems to suggest is that the next decade is likely going to see an exacerbation of the trends that led America down its path to instability, and the 2020s may well be a decade of discord for the U.S.  The real question at this point is not a case of whether unrest and instability will unfold, but rather how serious will it get? If reform is not taken and cooperation continues to break down among the elites, the next decade may be Screaming rather than Roaring. Though it is not impossible for these trends to be effectively challenged and reversed, it would require a certain degree of unity and purpose amongst American elites to take the necessary actions, and it is this unity and leadership that America has been sorely lacking. Perhaps an understanding of just how dangerous the situation is and may become could change this. Time will tell.

Challenges to the Rule of Law in Times of Crisis Series: America strikes again – Thoughts on Biden’s first military airstrike in Syria

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A U.S. Air Force B-1B Lancer flies over northern Iraq after conducting air strikes in Syria against ISIL targets. Photo Credit: US Department of Defense, Public Domain.

This article is part of our series on Challenges to the Rule of Law in Times of Crisis. Read the series introduction at this link.

America is back in business, and a significant part of its stock in trade is the use of military force. Syria knows as much after being hit by two consecutive administrations in the past four years. Whatever differences Donald Trump and Joe Biden may have in style, demeanour, rhetoric, and politics, when it comes to the use of force their international record so far looks very similar.

Although the US is not formally engaged in an international armed conflict with the state of Syria, over the last years it has deployed military personnel on Syrian territory to stave off the threat of ISIS, and reportedly also to provide a geopolitical counterweight against Russian presence in the region. Moreover, the US has carried out military airstrikes on Syrian territory, most notably in 2017,  again in 2018 alongside European allies, and recently on 25 February 2021. Ironically, Trump’s strikes against the Syrian government in 2017 and 2018 were prompted by an ostensible humanitarian rhetoric that is absent in Biden’s justification for his recent decision to strike Iran-backed non-governmental militias operating in Syria.

Indeed, among other grounds such as self-defence and an alleged mandate by the international community, four years ago Trump famously invoked humanitarian concerns in light of the shock produced by the Syrian government’s use of chemical weapons against its own population. Conversely, no chemical weapons were involved this time, and Biden steered clear of such humanitarian rhetoric and stuck to the traditional right of self-defence under the UN Charter to address attacks against US and its allies in Iraq.

This recent strike has been met with immediate condemnation by international law experts, mainly on the grounds that the right of self-defence must be exercised – always in a necessary and proportionate manner – against an armed attack that has occurred, or that is imminent. Since Biden’s strike was carried out ten days after the events motivating it, this US extraterritorial response seems to be too late to qualify as self-defence against an ongoing or imminent threat. Rather, it has been decried as an act of armed reprisal, which is illegal under international law.

Many questions remain to be answered or at least discussed from an international law perspective, bearing on the proverbial who, when and what. These include the legality of the use of force by one single state with no mandate in lieu of the collective security system represented by the UN Security Council; the deterrence of future threats instead of responding to current or past attacks; and the possibility of considering a series of discrete but coherent actions, in this case by non-governmental actors, as a single armed attack under the ‘accumulation of events’ doctrine.

Alongside international law, legal experts have also reflected on the justification for this recent attack under US domestic law, especially considering that this time the battered Authorization for the Use of Military Force or ‘AUMF’ – passed by the US Congress in 2002, its use spanning over two decades of strikes against Iraq, ISIS, and Iranian official Qasem Soleimani – was left on the shelf. Instead, Biden claimed to have direct authority under the US Constitution to conduct the attack.

Thus, the picture legal experts have painted when analysing Biden’s debutant strike is one of plausible justification under domestic law, and of highly dubious lawfulness under international law.

But even if all lawyers agreed that the attack was illegal under both domestic and international law, is the legal rationale the only one we need to take into account to assess Biden’s first use of military force? Is there something else we might say from a moral perspective? Even notorious legal positivists admit there is always room for moral scrutiny beyond the law. This becomes particularly relevant when legal discourse is quickly exhausted, as it is often the case with the scant provisions of international law bearing on the use of force. What will we do when we label an act as illegal, and yet global powers continue to commit it? Will we surrender to the cynicism of realpolitik, or will we fall back to a broader normative language to keep our moral judgments on the ball?

In the case of the use of force between nations, the articulation of such moral enquiries has taken over the centuries the form of the ‘Just War’ tradition, which unfolds into two separate lines of inquiry: when is it justified to resort to armed force (jus ad bellum)? And, what is permitted and prohibited in the conduction of hostilities once the war has begun (jus in bello)? In recent years the discussion has branched out into new avenues, including jus post bellum and jus ad vim (from the Latin vim or ‘force’). The latter was first suggested by Michael Walzer in the preface to the 2006 fourth edition of his canonical Just and Unjust Wars. Reflecting on the controversial invasion of Iraq a few years before, Walzer wrote:

“the Iraqi case invites us to think about the use of force-short-of-war; the containment      regime of 1991-2003 that the UN endorsed and the United States enforced is only one     possible example of this use. (…) force-short-of-war obviously comes before war itself.   The argument about jus ad bellum needs to be extended, therefore, to jus ad vim. We     urgently need a theory of just and unjust uses of force. This shouldn’t be an overly tolerant             or permissive theory, but it will certainly be more permissive than the theory of just and   unjust war.” (p. xv)

And we may add, certainly more permissive than international law, which clearly prohibits any ‘use of force’ by states under article 2(4) of the UN Charter, with very few exceptions (i.e. self-defence and Security Council authorization). But as we saw, the law is not the only framework to analyse instances of the use of force, and some scholars have taken up Walzer’s challenge, laying the groundwork for a new theory of jus ad vim. Among such theorists we find Daniel Brunstetter and Megan Braun, who in 2013 published their influential article titled “From Jus ad Bellum to Jus ad Vim: Recalibrating Our Understanding of the Moral Use of Force.”

According to these authors under jus ad vim a just cause for using force is aggression, whether by states or non-state actors, warranting recourse to the right of self-defence. The use of force must be also proportional, a last resort, authorized by a legitimate authority, and carried out with the right intent (all traditional jus ad bellum criteria). The thrust of their argument is that the use of force must always reduce the probability of escalation. In other words, vim resulting in bellum evidences a failure in the application of the characteristically de-escalatory rationale underlying jus ad vim. As to international law, Brunstetter and Braun argue that jus ad vim should ideally be anchored in that normative regime, but if international law proves to be too narrow to respond to the needs of states, then it will have to evolve through customary law to mirror the evolution of our shared ethical judgments.

Based on the foregoing, can we say that the recent US airstrike in Syria satisfies jus ad vim? There might be some room to argue that US forces and allies were attacked in Iraq and, therefore, that the use of force-short-of-war in self-defence was warranted. And even if we were extremely generous as to concede that the other criteria of last resort, legitimate authority, and right intent were met, a considerable problem from the perspective of jus ad vim remains: however localized and discriminate, such attacks risked escalating hostilities in an already hot and unstable environment. And considering the heavy involvement of Russia in the Syrian quandary, the risk of escalation of the armed conflict to turn into a Cold War-style proxy war between the US (and its allies) and Russia (and its allies) must be an ever-present consideration in every policy decision made by the US, regardless of who sits in the Oval Office.

America is back in business, but for many it just feels like business as usual. Yet, this does not mean that the use of force can continue simply unchecked or that we should surrender to pure realism, for there is a full normative framework in place to assess the legality and morality of such acts under the principles of international law, jus ad bellum and jus ad vim. By using the legal view as a departure point for further moral discussion, the interplay between all these standards offers the potential to strengthen our convictions and hone our judgments about the use of force and war.

Europe’s Options for the Boogaloo

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by Michael C. Davies

US Civil War redux? (Image credit: The Trumpet)

Moe: ‘Oh ho, an English boy, eh? You know we saved your ass in World War Two.’
Hugh: ‘Yeah, well, we saved your ass in World War Three.’
– ‘Lisa’s Wedding,’ The Simpsons, S6E19.

In the past few weeks, U.S. President Donald J. Trump, and the Republican Party more generally, have made it clear they are willing to do anything to remain in power in the aftermath of the 2020 election, including possibly starting a civil war. Both Trump himself and numerous Republican Party elected officials and apparatchiks have stated they will neither acknowledge the outcome of the election if they lose, an election Trump already decries as illegitimate, nor participate in it fairly. Even more concerning is that a contested result could light a spark many on the American right are hoping for. White supremacists groups have grown exponentially during his Administration, and declare any event other than a Trump victory to be grounds to start the Boogaloo—the white supremacists’ slang term for a second American civil war. The question therefore becomes, what will Europe do if America fractures? Should this happen, Europe, broadly, will have four options to consider.

The roots of a possible second American civil war have been identifiable since the end of the first civil war in 1865. While the Confederacy was military and politically defeated in 1865, it re-emerged soon after and took back control of the South, imposed Jim Crow laws and social regulations, and expanded into the West. Certainly not for the last time, the United States chose white supremacy and strategic failure rather than engaging in effective state-building to achieve a new birth of freedom. This time, with forty years of free-market fundamentalism having stolen $50 trillion from the American people and collapsing the American middle class, the lack of quality health care and student loans collapsing birth rates, and decades of sectarian media blaming it all on ‘others,’ a large percentage of the American populous is armed, ready, and willing to wash the country in a genocidal and politicidal cleansing fire, just as the Confederacy did during the Civil War.

In Donald Trump, the Confederate element of American society has found their saviour. Trump’s approval rating has rarely moved regardless of how many more failures pile up exactly because he treats politics as his favourite movie, Bloodsport. He antagonizes large swathes of the populous because they refuse to love him and treat him with the respect he believes he deserves. After all, this was the man who did not really care about the number of COVID-19 deaths until the virus started affecting ‘his’ people—citizens in Republican-leaning states. 225,000+ dead, ever-rising, and he is more than happy to say it ‘affected virtually nobody.’ To Trump, he is only the President of those who love him. And a pox on all others—now, literally.

It is precisely because far right-wing groups praise him that Trump has allowed them to flourish under his Administration and reach the mainstream. Individually and collectively, they all pine for the Boogaloo. Groups like the Oath Keepers, the Boogaloo Boys, the Proud Boys, and now, the incredible rise of the mind-melting QAnon conspiracy, together with the ever-present militia movements that all have their basis in white supremacist violence, give form to the battle lines being drawn. Their goal, broadly, is to impose a right-wing anarcho-capitalist white supremacist state in America using extreme mass violence. Their intentions are so clear even establishment centrists who bemoan any act of revolt against these groups and their political handmaidens have finally begun to see the writing is on the wall.

The question therefore remains, what will Europe do should conflict break out? During the last US Civil War, because of America’s distance and Europe’s own problems, it largely left the war alone, preferring to see who emerged on top. This time, distance and impact are meaningless. Should the US divide into a years-long brawl, Europe’s own security blanket—conventional and nuclear via the NATO alliance—will be torn asunder with it. European states, individually and collectively, therefore have a direct stake in the outcome. The closeness of Trump to Russia, after all, regardless of the causation, is a daily worry for those who share a border with Russia and rely on NATO, especially American, military forces for deterrence. Without it, RAND estimates, they will last barely 60 hours.

Under the worst scenario of a breakout of a new civil war, Europe has four basic options: First, Do nothing. As scholar Edward Luttwak previously suggested, the option always exists to just ‘give war a chance’ and see what happens and adapt to the new circumstances at the end. Second, Lend Lease. As the US did during the Second World War before it engaged, it provided material for the war effort. Third, volunteers. Like the International Brigades in the Spanish Civil War, Eagle Squadrons of the Second World War, The Crippled Eagles in Rhodesia, or more recently as the ISIS and anti-ISIS fighters in Iraq and Syria, Europe could allow its citizens to fight in America. Whether it would allow fighters for both sides is another question altogether, however.

Or, finally, would the satirical epigraph at the start of this post prove prescient—would Europe mobilize to defeat this new Confederacy? Would it make a stand on its own values and strategic interests? Suffering under a long history of continual strategic failure, with Iraq and Afghanistan only being the latest examples, it would take a significant shift in elite, military, and popular imaginations to make this happen. Regardless of what choice could be made, each option comes with its own risks and rewards. But with greater risk comes greater reward. And choosing the lesser options can mean Europe will further erode its ability to secure itself, and perhaps fall (further) into its own pit of darkness once more.

As Cathal Nolan made clear in his estimable history of battle, ‘moral and material attrition’ are the ‘main determinants of outcome in wars among the Great Powers.’ Simply, those who mobilise the most usually win. Without a doubt, the right-wing in the US, both government and non-government, remains the most ready, willing, and able to engage in large-scale violence. But they are also the smallest demographically, weakest economically, and the obedience of large parts of the US Government to Trump can no longer be counted on, let alone in the event of a full outbreak of violence. Thus, the choices Europe makes early on matters. And the decision, to reverse Churchill’s hope, for the Old World to ‘step forth to the rescue and the liberation of the [new]’ might be required if it is to avoid conflagration on its own soil.

Michael C. Davies is a Ph.D. candidate in Defence Studies at King’s College London, focusing on the theory and practice of victory. He previously conducted lessons learned research at the U.S. National Defense University where he co-authored three books on the Wars of 9/11 and is one of the progenitors of the Human Domain doctrinal concept. He is also the Coordinating Editor with the Strife Journal.