Disorder reigns

In our previous issue, we reflected on the growing political instability, shaped by a multidimensional crisis of capitalism and encompassing shifts in the imperial order and a breakdown of elements of the neoliberal political centre.1 That was written a month before the inauguration of Donald Trump as president of the United States, an event encapsulated by Elon Musk, the richest person in the world and a key Trump ally, giving a Nazi salute to the crowd.

Outlandish as Trump and Musk seem, they are not inexplicable anomalies, but rather an expression, “morbid symptoms”, of the crisis.2 Trump reflects not just the polarisation of global politics as the legitimacy of the old neoliberal consensus collapses, he is also a response to the long decline of US economic might. An economy that in 1960 contributed just short of 40 percent of global gross domestic product (GDP) now registers somewhere below 25 percent. There have been several attempts to shore up and reassert US imperial power since the end of the Cold War, but Trump has distinguished himself by his willingness to bolster the US through threatening or cajoling both enemies and erstwhile allies.3

The public humiliation of Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy by Trump and his vice president, JD Vance, at one level simply exposed to a global audience the bullying US administrations have routinely meted out to weaker powers down the decades. However, it also reflects an attempt to shift US strategy. This is not, as some lazy commentators have suggested, primarily a consequence of Trump’s affinity with Russian president, Vladimir Putin.4 Like leaders of other recent administrations, Trump is eager to see off the threat of China, by far the US’s most important rival. The gamble here is that the US can both save itself the cost of supporting Ukraine and strengthen its hand in its confrontation with China by breaking Moscow off from its alliance with Beijing. This would be a reverse of the manoeuvre performed by Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger, who sought to draw China into an alliance with the US, and away from the Soviet Union, at the end of the Cold War.5

Trump’s approach is a departure from the policy of Joe Biden, who sought instead to work with major European powers to turn Ukraine into a proxy that could weaken Russia and send a signal to China. Naturally, neither Trump nor Biden had any genuine attachment to the principle of Ukrainian self-determination per se; both have sought to intervene to further US imperial ambitions—even if their specific approaches differ. As Rob Ferguson wrote in this journal almost three years ago, while Biden was in office: “The interests of the US and NATO lie in a strategic long-term defeat for Russia, not self-determination for Ukraine. In achieving this goal, the US also aims to send a warning to other states, particularly China”.6

The new approach does not undermine the argument made in these pages that Ukrainian efforts at self-defence in the face of Russian imperialism have largely been subsumed within a dynamic of inter-imperialist conflict between Russia and NATO. Ukraine’s status as a “proxy” of NATO is affirmed by the fact that the continuation of the war depends on the will of external powers. From 2022 to 2024, Ukraine received roughly 1.75 times its annual pre-war GDP in external aid from the US and Europe—divided fairly evenly between the two, with the military component overwhelmingly from Washington.7 European leaders may offer pledges of support and friendship for Zelenskyy in public, but they show little appetite for bankrolling or arming the war effort in the face of US opposition. As Ferguson warned: “The political price of NATO weapons will be a territorial settlement made in Washington, Moscow, Berlin and Paris, not in Kiev”.8

We will offer a more substantive analysis of the fallout from the Ukraine conflict in our summer issue. However, imperial disorder is not confined to the war that has raged in Eastern Europe. Another facet is the growing assertiveness of a range of regional imperialisms that have sought to play on a more localised level the role that the big imperialists seek to play globally. Israel’s genocidal war in Gaza, where a precarious ceasefire was teetering on the edge of collapse as we went to press, is one aspect of this. Syria has also been subjected to the intervention of rival global and regional imperialisms since the eruption of revolution in 2011 and the brutal counterrevolution by the regime of Bashar al-Assad.

As Anne Alexander shows in her article in this issue, the fall of the Assad regime, while a welcome vindication of those who rose up in 2011, reflects a complex interaction of internal and external factors. Assad’s repression of the revolution both weakened his own base of support and opened a space for the growth Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (Levant Liberation Organisation; HTS), whose forces marched into Damascus in late 2024. Russia’s preoccupation with Ukraine and the impact of Israel’s assault on Iran and Hezbollah, weakened forces that had helped prop up the Assad regime. Turkey, another regional imperialism that entered the conflict, also played a role in sponsoring the HTS, while simultaneously backing the militias known as the Syrian National Army that have clashed with Kurdish forces operating in Syria.9 As Alexander argues, the different social and imperialist forces operating in Syria mean that the HTS regime is unlikely to bring stability to this ravaged land.

Political polarisation

If Trump is an expression of growing geopolitical tensions, he also stands at the head of a global wave of far-right movements and figures, given renewed confidence by his return to the White House.10 This includes the right wing in South Korea, where the conflicts unleashed by president Yoon Suk Yeol’s attempted “auto-coup” late last year continue, with mobilisations by the left and right on the streets and on university campuses. Our interview with Choi Il-bung, a South Korean socialist participating in these struggles, examines, among other issues, the roots of the far-right movement surrounding Yoon. In Europe, too, such forces continue to make breakthroughs. Most recently, as Sascha Radl explains in his analysis, the Alternative for Germany (AfD), its fascist wing now firmly in the ascendant, has emerged as the main opposition party in the recent general election.

Here in Britain, the rise of Reform UK, discussed extensively in our previous two issues, continues to cast a shadow. Meanwhile, Labour’s prime minister, Keir Starmer, while enjoying a huge parliamentary majority, stumbles from mishap to mishap. Although it is tempting to see this merely as a product of incompetence, Starmer also has the misfortune to be subjected to the consequences of the multidimensional crisis of capitalism, with its ability to bend and break administrations. In this case, there is a tension between Starmer’s desire to prop up elements of the old neoliberal centre—institutions and policies whose failures helped pave the way for the current crisis—and the need to accommodate to the new politics associated with authoritarian and racist statism.

Hence, the extraordinary letter written by the prime minister to his cabinet and seen by the Financial Times, repudiating many of the ideas held dear by the administrations led by Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, veterans of which continue to provide much of the staff for Starmer’s administration. The letter rejected the idea that “globalisation held all the answers”, and criticised “complacency” about the role of the market. It added that the public are “hungry for change and disruption” and contested the notion that immigration was an “untrammelled good”.11

Again, geopolitics plays a crucial role underpinning these ideological shifts. Starmer was eager after the inauguration to cross the Atlantic to abase himself before Trump, before which he announced plans to increase British defence spending to 2.5 percent of GDP—and even further, to 3 percent, if Labour win the next election. This acquiesces to a long-standing push from Trump for NATO members to raise their military expenditure closer to the US’s 3.5 percent of GDP, something to which, as Radl argues, the incoming German administration also aspires. The shift to intensified militarism across NATO is likely to be a defining feature of politics in the period ahead.

In that context, a new bout of public sector austerity signalled by Labour chancellor Rachel Reeves is not just a result of the weakness of the British economy and the pressure of bond markets—it reflects a conscious choice to expand Britain’s military capacity at the expense of other areas of spending. Cuts to the overseas aid budget to fund arms spending triggered the resignation of one Labour minister, Anneliese Dodds. As International Socialism went to press, an equally callous drive to cut disability benefits to further free up funds was triggering rows across the Labour Party, with several cabinet ministers expressing disquiet, at least behind closed doors.

Meanwhile, there is little sign of growth arriving to ease the pressure on the government. On the contrary, the impact of Trump’s latest round of tariffs, the overall instability of the system and the inability of our rulers to address the deep-seated causes of the present economic malaise mean it would be foolish to rule out a recession before the end of 2025. The result of these economic problems with be deepening confrontation with workers and other oppressed groups. Who benefits from the resulting social tensions—the far right or the radical left—depends on how we respond to shape and direct resistance.

The way forward

Central to the left’s response must be efforts to show the connection between the elements of the crisis and to nurture collective resistance. The old slogan, “welfare not warfare”, is essential today as Labour diverts cash away from the public sector to pay for armaments. This was to be one of the themes of the “Summit of Resistance”, set to take place in London after we went to press.12 The Summit is a good example of how the radical left can try to cut through the shock and paralysis that the rise of figures such as Trump or the AfD in Germany can induce. The large numbers booking reflected a widespread desire to see some action—not least from the trade unions—in response to the assault Reeves and Starmer are preparing.

By connecting economic and social struggles to the wider political battles, over Palestine, racism or political representation on the left, the Summit was poised to help forge a “sword” to advance workers’ demands. However, a “shield”, a broad but radical movement to confront racism and fascism, is also required. This is clear from France, which has had over recent decades far higher levels of workers’ resistance than Britain, along with enormously powerful social movements, but where Marine Le Pen remains in lead position in polling for the next presidential race. As Denis Godard suggests in his reply to John Mullen, anti-fascist unity in action is vital to drive back the likes of Le Pen. Here in Britain, we have in Stand up to Racism an important effort to cohere struggles against Reform UK and an array of far-right street movements. It will need to be further strengthened in the period ahead.

Finally, as the multifaceted crisis evolves, it becomes more important than ever, as our article on “cadrisation” in this issue proposes, that a network of Marxist activists is built, able to provide clear direction and effective tactics, and to promote and develop an anti-capitalist politics rooted in the working class.

Joseph Choonara is the editor of International Socialism. He is the author of A Reader’s Guide to Marx’s Capital (Bookmarks, 2017) and Unravelling Capitalism: A Guide to Marxist Political Economy (2nd edition: Bookmarks, 2017).

Notes