As someone who has spent most of my life working with people for whom the system is profoundly broken, I wrestle with the same question that many middle-class people do: Why do so many disenfranchised people support figures like Donald Trump, whose policies often seem designed to further entrench inequality? The answer, I’ve come to realise, isn’t as simple as ignorance or irrationality—it’s about living in a system that fundamentally doesn’t work for them, a reality that can be hard for us in the middle class to fully grasp.
I try to do my best to help, to advocate, and to create meaningful change within the bounds of what’s possible. But the truth is, no matter how much effort I put in, I’m working within a system designed for people like me—not for the people I serve.
The middle-class illusion of stability
For those of us in the middle class, the rules-based system we live in is imperfect, but functional. We know the path: study hard, get a stable job, work toward owning a home, save for retirement. These rules, while occasionally frustrating, generally reward effort and diligence. When things go wrong—a job loss, an unexpected bill, or a downturn in the economy—we have some resilience built into our lives, whether through savings, social networks, or institutional support.
This stability breeds an assumption that the system is fair, or at least fixable. We look at inequities and think the solution lies in adjustments or reform: a policy tweak here, an extra safety net there. We can’t fathom the deep alienation and mistrust felt by those for whom the system has never worked. And that’s where the disconnect begins.
Working with those the system fails
In my work, I’ve seen firsthand what it looks like when the system doesn’t deliver. I’ve worked with people who are locked out of opportunities, trapped in cycles of poverty, and disillusioned by institutions that promise fairness but deliver only obstacles. For these individuals, the rules are often a source of oppression, not opportunity. Fines for minor infractions spiral into unpayable debts. Jobs, when they can find them, don’t offer stability or a liveable wage. Education and healthcare—pillars of the middle-class experience—are inaccessible or inadequate.
I try to help, to navigate these challenges alongside them, but the limitations of the system are glaring. While I believe in incremental reform, I also see why, for many, it feels utterly inadequate. Promises to “fix the system” often ring hollow because the system was never designed to serve them in the first place.
Why the disenfranchised turn to demagogues
This is why figures like Trump resonate with the disenfranchised. For people who feel alienated and ignored, incremental solutions sound absurd. They don’t want the system patched up—they want it blown apart. Trump’s rhetoric about being an outsider, about rejecting “the swamp” and breaking the rules, speaks directly to this frustration. His promises may be vague or disingenuous, but they represent a disruption of the status quo, which is enough for many to feel heard for the first time.
When the system is broken for you, voting for someone who promises to tear it down—even if you suspect they won’t—feels like a logical choice. It’s not about policy; it’s about protest.
The rich: allies in exploiting the system
Ironically, the wealthy share a similar disdain for the rules but for entirely different reasons. Where the poor are crushed by the system, the rich have the resources to bypass or exploit it. They don’t need to follow the rules because they can afford to write their own. Leaders like Trump navigate these dynamics masterfully, courting the disenfranchised with anti-establishment rhetoric while quietly serving the interests of the elite.
This duality—pretending to fight the system while reinforcing it—makes Trump and similar figures uniquely dangerous. They consolidate power by appealing to the extremes, leaving the middle class bewildered and disconnected from the realities at either end.
My middle-class perspective
What we can do
If we in the middle class want to understand the rise of kleptocrats, we need to start by confronting our own assumptions. The system serves us, but it doesn’t serve everyone, and patching it up won’t fix that. Instead of dismissing the poor for voting against their “interests,” we need to ask why the system feels so hopeless to them that they’d rather tear it down. Only then can we begin to address the real issues and break the cycle of disillusionment that kleptocrats exploit so effectively.
Until then, all I can do is continue trying—working within a system that works for me but not for everyone, knowing that my best efforts will never be enough to fix what’s broken for so many.
David O’Halloran is an occupational therapist with nearly 40 years’ experience and lectures in Work and Labour Market Theory at Monash University. He is also the President of the Tasmanian Council of Churches.
Contributions to Pearls and Irritations
Your contribution will fund quality independent comment and analysis in Pearls and Irritations
Contribute
