Useful Idiots, Failed Leaders and the Decline of Western Politics
Michael de Percy, writing in The Spectator Australia on 6 November 2026, asks why so many Americans voted like useful idiots in the midterm elections. His concern is that a weakened Donald Trump, confronted by an opposition-controlled Congress, may become a lame-duck president at precisely the moment when the West needs decisive leadership. He fears that the political consequences could be disastrous for Western civilisation. There is much to be said about the decline of Western political judgment, but the problem goes considerably deeper than the electoral fortunes of Donald Trump.
For decades, large numbers of Western voters have behaved in ways that critics might reasonably describe as politically self-defeating. They complain about declining living standards, expensive housing, deteriorating public services, rising energy costs and the increasing distance between ordinary citizens and their political representatives. Yet they repeatedly return to power political establishments whose policies they blame for these conditions. The parties change, the slogans change, and the faces appearing on television change, but the fundamental direction of government often remains remarkably similar.
The expression "useful idiots," traditionally associated with people who unwittingly advance political causes contrary to their own interests, has a certain relevance here. Yet it would be a mistake to assume that ordinary voters are simply stupid. Many are poorly informed, certainly, but they also operate within political systems that offer increasingly restricted choices. When the principal alternatives differ more in presentation than in fundamental policy, voters may find themselves choosing between competing versions of the same political establishment.
The deeper question is why Western democracies have become so poor at producing political leaders of genuine character. Modern politics rewards media performance, factional loyalty, fundraising ability, carefully managed public relations and the capacity to survive within party organisations. None of these qualities necessarily has much relationship to courage, honesty, wisdom or statesmanship. Indeed, the qualities required to rise through contemporary political machinery may sometimes be precisely those that make an individual unsuitable for exercising great responsibility.
Donald Trump illustrates this problem in an unusual way. His political success arose partly from his willingness to challenge establishments that many Americans had come to distrust. His rejection of conventional political language, his criticism of globalisation and his attacks upon entrenched bureaucratic interests attracted people who believed that the traditional Republican leadership had abandoned them. These concerns were not necessarily mistaken merely because Trump became their most prominent spokesman.
But identifying genuine problems is not the same thing as possessing the character and judgment required to solve them. Trump's political career has been marked by extraordinary personal combativeness, impulsive rhetoric, unstable relationships with advisers and a tendency to personalise political disagreements. His supporters may regard these qualities as evidence of strength, but genuine statesmanship requires considerably more than an appetite for confrontation. The ability to insult an opponent is not equivalent to the ability to govern a great nation wisely.
Compare Trump with Theodore Roosevelt, a president whose personal courage and vigorous temperament became legendary. Roosevelt was certainly no stranger to political conflict. He was combative, energetic and capable of extraordinary determination. Yet his public career was also grounded in extensive reading, historical knowledge, military experience, administrative reform and a conception of national duty that extended beyond his own political fortunes. His leadership was not without serious faults, including the imperial assumptions of his age, but he possessed a breadth of intellectual and practical experience that modern political celebrity rarely approaches.
Roosevelt's famous conception of the strenuous life was not simply an invitation to political aggression. It involved discipline, responsibility, sacrifice and the willingness to undertake difficult tasks in the service of something larger than personal ambition. His public philosophy recognised that national greatness depended upon the character of citizens and institutions as much as upon the personality of a president. That is a much more demanding standard than the contemporary political habit of equating loudness with courage.
The comparison is particularly revealing when considering the temptation to regard Trump as the indispensable saviour of Western civilisation. If the survival of the West depends upon one ageing politician becoming sufficiently angry with his opponents, then Western civilisation is already in profound difficulty. A healthy political order should be capable of producing generations of competent leaders, maintaining constitutional institutions and correcting destructive policies without requiring the emergence of a political strongman.
The problem is hardly confined to America. Australia provides its own depressing history of declining confidence in political leadership. Successive prime ministers have promised economic competence, national renewal, greater prosperity and more effective government. Yet many Australians have experienced a continuing accumulation of bureaucratic complexity, housing pressures, energy insecurity and political frustration. The leadership revolving door has frequently seemed less like democratic renewal than the replacement of one disappointing administration by another.
It is tempting to say that each Australian prime minister is worse than the last. That is an understandable expression of frustration, although historical comparisons are more complicated than the slogan suggests. Different governments have faced different economic circumstances, international pressures and domestic constraints. Nevertheless, the cumulative record invites serious criticism. Governments of both major political traditions have contributed to policies whose long-term consequences deserve far more scrutiny than they generally receive.
The Australian political system has also developed an increasingly professionalised political class. Party operatives, ministerial advisers, factional organisers and career politicians move through institutions that are often remote from the practical experiences of the people they govern. Advancement depends heavily upon navigating internal structures rather than demonstrating independent achievement or exceptional judgment. The result can be a political culture in which loyalty to the organisation becomes more important than loyalty to principle.
There is nothing inevitable about this arrangement. Political parties could place greater emphasis upon demonstrated competence, personal integrity, intellectual seriousness and genuine independence of judgment. They could encourage candidates with substantial experience outside politics rather than treating political office as the culmination of a career beginning in student organisations and parliamentary staff positions. They could also develop coherent programmes rather than relying upon advertising campaigns and carefully rehearsed slogans.
Yet political reform cannot be achieved through leadership selection alone. Voters themselves must become more demanding. Democracy cannot function well when citizens treat elections as sporting contests between rival teams, defending their preferred politicians regardless of misconduct or policy failure. Nor can it function when political loyalties become so rigid that supporters regard every criticism of their own side as a betrayal.
This is where the useful-idiot problem becomes genuinely important. A voter who supports a political party despite repeated evidence that its policies are damaging may be acting against his own interests. But the same criticism applies to the voter who excuses every failure of a charismatic leader because that leader claims to oppose the political establishment. Blind loyalty is not transformed into political wisdom merely because its object is a populist rather than a conventional party politician.
What Western societies require is not simply stronger personalities but stronger standards of public life. Honesty should matter even when it is politically inconvenient. Competence should matter more than ideological fashion. Courage should mean the willingness to defend sound principles against powerful interests, not merely the capacity to generate headlines. Political leaders should understand that public office is a responsibility rather than a personal entitlement.
There is also a moral dimension that contemporary political discussion too often neglects. The older Western understanding of public duty was influenced by religious and philosophical traditions that placed obligations upon rulers as well as subjects. Christian political thought, at its best, insisted that authority carried moral responsibilities and that political power was not an end in itself. A society that loses this conception of duty risks replacing statesmanship with ambition and public service with the pursuit of status.
The restoration of better leadership therefore requires more than electoral tactics. It requires a cultural change in what citizens admire, what political parties reward and what institutions expect of those entrusted with authority. A society that celebrates celebrity, aggression and manipulation should not be surprised when its political class displays precisely those characteristics.
There is reason for hope, however, provided it is not invested exclusively in another political personality. Better parties can be formed, existing parties can be reformed, and leaders of integrity can emerge. Political institutions are human creations and can be changed by human determination. But meaningful reform requires citizens who are prepared to judge politicians by consistent standards rather than by tribal allegiance.
The West does not need another succession of supposed saviours who promise national restoration while reproducing the weaknesses of their predecessors. It needs honest, capable and courageous leaders supported by a politically mature electorate. Theodore Roosevelt's example reminds us that strength without discipline is not enough, while the contemporary American and Australian experience demonstrates the danger of mistaking political spectacle for genuine leadership.
The ultimate responsibility cannot be transferred entirely to politicians. Citizens who continually reward mediocrity, excuse dishonesty and abandon independent judgment help perpetuate the system they condemn. The first step towards political renewal is to stop behaving as useful idiots for whichever faction happens to command our loyalty.
The West's goose is not necessarily cooked. But neither will it be saved simply by making Donald Trump an angrier gander. It will be saved, if at all, by rebuilding the standards of character, political judgment and public responsibility upon which successful constitutional government ultimately depends.
https://www.spectator.com.au/2026/11/angry-duck-trump-or-the-wests-goose-is-cooked/
