"Fascism is a religious conception in which man is seen in his immanent relation to a higher law, endowed with an objective will transcending the individual and raising him to conscious membership of a spiritual society.".
"If the nineteenth century was the century of the individual (liberalism implies individualism), we are free to believe that this is the 'collective' century, and therefore the century of the State." Benito Mussolini 1932
"It's a big club and you ain't in it. You and I are not in the big club." George Carlin (R-Rated)
"If the nineteenth century was the century of the individual (liberalism implies individualism), we are free to believe that this is the 'collective' century, and therefore the century of the State." Benito Mussolini 1932
"It's a big club and you ain't in it. You and I are not in the big club." George Carlin (R-Rated)
In the evolving landscape of American politics, the term "aristo-populism" has emerged as a provocative framework for understanding the fusion of elite leadership with grassroots populist sentiments. Coined by political philosopher Patrick Deneen in works like his lectures and essays, aristo-populism envisions a "mixed constitution" where a virtuous aristocracy—enlightened leaders committed to the common good—aligns with the populace to challenge entrenched liberal elites. This alliance seeks to replace corrupt managerial classes with a system that elevates moral guardians while amplifying the voice of the many.
Deneen argues that true reform requires elites and Middle America to collaborate, drawing on classical political thought to propose a regime that balances authority with popular will.
This is as a long-standing Democrat tactic of pandering for socialist corporations’ support, exemplified by policies like credit card interest rate caps and subsidies for housing agencies. These measures, ostensibly populist, often benefit large, government-entwined entities under the guise of aiding consumers, creating a form of crony socialism where big business thrives on state intervention.
Historically, Democrats have championed such approaches, framing them as protections against corporate excess while subtly bolstering industries reliant on federal support. Trump’s credit card caps, for instance, hark back to progressive efforts like Senator Elizabeth Warren's advocacy for limiting predatory lending, which regulates banks but preserves their role in a subsidized financial ecosystem. Similarly, subsidies for housing agencies like Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac—government-sponsored enterprises (GSEs)—have been Democrat mainstays since the New Deal era. These entities receive implicit federal backing, enabling them to underwrite mortgages and stabilize housing markets, but critics argue this creates "socialist corporations" by privatizing profits while socializing risks. During the Obama and Biden administrations, expansions of these subsidies aimed to boost affordability, yet they often inflated asset bubbles benefiting Wall Street investors and large developers.
This Democrat archetype of aristo-populism combines elite-driven policy (crafted in think tanks and Capitol Hill) with populist rhetoric (promising relief to working families). It panders to "socialist corporations" by enforcing regulations that curb competition—such as rate caps that disadvantage smaller lenders—while funneling subsidies that entrench incumbents. The result is a system where big finance and housing giants lobby for more intervention, perpetuating a cycle of dependency. As Deneen might frame it, this is a faux populism led by a liberal aristocracy that maintains power by co-opting the masses' grievances without structural change.
Enter the Republicans' adoption of this playbook in the mid-2020s, particularly under President Donald Trump's second term. Facing persistent inflation and cost-of-living pressures post-2024 election, the GOP has pivoted toward interventionist policies that echo Democrat tactics, blending nationalist populism with state controls. This shift marks a departure from traditional Republican free-market orthodoxy, embracing aristo-populist elements where Trump and allies like Senator Josh Hawley act as the "virtuous elite" guiding anti-establishment fervor. By 2026, this manifests in proposals targeting credit cards and housing, areas once Democrat strongholds.
A prime example is Trump's January 2026 call for a one-year cap on credit card interest rates at 10%. Reviving a campaign pledge, Trump labeled current rates a "rip-off" and positioned the cap as a direct assault on greedy banks to ease consumer debt burdens.
This move, announced via Truth Social, aims to save Americans billions amid high inflation, drawing bipartisan interest but fierce opposition from the banking industry.
Banks argue it would restrict credit access, potentially harming the very working-class voters Trump courts. Anyone with a 600 or below credit score would be boxed out, for example.
Yet, Hawley enthusiastically supported it, signaling GOP willingness to vote on such measures.
This policy mirrors long-standing Democrat pushes for rate caps, like those from Senators Bernie Sanders and Dick Durbin, which regulate "socialist corporations" (big banks propped by federal reserves) while pandering to voters with promises of financial relief. Republicans' embrace here is aristo-populist: Trump, as the elite figurehead, channels populist anger against Wall Street, but the cap could inadvertently favor entrenched players by reducing competition from fintech alternatives.
On housing, Republicans are similarly adopting subsidy-laden approaches under the banner of affordability. Trump has promised "aggressive" reforms in 2026, prioritizing homeownership amid soaring prices.
Key proposals include banning large institutional investors from purchasing single-family homes, a move to curb hedge funds and private equity from dominating the market.
This echoes Democrat critiques of corporate landlords but adds a nationalist twist, aiming to reserve homes for American families. Additionally, Trump supports allowing workers to tap retirement savings for down payments, effectively subsidizing entry into the market.
While not direct GSE subsidies, these align with bolstering housing agencies: Republicans have backed expansions of low-income housing tax credits, lowering bond thresholds to fund more affordable units.
Bipartisan bills like the Housing for the 21st Century Act further cut red tape on construction while enhancing subsidies, blending deregulation with state aid.
However, this adoption is not uniform. Trump's FY2026 budget proposes deep cuts to HUD programs, slashing funding by 44% and reducing support for low-income housing.
This tension reveals the aristo-populist tightrope: Populist rhetoric demands subsidies for "the people," but fiscal conservatives resist expanding "socialist corporations" like subsidized developers. Reactions highlight fractures—private equity firms defend their minimal market share (a fraction of homes), while GOP figures like Senators Thom Tillis and Representative Ann Wagner oppose the investor ban as unnecessary meddling.
Democrats, such as Senator Jeff Merkley, see opportunity for bipartisan action but doubt full cooperation.
Why this Republican pivot? It stems from the post-2016 populist surge, where Trump's base demands action against elites, including corporate ones. Economic anxieties—exacerbated by the 2020s' inflation—have forced the GOP to co-opt Democrat tools for political survival. As Deneen suggests, aristo-populism offers a path: Leaders like Trump ennoble the populace by wielding state power against perceived threats, fostering a "refined" alliance.
Yet, critics warn this risks economic distortion. Economists question whether caps and bans truly lower costs, arguing they could reduce supply or credit availability.
The bipartisan "war on prices" exemplifies this, with socialists and nationalists uniting against market forces.
In essence, Republicans' adoption of aristo-populism repurposes Democrat pandering: Credit card caps regulate big finance while appealing to debtors; housing subsidies (via bans and credits) prop up agencies like GSEs, benefiting developers under affordability guise. This convergence blurs party lines, as seen in competing affordability plans ahead of midterms.
But it raises questions—does this empower the people or entrench a new elite? As America grapples with plutocracy, aristo-populism may redefine governance, for better or worse.
Similar in many ways, "Venture socialism" or government picking and funding "winners" in the private economy (most common critical usage). It describes government acting like a giant venture capitalist: using taxpayer money to pick specific companies or industries (especially in "strategic" sectors like green energy, semiconductors, critical minerals, etc.) and subsidize them through loans, grants, guarantees, or direct investments.
Classic real-world examples frequently labeled as "venture socialism" include:
Solyndra — The Obama administration's $535 million loan guarantee (2009) to the solar company that later went bankrupt
Texas Emerging Technology Fund — State government program that invested ~$200 million of public money into 133 private tech companies (many of which underperformed)
Various Trump-era and Biden-era industrial policy moves, such as massive subsidies and loan support for companies like Intel, MP Materials, Lithium Americas, and others in chips, batteries, rare earths, and steel
Critics argue this is socialism because the state is directing capital allocation instead of letting pure market forces decide — but without fully socializing ownership. Call it Unipart or fascistic, it all blends together.
Editorial comments expressed in this column are the sole opinion of the writer.
