May's foreign policy has the contradictions, nuances and cynicism of the twentieth century and it's alienating a generation who want fair, earnest and ethical government

Demonstrators in London turnout in large numbers to show that the Trump brand of exclusion isn't welcome. Photograph: Women's March London, 21 January 2017 by David Holt (License) (Cropped)

Prime Minister Theresa May's past week looks like the scary version of life after Brexit. To Washington, to play chief diplomatic sycophant to Trump. Then off to Turkey to sell Erdogan some British manufactured arms.

Diplomacy has always been about picking friends carefully. That has often meant making unsavoury friends and condemning the more reasonable ones. But now, more than ever, striking that delicate balance must account for the public.

Diplomacy and foreign policy is an art practised as far inside the 'corridors of power', and as far away from the citizens on the street, as any element of government. That cannot continue. It needs to change.

It is no longer sustainable for the Prime Minister to jet jet off around the world to gladhand, and do deals with, leaders who have human rights questions - inadequately answered - hanging over them.

In the US, Trump has the lowest approval ratings in history (Carlsen, 2017), and has faced protests against nearly every policy he has announced in his first two weeks - not just in the US, but around the world. But May is there on business.

May wants to talk trade, wants an exclusive deal. The trouble is that any deal is likely to be disadvantageous to all but American corporations and fraught with many of the same problems as EU-US trade talks: TTIP, food quality standards, private competition in healthcare (Umunna, 2017).

And what about Erdogan? The backlash from the PM's visit to America had not settled down when she arrived in Turkey, almost unnoticed in the furore, to sign a £100m deal for fighter jets (BBC, 2017).

The UK's cynical role in the arms trade has already caused a lot of controversy, waved away with denials, bluster and the promise of jobs. The UK-Saudi relationship has been a frequent embarrassment and horror - from the suppression of women's rights (Withnall, 2016) to, and particularly apt for May's visit to Turkey, British arms being used in the ongoing war in Yemen (Graham-Harrison, 2016).

In Turkey, 140,000 people rounded up, academics fired, and journalists suppressed or arrested, in a consolidation of power following last year's attempted coup (Lowen, 2017).

That these are likely to be the UK's new and enduring friends after leaving the European Union, as the UK scrambles to accumulate trade cash, will not endear Britain's new horizon to progressives.

It will be even harder to comprehend for many of the younger people who are turning out to protest, even many into their thirties, who did not grow up amidst the nuance and cynicism of twentieth century international politics.

Their formative years were under the governments of Bush and Blair. They saw dodgy dossiers lead to invasions, lead to countries collapsing, lead to extended occupations, lead to the selfish, almost gleeful, extraction of fossil fuels while all hell broke loose - and then the subsequent rise of terrorism.

It's not a mystery what these young people, whose views on international relations were formed in the years, want: ethical government. To be represented honestly. That's why Theresa May's visits to Trump, to Erdogan, can set people aflame and launch protest movements.

When Britain preaches its values one moment, threatens to withdraw from international human rights agreements and undermines the independence of the judiciary in another, then jets off for smiles and handshakes with the oppressors of minorities in the next, it is hard to find consistency.

Trump promises America First, and May to make a success of Brexit, but that sense of narrow interest belies the reality that many people now have broader horizons and greater empathy. This national-level cognitive dissonance, between the official voice and the citizens, will be expressed today in more protests.

Across Britain, Theresa May's foreign policy will face protests in solidarity with Muslims everywhere and with refugees who flee from violence and oppression just to be labelled and shunned by official acts of exclusion. And those demonstrations will carry with them the progressive call for the idea of a government, and international relations, based on deals that are fair and ethical.

Facts Illuminate: Trump can write his own story but it won't change the facts - he stood for exclusion, while his opponents march for a more egalitarian and inclusive America

Demonstrators in Washington DC. Photograph: DC Women's March by Liz Lemon (License)

Facts are what we can verifiably say about reality. We know that the sky is blue and the grass is green - or that the sky is grey and the pavement is also grey - because we can see them and can discuss it with others to reach a consensus.

We know, for instance, that in reality humans are very likely the cause of global warming, because a large body work exists on the subject. A lot of people have looked at it and discussed it with others to reach that consensus.

If you're not inclined to change your mind away from a preconceived position, having facts differ from your own views can be an inconvenience. But in politics this is usually treated as an inconvenience that can be negotiated - and 'perceived' reality is frequently rewritten.

The most recent part of reality that Donald Trump has found inconvenient is that not as many people as he wanted showed up for his inauguration - not even half as many as showed up to see Obama the first time around and maybe less even than the second. His ludicrous response was, with the collusion of his Press Secretary, to try and 'set right' reality - claiming the highest attendance anyway and denying photographic evidence to the contrary (BBC, 2017).

Those defending him spoke of 'alternative facts', a phrase that shows a profound misunderstanding of both the word 'alternative' and the word 'facts'. But facts in public life are not a hand at a poker table, inconvenient cards to be arranged, bluffed and played to your best advantage.

Romano Prodi, reminded us (Popham, 2006) - when he used the Scottish poet Andrew Lang's words to describe his opponent Silvio Berlusconi, another populist political opportunist - that the facts are there to guide us, not the other way around:

"He uses statistics like a drunk uses lamp-posts, more for support than illumination."

So in that spirit - instead of making the facts fit in a way that suits us - let's ask: what do the facts tell us?

Well, the turnout at the respective inaugurations of Obama and Trump indicate that perhaps the election of Barack Obama was the more significant milestone - one that perhaps even outstripped his own Presidency.

Yet Trump's election also says something. There is a lot of dissatisfaction in America. A lot of people bought Trump's salesmanship - he is, after all, more of a brand ambassador than a property tycoon. His pitch was above all was exclusionary, offering an exclusive society to people who felt they had been dispossessed - and his nationalistic rhetoric gave those people, predominantly white and male, scapegoats.

However, the day after his inauguration, millions turned out under the Women's March banner in direct opposition to the attitudes, particularly towards women, that he has espoused - even as many as one in a hundred in America alone. The people united under the Women's March banner were of all genders and ethnicities, many of them Trump's favoured scapegoats, and they turned out in what may be (real) record numbers in support of equality and inclusion on Saturday (Frostenson, 2017).

America is large and diverse. If Trump wants to pitch the idea of an exclusive America, the facts suggest he should get used to his opponents outnumbering his supporters - his opponents did win the popular vote in 2016, after all. Those opponents, the real alternative, are rallying to the idea of an a more egalitarian, inclusive America. They're being led by the facts (Scanlon, 2014; Wilkinson, 2011).

Unionism: What is Mrs May pitching?

Unionism was Joseph Chamberlain's special province when he dominated Victorian politics. Today, Theresa May is trying to spark a resurgence. Photograph: Joseph Chamberlain plaque by Simon Harriyott (License) (Cropped)

At the beginning of last week, Theresa May launched her first full year as the leader of the Conservative & Unionist Party with a speech that called for a 'shared society' (BBC, 2017). Over the years, the Conservatives have made many rebranding attempts. Is May's any different?

For the most part, the attempts of her predecessors - Major, Hague, Duncan Smith and Cameron - have been focussed on repackaging Thatcher. They have tried to soften the harsh anti-government and anti-interventionism tone to the policies of the Thatcher-Reagan consensus (BBC, 2017{2}).

But they all contained the same disdain for the idea of a 'society' as a figment created to justify collectivism - to justify a claim that people have duties towards others beyond themselves and their own families, expressed through taxation and the state. They just tried to make rejection of the state, and embrace of the free market and privatisation in its place, palatable or 'empowering'.

May's rebrand seems different. She has appealed harder to the idea of the state's role, promising intervention in a way that none of her recent forebears would perhaps have contemplated. She has hinted at moving away from austerity and letting the state intervene more. But how does this all relate to what we know of conservatism and do these appeals follow through?

Chamberlain and Unionism

Theresa May's inspiration, it seems, for this deviation from the legacy of Thatcher is Joseph Chamberlain. Chamberlain was the Victorian political heavyweight who broke his Unionists away from the Liberals and led them into alliance, and eventual merger, with the Conservatives.

A businessman, and industrialist, he was at first aligned with the radical liberal reformers who campaigned for enfranchisement and free, compulsory - and local authority run - education. As Mayor of Birmingham he reorganised municipal utilities, bringing them under municipal control, cleared slums, and rallied public and private money to public works, such as building libraries, museums, schools and parks.

On the other hand, he proved himself to be an aggressive nationalist. He opposed Irish Home Rule and defended the Union, and further wanted to see the Empire become a truly, exclusively, British trading system, protected by trade tariffs and was willing to back military action to advance Britain's interests - in ventures not so far removed from the interventions of the neoliberal governments in oil rich countries in the early 2000s.

The Unionists, of which he was a leading figure, where a strange coalition of aristocratic Whigs with landed estates, who as a faction were drifting away from the Liberal mainstream, and a group of radical reformers led by Chamberlain. These two groups were united mostly by their opposition to Irish Home Rule, which would break up the Union.

The composition of the Unionists shifted over time, but it settled around a particular outlook: a British nationalism that transcended its constituent nationalities, built upon institutions like Westminster government, and preserved the Union; and, economic intervention at home with a protected British system of trade abroad, directed to British interests alone.

But what was perhaps most significant, from where Theresa May sit, was that the Unionists brought a working class base to the Conservative coalition. Chamberlain's personal support, centred on Birmingham, included working class voters, gave the traditional party of the landed aristocracy a broad enough base of followers to dominate government in the twentieth century.

May and Unionism

May's first conference as leader was at Birmingham, the centre of her hero's political empire and was the scene for the first two big moves of her ministry: to disentangle a still United Britain entirely from continental entanglements and to prioritise some spending over paying down the deficit (BBC, 2016; BBC, 2016{2}).

And there have been other moves. Intervening to delay Hinckley Point, alleged promises made to Nissan that speak of protectionism, hints of economic planning in the promises to develop an industrial strategy, and the continuance of the Conservative policy of devolution to the local government level that could have pleased Chamberlain (Goodall, 2016).

However - and it is a big, emphatic, however - no Conservative leader has been scared to use central government, top down, intervention when it suited them; privatisations continue; part of the Brexit rhetoric is that Britain is leaving the EU in search of freer trade, not more protected; and devolution has been hand in hand with cuts, as a way to impose austerity while handing off responsibility for its results.

Without a tangible set of policies to mark her approach out as distinct, what part of the legacy of Unionism is May promoting? Well, so far, the main thrust of May's Unionism has been cultural. Her speeches focus heavily on acknowledging injustice (Kuenssberg, 2017) and warning that it will 'undermine the solidarity of our society' (May, 2017).

That word - 'solidarity' - seems like an odd choice of phrase for a Conservative in the modern era, but it might be understood better when coupled with her phrase 'bringing our country together', which is what May presents as her solution to the rising resentment.

That phrase makes clear that this isn't 'solidarity' in its usual collectivist democratic sense, of the people standing together for mutual empowerment - an egalitarian mass movement of people aiding each other as a counter the power of an elite class.

Rather, May's point - her Unionism - seems to be very conventionally conservative: the traditional institutions have broken down and people are lost without their place in the established order. To end resentment, May seems to be arguing that a Burkean social harmony must be restored.

In that, there seems to be marked a drift in the party away from liberal conservatism towards something more purely conservative. Since the decision to enter the Coalition, a reaction within the party has grown ever louder against Cameron's soft conservative neoliberalism. In its place, rises an effort to reconcile individualism and competition, with an appeal to nationalism and community coherence, to unite the two errant wings of the ideology.

It is in the prioritising of these first two, and neglect of the last two, from which May sees resentment springing - and it certainly seems to fit how resentment has been filtered through Farage and UKIP. What May also sees is an opportunity.

Chamberlain combined local social reform with banging the patriotic drum, pitching a British system that carried a sense of a nation and tradition in which ordinary people have a stake - where everyone has their part to play. May sees a chance, in evoking the Chamberlain heritage of Unionism, to bring working people into a Conservative coalition.

Society as seen through a Prism

To do this May has taken up the language of the Left, but filtered its cause through a conservative prism. For instance, she wants to equate social justice with social harmony - in the process stripping it of its sense of distributional equality, leaving behind only class collaboration and perhaps, in the conservative sense, a 'fair deal' on work and pay.

The trouble is that social harmony is illusory. It requires citizens to accept exclusion and inequality in exchange, maybe, for a place of safety and security within the fold. Meanwhile the true elite - the wealthy, the rentiers - do not need to give up or compromise much of anything to take up their place within the harmonious order.

"A Britain that works for everyone" is not a slogan that promises very much - just as "We're all in this together" proved an empty promise to ordinary citizens, their sacrifices unmatched by the elite. Unionism addresses resentment by falling back on nationalism, looking to 'the nation', 'the Union' and their institutions as a rallying point.

Chamberlain's own Unionist star fell when colonial adventures brought misery and his closed economy could not compete with the benefits of being open to the world. The reality is that his Unionism did not leave ordinary people better off, however much it rallied them about a patriotically waved flag. Theresa May is trying to pick up and claim that fallen standard.

Progressives should not be seduced. People cannot be content with a place within May's social hierarchy: tightly ordered, tightly surveilled - living under close control, in exchange for just the hope of a little basic social security. Unionism, and its social harmony within a hierarchy, offers citizens neither liberty or justice.