They were three innocuous memos from Citibank, back in 2005, addressed to a small knit of high-value investors.

It painted a picture that the wealthy now had unequal power and money, describing them as the aristocrats.

The only weakness of this system, one of the memos read, is if society requested a “more equal share of wealth” and that a one-person one-vote structure could potentially lead to revolt.

These words turned out to be prophetic.

Donald Trump returns to the White House after a campaign where he wielded his signature brand of fiery, confrontational rhetoric and inflamed by what he perceives as a personal witch hunt against him.

His victory was more than a mere political comeback; it was a remarkable feat, given the storm that had trailed him since his last term – the indictments, the shadow of January 6. Yet, beneath it all lay a deeper foundation, built upon a simmering, unyielding outrage from America’s forgotten heartland.

This was not simply a return; it was a reckoning, powered by the quiet anger of communities long overlooked, whose voices finally surged forward to reclaim their place in the nation’s story.

Just like 2016, it was the truck drivers, factory workers, small-town shopkeepers and farmers who propelled him forward, weary of a political elite that offers endless promises but delivers little to those enduring the harshest realities of American inequality.

The unusual pandemic circumstances of the 2020 election, where mail-in ballots gave Joe Biden a crucial advantage, faded into the background last week as Trump surged through county after county across middle America.

It was a scene that played out from Pennsylvania to Michigan: Kamala Harris might have held the urban strongholds but Trump was amassing victories in the smaller, often-overlooked counties.

One by one, these rural wins piled up and the margins in the cities simply couldn’t keep pace with Trump’s advantage in the heartland.

“The forgotten ones are forgotten no longer,” Trump had said back in 2016.

These forgotten Americans – millions scattered across the vast rural reaches of the nation – felt the weight of being left behind as the economy surged forward, leaving them in its fading shadow. They bought his cap, filled online forums with fervent discussions, flocked to his rallies and idolised Trump in a way unmatched by any politician in modern history.

They are the stories behind small towns that have been hollowed out, battered by outsourcing and automation that closed the factories that once offered a good wage for honest work.

The Democratic Party was out of tune as it focused on climate agendas, identity policies and renewable energy, well-intentioned and well-meaning, but tone-deaf to the pain of families whose disposable incomes vanished in an inflation-ridden economy.

For these people, the technological revolution didn’t bring sleek jobs or booming tech firms; it brought only joblessness and despair.

Take ride-sharing as a telling example. Where a cab driver once made a decent living per trip, the tech wave swept in, replacing the straightforward service with an algorithm in an app that strips away a lot of the driver’s earnings, sending the profits back to a multi-billion-dollar giant in a glossy Palo Alto office.

These people were promised the American dream, yet, they feel cheated, watching their lives turn out harder and leaner than their parents’ – a reversal unheard of in America.

This isn’t the America of the glittering coastal cities; this is a different America altogether. This is an America of men and women, many with only high school educations, who have seen their towns’ opportunities disappear, replaced by a flood of jobs with wages that barely cover the cost of living. They hear a lot of consultant-driven sound bites on TV but they see only rising prices in their town.

The Biden presidency accomplished much and is viewed, by many measures, as a solid one; yet, its critical missteps in handling inflation and the migration issues became flashpoints, fuelling deeper frustration and tethering Harris to a contentious promise of continuity with Biden in the campaign.

The Democratic Party was out of tune as it focused on climate agendas, identity policies and renewable energy- Daniel Attard

Trump seized upon the frustrations of these disillusioned Americans. He saw them.

He saw the raw anger of people who feel crushed by a machine – a system –that benefits everyone but them. He built a campaign on that anger, pointing to a rigged game that allowed “the elites” to reap profits while middle America lost its lifeblood.

His message was clear: the system is stacked against the average American  and it’s out to take him down because he represents their only champion.

They believe him because who else even acknowledges their struggles?

Only the Citigroup memo acknowledged that.

They see their share of the pie shrinking, good healthcare slip out of reach  and their lives and communities bear the brunt of decline. And, in Trump, they saw the only Republican who even seemed to acknowledge it.

His language was blunt, his style divisive but his message was unwavering: you are not crazy; the system really is out to get you. In Trump, they saw an imperfect champion, yet, one who acknowledged their grievances and didn’t scorn their frustrations as backward or misplaced.

And, so, they rallied. They were angry and Trump was their weapon.

And when they looked to the blue side Washington, they found nobody who seemed to understand or care about their plight, except one. Bernie Sanders.

In my view, Sanders was the only politician who came close to grasping the depth of this divide in America.

He alone seemed to recognise the simmering anger and disillusionment of those left behind by both parties – a chasm between the urban elite and rural, working-class Americans. Had he ever squared off directly against Trump in any of the past three elections, presenting his vision of economic fairness, I genuinely believe he would have won.

Sanders understood that the heart of the issue wasn’t just politics; it was a deep sense of betrayal by a system that had forgotten its own people.

History will judge harshly those in the Democratic Party who stood against Sanders – not out of principle but because he embodied genuine change. Dangerous change.

While Trump tapped into their bitterness, Democrats were entangled in debates over issues that seldom touch the daily lives of these voters beyond urban centres.

In the towns of rural America, you’ll see Ford F-150s, not Teslas. These small, quiet communities feel worlds apart from the glamour of Fifth Avenue or the America seen in Hollywood films.

In the final week of the election, Trump donned a high-visibility jacket and took the wheel of a garbage truck  while Harris stood on stage hand-in-hand with Beyoncé and poured millions into TV ads in swing states featuring wealthy celebrities like Harrison Ford.

Those images told the entire story. Today, America’s story is, at its core, one of deepening inequality and the inevitable reckoning that follows – a lesson democracies across Europe would be wise to take to heart.

Daniel Attard is a Labour Party MEP.