It has become increasingly clear over the last few years that the new divide in Western politics is between the elite Establishment and populist anti-Establishment forces: that is, those who wield political, economic and social power at least partly for the sake of retaining it for themselves, versus those who are opposed to their uses of this power, sometimes (but not always) so much so that they wish to wrest it from them. This alignment has echoed throughout history, from the devotees of Publius Clodius Pulcher in the dying days of republican Rome, to the Chartists who damned both the aristocrats and their bourgeois servants in nineteenth-century Britain.

But rather than recognise and accommodate the populists’ concerns, our elites have chosen to reinforce their outer barriers and, conceding nothing, attack their opponents with disingenuous ad hominems. Media commentators line up to smear populists with charges of racism, misogyny, homophobia, and where that has not been possible, of naivety and self-indulgence, using mendacious examples of unrepresentative populists to support their case. Varsity itself recently published a piece declaring that populism represented “the death wish of Western politics”.

I beg to differ. Populism, for all its nihilistic tendencies, is not an ulcer on our politics, but rather a purge that could, if administered wisely, cure it of its malaise. Racism is certainly on the march, and it infects the new populist movements to the point that the two risk becoming inseparable. However, the roots of populism cover a wider area than simple bigotry; and if elites respond constructively to the populists’ economic and cultural critique of the status quo, then they can extricate the sharp political critique from its reactionary elements.

In fact, despite all the disapproval directed at the Establishment’s allegedly uncouth and abusive critics, the most prominent feature of our politics of late has been elites’ own fear and loathing for the people from whom they have isolated themselves. Witness the vitriol directed at those who voted Leave. I saw friends of mine in Cambridge decrying them all, without a hint of self-consciousness, as ill-informed imbeciles, and even implying that they should not be able to vote.

When Yanis Varoufakis criticised the opacity of the Eurogroup – an organisation which does not formally exist as part of the government of the EU, which does not even take, let alone release, minutes of its meetings, and which nonetheless is responsible for coordinating the economic strategy of the entire eurozone – he was accused of lending succour to the far right. The opinion of the elites is clear: real people are naturally bigoted, violently irrational, and certainly not to be trusted with involvement in the political process.

The reason why politicians, commentators and the wealthy cannot understand populism is that, for them, the system works. Their taxes are low, their jobs are secure, the patronage of family and people they met at university hoists them up the greasy pole at a leisurely pace, and the EU’s presence reassures them of their cosmopolitan credentials.

These people also lack introspection. They apparently fail to perceive that over the course of expense scandals, sex scandals, paedophile scandals, financial scandals and wars launched under false pretences, they have been somewhat discredited.

Centrists have taken to moaning that the people no longer have sufficient respect for their political representatives and for experts. But when our representatives have so consistently proved themselves untrustworthy, self-interested, and venal, it is no surprise that the people will no longer leave them to conduct politics on our behalf.

And when they have failed to safeguard the economic and social well-being of such vast swathes of the nation, who now subsist on temporary, low-paid and insecure jobs, it is no surprise that people are rallying behind politicians like Nigel Farage, Donald Trump and Jeremy Corbyn, who seem to understand these problems. For years, politicians have preferred to pretend that these people do not exist. Now populism is forcing them to acknowledge those whom their policies have left behind.

Many UKIP supporters are working-class people who have not been represented in politics since Labour’s shift to the centre, and want to give polished, middle-class, technocratic politicians, whose values are entirely alien to their own, a kick in the teeth. Many Trump supporters are also blue-collar workers whose traditional work has been crushed under the weight of deals like the North American Free Trade Agreement.

They are fed up of politicians selling their power to corporate interests through, among other things, investor-state dispute settlement clauses in trade agreements, by which corporations can sue governments in secret courts for any action that limits their profits. They feel that globalisation has been pursued without their consent and to their detriment, and they want to take back control.

They know that financial interests and lobbyists control many politicians: why else would Trump’s claim that he cannot be bought resonate so strongly? Or the difference between Remain’s Goldman Sachs-funded campaign and Farage’s proclaimed “People’s Army” be so marked? Populism offers these people a democratic voice which has not been provided by any of the major political parties, all of which, once in power, play exactly the same games.

In a word, to be a populist is to recognise that the system is broken. You do not have to agree with the populist prescription to acknowledge that its diagnosis is correct: politics is populated by people who govern not in the public interest but in the interests of a political and financial elite.

Populism is not simply anger and ignorance infused with xenophobia. At its best it provides both an astute critique of a political elite which has repeatedly proved itself unfit to govern, and a democratic voice for those who have not been represented by mainstream politicians for up to 30 years.

Nor is it the artificial construct of a few self-serving demagogues. Flattering as Trump, Farage, and (secretly) Corbyn undoubtedly find it to be told that they are creating the seismic forces currently shaking our democracies, they are in reality only tapping into an extant, and vibrant, seam of dissatisfaction which politicians, technocrats and the media have themselves created through their incompetence and venality. Do not dismiss what they say; listen to it and consider it. Perhaps you will decide it is time for you to get angry.