DONALD Trump is not the US president.

Yes, let’s enjoy that fact while we still can… just in case it doesn’t last.

Many people in Scotland are already tired of his visits, and would happily see a wall built around him to spare the world his sneers and egotistical ramblings. Unfortunately, we have first-hand experience of dealing with Trump because of his golf investments, and his record as a developer who overplays his value to the economy.

Okay, I’m probably not telling you anything you don’t already know; it’s not a secret that I’m not a fan of the Republican presidential nominee. I’m not about to be convinced by any amount of rally rhetoric from his wife Melania (whether or not it was recycled from an old Michelle Obama speech) trying to depict her husband as a caring and compassionate man.

But it’s worth looking at the common strands between the Trump campaign, the Brexit campaign, and some other populist movements in Europe. We’re seeing a trend in which wealthy, powerful, privileged figures manage to recast themselves as anti-establishment rebels and tap into an alienated, anti-politics mood.

The tactic of telling lies so obvious that everyone spends the whole time talking about them is also a common theme. How could it be that the “£350 million for the NHS” pledge emblazoned on posters – and on that campaign bus – was not the death nail in the Brexit coffin? I know from my time campaigning for Scottish independence that if I or anyone else in the Yes campaign had continually used an obviously untrue figure, it would have risked destroying the campaign.

Instead, the Leave campaign gained only attention from the lie, rather than the contempt they deserved. Their slogan “Take Back Control” was a similar deceit, pretending that the UK could have the best of both worlds, retaining the single market without free movement and without paying its way. Trump’s campaign has strong similarities – gain notoriety by talking nonsense or insulting pretty much everyone.

So whether it’s “Take Back Control” or “Make America Great Again”, these campaigns manage to achieve strength despite being based on utter falsehoods. They are a symptom of the exhaustive use of marketing in politics, where some politicians and parties care only about how their policies tap into public fears and common misconceptions, and pay no attention at all to objective evidence.

Austria came within a whisker of electing a right-wing xenophobe as its president this year, and the victory of the other candidate, former Green leader Alexander Van der Bellen, is yet to be secured after courts ordered a re-run. Norbert Hofer bears all the hallmarks of the new far right, trying to put on a charming face despite his party’s Nazi roots. He’s been described as the “friendly face of the FPÖ”, a party that held an “Austria First” policy in the 1990s claiming that Austria is not a “country of immigration”.

In France, the Front National came to realise that its then leader, Jean-Marie Le Pen, and his “old-school” brand of right-wing nationalism was no longer electable. The reins of the party were passed to his daughter Marine, who quickly sought to rebrand the FN with a new logo, the banning of prominent members wearing leather jackets and openly denouncing her dad whenever he’d publicly reminisce about when the Nazis occupied France in the Second World War.

Closer to home, Ukip and Farage saw the referendum as a “simple choice”, describing the contest as one of “the people versus the establishment”. This anti-establishment rhetoric from Farage and the rest of the Brexiteers is entirely empty; many of them are the same people who were signed up to the Westminster establishment position during the 2014 independence referendum.

In US political history, the best-funded campaign has always won the presidential election. Candidates for the next Ukip leadership contest will have to stump up £5,000 as deposit if they want to take part. That makes Labour’s emergency membership fee of £25 appear paltry, but it does provide evidence of an emerging politics where only the well-off can take part, while attempting to pass themselves off as standing up to elites.

The anger, resentment and alienation they’re tapping into is understandable and often justified. The tragedy is that in the wake of the failure of the current economic mainstream either to meet the needs of most people, or even to function on its own terms, there is an urgent need for a transformational politics that offers meaningful change and shifts power away from vested interests. But don’t expect this from Etonian Brexiteers or a bullying, racist billionaire.

Scotland has an opportunity to work toward that transformational politics. We also have a responsibility to base it on the truth, never repeating the manipulative tactics we see around us.