Et tu, Trump?

Going on record in this sad American moment

Photo by Jeff Kingma on Unsplash

Tomorrow it will be one year since I published an essay comparing both Trump and Biden to Hitler. I titled it Who Wore Hitler Better and argued that not only was Trump not “literally Hitler,” per the panicked insistence of his loathers on the Left, but Biden had actually governed more by authoritarian policies than Trump. I provided excerpts from a lengthy conversation with ChatGPT to proffer specific evidence, and of course since Trump was only a few weeks into his second term, the AI relied primarily on analysis of his first term policies to make comparisons. As longtime readers will know, I abandoned political writing a few weeks after that (actually, took a loooong break from writing altogether) because dwelling in the hysteria and polarity of our current partisan-driven discourse had become too draining, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

This is all to say: I’m not here now for a redux of the Hitler question but I am dipping my toe, for this brief moment, back into political waters for two reasons.

First, because last weekend Trump crossed a glaring red line for me: he launched America into yet another war in the Middle East. Following upon his increasingly bellicose foreign policy actions since last summer, this was my final straw. He has lost me. My increasingly reluctant support has flattened into disgust.

The second reason is that because I voted for him and wrote essays calling out the hysteria and lies about him (which I neither retract nor regret because they’re still valid), some part of me feels compelled to go on record acknowledging his failure not just to stand by his decade-long rejection of regime change wars, but to deliver on most of his campaign promises. I’ll give him due credit and grateful kudos for closing the border, unwinding DEI and gender dogma at the federal level, and giving HHS to Bobby Kennedy. But beyond those things he isn’t simply failing to deliver. From what I see, he’s stopped seriously trying.

As longtime readers also know, my presidential candidate of choice was RFK Jr. because he’s been my hero for years and I 10,000% support his MAHA agenda and his aversion to war. I never got the opportunity to cast my ballot for him though, because the corrupt machinations of the corrupt Democrat party kept Bobby quite undemocratically out of their primary (and then they undemocratically appointed their candidate, anyway).

The only avenue left open to me was following Kennedy into Trump’s camp. One of the things that gave me confidence to do that, even knowing Trump isn’t moored in principles (political or otherwise), was his first term in which he clearly demonstrated, relative to previous presidents going back decades, notable restraint in not creating new major military entanglements. In fact, three hallmarks of Trump’s first administration were 1) his effort to bring home American soldiers from the Middle East and drawdown troops abroad, 2) the resistance he withstood from his own military leadership to those efforts, and 3) his achievement of the Abraham Accords which, had Biden wisely pursued rather than stupidly abandoned them, held genuine possibility of providing lasting peace in the region.

In other words, I had confidence in Trump’s strong personal investment in being a “peace president” because his prior trajectory as Commander-in-Chief had been definitively away from using the U.S. military as a global police force, away from risking American lives—and killing innocent foreigners—for geopolitical ambitions.

His absolute betrayal of that position feels, to put it mildly, stunning.
Appalling.
Obscene.

At this point it seems Trump’s foreign policy has been wholly and inexplicably ceded to those he long opposed: war hawks in the Military Industrial Complex and America’s so-called “Deep State”—our unelected bureaucratic security state that’s run by intelligence agencies and their profiteering allies in the corporate donor class. I probably shouldn’t be this surprised given two of the most powerful people in his administration—Chief of Staff Susie Wiles and Attorney General Pam Bondi—both worked for Pfizer-connected firms (Bondi paid $200K directly by Pfizer for “legal services” as recently as 2024); their roots, allegiances, and careers are firmly embedded with the corporate donors rather than the everyday Americans who put Trump back into office to end their corruption. They, among others (e.g. Rubio and Ratcliffe) have been steering Trump, subtly and blatantly, away from fulfilling his promises almost from the outset. And he, to his shame and utter discredit, has been letting them; he chose them. And continues to.

I want to say I realize, dear reader, that I’m making a bunch of claims I haven’t fully explained much less supported. But here’s the thing: I’m going to leave them unexplained and unsubstantiated. Because I’m not trying to convince you of my viewpoint. I expect it will cost me subscribers, but I’m dipping in here with a political take only to register my dismay, disgust, and disillusionment over Trump’s willingness to go to war after all his substantial efforts towards peace. After all his disavowals of regime change wars and of risking American lives in foreign lands. Where did that man go?!

My personal opinion is that he’s strangely losing touch—not only with his voters, but with himself. I do wonder if the incessant stress from these last ten years of being in the crosshairs of the U.S. security state, as it worked incessantly behind the scenes to keep power out of his outsider hands and keep him out of their way (by lawfare, prison, assassination, whatever) has taken its toll. His character and moral compass were always wobbly to begin with—there’s plenty of personal history demonstrating that—but he seems completely unmoored now, betraying his allies and assisting his enemies as he flails and fails to live up to his voters. I pray for his peace. And ours.

As a final thought, I want to share that a couple of information sources I rely on have numerous direct connections inside Trump’s administration and recently they reported that Trump does not want to hear bad news. He rages at negative assessments and seems unwilling to entertain contradictions. In fact, these inside contacts have begun making allusions to King Lear. Since my negative assessment here is offered on the anniversary of my earlier essay where I leaned heavily on AI, I thought I’d come full circle and include this AI summary from Claude (Anthropic’s LLM) about what that allusion means. I used the prompt: What is King Lear known for as a leader/literary character? Here’s what I got back:

King Lear is one of literature’s most studied portraits of leadership failure. The character is primarily known for several interconnected tragic qualities:

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As a Leader

Catastrophic misjudgment of character
Lear famously cannot distinguish genuine loyalty from flattery. He banishes his most honest daughter Cordelia — who refuses to perform empty praise — while rewarding Goneril and Regan precisely because they tell him what he wants to hear. This is considered one of literature’s defining portraits of a leader destroyed by surrounding himself with flatterers.

Abdicating power while expecting to retain its privileges
Lear divides his kingdom and surrenders authority but expects to be treated as if he still holds it — a fundamentally delusional arrangement that drives the entire tragedy. He wants the title and deference of kingship without its responsibilities.

Rage at honest counsel
He banishes the Earl of Kent for speaking truth to him directly. The willingness to punish honesty and reward sycophancy is central to his character as a failed leader.

Catastrophically late self-awareness
The tragedy is partly that Lear does eventually achieve genuine insight — into his own vanity, his mistreatment of Cordelia, his blindness — but only after everything is irretrievably destroyed. The self-knowledge comes too late to save anyone.

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The Enduring Leadership Lesson

Lear is essentially the ur-text for the danger of yes-men, the isolation of power, and the catastrophic consequences of a leader who cannot tolerate honest dissent — themes that have made the play perennially relevant to discussions of political and organizational leadership across four centuries.

Based on the information I have, three of those four qualities actually track.

So I will be praying for the end of hostilities. And for the safety of American military personnel. For the Iranian people and Israelis and all who are in harm’s way. For Trump to see himself and this situation with clearer eyes. For all of us to see each other with compassionate eyes, and hold each other in forgiving hearts, come what may.

By My Reckoning will now return to its regular programming.