By Charles C. W. Cooke
Tuesday, June 24, 2025
When, in 1898, Lord Salisbury was informed of the death
of Otto von Bismarck, he is said to have asked aloud, “I wonder what he meant
by that.”
President Trump does not exhibit Bismarck’s cunning,
inscrutability, or proclivity for complicated diplomacy. Nevertheless, there is
something impenetrable about the man that renders pat classification
impossible. For the better part of a decade, figures who spend most of their
time around ideologically consistent thinkers have attempted to define what
Trump represents. What is Trumpism (and MAGA, America First, and the
rest)? Which factions does it exemplify? Which historical strands has it picked
up? To which school of international relations theory does it belong? Is Trump
a populist? Is he a Jacksonian? Does he owe more to the New Deal or to the
Reagan Revolution? Jurisprudentially, does he side with the originalist or
common-good school?
Ten years in, this project seems rather silly. Clearly,
there is no Trumpism. There’s just Trump.
In a recent interview with The Atlantic, he
said as much himself: “Considering
that I’m the one that developed ‘America First,’” Trump told Michael Scherer,
“and considering that the term wasn’t used until I came along, I think I’m the
one that decides that.”
As was immediately pointed out, Trump was not, in fact,
the “one that developed” that term, and it most decidedly had been used before
he “came along.” But that he believes otherwise serves only to underscore the
point: As used by Donald Trump, labels are not only immune from other people’s
definitions, they are liable to be shorn of their history.
In this realm, as in so many others, Trump’s
philosophical promiscuity makes a mockery of those who would claim him as their
own. Whether it is the product of caprice, or of a short attention span, or of
a desire for ambiguity does not particularly matter. Since he arrived on the
political scene, Trump has achieved the impossible feat of holding
contradictory opinions on almost every imaginable topic while cultivating a
reputation for conviction. In the last three months alone, he has been for and against increased taxes on the rich; enthusiastic about and irritated by the SALT deduction; in favor of “the largest deportation
program in American history,” and concerned about the effect that such a
policy might have on employers; so bellicose toward Iran that he flirted with regime change, and so determined to see peace that he cursed out Israel on the White House
lawn. Pick a topic — abortion, guns, crime, TikTok — and you will find multiple
Trumps. No wonder that those who feel obliged to defend him whatever he does
look as if they are suffering from acute schizophrenia.
That Trump seems always to get away with it can be
attributed to a host of discrete phenomena, most of which are not unique to the
man himself. Our politics are polarized — which provokes a tribal response
among supporters and critics alike. Our electorate is indecisive — which turns
the promulgation of antithetical ideas into a political asset rather than a
liability. Our attention spans are short — which limits the consequences of
inconstancy. Trump is an outsider — which tempts those within his retinue to
blame the “establishment” for any betrayals or shortcomings. And, yes, he is
peculiarly charismatic — which encourages many voters to buy into the idea of
Trump qua Trump, rather than into what he is selling at any given point.
As a rule, Approaches, Doctrines, and Weltanschauungen
tend to be more zealously adhered to by the hangers-on than by the people or
sects for whom they are named. The New Deal was a turning point in American
history, but it did not reflect a coherent creed so much as a period of wild
experimentation that lacked any respect for constitutional norms. The Reagan
era was inspired by a handful of sincerely held convictions, but, upon closer
inspection, one discovers many more departures from dogma than those who desire
a restoration might concede. In evaluating Trumpism’s place within the
pantheon, one is reminded of the proper meaning of Shakespeare’s famous maxim,
“more honoured in the breach than the observance,” which in modern parlance is
often used sorrowfully, but which was originally intended to imply approval
of departures from the norm. In just over three and a half years, Donald Trump
will leave office, and, within hours of his saying farewell, the race to
canonize his perspective will begin in earnest. If they are wise, the most
successful among the contestants will survey the landscape, grasp the
fundamentally empty nature of the task, and repair to the nearest bar for a
well-deserved respite from the fray.
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