I am not a psychologist. I have no training in psychology, psychiatry, behavioural science, or clinical analysis. I have, however, been watching Donald Trump for years, which is arguably worse than all three combined and has left deeper scars.
Since every unqualified person with an opinion is now considered an expert on TV, allow me to present my findings here on the internet.
Donald Trump was born with a silver spoon and golden hair. He is called the orange man because he is rich in Vitamin C. Or he’s just rich. The distinction, in his case, is academic.
The man is famous for two-and-a-half words: You’re fired. He said it on The Apprentice. He said it in the White House. He has been saying it his entire life, with increasing enthusiasm and decreasing justification. It suited him from the beginning, because he has always lived in the company of people he could fire. He recently confessed, without apparent embarrassment, that he prefers the company of losers who want to hear about his successes over the company of achievers who might want to talk about their own. This is not an accident. This is architecture. A man who cannot tolerate an equal has to import his audience.
The Trump Corporation hired people he fancied. Fired people who stopped fancying him back. The hottest company. The hottest boss. Ivanka is the hottest. Melania is the hottest. Everything and everyone in the Trump orbit is the hottest, as long as they remain firmly beneath him on the organisational chart.
Here is the diagnosis, free of charge: Donald Trump spent decades walking over people he paid for, sponsored, or bought outright. Subordinates. Employees. Contractors he stiffed. Lawyers he exhausted. Women he silenced. He grew so accustomed to absolute authority within his own corporation that he arrived at the presidency with a fundamental misunderstanding of the job description.
He thought the Oval Office was a bigger boardroom.
He was not entirely wrong about the size.
The first term was an extended orientation session in which American institutions patiently explained to him that governors are elected, judges are independent, and the press cannot be fired for asking questions. He listened to none of this. He fired the FBI director. He fired the Attorney General. He fired the Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defence, the National Security Adviser, and approximately everyone else, usually by tweet, occasionally mid-flight. He called them weak after firing them and brilliant before hiring them and the interval between these two assessments was sometimes a single weekend.
In his second term, two senior Cabinet members have been fired. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem in early March and Attorney General Pam Bondi just yesterday. He sacked his National Security Adviser Mike Waltz, CDC Director Susan Monarez, FEMA director, Library of Congress head, and some other senior officials last year.
Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick, FBI director Kash Patel and National Intelligence Director Tulsi Gabbard are worried one of them is next in the line.
This situation is fluid, as personnel moves can happen quickly.
America heaved a collective sigh when he vacated the White House in January 2021. Four years of relative quiet followed. Then he came back, and this time he arrived not as a man learning the job but as a man settling scores. The Oval Office, redecorated to his tastes, became a stage for a new kind of performance: the ritual humiliation of world leaders.
You have seen the videos. Everyone has seen the videos. Trump makes sure there are videos. When he forced Israeli PM Netanyahu to call and apologise to the Emir of Qatar, he made sure it was recorded and broadcast.
He asked Pakistani Prime Minister Shahbaz Sharif to stand up during a meeting with a bunch of leaders who joined his Board of Peace. Like a schoolteacher confirming attendance. He has forced visiting leaders to recite paeans to his greatness before the cameras, grown men in suits performing the verbal equivalent of sashtang in our tradition and touching the forelock in Trump’s. He rebuked the British Prime Minister for being weak, which is a rich observation from a man who needed a letter from a doctor to avoid Vietnam. He told the Saudi leadership, in terms that would embarrass a feudal overlord, that they had better be more appreciative of American protection. He reduced Zelensky to a defendant in his own Oval Office, hectored and lectured while the cameras rolled and the world watched in the particular silence that follows a public shaming. NATO secretary general called him Daddy in a text and Daddy Donald posted a screenshot of that conversation on his social media.
The silver spoon is still in his mouth. The golden hair is still in place. The orange glow continues, whatever its source. “Caution: Contents May Be Hot” is a safety warning you must have read on your takeaway cup of coffee. Trump is, as always, as he repeatedly reminds all, the hottest. Keep distance for safety. Saavdhaani hati, durghatna ghati!
