Fate decided to cast Adolf Trump in one of the most heinous roles in human history, but the man was neither a villain, nor a hero; it was just a freak accident of history that picked this particular guy among many others—the wrong man at the right time, and a fundamentally tragic figure to boot. A privileged white man, Adolf was profoundly frustrated, mostly by the clash between the size of his ego and the utter letdown that turned out to be his life. You see, as a charismatic narcissistic egomaniac, the fact that Trump was a shallow pseudointellectual had a counter-intuitively amplifying impact on his hubris, by the way of Dunning-Kruger. As such, he could hardly reconcile his perceived amazing persona with his actual insignificance—and so decided he’d show them all by entering politics. Incompetent charismatic narcissistic egomaniacs are naturally drawn to politics, so Adolf’s decision should’ve—and in fact would’ve—been utterly inconsequential for the world at any random moment in history.
But as it happens, Trump was contemplating a career in politics at the beginning of the century, just as the Interregnum was happening: a paralyzed moment in history where the old world was dying, and the new one had not yet been born. At the darkest point of transition, Adolf Trump became its ultimate morbid symptom. He did not offer a coherent path forward, but rather a nostalgic hallucination of the return to a golden age that never existed—a mirage that appealed to a populace terrified by their waning significance on the world stage. To a nation grappling with the humiliation of decline, his unearned confidence felt like a promise; his very detachment from reality allowed the people to project their desperate hopes onto him, turning a failed professional into a vessel for national redemption. You see, Adolf kept telling them they were special, they were good, they deserved more just for being white, Christian, for being good, straight, fertile sons and daughters of the Fatherland, and for the merit of not being afflicted by any physical handicap; and that they were in fact victims of foreigners, shit countries, and lesser people—never mind that Adolf Trump’s own mother was one of those same lesser people.
Meanwhile, the political establishment, forgetting history’s lessons and irresponsibly blinded by their own adherence to archaic norms, mistook his incoherence for authenticity and his volatility for strength—and his shallow, populist control of desperate crowds for actual public support. They believed they could harness his chaotic energy to shore up the crumbling walls of the status quo, unaware that they were inviting in the very wrecking ball that would bring it all down.
And so, in the first half of the century, as crisis was looming and their continent was losing the status of global hegemon, the Federal States of White Men appointed Adolf Trump as their last resort leader. They knew he would break things—and fast; in fact, they were expecting it. An honest man would have recognized he was in way over his head, and a wise man would’ve considered Chesterton’s Fence—but Adolf was neither honest, nor wise. Instead, his narcissism was fueled by a recurrent diet of carefully regulated exposure to the crowds. Although mostly incoherent by any classical standards, Trump’s speeches had this eerily hypnotic quality, riling up the crowds in an almost mystical vortex of self-empowering self-righteousness, appealing to the most base of human instincts: villifying the out-group while glorifying the in-group—and in the process justifying the government’s “ends justify the means” irresponsible policies. These repeated interactions with the hard core of his base, and the in-group, hypnotic reciprocal validation were all the confirmation his fragile, underdeveloped ego required to confirm he was doing the right thing.
And yet, despite it all, this clown was obviously unfit for office—so how come the captains of the industry were supporting him? These men were not unintelligent; they had long seen the writing on the wall regarding the Interregnum, and they were in fact ridiculing Adolf Trump in private for his uncouth mannerisms and his intellectual vacuity. Yet, when the time came, they opened their checkbooks and their networks to him with fatal synchronicity. Their calculation was cold, transactional, and ultimately suicidal. The industry czars did not seek a philosopher-king; they sought a battering ram. For decades, the state had protected their booming businesses—but as time went by, and as their net worth ballooned, they felt their businesses encumbered by the same rules and regulations, as they prioritized social stability and the protection of human rights over unbridled profit for the few already at the top. In Trump, they saw the ultimate deregulatory weapon. They reasoned that a man so obsessed with his own image and so uninterested in the boring mechanics of governance would be easily managed—a useful idiot who would sign whatever legislation was placed in front of him, provided it was framed as a personal victory.
And so it was born: the unholy marriage between state and business interests, forged for the benefit of the new elite and to the ruin of the many, yet disguised in the eyes of a hoodwinked public as a legitimate revolution against the old order.
Each actor in this tragic pantomime was driven by their own petty motivations, the entire nation moving like a grotesque, mechanical marionette—a singular procession sleepwalking toward catastrophe, yet animated by a thousand disjointed interests. Some craved power, others hoarded wealth; some sought vengeance, others desperate validation; some demanded deregulation, others the burning of the political establishment. And at the head of this macabre cortège marched the tragic man-boy buffoon. Corralled to the front by the industry czars with sardonic cheers and despiteful praise, Adolf Trump was placed there as the figurehead of their destruction, so that when the dust finally settled, history would have a name to blame for it all. A man who so desperately needed to be loved by all ended up being universally reviled. Well, fuck him!