The Paradox of Vilifying Trump

Things Hidden Since the Foundation of Politics

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

—Emma Lazarus, “The New Colossus”

“Grab her by the p*ssy” was perhaps the most profound line ever spoken in American politics. You don’t really understand politics or human nature until you realize that saying this unapologetically is precisely why Donald Trump got elected—and why, in a sense, he deserved to be President more than anyone else. This may sound absurd, but by the end of this essay, you’ll have a deeper understanding of the paradoxes of human nature.

We all know the story of Oedipus. He killed his father, married his mother, became king, and ultimately met a tragic end in self-imposed exile. Most people see this as a cautionary tale about fate or moral blindness—a story of how pride and ignorance can lead a person to unwittingly fulfill a dark prophecy. But this is in fact a shallow reading that misses the main point.

But the truth is, Oedipus became king precisely because he committed the forbidden acts of patricide and incest. René Girard’s mimetic theory explains how desire spreads through imitation, inevitably leading to rivalry. As these rivalries intensify, society becomes charged with tension, with each person wanting what others have and each desire fueling resentment and potential violence. Left unchecked, this contagion of reciprocal antagonism can tear a community apart. Eventually, at the peak of this “war of all against all,” the community finds a scapegoat upon whom to project all its conflicts and frustrations. This scapegoat sponges up all the violent urges in the community and is eventually expelled, bringing temporary peace. The scapegoat is simultaneously the one blamed for all of society’s problems and the one who brings harmony and abundance to the society after being sacrificed or expelled.

The institution of kingship was founded upon the ritualization of the scapegoat mechanism. Ancient people recognized that every time a scapegoat was expelled from society, the community entered a period of prosperity and peace. This cycle of expulsion and renewal became essential, forming the foundations of religious and civil institutions. Over time, people came to revere the scapegoat-to-be as the king—the one chosen to embody the community’s sins and, ultimately, to atone for them through sacrifice or expulsion. In breaking taboos, the king embodies society’s fears and suppressed violent impulses. His role is legitimized precisely by the transgressions that set him apart as an outsider.

The king’s authority must be rooted in his willingness to confront and embody society’s darkest fears and suppressed desires. By committing forbidden acts, the king sets himself apart as both a figure of power and an outsider, a transgressor whose very rise to power carries the seeds of his eventual expulsion. The Sword of Damocles inherently dangles above the head of every king. Deliberate violations of taboos mark him as simultaneously sacred and doomed. In committing transgressions, the king becomes a lightning rod for the community’s pent-up resentment and violence, absorbing its collective tensions until the moment comes for him to be expelled. The myth of Oedipus exists because it reveals the founding mechanisms of kingship: the king as a sacred scapegoat, elevated to power through the transgressions that will ultimately bring about his downfall.

Every four years, America plunges into the spectacle of the Presidential election campaigns. While it may superficially appear to be a search for the most qualified leader, the true purpose runs deeper. Campaigns are sacrificial rituals crafted to designate candidates as scapegoat kings. To serve their purpose, candidates are meant to break societal norms, inviting citizens to direct their resentment and hostility toward them instead of each other. Polarization is a feature, not a bug. For the sacrificial ritual to be effective, the public must feel justified in their hatred, allowing candidates to serve as sanctioned outlets for scapegoating.

From day one of his campaign, Trump shattered American political taboos. Breaking rules wasn’t a mistake; it was his strategy. As he once said, “I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose voters.” This outright rejection of political norms was precisely how he fulfilled the role of the king as the scapegoat-to-be. Trump didn’t just parrot typical political talking points; he amplified his controversial persona as a reality TV star and embraced all negative publicity. He became the focal point for the nation’s “war of all against all,” fully stepping into his role as a modern-day scapegoat king—the ultimate outcast in a country that prides itself on accepting “the wretched refuse” of the world, or, as Hillary Clinton would put it, the “deplorables.”

The assassination attempts on Trump reveal this mechanism in its starkest form. Had any of these attempts succeeded, it would have offered a temporary sense of relief to those who saw him as “literally Hitler.” His opponents didn’t hate him because they were “brainwashed” by ideology, as some Republicans might claim. No, this hatred ran deeper—rooted in the primal urge to find a scapegoat, an impulse older than any political belief. The scapegoat mechanism, after all, underpins all political institutions. By directing their rage at Trump, his opponents unwittingly legitimized his role as President, reinforcing the very power they hoped to destroy.