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The strength of feeling that Donald Trump engenders, along with the hyperpolarisation of the current era of US politics, make objective analysis of his character and psychology hard to come by. “Trump Derangement Syndrome” is a slur often thrown at hyperbolic or hysterical critics, but it works just as well for his fans: love and loathing seem to derange in equal measure when it comes to the American president.
Assessments of the 78-year-old’s personality, therefore, tend to be divided into two very distinct and partisan groupings. To liberals he is a narcissistic, imbecilic and cowardly bully with daddy issues and dictator envy; to the Maga crowd, a brilliant, courageous, charming and pragmatic political genius with the confidence, strength and patriotic fervour required to make America great (again). One small overlap between the two groups might be that Trump is charismatic, but liberals quickly point out that many of the most evil men in history have been, too.
Call me a bothsidesist if you will, but there is truth in each account. Like the rest of humanity, the president contains multitudes, even if they don’t appear consistent with each other. There is one aspect of Trump’s character, though, that is crucial to understanding both who he is as a person and why he has been so successful, and yet it is usually — probably because it sounds too much like a compliment to liberals and too much like an insult to conservatives — overlooked. Namely, his deep eccentricity.
One of Trump’s strengths is that he can be very funny. Making people laugh means he’s highly entertaining, both to his fans and — much as they might not like to admit it — to those who hate him. But while some people become funny because they are naturally ebullient, and others because they are good at coming up with sharp witticisms on the spot, that’s not him. No, the comedic value of Trump — who famously is never seen laughing — is more accidental. He is the kind of funny person who ends up that way because people have always laughed at his natural weirdness and he has worked out that making them laugh works for him.
It is not that he is never deliberately funny — he has good comic timing, and excels at coming up with rude and amusing names for opponents. But it is the oddness in his manner of speaking, his hand gestures, his facial expressions, his obsession with people’s looks, his way of dancing, his unchanging 80s tastes in music and fashion, and even the things that he gets upset by — his fragility — that is most amusing. And all this is accompanied by an unusual lack of self-consciousness that allows him to come across as authentic (even when lying through his teeth).
I have laughed out loud at Trump, more than with Trump, plenty of times over the past week or so (I have also felt other emotions, but those aren’t the subject of this column). He was deeply offended by a portrait of him, which he described as “distorted to a level that even I, perhaps, have never seen before”, that was temporarily hung in the Colorado State Capitol (it has since been removed). He told a board meeting of the John F Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts — of which he has appointed himself chairman — about his love for the musical Cats and his disgust at the sight of dancers’ bodies. He once again appeared to claim he is the only person who uses the word “groceries” in a TV interview, in his trademark childlike staccato. “It’s like an old fashioned word. But really it’s not. And people understand it. And I campaigned very hard on groceries.”
Another notable moment in the interview came when Greg Kelly, the journalist, asked whether he was happy. Trump looked rather taken aback at the question. “I don’t know about happy,” he said. “I’m thrilled to be here. We’re going to make this a much better country,” he continued, unsmiling.
Trump comes across as a man desperate to be loved and accepted, but who has never fully fitted in. His neighbours in Palm Beach have told me he has no real friends. Perhaps the reason Trump appeared so bothered by Kamala Harris’s running mate Tim Walz calling him “weird” during last year’s presidential campaign was that this was not the first time someone has pointed this out, and it makes him uncomfortable.
The irony is that Trump’s eccentricity is one of the things that makes him so successful. In a world of AI-generated blandness and internet-driven homogenisation, being a bit wacky helps you stand out from the crowd. And either you’re a bit strange or you’re not; there’s no faking it. That’s not to say many haven’t tried — or won’t continue to do so. Sad!
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