Trump’s Oval Office Tirade Showed His Weakness
Trump's Oval Office outburst revealed his insecurity, desperation, and failure to command real power—weakness masked as strength in a moment that diminished U.S. global leadership.
By Jeremi Suri
There is a quiet confidence to real power. When a country has superior resources and a strategic direction, it does not need to shout or even brag. Power is in the actions taken and the conditions changed. That is why Niccolo Machiavelli, the greatest writer on politics, spends almost no time encouraging the prince to advertise his power. His behavior should speak for itself.
When a bully screams, he shows his lack of confidence, his insecurity in his strength, and his fear of defeat. The raised voice and reddened face are tell-tales that the tough guy does not believe things will go his way. He must protest, hector, and demand that which he cannot procure. He must demean his enemy because he feels inadequate himself. Shouting threats is similar to begging on bent knees; one usually follows the other.
So it is with Donald Trump. Whatever one might think about the war in Ukraine, Trump’s performance in the Oval Office last Friday was pathetic and self-defeating: He invited the president of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky, to the White House; he proposed an extortionist agreement to seize mineral resources from Zelensky’s country for little in return; and he promoted a cease-fire with Russia that would leave the invader holding seized territory and strengthened for a new invasion. No leader of Ukraine could accept these suicidal terms.
Trump’s anger at Zelensky’s calm, straight-forward refusal showed Trump’s weakness. He wants what he cannot get, and he does not know what else to do. Pummeling Zelensky was a desperate attempt to force him to do what he never will. All bullies suffer the limits of brute force.
Donald Trump and chief sycophant J.D. Vance acted like local tuffs telling a small shopkeeper he had to thank them for their “protection,” and consent to their giving away his store. When the small shopkeeper objected, very tentatively, the tuffs pounced on him with shouts, pushes, and promises of doom. “You don’t have the cards,” Trump repeated.
“We are not playing cards,” Zelensky responded. The United States, along with Europe, has supplied Ukraine with necessary weapons and money to resist Russia’s invasion, but Ukraine has provided the people and the determination to fight. That is what thwarted Russian President Vladimir Putin’s plans for a quick victory. Ukrainian will is the most important element in the war and Trump does not know how to influence it. His clumsy bullying only hardens Ukrainian resolve.
No American president ever – I mean ever! – showed such empty belligerence in the Oval Office. Internationalist or isolationist, presidents have tried to exemplify the dignity and honor of Americans. They have understood that national strength is manifest in the calmness, confidence, and coherence of the nation’s leadership. American power is most effective when it appears non-threatening.
Presidents have always been self-interested actors for themselves and the United States, but they have gained leverage over international events by providing foreign actors reasons to consent to American power. That is how the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the hub-and-spoke system of American alliances emerged in Europe and Asia. The United States has dominated these regions because American actions – including foreign aid – helped minimize resistance. Washington's power was far less effective when the United States confronted entrenched opposition, as in Vietnam.
American presidents also understood that goodness and respect increase national power. Princes need to cultivate love and fear, Machiavelli advised, but they must avoid hate. A hated prince will always be alone, imperiled, and ill-informed. Although American claims to goodness were not universally believed in the last century, they were sincerely expressed. And that mattered. Foreign observers generally perceived that Americans were trying to be good, and that made them more likely to listen, compromise, and even help. The outpouring of international support for the United States in the weeks after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 was an example of this. Countries around the world, including Russia, China, and Iran, recognized the stark difference between the goodness of the United States and the malevolence of the terrorists.
Not any more. Trump’s gangster behavior in the Oval Office made him look like a monster, not a leader. He dismissed Zelensky’s concerns about the welfare of his people and the deadly aggression of Russia as only a cruel man would. Innocent Ukrainian lives don’t matter to Trump. He also tried to blackmail the Ukrainian leader as only a terrorist would. Trump told Zelensky to capitulate or else suffer worse; that is the logic of the bomber, the hijacker, and the hostage-taker.
When Zelensky protested gently, he was physically pushed repeatedly by Trump in their meeting and told that he was somehow ungrateful for rejecting extortion. Drug cartels similarly tell the towns they have overrun that they should show gratitude that the thugs have not killed them all. Terrorists crave consent from their victims because they know they do not have it. They feel powerless in the hate their actions arouse.
The future of Ukraine (and also Taiwan) is in doubt. Russia (and China) have gained enormously from the Trump administration’s decision to accept aggression and criticize self-defense. The United States is the biggest loser because its power has always relied on consent and goodness to build overseas relationships and gain access to foreign societies. A screaming bully in the White House has abandoned those sources of power, just as he is weakening the U.S. military and intelligence agencies through draconian cuts and a purging of competent leaders. Trump’s approach to national security is national self-destruction.
Trump was the weakest American leader in at least a century when he threw a tantrum in his own house, sitting next to the man who has resisted the largest land invasion in Europe since the Second World War. Zelensky was factual, focused, and dignified. He was defending his people, as he has done courageously for more than three years. Trump was unhinged, ignorant, and bullying, accompanied by a lapdog vice president who simply validated the stupidity coming from his boss’s mouth.
The Oval Office scene showed that the United States can no longer lead the world. That is a profound downgrade in American power. Trump is the weakest president of our lifetimes, and that is what makes him the most dangerous.
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Jeremi Suri holds the Mack Brown Distinguished Chair for Leadership in Global Affairs at the University of Texas at Austin. He is a professor in the University's Department of History and the LBJ School of Public Affairs. Professor Suri is the author and editor of eleven books on politics and foreign policy, most recently: Civil War By Other Means: America’s Long and Unfinished Fight for Democracy. His other books include: The Impossible Presidency: The Rise and Fall of America’s Highest Office; Liberty’s Surest Guardian: American Nation-Building from the Founders to Obama; Henry Kissinger and the American Century; and Power and Protest: Global Revolution and the Rise of Détente. His writings appear in the New York Times, Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, CNN.com, Atlantic, Newsweek, Time, Wired, Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, and other media. Professor Suri is a popular public lecturer and comments frequently on radio and television news. His writing and teaching have received numerous prizes, including the President’s Associates Teaching Excellence Award from the University of Texas and the Pro Bene Meritis Award for Contributions to the Liberal Arts. Professor Suri hosts a weekly podcast, “This is Democracy.”
Well said. As American diplomats (of which I was one), we used to say that very thing behind the scenes. We don't need to speak loud or talk tough or make a scene. We are the United States of America. As you say, that spoke for itself. Without striking a maudlin tone or pretending perfection, much of the leverage we had with others was rooted in trust. What I fear most of all in the despicable spectacle of Trump 2.0 are the untold consequences of the incineration of trust. Not even are so-called friends will love us now.
Yes, I keep having flashbacks to Tony Blair in particular, publicly standing with us, the U.S. as 9/11 unfolded. It called out to something deep within me. And now I'm feeling the devastation of its absence.