Trump and the Personalization of Politics

I’ve spent a lot of time focusing on the negative impacts of trump and his brand of politics—the damage he’s doing to institutions, the rule of law, and international relations. The degradation of values and civic discourse he represents. The way he peddles lies, conspiracy, and disinformation for personal gain. His depravity, immorality, and corruption.

But what I haven’t done is try to grasp the larger forces shaping this era of politics—the forces that paved the way for a politician as unthinkable as trump. Most importantly, I haven’t fully explored why trump was seen by so many as a legitimate response to the reality they felt they were experiencing. And no, it’s not because they’re all dumb, immoral, or uneducated.

Data Point #1: Trump was the only candidate in the 2015 Republican primary who positioned himself as explicitly anti-globalist and anti-establishment. In terms of substance—such as it was—this defined his identity and distinguished him from the rest of the field. His political appeal and eventual ascendency were rooted in a populist backlash to globalization and establishment politics.

Data Point #2: Trump’s style defined his campaign more than any coherent policy. His anti-establishment persona became a prop for his personalized style of politics. What most appealed to his supporters was how he personalized everything—especially his attacks which were usually personal insults. This threw his opponents off-balance—it was the exact opposite of the decorum they were used to. Personal attacks were supposed to be off-limits, beneath politicians. But trump didn’t play by those rules. He branded himself a “non-politician.”

This style of personalized politics meshed with his anti-establishment rhetoric. It resonated with people who felt that the institutions to which they had long given their allegiance had failed them. “The system is rigged,” trump repeated—a message that rang true to many. For decades, the rich had gotten richer, the poor poorer, and the whole system seemed designed to benefit the few while disadvantaging the many. “The Deep State” and “The Swamp” were slogans that functioned as calls for individual citizens to reclaim political power.

To trump’s most devoted supporters, he represents “people power.” He’s less their champion than their avatar. An embodiment of their sense of being victimized. They know he’s not like them—he’s wealthy and privileged—but it’s how he attacks and acts out that they identify with. They revel in his irreverence, anger, cruelty, impunity, and indecency. Being associated with someone like that makes them feel strong.

This strain of maverick individualism and distrust of authority is nothing new in American culture. It runs deep. The so-called frontier mentality is celebrated in stories, films, and music. The cowboy who tames the West. The rogue cop who bends the law to get justice. The lone hero who stands outside the system.

Data Point #3: The personalization of politics is fed by social media. I don’t think trump’s political rise would have been possible without it. It’s not just that algorithms stoke anger, conspiracy, and disinformation—though they do—but that social media in general promotes a culture of personalization and atomization. It erases the line between private and public, making every issue feel individual and emotional. The modesty that once defined public life—and used to be a civic norm among politicians—is gone. Trump’s impulsive, reckless style thrived in this environment. He seems more in tune with the times than traditional politicians. His use of social media bridged the emotional gap between politician and supporter in a way that felt unprecedented.

Data Point #4: Trump’s affinity for Putin. Sure, on a psychological level, trump is in awe of Putin’s immense wealth and power. But there are deeper parallels. In some ways, Putin’s rise was shaped by dynamics similar to those that brought trump to power. Putin emerged from the collapse of the Soviet empire—a superpower that, in its final phase, limped feebly toward market-based capitalism but failed to complete the transition. The call for "perestroika' (political restructuring) reflected a deep desire among Soviet citizens to escape decades of subservience, to reassert individual identity after being subordinated to a collapsing imperial project. Putin rose out of the chaos that followed.

While the American-led globalist project was far more successful than the Soviet one, it, too, came to be seen as insufficient. After decades of economic stagnation, many Americans felt their aspirations had been ignored or denied. The Cold War was over—America had “won”—so why were so many struggling? The liberal international order no longer seemed to serve them. The time had come to focus inward. This sentiment seeded the ground for trump’s isolationist, anti-globalist message, and  personalized political style.

Trump’s rise didn’t happen in a vacuum, nor can it be dismissed as a fluke or anomaly. He is a product of systemic failures—economic, political, cultural—and his success reveals just how deep the cracks in the American democratic experiment have grown. By channeling resentment, personalizing politics, and exploiting the emotional logic of social media, he became the symbol of a revolt not just against elites, but against the very idea of shared reality and civic restraint. To confront what trump represents, we need to reckon with the conditions that made him possible: a disillusioned public, hollowed-out institutions, and a cultural appetite for spectacle over substance. Until those forces are addressed, trump—or someone like him, but more competent and potent—will always be waiting in the wings.