Aggression Isn't Strength
Donald Trump tries to look strong. He isn't.
If you’ve seen enough election night victory speeches, you know they follow a formula. Winning candidates take to a podium with triumphal music playing in the background. They smile, wave to a crowd of adoring fans, thank their family and closest supporters, and claim victory. They graciously acknowledge their opponent and thank them for running a hard-fought contest. They talk about putting the harsh sentiments of the campaign behind them and talk of their voters and their opponent’s voters coming together around the promise of a shared future.
This election night ritual serves a purpose. It’s a way of addressing whatever wounds may have opened during the campaign, reassuring the disappointed supporters of the losing candidate, and beginning the transition to governing.
In other words, it’s a way of affirming democracy.
The primary campaign version of this speech is just as important, validating the just fight against worthy opponents while rallying supporters to the next contest. Here, democracy is reinforced when all candidates—win or lose—reiterate their investment in a process that will end in the spring or summer with the losing candidates accepting the eventual winner and the winner benevolently acknowledging the valor of the losers.
That’s not what we saw last Tuesday when Donald Trump declared victory in the New Hampshire primary. What we saw is what happens when an authoritarian figure has to acknowledge a victory that isn’t total.
Trump had been projected to win New Hampshire. Polling suggested he would win it by a lot. He had been leading by almost twenty points in polling averages. Some polls had him up by nearly thirty. Had Trump won by that much, Nikki Haley would have dropped out and the primary race would be over.
Donald Trump expected that outcome. He craved that outcome.
But Trump significantly underperformed expectations, winning only by eleven. The final margin was 54-43. An unexpectedly large number of people voted against him.
Functionally, Trump probably did clinch the nomination on Tuesday, even if Haley’s better-than-expected finish provides her with the funds and motivation to carry on a bit longer. New Hampshire was perhaps Haley’s best state and she couldn’t win it, even with a huge assist from independent voters who will not be eligible to participate in the next big primary contest in South Carolina. It’s hard to see a practical path forward for her.
But that wasn't good enough for the strongman. When Trump took to the stage Tuesday night, he couldn’t conceal his fury.
A strongman needs to be dominant at all times. He must be inevitable and invincible. And he is not to be challenged.
Last Tuesday in New Hampshire, Nikki Haley had the audacity to challenge Donald Trump by keeping the primary close enough to justify staying in the race.
As the first votes were being counted she did what all presidential candidates have done in situations where it looked like they were going to exceed expectations, although perhaps not by as much as the early tally suggested. She got out there as quickly as she could and claimed the right to soldier on. She congratulated Trump on his victory but made the argument that she has a better chance to win in November.
It was too much for the strongman to take.
It’s worth spending three minutes to watch excerpts from the two speeches side-by-side.
Haley did the thing you’re supposed to do in a democracy but you’re not supposed to do in a dictatorship. She stole the spotlight from the leader and challenged his invincibility.
He responded with aggression.
Trump mocked Haley’s words, belittled her appearance, and called her a loser.
He called on former opponents who had fallen in line with him to condemn her, in the process humiliating Tim Scott—whose political career was launched when Haley appointed him to the senate—telling him, “you must really hate her.”
And he threatened Haley like the crime boss that he is.
And just a little note to Nikki. She’s not going to win. But if she did, she would be under investigation by those people in fifteen minutes.
That’s a not-too-veiled threat to quit the race or risk having a future Trump Justice Department move against her for the crime of defying the true leader. It’s what a mob boss does, and it’s the promise of what’s in store for America in a second Trump term.
But we’re not living in a dictatorship quite yet, so it matters that Trump’s performance didn’t play the way he thought it would.
To his core supporters, Trump’s aggression looks like a great strength. The boss always looks strong to the mob. To everyone else, his aggressive rage revealed a brittle candidate who cannot handle anything less than total fealty.
A strongman needs to be dominant at all times. He must be inevitable and invincible. And he is not to be challenged.
There is a reason why winning candidates are gracious. It invites people who opposed them to give them a second look. Inclusivity and humility are attractive qualities that can win over former adversaries. They are tools of addition.
Politics is about addition. It is about building coalitions.
Trump is about subtraction.
As he projects what he believes to be strength he is in fact broadcasting weakness to anyone who does not live in the MAGA bubble.
His speech reeked of insecurity. How dare this upstart candidate—this woman of color—stand in the way of my total victory?
He degraded her because he felt degraded. He threatened her because he felt threatened.
It will not be the last time this happens.
As the year progresses, Trump will confront far more frightening situations than underperforming expectations in New Hampshire. His financial fate could be decided this week. Those criminal trials await. And the unexpectedly large share of voters who opposed him in Iowa and New Hampshire foreshadow erosion of support among a small but significant sliver of anti-Trump Republicans he will need in November and an outright rebellion among independents. Threat is about to be piled upon threat.
We now know how Trump reacts to threats. He reacts like the authoritarian figure that he is. But that doesn’t play in a general election.
Trump’s aggression broadcasts weakness. It could be fatal to his prospects in the fall.