Donald Trump has come an amazing way — from a media showman to a political destroyer who, under the pretext of fighting the establishment, uses its entire arsenal to subjugate key institutions of power. Under the guise of a rebel, he interferes in the work of the government, transforms foreign policy, attacks the autonomy of universities and restricts the freedom of the press. Unlike a simple desire for revenge, his project is systemic in nature: it is an attempt to reshape the very political and cultural fabric of the United States.
American establishment is under fire
Trump is actively attacking academic independence. Thus, under pressure from the White House, Columbia University was forced to reduce protest activity, change programs on the Middle East and strengthen security measures. Such steps reflect a broader trend: a blow to intellectual autonomy as a way to establish ideological dominance.
The rhetoric of the struggle against the elites, so characteristic of Trumpism, turns out to be a screen for the restoration of old power in new forms. His personnel policy speaks for itself: key positions are filled by people who have no relevant experience but demonstrate unconditional loyalty. For example, Linda McMahon at the Ministry of Education or Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a vaccine skeptic, heads the Ministry of Health. These are not so much managerial as ideological decisions — an attack on professional expertise and institutional independence.
Under the pretext of “returning to true American values” Trump is staging a cultural counter-revolution. Everything related to international cooperation, diversity and liberal approaches seems to be a threat. However, behind the facade of ideology lies a more primitive desire — to destroy the mechanisms of checks and establish direct, unlimited presidential rule.
Is Trump really a “warrior of peace”?
Against the background of these trials, Trump suddenly gained a reputation as an anti-war leader. In the domestic political discourse, he began to be perceived as a figure capable of putting an end to endless military adventures. He did not start new wars during his first administration, and his supporters turned this into a political symbol: they say, we are the real peacemakers, and not those who like the rhetoric of humanitarian interventions.
However, the reality turned out to be much more complicated. The “anti-establishment” rhetoric also serves as a screen in this case. Despite the claims of peace, the Trump administration reproduces the logic of previous eras — the very one that he supposedly rejects. The revival of the concept of the “war on terrorism” has become a litmus test: the structure has remained the same, only the rhetoric has changed.
Back in 1984, Ronald Reagan, Trump’s political idol, declared a “new kind of terrorism” in which terror had become a tool of foreign states. This is how the term “state terrorism” appeared — a powerful ideological weapon that made it possible to label other countries and defend their own policies from criticism. If in doubt, you are an accomplice of terror.
After September 11, George W. Bush reactivated this rhetoric, declaring “war against all those who seek to export terror and those governments that support them.” His military campaign was accompanied by apocalyptic symbolism and claims of a divine calling. The destruction of Iraq, he said, was “sent by God.”
Tired of such interventions, Republican voters pinned their hopes on Trump as someone who would break the vicious circle. He promised not only to end wars, but also to restore freedom of speech — to give people the right to criticize US policy. But with the advent of a new war on terrorism — now in Yemen — it became obvious that Trump was following the beaten path, only adjusting the scenery.
This “third” war on terrorism, like the previous ones, affects not only the external but also the internal sphere. Mahmoud Khalil, a Palestinian graduate student at Columbia University who opposed Israeli military actions, was detained without charges for “supporting terrorism.” His political expression was interpreted as a crime. He, like the countries labeled as “sponsors of terrorism,” has lost his right to freedom.
The pattern repeats with startling regularity: it all starts with statements about security, and ends with censorship and repression. Campaign goals change flexibly, justifications adapt to the political moment, and the enemy is always somewhere nearby, whether in the mountains of Yemen or on the campus of an American university. Trump’s promises of a break with the past turned out to be a rhetorical maneuver. The machine of the war on terrorism turned out to be stronger than personal slogans.
The question is not whether this war will end. The question is when the next one will start — and under whose name it will be conducted.
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