The place of loyalty in this country’s political system has been at the forefront of political conversations since the November election returned Donald Trump to the Oval Office. Loyalty has long been seen as what the president values most in his relationship with others.
In his 2024 presidential campaign Trump did not try to hide any of that. “We love loyalty in life,” he said. “Don’t you think? Loyalty?”
And recall what he said early in his first term to then-FBI Director James Comey, “I need loyalty; I expect loyalty.” And that was no one-off; years earlier, President Trump wrote, “I value loyalty above everything else—more than brains, more than drive and more than energy.”
Trump praised the notorious lawyer Roy Cohn, who used ruthless legal tactics against his perceived enemies, calling him “a truly loyal guy. … Just compare that with all the hundreds of ‘respectable’ guys who make careers out of boasting about their uncompromising integrity but have absolutely no loyalty.”
The juxtaposition of loyalty and integrity is telling.
The kind of loyalty to which Trump refers is “commitment to a cause or a person, irrespective of the situation and change that time brings… Loyalty transcends promises and performances. It is a commitment beyond consequences - which may be favorable or unfavorable.” The loyalty that Trump seeks is what philosophers call “particularistic.” It is, focused on persons or groups, not on principles.
Seven years ago, Michael Kruse wrote: “All leaders want loyalty. All politicians. All presidents. But in the 241-year history of the United States of America, there’s never been a commander in chief who has thought about loyalty and attempted to use it and enforce it quite like Trump.”
Kruse’s analysis seems even more apt today.
News reports suggest that “Job-seekers hoping to join the Trump administration are facing intense loyalty tests, including questions on who they voted for and when their moment of “MAGA revelation” occurred.” And the acting attorney general, Emil Bove, is implementing the president’s loyalty agenda even in traditionally independent places.
He has begun screening Justice Department officials and FBI agents to determine if they can “faithfully implement the agenda that the American people elected President Trump to execute.”
Properly understood, loyalty is neither a primary personal nor political virtue. And democratic loyalty requires attachment to the principles and procedures that are necessary to a government of, for and by the people. Democratic loyalty is directed at our fellow citizens and manifests itself as a concern for the rights and well-being of others.
Democratic loyalty is, in that sense, impersonal. Indeed, in a democratic political system, misplaced loyalty can be quite a dangerous thing. It requires “us not merely to suspend our own judgment about its object but even to set aside good judgment…”
Where loyalty attaches to persons, especially to political leaders, it goes “hand in hand with royalty. Royalty does not change - it is passed down from generation to generation, whereas democracy needs an impartial decision and good judgment.”
Writing in 1974, in the midst of the Watergate scandal, New York Times columnist William Safire observed, “Men are loyal to political leaders for different reasons: Some… share a belief in a cause or hatred of a perceived danger, and they want a ticket to the center of the action. Others…care little for ideology or favor, rooting their loyalty in a need to be needed and a belief ‘in others’ estimates of the uniqueness of their qualifications.”
And President Nixon was, like Trump, obsessed with loyalty. Like Trump. He started his second term by launching a loyalty campaign.
The historian and author Michael Koncewicz recalls that, “during a meeting with his Chief of Staff H.R. Haldeman and Special Assistant Fred Malek, two months after his landslide victory over George McGovern,” Nixon announced that during his remianing time in office, “There must be absolute loyalty.”
“The White House’s repeated clashes with executive branch officials,” Koncewicz writes, “convinced Nixon that he needed to wrangle the federal bureaucracy during his second term. At one point, he even asked for the resignation of every cabinet member, a mostly symbolic gesture that was meant to send a message across the administration. Nixon demanded that the bureaucracy would be at his disposal, particularly when it came to using the levers of government against his enemies.“
Seventy years later what Nixon said has a very familiar ring to it.
Boston Globe columnist Jeff Jacoby notes that “Nixon’s obsession with loyalty… “blossomed into full-blown, paranoid us-versus-themism’ — so much so that when a small dip in unemployment didn’t get much media attention, he became convinced that disloyal staffers in the Bureau of Labor Statistics were conspiring against him.”
Lyndon Baines Johnson, who became president after the assassination of John F. Kennedy and was Nixon’s predecessor, was also “obsessed with loyalty.” Jeff Shesol reports that he “brooded about it, demanded it, doubted it, and never seemed to find enough of it.”
Shesol says that LBJ once said about someone seeking a job in his administration, “I don’t want loyalty. I want loyalty. I want him to kiss my ass in Macy’s window at high noon and tell me it smells like roses. I want his pecker in my pocket.”
And, of course, at the height of the post-World War II Red Scare, Harry Truman issued an executive order mandating a “loyalty investigation of every person entering the civilian employment of any department or agency of the executive branch of the Federal Government.” The loyalty that Truman demanded was not loyalty to him.
Instead, Truman demanded “complete and unswerving loyalty to the United States.”
Truman feared the Program could become a “witch hunt,” but he defended it as necessary to preserve American security during a time of great tension.
President Trump seems less concerned than Truman was that loyalty tests to him or the country will become witch hunts. He is determined to rid the federal government of those deemed to be disloyal, no matter what the costs in terms of the government’s ability to function effectively in serving the American people.
In the administration he is setting up, loyalty more than brains will be the coin of the realm. As Shesol puts it, “On the continuum between with-the-program loyalty and pecker-in-my-pocket loyalty, Trump clearly wants the latter.”
But maybe loyalty is not the right word.
John Bolton, national security advisor to the president during his first term, argues that “fealty” is a better one. Bolton suggests that Trump wants his appointees “to display fealty, a medieval concept implying not mere loyalty but submission.” What Trump demands, Bolton writes, “is not, in fact, loyalty; it is fealty, servility, sycophancy.“
He warns that “the kind of personalist link that Mr. Trump expects will elide constitutional obligations.” Recall Bove’s emphasis on loyalty to the president, not the Constitution.
Over two hundred years ago, Alexander Hamilton worried about the corrupting influence of personal loyalty among those chosen to serve the president. He hoped that the requirement that the president’s appointments be subject to Senatorial confirmation would “be an excellent check upon a spirit of favoritism in the President, and would tend greatly to prevent the appointment of unfit characters…(who would be) in some way or other personally allied to him, or of possessing the necessary insignificance and pliancy to render them the obsequious instruments of his pleasure.”
I can’t imagine that Hamilton is resting easily today.
Austin Sarat is the William Nelson Cromwell professor of jurisprudence and political science at Amherst College.




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.