When Donald Trump called into Fox and Friends on Tuesday August 19th and mused that "I want to try and get to heaven, if possible," citing his role in the Ukraine peace process as a potential ticket upward, he offered far more than a personal aside.
It exposed the ethos of the man where redemption is transactional, compassion is conditional, and leadership is measured not by empathy but by negotiating oneself to heaven.
None of this should be a surprise to anyone who has watched him for over a decade. Trump's reflection is devoid of empathy and displays a total lack of caring or emotion. The reflection is more about himself and his values of personal gain and perhaps even management of his reputation; for what would people think if he didn't go to heaven?
This moment invites deeper scrutiny:
- What does it mean when a president frames peacemaking not as a moral imperative, but as a strategic move in his spiritual ledger?
- What does it reveal about a man who shows little compassion or love for the less fortunate amongst us?
Trump's framing of "if I can get to heaven, this will be one of the reasons" is in many ways similar to his general approach to life as a transaction. The statement suggests a quid pro quo approach to virtue. His behavior is in shocking contrast to the traditional American virtue of moral leadership rooted in empathy, sacrifice, and care for others.
So many thoughts come to mind as one tries to wrap one's head around Trump's desire to go to heaven. When I hear him speak of his desire to "save 7,000 people a week" by bringing peace in Ukraine, I see this more as a marketing ploy to use compassion as a tool, given how he shows no signs of compassion on the domestic front on issues of immigration, public health, or racial justice.
I see Trump playing a Ukraine peace deal as typical Donald Trump: an attempt to negotiate himself into heaven through geopolitical maneuvering. This reflection on Fox reveals a great deal about the broader ethos of Donald Trump. Who else would treat diplomacy, faith, and even redemption as negotiable assets?
Since surviving an assassination attempt, Trump has adopted a more overtly religious tone. Of course, given Trump's propensity to brand everything, it is not unreasonable to question whether this was a genuine transformation or a strategic rebranding to shore up support from the religious right.
In a time when democratic institutions are at serious risk due to the actions of Donald Trump through polarization and performative politics, the character of leadership matters more than ever. Grand gestures or self-serving declarations do not measure authentic moral leadership. Still, instead, it is revealed in the honest expressions of caring and the capacity to see others not as props in a personal drama but as fellow Americans all deserving of dignity.
Trump's Fox and Friends reflection speaks to the man and should raise concerns about his leadership ability. Great leaders are not just strategists and management experts. They understand and feel the pulse of the nation they lead.
Contrast this with the legacy of leaders who understood peace not as a trophy to be used for personal gain. Mandela's long walk toward reconciliation, Carter's tireless diplomacy rooted in human rights, and King's call to love even in the face of hatred were a moral authority that did not stem from divine reward-seeking but from a radical commitment to justice, empathy, and shared humanity. For them, peacemaking was not a path to heaven but instead the essence of who they were as individuals.
As Americans reflect on this passing comment, we should reflect on what we see in the man. If redemption is merely a brand, and compassion a tool for leverage, then what becomes of the public trust? What becomes of the moral fabric that binds a pluralistic democracy together?
In a democracy, moral leadership must not be based on receiving divine reward systems or reduced to strategic branding. It must be lived, felt, and practiced in the public square, where empathy, accountability, and shared purpose shape the soul of our institutions.
New York Times columnist David Brooks once observed that “Trump’s behavior has aroused great moral indignation. It has aroused in people’s hearts a sense that something sacred is being trampled.” That indignation stems not merely from policy disagreements, but from a deeper unease, a sense that the soul of leadership itself is being hollowed out.
When compassion becomes a branding tool and redemption a strategic asset, we risk losing the moral compass that binds a pluralistic democracy. American leadership must address economic and financial conditions, but it must be rooted in empathy, integrity, and the courage to serve something greater than oneself.
Consider the moral compass citizens should expect from those in power and ask whether redemption without love can be redemptive. Authentic moral leadership begins not with off-the-cuff reflections on Fox and Friends, but with the courage to confront one's limitations and the heartfelt compassion and understanding that comes with the responsibility of leading a nation.
David Nevins is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio speaks with U.S. President Donald Trump during a Cabinet meeting in the Cabinet Room of the White House on May 27, 2026 in Washington, D.C. Trump met with his Cabinet days after saying a peace deal with Iran was“ largely negotiated” amid expectations around the re-opening the Strait of Hormuz.
The worst deal in the history of deals
As a former Republican, sometimes it’s fun to look back on the things we — I was part of a “we” at one time — criticized Democrats for, and not all that long ago.
Remember, if you will, when Republicans condemned former President Bill Clinton for pardoning his brother and his corrupt donor friend Marc Rich?
Or, remember when Republicans wagged their fingers at former President Barack Obama’s golf outings? Or his executive orders? Or his Syrian “red line”?
Or all the times Republicans went after former President Joe Biden’s gaffes?
While those criticisms may have been justified at the time, they look patently ridiculous next to our current president’s cartoonish and downright dangerous offenses.
Offenses like pardoning Jan. 6 insurrectionists — nearly 100 of whom have gone on to be arrested for, charged with, or convicted of crimes separate from the events of that day.
Or wreaking havoc on the global economy by instituting reckless tariffs on friends, neighbors, and enemies alike?
Or taking a proverbial sledge hammer to countless government agencies that have put every American in danger, whether on airplanes, in hospitals, at job sites, or in natural disasters.
That’s just a few, but nothing looks worse next to his predecessors than Donald Trump’s supposed Iran deal, at least as it’s outlined in the Memorandum of Understanding, the details of which Trump was loath to share.
And for good reason — they are shockingly bad and humiliating for the U.S.
I remember Obama’s Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action or JCPOA from 2015 very well. I, along with many Republicans as well as a cadre of foreign policy experts, criticized that deal for its obvious and problematic concessions to a very bad actor who we’ve long known could not be trusted. But trust was what we gave the Iranian regime, as well as sudden access to a boatload of cash — $100 billion, to be exact.
All of Obama’s provisions were temporary, which would allow Iran to restart enriching uranium upon their sunset; the deal didn’t address Iran’s ballistic missiles, or its funding of terrorist proxies like Hezbollah and Hamas; the supposed “anytime, anywhere” inspections came with a 24-day delay, if Iran so chose, giving them ample time to hide any suspect materials; and it didn’t require any congressional authority.
In short, I’d argue it wasn’t a great deal. But as bad as it was, it looks like the Magna Carta next to Trump’s.
Trump’s deal would give Iran immediate sanction relief and access to $300 billion, presumably to use to fund terror proxies; it doesn’t secure any upfront limits on uranium enrichment or missile development; it allows Iran to charge for safe passage through the Strait of Hormuz in the future; and it calls for Israel to stop its attacks on Hezbollah, another win for Iran.
Neither Americans nor the Middle East are safer than we were 100-plus days ago when Trump decided to pursue this folly. And in fact, our economy is weaker for it. But Iran is unquestionably stronger and more emboldened.
They’ve seen Trump’s weakness, unseriousness, and frighteningly limited appreciation for history. They’ve seen him retreat on most of his core threats to the regime, from bombing their cultural sites to ending a civilization overnight. And they’ve taken notice as he’s abandoned the promises that were supposedly central to his justification for war in the first place — regime change, liberating the Iranian people, and removing Iran’s nuclear materials.
What a waste of blood and treasure, not to mention American might and power, only so that our enemies can watch us limp desperately toward a conclusion that’s being described — by the right — as “unthinkable,” “appeasement,” and “the worst foreign policy blunder in decades.”
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.