In the age of Trump, American politics has become a theater of emotional extremes. Loyalty is lionized, facts are fungible, and grievance is gospel. For many observers, the MAGA movement is not just a political faction—it’s a psychological phenomenon. But as mental health professionals increasingly weigh in on the emotional tenor of President Donald Trump’s base, we must ask: when does diagnosis become dismissal? And what are the consequences of pathologizing political identity?
As Trump’s political resurgence continues to galvanize his base, a growing chorus of mental health and political theorists raises alarms about what they describe as the psychological dynamics underpinning the MAGA movement. While critics warn against pathologizing political dissent, others argue that the emotional intensity and conspiratorial thinking among some Trump loyalists reflect deeper psychological patterns.
“For many Trump supporters, their embrace of the convicted felon, despite his observable falsehoods and incendiary rhetoric, is not rooted in traditional conservatism but in a belief that he alone articulates their alienation,” writes the Milwaukee Independent, describing the movement as “a subculture marked by deep emotional identification with Trump, rejection of institutional legitimacy, and a worldview shaped less by shared policy preferences than by a shared sense of grievance and defiance”.
Dr. Bandy X. Lee, a forensic psychiatrist and former Yale faculty member, has been one of the most vocal experts on the subject. In an interview with Scientific American, she described the phenomenon as a “shared psychosis,” explaining that “narcissistic symbiosis” between Trump and his followers creates a magnetically attractive leader-follower bond. “Truth is subordinate to loyalty,” Lee said, emphasizing how emotional drives override rational analysis.
This framing has sparked controversy. Critics argue that diagnosing political behavior risks echoing authoritarian tactics. In Chronicles Magazine, commentator Carl F. Horowitz warns of a “New Therapeutic Regime” where dissent is medicalized. He quotes psychologist John Gartner, who has claimed Trump suffers from “malignant narcissistic personality disorder, hyper manic temperament, and dementia,” and cautions that such diagnoses—especially from afar—blur the line between clinical insight and political weaponization.
The debate is not merely academic. It addresses fundamental questions about democracy, civic discourse, and the ethics of mental health advocacy. As Trump rallies continue to draw fervent crowds and his legal battles intensify, the psychological framing of his movement remains a flashpoint in American political culture.
Whether viewed as a populist uprising, a cult of personality, or a manifestation of collective trauma, the MAGA movement continues to challenge conventional political analysis—and, increasingly, the boundaries of psychological interpretation.
Let’s be clear: emotional intensity is not a diagnosis. Distrust in government is not a disorder. And political passion—however misinformed or misdirected—is not proof of psychosis. To label millions of Americans as mentally ill because they support a controversial figure is to abandon the hard work of civic engagement in favor of clinical shorthand.
This is not a defense of Trumpism. It is a defense of nuance. The MAGA movement is fueled by economic anxiety, cultural displacement, and a profound sense of betrayal. These are real emotions, not symptoms. They deserve analysis, not ridicule.
If we want to heal the nation, we must resist the temptation to medicalize our political opponents. Instead, we should invest in dialogue, education, and structural reform. The mind of America is fractured—but not beyond repair. Let’s treat it with care, not contempt.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of the Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network.




















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.