When President Trump declared that the U.S. strikes “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program, it wasn’t just a policy claim—it was an exercise in narrative control. Predictably, his assertion was met with both support and skepticism. Yet more than a comment on military efficacy, the statement falls into a broader pattern that underscores how Trump uses language not just to communicate but to dominate.
Alongside top officials like CIA Director John Ratcliffe and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, Trump claimed the strikes set Iran’s nuclear ambitions back by years. However, conflicting intelligence assessments tell a more nuanced story. A leaked Defense Intelligence Agency report concluded that while infrastructure was damaged and entrances sealed, core components such as centrifuges remained largely intact. Iran had already relocated much of its enriched uranium. The International Atomic Energy Agency echoed that damage was reparable.
Given this, it's not partisan to question Trump’s sweeping claim—it's responsible journalism. And yet, he has once again lashed out at the press and intelligence agencies, accusing them of spreading “fake news” and undercutting American pilots. This reaction—deflecting criticism with outrage—is part of a now-familiar pattern in his public playbook.
Trump's reliance on inflammatory, and often dehumanizing, language is not an unfortunate quirk—it’s a deliberate tactic. Over the years, he has referred to immigrants as “vermin,” accused critics of being “poison” to America, and described political opponents as “enemies from within.” These aren’t casual insults. They are rhetorical devices with a dark history.
There are several reasons why this behavior continues to go largely unchecked:
- Repetition breeds normalization. Trump’s use of personal attacks has been so consistent that many Americans have become desensitized. What once might have been shocking now barely registers.
- Political survival instincts. Many of his allies remain silent out of fear—either of political fallout or of becoming his next target.
- Institutional restraint. Leaders like General Colin Powell have opted not to trade insults, choosing professionalism over confrontation.
- The media’s whirlwind pace. Provocative remarks often get lost in the avalanche of breaking news, limiting sustained public attention.
But language is not harmless. It shapes perception, frames debate, and influences behavior. When politicians label tax cuts as “relief” or describe policies in terms that evoke cultural identity—like “Make America Great Again”—they’re leveraging powerful emotional currents. It’s a common tool, but when wielded irresponsibly, it becomes dangerous.
A 2024 linguistic analysis of Trump’s speeches revealed a sharp uptick in violent and exclusionary terms, outpacing democratic norms and nearing the rhetoric of authoritarian regimes. What’s striking is that this trend doesn’t correspond with national crises. Rather, it appears intentional—language tailored to cast politics as an existential battle between “us” and “them.”
History warns us where this can lead. Dehumanizing language reduces the moral barriers to violence. It erodes our democratic foundations by normalizing division and incivility.
Harsh political rhetoric is nothing new in America. But the sheer volume, intensity, and repetition from someone with such a vast platform sets a dangerous precedent. The question now isn’t whether we agree with Trump’s policies. It’s whether we’re willing to accept this weaponization of language as the new political norm.
David Nevins is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
A view of the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C., on June 25, 2026. President Donald Trump jolted Republicans during a fiery appearance at the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday, scrapping a housing bill signing ceremony and clashing behind closed doors with a party rebel who challenged him over the Iran war. Trump had been expected to sign the bipartisan housing.
Only Trump doesn’t care about housing
It was August 15, 2024. Then candidate Donald Trump stepped out of his Bedminster, New Jersey, golf club’s columned clubhouse to a gaggle of reporters. He was flanked by tables of groceries and signs showing the rising cost of food. Also on one of the tables was a dollhouse, meant to represent the equally alarming rise in housing prices.
It was a speech about the economy, the single most important issue of the 2024 election cycle, full of promises that went right to the heart of Americans’ anxieties. While former President Joe Biden and then Vice President Kamala Harris were contorting themselves to posture a good economy that just needed more time to recover from the pandemic, Trump was preying on voters’ very real fears of unaffordable gas, groceries, and homes. It was obviously a winning message.
In that speech, Trump promised, “We’re going to open up tracts of federal land for housing construction. We desperately need housing for people who can’t afford what’s going on now.”
As of mid-2023, there had been a housing shortage of nearly four million homes, according to the National Association of Realtors. Americans all over the country were either priced out of buying new homes due to low inventory, trapped in their existing homes by sky-high mortgage rates, or facing exorbitant rent hikes thanks to corporate investors buying up rental properties. Americans needed help, and Trump promised it.
Cut to March of 2026, when Trump reportedly told House Speaker Mike Johnson, “No one gives a sh*t about housing.”
That kind of thinking may explain why Trump this week suddenly announced he was canceling a signing ceremony for the bipartisan “21st Century ROAD to Housing Act,” a housing bill co-sponsored by Sens. Elizabeth Warren and Tim Scott that passed the House 358-32 and was approved in the Senate on Monday.
Trump instead demanded Congress pass the SAVE America Act, his controversial election grievance bill that doesn’t have enough Republican support to get passed in the Senate.
It’s just the latest in a line of policy self-owns where Trump has seemingly intentionally made life more difficult for Republicans hoping to keep their majority. Despite midterm elections occurring in the midst of a blistering economy and an unpopular war, they were surely hoping the housing bill would give them something — anything — to brag about when they returned home to their districts.
And very much to the contrary, Americans do give a sh*t about housing. According to a recent survey by the Bipartisan Policy Center, a whopping 79% say the cost of housing is extremely or very important to them. Eighty-three percent say Congress should take action on the issue — like it just did. Eighty-nine percent say the House and Senate need to work together to pass affordable housing legislation — like they just did. And 63% say they would be more likely to vote for a lawmaker if they helped pass legislation to build more affordable homes and lower housing costs — like they just did.
There aren’t many issues that unite Americans like housing does, and very few bipartisan policy wins Congress can point to, and yet, Trump is holding that bill hostage in order to get his pet project — which doesn’t even have the support of his own party — pushed through.
If you’re trying to make sense of something so nonsensical, as I’m sure many Republican lawmakers are, it’s certainly sad but not actually all that complicated. Trump said what he needed to get reelected and then promptly abandoned his promises in order to pursue his own self-interests, even if those interests are bad for Republicans and bad for voters.
That’s just the kind of guy he is.
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.