Recognizing the Counterfeit: A Christian Response to the Psychology of Trumpism: Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD
Recognizing the Counterfeit: A Christian Response to the Psychology of Trumpism
There’s a particular essay I’ve been reflecting on recently — The Mass Psychology of Trumpism by Dan McAdams, a professor of psychology at Northwestern. He’s not writing from a theological standpoint, but what he describes has profound implications for the Church.
McAdams suggests that Donald Trump’s appeal — particularly to his most loyal followers — stems from the way he is perceived not simply as a person, but as something more and something less. More, in that he is imagined as a kind of mythic figure, a superhero, a singular force. Less, in that he shows no depth of character, no narrative of personal growth, no capacity for introspection, repentance, or even self-awareness. Trump, he argues, is “the episodic man,” living moment to moment, a creature of impulse and spectacle. There is no inner life. No story. No past. No future. Only the performance of strength.
And yet, McAdams observes, that’s precisely what makes him compelling to many. His lack of reflection is not a liability — it’s part of the appeal. His flaws become proof that he is a “special case.” Many treat him as a liminal figure, outside the moral norms that apply to ordinary people. For his supporters, he is the one who can do what others cannot — a kind of political messiah. And troublingly, many Christians have taken up this script.
That’s where the real theological crisis begins.
This is not just about politics. This is about how Christian faith is being reshaped — or rather, deformed — around a figure who exhibits none of the marks of Christian character, yet is treated by many believers as divinely chosen. Trump has been likened to Cyrus, to David, even to Christ. Some pastors have claimed he was “sent by God.” Others excuse his moral failings because “we weren’t looking for a pastor, but a bodyguard.” It’s a clever line. It’s also a damning one.
What McAdams describes in psychological terms, the Church must name theologically: this is idolatry.
To make matters worse, this alternate gospel comes with its own eschatology, its own enemies, its own sacred language. It offers a counterfeit sense of salvation — not through grace, not through Christ, but through grievance and dominance. It is the age-old temptation to bend the knee to power, to make peace with Caesar if Caesar promises to protect our tribe.
We’ve seen this before — in history, in Scripture. The people asked for a king “like the other nations,” someone to lead them into battle and secure their place in the world. God warned them what that king would take. They didn’t care. They wanted someone strong.
The same desire lingers in our churches today. Many Christians who support Trump are not hateful. They are fearful. They feel left behind, dismissed, ridiculed. In that fear, they have latched onto someone who promises to fight for them. They want a warrior. But in grasping for safety, they’ve turned away from the one who told Peter to put away his sword.
We do not need a bodyguard for Christianity. We need to be the Body of Christ.
If the Church is to be faithful, we must recover the distinction between our faith and our fears, between our politics and our Lord. Christ does not need Donald Trump. And the Church does not need a political savior. We already have a Savior — and He didn’t storm the capital. He climbed a hill and gave up His life.
The Church’s role is not to preserve its place in a dying culture. It is to bear witness to a Kingdom not made by human hands. If we lose that — if we begin to confuse the flag with the cross, or mistake retribution for righteousness — then we have lost more than influence. We’ve lost the Gospel.
So here’s the call: recognize the counterfeit. Name the idolatry. And return to the One who said, “My Kingdom is not of this world.”
Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD
Duane,
I’ve mentioned the idolatry issue to my Christian brethren, and they look at me like I’m nuts. “Oh no! God is just using him to clean house and restore order.” What kind of order? What kind of “cleaning?” Most of his appointees are as bad, or worse, than he is. I think the situation will get much worse before it improves.
Linn
That response is both painfully familiar and deeply revealing. When Christians deflect the charge of idolatry by insisting that “God is just using him,” they unwittingly invoke a kind of divine utilitarianism — as though the ends justify the means, and moral character is irrelevant so long as some imagined “order” is restored.
The real question, as you rightly ask, is what kind of order? If the so-called “cleaning house” means purging institutions of accountability, replacing integrity with loyalty, and stoking division rather than justice — then that is not God’s work. It is authoritarianism cloaked in religious language. Scripture is filled with warnings about those who “call evil good and good evil” (Isa. 5:20), and too many in the Church are now doing precisely that, baptizing cruelty as strength and mistaking vengeance for righteousness.
You’re also right to say that many of his appointees are no better — in fact, some are more dangerous precisely because they wrap their ambition in piety. The corruption is not just in the figurehead; it’s in the system being built around him, a network of ideologues who view the Church not as the Body of Christ but as a voting bloc to be weaponized.
Yes, I fear it will get worse before it gets better — not just politically, but spiritually. Because when a false gospel takes root, it does not collapse easily. It must be recognized, named, confronted, and resisted — not just with denunciation, but with patient, costly witness. We may find ourselves in the minority for now, but we are not alone, and we are not without hope.
The Gospel has survived demagogues before. It will survive this too.
Great article. Amen Duane and Linn.
This also happened to the German people in the 1930(s).
Muff Potter
…And we are only at the beginning.
Duane, at the risk of side-tracking things, I’ve been ruminating on this part of your article:
“This is not just about politics. This is about how Christian faith is being reshaped — or rather, deformed — around a figure who exhibits none of the marks of Christian character, yet is treated by many believers as divinely chosen.”
I can’t get a handle on it to properly begin to convey what is itching my heart/mind/conscience/spirit…. but I want to say there’s a connect at your words here to “our” (modern American “Christianity” / mostly my evangelical branch) view of eschatology and the Israel conundrum – “they’re always God’s chosen people” vs. replacement theology. [dramatically oversimplified with those two extreme views]
NT Wright makes me most at ease when he says that God added gentiles to his family table not to replace the nation he’s chosen but to add by faith to Abraham’s lineage of faith.
Do you see multiple potential idols in that section in addition to the US American evangeli-jingoism?
Maybe only my brain is trying to sort that out…
Rob,
That’s a wise and necessary question — and I don’t think your brain is alone in trying to sort it out.
Yes, I do see multiple potential idols in that section. Trump, of course, becomes the obvious one, but beneath that is a deeper distortion of the idea of being chosen. When evangelicals say “God is using him,” they often draw from the same theological instincts that shape their understanding of Israel — that God always works through nations, through strength, through visible power. It’s a dangerously thin theology.
NT Wright is right to reframe it: the Gentiles were grafted in not to replace Israel, but to expand the covenant family — by faith, not bloodline or political alignment. The problem is, American evangelicalism often confuses covenant with conquest. We’ve inherited a storyline where being “chosen” means being on top — militarily, politically, even spiritually. That’s not the Gospel.
So yes, the idolatry isn’t just Trump. It’s the nation. It’s the myth of exceptionalism. It’s the belief that God’s favor looks like victory rather than cruciform love. And it’s a deformation of Christian identity itself — where being the Church is no longer about the cross, but about influence, dominance, and protection of our “in-group.”
Keep pressing on that. It’s not a side-track. It’s the heart of the matter.
Church history and its growth has always been about individuals using or seeing some sort of world vision and dominance. Just consider how Christianity went from the back street shadows to main street culture.
Constantine attributed his success and protection to God.
“the Christ of God appeared to him with the sign which had appeared in the sky, and urged him to make himself a copy of the sign which had appeared in the sky, and to use this as a protection against the attacks of the enemy.”
— Eusebius of Caesarea, Vita Constantini, 1.29
He changed the world at the time and promoted what would eventually become the Catholic Church and spark the Holy Roman Empire throughout Europe.
What’s the point?
Religious faith of many, a human trait, tends to follow the powerful and successful rather than God.
Is it no wonder the 10 Statements of God given to the new Nation of Israel started with God only (1st 4), went from parents, family and ended with protecting the rights of others.
Never forget when God gave the 10 to the people they were only a month out into the desert. They had left a Nation ruled by a single man who provided stability, and a way of life.
In the end maybe all of us really want those leeks.
TH
The Constantinian and post-Constantinan era was a mess… We’ve spent two millennia trying to sort it out.
Maybe the 10 are a valid guide to building a nation of people who follow God rather than a man.
The irony is after hearing God and receiving his 10, the people relinquished control to Moses and followed him.
Are we no different today. Who do we follow?
Consider mega churches, famous historic preachers, doctrines, formal and informal schools and even the Garden where the snake challenged Eve to not follow God’s instruction (just one simple one) and listen to her self.
The desert experience of those who came out of Egypt teaches multiple things, one of which is humans as a people group need direction and laws to keep things civil. What we don’t need is a system which puts men over others as a replacement for God. Which I lump many if not most religious systems we have in this world.
I know too basic for this thread. However, I always find going back to the simple basics provides an immense amount of clarity. It filters out so much of the noise pulling on our hearts and minds.