On the surface, it might appear that President Donald Trump is obsessed with being popular. He insists that his poll numbers are fantastic and rages against any poll showing otherwise. He likes to claim that his actions and statements are supported by all. (“When people hear me say it, everybody agrees.”) After a lifetime spent in endless pursuit of attention and validation, he must surely desire popularity above almost anything.
If that was once true, it no longer is the case. In fact, it’s hard to think of a president who cared as little about being popular as Donald Trump does now.
Congressional Republicans are feeling that Trump is hanging them out to dry.
Other presidents have taken political risks, but they thought they were serving a higher cause — saving lives, solving deep-rooted problems or safeguarding America’s interests. Today, Trump is making himself less popular on an almost daily basis, for the pettiest of reasons. His approval rating has plunged into the 30s, and he doesn’t seem to care. Americans think the economy is terrible, and Trump seems indifferent. Instead, he’s putting his time and attention into a series of projects that could not be better designed to make him look corrupt and out of touch.
First among them is his gold-plated ballroom, which two-thirds of the public opposes. Then there’s the gargantuan arch he wants to build in Virginia. Now, Trump’s Justice Department has announced the creation of a $1.8 billion slush fund for supporters of his who say the government was mean to them — including those who rampaged through the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.
That last item was too much even for many Republicans in Congress. “So the nation’s top law enforcement official is asking for a slush fund to pay people who assault cops?” Sen. Mitch McConnell said. “Utterly stupid, morally wrong — take your pick.” When Blanche met with Republican senators to talk about it, the response was “incredibly hostile,” Punchbowl’s Andrew Desiderio reports.
Amid an unpopular war, the unpopular gas prices, the unpopular ballroom and the unpopular slush fund, congressional Republicans are feeling that Trump is hanging them out to dry. “Our majority is melting down before our eyes,” one Republican senator told Desiderio.
Rather than saving that majority, Trump is undertaking a campaign of revenge against fellow Republicans who have crossed him. This effort has been successful, because primaries are dominated by the most intense partisans and the Republican voters with doubts about Trump are more likely to stay home. So he has purged state senators in Indiana who declined his order to redraw their congressional maps; Sen. Bill Cassidy of Louisiana, who voted to remove him after Jan. 6; and Rep. Thomas Massie of Kentucky, a far-right libertarian who helped force the release of the Epstein files.
What’s so striking about this quest for vengeance is that it only hurts Trump’s own image and Republicans’ prospects in November. It doesn’t get Republicans more seats — he’s replacing one Republican with another. It makes Trump look petty and vindictive. And given his abysmal popularity, reinforcing the idea that every Republican is a Trump Republican won’t do those running in swing districts and states any favors.
Trump may see this indifference to the public’s judgment as a kind of liberation.
In the latest move, Trump endorsed Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton over incumbent John Cornyn in the state’s Senate race. Cornyn has been a loyal foot soldier to Trump, but either his enthusiasm for MAGA wasn’t florid enough or Trump feels a particular affinity with Paxton’s long list of political and personal scandals. Whatever the reason, Cornyn would probably win relatively easily, while Paxton’s nomination (likely after Trump’s endorsement) gives Democrats a real chance of nabbing the seat.
That’s why multiple Republican senators expressed their dismay at Trump’s endorsement. “I don’t understand it,” Sen. Lisa Murkowski said. “How does that help strengthen the president’s hand when we lose a state like Texas?”
Indeed, if Trump were trying to engineer a defeat in November for his party, it’s hard to imagine what he would be doing differently. Where does this indifference to both his own standing and the political fortunes of his party come from? He may have a version of senioritis, the way students stop caring about classes as the end of high school approaches. Trump does care about his legacy, but as far as he’s concerned, that legacy isn’t written in legislation or policy victories; it’s physical and tangible. If he’s loathed by two-thirds of the public when he departs the White House, it may not matter to Trump so long as there are gigantic buildings with his name on them.
Even more, Trump may see this indifference to the public’s judgment as a kind of liberation. He spent a lifetime attempting to free himself of any and all constraints, so he can do whatever he wants. Before he was president, it was the constraints of the law, ethics, convention and civility that vexed him; in politics it’s the law and ethics (again), political norms, international alliances and agreements, the bureaucracy, Congress and the courts. The political interest of his own party, and even his own popularity? That’s just one more thing tying him down. And he’s going to cut those cords.
Paul Waldman is a journalist and author focused on politics and culture.