In George Orwell’s 1984, during the climactic Hate Week, Oceania abruptly changes its enemy from Eurasia to Eastasia, with no prior notice. This shift occurs when a Party orator, mid-sentence, suddenly redirects his vitriol, seamlessly continuing without a pause or even a change in syntax.
Similarly, Republican politicians in Donald Trump’s Inner Party faced a verbal maneuver when Trump switched sides in Russia’s war against Ukraine. In late February, Republicans in Washington hailed Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky as a hero for resisting Russian aggression. However, by the afternoon, after Zelensky’s meeting with Trump and Vice President J. D. Vance, the Ukrainian leader was labeled an ungrateful warmonger, accused of being the only obstacle to peace.
Following this new narrative, a pro-Zelensky social media post was swiftly removed, echoing the quickness of the banners denouncing Eurasia. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, and Senator Lindsey Graham—who had previously supported Ukraine—were sent to the cameras, not to clarify a new policy but to feign constancy as America switched allegiances. Using nearly identical language, they insisted that Zelensky must comply with Trump’s demands, which coincide with Vladimir Putin’s interests; otherwise, they suggested, he should resign. America’s enemy isn’t Russia; it’s Ukraine.
[David Frum: At least now we know the truth]
Philosopher Henri Bergson noted, “The attitudes, gestures, and movements of the human body are laughable in proportion as that body resembles a mere machine.” This insight highlights the absurdity of politicians who replace authentic speech with programmed language. They become like the ideologues in 1984, robotic in their delivery, empty of independent thought. Politicians often sound like automatons, constructing logical arguments without genuine connection or conviction. It takes exceptional skill to betray an entire worldview without faltering.
Graham’s mechanical style allows him to gleefully flip from one position to its opposite while remaining a party loyalist, which serves as his only consistent stance. Johnson fumbles for words like a nervous performer, stating, “We are re-exerting peace through strength. President Trump has restored strength to the White House.” Rubio presents a more complex case; mute during the Oval Office confrontation, his principles visibly waned, leading to an uncomfortable demeanor as he sank into the sofa. Once a staunch defender of democracy, he now appears tormented by the demands of the new party line.
However, Rubio began mechanizing himself weeks earlier by shutting down foreign-aid programs he had always supported. Post-Zelensky meeting, he denounced the Ukrainian president with an exaggerated frustration typical of a hollowed policymaker.
When leaders demand subordinates to declare falsehoods—up is down, Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia, Ukraine is to blame—it tests loyalty and demonstrates dominance. Ritualized humiliation is crucial in an authoritarian regime. Trump compels aides, advisers, and compliant media to utter absurdities, binding them closer to him and liberating himself from constraints. They witness the fate of more courageous colleagues, understanding that any hint of independence could spell political doom. Soon, they become so mechanized that they forget their previous beliefs, evident in their relaxed expressions and fluid delivery.
Trump alone articulates his thoughts authentically. There’s nothing mechanical about his abandonment of Ukraine, Europe, and U.S. leadership; he speaks naturally, true to himself, when he expresses a bond with Putin and mocks Zelensky for the suffering inflicted by Russia. If America’s policy shifts again, it won’t be due to a change in Trump’s worldview—he favors dictators and desires to be one. It simply means he can declare that Oceania is at war with either Eastasia or Eurasia at will.
From childhood, Trump, as detailed in Maggie Haberman’s biography, Confidence Man, has admired strength and scorned weakness. Terms like sovereignty, democracy, and shared values disgust him, as they signify weakness. For Trump, strength equates to raw power to humiliate, and Zelensky’s courage, including his refusal to be demeaned publicly, infuriates Trump, who is accustomed to subservience and flattery.
Trump’s March decision to halt arms and intelligence to Ukraine does not indicate an isolationist foreign policy. When Vance, in a 2022 Senate campaign, stated, “I don’t really care what happens to Ukraine,” he was expressing an isolationist sentiment. This indifference is dwarfed by Trump’s contempt for Zelensky and long-standing admiration for Putin. Trump desires Russia’s victory and Ukraine’s defeat.
Some analysts claim Trump is steering American foreign policy toward “realism,” suggesting it’s a cold calculation that Ukraine belongs in Russia’s sphere of influence, not ours; that defending democracy against a larger dictator drains American resources without serving its interests; that the U.S. is overcommitted in a multipolar world; that it should abandon global rules and democratic values to act like a traditional power focused on specific interests.
While these claims sound rational, they fail to capture the essence of Trump’s actions. There’s nothing realistic about aiding a dangerous adversary, undermining allies, breaking agreements, extorting concessions, and destroying an order that has expanded American influence. These actions reflect crude power worship, not realism. They manifest Trump’s character on the global stage, threatening to undermine everything Americans value and morphing the U.S. into a mirror of Putin’s Russia. Whether Trump is an actual Russian asset is irrelevant; he’s already fulfilling that role.
In early March, a poll by the civic organization More in Common revealed that Americans retain values that Trump and his followers are undermining. Nearly two-thirds of respondents still sympathize with Ukraine and desire continued support. Even among Republicans, a majority attribute blame for the war to Russia and view Putin as a dictator, with support for Russia in the single digits. The survey indicates that years of Trump and MAGA propaganda have not entirely corrupted the public’s sense of true and false, right and wrong. Ordinary Americans might be the last hope for a principled worldview.
This article appears in the May 2025 print edition with the headline “The Hollow Men.”
