Trump as Symptom, Not as Subject
Much is said about Donald Trump — his excesses, tantrums, and blunders. But the real issue is not Trump himself. He is only the spectacular symptom of a deeper malaise.
Like Nero in Rome, he embodies a pathology that goes far beyond his person: hubris, excess, and unpredictability elevated into a mode of government. A “democratic Nero”, elected at the ballot box but ruling like a spoiled child, flanked by a squad of eccentrics whose lucidity — judging by the dossiers they claim to handle — hovers somewhere between a jellyfish and nothingness, a long way from Mandela. Teetering on the edge of madness, unpredictable and erratic: it is safer to remain in his good graces, lest he impose a “deal” — the only domain where Trump, lacking any other competence, excels without rival.
The Metaphor of the Political Cockpit
An airplane is not a democracy. Passengers entrust their safety to the crew. They do not elect the captain: they trust him to bring them safely to their destination.
In a state, the parallel is clear: citizens are the passengers, the government is the crew, the head of government — prime minister or president — holds the controls.
But above him, there is another actor — or rather, a control body: air traffic control. In aviation, control centers deliver authorizations — clearances in pilot jargon — and impose headings and altitudes. In a democracy, this is the Assembly: it does not fly the plane directly, but it frames and supervises the executive.
The pilot may sometimes deviate, in emergencies or distress — like a head of government invoking exceptional procedures — but only exceptionally, and he must still account for it.
But what happens when a control center sends erratic, contradictory, absurd orders? The risk of a “foretold” crash. In 2002, over Überlingen, a DHL aircraft and a Russian Tupolev collided: two contradictory instructions, no ability to arbitrate, seventy-one dead.
Today, our democracies are replaying this tragedy: a divided crew, an incoherent — even absent — control center, and the mountains closing in.
In Europe: No Nero, but a Deadly Void
One might think Europe is safe: no blustering Trump, no flamboyant Nero. Even if we have had — and still have — a few contenders: Berlusconi, Nigel Farage, Boris Johnson, Salvini, Jean-Luc Mélenchon, Orbán, and others. But the sickness is here, in another form.
In France, the dissolution of the National Assembly looked like the tantrum of a spoiled child smashing the toy he had promised to preserve. The result: predictable institutional chaos, paralyzing public action. In Belgium, to exclude the N-VA, parties cobble together improbable coalitions, fragile and incapable of charting a common vision. Everywhere, political emptiness and incompetence feed the extremes and weaken institutions.
The difference with the United States is only apparent: on one side, democracy incarnates itself in the excess of a single man; on the other, it dissolves in collective impotence.
The Self-Centered Mutant Protozoan 2.0
I have often used the image of the self-centered mutant protozoan to describe the deadly flaw afflicting our species, Homo sapiens, and of which most of our leaders are worthy representatives. It is a biological and psychological metaphor.
A protozoan, by definition, has no neurons. It is a primitive life form, without any trace of intelligence. The mutation consists precisely in giving it three neurons — and potentially a fourth.
First neuron: awareness of its otherness. Like a child at the mirror stage (around 18 months), the protozoan discovers there is itself, and the rest of the world.
Second neuron: discovery of the primary law of life: eat or be eaten.
Third neuron: putting this knowledge to use: devour as much as possible before being devoured — the ultimate manifestation of its egocentrism.
We are all born this way: self-centered mutant protozoans. Life’s journey is a journey of learning: to learn is to develop new neural connections. This path should allow the emergence of a fourth neuron: the realization that suffering is universal (Schopenhauer), opening the way to empathy and voluntary cooperation. But very few ever reach it.
The 2.0 version of the protozoan is the one that has understood that predation can be delegated. It is enough to convince others to serve its interests, under the guise of representation and democratic delegation. This is the stage at which most of our current leaders operate.
Two Stages of the Same Cancer
If we compare this political pathology to a cancer:
In the United States, democracy is at stage 3: the disease is visible, embodied by a democratic Nero seizing the world’s controls and performing acrobatics without even knowing what a flight envelope¹ is. Beyond it, the aircraft becomes merely an object heavier than air — and the nation reverts to a world delivered to the war of all against all².
In Europe, we are at stage 1 or 2: the general condition is poor, the symptoms are evident, but we refuse to make the diagnosis. We continue to tinker, to gesticulate, to deny the seriousness of the disease.
Conclusion: The Real Danger
Let us not mistake the target: Trump is not the cause, he is the revealer. What is pathological is not only his hubris, but the fact that entire societies bow to him as if he were a new Nero.
Meanwhile, real challenges — climate change, deindustrialization, geopolitical tensions — pile up without any response worthy of the name. We confuse political theater with governance, and individual tantrums with the collective good.
Democratic decay has two faces: the excess of ego that devours everything, and the absence of vision that paralyzes everything. But in truth, it is the same disease.
How much longer will we accept to travel in an aircraft whose cockpit is occupied by Neros, spoiled children, or protozoans 2.0 — while the control center multiplies contradictory orders?
Notes
¹ The flight envelope refers to the operational limits of an aircraft (speed, altitude, load factor). Exceeding these limits exposes the plane to stall or structural failure. ² Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (1651), chap. XIII, Of the Natural Condition of Mankind as concerning their Felicity and Misery: “bellum omnium contra omnes” — the war of all against all.