Trump as a Brand-Native Political Figure
Introduction: What Sparked This Essay
This essay began not with Donald Trump himself, but with a YouTube clip of British broadcaster James O'Brien reflecting on the Iraq War and the media environment that surrounded it. In the clip, O'Brien speaks candidly about a period in his career when he argued positions he did not personally believe, simply because the format required it. One person had to take one side, another the opposite. Ideology was secondary to structure.
O'Brien uses this reflection to frame a critique of Trump, at one point calling him a fascist. That label is now common across liberal commentary, but it immediately felt inadequate. Not because Trump is harmless, but because the label misunderstands what Trump actually represents — and why he resonates so strongly in the current media environment, particularly with younger people.
What follows is an attempt to understand Trump not as an ideological aberration, but as a symptom of deeper structural changes: the collapse of editorial authority, the rise of personal branding, and the transformation of politics into a form of performance.
When Editors Were Invisible — and Powerful
In the media environment of the early 2000s, editors mattered. They were rarely visible to audiences, but they constrained narratives, filtered arguments, and absorbed institutional risk. Journalists often acted as instruments of editorial structure rather than as fully autonomous voices.
This system had many flaws, but it allowed for ideological flexibility. A journalist could argue a position they did not believe without collapsing their personal credibility. Debate was structural rather than personal. It was possible to imagine figures arguing across ideological lines precisely because they were not branding themselves as moral authorities.
That distance no longer exists.
The Commentator as Brand
Today, the commentator is the editor. The journalist is the product. The platform, the audience, the revenue stream, and the personal identity collapse into a single entity. Neutrality becomes economically irrational. Contradiction becomes reputational risk. Reflection becomes a threat to brand coherence.
James O'Brien's admission that he once argued positions he did not believe is revealing precisely because it describes a posture that is now structurally impossible. A media figure with their own show cannot plausibly say, "I'm exploring this position without committing to it." Audiences demand certainty, and platforms reward conviction.
This is not a moral failure. It is a structural one.
Trump as a Brand-Native Political Figure
Trump does not operate like a traditional politician. He operates like a performer reading an audience. His behaviour resembles that of a musician testing material: how far can I push this before the crowd turns? What generates applause? What generates outrage — and therefore attention?
Truth, consistency, and ideology are secondary. What matters is resonance.
This is why describing Trump as a fascist misses the point. Classical fascism relied on centralised ideology, disciplined messaging, and enforced coherence. Trumpism is decentralised, improvisational, and contradiction-tolerant. Trump is not loyal to left or right. He "fishes" wherever there is attention.
When Trump intervenes abroad, it is framed not as the American state acting, but as Trump acting. Venezuela becomes Trump going to Venezuela. Foreign policy collapses into persona.
For younger people raised in a world of influencers and personal brands, this makes sense. Trump does not appear as a servant of institutions. He appears as someone who wears power as an identity.
Branding as Survival, Not Vanity
This logic extends far beyond politics. Younger people are encouraged — often required — to think of themselves as brands. Careers are no longer built through long-term institutional loyalty, but through visibility, networks, and narrative control.
Twenty or thirty years ago, even musicians were constrained by record labels. Journalists were constrained by editors. Today, creators operate directly on platforms, cultivating audiences first and institutions second. Even employees of organisations like the New York Times increasingly position themselves strategically, aware that the institution may not protect them indefinitely.
Branding is no longer optional. It is a hedge against instability.
Trump's success is inseparable from this reality. He does not hide it. He treats politics as show business because show business is now the most efficient delivery system for power.
Comedy as an Early Warning System
The cultural shift is especially visible in comedy.
Under Trump — particularly during COVID — reality itself became absurd. Authority contradicted itself daily. Institutions appeared incoherent. For comedians, this was fertile ground. Satire required little exaggeration.
When the Biden administration took office, the tone changed. Politics became procedural. Absurdity retreated into management. Failures were framed as technical problems rather than spectacles. This did not make politics healthier, but it made it less funny.
Trevor Noah illustrates this shift clearly. As a South African outsider, Noah thrived on cultural translation and observation. Under Trump, the material was abundant. Under a more technocratic administration, it dried up. Comedy slid toward explanation. Jokes hardened into lectures.
Rather than drifting right, Noah drifted out.
John Oliver represents the alternative trajectory: satire that increasingly functions as prosecution. The work remains intelligent, but the audience narrows. Ambiguity disappears. Laughter gives way to moral instruction.
Comedy does not thrive in environments that demand ideological discipline.
Why the Right Absorbs the Middle
This reveals a deeper asymmetry.
The political right, particularly under the MAGA brand, is remarkably good at absorbing contradiction. There are moderate MAGA supporters, independents, former liberals, and ideological misfits — all housed under a single symbolic umbrella.
The left struggles to do this. Deviation on a single issue — nuclear power, foreign policy scepticism, economic nuance — often results in expulsion rather than debate. Moral coherence is enforced at the cost of coalition-building.
Independents sense this. It is easier to align with Trump without agreeing with him than it is to align with the left without ideological compliance.
Trump does not ask for purity. He asks for resonance.
Socialism for the Rich, Capitalism for the Poor
Material reality reinforces this branding logic.
During COVID, airlines such as KLM were bailed out by European governments. The companies could not survive weeks without public support. Taxpayers absorbed the risk. Shareholders retained the upside. The public received no equity stake.
This pattern — socialised risk, privatised reward — is now routine. Ordinary people face rising costs of living while corporations are stabilised through state intervention. This is not socialism in any meaningful sense. It is protection for capital without democratic ownership.
Trump did not create this resentment. He converts it into brand loyalty.
Younger People Inside the System
For younger people, none of this feels abstract. They are entering a world where internships matter more than grades, connections matter more than competence, and branding matters more than ideology.
They see that capital controls visibility, and visibility manufactures legitimacy. In that environment, Trump's behaviour looks less outrageous and more familiar. He is doing at scale what they are told to do individually: build a brand, remain flexible, hedge ideology, survive instability.
This does not make Trump admirable. It makes him legible.
Conclusion: Trump Is Not the Disease
Trump is not a fascist in the historical sense, nor is he a coherent centrist. He is a brand-native political performer optimised for a media ecosystem where attention precedes authority and branding outperforms ideology.
The real danger is not Trump himself, but the reproducibility of his model. As long as institutions lag behind platforms, and as long as the left mistakes moral discipline for political strategy, branding politics will remain dominated by those least constrained by coherence.
Trump is not breaking democracy. He is revealing what remains once politics becomes a branch of show business.
And younger people already know it.
