A Tale of Two Forms of TDS

Probably my earliest recollection of Donald Trump was his cameo in Home Alone 2. Years later, I recall seeing fragments of the TV series The Apprentice. Unlike many others at the time, I found him too abrasive and impertinent.

Then came 2016. I watched several of his debates for the GOP leadership. I began to like his approach. What really caught my attention was the sloganeering of “draining the swamp,” opposing the “fake news,” and putting an end to “endless wars.” On November 9, 2016, I remember waking up deeply relieved that he won the presidency over Hillary Clinton.

Years later, I was upset about what appeared to me as blatant election fraud in the 2020 election. It was difficult to fathom how Biden attained the greatest number of votes in American election history. Despite all of this, I remained objectively rather skeptical of President Trump. I remember thinking that he was battling the political class and the globalists who control the financial system, which in turn influences culture, education, and many other aspects of society.

I even supported him and wrote some articles favoring his candidacy for the 2024 presidency. I had my reservations but remained hopeful. Once again, I was relieved, this time that Kamala Harris didn’t win. Over the years, I lost friends because of my public support of his policies and presidency.

He famously said over the years, and most recently during his 2024 election campaign:  “They want to silence me because I will never let them silence you. They’re not coming after me, they’re coming after you. I just happen to be standing in their way and I’m never moving.” Well, he’s moved—far, far away from this position. Something has undeniably changed. Could it be he’s one of the ones that’s coming after you and that this was the plan all along?

In recent days, he’s displayed quite erratic behavior—much more than before. On Easter Sunday, on Truth Social, he threatened Iran to open the Strait of Hormuz with some expletives and closed by praising Allah. It was strange, but OK. Two days later, on April 7, he uttered more threats toward Iran: “a whole civilization will die tonight.”

Then, on Easter Sunday for the Orthodox Church, he posted an AI generated image depicting himself in the role of a healer: laying hands on the sick, radiating a divine-like power, with a disturbing, demonic figure lurking in the background. This, I believe, extends beyond poor judgment. It was a calculated and deliberate post. It places him into a role reserved for Christ alone, healing a man that, to many, resembles Jeffrey Epstein. This is blasphemous.

So it is becoming increasingly clear that Trump is not standing between the people and the elites at the center of the control system. For all intents and purposes, he has joined them or has made it clear where he always stood. He has even outpaced them. He now turns on the ones who were instrumental for his two elections. He attacks anyone who challenges him and supports those who once opposed him. The response to this major shift has revealed more confusion than clarity.

To be sure, not everyone has failed to recognize this transition, or perhaps unveiling. Some have been calling it out forcefully. However, the broader reaction falls into two camps, one familiar and one less often acknowledged. Both are equally distorting.

Trump Derangement Syndrome

Trump Derangement Syndrome is undeniably real. It has led many to interpret everything Trump does in the worst possible light, often ignoring his accomplishments or legitimate concerns. Now, to be clear, there are genuine examples of what can rightfully be called Trump Derangement Syndrome. Think of the mass hysteria surrounding the Russian collusion narrative and the subsequent impeachment efforts built upon it; or events like the Women’s Marches, the “No Kings” protests, and the all-too-common meltdowns following his elections and major policy decisions.

Many of his critics have reacted emotionally, with knee-jerk reactions, wishing harm and even death upon him. This extends far beyond political disagreement. It’s incivility like I’ve never seen before. A similarly grotesque reaction was seen in those celebrating the death of Charlie Kirk. However, in recent times, it has become a facile way to shut down any criticism, even when criticism is warranted.

I have experienced this firsthand. Because I have raised concerns about Trump’s recent actions, some friends—who fall into the “devotional” camp—have accused me of suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome. This is not only false but also intellectually lazy. In jest, but not quite entirely, I have suggested that one of them suffers from LDS—Logic Derangement Syndrome. The other suffers from ideological possession; he even went so far as to claim that Trump is more Christian than Pope Leo (and he’s a Catholic, although lapsed).

Labeling someone as such functions similarly to the reflexive labelling we see throughout our culture. This is seen especially when disagreement is quickly dismissed with terms that have lost real meaning because of their overuse—labels such as “racist,” “homophobic,” “transphobic,” “Islamophobic,” and perhaps the most common today: “anti-Semitic.” These labels have come to replace the need to think. Now, these labels might be rightfully applied at times, but their overuse has had the opposite effect.

To call something what it is is not a derangement. It is discernment.

But there is another distortion, far less acknowledged but prevalent among devout Trump supporters. If Trump Derangement Syndrome exaggerates faults, Trump Devotion Syndrome does the exact opposite. At the present moment, it may be the more dangerous of the two.

Trump Devotion Syndrome

Trump Devotion Syndrome manifests itself through a kind of intellectual gymnastics, where contradictions are not confronted but reinterpreted, where they are not acknowledged but rather are framed as strategy. In any other context, this would raise serious concerns, but instead it is explained away as “5D chess,” media distortions, or the actions of rogue staffers.

We have witnessed this repeatedly. When challenged with blatant inconsistencies, some of Trump’s most staunch defenders insist that there is a deeper plan that we must trust, that he’s testing loyalties, that there’s a hidden strategy, a hidden move not yet revealed. This mirrors, in many ways, an unfalsifiable logic that once characterized movements like QAnon. If anything, it’s as if they’re taking notes from postmodernists who subvert truth.

Some have attempted to defend such imagery by appealing to Scripture—citing passages like Matthew 5:14-16 or the call to lay hands on others—in order to justify the blasphemous AI image. This is misguided. Christians are never depicted as Christ Himself. Believers may act in Christ’s power, but they are never Christ. The image crosses that line.

This pattern is reinforced by public defenders. Figures such as Alveda King, Dinesh D’Souza, Benny Johnson, and Roger Stone have downplayed or justified what would otherwise raise serious concerns. In some cases, such loyalty is not surprising given personal benefit, including presidential pardons. Loyalty is no longer measured by principle. It is now solely measured by unthinking compliance.

This is especially true on issues such as Israel and foreign policy. Those who dare question this narrative are quickly demonized. They are recast as disloyal or compromised. And all too commonly, they are dismissed as theologically illiterate for rejecting the assumptions of dispensationalism, a modern interpretive system that emphasizes a sharp distinction between Israel and the Church and has significantly shaped forms of Christian Zionism.

They are also likened to Islamic loyalists. If anyone accuses me of this, I invite them to read a comprehensive piece I wrote years ago on Christianity and Islam. I’ve also reviewed several critical books on Islam. I encourage friendship and collaboration with Jews, Christians, and others when possible—but not at the sacrifice of truth or one’s convictions, or to do so naively in the face of danger.

More sophisticated defenses reduce the issue of the blasphemous AI image to intention alone. While intent matters, it is not decisive. Blasphemy is not determined solely by what one claims to mean but by what is represented.

As the Catechism teaches, blasphemy includes “failing in respect toward him” and the “misuse” of what belongs to God (CCC 2148). Scripture likewise makes clear that we are accountable for what we express publicly, “for every careless word” (Matthew 12:36) and for the confusion we cause: “whoever causes one of these little ones…to sin” (Matthew 18:6). The issue, then, is not intent alone but what is publicly represented.

This is made even more implausible once we take into account Trump’s own explanation, where he claimed the image was simply of him as a “doctor” who is healing people. By reframing himself as a secular “healer,” Trump attempts to strip the image of its theological weight, yet this defense ignores how the visual composition, regardless of his stated intent, functions as a messianic appropriation that many believers find inherently blasphemous.

Trump’s words were merely a deflection that brought more confusion instead of clarity to his devoted followers. If we are to be seekers of truth, we must ask: what prompts were used to generate this image? If the intent were as innocent as claimed, there’d be no reason to withhold them. Without this type of transparency, the image must be judged by what it presents, not by what is later claimed.

This symbolic pattern is reinforced by how the imagery is being interpreted. Some commentators, including more speculative voices, have pointed to parallels with “magician” motifs, even referencing past remarks by Marina Abramović. Whether one accepts these interpretations is not the point. The imagery invites them.

This defense is further weakened by his recurring tendency to dismiss critics, and even his own supporters, rather than engage their concerns seriously. At its extreme, Trump Devotion Syndrome not only defends but absolves and sanctifies. It therefore crosses a dangerous line between political loyalty and cult devotion.

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