Power Over Principle

A Glimpse into Trump’s Psychology

In the realm of foreign policy, some leaders are guided by doctrine, others by ideology. Donald Trump, however, follows a different compass—one that points not toward principle, but toward power. His instinctive support goes to those who appear strong, unapologetic, and dominant, whether their cause is just or not.

This explains Trump’s longstanding admiration for Vladimir Putin, his early loyalty to Israel, his cold disdain for Ukraine’s Volodymyr Zelensky—and most recently, his opportunistic celebration of Israel’s successful strike on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure.

Trump’s worldview can be summed up in three words: might makes right. And he supports whoever looks like the winner.

The Alpha Syndrome: Putin, Zelensky, and the Illusion of Strength

Trump’s praise of Vladimir Putin—calling him “smart” and “savvy”—has remained consistent, even as Russia wages a brutal war against Ukraine. Rather than condemning Putin for launching a war of conquest, Trump sees him as a model of authoritarian power: decisive, ruthless, and unapologetic in his pursuit of dominance.

By contrast, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky—widely admired around the world for his courage and resilience—is, in Trump’s eyes, weak. His appeals to international law and pleas for Western support read not as heroism, but as begging.

This binary view—strong equals worthy, weak equals contemptible—leaves no room for moral nuance. Trump doesn’t admire bravery under pressure or principled resistance. He admires the man who doesn’t blink.

Israel: The Strong Ally Worth Embracing

Trump’s support for Israel followed a similar pattern—but in this case, the nation he embraced happened to be on the morally right side. Throughout his presidency, Trump showered Israel with diplomatic gifts: moving the U.S. embassy to Jerusalem, recognizing Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and withdrawing from the Iran nuclear deal.

His rationale, however, was less about shared democratic values than shared posture. Israel, under Benjamin Netanyahu, projected a national image Trump could identify with: assertive, defiant, militarily dominant, and indifferent to international criticism.

Trump admired Netanyahu—not for his democratic leadership, but for his toughness. It was a personal affinity rooted in style more than substance.

Personal Betrayal, Strategic Consistency

That dynamic shifted after the 2020 U.S. election, when Netanyahu congratulated Joe Biden on his victory. Trump felt personally betrayed and publicly lashed out at his former ally. But he did not extend his resentment to Israel itself.

This should not be misinterpreted as deep commitment to Israel. Rather, Trump understood that alienating the Jewish state would alienate a significant portion of his evangelical and Jewish-American support base. Turning against Israel, as he had turned against Netanyahu, would have been political suicide.

Trump’s loyalty lies not with allies or causes—but with whatever serves him best. When Israel struck Iran’s nuclear sites in a show of strength and precision, Trump abandoned his grudge and seized the moment to claim proximity to victory.

He called the strike “excellent” and “very successful,” and warned Iran of worse consequences—despite having played no role in the operation.

The Context: Day 61

The Israeli strike did not occur in a vacuum. It came after a 60-day ultimatum Trump had given Iran to halt its nuclear activities. Predictably, the Iranian regime used the time to stall and push forward its ambitions.

Trump, however, had no plan for what to do when the deadline passed. Instead of acting, he quietly opened the door to another round of negotiations with the regime, offering Iran exactly what it wanted: more time.

But Netanyahu wasn’t going to allow that. On Day 61, Israel launched simultaneous strikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities at Natanz, Fordow, and other key sites, killing several top commanders and nuclear scientists. It was a decisive and daring act that dealt a heavy blow to Iran’s nuclear capabilities—and left Trump flat-footed.

It was a clear military and political success—and Trump, ever alert to opportunity, leapt to claim his share of the credit.

Trump’s Location: The Wrong Summit, The Wrong Message

When the Israeli operation began, Trump was in Alberta, Canada, attending the 2025 G7 Summit. But instead of standing firm with America’s democratic allies or coordinating a response to Iran’s threat, Trump used the venue to advocate for Russia’s re-admission into the G7.

“Removing Russia was a very big mistake,” he told reporters—a statement that stunned traditional allies. He even suggested that China might also belong in the group.

But the G7 exists precisely because it is a coalition of the world’s most powerful liberal democracies. Russia, ranked #11 globally in GDP and governed by an autocratic regime, has no legitimate place at the table.

Trump’s push to include Russia and China undermined the very ethos of the G7—and once again revealed his disregard for democratic principles in favor of authoritarian power.

 The Pivot: From G7 to “Our Victory”

The moment Israel’s operation was declared a success, Trump abruptly left the summit and returned to Washington. Gone was the advocacy for Russia’s inclusion. In its place, a new posture: claiming Israel’s win as his own.

He declared the strike a triumph, referred to it as “our victory,” and issued warnings to Iran. He had offered little to the G7, but now showered praise on Israel—seeking to bask in the glow of a military triumph that he neither planned nor foresaw.

But let’s be clear: Trump is not Israel’s true friend. He is no one’s true friend. His support is transactional, conditional, and entirely self-serving.

Most Americans—roughly 60%—oppose U.S. involvement in a war between Israel and Iran. Only 16% say America should intervene militarily. Aware of this, Trump delayed his decision to act, buying himself time—leading some to mockingly call him “TACO Trump” (Take Action, Chicken Out).

So why the double standard? Why does Trump hesitate to join a popular ally like Israel, while siding so eagerly with Putin, when only 2% of Americans support Russia in the Ukraine conflict, and 61% sympathize with Ukraine?

The answer lies in his psychological fixation. His admiration for Putin overrides public opinion, political risk, and even strategic sense.

A Man Torn Between Two Strongmen

Trump is torn. On one hand, he wants to claim Israel’s victory. On the other, he fears alienating his idol, Vladimir Putin, who remains a staunch supporter of the Islamic Republic of Iran.

So what will Trump do?

At this point, even he may not know. Because Trump doesn’t make foreign policy decisions based on strategy or morality. He reacts emotionally, instinctively—based on loyalty to power, not principle.

The Psychology of Reflected Glory

This moment perfectly illustrates Trump’s underlying psychology: the craving for reflected glory.

He didn’t authorize Israel’s attack. He wasn’t briefed on it. He was blindsided by it. But once the danger had passed and the success was confirmed, he inserted himself into the victory.

Had Israel failed, he would likely have condemned them for “going rogue.” But because they won, Trump made it about “us.”

This is not foreign policy. It’s brand management. Jump on the winner’s podium, disown the losers, and reshape history to glorify yourself.

A Foreign Policy Built on Ego

Trump’s behavior isn’t random. It follows a clear, narcissistic logic:

• He supports Putin, because Putin dominates and humiliates the West.
• He dismisses Zelensky, because courage under fire looks like weakness to him.
• He embraces Israel, because military dominance flatters his image.
• He flirts with Iran, if he believes he can outmaneuver its regime for a deal.

In all cases, Trump’s ego comes first. American interests, democratic values, or strategic coherence are distant concerns—if they’re concerns at all.

The Illusion of Strength

Trump’s admiration for strength isn’t about justice. It isn’t about allies. And it certainly isn’t about America. It’s about image.

In the dangerous, delicate world of geopolitics, this mindset is reckless. It abandons allies when they falter and clings to victors once the risk has passed. It treats global strategy like a wrestling match, where only winners are worthy of respect—and losers deserve derision.

That’s not leadership. That’s not diplomacy.
That’s vanity with a passport.