At least twice in the last week, President Donald Trump has attempted to respond to core concerns behind the nationwide “No Kings” protests that took place this weekend, telling Fox Business’ Maria Bartiromo last Friday, “They’re referring to me as a king. I’m not a king.”
Then again on Sunday, the president told reporters on Air Force One, “I’m not a king. I work (hard) to make our country great. That’s all it is. I’m not a king at all.”
This conversation about presidential power is at the heart of fears many have about the direction the country is taking. But instead of diving deeper into that complex question, public attention got captivated by an AI-generated video the president posted between these comments on Saturday, apparently created by an X user called “Xerias” (whose watermark appears on the video).
The infamous video shows the president wearing a crown while dumping brown, feces-like material on protesters from a plane labeled “King Trump.” A separate post by the White House showed the president and vice president sporting crowns like two proud monarchs.
This is not a new pattern, with at least 62 times Trump has posted A.I.-generated images or videos on his Truth Social account since late 2022, according to a New York Times review.
Yet in predictable fashion, many Trump critics were again infuriated by the latest, while Trump supporters laughed it off or perhaps rolled their eyes. (The look on U.S. Speaker Mike Johnson’s face, when asked about the video was illustrative.)
But many Americans were simply confused and left wondering: What’s really happening here?
Satire as a defensive response
Most people know what it’s like to be confronted about something and then try to laugh it off, or defuse the tension with a dismissive joke. Yet in this case, these are some serious accusations being raised.
Behind the slogans like “No crowns, No kings” and “we dumped tea for less” lies deep-set concerns among many Americans that fundamental democratic norms in the United States are being undermined.
While many other Americans see the president’s calling up military reinforcements to cities and his expansion of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement detentions as overdue efforts to reinforce law and order, those marching this weekend see them differently: as worrisome federal intrusions into local governance and the upending of otherwise peaceful families who are contributing to America’s prosperity, even if they haven’t yet found a pathway to legal citizenship.
Even mild-mannered David Brooks has been conspicuously concerned, as reflected in his recent Atlantic essay, “America Needs a Mass Movement — Now,” adding, “Without one, America may sink into autocracy for decades.”
In response to such strident fears, the president’s impulse to defend himself in any way possible — in this case through outrageous, satirical trolling — is perhaps understandable, even if it makes his allies squirm.
When satire gets violent
In response to a question on Sunday about Trump’s satirical posting, U.S. Speaker Mike Johnson pushed back, saying: “he’s not calling for the murder of his political opponents,” pointing to a photo showing a protester hanging the president in effigy by a noose.
The “No Kings” website called on protesters to espouse “a commitment to nonviolent action.” And reporting on the many national protests (including an estimated 17 in Utah) highlighted their carnivallike, peaceful feel.
Yet violent messaging did show up. Against a backdrop of frequent signs and slogans referring to Trump as a “dictator” and comparing the Trump administration to Nazis, a website affiliated with the Family Research Council, reported one protester carrying a sign depicting a crosshairs over the president’s face, accompanied by the words, “WANTED: BETTER SNIPERS.”
A Maine protester also admitted that her birthday wish was to wake up and read a certain obituary. The reporter clarified, “You’re wishing that President Trump is dead?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” she replied.
Speaker Mike Johnson argued Sunday that such rhetoric was emblematic of what the protests were all about:
“We have video and photos of pretty violent rhetoric, calling out the president, saying fascists must die and all the rest. I mean, I don’t think that’s loving speech. I don’t think that’s friendly speech. And I don’t think it’s pro-American to say those kinds of things.”
Satire directed at Trump
Although Johnson went on to suggest the ideology behind protests was seamlessly tied to Marxism and socialism, it’s safe to say that many protesting this weekend hold few sympathies for Marxism, but they harbor many concerns about preserving democratic norms.
As the AP reported, the abundance of inflatable animal costumes (frogs, sharks, turkeys, unicorns, dinosaurs, lobsters) and other playful costumes (astronauts, aliens, bananas) were partly intentional, to “deflate tensions.” While attracting attention, they also “undercut” portrayals of such events as violent and hateful, according to the Washington Post.
As demonstrated in these same protests, the president has plenty of company in employing biting satire and ridicule to make a point. Echoing the “baby Trump” balloon flown in England on Trump’s first and recent state visits, there were many dressing up as big sumo-looking babies.
Various signs mixed sharp humor to make a serious point, including “Tylenol is safer than tyranny” and “elect a clown, expect a circus.”
Of course, Gov. Gavin Newsom has made waves in recent months with his own satirical social media campaign mimicking the president’s characteristic style.
Satirizing the powerful vs. the people?
With all the attention on President Trump’s satirical strategies in defense of his administration, it’s worth remembering that such mockery and ridicule (defined as “the making of unkind jokes as a way of showing one’s scorn for someone or something”) has historically been a way to dress down those in power.
As early as satirical papyri and tablets in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia mocking authority and social roles, there’s a long history of satire critiquing the elite — including Athenian playwright Aristophanes, who mercilessly mocked politicians and philosophers in his 5th century Greek comedies.
Even Hebrew prophets used mockery as moral critique, perhaps the most famous example being Elijah assailing the priests of Baal as they unsuccessfully petitioned their god to bring down fire, “Shout louder! He’s a god, so maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s relieving himself. Maybe he’s busy someplace. Maybe he’s taking a nap and somebody needs to wake him up” (International Standard Version).
Hundreds of years later, Roman writers Lucilius, Horace, and Juvenal developed “satira” as a literary genre, creating text that ridiculed corruption, hypocrisy, and decadence — aiming, as Horace said, to “laugh men out of their vices.”
Fast forward 1500 years, and Erasmus’ In Praise of Folly (1509) mocked theologians and church corruption in the years leading up to the Reformation. Martin Luther’s own pamphlets often used grotesque cartoons and ridicule against the papacy — including depicting the Pope as a donkey.
A decade after the Civil War, Thomas Nast was so effective at using cartoons in Harper’s Weekly to undermine the corrupt “Boss” Tweed political machine in New York, that Tweed supposedly said: “Stop them damn pictures! I don’t care so much what the papers write about me — my constituents can’t read. But they can see pictures.”
From Jon Stewart’s Daily Show on the political left, to the Babylonian Bee on the political right, satire now has a robust presence in American political discourse. In addition to the continued skewering of those in power, Trump himself is employing satire against those questioning his power.
The central question: To what end?
In Speaker Johnson’s defense of this weekend’s “King Trump” video, he explained that the president was “using satire to make a point,” suggesting “he’s probably the most effective person who’s ever used social media for that.”
But what is the point of the video, some wonder. Johnson parallels messaging from the White House’s assistant press secretary, Liz Huston, who said in a statement to the New York Times: “No leader has used social media to communicate directly with the American people more creatively and effectively than President Trump.”
Again, some wonder: effective for what? If the purpose is to distract, deflect and defend, such a strategy may perhaps “work.” If the goal, as some MAGA supporters put it, is to “own the libs” and enjoy more of their fury, this will do the job.
“The more ridiculous the photo or video, the more likely it is to dominate our news feeds,” said Adrian Shahbaz, vice president of research and analysis at Freedom House. “A controversial post gets shared by people who enjoyed it and people outraged by it. That’s twice the shares.”
But what if your aim is to take seriously the frustrations and fears of the whole American people? What if your deepest concern is finding new ways to address legitimate questions in a way that brings us together as a people?
Then obviously, these approaches are woefully inadequate, and indeed, making things worse. At a moment of civic conflagration, this strategy simply adds fuel to an already raging inferno.
“What motivates the impulse to ridicule rather than empathize?” asks psychologist R.J. Starr, before highlighting a study about sports rivals, which found higher levels of satisfaction among fans of a winning team when they witnessed visible distress from opposing fans.
After outlining other psychological influences, Starr raises concern about becoming “a society of mockers,” stating “Over time, habitual mockery erodes empathy, weakens emotional intelligence, and fosters an increasingly fragmented and cruel society.”