The inauguration of the first Trump administration commenced with a falsehood.
On January 21, 2017, President Donald Trump’s press secretary at the time, Sean Spicer, asserted that Trump had attracted the largest audience ever for a presidential inauguration. Images clearly indicated that this claim was untrue; Trump’s predecessor, Barack Obama, had indeed gathered a significantly larger crowd during his first inauguration. However, this discrepancy seemed irrelevant.
“These actions to diminish the inauguration’s enthusiasm are disgraceful and incorrect,” Spicer remarked.
In one regard, Spicer’s statement was minor. Yet, in another respect, it was quite significant, as it represented a falsity about an easily verifiable fact. Kellyanne Conway, serving as a counselor to Trump, infamously defended Spicer by labeling his remarks as “alternative facts,” treating observable reality as malleable.
Fast forward eight years. Trump finds himself once again in the presidential role. Jeffrey Goldberg, the editor in chief of The Atlantic, was accidentally added to a private chat on Signal, a secure messaging app, where Trump-administration officials discussed a proposed bombing campaign in Yemen. Goldberg reported on this significant and reckless breach of national security. Rather than owning the error and promising to rectify it, the Trump administration resorted to its usual strategy: attack. Discredit. Equivocate.
“He is, as you know, a sleazebag, but at the utmost level,” Trump commented concerning Goldberg. “His magazine is crumbling.” Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, who had shared the most sensitive information in the group chat, cloaked his attack on Goldberg with layers of fabrications: “You’re discussing a deceitful, highly discredited so-called journalist who has made a career out of spreading hoaxes repeatedly.” He added, “Nobody was texting war plans.” Karoline Leavitt, the White House press secretary, stated on social media, “This entire story was just another hoax crafted by a Trump-hater notorious for sensationalist storytelling.” One high-ranking individual after another insisted that the narrative was exaggerated. They insisted that the shared information posed no significant threat.
But in fact, it did.
As The Washington Post reported, “The Yemen attack timeline shared by Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth on a Signal chat was so highly classified under Pentagon guidelines that the details should have been confined to a special, compartmentalized channel with very restricted access, according to former Defense Department officials.” Jennifer Griffin, the chief national-security correspondent at Fox News, relayed that a former senior Department of Defense official informed her that the kind of information present in the chat “could allow the enemy to adjust their target and escalate lethal actions against U.S. forces.”
National Security Adviser Mike Waltz, who inadvertently invited Goldberg to the chat, claimed, “I can assure you 100 percent: I don’t know this guy,” and added that he “wouldn’t know him if I crossed paths with him, even in a police lineup.” A photograph soon surfaced showing the two together at a 2021 event.
In the face of the Trump administration’s smokescreen, Goldberg—who had initially described the nature of the information shared in the Signal chat in vague terms—released the texts to let the public draw their own conclusions. In contrast, the Trump administration once again wants you to accept that two and two equals five.
I N THE 1944 FILM GASLIGHT, a young woman named Paula Alquist becomes enamored with and marries an older gentleman, Gregory Anton. Throughout the movie, Gregory—clever, brooding, and charismatic—deceives Paula into believing she is losing her sanity. He does this through manipulation of her memories, accusing her of misplacing paintings and stealing items, isolating her, undermining her self-worth and confidence, and denying reality. The title of the film refers to Gregory’s technique of subtly dimming and brightening the gas lighting in their home while insisting that Paula is simply imagining the alterations.
Towards the film’s climax, Paula discovers that she has been deceived by Gregory, a murderer wanting her institutionalized to seize control of her estate. The inspector who resolves the case tells Paula, “You’re not losing your mind. You’re being methodically driven out of it.”
The film introduced the concept of gaslighting, a term describing a specific form of psychological manipulation. For gaslighting to succeed, it requires that the victims become so disoriented they begin to question their own perception of reality and their sanity. Clinical psychologists note that as gaslighting progresses, not only do victims start denying reality; they begin to accept the false reality created by the gaslighter.
Gaslighters are manipulative and controlling, often belittling and demeaning others. They excel at denial, dishonesty, and projection. And if they succeed in their schemes, some manage to reach the White House. When they do, the harm typically inflicted on individuals is instead imposed on an entire nation.
At that moment, the vast machinery of the federal government, bolstered by outside groups and media organizations, becomes part of a massive and relentless disinformation campaign. The objective is to instill distrust, confusion, and disorientation, which erodes public confidence in institutions and disrupts their understanding of reality. The ultimate goal is to divide and undermine civil society, crippling its ability to unite and mobilize.
When no objective truth exists, and everyone is allowed to invent their own reality, script, and facts, authoritarianism flourishes.
“The purpose of modern propaganda is not merely to mislead or promote an agenda,” wrote Garry Kasparov, a leader in the Russian pro-democracy movement, in 2016. “It is to wear down your critical thinking and obliterate truth.”
AS DISINFORMATION GROWS, and as more individuals and institutions choose silence, it is increasingly crucial for truth-tellers to raise their voices, reassuring those who resist the propaganda that they are not losing their grip on reality.
They must provide what the police inspector offered Paula Alquist.
Navigating through America’s epistemic crisis—where no consensus on reality exists, leading to the breakdown of societal mechanisms for determining truth—will not be quick or easy, especially as the Trump administration still has over 1,350 days ahead. Rebuilding the concept of truth is a generational challenge, requiring many pieces to fit together.
It begins with asking the right questions, like the one raised by Kristin Du Mez, a history professor at Calvin University: “How do we, as citizens, engage in democracy amidst rampant disinformation, when so many seem keen to believe lies and disregard the reality right before them? How can we address the abandonment of values in choosing sides consistently?”
People increasingly feeling powerless have posed a version of this question to me: “What actionable steps can I take as a citizen, beyond voting and contacting my representative, to help safeguard American democracy against Trump’s relentless assault on our institutions and truth?”
I have wrestled with providing an answer; my contacts share the same struggle. So far, we have yet to identify a list of compelling options. However, I am convinced that knowledge must inform the answers to these questions and that understanding is vital before a comprehensive course of action can be developed.
This entails engaging with experts in disinformation history, such as Thomas Rid, who can discuss how societies have tackled these issues in the past; political psychologists like Karen Stenner, who can articulate how to connect with people surrounded by distortions; and specialists in psychology and neuroscience, such as Jay Van Bavel, whose research addresses group identity, social motivation, cooperation, intergroup bias, and social media. It also includes reaching out to cognitive scientists like Steven Sloman and Philip Fernbach, who explore reasoning, decision-making, and belief formation; philosophers of science like Cailin O’Connor and James Owen Weatherall, who assert that social dynamics explain the persistence of false beliefs; Peter Pomerantsev, who specializes in tackling the dilemmas posed by digital-era disinformation and polarization; and political scientists like Brendan Nyhan, who investigates misperception and conspiracy theories.
Experts in misinformation affirm that we possess considerable knowledge regarding various forms of misinformation, who the targets are, and how such misinformation spreads. What remains elusive, however, is how to put an end to it. (Past interventions—fact-checking, warning labels, and digital literacy training—have yielded mixed results.)
“The mechanisms that can undermine trust have rapidly scaled over the past decade, whereas the means to restore trust do not scale,” observed Lara Putnam, a history professor at the University of Pittsburgh engaged in disinformation research, in an interview with The New York Times. Finding ways to enlarge trust and truth is a pivotal challenge of our epoch. This will necessitate collective efforts from individuals and groups striving to see the world as it truly is. Consider it a dissident movement, an American Solidarity movement.
I HAVE A HUNCH, OR AT LEAST A HOPE. As Donald Trump’s malevolence intertwines with his ineptitude, public dissatisfaction will intensify. Signs of this are already evident, as public outrage towards Elon Musk is increasingly being directed at Tesla. We’ve noticed it in town halls across red districts, where Republican representatives face not just trepidation but also outrage. Republicans are advised to cease in-person town halls with their constituents. The panic triggered by the stock market downturn, a consequence of Trump’s reckless tariff policies, disrupting the global trade system and threatening the American-led world order, is also part of this growing discontent.
I foresee much more to unfold, as the consequences of Trump’s actions galvanize widespread indignation and resistance.
Trump embodies chaos, and chaos incurs a human toll.
Should discontent with Trump, Musk, and the broader spectacle lead to mass protests, it could signal a pivotal change—not just in opposition to Trump’s policies but also against the dizzying disinformation he disseminates almost continuously.
I have long pondered how long it will take for Americans to cease tolerating the relentless conflict and animosity, which not only divides citizens but also families, that characterize life in the Trump era. The answer might lie in when the quality of their lives deteriorates—when avoidable diseases spread, when the costs of essentials such as cars and eggs soar, and when 401(k) accounts face significant losses.
It’s at this juncture that the appeal of Trump-style nihilism could fade; his disinformation efforts may begin to unravel, prompting a reminder that living in truth is far more preferable than surviving in lies.
The saga has a long way to unfold, but the passage of time ultimately delivers its retributions.
