On Christmas of all days, Donald Trump chose to call Democrats “scum.” Not criminals. Not misguided. Not wrong. Scum. A word we usually reserve for things we scrape off the bottom of a shoe or skim off polluted water. A word whose entire purpose is to dehumanize.
That moment matters far beyond the day’s news cycle, and far beyond partisan politics. It matters because leaders don’t just govern; they model.
Psychologists and social and political scientists have long pointed out that national leaders function, at a deep emotional level, as parental figures for their nations. They set the boundaries of what is acceptable. They establish norms. They shape the emotional climate children grow up breathing.
America has lived through this before, both for good and, now, for ill.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt understood this instinctively. In the depths of the Great Depression and the terror of World War II, he spoke to the country as a calm, steady parent. His fireside chats didn’t just convey policy; they conveyed reassurance, dignity, and solidarity.
He treated Americans as adults capable of courage and sacrifice. He named fear without exploiting it. The result was not weakness, but national resilience.
A generation raised under that moral tone went on to build the modern middle class, defeat fascism, and help construct a postwar world that valued democracy, human rights, and shared prosperity.
Contrast that with the bigoted, hateful, revenge-filled claptrap children have heard for the past decade from the emotionally stunted psychopath currently occupying the White House. Hours after calling you and me “scum,” he put up another post calling us “sleazebags.”
How presidential.
Presidents like Dwight D. Eisenhower warned Americans about the dangers of concentrated power and the military-industrial complex, modeling restraint and foresight.
John F. Kennedy appealed to service, famously asking what we could do for our country. Lyndon Johnson, for all his flaws, used the moral authority of the presidency to push civil rights forward, telling America that discrimination was not just illegal but wrong.
Even Ronald Reagan, whose policies I fiercely opposed, spoke a language of civic belonging and optimism rather than open dehumanization.
Go back further, to the Founders themselves, and George Washington warned against factional hatred and the corrosive effects of treating political opponents as enemies rather than fellow citizens.
John Adams argued that a republic could only survive if it was grounded in virtue and moral responsibility. Thomas Jefferson wrote that every generation must renew its commitment to liberty, not surrender it to demagogues who feed on division.
They all understood something Trump doesn’t, or is so obsessively wrapped up in himself and his own infantile grievances that he doesn’t care about: the psychological power of example.
Donald Trump has spent ten years modeling for America the exact opposite of leadership.
Ten years of cruelty framed as strength.
Ten years of mockery, insults, and grievance elevated to the highest office in the land.
Ten years of praising strongmen, including Putin, Xi, and Orbán, while attacking democratic institutions.
Ten years of targeting Hispanics, Black Somali immigrants, demonizing refugees, and encouraging suspicion and hatred toward entire communities.
And now he’s giving us the example of using ICE not simply as a law enforcement agency, but as a masked, armed, unaccountable weapon of state terror aimed not only at brown-skinned families, but at journalists, clergy, lawyers, and anyone else who dares to document their abuse.
Kids graduating from high school this year have never known anything else. That fact should alarm every parent.
Children learn what leadership looks like long before they understand policy debates. They absorb emotional cues, and notice who gets rewarded and who gets punished.
When a president calls fellow Americans “scum” and suffers no consequences, the lesson is clear: cruelty is permissible if you have power. Empathy is expendable. Democracy is a nuisance. Accountability is optional.
This is how normalization works. What once would have been unthinkable becomes routine. The outrage dulls. The abnormal becomes background noise. And a generation grows up believing this is simply how adults in authority behave.
History tells us where that road leads: dehumanizing language precedes dehumanizing actions.
Every authoritarian movement begins by teaching people to see their neighbors as less than fully human. Once empathy vanishes, abuses become easier to justify, and violence becomes easier to excuse.
That’s why we all — parents, grandparents, and citizens — have a special responsibility right now.
We can’t assume our nation’s children will automatically recognize how dangerous and abnormal this moment is; instead, we have to name it for them.
We have to tell them, plainly and repeatedly, that this is not what healthy leadership looks like.
That calling people “scum” and “sleazebags” is not strength. That praising autocrats while undermining democracy is not patriotism. That power without empathy is not leadership; it’s merely a simple pathology known as psychopathy.
And we must model something better ourselves.
Disagree without dehumanizing. Stand up without tearing others down. Teach that democracy, in order to work, depends on mutual recognition of one another’s humanity.
Remind our kids that America has, in its best moments, been led by people who understood their role as moral examples, not just political operators.
And that when CBS, Fox “News,” the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, Facebook, X, and other billionaire-owned rightwing media and social media pretend this is normal, they’re spitting on the graves of our Founders and participating in a gross violation of the basic norms of human decency.
Trump’s Christmas message wasn’t just offensive. It was a warning.
The future lays before us now, and if we care about the country our children will inherit, we can’t let this moral vandalism to go unanswered.
