The Man Who Believes He’s Never Wrong

You know that one uncle at family gatherings who loudly declares, “I’ve never made a mistake in my life!” while simultaneously trying to fix the generator with a spoon and duct tape? Yeah. That’s kind of what it feels like watching Donald Trump play president. Except instead of ruining a family barbecue, he’s yanking the global economy like a light switch. And the crowd still claps. Like they’re watching a magician pull off a trick, even after the rabbit bites him.

There’s something terrifyingly powerful about a person who genuinely believes they’re never wrong. And Trump? He doesn’t just believe it—he’s trademarked it. He wakes up in the morning, stretches, and probably congratulates himself on how right he was in his sleep. Self-doubt? Never heard of her. And if he has, she’s probably banned from Mar-a-Lago.

Exhibit A: The man literally treated tariffs like a toddler with a toy switch. “Tariffs on. Tariffs off. No, wait, tariffs back on!” Like there’s a panic button under his desk next to the Diet Coke. One minute he’s slapping tariffs on China like he’s settling a neighborhood beef, the next he’s backing off because the market started convulsing like it just got hit with a stun gun. Meanwhile, small businesses were left trying to figure out if their suppliers were about to go bankrupt or just moderately screwed.

It’s economic policymaking via vibes. One bad Fox News segment and boom—a billion-dollar decision made by lunch.

Big corporations? They’ve got PR teams, lawyers, lobbyists—some even have Trump on speed dial. But your local mom-and-pop importing custom iPhone cases from Shenzhen? Toasted. These aren’t just policies. These are economic mood swings. The man governs like he’s tweeting from a moving rollercoaster. The sad part? The rollercoaster has no safety bar and we’re all strapped in with shoelaces.

But let’s zoom out from Trump for a second. History has a special little shelf for folks who were always right—or thought they were:

Napoleon Bonaparte – Short king energy, but he overreached and got exiled. Twice.
Ayn Rand – Convinced capitalism was God’s final draft. Her books became gospel for billionaires with no empathy.
Joseph Stalin – Believed dissent was a threat to national security and sent millions to gulags. Cozy.
Steve Jobs – Brilliant, yes. But also known for dismissing people and bulldozing opposition in the name of vision.
Kanye West (Ye) – No footnotes needed.

(You could probably throw in a few prophets of doom from social media who keep “predicting” economic collapse but somehow still trade crypto.)

When you’re always right, there’s no room for dialogue, no space for correction. That spills into relationships. Ever tried dating someone who never admits fault? It’s like arguing with a mirror that yells back. It’s draining, like charging your phone with a potato. You put in energy, get nothing back, and end up questioning your life choices.

Now, is this a psychological problem? Probably. Narcissistic Personality Disorder, maybe a sprinkle of delusions of grandeur, and a healthy serving of unchecked ego. But beyond the diagnosis, the real problem is what this kind of leadership normalizes. Trump’s belief in his own infallibility is planting dangerous seeds, and we’re already seeing the sprouts.

People are adopting this playbook: Never apologize. Attack when questioned. Demand loyalty. Blame everyone else. And the scariest part? Some of them are more extreme, more unhinged than their role model. It’s like watching bootleg versions of a bad movie—worse production, but just as toxic.

They turn “being confidently wrong” into a personality trait. Suddenly, everyone’s an expert on everything—from vaccines to the Constitution—armed with a YouTube degree and an attitude.

Just scroll through Twitter or YouTube and you’ll find them:

Peter Schiff swearing every month that the dollar is on life support,
Max Keiser shouting “Buy Bitcoin or die trying,”
or that one uncle-like finance bro who insists the world is ending but still posts affiliate links for gold bars and cold wallets.
Somehow, they’re always right about the coming collapse… but still need your Patreon money.

Trump doesn’t value debate. He doesn’t want thinkers; he wants loyalists. He wants echo chambers, not conference rooms. His politics are personal—grievance-driven, vengeance-fueled, soaked in retribution. It’s not “Make America Great Again.” It’s “Make Everyone Who Ever Crossed Me Pay.”

In Trump’s world, facts are negotiable, but loyalty is non-negotiable. That’s not leadership—it’s mob boss logic wrapped in a presidential seal. This mindset defines Trumpism: a political ideology rooted in nationalism, populism, and a deep skepticism of global trade. It pushes “America First” policies that favor domestic workers and industries, often at the expense of international cooperation.

With authoritarian leanings, Trumpism challenges democratic norms and elevates personal loyalty above institutional integrity. Its influence has extended beyond U.S. borders, inspiring right-wing populist movements and reshaping global conversations about democracy and power.

And yet, to his bewitched acolytes, he can do no wrong. If he says bleach cures COVID, they ask if it’s on sale at Costco. If he causes market mayhem, they call it “4D chess.”

Criticize him? You must be a globalist, a RINO, or worse—a decent human being.

But let’s be real—his latest “prescriptions” for fixing America are expired, spoiled, and likely to cause side effects like economic indigestion and democratic decay. While the mega-corps may weather his storms, the small businesses—the backbone of the economy—get tossed around like deck chairs on the Titanic.

You can only gaslight reality for so long before the gas runs out and the lights go off.

So yeah, when a leader believes he’s never wrong, he doesn’t just risk making mistakes—he makes them policy. And when followers worship him for it, we all end up paying the price.

Democracy, after all, isn’t built on loyalty oaths and tantrums. It’s built on the messy, inconvenient truth—and a whole lot of uncomfortable conversations.

So if you’re wondering how democracies crumble, it’s not always with tanks and coups. Sometimes, it’s with a smirk, a slogan, and a guy who swears he’s never wrong—even while the house is on fire and he’s holding the matches.

Because the real danger isn’t just the man who breaks things with confidence—
It’s the crowd that cheers him on… and calls it leadership.