As chairman of a business-funded think tank, I have been called many things — neoliberal, libertarian, right-wing, and even (indirectly) one of “Hayek’s Bastards.” But never left-wing. And certainly not “left of Jacinda Ardern.” That is, until I started writing about Donald Trump. Suddenly, people who once nodded along with my commitment to the rule of law, institutional checks and balances, and policymaking that respects facts over fiat began treating me as if I’d joined the radical left. All for pointing out what seemed self-evident: that Trump’s governance style poses a threat to constitutional democracy, freedom and prosperity.
How is it that millions of thoughtful conservatives who once championed limited government, free markets, and constitutional norms now enthusiastically support a president whose actions often run counter to these principles? It is a puzzle that deserves serious exploration. Indeed, the question grows more pressing by the day, with Trump’s sweeping new tariffs having triggered one of the largest market sell-offs in American history, wiping out trillions in value.
Some business leaders and major Republican donors are finally breaking ranks with Trump. Elon Musk — once Trump’s most prominent supporter — has publicly denounced the President’s trade policy and called Trump’s adviser Peter Navarro “truly a moron.” Hedge fund billionaire Bill Ackman warned that “the consequences for our country and the millions of citizens who have supported the president… are going to be severely negative.” Home Depot co-founder Ken Langone bluntly called the tariffs “bulls—” and said, “right now, what everybody’s terrified of is a trade war.” Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent was reportedly looking for an exit after the market carnage damaged his credibility — before Trump blinked on his tariff war last week.
Republican senators are speaking out, too. Rand Paul declared, “Tariffs are taxes, and Americans are paying the price,” while sponsoring legislation to require congressional approval for new tariffs. Senator Thom Tillis worried aloud whether retirees will “feel good” when they see their damaged 401(k) personal pension accounts. Even Senator Ted Cruz, typically a Trump ally, warned that if tariffs persist, it could become “a bloodbath for the Republican Party.”
Yet remarkably, polling shows Trump’s approval among self-identified Republicans remains around 90 percent. For anyone watching from outside the Trump camp, this presents a baffling spectacle. How can so many informed, principled voters continue supporting a president whose actions directly contradict their professed values — even as business leaders and elected officials are finally starting to acknowledge the damage?
The paradox extends beyond trade. Trump has declared multiple emergencies to bypass Congress, attempted to nullify birthright citizenship despite the 14th Amendment’s clear language, and ordered independent regulatory agencies to submit to White House control. Most alarming, he declared on social media that “He who saves his Country does not violate any Law” — essentially claiming that a leader stands above legal restraints when acting in what he deems the national interest.
For many observers, including classical liberals like me, these actions constitute a serious challenge to constitutional governance and limited government. Yet Americans who once championed these very principles seem to view Trump’s actions very differently. What might explain this divergence in perception?
The answer may lie not in policy preferences but in moral psychology and tribal identity. Social psychologist Professor Jonathan Haidt’s research offers crucial insights. In his book “The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion,” Haidt identifies six moral foundations that shape political intuitions: care, fairness, liberty, loyalty, authority, and sanctity. Liberals tend to emphasise the first three, while conservatives value all six more evenly, placing strong emphasis on loyalty to group, respect for authority, and maintenance of traditional boundaries.
Trump may have masterfully tapped into these moral intuitions. His rhetoric constantly invokes loyalty (to America, to tradition), authority (strength and toughness), and sanctity (protecting traditional values from corruption). For many conservatives, these moral appeals may register more powerfully than abstract concerns about constitutional norms or economic orthodoxy.
Stanford neuroscientist Robert Sapolsky’s research on tribalism suggests another dimension. Humans are “hard-wired for us/them dichotomies,” Sapolsky notes. Our brains distinguish friend from foe within milliseconds. When tribal identity is activated — as it constantly is in today’s polarised environment — our moral standards may shift dramatically. We might become more forgiving of transgressions by our side and more hostile toward perceived enemies.
Trump frames politics as an existential battle between virtuous “real Americans” and threatening outsiders. This tribal framing may activate primal group psychology. If politics is perceived as a war for cultural survival, policy consistency perhaps becomes secondary to having a fighter on your side.
Trump supporters may not see themselves as abandoning principles. Rather, they may have reordered their priorities in response to perceived existential threats. When traditional values appear under assault from progressive institutions, constitutional niceties might seem like luxury concerns. In a house fire, one does not stop to check if the evacuation violates the building code.
This may explain why appeals to constitutional principle often fall flat. When I argue that Trump’s executive orders exceed his authority, many conservatives respond not by disputing the legal analysis but by pointing to progressive overreach: “Where was your concern when Obama did X?” or “The left started this by weaponising government against us.”
Another factor might be cognitive dissonance — the psychological discomfort that arises when actions contradict beliefs. Once someone has publicly committed to Trump, reversing course becomes difficult. It threatens one’s social identity and self-image. Instead, supporters may engage in elaborate rationalisations: “The media exaggerates everything” or “He’s playing four-dimensional chess.” These explanations may seem far-fetched to outsiders, but they could serve a vital psychological function for insiders.
Trump’s strongest supporters also inhabit a separate information ecosystem. They may consume media that portrays Trump not as erratic or norm-breaking but as a brilliant strategist beset by corrupt enemies. When fact and narrative conflict, many might choose the more psychologically comfortable narrative — one that validates their tribal identity and moral intuitions.
This tribal media environment doesn’t just shape what supporters believe — it amplifies their sense of threat. And when fear becomes pervasive, it can change what people are willing to accept from their leaders.
Trump’s constant stoking of fear — describing American “carnage,” invasions at the border, socialism on the march — might trigger what psychologists call the “authoritarian dynamic,” wherein people become more willing to accept authoritarian measures to reduce perceived threats.
Many Trump supporters may genuinely believe America faces disaster without his leadership. From that perspective, his executive overreach might seem not like constitutional vandalism but necessary action against existential danger — something like Abraham Lincoln’s extraordinary wartime measures.
The phenomenon of unwavering loyalty to a populist leader transcends American borders. Similar dynamics may have fuelled support for Silvio Berlusconi in Italy, Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil, and Viktor Orbán in Hungary. In each case, supporters stick with their champion despite policies that contradict traditional conservative principles. In each case, tribal loyalty appears to trump policy consistency.
In Brazil, Bolsonaro’s supporters stormed government buildings in January 2023 rather than accept his electoral defeat. The imagery mirrored America’s January 6 riot — crowds draped in national flags claiming to “take back” the country for “the people.” In both cases, a large portion of voters appeared willing to upend democratic processes rather than see their champion yield power.
All this points to a profound irony. Many conservatives who rightly criticise identity politics on the left may have embraced a form of identity politics on the right — one centred on being “real Americans” defending their way of life against progressive assault. They do not use the language of identity politics, of course, but the psychological structure could be similar: a focus on group solidarity in the face of a perceived existential threat.
Steven Pinker captures this dynamic well, describing populism as a “pushback of elements of human nature — tribalism, authoritarianism, demonisation, zero-sum thinking — against the Enlightenment institutions that were designed to circumvent them.” These institutions — constitutional checks and balances, rule of law, protection of individual rights — were created precisely because the framers understood how tribal politics can threaten liberty.
To be fair, progressive overreach has created fertile ground for Trumpian politics. When mainstream institutions embrace identity politics that explicitly demonises traditional values, they should not be surprised when traditionalists embrace a champion who fights back with equal vehemence. When elite universities openly discriminate against Asian and white applicants in the name of “equity,” they may create precisely the tribal dynamics that fuel populism.
Years of hyperbolic rhetoric — portraying mainstream conservatives like George W. Bush as "fascists" or "war criminals" — have also devalued these terms. When every Republican president is cast as an existential threat, the language of crisis loses its meaning. Like the boy who cried wolf, when a leader with genuinely authoritarian tendencies appears, previous exaggerations make it harder for warnings to be taken seriously.
These dynamics may help explain why many conservatives dismiss criticism of Trump's policy inconsistencies and norm-breaking. Having been attacked regardless of what policies they support, many on the right now prioritise tribal loyalty over policy coherence. When every Republican is denounced as extreme regardless of their actual positions, policy consistency loses its appeal.
The tariff debacle offers a telling case study. When Trump imposed sweeping new duties on imports, he directly contradicted the free-market principles many of his supporters claim to cherish. Traditional economic theory holds that tariffs are essentially taxes paid by domestic consumers and businesses. They distort markets, raise prices, invite retaliation, and ultimately harm economic growth.
Yet many Republicans who once championed free trade now defend protectionism — not based on economic theory but perhaps on tribal loyalty. “He’s standing up to China” or “Finally someone who puts America first” are common refrains, reflecting what may be a shift from policy analysis to identity statement. Supporting the tariffs might signal group membership, regardless of their adverse economic impact.
Even as markets plunge and economic pain spreads, most Trump supporters appear to be maintaining their loyalty. This is not necessarily because they fail to see the damage but because they may interpret it through a tribal lens: “Short-term pain for long-term gain” or “Wall Street needed a reality check.” Facts that contradict the tribal narrative might get reinterpreted or dismissed.
Of course, not all Trump supporters fit this psychological profile. Some are traditional conservatives who genuinely believe his policies, despite the noise, best advance their values. Others are single-issue voters focused on abortion, judges, or deregulation. Still others are reluctant supporters who dislike Trump’s style but fear progressive alternatives more.
Yet for a substantial portion, Trump support may be primarily driven by tribal identity and moral intuitions rather than cool policy assessment.
Is there hope for breaking through? Perhaps, but it requires understanding the depth of the tribal divide. Appeals to principle alone will likely fall flat if they do not acknowledge the legitimate fears and moral concerns that drive Trump support. The recent tariff backlash does suggest reality can occasionally pierce the bubble. When policies directly harm supporters’ material interests in visible ways, some reconsideration may occur.
For classical liberals and constitutional conservatives, the challenge is formidable. We must defend the principles and institutions that protect liberty without dismissing the legitimate grievances that fuel populism.
At the same time, we must gently but firmly remind our friends on the right that constitutional government exists precisely to prevent the tribal cycle of power and retribution. The temptation to fight fire with fire is understandable but ultimately self-defeating. If conservatives embrace rule by decree when it suits their priorities, they have no principled ground on which to stand when progressives do the same.
The conservative and classical liberal traditions offer richer, more enduring wisdom than their current populist expression suggests. From Edmund Burke’s prudent respect for institutions to Friedrich Hayek’s insights on the limits of central planning, classical liberalism at its best provides a vision of society that balances liberty and order without resorting to strongman politics.
What the right needs now is not blind loyalty to a man but renewed commitment to principles — the rule of law rather than the rule of the mob or the strongman, free markets rather than crony capitalism, and constitutional processes rather than executive whims. It needs the humility to recognise that no leader, however charismatic, should stand above the institutions designed to check human ambition.
To read the full article on the Quadrant website, click here.