A Child's Mind in the Oval Office
By Ambassador Patrick N. Theros - September 6, 2025
A
friend recently wrote an article arguing that Donald Trump’s greatness
lies in his “child’s mind” – a mind unburdened by cynicism or
complexity, able to cut through problems with refreshing clarity. He
pointed to Trump’s federal takeover of Washington, DC’s security as
proof that simplicity is strength, likening it to Reagan’s vision of
America as good and the Soviet Union as evil, or Bush ’43’s
uncomplicated convictions. For him, a child’s mind is not a flaw but a
blessing. The allure is obvious: there is charm in unclouded conviction
and simple answers. But should we hand that child the nuclear launch
codes?
At age seven, I “redesigned” my aunt’s garden with a pair
of shears. My friend forgot that when he had children he surely cleared
everything breakable from any surface within reach of his toddlers. We
both knew then what he forgets now: children need mothers to clean up
the wreckage left behind. Statesmanship is not playtime. In foreign
affairs, the broken toys are alliances, credibility, and human lives.
Children
thrive on flattery and crave gold stars and candy. Trump craves the
Nobel Peace Prize and praise from autocrats. He apparently believes
other autocrats have the same cravings. He cooed to Kim Jong-Un – “we
fell in love” – after a few kind words. He defended Putin against our
own intelligence agencies, praised Mohammed bin Salman after the
Khashoggi murder, and beamed whenever strongmen tossed him a rhetorical
lollipop.
In his recent meeting in Alaska, Trump hosted Vladimir
Putin and greeted him with the deference owed a feudal overlord. Yet
within hours, it was Putin who departed triumphant, leaving Trump
essentially humiliated.
Children are naturally self-absorbed and
narcissistic; traits even my friend agrees Trump displays. The mass
suffering of others rarely registers. Thousands of children killed in
Gaza? Trump called a meeting to plan for a Trump-owned seaside resort
built on its rubble. Syrian Kurds abandoned to Turkish attack and
Ukrainians dangled as bargaining chips? All good, in the search for
applause at home.
And then there is the inability to grasp
consequences. A child may hit little Joy with a bat and still expect to
attend her birthday party. Trump, the adult, correctly saw the need to
pivot toward Asia to counter China, but the child in him alienated the
very allies needed to make that strategy work. Japan, South Korea, the
Philippines, even India – partners he should have cultivated – were
instead hit with tariffs and insults. A child cannot connect the dots:
gratuitously harming allies benefits our adversaries and weakens us.
Children
expect Daddy always pays. Trump never learned the discipline of cost or
trade-offs. He cut taxes for billionaires, gutted programs from
Medicaid to the Weather Bureau, and ballooned deficits. In foreign
affairs, he declared tariffs “the most beautiful word in the English
language,” missing the elementary point that import duties are paid by
Americans, not foreigners. He confused balance of trade with balance of
payments, blissfully unaware that U.S. services, investments,
entertainment (e.g., Britney Spears) and Treasury sales keep the
accounts stable. Like a child demanding another toy without knowing the
family budget, Trump still treats the American economy as a bottomless
piggy bank.
Children love breaking things. Trump tore up treaties
and norms for the thrill of destruction: he shredded the Iran nuclear
deal, walked away from the Paris Accords on climate change, and
undermined NATO solidarity. He delighted in separating families in
defiance of court orders. Most dangerously, he abruptly abandoned
Kurdish allies in Syria – partners who fought ISIS alongside U.S.
troops. He withdrew Temporary Protected Status for Afghans and
dismantled the offices processing special immigrant visas for the
interpreters who risked their lives for us. For Trump, betraying allies
was just another broken toy.
When denied, children throw tantrums. Trump fired officials who brought bad news, preferring petulance to accountability.
Allies
at the G7 and NATO summits found American positions shifting with his
mood swings, trust eroding under the whiplash. He delights in public
tantrums; just ask Ukrainian President Zelensky.
Children have
limited attention spans. Trump must have dozed through Latin American
history, the part where two centuries of U.S. military interventions
forged lasting resentments. He tried to meddle with Brazil’s legal
system to shield a strongman he admired, imposing 50% tariffs. He forgot
Brazil exports coffee, American’s biggest addiction; we don’t produce
coffee. He apparently also slept through Econ 101.
Children want
shiny toys. Trump pursues glamour over substance in foreign policy,
reveling in photo-ops with dictators. He basks in the spectacle of
flags, military parades, and handshakes with the likes of Kim Jong-Un.
Children don’t do the heavy lifting of diplomacy.
Maybe my friend
and I are both wrong; perhaps Trump became an adult and then the child
came back and infiltrated his mind AFTER Trump hit old age. In Greek
there is a word, ‘ξεμωραμένος’ – “becoming a baby again” – that
describes an aging adult becoming childlike again. I am not qualified to
judge whether Trump’s condition is arrested development or a function
of old age; I leave that to medical professionals.
My friend also
forgot that Reagan supported drug traffickers in the Iran-Contra
scandal and Bush ’43 invaded Iraq. But I digress.
My friend is
right about one thing: a child’s mind is unburdened by doubt. In daily
life, that can be endearing. In foreign affairs, where prudence, memory,
and empathy matter most, it is dangerous. America cannot afford a
foreign policy run like a nursery school, where tantrums dictate
strategy and toys are broken for sport. Allies fear they can no longer
depend on the United States; adversaries smell opportunity. What my
friend calls a blessing looks, for U.S. foreign policy, like a
liability.
Unfortunately, Trump’s mother is no longer here to clean up the wreckage in the Oval Office.