Trump as Sovereign: The Theological Impetus Behind Donald Trump

Both the New York Times and the Washington Monthly have recently drawn a direct link behind Donald Trump’s pursuit of expanded presidential power and the Claremont Institute, a California-based think tank built upon the thought of Leo Strauss and his mentor, the Nazi legal theorist Carl Schmitt.[1] The legal theory enabling Adolf Hitler, according to Damon Linker, has “risen to greater prominence now than at any time since the 1930s.”[2] Schmitt viewed liberalism as containing a fatal weakness in refusing to recognize the nature of human evil (original sin) or its political expression in sorting out the world according to friends and enemies. Liberalism is too weak to draw the necessary line identifying enemies. There must be a decider in chief, as legislatures are fraught with indecision and internal factions, and the rule of law (determinations of friends and enemies) is through the singular leader who can enact the law. “That leaves the executive as the best option for decisive action. It was this line of reasoning that led Schmitt to throw his support behind Adolf Hitler’s efforts in 1933 to transform himself into Germany’s sovereign decider.”[3]

Trump in his deployment of the military to the southern border, imposing tariffs, invoking the Alien Enemies Act to round up migrants, trying to end birthright citizenship, investigating his critics, suspending funds appropriated by Congress, firing the Inspector Generals, turning over personal data of Americans to Elon Musk, and making more emergency declarations in the first weeks of his presidency than any previous president, is setting himself up in the mold of Schmitt’s sovereign leader. It is not that Trump is reading Schmitt, but advisors such as Russel Vought, the director of the Office of Management and Budget, are working a definitive plan, in which power flows through the presidency. According to both Linker and Shapiro, Trump is surrounded by ideologues who are implementing the philosophy of Schmitt, Strauss, and the Claremont Institute. The President’s approach to politics, “to cast supporters as friends and critics as enemies,” is precisely the formula of Schmitt.[4] As Shapiro concludes, “This is not muddled thinking or engineered chaos. It’s a coherent view of politics that supersedes the debates between a strong versus weak presidency. A new battle over Trump’s Schmittian approach to America has begun, and the outcome is unsettled.”[5]

The Sovereign Power of the Leader as Rule of Law

While it may not be as obvious as Christian nationalism, Christian Zionism, and the alignment of evangelicals behind Trump, this understanding is consciously theological (Schmitt began his career as a devout Catholic) both in its understanding of the leader as sovereign, and the necessity of this strong leader due to evil (original sin or Hobbes state of nature). People are driven by fear of violent death (the ultimate evil), and this fear is a healthy realism which drives them to the protections offered by a strong leader.

Schmitt justified the rise of Hitler to the position of sovereign leader on the basis of what he calls metaphysics. He contends that religious and metaphysical assumptions translate directly into political organization, and (he presumes) nominalist voluntarism is the proper underpinning of the role of the secular state. Nominalism pictures God, in his essence, as beyond human cognition and therefore we only have access to God’s law. This law is not based on human reason or notions of morality, but coming as it does from God, it is to be accepted in and for itself (sometimes called “divine command theory”). God does not obey laws of morality because they are moral, but the law is moral because he so commands (thus voluntarism). He is the originator of morality; it does not rest upon anything other than his decision (“God said it, and that settles it”).[6]

The voluntarist God translated into politics means that just as God is sovereign (and this is the ground of morality and law), so too the president or leader is sovereign and his word is law. The leader is the instrument of God and he enacts divine sovereignty through his decisions. Legislators, judges, and courts serve the president, who is the arbiter of the law. Legislatures and bureaucrats cannot make unified and uncontested decisions; this is the sole domain of the absolute leader. Thus, Trump has declared his “authority is total,” he stated his intention to be a “dictator from day one,” he does not intend to uphold the constitution (as he recently revealed), and the Supreme Court has agreed the president cannot break the law while acting as president (he is the embodiment and enactor of the law).

Original Evil in Fear of Violent Death

The peculiar role of evil for both Strauss and Schmitt is built upon the work of Thomas Hobbes, who grounds the work of the state in warding off violent death. Strauss referencing Hobbs maintains, “the fear of death, i.e. the emotional and inevitable, and therefore necessary and certain, aversion from death is the origin of law and the State.”[7] Fear of the other, my potential murderer, is prerational but it gives rise to the drive for self-preservation which undergirds all morality. “For death is not only the negation of the primary good, but is there with the negation of all goods, including the greatest good; and at the same time, death-being the summum malum, while there is no summum bonum – is the only absolute standard by reference to which man may coherently order his life.”[8]

The fear of death, or the negative and prerational (and perhaps preconscious) is the root of the more positive “preservation of life,” but the negative fear is the ground of the positive drive. “Only through death has man an aim . . . [the] aim which is forced upon him by the sight of death the aim of avoiding death. For this reason Hobbes prefers the negative expression ‘avoiding death’ to the positive expression ‘preserving life’.”[9] Hobbes concludes that fear of death is the root of virtue and the reason for the State: “consolidating peace, [and] protecting man against the danger of violent death.”[10]

Schmitt, taking up Hobbes’ root cause (fear of violent death), concludes that the essence of politics is discerning friend from enemy (the one to fear): “The specific political distinction to which political actions and motives can be reduced is that between friend and enemy.”[11] Just as good and evil in the moral sphere and beautiful and ugly in the aesthetic sphere, are basic to these realms, so friend and enemy functions as the foundation of the political: “it is independent, not in the sense of a distinct new domain, but in that it can neither be based on any one antithesis or any combination of other antitheses, nor can it be traced to these.”[12] No other binary gets to the root cause of human striving: “The distinction of friend and enemy denotes the utmost degree of intensity of a union or separation, of an association or dissociation.”[13] The fear of death at the hands of the enemy, the other, the stranger, or the foreigner, is not based upon anything else; it may or may not pertain to economics, business or competition. “But he (the enemy) is, nevertheless, the other, the stranger; and it is sufficient for his nature that he is, in a specially intense way, existentially something different and alien, so that in the extreme case conflicts with him are possible. These can neither be decided by a previously determined general norm nor by the judgment of a disinterested and therefore neutral third party.”[14]

This fear of death is the fundamental fact, having nothing to do with any outward cause: “the morally evil, aesthetically ugly or economically damaging need not necessarily be the enemy; the morally good, aesthetically beautiful, and economically profitable need not necessarily become the friend in the specifically political sense of the word.”[15] The fear of the other is the basic state of nature, and “the political becomes evident by virtue of its being able to treat, distinguish, and comprehend the friend-enemy antithesis independently of other antitheses.”[16]

For Schmitt it is not simply that the friend/enemy distinction is the given reality, but it is the necessary reality for being human. A world of peace, without this distinction or without politics, would be a world without meaning: “It is conceivable that such a world might contain many very interesting antitheses and contrasts, competitions and intrigues of every kind, but there would not be a meaningful antithesis whereby men could be required to sacrifice life, authorized to shed blood, and kill other human beings.”[17] Meaning is created through death – the fear of death, the warding off of death, the shedding of blood, killing other humans, and sacrificing one’s life in this killing. Where would be the meaning in a world of peace?

Schmitt does not believe peace could prevail, anymore than he thinks it possible for humanity to exist without politics. “If a part of the population declares that it no longer recognizes enemies, then, depending on the circumstance, it joins their side and aids them. Such a declaration does not abolish the reality of the friend-and-enemy distinction.”[18] It just means that those who do not recognize our enemies have become the enemy. Having the same enemies is key in determining our friends. Someone who says they have no enemies is simply trying to stand outside the reality of a political community. For a nation to attempt such friendliness is dangerous: “If a people is afraid of the trials and risks implied by existing in the sphere of politics, then another people will appear which will assume these trials by protecting it against foreign enemies and thereby taking over political rule.”[19]

“What always matters is the possibility of the extreme case taking place, the real war, and the decision whether this situation has or has not arrived.”[20] War is the situation in which the fulness of meaning is made clear: “For only in real combat is revealed the most extreme consequence of the political grouping of friend and enemy. From this most extreme possibility human life derives its specifically political tension.”[21] This tension is the very substance of meaning and war makes this clear. Hobbes, through his experience of war, discovered war wipes away any illusions: “then all legitimate and normative illusions with which men like to deceive themselves regarding political realities in periods of untroubled security vanish.”[22] War washes away delusions of untroubled security and reveals the state of nature which prevails beneath political realities: “In it, states exist among themselves in a condition of continual danger, and their acting subjects are evil for precisely the same reasons as animals who are stirred by their drives (hunger, greediness, fear, jealousy).”[23]

Man is evil, and this reality once exposed stands behind true politics: “What remains is the remarkable and, for many, certainly disquieting diagnosis that all genuine political theories presuppose man to be evil, i.e., by no means an unproblematic but a dangerous and dynamic being.”[24] While the educator may be optimistic that all can be educated, and a judge must presume innocence, and the moralist must presume a freedom of choice, the political philosopher must recognize the reality of evil and the necessity of controlling this evil. The theologian and political philosopher begin with the reality of human evil. “A theologian ceases to be a theologian when he no longer considers man to be sinful or in need of redemption and no longer distinguishes between the chosen and the nonchosen.”[25] By the same token – “Because the sphere of the political is in the final analysis determined by the real possibility of enmity, political conceptions and ideas cannot very well start with an anthropological optimism.”[26]

Recognizing the reality of human evil or being duly frightened by evil is necessary to both theology and political philosophy: “The fundamental theological dogma of the evilness of the world and man leads, just as does the distinction of friend and enemy, to a categorization of men and makes impossible the undifferentiated optimism of a universal conception of man.”[27] There are friends and enemies and enemies are deadly. It may be necessary to frighten people into recognizing this basic human condition, along with the need to find protection. Afterall, “No form of order, no reasonable legitimacy or legality can exist without protection and obedience.”[28] The role of inducing fear is played by key political thinkers such as Machiavelli, Hobbes, and Fichte who “presuppose with their pessimism only the reality or possibility of the distinction of friend and enemy . . . Their realism can frighten men in need of security.” By frightening men one can instill in them the fundamental recognition of the need for protection rendered by the state. Schmitt compares recognition of the need for the state protection to the Cartesian cogito: “The protego ergo obligo is the cogito ergo sum of the state. A political theory which does not systematically become aware of this sentence remains an inadequate fragment.” [29]

As John McCormick sums up Schmitt, “fear is the source of political order. Human beings once confronted with the prospect of their own dangerousness will be terrified into the arms of authority.”[30] Schmitt sees his task as building on Hobbes view of humanity and to keep fear alive through posing the realism of the basic human condition, demonstrating the continual threat of war, convincingly showing that only a state under the control of a sovereign leader can provide security.[31]

Conclusion: An Alternative Theology and Politic

Donald Trump’s politics of fear, of multiplying enemies, of sovereign power vested in himself, of determining law above and beyond its written and judicial forms, and of holding out the possibility that only he can provide safety, has a clear lineage through Carl Schmitt and in failed theology. Nominalism and voluntarism constitute the abandonment of the identity of God in Jesus Christ, the true Sovereign, leaving a political blank slate on the order of the theological blank slate (filled in by law). Schmitt extended this theological error to include the political rule of law through the sovereign; a necessity in order to control this world which has been handed over to evil (in the absence of a robust understanding of the cosmic and universal work of Christ). The two-tiered concept of reality (God made inaccessible in heaven) displaces the revelation of God in Christ with law (which does not resolve but regulates evil). However, by identifying Christ as the final and full revelation of God (God in the flesh), the one who defeated evil and overcame death (even violent death on a cross) along with its enslaving fear, including fear of the enemy (displaced with love of enemy), in this faith there is a suspension of the punishing law, in the politics of the Kingdom (Rom. 6-8). This Christian vision is precisely what is missing in the political theology of Trump.  


[1] Damon Linker, “These Thinkers Set the Stage for Trump the All-Powerful”, New York Times (May 4, 2025). Robert J. Shapiro, “The German Political Theorist Who Explains What’s Happening in Washington” The Washington Monthly (February 10, 2025).

[2] Ibid, Linker.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid, Shapiro.

[5] Ibid.

[6] See Jack Huchison, “The Political as a Theological Problem in the Thought of Carl Schmitt” A dissertation submitted to the Department of Government, the London School of Economics and Political Science, 2018.

[7] Leo Strauss, The Political Philosophy of Hobbes: Its Basis and Its Genesis, Transl. Elsa M. Sinclair (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press) 17.

[8] Strauss, 16.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid,18.

[11] Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political, trans. George Schwab (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2007) 26.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Ibid.

[14] Ibid, 27.

[15] Ibid.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Ibid, 35.

[18] Ibid, 51.

[19] Ibid, 52.

[20] Ibid, 35.

[21] Ibid.

[22] Ibid, 52.

[23] Ibid, 59.

[24] Ibid, 61

[25] Ibid, 64.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Ibid, 65.

[28] Ibid, 52.

[29] Ibid, 65.

[30] John McCormick, “Fear, Technology, and the State: Carl Schmitt, Leo Strauss, and the Revival of Hobbes in Weimar and National Socialist Germany,” Political Theory, Vol. 22, No. 4 (Nov., 1994) 622.

[31] Ibid, 623.

The Shift from Love to Freedom is the Turn to the Law that Kills

If the church fell with Constantine, as medieval scholastics describe it, I presume this fall is like the first. The love of God is traded for the law/knowledge of good and evil in which death will become the means to life. The Constantinian corporate version of the Fall imagines peace and harmony will be achieved through war, death, and violence. With Constantine, Caesars, princes, and soldiers, in spite of their killing, were permitted into the church under the legal provisions of just war, which though it was an exception to the rule, would result in a theological shift. The main stream of thought continued to forbid priests to be soldiers, and penance was required of princes or their soldiers who participated in killing. Shedding blood continued to disqualify a potential priest for ordination. Nonetheless, with Augustine’s neo-platonic notion that one could both kill and love their enemy, allowing not only for just war but for the use of the sword against heretics, the equivocal nature of common vocabulary was made to float around the hidden counsels of God. God determines what is good so that his will is the good, and this turns out to be quite arbitrary. As the biblical writer says, “Who oh man are you to question God?” So, if God wills it, by definition it is good.

 The shift in ethics that is occurring in the Constantinian church comes at a steep price, as this requires focus on God’s essence as freedom or will.  Rather than presuming the love of God as primary, the shift in ethics implicitly requires focus on the will of God. This may have been an unconscious necessity, but the point as outlined by Augustine, is to make it clear that God acts “beyond any external necessity whatsoever” so as “to shape the destinies of all creation and the ends of the two human societies, the ‘city of earth’ and the ‘city of God.’”[1] As Brad Jersak sums it up, “Augustine begins with God’s freedom to love and forgive and save, in which he is accountable only to himself. . . But Augustine is quick to add that it works both ways. God is also free to judge and condemn and damn.”

As Ron S. Dart depicts it,  

Augustine took a position at times quite at odds with the Alexandrian Christianity of Clement and Origen. It is in Augustine that notions such as election, double-predestination, God’s sovereignty, just war and God’s willing and choosing reach a place and pitch that has much in common with the God of Biblical Judaism. . .. [We see] in Augustine the return to a willing, choosing sovereign God, not bounded by goodness or justice. Such a God could and would use his freedom to elect whom he willed for salvation and whom He willed for damnation. This is not a god [we can] truly trust.[2]

This focus on sovereignty will continue in the Voluntarism of medieval theology, which will be definitive of the Protestant Reformation. Voluntarism also places God’s will prior to his goodness in an effort to protect God’s freedom, and it is particularly concerned to explain God’s complete freedom. God’s own nature is thought to be at stake and so there is a primary emphasis on God’s sovereign will as the primary attribute of God. His will is absolute, even beyond good and evil, so that it is not good or evil which constrain God, but that which is good is good because God decrees it. God’s will is a singular absolute, as this is thought to be the only way to preserve God’s freedom. Nothing constrains God, so that he can forgive or condemn as it pleases him, and to try to say why he does anything is to endanger his freedom with something other than pure, unadulterated, will. God is God, law is law, power is power, or will is will, and to suggest that any finite category, such as goodness, love, or evil, might impinge upon this absolute freedom of the will is to degrade God’s sovereignty.  

Calvin goes where all before him had hesitated, and suggests that all events, even evil ones, take place by God’s sovereign appointment. There is no difference between God’s permission, God’s purposes, or what God allows or what he commands. Calvin turns to Romans 9, and the example of Jacob and Esau, to argue that what God does depends upon nothing other than God’s will:

You see how he refers both to the mere pleasure of God. Therefore, if we cannot assign any reason for his bestowing mercy on his people, but just that it so pleases him, neither can we have any reason for his reprobating others but his will. When God is said to visit in mercy or harden whom he will, men are reminded that they are not to seek for any cause beyond his will.[3]

Calvin makes it clear, God’s mercy and his condemnation are purely gratuitous: “the covenant was gratuitous at first, and such it ever remains.” While one might momentarily think David bases God’s favor “according to the cleanness of my hands,” Calvin points out that God’s unfathomable pleasure precedes this favor. “In commending the goodness of his cause, he derogates in no respect from the free mercy which takes precedence of all the gifts of which it is the origin.”[4]

Calvin concludes:

The devil, and the whole train of the ungodly, are, in all directions, held in by the hand of God as with a bridle, so that they can neither conceive any mischief, nor plan what they have conceived, nor how they may have planned, move a single finger to perpetrate, unless in so far as he permits, nay, unless in so far as He commands; that they are not only bound by His fetters but are even forced to do him service.[5]  

So, the evil of the devil and the evil of wicked men cannot be permitted to somehow exist apart from the volition of God. As Jersak concludes, “Every act of terror, every rape and murder, every genocide or infanticide, every cancer and heart attack, every famine and plague are all in the service of God’s ultimate purpose: that you would fear him and glorify his name.”[6]

Another way of understanding focus on pure freedom and will is as a turn from the person of God (defined by love) to a focus on impersonal power. Personhood does not really figure into the discussion of freedom, as the normal constraints of personhood are set aside. To say that one’s choices are unconstrained – unconstrained by circumstance, unconstrained by time or place, etc., – in the case of a human is clearly contradictory. Someone constrained by nothing would have to be dead or nonexistent, but of course this is the ultimate constraint. But the same thing holds true for God – to say that nothing constrains his will would mean that his personhood is sublimated or overridden by his arbitrary choices. This is not a description of a person but is a description of pure arbitrary or “gratuitous” power (in Calvin’s words).

I would suggest that the Constantinian shift is a repetition of the Fall – as with all sin. The turn from love to freedom, as definitive of the divine essence, is simply a return to the law. To imagine that there is life in the law is synonymous with the reduction of God to raw power. In this system, one does not speak of relationship, covenant, and love prior to the law, but one begins with the law itself as if it is its own reason. “The law is the law – yours is not to question but to obey.” This primary focus on the law is definitive of the sin which the writers of the New Testament are putting to rest.

Paul explains that the law – the law of sin and death – is the power that has been unleashed on the world and which is being defeated by Christ. The Mosaic law per se, Paul explains, was not the problem, but we can follow what was done with the Mosaic law to perceive the problem. This law was grounded in a promise fulfilled in Christ, but the Jewish inclination is to forget the love, to forget the covenant, and to focus on the marker of the law.

John explains that the law was not an end in and of itself. The law is not grace, the law is not truth, as this is the place of Christ (Jn. 1:17). Jesus corrected, reinterpreted, completed, and suspended the law as he is the final and full revelation of the loving truth of who God is. “God’s essence is not pure will. His essence is selfless love. God’s primary attribute is not freedom. God is first of all good.”[7] We know who God is through Christ, and to presume otherwise is to return once again to the law.

As David Bentley Hart has put it, “It is a sort of ‘oblivious memory’ of Paul’s message that all the powers of the present age have been subdued, and death and wrath defeated, not by the law – which, for all of its sanctity, is impotent to set us free – but by a gift that has cancelled the law’s power over against us.”[8] The sovereignty of man (the man Constantine) and the will of humans are playing the decisive role in the turn from love to freedom. God’s sovereign purposes are thought to reign supreme in the Sovereign Constantine, so that all the benefits of law and freedom seem to be accruing, through history, by a different means than the love of Christ. As is always the case with law – there are advantages to those who wield this weapon. God willed, it was thought, that some be rulers, some be powerful, some be on top. God willed it, that settles it, bow before this casuistry. In Western history the devolving focus on pure will makes it obvious that one can take hold of this force and wield it – should he be uber-man enough. The will to power, the will to freedom, the will to throw off all constraints, except as those constraints accrue to my benefit, describes the modern end of the turn to freedom.  

Throwing off the constraints of tradition and religion and turning to the “I am that I am” of the cogito, founds the absolute law of reason and of the individual. This “thing that thinks” is as mysterious and unapproachable as the God who wills. This autonomous, isolated, immortal, entity, is dependent upon no contingency. There is only the free movement of the will, as neither body nor thought impinge upon this mysterious automaton.  The problem is that this thinking thing is as removed from thought as the council of the sovereign God is from history, from Christ, and from love. The curse of this power is that it operates beyond reach, beyond reality, and beyond love. This thinking thing is constrained by nothing – and this death and nothingness is its curse – the curse of the law.

With Paul we might cry out, “but who will deliver me from this law of death. Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! . . . Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Ro 7:25, 8:1).


[1] Augustine of Hippo, Confessions of Saint Augustine, (Minneapolis, MN: Filiquarian Publishing, LLC., 2008), 7. Quoted from Bradley Jersak, A More Christlike God: A More Beautiful Gospel (p. 314). CWR Press. Kindle Edition.

[2] Jersak, 64.

[3] John Calvin, Calvin’s Institutes, 3.23.6. http://www.ntslibrary.com/PDF%20Books/Calvin%20Institutes%20of%20Christian%20Religion.pdf

[4] Calvin, 3.17.5

[5] John Calvin, Calvin’s Institutes, 3.17.11. Reference in Jersak, 315..

[6] Jersak, 66.

[7] Jersak, 79.

[8] David Bentley Hart, The Hidden and the Manifest: Essays in Theology and Metaphysics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 319. Thank you Matt for this gift that keeps on giving.