Donald Trump and Me
Dan P. McAdams
Northwestern University
I was minding my own business this past February, the week after the New Hampshire presidential primary, when I got an email from an editor at The Atlantic magazine. Familiar with a book I wrote on the personality of George W. Bush, he wondered if I had any interest in writing an evidence-based, objective, and dispassionate psychological profile of Donald J. Trump. Mr. Trump had just won the primary, and people were starting to think that he might actually capture the Republican nomination for President. The odds seemed about 40% in Trump's favor at that time. The editor told me that the magazine would consider running my article in the summer if Trump were to get the GOP nod. If somebody else were nominated instead, the magazine would not run a piece on Trump, but they would still pay me a (modest) stipend.
I pretended to think this over for a day, but the truth is this: I would have paid them for the opportunity. Even if Trump faltered, I figured I could find some other use for what I would write. If nothing else, it would give me an interesting opening lecture in my undergraduate personality course. Because I was on sabbatical, I was able to drop everything else for three months and do a deep dive into all things Trump. I spent about six weeks reading biographical sources on Trump, as well as a few of his own books, watching episodes from season 1 of The Apprentice (I had never seen the show), and culling through the countless Internet sources (many of them highly dubious) regarding Trump's life, personality, mental habits, and so on. The magazine asked Mr. Trump if he would participate in a life-story interview with me, but he declined. I wrote a 10,000-word first draft in late March, and then worked with the editor and others for almost a month to revise and refine the essay. The result was the cover article for the June issue of The Atlantic, entitled "The Mind of Donald Trump." If you have not seen it, here it is:
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2016/06/the-mind-of-donald-trump/480771/
The article applies foundational ideas from personality, developmental, and social psychology to the life and personality of Donald Trump, focusing especially on dispositional personality traits (high extraversion and low agreeableness mainly), characteristic goals and values (narcissistic goals, an authoritarian value system that resonates with millions of desperate Americans who long for a savior), and a relatively impoverished narrative identity that centers on what I call the myth of the warrior. Rather than talk about the substance of the article here, however, I would like to say a few more words about the process and the aftermath.
As far as the process goes, writing the Trump article was the most exciting experience of my intellectual life. The magazine insisted I keep the project secret, fearing that a competitor might scoop us. Only my wife, my older daughter, and one of my deans at Northwestern knew what I was up to. The secrecy added excitement and mystique to my effort, for I felt I had embarked on a classified, sub-rosa mission, like a high-level spy in a Tom Clancy novel, or the scientists working on the Manhattan Project in World War II. Ridiculous comparisons, I know. My emotional response was completely juvenile, but I would be hiding the embarrassing truth if I suggested otherwise.
The best part of the process happened after I submitted the initial draft. To my relief, the editorial staff liked what I had written. It sounded to me as if I had received an "accept with minor revisions" verdict. But it was nothing like that. For the next three weeks, I was in daily contact with my main editor, and with many other extraordinarily competent and engaged people at the magazine—lawyers, fact-checkers, editorial staffers, the editor-in-chief. I happened to be traveling during most of this time. Finding a good Internet connection in the Amazon jungle and sending off late-night drafts from a cafe in Barcelona—I was living a glamorous life for the first time ever!
My editor went through the manuscript line-by-line, rearranged sections, deleted some of my best lines (my beautiful paragraph on Trump's being "one bad-assed actor" magically disappeared one afternoon), insisted that I re-write one thing after another, and sent me countless requests for new information. I usually went along with his decisions, but sometimes I fought back, as when I felt he was pushing me too hard to make Trump out as somebody incapable of compromise, or when he tried to insert a quasi-Freudian interpretation where I believed the data were insufficient. We went through probably 4 or 5 different endings for the piece, before we finally settled on the best.
The revision process may sound tedious and frustrating to you, but it was tremendous fun. I was up against a team of very smart people interrogating me about what I had written, but I was on the team, too. We were all in this together—to compose the best possible piece, which we believed would have the biggest possible impact and attract the most readers. I was struck, too, by how curious my teammates were about personality science. "Could you write more about this Big Five thing?" my editor asked. "Is there research on this stuff about life stories? What about the scientific credibility of these ideas?" We often criticize journalists for being superficial and ignoring the nuances in psychological research. I was surprised and deeply gratified to see that the critique does not always hold.
Once the article went live, I was asked to appear on many television and radio shows. A 28-minute sit-down with Katie Couric was my high point. Over time, of course, interest faded, but I still get many emails from old friends, colleagues, and (mostly) strangers (from all over the US) who have something urgent to say about the piece. I try to respond thoughtfully and politely to every message. I feel that I am part of a national conversation, and I also see this as an opportunity to teach people about personality psychology.
The mail runs about half complimentary of my article and half critical. In the latter camp are many supporters of Donald Trump who take issue with one or another point in the article, or who want to know why I haven't subjected Hillary Clinton to the same kind of scrutiny. She is just as narcissistic as Trump is, and scarier yet, they often say. I tell them that nobody asked me to write a piece on Hillary Clinton, and I emphasize how doing such a thing would require considerable time, taking us well past the upcoming election. One of my favorite pro-Trump responses went something like this: "We agree with everything you said about Mr. Trump. That is why we love him!"
Many of my strongest critiques come from the left side of the political spectrum, or from American citizens (Democrat, Republican, and Independent) who see Trump as a looming menace. Some critics lament that I have "humanized" a man who is not worthy of such benevolent treatment. Another line of criticism argues that I have underplayed the authoritarian dynamic in Trump's life, and in his relationship with his followers. He is more like Mussolini, or worse, than I let on. Over the past few months, I have come to see more merit in this critique.
Finally, a few people have raised ethical questions about my project. Invoking what has been called "the Goldwater Rule," the American Psychiatric Association condemns psychiatric diagnosis of public figures from afar. (The prohibition stems from a 1964 survey of psychiatrists, which concluded that the GOP nominee, Barry Goldwater, was mentally unfit to be President.) Outside of a direct therapeutic relationship with a specific patient, the rule suggests, mental health professionals should not make attributions of mental illness or psychopathology. Unless I am Donald Trump's therapist, then, I should not diagnose him. And if I were his therapist, I would be prohibited from going public with a diagnosis, unless, of course, he were crazy enough to give his consent.
My response to this critique is pretty predictable: I am not a clinician; I am not diagnosing; I scrupulously eschew all psychopathology categories in my interpretation of Mr. Trump's life and personality; instead I am trafficking in the discourse of personality, developmental, and social psychology. Having said all that, it is nonetheless true that many standard concepts in personality science—take, neuroticism for example, or the authoritarian personality—are highly evaluative. They may not qualify as mental illnesses per se, but they have implications for mental health and well-being. And their assignation carries moral significance.
My adventure with Donald Trump raises interesting questions about the role of personality scientists as experts and as citizens in a democracy. I believe that societal interest in personality psychology is sky high. The public yearns to know more. It is, therefore, incumbent upon us all to offer what we know but to do so in a responsible and measured way. When we get the opportunity, we should embrace it—as scientists and teachers who have something to say, and as citizens who have an opportunity to contribute to, and to learn from, the great conversations that are going on around us. The people at The Atlantic never pushed me to write a piece that would be more sensationalistic than I was comfortable doing. The moment was golden for me because what they wanted—objectivity, scientific backing, a nuanced and extended discussion—played to my strengths. What they wanted was exactly what my entire career had prepared me to offer. I am grateful to have had the moment.