Since 2016, I’ve joined the deafening chorus of “there’s no precedent” for President Donald Trump, but that’s only half the story. The less palatable truth: Trump is precedented. He’s a distillation of our presidents’ worst impulses and actions — without any of their redeeming qualities.
He’s Thomas Jefferson’s hypocrisy without the rhetorical brilliance, Andrew Jackson’s brutality minus the military prowess, Richard Nixon’s paranoia stripped of its diplomatic acumen. His ghastly amalgamation lumbers through corridors crammed with America’s unaddressed sins — a cautionary tale we’ve long buried beneath a far more sanitized history of exceptionalism. Until we face our own reflection, he’ll continue to force us to confront the unsanitized history we’ve long ignored — and worse, add to it.
Trump’s “very fine people on both sides” Charlottesville equivocation, his “kung flu” Covid-19 slur, and his “s—hole countries” outburst aren’t deviations from presidential norms; together they form a garish neon sign illuminating the shadowy corridors of American history.
Trump is precedented. He’s a distillation of our presidents’ worst impulses and actions — without any of their redeeming qualities.
From the Founding Fathers’ lofty ideals of liberty (for landowning white men) to Andrew Jackson’s Trail of Tears and Woodrow Wilson’s segregationist fervor, the White House has long been a staging ground for racial prejudice. Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Executive Order 9066, a draconian measure authorizing the incarceration of over 110,000 Japanese Americans, was clothed in the language of national security. “A Jap’s a Jap,” said Lt. Gen. John L. DeWitt. “It makes no difference whether he is an American citizen or not.” Their communities were uprooted and their livelihoods, a stark reminder of how even celebrated presidents have enacted policies rooted in racial bias.From the nation’s inception to the modern era, the Oval Office has resonated with bigotry; it may have been whispered behind closed doors, but clearly it was no less insidious. Trump’s unfiltered bias is a time-honored tradition, now broadcast in high-definition.
George Washington, a freedom fighter in his own right, enslaved hundreds of people because, in part, he believed they were better off being owned by him; his wife, Martha, said they were “bad in their nature.” In Nixon’s White House tapes, he rails against “Negro bastards” who “live like a bunch of dogs” and a “Jewish cabal.” Lyndon B. Johnson, for all his civil rights triumphs, cynically boasted, “I’ll have those n—–s voting Democratic for 200 years.” Ronald Reagan referred to United Nations delegates from Africa as “monkeys” who were uncomfortable wearing shoes.
Presidential power has often been a transactional affair, but Trump’s quid pro quo with Ukraine for political dirt, his Trump International Hotel becoming a de facto lobbying hub, and his pardoning of allies like Roger Stone turned the Oval Office into a veritable bazaar of influence peddling.Warren G. Harding’s Teapot Dome scandal was a direct consequence of appointing friends to key Cabinet positions; they leased federal oil reserves to private companies in exchange for bribes. Johnson had ties to defense contractor Brown & Root (now KBR); it made significant campaign contributions throughout his career and won lucrative contracts during Vietnam; in 1966, the General Accounting Office found the firm had overcharged the government by an estimated $9 million. Bill Clinton’s “Chinagate” allegedly funneled money into his re-election campaign in exchange for favorable trade policies.
Trump is the maximalist illustration of behavior that prioritizes individual gain over collective responsibility.
If Congress, whose members flagrantly participate in insider trading, had wanted to stop presidents from leveraging their position for personal or political advantage, they would have passed legislation to do so. Trump’s blatant and unapologetic manifestation of this known impulse wasn’t managed in the past and appears unlikely in the present.
Trump is the maximalist illustration of behavior that prioritizes individual gain over collective responsibility.
Even Trump’s realignment of political alliances — his courtship of blue-collar workers in Rust Belt states, his alienation of suburban women voters, and his transformation of the GOP into a personality cult — follows well-worn playbooks of past administrations navigating tumultuous national landscapes.Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal policies dramatically shifted the Democratic Party’s base, attracting African American voters and urban workers while alienating Southern conservatives. “Reagan Democrats” emerged because his brand of conservatism appealed to traditional Democrats, particularly working-class whites. Dwight Eisenhower, a Republican, maintained and even expanded many New Deal programs, causing a rift within his party. In 1957, he sent federal troops to enforce school desegregation in Little Rock, Arkansas. Trump’s MAGA is dramatic, to be sure, but it’s less of a seismic shift than the conclusion of a long-rumbling political fault line. This President’s Day, it’s good to remember that Trump is the essence of presidential shortcomings: racial insensitivity writ large, divisive rhetoric amplified, naked self-interest paraded shamelessly, and stunning political opportunism. Hail to the chief, indeed, and may we survive him.
Alexis Coe
Alexis Coe is a presidential historian and a senior fellow at New America and the New York Times bestselling author of "Young Jack: John F. Kennedy, 1917-1957" (2025), "You Never Forget Your First: A Biography of George Washington" (2020) and "Alice+Freda Forever: A Murder in Memphis" (2014). 
