Judge rules Donald Trump does not have presidential immunity: Why he won anyway
Donald Trump’s swearing-in ceremony, 2017 // Photo Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
On Tuesday, 6 February, the US Federal Appeals court unanimously rejected former president Donald Trump’s claim of presidential immunity from his actions related to the January 6 insurrection. Mr. Trump’s campaign spokesperson, Steven Cheung, pledged that they will appeal the decision once more, repeating their well-worn (and highly questionable, according to the appeals court judges themselves) claim that “without complete immunity, a president of the United States would not be able to properly function.”
The case will move to the Supreme Court next, where conservatives hold a 6-3 majority. Three of the justices were appointed by Trump himself, and famously, Trump demands loyalty. This chain of appeals also further delays Trump’s trial for inciting violence on 6 January, the date for which case has now officially been taken off the federal calendar, with no indication of when it will be rescheduled.
Since the Supreme Court denied a previous request from the DOJ to rush the case through, Trump’s appeal for presidential immunity likely won’t be heard before the November election. Although the results of the election will remain unpredictable for months, Trump is currently leading in the polls against Biden by several points. If he wins reelection, he’ll likely either ask the attorney general to drop all charges against him or possibly even issue a self-pardon, which is unprecedented and potentially unconstitutional.
But for his campaign, so long as he isn’t put on trial for inciting violence on 6 January, Trump has, in effect, won the case. In fact, he might even be benefiting from it.
Since the beginning of his political career in 2016, Trump has campaigned on an “us versus them” platform. From “Islam hates us” and “illegal immigrants…infest our country” to the more ambiguous “They hate me. They hate you,” Trump’s speeches constantly create an impression of victimisation and his personal struggles. The “anti-politician,” his public and political image is reliant upon demonising an “evil” opponent. Without it, Trump would need concrete action, something his 2024 campaign has proven to be lacking.
In one campaign video released in May 2023, a deep, overtly masculine voice narrates an image of a declining America where “you” are plagued by “them.” Charged language of global catastrophe culminates in personal calamity, brought to the doorstep of the average, morally upstanding American family (which adheres to a certain image, of course). And the saviour of the middle class is Donald Trump, who understands their sufferings - never mind that he’s worth $2.6 billion and that he started his business with a “small loan of $1 million” from his father.
Alongside constant complaints that he has been subjected to a political witch hunt, Trump has adopted a new slogan: “I am being indicted for you.” Because, as Trump plays it, the $130,000 of hush money to Stormy Daniels and the 100 classified documents hidden in his Mar-a-Lago bathroom were all gestures of martyrdom.
As Trump’s legal challenges escalate, so does his sanctity to his followers. They bond not despite the charges, but because of them, in a perceived shared suffering.
This is not the first time Trump has established a national trauma bond. During his 2016 campaign, one ad focused entirely on how the “establishment” “robbed our working class… and put that money into the pockets of a handful of large corporations and political entities.” But bold accusations are more powerful with a tangible example, and now, Trump has become his own example. He strides confidently into courtrooms and uses the press coverage to make speeches afterward to a crowd of ever more-radical supporters. And as his loyal supporters take this journey of radicalization with him, they become more devoted, more certain that the Deep State is ruining their lives, more personally invested in his criminal allegations?
Trump’s obsession with being the winner—not only winning—underpins the rest of his campaign strategy. Denying having lost the 2020 election, Trump has made winning his self-proclaimed personality. During the past few weeks’ Republican caucuses and primaries, he broke a record in Ohio, beat the more moderate Nikki Haley in New Hampshire, where she was expected to win, and took all the delegates in Nevada’s one-candidate race. Even his most famous book from 1987 The Art of the Deal is about a form of winning. And there’s something perfectly fitting about a candidate defined by winning when the Republican platform is centred around a fear-mongering message of losing: the loss of “American” jobs to AI, immigrants, and COVID restrictions; the loss of the “traditional family” to “wokeism;” the loss of the American image to the Deep State and Taylor Swift. The partnership of narratives of loss with the easy solution of Trump the Winner (or Trump the Messiah) work even better than the NFL and Swifties do. Political strategies that hinge themselves on personal victimisation and demonising the enemy subsequently rely on an assurance of winning. The followers of these strategies need a promise that they’re backing the right horse. It’s gambling with a loaded die.
The courtroom can throw whatever it wants at Trump, even a conviction, because at the end of the day, the ever-Trumpers will still be ever-Trumpers because they support a candidate with an enemy—and, moreover, they have supported Trump for so long that enough of them may never believe he’s guilty. The battle for the sanctity of American democracy will continue long past the November election, regardless of outcome.