Managing and Leading

Donald Trump remains one of the most divisive figures in global public life. For some, he is a truth-telling outsider who challenges elite hypocrisy; for others, a dangerous narcissist whose disregard for truth, decency, and democratic norms undermines the very fabric of civic life. But rather than rehash familiar condemnations or rally around partisan affirmations, we might ask more difficult, potentially healing questions:

What kind of inner world produces such a person, and how might we respond from a place of care rather than condemnation?

What kind of society elects such a person as its leader?

To look for clues, I turn to two frameworks: personal construct psychology (Kelly, 1955) and the ethic of care (Gilligan, 1982; Noddings, 1984; Tronto, 1993). Together, they help me interpret Trump’s behaviour not merely as aberrant, but as the outcome of a particular configuration of personal meaning, and to consider a form of resistance that retains ethical integrity.

The Winner-Loser Binary: A Core Construct

At the centre of Trump’s personality appears to be a rigid binary construct: “winner vs. loser.” This is not just rhetorical flourish, it functions as a core psychological filter through which people, situations, and events are understood and evaluated. And in which identity as ‘a winner’ must be conserved. In business, golf, media, politics, and even family life, success and dominance are equated by Trump with worth, and loss or compromise with irrelevance or contempt. And when there is a loss, it is portrayed as a ‘steal’.

Personal construct psychology, developed by George Kelly, helps us see how such binaries operate. We do not simply observe reality; we interpret it through personal templates and filters shaped by past experiences. If Trump’s formative world taught him that only the dominant survive, then his worldview, however distasteful or destructive to others, has internal coherence. It explains his allergy to humility, his need for applause, and his inability to accept defeat without declaring fraud.

Business Failures, Risk-Taking, and Narrative Control

Trump’s business record is strewn with failed ventures, multiple bankruptcies, lawsuits, unpaid workers, and exaggerated claims. Yet these rarely damage his self-image or standing with loyal supporters. He reframes failures as strategic exits, deflects blame onto others, and doubles down on grandiosity.

This is what Kelly calls “construct protection“: the re-making of events to preserve the integrity of core meanings. In Trump’s case, the identity of “winner” must be protected at all costs, even if that means denying apparently obvious facts. And from within that system, truth is always subordinate to controlling the narrative.

His high tolerance for risk, legal, financial, sexual, political, is also shaped by this construct system. Risk-taking, even cheating, can be interpreted as strength, cleverness, or dominance. In such a worldview, ethical boundaries are soft, non-existent, or invisible, if crossing them reinforces self-image.

Sexual Promiscuity and the Politics of Entitlement

Trump’s sexual conduct, his affairs, boastful misogyny, and serial objectification of women, cannot be dismissed as merely private matters.

They reflect more than mere libido. They suggest a worldview in which other people, especially women, exist as instruments of gratification and affirmation. The pursuit of sexual conquest becomes another arena for dominance, a performance of virility and power, tinged with risk and reward. Those harmed by it are made invisible.

This is not incidental to Trump’s political ethos; it mirrors it. In both realms, the ethic is not mutuality but utility. What use is this?

What Kind of Ethics Are at Work?

The ethics at play in Trump’s world are perhaps best described as utilitarian self-centredness with a Darwinian accent. There is little sense of moral responsibility beyond the self, and no ethic of interdependence. This worldview celebrates not virtue but efficacy; the ability to win, persuade, extract, or dominate.

This is an ethic in which cheating is clever, truth is flexible, loyalty is instrumental, and empathy is weakness. It is amoral, structured by spectacle and driven by survival.

Attending with Care: A Difficult Discipline

How should we respond to this?

Not with indulgence. Trump has done harm, and care does not mean looking away. But nor should we respond with scorn or dehumanisation. An ethic of care begins not with outrage but with attentiveness.

• What is this person defending?
• What fear lies beneath this performance?
• What relational wound cries out through these public acts?

Care, as Tronto reminds us, is a political practice rooted in moral clarity. It is not naïve. But it refuses to surrender to cynicism. It holds the tension between accountability and empathy.

The Trump in All of Us

To speak meaningfully about Donald Trump requires more than analysis. It requires self-examination. His prominence may reflect not just a cultural sickness, but a psychic one, a shadow made visible.

• Where do we ourselves cling to power, status, or control?
• Where do we treat others as means to ends?
• Where do we fear irrelevance, shame, or failure?

Trump does not arise from a vacuum. He is a projection of something latent in the culture, something latent in all of us, perhaps?

Resisting Trumpism is not just a political act, it is a spiritual one. It asks us to do our own inner work, to resist the binaries and ego-structures that shape us too. To meet force not with force, but with a stronger fidelity to truth, humility, and relationality.

Other Ways of Seeing: From Myth to Metaphysics

Trump may also be seen mythically, as a figure not merely of politics but of archetype. He resembles the Trickster of mythology: disruptive, rule-breaking, both generative and dangerous. Like Hermes or Loki, he reveals what polite society hides.

From a Jungian perspective, Trump might represent a collective shadow, a figure who externalises our cultural fears, disowned desires, and unintegrated drives. He carries our daemonic energy, but unredeemed unabsorbed.

From a process philosophy lens Trump represents a resistance to relational becoming. Where process thinkers see reality as interwoven, dynamic, and co-creative, Trump stands for stasis, control, and separation. MAGA longs not for a future of emergence, but a return to an imagined past of dominance and simplicity.

To deepen our response, then, is to enter these alternative logics, not merely to diagnose, but to see differently. To resist not only what Trump does, but what Trump means, in myth, in psyche, in system.

Conclusion: A Different Kind of Strength

To be Donald Trump, it seems, is to live inside a fortress of constructs;

• winner vs. loser,
• strong vs. weak,
• loyal vs. disloyal.

These protect a self that cannot risk doubt, vulnerability, or interdependence. Yet in defending this self, Trump closes off the very qualities, love, truth, connection, that make life meaningful.

But Trump is also a mirror. He reveals the shadow of a culture built on performance and power. He shows us what happens when we lose our capacity to relate, reflect, and repent.

Our task is not merely to oppose him, but to become different, to resist with care, to hold truth with tenderness, to make room for a future not built on winners and losers, but on participants and co-creators.

Care is not weak. It is the quiet strength that endures beyond applause. It is the ethic that survives when the spectacle has faded.

And it may be, in the end, our only way home.

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References

• Carroll, E. J. (2019). What Do We Need Men For? St. Martin’s Press.
• Forbes. (2016). Donald Trump’s Business Failures Are Very Real.
• Gilligan, C. (1982). In a Different Voice. Harvard University Press.
• Jung, C. G. (1959). Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self. Princeton University Press.
• Kelly, G. A. (1955). The Psychology of Personal Constructs. Norton.
• Noddings, N. (1984). Caring: A Feminine Approach to Ethics and Moral Education. University of California Press.
• Tronto, J. C. (1993). Moral Boundaries: A Political Argument for an Ethic of Care. Routledge.
• Washington Post Fact Checker. (2021). Trump’s false or misleading claims total 30,573 over 4 years.
• Whitehead, A. N. (1929). Process and Reality. Macmillan.

A Sonnet Cycle: The Forgotten Knowing

I. The Silence of the Old Beliefs

Once whispered truths now linger out of reach,
A world once known, now lost to silent air.
The trees still speak, the rivers still beseech,
Yet ears grow deaf, and hearts forget to care.

The stars once wove their stories in the night,
Their glimmers traced a meaning we could trust.
Yet now we weigh them, measure out their light,
And turn their whispers into cosmic dust.

What once was sacred, now is named profane,
For mystery defies the rule of mind.
Yet in the margins, shadows still remain,
And truths half-sensed refuse to stay confined.

The earth still breathes, though we no longer know
A presence lost, yet felt in moonlit glow.

---

II. The Cost of Knowing Too Much, Yet Not Enough

We chart the heavens, name the winds and tides,
Unweave the rainbow, split the atom’s core.
Yet what is lost when only mind decides
That life is but the sum of things it stores?

A sacred hush once held the dawn in awe,
A whispered voice within the morning’s breath.
Now nature bends beneath the human law,
Its spirit ground beneath the wheels of death.

No god commands, no spirits weave the thread,
No sacred fire burns within the stone.
Yet something calls us still, though long thought dead,
A truth half-seen, a knowing still our own.

For all our grasping, something slips away
An ancient song the world still longs to play.

---

III. The Return of the Whispered Truths

Yet who decreed that all must be explained?
That measured truth is all that we may trust?
What if the soul of things remains unchained,
Still breathing ‘neath the weight of time and dust?

What if the river sings, though none may hear,
Its waters whispering of deeper grace?
What if the wind still speaks, though we draw near
With instruments, yet fail to see its face?

Not all is lost, though much has been denied.
The stars still burn, though stripped of myth and name.
A world unseen still beckons from the tide,
Still waits for us to hear its voice again.

For truth is not just that which we ‘command’
It dwells in all, if we but take its hand.

---

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(a journey from reasoning to reckoning)

There was a time
when I believed in leadership development.

Not just believed…
I delivered it.
Designed it.
Defended it.

Reasoning was the compass;
Analysis, the path.
Models, frameworks, evidence, logic;
Clean lines of thought drawn across messy lives.

Sinek said “start with why”.
West said “lead with compassion”.
Britnell sketched the future in NHS blue.

And I followed.

But over time, the logic frayed.
The frameworks thinned.
The systems stopped making sense
in the face of what people were really carrying.

What looked whole on paper
felt hollow in practice.

So I began to turn
away from reasoning
and toward something deeper.

Something older.

A kind of reckoning.

Not with outcomes,
but with meaning.
Not with strategy,
but with soul.

Reckoning invited me
to bring back the parts I’d left behind:

Imagination.
Aesthetics.
Grief.
Longing.
Ethics, not as principle,
but as presence.

The moral weight of a moment.
The quiet shame of pretending.
The courage to ask:
“What does this ask of me?”
“Not just what works—but what’s right?”

It was no longer enough
to analyse complexity.
I had to feel it. To dance with it.
I had to let it change me.

To let a poem
teach me more about leadership
than a thousand keynote slides.

To let silence
become more illuminating
than any strategy session.

To let beauty
reawaken a part of me
that had gone numb from too much sense-making
and not enough wonder.

Now, I sit with people,
not to teach,
but to listen.

I ask them not what they know,
but what they’re carrying.
What they’ve lost.
What they can no longer ignore.

We don’t fix.
We reckon.

Together.

So no, I don’t do leadership development anymore.
Not as it’s usually done.

I walk with people
who are ready to leave the map behind.

Who are willing to ask:
“Who am I now?”
“What does love require of me here?”
“What if I led from my aliveness, not my CV?”

It’s not fast.
Not neat.
Not scalable.

But it’s true.
And sometimes, that’s enough.

Are you ready to Follow the Thread?

(A Contemporary Adaptation of Joseph Malins’ Poem, 1895)

Twas a town where the people with generous grace,
Would rush to a valley—a perilous place—
For there, from the cliffs that loomed cruelly steep,
The broken and battered were cast in a heap.
And always, the question arose with a thrill:
Why not build a strong fence at the top of the hill?

But voices of power, both hardened and grand,
Scoffed at such schemes with a wave of the hand.
“A fence? What folly! Why burden the cost?
When fine, shining ambulances handle the lost?
Let fate do its work, let the careless be warned,
We’ll mend up the broken and send them reformed.”

And so, down the valley, the wailing was heard,
While up on the heights, no action occurred.
For those who had power saw naught but their own,
And left the great cliff as a hazard well-known.
And daily, the rescue teams laboured in vain,
Gathering bodies, patching up pain.

Then one day, the people, their patience now thin,
Called for a council to put an end in.
A fence, they demanded, to guard young and old,
To keep all from falling, from stories retold.
But before they could build it, there came in a horde—
A circle of scholars the leaders adored.

“Your fence is a folly!” the economists cried,
“It hampers the markets and turns back the tide!
A fence means less rescue, less medicine sold,
Less labour from workers who heal from the cold.
Consider the loss to the wealth we create—
If people stay healthy, the growth will stagnate!”

“Think of the doctors, the sellers of pills,
The builders of ambulances down in the hills!
If no one lies broken, what jobs will remain?
A fence is disaster—a drag on the gain!
For sickness and suffering fuel the machine,
And progress is measured in all that we glean!”

Then came the ICB, cautious and prim,
With a ledger of figures, their outlook was grim.
“We see your concern, but let’s not be rash,
A fence is ambitious—it gobbles up cash!
Now ordered to halve both our budget and crew,
Our capacity’s strained; there’s little we can do.”

Then NHSE, with its targets and charts,
Declared that prevention was noble—in parts.
“But now, as we face our own dissolution,
Resources are scarce for any solution.
We’d love to support this—but must be precise,
Could you show that the fence would come in on price?”

Then Parliament rose with a thunderous tone,
Debating the fence from its leather and stone.
One faction declared it a liberal disgrace,
While another saw votes in a well-guarded place.
A fence was proposed—but at what, they implored?
Should it be owned or be privately stored?

Then up stood the Ministers, stern and severe,
“We sympathise, truly, but let’s make this clear:
There’s Putin to watch, and the East is in flames,
Trump stokes the fire with chaos and games.
With Gaza, Sudan, and Ukraine in the fight,
Our spending must focus on military might!

The Congo is bleeding, the world is a mess,
So now’s not the time for domestic excess!
Warfare, not welfare, is where we must be—
The fences can wait for democracy’s fee!”

A silence then fell, so heavy, so stark,
As the people beheld the world in the dark.
Was this how they lived? Was this what they’d built?
A kingdom of commerce, indifferent to guilt?
Where suffering served as the gears of the trade,
And care was a burden when profits were weighed?

Then rose an old sage with a staff in her hand,
Who spoke of the earth and the fate of the land.
“This cliff is no mere thing of rock and of stone,
It is forged by the greed that has ruled from the throne.
It is fuelled by the wealth that is hoarded and kept,
While the rivers run foul, and the forests have wept.”

And slowly, the people, their minds opened wide,
Saw how the valley was made by their pride.
The wounds of the fallen, the storms and the flood,
Were one in the same—born from power and blood.
And so, in a tide that could not be restrained,
The people arose and their thinking was changed.

No longer they trusted in hands that delay,
Nor waited for leaders to lead them astray.
They built not just fences, but ladders and schools,
They questioned the laws, they challenged the rules.
They tended the rivers, they planted the trees,
They wove social justice like roots in the breeze.

And up on the cliff where the careless once fell,
Now flourished a village where fairness could dwell.
For no longer they laboured just treating the pain,
They tackled the causes—again and again.
And far down the valley, where ambulances rolled,
Now silence and peace spoke a tale to be told.

For those once forgotten, once cast to the dust,
Had risen together in hope and in trust.
And the town, once resigned to the wounds of the steep,
Had learned that prevention runs broader—and deep.

So remember this tale when the crisis is great,
When leaders still pander and action comes late.
For fences alone will not justice fulfil—
You must tear down the scaffold that stands on the hill.

One of the most notable examples of a national civilian population being trained in effective nonviolent resistance to deter military aggression is the case of Denmark during World War II. While Denmark was occupied by Nazi Germany, the Danish population engaged in widespread nonviolent resistance, including strikes, slowdowns, refusal to collaborate, and widespread acts of civil disobedience, particularly in protecting the Jewish population. This resistance played a role in frustrating Nazi efforts to impose full control over the country.

However, a more direct example of a pre-planned, strategic, and comprehensive approach to nonviolent national defence can be found in the Baltic states—Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania—after the Cold War.

The Baltic States: Civilian-Based Defence Against Russian Aggression

After regaining independence from the Soviet Union in 1991, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, recognising their vulnerability to Russian aggression, developed “total defence” or civilian-based defence strategies. These approaches explicitly included nonviolent resistance as part of their national security doctrine.

Key Aspects of Baltic Civilian-Based Defence

Public Education on Nonviolent Resistance

• Citizens were trained to resist occupation through mass protests, strikes, and refusal to cooperate with occupiers.
• Schools and civic groups were educated on historical nonviolent struggles, including lessons from the Baltic “Singing Revolution” (1987–1991).

Decentralised Governance & Communication

• Governments planned for continuity in case of occupation by ensuring alternative channels for political leadership and communication.
• Secure and redundant communication networks were developed to counter information warfare and disinformation.

Undermining the Legitimacy of Occupation

• If invaded, civil servants and local officials were instructed not to collaborate with the occupiers.
• Passive resistance strategies were formalised, such as slow work, refusals to comply with directives, and mass civil disobedience.

International Engagement & Support

• The Baltic states worked to strengthen their ties with NATO and the EU, ensuring that nonviolent resistance would be backed by diplomatic and economic pressure against aggressors.
• They coordinated with Western media to ensure that any invasion would be widely covered, increasing international solidarity.

Success & Impact

• Dissuasion of Russian Hybrid Warfare: While Russia has engaged in cyber attacks and disinformation campaigns against the Baltics, it has not launched a full-scale invasion, in part because of the strong social cohesion and readiness of the population to resist nonviolently as well as militarily.
• Model for Other Nations: The Baltic civilian-based defence model has been studied by other small states facing potential aggression, including Taiwan, which has integrated aspects of nonviolent resistance into its asymmetric defence strategy against China.

Other Examples of Nonviolent National Defence

Czechoslovakia (1968) – Resistance to Soviet Invasion
During the Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, civilians used nonviolent resistance tactics such as:

• Removing road signs to confuse invaders.
• Engaging Soviet soldiers in dialogue to undermine their morale.
• Organising mass protests and strikes to delegitimise the occupation.
  Although ultimately unsuccessful in preventing occupation, these tactics demonstrated the effectiveness of nonviolent resistance in slowing military advances.

Norway (1940–1945) – Nonviolent Resistance Against Nazi Rule

• Norwegian teachers and clergy refused to implement Nazi policies, leading to mass non-compliance.
• The public engaged in civil disobedience, strikes, and symbolic acts of resistance.
• This helped maintain a sense of national unity and undermined Nazi control.

The most structured, modern example of national civilian-based nonviolent defence is the Baltic states’ strategy after 1991. Their approach integrates strategic nonviolent resistance with conventional military deterrence to make occupation difficult and costly for any aggressor. This model continues to influence defence policies in other small states facing powerful adversaries.

Developing a Nonviolent National Defence Strategy for the UK

Given the UK’s historical reliance on conventional military defence and intelligence-led security, the idea of integrating nonviolent national resistance into a broader security framework may seem unconventional. However, in an era of hybrid threats—including cyber warfare, political interference, economic coercion, and potential military aggression—such a strategy could strengthen national resilience, dissuade aggression, and empower citizens.

Drawing on the Baltic states’ example and historical precedents, a UK civilian-based defence strategy could involve the following core elements:

National Education & Public Preparedness

Embedding Nonviolent Resistance in Civil Defence

• Introduce public education campaigns to train citizens in strategic nonviolent resistance, drawing on successful examples from other nations.
• Ensure widespread knowledge of civil disobedience tactics, such as strikes, slow work, refusal to cooperate with occupiers, and ways to undermine military or political control.
• Expand “Community Resilience” programmes (currently focused on disasters) to include training on civil resistance against external threats.

Educational Institutions as Resistance Centres

• Universities and schools could integrate courses on nonviolent resistance, teaching historical and contemporary examples.
• Research funding for non-military defence strategies could be expanded to understand how British society could best resist occupation or authoritarian control.

Civil Service & Public Sector Training

• Public sector workers, including local government employees, could be trained to resist coercion in the event of an invasion or foreign-backed regime.
• The NHS, postal service, and local councils could develop contingency plans to operate independently and deny legitimacy to an occupying power.

Decentralised Governance & Secure Communication

Strengthening Local Governance Autonomy

• Local councils should have contingency plans to continue governing even if national institutions are compromised.
• Decision-making processes should be decentralised to prevent a single point of failure in governance.

Resilient Communication Systems

• Secure, independent media platforms (e.g. radio stations, encrypted messaging networks) should be in place to counter occupation propaganda.
• Civilian networks, such as amateur radio operators and underground publishing, should be prepared to function in case of media control by hostile actors.

Undermining Potential Occupiers

Refusal to Collaborate

• Civilian populations should be encouraged to withdraw cooperation from any imposed foreign authority.
• Strategies could include widespread refusal to follow new laws, mass resignations, and acts of passive noncompliance.

Economic Noncooperation

• Key industries (finance, infrastructure, transport) should have contingency plans for deliberate disruption to prevent economic exploitation by occupiers.
• Citizens should be prepared for strategic strikes, making it unprofitable for an invading force to sustain control.

Psychological Resistance & Narrative Warfare

• Establish national campaigns to counter propaganda, maintaining morale even under duress.
• Encourage efforts to demoralise occupying forces, such as nonviolent confrontation, humour, and social pressure.

Digital & Cyber Resistance

Cybersecurity Training for Citizens

• A widespread digital literacy programme should be developed to protect against disinformation, cyberattacks, and electronic surveillance.
• Open-source intelligence (OSINT) training could be offered to civilians to track and expose occupation forces’ movements.

Secure Digital Networks

• The UK should develop an independent, encrypted communication infrastructure that could be used to resist occupation or authoritarian overreach.
• “Digital resilience squads” could be established within communities to maintain access to independent information.

Strategic International Alliances

Building External Support for Resistance

• The UK should establish agreements with allied nations to recognise and support any nonviolent resistance movement in the event of occupation.
• Develop rapid response mechanisms to coordinate global media, economic, and diplomatic responses to an attempted invasion.

Learning from Other Nations

• The UK could adapt strategies used by the Baltic states, Taiwan, and Ukraine to strengthen national resilience.
• Establish exchange programmes where British civil society groups learn from communities with active nonviolent resistance traditions.

Would This Work in the UK?

Unlike the Baltic states, the UK has a strong military tradition and is geographically less vulnerable to conventional invasion. However, in an age of hybrid warfare, political destabilisation, and cyber-aggression, integrating civilian-based defence into national security planning could provide an additional layer of resilience.

Possible Challenges:

• Public perception: The idea of nonviolent resistance might be met with scepticism, given the UK’s reliance on military solutions.
• Government resistance: Security agencies may resist nonviolent strategies, viewing them as secondary to traditional defence.
• Implementation: Widespread education and decentralisation require political will and long-term commitment.

A UK nonviolent national defence strategy would not replace traditional defence forces but complement them by making occupation or coercion prohibitively difficult. By integrating elements of nonviolent resistance into public policy, education, and infrastructure, the UK could strengthen its resilience not only against military threats but also against authoritarian creep, cyber-attacks, and political destabilisation.