Let me start with a disclaimer, America: I don’t want to call Trump a dictator. I know what that looks like. I spent most of my life under Robert Gabriel Mugabe—Zimbabwe’s one-man monopoly on power, inflation, and televised rants. That man could turn a press conference into a TED Talk on autocracy and get away with nationalising a chicken if he felt like it. So believe me when I say: Donald J. Trump is not quite there… but the vibes? Oh, the vibes are very coup-adjacent.
He’s not burning the Constitution—yet—but he’s certainly folding it into a paper airplane and aiming it at the judiciary. And while labels like “dictator” are heavy with historical baggage and precision, it’s not unfair to say that Trump’s political style increasingly echoes the playbook of autocrats. Let’s explore how.
Silencing the Media – The First Red Flag
One of the most defining early signs of authoritarian drift is the treatment of the free press. Trump’s hostile relationship with the media has been well documented. He’s repeatedly called the press “the enemy of the people”—a phrase chillingly echoed by totalitarian leaders throughout history.
But rhetoric aside, actions matter more. In April 2025, the Associated Press was banned from the White House briefing room, in defiance of a court order demanding their access be restored. Rather than complying, the Trump administration appeared to test the boundaries of judicial enforcement.
This kind of executive contempt for judicial rulings is serious. It’s one thing to criticise the press; it’s another to actively obstruct its constitutional role. Scholars of democratic erosion like Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt (“How Democracies Die”) note that press suppression—especially in defiance of courts—is a key warning sign.
It may not be full-blown censorship, but it’s certainly a stress test for the First Amendment.
Imprisonment as a Tool of Power
In more overt authoritarian regimes, leaders resort to imprisoning political opponents, dissidents, or marginalised groups. In the United States, those tactics would face significant legal barriers—but that hasn’t stopped Trump from testing those, too.
Take the case of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, a Honduran man who was deported by the Trump administration in April 2025, Trump has refused to bring him back (even called him a terrorist) despite a Supreme Court asking him to facilitate his return. His case exemplifies how executive defiance of court rulings intersects with broader trends of using state power for intimidation and control.
Trump’s approach to immigration enforcement has often leaned on spectacle over legality. The use of aggressive raids, prolonged detentions, and deportations that stretch or outright ignore legal protections suggest a willingness to weaponise the system.
Again, it’s not exactly a gulag. But it’s a pattern of legal elasticity that authoritarian regimes thrive on.
The Cult of Personality – Branding Power
Every strongman needs a brand, and Trump has his in spades. MAGA is not just a slogan—it’s a lifestyle. There are flags, hats, sneakers, NFTs, Bible signings, and rallies that feel less like campaign events and more like tent revivals.
Political theorists refer to this as a “cult of personality”—a phenomenon where political legitimacy is derived less from institutions and more from personal charisma. Historically, this is how figures like Mussolini and Chávez built unwavering support despite—or because of—their institutional undermining.
In Trump’s case, the personal eclipses the political. Even indictments are treated by his base as badges of honour, not warnings of accountability.
Rule by Decree – The Executive Order Avalanche
Between 2017 and 2021(forgive me on the dates, I lost track), Trump issued 220 executive orders—a rate higher than most of his predecessors. In his current term, that pace has only increased. While executive orders are a legitimate tool of governance, they’re meant to supplement, not replace, legislative consensus.
But Trump has shown increasing disdain for that consensus-building. His governance often bypasses Congress, favouring unilateral declarations. This has drawn concern from constitutional scholars, who warn that excessive executive reliance can erode democratic checks and balances.
It’s not dictatorship—but it is centralisation of power. And centralisation, if unchecked, is a gateway.
Judicial Defiance – Tipping the Scales
The judiciary is the final bulwark against authoritarianism. When a leader begins to ignore or undermine its authority, the democratic guardrails wobble.
Trump’s recent defiance in the Abrego Garcia case is just the latest example. He’s often dismissed judicial criticism, questioned judges’ integrity, and even floated ideas of judicial term limits tied to political outcomes.
These aren’t isolated moments. They’re part of a broader pattern in which court rulings are treated as optional, and the law as a matter of interpretation—his interpretation.
Mugabe did this. So does Orban. So does Erdoğan. Ignore the courts, punish critics, and call it “reform.”
So… Is He a Dictator?
I’ll be honest: I don’t think Trump wakes up and says, “I want to be a dictator today.” I think he wakes up and says, “How can I win everything without compromise?”
That’s not inherently authoritarian—but it’s how authoritarianism begins. By eroding norms. Testing boundaries. Replacing institutions with personalities. And governing not through consensus, but decree.
Trump is not a dictator—not yet. But he’s certainly cosplaying one.
And America, I say this as someone who’s seen the final act: if you’re not careful, the parody becomes the policy.