Not that long ago, simply recognizing the legitimacy of the U.S. President-elect Donald Trump’s political standing was something of a taboo. While he commanded significant support from his early days in politics, his base was frequently dismissed as an aberrant segment of the population, isolated to the ideological fringes. Young voters, in particular, were reluctant to admit any association with him openly, let alone a vote cast in his favor.

The portrayal of Trump supporters as a fanatical group – unfit for inclusion in any "legitimate" political discourse – held sway in mainstream political circles. This sentiment was not confined to the U.S. either; it stretched across the Atlantic where, for instance, British politicians like the current Foreign Secretary David Lammy became vocal in their opposition. In a 2017 tweet, Lammy had made his stance clear, declaring that if Trump were to visit the United Kingdom, he would be "out protesting on the streets," as Trump was, in his view, a "racist KKK and Nazi sympathizer." Lammy’s denunciation of Trump was unabashed and unrestrained, labeling him "deluded, dishonest, xenophobic, narcissistic" – in short, a menace unworthy of public office.

Today, however, this narrative seems to have shifted dramatically. While mainstream media, particularly those allied with the liberal factions in the United States, continue to brand Trump as a fascist, the tone of the criticisms in general has softened considerably, evolving into an oddly reconciled acceptance. Gone is the portrayal of Trump as a crude madman; instead, he is discussed as a political adversary today, perhaps unpleasant but not beyond the pale. Notably, Lammy was one of the first Western politicians to congratulate him on his election victory.

To what do we owe this? The normalization of Trump is certainly perplexing yet hardly surprising given the current political landscape. Several contributing factors underscore this change, among them Elon Musk’s acquisition of Twitter, now branded X, and the broader transformation of social media platforms into arenas that enable far greater "freedom of speech." However, these factors by themselves hardly suffice to account for the shift in Trump’s image. The real transformation is rooted in a series of paradoxes within American politics and, indeed, the politics of Western oligarchy at large. After all, normalization would be impossible solely by a change in public opinion, for the public had already embraced Trump. It was the elite opinion that had to change.

Looking back to 2016, Trump was widely regarded as an outsider, a renegade who had little in common with the political elite in the United States. For his supporters, he had emerged as a quasi-messianic figure, an anti-establishment hero poised to dismantle the "military-industrial complex," the intricate network of corporations, bureaucrats, and politicians that profit from endless wars. He claimed to stand against the "neocons" – an entrenched group often associated with hawkish foreign policies – vowing to disrupt the power dynamics that they championed.

Yet, by the end of his term, it became apparent that Trump’s actions diverged significantly from his rhetoric. His foreign policy, led by the neocon par excellence Mike Pompeo, and his national security policy, directed by another hawk John Bolton, had mirrored those of his predecessors, demonstrating his alignment with that sector of the establishment aiming to uphold American hegemony in the world. He was castigated not for the difference in his approach, but really for the candor with which he expressed longstanding U.S. geopolitical objectives.

Perhaps the most revealing aspect of this political metamorphosis lies in the emerging coalition that has embraced Trump. Once the nemesis of the elite, Trump now finds support from figures within the establishment too. Of course, he needed a more presentable vice president candidate to return the favor: J. D. Vance was picked for the job in part to prove, for example, that Trump was not the racist dictator that he had been frequently described as. In fact, he was really tamed to the point that, from the perspective of the elites, he was no longer a threat to "democracy"– meaning that he would never be able to exert meaningful influence on the hawkish policies of the empire.

It is here that the paradox emerges most visibly. Trump’s platform had held appeal because it ostensibly stood in opposition to entrenched power structures. Today, however, his backers include exactly those whom his rhetoric once condemned. The Western oligarchs who were supposedly Trump’s foes have co-opted his platform for their own ends during this election cycle. The Democratic and Republican parties, often portrayed as ideological opposites, represent different expressions of the same power interests, albeit cloaked in different rhetoric. The end result is a system that perpetuates the interests of a small economic elite under the guise of popular choice. As the founding President of Tanzania Julius Nyerere once said, "The United States is also a one-party state but, with typical American extravagance, they have two of them."