I’ve never been a Biden admirer and I never voted for him, not in a primary, not in a general, not even when he ran against Trump! But Trump’s persistent and intense criticism of him, even after re-occupying the White House, seems to stand out as not just repulsive but as unusual in American history. Historically, presidents have typically refrained from sustained, personal attacks on their predecessors, usually due to norms of decorum, a focus on their own agendas or a desire to unify rather than divide, none of which is of much interest to Trump.
There are, however a few notable notable examples of presidents who sharply criticized those who came before them, though the frequency, tone and context differ from Trump’s ugly Wild Man of Borneo approach. One of the closest parallels is Teddy Roosevelt’s attacks on William Howard Taft. After serving as president from 1901 to 1909, Roosevelt, for whatever cockamamie reason that never made any sense to me, handpicked Taft as his successor. But by 1912, disillusioned with Taft’s extreme conservative policies, Roosevelt ran against him as a Progressive Party candidate. His criticism was relentless— calling Taft a “puzzlewit” and “fathead” with “the brains of a guinea pig.” Roosevelt’s campaign was fueled by a personal sense of betrayal and a belief that Taft had undone his progressive legacy. This wasn’t just post-presidency sniping; it was a full-on electoral assault, though it peaked during the campaign rather than persisting over years, Roosevelt having wrecked Taft's reelect chances:
Woodrow Wilson- 6,296,284 (41.8%)- 435 electoral votes
Teddy Roosevelt- 4,122,721 (27.4%)- 88 electoral votes
William Howard Taft- 3,486,242 (23.2%)- 8 electoral votes
Eugene Debs- 901,551 (6.0%)
Another example is pre-MAGA Andrew Jackson’s feud with John Quincy Adams. Before Jackson became president in 1829, he bitterly blamed Adams for his 1824 election loss, alleging a “corrupt bargain” with Henry Clay. Once in office, Jackson didn’t let up— his administration targeted Adams’ legacy, portraying him as an elitist out of touch with the common man. While Jackson’s attacks were fierce, they were more about consolidating power and less about a prolonged, personal vendetta after leaving office.
Herbert Hoover also criticized FDR extensively after his presidency ended in 1933— kind of sad when one of the universally despised failed presidents in history was trying to savage one of the most admired and successful men to ever occupy to White House. Hoover blamed FDR’s New Deal for prolonging the Republican Party’s Great Depression, calling it “socialistic” and a betrayal of American values. His attacks continued through speeches and writings into the 1940s, but they lacked the visceral, personal edge of Trump’s rhetoric, were more policy-focused and failed to garner much traction outside of the most partisan right wing circles.
Trump’s case, as you probably noticed, is distinct in its intensity, vitriol, defensiveness and persistence. Since leaving office in January 2021, he repeatedly labeled President Biden “crooked,” “sleepy,” and responsible for “destroying America,” often at rallies and on social media. This wasn’t just campaign rhetoric (though it aligns with his 2024 run); it’s a near-constant drumbeat, amplified by modern platforms like Truth Social, which give him a megaphone earlier presidents lacked. Data from Twitter and news reports show Trump has mentioned Biden critically hundreds of times since 2021— far outpacing, say, Roosevelt’s speeches against Taft or Hoover’s against FDR in sheer volume. Trump was incapable of accepting the fact he had been defeated.
No president devoted as much energy to attacking a predecessor over such an extended period, especially post-tenure. Predecessors like Teddy Roosevelt and Jackson focused their ire during specific political moments— elections or early in their terms— while Trump’s criticism became a defining feature of his post-presidency, fueled by personal grievance and a desire to stay relevant— and hasn’t changed at all since returning to the Oval Office.
Trump’s persistent criticism of predecessors— George W. Bush, Obama and Biden in particular— seem to tie into his broken psychological makeup. His narcissism, a need for attention and a combative streak— offer a plausible lens. Narcissistic tendencies, as described in psychological literature, include a craving for admiration and a hypersensitivity to perceived slights. If Trump views his presidency as unfairly maligned by successors or critics, this could fuel a relentless drive to defend his legacy and attack those he blames, like Biden or Obama. His background reinforces this. Decades in cut-throat real estate and reality TV— think The Apprentice— rewarded a persona built on dominance, self-promotion and settling scores. That’s not a mindset that switches off after leaving office. Unlike predecessors who stepped back (e.g., Bush Jr.’s quiet post-presidency), Trump’s identity seemed tied to staying in the spotlight, and criticism of others helped keep him there. Post-2021 news reports show he consistently targeted Biden, often with personal jabs far more than policy critiques, suggesting it’s less about ideology and more about being a sore loser and his waterfall of personal grievances.
Trump’s tendency to fuse his personal identity with the nation’s, echoes a “L’état, c’est moi” vibe, a rarity among U.S. presidents. Louis XIV saw France as an extension of his own glory, centralizing power and tying the state’s fate to his persona. Trump’s rhetoric often carries a similar flavor: “I am your voice” or “They’re not coming after me, they’re coming after you— I’m just standing in the way.” It’s less about policy and more about casting himself as the embodiment of America’s struggles and triumphs.
Other U.S. presidents haven’t leaned this hard into personal identification with the nation. FDR rallied the country with “we have nothing to fear but fear itself,” but it was collective, not self-referential. Lincoln framed the Civil War as a test of “government of the people,” not his own destiny. Even Jackson, a populist brawler, tied his image to the “common man” rather than declaring himself the state incarnate. Trump’s style stands out— his brand is “America First,” but it often sounds like “America is me.” Look at his social media ranting and raving: he’ll pivot from “the country is failing” to “they’re attacking me” in the same breath, blurring the line between personal grievance and supposed national crisis.
Psychologically, this ties back to that narcissistic streak— seeing himself as indispensable, the nation’s fate hinging on his own. Louis XIV had divine-right monarchy to prop up that mindset; Trump’s got a media-saturated, personality-driven political culture and an extremely low IQ base. No other modern president has so consistently framed their personal battles as synonymous with the country’s— Reagan, Obama, even Clinton post-tenure, stepped back into elder-statesman roles. Trump stayed out there, equating his legal woes or election losses with America’s decline. It was a throwback to absolutist kings more than the democratic tradition of diffused power. And— unless Musk really did fix the election electronically— a plurality of voters bought into it.
One more thing: I doubt Trump knew anything about Andrew Jackson until Bannon gave him a tutorial and showed him the parallels between the two of them. A Jackson portrait that Trump had hung in the Oval Office, was a nod from Trump to a shared vibe: outsider swagger, ugly and virulent racism, defiance of elites and a take-no-prisoners style. Both had a knack for personalizing power— Jackson with his “Kitchen Cabinet” of loyalists, Trump with his inner circle of family and yes-men. Both thrived on systemic corruption and on enmity: Jackson dueled (literally) and crushed the Second Bank; Trump picks endless fights on social media and rails against “the swamp.” Historians note Jackson’s self-serving streak— vetoing projects that didn’t benefit his base, rewarding allies with spoils— mirrors Trump’s loyalty-first approach, like pushing tax cuts for cronies and pardons for violent criminals who backed his false claims of having won in 2020.
When I was in high school, Jackson’s reputation was still mostly positive but since then historians have come to see him as more of a mixed bag, leaning more negative in recent decades. Early on, he was lionized— the guy who smashed elitist banks and won at New Orleans. That view held sway for a while, especially in the mid-20th century with historians like Arthur Schlesinger Jr., who saw him as a proto-populist expanding American democracy by broadening suffrage (albeit strictly for white men). But the tide’s turned. Modern scholarship— say, from the 1980s onward— zeroed in on the uglier stuff: the Trail of Tears, his slaveholding, and his impulsive, often brutal approach to power. Daniel Walker Howe’s What Hath God Wrought (2007) painted a figure of “violent populism” and H.W. Brands, who didn’t shy away from his flaws in Andrew Jackson: His Life and Times (2005). The consensus among historians today is a net negative— his Indian Removal Act alone, which killed thousands, is a stain that’s hard to scrub (unless, of course, you’re someone like Trump or Bannon).
Still refusing to paint trump as a fat, retarded hitler. he has come to see himself as the chosen saviour of "america" as the christiban right have built him up to be.
And, like hitler, his rise has been a long time coming but meteoric at the end.
Both used hate and political violence. Both wrote of lebensraum... taking other nations for fun and/or profit.
Both at some point saw themselves as invincible and indispensable.
And both were never opposed and were collaborated with by political foes which enabled their rise.
But only hitler ever saw the inside of a prison cell. So... we americans are still worse than Weimar Germans.
Hitler had mussolini to measure himself by, at first.…
Great piece. T is a menace and a very damaged human being. His entourage is way too dumb, incompetent and dangerous. Really I don’t know how we’ll make it through the next several years. The next several months even. I’m waiting for the social security shoe to drop. It’ll be big when it happens, as I think it will. DOGE is cutting off the bureaucracy that runs it.