(Photo courtesy of PBS) “Donald Trump’s inauguration took place on January 20th, 2025.”
Collin Gallagher
Connector Staff
When I went to Donald Trump’s inauguration, I didn’t just feel anger or fear. I felt an intense sadness, but not for myself, for the people around me. They had driven hundreds of miles, waited for hours in the cold, and fought through crowds just to witness their leader take the stage. They weren’t just voters. They were believers. They had found something bigger than themselves, something that promised them power in a system that made them feel powerless.
But it wasn’t their enthusiasm that struck me. It was their willingness to accept disappointment.
To understand Trump’s movement, you have to understand the sense of belonging it creates. The people at that inauguration, and before at the so-called Freedom Victory Rally on January 19th, weren’t just showing up for a political event. This was something deeper. They were part of a tribe. Their loyalty wasn’t to a party or a policy, it was to the man himself.
As I walked through the crowd, I listened. I watched. Even those who were frustrated, by the endless lines, the poor crowd control, the general chaos. They never once blamed Trump or his team. Instead, they pointed fingers at Biden, at Democrats, at “Deep State” enemies lurking in the shadows. Never mind that these logistical nightmares had plagued Trump events for years. The movement had conditioned them to externalize failure and internalize victory. If things went wrong, it wasn’t Trump’s fault. If things went right, it was proof of his greatness. It was devotion. It was self-reinforcing. And it was bulletproof.
People love to dismiss Trump’s supporters as ignorant or easily manipulated, but that’s not the full picture. The people I met were engaged. They followed the news, at least, their version of it. They showed up, again and again. And they had learned how to justify every setback, every loss, every failure.
They weren’t just waiting in long lines. They were proving their commitment. They weren’t just tolerating discomfort. They were demonstrating their strength. In their eyes, the struggle itself became the point. The more they endured, the more it meant.
It was no longer just about electing Trump. It was about proving loyalty to the cause.
One of the most powerful aspects of Trump’s movement is how it simplifies everything. Every problem has a villain, including Biden, Kamala Harris, Dr. Fauci, and the mainstream media. No issue is too complex. If the economy is bad, blame the Democrats. If a rally gets disorganized, blame the deep state.
This is dangerous. America’s problems are messy. They require real solutions, not fairy tales about corrupt elites and secret plots. But Trump offers an easier answer: trust him, blame them. It’s intoxicating. It’s easy. And it works.
The result is a cycle of misinformation. If Trump fails, it’s because his enemies sabotaged him. If he succeeds, it’s proof he’s the only one who can save America. It’s a worldview that doesn’t allow for self-reflection, only deeper loyalty.
This mindset is more than just political fanaticism, it’s a real danger to democratic institutions. For many of these supporters, the system isn’t something to trust. It’s something to fight against. Trump spent years attacking the media, the courts, and the election process itself. His followers heard him loud and clear. If the system works against Trump, it must be rigged. If it works for him, then it’s functioning properly.
This is how democracies break. Institutions like the press, the courts, and the electoral system aren’t perfect, but they exist for a reason. They’re supposed to keep power in check. But when a huge part of the population stops believing in them, when they see democracy itself as the enemy, the foundation starts to crack.
And cracked foundations don’t hold up forever.
Looking back on that rally, and on the Inauguration that followed, I don’t just see political theater. I see a movement that isn’t going anywhere. Trump himself will fade one way or another. But the people? They’ll keep looking for something to believe in. Trumpism isn’t about policies or plans. It’s about identity. And when identity is tied to blind loyalty instead of critical thinking, the consequences don’t end with an election.
For these people, waiting in line wasn’t just about seeing Trump speak. It was about proving something, to themselves, to each other, to the world. And even now, after all the waiting, they’re still searching for something. But what happens when there’s nothing left to find?
