Is Donald Trump An Authentic Leader?

Forbes

3 hours ago

On the performative nature of authenticity, and why Trump exposes the paradoxical and unscientific meaning of the term.
In a world obsessed with personal branding, real and deep fake influencers, and AI-fueled persuasion, 'authenticity' seems more valuable than ever, as the distinction between what's real and what isn't transcends everything and everyone.
We no longer expect our leaders to be merely competent — a trait that, inconveniently, remains hard for most voters to identify. We want them to be 'real,' too, though no one can quite agree on what that entails in an era where even authenticity can be performative.
From viral LinkedIn mantras to inspirational TED Talks, authenticity is praised as the antidote to crooked leaders, political doublespeak, and robotic managerialism, not to mention phony politicians. Indeed, research suggests that people rate 'authentic leaders' as more trustworthy, relatable, and morally grounded.
And yet, despite its near-universal appeal, authenticity remains vague and elusive as a concept. We want, admire, demand it — but few can define it, especially in a sensible or cogent way, and even fewer appear to know how we would go about measuring it, at least with some degree of precision or objectivity.
In the leadership literature, authenticity is generally associated with transparency, consistency, and self-awareness. In line, leaders who are seen as authentic inspire greater followership, because they appear more predictable and less manipulative. Employees trust them more, and citizens are more likely to forgive their mistakes.
Consider why figures like Nelson Mandela or Angela Merkel continue to command admiration — not merely for their achievements, but for the perceived harmony between what they believed, said, and did. They were not just competent, but coherent. Conversely, politicians who appear to shapeshift with every poll are penalized — not always for their views, but for the whiff of inauthenticity. Voters would rather support someone they disagree with than someone they suspect of pandering.
Indeed, perceptions of authenticity are less about ideological alignment and more about emotional resonance. People tend to see those they like as authentic — and label those they dislike as fake. Unsurprisingly, Trump supporters view him as the embodiment of authenticity, just as Obama's admirers did with him. Ask their detractors, however, and the verdict flips. In a way, the real litmus test of authenticity is whether even your critics concede that you are 'the real deal.' On that front, Trump may score higher than Obama, unless you deny the possibility that more authentic doesn't always equate to more effective…
Therein lies the philosophical catch: authenticity, for all its cultural currency, is not a fixed trait. It is an attribution — something we project onto others. We can't scan a person's soul (Neuralink hasn't cracked that yet) to verify the alignment between their inner essence and their outer behavior. In truth, we struggle to verify even our own. As neuroscientist David Eagleman put it, 'The conscious mind is like a broom closet in the mansion of the brain.' Much of what drives us is hidden from ourselves, let alone others. What feels authentic might just be a well-rehearsed act — one we've repeated so often, we've come to believe it ourselves (which, admittedly, sounds great, except for the fact that the most brutal dictators in history were pretty good at it).
That's why psychologists argue authenticity is socially constructed. It's not some universal signal — it's context-dependent. A CEO crying in a board meeting might be praised for vulnerability in Silicon Valley, and ridiculed as unfit in Frankfurt. Compare Obama's curated 'cool dad' persona with Merkel's austere pragmatism: both were labeled authentic, but by very different cultural standards. In the end, we judge authenticity not by some Platonic essence of the self, but by how well someone's performance matches our expectations of who they ought to be.
Which brings us, inevitably, to Trump. The question is not whether he is authentic — we can't ever truly know — but why he seems authentic to so many. Trump checks all the cultural boxes of 'realness': he's blunt, unfiltered, often incoherent (even when not spontaneously so), and defiantly unrehearsed. He rants on social media at ungodly hours and insults opponents with the fervor of a WWE heel. These are not behaviors traditionally associated with leadership—but to many, that's the point. His refusal to play by the rules of political etiquette is precisely what makes him persuasive. Unlike the focus-grouped politician who triangulates every utterance, Trump performs spontaneity. And for a certain kind of voter, that performance is more persuasive than policy.
So how do we assess authenticity more analytically? As I illustrate in my forthcoming book, we can determine this by examining Trump vis-à-vis the four mainstream tenets or mantras for examining authenticity in others (not just leaders), namely: (1) always be honest with yourself and others; (2) always be true to your values, no matter what; (3) don't worry about what people think of you; and (4) bring your whole self to work.
1. Is Trump brutally honest with himself and others?
Trump is certainly honest with others — at least in the sense that he says what he thinks. Whether those thoughts are factually accurate is another matter entirely. Although there's little evidence of self-reflection or self-critique, we simply don't know whether his statements are improvised or calculated, even when they seem spontaneous. Furthermore, there's no way to know whether he truly believes some of the over-the-top comments he makes, for instance on his own capabilities. When he tells us that he is 'a very stable genius', does he truly believe it? It would be easier to prove or disprove whether such statements are factually correct than whether he actually believes them himself. Evolutionary psychology shows that truly believing such statements even when they are not factually correct (what psychologists refer to as self-deception) is rather common in humans because it helps us display convincing signs of confidence and be regarded as competent. In other words, the best way to fool others is to fool yourself first. This introduces an interesting paradox: your likelihood of being perceived as authentic increases when you are not honest with yourself. By the same token, if you are honest with yourself, and therefore aware of your limitations, you may not be perceived as confident and therefore competent! In this way, Trump's self-deception may be a powerful tool to come across as genuine and competent – people are more likely to believe you are a stable genius if they see that you truly believe it yourself when you make such statements.
2. Is Trump uncompromisingly true to his values?
Trump's values are difficult to pin down ideologically, but he is consistent in tone and temperament. He prizes dominance, loyalty, and personal success — values that appear deeply ingrained across decades of business and political life. He doesn't pivot or play nice to broaden appeal. That may limit his coalition, but it boosts the perception that he 'sticks to his guns.' Also, his decisions seem consistently optimized to enhance self-interest (either at national, party, or individual level), and despite his self-presentation as master deal maker he seems quite transparent in the goals and outcomes he pursues. To be sure, those who don't share his values will not accept that he is acting authentically by 'following his values no matter what'. This is an important reminder of the fact that value-centricity is not inherently beneficial or effective in leaders: what matters is what your values are, whether they are shared by others, and how they impact others (not just your voters, but society at large). In fact, history is replete with examples of leaders who were clearly true to their values, and impressively executed against them, but without having much in the form of positive effects (and often many negative effects) on their followers.
3. Is Trump unbothered by what people think of him?
This one seems tailor-made for Trump. He thrives on attention but is often indifferent — when not hostile — to criticism. Most politicians spin, apologize, or moderate. Trump doubles down. Whether it's calling opponents nicknames, attacking journalists, or airing grievances, he seems genuinely unconcerned with being liked by everyone. In the authenticity game, that's a powerful signal: he performs as someone who is beyond calculation. To be sure, breaking prosocial etiquette norms does not make you authentic, just like being controversial doesn't make you right. Still, given that overt and aggressive confrontation tends to be uncharacteristic in a typical politician (and even someone with traditional political skills), it can make you seem authentic regardless of whether this is a calculated self-presentational strategy. It's like being a social media troll: you offend, and some people will celebrate your radical candor! That said, this disregard for what people think of you is also emblematic of a narcissistic personality, whether in its clinical or sub-clinical (highly functioning) form. Research on vulnerable narcissism suggests that those who lash out or seem impervious to criticism may in fact be protecting a fragile ego—especially when rejection threatens their self-image. Trump's combative and adversarial style, far from indicating thick skin, may signal the opposite: a compulsive need to dominate the narrative to avoid feeling diminished. As a result, what looks like radical candor may actually be a meticulously constructed performance of invulnerability.
4. Does Trump bring his whole self to work?
Unquestionably. Trump does not compartmentalize. The same persona that tweets 'covfefe' at midnight is the one addressing (and trying to dismantle) the UN General Assembly. His speeches, interviews, and online posts share the same syntax, cadences, and vocabulary. His business brand, political identity, and personal life blur into one. That's the very definition of bringing your whole self to work—for better or worse. In fact, applying one of the most common scientific and popular criteria for defining authenticity, namely consistency between what leaders say and do, there's no question that with Trump (at least his current iteration) what you see is what you get – after nearly 150 days of presidency, he has enacted most of his intended plans and promises. To be sure, unlike Melania, who also has access to the private or personal version of the president, we will never know whether the home version of Trump is radically different from his professional self, which is the norm with most leaders (and people).
Conclusion: More Authentic, Less Effective?
So, is Trump an authentic leader? From the perspective of public perception, probably yes — at least to those who admire him. Even many critics concede that his rawness makes him 'real.' He stands out precisely because he does not seem like a conventional politician. But here's the irony: the very traits that enhance his reputation for authenticity—lack of filter, abrasiveness, impulsivity — also limit his effectiveness as a leader, particularly in contexts that require diplomacy, coalition-building, and emotional intelligence.
Indeed, if you were tasked with coaching Trump, the likely strategy would be to curb his most 'authentic' impulses: inject some tact, broaden his emotional bandwidth, tone down the narcissism, and embrace more perspective-taking. That might make him more effective — but also less 'himself.' Such is the paradox of authenticity in leadership: being too true to yourself can inhibit your leadership talents.
Ultimately, the case of Donald Trump reminds us that authenticity is not an unqualified virtue. Like most traits, it is only beneficial in moderation and context. What followers experience as authenticity may simply be a refusal to conform. But in politics — as in life —there's a fine line between being genuine and being a jerk. The best leaders know how to walk that line without losing either their compass or their followers. In other words, they are clear about where their right to be themselves ends, and their obligation to others begins.
Importantly, while people seem to genuinely love the concept of 'authenticity' (not just in leaders, but humans in general), we would do well to acknowledge that, alas, there is just no objective way to quantify how authentic someone is, or whether someone is acting in an authentic way or not. Rather, authenticity is retrofitted to affection: we tend to deem people authentic if we like them, and fake if we don't. In politics, this creates a curious paradox. Donald Trump is hailed as the very embodiment of authenticity — by his supporters. So too is Barack Obama — by his own. But ask the other side, and the verdict flips. Same goes for charisma: it is an attribution we make about people we like and admire, because they seem better able to influence and persuade us, because we share their beliefs, values, and personal attributes, to the point of embodying a part of who we are or want to be. In that sense, Freud was onto something when we noted that our connection with leaders is in itself narcissistic: we love people who represent who we are, and when they are also leaders who appear to love us, our love is a subliminal and socially legitimate way of loving ourselves.
In the end, authenticity may be less a moral virtue than a psychological illusion —comforting, relatable, and occasionally dangerous. We crave it in leaders because it reassures us that someone, somewhere, is being 'real' in a world that often feels fake. But the paradox is hard to escape: the more someone tries to prove their authenticity, the less authentic they seem. Perhaps the lesson is this: in leadership, as in life, being true to yourself only matters if your 'self' is worth following.