As predictions of a blue wave swell, it's worthwhile to remember that polls are sometimes wrong, that surveys have tended to undercount Trump voters (though they have been better in midterms), that professional prognosticators can err, and that Allan Lichtman is only right when he's lucky. And yet, if there has ever been a politician who has invited electoral repudiation by more thoroughly betraying his own voters than Trump has, I can't think of one.

Trump had the most zealous followers of anyone this side of Osama bin Laden, and in his first term, he did a certain amount of fan service. He cracked down on illegal (and legal) immigration, made gestures toward building a wall on the southern border, cut taxes, withdrew from the Iran nuclear deal and the Paris Climate Accords, and insulted and belittled everyone from Hillary Clinton to John Lewis.

Was there profiteering as well? Sure. Unlike his recent predecessors, Trump declined to place his assets in a blind trust. He assured the nation that his sons were keeping him out of the loop on all matters pertaining to the Trump Organization. His hotels became the go-to spots for favor-seekers both foreign and domestic. The Saudis practically camped out at one of them. But it was all pretty low-key compared with the sequel.

In his second term, Trump has been a caricature of a plutocrat, gilding the Oval Office, grinding the White House East Wing into dust to build his garish ballroom, plastering his name on everything in his line of sight, issuing commemorative coins with his face on them, and vacuuming up wealth for himself and his family on a scale that has never been seen in American history. For his voters, by contrast, he has delivered higher prices, a shambolic mess of a war with Iran, tariffs that hit farmers particularly hard, and an immigration crackdown that has caused Hispanic voters and even some podcast bros to recoil.

While some Trump opponents point to his cruelty and vulgarity as the selling points with his base, I demur. Clearly that's the case with some, but most people like to think they're on the side of the angels, not the devils. That's why whataboutism is the default answer to any objection. You cannot believe that you yourself are embracing the dark side, and so you must believe that the other side is worse.

Trump entered American politics as the urpopulist. A huge part of his appeal was a familiar one in American politics — anti-corruption. It's a bitter irony now, but millions of Americans who supported Trump believed they were voting for cleaner government and bought his "drain the swamp" line. For decades, large numbers of Americans have believed that most politicians are crooked. In 2006, nearly 60 percent of Americans thought that "corruption is widespread throughout the government." In 2016, 59 percent of Americans rated the honesty/integrity of members of Congress as low or very low (but only half the country thought so little of senators).

Again and again in focus groups conducted by Sarah Longwell, voters offered that Trump was too rich to be bought. Michael from Arizona, who voted for Trump in 2016 but switched to Biden in 2020, said in 2022, "I figured, okay, he can't be bought. He's got way too much money. So give him a chance." A two-time Trump voter from New Hampshire explained in 2024 that "He doesn't need to line his pockets with anything, so he doesn't have a hidden agenda. He's got his own money." Voters echoed this constantly. When you're convinced that the majority of politicians are in it for the money, who better than a billionaire to resist the special interests?

The myth was burnished by Trump's decision to forgo a government salary in his first term. Jim, a 2016 and 2020 Trump voter from Texas, said in February 2022: "I don't know that anybody else would stand up to (attacks and criticism) like that, and then give away their salary. ... The man worked for nothing for us, and took all of that beating all the time."

In August 2024, Carol, another two-time Trump voter from Michigan, mentioned with admiration: "He did not take a salary for it, and that kind of impressed me. Why ... is he doing this? He's not getting paid for it. Clearly has a passion for what he's doing."

It was the same with Greg from Georgia, who in June 2024 said, "He didn't need this. He was a billionaire. He was a successful businessman. He didn't need to do this."

Trump's second term has been a protracted demolition of his image as a populist every bit as thorough as the destruction of the East Wing. Though some voters recall his promise not to take a salary, it's tinged with irony now. Just this month, Janel, a 2024 Trump voter from Ohio who disapproves of his job performance, offered that "I know he's not taking a paycheck, you know. Thank you, I guess. But ... I thought you weren't supposed to make money off of the presidency at all, and he is so much richer now than when he started."

Shauna, another disapproving Trump voter from Michigan, shared a similar perspective, characterizing the salary rejection as a "ploy," and noting that he's making much more off the presidency than the law allows for. Cory reflected ruefully that "his net worth has increased a couple billion dollars, and I can confidently tell you my net worth has not increased since he has come into office."

Trump exploited preexisting voter cynicism about politicians and made it far worse. Gallup polling from earlier in September found that 89% of Americans now believe that corruption is "widespread in the government." That is higher than all other members of the OECD, and represents a 16-point increase in two years.

The near-term result of voter disillusionment is very likely to be a drubbing for GOP candidates in five weeks. But the longer-term damage to our civic culture is impossible to calculate. People who lack trust in one another cannot govern effectively. They cannot solve problems. Would even a sincere effort at ethics reform — such as we saw after Watergate — gain traction in a country as suspicious and jaded as ours? It's unclear. But one thing is certain: The billionaire populist myth is dead, dead, dead.

Mona Charen is policy editor of The Bulwark and host of the "Beg to Differ" podcast. Her new book, Hard Right: The GOP's Drift Toward Extremism, is available now.

Reprinted with permission from Creators