I’m a moderate living in a very conservative area, and I’ve never been able to support Donald Trump. It’s not even primarily a political disagreement I have, but a moral one.
For a long time I assumed this meant I needed to argue better, explain more clearly, or find the right framing that would make Trump supporters—especially those who consider themselves moral people—see what I see. I no longer believe that’s true.
This post isn’t an attempt to persuade. It’s an attempt to explain where my line is, why I’ve stopped trying to move other people across it, and how I’m learning to live among people who’ve made a different values tradeoff than I have.
I want to be clear about why I’m laying out these examples. I’m not trying to relitigate Trump’s record or convince anyone who already views these things as acceptable. I’m explaining the accumulation of facts and behaviors that made continued support for him morally impossible for me. This is the context for my boundary, not an argument meant to cross someone else’s.
When people talk about Trump as though he is a good person, I am usually mystified. He is a convicted felon. He was convicted by a jury on 34 felony counts of falsifying business records. New York courts also found him liable for fraud and issuing false financial statements in a civil case, with these findings upheld on appeal. He did not serve any prison time for his felonies, and in his civil case he wasn’t even fined, when he should have had to pay at least $300 million.
As a Christian trying to take moral consistency seriously, it’s difficult for me to see a man who has publicly cheated on each of his wives, and was found civilly liable for sexual abuse being championed by women. I’ve seen him on multiple talk shows talking about being sexually attracted to his own daughter. He has lied more consistently and brazenly than any President I’ve personally witnessed. He’s been a good friend with a convicted sex trafficker, Jeffrey Epstein, though he denies it. These aren’t political disagreements – these are fundamental character issues.
There’s an episode of The Office where Michael Scott is in trouble with his boss. When his boss asks him what he wants to have happen, Michael replies, “I’ll be honest: I want all of the credit and none of the blame.” That is exactly who Donald Trump is.
I could keep listing examples (Trump University, etc), but the point isn’t the quantity. It’s the pattern.
There is no way he is a conservative. Conservatives believe in states’ rights and a relatively weak central government, but he has attempted to send in the National Guard to cities like Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles, and Washington DC – against the law according to the Posse Comitatus Act. He’s talked about running for a third term as President, violating the 22nd Amendment. He is interested in increasing Presidential power, not reducing it.
He primarily sees himself as someone to be loyal to, not the country. This is why he asked the former FBI director to be personally loyal to him, and when Comey refused, he was fired a few months later. He then publicly criticized Deputy FBI Director Andrew McCabe and Attorney General Jeff Sessions, pressuring the DOJ to align with his political interests. He’s expressed admiration for Vladimir Putin and other dictators on multiple occasions.
Unlike previous Presidents who have attempted to unite political parties, he is quoted as saying he ‘couldn’t care less’ about healing the political divide. His lies about election fraud and pressure on officials contributed to the January 6, 2021, Capitol insurrection aimed at overturning the 2020 election results; then he issued pardons to over 1,500 people involved. His administration’s DOJ is now seeking to dismiss lawsuits by officers demanding that a congressionally-mandated memorial plaque in their honor be installed as required by law. He blamed the ‘radical left’ for Charlie Kirk’s death in September 2025, even though it’s never been linked to any group. Rather than working within democratic systems, he consistently undermines them when they don’t serve his personal interests.
Again, I am not concerned about differences of opinion that conservatives, liberals, and others have always had–let’s strip away the politics for a moment. This is a pattern of authoritarian temperament and personal moral failure that anyone should be concerned about. Frankly, I think he is fundamentally a bad person.
I’ve been trying to look at this as an interesting psychological situation, to find some framework that makes it manageable. But honestly, I’m not sure that’s working.
I think many supporters see him as a symbol, not a person, and they have wrapped at least a part of their identity around him: patriotism, rebellion, religion, grievance, whatever. Once that happens, facts bounce off because they don’t process him as a politician anymore; he’s an avatar of “us vs them.”
At some point, I had to stop telling myself that this was a misunderstanding that could be cleared up with better information. The truth is simpler and harder to accept: they’ve made their values tradeoff, and I’ve made mine. The work now isn’t persuasion, it’s figuring out how to coexist.
Once I accepted that persuasion wasn’t the goal (or even possible) I needed a different approach. Not to change minds, but to protect my own emotional stability and preserve relationships where that’s still possible.
So I’ve sought some advice and developed a loose framework for how to approach or talk to people who are on the opposite side of the issue from me. Many times, I don’t know how severe a Trump supporter is. To find out I can ask questions, such as “What makes you say he’s honest?” instead of counterpunching. The goal isn’t persuasion; it’s to test whether a real exchange is possible.
When someone praises him, I’m trying to take one literal second and breathe before I respond. I remind myself: this person isn’t my enemy, even if we see morality completely differently. Sometimes I can say, “I see it differently,” and pivot to something else. If it’s not going anywhere, I can just walk away and reset for 15 minutes with something distracting, enjoyable, or edifying.
To be honest, I still can’t get past it. These techniques don’t make me agree, and they don’t resolve the gap. What they do is help me stay civil without betraying myself.
I used to think that wasn’t enough—that if I couldn’t persuade I was failing in some way. I don’t believe that anymore. Sometimes the most honest outcome isn’t agreement or reconciliation, but learning how to live well alongside people you fundamentally disagree with. And for now, that has to be enough.