João Martins argues that Donald Trump’s declarations of “hate” in the aftermath of Charlie Kirk’s assassination reflect an honest rejection of hypocrisy in the political and ideological arena, signalling a return of the healthy mindset needed to reassert the firm principles of nationhood.
“I hate my opponents and I don’t want the best for them.”
This statement by Donald Trump, made at the memorial dedicated to Charlie Kirk, sparked hysteria among the media left. At first glance, this position raises ethical questions: what if hatred replaces dialogue, what if the denial of wishing well for another human being seems to corrupt values such as compassion, tolerance, or social coexistence? The truth is that the position of the U.S. President is based on practical considerations that view politics as an existential conflict, where not everyone shares the belief that loving your enemy is functional — or even safe — particularly in the contemporary political context, where polarization is the norm.
Let’s be clear: current politics is not a space for open dialogue, but rather a field of cultural and ideological warfare, where concessions are interpreted as capitulations.
Unlike the left, which cunningly employs a humanist and moralistic lexicon filled with words like “tolerance,” “respect,” and “freedom,” while simultaneously imposing single narratives, canceling dissenting voices, and pursuing and eliminating opponents, Trump demonstrates profound honesty and transparency in his positions, insofar as he sees hostility as a legitimate political tool, instead of pretending about a superficial — if not impossible — reconciliation. This is especially true since no reconciliation is possible with a left that refuses to recognize the legitimacy of its adversary and disguises selective persecutory practices with rhetoric about social peace.
Donald Trump’s pragmatism thus boils down to a simple maxim: destroy those who seek to destroy you.
Moreover, for those who believe that political enemies pose a concrete threat to their values, institutions, or the common good, this feeling of intense opposition and “not wishing them well” can be justified as a form of defense: to resist ideologically, set limits on destructive agendas, and prevent future harm.
Finally, how often has kindness toward opponents been interpreted as a weakness that allowed them to validate their arguments? Consider the case of Portuguese prime minister Marcello Caetano, who, in the name of an illusory reconciliation opened breaches that his enemies skillfully exploited. History shows us that concessions granted to those who do not share minimal values of coexistence often resulted in the erosion of state authority and the submission of majorities to the power of organized and relentless minorities.
Consequently, by openly declaring his hatred for his opponents, Trump rejects hypocrisy and assumes the role of a leader who does not shelter behind pious formulas to gain fleeting sympathies. His frankness exposes a reality often ignored: politics is, above all, a field of contestation. Rather than masking disagreements with gestures of false concord, his position conveys clarity to the electorate and reinforces confidence that he is willing to protect his principles and his community without concessions.
Contrary to what the politically correct hypocrite preaches, there is no moral obligation to smooth the path for those who seek to undermine the foundational principles of a nation. Firmness should be regarded as a virtue, not a flaw. It is precisely when the most fundamental values are at risk that hostility toward those who threaten them ceases to be merely understandable and becomes necessary.
Therefore, maintaining resilience, a vigorous opposition to degenerate and dissolving theories and practices, should be seen as an expression of healthy integrity and political coherence.