Comparing the two figures, separated by over 2,500 years, one a Neo-Babylonian monarch whose madness is most well-known from the biblical narrative, the other a modern real estate mogul, liar, cheat, thief, rapist and muderder turned 47th U.S. President—reveals some striking psychological parallels.
Both figures exhibit a profound drive to manifest their bloated internal identity through massive physical structures. Nebuchadnezzar II’s reign was defined by "building bigly." He transformed Babylon into a world wonder, constructing the Ishtar Gate and the Etemenanki ziggurat. His inscriptions rarely focused on military conquest; instead, they boasted of the splendor and scale of his city, effectively equating his psychological well-being with the grandeur of his skyline.
Similarly, Trump’s out-sized identity is linked to his "branded" architecture. From Trump Tower to his various golf courses, the physical manifestation of his name in gold and stone serves as a psychological fortress and a primary method of asserting dominance, permanence, and, most importantly, protection of his massive insecurities.
Psychologically, both men appear to view themselves not just as leaders, but as the central protagonists in a grand national drama. Nebuchadnezzar’s biblical depiction in the Book of Daniel highlights a personality that demanded absolute acknowledgment. When he looked out and asked, "Is not this great Babylon, which I have built... by the might of my power and for the honor of my majesty?" it revealed a state of mind where the state and the self are indistinguishable.
Trump operates with a similar fusion. His rhetoric often mirrors the ancient "Great King" style—framing successes as personal triumphs and challenges as personal slights. For both, there is little room for a "private" self; the psychological state is entirely externalized and performative.
Here I will point out the point the somewhat prominent Protestant preacher failed to point out, the key difference, and in Nebuchadnezzar II’s case, the redeeming difference between the two: their documented reactions to the loss of control or "the fall."
According to the Bible, Nebuchadnezzar underwent a period of "beast-like" madness as a result of his pride. Psychologically, this represents a total breakdown of the ego followed by a profound reconstruction and a newfound sense of humility.
Trump’s psychological state during setbacks is characterized by high resilience and a refusal to accept a "humbled" narrative. Rather than the internal reflection seen in the stories of Nebuchadnezzar, Trump’s psychological defense mechanism is to project outward, reframing every loss as a strategic victory or a product of external interference.
Nebuchadnezzar’s psychology is defined by the weight of a divine mandate that eventually crushed and then reformed and redeemed him, Trump’s psychology is defined by a modern, secularized version of the "Sun King" complex—where the light of the state is meant to shine solely on the individual. In other words, Trump lacks a soul, lacks conscience, or, as Jesus framed it: if therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness! Trump exalted himself past the point of redemption. His entire identity is bound in his vanity, and therefore to bend the knee to the Throne of God would force him to reduce his own being. Indeed, the one truth of himself that Trump cannot help but confess is in his repeated statements that he is unfit for heaven.
