Deviant

The Deviant

The concept of the 'deviant' carries a weight of complexity when applied to figures like Nebuchadnezzar and Donald Trump. Both men, separated by millennia, offer case studies in power, identity, and the human tendency toward authoritarianism. Their lives compel us to explore themes of morality, ego, and transformation while asking how deviance from ethical norms shapes leadership and society.  

Nebuchadnezzar, as depicted in the Bible, is an archetype of hubris and reckoning. A powerful Babylonian king, he is remembered for his grandiose building projects, including the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, and his conquests that brought Jerusalem to its knees. Yet his narrative in the Book of Daniel also reveals a deeply personal struggle. His pride is met with divine judgment when he is struck with madness, living like an animal for seven years (Dan 4:33). This period of estrangement from power leads to a moment of humility and acknowledgment of divine sovereignty: 'Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and exalt and glorify the King of heaven' (Dan 4:37). His story is both a cautionary tale and a redemptive arc that highlights the possibility of transformation through confrontation with one’s limitations.  

Donald Trump, on the other hand, represents a modern incarnation of deviance in leadership. As a businessman-turned-politician, his rise to the presidency of the United States was marked by rhetoric and actions that polarised the nation. Critics often point to his use of misinformation, inflammatory language, and authoritarian tendencies as evidence of a moral and ethical departure from democratic ideals. Trump’s fascination with authoritarian leaders, such as Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-un, underscores a leadership style rooted in dominance and admiration for power structures that prioritise control over consensus. While Trump has not experienced a Nebuchadnezzar-like moment of reckoning, his post-presidency shadow—marked by multiple indictments and continued influence over his base—suggests a struggle to reconcile his identity with the democratic norms he once swore to uphold.  

From a theological perspective, the lives of these two men challenge us to consider how power corrupts and what it means to be human in the face of divine justice. Nebuchadnezzar’s story aligns with a biblical anthropology that sees humanity as inherently flawed but capable of redemption. His journey from arrogance to humility serves as a reminder of the limits of human authority and the ultimate sovereignty of God. Trump, in contrast, embodies the unresolved tension between self-conceit and accountability in modern times. His persistent denial of fault and embrace of divisive ideologies reflect a refusal to engage in the self-examination that marked Nebuchadnezzar’s transformation.  

Psychologically, both figures reveal the fragile nature of identity when built on power and control. Nebuchadnezzar’s descent into madness can be interpreted through a Jungian lens as a confrontation with his shadow—the darker, unacknowledged parts of himself. This period of disintegration allows him to rebuild a more integrated self. Trump’s psyche, by contrast, appears to resist such confrontation. His bravado, often interpreted as a defence mechanism, suggests an overcompensation for deeper insecurities, including an inability to form authentic relationships. His admiration for authoritarian figures may reflect a desire to externalise and project strength, masking internal vulnerabilities.  

Philosophically, the question of deviance in these two figures invites a critique of leadership ethics. Nebuchadnezzar’s acknowledgment of his limits aligns with an existential understanding of human finitude and the need for humility in the face of greater truths. Trump’s actions, however, challenge us to reflect on the moral compromises society makes when it elevates individuals who prioritise personal ambition over collective well-being. His populist appeal, grounded in the rhetoric of strength and grievance, raises questions about the values that underpin modern political systems.  

Black and liberation theologies add a critical dimension to this exploration, particularly in understanding Trump’s role in perpetuating systemic inequities. James Cone and Kelly Brown Douglas critique the ways in which whiteness and power intersect to sustain oppression. Trump’s rhetoric, often dehumanising minorities, stands in stark contrast to the biblical call for justice and equity. Nebuchadnezzar, too, can be scrutinised through this lens, as his imperial conquests embody the exploitation of marginalised communities. Yet his eventual transformation offers a glimmer of hope for those who wield power to seek restorative justice.  

These stories of, Nebuchadnezzar and Trump, provide fertile ground for examining deviance through theological, psychological, and philosophical lenses. While Nebuchadnezzar’s narrative ends in redemption, Trump’s story remains unfinished, a living case study in the ongoing struggle between ego and accountability. Together, they remind us of the urgent need to confront the deviant forces within ourselves and our societies, striving for a vision of leadership that prioritises justice, humility, and the common good.