David and Goliath fight between the Somali and Donald Trump

President Donald Trump has never been a man of half measures. His bullish, confrontational style has defined his political career and shaped global debates for nearly a decade.

Some admire his bluntness, others see recklessness, but during the 2024 US presidential campaign, even those who disagreed with him sometimes admitted that his unfiltered honesty felt refreshing in a political landscape filled with rehearsed speeches and carefully crafted talking points.

Yet since returning to the White House for a second term, Trump’s rhetoric has sharpened in ways that raise profound questions about his intentions and his understanding of America’s diverse social fabric.

His recent attack on the Somali community—calling an entire group “garbage” shocked many observers. It was not just another controversial comment meant to grab headlines.

It was a direct insult aimed at a legally settled minority community, many of whom were welcomed into the United States under official resettlement programmes supported by both Republican and Democratic administrations over the past 30 years.

This was not Trump’s first confrontation with Somalis in America. Representative Ilhan Omar, the Somali-American congresswoman from Minnesota, has been one of his favourite political targets.

Political strategy?

Over the years, Trump has regularly used offensive and sometimes demeaning language toward her, often crossing lines that made even members of his own party uncomfortable. The pattern raises an important question: is this simply Trump being himself, or is there a deeper political strategy behind this hostility?

Political psychologists argue that Trump’s provocative behaviour is rarely random. Studies of his communication style point to a consistent pattern: the more extreme his statements, the more energy he generates among a particular segment of the American electorate.

His core supporters tend to interpret his outbursts as courage, “saying the truths others fear to say”—in a world they believe has become too sensitive or too “politically correct.” Trump’s style fits into what scholars describe as political situationism, where leaders adapt their behaviour to exploit a polarised media environment.

In this landscape, moderate messages are ignored while sensational remarks dominate headlines, fuel social-media storms, and stir emotional responses. Trump understands this media logic instinctively. He benefits from attention—positive or negative—because attention translates into influence.

The modern digital ecosystem also reinforces this behaviour. Through platforms like Twitter and other social media, Trump bypasses traditional institutions and speaks directly to millions, creating an echo chamber in which his comments, no matter how inflammatory, are amplified, defended, and replicated.

Researchers point out that this style softens the boundaries between fact, performance, and political messaging. The more shocking the remark, the more likely it is to spread, shape public opinion, and define political discourse.

Damaging consequences

History, however, warns us about the consequences of such patterns. When powerful leaders single out a minority group for political gain, the results can be deeply damaging.

A stark historical analogy is the Spanish Inquisition of the late 15th century, when Jews and Muslims were gradually stereotyped, accused of disloyalty, and eventually expelled or forced into conversions.

The process did not begin with violent action; it began with public suspicion, insulting language, and political leaders casting entire communities as threats. Words laid the foundation for discrimination.

While today’s United States has constitutional protections, a highly engaged civil society, and institutional safeguards, rhetoric from a sitting president still has real influence.

It shapes public sentiment, affects policy debates, and can embolden individuals or groups predisposed to extremist views. The result is not merely political tension but a sense of insecurity and marginalisation within targeted communities.

For Somali-Americans—estimated at more than 150,000, with the largest concentration in Minnesota—Trump’s remarks carry significant implications.

Many Somalis in the US are successful professionals, public servants, entrepreneurs, and students who contribute meaningfully to the country’s economy and civic life.

Yet the president’s language risks normalising suspicion toward them, framing them as outsiders even after decades of integration.

Derogatory comments from a national leader can influence the everyday attitudes of ordinary citizens who may already hold preconceived biases.

The Somali community also risks being further sidelined in political spaces. If public figures like Ilhan Omar continue to face escalating hostility, younger Somali-Americans may feel discouraged from entering public service, activism, or leadership roles.

The long-term consequences of such discouragement could mean fewer Somali voices in policymaking, which would further weaken the community’s ability to shape narratives about itself.

The emotional and psychological effects on younger Somali-Americans are another critical factor. Growing up hearing your community described in negative terms by the country’s highest officeholder can take a toll on identity, confidence, and belonging.

Social scientists warn that repeated negative messaging, especially when it comes from authority figures, can influence mental health, educational performance, and civic engagement. Even if no punitive policies follow, the rhetoric itself can create lasting barriers.

Potential domino effect

Beyond America, there is a global dimension. Trump remains one of the most influential political figures in the world.

His words reverberate far beyond US borders, and other politicians, particularly those already aligned with right-wing populism, may feel emboldened to adopt similar tones.

Countries with significant Somali populations such as the UK, Canada, Sweden, and the Netherlands—already face tense debates about immigration and integration.

A hardline statement from an American president could give legitimacy to political actors elsewhere who wish to push tougher rhetoric or policies toward Somali communities.

Even African countries could feel subtle pressure, especially those that rely heavily on US partnerships. In such a scenario, diaspora communities might find themselves living under increasingly hostile conditions, not because of local realities but because a global leader set a precedent.

If Trump’s attacks become normalised or copied internationally, the long-term implications are concerning.

Minority rights could be eroded as leaders learn that targeting small communities yields political advantage. Societies could become more divided as majority populations are encouraged to see minority groups as threats.

Immigration, surveillance, and integration policies could tighten in ways that disproportionately affect Somalis and other Muslim populations. And the ripple effects would extend to East Africa, influencing family dynamics, remittances, diaspora relations, and diplomatic ties.

In the end, the real contest is not between Trump and Somali-Americans. It is between two visions of society—one that views diversity as a strength and another that treats difference as something suspicious.

Somali-Americans have a chance to respond with resilience, civic participation, alliance-building, and by asserting their rightful place in the national fabric of the United States.

Trump’s remarks may aim to diminish them, but history shows that communities grounded in dignity and democratic engagement often outlast leaders who rely on division.

Insults shouted from a podium will not determine the future, but the strength, unity, and resolve of the communities standing on the receiving end will.

The author, Mohamed Guleid is a Former Deputy Governor of Isiolo County, Kenya.

Disclaimer: The views expressed by the author do not necessarily reflect the opinions, viewpoints and editorial policies of TRT Afrika.