The Appearance of a Political Madman, with War Rhetoric Against His Own People Alongside Japan’s Newly Elected Far-Right Prime Minister

It was one of those scenes that make history - not because of its grandeur, but because of its tone. On the flight deck of the U.S.S. George Washington, before thousands of soldiers, Donald Trump addressed the United States Armed Forces in Japan - and turned a routine speech into a threat. "If the National Guard is not enough," he called into the wind, "we will send more. More than the National Guard." It did not sound like an announcement. It sounded like a warning.

Trump’s appearance at the Yokosuka naval base, south of Tokyo, was a spectacle of pathos, power gestures, and political staging. There, where American presence once served to secure peace, a president spoke who now views the military as a tool within his own country. Between praise for "the best and most beautiful men and women" and jokes about the appearance of his audience, Trump drew a line that, even in his long record of transgressions, was new - the militarization of domestic politics. "We have cities that are troubled, and we cannot have cities that are troubled," he said. "We are sending in the National Guard - and if that’s not enough, we’ll send more." The sentence was tossed off casually, almost lightly, yet its weight was immense. He was not speaking about disaster zones or regions in crisis. He was speaking about American cities - about Chicago, Los Angeles, Baltimore. About places where life goes on, but the president sees only chaos.

Trump’s words are more than rhetoric. They fit into a policy that has blurred the lines between military and civilian space for months. National Guard troops are already stationed in several metropolitan areas, sometimes against the will of state governors. Officially, to "curb crime" and "control immigration." In reality, to demonstrate presence. Power. Obedience. Control. That Trump is now bringing regular army units into play marks a new turning point. "We will have safe cities," he said, "whether people like it or not." Words that recall authoritarian systems, not the language of a democracy.

At the same time, he defended recent military strikes on boats and semi-submersible vessels in the Caribbean Sea and the eastern Pacific - officially against drug traffickers. More than 57 people were killed. The U.S. government speaks of smugglers. Other countries, including Colombia, call them fishermen. Its president openly accused the United States of murdering civilians. Trump’s response was as cynical as ever: "Submarines don’t go fishing." A detailed article on this will follow later this week, as part of our team is currently in South America conducting research.

It is the language of a man who sees war as a simple solution - whether at sea, at the border, or in the streets of American cities. "We are finally waging war on the cartels," he said. And added, "We’re already winning it." For him, the sea is a battlefield, the sky a symbol, the state an instrument.

The newly elected far-right prime minister fits perfectly into Trump’s pattern. Their connection is far more than diplomatic choreography - it is ideological resonance. Trump admires in Tokyo what he preaches at home: sovereignty as the highest principle, the military as the continuation of politics by other means, trade as a weapon. And Takaichi recognizes in the White House what she herself has made into a method: strength as attitude, hardness as language, simplification as strategy. When Trump, in the coming days, demands that Japan drastically increase its defense spending, when he pushes for new arms purchases and treats investment pledges as tests of loyalty, he will find in Takaichi a counterpart who nods out of conviction. More on this in our article: "A Virus Infecting the World - Sanae Takaichi, Trump and the Silent International of the Far Right" at the link: https://kaizen-blog.org/en/ein-virus-der-die-welt-befaellt-sanae-takaichi-trump-und-die-stille-internationale-der-ultrarechten/

The stage in Japan offered him the perfect image. Behind him, the gray colossus of the aircraft carrier; above him, the flag; before him, a troop that obeys orders. The symbolism was deliberate - a president displaying strength just before his meeting with China’s leader Xi Jinping. Officially, the event was about diplomacy; in truth, it was about dominance. Trump spoke of "peace and partnership," but what remained was the image of a man who replaces strength with intimidation. He promised pay raises for the soldiers - a gesture that, after weeks of government shutdown, sounded like mockery. Many soldiers had recently been paid from private donation funds because federal budgets were blocked. Yet Trump sold it as an act of generosity. "We’re not deducting anything from your pay because you came to listen to your commander," he said, half-joking, half-serious. Then he added, "I’d like to be an admiral. I always wanted to be an admiral."

It was a mix, a spectacle of self-admiration and power frenzy - the president as commander, entertainer, and autocrat. And yet one image lingers: an American president standing abroad before his troops, announcing the use of military force on his own soil. That he said this against the backdrop of a base built in the aftermath of World War II is more than irony. It is symbolism. The Yokosuka base was once created to prevent future wars. Now a president uses it as the stage for his internal mobilization.

Trump’s words about the war on drugs, about "safe cities," about the supposedly "radical left" supporting the enemy - they form a dangerous pattern: the enemy is everywhere, even at home. And the army, once meant to protect freedom, becomes a tool to spread fear. "Our strength doesn’t come from the equipment, but from the men and women in uniform," he said. "From you - the good people. Too many good people. I never liked good people. I admit it." A president who praises strength and mocks it in the same breath - the irony seems lost on him.

"Everybody said I should get the Nobel Peace Award. With that statement, that takes me out of the running."

Looking at Trump’s proclaimed peace deals and supposedly ended wars, nothing remains but the picture of a political madman - a president who mistakes rearmament for diplomacy and sells his own threats as acts of peace.

Thus, Trump leaves Japan with the gesture of a man who preaches peace and prepares for war. His trip to Asia was announced as a diplomatic mission. In reality, it became a show of power - outward against China, inward against his own citizens. What remains is a bitter realization: the president of the United States now speaks like a general without limits. His speeches sound like orders. His threats read like strategy papers. And his view of his own country - as a territory that must be disciplined by force - reveals how far America has drifted from itself.