Reality TV Presidency: Now Streaming from Your White House

Trump isn’t governing. He’s producing—and America and our democracy are trapped in the show.

“He doesn’t govern. He produces.”
“The White House is now a set. The staff are players.”
“This isn’t governance. It’s a production—and you’re in it.”

A Surreal Broadcast, Viewed from Abroad

We recently spent three weeks in Europe. Like many Americans traveling abroad, I made a conscious decision to disconnect—just dip into U.S. headlines briefly each day. What I encountered was surreal. The news coming out of America didn’t read like updates from a functioning democracy. It felt like absurdist fiction—a Salvador Dali canvas animated with press briefings, courtroom drama, and chaos choreographed for maximum shock value.

The dominant emotion wasn’t concern. It was embarrassment. In conversations with Europeans, we found ourselves apologizing—not just for the headlines, but for the fact that we’d handed the global microphone to a man treating the presidency like a reality TV franchise.

Worse, many Americans embrace the spectacle. What should horrify has become entertainment. The cynicism this fuels—"they’re all corrupt," "it’s all a joke," "we can’t do anything about it"—is exactly what sustains the show. The White House, no longer viewed as a seat of power, has become a set.

This post isn’t a warning about what could happen. It’s a dissection of how entertainment values now run the executive branch—and what that means for America’s credibility and capacity to lead.

Setting the Stage: The Formula Behind the Show

Before Trump stepped into politics, he starred in his greatest role yet—not as a business mogul, but as the face of a hit reality show. The Apprentice wasn’t just entertainment—it was a second act that saved his public image and reshaped his brand. Trump, whose real estate empire was often propped up by loans, media spin, and inherited wealth from his father Fred Trump, was never the hands-on developer he pretended to be. By the early 2000s, he was in financial decline, increasingly seen as a tabloid punchline rather than a serious businessman.

Enter Mark Burnett. The creator of Survivor approached Trump with an idea: a boardroom-based competition show set in Trump Tower. Trump jumped in, helped shape the format, and used the show to cast himself as the ultimate dealmaker. In truth, the show was pure theater. But it worked. It revived his reputation, made him a household name to a new generation, and, more importantly, taught him how to command a narrative with spectacle, misdirection, and an ever-rotating cast of characters.

That formula became his playbook—not just for entertainment, but for governance. And it’s the backbone of what we’re now watching unfold from your White House.

Donald Trump doesn’t govern in the traditional sense—he produces. I often describe this as the "reality tv horror show." Every day is an episode. Every cabinet member, staffer, or political ally is cast in a role. And every crisis or controversy—more often than not, manufactured? It’s just another storyline designed for ratings and how he now dominates the broader "attention economy"—which I discussed in this earlier post.

To understand the logic of his administration, you have to understand his most successful creation: The Apprentice.

The Apprentice Playbook

At its core, The Apprentice was built around a simple but addictive format:

1. The Setup – A task or crisis is introduced. Example: In Season 1, contestants were tasked with running a Times Square rickshaw service—an unpredictable environment designed to expose tensions and force improvisation.

2. The Cast – Personalities are chosen not just for skill, but for conflict potential. Omarosa Manigault and Kwame Jackson are prime examples—Omarosa was combative and controversial, while Kwame was composed and competent. Their friction drove episodes.

3. The Chaos – Contestants clash, rules are vague, loyalties shift(sound familiar?). In a memorable episode, contestants were sent to create an ad campaign with unclear guidance, leading to internal sabotage and backroom scheming.

4. The Boardroom – Trump enters as the all-knowing judge, delivering drama and finality: "You're fired." (Like: "You're Deported.") The final boardroom scenes were carefully edited for suspense, often positioning Trump as the voice of reason amid dysfunction.

“It wasn’t about business—it was about Trump.”

And he’s replicating that formula in the Oval Office.

The White House as Set — Trump 2.0 Edition

Trump’s second term is a refined, high-stakes reboot of his earlier administration. The production values are slicker, the cast is more extreme, and the narrative arcs are designed for conflict, distraction, and personal loyalty.

But here’s the crucial insight: Trump doesn’t pick his cabinet or advisors based on experience or qualifications. He picks them based on two factors: loyalty and how they look and sound on TV.

He’s said it out loud countless times: “This guy is right out of central casting.” Whether it’s a former military leader, a media pundit, or a MAGA firebrand, the guiding principle is theatricality. Will they play well on cable? Will they stay on message? Will they reinforce his brand?

“When you cast for conflict, you get chaos—not competence.”

And if someone breaks script? They’re fired, banished, or publicly humiliated.

Meet the Cast: Trump’s Inner Circle

Trump casts his White House like a television show—prioritizing optics and loyalty over qualifications. Here’s a snapshot of the major players:

• Susie Wiles – The Loyalist (Chief of Staff)
  She’s the behind-the-scenes producer who ensures the narrative stays tight and on-brand. A fixture in Trump’s orbit since Florida 2020, Wiles controls strategy and message discipline with near-total authority.

• Karoline Leavitt – The Spokesperson (Press Secretary)
  Just 27 years old, Leavitt was chosen for her telegenic fire and unflinching MAGA loyalty. Her briefings are confrontational spectacles, not informational sessions. She has that obnoxious strident tone!

• Chris LaCivita – The Strategist (Senior Advisor)
  He’s the war room commander. Focused on opposition research, messaging arcs, and narrative pivots, LaCivita shapes the plot.

• Jason Miller – The Enforcer (Senior Advisor)
  An old Trump hand, Miller’s job is to make sure the media surrogates are in sync and the storyline stays aggressive.

• Stephen Miller – The Henchman/Villain (Policy Svengali)
  Architect of the administration’s darkest impulses—from immigration crackdowns to retribution fantasies—he is the ideological heart of the horror show. He definitely kills it in the role as the “Darth Vader” of the group. This guy went to the dark side ages ago and never came back!

• Marco Rubio – The Diplomat (Secretary of State)
  Once mocked, now molded into a loyal mouthpiece. Rubio’s primary job is to sell Trumpism abroad without stepping out of frame—the quintessential feckless coward.

• Pam Bondi – The Legal Surrogate (Media Prosecutor)
  She’s the courtroom soundbite queen, spinning legal crises into culture war content. Her role in the Garcia case is pure propaganda theater. She’s another one that always uses that strident, angry tone—must be what the producer demands.

• Elon Musk – The “Useful Idiot” (Tech Megaphone)
  Musk’s platform and provocations serve Trump’s narrative needs—even when accidental. He’s the chaotic tech billionaire whose social media antics and money keep oxygen flowing to MAGA content. (He recently got “fired” from his part).

• JD Vance – The Running Mate (Vice President)
  A once-critical voice now fully aligned. Vance is cast to shore up the populist intellectual base—and stay camera-ready—the ultimate pseudo- intellectual.

The Episodes:

• Episode I – Abrego Garcia: Playing the Court, Playing the Public
  A deportation used as theater, positioning a vulnerable man as both prop and political symbol. And, it’s still playing on and on.

• Episode II – Zelensky in the Oval: The Humiliation of an Ally
  In a calculated Oval Office spectacle, Trump lectures a wartime leader on “respect,” publicly undercutting Ukraine’s standing and American resolve.

• Episode III – Liberation Day: Tariff Launch Spectacle
  On "Liberation Day," the Trump administration unveiled its sweeping tariff plan. Framed as an “America First” offensive, the highly staged rollout prioritized optics over economics, reigniting global trade tensions.

• Episode IV – The South Africa Standoff
  Trump exploits a sensitive issue around land reform to ignite racialized outrage, feeding his base while damaging international credibility.

• Episode V – The Musk Meltdown: From Bromance to Breakup

  Trump and Musk were never true allies—just co-stars in a spectacle. Musk delivered chaos and clout; Trump returned attention and amplification. But like any Apprentice contestant, Musk outlived his usefulness. Trump dropped him—quietly, without fanfare. Then came the soap opera: two man-children lobbing public jabs, their bromance crashing in full view. The drama stole headlines—while the real damage continued off-screen

• Coming Soon: Episode VI – Law & Disorder: Trump’s LA Crime Drama

  The next episode is already in production. Trump is floating the Insurrection Act to “clean up” Los Angeles—a narrative built on cherry-picked videos and a manufactured crisis. It’s not about safety. It’s about staging a power play, keeping the cameras rolling, and teasing authoritarian action. I literally just read, “he’s calling in the marines!”

  Same formula, every time:
  • Invent a crisis
  • Blame blue cities
  • Play the strongman

The Fourth Estate, Now in the Credits

One of the most disturbing subplots of this reality presidency is the quiet co-option and outright complicity of the mainstream press. Most were just eating up this recent Musk soap opera—covered it minute to minute like a major global crisis. And, now it’s the so-called LA crisis.

Once positioned as a bulwark against authoritarianism, the media—especially television journalism—has become part of the production. Desperate for ratings and “access,” many outlets now chase the spectacle instead of interrogating it. The Oval Office press pool looks less like a watchdog and more like a carefully managed audience, with Trump directing the stage.

And it’s not by accident. Trump makes himself accessible—not to answer questions, but to perform. He knows the soundbites will air. He knows the back-and-forth will get clipped. He knows the headlines will follow his script.

There are no Dan Rathers in this press pool. No tough, unshakable interrogators. Instead, a combination of corporate influence, fear of being iced out, and the addictive pull of ratings has neutered the Fourth Estate into a passive supporting character. Only a few voices still ask hard questions—and they’re increasingly sidelined. Case in point—the recent sidelining of ABC reporter Terry Moran, who recently gave Trump a tough interview and who dared to call Stephen Miller a, “world class hater.”

When the media is both audience and amplifier, democracy suffers. Especially when the show is designed to distract, confuse, and manipulate.

Final Thoughts: A Nation Held Hostage by Spectacle

Policies made for spectacle aren’t just unserious—they’re dangerous. Agencies once built to serve are now weapons of vengeance. The nonstop churn of chaos erodes trust, numbs the public, and overwhelms our ability to focus or respond. And the consequences are real: deported families, a degraded rule of law, shattered norms, and a culture addicted to outrage.

Meanwhile, the Democratic Party feels like it’s living in a parallel universe. The moderate wing clings to outdated rules of decorum. There’s no clear communications strategy. No compelling counter-programming. Just a scattered, amateurish response to a dominant and dangerous MAGA media machine. I laid this out in detail in an earlier post—it’s the reason I started writing on Substack in the first place.

Yes, Democrats aren’t in power. But they could fight harder, smarter, and louder. Sanders, AOC, and others understand the dynamics of the attention economy—but their wing won’t carry the Senate or the White House on its own.

And then there’s the $20 million SAM Project—“Study About Men”—a pricey exercise in discovering the obvious: that Democrats sound scolding, elitist, and out of touch to young men. You didn’t need a Ritz-Carlton strategy session to figure that out. This isn’t just wasteful—it’s emblematic of a party more comfortable hiring consultants than crafting a narrative people can actually believe in. While MAGA floods the zone with tribal urgency and meme-ready outrage, Democrats are still testing slogans in focus groups.

We need new leadership—governors, mayors, entrepreneurs—people who can speak clearly, act boldly, and command attention with purpose. We need journalists willing to ask hard questions. And we need business leaders, university presidents, and civic institutions to find their courage and show some spine.

Until then, it’s on us.

That’s why I write. One voice, pushing back. But it will take millions more. As Howard Zinn said, “Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world.” You don’t need a platform or a title. Just the willingness to speak up.

Because if enough of us stop watching and start acting—this show doesn’t get renewed. It gets replaced.