The first year of Donald Trump’s second term has made two things clear. First, the MAGA coalition is not breaking up any time soon. Even after the especially chaotic events of the past few weeks, Trump supporters are sticking by their man. Second, faith in Trump’s leadership is not driven by his adherence to a coherent political ideology. Trump, who, as part of his “America First” policy, once declared that he would be “getting out of the nation-building business,” has now declared that the U.S. “will run the country” of Venezuela for the foreseeable future. An administration that promised to look out for the “working man” has handed billions of tax dollars back to America’s wealthiest households while stripping health care from the most vulnerable.
If ideological consistency can’t explain the enduring loyalty of Trump’s base, what does? A new study by More in Common, the nonprofit research organization where we work, finds that Trump’s coalition is not monolithic. It consists of four groups, each with a distinct profile and perspective. Trump’s political power depends on his ability to connect with these groups on different emotional and psychological grounds.
Over the course of 10 months, we surveyed more than 10,000 people who said they voted for Trump in 2024, and conducted extensive focus groups, conversations, and in-depth interviews. We then identified groups of Trump voters with similar attitudes and beliefs.
About 29 percent of 2024 Trump voters are what we call the “MAGA Hardliners.” These are the fiery core of Trump’s base, mostly composed of white Gen Xers and Baby Boomers, who are animated by the belief that God is on their side in America’s existential struggle between good and evil. Then there are the “Anti-Woke Conservatives” (21 percent): a more secular and affluent group of voters deeply frustrated by what they perceive as the takeover of schools, culture, and institutions by the progressive left. Another 30 percent are the “Mainline Republicans”: a more racially diverse group of middle-of-the-road conservatives who prioritize border security, a strong economy, and cultural stability. Finally, we have the “Reluctant Right” (20 percent). Members of this group, unlike the other three, are not necessarily part of Trump’s base; they voted for him, but have ambivalent feelings toward him. Only half identify as Republicans, and many picked Trump because he seemed “less bad” than the alternative.
[Yair Rosenberg: The biggest myth about Trump’s base (and why many believe it)]
Our research suggests that Trump’s ability to play different roles for his coalition yields an emotional payoff that exceeds the value of philosophical or logical consistency.
The first role that Trump plays, which resonates for all four groups, is that of a “builder.” Trump’s social-media rants and diatribes against “corrupt” institutions create a common misperception that his appeal centers on tearing things down. In fact, his voters see him primarily as a constructive force. When asked to choose from a set of roles that they associate with Trump, 58 percent of survey participants selected “a builder trying to fix a broken system”—the highest share of any option offered. For the Reluctant Right, this sense of construction is paired with an image of managerial competence: They are more likely than any of the other groups to describe Trump as a “businessman” or a “CEO running a company.” The perception of Trump’s positive, constructive role helps explain why “hope” is the emotion that Trump supporters most commonly associate with his presidency.
Trump’s second role is that of “redeemer”: someone who can restore his supporters’ status and respect in a society that they feel has long looked down on them. Most Trump voters in our study believe that America’s cultural institutions have been dominated by those who scorn their values and way of life. Seventy-six percent agree with the statement “The woke left has ruined American education, news, and entertainment.” Accompanying this diagnosis is a sense of disrespect from political elites and Democrats. Only a quarter of Trump voters feel respected by Americans who voted for Democrats, whereas 84 percent believe that “President Trump respects people like me.” (The important exception to this is the Reluctant Right, who feel respected by neither Trump nor Democrats.)
The third role is that of an energizing “blasphemer”—a violator of progressive norms. This identity resonates most strongly with MAGA Hardliners and Anti-Woke Conservatives, who believe that the political left has become a sanctimonious elite imposing its worldview on everyone else. About 90 percent of MAGA Hardliners and Anti-Woke Conservatives agree that the “left actually hates America.” This generates a desire not just for redemption but also for retribution. Trump presents himself as a norm-breaker who delights in poking his finger in his critics’ eyes: More than three-quarters of MAGA Hardliners and more than half of Anti-Woke Conservatives believe that “President Trump should make the left pay for its mistakes and lies.” This sense of transgression fuels a gleeful energy that runs through much of Trump’s public communication. As Gina, a 50-year-old white woman who lives in Florida, told us, Trump is “a gigantic orange flashing middle finger, and I love it.”
The final role—one that appeals especially to MAGA Hardliners—is what we call the “grand narrator.” Trump’s appeal can be understood only in the context of a decades-long collapse of trust in American institutions including Congress, the press, academia, and the scientific establishment. MAGA Hardliners—and, to a lesser extent, Anti-Woke Conservatives—overwhelmingly view the media as dishonest and believe that the “deep state” is setting the course for the whole nation. Even with unified Republican control of the White House, Supreme Court, and Congress, a majority of both groups still distrusts the federal government. In this uncertain epistemic landscape, Trump has emerged not just as a decisive leader but as a central purveyor of truth: 93 percent of MAGA Hardliners and 72 percent of Anti-Woke Conservatives say they trust him more than “all” or “most other sources.” In other words, Trump has positioned himself as both the narrator and the hero of his own story.
[David Brooks: Why do so many people think Trump is good?]
Politicians typically try to appeal to voters by aligning their policies with voters’ preferences. Trump satisfies deeper needs. For those despairing about our country’s direction, he offers hope; for those who feel disrespected, validation; for those who feel doubtful, clarity.
Trump’s political skills were forged in WWE arenas, on reality-TV sets, and in the luxury real-estate business—industries that live and die by their ability to capture attention, simplify narratives, and deliver emotional impact. These experiences taught him how to establish emotional bonds with audiences that far outweigh any connection based on shared ideology.
Trump’s detractors may dismiss these bonds as empty or irrelevant. But for the people who experience them, they are very real. The relationship Trump has established with tens of millions of Americans offers them something they cannot attain through conventional politics. In his various roles, he embodies the reality that they want. This is the source of his power.
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