How to Respond When Others Start Losing Faith in Trump’s Promises
From the Epstein files to broader cracks in the story — a strategy for meeting disillusionment with Trump with clarity, care, and purpose.
Dear friends
Last week I wrote about the renewed furore over the Epstein files — and why the real story isn’t what’s still sealed, but what’s already out in the open. I said that the documents have become a kind of distraction, that while we fixate on what might be revealed, we’re overlooking what the system’s response to those revelations has already shown us.
Today I want to build on that. Because if the real lesson is in how power protects itself even after exposure, then the next question becomes: What do we do when that illusion starts to crack for someone else?
That’s what this strategy is for. It’s about how we meet that disillusionment when it surfaces in the people around us. And it’s especially important now, as more and more people are beginning to question the stories they’ve been told, and once trusted.
We can either lean-in to that and support them, or mock them and alienate them further. The choice is up to us.
1. Create Room for People to Land
We've all had our trust betrayed in one way or another, and it's a destabilising experience. So people going through this don’t need to be shamed or scolded for waking up late. They need space to land — so they don’t retreat back into the illusion just to feel safe again.
When we begin to lose faith in a story we’ve trusted — whether that’s faith in a political figure, a party, the justice system, or the idea that the truth will eventually come out — we go through a process. We don’t immediately become clearer or braver, but generally become disoriented, angry, numb, or withdrawn first
That’s not a failure, in any way shape or form — it’s our predictable human response when coherence is slipping. When the story that holds our world together starts to crack, our minds will scramble for another frame — any frame — to explain what’s happening. Some of us double down, while others shut down — very few of us make the shift gracefully.
If we meet that moment for another person with mockery (“finally waking up, huh?”) or with immediate redirection (“you should’ve seen this years ago”),we reinforce the same dynamic that kept them clinging to the illusion: shame and fear.
So our work should not be to try to force someone to “see the truth.” It’s to create enough psychological safety for them to stay with their discomfort long enough to examine it honestly — and maybe ask better questions than the system ever gave them space to ask.
We do this in real life by coming alongside them:
When someone says,
“This whole thing is rigged,”
we can respond with:
“I think a lot of us have been feeling that too. The hard part is figuring out what to do with it — once we admit that it’s true.”
If someone says,
“I thought Trump was going to actually expose this stuff,”
don’t meet it with laughter, sarcasm, or point-scoring. Try something like:
“You’re not alone in that. A lot of people trusted that promise — because they wanted accountability, and no one else was offering it.”
If someone says,
“At this point I don’t even care anymore,”
recognise that for what it is: a defence against despair. You might say:
“That makes sense. It’s exhausting. Especially when it feels like none of it ever lands where it should. But that feeling — not caring — that’s part of how the system keeps working.”
Why this matters:
People exiting an illusion need time to find their footing, and the language to name what they’re seeing. If we try to rush them through that, they may retreat — because uncertainty can feel too threatening without something steadier on the other side.
Creating room doesn’t mean coddling. It means refusing to humiliate someone for seeing late what you may have seen early — and choosing to be helpful instead of superior. Our goal shouldn't be to be right before anyone else, but to help more people see clearly while it can still make a difference.
2. Ask Questions That Interrupt the Performance
When our belief starts to falter, most of us don’t want a lecture — that makes us withdraw or double down, right? What we need is help thinking differently, and asking the right questions can do more than arguments ever will.
Once someone starts to suspect that the system isn’t what they thought it was — that justice might be staged, that transparency might be performative — they don’t necessarily know what to do with that suspicion. That’s especially true if they’ve been fed a steady stream of headlines, outrage clips, and empty promises, because it’s so easy to confuse noise with momentum.
That’s where asking questions comes in. Good questions don’t push people away. They open doors. They shift focus away from the surface — the file drops, the viral clips, the political blame games — and toward the patterns underneath. They create a small pause in the performance, and a break in the loop of familiar reactions.
This is about disrupting the script people have been fed, so they can start to see what’s been there all along.
How this sounds in practice:
When someone says,
“I’m just waiting to see what else comes out,”
try:
“Totally — and at this point, what would actually count as new? What haven’t we already seen?”
When they say,
“Why won’t they just release the list?”
ask:
“Do you think it’s really just about a list? Or is it more about why no one’s ever been held accountable, even when names have been out for years?”
Or when they ask,
“Do you think this time it’ll go somewhere?”
instead of answering with optimism or fatalism, try:
“I think it depends on what we expect to change — the individuals involved, or the system that protected them. Those are two very different things.”
Why this matters:
The language around the Epstein case — and around political scandal in general — has been shaped by delay, distraction, and performance. Most people don’t even realise they’re speaking from borrowed lines. The idea that “we’re almost there,” that one more release will make everything undeniable — that’s a script. And it’s a highly effective one.
Well-placed, honest questions invite people to step outside that loop and consider what they’ve actually seen. Not what they were promised — but what’s already happened, and what it tells us. It helps them start to think differently about what’s actually happening. And once someone starts to ask those questions themselves, they’re not just reacting blindly anymore — they’re thinking.
3. Shift the Focus From Spectacle to Structure
When public attention turns to a scandal — especially one involving powerful people — the focus almost always narrows to the question of who. Who was there? Who knew? Who’s on the list? That impulse is human — we want accountability, we want someone to pay. While of course, the names matter, they are not the whole story. So if the story stays stuck on the names, it misses what made it all possible, and lets the system off the hook.
The truth is we’ve had many of the names for years, and still, there has been little accountability. The deeper issue here is not the individuals who got away with it, but the networks that protected them, and the systems that were built to ensure they wouldn’t face consequences. The legal structures. The political hesitations. The media’s complicity. The prosecutorial deals cut behind closed doors.
So if someone says,
“We just need the full list,”
you can say:
“Yes, that matters, but we already have names, and the system hasn’t acted. Doesn’t that tell us something deeper?”
Or if someone says,
“Once we know who was involved, we’ll finally understand,”
you can ask:
“Maybe — but we already have many of the names, and nothing has changed. So what if the real story is about why the people in charge haven’t done anything with what the names we’ve already got?”
Why this matters:
The system is built to survive moments like this — moments where the public gets close to seeing behind the curtain. One of its most effective defences is letting a few names leak out, letting one or two people take the fall, and calling it justice. Because that closes the loop: the public gets catharsis, but the system gets to continue.
So our work now should be to keep widening the lens — from the scandal to the structure. From outrage to architecture. To ask: what has held this up for so long, and what will it take to tear that down?
Until we start asking those questions — and encouraging others to do the same — the spectacle will keep cycling, and the system will stay intact.
4. Offer People A Way to Act — Even If It’s Small
When people start to grasp the scale of a failure like this — the institutional protection, the political theater, the way every promise of justice collapsed into silence — the most common reaction isn’t rage, but helplessness and despair. That’s what happens when people finally see the system clearly, and don’t see a way for them to make a difference. So if we want people to stay engaged, we can’t just keep handing them more reasons to be outraged. We have to offer something useful to do with that outrage. Something real, even if it’s small.
That could mean:
Supporting survivors directly, through vetted organisations that fund legal support, trauma care, or long-term housing — rather than watching from a distance.
Writing or calling representatives, not to yell, but to make specific asks: unseal records, open hearings, hold officials accountable who oversaw past deals.
Showing up to local forums when these issues intersect with policing, prosecution, or trafficking — and naming the systemic patterns, not just the headlines.
Resharing survivor testimony, not for clicks, but to shift the centre of the conversation back to the people who lived it — and what they’ve already made visible.
Helping others connect the dots, by calmly framing what’s happened not as isolated failure, but as design — and encouraging people to demand structural changes, not just scapegoats.
How this sounds in conversation:
When someone says,
“It doesn’t even matter — they’ll just get away with it again,”
you might respond:
“You’re probably right that the system’s protecting them. But that doesn’t mean we’re powerless. There are survivors still fighting for justice. There are hearings that still need public pressure. What we do might not fix it — but it shifts what’s possible.”
Why this matters:
A system like this doesn’t survive just because it’s powerful. It survives because ordinary people come to believe that nothing they do will ever change it. And it’s precisely that belief — that hopelessness — that keeps things from changing. So we need to offer people ways to stay involved that don’t rely on achieving a perfect outcome. Small, tangible steps that build clarity, show solidarity, and keep the issue from fading into background noise.
The goal is not to tell people what to do, but to remind them they can still do something — and that even the act of staying present is already a form of resistance.
This Strategy Isn’t Just for the Epstein Files
Disillusionment with Trump is growing, and it’s not confined to this one scandal — there are multiple documented reasons:
Broken promises of elite accountability: Trump pledged to expose hidden networks — yet critics across his own base, including figures like Tucker Carlson and Steve Bannon, now say he's abandoned that effort.
Policy reversals and economic fallout: The economic promises Trump made have devolved into unstable trade and tariff shocks, rising inflation, and economic uncertainty that even some Republicans have now begun to criticise.
Layoffs and executive overreach: We've seen one of the most aggressive purges of the federal workforce in decades — including the dismissal of inspectors general and career officials — fueling growing concern that institutions meant to serve the public are being politicisd to protect those in power.
Emerging authoritarian moves: From threats to punishing critics and journalists, to Project 2025 revelations about stacking bureaucracy with loyalists — many now see these as signs of systemic power consolidation.
Alienating rhetoric and undermined institutions: The targeting of civil society — deporting activists, dismantling agencies, attacking independent experts — has alarmed moderates and longtime Republicans alike
Those are documented cracks in Trump’s base. People are becoming increasingly disillusioned because the lived reality of his failing promises and weakening protections is becoming hard to ignore.
Wherever that doubt breaks through — whether that's around Epstein, immigration, economy, or democratic norms — this strategy offers a way in. The key is that we don't shame, but stand alongside; we don't mock, but leave space for questions; we don't claim to be pure and perfect, but offer purpose.
Because under accelerating authoritarianism, power grows not from a base in agreement, but a country divided. So if we continue to frame everyone who voted for Trump as the enemy, we merely play into the same authoritarian logic he relies on.
What this time requires is not just resistance, but reconnection. It requires us to welcome people who are having doubts instead of pushing them away.
When someone begins to doubt Trump — for any reason — we should not be trying to “convert” them to our worldview. We just need to encourage them to keep asking questions. We need to help them understand that helping dismantle Trump's illusions isn’t betrayal, but a path toward a stronger future.
That’s what this strategy is designed to empower: an ability to meet questions with curiosity, broken trust with clarity, late awakening with respect, and disillusionment with the choice to stay engaged. If we all endeavour to do this — calmly, consistently, and compassionately — we can begin rebuilding the civic culture authoritarianism is focused on dismantling.
Let’s be primed to start rebuilding that space, wherever disillusionment shows up.
In solidarity, as ever,
— Lori
📌 I’m preparing to head off on a much-needed annual break starting Monday, 5 August. I’ll still be sharing my usual Monday ‘hope’ post each week, but on Thursdays, I want to do something different, something you’ll hopefully find a little special.
While I’m away, I’m going to use this space to highlight some wonderful writers here, whose work I deeply admire. You may not yet know their voices, but they each have something important to say — and I’m glad to use this opportunity to share their words with you. I hope you find them as resonant and empowering as I do.
During this time, I aim to take a proper rest from social media, so I don’t plan on replying to messages or comments until I return. I hope you’ll understand. I’ll be back on Monday, 1 September — rested, recharged, and full of new ideas for the road ahead.
I'm so looking forward to personally catching-up with you again, then. Truly, it’s each and every one of you who makes this work possible — and I’m so grateful you’re here. Thank you for your presence, however you choose to show up. 🙏🏼
THIS is constructive. Thanks for it, and know I'll utilize it to help make a difference.
What a great strategy based in care