Bob Dylan and Donald Trump, The Heart Connection

Timothee Chalamet’s Bob Dylan in A Complete Unknown (James Mangold, Director, 2024) is bold, dramatic, and ready to follow his own impulses wherever they would lead. So far, that sounds like Donald Trump.

Comparing Dylan and Trump likely sounds irreverent to their very different supporters. But they resemble each other in style, with magnetic power to attract or repel their audiences. Politicians and commentators ignore this power at their peril. The unpredictable Trump brings to mind the “madman” approaches honed by Charles De Gaulle in France and Richard Nixon in the US; they gained political advantage by leaving people wondering what they would do—or what wouldn’t they dare?

True to the singer’s mysterious public persona, the movie Dylan only smiles twice, briefly.

In defiance against charges that he attempted to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election in Georgia, Trump looks deadly serious in his Fulton County Jail mugshot.

Dylan and Trump each persuade not with reason but by appealing to the heart.

Dylan: It Ain’t Me You’re Lookin’ For

Dylan said in 1964, “I want to write from inside me,” no matter what others thought. That commitment to personal expression was a big part of the 1960s. So too was striving for peace and social justice. But Dylan insisted, “I’m not part of no movement.” Similarly, rather than joining trends, Trump turned his campaigns into movements for his own brand of politics.

Dylan drew on the impulses of folk music advocacy. When composing “Like a Rolling Stone,” the unknowable genius felt that “a ghost picked me to write the song.” His use of electronics spooked half the audience at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival, even as the other half loved the folk messages.

The emerging icon followed his own creative muse no matter where it would lead, including his celebrity status. Dylan acted in ways difficult to understand but easy for lots to love, with the singer not looking back on those not cheering.

Trump: Times A’Changing

At home with real estate deals and at glitzy parties, Trump scrutinized contestants on “The Apprentice,” honing his signature line, “you’re fired!” With toughness and celebrity status, he boldly applied that line to President Barack Obama, charging he was not born in the US. The shock gained him wide attention. And when professionals readily disproved his claims, that actually added to his popularity with those out of power and resenting elites.

Decades of the rich growing richer and more influential have been increasing frustrations for those left behind. Even though Trump himself is an elite figure, many average citizens rally behind him as “our elite” in the contests of the powerful. With righteous anger, he embodies the resentments of millions, just as Dylan spoke for many about the mood of his time.

Since his dramatic descent from an escalator height in June 2015 to announce his run for president, Trump approaches politics as artistic production. When speaking bluntly to the experiences of his followers, they have been willing to give him a pass for straying from truths. And his impulsive comments keep all guessing. Trump’s style is at the heart of his politics.

And like Dylan, Trump has split his audience. His supporters show avid trust even as approximately the same number of Americans have been appalled with the way he has faced legal challenges, threatened vengeance against enemies, wielded executive power in the US and strikes against Venezuela, while dropping heavy hints for more military action.

Trump polarizes his audiences, with stakes still higher than when Dylan alienated half his listeners. Halfway through the first year in his second term, the president has made little effort to work with Democrats. Instead, on July 4, he said, “I hate them. I cannot stand them.” Trump is also not looking back on those not cheering.

Commencement: Can This Really Be the End?

Both Dylan and Trump lead by straying from norms until other people line up in support. Their differences become their distinctives. Without trying to be conventionally “good,” Dylan’s raspy voice makes his words sound all the more honest. Similarly, Trump’s defiance of elites encourages his followers to think of him speaking truth to power.

The uncanny similarities of singer and politician show Trump using an irreverent style from the 1960s as a vehicle for his conservative claims. Dylan has remained irreverent, tapping many musical standards, and following his own drummer, now with well over 50 albums.

Having found their rock star, Republicans seem content to bask in his glow, letting Trump’s brash style touch the hearts of half the country while the other half gags. That’s been effective but it could become risky. Are his changing tariffs inviting recession or confusion by plan to inspire fear about his next moves? Playing the risks, he may confound the experts. After all, that’s his brand.

Democrats could look for equal-and-opposite Trumps to advocate against his policies. But this could lead to a political arms race with increasingly lurid charges back and forth, while voters might actually prefer The Donald over an imitation. And they could learn from Dylan’s words that they will become their own “enemy in the instant that [they] preach.”

But going to the heart of Trump’s heart-felt appeal, Democrats could home in on popular resentment against elites, asking his supporters, Is “your elite” really working for you? If Democrats listen to his voters, they could present alternatives addressing those feelings but with attention to their own policies. That’s persuasion.

With the music and style of Bob Dylan providing previews about the challenges of appealing to people’s hearts, the choices of the parties will shape whether the politics of the future will be in the style of two-term Donald Trump or whether he becomes a two-hit wonder.