A Cabinet Full of Roy Cohns

Imagine this scene: Donald Trump, at the beginning of his presidency, complains to his aides that no one can be his Roy Cohn. But who really was Roy Cohn, and why, according to a new biography, does his ghost now haunt every corner of American politics? The argument is this: Trump's rise is not an anomaly, but the logical consequence of a way of doing politics that Cohn invented, refined, and passed on to his most famous protégé. And now, in a second Trump presidency, the White House seems to be populated by Cohn clones — ready to do anything to serve their boss, bend the law, and rewrite reality. The story of Roy Cohn seems to have come straight out of a noir novel. Born and raised in the New York of the upper middle class, with a mother whom a law firm partner described as “mean, vulgar, and unfiltered,” Cohn was a spoiled child, exempt from any rules that applied to others. Having graduated in law at the age of twenty, he soon became the mastermind behind the scenes of McCarthyism: unproven accusations, smear campaigns, and manipulation of the press. Then, in the 1970s, the baton was passed: an ambitious young developer, Donald Trump, was taken under Cohn's wing. It was not just a matter of legal advice. It was a veritable school of power: lying without shame, denying the evidence, attacking anyone who dares to contradict you, never admitting a mistake, and above all — never, ever apologizing. “Roy Cohn not only mentored Trump, but in many ways he was Trump himself,” says journalist Steven Brill, who followed both of them in New York. In fact, many of the strategies that have made Trump unique in American politics originated in Cohn's mind: offensive nicknames for opponents, legal threats against journalists, and the construction of a parallel reality where those who accuse are immediately accused in turn. Trump took these techniques and amplified them with the power of social media and cable TV, turning lies into viral certainties and blurring all boundaries between truth and fiction. But the most striking detail is the way in which Trump has, over time, removed from his staff anyone with the slightest degree of autonomy or integrity. During his first term, anyone who opposed him — from Jeff Sessions to Rex Tillerson — was fired and put on the enemies list. In the second, according to Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan, the selection process became even more ruthless: only those who were absolutely loyal, ready to do anything, even to promote the most absurd lies or to unscrupulously persecute political opponents. A striking example: when Trump publicly lashes out at former Attorney General Pam Bondi for being too slow to go after his enemies, or when he bluntly admits that, against Letitia James — the attorney general who convicted him of fraud — the goal is not justice but to “make her life impossible.” Cohn would have applauded. Because this strategy, which had failed with McCarthy in the 1950s — thanks to a less polarized society and an establishment that was still solid — has now found fertile ground. The difference, historians explain, lies in fear: every major authoritarian turn in history arises when society is gripped by anxiety, resentment, and a sense of exclusion. Today, these fears are everywhere: after the 2008 crisis, the endless wars, and globalization that leaves too many behind, anger and suspicion have become the perfect fuel for leaders who, like Trump, know how to manipulate them in a demagogic way. And Cohn, who, after the collapse of McCarthyism, reinvented himself as a “broker of favors” for New York billionaires — from Rupert Murdoch to Ronald Perelman — taught Trump how to win over the economic elite as well, not just the angry masses. One passage in the biography stands out for its precision: “McCarthy and Cohn weren't really looking for spies or justice; the real goal was to vent their resentments and frustrations. Communism was just the weapon.” Today, history is repeating itself: the new “communist conspiracy” serves to delegitimize anyone who is not in line. Here's the paradox: McCarthy is gone, but McCarthyism is not. Roy Cohn's legacy continues, more powerful than ever. The sentence that sums it all up? Trump is no exception: he is the end result of a method that Roy Cohn had devised to exploit American fears and resentments. If this story has changed your perspective, you can mark on Lara Notes that it now concerns you with I'm In: choose whether it's an interest, a lived experience, or a belief you feel is yours. And if tomorrow you find yourself telling someone how Roy Cohn shaped politics today, on Lara Notes you can record that conversation with Shared Offline — because certain exchanges deserve to be remembered. This Note comes from Foreign Policy and saves you 13 minutes of reading.