By: S.M.A Kazmi
I recently came across an old video of George W. Bush playing host to Vladimir Putin at his Texas ranch. Bush, in his usual awkward charm, spoke in odd metaphors, grinned like he was at a barbecue rather than a meeting of world leaders, and declared — with a straight face — that he had looked into Putin’s soul. It would have been funny, if it wasn’t so unsettling. Because it raised a question that refuses to leave me: How does someone who comes across as so visibly foolish end up as the leader of the world’s most powerful nation?
At first, it’s tempting to see it as a fluke — the luck of a political dynasty. But the more you look around, the clearer the pattern becomes. Bush wasn’t the exception. He was the start of something bigger: the rise of the weaponised fool.
And this isn’t limited to America. Donald Trump, Boris Johnson, Imran Khan, Jair Bolsonaro, Javier Milei, Narendra Modi — different countries, different contexts, but the same playbook. Appear folksy. Sound clumsy. Dodge logic. Stoke emotion. Rewrite failure as authenticity. Win.
The fool, it turns out, isn’t a glitch in modern politics. He’s the system working exactly as designed.
The fool as strategy, not accident
These leaders all wear the mask of the relatable simpleton. They blunder, they boast, they entertain. The media chases their every outrageous soundbite. The public either laughs or cheers. And through the noise, they get away with decisions that in any other age would spark outrage — wars, crackdowns, corruption, economic disasters.
It’s not that these figures succeed despite seeming foolish. They succeed because of it. The image of the bumbling outsider shields them. When a leader looks calculating, they’re feared. When they look foolish, they’re forgiven. Stupidity disarms critics in a way villainy never could.
Remember Bush. Two wars, torture programs, economic collapse — and yet, many still see him as the well-meaning doofus who now paints dogs. Trump suggested nuking hurricanes. Milei waves a chainsaw at rallies. Khan claimed divine guidance while mangling basic policy. None of it hurts them. Because in the theatre of modern politics, absurdity sells.
Bonhoeffer’s warning: The real danger of stupidity
While wrestling with this pattern, I stumbled on a chilling insight from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian executed by the Nazis. In 1943, he wrote: “Against stupidity, we are defenseless.” Bonhoeffer wasn’t talking about IQ. He meant moral passivity — people who stop thinking for themselves and let slogans and catchphrases do the work. They believe they’re being righteous, but they’ve surrendered their judgment.
And that’s where today’s weaponised fools thrive. They reduce complex problems to memes. They drown out reason with noise. They turn loyalty into law, and law into theater. And they don’t just act the fool — they make us complicit in the performance.
Why the right excels at this game
This strategy has worked especially well for the political right. Conservatism often defines itself as defending the “common man” against elites. And what better champion than a leader who looks like the common man, mistrusts experts, and declares himself the victim of the system? “They’re not laughing at me — they’re laughing at you,” these leaders seem to say. And millions believe it.
Meanwhile, the opposition tries to fight back with facts, papers, policies — but logic can’t win a shouting match. The media tries to fact-check, but ends up amplifying the chaos. The institutions try to prosecute, but only feed the persecution narrative. And in this fog, real damage is done: to democracy, to rights, to the rule of law.
The billionaires behind the buffoons
Don’t be fooled — these leaders aren’t puppets. But they aren’t pulling all the strings either. Behind the scenes are the billionaires, the monopolies, the corporations that benefit. Trump’s trade war helped American giants. Modi’s populism is beloved by India’s corporate elite. Khan’s TV antics distracted from disastrous governance. The fools put on the show. The powerful cash in.
What now? How do we fight the age of the fool?
First, we must stop laughing it off. The mask of the fool is a tactic. Calling out the chaos for what it is — a shield for harm — is step one.
Second, don’t underestimate the buffoonery. Behind the clown act is often cold calculation.
Third, we need to change how we communicate. The answer isn’t to dumb things down, but to speak with clarity and emotion without surrendering to shallowness. The public doesn’t crave complexity for its own sake — they want meaning. Let’s give them that.
Because this age of performative stupidity isn’t going anywhere on its own. If we keep mistaking foolishness for harmlessness, it won’t be the fools who look stupid in the end. It’ll be us.
