The Trump Presidency Timeline

Twenty-five years after 9/11, Hillary Clinton is out here warning that terrorism is still a thing, while the Trump administration is busy measuring drapes for a White House ballroom like it’s hosting the Met Gala for Authoritarians. Clinton points out that there are still thousands of extremists who would love to hurt the U.S., but the government’s attention is currently focused on chandeliers, not, say, the intelligence coming out of Afghanistan.

The former secretary of state notes that Trump and his Musk-branded Department of Government Efficiency have solved the problem of intelligence failures by firing the people who do the intelligence. Thousands of jobs slashed across the federal government, including at the CIA and State Department, have left the U.S. without “eyes and ears” in key regions, especially in West Africa where extremism is growing. It’s a bold national security doctrine: if you don’t know about the threats, you can’t be blamed for missing them. Mission accomplished.

Clinton says there are still dedicated people at FBI and the intel agencies trying to hold this circus together, but they lack resources and anything resembling mission focus. The White House, asked for comment, punted to DHS, which then ghosted NBC like a contractor waiting on Trump to pay an invoice. Meanwhile, the country commemorates 9/11 by learning that the same government that once downplayed toxic air at Ground Zero is now downplaying the need for basic counterterrorism staffing. We’ve gone from "never forget" to "did we really need all those analysts anyway?" in just 25 short years.

The Guardian is once again asking the timeless question: is Donald Trump a Russian asset, or does he just act like one for free? Luke Harding walks through the greatest mystery that’s somehow also the most obvious plotline in geopolitics: the US president who rolls out a red carpet for Vladimir Putin in Alaska, lets him speak first at their presser, and looks like a nervous contestant waiting for approval from the game show host who has his secrets.

The menu of explanations is a greatest hits of modern republicanism: an ideological crush on Putin’s "anti-woke" authoritarian cosplay, strongman envy (Fiona Hill’s phrase for Trump’s desire to make money and crush opponents with zero consequences), and the evergreen possibility of kompromat. Decades of intelligence attention, a 1987 Moscow trip arranged by the Soviets, the 2013 Ritz-Carlton stay with rumored FSB cameras, and a Senate report politely screaming "there are tapes" all hang over a president who keeps acting like the guy who knows his blackmailer’s Wi-Fi password by heart.

The result is a United States led by someone who publicly trashes European democratic leaders while fawning over an ex-KGB autocrat whose security services bug hotel rooms like it’s a national sport. Whether Trump is a literal asset or just spiritually outsourced, the consequences are the same: US foreign policy that looks less like "America First" and more like "Kremlin, what would you like on the menu today?"

The U.S. has launched strikes on targets in Iran near the Strait of Hormuz, while Tehran says it’s now retaliating, which is a fun way of saying: welcome to the part of the Trump presidency where we speedrun the Authorization for Use of Military Force like it’s a 2001 nostalgia project. Officially, this is all very "targeted" and "proportionate"; unofficially, it’s the geopolitical equivalent of two arsonists arguing over who lit the match while the oil shipping lanes burn in the background.

This latest round comes after weeks of Trump-world saber-rattling: new sanctions with action-movie names like "Operation Economic Outcast," public chest-thumping about "no talks" with Iran, and breathless coverage of alleged Iranian threats against Barron Trump—because nothing helps de-escalate a crisis like turning it into a family reality show subplot. Congress, naturally, is mostly watching from the sidelines, occasionally clearing its throat about war powers while the White House treats the Strait of Hormuz like a proving ground for Bessent’s foreign policy LARP.

What we’re left with is a president lobbing missiles at a nuclear-threshold adversary in one of the world’s most sensitive chokepoints, under a legal theory old enough to rent a car, while insisting this is all just "pressure" and totally not edging toward a broader conflict. The administration keeps calling these strikes a sign of "strength"; everyone else calls it what it looks like: a barely supervised escalation spiral run by a man whose main strategic doctrine is whatever got the loudest applause at last night’s rally.

The world spent 16 years watching China dominate rare earths and went with the bold strategy of doing basically nothing. Then Beijing squeezed exports and Donald Trump discovered that his big, beautiful trade war could be shut down by… erbium. So now we have a panicked scramble for supply chains because the U.S. outsourced an entire strategic industry to China and is shocked to learn that might have consequences.

Enter the Trump administration with a plan that sounds less like industrial policy and more like a defense contractor wish list. The Pentagon has become the largest investor in MP Minerals, and Trump proudly announced a $12bn critical minerals reserve—a sort of Strategic Dirt Reserve—while officials brag about a “Manhattan Project” for rare earths. Some experts point out that this might just be a state-crafted monopoly wrapped in a flag and handed to a few well-connected firms, but why worry about that when there are billions to spray around?

Meanwhile, Washington and Beijing are racing each other to carve up South Africa, Greenland, and especially Brazil for new mining, with the Amazon rainforest helpfully positioned as collateral damage. Innovation in recycling and extracting from mining waste is mentioned, mostly as green window dressing while everyone revs up the bulldozers. The U.S. also launched a 54-country “critical minerals coalition,” because nothing says stable planning like hitching your industrial future to an administration that threatens to invade Greenland between golf rounds.

Europe, having watched Trump weaponize tariffs like a toddler with a chainsaw, is politely declining to bet its entire supply chain on Mar-a-Lago’s foreign policy desk. The EU is trying to build its own processing capacity and cut dependence by 2030, but experts worry it’s moving too slowly. Which is fair: when the White House is run by a guy who can tank your telecom sector by picking a fight with erbium, “too slow” suddenly feels very optimistic.

The Pentagon has been told to put away the live ammo and break out the laptops: Trump ordered a major U.S.–South Korea military exercise, Ulchi Freedom Shield, cut in half and downgraded to computer simulations or canceled drills. Publicly, the Pentagon insists there will be "no degradation" to U.S. training, which is exactly the kind of thing you say when there is obviously a degradation to U.S. training.

This isn’t strategy, it’s therapy. Trump is trying to "rekindle" talks with his favorite pen pal, Kim Jong-un, while simultaneously punishing South Korea for the unforgivable crime of not joining his Iran war adventure. So a decades-long alliance and the deterrence posture for the entire Asia-Pacific get used as a mood ring for one guy’s tantrums and dictator crush. America First apparently means allies last, and North Korea’s wishlist somewhere near the top.

South Korea, doing the diplomatic equivalent of smiling through gritted teeth, says they’ll "discuss and implement" ways to somehow maintain a combined defense posture after Washington just took a chainsaw to the exercises that sustain it. The message to every other ally is clear: your security guarantees are only as stable as Trump’s feelings on any given Sunday.

British Prime Minister Andy Burnham has apparently joined the elite club of world leaders who can’t tell the difference between a real Trump official and someone LARPing as one on their phone. Burnham traded a handful of messages with a person posing as Susie Wiles, Donald Trump’s de facto chief of staff, before someone noticed that maybe international diplomacy via mystery SMS isn’t a great national security protocol.

Downing Street is hiding behind the classic magic words — "we do not comment on national security matters" — which is a polite way of saying, "yes, this is embarrassing." Officials insist there were "no messages of significance" and that everything was "quickly reported" once it started to smell like a scam, which is exactly what you’d say if the prime minister just got punked by whoever currently has access to Trumpworld’s contact list.

This all traces back to Susie Wiles’ phone, which the FBI has been poking at since last year after an impersonator used her contacts to message US senators, governors, and business bigwigs. Wiles, a key Trump ally already targeted by an Iranian cyber espionage unit in 2024, is apparently running a one-woman demonstration of why giving these people power again is like handing your nuclear codes to the guy who still falls for "Your package is waiting" texts.

And because the Anglosphere loves a sequel, this follows former UK PM David Cameron getting duped by a fake Petro Poroshenko in 2024. The Foreign Office even pre-emptively released the details so they couldn’t be "manipulated" — a phrase that now doubles as a mission statement for anyone who manages to steal a Trump lieutenant’s phone and scroll through the global rolodex of Very Important But Apparently Extremely Gullible People.

Donald Trump hopped on Truth Social to announce that the US will "substantially reduce" joint military exercises with South Korea, because nothing says strong national security like weakening your most important Asian alliance to impress a hereditary dictator you once exchanged love notes with. The drills, scheduled to start Monday, are now apparently too "costly" and "hostile" toward Trump's favorite pen pal, Kim Jong Un.

Instead of talking to the Pentagon or, say, South Korea, Trump framed it as a customer service issue: America pays "as usual!" and Seoul had the nerve to decline to join his Iran "denuclearisation" cosplay, so he's now adjusting the U.S. defense posture like he's canceling a gym membership. Real presidents use joint exercises to deter nuclear-armed regimes; Trump uses them as a loyalty punch card and bargaining chip in his ongoing effort to convert U.S. foreign policy into a one-man reality show.

American foreign policy norms with North Korea were already on life support after his photo-op summit tours, but this is a fresh step: rewarding Pyongyang by dialing down allied readiness, while scolding South Korea in public for insufficient participation in his Iran fan fiction. The message to allies is clear: mutual defense treaties are now subject to the vibes of Trump's latest social media post and how many compliments he’s getting from dictators this week.

After nearly a decade of ranting about "digital" aircraft carrier catapults like they personally canceled The Apprentice, Donald Trump has finally weaponized his neurosis into policy. He signed a "national security" memo ordering Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth and acting Navy Secretary Hung Cao to rip out the electromagnetic launch system on the future USS Doris Miller and go back to steam and hydraulics, because the voices in his head (and one alleged "catapulter") told him it’s better. The ship is already two years behind schedule, but why not add a few billion more and a redesign nightmare to really honor the troops.

This saga traces back to 2017, when Trump first told Time magazine his now-legendary "What is digital?" story, where he bravely stood up to an unnamed Navy officer and physics itself. He has repeated this tale almost every year since — to sailors, to donors, to CPAC, to Tucker Carlson, to anyone within range of a hot mic. Now that he’s back in office, the bit has graduated from rambling anecdote to binding defense directive, because nothing says healthy civil-military relationship like the president personally dictating carrier launch systems based on a vibes check.

Actual experts, such as General Atomics and basically the entire Navy engineering community, are politely screaming into pillows about "significant cost, schedule, and integration risks" after Trump ordered them to tear out a half-completed, fully integrated system and replace it with 20th-century plumbing. Senator Mark Kelly — former Navy pilot, astronaut, and aeronautical engineer — summed it up by suggesting Trump stick to what he knows: "ballrooms, bankruptcy, and bullshit." Meanwhile, as Trump plays steampunk cosplay with the world’s most expensive warship, the USS Abraham Lincoln’s crew is stuck on a record-breaking deployment tied to the Iran war and facing a mental health crisis. The sailors get burnout and trauma; Trump gets a new toy to complain about on stage.

Donald Trump jumped on Truth Social to announce that former Marine Robert Gilman, reportedly in life‑threatening condition after Russian abuse, has been released "very much on a Humanitarian Basis" after his chats with Vladimir Putin. No prisoner swap, he insists, as if that clears up the nagging question of what exactly the Kremlin extracted from their favorite ex-president who still talks about Putin like a prom date who might text back any minute.

Gilman’s family says he was harassed, forced into 16‑hour exercise sessions, drugged with psychotropics, and left so broken he needed a feeding tube. Russia calls that a prison term; Trump calls it a chance for a victory lap. While his sister thanks Trump for "saving" her brother, Senator Ed Markey and advocates like Eric Lebson quietly did the unglamorous work of pushing for his release — you know, the part that doesn’t fit neatly into a Truth Social post about personal greatness.

The Kremlin gets to torture an American Marine into a catatonic state, then play magnanimous by handing him over to Trump for a made‑for‑cable redemption arc. Trump gets to pose as the guy who can pick up the phone and get favors from Putin, while at least five other Americans remain stuck in Russia with serious medical issues and no Truth Social cameo. Diplomacy as hostage reality TV is absolutely a normal way for a supposedly pro‑military leader to treat US citizens as bargaining chips in his ongoing fan fiction about being the only man who can talk to the czar.