When Strength is Misunderstood: Donald Trump’s Toxic Masculinity and the Half-Mast Debate

George Cassidy Payne is a writer, educator, and counselor.

Donald Trump’s reported insistence that flags be raised during his inauguration, despite their ordered half-mast position to honor the late President Jimmy Carter, reveals a profound misunderstanding of both tradition and strength. Trump has argued that half-mast flags signal weakness, a belief that undermines one of America’s most solemn and unifying rituals. In reality, lowering the flag is not a sign of frailty but rather of collective strength and reverence—a testament to a nation’s capacity to honor its heroes.

The tradition of lowering the flag to half-mast dates back centuries, with the United States formally adopting it in 1799 to mourn the passing of George Washington. Over time, this act has become a powerful symbol of humility, respect, and national mourning. It is a way for a country to express gratitude for those who have shaped its history, defended its people, and embodied its highest ideals. Jimmy Carter, a Navy lieutenant and a statesman, exemplified these values.

Carter’s military career began at the United States Naval Academy, where he graduated near the top of his class in 1946. He served aboard submarines during World War II and later worked on the Navy’s nascent nuclear submarine program under Admiral Hyman Rickover, a demanding pioneer in military innovation. His service required extraordinary discipline, intellect, and integrity. As President, Carter strengthened military readiness with projects like the B-2 stealth bomber and prioritized diplomacy as the ultimate expression of strength, leading historic efforts like the Camp David Accords.

Despite Carter’s enduring legacy, Trump’s objection to lowering the flag continues a pattern of disrespect for military traditions and the service members they honor. Trump has often claimed to defend American traditions and values, presenting himself as a champion of patriotism. He frequently spoke of restoring rituals and upholding the military’s legacy. However, his actions reveal a different story: Trump embraces traditions only when they align with his personal or political interests.

One of the most glaring examples of this hypocrisy is Trump’s dismissive attitude toward military sacrifice. In 2015, Trump insulted Senator John McCain, saying, “He’s not a war hero. I like people who weren’t captured.” McCain, who endured five and a half years as a prisoner of war in Vietnam, chose to remain with his fellow soldiers instead of accepting early release. Trump’s cavalier dismissal of McCain’s sacrifice shocked veterans and citizens alike.

Further reports reveal an even more troubling pattern. In 2020, The Atlantic reported that Trump referred to American soldiers who died in battle as “losers” and “suckers” during a 2018 trip to France to commemorate the centenary of World War I. Trump allegedly questioned the value of honoring fallen troops, asking, “What’s in it for them?” Though Trump denied the allegations, they align with his ongoing minimization of military sacrifice.

These comments and actions expose Trump’s self-serving approach to tradition. For him, rituals and values are tools to be wielded for personal gain, not principles to be upheld for the nation’s greater good. He is not “America First”; he is “Trump First.” Over time, he has conflated the two, equating his image with the nation’s identity. His rejection of lowering the flag for Jimmy Carter is yet another example of this conflation.

At the heart of this debate is a more profound issue: toxic masculinity. Toxic masculinity isn’t just about men being men—it’s about how we, as a society, condition men to suppress their emotions, deny their vulnerabilities, and create rigid gender roles that harm everyone. The idea that mourning represents weakness is deeply tied to societal expectations about how “real” men should behave in times of struggle. Trump seems to suggest that the manly thing to do—the strong thing to do—is to move on quickly, suppress vulnerability and emotion, and “suck it up.” The expression of genuine sorrow or grief is viewed as cowardly, effeminate, and unworthy of strong men.

But true strength lies in vulnerability. Real men are not afraid to show vulnerability. That’s what makes them strong. Strength isn’t about the refusal to feel; it’s about the courage to acknowledge and process those feelings, to show humility in moments of collective mourning, and to honor the sacrifices of others with a sincere heart. Lowering the flag to half-mast is not a sign of weakness—it is an act of collective humility, a national pause to reflect on those whose contributions transcend politics and self-interest. It unites Americans in shared grief and gratitude, reminding us of the ideals we strive to embody as a nation.

Honoring Jimmy Carter in this way is not just a gesture of respect; it is a reaffirmation of America’s collective values—values that Trump repeatedly disregards in favor of his ambitions. By rejecting this tradition, Trump undermines a unifying ritual that transcends party lines and speaks to the very heart of the American ethos. His actions dishonor Jimmy Carter and the countless service members who have made the ultimate sacrifice for their country.

In his relentless pursuit of self-aggrandizement, Trump highlights the stark contrast between genuine patriotism and performative nationalism. Lowering the flag for President Carter is not just a matter of protocol; it is a declaration of the kind of country we aspire to be—one that respects service, cherishes tradition, and upholds the dignity of all who have served.

George Cassidy Payne is a writer, educator, and counselor. He has worked as a domestic violence counselor and suicide prevention advocate. He is also philosopher and advocate based in Irondequoit, NY. His work delves into themes of spirituality, social justice, philosophy, and the human condition. Known for his introspective essays, evocative poetry, and thought-provoking commentary, George contributes to various publications and platforms, offering a distinctive perspective on contemporary issues and timeless questions.

Deeply engaged with his community, George writes on topics that resonate locally and globally, including peacebuilding, environmental ethics, and the interplay of faith and reason. His work strikes a balance between intellectual rigor and accessible language, inspiring reflection and connection among a wide audience.