COLUMN: Trump Praises JFK Jr. as a Future President — and Reveals Everything About His Approach

The Cousin as a Bridge to the Dynasty

The praise for JFK Jr. didn’t come out of nowhere. It fits into a context where Robert F. Kennedy Jr.—John Jr.’s cousin and Bobby’s son—occupies a central place in Trump’s inner circle. Appointed head of the Department of Health, RFK Jr. is the living Kennedy who chose to rally behind Trump rather than carry on the family’s Democratic legacy.

To praise JFK Jr. is, by extension, to validate RFK Jr. It amounts to saying: the brightest Kennedys would all have ended up on my side. It is rewriting American political history by positioning Trump not in opposition to the dynasty, but as its logical culmination.

Dynastic betrayal as proof of legitimacy

When a Kennedy joins Trump, it’s not just a political endorsement. It’s a symbolic earthquake. And Trump knows it. Every mention of the Kennedy family from his lips is a reminder: even they have come to me. Even the Democratic aristocracy has bowed the knee.

The problem is that RFK Jr. is not JFK. He is not Bobby. He is the family member whom the rest of the family has publicly disowned—on vaccines, on public health, on just about everything. But in the Trumpian narrative, the black sheep becomes the only clear-headed one.

A Catalog of Useful Dead People

JFK Jr. isn’t the first dead person Trump has co-opted. There was Elvis Presley, whom he claimed to admire posthumously. There were the soldiers who died in combat, whom he invokes when it suits him and whose sacrifice he questions when it no longer suits him. There was Abraham Lincoln, whom he regularly compares to himself—without any apparent irony.

In the Trump universe, death is not silence. It’s an opportunity for ventriloquism.

Why the Dead Don’t Vote but Still Matter

A famous deceased figure invoked by a sitting president serves three simultaneous functions. First, it confers historical legitimacy—I am in the lineage of the greats. Second, it neutralizes criticism—who would dare to challenge a tribute to the dead? Third, it creates a narrative of continuity—the America I embody is the one these great men would have wanted.

And yet, this technique rests on a fundamental lie: no one knows what JFK Jr. would have thought of Trump. No one. And anyone who claims to know is exploiting a corpse.

The Democratic Prince Who Rejected the Crown

John Fitzgerald Kennedy Jr. was the quintessential anti-Trump. Where Trump seeks the spotlight, JFK Jr. shunned it. Where Trump turns every room into a stage, JFK Jr. launched George—a magazine that treated politics as culture, not as a wrestling ring.

He was handsome. He was rich. He bore the most magnetic name in American politics. And he chose not to run. That refusal—that restraint—is exactly what Trump is incapable of understanding. For Trump, having the means to seize power and not doing so is a form of weakness. For JFK Jr., it was a form of freedom.

The Tragedy of Hyannis Port—What Trump Erases

JFK Jr. died at age 38 in a plane crash off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard, along with his wife Carolyn Bessette and his sister-in-law Lauren. Three lives cut short. A nation in mourning. A tragedy that closed a chapter in American history.

Trump reduces this tragedy to a single sentence: “He could have been president.” As if a man’s life were measured exclusively by the Oval Office. As if dying without having been president were some kind of unfulfilled potential. This interpretation says less about JFK Jr. than it does about the pathology of the person who utters it.

Timing that’s never coincidental

Trump doesn’t mention names at random. Every mention is calculated. Bringing up JFK Jr. at this precise moment serves several simultaneous purposes: to strengthen the connection with RFK Jr. at a time when his nominations are being challenged, to appeal to those nostalgic for Camelot who have never come to terms with the direction the Democratic Party has taken, and to blur the lines between Republicans and Democrats by appropriating the opponent’s icons.

It’s symbolic poaching. And it’s incredibly effective.

The America of Myths vs. the America of Facts

We live in a country where a president can rewrite the political affiliations of the dead without the media devoting more than thirty seconds to the subject. Where one can say, “JFK Jr. would have been on my side,” with the same nonchalance as ordering a well-done steak. Where historical truth is an obstacle to be circumvented, not a foundation upon which to build.

And yet, the facts are stubborn. JFK Jr. was a Democrat. His father was assassinated while fighting for civil rights. His uncle stood up to the Soviet Union. Nothing—absolutely nothing—in the Kennedy legacy logically leads to Donald Trump.

The Family That Lost Control of Its Own Narrative

The surviving Kennedys—and there are many of them—have for the most part maintained a cautious silence in the face of this appropriation. Some, like Kerry Kennedy, have publicly disavowed RFK Jr. Others have chosen discretion, perhaps believing that responding to Trump means playing into his hands.

But silence comes at a cost. When no one corrects the narrative, the narrative becomes reality. And the reality Trump is constructing is that of an America where the Kennedys—symbols of progressivism, public service, and noblesse oblige—are retroactively aligned with Trumpism.

Erasure as a Strategy

What is at stake here goes beyond politics. It is a war over memory. Who owns the history of the Kennedys? The family? The Democratic Party? America? Or the last man standing who speaks the loudest?

Trump has understood something the Democrats refuse to admit: in a media democracy, legacy belongs to whoever claims it, not to whoever deserves it.

QAnon and the Fantasized Resurrection of JFK Jr.

You can’t talk about Trump and JFK Jr. without mentioning the QAnon delusion. For years, a significant fringe of Trump’s base believed—sincerely, viscerally believed—that JFK Jr. wasn’t dead. That he had faked his accident. That he would return to stand alongside Trump and “save America.”

In November 2021, hundreds of people gathered at Dealey Plaza—the very spot where JFK Sr. was assassinated—to await JFK Jr.’s return. He didn’t show up. They came back the next day.

When the President Feeds the Beast Without Naming It

Trump has never explicitly endorsed these theories. Nor has he ever explicitly condemned them. And when he says today that JFK Jr. “could have been president,” he’s sending a signal—perhaps unintentional, but probably not—to that conspiracy-theory-driven base that sees every mention of JFK Jr. as confirmation of their mythology.

This is the dog-whistle principle taken to its extreme: nothing explicit is said, but those with ears to hear hear exactly what they want to hear.

The Posthumous Casting of Trumpian America

There’s a logic of television production in the way Trump governs. Every statement is an episode. Every character—living or dead—is cast in a specific role. JFK Jr. plays the role of the fallen prince who would have joined the Trump camp had he lived. He’s a fictional character inserted into a political narrative.

And as in any good series, the showrunner has complete control. He can rewrite the characters’ motivations. He can change the ending. He can bring the dead back to life—symbolically, at least.

The Danger of Politics as Spectacle

When politics becomes a spectacle, the dead become narrative props. JFK Jr. is no longer a man who lived, loved, published a magazine, flew a plane, and died tragically. He is a secondary character in the Trump saga. His humanity is erased. His complexity is flattened. All that remains is a silhouette—beautiful, tragic, useful—that is moved across the chessboard when the moment demands it.

It is a form of gentle desecration. No vandalized grave. No dramatic gesture. Just words, spoken with a smile, that strip a man of his substance to fill him with political utility.

Reporting the words without explaining the method

The problem with media coverage of this type of statement is that it generally limits itself to reporting the facts. “Trump said that JFK Jr. could have been president.” Period. Next. We move on to the next outrage, the next statement, the next 24-hour cycle.

But the real issue isn’t what Trump said. It’s why he said it, who he was really speaking to, and what effect these words have on the very fabric of American democracy. Reporting without analyzing is to be a mouthpiece for propaganda, not its analyst.

The Urgency of Real-Time Decoding

Every time a president invokes a dead person to serve his narrative, the question isn’t: Is it true? The question is: What reality does this construct? What kind of America emerges from a world where the Kennedys are Trumpists, where Lincoln would have voted for a MAGA-style Republican, where the Founding Fathers would have applauded the January 6th assault?

An America where history is no longer an anchor but a malleable material. And that is infinitely more dangerous than an isolated lie.

The USSR, China, and now…

Rewriting the political biographies of the dead is not a Trumpian invention. The Soviet Union would erase faces from official photos when a leader fell from grace. Mao’s China rewrote school textbooks so that yesterday’s heroes became today’s traitors. Ancient Egypt hammered out the cartouches of fallen pharaohs.

Trump doesn’t hammer away. He adds. He doesn’t destroy the memory of JFK Jr.—he colonizes it. It’s more subtle. It’s more effective. And it’s infinitely harder to fight, because it sounds like a compliment.

The Difference Between Tribute and Appropriation

A tribute respects the integrity of the deceased. It says: here is who he was, in all his complexity, with his own convictions, even if they differed from mine. An appropriation says: here is who he would have been if he’d had the chance to know me. The first is an act of remembrance. The second is an act of narrative colonization.

Trump practices the latter while disguising it as the former. And that is precisely what makes it so toxic.

From Verbal Tribute to Political Appointment

The praise for JFK Jr. is not merely a rhetorical exercise. It serves an operational purpose. By sanctifying the Kennedy dynasty as a whole, Trump legitimizes RFK Jr.’s presence in his administration. If JFK Jr. could have been president, then his cousin Bobby Jr. certainly deserves a cabinet position.

The reasoning is circular, but it works. And it works because it operates on the level of myth, not logic. You don’t challenge a myth with facts. You don’t debunk a legend with organizational charts.

Public Health in the Hands of a Vaccine Skeptic

While Trump praises the dead Kennedys, a living Kennedy is making concrete decisions about the health of 330 million Americans. RFK Jr.—the man who called vaccines “genocide,” who compared vaccine mandates to the Holocaust, who has spread theories debunked by every scientific institution on the planet—now heads the Department of Health.

The tribute to JFK Jr. is the emotional cover for a potentially devastating political decision. Look over there, at the handsome dead prince. Don’t look here, where his cousin is dismantling public health safeguards.

Kennedy, Bush, Clinton, Trump — The Return of the Monarchy

America was born out of a rejection of monarchy. And yet, two and a half centuries later, it remains fascinated by political dynasties. The Kennedys. The Bushes. The Clintons. And now, potentially, the Trumps—with Don Jr., Eric, Ivanka, and Barron as the designated heirs to an empire that isn’t supposed to exist.

By praising JFK Jr., Trump isn’t just paying homage to a dynasty. He’s normalizing the dynastic principle itself. If the Kennedys were a great political family, then the Trumps can be too. If blood confers legitimacy, then my children are next in line.

Democracy vs. Blood

The founding principle of American democracy can be summed up in one sentence: power is not passed down through blood. It is won through the ballot, legitimized through service, and lost through failure. Every time an American president sanctifies a dynasty—including by praising its dead—he erodes that principle.

It’s not spectacular. It’s not a coup. It’s a tectonic shift—slow, steady, barely perceptible—until the day we wake up in a country where a family name matters more than a platform.

The Impossible Silence of the Dead

I won’t pretend to know what John F. Kennedy Jr. would think of Donald Trump. That would be committing exactly the same mistake I’m criticizing. The dead don’t speak. They don’t vote. They don’t endorse. They are silent, and that silence deserves to be respected.

But this much can be said: a man who grew up mourning his assassinated father, who saw his mother shield their privacy from the media’s voracity, who chose cultural journalism over partisan politics—that man would likely not have appreciated being reduced to a campaign talking point twenty-six years after his death.

Dignity as the Last Line of Defense

There are things we simply don’t do. Lines we don’t cross. The dead we leave in peace. Not because it’s strategically wise, but because it’s the decent thing to do.

And yet, here we are. A president handing out posthumous certificates of loyalty. A country watching and shrugging its shoulders. And a man who has been dead for a quarter of a century, whose name is being used as a bargaining chip in a political game he never wanted to play.

Steps 1–3: Identify, Praise, Align

One. Identify a figure the opponent admires. Two. Praise that figure publicly with apparent generosity. Three. Create an implicit link between that figure and yourself. “He could have been president” implies: like me, he had what it takes. The comparison is planted. It takes root on its own.

Steps 4 and 5: Co-opt, Erase

Four. Use this association to legitimize your own decisions. If JFK Jr. is great, and RFK Jr. is on my side, then my decision to appoint RFK Jr. is validated by the Kennedy legacy. Five. Erase any contradiction. Was JFK Jr. a Democrat? A minor detail. Did his father fight for civil rights? Irrelevant. Does his family reject RFK Jr.? Just background noise.

In five steps, a sixty-year-old political legacy has been turned inside out. And most people don’t even realize it.

Democratic Fatigue as Fertile Ground

If Trump can co-opt JFK Jr. without consequence, it’s not just because he’s clever. It’s because we’re tired. Tired of correcting. Tired of fact-checking. Tired of shouting into the void that no, the Kennedys were not Trump supporters.

This fatigue is the greatest ally of historical rewriting. It doesn’t require our consent. It requires our exhaustion. And exhaustion, in 2025, is a resource in no short supply.

The Duty to Remember as an Act of Resistance

Remembering who JFK Jr. really was is not an exercise in nostalgia. It is a political act. Recalling that the Kennedys were Democrats, that JFK Sr. signed the Partial Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, that Bobby was assassinated while fighting for justice—this is not historical trivia. It is a bulwark.

Because the day we accept that anyone can lay claim to any legacy, the day words lose their meaning and affiliations lose their memory—on that day, democracy is not merely threatened. It is already dead.

Trump never talks about the dead—he always talks about himself

Every word Donald Trump says about JFK Jr. is a word he says about himself. The tribute is a mirror. The eulogy is a selfie. The deceased is a pretext. And the audience—us, you, me—is watching a ventriloquist act where the puppet bears the features of an American prince who died too young.

JFK Jr. deserved better than that. America deserves better than that. The memory of the dead deserves infinitely better than that.

The Final Question

In what country can a sitting president co-opt the dead from the opposition, rewrite their political affiliations, use their memory as a lever of power—and be applauded for it?

The answer is simple. The same country that elected this man. Twice.

The dead cannot defend themselves. That is precisely why we must do so on their behalf—not out of nostalgia, but out of decency. Memory is not a marketplace. Ghosts are not extras. And a tribute that serves the one who delivers it more than the one who receives it is not a tribute—it is a heist.

Signed, Jacques PJ Provost