What Did Donald Trump Do Today?
March 17, 2025 Recap
White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt held a briefing that was less a government update and more a theatrical performance steeped in authoritarian bravado, legal deflection, and partisan triumphalism. Rather than responsibly informing the public, Leavitt used the podium to glorify Trump as a singular savior figure, belittle the judiciary, attack the press, and reduce serious matters of national security, immigration, and international diplomacy to campaign talking points. Her combative tone, shameless spin, and frequent misinformation reflect a White House more interested in consolidating power than upholding democratic norms.
On immigration, Leavitt championed the administration’s deportation of nearly 200 individuals, claiming—without independent verification—that they were members of a newly designated foreign terrorist group, Trend Aragua. The operation, conducted under the Alien Enemies Act, was presented as a sweeping counterterrorism victory. But when pressed about due process and the legality of the deportations, especially in light of a judge’s verbal order to halt flights, Leavitt danced around the truth. She relied on a technical distinction between verbal and written orders to justify the deportations—an argument that, while legally flimsy, was delivered with defiant certainty. Her refusal to release the names of the deportees, citing “privacy concerns” while simultaneously calling them “heinous monsters,” raises obvious concerns about transparency, credibility, and abuse of executive power. Her dismissive, trust-us posture in response to legal and constitutional questions betrays the administration’s disregard for judicial authority and civil liberties.
Leavitt’s remarks on foreign policy were equally troubling. Trump’s strikes on the Houthis were presented not as part of a coordinated diplomatic effort but as evidence of a “new sheriff in town,” with Iran warned of “dire consequences” in vague, threatening language. Absent was any indication of multilateral consultation or congressional oversight—just more chest-thumping nationalism dressed up as strength. Similarly, her assertion that the administration is on the “10-yard line of peace” in Ukraine negotiations with Putin was alarmingly opaque. Leavitt evaded questions about whether Ukraine had authorized any such deal, a chilling implication that Trump may be engaging in back-channel diplomacy to redraw foreign borders without democratic legitimacy or allied support. If true, this constitutes a gross overreach of presidential authority and potentially betraying a sovereign ally.
Perhaps the most revealing moment came when Leavitt amplified a right-wing conspiracy about President Biden’s use of an autopen to sign pardons, questioning whether he had the mental capacity to authorize them at all. She accused staff of possible criminal misconduct and called on journalists to investigate, weaponizing unproven claims to cast doubt on the legality of Biden-era actions. This cynical tactic—using innuendo and hearsay to delegitimize a former president—echoes Trump’s broader pattern of smearing opponents with no regard for evidence or institutional stability. Worse still, Leavitt refused to disavow Tom Homan’s public statement that the administration would “not stop” deportations regardless of court orders. Instead, she attempted to finesse the language, signaling that the White House considers compliance with the judiciary optional, depending on political convenience.
Even her handling of the media was an exercise in contempt. Leavitt mocked foreign officials, belittled valid journalistic inquiries, and treated legal challenges as political games. She showed no interest in building public trust—only reinforcing the administration’s narrative of total control. Her reference to a White House-produced deportation video set to the song “Closing Time” underscores the administration’s callousness. Rather than express the gravity of deporting hundreds of people—some potentially without proper review—Leavitt framed it as a punchline, gleefully boasting, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” It was a chilling example of how this administration is branding cruelty as policy.
Overall, the briefing was a disturbing display of unchecked executive power, demagoguery, and institutional disdain. Leavitt functioned not as a press secretary but as a propagandist: justifying sweeping deportations with flimsy legal reasoning, threatening war with Iran, shrugging off court orders, and stoking culture war grievances with no regard for facts or democratic process. It was a masterclass in authoritarian communication—slick, aggressive, and hollow at its core.
President Trump claimed that President Joe Biden issued preemptive pardons to members of the January 6th Select Committee and others, calling the pardons “void, vacant, and of no future force or effect.” In a post on Truth Social, Trump alleged—without evidence—that the committee members were responsible for securing their own pardons and that Biden was unaware of the action. He based this accusation on the alleged use of an autopen, a mechanical device that replicates signatures and has been used by U.S. presidents for decades to sign official documents. Trump insisted that they were invalid because Biden supposedly did not personally sign the pardons. However, there is no confirmation that such pardons were issued or that an autopen was used in this case. The Department of Justice and the White House have not commented on the claims, and Biden’s team has not responded to inquiries about autopen usage.
Former Republican Congressman Adam Kinzinger, who served on the House Select Committee investigating the January 6th attack, dismissed Trump’s allegations in a video posted to social media, mocking Trump’s obsession with him and fellow committee member Liz Cheney. “Bring it on, dude, you weak, whiny, tiny man,” Kinzinger said. Trump’s statement comes shortly after he issued a broad set of pardons for individuals convicted in connection to the Capitol riot. These included commuting the sentences of 14 people and offering full, unconditional pardons to others involved in January 6, 2021. Trump's baseless claims appear to be an attempt to undermine the credibility of the congressional investigation into the insurrection and deflect from his own controversial actions, including his sweeping use of the pardon power for the January 6 defendants.
President Trump’s announcement on his social media platform, Truth Social, that he is naming appointees to the Boards of Visitors for the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, the Naval Academy, and the Air Force Academy is a striking example of political favoritism overtaking civic responsibility. These boards are intended to provide independent, nonpartisan oversight and guidance to the country’s most prestigious military institutions. Instead, Trump has treated them as tools to reward loyalty, promote ideological allies, and extend his political brand into spaces meant to remain above the fray. What could have been a sober moment of statesmanship is reduced to a campaign-style victory lap, filled with names chosen not for institutional expertise or ethical leadership but for allegiance to Trumpism.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in the appointments to West Point. The inclusion of General Michael Flynn is perhaps the most troubling. Flynn, a convicted felon who Trump later pardoned, has openly promoted conspiracy theories, embraced QAnon rhetoric, and called for the suspension of the Constitution and the imposition of martial law. That such a figure would be asked to help oversee the training of future Army officers should alarm anyone who values the military's apolitical nature. Alongside Flynn are Maureen Bannon, daughter of far-right figure Steve Bannon, and Meghan Mobbs, a Trump surrogate whose qualifications appear rooted more in politics than academia or military policy. While names like Major General David Bellavia and Lieutenant General Dan Walrath bring legitimate military experience, their reputations now risk being overshadowed by the board’s increasingly politicized image. Congressman Wesley Hunt, a veteran himself, might otherwise be a solid choice, but in this context, he too becomes part of a roster designed to project loyalty, not balance.
The appointments to the Naval Academy’s Board of Visitors deepen this concern. Walt Nauta—Trump’s personal valet and co-defendant in the classified documents case—has no public qualifications for academic or military oversight, making his appointment feel more like a reward for silence than a contribution to public service. Sean Spicer, infamous for his misleading and combative tenure as White House press secretary, also lacks the background appropriate for this role. His inclusion reflects Trump’s continued preference for familiar faces who defended his image in the media, regardless of their utility in an academic setting. Similarly, Rep. Ronnie Jackson, once the White House physician and now known more for controversies than achievements, adds to the list of appointees chosen for loyalty rather than leadership. Even individuals with military credentials, like Senator Tim Sheehy or Rep. Derek Van Orden, are placed in a context that makes their service secondary to their political alignment with Trump. The same goes for Earl Ehrhart, whose political background doesn’t speak to the mission of military education but fits neatly into a pattern of partisan stacking.
The Air Force Academy appointments are arguably the most ideologically overt. Among them is Charlie Kirk, a political activist and founder of Turning Point USA, a group that aggressively pushes conservative talking points on college campuses. Kirk has no military experience, no known connection to the Air Force, and no clear qualifications for this advisory role beyond his prominence in the MAGA media ecosystem. His presence signals a desire not to strengthen the academy but to use it as another front in the culture war. Senator Tommy Tuberville—best known for his months-long blockade of military promotions over partisan objections—further reinforces this point. His actions have been criticized across party lines as damaging to military readiness, yet here he is, rewarded with an oversight position. Including Dina Powell, a more traditionally credentialed former administration official, offers a fig leaf of credibility. However, it’s not enough to offset the broader concern: this board, like the others, is being shaped around political fealty, not institutional integrity.
These appointments raise serious questions about the future of civil-military relations and the erosion of norms that keep America’s armed forces insulated from partisan politics. Trump’s approach turns what should be respected and apolitical advisory positions into loyalty prizes for political allies, legal co-defendants, media mouthpieces, and ideological operatives. This is not just unseemly—it’s dangerous. It signals to future presidents of any party that military oversight boards can be weaponized for political gain, eroding the long-standing tradition of military neutrality. In a time when the country is already deeply polarized, the last thing America needs is for its military academies to become ideological battlegrounds. Yet that is precisely the path Trump is paving with these appointments.
If left unchallenged, these moves could undermine public trust in military institutions and further normalize the idea that no aspect of American governance should remain nonpartisan. The consequences of such a shift are profound, and the precedent being set here should alarm not just political opponents of Trump but anyone invested in preserving the integrity and independence of the U.S. military. This isn’t simply a matter of controversial names on a list—it’s about whether the core values of service, discipline, and honor can survive being co-opted by political theater.
The Trump administration is seeking to remove U.S. District Judge James Boasberg from a case challenging the president’s use of the Alien Enemies Act to justify expedited deportations. In a new filing to the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals, the Justice Department criticized Boasberg’s handling of the case—particularly his quick certification of a class action and lack of government input—calling the procedures “highly unusual and improper.”
The filing came before a Monday hearing, during which Boasberg was to examine whether the administration violated his nationwide injunction by deporting individuals to El Salvador. The DOJ argues that the deportations didn’t breach the order because the planes had already left U.S. soil when it took effect. Boasberg denied a government request to cancel the hearing.
The administration also requested an emergency administrative stay, accusing Boasberg of interfering with Trump’s foreign policy powers and handling sensitive national security issues without safeguards.
The deportees are alleged members of Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan gang. Boasberg, an Obama appointee, has come under online attack since blocking the deportations. Meanwhile, Rep. Brandon Gill (R-TX) announced plans to introduce impeachment proceedings against him.
President Trump issued a statement on Truth Social that is less of a serious policy announcement and more of a populist rallying cry dressed up as an energy strategy. He opens by blaming “Environmental Extremists, Lunatics, Radicals, and Thugs” for holding the U.S. “captive,” suggesting that climate-conscious regulation has crippled American industry and ceded economic advantage to China. This kind of rhetoric is inflammatory and divisive, deliberately vilifying environmental advocates to rally support among his base. It substitutes name-calling for reasoned debate, contributing to polarization rather than problem-solving.
Trump's use of the phrase “beautiful, clean coal” is especially misleading. While "clean coal" has been used to describe coal burned with carbon capture technologies, these methods are not widely deployed, remain economically inefficient, and still do not eliminate the serious health and climate impacts of coal energy. There is no current technology that makes coal a truly clean energy source. His characterization ignores the reality that coal is one of the dirtiest fossil fuels, and its decline in the U.S. is due far more to market competition from natural gas and renewables than environmental regulations alone.
The comparison to China is also oversimplified and strategically misguided. While it is true that China has continued to build coal-fired power plants to meet energy demands, it is also aggressively investing in renewable energy, electric vehicles, and other green technologies. China leads the world in solar and wind power capacity and is positioning itself to dominate the global clean energy economy. Trump’s portrayal of China’s energy policy as purely coal-focused misses the broader picture and ignores the long-term geopolitical and economic advantages of transitioning to renewable energy.
Trump’s declaration lacks concrete policy details. It does not explain how his administration would increase coal production, address its environmental and health impacts, or integrate this into global climate commitments. During his first term, Trump made similar pro-coal promises, yet the coal industry declined due to economic realities. His revival of these talking points now seems aimed more at symbolic defiance of environmentalism than crafting a workable energy policy.
Finally, Trump’s framing of environmental regulation as a form of national weakness or subjugation reflects a broader rejection of global environmental responsibility. The world is moving toward a low-carbon future, and nations leading the way are likely to see economic, technological, and diplomatic benefits. By clinging to coal and dismissing environmental policy as extremist, Trump positions the U.S. as a laggard rather than a leader in the 21st-century energy economy. In short, his statement is rich in rhetoric but empty of solutions—political theater posing as energy policy.
The Trump administration’s decision to expel South African Ambassador Ebrahim Rasool reveals far more about the administration’s approach to diplomacy than it does about any supposed offense committed by the ambassador. Announcing such a consequential diplomatic action via social media—before informing the South African government through formal channels—is undignified and undermines American foreign policy's credibility. Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s choice to use X (formerly Twitter) as the medium for declaring Rasool persona non grata reflects the administration’s troubling preference for performative outrage over strategic diplomacy.
Rubio accused Rasool of being a “race-baiting politician” who “hates President Trump,” basing his decision on a webinar Rasool participated in from Johannesburg, in which the ambassador discussed the racial context of U.S. politics. Whether one agrees with Rasool’s remarks or not, using them as grounds for an ambassador’s expulsion—an extremely rare move in U.S. diplomacy—appears thin-skinned and politically motivated. The reference to a Breitbart article, a partisan and ideologically charged source, further diminishes the seriousness of the decision. The administration's inability—or unwillingness—to engage in mature dialogue over policy disagreements reveals a broader intolerance for dissenting perspectives, especially when they touch on race and power in America.
The timing and optics of the decision also speak volumes. Coming on the heels of President Trump’s executive order cutting aid to South Africa—based on unsubstantiated claims of anti-white governance and support for “bad actors” like Hamas and Iran—the expulsion of Rasool feels more like retaliation than legitimate diplomatic procedure. The targeting of a Black-led government under the guise of “restoring order” to the relationship not only plays into old colonial narratives but raises legitimate questions about the racial undertones of Trump’s foreign policy, especially toward African nations.
South Africa, for its part, responded with measured calm. President Cyril Ramaphosa called the incident a “hiccup” and emphasized the need to restore balance in the relationship. His comments showed a diplomatic maturity absent from the U.S. side of the exchange. Meanwhile, South African Foreign Ministry spokesperson Chrispin Phiri rightly questioned the propriety of learning about the expulsion via social media, signaling frustration with the Trump administration’s preference for political theater over respectful engagement.
Ultimately, this episode is not just about an ambassador or even a bilateral relationship—it’s a window into how the Trump administration weaponizes diplomacy for domestic political messaging. Rather than strengthening international partnerships or advancing American interests abroad, it appears more interested in appeasing its ideological base through spectacles of grievance and confrontation. The expulsion of Ambassador Rasool is not a defense of American dignity—it’s a demonstration of its erosion.
A federal judge sharply criticized the Trump administration on Monday for failing to comply with a court order halting deportation flights of Venezuelan migrants. The controversy centers around the administration’s use of the Alien Enemies Act to deport certain Venezuelans—specifically those it deems affiliated with the Tren de Aragua gang—without due process. The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) filed an emergency motion arguing that the government may have violated Judge James Boasberg’s oral order to turn back deportation flights that were already en route. During a tense hearing, Department of Justice attorney Abhishek Kambli repeatedly declined to provide key details about the flights, stating he was not authorized to do so. Boasberg, an Obama appointee, expressed disbelief and frustration at the refusal, emphasizing that oral orders from the bench are legally binding and demanding to know why the planes were not turned around once his order was given.
The administration’s legal team argued that because the instruction was not included in Boasberg’s initial written order, it was not binding—a position the judge strongly challenged. Flight data submitted by the ACLU appeared to show that the deportation planes landed in Honduras and later in El Salvador well after Boasberg’s oral order at 6:45 p.m. EDT and even after the written order was posted to the court docket at 7:26 p.m. EDT. Meanwhile, White House spokesperson Karoline Leavitt defended the administration’s actions, stating that all planes had departed U.S. territory before the written order was issued and questioning whether a verbal order carries the same legal weight. Legal experts widely agree that oral orders from federal judges are indeed enforceable.
Boasberg also questioned why the government proceeded with deportations at all, given that it knew a court hearing was scheduled for that evening to determine the legality of the flights. He offered the DOJ attorney multiple ways to provide confidential information about the flights, including using a secure setting. Still, Kambli did not assert that the information was classified, nor did he take the opportunity to share it privately. The administration now seeks to appeal the judge’s order and remove him from the case, accusing him of using “unusual and improper” procedures. Boasberg ended the hearing with a pointed remark, saying he would issue a written order “since apparently, my oral orders don’t carry much weight” and directed the administration to either disclose the flight timelines or justify their refusal to do so by noon Tuesday.
The situation reflects a deeper conflict between the executive branch and the judiciary. The administration’s defiance of an oral court order and its public questioning of the order’s legitimacy raises serious concerns about respect for judicial authority and adherence to the rule of law. The refusal to answer direct questions or share basic flight details with the court suggests a troubling lack of transparency and accountability. Boasberg’s frustration highlights the broader implications of a government seemingly determined to test the boundaries of legal compliance, potentially setting a dangerous precedent for future executive actions.
At the Kennedy Center board meeting, President Trump delivered an unfocused and meandering set of remarks that blended legitimate concerns with disjointed commentary, self-praise, and political grievances. While he attempted to highlight issues of mismanagement and wasteful spending at the Kennedy Center—citing a $250 million renovation that included “rooms nobody’s going to use” and alleged exorbitant union fees—his criticism lacked concrete evidence and actionable solutions. Instead of offering a detailed plan to improve the facility, he defaulted to familiar campaign slogans like “make it great again,” using aesthetic complaints and vague financial accusations to make a broader point about American decline.
Throughout his remarks, Trump frequently digressed into unrelated topics, jumping from infrastructure issues to crime in Washington, D.C., cultural programming, Hunter Biden’s travel in South Africa, and even religious vandalism in Kansas. These abrupt transitions made the event feel less like a board meeting and more like a campaign rally, with Trump lumping together disparate issues under a single umbrella of national dysfunction. His offhand critique of Hamilton, praise for Broadway-style shows, and invocation of culture war talking points—such as “men playing in women’s sports”—seemed more designed to energize his political base than to address the arts or public service.
On foreign affairs, Trump referenced an upcoming call with Vladimir Putin and claimed personal credit for preventing the deaths of U.S. soldiers in Ukraine—an alarming and unverifiable assertion. He characterized the war as “Joe Biden’s deal,” criticizing the scale of U.S. financial aid to Ukraine while ignoring the complexity of international diplomacy. His commentary on global affairs was muddled and framed largely around his own perceived effectiveness rather than policy substance.
The tone of the remarks oscillated between aggrieved and boastful. Trump expressed surprise at the Kennedy Center’s condition—despite having appointed its prior leadership—and repeatedly positioned himself as the only one capable of restoring order, efficiency, and dignity to American institutions. His speech was not only disorganized but also heavily reliant on anecdotes, unverified claims, and culture war rhetoric. Although he raised some legitimate concerns about public spending and infrastructure, they were ultimately overshadowed by a lack of focus, depth, and clear vision.
Trump’s remarks failed to deliver a coherent message or inspire confidence in his stewardship of cultural institutions. Instead, they served as a stage for political grievance, personal branding, and ideological messaging, with little regard for the practical needs of the Kennedy Center or the broader arts community.
President Trump’s recent Truth Social post about Hunter and Ashley Biden’s Secret Service protection is a performative and misleading statement that blends exaggerated claims with overreaching authority. In declaring that their protection will end “effective immediately,” Trump implies he has the power to make unilateral decisions about Secret Service assignments. This responsibility actually falls under the Department of Homeland Security and is governed by law, not political discretion. The claim that Hunter Biden is guarded by an 18-person detail and Ashley Biden by 13 agents lacks any verified basis and appears inflated to provoke outrage over supposed taxpayer waste. Furthermore, Trump criticizes Hunter for vacationing in South Africa, calling attention to alleged human rights issues in the country and claiming it has been removed from the U.S. foreign assistance list. Any official U.S. policy changes do not substantiate this assertion and seem to serve more as a rhetorical device than a factual report. Overall, the post exemplifies Trump’s ongoing strategy of politicizing personal matters involving the Biden family, using public platforms to stir resentment and frame routine security protocols as scandalous. Rather than presenting a grounded critique of government spending or foreign policy, the message distorts facts to score political points, undermining both institutional norms and public trust.