COLUMN: “An entire civilization is going to die tonight”—when the President of the United States speaks like a man who has lost his mind

Tucker Carlson Says "No"

There comes a moment in every crisis when allies start to falter. That moment has arrived. Tucker Carlson—not a Democrat, not a moderate, not a “RINO,” but one of the most influential commentators on the American far right—has issued a direct appeal to White House officials and the military: “The time has come to say no.”

Weigh every word. A pillar of the Trumpist right is asking the military to disobey the commander-in-chief. This isn’t an editorial. It’s a cry for help. And when Tucker Carlson cries for help, it means the fire has already broken through the walls.

Marjorie Taylor Greene invokes the 25th Amendment

Even more spectacular: Marjorie Taylor Greene. The former congresswoman who was Trump’s most loyal supporter—the one who wore “Trump Won” pins in Congress, the one who compared face masks to the Holocaust—that very same Marjorie Taylor Greene called on Tuesday for the invocation of the 25th Amendment.

The 25th Amendment. The constitutional procedure that allows for the forced removal of a president deemed unable to perform his duties. When your own fanatics are calling for your removal on grounds of mental incapacity, it’s no longer a political attack. It’s a diagnosis.

The “rabid dog” in the Oval Office

Axios reported Tuesday that an anonymous U.S. official described Donald Trump as a “rabid dog,” more belligerent than Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth himself. When the hawks at the Pentagon think the president is going too far, we’ve crossed every known threshold in modern American politics.

The decline everyone saw—and the one no one wants to see

The irony is so cruel that it becomes almost unbearable. For two years, the American right—led by Trump—has hammered home the message that Joe Biden is senile, incompetent, and dangerous. Videos of Biden stumbling, searching for words, and losing his train of thought on stage have been seen around the world dozens of times. Every hesitation was proof. Every slip-up was a verdict.

And now? Donald Trump, 79, the oldest president ever elected, threatens to wipe out an entire civilization in a message where he invokes Allah, then blesses the Iranian people in the same breath. He confuses his own war objectives from one week to the next. He shifts from indifference to a nuclear ultimatum without transition.

Democratic Senator Jack Reed says, “He seems to have lost control.” Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is more direct: “The president’s mental faculties are collapsing.” And Marjorie Taylor Greene, on Sunday, put it bluntly: he has “gone mad.”

And yet. The same country that forced Biden to give up a second term due to cognitive decline is watching another elderly man threaten to wipe a country off the map—and is still hesitating over how to respond.

The Fundamental Difference

But there is a terrifying difference between Biden’s decline and what is happening with Trump. Biden forgot names. Trump threatens to exterminate entire peoples. Biden went to the wrong door. Trump issues ultimatums of annihilation. One was losing his memory. The other seems to be losing all sense of the consequences of his own words—words that can trigger wars, stock market panics, and mass exoduses.

A confused president looking for his glasses is embarrassing. A confused president holding the nuclear button is an existential threat.

A Breakdown of Tuesday’s Message

Let’s revisit Trump’s message from Tuesday, April 7, in its entirety. Within the same text, three contradictory themes coexist:

First theme: the threat of annihilation. “The entire country could be destroyed in a single night.” “An entire civilization will die tonight.” This is the language of the Apocalypse, not that of diplomacy.

Second theme: diplomatic overture. In the same message, he raises the possibility of a compromise. It’s as if one could, in the same sentence, hold a gun to someone’s temple and offer them a cup of coffee.

Third phase: the blessing. “May God bless the great people of Iran.” The very same people whose annihilation he had just promised thirty words earlier.

This isn’t Nixon-style “madman theory” strategy. Nixon calculated. This has no calculable structure. It is the stream of consciousness of a man who can no longer distinguish between threat and prayer, war and negotiation, destruction and blessing.

The Blurring of Genres as a Symptom

And this blurring of boundaries isn’t limited to messages about Iran. On Monday—the day before the ultimatum of annihilation—Trump stood before children who had come for the traditional White House Easter egg hunt. Next to a mascot in a giant bunny costume. And he spoke of war.

He declared that Iran was “not nearly as strong as that.” In front of six-year-olds. Next to a stuffed bunny. During an Easter celebration.

During his public appearances, it has now become common—the word is AFP’s, not mine—for him to mention the conflict in the Middle East and his interior design plans in the same breath. In particular, the construction of a ballroom at the White House. While he threatens to raze a country to the ground, he dreams of crystal chandeliers. The world is burning, and the president is picking out curtains.

The Video That Should Never Have Been Released

Then there was this video. Released by mistake by the White House itself—further proof that even the president’s communications team is no longer functioning properly. A private lunch the previous week, attended by religious leaders.

In this video, Donald Trump mocks Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron. “Macron, whom his wife treats extremely badly… he’s still recovering from the punch he took to the jaw,” he says, laughing.

Then—and this is where the scene veers into the surreal—he seems to compare himself to Jesus Christ. In front of religious leaders. While he’s waging a war in the Middle East. While he’s threatening to annihilate a civilization. The megalomaniac is no longer content to be a king. He wants to be a god.

The laughter that no longer makes anyone laugh

For years, Trump’s excesses were treated as entertainment. A provocative tweet? Marketing. An insult to a head of state? Trump-style negotiation. A blatant lie? “The Art of the Deal.”

But when the spectacle involves real bombs on a real country, when ultimatums are followed by military operations that began on February 28 and are still ongoing, when American soldiers and Iranian civilians are dying while the president talks about ballrooms—the laughter turns into something that resembles terror.

And yet. Millions of Americans continue to see these outbursts as a sign of authenticity. The man who speaks his mind. The problem is that what he thinks—if he even thinks coherently anymore—is the annihilation of a nation of 88 million people.

What the Text Says

Section 4 of the 25th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution provides for a specific mechanism: the vice president and a majority of the members of the Cabinet may declare in writing that the president “is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office.” The vice president then immediately assumes the presidential duties.

This provision was designed precisely for this type of situation: a president who threatens to wipe out entire civilizations, who contradicts himself from one day to the next regarding his war objectives, who confuses an Easter egg hunt with the bombing of a country, and who seems unable to distinguish reality from his own projections.

Why It Won’t Happen

And yet, everyone knows it won’t happen. Vice President JD Vance won’t budge. The Cabinet, handpicked for its absolute loyalty—Pete Hegseth at Defense, loyalists in every key position—will not sign anything. The Republican Party, which survived two impeachments and a Capitol insurrection without breaking with Trump, will not break with him now.

The 25th Amendment exists to protect the nation from an incompetent president. But it cannot function when the entire apparatus of power is designed to protect the president from the nation.

This is the ultimate constitutional tragedy: the safeguard exists, but the guardians have been replaced by courtiers. American democracy anticipated the possibility of a mad king. It did not anticipate that the entire court would participate in the madness.

Insanity or strategy?

That’s the forbidden question—the one editorialists hint at between the lines, diplomats whisper in the hallways, and U.S. allies ask in classified meetings. Is Donald Trump losing his mind—or is he playing the madman to terrorize his opponents?

The “madman” theory—the leader who feigns irrationality to force the enemy to capitulate—has a long history in American foreign policy. Nixon used it with Vietnam. But Nixon didn’t compare himself to Jesus Christ. Nixon didn’t confuse his own war objectives from one week to the next. Nixon didn’t talk about a ballroom while bombings were underway.

The problem with the “madman” theory is that it requires a sane man to play the fool. And when the signs of confusion are so numerous, so frequent, so well-documented—at a certain point, the distinction between playing the fool and actually being one becomes moot.

The result is the same

For here is what the United States’ allies, the financial markets, military leaders around the world, and the 88 million Iranians have in common tonight: they do not know whether the President of the United States is a strategist or a madman. And in either case, the result is the same. Total unpredictability. The impossibility of negotiating rationally. The absence of any guarantee that tonight’s ultimatum will not be followed by irreversible actions.

“Only the President knows what he’s going to do.” This statement from the spokesperson is not reassuring. It is terrifying. Because if even those closest to him don’t know what he’s going to do—if even the Pentagon is stumbling in the dark—then no one on this planet is safe tonight.

88 million people under threat from a tweet

In Tehran, Isfahan, and Shiraz, ordinary families read translations of Trump’s messages. “An entire civilization will die tonight.” These aren’t abstract words to them. These are words that concern their children, their parents, their homes, their hospitals, their schools. Their lives.

What is it like to go to bed at night knowing that the most powerful man in the world has promised to annihilate your civilization—and that no one knows if he’s serious? What is it like to live under an ultimatum whose author changes his mind every forty-eight hours?

We talk about “geopolitics.” About “strategy.” About “negotiation.” But behind these words are human beings counting down the hours until 8:00 p.m. Washington time, wondering if it will be that night. The abstraction of war is a luxury that only spectators can afford.

The Impact on Allies

And what about the allies? NATO? The G7? The European Union? What are they doing tonight, while the U.S. president insults Macron in private, threatens to annihilate Iran in public, and picks out curtains for his ballroom between two apocalyptic tweets?

They remain silent. Or they whisper. Or they issue statements calling for “restraint”—a word that means nothing when the person being called upon to exercise restraint has his finger on the button. The allies’ silence is not diplomatic prudence. It is historic cowardice.

The Normalization of the Unspeakable

There is a phenomenon that psychologists call the “Overton window”—the spectrum of what is considered acceptable in public discourse. In eight years, Donald Trump has shifted that window so far that we can no longer even see the wall.

In 2016, saying that you could “shoot someone on Fifth Avenue” was shocking. In 2026, threatening to wipe out an entire civilization doesn’t even make the headlines for 48 hours. People are outraged on Tuesday. By Thursday, they’ve moved on. And by Friday, a new tweet pushes the boundaries of what’s conceivable even further.

Every time the world accepts an outrageous statement without consequence, it teaches all future leaders that words come at no cost. That one can threaten extermination without being held accountable. That genocidal rhetoric is an acceptable negotiating tool.

What our children will learn in history books

In twenty years, students will open their textbooks and read: “On April 7, 2026, the President of the United States publicly threatened to annihilate an entire civilization.” And in the margin, a question: “What did the institutions do? What did the allies do? What did the citizens do?”

And the answer will be: not enough. Never enough.

The Image That Will Last

If I had to choose a single image to sum up this moment in American history, it wouldn’t be Trump standing behind a podium. It wouldn’t be a missile. It wouldn’t be a tweet. It would be a 79-year-old man, standing next to a giant stuffed rabbit, talking about war to six-year-olds, while 10,000 kilometers away, families wonder if they’ll live to see the sunrise.

That is America in April 2026. A country where Easter egg hunts and the threat of annihilation coexist in the same afternoon, in the same mouth, in the same backyard. A country where the grotesque and the apocalyptic are no longer opposites—they have become synonyms.

The Ballroom

And the ballroom. Let’s not forget the ballroom. While he issues ultimatums of extermination, while his own allies invoke the 25th Amendment, while the world holds its breath—Donald Trump dreams of chandeliers, polished hardwood floors, and lavish receptions in a White House renovated in his own image.

Nero played the lyre while Rome burned. Trump is planning a ballroom while threatening to burn Tehran. History doesn’t repeat itself, they say. It rhymes. And sometimes, the rhyme is so perfect that it becomes obscene.

Collective Denial as a Survival Mechanism

There’s a reason why the world isn’t reacting in a way that matches the gravity of what’s happening. The reality is too overwhelming to take in. The human brain isn’t wired to process the fact that the most powerful leader on the planet is issuing threats of genocide between jokes about Macron and dreams of a ballroom.

So we normalize it. We put it into context. We explain it away. “That’s just Trump.” “He won’t really do it.” “It’s just part of the negotiation.” Each of these phrases is a sedative. A collective sleeping pill that lets us get through the day without screaming. But sleeping pills don’t change reality. They just prevent us from seeing it.

The test we’re failing

And yet. It must be said. Clearly. Without euphemisms. What we’re experiencing right now is a test of civilization, and we’re failing it.

A leader is publicly threatening to annihilate 88 million people. His own allies call him a “rabid dog” and a “madman.” His own political base is calling for his removal from office on grounds of mental incapacity. And the world waits. Watches. Comments. Tweets.

A wait-and-see attitude in the face of the threat of extermination is not prudence. It is complicity through inaction.

The Ultimatum

As these lines go to press, Donald Trump’s latest ultimatum expires at 8:00 p.m. Washington time. Perhaps it will be extended, like the previous ones. Perhaps not. No one knows. Not even, it seems, the people who work in the same building as him.

“Only the President knows what he’s going to do.”

This is the most terrifying statement made by a democratic government since the Cuban Missile Crisis. Except that in October 1962, Kennedy consulted. Deliberated. Listened. In April 2026, Trump tweets. Alone. At 79 years old. Between an Easter egg hunt and a dream of a ballroom.

The final word—which isn’t really a final word

There is no possible conclusion to this column, because the story isn’t over. Tonight, the ultimatum expires. Tomorrow, the world will be different—or it will be the same, with a new ultimatum, new threats, new contradictions, and the same collective bewilderment.

But there’s one thing I know with absolute certainty. When a 79-year-old man—whose own allies say has lost his mind—threatens to wipe an entire civilization off the face of the Earth—and the world simply stands by and watches—he’s not the one who’s crazy.

It’s us.

Signed, Jacques PJ Provost