He listens. Just not all the time.
You wouldn’t know it from the shouting, but Donald Trump does listen to public opinion.
Not always. Not immediately. Not in ways that feel honest or humble.
But somewhere, beneath the bombast and the slogans, there’s a man who wants to be liked. Or at least, not widely hated.
Currently, the numbers don’t look promising.
A recent New York Times poll said two-thirds of Americans describe his second term as “chaotic.” More than half think it’s “scary.” His approval rating, while creeping upward, remains underwater.
You’d think that would give him pause. But that’s the trick with Trump. The more backlash he gets, the more he claims to thrive on it. And yet, over time, he often folds.
He doesn’t admit it. He reframes it. It was the plan all along, they say.
But if you look closely, you can see it: the moment the polling dips just far enough, the heat just high enough, and suddenly the policy shifts.
Take tariffs.
When Trump first announced sweeping import taxes, the backlash was immediate. Polls showed Americans hated the idea. Markets panicked. Prices spiked. And not long after, Trump backed off. He narrowed the scope. Focused on China instead of the world. Then, even China became a softer target.
Or look at Elon Musk.
For months, Musk was everywhere — touted by the White House, defended on Fox, pushed into agencies through Trump’s “Department of Government Efficiency.” Then came the public blowback. The protests. The Wisconsin Supreme Court election that Musk tried to sway and lost badly.
Since then? First, Trump stopped mentioning Musk. His Cabinet was told to cool it. Even Republican lawmakers who once worshipped the guy have moved on. And now Musk is out for good.
But not all criticism moves him.
Some policies don’t budge, no matter how loudly people object.
Birthright citizenship, for example. Only 28% of Americans want it repealed. Doesn’t matter. Trump keeps pushing it. His administration is still fighting it in court.
Same with the case of Kilmar Abrego Garcia — a legal resident deported to a Salvadoran prison. Most Americans want him brought back. The courts have ordered it. But Trump won’t do it. He tweeted that Garcia is “never coming back.”
The same goes for pro-Palestinian protesters who are here legally. Only 17% of Americans support deporting them. But Trump is doing it anyway. Green cards revoked. Student visas canceled. Universities warned.
So which is it? Is Trump responsive to public opinion, or immune to it?
Maybe the better question is: When does he listen?
Not when it comes to his core agenda. Not when he thinks backing down makes him look weak.
But when the blowback threatens something else — elections, control of Congress, Wall Street jitters — that’s when the calibration starts.
He doesn’t do it because he’s persuaded. He does it because he’s watching the meter.
That’s the thing about populists. They claim to act on behalf of the people, but they only respond when the people become a problem.
Trump says he’s unbothered by the noise. But he checks the decibel level.
There’s a strange kind of accountability in that. Not quite democratic. Not quite authoritarian. Something more erratic.
It’s why public protest matters. Not because it always works. But because sometimes it does. Sometimes it makes a dent. Sometimes it signals risk. And sometimes that’s enough.
Not for justice. But for the delay. For modification. For a softening around the edges of something cruel.
It’s not a victory. But it’s not nothing.
What’s striking is how often the system itself folds before he does. Law firms that fire employees. Colleges that buckle. Agencies that comply.
But every once in a while, the public outcry is loud enough and sustained sufficiently to hold the line—or even push it back a little.
That’s the fragile loop we’re in. Power responds to pressure, but only selectively. Only when it’s too risky not to.
Trump wants to rule by will. But he still needs consent.
Even if it’s reluctant. Even if it’s scared. Even if it’s fraying.
He pushes his luck. And sometimes, we push back.
Not always. But enough to remind him — and ourselves — that he’s not untouchable.
Not yet.