There is a difference between being liked and being feared.
I found a fascinating TED Talk by Mitchell Prinstein on how popularity and likability impact our lives. His research reveals that the most well-liked people aren’t necessarily the loudest, most dominant figures in the room. Instead, genuine popularity—the kind that sticks with us beyond high school—is built on reciprocity. The truly well-liked people, like others, extend kindness and create connections.
But then there’s another kind of popularity: perceived popularity—based on dominance, status, and intimidation rather than genuine affection. If you’re looking for the ultimate case study, just glance at Donald Trump.
Trump has the Illusion of being popular. He loves to talk about his crowd sizes, poll numbers, and TV ratings. He’s obsessed with how many people “love” him. But here’s the thing—Trump isn’t liked in the way that Prinstein’s research describes. He isn’t beloved because he’s warm, kind, or generous. Instead, he thrives on a different appeal: power, fear, and tribal loyalty.
Prinstein’s study found that sociometrically popular people—the ones truly liked by their peers—tended to like others as well. They weren’t just admired; they created real, mutual bonds. Trump, on the other hand, doesn't seem to like people at all. He uses them. His relationships are transactional—he’ll praise someone one day and throw them under the bus the next if they stop being useful.
This is why, despite his so-called “popularity,” Trump is one of the most polarizing figures in modern history. The people who support him aren’t drawn in by kindness or connection; they’re attracted to his dominance, willingness to say what others won’t, and unfiltered aggression toward their perceived enemies.
So it comes down to popularity versus power, what Prinstein calls The High School Bully Effect. His research reminds me of high school dynamics—there’s always that kid who walks down the hall with an entourage, someone others fear more than they actually like. This is perceived popularity at work. These people don’t maintain long-term loyalty because of their warmth; they do so because they create a culture of fear, status, and tribalism.
Trump operates the same way. His “popularity” isn’t built on mutual respect but on us vs. them thinking. He’s turned politics into a spectacle, where his supporters don’t necessarily love him as a person—they love that he fights their enemies. He casts himself as the ultimate alpha male, and for some, that’s enough.
Prinstein points out the danger of mistaking fear for loyalty, and the irony is that Trump craves adoration but has built his following on intimidation. He demands loyalty but shows none in return. And, like the high school bully who eventually loses their grip, people see through it. The people who once cheered for him may not stand by him when the power fades.
Real, lasting popularity—the kind Prinstein talks about—is about connection, generosity, and goodwill. Trump may have a devoted base, but it’s a base fueled by grievance, not love. Because, at the end of the day, being feared isn’t the same as being liked. And that’s a lesson Trump has yet to learn.
