As the reality of a new Trump presidency begins to be processed around the world, the mundane details of the transition of power unfolds on a customary schedule common in all years where a new regime transitions to office, including the naming of the new presidential cabinet. Yet as with anything in the current volatile state of the spectacle in a phase of disintegration, nothing is mundane and no detail can be idly shrugged off as inconsequential. Such is the case as Trump begins to fill his Cabinet. Ever more sensationalist headlines have already begun to rain down on the media landscape as Trump’s staff choices bring cries of both despondency and delight as the roster of infamous names unrolls on Trump’s social media accounts. The list is a literal who’s who of the MAGA extended universe–Fox News personality Pete Hegseth for Defense Secretary, Tulsi Gabbard for Director of National Intelligence (coming out of the cold from her time as a contrarian in the Democratic Party), RFK Jr for Health and Human Services, former Trump whipping boy Marco Rubio for Secretary of State, Kristi Noem for Homeland Security Director, and Tom Homan as the “Border Czar” who would ostensibly be in charge of Trump’s most controversial policy of mass deportation. Indeed, Trump’s most infamous pick, Matt Gaetz for Attorney General, has already flamed out due to allegation (now confirmed) that he had sexual contact with underage girls. On top of this is a host of smaller profile positions in the US civil and foreign service including former football star Herschel Walker for US ambassador to Bahamas and TV producer Mark Burnett (who produced “The Apprentice,” the show that propelled Trump’s celebrity by placing him in a central position in the pop culture zeitgeist of the twenty-first century and that Trump parleyed into the foundational political capital his used to pave the way for this first run for president in 2016) as “special envoy to the UK.”

What all these picks have in common is that each, in their own ways, can be described as “celebrities.” In his critique of consumer capitalism expressed in Society of the Spectacle, Debord recognized the important role celebrity played in the larger power dynamics of spectacular society. As detailed in a previous post, celebrities were “agents” of the spectacle that were placed in the limelight of mass media to neutralize authentic individuality. As Debord writes, “Entering the spectacle as a model to be identified with, he (the celebrity) renounces all autonomous qualities in order to identify himself with the general law of obedience to the flow of things.” Stated another way, “as specialists of apparent life, stars serve as superficial objects that people can identify with in order to compensate for the fragmented productive specializations that they actually live…They embody the inaccessible results of social labor by dramatizing the by-products of that labor which are magically projected above it as its ultimate goals: power and vacations–the decision-making and consumption that are the beginning and the end of a process that is never questioned.” There may be no better distillation of the spectacle and how it impacts the behavior of individuals than this reference to power and vacations, especially as time has passed and media has changed to be a far more powerful force in the lives of the consumer public. It’s hard not to see in this idea the motivations for countless social media “influencers” and hosts of podcasts all competing with each other through their ability to more lavishly exhibit their participation and enjoyment of consumerist luxuries.

In expressing his ideas about the social roles of celebrities, Debord first introduces the two key “archetypes” of celebrity that exist in the twentieth century Debord inhabited. The first, the “star of consumption,” in the more flexible dynamic of the archetypes and provides a useful way of how the spectacle is able to confront and disarm any discourse that rises to oppose it. As Debord states, “The stars of consumption, though outwardly representing different personality types, show each of these types enjoying equal access to, and deriving equal happiness from, the entire realm of consumption.” This notion of celebrity encompasses the athletes, lead movie actors, pop singers and social media “influencers” that one normally associates with the label of “celebrity.” Debord acknowledges the world of consumption stars is a complicated one, with plenty of seemingly contradictory and non-conformist “roles” that this type of celebrity will accommodate along with various “feuds” between them. Yet none of these varieties of star would be able to reach their respective heights without them in some capacity being endorsements, however subtle, of the prevailing system. A star of consumption that genuinely poses a risk to the system is soon brought back down to earth. One might look at an athlete like Colin Kaepernick or the singers of the “Dixie Chicks” as examples of this. (There may be temptation to see examples of certain celebrities “being canceled” for harboring prejudicial beliefs such as Gina Carano as examples of this phenomenon. A future post will argue that these “cancellations” are an example not of their challenging a prevailing “woke” status quo, but as the emergence of an rival spectacular discourse where their celebrity status remains preserved. Both the traditional status quo and the rival discourse both exist, however, within the larger spectacle–and even contribute to its expansion).

Alongside the “star of consumption is the “star of decision-making.” This more “dignified” star, according to Debord, “must possess the full range of admired human qualities: official differences between them are thus cancelled out by the official similarity implied by their excellence in every field of endeavor.” As with the celebrities of consumption, the politicians that serve as best examples of “stars of decision-making” are members of different political parties and ideological identities. However, in the end, the conflicts and tensions between them are mostly performative and symbolic as no major political force represents a genuine alternative to the status quo of the spectacle. The intense feuds between the Democrats and Republicans in the United States or the liberal and socialists parties in other countries along with their respective leaders disguise the mutual agreement between them that the prevailing hegemony of the spectacle shall not be challenged or question in any significant way, Like with the celebrities of consumption, politicians who genuinely propose values or institutions that place the components of the spectacle in question quickly find themselves marginalized. The fate of socialist politician Bernie Sanders serves as perhaps the most profound example of this. When Sanders gained genuine traction in his run for president in 2020, it was party elites in the Democratic Party who arranged for his marginalization by coordinating the other candidates at the time to support party patriarch Joe Biden–a decision that succeeded in eliminating the insurgency of Sanders and ultimately delivering the White House to Biden (but also perhaps setting the stage for Trump’s return as questions of Biden’s fitness for office scrambled the ability of Democrats to retain the White House in 2024).

In discussing the star of decision-making, Debord interestingly offers two examples–Nikita Khrushchev and John F. Kennedy. Both provide examples of “admirable people who personify the system (and) are well known for not being what they seen; they attain greatness by stooping below the reality of the most insignificant individual life…” In the case of Khrushchev, for claiming to be a crucial military decision-maker of the Soviet Union during the Second World War, and for Kennedy relying on the skills of his speechwriter for crafting the lines from his speeches that he is most famous for. However, in offering these two individuals from two different sides of the Iron Curtain, Debord is also setting up an important characteristic of the spectacle itself–its infinite flexibility and changeability. Shortly after making the distinction between Khrushchev and Kennedy as examples of starts of decision-making, Debord makes a distinction between the integrated spectacle and diffuse spectacle. The differences between these two understandings of the spectacle has been discussed at length before (make reference here). But even in making these distinctions, Debord wants to emphasize that these variations are necessarily in competition with each other and are, in fact part of a much larger pageant. As Debord writes, “the false choices by spectacular abundance–choices based on the juxtaposition of competing yet mutually reinforcing spectacles and of distinct yet interconnected roles–develop into struggles between illusory qualities designed to generate fervent allegiance to quantitative trivialities.” Taken to its logical limits, the argument Debord is making here is that geopolitical struggles, and the “celebrities” that are offered as personification of these struggles, are themselves spectacular narratives designed to legitimize the status quo of the contemporary moment. A struggle like the Cold War, which one might assume defies any attempt at banalization, is in fact a production of the forces of twentieth century spectacular capitalism.

In 1989, the spectacle underwent a major transformation with the collapse of the Berlin Wall and the East/West standoff of the Cold War. Debord chronicles this transformation in his book “Commentaries on the Society of the Spectacle” written in 1990. The nature of these changes–creating what Debord called the “integrated spectacle,” has been written about at length in previous posts. What is of interest here and relevant to the overarching question of the role of the choices of Trump for his new Cabinet is the place of celebrity in this new version of the spectacle. Though never using the language of “celebrity” quite as explicitly as before, Debord does offer what might be an archetype of what a celebrity of the integrated spectacle would look like. Panamanian General Manuel Noriega may not be a recognizable name to most people in 2025, but in 1988, his name was at the top of every global newspaper as a geopolitical drama unfolded between Panama and the United States. After being a local asset and advocate for US foreign policy and in the informal employ of the CIA throughout, Noriega found himself de facto president of the country after the disputed election in 1988. Flouting US instructions to stepdown, Noriega declared the election void and declared himself as president in a time when Panama need “strong leadership” to deal with the foreign interference of the United States. Viewing this pageant from afar, Debord wrote:

“Far from being a peculiarly Panamanian phenomenon, this General Noreiga, who sells
everything and fakes everything, in a world which does precisely the same thing, was
altogether a perfect representative of the integrated spectacle, and of the successes it
allows the assorted managers of its internal and external politics: a sort of statesman in a sort of state, a sort of general, a capitalist. He is the very model of our modern prince, and of those destined to come to power and stay there, the most able resemble him closely. It is not Panama which produces such marvels, it is our times.”

In this description of Noriega we get our first sense of what celebrity in the integrated spectacle looks like. Like the integrated spectacle’s combination of the concentrated and diffuse spectacles, celebrity in the integrated spectacle takes the two archetypes offered by Debord in 1967–the star of consumption and the star of decision-making–and combines into a kind of Caesar-like figure who is both a figure of great power who must “possess the full range of admired human qualities” but also serves a figure of admiration who indulges in all the luxuries of consumer capitalism. When Noriega was at the height of his notoriety, the news media was aswirl with stories of Noriega’s use of authoritarian power but also his indulgences and perversities, the latter of which were made all the more scandalous when he sought refuge from occupying US troops (who had arrived in an elaborate military maneuver that was itself an example of a “spectacular operation”) in the Vatican Embassy–a place staffed largely by celibate nuns. In an ironic twist, it was the US Army’s constant playing of contemporary rock’n’roll music that finally forced Noriega to surrender to US troops—a siege only possible in a spectacular society.

Debord never lived to see Donald Trump rise to the top of the American political landscape as its first bon fide American Caesar. If he had, he might have argued that Noriega was perhaps an early model or pre-beta test version of the ideal celebrity of the integrated spectacle. Noriega had the misfortune of not benefiting from the concentrated elements of the integrated spectacle as a “strongman” of a small Latin American state. As the incoming president of the most powerful nation on earth, Trump will have the totality of the concentrated spectacle at his command and not be subject to a more powerful “star of decision-making” chief executive from a more powerful state impacting his fate. Like Noriega, however, Trump’s rise to political power required a similar rise of prominence as a “star of consumption” who publicly indulged and flouted opulent performances of consumption–the “vacations” that Debord paired with the “power.”

Which brings one back to Trumps cabinet picks and the controversy swirling around them. Looking at it from a distance, such controversy is par for the course and couldn’t be otherwise–controversy and chaos are key sources of Trump’s power. But if one looks closely at Trump’s most controversial picks, one sees that they are themselves examples of celebrities in the integrated spectacle–individuals who have succeeded as stars of both consumption and decision-making. Robert Kennedy Jr. might be the best example of this. His birth into the Kennedy family bestowed upon him the aura of the star of decision-making Debord connected with his uncle. His early career lacked the tabloid quality one might expect of someone like Trump, but in 2015, this began to change with the publication of a “tell-all” biography that detailed his turbulent personal life that included arrests for drug possession and philandering on spouses. It was about this same time that Kennedy embraced his now infamous skepticism of vaccines and leveraged the controversy of this position as a more visible public skeptic of a wide-range of health and environmental issues (as well as some classics of conspiracy theory including the existence of chemtrails and, ironically, the truth of the assassination of John F. Kennedy). Armed with these controversial opinions, he ran for president as an independent in 2024 where he ostensibly positioned himself as the plausible alternative to the repugnant status quo of the two party system, leveling harsh criticisms of both Trump and Biden. Throughout his campaign frequent stories of odd behavior and dubious associations ensured he was in the public spotlight on a consistent basis. It was this quality of being able to maintain a portion of the public imagination on him that possibly endeared him to Trump, who has always been more impressed by the ability of people to generate media attention than prowess in articulating policy positions or such practical political skills.

One could go through all of Trump’s nomination and easily identify the elements of both the star of consumption and star of decision-making they represent. Tulsi Gabbard may top the list as the telegenic former member of Congress who offered the intriguing narrative of a once-Bernie Sanders-supporting liberal who made the transition to a stalwart of the MAGA movement and has been a focal point of political controversy for her support of former Syrian dictator Bashar Al-Assad and flattering comments about Russian president Vladimir Putin. Pete Hegseth has been a longtime Fox News host (which is likely the place Trump first noticed him) who has been a focal point of controversy for his reactionary views on the US military (banning woman and gays from combat as well as ignoring the Geneva Conventions) and his personal life. Scott Turner, nominated for Transportation Secretary, is also a veteran of the Fox media empire (Fox Business). Trump has nominated Dr. Mehmet Oz, the former medical talk show host and failed candidate for the Senate in Pennsylvania to administer Medicare and Medicaid. And former professional wrestling executive Linda McMahon has been tapped to be Secretary of Education.

Critics of these picks have all made similar complaints about their fitness for the offices they may occupy–they lack the governmental experience to properly run these important posts. And while this is certainly the case, such a critique overlooks the new political reality in the society of the spectacle–the point isn’t to demonstrate the ability or possession of the competence to govern, but the appearance of such abilities or competencies. And such appearances can only be had by appearing in media in some form–from being a television personality on cable news to being a focal point of gossip due to one’s extravagant life and courting of controversy. One’s presence in the media is the criteria by which competency in determined, not experience, knowledge or other such banalities.

In the brave new world of Trump’s Caesarism, celebrity is now a qualification for government. However, as McKenzie Wark has pointed out, the contemporary integrated spectacle is not something that can be fully controlled or conquered Indeed, the more one tries to control it, the more one is vulnerable to its undulations. This is what Wark called “spectacle of disintegration,” and even in the case of Trump’s cabinet picks, we see evidence of its effects. This discussion will be detailed in a subsequent post.