Donald Trump lies. He lies about the big things, the small things, and sometimes about things that don’t even matter. Yet millions of Americans still trust him. Fact-checkers can catalog his falsehoods by the thousands, but the pile never seems to weigh him down. The paradox says less about Trump himself than it does about the political culture that made him possible.

For his supporters, Trump’s relationship to truth is almost irrelevant. What matters is that he says what they feel. He does not speak in policy briefs or cautious lawyerly language. He shouts, mocks, exaggerates, and repeats the grievances of those who believe the system is rigged against them. The content may be false, but the emotion feels real. To many, that makes him more authentic than polished politicians who recite carefully tested lines.

The collapse of trust in American institutions only deepens this dynamic. When newspapers call Trump’s statements false, many of his backers see it as proof of bias, not correction. Fact-checking becomes another arm of a despised establishment. The media says “lie,” they hear “cover-up.” In this climate, truth is judged not by accuracy but by which side is speaking.

Polarization does the rest. Admitting Trump is dishonest would feel like conceding to the enemy. Supporting him has become a badge of identity, and in politics today, identity is more powerful than fact. Voters may shrug at his falsehoods, reasoning that all politicians lie. If lying is universal, then better a liar who fights for you than one who sneers at you.

None of this excuses Trump’s dishonesty. But it does explain why it doesn’t sink him. Half the country does not trust Trump because he tells the truth. They trust him because he tells their truth—even when the words themselves are false. In an era of broken faith, that distinction has become the only truth that matters.