President Trump declares all opponents “terrorists” in latest executive order tantrum

President Trump signed an executive order labeling antifa a “domestic terrorist organization” — despite no law letting him do so. Critics say it’s a political stunt wrapped in a conspiracy theory.

President Trump declares all opponents “terrorists” in latest executive order tantrum

Washington, D.C. — Because apparently nothing says “presidential” like a full-blown tantrum, President Donald J. Trump has officially signed an executive order Monday designating antifa — a loosely organized umbrella term for anti-fascist activists — as a “domestic terrorist organization.” Yes, you read that right. In the latest episode of “The Apprentice: Oval Office,” Trump essentially declared that disagreeing with him is now grounds for being branded a terrorist.

The move comes in the wake of the sensationally tragic assassination of conservative personality Charlie Kirk. Though law enforcement hasn’t actually linked antifa or any left-wing group to the suspect, Trump wasted no time connecting imaginary dots with a Sharpie, suggesting a vast, shadowy network of latte-drinking anarchists plotting in Brooklyn coffee shops. The White House even rolled out a fact sheet claiming antifa has a “long history of terrorizing our communities” — a claim critics say has about as much evidence behind it as a QAnon message board thread.

Legal experts, meanwhile, are practically spitting out their lattes laughing. Under U.S. law, presidents simply don’t have the power to designate domestic organizations as terrorist groups. “You can’t prosecute an ideology,” noted Luke Baumgartner of George Washington University’s Program on Extremism, presumably while suppressing a giggle. Antifa, for those just tuning in, is not even a formal group. It’s a decentralized movement dating back to anti-neo-Nazi protests of the 1980s, and, according to the Congressional Research Service, lacks any single leader, membership roll, or corporate office to raid. Think less “terror cell” and more “Facebook event with no RSVP count.”

Still, the White House insists antifa is the reason for everything from pro-Trump rally disruptions to your Uber being late. “This is part of a dangerous trend of Radical Left violence,” a spokesperson huffed, citing Kirk’s death as Exhibit A — despite the suspect having no confirmed ties to antifa. In the world according to Trump, correlation equals causation, and causation equals cable news chyron.

The executive order directs federal agencies to “investigate and thwart” any illegal antifa operations and go after those who “fund” them. Translation: political theater. At best, the order can shuffle around enforcement priorities. At worst, it’s a test balloon for using terrorism rhetoric to bludgeon dissent — a tactic more often associated with regimes Trump used to say he’d never emulate.

Observers couldn’t help but notice the timing. Trump had promised just last week to designate antifa as a “major terrorist organization,” a vow that plays well with his base’s hunger for a villainous Left, even if it’s legally toothless. It’s the same pattern from his first term, when he threatened to do this in 2020 but never followed through. As then-FBI Director Chris Wray testified at the time, antifa is “a movement or an ideology,” not a singular group — something that apparently still hasn’t made it into Trump’s briefing binder.

Critics are calling the order pure political theater: a chance for Trump to headline as America’s tough-on-terror action hero while fighting a phantom menace. Supporters are already sharing memes of Trump as Rambo, clutching a tattered Constitution. And in classic Trump style, the move gives him wall-to-wall cable news coverage just as other scandals are bubbling.

In the end, Trump’s new executive order may have all the legal force of a tweet. But it signals something more chilling: the normalization of branding political opponents as national security threats. For a president who rose to power by stoking fears of “American carnage,” this latest declaration is less a policy than a plot twist — and, like any bad sequel, it’s louder, messier, and even less believable than the original.