Femi Ashekun/
President Donald Trump stunned reporters aboard Air Force One on Sunday when, responding to a question from Fox News’ Peter Doocy, he mused, “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to make heaven,” even as he reflected on his recent peace initiatives in Gaza and Ukraine.
When Doocy asked whether his peace plan for Israel-Hamas had strengthened his spiritual case, Trump admitted with characteristic frankness, “I don’t think there’s anything that’s going to get me in heaven … I think I’m not, maybe, heaven-bound. I may be in heaven right now as we fly on Air Force One.”
He added that despite his doubts, he believed he had “made life a lot better for a lot of people,” implicitly suggesting his policy achievements could count in his favour.
Trump’s spiritual ambivalence is not new. In August, he linked his ambition to end the Russia-Ukraine war to his desire to secure a favorable standing in the afterlife, saying, “If I can save 7,000 people a week from being killed … I want to try to get to heaven if possible … I’m hearing I’m not doing well.”
Observers see this public soul-searching as part political theatre, part sincere reflection.
Some critics frame it as a rhetorical move to infuse his foreign policy with moral gravitas; others warn that such statements risk undermining his credibility among religious constituencies that expect confidence in one’s salvation.
Trump’s remarks came in the wake of intensified global attention on his peace diplomacy, especially his role in the Israel-Hamas truce that released all 20 living hostages.
His candid tone overshadowed much of the usual political script, leaving listeners to wrestle with the idea that a sitting American president would openly express uncertainty about his eternal fate.
0
