‘His Hippocampus Is Deteriorating’: Neuroscientist Re-Frames Donald Trump’s Behavioural Outbursts

Donald Trump‘s long record of public outbursts and public behaviour may be consistent with a neurodegenerative disorder, neuroscientist Frank George argues in a new analysis published Friday. George says the patterns deserve closer public discussion but acknowledges he has not examined Trump or made a formal diagnosis.

The concerns about Trump’s mental fitness have circulated since he entered national politics, usually framed as armchair talk of narcissism, ego or instability. George argues the discussion should move beyond partisan debate and instead focus on observable behavioural patterns. He contends that American institutions, from the press to professional bodies, have been reluctant to discuss behavioural patterns because of ethical concerns.

In his piece, George says those institutions are hobbled by ‘blind spots’ when it comes to recognising and naming certain psychological patterns in powerful figures. He is especially critical of the way journalists slice Trump’s worst moments into standalone dramas rather than connecting the dots.

‘Nobody objects when reporters talk about a ‘pattern’ of corruption, fraud or discrimination,’ he writes. ‘But when the pattern involves personality and behaviour, many news organisations are way more hesitant to frame it that way.’ The result, in his view, is that every alarming statement is treated as a fresh outrage instead of part of an enduring story about a man whose behaviour, George argues, may warrant closer clinical discussion.

How Donald Trump Slipped Past the ‘Goldwater Rule’

A large part of this reticence, George argues, comes down to the so‑called Goldwater Rule. The rule was adopted by the American Psychiatric Association in 1973, after some psychiatrists publicly speculated about the mental health of Republican presidential candidate Barry Goldwater without ever examining him. George is not Trump’s treating physician and has not personally examined him. His analysis is based entirely on publicly observable behaviour rather than a clinical evaluation.

On paper, that sounds like a guardrail against weaponising mental health labels in politics. In practice, George says, it had an unintended side effect. ‘Psychiatrists became so worried about saying too much that the public was left hearing almost nothing at all,’ he writes. The profession that exists to recognise behavioural patterns found itself oddly tongue‑tied, even as millions watched one unfold in real time.

George is careful not to ‘diagnose’ Trump outright in violation of that rule. Instead, he leans hard on what lay people can see with their own eyes. George argues that many of the behaviours he discusses are publicly observable, although he acknowledges that observation alone cannot establish a medical diagnosis. Chronic grandiosity, projection, the compulsive insistence on personal victory in every scenario – George labels these not as partisan character attacks but as plain ‘observation.’

A New Frame for Donald Trump: From Personality to Brain

The shift, he suggests, is in how Trump’s behaviour is now being described. For years, critics reached for language like ‘personality disorder’ or ‘malignant narcissism,’ which sounded, to many ears, like political name‑calling dressed up in psychiatric jargon. That framing entrenched both sides. Supporters dismissed it as elitist pathologising. Some professionals, wary of crossing ethical lines, fell silent.

Recently, however, George detects a different conversation taking shape. There is, he says, ‘growing interest in Trump showing progressing signs of dementia, notably FTD,’ referring to frontotemporal dementia, alongside discussion of malignant narcissism. He believes that once people started hearing the phrase ‘neurodegenerative disorder’ rather than ‘personality disorder,’ they reacted differently.

In his words, ‘When they heard: ‘Trump may have a neurodegenerative disorder,’ that sounded like medicine.’ The moment the frame moved from morality to neurology, he argues, more people were willing to ask harder questions about what, exactly, might be happening inside Trump’s brain and how that might be affecting his judgement.

George captures the tension with a blunt contrast. At some point, he writes, society decided there was a moral difference between saying ‘His hippocampus is deteriorating’ and ‘His capacity for empathy appears profoundly impaired.’ Both, he insists, are ultimately statements about brain function. One feels like an impersonal mechanic’s report. The other feels like a character assassination.

That distinction matters, he suggests, because it has let public life drift into a strange compromise, where talking about ‘the car’ is acceptable but talking about ‘the driver’ is not.

None of George’s claims about possible neurodegenerative disease in Trump have been confirmed by medical examination, public records or Trump’s own doctors, and no formal diagnosis has been made.

Trump has repeatedly rejected suggestions that he is experiencing cognitive decline. A White House medical examination released in 2025 reported no neurological abnormalities and stated that he scored 30 out of 30 on the Montreal Cognitive Assessment.

In the absence of transparent medical data, George’s argument rests on patterns of behaviour witnessed over decades, which means his conclusions should be understood as interpretation rather than a medically confirmed diagnosis.

George says that institutions have been reluctant to discuss behavioural patterns in powerful public figures because of ethical and professional concerns. ‘We didn’t lack evidence. We didn’t even lack the vocabulary,’ he concludes. ‘What we lacked was the institutional and societal courage to put the two together.’ In that silence, he suggests, the pattern itself was allowed to grow, unchallenged, for a very long time.

Originally published on IBTimes UK