Bernsten is a graduate of Northwestern University and Oxford University's Creative Writing Master's program. He has written for The Oxford Political Review, USA Today, The Infatuation, and The Trevor Project, where he currently serves as Senior Managing Editor. His book 50 States of Mind: A Journey to Rediscover American Democracy is available for pre-order and the audiobook is available worldwide. He is kicking off his book tour and celebrating National Week of Conversation at an event on April 17th with American Public Square in Kansas City.
“I see your point” is one of the most under-utilized phrases in politics today. In a polarized America, conceding that you could have something to learn beyond your own worldview is difficult — even debating unimportant topics seemingly forces people to question their entire identity and value system.
Healthy debate is crucial to maintaining a strong democracy, and we need to be strong enough to be self-critical about our beliefs and interface with opposing points of view that challenge them. I did just this while traveling 23,000 miles across the United States for my book 50 States of Mind: A Journey to Rediscover American Democracy. Hoping to overcome my preconceived notions, I wanted to understand what other Americans’ worldviews could teach me. Even in our hyper-polarized, self-assured society, leading with the desire to listen taught me that there is good news in America.
In 2019, I read Democracy in America in graduate school, found inspiration in Alexis de Tocqueville’s travels, and decided to follow in his footsteps nearly 180 years after his book’s publication. I hit the road to talk to Americans of all stripes; with a grant from my graduate program at the University of Oxford, I drove to visit over 150 cities, towns, and villages in all 50 states. I wanted to find answers to the defining questions of the era. Does American democracy still work? Can we still coexist peacefully?
After the 2016 election, I wanted to understand the complicated country I lived in and where I fit into it. The question of what it means to be an American has always been difficult in a nation so full of various cultures and viewpoints, let alone during such a polarized time. To accurately portray America’s staggering diversity, I pushed myself to meet people from all walks of life. I stayed in the homes of people across the country who opened their doors to me. In turn, I responded with an open mind and a generous ear. This mindset also gave me space to learn what I didn’t know about the diverse perspectives across our country. I found a surprising amount of common ground, and it became my belief that building bridges—even with those with whom we initially seem to disagree—could be our last line of defense against a quickly radicalizing society.
The late great Secretary of State Madeleine Albright crystalized the dangers of our political environment in her book Fascism: A Warning: “At many levels, contempt has become a defining characteristic of American politics. It makes us unwilling to listen to what others say—unwilling, in some cases, even to allow them to speak. This stops the learning process cold and creates a ready-made audience for demagogues who know how to bring diverse groups of the aggrieved together in righteous opposition to everyone else.” With her words in mind, I consciously tried to rid myself of any vestige of self-righteousness or contempt as I allowed my preconceived notions to be challenged by my fellow Americans.
When we respond to those on the other side with knee-jerk opposition, it only increases the belief that we cannot possibly find constructive ways to have a conversation. The National Week of Conversation is a great opportunity to practice what I was able to hone over my travels across all 50 states.
We live in a country of incredible diversity; our upbringings and experiences define our opinions on politics, policies, and the country we want to live in. We have a tremendous amount to learn from each other. Unfortunately, prominent politicians and news outlets profit off dividing us across cultural lines. Political parties raise money off painting the policies of the other side of the aisle as a plot to turn America into an apocalyptic hellscape. The manufactured outrage, cultural division, and social media-incited breakdown in constructive dialogue make America seem irreparably divided. It may sound naive to say this, but we agree on more than it appears. Yes, we must point out the misinformation and lies that have made their way into our public square, but being prudent and prioritizing what we choose to find common ground on and what we must confront, allows the impact of selective disagreement to hold more weight.
My trip across the country did not yield a political consensus on the most divisive issues of the day. However, on the ground, I found that people were receptive to listening when you approached them in good faith. I found a common hunger to be listened to and understood – a yearning for recognition that one’s political perspectives are as multi-dimensional as one’s lived experiences.
It was through honest conversation that I was able to cut through the political rhetoric, and connect with many on a more human level – where candor and vulnerability yield nuance and an empathetic understanding. Telling and listening to stories is the most powerful political asset we have today to change hearts and minds. One of the great shames of this era is the rupturing of friendships and family relationships over this political moment. During my travels, I heard stories from many who gave up on uncles, best friends, or parents as lost causes. Since politics has become synonymous with values, we see people as unreachable, unteachable, and even irredeemable. Use your time during the National Week of Conversation to reach out to those with whom you may have become estranged. Build a bridge, lead with humility, and see if there is any common ground over which you can swallow your pride and say “I see your point.”




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.