Weichlein is the CEO of FMC: The Former Members of Congress Association.
The 2020 election was the most secure in American history and there's no evidence that any voting system deleted, lost or changed any votes. There, I said it!
Actually, I didn't say it, but rather Chris Krebs, who served as director of the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency during the Trump administration, said it and was fired shortly thereafter by the then president.
Since last November, there have been almost six dozen related lawsuits adjudicated by state and federal judges across the country, most of them dropped for lack of evidence. There have also been several recounts, including multiple in Georgia alone, all resulting in essentially the same number of votes for each candidate. Yet a Sept. 12 poll by CNN showed that six in 10 Republicans and Republican-leaning independents agree that "believing that Donald Trump won the 2020 election" was very or somewhat important to what being a Republican meant to them.
No matter where you are politically, that number should really concern you because it means that 60 percent of the supporters of one of our two parties have lost all faith in the integrity of our elections. They don't believe their often-Republican local elections officials, conservative judges in various jurisdictions across this country, or the results of any recount or audit. To this 60 percent of Republicans, Joe Biden is not a legitimately elected president.
To many Republican officeholders at the state level, where election processes are enshrined in state regulations and law, their base's doubt has become a rallying cry to change election law. Republican candidates for secretary of state or other election-focused offices highlight the perceived failures of 2020 as they campaign in their communities. These political actors are seizing upon their voters' or constituents' doubt rather than reinforcing the mountain of evidence from court findings, recounts and other credible sources. This is the definition of solutions in search of a problem.
Given this tenor across the country, especially in swing states like Pennsylvania, Georgia or Arizona, how will the electorate ever accept the outcome of an election again? Won't a Democratic win merely showcase the same "rampant irregularities" as in 2020? Won't a Republican win merely prove that "voter suppression measures" implemented by Republican state legislatures after 2020 were successful?
The No. 1 challenge our representative democracy faces right now is the erosion of trust when it comes to the integrity of our elections. And while the Constitution clearly recognizes the states' primary role in election administration, it also outlines specific powers and responsibilities for the federal government. Congress in the past has not been shy about inserting a federal response to shortcomings at the state level, such as the abolition of poll taxes or requiring that polling stations be accessible to the disabled. Congress could and should act again to reinject trust into the system.
Most of us envision Election Day as a singular and unifying event, with millions of Americans exercising their right to vote and engaging in essentially the same voting process across the country. Unfortunately, that vision is quite blurred; all voters are not on equal footing.
There are 51 different elections happening across the 50 states and the District of Columbia. They each come with different standards for who gets to vote. For example, in Washington, D.C., a convicted felon never loses his or her right to vote, while in Kentucky certain violent felonies may cause one to permanently lose their right to vote. This also applies to how and when one can register to vote, how and where one can cast their vote, and how that vote is tabulated and reported.
If the outcome affects us all equally, then why should it be easier for me to participate in the process than someone in another state – or even in the same state but in another county? We don't have 50 different standards for what makes an airplane safe, and because of that I trust that I'm flying safely, whether I board the plane in New York or Houston.
There already are a number of federal entities devoted to our electoral process, most prominently the Election Assistance Commission and the Federal Election Commission. But partisanship is rearing its ugly head when it comes to both of these agencies: One is woefully underfunded, while the other for years has lacked the requisite number of politically appointed commissioners to do its job. By empowering these existing organs, Congress could restore trust and integrity into our electoral process and enforce election laws so that your ZIP code no longer determines your ability to participate in the democratic process. If that isn't a bipartisan goal, then what is?
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.”
____
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.