Altmire, a Democrat, represented Pennsylvania in the House of Representatives from 2007 to 2013. He studies primary election systems and is on the advisory board of Open Primaries.
In what has become an annual ritual, the Los Angeles Times recently attacked California’s nonpartisan primary election process.
The focus of the piece was the state Senate’s 4th district. According to the Times, the Northern California district “belongs” to the Republican Party. The area has previously elected many Republicans, so the result must be preordained.
On June 6, eight candidates ran in the 4th district primary. Six were Republicans and two were Democrats. When all the votes were counted, the two most popular candidates – those who got the most votes – were Tim Robertson and Marie Alvarado-Gil, both Democrats. They now advance to face one another in the general election.
This was all the Times needed to once again criticize the nonpartisan system, now in place for a decade. The criticisms are frustratingly familiar: It allows unfair results like in the 4th district. It has not produced moderation. Independents don’t care enough to vote in primaries. The reform has not produced meaningful change.
These criticisms are dead wrong.
The premise that Republican voters in the 4th will skip the general election because there is not a Republican on the ballot is incorrect. Research by Charles Munger showed that so called “orphaned” voters participate in high numbers. Andy Sinclair at Claremont McKenna found that 60 percent of Californians like the system, and that voter approval of the legislature has gone from 10 percent to 50 percent in a decade.
The 4th district race was what democracy should look like! The six GOP candidates were unable to inspire broad support and ended up balkanizing the conservative vote. They didn’t adapt their message and they lost because they couldn’t inspire the voters. So now, two Democrats will compete to represent a conservative-leaning district. To remain in office, whichever Democrat wins will be required to legislate in a way that appeals to voters of the conservative district, breaking the norms of traditional party politics. In today’s polarized times, we need more of that, not less.
Sinclair points out that defining “moderation” is difficult. It’s a tricky term that means different things to different people. Some have argued that Sacramento has become even more bipartisan, while other research shows modest effects. We know this much to be true: While California is still dominated by the Democrats, the parties no longer control the electoral process, from primaries to gerrymandering. Voters have freedom to choose from all the candidates. In many races, candidates whose rhetoric appeals only to their extreme base lose to candidates with a more inclusive message.
We can debate whether this leads to more moderation, but it undeniably leads to more pragmatism and accountability. There’s certainly a better reception in Sacramento for the Chamber of Commerce’s proposals for business growth now than under the previous partisan primary system. California Forward spoke to dozens of legislators and found “the majority of respondents felt that the top two primary has empowered more independent-minded, moderate, mainstream, and centrist candidates. Similarly, a majority felt that the top two primary shifts power away from the extremes — both special interests and party leadership, and benefits include increased competition and representation of a broader range of views in campaigns.”
In 46 states, candidates for Congress and state legislature are forced to compete in primary elections that are controlled by the parties, not the voters. Winners tend to be those candidates who are more responsive to small partisan interest groups than to the broader electorate. In states with party-controlled primaries, 40 percent of state legislators run unopposed in November. California has short-circuited this and put power in the hands of the voters. Has this led to a political utopia? Of course not. The parties still exercise control, and there are still powerful special-interest groups in California that have choked off innovation on every issue, from homelessness to taxes to energy to land management. Yes, “politics as usual” is still alive and well in California.
But in most states, voters have no tools to combat this. Now they do in California. Politicians no longer draw the lines of their own districts, and voters no longer vote in party-controlled primary elections. The voters have a system they like, and they more often than not use it to make an impact, even though it is still messy and imperfect.
Don’t let the critics fool you. No district belongs to a political party. The primaries don’t belong to a political party. They should belong to the people, and California’s system helps keep it that way.




















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.