Constitutional scholars are experiencing fifteen minutes of fame. In these pages and others, on podcasts and TikTok, before the cameras and in front of microphones, it seems constitutional experts are everywhere. That’s a good thing.
Except when it isn’t.
Constitutional commentators are used to giving their opinions and predicting the future. They frequently remind us of what the Framers intended and what SCOTUS is trying to tell us. But we’ve never seen anything like this level of analysis and prognostication. The frenzied disruption of political norms and constitutional conventions oozing from the White House will do that. The most common question posed to America’s constitutional whizzes: Are we in a constitutional crisis?
Some of the commentary is pure hyperbole. In fact, a lot of it is pure hyperbole, meant to increase ratings or sell more newspapers. And some of the commentary from America’s leading authorities is measured, erudite, and insightful.
But some of it is just plain wrong.
So, let me try my hand at bringing clarity to the political environment we’re currently in. Let me take my fifteen minutes. And I’ll do so through the medium of a fictional podcast interview. Lucky me, I’ve been invited to join Jamie “ AMBMCA ” Matty-Sen on her broadcast entitled, “If Men Were Angels.” Joe Rogan is sweating.
Jamie: Welcome, Professor Breslin, to our show.
Me: Thank you, Jamie. It’s a real pleasure to be here. And, please, call me Beau.
Jamie: Okay, Beau, let me start with THE question on everyone’s mind: Are we in a constitutional crisis right now?
Me: No, Jamie, we are not. At least not yet. I know that’s not a popular answer, especially among my friends on the Democratic left, but if we measure a constitutional crisis by whether the institutions of government are no longer functioning as they were designed, the answer has to be no. Elections are happening; transitions of power have been peaceful (at least to this point); congressional leaders are still pushing bills and counting votes. Congress passed a budget and the President signed it into law. The President is executing the law, a little chaotically I might add, but he is. And perhaps most importantly, the courts, for the most part, are holding the line on illegal and unconstitutional activity coming out of the White House.
Jamie: You say, “for the most part.” What do you mean?
Me: What I mean, Jamie, is that the federal judiciary has so far done its job. In almost every case it’s been a bulwark against the Trump administration’s unprecedented power grab. It’s been a “check” intended to “balance” the tripartite federal government. Federal judges have told the Trump administration that its razing of USAID is “likely unconstitutional.” Federal judges have blocked Trump’s attempt to roll back several green policies. Federal judges have rejected Trump’s order banning transgender people from military service. Even the United States Supreme Court, a court historically reluctant to wade into these types of contests, has dealt Trump a blow. And, most recently, Chief Justice Roberts rebuked the President for threatening the entire judiciary with the weapon of impeachment. He reminded Mr. Trump that the High Court—weakened for sure and without significant enforcement power—is not to be messed with.
Jamie: True, true. That did happen.
Me: If you need even more evidence of the federal judiciary holding its ground, Jamie, consider that Trump officials are also calling this moment a “constitutional crisis.” They say that the crisis isn’t because of a runaway executive, as Democrats say, but because the federal courts are effectively slowing down the President’s steamroll. The system’s working. The courts are holding up, Jamie, so much so that even Trump’s advisors are using the hyperbolic language of a “constitutional crisis.” Perhaps the problem is that we are too quick to get to a verbal defcon 10. Are we in a constitutional crisis? No. Not yet.
Jamie: But what about the administration ignoring Judge Boasberg’s order on deportation?
Me: I’m no Trump apologist, Jamie. I’ve been a moderate Democrat most of my life—more Pete Buttigieg than Bernie Sanders. But, again, we should be careful with language. I wouldn’t say the administration “ignored” Judge Boasberg’s ruling. They may have flouted it or scorned it, but they had a rationale for not giving up the information Judge Boasberg requested. It may not be a rationale some folks around the country wanted to hear, and it may have a loose tether to the truth. But it was a rationale often used—even by Democratic presidents—to defy District Court rulings. Trump’s lawyers consistently cited “national security” as the reason for stonewalling. “We can’t give you the information you want, Judge Boasberg, because it may compromise national security.” You know, Jamie, it reminds me of another standoff between the president and a federal District Court judge. The most famous defiance of a district court order came more than fifty years ago when Richard Nixon refused to comply with Judge John Sirica’s issue of a subpoena. Judge Sirica wanted Nixon to give up the Watergate tapes, and the president refused. And what did Nixon cite as his reason for refusal? Executive privilege. I can’t give up the tapes, he said, because they contain sensitive secrets. Nixon even went to the extraordinary step of writing a personal letter to Judge Sirica explaining his reasoning. “I must decline to obey the command of that subpoena,” Nixon wrote. “In so doing I follow the example of a long line of my predecessors who have consistently adhered to the position that the president is not subject to compulsory process from the courts.” That famous—or rather infamous—standoff was settled only after the case worked its way up the appeals process. The point is that Nixon flouted Judge Sirica’s mandate and it took the Supreme Court to break the impasse. The same may be true in the deportation case.
Jamie: So, then what sort of crisis are we in, Beau?
Me: Ah, now that’s the right question, Jamie. Thank you for asking it. I would say we are in a political crisis, not a constitutional one. No matter what side of the aisle one sits on, we should all agree that we do not want an overly powerful executive and a completely impotent Congress. Unfortunately, we have both right now. Even Alexander Hamilton would be uncomfortable with the amount of energy we see in the executive, and almost every political leader in American history would be ashamed of the modern Congress’ collective shrug of indifference. I have serious problems with the courts— U.S. v. Lopez, Bush v. Gore, and Citizens United were just plain bad decisions—but my beef with the judiciary pales in comparison to my criticism of a Congress that places party about country, that defers to the other institutions of government to do the heavy lifting on most cultural issues, that is inhabited by professional politicians who want more than anything just to stay in power, and that lacks any degree of courage. It’s sad, really.
Jamie: Fair enough, Beau. I’m afraid that’s all the time we have right now. Thank you for being on the show, and please join us next time as we ask the question, “Whatever happened to America’s 5’3” diminutive, hypochondriac politicians? Why don’t we see more of those guys these days”? Until next time.




















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.