LaRue writes at Structure Matters. He is former deputy director of the Eisenhower Institute and of the American Society of International Law.
Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt have followed up their bestselling “How Democracies Die ” with “Tyranny of the Minority,” which delves deeper into the specific causes of America’s democratic decline. They examine the structural and institutional factors beneath our electoral problems and expose a major risk to U.S. democracy – the Constitution itself.
“It is essential,” they write, “that ideas for constitutional reform become part of a larger national political debate.” They advocate loosening some checks and balances that now constrain or deny majority outcomes, thereby producing results that are unrepresentative and harder to govern.
Pushing amendments toward the top of the already long list of election reform priorities is a tall order. Levitsky and Ziblatt attempt to meet the challenge by proposing a package of reforms anchored by four amendments, including establishing a right to vote, abandoning the Electoral College, and easing the amendment process. Their voting rights amendment, for example, is paired with six familiar ideas, such as automatic voter registration and nonpartisan election administration.
Timing and history buttress their case. Changing the Constitution appears impossible today, but it always has seemed that way when the country is deep into its usual decades-long gap between amendment clusters, as we are now. Towards the end of The Gilded Age, for example, thought leaders pronounced the Constitution “ unamendable,” only to be proven wrong when the first two of four Progressive Era amendments were ratified in 1913.
Leading amendment efforts today involve the Electoral College and campaign finance (and there remains the limbo confronting the Equal Rights Amendment). Ten years before entering the U.S. Congress in 2017, Jamie Raskin led Maryland’s state legislature to be the first to adopt the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact, the Electoral College workaround that would use the popular vote to elect the president. He recently described the compact as a means to constitutional change: “Once we see the new system working in practice, I feel certain we will amend the Constitution to adopt the system formally.” He went on to equate advancing the NPVIC with granting women the right to vote at the state level prior to the 19th amendment’s passage in 1920 (20 states and territories had formally done so by then).
Jeff Clements, CEO and co-founder of American Promise, has been advocating for a 28th Amendment to limit campaign spending since the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision in 2010 unleashed torrents of unlimited, unaccountable cash into campaigns. He says a constitutional solution (“reasonably regulating and limiting contributions and spending”) is necessary to prevent the Supreme Court from disarming any enacted legislative responses.
Like Raskin, Clements stresses working in the states; 22 have signed on to the For Our Freedom Amendment, reinforcing American Promise’s push in Congress for cross-partisan support. “It is a myth,” he argues, “that the Constitution cannot be amended. Yes, it is hard to do and takes time, but citizens are embracing the challenge. They see the need and are making change happen.” He cites recent CBS polling showing that 86% of Americans identify money in politics as the top reason democracy is under threat, a level of support that partisan naysayers ignore at their risk.
Other constitutional reforms could be candidates for the next wave or cluster of amendments. Calls for congressional term limits are popular, but errantly propose limits that are too short; longer limits, however, such as four terms in the Senate rather than two, merit consideration. And more insidious problems, such as the permanent campaign and the president’s second-term curse, could be alleviated by changing term lengths, a surprisingly impactful constitutional pillar.
The Framers anticipated the need to respond to social evolution or constitutional erosion, and gave future generations an amendment process to make corrections. The Article V process may itself be flawed – Levitsky and Ziblatt propose abandoning the step of having states ratify amendments, and the National Constitution Center’s Constitution Drafting Project proposes reducing the supermajority requirements for congressional passage and state ratification – but it exists.
And is what we must use. Levitsky and Ziblatt warn that “[d]emocratic reform will remain impossible . . . unless we rethink our attitude toward constitutional change.” They add, “when an ambitious idea is ‘unthinkable’ . . . the battle is lost. Non-reform becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
We must keep such a prophecy from coming true; fortunately, amendment history is on our side. May the next cluster of amendments arrive sooner rather than too late.




















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.