Last week, The Fulcrum introduced "What is your take?" This biweekly feature where we will ask our readers a question or two.
We look forward to engaging with our readers as we share your responses and create a dialogue around different topics and issues that are important to all of us.
Today's question is: One of the most popular songs in the Broadway show "Hamilton" is "My Shot." As we strive to help protect and improve democracy in America, what do you see as "Your Shot" to make a difference?
Please share your responses by emailing to pop-culture@fulcrum.us.
In the meantime, let's look back at The Fulcrum's first question: What piece of art, music or theater has enhanced (or detracted) your connection to the work you do?
We were overwhelmed by the number of responses and thank everyone who participated. The responses showcase our belief that the arts have the power to break down boundaries and overcome distances between people.
Below are a few of the numerous responses we received speaking to the power of the arts to connect us as a people.
Responses
- "The Peace Train" by Cat Stevens. I've always loved that song even without knowing all of the lyrics. I wish we all spent more time on the "peace train" and less time on the "crazy train!" — Mary Gaylord.
- What a neat new idea! I saw the above piece from the Educating for American Democracy team. The category was civic honesty, reflective patriotism and the artist was in the 10th grade. It reminds me that we can touch democracy from many different angles and if the youth of today demonstrate this democratic beauty — then we must be creating "a more perfect union". — Sara Gifford, ActiVote.
- Suzanne Brennan Firstenberg's installation on the National Mall of 690,000-plus white flags representing lives lost to Covid reminded me of the incredible power of art. This dramatic installation, "In American Flags," is providing both an opportunity for national recognition of the massive loss we have all experienced and personal acknowledgement for those who have lost loved ones. Absolutely incredible. — Liz Harvey, American Promise.
- I was totally surprised and enchanted by the Wind Circle Peace Sculpture at the Devil's Tower National Monument. The Mobius Strip was by the community college where I taught as a symbol of paradox and unification. We had different fields (sometimes competing for resources) as well as a very disparate student body, and we were trying to unite and work together without discounting any of the components. The history behind the Junky Moto's Circle of Smoke Peace Sculpture reinforced my faith and hope. — Anonymous
When we asked our first question, we said we expected the answers to run the gamut from exasperated to humorous to anxious to hopeful. We were not surprised.
We are more convinced than ever that by engaging our readers through music, theatre, poetry, dance and all the arts, The Fulcrum can help us all find our shared humanity despite the sharp elbows of the day-to-day in American life and politics. And by doing so we hope to build upon The Fulcrum's mission of being a place where insiders and outsiders to politics are informed, meet, talk and act to repair our democracy and make it live and work in our everyday lives.
Thank you.
David L. Nevins
Co-Publisher, The Fulcrum
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.