Reacting to criticism about the wave of big-money donors who have fueled his campaign, Joe Biden is allowing reporters into his fundraisers.
The former vice president's effort at transparency is designed to mollify Democratic voters worried about the pernicious effects that millionaires' cash can have on campaigns. And it creates some contrast with most of his presidential rivals, who are doing most of their fundraising from behind a curtain – by focusing on fundraising online and in smaller amounts not subject to disclosure.
The see-through nature of Biden's money machine is not comprehensive: Cameras are not allowed to film inside the mansions where the big donors mingle, some of the schmoozing is kept off limits, and it's "pool coverage" only, meaning a single reporter gets inside to take notes of the speeches and the atmospherics and that reporting is then shared for the rest of the press corps to use.
Still, those pool reports do peel back the curtain a bit on what goes on inside exclusive gatherings where donors pay thousands of dollars to get up close and personal with a top-tier national candidate. Four things that have become clear from the first handful of Biden events where the doors have been cracked ajar:
- The price may be steep, but at least the food is good. At the Los Angeles home of media executive Joe Waz and Cynthia Telles, who serves on boards affiliated with Kaiser Permanente, attendees were treated to ahi tuna ceviche and avocado, langoustine tail, and caviar.
- Just because the events are behind closed doors does not mean the public can't be heard. At the Telles-Waz event, about a dozen protesters from the union representing Kaiser's mental health clinicians could be heard chanting: "Kaiser, Kaiser, you can't hide: We can see your greedy side."
- The events don't lack for irony. In a swanky private room at the NoMad casino in Las Vegas, the hosts were MGM chief executive Jim Murren and his wife, Heather, an investor and former Wall Street analyst. Before introducing Biden, she lamented that "capitalism has been morphed into a system that concentrates wealth." At a breakfast gathering at an exclusive downtown Los Angeles social club, Biden lamented the Trump tax cut, widely seen as favoring the wealthy. "This God-awful tax cut – even though it may have benefited some of you – the God awful tax cut has not helped anybody who's real, anybody out there breaking their neck trying to figure out how to make the next meal."
- Joe is still Joe, no matter where he is. For the most part, Biden gave these high-dollar donors a version of the same stump speech he is giving to the huddled masses. And of course, he had to throw in references to the wisdom imparted by his grandfather: "Joey, keep the faith." And his grandmother: "No, Joey: Spread it. Go spread the faith."
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.