Molineaux is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and president/CEO of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
I was recently introduced to a poem that reminded me of the bravery of those testifying before the Jan 6 select committee. As Rep. Liz Cheney pointed out, especially the women. Here’s the poem:
“Courage is the measure of our heartfelt participation with life, with another, with a community, a work, a future. To be courageous, is not necessarily to go anywhere or do anything except to make conscious those things we already feel deeply and then to live through the unending vulnerabilities of those consequences.” -David Whyte
My work to improve our nation feels this way to me. As a nation, we are at a crossroads. We can continue to improve our nation. Or we can give in and give up. Will we have the courage to correct our course?
Most people think the government is something other people do. It’s not personal to most Americans – therefore they have no heartfelt participation in it. And yet, as a nation, we are terribly vulnerable to the forces of division and authoritarians.
Normally we talk about courage as acting despite our fear. This observation about courage being the conscious recognition of our vulnerability, and living with the consequences, seems more personal. In this era of likely or probable political violence, stepping forward to take a stand, to protect our institutions, to call out our institutions, etc. is an act of courage. Think of the courage required for those in the former administration to testify publicly, under oath. Without exception, they’ve recognized and accepted their vulnerability and will live with the consequences for the sake of our nation. For the sake of all of us.
If the local and federal government represents the collective of us and our social contract, what do the actions of our municipal bodies, state legislatures and Congress say about who we are? At best, our governance shows how dysfunctional we are – stuck in a bad marriage and unable to divorce. At worst, it shows a cruel heart that disparages those who need help, because they are not self-reliant.
As in previous generations, our societal turmoil is a symptom of an underlying disease that develops from a broken social contract. We’ve witnessed hypocrisy, corruption and the resulting nihilism has made us selfish; each wanting our own way, regardless of the harm caused to others. Fueled by disinformation, grifters and wannabe kings, many among us believe that turning to authoritarians, theocracy or fascism will keep the world as it was. It won’t.
As of today, we still are a functioning democracy. We can still elect pro-democracy candidates to represent us. Or we can elect authoritarians who will strip away the protections of democracy, one by one.
If we elect authoritarians, we will follow a predictive pattern. Protections will first be removed from those who are “othered” by the ruling class. And as each successive protection is removed, power is concentrated within a smaller and smaller group of people – the privileged. Until they are not. Is this the future we want? Either we are all free, or none of us are free.
Change is our only guarantee. And if we can collectively decide what we want our future to be, we can then plan to make it so. I want a free and open society for my future. For that future, I’m choosing to fully participate in its co-creation. Like those before me, I’ll speak truth to power. I’ll work the election. I’ll engage with people different from myself and recognize our common humanity. I’ll vote for pro-democracy candidates. How will you measure your courage?
What do you want? And what will you do to get it?
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.