Kleinfeld is a senior fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and a board member of the National Endowment for Democracy, Freedom House and States United for Democracy.
What separates a democracy from a dictatorship? The ability for the will of voters to determine who governs them. The rule of law, a force that holds even the most powerful to a set of rules and institutions independent of the will of any one man. The peaceful transfer of power between parties.
This month, Americans are learning how thin that line can be.
As Cassidy Hutchinson described Donald Trump’s plan to march with his followers to the Capitol, I heard echoes of Benito Mussolini’s March on Rome – when conservative leaders handed the country to a dictator without a shot.
On Oct. 28, 1922, about 25,000 of Mussolini’s black-shirted supporters gathered on the outskirts of Rome, threatening a march on the capital. The prime minister had been warned just a few days before – but refused to believe the threat was real. The military could have overwhelmed the marchers – but the government decided not to.
Mussolini’s Fascists were already the country's strongest political party, having used persuasive fears of communism mixed with street violence to get business leaders and others on their side, one locality at a time. Conservative elites thought they could pull the strings and control Mussolini, using his popularity to forward their agendas. By the time the marchers entered the capital, Mussolini had already been handed control of the country by the king and conservative party leaders.
Americans are rightfully stunned by the revelations of the select committee investigating the Jan. 6, 2021, riot at the Capitol. The president of the United States was aware that his followers were armed. He knew that the armaments were not intended for him. He directed the armed mob to march on the Capitol to pressure his vice president to overturn a legitimate election, after his own calls that morning had not succeeded. When Mike Pence did his constitutional duty, Trump was willing to let the man next in line for the presidency be killed by the angry mob he had summoned.
For two more weeks, this leader – a man who allegedly grasped for a steering wheel from the back seat so that he could lead his marchers to a transfer of power by force, whose word can launch thousands of nuclear missiles – remained in charge of the United States of America.
The country should be shocked by these devastating revelations. But they are not a surprise to the members of Congress who had been involved in the plotting and later sought pardons. They were not a revelation to the Republican Party and state leaders who had been privy to nearly two months of attempts to grasp at power over a lie through false accusations, demands to “find votes,” and fake elector schemes. They were not a shock to his staffers or his Cabinet, who failed to invoke the 25th Amendment, as was their constitutional duty.
Trump’s character was well-established during the 1,446 days he was in power before the events of Jan. 6. The intimidation and violence Trump directed his supporters to launch at anyone who stood in his way was also well known. Oathkeepers and other organized violent movements had provided volunteer security during his first inauguration and at multiple campaign events. The violent threats and armed protestors a Trump tweet could direct at the home of a Republican who voted for his impeachment, supported bipartisan legislation or otherwise opposed his will had been occurring for years.
Trump failed to take over our democracy by force on Jan. 6. But like Mussolini, his popularity and threats of violence led conservatives to hand him power well before the march.
More concerning is his continued grip. Weeks after the election was decided, Republicans in leadership positions refused to allow classified security briefings and other necessities that enable our country to continue to function during a time of government transition. The MAGA faction of Republican elites continued to pay obeisance after Jan. 6, building Trump’s power by repeating lies about the election that they knew were untrue. And as Republican primaries are demonstrating, Trump continues to hold sway over local Republican elites.
America needs a conservative party to serve the tens of millions of conservatives whose beliefs deserve representation. But a two-party democracy cannot function if one party allows an authoritarian to take the helm. Judge J. Michael Luttig has warned that the Electoral Count Act, which determines the presidency, is not up to the challenge of another attempted takeover. We remain in “clear and present danger.”
But Congress can reform the Electoral Count Act. They can protect election officials like Shaye Moss from intimidation. State GOP leaders can stop using violence to buttress their own power and instead prosecute people who intimidate and threaten. Republican voters can reject lies and threats. Democrats can stop supporting anti-democracy Republicans in the hopes that doing so will help Democrats in general elections. It is time to take back our elections from a potential dictator and his mob.
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.