Molineaux is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and president/CEO of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
I grew up during the Cold War, when we hid under our desks for safety. As a child, I believed that I was doing my part by ducking under my desk and knowing how to respond when the air raid sirens went off. Crouching under a desk seems laughable today. But it gave me a sense of agency that I could survive and eased my anxiety about a world where the adults made decisions that seemed nonsensical.
For me, preparing and having tasks to do was calming. As an adult, this has translated into practical clarity of defining what is needed during moments (or periods) of crisis. Perhaps that is why I’ve spent time reflecting this past couple of weeks on what I would do if I were in Ukraine right now. And I imagine it’s what the people of Ukraine are doing. Or the people in other countries, helping refugees. They are finding shelter, food and supplies. They are banding together to help others to safety. They are taking up arms when necessary. As their everyday lives are at risk, survival is the priority. This is practical clarity.
President Volodymyr Zelensky is meeting his moment with resolve. With love for his countrymen. With truth. He won the presidential election on the wave of The Revolution of Dignity as a counterforce to corruption and oligarchy. His leadership skills were sharpened when he led his people as the former president fled to Russia. He withstood bullying by Donald Trump. He is now in the crucible of transformation, under attack from a desperate man with an old desire for empire building. And Zelensky is asking for our help. Our government is balancing the needs of the United States, Europe and Ukraine. We don’t want to escalate into World War III. It may not be our choice.
The people of the world want to help our brothers and sisters under threat. We’ve opened our hearts, our homes, and our wallets to do our individual tasks. As we witness the attack on Ukraine, we empathize, seeing ourselves under the thumb of an oppressor.
We also see the possibility of ending the modern patriarchy, featuring the authoritarians of our age — Putin, Xi, Kim, Orban, Trump — who want to restore an old world order of strong men. The world has changed despite their desire to control, and has done so without their permission. They will not go quietly into the night.
And so we must face these men and their followers. This style of autocracy has been around for about 5,000 years, beginning with the emergence of tribal communities around the world. They promise security to their supporters. Acolytes of this belief system seek a privileged place in a perverted hierarchy, where denigration, subjugation and oppression are part of everyday life for those not chosen.
Liberal democracy, as defined about 250 years ago, was the enlightened form of governance to mitigate the threat of authoritarians. Our belief in liberal democracy is in the crucible with Zelensky. How will we strengthen our resolve, with love, and avoid becoming the next oppressor?
The world has changed, and we need to meet the populist rhetoric and actions of autocracy to move forward with liberal democracy; where we value the embodiment of democratic processes over all else. When we honor the dignity of others, especially those who have been denigrated and marginalized, that is embodiment. Our shared belief in, and love for, our fellow humans is embodiment. Justice is embodiment. And while effusive and intangible in many ways, when we assume good intentions of our political opponent, that is embodiment.
The war is here. We are in it today. In most of the world, it’s an information war. In Ukraine, it’s a war for survival as an independent nation.
Let’s meet the moment with resolve, and love. The age of authoritarianism is over.
Long live liberal democracy.
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.