Political violence is rising in the United States, with Republicans and Democrats divided along racial and ethnic lines that spurred massive bloodshed and democratic collapse earlier in the nation’s history. The January 6, 2021 insurrection and the partisan responses that ensued are a vivid illustration of how deep these currents run.
How did American politics become so divided that we cannot agree on how to categorize an attack on our own Capitol?
If you want to understand what makes the United States exceptional on an emotional level, take an in-person or virtual trip to both Mt. Vernon, Virginia, and Paris, France. At Mt. Vernon, you can tour the preserved and reconstructed plantation of George Washington, viewing what the tour claims is the first compost bin in the nation and reading about the particular way he organized his gardens.
The most important part, though, is his grave. The first President of the most powerful nation on Earth rests in a modest brick mausoleum about ten feet high, built into a hillside. The plain white room containing the sarcophagi of Washington and his wife is barely larger than the two coffins themselves.
The French have a very different tomb dedicated to the founder of their modern nation. Emperor Napoleon rests in a stone sarcophagus on a raised dais in a huge domed building. To American eyes, the building looks like one of our state capitals, complete with columns, domes, Greco-Roman reliefs, and multiple entrances. The room containing the sarcophagus is opulent, with detailed carved statues of Roman figures, golden trim, ornate hanging lamps, large windows, and a large second-story balcony. It is less a grave than a temple, deifying the person of the Emperor.
This striking difference tells you much of what you need to know about why the United States has done so well for so long. The father of our nation and his contemporaries did not believe in deifying their leader. Washington was keenly aware of setting a humble precedent by everything he did, from limiting himself to two terms to adopting the title “Mr. President.” His legacy to all of us was not in his personality, but in the processes and structures he built that lived on after he did. By his design, we pay respect to our founder by operating the wondrous democratic machinery he first showed us how to operate.
My opinion of Washington as the best American President is not unanimous. Many studies that rank the Presidents place Abraham Lincoln first, while Washington tends to appear somewhere in the top five. This always struck me as unfair. Lincoln was remarkable, to be sure, and ending the scourge of slavery guarantees his place forever as one of the best Presidents. Yet, he arrived on the scene with a particular existential problem to solve - a civil war that was clearly about to erupt over the slavery question. His capacity for greatness was amplified by exterior forces presenting him with a clear crisis.
Washington, more than any other President, arrived with a blank slate. His existential crisis had come years before, when he survived a war with Great Britain. By the time he came to office, the most serious existential dangers to the country came in the form of future risks. Washington’s challenge in office was not so much how to defeat an enemy in front of him, but how to build a system that could handle enemies in the future. It is harder to create than to destroy, and harder still to build a strong structure for a future you cannot fully predict.
Process theory suggests that the aim of a law should not be to obtain a particular substantive result, but to adopt and defend processes that tend to lead to good results. It isn’t hard to see the utility of this approach. People are going to disagree about what is good and what is bad and to what degree. Some such disagreements may be distant from the passions of most citizens, like what kind of crops to encourage farmers to grow or who to hire for a government construction contract. Others may be very close to the heart, such as whether to outlaw abortion or how immigration should work. In each case, because there are passions and well-reasoned arguments pulling in different directions, there has to be some process to decide what to do. A core function of government is helping mediate that outcome.
Washington wasn’t a process theorist exactly. In fact, he did not write much at all about the philosophy behind his governance. But his instincts were very process-based. He believed that a regular process was what distinguished the republic from the extremes of monarchy or mob rule. He strove to mediate carefully and fairly between the political divisions of the day among his own cabinet members and in his interactions with Congress. Even his more extreme actions, like putting down the Whiskey Rebellion (a major use of federal military force against citizens), came from a sense of duty to uphold duly enacted law rather than any sense of solving a problem by any means necessary. Washington left us with an example and a legacy of respect for the process and for the rule of law.
There will always be those who feel passionately in the correctness of their substantive position and who believe anyone who feels differently is evil. After all, if you believe you have the best interests of the country in mind and you’ve determined the right solution to a problem, doesn’t that mean anyone who disagrees with you must be treasonously acting against the country’s interests? This is a very natural trap to fall into, and some of the less successful Presidents did so. President Adams passed heavy-handed censorship laws based on this logic, called the Alien and Sedition Acts, which are now widely recognized as ineffective.
Thinking of anyone who has a substantively different opinion as evil is a mistake. We are all limited as human beings, impacted by our life experiences, knowledge, and skills. Indeed, the major benefit of the rule of law is as a way to mediate differing ideas, leading to better results than a single person’s judgment alone. A fair process must be respected and accepted to make this happen. To declare that the process should not stand in the way of one’s own passionately held belief is Napoleonic hubris.
Disregarding the rule of law to force through a result is also extremely dangerous. People are going to have disagreements no matter what processes are in place. If there is no agreed upon process for resolving those disagreements, the parties will decide the issue some other way. The most ancient method is physical violence. Without a respected legal process, if two neighbors disagree over how much water each is extracting from the stream, murderous action could end that disagreement. In addition to being morally abhorrent, that process does nothing to make sure the decision was made correctly.
Adherence to the established rule of law as a way of solving problems leads to better outcomes. Similarly, the idea of a single strong leader who cuts through the “red tape” of process to fix a problem is similarly flawed. A modern state is a massive, complex system. No single person understands its operation alone. Swift, decisive action simply results in faster bad decisions.
We best honor the legacy of George Washington and others responsible for the freedoms we enjoy by respecting the process that was their greatest legacy. None of us will always agree with the results of the process. But the last two hundred years of the United States becoming the leader of the world should give us powerful evidence that the rule of law is effective. Washington did not need a gaudy display of opulence to declare his successes, as the greatness of his hard work has thundered for hundreds of years.
Colin E. Moriarty is a partner at Moriarty Underhill LLC and a volunteer with Lawyers Defending American Democracy.
If you want to understand what makes the United States exceptional on an emotional level, take an in-person or virtual trip to both Mt. Vernon, Virginia, and Paris, France. At Mt. Vernon, you can tour the preserved and reconstructed plantation of George Washington, viewing what the tour claims is the first compost bin in the nation and reading about the particular way he organized his gardens.
The most important part, though, is his grave. The first President of the most powerful nation on Earth rests in a modest brick mausoleum about ten feet high, built into a hillside. The plain white room containing the sarcophagi of Washington and his wife is barely larger than the two coffins themselves.
The French have a very different tomb dedicated to the founder of their modern nation. Emperor Napoleon rests in a stone sarcophagus on a raised dais in a huge domed building. To American eyes, the building looks like one of our state capitals, complete with columns, domes, Greco-Roman reliefs, and multiple entrances. The room containing the sarcophagus is opulent, with detailed carved statues of Roman figures, golden trim, ornate hanging lamps, large windows, and a large second-story balcony. It is less a grave than a temple, deifying the person of the Emperor.
This striking difference tells you much of what you need to know about why the United States has done so well for so long. The father of our nation and his contemporaries did not believe in deifying their leader. Washington was keenly aware of setting a humble precedent by everything he did, from limiting himself to two terms to adopting the title “Mr. President.” His legacy to all of us was not in his personality, but in the processes and structures he built that lived on after he did. By his design, we pay respect to our founder by operating the wondrous democratic machinery he first showed us how to operate.
My opinion of Washington as the best American President is not unanimous. Many studies that rank the Presidents place Abraham Lincoln first, while Washington tends to appear somewhere in the top five. This always struck me as unfair. Lincoln was remarkable, to be sure, and ending the scourge of slavery guarantees his place forever as one of the best Presidents. Yet, he arrived on the scene with a particular existential problem to solve - a civil war that was clearly about to erupt over the slavery question. His capacity for greatness was amplified by exterior forces presenting him with a clear crisis.
Washington, more than any other President, arrived with a blank slate. His existential crisis had come years before, when he survived a war with Great Britain. By the time he came to office, the most serious existential dangers to the country came in the form of future risks. Washington’s challenge in office was not so much how to defeat an enemy in front of him, but how to build a system that could handle enemies in the future. It is harder to create than to destroy, and harder still to build a strong structure for a future you cannot fully predict.
Process theory suggests that the aim of a law should not be to obtain a particular substantive result, but to adopt and defend processes that tend to lead to good results. It isn’t hard to see the utility of this approach. People are going to disagree about what is good and what is bad and to what degree. Some such disagreements may be distant from the passions of most citizens, like what kind of crops to encourage farmers to grow or who to hire for a government construction contract. Others may be very close to the heart, such as whether to outlaw abortion or how immigration should work. In each case, because there are passions and well-reasoned arguments pulling in different directions, there has to be some process to decide what to do. A core function of government is helping mediate that outcome.
Washington wasn’t a process theorist exactly. In fact, he did not write much at all about the philosophy behind his governance. But his instincts were very process-based. He believed that a regular process was what distinguished the republic from the extremes of monarchy or mob rule. He strove to mediate carefully and fairly between the political divisions of the day among his own cabinet members and in his interactions with Congress. Even his more extreme actions, like putting down the Whiskey Rebellion (a major use of federal military force against citizens), came from a sense of duty to uphold duly enacted law rather than any sense of solving a problem by any means necessary. Washington left us with an example and a legacy of respect for the process and for the rule of law.
There will always be those who feel passionately in the correctness of their substantive position and who believe anyone who feels differently is evil. After all, if you believe you have the best interests of the country in mind and you’ve determined the right solution to a problem, doesn’t that mean anyone who disagrees with you must be treasonously acting against the country’s interests? This is a very natural trap to fall into, and some of the less successful Presidents did so. President Adams passed heavy-handed censorship laws based on this logic, called the Alien and Sedition Acts, which are now widely recognized as ineffective.
Thinking of anyone who has a substantively different opinion as evil is a mistake. We are all limited as human beings, impacted by our life experiences, knowledge, and skills. Indeed, the major benefit of the rule of law is as a way to mediate differing ideas, leading to better results than a single person’s judgment alone. A fair process must be respected and accepted to make this happen. To declare that the process should not stand in the way of one’s own passionately held belief is Napoleonic hubris.
Disregarding the rule of law to force through a result is also extremely dangerous. People are going to have disagreements no matter what processes are in place. If there is no agreed upon process for resolving those disagreements, the parties will decide the issue some other way. The most ancient method is physical violence. Without a respected legal process, if two neighbors disagree over how much water each is extracting from the stream, murderous action could end that disagreement. In addition to being morally abhorrent, that process does nothing to make sure the decision was made correctly.
Adherence to the established rule of law as a way of solving problems leads to better outcomes. Similarly, the idea of a single strong leader who cuts through the “red tape” of process to fix a problem is similarly flawed. A modern state is a massive, complex system. No single person understands its operation alone. Swift, decisive action simply results in faster bad decisions.
We best honor the legacy of George Washington and others responsible for the freedoms we enjoy by respecting the process that was their greatest legacy. None of us will always agree with the results of the process. But the last two hundred years of the United States becoming the leader of the world should give us powerful evidence that the rule of law is effective. Washington did not need a gaudy display of opulence to declare his successes, as the greatness of his hard work has thundered for hundreds of years.
Colin E. Moriarty is a partner at Moriarty Underhill LLC and a volunteer with Lawyers Defending American Democracy.
U.S. President Donald Trump meets with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky at the White House on August 18, 2025 in Washington, DC.
Last week, a 28-point “peace plan” for the Russia-Ukraine war surfaced. It was apparently fleshed out in Miami over cocktails by President Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner, Trump’s special envoy Steve Witkoff and Witkoff’s Russian counterpart Kirill Dmitriev.
Many critics immediately derided it as a “Russian wish-list.”
That was before we discovered that the version which was leaked – probably by Dmitriev – had literally been poorly translated from Russian. In a closed-door session with senators, Secretary of State Marco Rubio even described it as a “wish-list for the Russians” and “not the administration’s plan.” On his way to Geneva for peace talks, Rubio scrambled to deny he ever said that.
But all of that is apparently moot now. What seems to have happened, amid all the chaos, is that Rubio had pried the Ukraine portfolio away from Witkoff. By Tuesday, Rubio revealed there is a whole new plan anyway.
This is good news, because the original plan wasn’t in America’s best interest.
I believe American foreign policy should put America first. But I don’t subscribe to “America First” foreign policy, because that’s a label slapped on anything Trump wants, whether it’s in his personal interest or the country’s.
People who embrace the slogan “America First” generally believe that helping Ukraine isn’t in America’s interest. I think they’re wrong.
Because Vladimir Putin’s Russia is America’s enemy.
This isn’t nearly as controversial as you might think if you only get foreign policy analysis from MAGA influencers on social media. Russia allies itself with our adversaries, in China, the Americas and the Middle East. This policy is deeply rooted in Russian history and in President Putin’s nostalgia for Russian “greatness.” But if it matters, there’s also a doctrine behind it, the Primakov Doctrine, which holds that Russia should do everything it can to constrain and contain America and NATO.
Russia has been mucking about in the internal affairs of the U.S. and its allies for nearly a century. In recent years it allegedly tampered with electricity grids, elections and cyber systems. It funded psyop campaigns– using useful idiot influencers and willing volunteers alike – to pump racism, antisemitism and sinister conspiracy theories into domestic politics here and abroad. “The Russian Federation is the most significant and direct threat to Allies’ security and to peace and stability in the Euro-Atlantic area,” according to NATO.
If you’re of a more idealistic bent, Russia is also a murderous authoritarian regime that oppresses its own people and visits heinous war crimes on its neighbors.
In short: They’re the bad guys.
That’s why there’s a compelling moral argument for helping Ukraine resist a lawless and brutal invasion that has taken perhaps a million lives and resulted in the kidnapping of tens of thousands of Ukrainian children to be brainwashed. Our national honor is on the line as well, given that America encouraged Ukraine to give up its nuclear weapons in exchange for “security assurances” in the 1994 Budapest Memorandum. Legally, assurances aren’t “guarantees,” but they’re not nothing either.
Put morality and national honor aside. A cold-eyed, America-First strategist might argue that the slaughter of Ukrainian troops – and civilians – is in our interest if it comes at the cost of bleeding Russia’s military, economy and global prestige.
No, we shouldn’t send American troops to fight Russia. That is a strawman raised by opponents of helping Ukraine at all. But weapons? Intelligence? Why not? Many of NATO’s weapons were built for the purpose of fighting Russia. If Ukraine can use them to that end, it’s the best of both worlds. This leaves out that we can – and do – sell many of these weapons, either to Ukraine or our European allies who then transfer them.
And it’s been working. Russia didn’t have the bandwidth to save its puppet regime in Syria. It didn’t – couldn’t – ride to the rescue of Iran, Hamas or Hezbollah either. The Russian economy is a mess, with near double-digit inflation despite insanely high interest rates.
And yet, this original “peace deal” would rescue Russia, ceding it territory, including all of the Donbas, that it hasn’t been able to win militarily. It would provide Russia sanctions relief, invite it back into the G8 and hobble Ukraine militarily and politically. It describes America as a “mediator” between Russia and NATO, despite the fact that NATO is an alliance created and led by America. There is no greater strategic goal for Russia than dividing America from her NATO allies. All of this in exchange for the “expectation” that Russia wouldn’t invade Ukraine again later.
Hopefully, Rubio has come up with something more in America’s interest, and less in Russia’s.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.
U.S. President Donald Trump shakes hands with New York City Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani (L) during a meeting in the Oval Office of the White House on November 21, 2025 in Washington, DC.
Yesterday’s meeting between Donald Trump and New York City's Mayor-elect, Zohran Mamdani, was marked by an unexpected cordiality. Trump praised Mamdani’s “passion for his community” and called him “a very energetic young man with strong ideas,” while Mamdani, in turn, described Trump as “gracious” and “surprisingly open to dialogue.” The exchange was strikingly civil, even warm — a sharp departure from the months of hostility that had defined their relationship in the public eye.
That warmth stood in stark contrast to the bitter words exchanged before and after Mamdani’s election. Trump had dismissed him as a “radical socialist who wants to destroy America,” while Mamdani blasted Trump as “a corrupt demagogue who thrives on division.” Republican Senator Rick Scott piled on, branding Mamdani a “literal communist” and predicting Trump would “school” him at the White House. Representative Elise Stefanik went further, labeling him a “jihadist” during her gubernatorial campaign and, even after Trump’s praise, insisting that “if he walks like a jihadist… he’s a jihadist.” For Republicans who had invested heavily in demonizing Mamdani, Trump’s embrace left allies fuming and fractured, caught between loyalty to their leader and the hardline attacks they had once championed.
Surprisingly, Scott has not issued any follow-up statement after Trump’s conciliatory tone. In stark contrast, Stefanik doubled down, saying after the meeting, “We’ll have to agree to disagree on this one. If he walks like a jihadist… he’s a jihadist.” Conservative activist Laura Loomer blasted Trump’s friendliness as “normalizing communism” and warned it could hurt GOP messaging in the 2026 midterms.
Trump’s cordiality toward Mamdani highlights a potential broader backlash among hardliners who saw his tone as a betrayal and a political liability heading into the fall elections. At the very least, Trump’s praise has fractured GOP messaging, with some Republicans openly disagreeing with him and warning of electoral fallout. The divide could come down to conflict between hardliners — who insist Mamdani is an existential threat and believe Trump’s friendliness risks alienating the base — and pragmatists, who argue that a softer tone could help peel away progressive critics and project statesmanship.
Of course, the strategic risks are many. If Republicans continue to send two conflicting messages — some demonizing Mamdani, others echoing Trump’s friendliness — the public will be left confused. The likely result is that the election of an ultra-liberal mayor in New York will no longer allow Republicans to use Mamdani as a foil to rally their supporters against Democrats.
This split underscores a deeper GOP challenge: Trump’s unpredictability regularly creates contradictions that throw Republicans off balance, undermining party discipline and exposing fractures that could widen as the 2026 campaign intensifies.
Polling consistently shows that Trump’s greatest vulnerability heading into 2026 is the public’s frustration with inflation and affordability — the very issues that were at the heart of Mamdani’s campaign. By striking a conciliatory tone with Mamdani, Trump may be attempting to reposition himself on economic concerns before they damage Republicans more broadly. In praising Mamdani’s focus on community and cost-of-living struggles, Trump could be signaling that he wants to co‑opt the affordability narrative, turning a potential Democratic strength into a bipartisan talking point under his banner.
Democratic reactions since the meeting have been equally telling. Many Democrats expressed surprise at Trump’s conciliatory tone, with some framing it as a rare moment of bipartisanship and others dismissing it as political theater. Progressive allies of Mamdani hailed the exchange as validation of his growing influence. At the same time, more centrist Democrats warned that Trump’s praise could be a tactical move to soften his image without changing his policies. In either case, Democrats appear eager to exploit the GOP’s internal divisions, casting Trump’s embrace of Mamdani as evidence of a party in disarray.
In trying to blunt Mamdani’s affordability message, Trump may have opened a new problem with voters worried about the cost of supporting a party that shifts with the wind. His gesture of magnanimity now risks being seen not as statesmanship, but as the emblem of a party at war with itself — led by a president whose opportunism is laid bare.
David Nevins is the publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
