Molineaux is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and president/CEO of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
A colleague noted recently how we, the people, collectively, seem to think in more black and white terms, disallowing nuance and complexity. Is this true? Have we lost the capacity to see shades of gray? Especially in politics?
Yes. But this state of polarized thinking is not permanent.
One of the primary causes of dichotomous, i.e. black and white, thinking is anxiety and depression. Is it any coincidence that we are living through hyperpolarized times? I think not.
Even before the pandemic of 2020, society-wide, we were experiencing profound increases in both anxiety and depression. Then the pandemic arrived and changed our lives, turbo charging our collective anxiety and depression.
It’s no wonder politics is more polarized than ever! When we are anxious, our fight-or-flight tendencies kick in. We think in terms of good or bad as a way to cope with our anxiety — to find something stable. But when the world doesn’t fit neatly into our polarized view of good or bad, our anxiety strikes again. It’s a cycle that requires attention, intervention and connection.
One way to pay attention is to identify polarized thinking in our use – or overuse – of “absolutist terms.” An occasional use of these words is OK. But when we say these words to ourselves over and over again, it indicates polarized thinking:
- always
- never
- impossible
- disaster
- furious
- ruined
- perfect
Once we’ve noticed that our thinking has shifted to black and white terms, it’s time to intervene. Creativity, mindfulness, and exercise or any movement, especially outside with nature, is helpful to reorient our thinking to the beauty of each moment. And we may need to talk with someone to stop the thought distortion that anxiety produces. Professionals will have other therapies, too. The key is to start the intervention as soon as possible.
Another tragedy of polarized thinking is how we disconnect from others. And the challenge of reconnecting might start the cycle of anxiety all over again. We wonder if we’ll be rejected, we may feel ashamed, we may want to just move and start over. Regardless of whether we are reaching out to current or new friends, we need skills to connect healthily, with all the shades of gray allowed. It takes practice, like learning to play an instrument. You may want to practice together with your loved ones – or you may prefer to practice with strangers first. It is through our deep connections with people that we can sense-make together to solve our nation's problems.
I started this column thinking I was going to blame computer programmers who started using zeros and ones for decision making. Or pollsters who often reduce choices into binaries and then report on them as fact. I was certain there was a boogeyman to blame. Turns out...it's complicated. Like everything else.
I’ll see you at practice.
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.”
____
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.