In this edition of #ListenFirstFriday, the 17-year-old founder of YAP Politics discusses efforts to bridge the polarizations between political affiliations.
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State troopers form a line in the street in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on Jan. 14, 2026, after protesters clashed with federal law enforcement following the shooting of a Venezuelan man by a Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent.
"Iranian Patriots, KEEP PROTESTING – TAKE OVER YOUR INSTITUTIONS!!! Save the names of the killers and abusers. They will pay a big price. I have cancelled [sic] all meetings with Iranian Officials until the senseless killing of protesters STOPS. HELP IS ON ITS WAY. MIGA!!! PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP.”
It’s hard to see this Truth Social post by the president on Tuesday and make sense of, well, anything right now.
Iranian civilians have been protesting in the streets for weeks, in an effort to express their frustration with a bruising economy, an inflation rate greater than 40%, food shortages, and rolling blackouts. In response, the Islamic Republic has opened fire on its own people, killing anywhere from 2,400 to as many as 20,000 people in just two weeks.
The situation is dire — there are reports that doctors and aid groups cannot keep up with the amount of injuries they are seeing, and that the regime will start publicly executing protesters, including 26-year-old Erfan Soltani, whose judicial proceedings were “fast-tracked” in just two days.
Trump is vowing “very strong action” if Iran follows through with those threats to execute Soltani and others, action which could include everything from sanctions to strikes on military installations to cyberattacks.
It’s hard to reconcile this Trump — rescuer of the oppressed, defender of democracy — with the other one who’s simultaneously threatening his own citizens for protesting his immigration policies.
In the wake of an ICE officer shooting and killing an unarmed Minneapolis mother, Trump and his cabinet have been defiant. They’ve largely refused to offer even a modicum of sympathy for Renee Good. Instead, Trump has suggested her “highly disrespectful” attitude may have justified her death. Vice President JD Vance decided immediately that she was to blame. “What I am certain of is that she violated the law,” he said. He called Good, who leaves behind three children, “a deranged leftist who tried to run [the officer] over.” DHS Secretary Kristi Noem accused Good of “an act of domestic terrorism” just hours after her death, despite no one having conducted any investigation of the incident yet.
The administration, furthermore, strategically boxed out Minnesota law enforcement from joining a federal investigation of the shooting, and now Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche says there’s “currently no basis for a criminal civil rights investigation” of any kind.
The irony of Trump’s pro-democracy message to Iranians and his decidedly despotic message to Americans should be lost on no one, nor should the parallels.
That Iranian leaders are calling their protesters “rioters” and “terrorists” while Trump officials are using the same language against Americans is chilling.
That Iran is jailing and “fast-tracking” the due process of protesters while Trump officials immediately decided the ICE officer who killed Good was innocent, and not even worth investigating, is deeply disturbing.
That Iran is threatening to execute protesters while masked ICE agents in unmarked vehicles have also threatened to kill protesters and have already used deadly force against them, is terrifying. At least one agent was recorded asking a protester, “Did you not learn from what just happened?”
Understandably, Americans are alarmed. And they should be.
According to a new SSRS/CNN poll, Trump’s anti-immigration efforts in Minnesota and elsewhere are not popular.
Fifty-eight percent of Americans disapprove of the way Trump is handling immigration.
Fifty-one percent say ICE’s actions are making cities feel less safe, versus just 31% who say more safe.
Forty-seven percent say they are more concerned that the government will go too far in cracking down on protesters versus 37% who say they’re more concerned the protests will get out of control.
Fifty-six percent say the use of force against Renee Good was inappropriate, versus just 26% who say it was appropriate.
While a majority of voters may have been with Trump on the need to lower crime and curtail illegal immigration, it’s hard to imagine any wanting to see our cities militarized to the point where they feel unsafe, where they fear protesting could get them killed, where it’s totally possible they could be rounded up without due process, where there are eerie parallels to what’s happening in Iran, a theocratic dictatorship.
While ICE agents have their proverbial boots on the necks of American citizens, Trump is unironically promising to defend democracy a world away. But it’s hard to maintain the moral high ground and wag your finger at Iran when you’re stomping all over democratic freedoms here at home.
It’s a perplexing and alarming place to be for a country that was once considered a beacon of freedom, a shining city on a hill. And with every threat to American democracy Trump issues, he weakens our nation.
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.

President Donald Trump speaks to the media aboard Air Force One en route to Washington, D.C., on Jan. 4, 2026.
A decade ago, a famous and successful investor told me that “integrity lowers the cost of capital.” We were talking about Donald Trump at the time, and this Wall Street wizard was explaining why then-candidate Trump had so much trouble borrowing money from domestic capital markets. His point was that the people who knew Trump best had been screwed, cheated or misled by him so many times, they didn’t think he was a good credit risk. If you’re honest and straightforward in business, my friend explained, you earn trust and that trust has real value.
I think about that point often. But never more so than in the last few weeks.
In all of the debates about foreign policy — where people throw around terms like realism, internationalism, isolationism, nationalism, this ism, that ism — one word tends to draw eyerolls from ideologues: “honor.” Specifically national honor.
President Trump and many of his admirers believe he’s “restoring” America’s reputation on the world stage. Trump himself often says that we’ve “never been more respected.” It’s never exactly clear what he bases this on, aside from what foreign leaders purportedly tell him in private. Public opinion surveys are at best a mixed bag.
The deeper confusion is about what he means by “respect.” From the way Trump talks about geopolitics, it’s clear he equates “respect” with a Machiavellian mix of “fear,” “strength” or “power.” That is one definition. For instance, many people respect China as an economic and military power. But such respect is not synonymous with “admiration.” Everyone respects North Korea as a nuclear power. But few non-deranged people admire the Hermit Kingdom in any other way.
What’s missing is the concept of honor. One of the great critiques of the idea that economics is everything — that we are all mere Homo economicus, maximizing income to the exclusion of all else — is that people value other things: love, family, morality, integrity, faith and, yes, honor. Trump’s theory of geopolitics could be described as Patria economicus (though Latin purists might object). It’s a kind of realism that simply says the nation-state should do whatever it can to get the best deals for itself (or for the Homo economicus in Chief).
This seems to be what Trump’s getting at when he says the only thing that can constrain him on the international stage is “my own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
His aide, Stephen Miller, insists that “the real world” is “governed by strength … is governed by force … is governed by power. These are the iron laws of the world that have existed since the beginning of time.” According to this logic, we can take Greenland from Denmark — and the Greenlanders themselves — because we can. The only question is whether it will be “the easy way” or “the hard way,” as Trump recently said.
We should acknowledge the truth of this. Put aside questions of law, the Constitution or policy. It’s true we could take Greenland militarily, gangster-style. It’s also true that I can take a gun and rob my friends. Again, legality aside, the question I have is, “would that be honorable?” In Trump’s terms, the seizure of Greenland would make us more “respected,” but it would not make us more honored. We would be betraying our allies (and ideals), and not just Denmark but all of NATO, by breaking our word. For what? Territory. Territory we have every right to use by treaty already. Would we be prouder of our military once it became an instrument of mercenary conquest?
St. Augustine once asked, “Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies?” George Washington was passionate about notions of honor and virtue. In his farewell address, he insisted that we should honor our commitments “with perfect good faith.”
An America that honors its commitments has allies who will honor theirs. An America that betrays her commitments by force or by the threat of force will find the cost of political capital exorbitantly expensive at the earliest opportunity.
The administration reads the Monroe Doctrine as a warrant for the president to do as he likes on his turf and, in Trump’s mind, Greenland is our turf. That is not how President Monroe saw things. In his first inaugural, Monroe declared, “National honor is national property of the highest value. The sentiment in the mind of every citizen is national strength. It ought therefore to be cherished.”
Most Americans are right to want their country to be powerful. But they should also want our country to be good. Aristotle believed that true honor is reserved not just for power or glory, but virtue. Those who prize virtue will find little comfort in Trump’s assurance that he is only constrained by his own morality.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.

Promises made… promises broken. Americans are caught in the dysfunction and chaos of a country in crisis.
The President promised relief, but gave us the Big Beautiful Bill — cutting support for seniors, students, and families while showering tax breaks on the wealthy. He promised jobs and opportunity, but attacked Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs. He pledged to drain the swamp, yet advanced corruption that enriched himself and his allies. He vowed to protect Social Security, yet pursued policies that threatened it. He declared no one is above the law, yet sought Supreme Court immunity.
These are not minor contradictions — they are hypocrisy in plain sight. And hypocrisy corrodes democracy by eroding trust, weakening institutions, and betraying the people who believed in those promises.
Trump calls the government corrupt, yet profits from it. His hotels and golf courses abroad benefited from foreign officials seeking favor. He vowed to rid the country of drugs, yet pardoned individuals convicted of drug offenses. He weaponized the Department of Justice against enemies while shielding allies (Reuters). By politicizing prosecutions and dismantling oversight, he eroded the firewall meant to protect democracy.
Freedom of the press is not optional — it is the mechanism that keeps the government honest (Free Speech Center). Yet Trump undermined transparency, intimidating reporters and turning access into leverage. He demonizes immigrants while relying on them to maintain his properties. He punishes states that vote against him. He floats the idea of dictatorship, only to be rejected by Americans who value freedom too much.
Meanwhile, Congress has failed to check him. Instead of protecting the people, it bends in loyalty, shielding him from accountability.
The Supreme Court pretends to uphold the law, yet entertains claims of presidential immunity that would place one man above accountability. At times, it offers silence instead of clarity — leaving Americans to read between the lines. Citizens are not ignorant; we see the contradictions.
Americans need a fair, unbiased, moral Supreme Court — one that upholds the law as intended by the Constitution, not one swayed by billionaires with money. When justices remain seated for decades, they become prey to corruption and influence. Millions favor term limits, and I am one of them.
The late Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is deeply missed. She was strong, principled, and often appeared to keep the male justices in check. Her absence is felt in every ruling that bends toward privilege instead of principle.
Hypocrisy corrodes democracy just as surely as broken promises from the president or dysfunction in Congress. It leaves citizens caught in chaos: food insecurity, unaffordable housing, inaccessible health care, and institutions that pretend to care but demonstrate the opposite.
It takes courage, conscience, and sacrifice to confront hypocrisy. Liz Cheney stood as a patriot for justice and was penalized by her own party (MSN, Newsweek). That is not partisan courage; that is moral courage.
This is not a partisan issue. Hypocrisy corrodes democracy, whether it comes from Republicans or Democrats, and Americans must demand honesty from leaders of both parties.
The short‑term goal is to remedy the immediate problem by controlling leaders through enforceable ethics codes, ensuring ethical leadership in both Congress and the Supreme Court. Measures such as the Supreme Court Ethics, Recusal, and Transparency Act and a strengthened Ethics in Government Act can provide these safeguards, backed by independent oversight to monitor compliance and impose sanctions.
Once in place, Ethics Committees in Congress must monitor compliance, investigate misconduct, and enforce sanctions against violators. But Congress’s responsibility does not end with enactment. It must also review these codes regularly, legislate updates, and close loopholes as new abuses arise. Citizens must demand that Congress legislate binding ethics codes for the Supreme Court as well. That process begins with bills introduced in Congress, debated in Judiciary Committees, passed by both chambers, and signed into law by the President. Only then do ethics codes become binding safeguards. Such laws must also establish independent oversight — an inspector general or judicial ethics panel — to investigate violations and enforce compliance, because voluntary guidelines are not enough.
Americans must write, call, and attend town halls to demand that ethics codes be enforced. Citizens must contact their representatives and insist that Congress introduce, debate, and pass legislation requiring enforceable codes of conduct for both Congress and the Supreme Court. Once enacted, citizens must monitor congressional dockets and roll‑call votes to ensure leaders have followed through and continue to uphold these standards.
This is active citizenship — government of the people, by the people. Americans cannot sit by and expect leaders to do what is right; we must take a role to make sure they do. Not all leaders practice moral and ethical leadership, which is why vigilance is essential. In my former world, we adopted the Effective Schools motto: “What gets monitored, gets done.” The same principle applies to democracy. Americans must pay attention, help monitor, and speak out when promises are broken or ethics ignored. We cannot afford to be silent when democracy itself is at stake.
In the long term, Americans must recognize that legislation alone will not suffice. Age limits and term limits demand constitutional amendments. That process begins with a joint resolution introduced in Congress, requiring a two‑thirds vote in both the House and Senate. From there, three‑fourths of the states must ratify the amendment before it becomes law. Citizens must become advocates and lobbyists, working directly with their representatives, senators, and state legislators to demand that this be done. They must build coalitions across governments, press candidates to pledge support for reform, and monitor roll‑call votes and ratification debates to ensure momentum is not lost.
Citizens must lobby for measures like H.J.Res.5, which proposes limiting Representatives to three terms and Senators to two. They must also advocate for fixed terms for Supreme Court justices — such as 18 years — to ensure renewal and prevent entrenched influence. Congress must legislate binding ethics codes for the Court, enforced by independent oversight, while citizens insist that the Court itself accept renewal as a safeguard against corruption and bias.
Ultimately, democracy’s survival depends not only on laws but on a culture of accountability — citizens who demand integrity, leaders who honor their oaths, and institutions that adapt to protect the people rather than themselves.
Americans value freedom and want to feel safe enjoying it without fear. We need peace, opportunity, and justice. We want leaders who value diversity, show empathy, and exercise moral judgment. Above all, we need leaders willing to put country over self‑ambition, who honor their oaths and hold themselves accountable.
Democracy is not just the absence of dictatorship; it is the presence of integrity, equality, and courage. It means leaders who honor their oaths, citizens who can trust their institutions, and a press free to ask hard questions without fear. It means a country where immigrants are valued for their contributions, not demonized for political gain. It means billionaires cannot buy silence or power, because the people themselves hold the final say. That is the vision worth fighting for — and it is slipping away unless we act. Integrity is not red or blue. It is the foundation of democracy, and both parties must recommit to it.
The weight of hypocrisy and authoritarian ambition is heavy and dangerous. If leaders will not honor their oaths, uphold the Constitution, and place the people first, then the people must hold them accountable. Promises made must be promises kept — or democracy itself will collapse under that weight.

This vintage engraving depicts the portrait of the second President of the United States, John Adams (1735 - 1826)
In an earlier Fulcrum essay, John Adams Warned Us: A Republic Without Virtue Cannot Survive, I reflected on Adams’s insistence that self-government depends on character as much as law. Adams believed citizens had obligations to one another that no constitution could enforce. Without restraint, moderation, and a commitment to the common good, liberty would hollow out from within.
But Adams’s argument about virtue did not stop with citizens. It extended, with equal force, to those who wield power.
Adams understood something that remains easy to forget in moments of fear and anger: the greatest threat to a republic is not disorder alone, but authority exercised without restraint, as Adams warned in Thoughts on Government. Power, in his view, was more dangerous than turbulence when it lost its connection to legitimacy and moral discipline. A republic could endure conflict; it could not endure cruelty normalized as governance.
That concern feels uncomfortably current.
Across several American cities, federal authority has been exercised in ways that are opaque, unaccountable to local and state officials, and visibly intimidating, as documented in reporting on recent federal deployments in U.S. cities. Officers are operating without clear identification. Detentions that appear symbolic rather than necessary. Enforcement actions that communicate dominance more than protection. Even where lawful, these methods matter. They shape how people understand their relationship to the state.
This is not how a confident republic governs.
For Adams, the defining distinction was not between order and chaos, but between citizens and subjects. As Hannah Arendt later argued, authority rests on legitimacy and consent, while violence appears when authority has already begun to fail. Citizens participate in self-rule. Subjects are ruled upon. The difference is not merely legal; it is psychological and moral. When people encounter government primarily through fear, spectacle, or humiliation, citizenship erodes long before any formal rights are revoked.
That erosion does not require suspended elections or rewritten constitutions. It begins with experience. When power feels arbitrary, people withdraw. When restraint disappears, trust follows. When fear becomes routine, participation becomes risky. Over time, the public realm contracts, not because people stop caring, but because the cost of engagement grows too high, speech becomes guarded, and participation begins to feel risky rather than routine.
A state that governs through intimidation does not require virtue from its citizens. It does not trust them enough to ask.
Adams would have recognized this pattern. He knew that republics rarely collapse in dramatic fashion. They decay through exceptions that become habits and through justifications that harden into norms. What begins as extraordinary enforcement slowly redefines what is acceptable. Cruelty ceases to shock the people. It becomes procedural.
That is the danger line.
The issue is not whether a government has the authority to enforce the law. It does. The issue is whether that authority is exercised with proportionality, transparency, and moral accountability. Cruelty, even when legal, corrodes civic trust. It teaches citizens that power is something to fear rather than something they collectively own. It signals that consent is no longer the foundation of governance.
Once that lesson is learned, it spreads.
Institutions that rely on fear eventually demand loyalty rather than legitimacy. They narrow the space for dissent. They substitute spectacle for persuasion. The public realm shrinks further, and civic virtue withers, not only among the governed but within the institutions themselves.
Adams warned that liberty is not self-sustaining. It depends on habits, norms, and mutual restraint. Those expectations apply as much to government as to citizens. A republic cannot demand virtue from its people while modeling its opposite.
The tragedy Adams foresaw was moral exhaustion, not sudden tyranny. A people who no longer expect restraint from power eventually stop practicing restraint themselves. At that point, wealth may remain. Elections may continue. But freedom, in its deeper sense, is slipping away.
A society does not return to safety because power becomes kind. It returns because enough people refuse to let cruelty become normal.
That question comes next in this John Adams on Virtue series.