Copenhaver is a Millennial Mentor, Amazon #1 Best Selling Author, Host of “The Changemaker Podcast”, Keynote Speaker, Executive Coach, Former Mayor of Augusta, and Founding Partner of #StartsWithUs.
Throughout my adult life, I have sought to use every platform and opportunity that has come my way to build bridges and inspire people to rally behind causes beyond any one individual. I committed to this journey while serving nine years in office as mayor of the city of Augusta, through writing a bestselling book on servant leadership, leading countless speaking engagements and launching “The Changemaker Podcast.”
Most recently, I’ve also had the blessing of serving as a movement partner with Starts With Us, a nonpartisan movement dedicated to overcoming the cultural and political polarization in our country. I believe the greatest opportunity I’ve been given is to help heal the divides in our families, our communities and our nation. This belief has taken on a new meaning on April 19, when I was diagnosed with esophageal cancer.
After dealing with laryngitis for several weeks, Dr. Glenn Owen sent me in for a CT scan. Dealing with prolonged voice issues, I never once considered cancer could possibly be the cause. After receiving the results of the scan, Glenn asked to meet me at our house to discuss them, which definitely got my attention. He proceeded to tell me that the scan detected a potentially cancerous tumor and an endoscopy to get a biopsy was the next step. The gravity of the situation hit me immediately.
My first thought after hearing the word cancer was, “Am I going to die?” I imagine that feeling is not too unusual for anyone in my shoes. Hearing the news was actually easier than having to share it with my wife Malisa just a few minutes later.
The days Malisa and I spent together leading up to the endoscopy were an emotional rollercoaster filled with uncertainty, doubt, laughter and tears. On the day of the procedure, my emotions somehow began to sort themselves out as I experienced an unusual sense of peace and calm. When I was diagnosed with cancer Dr. Matt Cranford, my gastroenterology consultant, expressed a sense of optimism that I would get through this, giving me my first sense of hope. Two days later, Malisa and I met with Dr. Jeremy Wells, our oncologist, to begin planning treatment. During that week, my thoughts almost seamlessly shifted from, “How will we deal with this?” to “How can we use this to help people?”
Having lost my mother, Jane, and my brother, Andy, to cancer, I’ve always seen the disease as a common ground issue which everyone can relate to in some way, shape or form. Whose life has not been touched by the disease, whether it be personally or through a friend or family member? Simply put, cancer does not discriminate.
The wheels began to turn in my head on ways to leverage my platforms to raise awareness and funds to help others. I called Al Dallas, a dear friend who currently serves as Chief of Staff at the Georgia Cancer Center, to brainstorm ideas. The center’s annual “Unite in the Fight” cancer walk was approaching, and Al suggested that we start a team. For the first time since my journey began, I didn’t feel powerless. I had a goal and purpose in mind.
Seeing the tangible, positive results of a support system rallying together, I am disheartened thinking about the people whose support systems have been severed by extreme politics and social issues entrenching our country. It’s sobering to consider that in a recent New York Times and Siena College poll, nearly one in five voters (19 percent) said that politics hurt their friendships or family relationships.
For me, extreme polarization is a cancer in and of itself. It infects individuals, families, and communities throughout our nation by breaking down the healthy sense of interconnectedness our society so desperately needs. By allowing polarization caused by extreme political rhetoric, social media algorithms, and sensationalist media to overshadow our humanity and connections with friends, families, and our communities we foster conditions ripe for the spread of the insidious disease.
Organizing the walk became a family and friend affair. Malisa and I set $10,000 as a fundraising goal and, always competitive in our nature, began to work our email lists to recruit participants and donors. Our niece, who also works at the cancer center, took the lead recruiting our team of walkers. Several of our friends with Showpony, a local creative firm, produced a limited-edition team tee shirt with all proceeds going to benefit the cancer center.
The spring weather was beautiful on the morning of the walk and a record crowd gathered to support each other’s loved ones was a joyous display of solidarity. The diversity of the crowd and the colors worn to support various types of cancer created a kaleidoscope reflecting the fabric of our community. People shared smiles, hugs and stories as together we walked a mile and a half. In that moment, we were all bound together by the power of community and a collective focus to fight a disease much larger than any one of us, individually.
Our team raised over $53,000, and the event collected a total of more than $116,000. The campaign’s tremendous success struck a chord when I began to reflect on how we got here. While watching everything come together, it became apparent to me: the bridges I spent nine years building as mayor and the sea of goodwill I sought to create by leading through love and compassion, remained virtually intact eight years after I left office. I have always believed that when you are seeking common ground, there are times you must become the common ground you seek. While in office, I focused on being a unifying force for citizens from all walks of life. Through my diagnosis I once again found a unifying force in joining others on the frontlines in the battle against cancer.
In life we all face trials and tribulations as no one is immune to the human condition. We do not have to agree on our political or social stances, nor is that what we should do. A healthy competitive spirit and diversity in thought is what drives our growth. But we should lead with humility and open mindedness to perspectives that we may not have experienced. Life is about choices and placing my faith, friends, family and community above my own personal politics is a very easy, and healthy, choice to make.
Healing isn’t a process that occurs in a vacuum. My healing process didn’t start when I entered my treatment protocol but rather when I was afforded the opportunity to help support, and be supported by, a community of survivors committed to joining together each year to celebrate and honor all those impacted by this disease. For me, it’s a great comfort and an ongoing part of my healing journey to know that this is a community I will always be a part of and that no walls will ever come between us.
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.