Lee is a senior researcher and Alaska lead for Sightline Institute.
If you want to know how to save American democracy, look no further than the cases of Wyoming Rep. Liz Cheney and Alaska Sen. Lisa Murkowski. The primary elections systems in their states dictated two divergent political fates.
Both Cheney and Murkowski are established Republican incumbents from sparsely populated red states; each serves in a seat held by her father. Both face retribution from their party and conservative media for choosing the Constitution above loyalty to former President Donald Trump. Cheney voted to impeach Trump and Murkowski to convict him for his part in the storming of the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.
On Tuesday, Alaska and Wyoming held primary elections. Cheney lost by 37 points, while Murkowski advanced with three other candidates to the general election. To be sure, Wyoming’s electorate is redder and more pro-Trump than Alaska’s, and Cheney, as co-chair of the Jan. 6 committee, is Trump’s most visible and vocal critic within the party. But their contrasting fates came down to the rules of the primaries themselves.
Cheney went up against Trump-endorsed candidate Harriet Hageman in a closed party primary where she needed to win a plurality from a mostly Republican electorate. With just one winner advancing from each party’s primary, the scales couldn’t be tipped even by a sizable number of Democrats likely switching registration to vote for Cheney in the GOP primary. Murkowski, meanwhile, ran in Alaska’s new primary where all candidates appear on a single ballot. Murkowski easily secured her spot on the November ballot. (She was in first place as of Wednesday, with 80 percent of precincts reporting.) The key differences? Murkowski’s primary was open to all Alaska voters and the four top vote-getters move to the general election.
In an open primary, Cheney would have advanced to the general election with no problem, whether or not Wyoming Democrats opted to vote for her.
Closed party primaries are force multiplier s for the polarization that afflicts the United States. They feed the trend of congressional Republicans lurching to the right and, to a lesser degree, of congressional Democrats moving left. In 2010, the Tea Party vociferously opposed Republicans who had voted for the recession relief bill. In some districts that were safe for the Republican Party, a Tea Party challenger beat the more mainstream Republican in the primary, becoming the sole choice for Republican voters and quite safe in the general election. Fear among moderate, measured or mainstream candidates of being “primaried” moved them away from bipartisan cooperation and edged their politics further to the extremes. Murkowski learned this the hard way. In 2010, Tea Party candidate Joe Miller won Alaska’s closed Republican primary, appearing to eliminate Murkowski from the race. But she ran a historic write-in campaign and won an uphill fight in the general election by appealing to a broad cross-section of voters.
Open, pick-one primaries that send the top four or five vote-getters to the general, on the other hand, prevent popular mainstream incumbents from being “primaried” by partisan extremists in low-turnout summer races. Indeed, open, top-four primaries incentivize candidates to “pander to the center” — that is, not to the hyper-partisan minority but to the more centrist majority, something the United States could use a lot more of.
These two sets of primary rules are so divergent in outcomes that if Alaska and Wyoming swapped election methods, Cheney would almost certainly survive her primary and Murkowski would have been knocked out of hers. Alaska pollster Ivan Moore told The Associated Press that in a closed primary Murkowski “would have had a zero percent — I mean zero percent — chance of winning.”
It’s that simple.
Another late-breaking and lower-profile illustration comes from Washington state, where primaries are open, not closed, but where only two candidates go on to the general election. Jaime Herrera-Beutler is the six-term incumbent Republican representing the 3rd district in the state’s southwest corner. It is home to both urban and suburban areas in and around Vancouver, Wash. (just north of Portland, Ore.), as well as vast rural stretches extending through the south-central region of the state. Herrera-Beutler voted to impeach Trump, who attacked her over the course of the campaign while endorsing a far-right GOP challenger. In late vote counts last week, that challenger overtook her by a smidge, pushing her from second place to third. Herrera-Beutler conceded the race. If Washington used Alaska’s top-four system, Herrera-Beutler would have gone on to the general election, where a vastly larger, less ideological electorate might well have sent her back to Congress.
Every GOP member of Congress who voted to impeach or convict Trump and who is running for reelection in a closed primary has now lost that race: Tom Rice in South Carolina, Peter Meijer in Michigan and Liz Cheney in Wyoming. They all lost to Trump-endorsed right-wing candidates. Of the four GOP members who voted to impeach or convict Trump and ran for reelection in an open primary, only one has lost: Herrera-Beutler. Three have survived: Murkowski, Dan Newhouse in Washington and David Valadao in California.
To be clear, all open primaries are good but not equally good. Open primaries that send the top four vote-getters to the general rather than just the top two are superior. They minimize the chances that the general election ballot will only offer extremists or candidates from one party. They give a real voice to the independent, unaffiliated and third-party voters who together represent about 40 percent of the U.S. electorate and about 58 percent of Alaska’s.
Alaska pairs the open primary with a ranked-choice general election, where candidates will again have the chance to appeal to a wide swath of voters.
The way Alaska, Washington, Wyoming or any state runs its primaries will not solely determine who runs in the general election. But changing the rules to give more voters more voice earlier in the election process is one way to unrig our election process and give candidates with broad appeal a chance to compete at all.




















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.