Bruce Bond and Erik Olsen have been friends since middle school in New Canaan, a tony Connecticut suburb of New York, where they indulged their shared passion for debating politics, economics and other current events. Bond was a distance runner at Princeton and then spent 30 years as an information technology entrepreneur, software developer and industry analyst. Olsen went to Principia College and got an MBA from UCLA before launching his career in investment management, fund management and real estate investment.
On a joint family vacation in 2009, while bemoaning the angry tenor of public discourse, they landed on the concept for their organization. Common Ground Committee's main work is hosting public forums where prominent figures from opposing ends of the political spectrum reveal their shared areas of agreement on an often polarizing public policy issue. Their answers have been edited for clarity and length.
What's democracy's biggest challenge, in 10 words or less?
Both: The inability of elected officials to overcome emotion with reason.
Describe your very first civic engagements.
Bond: It was in seventh grade. I had recently become interested in environmental issues and volunteered to be the student leader and organizer on my town's "Clean Your Mile Day" committee.
Olsen: When my children were younger, we worked at a homeless shelter during Christmas through an activity organized by member of our church in California. I've been active in church since my teens.
What was your biggest professional triumph?
Bond: Nothing in my career has been more satisfying than obtaining the recognition, funding and personnel that enabled Common Ground Committee to move from a bootstrapped, volunteer-only startup to a strong, growing and talent-rich organization.
Olsen: I've been self-employed in small businesses since 1986, which in itself is a professional triumph. But I must echo Bruce, who deserves most of the credit, that getting CGC to its current level of operations has been quite an achievement.
And your most disappointing setback?
Bond: While working for a tech start-up, the company was purchased by a larger firm. I had been assured I would be able to benefit greatly should that happen. But the founders had decided behind closed doors that the spoils of a buyout would not be shared by non-owners. It was very disappointing, but it was my fault for not getting something in writing when I joined the firm.
Olsen: Not being able to stabilize the business I developed with two partners in 2014. Everyone we talked with thought we had a great idea, including prospective clients. But we could not get enough to sign on the dotted line.
How does your identity influence the way you go about your work?
Bond: My identity has a lot to do with a "no limits" mindset and putting a high value on inclusion and teamwork. From what I know about the democracy reform movement, both are crucial if we are ever to bring healing to the problems of incivility and polarization in the nation's politics.
Olsen: At Common Ground Committee I'm influenced by my desire to find truth. It leads me to constantly question things. But I've come to realize that my sense of truth is not necessarily shared by others.
What's the best advice you've ever been given?
Bond: My favorite advice was from my dad the day before my wedding: "Remember that what's yours is hers, and what's hers is hers." But the best advice was really from a teacher and mentor who instilled in me the value of listening for direction — particularly from the "voice within."
Olsen: Don't make decisions based on fear.
Create a new flavor for Ben & Jerry's.
Bond: I'm confident they would have a best seller in Common Grounder Swirl, a mix of vanilla and chocolate ice cream ribbons.
Olsen:Maybe a blueberry and raspberry swirl. With nuts.
"West Wing" or "Veep"?
Bond: Neither one. I prefer "24" and the Jack Bauer relationship with the president. President David Palmer had it going on!
Olsen: "West Wing." If it were only that easy. And clear.
What's the last thing you do on your phone at night?
Bond: After plugging in the phone to recharge overnight, I take my iPad to bed and will often turn out the light and listen to a recorded article using a soft headband with wireless speakers in it. Works every time.
Olsen: Set the timer to shut off the podcast I'm listening to after 15 minutes.
What is your deepest, darkest secret?
Bond: I went to my high school senior prom with the 13th girl I asked. The first 12 politely declined. Very humiliating.
Olsen: I would prefer a romantic old movie to any sporting event — except possibly the Super Bowl, if there is a party.
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.