Kevin Frazier will join the Crump College of Law at St. Thomas University as an Assistant Professor starting this Fall. He currently is a clerk on the Montana Supreme Court.
What if we valued voting as much as we detest cigarette butts? Stay with me. A forgotten or neglected cigarette butt is a lot like an uncast vote for two main reasons: first, both are the result of someone rejecting a relatively easy duty that will not or cannot be performed by someone else. Second, both cause communal harm. Yet, we measure a different degree of response to each—that’s got to change.
In hundreds of communities, there’s an affirmative duty for smokers to properly dispose of their butts. We enforce this duty through several sources of pressure because even a few smokers failing to throw out their butts can cause significant communal harm. The selfishness of just one or two smokers can wreck the days of dozens of individuals. More troublingly, that selfishness can spread—smokers who see a pile of butts left behind by others may feel free to do so themselves. Soon thereafter, a public space may become unusable because a few individuals opted not to do their duty—you’ll rarely find a family picnicking in a lawn littered with butts.
Fear of a collective space being tarnished by poor individual choices has rallied society to mount a three prong campaign against the littering of butts: government sanction— most communities not only mandate smokers pick up after themselves, they also impose a fine on those who fail to do so, government support—those communities try to support individuals fulfilling that duty by providing them with notice of that duty via a myriad of signs and even by supplying them with butt-specific receptacles; and, communal pressure—beyond a societal expectation that folks perform this duty, we have mutually agreed that those who fail to do so deserve general admonishment.
This policy regime is at once comprehensive and, in the parlance of Gen Zers, “extra”—it doesn’t leave performance of such a duty to chance. The community acknowledges the importance of clean public spaces and has proportionately responded. As the risks to communal well-being increase, so do the potential punishments--for instance, smokers face even stiffer penalties depending on the current fire risk on public lands.
Comparatively, despite the importance of a deliberative and diverse public sphere, there’s no such proportional response. There’s no government sanction—you’re free to forgo your civic duty regardless of the costs it imposes on others. There’s increasingly little governmental support; you can get a receptacle tailored to your cigarette butt, but even the provision of providing water to voters waiting in line is prohibited in some places. There’s insufficient social pressure—even if you were to learn that someone didn’t vote (and you likely won’t), few would feel empowered to comment on that neglect.
The communal cost of this individual duty being dodged has become increasingly apparent. Despite the majority of Americans indicating their support for gun control, climate change mitigation and adaptation funding, etc., these necessary policies have stalled in a congress selected by a minority of Americans.
The longer individuals neglect their duty, the higher the societal costs. As the disconnect between the majority’s preferences and legislative outcomes grows larger, the rule of law itself may fall into disarray--many will come to doubt and even challenge the institutions we rely on to confront key, modern problems.
Now’s the time for a change. As silly as it may sound, our policy response to cigarette butts can provide a template for how to better increase voter turnout. At a minimum, we should provide the same kind of proactive support for would-be voters as we do smokers and actively celebrate those who take individual action for the betterment of the community.
As bad as cigarette butts are, a democracy governed by the few is far worse.




















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.