Ali Noorani is the Program Director of U.S. Democracy at the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation. He leads the investments to strengthen democracy through our Trustworthy Elections and National Governing Institutions grantmaking.
Kevin McCarthy’s 15-ballot journey to the U.S. House speakership in January of 2023 was, to some, a testament to political coalition building. This subset of political punditry believed the many concessions McCarthy made to far-right lawmakers was the way one needed to manage today’s political factions. Others, in fact, thought the far left should play the same brand of hardball and exact their own set of ruthless concessions next time there was an election for a Democratic speaker.
Yet, in spite of McCarthy’s machinations, some 269 days later, eight members of the Republican conference, representing 1.8% of the nation, broke with their party to oust him from the speakership. Through his painful coalition building, McCarthy believed he had found a space where disagreement led to compromise. Instead, his willingness to look for common ground gave license to conflict entrepreneurs who only became more extreme and eventually brought down the House.
The result is that our nation is lurching toward another government shutdown, risking programs, services, and support of Ukraine’s fight against an authoritarian invasion, further eroding trust in our democratic institutions. Laura Blessing, a senior fellow at the Government Affairs Institute at Georgetown University, told The Washington Post, “We are watching a very small number of folks from the House Republican conference have an outsize role in promoting a lot of congressional dysfunction and fiscal dysfunction. This is a move for volatility and not a move to pass legislation.”
Why did we get here?
Over the last couple of decades, political actors have spent billions of dollars to deepen polarization within our society. As a result, our differences have shifted from ideological splits to what Lilliana Mason accurately describes as, “an emotional type of polarization that cannot be explained by parties or issues alone.”
A major contributor to the affective polarization that dominates our politics and defines our tribes has been the way in which religious, racial, and other social identities are increasingly linked to one party or the other. Mason explains that with identity-based politics, “the passion and prejudice with which we approach politics is driven not only by what we think, but also powerfully by who we think we are.” The upshot, she concludes, is that “the ‘otherness’ of ideological opponents, more than issue-based disagreement, drives liberal-versus-conservative rancor.”
This all leads to a level of tribalism that creates the political space and incentive structure for a fringe group to exert an outsized influence. It plays into the othering of ideological opponents in ways that intersect with religious, racial, and other social identities — and prevents the political compromises that are necessary for governing the diverse, messy realities of a country with 330 million individuals.
Where do we go from here?
In “ High Conflict: Why We Get Trapped and How We Get Out, ” Amanda Ripley describes this dynamic as one where conflict entrepreneurs weaponize identity politics and tribalism to garner media attention and votes in order to amass political power. The solution she posits is to find “conflict disruptors,” those whose identities are still broad enough to bring together different sides of a debate. Encouraging politicians and citizens alike to reject the narrow parts of their identities on display in party politics is a challenge, but it starts with recognizing that finding narrow zones of compromise is the only way for our democracy to function.
To begin, we need to establish incentives for political moderation that do not require one to change their party identity. From the groundbreaking work of One America Movement with a range of faith communities or the painstaking efforts of Care Lab to build relationships among key staff on Capitol Hill, we know this will not happen quickly and success will rely on a combination of structural and cultural factors.
It remains to be seen whether any Republican can win the speakership and wield the gavel in ways that disrupt conflict and recognize a shared political community. What they concede, to whom, in order to earn 218 votes will determine their approach to leadership. But this is not just a Republican problem. If our politicians continue their march toward performative, high conflict, more and more of our fellow Americans will find extremism increasingly appealing — and, in the worst case, an onramp to political violence. If our new House Speaker can manage small steps back from high conflict, we have a chance of once again feeling like we are part of a shared political community. There is a lot at stake for all of us, regardless of which tribe we consider our own.
This piece was original published by the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation




















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.