Liska was most recently the senior coordinator for university and alumni relations at the Washington Center for Internships and Academic Seminars.
As we continue down this swirling whirlpool of virus-induced uncertainty, a great deal of discussion has occurred in the D.C. government affairs space about how trade associations and lobbying firms will operate in our new normal.
With Capitol Hill offices physically closed, normal legislative business disrupted and access to members and staff restricted more than ever, new methods of advocacy must be created. But there's been little talk about how citizen advocacy can adapt — especially on the part of young Americans.
With Congress passing unthinkably-large spending packages in record time, it's crucial all Americans be given the tools, perspective and encouragement to stay active in the public policy process despite our new reality.
Much of my professional career has been spent teaching civics to college students, and I've learned that to truly make a difference, a war in two theaters must be won: first, to reteach civics and "unlearn" misinformation; and second, to pull back the veil and show students how to apply directly the methods of advocacy.
For several years, I managed an academic public policy program at a nonprofit in Washington. It attracted thousands of college students to the capital each year. We wanted undergraduates to understand Congress and the public policy process, but with a twist:
After they were taught techniques of effective advocacy, they got a shot at trying them out on one of their own members of Congress. I helped facilitate almost 900 such face-to-face sessions for my students over five years.
Long before they set foot in a House or Senate office building, though, it was clear many weren't prepared. Most arrived for the semester with little civic understanding.
Some barely knew the three branches of government. Others had no concept of how laws were made. And, with the oversaturation of opinion masquerading as news, many couldn't tell fact from fiction. Some pointed to "House of Cards," one of the worst depictions of modern Washington there is, as an illustration of truth. And sadly, some thought that simply having an opinion was all they needed to debate policy.
So how do we fix this?
Foremost, young Americans must be taught civics more properly. The approach at my high school in Connecticut relied on memorization of the congressional districts and a spirited viewing of "Schoolhouse Rock!" ("I'm just a bill, sitting here on Capitol Hill.") This simply is not enough.
Comprehensive instruction must include how, and why, young people should visit Congress or a state legislature, with insight into the legislative dynamics and political realities. Students should be taught to spot misinformation, reject it entirely. And they need to learn how to articulate their wants and needs to those in power.
Which leads to the experiential piece. Many of the Founders felt it critical to incorporate civic learning into all levels of education, suggesting citizens actively attend official functions to understand personally how governments work.
The Philadelphia physician Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence and delegate to the Continental Congress (and also founder of Dickinson College, my alma mater) envisioned an education rooted in republican principles. In a 1786 treatise, he was so supportive of in-person encounters with the government that he suggested colleges be located only in county seats, so students would be easily able to witness local legislating and court proceedings.
Such access is just the first step. Students should take field trips and participate in lobby days, where they can hear directly from legislative staff and legislators about effective advocacy. They can see what works and what doesn't, and gain valuable insight into the kind of information lawmakers need when considering legislation.
Most of all, though, these young citizens would be more emboldened with the courage they need to continue a lifetime of advocacy.
To assure such repeated exposure to the halls of government, part of the responsibility lies with members of Congress and their staff. Thankfully, in all my hundreds of meetings on the Hill, only a handful of offices were unresponsive and fewer still were hostile to the idea of meeting with students.
But to help young citizens learn more about civics, legislators must make time for these constituents, explain their bills in plain English — and actually have a conversation. Politically-charged form letters do not make for good constituent correspondence. And with video conferencing now so commonplace, the opportunity for someone from a Senate or House office to appear in a virtual classroom to discuss lawmaking has never been easier.
Today's students are tomorrow's leaders, so institutions of learning must not cut back or eliminate civics. While all 50 states require some element of civic learning, many have shrunk or modified the curriculum — and, wrongly, some study-in-D.C. programs have eliminated any instruction related to advocacy.
Decisions about our future are made in Washington and in state capitols every day, with or without our input, so now is the time to double-down on what we can teach students about advocacy by involving all stakeholders: Legislators, lobbyists, educators and community groups.
By strengthening civic engagement, especially with young people, we might be able to equip a critical mass of Americans with the tools they need to inject a renewed sense of life in our democracy.




















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.