Suzette Brooks Masters is a strategist, thought leader and philanthropic advisor. She recently published Imagining Better Futures for American Democracy.
We suffer from a lack of collective imagination about what America’s possible futures could be. There are many reasons for this, including rampant short-termism and crisis thinking, which make it hard to look beyond the current moment and think expansively. But our deep distrust of one another and the reduced legitimacy of many of our key societal institutions – such as government and elections – make imagining shared futures for all of us, not just some of us, even more elusive.
Elections heighten our differences, not what we share.
Most Americans only pay attention to policy issues and what they could mean for them, now and in the future, during election seasons. The problem is that elections don’t bring out the best in us.
During election seasons, representatives of two opposing teams, or members of the same team, are battling it out, emphasizing their points of difference rather than agreement. Candidates, political parties and PACs bombard the public with attack ads and the media covers campaigns like it does sports, with conflict-driven stories designed to attract eyeballs and amplify drama.
In this environment, it’s not surprising that a pernicious type of polarization is on the rise in the U.S. that makes people feel an affinity for members of their “in group” and hatred for a perceived “other” or “out group.” This can fuel fears that any victory by the opposing group or political party poses an existential threat.
The frequency of American elections and the unprecedented resources spent on them – in the tens of billions – further magnify these societally adverse impacts.
Regrettably, elections don’t offer American voters a chance to zoom out and understand what the amalgam of short term policy platforms means for themselves and for future generations of Americans.
Americans don’t have enough opportunities to build and imagine shared futures together.
As more Americans retreat to tribal bubbles and sort themselves into increasingly ideologically homogeneous communities or neighborhoods, what can counter the pervasive “othering” that peaks during election seasons? What experiences allow people to see the subtle grays rather than only black or white—to solve common problems together, and to realize that they agree on the most basic things they want for their families and communities now, and especially in the future?
Recent research I conducted on how diverse people imagine hopeful futures showed surprising alignment and convergence around a few fundamental aspirations: opportunity to thrive regardless of who you are and the circumstances you’re born into, safety, fairness, and a sustainable and livable planet. Admittedly, agreeing on broad end goals does not mean agreement on priorities, sequencing, tradeoffs or process. But sharing long term-goals is an important precondition for building preferred futures and one the public rarely has a chance to develop with fellow Americans.
How to normalize longer-term thinking in civics, politics and governance.
How different would campaigns feel if voters had a chance to hear each candidate paint a picture of what life could be like a generation from now if their policies or platforms came to fruition?
Wouldn’t it be instructive for politicians to describe what kind of work would be available, how people would get around, what the air quality would be like, what children would be learning in school, what the social safety net would protect, what the state of wealth inequality would be and how people would interact with technology in 2050?
The added benefit of socializing this type of aspirational speculative fiction as a part of what’s expected of political candidates is that it would force them to stretch their own imagination muscles. What if they had to actually think through the implications of their policy choices and tradeoffs, and to imagine life for current and future generations? To render these narratives even more viscerally and tangibly, campaigns could also use AI, VR and worldbuilding techniques to create interactive or immersive experiences embodying those narratives.
Normalizing practices of visioning about where our society could and should be heading and how life could and should be lived is crucially important today. We are living through a time of epochal upheaval and transformation in which we can see our collective limits clearly and need to imagine how to transcend them. How can we manage change more transparently and productively to give our society the best possible chance to usher in better futures, or futures at all?
Short of hosting speculative fiction policy fora for candidates like the ones described above and making them de rigueur, there is so much more our news media and civic institutions can do to ask this of our current and aspiring leaders. In fact, they could ask questions today in ways that elicit thoughtful responses about what the future could look like for current voters and generations to come. These types of questions can populate media interviews, debates, town halls, and a variety of topical symposia, for starters. Furthermore, outside of campaigning, new norms can be instituted to demand the same visioning and stretch thinking by the government in dialogue with members of the public.
The American public and candidates for public office need to dream bigger about what America could become in the future. Let’s start with asking the right questions.




















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.