The killing of Alex Pretti was unjust and unjustified. While protesting — aka “observing” or “interfering with” — deportation operations, the VA hospital ICU nurse came to the aid of two protesters, one of whom had been slammed to the ground by a U.S. Customs and Border Protection agent. With a phone in one hand, Pretti used the other hand, in vain, to protect his eyes while being pepper sprayed. Knocked to the ground, Pretti was repeatedly smashed in the face with the spray can, pummeled by multiple agents, disarmed of his holstered legal firearm and then shot nine or 10 times.
Note the sequence. He was disarmed and then he was shot.
That’s why the killing is undeniably unjust and unjustified. Unjust because Pretti didn’t deserve to die, even if he’d been fully “obstructing” federal agents, death is not a just price for that. But he wasn’t obstructing an agent from deporting an immigrant. He was obstructing an agent from further assaulting a woman in the street.
The killing was unjustified because a gang of agents didn’t need to shoot Pretti after they disarmed him. If you want to argue that merely bringing a gun to any protest justifies being shot by law enforcement, even after being disarmed, you’re going to sound as politically dumb, hypocritical or authoritarian as a whole bunch of administration officials and GOP defenders undeniably did over the weekend.
I keep using that word — “undeniable.” Sadly, it really doesn’t mean what it used to mean. “Undeniable” describes something that is so obviously and clearly true that no one can refute or dispute it. With this administration, truth ain’t got nothing to do with anything.
In the immediate aftermath of Pretti’s killing, members of the Trump administration took to TV and social media to describe Pretti as a “domestic terrorist” and an “assassin.” The head of CBP, Gregory Bovino, said, “This looks like a situation where an individual wanted to do maximum damage and massacre law enforcement.” Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem echoed the same talking points. Pretti’s motive, she claimed, was “to inflict maximum damage on individuals and to kill law enforcement” because he was a “domestic terrorist.” White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller asserted that Pretti was an “assassin” who tried to “murder federal agents.”
The administration is making all of this up. But that doesn’t necessarily mean they are lying. They just don’t care what the truth is.
In his seminal book “On Bulls—” (the actual title isn’t censored), philosopher Harry G. Frankfurt argues that lying implies a certain respect for, and knowledge of, the truth. “It is impossible for someone to lie unless he thinks he knows the truth. Producing bulls— requires no such conviction.” What this administration does is worse than lying because they don’t care whether something is true or false, only whether it will be believed.
The Trump White House is a bulls— distribution hub, that connects via tubes, canals and sluices across the media landscape. Like some vast Rube Goldberg contraption, the guy on the giant hamster wheel powering the whole thing is a president who spent his life saying whatever he needed to say at any given moment to make a deal, get out of trouble, whatever.
Raised on “the power of positive thinking” and the prosperity gospel, Donald J. Trump has always believed he could conjure the reality he wants through sheer will and a relentless repetition of what he wants people to believe. He makes claims about what “they” are “saying” and recounts tales about what people have told him, some of which are surely made up while others are probably true but insincerely told, given that everyone knows the president believes all flattery he hears.
Trump sprayed bovine excrement throughout his first term, too. But he also had staff with hazmat suits, containment and cleanup gear at the ready.
Now, in his second term, everyone grabs a hose — but that’s not water in those tanks. Terminally online and obsessed with cable news narratives, this White House is full of people who have learned at the (kissed) feet of the master. The truth and lies are just different kinds of tools for the job that matters: constructing a narrative the president wants to hear, mostly about himself or for his benefit.
That’s why the administration’s Sunday show spinners are so bad at the job. The mission isn’t primarily to reassure, never mind to inform, the public, but to reassure the president that the public is being properly told how great the president is. Because they know he’s watching.
Trump is reportedly “reviewing” the policies that left Pretti dead in the street. That’s good. But Trump’s motive isn’t to prevent more needless deaths, just the needless deaths that don’t make him look good.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.
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.