As another election season draws to a close, I find myself reflecting on a familiar refrain — one that has grown all too weary with age. It is the lamentation of the allegedly apathetic African American male, a narrative that persists in depicting my brothers as disengaged and disinterested in shaping our collective future.
As a minister, a professor and a proud, 28-year member of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, I am here to tell you that this stereotype is as damaging as it is inaccurate. It is a misrepresentation that not only erases the fundamental contributions of Black men but also absolves our broader society of its responsibility to dismantle the systemic barriers that hinder true equality.
I have dedicated my life to the pursuit of justice, to the empowerment of marginalized communities and to the fostering of difficult yet necessary dialogues around race and inequity. Through it all, I have consistently found my brothers, my fellow Alphas, standing shoulder to shoulder with me on the frontlines of change.
Alpha Phi Alpha, the first intercollegiate Greek-letter fraternity established for African Americans, was founded on a bedrock of service, scholarship and social justice. From our inception on Dec. 4, 1906, at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, we have understood that the fight for true equality demands more than sporadic outrage; it requires strategic mobilization, institutional building and an unwavering commitment to the uplift of our people.
Our legacy is one of transformational leadership. Alphas have left an indelible mark on American society, includingMartin Luther King Jr., Thurgood Marshall, Duke Ellington and Langston Hughes to name a chosen few. These men, and countless others like them, didn't simply bemoan the challenges of their time; they actively organized, advocated and broke down barriers, often at significant personal cost.
Today, that legacy endures. Through our "A Voteless People is a Powerless People" campaign, Alphas has worked tirelessly to educate, register and mobilize Black voters nationwide. We recognize that true power lies not merely in protest but in the ability to shape policy, hold elected officials accountable and ensure our voices are heard in the halls of power. Beyond the political realm, our "Go to High School, Go to College" initiative has inspired generations of young Black and Brown boys to pursue academic excellence and understand education as a liberating force. Through mentorship programs, scholarships and community outreach, we are helping to cultivate a new generation of leaders — men who understand their potential and their responsibility to uplift their brothers and their communities.
Yet, despite this rich history and ongoing commitment to service, the stereotype of the apathetic Black man persists. African American men have always understood the stakes of our struggle. We've always known that freedom is not a destination but a journey that demands constant vigilance, strategic action, and an unwavering belief in our inherent worth and dignity, even in the face of systemic racism and discrimination.
Along with 10,000 men worldwide, I’m pleased to model a brand of leadership that is not merely reactive but proactive — that understands the power of collective action, the importance of institution-building and the enduring value of service to others. So, America, let's move beyond the tired stereotypes and lazy narratives. I invite you to recognize African American men's accurate and abiding contributions, not just as occasional voters but as steadfast leaders, organizers and change-makers.
In celebration of the fraternity's founding by our Seven Jewels — Henry Arthur Callis, Charles Henry Chapman, Eugene Kinckle Jones, George Biddle Kelley, Nathaniel Allison Murray, Robert Harold Ogle and Vertner Woodson Tandy — we celebrate their legacy and all who've come before us. Together, we wholeheartedly commit to inspiring a new generation to embrace the challenge and the privilege of leadership in their communities and world. Remembering the most accurate measure of a people is its ability to survive, thrive, transform and leave the world better than it found it. Such is the Alpha way:
“First of All, Servants of All, We shall transcend All.”
Johnson is a United Methodist pastor, the author of "Holding Up Your Corner: Talking About Race in Your Community" and program director for the Bridge Alliance, which houses The Fulcrum.




















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.