Breslin is the Joseph C. Palamountain Jr. Chair of Political Science at Skidmore College and author of “A Constitution for the Living: Imagining How Five Generations of Americans Would Rewrite the Nation’s Fundamental Law.”
This is the latest in “ A Republic, if we can keep it,” a series to assist American citizens on the bumpy road ahead this election year. By highlighting components, principles and stories of the Constitution, Breslin hopes to remind us that the American political experiment remains, in the words of Alexander Hamilton, the “most interesting in the world.”
Getting into America’s highest political offices is hard. Getting out is harder.
President Joe Biden’s disastrous debate performance has intensified calls for him to step aside. Not even 24 hours after his poor showing, The New York Times took the extraordinary and unprecedented position that the sitting president should immediately pass the torch to a more energetic and electable candidate. “The greatest public service Mr. Biden can now perform,” the editorial board declared, “is to announce that he will not continue to run for re-election.”
Regrettably, The Times has it right. After more than a half-century of dedicated and decorated service, the moment has come for Biden to depart the political stage. He must retire. All citizens, regardless of party affiliation, should agree that the challenges our nation faces require political leaders to be at the peak of their game, not when their mental acuity is in obvious decline.
Democrats have been here before. In 2013, faced with the very real possibility that the Republican Party would gain majority control of the Senate, President Barack Obama invited Associate Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg to lunch. He claimed that he wanted to build a “better rapport” with the Notorious R.B.G., but most in Obama’s inner circle understood that the president’s objective was to gently nudge her towards retirement. Obama had the foresight to recognize that time was running out on the Democratic Party’s ability to maintain a strong liberal bloc on the Supreme Court. He wanted the chance to appoint a like-minded jurist to the bench. That chance wouldn’t come. Ginsburg flatly turned the president down, saying, “I think [you] would agree with me that [the timing of my retirement] is a question for my own good judgment.”
It turned out to be poor judgment. Ginsburg, generally considered a jurisprudential titan by court watchers on both the left and the right, would remain in her post for seven additional terms. Save the historic 2015 ruling in Obergefell v. Hodges that constitutionally recognized same-sex marriage, Ginsburg and her liberal allies often found themselves on the losing end of major legal skirmishes. She admitted to considerable frustration. When she died at her home two weeks before the start of the court’s 2021 term, her authority among The Nine had waned.
Ginsburg’s tragic death was the final ingredient in the conservative constitutional revolution. Amy Coney Barrett, Ginsburg’s replacement, might share chromosomes and an elite legal education with the late liberal giant, but little more. She is Ginsburg’s ideological foil. Barrett voted with the majority in overturning Roe v. Wade, defended marriage as a union solely between men and women, and supported men in workplace sexual harassment claims. Indeed, it’s ironic that the passing of the greatest champion of gender equality this nation has ever seen helped to solidify a new judicial patriarchy. The Obama lunch takes on added significance with the clarity of hindsight.
No one should doubt that Joe Biden and Ruth Bader Ginsburg are American patriots. They selflessly gave and gave to their country and to the causes of freedom, equality and justice. They exhibited integrity and decency throughout their long careers. America needs more Joe Bidens and Ruth Bader Ginsburgs. We need more heroes on both sides of the aisle. But we also need our political leaders to know when it’s time to leave.
Ginsburg’s choice to remain on the bench had tragic consequences for her deepest convictions. The same is true if Biden remains in the race. The issues Biden cares most about — civil rights, health care, the working people of America, immigration, abortion, democracy and so on — as well as the degree of dignity the office must engender, are all in jeopardy should he choose to stay the course. And that doesn’t even account for the correlating likelihood that his obstinacy will significantly impact down-ballot races. Biden has an obligation to all Americans to contemplate the considerable stakes at hand. They’ve rarely been higher.
America’s first president, George Washington, confronted similar stakes in similar times. The country was in a bad way in 1796, and Washington was old. He faced a choice: remain in America’s highest office or return to his estate on the Potomac. He chose the latter.
“Friends and Citizens,” his Farewell Address began, “it appears to me proper that I should now apprise you of the resolution I have formed, to decline being considered among the number of those out of whom a choice [to be President] is to be made. I beg you, at the same time, to do me the justice to be assured that this resolution has not been taken without a strict regard to all the considerations appertaining to the relation which binds a dutiful citizen to his country; and that in withdrawing, I am influenced by no diminution of zeal for your future interest, no deficiency of grateful respect for your past kindness, but am supported by a full conviction that the step is compatible with both.”
Take the step, President Biden. Take the step.
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.