Ever since the reality of President Biden’s mental and physical decline has been made public, ink is being spent, bemoaning that the nation was at risk because the President was not fit to make crucial decisions twenty-four hours a day.
Isn’t it foolish that, in a constitutional republic with clear separation and interdependence of powers, we should rely on one human being to make a decision at three in the morning that could have grievous consequences for the whole nation and the world? Are we under the illusion that we must and can elect an all-wise, always-on, energizer-bunny, superhero?
No matter the age of our elected president, as corporeal beings, they can suffer from the stresses of the role, or other common stresses, just like the rest of us. Because we insist on an image of a perfectly in-control leader, those around the president are cued to mask the boss’s problems under the guise of political loyalty or international stability.
U.S. history is full of examples of Presidents with medical conditions, often masked by their loyalists. The effects of Woodrow Wilson’s significant stroke were hidden from the public, as was Kennedy’s Addison disease and chronic back problems. Franklin Roosevelt’s declining health was masked prior to his election to a fourth term, in which his poor performance at the crucial Yalta Conference after WWII had grave consequences. He died just 82 days into that term. Other U.S. presidents had serious medical conditions that were kept from the general public. This is also true of other world leaders like Vladimir Lenin and Mao Zedong.
These all-too-human realities become huge ethical issues for the inner circle that is trying to maintain their leader’s public profile, as well as very real governance issues. Only in retrospect do we recognize the huge risks or damage incurred by reason of the inner circle, and at times, members of outer circles like the press, keeping this information carefully guarded.
The norms regarding a staff protecting a political leader are so powerful that appealing to the national interest is apparently insufficient to change behavior. It is in such cases that laws are needed to require the desired behavior.
In 1994, in my book The Courageous Follower, I wrote:
“Though serious illness can strike at any age, it is more common as people grow older. Senior leadership positions tend to be filled with older, more experienced people. Thus, illness among leaders is more common than we think…It can be extremely dangerous to allow leaders to make high-level decisions, perform critical negotiations, or engage in taxing events when their physical and mental processes are impaired by illness, pain, or medication.”
One of the dilemmas of the U.S. system of governance is that our Constitution requires the highest bar imaginable to remove a president no longer capable of performing their duties. Fewer all-or-nothing laws are needed to account for the realities of a president who needs weeks to recover from an accident or severe illness or is, by all reasonable standards, in cognitive decline. Let Congress work through a reality-based and politically acceptable way of dealing with these intermittent or slow-moving but irreversible events.
An effective law would address both the president (or other senior members of the administration) and those closest to them (their inner circle of counselors), who also must swear allegiance to the Constitution and the law. We have sensible protocols for when the president or other high-ranking officials go under anesthesia for a number of hours. We need sensible middle ground rules between that and the 25th Amendment.
The onus must fall equally on those designated as forming the president’s official inner circle as well as on the president. Taking a step back to the 3 a.m. phone call, a similar rule is needed when the president is awakened and still collecting their full cognitive capacity. The 3 a.m. call we most worry about is presumably an act of war, pre-emptive or defensive. In an age of hypersonic weapons, the window for that decision is less than thirty minutes.
Acknowledging this, no one expects the constitutional power to declare war by Congress to be applied. However, the least we can do is manage the risk, similarly to an ill or diminished president making the decision on their own. I know this goes against the grain of the buck stops here, but it is a prudent adjustment to the reality of the world we have created and the continued vulnerabilities of our leaders, young and old, in that world.
Medical reports on the president should require at least two qualified physicians reporting under oath. Reasonable limits can be placed on this to protect the individual leader’s dignity. If we are going to have a presidential system with so much power aggregated in the office, we now have clear evidence that we need to alleviate the conflict of loyalties experienced by private physicians and confidantes with legislation that requires, under oath, truthfulness by qualified observers.
Ira Chaleff is the author The Courageous Follower, and To Stop a Tyrant: The Power of Political Followers.




















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.