Goldstone is a writer whose most recent book is "On Account of Race: The Supreme Court, White Supremacy, and the Ravaging of African American Voting Rights."
Much like an only child of parents in a divorce proceeding, the U.S. Constitution has been clutched at by both sides of the ideological divide, each of which insists that its claim is the more legitimate and the other’s distorts reality. The right is certain the Constitution protects “religious liberty,” “individual freedom” and the ability to own any variety of weaponry, while the left asserts that the document protects the right of women to have an abortion and ensures all Americans are allowed to vote, thereby preserving the Framers’ goal of majority rule.
Both sides are wrong.
The main issue is that neither the left nor the right understands what the delegates to the Constitutional Convention were trying to achieve in the summer of 1787 and the compromises and realpolitik necessary to leave Philadelphia with any product at all. The primary misconception is that the Framers were there to ensure “liberty,” be it personal, political or religious. Americans already had liberty under the Articles of Confederation — a good deal more liberty, in fact, than they would be granted under a new Constitution. Citizens of each state in this compact of “friendship” had almost total control over their own destiny, including defining a judiciary, legislature, executive and constabulary, as well as establishing a monetary system, rules for voting eligibility and bills of rights. Participation in the central government was just short of voluntary.
What the nation under the Articles lacked was an effective means of common defense, the ability to raise money, and the consistency of laws necessary to promote trade and commerce. In order to acquire these and create a functional nation, Americans needed to be willing to sacrifice individual liberty rather than gain it. The key question was how much and in what areas.
There were facets of “liberty” that could not be threatened — slavery in the South and the free flow of commerce in the North — and the delegates spent four contentious months trying to devise a plan for an effective central government that could also protect those interests. There were intense debates over what powers would be granted to a national legislature, and even fiercer disagreement on the executive, where it took almost 140 votes to settle on a single president who would serve for four years.
Small states feared a strong central government would ride roughshod over the liberties they enjoyed under the Articles, so their interests were protected with a two-senator plan and the Electoral College. Voting eligibility was not addressed, left for the states to decide as they pleased. Potential deal-breakers were avoided. In addition to dancing past the slavery question, aware of widespread objections to a federal judiciary, the delegates kept Article III short and vague, failing even to mandate the number of justices who would sit on the Supreme Court.
In the end, the delegates achieved what they had most sought: a national government far stronger than had existed under the Articles, a means for national defense, and some consistency in the manner in which states could conduct their affairs. But the price was high. Slavery was protected, functionality was limited and minority rule assured. It is no wonder then that the Constitution is inadequate to meet current challenges — it was inadequate to meet the challenges of 1787, which explains why a Civil War became necessary to resolve fundamental issues 75 years later.
Given its shortcomings, it would seem that Americans should attempt to redraft a more effective document, one in which areas of contention would be specifically addressed. For example, does the right to vote guarantee that the ability to vote be made equal for all citizens? Does the right to bear arms exist without regard to the requirement that a militia be present? Does the protection against illegal search and seizure protect a woman’s right to abort an unwanted fetus (“my body, my choice”)? Do religious beliefs allow some citizens to deny others services or legal protections? These and other issues are addressed either obliquely or not at all in our current Constitution, and the United States has been torn asunder as a result.
The problem is that the very contentiousness that has wrenched American society apart would become the focus of any new constitutional convention. In addition, how delegates would be selected for such a convention and whether states would be represented based on population or as separate entities and how many votes each would be granted to decide on specifics might scuttle any plan for a new constitution before it got off the ground.
Even assuming some formula for empaneling a convention could be found, how could a nation that has lived under minority rule for virtually all of its existence expect that ruling minority to voluntarily cede power? It is far more likely that any new plan would be far less effective at establishing majority rule than what we are living with today.
In the end, the very flaws that make the Constitution unworkable would render any attempt to update it unworkable as well. And so, if a new version is not a reasonable option, Americans will need to find a means to use the existing document to solve the very deep problems that currently plague the nation.
It will not be easy.




















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.