Americans are not confused. We are exhausted.
We’ve watched a Congress that no longer works, a Supreme Court that often ignores its own ethical obligations, and a Justice Department hesitant to enforce the laws it was created to uphold. Leaders promise to serve the people — yet spend their time serving donors, factions, and themselves.
And here is the question no one in Washington seems brave enough to ask:
How long can a democracy survive when its leaders stop listening — and when the citizens who elected them stop demanding accountability?
Families are paying more for groceries. Healthcare feels fragile. Schools struggle. Public trust in government is near historic lows — just 20% of Americans approve of Congress’s performance.
Yet many voters shrug when officials break the law, mislead the public, or abandon their constitutional duty. Some do not vote at all — then express outrage at the consequences of their own inaction.
Democracy cannot function when citizens tolerate corruption or remain silent.
Nothing illustrates this moral collapse more vividly than January 6 — the day the U.S. Capitol, the heart of our democracy, was attacked. Police officers were beaten. The peaceful transfer of power — our most sacred civic ritual — was threatened. Speaker Nancy Pelosi led the House through the crisis, while then‑Representative Mike Johnson reportedly worked behind the scenes with loyalists to keep President Trump in power. Some members of Congress minimized the attack; others defended the rioters. Millions of voters ignored who was responsible. The country watched in disbelief.
After his first impeachment, Senator Susan Collins said she believed President Trump had “learned his lesson.” But he hadn’t. He did it again — abused his power, incited violence, and continues to defy the rule of law.
And this time, he did so with the tacit support of the highest court in the country.
The Supreme Court has refused to enforce clear ethical standards, declined to recuse justices with glaring conflicts of interest, and delayed rulings that could have protected the integrity of our elections.
Meanwhile, those who tried to hold Trump accountable — leaders like former Rep. Liz Cheney and former Sen. Mitt Romney — were penalized. Cheney lost her leadership role and her seat. Romney chose not to run again, citing the toxic political climate.
Where was the courage to do the right thing?
Those who incited violence were later pardoned or had their sentences reduced. Their victims — the officers who were beaten, the staffers who hid in fear, the lawmakers who fled for their lives — were victimized again.
Our system of accountability is broken. And it is deeply frustrating.
Where are our checks and balances when the most powerful can lie, incite violence, and walk away untouched? Right now, Congress and the courts are failing to exercise those powers at all. Justices accept gifts from billionaires and refuse to recuse. Members of Congress skip votes and dodge oversight without consequence.
True service means listening to the people, conducting audits, acknowledging failures, and collaborating across party lines. Leaders must remember they legislate for Republicans, Democrats, and Independents alike — not for factions or donors. Transparency is not optional: budgets, proposals, and votes must be open to the public. Ethical standards must be enforced through codes of conduct, whistleblower protections, and independent oversight. Congress must use its checks and balances responsibly, safeguarding free and fair elections from interference. Leaders must cut out obstruction and partisan theater that wastes time and erodes trust. These are not radical demands — they are the basics of ethical leadership.
When citizens stop paying attention — or stop believing their voices matter — democracy suffers.
Trust collapses. Laws are bent. Courage is punished. And the people are left with leaders who serve themselves.
Accountability takes courage — and too many leaders lack it.
They fail to hold themselves accountable when they break promises, skip votes, or betray the public trust. They fail to hold each other accountable when colleagues lie, incite violence, or abuse power.
Instead of consequences, there are excuses. Instead of courage, there is complicity.
Accountability is not cruelty. It is clarity. It is the foundation of trust. And without it, democracy cannot survive.
Throughout my career in public education, accountability has made me stronger. Accepting responsibility for my failures was tough, but it paid off. It built trust. It built integrity. And it reminded me that leadership is not a performance — it’s a promise.
I wrote to my former representatives while they were still in office — urging them to vote in the best interest of our community. They didn’t. One knew she couldn’t run again — voters in our district had seen enough. Another lost public support for breaking promises. These were not partisan disagreements. They were failures of trust.
That’s why I check roll calls and track votes. I ask others to do the same — even family members in other states. But too often, they don’t. They complain, but they don’t engage.
This is how democracy erodes — not just through bad leadership, but through public disengagement.
Americans must not give up. We must pay attention. We must demand better — and reward those who lead with courage and conscience.
I understand why some people stay silent. In today’s climate, speaking up can be risky — especially in my state. Some threaten, intimidate, or try to silence voices that challenge power. But I write because this moment is too urgent to ignore.
I applaud my nephew in Georgia, who shows up at rallies, town halls, and meetings with leaders. He reminds me that courage is contagious. We don’t get discouraged. We know that our voices matter — for our children, our grandchildren, and the future of this country.
Silence is not an option.
Democracy demands participation. Accountability demands courage. And the future demands that we speak.
Call to Action
If you care about this country — speak up. Write your leaders. Check their votes. Share the truth. Hold them accountable. And never forget: democracy only works when we do.
Encourage leaders to compromise, collaborate, listen to the voices of the people, and hold themselves accountable for keeping their oath.
They want power. But it is time that Americans demand accountability.
Carolyn Goode is a retired educational leader and advocate for ethical leadership and health care justice.




















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.