In the theater of American politics, promises are political capital. Most politicians make promises cautiously, knowing that if they fail to fulfill them, they will be held accountable
But Donald Trump has rewritten the script. He repeatedly offers sweeping vows, yet the results often don't follow; somehow, he escapes the day of reckoning.
How can that be?
Examples are abundant. From pledging to end the war in Ukraine "before taking office" to claiming he alone could denuclearize North Korea. And what is particularly unique is that Trump's declarations are rarely modest. Yet for some inexplicable reason, when his outcomes fail or when summits stall, walls remain unfunded, or health care reform collapses, he magically pivots, reframes, or moves on.
Through 12 years of Donald Trump, the spectacle continues, uninterrupted and many of us drown unfulfilled promises. The outrage and emotional venting flood the media, but strategic analysis is what the moment demands.
First, let's face the facts. Trump's actions are not just political bravado. His actions are a strategic recalibration of how promises function in public life that the opposition has not fully come to terms with.
With respect to the political calculus, it is essential to understand that Trump's supporters often don't measure him by policy outcomes, but rather by his emotional resonance. Those who voted for him didn’t do so just to see him manage effectively; he's a symbol of defiance, dominance, and disruption and as such results sometimes fall by the wayside. In this frame, broken promises aren't failures; they're part of the process of fighting "the swamp."
Donald Trump is a cult figure and thus success is measured by different standards.
Additionally, Trump's understanding of media saturation plays to his advantage. Trump floods the daily news cycle with constant messaging, burying yesterday's unmet pledge under today's provocation. The news cycle rarely lingers long enough for sustained accountability. And in a fragmented media landscape, tribal loyalty often trumps factual scrutiny. This all plays into the chaos theory that I have previously written about in the Fulcrum.
The ultimate cost to our democratic republic remains to be seen. When symbolic politics eclipse substantive governance, public trust erodes. Ultimately will the electorate care? Traditional theory suggests that success in politics is dependent on fulfilling promises and that words matter, and leaders are accountable to them. If that expectation collapses, we risk replacing deliberation with performance and policy with personality.
Will this traditional theory of accountability collapse under the weight of Trump's theatre? For the short term, it has, but the long-term ability for Trump to avoid accountability remains unclear. Historically, Americans tend to separate charisma from competence and when they do they demand accountability.
Of course, I might be old-fashioned in my thinking, believing that honest politics matters. Yet it is my faith in the American people that gives me hope anchored by civic awareness, a diligent media, and just basic common sense.
Whether I am a blind optimist or a fool will be apparent within the next three and a half years.
David Nevins is the publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
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.