Anderson edited "Leveraging: A Political, Economic and Societal Framework" (Springer, 2014), has taught at five universities and ran for the Democratic nomination for a Maryland congressional seat in 2016.
The death of Henry Kissinger at 100 has naturally led to two related debates. First, was the former national security advisor and secretary of state, serving Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford, successful in his work? Second, what was his approach in foreign policy and international affairs?
The typical answer given to the second question is that Kissinger was a realist and not an idealist (or liberal internationalist). The typical answer to the first question is that Kissinger was successful in his work, although he certainly had his flaws. Kissinger typically is therefore regarded as a master of realpolitik. He worked to open the door to Red China, achieve detente with the Soviet Union and end the war in Vietnam. There are dissenters, especially those who accuse him of war crimes – notably for secretive bombings in Cambodia.
The debates will go on for years, but it would be helpful if the discussion about whether Kissinger was a realist identified three main possibilities for understanding his work and not two. The question to be answered is whether Kissinger was a realist, an idealist or a pragmatist. Pragmatism in the tradition of John Dewey, widely regarded as America's greatest philosopher, has received more attention in the last 20 years of international relations theory in academia. It is well behind constructivism, which has established itself as a viable alternative to both realism and idealism. But in discussions of foreign policy itself rather than academic IR theory the terms pragmatism and pragmatic are used freely, certainly in both the news media and the opinion page media.
In 1979, the noted political scientist John Stoessinger published “Crusaders and Pragmatists: Movers of Modern American Foreign Policy,” which divided presidents into two categories based on their foreign policies: the idealists and the pragmatists. Nixon was regarded as a pragmatist, whereas Woodrow Wilson was regarded as the classic idealist.
Kissinger therefore was part of a pragmatist effort to create a new, essentially triangular world order where the United States, the Soviet Union and China could coexist peacefully. Kissinger's shuttle diplomacy with China, designed to calm relations with the Soviets, was interpreted by Stoessinger as pragmatic in a broad sense of the term.
Realism in academia, notably represented by major thinkers like Hans Morgenthau and Kenneth Waltz and (certainly balance-of-power 19th century realism as practiced by politicians like Germany's Otto von Bismarck), revolves around the concepts of power and self-interest. States pursue power in order to advance their self-interest according to traditional realists. Wilsonian idealism, on the other hand, seeks to create an architecture in the world order that will make the world safe for democracy. Idealists like Wilson, author of the Fourteen Points and advocate for the League of Nations, or liberal internationalists like John Ikenberry today, are focused on the concepts of rule of law, democracy, peace and freedom, not power and self-interest.
Pragmatism in the American philosophical tradition, which has seen a revival since Richard Rorty published “Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature" (1979) and the "Consequences of Pragmatism” (1982), is also focused on concepts of rule of law, democracy, peace and freedom along with concepts of harnessing uncertainty and applying our best science to solve the “practical problems of men” in Dewey's words. Only a crude version of pragmatism would advocate taking actions in the foreign policy arena where the ends justify whatever means are necessary.
Kissinger, a Harvard trained political scientist and faculty member, was a brilliant theoretician and a brilliant practitioner. He and Nixon were the architects of a new world order that would enable capitalism and communism to peacefully coexist, and he was the primary practitioner who did the negotiating to implement their plan. Calling him a realist, even a master realist, or a principled realist (an academic attempt to save realism from its negative implications), imposes a simplistic taxonomy on a complicated public servant.
Stoessinger no doubt oversimplified our presidents by dividing them into idealists and pragmatists. The debate that is needed about Kissinger, which could help academics and their graduate students, is whether he was more of an idealist, a realist or a pragmatist. The evaluative question will remain, namely whether he was a successful idealist, a successful realist or a successful pragmatist.




















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.