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.
Elizabethtown College historian David Brown's brilliant 2016 book, “Moderates: The Vital Center of American Politics, from the Founding to Today,” makes the case that a distinguished middle position between two dominant parties has played a major role in American history. Centrism is not a recent concept, but its role in American history, Brown contends, has been missed by historians, the media, politicians and the public alike.
For over a hundred years, American politics has had the modern Democratic and Republican parties; in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, we had the Jeffersonian Democratic-Republican and Hamiltonian Federalist parties, although the Jeffersonian Democrats were not the forerunners of the modern Democratic Party. In the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries, major figures advanced the centrist point of view, most notably John Adams, Abraham Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt and Bill Clinton.
Centrism is also associated with the philosophical tradition of American pragmatism, which – according to Louis Menand's Pulitzer Prize winning book “The Metaphysical Club” – arose out of the "distrust for absolutes" associated with the Civil War. The three classical pragmatists were scientist and philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce, psychologist and philosopher William James and John Dewey, widely regarded as America's greatest philosopher. He was also a prolific public intellectual.
Avoiding extremism and favoring pragmatic practical solutions to what Dewey always called "the problems of men" rather than "the problems of philosophers" is the defining feature of pragmatist philosophy. Pragmatists rejected what Dewey called the "Quest for Certainty" in his 1929 book of that name along with simplistic dualisms like mind/body, fact/value and knowledge/reality as well as the Cartesian individualist standpoint for obtaining knowledge.
A centrist political perspective initiated by John Adams is, according to Brown, also associated with a pattern of thinking that is "independent" from the two major parties – and the concept of political parties themselves. As Brown explains, Adams' independent perspective grew out of his not being at home in either the Jeffersonian or Hamiltonian camps. Neither a pure individualist nor an advocate of a centralized federal government, Adams was a man of fierce independence and individual conscience, profound patriotism and intense passion.
Adams, the most forceful voice for revolution and declaring our independence at the Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia, is rarely invoked as an inspiring founding father who can guide us in our politics. Yet he is actually ideally suited to guide us away from the aim of finding bipartisan solutions to our pressing problems. In its place, the Adams point of view would have us search for tripartisan solutions. And it is Adams' independent, anti-party frame of mind that would point us in the direction of expanding the role of independent politicians in our politics.
Overcoming the ceaseless and frequently fruitless battle between the two major polarized parties can best be achieved not with a third party but with a group of fierce, innovative, committed independents. These independent politicians would leverage their voices and indeed their departure from the two parties to accomplish compromise, synthesis legislation that the two parties have been unable to accomplish on major issues of immigration, taxation, gun safety, paid parental leave and child care, energy, entitlement reform, the national debt, and climate control.
Charles Wheelan was in the ballpark of reaching this conclusion in his 2013 book, “The Centrist Manifesto,” where he argued for a "fulcrum strategy" in which five to six moderate senators who were members of a Centrist Political Party would provide the majority party with the votes it needed to get to 60 votes and pass major policy bills. I take a pass on a third party. Yet I think that a group of independents – who will rely on structural election reforms like ranked-choice voting and open primaries to get elected – from diverse ideological standpoints could do the work. They will be motivated to work together in order to maintain their jobs as senators.
Tripartisanship, not centrism as such, is the solution to our woes. For centrism defines a political point of view for a political party, but tripartisanship defines a concept for resolving practical policy problems that must transcend the two-party framework. If we relearn the importance of John Adams' thought and leadership along with the entire centrist tradition, we will be able to discover not only the roots of centrism and pragmatism in American political and intellectual life but the basic elements of a point of view that replaces the tired goal of bipartisanship with the intriguing goal of tripartisanship.




















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.