Waisanen is a professor of strategic and leadership communication at the Marxe School of Public and International Affairs at Baruch College. He is the author of “ Improv for Democracy ” and Leadership Standpoints.” Novick has been a political comedian, camp counselor, editorial director, attorney, busboy, radio show host, professional speaker, child actor, and an elected official in New Jersey —but not necessarily in that order.
On a September day with crisp fall air and a cloudless sky, I (Joey, one of the authors) launched my first political campaign. Running for borough council member in Flemington, N.J., I decided to get out into the community and canvas door-to-door to stir up support for my cause. I walked up to an old Victorian house and knocked on the door. An elderly woman in a colorful house dress and comfortable slippers opened it. I introduced myself and prepared to launch into my scripted pitch.
“Oh, you’re running for council,” she said. “Well, tell me this, what are you going to do about our roads? And what’s your position: Would you fix them by raising taxes or issuing bonds?” Not knowing anything about the issue, I could have fumbled my way through a response. But observing the passion and knowledge this voter had in the moment, I decided to lean in and say, “Actually, I could bore you with a stock, vague answer, but I am out here today to listen to what you think about the issue. What do you think we should do?”
What followed was a master class and nuanced analysis from the voter on both sides of the issue. I nodded with each point, acknowledged her concerns and tried to build on points throughout the conversation. She ended with an appreciative “thank you!” The approach I took to say “yes, and …” in the moment and practice “leadership by listening” would never have been possible without having taken improv classes.
It’s an approach that I never lost sight of in winning five times and going on to serve for some 15 years as a borough council member.
In the fast-paced world of politics, communication skills can make or break a campaign. An ability to connect with voters, convey a compelling narrative, lead and adapt well to change, and inspire action are all crucial for success.
As the author of “Improv for Democracy ” and a former elected official in the story above, we think our political environment is missing something fundamental to both running for office and governing well: an improvisational mindset. Improvisational exercises and techniques can improve just about every communication and leadership skill, enabling candidates and politicians to connect with their audiences on a deeper level and ethically and effectively convey their messages.
Like skilled actors on unscripted televisions shows such as “ Whose Line Is It Anyway ” or “ Curb Your Enthusiasm,” developing an improvisational mindset involves holding one’s conclusions tentatively, standing ready to listen to and work with different viewpoints, seeking to say “yes, and …” and both building on and uniting with others as a starting point for public discourse. Critique and judgment are always available later, but an improvisational mindset always engages and works with what’s at hand first.
The term “improv” can bring up many different associations, so it’s important to clarify exactly what we mean here. In the political world, we see two extremes that continue to make for poor campaigning and governing: being overly scripted and robotic, or being completely unscripted and winging it. An adaptive, improvisational mindset walks a line between both approaches.
In a telling analysis of Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign, Jonathan Allen and Amie Parnes note how “the candidate who eschewed unscripted interactions with voters gave speeches that failed to connect her to a cause larger than herself.” In a post-campaign reflection on the Graham Norton show, Clinton shared as much herself, saying how in a presidential campaign redo she would not have withheld her genuine stories or capacities to observe, connect and establish greater presence with voters.
Yes, there were many more factors involved in that election, but at least one basic lesson shouldn’t be missed: Every candidate and public figure needs to work on practicing adaptiveness and mindfulness, in a “ state of active, open attention to the present,” sensing or responding to what’s actually happening in the moment with constituents.
One of the founding mothers of modern improvisational theater, Viola Spolin, said that improvising well is an “openness to contact with the environment and each other and [a] willingness to play. It is acting upon environment and allowing others to act upon present reality.” Can you imagine if every politician made that their mantra?
On the other hand, a completely opposite approach to campaigning and governance is also rife throughout our political environment. Whatever one thinks of former President Donald Trump, it’s widely agreed that his main mode is completely off-the-cuff (to the point of often making stuff up). And it’s not just Trump — plenty of other public figures have engaged in this style.
While it might seem that winging it is “improvisational,” this approach is actually disconnected from the broader environment and humanity, channeling self-focused and often pre-ordained conclusions. That kind of improvising does not do well because it’s closed to what’s outside oneself, rather than responding to “offers” all around — like the contribution the woman Joey met made to his overall learning and political run. Unmoored spontaneity lacks an outward focus that approaches people and issues with an ability to learn something new, pivot from mistakes, or deal with the developing nuances of different situations.
For political candidates and elected officials, an improvisational mindset prioritizes three specific skills.
The first is adaptive authenticity. Here, public figures learn to think on their feet, trust their instincts, embrace uncertainty and vulnerability, and respond creatively to the needs and interests of people in the moment, connecting with voters on a genuine and relatable level. This all starts with a commitment to truly dialoguing with rather than monologuing at audiences, building trust and rapport. Some call this “dynamic” rather than “static” authenticity. Moreover, candidates and officials can learn to respond to tough questions and engage in debates with poise and credibility, and to make a memorable, lasting impression.
The second is nonverbal connection. Improvisational training focuses on the elements of timing, tone, body language, voice modulation and similar nonverbal dimensions in communication that is vital to connecting with audiences. The ability to raise and lower one’s status alone involves nonverbal skills that are trainable, allowing one to bridge with diverse voter groups across different contexts.
Finally, there’s open storytelling. Effective storytelling in political campaigns requires concise and impactful messaging, but also the refinement of messages by listening to and experimenting with the concerns of different narratives. Closed, single stories that brook no dissent are dangerous in politics — so testing messaging and refining it based on broad, diverse audience feedback makes storytelling an open-ended project that an improvisational mindset is well suited to addressing.
If every candidate or elected official took an improv class, we’d see an immediate and measurable difference in the quality of our public discourse, the state of politics and the type of meaningful leadership all of us should expect from our leaders.
If politics is about serving all of one’s constituents well, it’s time for every candidate and public figure to make improvisational training a core part of their readiness for office.
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.