Marco Rubio’s Senate testimony this week showcased a disciplined, media‑savvy operator — but does that make him a viable 2028 presidential contender? The short answer: maybe, if Republicans prioritize steadiness and foreign‑policy credibility; unlikely, if the party seeks a fresh face untainted by the Trump administration’s controversies.
"There is no war against Venezuela, and we did not occupy a country. There are no U.S. troops on the ground," Rubio said, portraying the mission as a narrowly focused law‑enforcement operation, not a military intervention.
Ranking Member Sen. Jeanne Shaheen (D‑N.H.) sharply questioned whether ousting Nicolas Maduro justified the political and financial costs, citing estimates that the raid and U.S. naval blockade could total as much as $1 billion. Shaheen and other Democrats also raised alarms about Venezuela’s interim leader, former Vice President Delcy Rodríguez; as Shaheen noted, “the Drug Enforcement Administration has reportedly identified Delcy Rodríguez as a significant actor in the drug trade.”
Rubio responded that Rodríguez remains unindicted compared with Maduro and insisted the administration’s short‑term goal is stability, even at the cost of dealing with leaders the U.S. finds untrustworthy. "We are dealing with individuals that in our system would not be acceptable in the long term," Rubio acknowledged. "But we are in a transition to stabilization phase. You have to work with the people currently in charge of the elements of government."
Rubio’s appearance before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee offered a compact primer on his political instincts: calibrate messaging to reassure skeptical Republicans, defend administration actions as lawful and limited, and pivot to competence. In testimony about U.S. policy toward Venezuela, Rubio repeatedly sought to tamp down fears of broader military entanglement. That posture — insistence on control, reassurance to wary colleagues, and a steady stream of talking points — is precisely the leadership style he would bring to a presidential campaign.
That style has upside. For Republican primary voters who prize experience and foreign‑policy gravitas, Rubio’s record and his command of the hearing room are assets. He can credibly argue he knows how to manage crises, brief allies, and sell difficult decisions to a fractious Congress. Rubio’s ability to convert a contentious episode into a disciplined narrative is a skill many candidates lack.
But there are clear liabilities. Rubio is now visibly associated with an administration whose actions in Venezuela and elsewhere have provoked bipartisan concern. His defense of those actions — even when carefully worded — ties him to controversies that could be weaponized in both the primary and the general election. Moreover, the GOP electorate remains divided between establishment figures and insurgent outsiders; Rubio’s resume may read as establishment to voters craving disruption.
Strategically, Rubio’s path depends on the Republican mood in 2027–28. If the party prioritizes stability, foreign‑policy competence, and a candidate who can reassure international partners, Rubio could be a consensus choice. If the party continues to reward insurgent energy and anti‑establishment branding, Rubio’s association with the administration and his measured demeanor could be liabilities.
If Rubio does decide to run for the White House, it wouldn’t be his first bid: he launched a high‑profile 2016 campaign, gained early momentum, but suspended it after losing the GOP primary to Donald Trump—an outcome that underscored both his appeal to establishment conservatives and the limits of that appeal in an insurgent primary environment.
A familiar figure on the national stage, the Cuban‑American politician rose through the Florida Legislature (serving in the state House from 2000 to 2008 and advancing into leadership roles) before winning a U.S. Senate seat in 2010 and building a reputation as a fluent communicator on domestic and foreign policy issues.
Rubio is a manager of narratives: he defends policy by narrowing the frame, emphasizing limits, and offering procedural assurances. That temperament, showcased in the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, can be a virtue in a president — or it can read as defensive and overly cautious when voters want boldness.
Should Rubio run in 2028? Yes, if the GOP wants a steady hand and foreign‑policy credibility; no, if the party prizes novelty and distance from the Trump administration’s flashpoints. His Senate testimony this week made both the promise and the peril of his candidacy plain.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of The Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network, and twice president of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists.
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.”
____
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.