Johnson is a United Methodist pastor, the author of "Holding Up Your Corner: Talking About Race in Your Community" (Abingdon Press, 2017) and program director for the Bridge Alliance, which houses The Fulcrum.
As I reflect, my spirit is a mix of melancholy and optimism, a paradox inherent in the annual observance of the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. The legacy of Dr. King, who embodied the audacity of hope and the relentless pursuit of justice, remains a prophetic standard in these uncertain times, illuminating a path toward the "beloved community" he so passionately envisioned.
Our democracy, a system designed to uphold the principles of liberty, justice and equality, seems to be teetering on a precipice. The impending 2024 presidential election doesn't invoke optimism but provokes division and uncertainty. In these moments of instability, I cling to King's unyielding faith in the power of unity and the promise of democracy. His dream was not one of complacency but of continuous striving – striving to create a society where equity is not a hollow promise but a lived reality.
There is no discounting the positive societal changes witnessed over the years since King's death, particularly in civil rights and social justice. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, both championed by King, marked the beginning of a new era of progress, setting a precedent for the fight against discrimination in all its forms.
The world King left behind has changed dramatically, yet the persistent racial, socio-economic and geopolitical imbalances he fought against are still enormously present. The scales of justice tip more towards privilege than the marginalized, more towards the haves than the have-nots. And there is still much ground to cover.
I'd like to see more change in the realm of economic equity. The wealth gap, particularly along racial lines, continues to be a pressing issue. Second is greater expansion, accessibility and inclusiveness of voter rights. Respectfully, that impacts above all other aspects of life, including access to quality education, health care and opportunities for upward mobility.
Amid the noise, I listen and lean to King's resilience and unrelenting belief in the power of love and unity to overcome the deepest divides. The "beloved community" he envisaged isn't a utopia free from conflict; instead, it is one where discord is contested through mutual respect and understanding, where love and justice supplant hate and inequity.
The beloved community is a divine promise yet to be fully realized. It is not an unreachable ideal but a call to action. It is a challenge for us, regardless of race, religion, or socio-economic status, to actively contribute to building a society that reflects the values of equity, justice and love. Our shared journey towards achieving this goal is a collaborative one.
Each of us has a role in bringing about this change. One way I can contribute is through advocacy and education. Through our respective platforms we can create more informed and engaged communities, bringing us closer to realizing King's dream amid these uncertain times.
As we engage in the democratic work and responsibilities of this year, let us believe that our democracy, though seemingly unstable, is not beyond repair. The power to effect change lies within ourselves. This year's election is a crucial opportunity to shape history and create a narrative of progress, inclusivity and justice. Our respective actions, or lack thereof, will determine the course of our nation and the world's future.
In paying tribute to the enduring legacy of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., we should not merely laud his achievements and idolize his persona. Instead, let our nation wholeheartedly embrace his vision by actively engaging in the battle for social justice. Let us strive to transform our society into one where love and justice reign supreme. Though the path may be fraught with challenges, let King's witness of hope and unity anchor our efforts in unsettling times.
We may not simply treat this year's national observance as a mere day off but rather as a call to action for each of us to contribute to the advancement and uplift of us all. I pray we respect King's divine expectation of a beloved community not as a relic of the past but as a blueprint for the now and the not yet.
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.