Andy Moore, Executive Director of the National Association of Nonpartisan Reformers (NANR), joins host T. J. O’Hara on Deconstructed to discuss that organization’s progress toward attaining nonpartisan reform. Mr. Moore serves as an entrepreneur-in-residence with Price College of Business at the University of Oklahoma, and he is also the founder of Let’s Fix This, which is focused upon building civic engagement and power for political reform.
If you want to understand what makes the United States exceptional on an emotional level, take an in-person or virtual trip to both Mt. Vernon, Virginia, and Paris, France. At Mt. Vernon, you can tour the preserved and reconstructed plantation of George Washington, viewing what the tour claims is the first compost bin in the nation and reading about the particular way he organized his gardens.
The most important part, though, is his grave. The first President of the most powerful nation on Earth rests in a modest brick mausoleum about ten feet high, built into a hillside. The plain white room containing the sarcophagi of Washington and his wife is barely larger than the two coffins themselves.
The French have a very different tomb dedicated to the founder of their modern nation. Emperor Napoleon rests in a stone sarcophagus on a raised dais in a huge domed building. To American eyes, the building looks like one of our state capitals, complete with columns, domes, Greco-Roman reliefs, and multiple entrances. The room containing the sarcophagus is opulent, with detailed carved statues of Roman figures, golden trim, ornate hanging lamps, large windows, and a large second-story balcony. It is less a grave than a temple, deifying the person of the Emperor.
This striking difference tells you much of what you need to know about why the United States has done so well for so long. The father of our nation and his contemporaries did not believe in deifying their leader. Washington was keenly aware of setting a humble precedent by everything he did, from limiting himself to two terms to adopting the title “Mr. President.” His legacy to all of us was not in his personality, but in the processes and structures he built that lived on after he did. By his design, we pay respect to our founder by operating the wondrous democratic machinery he first showed us how to operate.
My opinion of Washington as the best American President is not unanimous. Many studies that rank the Presidents place Abraham Lincoln first, while Washington tends to appear somewhere in the top five. This always struck me as unfair. Lincoln was remarkable, to be sure, and ending the scourge of slavery guarantees his place forever as one of the best Presidents. Yet, he arrived on the scene with a particular existential problem to solve - a civil war that was clearly about to erupt over the slavery question. His capacity for greatness was amplified by exterior forces presenting him with a clear crisis.
Washington, more than any other President, arrived with a blank slate. His existential crisis had come years before, when he survived a war with Great Britain. By the time he came to office, the most serious existential dangers to the country came in the form of future risks. Washington’s challenge in office was not so much how to defeat an enemy in front of him, but how to build a system that could handle enemies in the future. It is harder to create than to destroy, and harder still to build a strong structure for a future you cannot fully predict.
Process theory suggests that the aim of a law should not be to obtain a particular substantive result, but to adopt and defend processes that tend to lead to good results. It isn’t hard to see the utility of this approach. People are going to disagree about what is good and what is bad and to what degree. Some such disagreements may be distant from the passions of most citizens, like what kind of crops to encourage farmers to grow or who to hire for a government construction contract. Others may be very close to the heart, such as whether to outlaw abortion or how immigration should work. In each case, because there are passions and well-reasoned arguments pulling in different directions, there has to be some process to decide what to do. A core function of government is helping mediate that outcome.
Washington wasn’t a process theorist exactly. In fact, he did not write much at all about the philosophy behind his governance. But his instincts were very process-based. He believed that a regular process was what distinguished the republic from the extremes of monarchy or mob rule. He strove to mediate carefully and fairly between the political divisions of the day among his own cabinet members and in his interactions with Congress. Even his more extreme actions, like putting down the Whiskey Rebellion (a major use of federal military force against citizens), came from a sense of duty to uphold duly enacted law rather than any sense of solving a problem by any means necessary. Washington left us with an example and a legacy of respect for the process and for the rule of law.
There will always be those who feel passionately in the correctness of their substantive position and who believe anyone who feels differently is evil. After all, if you believe you have the best interests of the country in mind and you’ve determined the right solution to a problem, doesn’t that mean anyone who disagrees with you must be treasonously acting against the country’s interests? This is a very natural trap to fall into, and some of the less successful Presidents did so. President Adams passed heavy-handed censorship laws based on this logic, called the Alien and Sedition Acts, which are now widely recognized as ineffective.
Thinking of anyone who has a substantively different opinion as evil is a mistake. We are all limited as human beings, impacted by our life experiences, knowledge, and skills. Indeed, the major benefit of the rule of law is as a way to mediate differing ideas, leading to better results than a single person’s judgment alone. A fair process must be respected and accepted to make this happen. To declare that the process should not stand in the way of one’s own passionately held belief is Napoleonic hubris.
Disregarding the rule of law to force through a result is also extremely dangerous. People are going to have disagreements no matter what processes are in place. If there is no agreed upon process for resolving those disagreements, the parties will decide the issue some other way. The most ancient method is physical violence. Without a respected legal process, if two neighbors disagree over how much water each is extracting from the stream, murderous action could end that disagreement. In addition to being morally abhorrent, that process does nothing to make sure the decision was made correctly.
Adherence to the established rule of law as a way of solving problems leads to better outcomes. Similarly, the idea of a single strong leader who cuts through the “red tape” of process to fix a problem is similarly flawed. A modern state is a massive, complex system. No single person understands its operation alone. Swift, decisive action simply results in faster bad decisions.
We best honor the legacy of George Washington and others responsible for the freedoms we enjoy by respecting the process that was their greatest legacy. None of us will always agree with the results of the process. But the last two hundred years of the United States becoming the leader of the world should give us powerful evidence that the rule of law is effective. Washington did not need a gaudy display of opulence to declare his successes, as the greatness of his hard work has thundered for hundreds of years.
Colin E. Moriarty is a partner at Moriarty Underhill LLC and a volunteer with Lawyers Defending American Democracy.
If you want to understand what makes the United States exceptional on an emotional level, take an in-person or virtual trip to both Mt. Vernon, Virginia, and Paris, France. At Mt. Vernon, you can tour the preserved and reconstructed plantation of George Washington, viewing what the tour claims is the first compost bin in the nation and reading about the particular way he organized his gardens.
The most important part, though, is his grave. The first President of the most powerful nation on Earth rests in a modest brick mausoleum about ten feet high, built into a hillside. The plain white room containing the sarcophagi of Washington and his wife is barely larger than the two coffins themselves.
The French have a very different tomb dedicated to the founder of their modern nation. Emperor Napoleon rests in a stone sarcophagus on a raised dais in a huge domed building. To American eyes, the building looks like one of our state capitals, complete with columns, domes, Greco-Roman reliefs, and multiple entrances. The room containing the sarcophagus is opulent, with detailed carved statues of Roman figures, golden trim, ornate hanging lamps, large windows, and a large second-story balcony. It is less a grave than a temple, deifying the person of the Emperor.
This striking difference tells you much of what you need to know about why the United States has done so well for so long. The father of our nation and his contemporaries did not believe in deifying their leader. Washington was keenly aware of setting a humble precedent by everything he did, from limiting himself to two terms to adopting the title “Mr. President.” His legacy to all of us was not in his personality, but in the processes and structures he built that lived on after he did. By his design, we pay respect to our founder by operating the wondrous democratic machinery he first showed us how to operate.
My opinion of Washington as the best American President is not unanimous. Many studies that rank the Presidents place Abraham Lincoln first, while Washington tends to appear somewhere in the top five. This always struck me as unfair. Lincoln was remarkable, to be sure, and ending the scourge of slavery guarantees his place forever as one of the best Presidents. Yet, he arrived on the scene with a particular existential problem to solve - a civil war that was clearly about to erupt over the slavery question. His capacity for greatness was amplified by exterior forces presenting him with a clear crisis.
Washington, more than any other President, arrived with a blank slate. His existential crisis had come years before, when he survived a war with Great Britain. By the time he came to office, the most serious existential dangers to the country came in the form of future risks. Washington’s challenge in office was not so much how to defeat an enemy in front of him, but how to build a system that could handle enemies in the future. It is harder to create than to destroy, and harder still to build a strong structure for a future you cannot fully predict.
Process theory suggests that the aim of a law should not be to obtain a particular substantive result, but to adopt and defend processes that tend to lead to good results. It isn’t hard to see the utility of this approach. People are going to disagree about what is good and what is bad and to what degree. Some such disagreements may be distant from the passions of most citizens, like what kind of crops to encourage farmers to grow or who to hire for a government construction contract. Others may be very close to the heart, such as whether to outlaw abortion or how immigration should work. In each case, because there are passions and well-reasoned arguments pulling in different directions, there has to be some process to decide what to do. A core function of government is helping mediate that outcome.
Washington wasn’t a process theorist exactly. In fact, he did not write much at all about the philosophy behind his governance. But his instincts were very process-based. He believed that a regular process was what distinguished the republic from the extremes of monarchy or mob rule. He strove to mediate carefully and fairly between the political divisions of the day among his own cabinet members and in his interactions with Congress. Even his more extreme actions, like putting down the Whiskey Rebellion (a major use of federal military force against citizens), came from a sense of duty to uphold duly enacted law rather than any sense of solving a problem by any means necessary. Washington left us with an example and a legacy of respect for the process and for the rule of law.
There will always be those who feel passionately in the correctness of their substantive position and who believe anyone who feels differently is evil. After all, if you believe you have the best interests of the country in mind and you’ve determined the right solution to a problem, doesn’t that mean anyone who disagrees with you must be treasonously acting against the country’s interests? This is a very natural trap to fall into, and some of the less successful Presidents did so. President Adams passed heavy-handed censorship laws based on this logic, called the Alien and Sedition Acts, which are now widely recognized as ineffective.
Thinking of anyone who has a substantively different opinion as evil is a mistake. We are all limited as human beings, impacted by our life experiences, knowledge, and skills. Indeed, the major benefit of the rule of law is as a way to mediate differing ideas, leading to better results than a single person’s judgment alone. A fair process must be respected and accepted to make this happen. To declare that the process should not stand in the way of one’s own passionately held belief is Napoleonic hubris.
Disregarding the rule of law to force through a result is also extremely dangerous. People are going to have disagreements no matter what processes are in place. If there is no agreed upon process for resolving those disagreements, the parties will decide the issue some other way. The most ancient method is physical violence. Without a respected legal process, if two neighbors disagree over how much water each is extracting from the stream, murderous action could end that disagreement. In addition to being morally abhorrent, that process does nothing to make sure the decision was made correctly.
Adherence to the established rule of law as a way of solving problems leads to better outcomes. Similarly, the idea of a single strong leader who cuts through the “red tape” of process to fix a problem is similarly flawed. A modern state is a massive, complex system. No single person understands its operation alone. Swift, decisive action simply results in faster bad decisions.
We best honor the legacy of George Washington and others responsible for the freedoms we enjoy by respecting the process that was their greatest legacy. None of us will always agree with the results of the process. But the last two hundred years of the United States becoming the leader of the world should give us powerful evidence that the rule of law is effective. Washington did not need a gaudy display of opulence to declare his successes, as the greatness of his hard work has thundered for hundreds of years.
Colin E. Moriarty is a partner at Moriarty Underhill LLC and a volunteer with Lawyers Defending American Democracy.
Americans are not confused. We are exhausted.
We’ve watched a Congress that no longer works, a Supreme Court that often ignores its own ethical obligations, and a Justice Department hesitant to enforce the laws it was created to uphold. Leaders promise to serve the people — yet spend their time serving donors, factions, and themselves.
And here is the question no one in Washington seems brave enough to ask:
How long can a democracy survive when its leaders stop listening — and when the citizens who elected them stop demanding accountability?
Families are paying more for groceries. Healthcare feels fragile. Schools struggle. Public trust in government is near historic lows — just 20% of Americans approve of Congress’s performance.
Yet many voters shrug when officials break the law, mislead the public, or abandon their constitutional duty. Some do not vote at all — then express outrage at the consequences of their own inaction.
Democracy cannot function when citizens tolerate corruption or remain silent.
Nothing illustrates this moral collapse more vividly than January 6 — the day the U.S. Capitol, the heart of our democracy, was attacked. Police officers were beaten. The peaceful transfer of power — our most sacred civic ritual — was threatened. Speaker Nancy Pelosi led the House through the crisis, while then‑Representative Mike Johnson reportedly worked behind the scenes with loyalists to keep President Trump in power. Some members of Congress minimized the attack; others defended the rioters. Millions of voters ignored who was responsible. The country watched in disbelief.
After his first impeachment, Senator Susan Collins said she believed President Trump had “learned his lesson.” But he hadn’t. He did it again — abused his power, incited violence, and continues to defy the rule of law.
And this time, he did so with the tacit support of the highest court in the country.
The Supreme Court has refused to enforce clear ethical standards, declined to recuse justices with glaring conflicts of interest, and delayed rulings that could have protected the integrity of our elections.
Meanwhile, those who tried to hold Trump accountable — leaders like former Rep. Liz Cheney and former Sen. Mitt Romney — were penalized. Cheney lost her leadership role and her seat. Romney chose not to run again, citing the toxic political climate.
Where was the courage to do the right thing?
Those who incited violence were later pardoned or had their sentences reduced. Their victims — the officers who were beaten, the staffers who hid in fear, the lawmakers who fled for their lives — were victimized again.
Our system of accountability is broken. And it is deeply frustrating.
Where are our checks and balances when the most powerful can lie, incite violence, and walk away untouched? Right now, Congress and the courts are failing to exercise those powers at all. Justices accept gifts from billionaires and refuse to recuse. Members of Congress skip votes and dodge oversight without consequence.
True service means listening to the people, conducting audits, acknowledging failures, and collaborating across party lines. Leaders must remember they legislate for Republicans, Democrats, and Independents alike — not for factions or donors. Transparency is not optional: budgets, proposals, and votes must be open to the public. Ethical standards must be enforced through codes of conduct, whistleblower protections, and independent oversight. Congress must use its checks and balances responsibly, safeguarding free and fair elections from interference. Leaders must cut out obstruction and partisan theater that wastes time and erodes trust. These are not radical demands — they are the basics of ethical leadership.
When citizens stop paying attention — or stop believing their voices matter — democracy suffers.
Trust collapses. Laws are bent. Courage is punished. And the people are left with leaders who serve themselves.
Accountability takes courage — and too many leaders lack it.
They fail to hold themselves accountable when they break promises, skip votes, or betray the public trust. They fail to hold each other accountable when colleagues lie, incite violence, or abuse power.
Instead of consequences, there are excuses. Instead of courage, there is complicity.
Accountability is not cruelty. It is clarity. It is the foundation of trust. And without it, democracy cannot survive.
Throughout my career in public education, accountability has made me stronger. Accepting responsibility for my failures was tough, but it paid off. It built trust. It built integrity. And it reminded me that leadership is not a performance — it’s a promise.
I wrote to my former representatives while they were still in office — urging them to vote in the best interest of our community. They didn’t. One knew she couldn’t run again — voters in our district had seen enough. Another lost public support for breaking promises. These were not partisan disagreements. They were failures of trust.
That’s why I check roll calls and track votes. I ask others to do the same — even family members in other states. But too often, they don’t. They complain, but they don’t engage.
This is how democracy erodes — not just through bad leadership, but through public disengagement.
Americans must not give up. We must pay attention. We must demand better — and reward those who lead with courage and conscience.
I understand why some people stay silent. In today’s climate, speaking up can be risky — especially in my state. Some threaten, intimidate, or try to silence voices that challenge power. But I write because this moment is too urgent to ignore.
I applaud my nephew in Georgia, who shows up at rallies, town halls, and meetings with leaders. He reminds me that courage is contagious. We don’t get discouraged. We know that our voices matter — for our children, our grandchildren, and the future of this country.
Silence is not an option.
Democracy demands participation. Accountability demands courage. And the future demands that we speak.
Call to Action
If you care about this country — speak up. Write your leaders. Check their votes. Share the truth. Hold them accountable. And never forget: democracy only works when we do.
Encourage leaders to compromise, collaborate, listen to the voices of the people, and hold themselves accountable for keeping their oath.
They want power. But it is time that Americans demand accountability.
Carolyn Goode is a retired educational leader and advocate for ethical leadership and health care justice.
U.S. President Donald Trump meets with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky at the White House on August 18, 2025 in Washington, DC.
Last week, a 28-point “peace plan” for the Russia-Ukraine war surfaced. It was apparently fleshed out in Miami over cocktails by President Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner, Trump’s special envoy Steve Witkoff and Witkoff’s Russian counterpart Kirill Dmitriev.
Many critics immediately derided it as a “Russian wish-list.”
That was before we discovered that the version which was leaked – probably by Dmitriev – had literally been poorly translated from Russian. In a closed-door session with senators, Secretary of State Marco Rubio even described it as a “wish-list for the Russians” and “not the administration’s plan.” On his way to Geneva for peace talks, Rubio scrambled to deny he ever said that.
But all of that is apparently moot now. What seems to have happened, amid all the chaos, is that Rubio had pried the Ukraine portfolio away from Witkoff. By Tuesday, Rubio revealed there is a whole new plan anyway.
This is good news, because the original plan wasn’t in America’s best interest.
I believe American foreign policy should put America first. But I don’t subscribe to “America First” foreign policy, because that’s a label slapped on anything Trump wants, whether it’s in his personal interest or the country’s.
People who embrace the slogan “America First” generally believe that helping Ukraine isn’t in America’s interest. I think they’re wrong.
Because Vladimir Putin’s Russia is America’s enemy.
This isn’t nearly as controversial as you might think if you only get foreign policy analysis from MAGA influencers on social media. Russia allies itself with our adversaries, in China, the Americas and the Middle East. This policy is deeply rooted in Russian history and in President Putin’s nostalgia for Russian “greatness.” But if it matters, there’s also a doctrine behind it, the Primakov Doctrine, which holds that Russia should do everything it can to constrain and contain America and NATO.
Russia has been mucking about in the internal affairs of the U.S. and its allies for nearly a century. In recent years it allegedly tampered with electricity grids, elections and cyber systems. It funded psyop campaigns– using useful idiot influencers and willing volunteers alike – to pump racism, antisemitism and sinister conspiracy theories into domestic politics here and abroad. “The Russian Federation is the most significant and direct threat to Allies’ security and to peace and stability in the Euro-Atlantic area,” according to NATO.
If you’re of a more idealistic bent, Russia is also a murderous authoritarian regime that oppresses its own people and visits heinous war crimes on its neighbors.
In short: They’re the bad guys.
That’s why there’s a compelling moral argument for helping Ukraine resist a lawless and brutal invasion that has taken perhaps a million lives and resulted in the kidnapping of tens of thousands of Ukrainian children to be brainwashed. Our national honor is on the line as well, given that America encouraged Ukraine to give up its nuclear weapons in exchange for “security assurances” in the 1994 Budapest Memorandum. Legally, assurances aren’t “guarantees,” but they’re not nothing either.
Put morality and national honor aside. A cold-eyed, America-First strategist might argue that the slaughter of Ukrainian troops – and civilians – is in our interest if it comes at the cost of bleeding Russia’s military, economy and global prestige.
No, we shouldn’t send American troops to fight Russia. That is a strawman raised by opponents of helping Ukraine at all. But weapons? Intelligence? Why not? Many of NATO’s weapons were built for the purpose of fighting Russia. If Ukraine can use them to that end, it’s the best of both worlds. This leaves out that we can – and do – sell many of these weapons, either to Ukraine or our European allies who then transfer them.
And it’s been working. Russia didn’t have the bandwidth to save its puppet regime in Syria. It didn’t – couldn’t – ride to the rescue of Iran, Hamas or Hezbollah either. The Russian economy is a mess, with near double-digit inflation despite insanely high interest rates.
And yet, this original “peace deal” would rescue Russia, ceding it territory, including all of the Donbas, that it hasn’t been able to win militarily. It would provide Russia sanctions relief, invite it back into the G8 and hobble Ukraine militarily and politically. It describes America as a “mediator” between Russia and NATO, despite the fact that NATO is an alliance created and led by America. There is no greater strategic goal for Russia than dividing America from her NATO allies. All of this in exchange for the “expectation” that Russia wouldn’t invade Ukraine again later.
Hopefully, Rubio has come up with something more in America’s interest, and less in Russia’s.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.
