The conflict between the U.S. and Iran has escalated into open confrontation, with operations intensifying near the Strait of Hormuz. What began in early 2026 as tit‑for‑tat exchanges has hardened into a grinding confrontation — one driven less by strategic necessity than by presidential ego and the fantasy of dismantling Iran’s Islamic Revolution. It is a war shaped by one man’s impulses, not by national deliberation. And it is a war the United States cannot win.
The question that echoes is simple: Did the United States learn nothing from Vietnam?
Back then, Washington believed overwhelming military power could bend another nation’s political identity to American will. Leaders assumed that superior firepower, economic pressure, and righteous rhetoric would force capitulation. Instead, the United States found itself trapped in a conflict defined by miscalculation, hubris, and a catastrophic misunderstanding of the nature of national resistance. Today, Donald Trump is repeating that same mistake — with Iran becoming the proving ground for an old and dangerous delusion.
In fact, we are seeing this dynamic play out globally. Much like Russia’s catastrophic miscalculation in Ukraine, the U.S. is falling into the trap of assuming that technical military dominance equates to political control. Both conflicts reveal the persistent arrogance of great powers that underestimate the will of nations they view as "lesser" military adversaries. They ignore that resistance is rarely just about hardware; it is about the deep historical and cultural roots that bind a population against outside intervention.
This is particularly true regarding Iran. To view this conflict purely through the lens of modern military capability is to ignore a national psyche forged in centuries of struggle against external domination. Iran’s resistance is not merely a product of the current regime; it is a manifestation of a long history of national identity defined by defiance of outside interference. When great powers fail to respect the cultural and historical weight of this resolve, they almost always fail to achieve their political objectives.
The Trump administration’s circumvention of Congress has deepened the danger. By repeatedly bypassing the legislative branch on war powers, the president has triggered legal battles over whether military engagements can be sustained without explicit congressional authorization. This pattern of executive overreach cuts directly against the checks and balances the founders designed to prevent unilateral wars of choice.
This isn't just about foreign policy; it is a profound threat to domestic democratic health from foreign influence. When a president normalizes the launch of unilateral war-making, the precedent bleeds into domestic governance. We see the cost in the erosion of public debate on matters of peace and war, and in the dangerous conflation of foreign conflict with domestic election rules. As Democracy Docket has noted, the administration has used "foreign interference" — including threats from Iran — as a pretext to restrict voting machines and ban mail‑in ballots. The message is clear: if the executive can bypass democratic consent abroad, it is only a matter of time before the same impulse erodes democratic processes at home.
To reclaim our republic, we must move beyond critique and toward concrete action.
First, Congress must reassert its constitutional authority over war powers. This requires not just rhetoric, but the immediate exercise of the power of the purse to demand transparency and force a legislative debate on the scope of current operations. Lawmakers must initiate rigorous oversight hearings that compel the administration to justify its strategy beyond broad, ideological claims.
Second, citizens must elevate this issue to a top-tier civic priority. Reclaiming our war powers requires a robust public-pressure campaign. Americans should demand that their representatives make their stance on unilateral war-making a central issue in the coming legislative cycle. When we demand that our local representatives publicly sign onto resolutions requiring congressional authorization for any military engagement, we force the conversation back into the daylight of democratic deliberation.
This November, the midterm elections represent more than a choice between parties; they are a referendum on the Trump administration's right to act without consent. When voters head to the polls, they are not just selecting representatives; they are demanding a check on executive overreach, the restoration of the Election Assistance Commission, and an end to using foreign conflict as a pretext to weaken our domestic voting infrastructure.
This moment demands a shift from passive observation to active engagement. The Trump administration’s approach to Iran — its reliance on threats, its misreading of resistance, and its conflation of foreign policy with domestic election tampering — is what happens when leaders forget that power must be tempered by wisdom.
The founders built a republic on the understanding that the strength of a nation lies not only in its armies, but in the resilience of its people and the integrity of its institutions. Vietnam taught us that wars built on ego and historical blindness end in tragedy. Ukraine is teaching Russia that lesson now. And Iran is teaching us that same lesson again. We have the tools to stop this drift; the only question is whether the American public has the will to use them.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of The Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network




















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.