Whether you’re feeling queasy or euphoric, or even a bit of both about the opening weeks of the second Trump presidency, my advice is to remember Stein’s Law. Richard Nixon’s former chief economic adviser, Herb Stein, declared: “If something cannot go on forever, it will stop.”
I’ve found this to be a valuable, if obvious, insight for the stock market, depressed teenagers and, of late, political junkies.
For those who follow such things closely, the sheer pace and audacity of Donald Trump’s opening gambits have breathed new life into cliches such as “drinking from a firehose.” The cadres of lawyers trying to impede both Elon Musk’s DOGE and OMB Director Russell Vought look like they are trying to change a tire on a moving car.
It’s especially difficult to make discerning judgments about the various efforts in a climate where Trump’s most ardent fans seem to support all of it and Trump’s foes oppose all of it. I have a variety of opinions on these zone-flooding efforts. One key distinction is between the policy and the process. I’d put some things in the bucket where I agree with both the policy and the process, including his executive order on trans athletes and school sports. Others, I may agree or disagree with the policy but the process looks illegal or unconstitutional. His executive order revoking birthright citizenship seems patently unconstitutional to me. Though I am decidedly ambivalent about the goal.
The Musk-led effort to dismantle government agencies from within contains all of these tensions, and the arguments over all of it will play out in the courts, and eventually, Congress.
And that’s the key word: eventually. Because the pace and process of the last three weeks is unsustainable. My American Enterprise Institute colleague Yuval Levin makes a valuable point: Every new administration — with the notable exception of the first Trump presidency when Trump was effectively the dog that caught the car — controls the political agenda at the outset. As Levin notes, “They’ve made plans. And you don’t know those plans, generally. They do, and they’re rolling them out at a certain pace and in a certain way. And it just feels like they are in command of the world.”
It’s not just that they have plans. New presidents command maximal loyalty and enthusiasm from their own party and voters. The opposition party is demoralized, licking its wounds and second-guessing its mission and message. Press coverage tends to be maximal because reporters are looking to cultivate sources in the new administration and that requires ample “ beat-sweetening ” coverage.
But eventually, whether you see this period as a glorious honeymoon or dismaying horror show, this chapter ends. Outside events will put the White House on defense. Indeed, Trump’s first attempt to impose tariffs caused the White House to beat a momentary retreat when the stock market tanked as a result. His new round of steel tariffs will have real world consequences, too. And whatever those are, they will have political consequences.
To be sure, the debut of Trump 2.0 is an exaggeratedly steroidal replay of this dynamic, but it’s a familiar dynamic all the same. Soon, Trump will have to get the narrowly GOP-controlled Congress to pass a budget, raise the debt ceiling and work on Trump’s legislative agenda. That will require Republicans to behave less like pundits and more like legislators. And the hostility he is earning from Democrats will make bipartisan legislation exceedingly difficult, if not impossible. This drama will also cause the political spotlight to move down Pennsylvania Avenue in ways that will take Trump out of his comfort zone.
Meanwhile, the courts are already demonstrating the limits of presidential power. The legal system moves slowly, but it also moves according to its own imperatives. Many worry that Trump will refuse to show appropriate deference to the courts when they inevitably deliver political setbacks. If or when he refuses to comply in whole or in part, or even merely launches rhetorical attacks on the judiciary, it will change the political dynamic. If he overplays his hand, members of his coalition might break with him, financial markets panic and some voters surely will blanch. It’s unlikely he’ll attract new supporters in the process.
Trump obviously sees the presidency as a quasi-monarchical, “ personalist ” institution with sweeping powers. He is committed to testing that theory. But he is also more interested in the appearance of such authority than the reality of it. That’s a check on his range of action as well. If overstepping makes him look weak, he might prefer to do less and continue to appear strong to his fans.
Regardless, the window of appearing unchecked and in command of the agenda will close sooner rather than later.
Jonah Goldberg: This cannot go on forever was originally published by the Tribune Content Agency and is shared with permission. Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.
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.