For nearly a decade, political observers have warned against prematurely predicting the downfall of President Donald Trump. His ability to survive scandals, legal peril, internal party revolts, and public backlash has repeatedly defied political gravity. But a growing chorus of analysts now argues that the forces converging around Trump in early 2026 represent something fundamentally different—an erosion of power that appears broader, deeper, and more structurally damaging than anything he has faced before.
A December analysis by columnist S.E. Cupp, published by The Fulcrum, captured the shift in tone, noting that Trump’s approval rating had plunged to –24 percent, a historic low surpassed only by Richard Nixon at a comparable point in his second term. Cupp wrote that Trump’s support had eroded not only among independents and younger voters but even within his once‑unyielding base.
Since This really may be the political end for Trump was published, new polling has reinforced the trend. A January composite of national surveys shows Trump’s approval continuing to slide, with notable declines among suburban voters and Hispanic men—two groups that helped fuel his 2024 reelection. While Trump has weathered poor polling before, strategists note that this downturn is occurring alongside a series of compounding crises that have left the administration struggling to regain control of its narrative.
The president’s economic agenda—once the centerpiece of his political identity—has become a growing liability. As Cupp reported, Trump’s promises to tame inflation and lower consumer costs have not materialized. Instead, inflation has ticked upward, unemployment has risen, and small businesses report higher operating costs driven by tariffs and regulatory volatility.
New data released in early January shows consumer confidence falling for the third consecutive month, with grocery prices and housing costs continuing to climb. Economists across the ideological spectrum warn that the administration’s tariff expansions, combined with aggressive spending and inconsistent policy signals, have created uncertainty that is rippling through markets.
The administration’s personnel challenges—already severe in December—have intensified. Cupp’s reporting highlighted allegations of misconduct and incompetence across multiple agencies, including the Departments of Defense, Homeland Security, and Health and Human Services.
In the weeks since, two senior officials have resigned amid investigations, and congressional committees have opened new inquiries into the administration’s handling of classified information and procurement contracts. A senior GOP aide described the atmosphere as “chaotic even by Trump‑era standards,” noting that the White House has struggled to fill key vacancies as potential nominees fear reputational damage.
Perhaps the most significant shift is occurring inside the Republican Party itself. Cupp noted that several GOP lawmakers had already begun distancing themselves from Trump, ignoring his directives on issues ranging from redistricting to the filibuster.
Since then, three additional House Republicans have announced retirements, and several influential conservative donors have signaled they will withhold funding until the administration stabilizes. While Trump retains strong support among the party’s most loyal voters, the institutional GOP appears increasingly willing to challenge him—something that was unthinkable during his first term.
Trump’s own behavior has amplified concerns. In December, he posted more than 160 messages on Truth Social in a five‑hour span—an episode Cupp described as “an unhinged mix of high and low,” revealing a leader struggling to control his message.
In recent weeks, similar late‑night posting sprees have continued, often contradicting official statements from his administration. Advisers privately concede that the president’s unpredictability is complicating efforts to reassure lawmakers, donors, and foreign partners.
Analysts caution that Trump has repeatedly rebounded from moments that seemed politically fatal. But they also note that the current convergence of economic strain, administrative dysfunction, party fractures, and personal volatility is unprecedented even for him.
“This is the first time the structural supports of Trumpism—economic optimism, party unity, and the aura of invincibility—are all weakening at once,” said one longtime Republican strategist.
Whether this moment marks the true beginning of the end for Trump’s political dominance remains uncertain. But for the first time in years, even some of his allies acknowledge that the president is navigating the most precarious stretch of his presidency—and that the forces aligned against him may be too numerous to outrun.
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.