Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s May 31 speech at the Shangri-La Dialogue defense summit in Singapore was no ordinary one. He accused China of posing a “real” and “imminent” threat, leading China to accuse the United States of touting a “Cold War mentality.” Juxtapose this with King Charles’ May 27 speech opening the Canadian Parliament, which he was prompted to deliver in response to U.S. threats to annex Canada. Consistency has not been a hallmark of this administration, but the mixed messages are not just embarrassing—they’re dangerous.
Given Trump’s unpredictable tariffs and his threats to make Canada the 51st U.S. state, Canada can no longer rely on its continental neighbor as a trusted partner in trade and defense. Canadians are rallying around the hockey saying “elbows up” and preparing to defend themselves politically and economically. Trump’s words, which he doubled down on after the King’s speech, are destroying vital U.S. relationships and making the world—including the United States—less safe. Hegseth’s message to China rings hollow next to Trump’s refusal to treat territorial borders as subject to change only by consent, not coercion or conquest.
To understand why Trump’s rhetoric is so dangerous, think back 80 years to the signing of the Charter of the United Nations. World War II was the world’s deadliest conflict, killing an estimated 70–85 million people, including over 400,000 U.S. soldiers. Between 50–55 million civilians died. Countries created the United Nations and agreed in a binding treaty that they would not use the threat or use of force against any other state’s “territorial integrity or political independence, or in any manner inconsistent with the Purposes of the United Nations.” This is the cardinal principle of post-war international relations, and it has—so far—prevented another world war.
The United States made this bargain in its own self-interest. Without minimizing the political and economic instability Americans have faced in recent decades, the situation would be immeasurably worse if we lived in a world of all-out global military conflict. Yet that is where the Trump administration’s rhetoric is taking us, even though Trump claims to be “anti-war.”
The United States and Canada share the world’s longest land border, which has been conflict-free for over 200 years. Yet Trump has called this border an “artificial line.” He has insinuated that Canada would be better off joining the United States. And looming over his conversation with Prime Minister Mark Carney in the White House was a not-so-veiled threat of making Canada a Godfather-like “offer it can’t refuse.” Before January 2025, the idea that the United States would threaten Canada was imaginable only in South Park, where characters sing about “form[ing] a full assault!” on Canada, dismissing it as “not even a real country anyway!”
Canada is only the latest target. Trump has touted the possibility of annexing Greenland and the Panama Canal. His suggestion that Russia could gain territory in a peace deal with Ukraine has undermined Ukraine’s self-defense and panicked European allies, who know that rewarding Russia’s attack would encourage future land grabs. And Trump has threatened to turn America’s back on the United Nations entirely.
This leaves a global invitation to other aggressive moves, for example in Taiwan, notwithstanding Hegseth’s admonition of China. This might seem like a far-away conflict but it affects Americans deeply. In addition to valuing Taiwanese democracy, Americans rely on Taiwan to produce the world’s most advanced computer chips, which we all use daily. Moreover, as World War II showed, military conflict sparked by territorial ambitions is not easily contained.
Talking about borders as “artificial” gives military hawks around the world tacit permission to disregard the lines that protect each country’s territory and the people who live within them. Annexing any other country’s territory without the clear and uncoerced consent of the population—and even talking about doing so—makes Americans less, not more, secure.
Trump’s South Park diplomacy is destructive and should be rejected. Congress can and should take steps to show the world that Trump does not represent the views of the American people. China has long accused the United States of “double standards”—Trump’s annexationist rhetoric adds fuel to such accusations and increases global instability.
The post-war years have seen Congress cede much of its foreign relations authority to the President in practice, but the Constitution gives Congress an essential role. There are multiple ways for Congress to make its views known. For example, in 2023, Congress passed legislation introduced by Senator Tim Kaine (D-VA) and then-Senator Marco Rubio (R-FL) attempting to prevent any president from withdrawing from NATO without Congress’s consent. During Trump’s first term, congressional Republicans cooperated with Democrats to protect spending on U.S. foreign policy, including the State Department. They should do so again. Individual members of Congress can issue statements with their foreign counterparts, as Senator Lisa Murkowski (R-AK) did in her capacity as a member of the Standing Committee of Parliamentarians of the Arctic Region, emphasizing that “the future will be defined by partnership, not ownership,” and that other countries are “[o]pen for business, but not for sale.” After Carney’s White House visit, several U.S. senators visited Canada to try and stabilize the U.S.–Canada relationship. That’s a good start, but it’s not enough.
Although it’s difficult to imagine a bipartisan resolution recommitting to the principles of the U.N. Charter as we mark the 80th anniversary of that treaty’s signing, such a move would help restore the world’s badly shaken confidence in the United States, a country that—under presidents of both parties—could previously be counted upon to support our allies and respect their borders, just as we insist that other countries respect ours.
Chimène Keitner is a professor of law at the University of California, Davis School of Law, a PD Soros Fellow, and a Public Voices Fellow of The OpEd Project. She previously served as Counselor on International Law at the U.S. Department of State.




















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.