Varga, author of “ Under Chad’s Spell,” was a Foreign Service officer, serving in Dubai, Damascus, Casablanca and Toronto
In the middle of an exam, my Chadian students suddenly stood up and fled my classroom. A minute before, they had seen through the glassless window that a crowd had run from the central market in Baibokoum. No one knew why so many were running. But days before, the word on the street was that rebels had captured the main military base in Chad’s capital, N’djamena.
The exam was important for their grades and my exclamations to the 80 boys to sit down and finish the test were met with shrieks that in a choice between finishing the exam and saving their lives, it was a no-brainer. They wanted to live.
This was 1979 and the government was under attack. Rebels were marching ever closer to the heart of Chad’s government. Everyone was nervous and the future seemed to hint at further bloodshed and unrest.
I was a Peace Corps volunteer teaching at a high school in a village far from the capital. Yet, the constant whispers that a civil war was about to explode and upset everyone’s notions of what life looked like were paramount in every tribal elder’s mind, in every mother’s work in the cotton fields, in every student’s focus on mastering the present progressive tense in English. No one could escape thinking about the constant threats to stability.
I have never forgotten those days when living with a government tottering on the brink pervaded each person with a sense of loss. Not only for Chadians. Not only for foreigners. But everyone. Those frightening images of the attack on our Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, sent me back to my village in Chad. Was the United States on the brink of civil war? It certainly looked like that for a time, as President Donald Trump reportedly watched TV in the White House. Was he going to allow this attack to succeed?
We live in a fraught time where one political party continues to attack the very institutions of our society. The many conspiracy theories denying the outcome of the 2020 election have created a corrosive tension in American society. If we can no longer agree on what the rule of law means, then we are descending into tribes that think only of war and weakening the other side, rather than finding common ground on what is best for our nation.
My time abroad in Chad taught me how fragile a society can become when the foundation of its bonds is under attack. In Chad, once the central government fell, it was each tribe for itself. The notion of a Chadian identity disappeared, and every Chadian became labeled by tribe. All Americans — including Peace Corps volunteers — were evacuated from the country. Everyone recognized the danger.
We have something noble in our country. We have a constitution that has stood the test of time. Do we want to rewrite our definition of what our country stands for? Let’s not go the route of seeing each other as representatives of a tribe with whom we’re at war. Rather, let’s continue to build an America where our American-ness means more to us than any linkage to some group who seems bent on undermining the values that have shaped our stable nation.
Our ancestors are watching as civil discourse descends into personal attacks on those performing key roles in public service. My grandfather was an immigrant from Hungary who survived as a gravedigger in Philadelphia. He spoke little English and that was the only job he could get as an uneducated worker. But in the magical way America has transformed our destinies, I was able to become a diplomat, serving abroad as a representative of the United States in some of the tensest countries of the world. We can do better than attacking those who disagree with us. Agreeing to disagree and not resorting to violence is our heritage after the lessons of our own brutal civil war. Let’s not go back to those days when some predicted the fall of our government and the sundering of the nation.




















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.”
____
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.