On May 18, 2015, I took an oath to support and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Over a decade later, as a Lieutenant Commander in the Navy with a J.D., I resigned my commission.
I saw the signs. I feared if I stayed any longer I’d be ordered to act against my conscience.
Few military officers outside of Judge Advocate Generals have a law degree, but I do. I also flew helicopters–MH-60Rs–and am highly trained to fight submarines and fire hellfire missiles and torpedoes. I studied law while on active duty, graduating with a 4.0 GPA, and I was already almost halfway through getting a Master of Laws in Global Business Law from Columbia University when I left the Navy. When it comes to matters of global concern and constitutional law, I think it would be safe to assume I have a more formal background and experience than most.
But in my final months, I watched in horror as overtly unconstitutional moves were made within the government. On June 2, I left the Navy. On June 9, Trump ordered 700 Marines to storm into Los Angeles. Let that sink in. An American president just deployed American troops against an American city. Remember: we are not at war. This was not a military necessity but an act of political theater, designed to intimidate dissenters and strut for supporters. And a reckless gesture driven by personal, petty politics. It undermines everything I have believed in as a service member, an American, and someone committed to the study of law.
Throughout my service, I contemplated the ethical hypothetical: what would I do if asked to carry out an order I believed to be illegal or immoral? I knew I’d refuse, even at the cost of my career. I’m a queer Jewish girl from Berkeley, California. When it comes to foreign service, I value diplomatic solutions over militaristic ones. What was I doing in the military in the first place? Well, for better or worse—and I tend to believe for worse because it is by design—the military is the single best way in this country to get healthcare and education, not to mention financial security. The enlisted ranks are filled with young people trying to get a foot in the door to a better life. Showing up for them was a mission that always motivated me, even if the idea of war did not. I told myself, if you leave, those sailors will have one fewer advocate. One fewer ally to help them navigate an often unforgiving environment. So, I hoped I would never be given an order I couldn’t follow—that I could trust my superior officers. I left the military in part because that confidence had faded. As a legal officer, I felt hypocritical prosecuting sailors for offenses far less egregious than that of our commander in chief, and as a command security manager, I struggled to explain the lack of accountability after our secretary of defense committed a security breach that I knew would get me sent to prison.
I am proud of my military service, but it may quickly become a source of shame for myself and all other veterans if the institution becomes an unaccountable political tool for an unaccountable political tool. The repeated illegal and unnecessary authorization of military force is the beginning of the end.
The United States military is supposed to be a humble institution, one entrusted with a solemn duty to defend this nation. Yet, tomorrow, Trump will order soldiers to display force at his birthday party in a vanity exercise that will cost American taxpayers $45 million.
It’s hard to support the troops when they’re marching on Washington and Los Angeles. But many of these enlisted folks joined for financial stability. When the consequences can be cut in rank or pay, a dishonorable discharge, or a court-martial, what 18-year-old kid is prepared to challenge the orders of the officers above them? And when Trump has fired all the dissenters, what’s left is blind obedience. Now is the time for insubordination. It will take an extraordinary level of bravery.
We can help them. As a country, we can show zero tolerance for this frivolous use of our armed forces. Veterans, active duty service members, and civilians alike must join together to condemn these unlawful and un-American actions. That is the call of duty now. We must all answer.
Julie Roland has deployed to the South China Sea and the Persian Gulf as a helicopter pilot before separating from the Navy in June 2025 as a Lieutenant Commander. She graduated law school from the University of San Diego, is currently pursuing a Master of Laws from Columbia University, and is the director of the San Diego chapter of the Truman National Security Project.
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.