Peric is executive director of Welcoming America, a nonprofit that promotes pluralism in local communities.
With the U.S. departure from Afghanistan, nearly 500,000 people have been displaced from their homes and are fanning out across the globe to join the 281 million people living outside their country of origin. Some will find a new place to call home in the United States. And then, the journey to become an American begins.
Though the movement of people and the welcoming of strangers have always existed, it is only recently that we've learned how to build sustained infrastructure to smooth these transitions. This infrastructure is essential to ensuring that demographic change gives rise to an expansion — rather than a contraction — of our democratic norms, paving the way for greater civic, social and economic participation, rather than fueling dangerous politics through the scapegoating of newcomers.
The good news for those who want to support American communities in this endeavor is that there's a roadmap for building welcoming infrastructure laid out over decades of work. Resettlement destinations like Boise, Idaho; Salt Lake County; Lancaster, Pa.; and Louisville, Ky., have worked to systematically bring down policy barriers, establish public-private partnerships as a function within local government to address immigrant equity, and foster a culture that sends an unequivocal message of belonging, from schools to parks to community centers.
Over the past month, this infrastructure has meant that cities like San Antonio have been able to launch a robust effort to build community support for arriving Afghan evacuees, to build a rapid response that convenes multisector partners to create a welcoming climate and, more recently, to establish an office within local government dedicated to this work.
Another example is Charlotte, N.C., a city newer to demographic change. Strong partnerships between the community and its institutions create a network of relationships that enable every sector to contribute and work toward systematically reducing barriers for newcomers. Such efforts also foster bridging capital that cuts across lines of difference in ways that reduce isolation and increase community cohesion.
"We've learned a lot about how to engage diverse communities," says Emily Yaffe, an immigrant integration specialist for the city. "We're more creative about involving local business owners, like supermarkets and hair salons. These relationships were especially important during the pandemic to connect diverse communities with information and services."
Today, Afghan arrivals are enjoying broad support, with more than 70 percent of the public supportive of resettlement. At the same time, questions remain about how this support will translate to the long-term commitment to welcoming values, as well as to other populations, such as Haitians seeking asylum to American-born residents struggling to recover from the pandemic.
Truly welcoming communities underscore that these choices do not need to be in competition with one another — in fact, far from the chaos and zero-sum choices that nativist groups want to paint, communities with a welcoming infrastructure are successful in not only meeting the basic needs of new arrivals, but also the mutual cooperation, respect, social and economic capital that strengthens the entire community. And while there is an initial cost to resettlement, research has shown that, over time, local economies reap a significant return on investment, as much as $2.1 billion in just one Ohio community alone.
But this economic return isn't what drives us: It's a thriving democracy in which everyone belongs. As Yaffe notes. "We've changed our focus from not just how our international community contributes to our economy, but on how we become more of an integrated, inclusive city."
For Nimish Bhatt, a former refugee from Uganda, that came in the form of representing Asian American business owners on Charlotte's business advisory council: "People who are from other countries have this fear and complex that does not allow them to do things 100 percent. But Emily and her team have come out and been part of the community at every level, [taking] a holistic approach and making people feel they are part of this community."
Across the country, Americans are stepping forward to ask how they can be part of welcoming Afghan refugees. From offering homes and donations, to volunteering and donating to resettlement agencies, these efforts are urgent and needed, but they are also just the starting point. Communities can and should use this moment to double down on building a long-term welcoming infrastructure that can create the conditions for everyone to thrive in the place they call home. The federal government can do more to incentivize this work, including by standing up the Task Force on New Americans. Let's respond not only to an urgent humanitarian call, but the desire of Americans everywhere to build a lasting, thriving democracy in which everyone here belongs.




















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.