As July 4, 2026, approaches, our country’s upcoming Semiquincentennial is less and less of an anniversary party than a stress test. The United States is a 21st-century superpower attempting to navigate a digitized, polarized world with an operating system that hasn’t been meaningfully updated since the mid-20th century.
From my seat on the Ladue School Board in St. Louis County, Missouri, I see the alternative to our national dysfunction daily. I am privileged to witness that effective governance requires—and incentivizes—compromise.
My fellow board members and I function effectively, not because we are more "neighborly" or morally superior to members of Congress. We function because the machinery of our governance incentivizes our decision to do so. We are bound by mandatory balanced budgets, strict sunshine laws, and inescapable face-to-face accountability. These forces prioritize serving the institution over performing for a camera or chasing social media traction.
Unlike a member of Congress who refuses open town hall meetings with constituents or fundraises off a viral clip of yelling at a witness in an empty committee room, the school board member has nowhere to hide. If the bus doesn’t show up, or the roof leaks, or the math curriculum is failing, I cannot blame "the deep state" or "corporate media." I have to answer to a parent I will inevitably run into at the grocery store that week. Ideology hits a hard ceiling when it meets reality.
The Crisis of Inverted Incentives
Our federal government lacks these enforcement mechanisms. In fact, its incentive structure has been inverted: Conflict is profitable, and resolution is suspect.
In the private sector—or indeed, on a local school board—failure to perform the core function of the job usually results in termination. In Washington, it now means a cable news booking. A government shutdown is not a mark of shame; it is a fundraising opportunity. Because we lack a mechanism that punishes failure, the stakes of our politics have artificially inflated. A Supreme Court vacancy is no longer an administrative event; it is a cultural apocalypse. A presidential election is no longer a transfer of power; it is viewed as a regime change.
At its core, this is not a crisis of the personnel that have been elected; it is a crisis of architecture. We cannot rely on local exceptions to save this republic; we must fix the national foundation. Fortunately, the remedy has been sitting in a drawer for years, albeit largely ignored by Washington.
A Modern “Team of Rivals”
In 2022, the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia convened the Constitution Drafting Project to draft the blueprint we need. They assembled three teams of legal scholars: Conservatives (led by Ilan Wurman), Progressives (led by Caroline Fredrickson), and Libertarians (led by Ilya Shapiro).
This was not a group of centrists splitting the difference to find a lukewarm middle. These were principled partisans recognizing that the current system is serving no one well. Despite conflicting fundamental beliefs, they negotiated a manual for structural repair. They agreed on five constitutional amendments designed to restore the accountability that local boards practice daily.
First, end the Supreme Court’s actuarial lottery. Currently, the balance of power shifts with the health of a single octogenarian. The proposed amendment establishes staggered 18-year term limits for justices. Crucially, it makes appointments automatic if the Senate does not vote within three months—ensuring that a nomination never again languishes in political purgatory.
Second, modernize the executive impeachment process. They proposed a trade-off: Raise the threshold to impeach (to three-fifths of the House) but lower the threshold to convict (to three-fifths of the Senate). This forces a broader consensus to bring charges and inhibits a small partisan minority from shielding a corrupt president.
Third, create a legislative veto. This would empower Congress to rein in the administrative state by overriding agency regulations with majority votes—effectively overturning the Supreme Court’s 1983 INS v. Chadha decision. It compels Congress to take accountability for the laws we live under, rather than delegating difficult choices to unelected agencies.
Fourth, remove the "natural-born" barrier. Allow naturalized citizens with 14 years of citizenship to serve as President—aligning the highest office with America’s sacred promise of meritocracy. After all, we are a nation defined by a creed, not by soil.
Fifth, unlock the amendment process itself. Recognizing that a system unable to adapt is destined to crack, they proposed lowering the threshold for new constitutional amendments to three-fifths of Congress and two-thirds of the states. This change keeps the judiciary from becoming a “permanent constitutional convention.”
The prospect of passing five amendments in our current climate may feel like a fantasy. Skeptics will argue that we cannot agree on the time of day, let alone the supreme law of the land. But the consensus achieved by these scholars—and the daily function of school boards in communities like mine—proves the divide is not unbridgeable.
We are destined to prosper—or fail—alongside the fellow Americans with whom we disagree. This package of amendments is the sturdiest off-ramp from our structural paralysis. It offers a truce based not on agreed ideology, but on shared maintenance of the house we all call home.
We need a federal government that fears failure as much as a school board member fears a rightfully disappointed constituent in the frozen food aisle. As we march toward July 4, 2026, we can keep shouting at one another while the roof caves in, or we can use the tools designed to repair it—should we desire another 250 years.
Peter Gariepy is a CPA and an elected member of the Ladue Schools Board of Education in St. Louis County, Missouri.




















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.