The Supreme Court’s decision striking down the administration’s sweeping global tariffs was one of the most consequential rulings of the year. In a 6–3 opinion, the Court held that the president had exceeded his authority by invoking the International Emergency Economic Powers Act to impose broad taxes on imported goods, a power the Constitution “very clearly” assigns to Congress.
The immediate effect of the ruling is likely to be felt by consumers, businesses, and the wider economy. For consumers, the decision could lower prices on a range of imported goods that had become more expensive under the tariffs. Businesses that rely on international supply chains may see reduced costs and greater predictability, making it easier to plan and invest. At the same time, industries that benefited from tariff protections could face increased competition from abroad. The broader economic impact includes potential adjustments in trade relationships and market stability, as well as the possibility that the government will need to refund billions of dollars in tariff revenue.
Chief Justice John Roberts wrote that the statute at issue “does not authorize the President to impose tariffs,” reaffirming that emergency powers cannot be stretched to bypass Congress on matters of taxation. The ruling immediately halted a major pillar of the administration’s trade agenda and raised complex questions about billions of dollars in tariff revenue that may need to be refunded.
The reaction inside the White House was quick, intense, and unsurprising. According to multiple reports, the president called the ruling a “disgrace” during a meeting with governors, saying he had a “backup plan” and expressing anger toward the courts. At this time, it is unclear what specific measures the president’s 'backup plan' might involve. White House officials have not provided details, leaving open whether he intends to pursue new executive actions, seek legislative support, or challenge the ruling through other legal channels. He reportedly cut short the meeting after receiving the news, telling aides he needed to work on his response. In public remarks later today, he condemned the decision as “terrible” and “totally defective,” and said he was “ashamed of certain members of the court.” He went further, singling out Justices Neil M. Gorsuch and Amy Coney Barrett, both appointed during his first term, calling them “an embarrassment to their families.” Elsewhere, he dismissed those who ruled against him as “fools and lap dogs” and “slimeballs.” These personal attacks on members of the highest court underscore how Trump's disagreement is recast not as a constitutional process but as a personal betrayal.
These statements fit a pattern the country has seen before: when institutional checks assert themselves, the reply is not acceptance, but escalation. For example, following the Supreme Court's 2017 decision blocking the initial version of the travel ban, the administration swiftly denounced the ruling and sought alternative paths to achieve its goal. Similarly, in 1974, after the Court unanimously ordered President Nixon to release the Watergate tapes, there were immediate and intense reactions from the White House and its supporters. Judicial review becomes an obstacle. Constitutional limits become an affront. And the public is pulled once again into a cycle where outrage eclipses understanding, and the noise of the moment drowns out the quiet, essential work of self‑government.
But this is precisely where our attention and our civic courage matter most. A democracy cannot function if its institutions are treated as enemies. It cannot endure if constitutional boundaries are seen as inconveniences. And it cannot thrive if every ruling, every check, every limit is met with a performance designed to inflame rather than inform.
The antidote to this cycle is not more outrage. It is clear. It is steadiness. It is the willingness to say that the separation of powers is not a technicality; it is the moral architecture of a free society. We must remember that the separation of powers is not a technical detail but the moral backbone of a free society. When the Court rules, it is not picking sides but upholding its duty. If leaders answer with anger, the task of holding steady falls to journalists, citizens, and civic institutions. We must keep the frame steady.
When the Court rules, it is not taking sides; it is doing what the Constitution asks of it. And when leaders respond with fury rather than respect, the responsibility falls to the rest of us to respond appropriately
Concrete actions matter. We can support institutional respect in practical ways: by calmly engaging in public conversations, correcting misinformation when we see it, and seeking out and sharing reporting that explains, rather than inflames, the issues at stake. Citizens can write to elected officials calling for thoughtful discourse about court decisions, attend local forums to foster civil discussion, or encourage civic education in schools and communities. Each of these efforts, however small, helps keep democracy's framework intact.
We can choose to see these instances not as episodes in a never‑ending drama, but as reminders of what is at stake. We can choose to raise the stories that call us back to our better selves — the citizens who show up with fortitude, the institutions that hold firm, the communities that refuse to be divided by spectacle.
Concrete actions matter. We can support institutional respect in practical ways: by calmly engaging in public conversations, correcting misinformation when we see it, and seeking out and sharing reporting that explains, rather than inflames, the issues at stake. Citizens can write to elected officials calling for thoughtful discourse about court decisions, attend local forums to foster civil discussion, or encourage civic education in schools and communities. Each of these efforts, however small, helps keep democracy's framework intact.
Most importantly, we can see these moments not as scenes in a never-ending drama of the Trump administration, but as signals of what truly matters. We can lift up stories that call us to act with integrity: citizens showing resilience, institutions standing firm, and communities refusing to be torn apart by spectacle. Above all, we can keep asking the question that outlasts any single decision or headline: What kind of nation do we want to become?
David Nevins is the publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.























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.