In March 2024, the Department of Justice secured a hard-won conviction against Juan Orlando Hernández, the former president of Honduras, for trafficking tons of cocaine into the United States. After years of investigation and months of trial preparation, he was formally sentenced on June 26, 2024. Yet on December 1, 2025 — with a single stroke of a pen, and after receiving a flattering letter from prison — President Trump erased the conviction entirely, issuing a full pardon (Congress.gov).
Defending the pardon, the president dismissed the Hernández prosecution as a politically motivated case pursued by the previous administration. But the evidence presented in court — including years of trafficking and tons of cocaine — was not political. It was factual, documented, and proven beyond a reasonable doubt. If the president’s goal is truly to rid the country of drugs, the Hernández pardon is impossible to reconcile with that mission. It was not only a contradiction — it was a betrayal of the justice system itself.
For the prosecutors and investigators who spent years building the case, the pardon was more than a legal reversal. It was a dismissal of their work. These are professionals who sift through evidence, protect witnesses, and risk their safety to bring traffickers to justice. To see a conviction erased and recast as “political” sends a chilling message: that justice is negotiable, and that the truth they fought to prove can be undone with a signature.
Days after pardoning Hernández, the president ordered a military strike in Venezuela, captured Nicolás Maduro and his wife on nearly identical drug-related charges, and declared that the United States would “run” Venezuela for the foreseeable future (Reuters). By making that declaration without acknowledging that Venezuela had a constitutionally designated vice president, the president dismissed the nation’s lawful succession process entirely. Meanwhile, Venezuela’s own Supreme Court directed Vice President Delcy Rodríguez to assume the presidency — a constitutional process the United States simply ignored. Members of Congress were not briefed beforehand, and several lawmakers said the strike lacked authorization or clarity about its purpose.
Venezuela, like the United States, has its own constitutional process for replacing leadership. For any American president to declare that he will “run” another sovereign nation is not only overstepping — it is a profound act of overreach. It disregards that country’s institutions, dismisses its lawful succession, and elevates personal authority above international norms. International law experts warn that the strike and capture likely violate the UN Charter’s prohibition on the use of force and the long‑standing rule that sitting heads of state cannot be seized by foreign governments — a warning Congress has yet to address. The most troubling part is not just that these actions occurred, but that Congress has yet to provide clarity, direction, or even assert its own constitutional power. Silence in the face of overreach is not neutrality. It is abdication.
Many Americans watching the president’s recent actions see not strategic leadership, but improvisation — a leader who treats governing like a personal performance rather than a constitutional responsibility. His public statements often contradict the Constitution or established U.S. policy, projecting confidence without knowledge or authority. World leaders recognize this gap. Some dismiss his claims, others exploit them, and adversarial nations such as China and Russia — countries he openly admires — understand the risks and opportunities created by erratic American leadership. This is not a moment for improvisation. It is a moment for constitutional discipline, and Congress must provide it.
This is not coherent strategy. It is selective enforcement. One foreign leader convicted of trafficking is pardoned. Another is pursued with airstrikes. The difference is not the crime. The difference is the president’s narrative.
The pattern is unmistakable. Strong, effective leaders do not crave praise. They do not demand gratitude. They do not measure success by applause. They act because the action is necessary, not because it flatters their ego. When any leader responds to criticism by asking why people are not thanking him, it reveals a deeper problem: decisions are being made for personal validation rather than national interest. That is not a strength. It is insecurity — and insecurity at the highest levels of government is dangerous.
Finding solutions is difficult when presidential decisions are driven by ego and impulse, and when Congress remains loyal, silent, or unwilling to perform its constitutional role. But that does not absolve Congress of responsibility. If our democracy is threatened or unsafe conditions emerge for the country or its citizens, responsibility will not rest solely with the president. It will rest with a Congress that failed to act, failed to check overreach, and failed to provide the clarity and direction the Constitution demands.
In recent weeks, Americans have watched in disbelief as bombs were dropped on ships and reports emerged of innocent people caught in the crossfire. Across communities, people asked basic questions — Why now? Under what authority? What is the plan? — and no answers came from Congress or the President. Instead of a nation projecting strength, we are rapidly becoming a nation defined by dysfunction and confusion. Melvin, an ex‑military relative, told me he is confused, frustrated, and desperate for transparency. He is not alone. When even those who have served this country cannot understand our actions or our objectives, something is profoundly wrong.
And the consequences of that dysfunction are already becoming visible. China has demanded Maduro’s immediate release and accused the United States of violating international law (Yahoo News). Russia has condemned the strike and warned of regional destabilization (NDTV). Venezuela’s vast oil reserves — among the largest in the world — make this more than a regional dispute. They make it a global flashpoint.
This is not a moment for applause. It is a moment for accountability.
There are steps we can take to restore guardrails and reduce the risks this moment has created. Congress must reclaim its constitutional war powers, require full briefings before any foreign military action, and reassert its authority over when and how the United States uses force. It must strengthen the independence of the Department of Justice so that prosecutions and pardons cannot be shaped by personal loyalty or selective justice. The president must stop sending mixed signals about national security, stop usurping authority that belongs to Congress, and stop pressuring the DOJ to serve political interests.
Congress must also reaffirm respect for the sovereignty of other nations and rebuild its oversight capacity by prioritizing accountability over loyalty. And the public must insist on that accountability — through letters, petitions, phone calls, town halls, and voting — because democracy only works when citizens demand clarity and courage from those who represent them. This is not a partisan worry. Americans across the political spectrum — Republicans, Democrats, and Independents — are united in their concern that both Congress and the President are drifting away from constitutional leadership.
Overreach abroad and silence at home are unacceptable — and the American people deserve leaders willing to confront both.
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Carolyn Goode is a retired educational leader and a national advocate for ethical leadership, government accountability, and civic renewal.




















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.