Breslin is the Joseph C. Palamountain Jr. Chair of Political Science at Skidmore College and author of “A Constitution for the Living: Imagining How Five Generations of Americans Would Rewrite the Nation’s Fundamental Law.”
This is the latest in “ A Republic, if we can keep it,” a series to assist American citizens on the bumpy road ahead this election year. By highlighting components, principles and stories of the Constitution, Breslin hopes to remind us that the American political experiment remains, in the words of Alexander Hamilton, the “most interesting in the world.”
America’s Constitution is always under the microscope, but something different is happening of late: The document’s sanctity is being questioned.
In the pages of The New York Times, Jennifer Szalai recently asked whether the Constitution is “ dangerous.” Erwin Chemerinsky similarly wonders whether the Constitution is actually a threat to the United States. Ryan Doerfler and Samuel Moyn question whether the “broken” Constitution should even be reclaimed. These questions would scarcely be uttered a generation ago. Today, they’re typical.
As disturbing as alarm over America’s holy charter may be, what is exciting is the way in which critics are responding. Constitutional skeptics have begun to take matters into their own hands and have offered their own versions of a 21st century charter. Leading writers and legal scholars were recently asked to imagine the next constitutional amendment. Before that, Democracy: A Journal of Ideas gathered a bunch of academics to draft a more progressive Constitution for our times, while the National Constitution Center did the same thing with separate teams of liberals, conservatives and libertarians. Hashtags for imaginary draft constitutions are trending.
Those interesting and laudable efforts are the very definition of creativity. Fictional Framers are being asked to create new constitutions for the 21st century, ones that respond to the hyper-polarization of the moment. The drafters of these invented texts are no doubt influenced by the Trump presidency, the “woke” culture, political tribalism, the pandemic, regional distinctions, and on and on. Unsurprisingly, the progressive drafters emphasize rights, while the conservatives focus on the side of federalism and state power. The libertarians, in contrast, try to reduce government’s imprint while championing individual freedom. In the end, the dialogue is both fascinating and enlightening.
It is also distinctly American.
The United States should be proud of its tradition as a constitutional innovator. Political entrepreneurs were born alongside the new nation. John Dickinson, the primary author of the Articles of Confederation, was a dreamer. So was James Madison, and James Wilson, and Gouverneur Morris, and Alexander Hamilton, and all their colleagues who huddled under a hot Philadelphia sun in 1787 to craft a fresh legal charter. Similarly, state constitutional drafters number in the thousands. State leaders have assembled more than 160 times in American history to rewrite their fundamental documents.
These individuals shared an admirable audaciousness. What they also shared was a fervent commitment to see the constitution-making project through. Each was able to translate their vision for a “more perfect union” into an actual, tangible and eventually ratified constitution. They were critics of the political order they saw outside their windows, and they did something about it.
There are similar constitutional dreamers among us today. Hundreds of them. And yet there is little appetite to take their promising ideas and turn them into a new Constitution. The question is why. I would point to at least six different reasons.
- The fear of a runaway convention: There is concern that every clause, safeguard and protection in the Constitution would be fair game for revision.
- The polarization of America: There is concern that liberals and conservatives could never agree on any reforms to the Constitution.
- The challenge of representation: How do we decide who should be at the drafting convention and who should not?
- America is not really in crisis: Constitutions are generally born out of crises (civil wars, coups, economic disasters, etc.). We are experiencing political malaise right now, but not a genuine crisis.
- The sacred Constitution: For millions of Americans, the Constitution is still sacred. Flawed? Sure. But not irredeemable.
There are more reasons, of course. But these are the main sticking points, and they appear to be intractable. Calls for a constitutional convention — a return to Philadelphia of sorts — pop up fairly often. We should welcome them. Conversation about political improvement begets further conversation. Indeed, it is a demonstration of the strength of our constitutional republic that Americans are encouraged to interrogate the nation’s first principles.
Attempts to rewrite the Constitution are inevitably speculative — hypothetical, academic, abstract — mostly because few believe we’ll soon invoke an Article V constitutional convention. That should not diminish the importance of these imaginary efforts, however, or of the more conventional creative approaches to thinking about our current political and social problems. The U.S. Constitution is the most innovative political invention in the post-Enlightenment age. The way we talk about it should be equally creative.



















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.