LaRue writes at Structure Matters. He is former deputy director of the Eisenhower Institute and of the American Society of International Law.
The following article was accepted for publication prior to the attempted assassination attempt of Donald Trump. Both the author and the editors determined no changes were necessary.
The roots of many contemporary political problems can be found in the Constitution. Its institutions are creaky, and rights that are new or threatened need anchors.
But the roots of these problems also extend to the people and principles beneath the structures and rights secured by the Constitution. Sure, changing term lengths across all three branches of government or advancing voting rights are worthy amendment topics. It is critical, however, that we re-embrace the fundamental role we citizens have.
This is why “We the People” — the heart of the Constitution — matter most. We are still the ones who elect our representatives, senators (after the 17th Amendment in 1913) and the president (sort of, via the Electoral College).
The framers weren’t flawless, but they deserve credit for creating a government that confronts how bad humans can be. The separation of powers, checks and balances, and federalism may be frustrating, but they prevent power from being consolidated and more easily abused, a risk the framers knew would be perpetual.
Paradoxically, they also understood that our public officials must be good — virtuous, as they asserted repeatedly — if our democracy is to work as intended. Yet we citizens remain the only ones who can put malignant or malicious perpetrators into office. Can we reduce this complementary risk? Yes, with these four steps:
First, vote. But don’t stop there. A constitutional democracy asks more of us, particularly in the 21st century, when performative partisanship, misinformation and disinformation prevail. Foreign policy expert Richard Haass called our deteriorating civic life the greatest security threat facing the nation. In “ The Bill of Obligations,” he described 10 “habits of good citizens” that each of us can do to strengthen America, including staying informed, getting involved, valuing norms and supporting civics education. Our “[c]ollective identity” he said, “is a matter of teaching, not biology.”
Second, dial back the animosity toward those with whom we disagree. It’s an old saw, and easier said than done, but disagreeing agreeably is as necessary as it is laudable. We need to remind our representatives to rediscover this lost art, too. That means changing their incentives from appealing to a narrow, primary electoral base while restoring their constitutional role of bargaining, negotiation and compromise. Yuval Levin clarifies in his latest book, “ American Covenant,” how a diverse nation must use this fundamental, Madisonian approach to govern itself. He also emphasizes that national unity is less about what we think and more about what we do.
Third, refresh our appreciation for the full range of principles expressed in our constitutional structure, which might best be accomplished by reading “ The Pursuit of Happiness ” by the National Constitution Center’s president, Jeffrey Rosen. The philosophies and values beneath the service, citizenship and representation that shaped the founders’ thinking when they crafted the Constitution are considered classical for a reason; in Rosen’s hands, they come alive. He vibrantly shows how the founders tapped the work of great thinkers, from Cicero and Epictetus to Hume and Locke, to conceive the nation’s constitutional design. Their perspectives on restraint, moderation, humility and other traits are surprisingly resonant for re-anchoring our public morals today.
Lastly, recognize that we are all reformers, whether active or passive. As the artist Georgia O’Keeffe said in 1981, reflecting on moving to and living in northwestern New Mexico, “When you start making a home, it is difficult to stop changing it, imagining it different.”
It may be trite to equate our government or nation with a residence, and odder still to do so by citing an introverted artist. But few analogies work better. We are individually and collectively building and living in a home called America. We may disagree about small matters, say a paint color, or large matters, perhaps a renovation. But we need to agree about the largest matters, such as fixing leaky roofs, broken door hinges and cracked foundations.
And then there is how we treat those residing in the other rooms. Suggesting that “We the People” need a civic reboot is not a slur against any or all of us; it simply places us where we belong — at the center of our country, our government, our home — and evokes our responsibility of “imagining it different.” The cyclical waves or spirals that bring change don’t happen unless we use our imagination.
So keep at it, America. O’Keeffe captured the essence of human striving to better our world. Perhaps more than her artwork, her civic wisdom can inspire us all.




















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.