The following article is excerpted from "Citizen’s Handbook for Influencing Elected Officials."
Despite the efforts of high school social studies teachers, parents, journalists, and political scientists, the workings of our government remain a mystery to most Americans. Caricatures, misconceptions, and stereotypes dominate citizens’ views of Congress, contributing to our reluctance to engage in our democracy. In reality, the system works pretty much as we were taught in third grade. Congress is far more like Schoolhouse Rock than House of Cards. When all the details are burned away, legislators generally follow three voices when making a decision. One member of Congress called these voices the “Three H’s”: Heart, Head, and Health—meaning political health.
Heart. People who make decisions that affect others' lives and well-being are usually first guided by their own beliefs and values. When asked how he made decisions, a GOP House lawmaker said, “I’m guided by the values my parents taught me. What’s the most common-sense, ethical way to solve the problem?”
There’s no directory listing which legislators are mostly guided by conscience and which are motivated by other factors. Generally, senators—who enjoy six-year terms—are expected to demonstrate a “leadership” model of decision-making, sometimes bucking public opinion. This is by design: the Senate was intended to be a more deliberative, thoughtful institution, acting as a check on the House, which could be swayed by the public's hot passions.
Head. Working in Congress is a policy wonk’s dream. You have access to every study ever written, every expert in the country, and every federal, state, and local agency. And if that is not enough, the largest library in the world—the Library of Congress—is across the street from your office. Most legislators and staff enjoy researching public policy problems. This is why they chose this career—to analyze complex issues and develop approaches or solutions to improve the human condition.
Legislators are constantly seeking unbiased, independent research to inform their decisions. There are both practical and political reasons for this: in addition to guiding their thinking, independent studies that justify a policy also provide them with political cover. A member of Congress told me he had changed his position on climate change, from opposing mandatory caps on emissions to supporting them. Since he represented a coal-producing district, I asked him what contributed to his change in thinking. “I read the 300-page United Nations study on the topic,” he said.
Health (political). Politics is often considered a dirty word, but what citizens and pundits fail to realize is that when a legislator factors “politics” into a decision, it means they are listening to constituents. Usually, a legislator’s personal beliefs and the general attitudes of his constituency are not far apart—that is why they got elected. Yet most decisions do not affect a majority of the citizenry in a district or state; they tend to impact small groups in significant ways. For example, Medicare reimbursement rates primarily affect doctors, research funding for a particular disease primarily affects those afflicted with the illness, and visa limits for high-skilled foreign workers primarily concern technology companies.
There may be major issues—such as war in the Middle East or immigration—which engender opinions in nearly everyone. But those issues are rare in the day-to-day world of government. Most decisions affect a narrow class of people, which makes the politics easy to assess. When faced with a new issue, one House chief of staff said he first asks, “Who’s for it, who’s against it?”
There are many ways legislators assess the political impact of a decision, but for each, they conduct a political analysis of how it affects voters’ perceptions in their district or state and how it might affect their next election. It’s important to note that even legislators in safe districts are strongly influenced by their constituents’ views. This is for two reasons. First, they feel an ethical responsibility to honestly represent the people who elected them (it sounds corny, but they do). Second, every politician wants to be loved by everyone—that’s part of why they went into politics. One Representative told me, “I sometimes think that every member of Congress is a middle child who is still trying to please his father.”
This collision between cynical popular belief and the reality of public service became clear to me in the most surprising setting: talking to congressional interns. During my 13 years on Capitol Hill, I always supervised the interns in the office. And at the end of their three-month tenure, I always asked the same question: “What belief or stereotype about Washington or Congress was debunked during your time here?” The most common response went something like this: “I was surprised by how much you all wrestle with trying to do the right thing, and how much you worry about the impact of your decisions on constituents.” If you spend a little time in the real Washington—not the one shown on the front pages or in movies—you’ll come to the same conclusion.
Bradford Fitch is the former CEO of the Congressional Management Foundation, a former congressional staffer, and author of “The Citizen’s Handbook for Influencing Elected Officials."




















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.