In his first week as a federal judge, Murray Gurfein was assigned the biggest case of his life.
He’d just been nominated to the Southern District of New York by President Richard Nixon in April 1971, and confirmed by the Senate in May when the Pentagon Papers case landed on his desk.
Nixon had told Assistant Attorney General William Rehnquist to order the New York Times and the Washington Post to stop publication of the damaging report that revealed previous administrations’ attempts to cover up their losing efforts in the Vietnam War.
Both papers refused, so Nixon sought an injunction to keep the papers from publishing.
But Gurfein, despite being appointed by Nixon just weeks earlier, declined, writing: “The security of the Nation is not at the ramparts alone. Security also lies in the value of our free institutions. A cantankerous press, an obstinate press, a ubiquitous press must be suffered by those in authority to preserve the even greater values of freedom of expression and the right of the people to know.”
Nixon, of course, would appeal Gurfein’s decision, and before the Supreme Court could hear the case, 15 other newspapers received copies of the report and published it, with the idea that the only way to uphold the First Amendment and protect the right to publish…was to publish.
In June, the Post and the Times won their case in the Supreme Court, and Nixon’s attempt at chilling the press failed — but only because the newspapers refused to capitulate.
Fast-forward half a century, and it feels like the courage the press showed then was all for naught.
An incoming President Donald Trump has already inflicted a Nixonian choke hold on the press, and before he’s even been sworn into office.
He sued ABC News and George Stephanopoulos for defamation, claiming that he was inaccurately described as having been found liable for “rape,” instead of “sexual assault” by a civil jury — a distinction even the judge in the case said was meaningless.
He’s suing Bob Woodward and Simon & Schuster for $49 million for publishing audio tapes of interviews Trump gave in 2019 and 2020.
He’s suing CBS News for a “60 Minutes” interview with Vice President Kamala Harris in which Trump argues CBS deceptively edited it to make her appear “coherent and decisive.”
And this week, he sued the Des Moines Register and pollster Ann Selzer for a poll that showed him losing in a state that he ended up winning by 13 points.
Now, to be clear, none of these are good cases for Trump.
Misusing legal terms, as Stephanopoulos did, isn’t defamation. Publishing tapes of an interview you agreed to isn’t illegal. Nor is editing interviews like “60 Minutes” did. And bad polls that don’t come true are not a valid basis for a lawsuit.
All of these entities should rest soundly and confidently knowing the First Amendment protects them from Trump’s authoritarian impulses.
But one has already surrendered. ABC settled with Trump to the tune of $15 million, and, adding insult to injury, agreed to publish a groveling apology note on behalf of the news outlet and Stephanopoulos.
Why would a company like Disney, which owns ABC and has the best lawyers money can buy, agree to give away $15 million on a case it most certainly would have won?
Corporate greed and spinelessness.
As The Bulwark’s Jonathan V. Last put it:
“I’d bet the milk money that Bob Iger — the CEO of Disney and one of the most important corporate executives in America — made the final call on settling with Trump. Because this is a decision that affects the entire corporation’s relationship to the federal government.
And while it might be against the interest of ABC News to sell out its journalists, it’s very much in the interest of the Walt Disney Company to be on good terms with a president who is open about punishing his enemies and rewarding his friends.”
It’s gross, but not surprising, that a giant conglomerate like Disney would want to do favors for an incoming administration that’s threatening to punish its enemies. But it’s downright disgusting that one that owns a news outlet would wholly surrender to baseless threats against press freedom, while throwing good journalists under the bus in the process.
Even though Trump likely knows these lawsuits are without merit, for him the process is the punishment. And with ABC’s capitulation, he’ll be emboldened to do it again and again.
“We have to straighten out the press,” he said. “Our press is very corrupt, almost as corrupt as our elections.”
Of course, just like our elections, the press is not corrupt. But if others surrender, the press will have been corrupted — by Trump himself.
So to those in Trump’s crosshairs, currently or in the future, remember the words of Judge Gurfein:
“A cantankerous press, an obstinate press, a ubiquitous press must be suffered by those in authority to preserve the even greater values of freedom of expression and the right of the people to know.”
(S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.)
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.