From the moment a pro-Trump rally turned into an anti-democracy riot at the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday, we have heard the repeated use of terms like sedition and insurrection. But as we know, words matter.
So The Fulcrum asked Doron Kalir, clinical professor of law at Cleveland State University's Cleveland-Marshall College of Law, to help turn legal definitions into language everyone can understand.
Sedition
"In essence, sedition occurs whenever two or more people conspire to overthrow or destroy by force the government of the United States, or to oppose by force its authority. The criminal prohibition against sedition appears in 18 U.S.C. (U.S. Code) § 2384, and carries a penalty of up to 20-year imprisonment. Interestingly, the law contains specific language against conspiracies to use force in order to 'seize, take, or possess any property of the United States contrary to the authority' of the government."
Insurrection
"An insurrection occurs whenever an organized and armed uprising takes place against the authority of the United States. The criminal prohibition against insurrection can be found in 18 U.S.C § 2383, which states that 'whoever incites, sets on foot, assists, or engages in any rebellion or insurrection against the authority of the United States ... or give aid or comfort thereto' shall be subject to up to 10 years in prison. Interestingly, the act adds that that person shall also be "incapable of holding any [Federal] office."
Treason
"Treason is the offense of attempting to overthrow the government of the United States, either by making war against it or by materially supporting its enemies. The criminal prohibition against treason can be found in the U.S. Constitution, Art. III § 3 ('Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort.'). According to U.S.C. § 2381, treason can be punishable by death, and in any event no less than five years' imprisonment. Again, a person convicted of treason cannot serve in public (federal) office."
25th Amendment
"The 25th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution was ratified in 1967. It was adopted in part due to lessons learned following the Kennedy assassination. The amendment has four parts, the last of which is of interest today. It allows the vice president, together with a majority of the Cabinet members, to author a 'written declaration (attesting) that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office.' When such a letter is sent to the House and the Senate, 'the Vice President shall immediately assume the powers and duties of the office as Acting President.' The section continues to explain what happens afterwards, but due to the short time that remains for the current administration, that is likely moot. That section of the 25th Amendment has never been used, and no vice president has ever been declared an 'Acting President.' Again, to trigger this section, a majority of Cabinet members — all of whom are nominated by the sitting president — have to agree to declare him as 'unable to discharge' his duties. That is not likely to happen anytime soon."
Other terms that have been used — like banana republic, coup, and putsch — may be fun to say but have no legal definition.
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.”
____
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.