Molineaux is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and president/CEO of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
Last week, a friend of my partner’s killed himself. The friend was part of a national community of disc golfers with hundreds or thousands of friends around the nation. He was the second in six weeks to be suddenly gone, having slipped away before anyone realized he was at risk.
Since 2020, there has been a noticeable increase of mass shootings. I don’t know their individual stories, but the shooters largely fit into a profile of lashing out while battling internal demons and/or indoctrination by an extreme ideology. And of course, they are 99.9% men.
Over the past weekend I participated in a meditation retreat where we were talking about archetypes and archetypal patterns. The topic of the patriarchy came up, and a woman noted that the shadow aspect of the patriarchy is worthlessness. And “it” clicked.
That “it” is an examination of how men - in general - are trapped in a system that promises a male-dominated society, where men are privileged, hold power and are in exchange, responsible for societal welfare. There is no release valve.
The reality that we are shifting away from patriarchy to something not yet defined, is resulting in a crisis of meaning and purpose for men, in general. How can they be responsible for societal welfare? What is the purpose of men in our new society?
I love men. Yet I find them as a generalized group, perplexing. Most men will tell me they are simple. They want to make people in their lives happy (or if ambitious, society at large). They like to compete. They always tell me they are really big jerks (using stronger language). That has not been what I’ve experienced with men in my life.
The men in my life have filled many roles. First was my protective father; I wish everyone had such a dad. Then came a step-father, boyfriends, lovers, husbands and work colleagues. Some have protected me when I needed it. Others have been emotionally distant or empty, leaving my needs unfulfilled until I became self-sufficient. Others challenged my thinking, my sense of self. Yet others were abusive; emotionally and physically. Through it all, I never stopped to consider how they felt about their life, their sense of purpose. I only reacted in my own self-interest. From all of them, I learned. A lot.
In general, men have become the go-to scapegoat and held responsible for the social systems in which we find ourselves. Yet none of the men I know set up the system. They have suffered, too. Our society doesn’t grant permission for men to suffer because the patriarchy promises them the “privilege” to which others aspire.
This is wrong of us who are not men. Anyone can suffer. Any. One. Of. Us.
For too long now – centuries – we’ve seen the shadow side of patriarchy (worthlessness, acted out at self and others) as the word itself has become synonymous with abusive power. We’ve seen the perversion within many faith traditions as too many people tell stories of abuse at the hands of spiritual leaders. Hierarchy - sacred order - has become synonymous with abusive power, too. And matriarchy has been relegated as a primitive form of culture, unable to compete with the demands of modern life.
Our democratic republic, for all its flaws, was a new order in the eighteenth century. How might we update our governance to be a new order for the 21st century? That’s what we need.
What my heart cries out for – longs and yearns for – is a new order. A humanistic sacred order, that allows for the dignity of all people and prevents harm by those granted power to govern.
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.