Meyers was the founding publisher and executive editor of The Fulcrum.
Four years ago, I helped launch The Fulcrum because American democracy deserved more than it was getting from the media. The world of political journalism (to which I had belonged for more than 20 years) was heavily focused on winners and losers, and to a lesser extent on policy making. But there was little, if any, coverage of how the system works (or, rather, doesn’t) and how it could be improved.
So when Issue One’s Nick Penniman explained to me his vision for a platform designed to cover efforts to improve the political system – to serve both as a trade publication and an amplifier for the work being done by the 100-plus organizations working on political reform and reducing polarization – I eagerly took on the challenge of building what would become The Fulcrum.
On Dec. 31, I completed my run at The Fulcrum. There are people to thank and stories to celebrate, but here I want to share what I’ve learned.
Our initial mission statement included this passage:
While rooting for our democratic institutions to get stronger, we have no rooting interest in any of the prescriptions out there. Our journalistic role is to help you by bringing a clear and unbiased eye to the debates.
As I would often put it in my elevator pitch, we believe the system can get better and we’re going to explain how that can happen without advocating for specific reforms. And while I still believe that was the right journalistic approach, I also have a realist’s appreciation for which ideas have the best chance to succeed. That’s why the very first piece we published, authored by David Hawkings, made clear that the Democrats’ signature bill, the For the People Act, was not going to become law as long as Republicans retained the power to block legislation in the Senate. And despite various iterations and efforts at compromise, that prediction held true.
But the ideas contained in that bill would drive our coverage: voting rights, redistricting, election security, government ethics, campaign finance reform and more. And some reform ideas that showed momentum received more and more favorable coverage in The Fulcrum – ideas like ranked-choice voting, open primaries, independent redistricting commissions and eliminating “dark money.” Regardless of one’s partisan preferences, it’s hard to be cynical of ideas that bring more people into the political process – unless your goal is retaining power rather than embracing representative democracy.
And then came the Covid-19 pandemic, the 2020 presidential election, and the Jan. 6, 2021 attack on the Capitol – the preeminent symbol of our democracy.
Each of those events had profound effects on how states manage elections, with legislatures considering thousands of bills changing the rules covering voter registration, voter ID requirements, campaign funding, early voting and so much more. According to the Voting Rights Lab’s legislative trackers, state lawmakers introduced more than 4,000 bills in 2021 and 2023 that could have changed election laws. Nearly 400 of them were enacted.
I’m grateful for the work of the many organizations that helped keep track of state-by-state activity. Without tools like the VRL’s bill tracker, research from organizations such as the National Conference of State Legislatures and the on-the-ground reporting by local reporters, we would never have been able to publish important work like our “ Election Evolution ” series providing comprehensive coverage of election law changes in every state.
The raw numbers tell one story, but the state-by-state breakdown shows how the partisan divide has affected civic engagement. In most cases, blue states took steps to make it easier to vote while red states tightened the rules.
And yet, there have been a few (OK, very few) examples of how the parties can work together. I often point to Kentucky as a model for bipartisan compromise on democracy reform. While the state regularly supports Republican presidential candidates and has a GOP-dominated legislature, the voters elected Democrat Andy Beshear governor in 2019.
Rather than battling each other to a standstill on every issue, Beshear and Republican lawmakers found some common ground in 2021, agreeing on a law that both made it easier for people to vote and created new safeguards to ensure election integrity.
I’m thankful to the Bridge Alliance Education Fund, and specifically its leaders David Nevins and Debilyn Molineaux, who offered to keep The Fulcrum alive when we faced severe funding challenges in 2021. Their leadership and focus on expanding our coverage to better embrace the anti-polarization movement pushed me to widen my vision from structural reforms to the personal side of democracy.
It’s not enough to advocate for this reform or that one if the only people listening are those who already agree. We, the people, need to be able to talk – not scream – across the aisle. The question becomes, how do advocates for civil discourse mobilize enough people to make a difference. Nearly 40 Bridge Alliance member organizations – groups like the Civic Health Project, Convergence and Living Room Conversations – are working alongside others to achieve a critical mass. They introduced me to projects like America Talks, the National Day of Dialogue and the National Week of Conversation, efforts to foster conversations to break down the partisan barriers that have made the United States a country divided.
My time with The Fulcrum has ended (although my byline may still appear at times). But the work we have done here has changed me, opening my eyes to all that has been – and has yet to be – done to strengthen our nation. Our democracy depends on each of us to do better.
The Fulcrum’s original tagline was “News. Community. Debate. Levers for better democracy.” Let’s all keep working those levers together.




















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.