For advocates of restoring voting rights to felons, nothing on the ballot next week is more important than the tossup race for governor of Kentucky.
The Democratic challenger, state Attorney General Andy Beshear, has used the closing days of the campaign to emphasize his promise to flex the governor's executive muscle to restore the franchise to about 5 percent the state's population — about 140,000 people out of prison after serving time for nonviolent crimes.
The Republican incumbent, Matt Bevin, says that would be an abuse of the governor's powers and that the only way to restore criminals' voting rights is by amending the state constitution, but he has declined to commit himself to pushing that cumbersome process if he wins a second term.
Kentucky and Iowa are the only states that permanently disenfranchise all felons unless the governor grants a reprieve. Bevin has done so in about 1,200 cases. But that is a tiny fraction of the 240,000 people who have completed their sentences but may not vote.
One-quarter of them are African-American, the biggest share of disenfranchised black people in any state according to the Sentencing Project, which advocates for reducing racial disparities in the criminal justice system.
Virginia's law is almost as strict as Kentucky's but its current and previous governors, Democrats Ralph Northam and Terry McAuliffe, respectively, acted unilaterally to broadly restore voting rights. The result has been a boost in turnout that has benefitted the Democrats' resurgence in the state. A similar move seems unlikely to turn Kentucky blue, but it could make the state somewhat more purple.
Beshear's campaign promise is an echo of the executive order issued by his father, the state's last Democratic governor, just before he left office at the end of 2015. Burt Steve Beshear's decision was reversed by Bevin just weeks later.
The governor has declined to say what he would do if he wins a second term and the solidly Republican Legislature musters the required 60 percent supermajority for putting a constitutional amendment on the statewide ballot. Such a bill is likely to get votes in Frankfort next year but passage is considered a decided longshot.
And Beshear has not specified how he would define a "nonviolent" offender or when he would judge that person's sentence as having been complete.
In the interim, a lawsuit by the Fair Elections Center and the Kentucky Equal Justice Center argues the state's system for putting voting rights restoration in the hands of the governor is unconstitutionally arbitrary.
The conventional view is that the restoration of felons' voting rights is on the rise, especially since the historic referendum in Florida last year promised to get as much as 1.7 million ex-convicts back to the voting booth. But, in fact, the roster of states that have enacted tougher felon disenfranchisement laws is much greater. In the two decades ending in 2016, the number of people who were unable to vote because of felony convictions grew 85 percent, to 6.1 million, according to the Sentencing Project.




















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.