Kevin Frazier will join the Crump College of Law at St. Thomas University as an Assistant Professor starting this Fall. He currently is a clerk on the Montana Supreme Court.
Literacy has never been more important. Yet, state constitutional rights guaranteeing some version of a right to quality education—a right that must include the provision of the best literacy tools—have largely gone unrealized. Residents across more than a dozen states can and should call on their officials to fulfill their constitutional duty by funding and implementing programs with the greatest odds of producing literate students.
Literacy is more important today than ever before for two reasons: more content and more content creators. More people create more content in more varied forms than ever before — each day presents us all with a historic-amount of content to sort through. Illiterate individuals will inevitably find this task harder and will consequently struggle to navigate a content-saturated world.
As a result of this maelstrom of memes, and tempest of TikToks, and squall of social media posts—literacy today necessitates more than just being able to sound out words—in practice, literate individuals must also develop media literacy. Oxford defines media literacy as “the ability to critically analyze stories presented in the mass media and to determine their accuracy or credibility.” Without this additional skill, any content consumer will be blown around by the bias presented by an article, book, etc.
In theory, more than a dozen states mandate their governments realize the fundamental right to an education. Montana’s constitution includes the right to a “quality education.” California’s constitution identifies education as a fundamental right. State courts in several states have interpreted similar language as obligating education systems that provide students with the “[o]ral and written communication skills to enable students to function in a complex and rapidly changing civilization.”
These varied expressions of rights to education must include literacy—a prerequisite to most, if not all, formal education. Yet, the vast majority of states still rely on outdated approaches to teaching literacy. An approach referred to as “Science of Reading” when paired with resources to allow teachers and literacy coaches to master and deliver the content has proven to be the gold standard in literacy.
Too few states have formally implemented this approach despite its superiority over its alternatives. When Mississippi jointly required Science of Reading instruction and funded literacy coaches—its previously abysmal rate of childhood literacy jumped. After this change, the state achieved the greatest rate of reading gains in the nation.
Many state courts have shied away from enforcing the right to an education under their respective constitutions. These courts have made these rights into planes without jet fuel — theoretically capable of elevating individuals to their fullest potential, but practically useless. Decisions that have undermined the right to education have turned on judicial concerns of infringing on the legislature’s powers. Yet, not all courts have excused themselves from reminding the legislature of its obligations.
For example, in McCleary v. State, the Washington Supreme Court did not refrain from enforcing the right to an education. In that case, the court held that the legislature had not fulfilled its constitutional obligations with respect to education funding and initiated a period of supervision to monitor the legislature’s attempts to remedy their shortcomings.
It appears unlikely that other state courts will reverse their precedent and give wings to the right to an education. As evidenced by recent action in Indiana, state legislatures look to be a more promising source of action on literacy — specifically requiring that all districts use the latest tools and curriculums to assist aspiring readers and writers. The Hoosier State may soon mandate Science of Reading instruction across all districts. Bipartisan support for the mandate indicates that literacy initiatives can unite political adversaries.
Americans must be agnostic as to the source of the enforcement of the right to an education (and, by proxy, the right to receive excellent literacy instruction). But Americans can no longer be indifferent to persistent rates of low childhood literacy. Whether by legislation or litigation, we have a duty to give our children the best shot at becoming literate in a world that demands the evaluation and consumption of mountains of content.




















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.