Brogan is a volunteer attorney for American Promise.
My family and I are nearing the end of a gap year in France. One highlight of this adventure was watching the French presidential election in April in which Emanual Macron beat Marine Le Pen by a 17-point margin. As an American, it was refreshing to see how a democracy runs a presidential election without spending billions of dollars.
By law, major presidential candidates in France may not spend more than 22.5 million Euros (about $25 million) on their campaigns. We in the United States have no such limits.
Joe Biden spent $1.6 billion to win the 2020 presidential election. That is 70 times more than Macron spent on his bid, yet the U.S. population is just five times larger than France’s. There is no end in sight to the amount of money in American politics. Biden spent three times more than Hilary Clinton did in 2016. One could argue that the high stakes in the 2020 election justified big spending, but that argument applies equally to France in 2022 when there is a war raging on two NATO borders to its east. The only reason France spends orders of magnitude less than the United States in its elections is because the French have limits.
Not only does French law limit the total amount a presidential candidate may raise and spend, the government reimburses nearly half (47.5 percent) of campaign expenditures. That means only half of election funding comes from private donors. The cap on the amount an individual can donate is larger in France (4,600 Euros), but in the United States wealthy individual donors can easily circumvent our $2,900 cap by making unlimited contributions to political action committees and parties that support their candidate.
In the United States, it is perfectly legal for corporations and unions to spend unlimited amounts of money to support a candidate. In France, corporate and trade union contributions are illegal. The U.S., like France, has disclosure requirements so the public can see who is funding campaigns, but there is a gaping loophole in U.S law due to our tolerance of corporate donations. Ultra-wealthy donors quickly learned to hide contributions behind the veil of political purpose nonprofit corporations known as 501(c)(4)s, which do not have to disclose their donors – so-called dark money. We simply do not know who is funding many campaigns and political causes in the United States.
Why la difference in these approaches to money and politics? France and the U.S. share the same democratic values. The principles of the French Republic etched above every government building – liberté, égalité, fraternité – are the French version of our founding values of liberty and equality with a dash of e pluribus Unum. Our separation of powers was an idea borrowed from a Frenchman named Montesquieu. Why is the free French Republic able to control campaign spending, when such limits are deemed unconstitutional in America?
Two major news stories circulating when we arrived in France expose the lie behind the reason why America cannot regulate big money in elections. The first story concerned a scandal from the 2012 presidential election in France. In September 2021, former President Nicholas Sarkozy was sentenced to a year of home confinement. His crime? Spending too much on his election campaign. To add insult, it was an election he lost to Francois Holland.
The other story was the mass protests against the government’s Covid restrictions. French citizens have the right to protest their government, just like Americans. Free speech is an essential component of la liberté. In America we have the First Amendment; in France, they have the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen. These stories, taken together, prove that a democracy can have limits on money in politics and free speech at the same time.
Over the past 40 years, while France and other democracies in Western Europe have adopted stricter campaign spending limits, the U.S. Supreme Court has taken America in the opposite direction by severely limiting lawmakers’ ability to set such limits. The court’s rationale is that money is speech and limits on money in our democracy, for any reason other than to prevent the crime of bribery, violate the First Amendment’s free speech clause. When I read the Sarkozy story alongside images of citizens exercising their free speech rights on the streets of Paris, I saw just how wrong the Supreme Court is on this issue.
Recently, the court in FEC v. Ted Cruz for Senate doubled down on its long-standing position. Writing for the majority, Chief Justice John Roberts struck down a limitation on donors paying off a winning candidate’s personal loans to their campaign – a practice long-considered a high risk for influence peddling – because it had “the impermissible objective of simply limiting the amount of money in politics.” In other words, the court does not care if our political system is awash in money and gives wealthy people an advantage over ordinary voters. We have free speech! Yet, as France proves, limiting money in politics and free speech are not mutually exclusive.
French law handles the conflict between speech and money by striking a balance between the democratic values of la liberte and la equalite. One value is not more important than the other. The French believe strongly that candidates and citizens have a right to speak to voters – $25 million is not nothing – but they believe just as strongly in creating as level a playing field as possible for candidates and ideas. Money creates an advantage, so it must be limited. The U.S. Supreme Court, by contrast, believes that liberty under the free speech clause trumps an equal opportunity for candidates or ideas in our political system. Roberts explicitly rejected the concept of a level playing field in a 2014 case that opened the floodgates to unlimited contributions from individuals to political parties and PACs, writing: “No matter how desirable it may seem, it is not an acceptable governmental objective to ‘level the playing field,’ or to ‘level electoral opportunities’ or ‘equaliz[e] the financial resources of candidates.’”
The court’s decades-long perversion of the First Amendment’s free speech clause gives Americans with the most money a constitutionally sanctioned advantage in our political system. As a result, America is now a plutocracy – a government run by the wealthy. Most of the money in our elections comes from less than half of 1 percent of the population, a majority of whom reside in a dozen wealthy ZIP codes. A plutocracy is not government by We the People.
An overwhelming majority of Americans think it is bad for the wealthy to have too much influence in Washington. But how can we pass laws that regulate money in politics when the Supreme Court says they are unconstitutional? There is only one answer. Amend the Constitution. Give lawmakers the power to regulate money in politics. The First Amendment would be protected, but the Supreme Court would have to balance it against the express authority given to lawmakers by the For Our Freedom Amendment to limit the amount of money in American politics.
Article V of the Constitution, covering the power to amend, gives the American people the ultimate say in how we want to be governed. It is not easy to amend the Constitution but we have done so 27 times before. The Article V process was designed to be difficult so that changes to the Constitution are made only when there is overwhelming crosspartisan support from American lawmakers and voters. Polling demonstrates such a level of agreement that money should not provide an advantage in American politics. Three-fourths of Americans, including 88 percent of Democrats and 66 percent of Republicans, support an amendment to get big money out of our politics.
Let’s harness this consensus to pass the For Our Freedom Amendment. My experience observing French politics this year convinced me that the Supreme Court is wrong. Money is not the same as speech. Money destabilizes our political system by giving candidates and ideas backed by big money an advantage. France is proof that a democracy can have both a free exchange of ideas and a level playing field.




















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.