Hans Zeiger is president of the Jack Miller Center, a nationwide network of scholars and teachers committed to advancing the core texts and ideas of the American political tradition headquartered in Philadelphia.
We often hear about Americans’ declining knowledge of our system of government, but a new report by the University of Pennsylvania’s Annenberg Public Policy Center highlights just how dire our civics education problem has become.
Since 2013, the Annenberg Center has celebrated Constitution Day, September 17th, by administering an annual civics knowledge survey—and this year, the results should serve as a wake-up call, not only to teachers and professors, but to all Americans.
According to the Annenberg Center’s results, only five percent of U.S. adults can correctly name all five rights protected under the First Amendment (freedom of speech, worship, assembly, press, and petition). In fact, only nine percent of Americans even know of the existence of the right to petition. Worse, some 22% of citizens think that the right to bear arms is protected under the First Amendment, rather than the Second.
To be sure, the survey is not all bad news. It finds that 66% of Americans can name all three branches of government, which is, however shocking, a much higher proportion than in years past. The authors warn that due to changes in data collection methods, we cannot compare this year’s results to last year’s results—yet long-term data show that the portion of Americans able to name our three branches of government has been consistently growing.
But the reason for this growth in basic knowledge is concerning—it is most likely the result of a hyper-partisan political media diet, not the result of a growing interest in our civic history and institutions.
The sad reality is that while Americans have stronger political opinions than ever, they have never known less about our founding and our Constitution. In short, Americans have never known less about what makes them American. What makes us unique is not blood or soil or even religion; rather, the American Founding is about a new form of government based on the twin concepts of liberty and equality first laid out in the Declaration of Independence, and later brought to life in the Constitution.
Our government, Abraham Lincoln tells us, is “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” To have good government, we must thus ensure that the people have a firm grasp on both the how—and the why—of the functioning of our government. It’s not enough for Americans to know that there are three branches of government—they need to understand why we have three branches of government.
My organization, the Jack Miller Center, is dedicated to this mission. Since 2004, we have been advancing the work of educators who are committed to teaching the core texts and ideas of the American political tradition, because we believe that citizenship begins with “reflection and choice.” Indeed, at the Jack Miller Center, we believe that it is not just America’s birth that requires rational deliberation—it is also her continued existence. If our form of government and our way of life “shall not perish from the earth,” each generation of Americans must be invited to reflect upon the history and principles that make us exceptional, and then affirm them—and fight for them.
The path to American civic renewal depends on the wider dissemination of the great primary texts of our nation’s history. If you want a high-schooler to understand the Supreme Court, don’t explain the principle of judicial review, have them read the Lincoln-Douglas debates on the Dred Scott decision. If you want to teach a college freshman about how slavery fits into the American founding, don’t assign dueling perspectives from the 1619 Project and the 1776 Project, let them read Frederick Douglass’ speech on the relationship between slavery and the American Constitution.
Parents innately understand the importance of content-rich civics. My organization released a poll last year which found a vast majority of parents across the country – over 89 percent – believe that giving their children an education in America’s founding principles is “very important.” They want their kids to understand the ideas behind the Declaration of Independence and the Gettysburg Address. Unfortunately, though, politics is getting in the way; our poll found that over 61% of parents believe that their child’s school is promoting a political agenda. People clearly want change. The time is ripe for civic renewal.
Civic renewal starts with improving civic knowledge. It’s time to empower the next generation to take up the work of self-government with a rich understanding of the significance and fragility of the American political system. By expanding the teaching of our founding principles and history, from K-12 and beyond, we can foster a new generation of citizens “conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”




















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.