Annie Caplan (she/her) is a former librarian and currently the Libraries Partner for Living Room Conversations. She provides consulting, tools, and resources for libraries across the country to hold community conversations.
Cristy Moran (she/ ella) is the Adult Library Services Senior Consultant at the Colorado State Library. She is the librarian’s librarian, facilitating equitable access to resources to libraries across the state so that libraries can provide equitable access to resources to all members of their communities.
People may hear the word "library" and imagine librarians sitting behind a circulation desk, reading a book and telling patrons to be quiet. What many folks may not know, is that most of us are spending our days imagining ways to transform our communities from the inside out. Do you want to know what countless library staff are really doing behind the scenes? Coordinating activities and programs that draw neighbors into a shared space to enter in conversations, exchange ideas, ask questions, tell their stories, and - in short - talk. We’re dreaming up ways to foster shared experiences for our neighbors and then putting them into action with programs and events that showcase the vibrant communities in which we live and the hard work that goes into them. One of the cornerstone programs that we facilitate are community conversations.
Libraries have been described as “America’s most democratic institution” and they are. Public libraries are a reflection of the communities, their values and their needs. Libraries are natural gathering places for the public because they are situated in their communities and provide open, free, safe spaces to be. Libraries invite people from an array of lived experiences, backgrounds, perspectives, and beliefs to share space together and to engage in conversations where they can share their own stories, as well as listen to the stories of others. Libraries have unlimited potential to expand their community impact. When we bring our communities together in conversation, we connect people back to our shared humanity.
Throughout our collective time in the library world, we have organized, facilitated, and witnessed community conversations in libraries across the country. We are continually blown away by the understanding built, connections fostered, and relationships formed as these conversations unfold.
After holding a series of community conversations at her library, Josie Brockmann, Adult Services Librarian at Longmont Public Library, commented, “Nowadays, we may be even closer to bridging our divides because of the amount of people we can reach, the amount of different people we can meet, and people’s stories that we can hear that we never would have been able to hear before. For our national health, our spiritual health, and our individual health, we need to learn to talk to each other.”
When we engage in conversation with each other, we break down the walls that make us “other” and recognize our similarities, shared values, and common needs. When people tell their stories, we learn why they believe what they do. When we share our experiences, we come to see that even though we may have vastly different opinions about certain issues, we all want what’s best for our families and loved ones.
During these times of increasing polarization, community conversations in libraries continue to show us there is so much more that connects us than divides us. Conversations remind us that we’re in this together. We are each members of a bigger unit. We use the same roads. We shop at the same stores. We drink the same water.
We believe real, sustainable, cultural change starts from the ground up. We don't know how we as a society achieve racial and gender equity. We don't know how to reverse climate change and bridge the wealth gap. We don't know how to heal our nation's political divides or address the countless social and environmental issues facing our communities, nation, and world. But, we do know that if we want to stand a chance at changing things, we have to first talk about them. There is no better time than now for us to make a way for conversations in our communities - and libraries can play a revolutionary part.
National Week of Conversation (NWOC) encourages us to consciously show up and enter into conversation with one another. It is an opportunity for us to unite, connect, and heal together. Whether you are a library professional, patron, or fellow member of your community, you can learn more about getting involved at https://conversation.us/libraries/ or email annie@livingroomconversations.org.
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.