William Natbony is an attorney and business executive specializing in investment management, finance, business law and taxation. He is the author of The Lonely Realist, a blog directed at bridging the partisan gap by raising questions and making pointed observations about politics, economics, international relations and markets.
In writing “The Truly Supreme Court” earlier this month, I speculated about the possibility of chaotic consequences that necessarily would follow from Moore v. Harper should the Court endorse the “state legislature theory” and determine that a state legislature has the Constitutional authority to set the rules for federal elections even if those rules violate the state’s constitution. Last week, the Court rejected that “fringe theory” and news outlets have focused on that rejection. However, the politics of the Court’s majority and dissenting opinions deserve a closer look.
Determining what the Constitution means is not a straightforward task. Lawyers and judges can debate Constitutional questions ad nauseam without reaching consensus, pointing to different interpretations based on subtle wording differences, the writings of the Founders (including Federalist Papers’ authors Madison and Hamilton), eminent law professors, and illustrious Court historians. Court decisions therefore often are a matter of the justices’ predispositions, whether philosophical or political. Although the nine Supreme Court justices are (or are supposed to be) Constitutional scholars, each is a human being with personal views of how the Constitution, and hence America, should function. The Court operates accordingly.
The Moore Court split 6-3 in ruling that North Carolina’s legislature could not gerrymander electoral districts in violation of North Carolina’s constitution. Chief Justice Roberts wrote the majority opinion, joined by the three liberal justices, plus Justices Kavanagh and Barrett. As Chief Justice, Roberts selected himself as the author of this seminal opinion so that he could choose the appropriate words to address and resolve issues of jurisdiction, Federalism, states rights and the role of the Supreme Court. Today’s Supreme Court after all is “The Roberts Court” and, throughout his tenure as Chief Justice, Roberts has been sensitive to his legacy. The dissent in Moore was written by Justice Thomas, who was joined by Justices Alito and Gorsuch. Justice Thomas vociferously disagreed with every aspect of the majority opinion in a biting dissenting opinion.
The way the Supreme Court operates is that the nine justices individually review both sides’ written and oral arguments, after which the justices meet, indicate where each stands, and discuss the ensuing process. The nature of the majority and dissenting opinions in Moore suggests that the Chief Justice took the lead, perhaps persuading a majority of the justices to join him. The dissenters accordingly focused their dissent on the reasons why the Court should not have decided the case in the first place.
In writing for the majority, Chief Justice Roberts first had to explain why the Court had jurisdiction. An intervening decision by the North Carolina Supreme Court seemingly had made a Supreme Court decision unnecessary – in legal terms, “moot.” Although the majority determined that the Court indeed had jurisdiction (using a somewhat convoluted analysis), Justice Thomas’ cogent dissent makes a persuasive case for mootness…, but then, had the dissenters obtained a majority, they might have analyzed the mootness facts differently. The Chief Justice then engaged in a comprehensive historical analysis that convincingly rejects the state legislature theory, holding that, “The Elections Clause [of the Constitution] does not insulate state legislatures from the ordinary exercise of state judicial review…. A state legislature may not ‘create congressional districts independently of’ requirements imposed ‘by the state constitution with respect to the enactment of laws.’” The Moore decision therefore resoundingly closes the door on the possibility of state legislatures overruling federal authority with respect to national office elections.
As I noted earlier this month, “if the Court had upheld the North Carolina legislature’s unfettered power to interpret election laws, all 50 States’ legislatures would be free to violate their own constitutions to set voting rules and allow their legislatures to use partisan criteria to gerrymander voting maps. That would have created quite a 2024 election scenario!” It is far better for American democracy that the Court eliminated this additional source for partisan conflict by rejecting the “state legislature theory,” which presumably was precisely the Chief Justice’s intention.




















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.