Goldstone is the author of the forthcoming "Not White Enough: The Long Shameful Road to Japanese American Internment."
Democrats who had been gleefully lapping up the unfolding story of what they hoped would be Donald Trump’s impending indictment for absconding with of hundreds of classified documents after he left the White House have been brought up short by the revelation that Joe Biden, albeit on a much smaller scale, might have done precisely the same thing. In the wake of that disclosure, Democrats have, predictably, been scrambling to draw a distinction between the episodes, while Republicans, predictably, are chortling “gotcha.” Each is correct, depending on how the facts are viewed.
Legally, the two incidents are certainly different. In Trump’s case, he intentionally packed up a trove of the nation’s most secret material, had it shipped off to Mar a Lago, and then stored it in a manner akin to a family hanging on to old photo albums. Then, rather than simply return the material when asked to do so, he first had his minions lie about the extent of his pilferage and, after ignoring numerous official requests for the documents’ return, forced the Justice Department to obtain a warrant and then conduct an early morning raid to search Trump’s office and residence.
That Trump was aware that he had taken the documents illegally and refused to hand them back is not in question. Despite speculation that he intended to profit in some way, perhaps by selling them to an unfriendly power, Trump did not seem to have any nefarious motive—he just wanted them in the same way a small child will insist on keeping a toy he or she no longer plays with. Still, given the ease with which a wandering visitor to Palm Beach could access state secrets, he could be charged under the Espionage Act, a vague, catch-all prohibition that was enacted after the United States entered World War I to stifle dissent, as well as with obstruction of justice, which would be much easier to prove in court.
The circumstances under which the Biden documents were deposited at both the Penn Center and the Biden Garage are less clear. Biden has claimed to have been unaware of their existence and there is no proof or even an indication that he is being less than honest. And, rather than refuse to return the documents once they were uncovered, Biden’s lawyers informed the Justice Department almost immediately after they were stumbled across during a routine search of the Penn Center, followed by a more frantic search of the garage.
As such, Biden, who seemed never to make use of the documents or even look at them, would be immune to an obstruction of justice charge. Given the small number, he might even be absolved entirely if a chain of custody can be established in which he was neither a party nor had knowledge.
Politically, however, the conclusions are far different. While in the duel of legality, Biden comes out ahead, in the duel of calumny, Republicans win handily. To counter the notion that Biden was innocent and unaware, they point to the delay with which the discovery of the initial store of documents was made public, and then that there were more documents in the garage than first reported. That Biden initially refused to answer reporters’ questions, they insist, is proof of his culpability. If Biden is not charged criminally and Trump is, Republicans will scream foul and a good portion of the country will believe them.
Of perhaps the greatest significance, however, is that the documents scandal reinforces long-held perceptions of both men. That Trump will skirt the boundaries of the law and often stray over them is disputed by almost no one outside his most willfully blind supporters. Be it avoiding taxes, filing convenient bankruptcies, making payoffs to strippers, stiffing contractors, or running businesses that are thinly disguised con games, Donald Trump, when the niceties are stripped away, is precisely what Richard Nixon denied being—a crook.
Biden, on the other hand, is widely seen as a sympathetic figure who has endured enormous personal tragedy, but whose mental acuity might well be fading, something of a brain-addled grandfather. Even in earlier days, Biden always seemed to get in his own way, either with an unfortunate remark or doing something, well, dumb, which called his judgment into question. He often seemed tone deaf to social changes and had to be dissuaded from touching everyone he came in contact with, especially women. (Trump also needed to be dissuaded from touching women, but for a different reason.)
Where Trump is a crook, then, Biden is a fumbler.
But these perceptions do not fall equally, but rather are a disadvantage for Democrats. Many who voted for Biden in 2020 did so despite the fear that he was in cognitive decline. Had he been up against a less polarizing figure, that caricature might well have done him in.
On the other hand, many of those who voted for Trump did so because he was a crook. They saw his dishonesty as a political statement, sticking a thumb in the eye of government bureaucrats, similar to carrying a loaded weapon in public, or refusing to wear a face mask during the pandemic. To his supporters, Trump’s unwillingness to abide by the law or conform to long accepted social and presidential norms meant…freedom. That a narcissistic serial adulterer and tax cheat with virtually no loyalty to anyone but himself personifies liberty to a large segment of the American public is one of the two inescapable ironies in this affair.
The other is that by-and-large Biden has governed quite well. After great initial skepticism that his administration would get nothing accomplished, he made good on his promise to seek bipartisanship and succeeded in getting an impressive amount of highly significant legislation passed. The Biden administration has not been a series of unbroken successes to be sure—it grossly mishandled the Afghanistan withdrawal—but that could be balanced against a nothing short of brilliant handling of the Ukraine war.
The country noticed. After more than a year under water, Biden’s approval ratings crept up and talk of him running for re-election was no longer accompanied by a resigned sigh. The polls agreed. In 2020, the Fumbler defeated the Crook, and until the Penn Center discovery, he seemed certain to be able to do it again. But now, a 2024 rematch might have a different ending, as would a race against a different opponent.
If so, Biden will have fumbled away a hard-fought for opportunity.




















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.