Swearengin is an author, emotional & spiritual well-being coach, podcaster and content creator through his social media presence as Unconventional Pastor Paul. He talks religion and politics at times joined by his wife Ashley, a former elected official and community leader. Find him at Pastor-Paul.com.
Recently, I was taken aback by the need of many to defend country singer Jason Aldean's song Try That in a Small Town. Some spoke out against the song as a racist celebration of the type of vigilante violence once prevalent throughout the Jim Crow confederate south (you can see my video commentaries here and here.) Those defenders took a song that had languished on the ratings charts and drove it swiftly to the top.
However, the song's menacing lyric, "see how far you can get down the road" may have found an answer in the Montgomery, Alabama boat dock incident - now known euphemistically as the "Alabama Sweet Tea Party." Perhaps you've seen the video of a group of white men from a pontoon boat attacking a black boating officer. It did not go well for the white boaters as a large number of black Alabamans were able to get "far down the road" by jumping, sprinting and even swimming to the officer's defense.
For me, this incident, in light of that song and its vigorous defense, reverberated with the biblical concept of those "who live by the sword, die by it." Could it be that when we celebrate the idea of vigilante violence, we may find violence visited upon us? Particularly when we disregard that violence often becomes the only perceived recourse when historically oppressed peoples become fed up with injustice.
At a time when our culture wars include the teaching of American history in schools, it might be worth examining this song and incident as an indicator that we need a robust discussion of wrestling with the worst parts of our history, rather than feeling defensive about them?
This history is very real. My own father grew up in a small midwestern town the type of which were known as "Sundown Towns." Each main entrance to that small town had signs warning "'N-word' (pejorative term for black person,) don’t let the sun go down on your heels in (name of town.”) The signs implied a threat to "see how far you get down the road" for anyone planning an overnight stay without fitting into the homogenous norm of those who "take care of our own."
Sadly, when we forget such a history - or act defensive to it - we can perpetuate those mindsets even today. Years ago, I was sharing with a friend concerns about decades of poverty and economic division in our home city of Fresno, CA.“I love it here,” he responded, “I always tell people that Fresno’s a small town with great people who take care of each other" (note: this was his exact response, I didn't tweak that to parallel with the song.)
I reminded my friend that Fresno actually is a city of more than 500,000 people, not a small town. I also reminded him that, in large part due to racial redlining (historically forbidding people of certain races from purchasing land or living beyond a "red line" drawn on a map) some 350,000 of our citizens live in the southwestern parts of town and have life experiences far different than those who live on the northern end or in our northeastern white-flight suburb.
“I guess my view may be a little small,” my friend humbly concluded, admitting his "small town" mentality had caused blindness towards the plight of many of his fellow Fresnans. He is an example of how small town mindsets can insidiously affect a person who is not intentional about resisting it. And the melee in Alabama shows the impact of not.
It seems this all speaks to a need to remember our negative history, right alongside and as prevalent as that we view as glorious. It’s important that we don't forget what we're capable of doing when we become hard-hearted and closed down to the stories of others.
For many years, German children were required by law to learn about the holocaust and to visit a concentration camp memorial. The German people were heeding the warning attributed to former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill that “those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." Yet, many in Europe worry this history is slipping away from younger generations as a growing number of Europeans no longer are aware of this history and a rising numbers of those on each side of the Atlantic who deny its occurrence altogether.
Similar lack of remembrance is happening here in America. I live a mere five blocks from a place where, by executive order, many American citizens were placed behind barbed wire simply for being of Japanese heritage. One of the barracks of that camp stood and was utilized by a local business until just about 15 years ago. Yet, many Americans don't know the history pictured in a small memorial on that plot of land (now a traffic filled business district) of American soldiers, home on leave, visiting their families in that camp - people imprisoned as if they were not "our own" even as their offspring risked their lives for our country.
With this in our history, I struggle to understand why those of us in the more comfortable racial, economic, and religious classes aren't more willing to remember and openly discuss our past; both the good and the bad. Such discussions could cause us to rise from our seats when we see children of color mistreated at the border or we read about travel bans for particular religious groups and say "we will not repeat our history" and instead demand solutions from our leaders that account for the humanity of all people - even those we see as not "us."
I believe it should be a priority for us, especially if we consider ourselves a great country, to do the work of resisting a small town mindset so we can avoid the blinding insulation of living in a blinding bubble. Would it not be truly honoring our past heritage to demand we be a better people going forward? Could it be that an ongoing, honest assessment of ourselves will make us self aware and result in us being humanity loving people who don't need to be defensive about our past?
And could the result keep us from any compulsion to repeat old habits of threatening those we don't consider part of our "small town?"
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.