Goldstone’s most recent book is "On Account of Race: The Supreme Court, White Supremacy, and the Ravaging of African American Voting Rights."
There is an old bit of folklore in which Canada Bill Jones, a 19th century gambler, was asked why he was playing in a game he knew was crooked. “Because it’s the only game in town,” he was said to reply. The same response might be elicited today from Democrats in Utah, and possibly in Wyoming.
In Utah, faced with the almost certain reelection of Sen. Mike Lee, an election-denying, Trump-worshiping, conspiracy-promoting archconservative, Democrats chose not to put forward their own candidate but rather endorse another conservative, Evan McMullin, for the seat. In a state that Donald Trump carried by 20 points, even Lee’s texts to former White House chief of staff Mark Meadows encouraging the overturn of the 2020 presidential election would not persuade freedom-loving, rule-of-law Utah Republicans to vote for a Democrat.
McMullin, however, just might be a different story. A former CIA officer and one-time Republican who mounted a quixotic, independent anti-Trump presidential campaign in 2016, McMullin got less than 1 percent of the vote nationally, but more than 20 percent in Utah. Unlike Lee, he has come out favoring voting rights legislation, opposing partisan gerrymandering, toughening ethics rules, endorsing clean air and water legislation, and eliminating dark money in politics. In accepting the Democratic endorsement, McMullin said, “I’m humbled and grateful to the Democratic delegates today for their decision to support this growing cross-partisan coalition. Today, and moving forward, this coalition represents a majority of Utahns who want to replace Senator Mike Lee. He is a threat to the republic and consistently fails to represent our interests and our values.”
But McMullin is no liberal — he might not even qualify as a centrist. He favors beefed-up military spending, reduced spending in other government sectors, balanced budget legislation and increased border security. He was unabashedly anti-abortion but has moderated that position by admitting that the repeal of Roe v. Wade would spark a health care crisis.
In fact, since his acceptance of Democratic support in April, many of McMullin’s more conservative positions have softened. But that, after all, is the point. Although many of McMullin’s priorities will remain anathema to the left, especially the far left, in running a campaign that is coalition-based, he must respect the needs of all its members. That means that if McMullin enters the Senate, a door that was regularly slammed in the face of Democrats will now be open. Lee, on other hand, is beholden only to the extreme right.
Even with Democratic support, McMullin faces a difficult campaign — but not an impossible one. Although the 877,000 Republican registered voters dwarf the 234,000 for Democrats, almost 475,000 Utah voters are registered as non-aligned. If McMullin can peel away even a fifth of the registered Republicans, persuade Democrats to vigorously back him, and win a decent chunk of independents, he has a chance for a major upset. At the very least, he has forced Lee to run a genuine campaign in which at some point he will be forced to answer for his post-election behavior, including texts to Meadows favoring the submission of alternate slates of pro-Trump electors on Jan. 6, 2021.
To date, Lee has been able to oil his way by with not very persuasive denials to friendly media outlets. “At no point in any of those [tweets] was I engaging in advocacy,” Lee protested to the Deseret News. “I wasn't in any way encouraging them to [submit alternate slates of electors]. I just asked them a yes or no question.” If, however, the race polls closely enough that Lee is forced to agree to debates, McMullin will be far less accepting of a statement that has been refuted by Lee’s own communications with a fellow conspirator.
In Wyoming, another previously Darth Vader-esque conservative, Rep. Liz Cheney, is facing likely defeat in the Republican primary to retain her seat. In the latest polls, Cheney trails Trump-backed Harriet Hageman by more than 20 points. Hageman has made certain there can be no doubt as to her subservience to the idolatry-demanding Trump. “He was the greatest president of my lifetime, and I am proud to have been able to renominate him in 2020. And I’m proud to strongly support him today.”
Her other positions are less clear other than vague assurances that she, not Cheney, is the true conservative in the race. But positions are not important — the lead entry on her website is simply “Donate Now to Defeat Liz Cheney.”
Cheney, as unlikely a hero to the left as is possible to imagine, has been actively soliciting Democrats to switch party registration to vote for her in the August primary. If that does not work, she may well run in November as an independent. (In 2010, Lisa Murkowski lost a primary to a Tea Party Republican but won the general election with a write-campaign.) Unlike in Utah, Wyoming’s Democrats, who have even a larger registration deficit, are not flocking to Cheney’s side. Wyoming Democratic Party spokesman Dean Ferguson condemned Cheney for consistently voting with Trump. “She doesn’t share our values,” he harrumphed.
For Cheney to win, she will need a larger segment of Republican voters than McMullin and an extremely robust turnout among Democrats, who often do not even bother to put up candidates for state office. Ferguson does not seem to have grasped that a principled conservative congresswoman with whom he shares little ideological ground is better than one with no real principles and a similar ideological disconnect.
Whether McMullin and Cheney win, they have introduced an interesting wrinkle to the political process. In deep-red states such Alabama or Mississippi, Democrats have no hope of one of their candidates defeating even the most extreme Republicans. But in each of those states, as well as a number of others, including Mitch McConnell’s Kentucky, Democratic and Republican voter registration is a good deal closer – and in some cases, as in Kentucky, almost identical.
Many Democrats will blanch at the prospect of voting for a conservative, but it will be a good deal easier to bridge the ideological divide in Congress if the first steps are taken before elections.




















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.