Audi Hecht is the Director of Education and Innovation at Civic Spirit.
Labor Day provides one final chance to savor the expansive joys of summer. Established as a day to celebrate the contributions of American workers and trade unionists, it became a federal holiday in 1894 after securing homage in many states across the nation. When contemplating Labor Day's modern significance through a 21st-century lens, a multitude of avenues for exploration becomes apparent.
First and foremost, it's essential to understand the evolving landscape of work in America. The origins of Labor Day coincide with the introduction of the Omaha Platform in 1892. This platform proposed a comprehensive set of political and economic reforms in response to the extensive challenges emanating from rapid industrialization and urbanization, including injustices in labor practices and political corruption. The ideas put forth by the Populists during this time found fuller expression in the Progressive era, setting the stage for increased governmental oversight of industries and a profound shift in the national perspective regarding government intervention. This shift aimed to ensure that working conditions were no longer solely subject to the arbitrary choices of individual enterprises. Instead, it established benchmarks for fundamental working conditions, such as protective legislation for women, a ban on child labor, the creation of the Federal Department of Labor, and laws setting work hours and conditions. As a result, while some might envy the plush work environment and benefits provided to Google employees, the inhumane working conditions that workers around the world sadly endure are no longer acceptable within the United States.
The trajectory of work has been reimagined over the next century, creating transformative effects such as the development of the Rust Belt in areas of the Midwest and Northeast. The regional decay of once vibrant industrial hubs in the United States and the outsourcing of many work sectors led to the decline of these factory towns and gave rise to a substantial portion of the U.S. electorate who felt left out and left behind. Within these communities, there's a strong desire for acknowledgment of their challenges and proposals to rejuvenate their ailing townships and bolster morale. Nostalgia for an era when "Made in the USA" held more prominence than it does in today's globalized work environment serves to accentuate the contrasts and emerging realities.
Welcomed or not, the global pandemic reimagined the workspace in monumental ways, redefining where and how we work. The shuttering factory of yesteryear gave way not only to replacing the company cubicle with home work spaces but to the ways we think about being present at work and engaging with colleagues. Furthermore, it has catalyzed the emergence of a novel category of working professionals, a concept first introduced by author and sociologist Rosalind Williams. In her work "Retooling: A Historian Confronts Technological Change," Williams highlights the ascent of what she terms the "laptop class.” This category enjoys enhanced mobility and autonomy, granting them increased control over various aspects of work, work-life balance boundaries, and work culture. A study conducted by Pew Research in March 2023 found that 35% of U.S. workers are now working from home consistently, with 71% affirming that it has positively influenced their work-life balance. In contrast, 61% of U.S. workers lack the option to work remotely. This discrepancy highlights a societal divide concerning access to specific working arrangements and expands the conversation and implications on opportunities and access afforded to American workers.
As the Director of Education and Innovation for Civic Spirit, a non-partisan civics organization working with schools across faith traditions, teaching about the role of work in our nation’s history raises many topics for study, such as the progression of workers' rights, including efforts to secure equal pay for women amidst evidence of gross disparities, the impact of technological advancement, and the changing political realities in a converging business world to name a few. Cultural shifts and rifts often give rise to new challenges and promise. How do they bring new life to foundational freedoms, and do these changing realities propel a nation to think about securing them for all?
As we wave goodbye to the freshness of the summer aura this Labor Day, let us refresh our thought paradigms about work, its meaning, and the opportunities for progress they welcome.
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.