Jonah Goldberg Tribune Content Agency
August 6, 2026 - 9:00 pm
In January, The New York Times asked President Donald Trump whether determination had any limits tied to his planetary powers. “Yeah,” the president responded, “there is 1 thing. My ain morality. My ain mind. It’s the lone happening that tin halt me.”
That remark was made eight months ago, but the recent release of Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of *The Odyssey* has revived interest in Greek literature. Before the film’s run concludes, I would like to discuss hubris.
Today, the term mostly signifies excessive pride or arrogance, which captures part of the Greek understanding, though the original meaning was richer and more precise. Hubris denoted an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, typically because the transgressor claimed abilities or authority reserved for divine beings.
Nolan reinterpreted and slightly altered the concept of xenia for his film, labeling it “Zeus’ law.” In his version, mortals ought to obey the rules set by the gods, specifically the injunction to treat strangers with respect, lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris represents the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris displayed by the suitors, and at times by Odysseus himself, invites punishment from the gods and their mortal agents.
This brings me back to Trump. His claim that no constraints exist on his personal power to dictate events on the world stage ranks among the most striking expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s assertion was demonstrably false when he made it. He pledged to end the Russia‑Ukraine war within 24 hours. He has shown himself unable to achieve that. If he possessed divine powers to enact his will, why would he have hesitated to impose his tariffs so frequently that Wall Street coined the “TACO trade” phrase for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump ever chickens out.”
Why, then, would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China—from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to permitting them to purchase significant and extraordinarily valuable semiconductor chips?
Nevertheless, Trump viewed his capture of Venezuelan strongman Nicolás Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles with the same effect as Zeus’s lightning bolts. He believed he was the most almighty man who had ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, as the Iran situation appeared to be progressing, Trump handed a document written by “Presidential Historian David King” to Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan, asserting that he was “the most almighty individual to have ever walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King likened 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. Numerous such men believed they were the most almighty individuals in the world.
And many were defeated precisely because they held that belief.
At least Napoleon and Hitler enjoyed a series of genuinely impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by forces far less formidable than the combined might of the World War II allies or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is merely a moderate power, yet the regime’s capacity to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or intellect. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not served as a significant restraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they have not—and will not anytime soon—because the regime’s tolerance for suffering far exceeds Trump’s. The combined effect of soaring oil prices, outrage among Gulf potentates, dwindling ammunition supplies, and domestic unpopularity is performing the work that international law, legislative oversight, and the consensus of foreign‑policy experts cannot or will not accomplish.
If I regarded Trump as more heroic than the facts permit, I might say his Sisyphean predicament carries the whiff of Greek tragedy. Trump is frustrated by the Iranians’ refusal to grant deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory—lending new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people weary of winning. It is almost as though they are out‑Trumping Trump.
Things might have improved had he heeded the warning of the great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of an arrogant tongue.”
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His X handle is @JonahDispatch.