Trump’s Three Retreats

By Rich Lowry

Tuesday, June 23, 2026

 

President Trump has been musing about whether he’s the most powerful man in world history, and judging by the results lately, the answer is definitely no.

 

It’s certainly true that Trump has technical tools at his disposal that would have astounded famous pre-20th-century contenders for the title of most powerful man, whether Caesar, Alexander the Great, Charlemagne, or Napoleon.

 

Trump’s power, though, isn’t defined by, say, the precision and explosive punch of the Tomahawk missile. As the leader of a constitutional republic that disperses power and depends ultimately on democratic consent, Trump is operating under constraints that routinely blunt his ambitions.

 

If the theme of the first year of his second term was aggression on all fronts, his second year has so far been defined by significant retreats.

 

Late last year, Trump surged DHS forces into Minneapolis, seeking to make an example of the Twin Cities after Somali immigrants were implicated in welfare fraud schemes. When the operation was met by fierce opposition from city and state leaders and resistance in the streets, the Trump administration steeled itself for a gargantuan test of wills — before Trump, realizing he was losing the battle of political optics, sent Tom Homan to Minneapolis to unwind the operation.

 

Last month, the Department of Justice settled a $10 billion suit against the IRS by Donald Trump over the leak of his tax returns. The department agreed to create a $1.8 billion fund for the compensation of victims of Democratic lawfare, a slush fund for his allies, presumably including January 6 rioters. Faced with adverse legal rulings and opposition in the Senate, the administration abandoned the scheme that it had initially touted as a means to “right the wrongs that were previously done while ensuring this never happens again.”

 

Then, of course, Trump signed a cease-fire with Iran that wasn’t close to the “unconditional surrender” that he had once demanded. The 14-point agreement included more American than Iranian concessions, and Trump admitted that the Iranian closure of the Strait of Hormuz had forced his hand.

 

None of these were incidental initiatives. They all involved core commitments of this president — to mass deportation, to turning on its head the lawfare campaign against him, and to denying the Iranian regime a nuclear weapon.

 

They were also overreach that displayed a heedlessness born of hubris. Trump had already driven down overall migration when he surged into Minneapolis; already pardoned the January 6 rioters when his DOJ created the weaponization fund; and already struck a punishing blow against the Iranian nuclear program via Midnight Hammer when he launched Operation Epic Fury.

 

Trump isn’t one for incremental progress toward an objective. He prefers the grand gesture and big gamble. He’s drawn to the bridge too far when a drive a couple of blocks down the street would do just fine.

 

The worry about Trump was that he’d be unconstrained in his second term, and indeed, he’s fashioned a team that is loath to tell him no. But he’s subject to checks from the other branches of government and, even more, from routine political pressures.

 

There was nothing that formally compelled him to remove DHS forces from Minneapolis, or to relieve the military pressure on Iran, both of which were within his legitimate powers. It was the poor polling, and the potential damage to Republican prospects in the midterms, that obliged Trump to declare victory and go home.

 

The president may enjoy thinking of how he can do things that a Roman emperor never would have imagined, yet Marcus Aurelius wasn’t hypersensitive to how stories were playing in the mass media or to the latest public-opinion surveys.

 

As the creature of a democratic republic, Trump inherently is, which is one reason that it’s been a year of retreats. Trump surely doesn’t think of it that way. As General Oliver Smith put it during the Korean War, he’s merely attacking in a different direction — although not the one he’d intended.