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In the aftermath of the U.S. military strike that seized Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro on Jan. 3, the Trump administration has emphasized its desire for unfettered access to Venezuela’s oil more than conventional foreign policy objectives, such as combating drug trafficking or bolstering democracy and regional stability.

During his first news conference after the operation, President Trump claimed oil companies would play an important role and that the oil revenue would help fund any further intervention in Venezuela.

Soon after, “Fox & Friends” hosts asked Trump about this prediction.

“We have the greatest oil companies in the world,” Trump replied, “the biggest, the greatest, and we’re gonna be very much involved in it.”

As a historian of U.S.-Latin American relations, I’m not surprised that oil or any other commodity is playing a role in U.S. policy toward the region. What has taken me aback, though, is the Trump administration’s openness about how much oil is driving its policies toward Venezuela.

As I’ve detailed recently, U.S. military intervention in Latin America has largely been covert. And when the U.S. orchestrated the coup that ousted Guatemala’s democratically elected president in 1954, the U.S. covered up the role that economic considerations played in that operation.

By the early 1950s, Guatemala had become a top source for the bananas Americans consumed, as it remains today.

The United Fruit Company, based in Boston, owned more than 550,000 acres of Guatemalan land, largely thanks to its deals with previous dictatorships. These holdings required the intense labor of impoverished farmworkers who were often forced from their traditional lands. Their pay was rarely stable, and they faced periodic layoffs and wage cuts.

The international corporation networked with dictators and local officials in Central America, many Caribbean islands and parts of South America to acquire immense estates for railroads and banana plantations.

The locals called it the pulpo — “octopus” in Spanish — because the company seemingly had a hand in shaping the region’s politics, economies and everyday life. The Colombian government brutally crushed a 1928 strike by United Fruit workers, killing hundreds of people.

The company’s seemingly unlimited clout in the countries where it operated gave rise to the stereotype of Central American nations as “banana republics.”

In Guatemala, a country historically marked by extreme inequality, a broad coalition formed in 1944 to overthrow its repressive dictatorship in a popular uprising. Inspired by the anti-fascist ideals of World War II, the coalition sought to make the nation more democratic and its economy more fair.

After decades of repression, the nation democratically elected Juan José Arévalo and then Jacobo Árbenz, under whom, in 1952, Guatemala implemented a land reform program that gave landless farmworkers their own undeveloped plots. Guatemala’s government asserted that these policies would build a more equitable society for Guatemala’s impoverished, Indigenous majority.

United Fruit denounced Guatemala’s reforms as the result of a global conspiracy. It alleged that most of Guatemala’s unions were controlled by Mexican and Soviet communists and painted the land reform as a ploy to destroy capitalism.

United Fruit sought to enlist the U.S. government in its fight against the elected government’s policies. While its executives did complain that Guatemala’s reforms hurt its financial investments and labor costs, they also cast any interference in its operations as part of a broader communist plot.

It did this through an advertising campaign in the U.S. and by taking advantage of the anti-communist paranoia that prevailed at the time.

United Fruit executives began to meet with officials in the Truman administration as early as 1945. Despite the support of sympathetic ambassadors, the U.S. government apparently wouldn’t intervene directly in Guatemala’s affairs.

The company turned to Congress.

It hired well connected lobbyists to portray Guatemala’s policies as part of a communist plot to destroy capitalism and the United States. In February 1949, multiple members of Congress denounced Guatemala’s labor reforms as communist.

Sen. Claude Pepper called the labor code “obviously intentionally discriminatory against this American company” and “a machine gun aimed at the head of this American company.”

Two days later, Rep. John McCormack echoed that statement, using the exact same words to denounce the reforms.

Sen. Henry Cabot Lodge Jr., Sen. Lister Hill and Rep. Mike Mansfield also went on the record, reciting the talking points outlined in United Fruit memos.

No lawmaker said a word about bananas.

Seventy-seven years later, we may see many echoes of past interventions, but now the U.S. government has dropped the veil: In his appearance after the strike that seized Maduro this month, Trump said “oil” 21 times.

Aaron Coy Moulton is an associate professor of Latin American history at Stephen F. Austin State University in Texas and the author of “Caribbean Blood Pacts: Guatemala and the Cold War Struggle for Freedom.” This article was produced in collaboration with the Conversation.

President Trump seemed angry after the Senate voted last Thursday to pass a war powers resolution to the next stage, where lawmakers could approve the measure and seek to curb the president’s ability to wage war in Venezuela without congressional authorization.

Trump said that day that five Republican senators who supported bringing the measure to a vote — Susan Collins (Maine), Lisa Murkowski (Alaska), Rand Paul (Ky.), Josh Hawley (Mo.) and Todd Young (Ind.) — “should never be elected to office again.”

Why should he get so riled up about this, to the point where he could put his own party’s control of the Senate at risk in November? Even if this resolution were to pass both houses of Congress, he could veto it and ultimately be unrestrained. He did this in 2019, when a war powers resolution mandating that the U.S. military cease its participation in the war in Yemen was passed in both the Senate and the House. Many people think that such legislation therefore can’t make a difference.

But the president’s ire is telling. These political moves on the Hill can get results even before the resolution has a final vote, or if it is vetoed by the president.

The Trump administration made significant concessions before the 2019 resolution was approved by Congress, in an attempt to prevent it from passing. For instance, months before it was approved, the U.S. military stopped refueling Saudi warplanes in midair. These concessions de-escalated the war and saved tens of thousands of lives.

A war powers resolution is an act of Congress that is based on a 1973 law of the same name. That law spells out and reinforces the power that our Constitution has allocated to Congress, to decide when the U.S. military can be involved in hostilities.

The U.S. military raid in Caracas that seized Venezuela’s President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, is illegal according to international law, the charters of the Organization of American States and the United Nations, as well as other treaties to which the United States is a signatory. According to our own Constitution, the government violates U.S. law when it violates treaties that our government has signed.

None of that restrained the Trump administration, which has not demonstrated much respect for the rule of law. But the White House does care about the political power of Congress. If there is an expanded war in Venezuela or anywhere else that Trump has threatened to use the military, the fact that Congress took steps to oppose it will increase the political cost to the president.

This is likely one of the main reasons that the Trump administration has at least promised to make concessions regarding military action in Latin America — and who knows, possibly he did make some compromises compared with what had been planned.

On Nov. 5, the day before the Senate was to vote on a war powers resolution to halt and prevent hostilities within or against Venezuela by U.S. armed forces, Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth and White House counsel had a private briefing with senators.

They assured lawmakers that they were not going to have a land war or airstrikes in Venezuela. According to news reports, the White House counsel stated that they did not have a legal justification for such a war. It is clear that blocking the resolution was very important to these top officials. The day after that meeting, the war powers resolution was blocked by two votes. Two Republicans had joined the Democrats and independents in support of the resolution: Murkowski and Paul. That added up to 49 votes — not quite the needed majority.

But on Thursday, there were three additional Republicans who voted for the new resolution, so it will proceed to a final vote.

The war powers resolution is not just a political fight, but a matter of life and death. The blockade involved in the seizure of oil tankers is, according to experts, an unlawful use of military force. This means that the blockade would be included as a participation in hostilities that would require authorization from Congress.

Since 2015, the United States has imposed unilateral economic sanctions that destroyed Venezuela’s economy. From 2012 to 2020, Venezuela suffered the worst peacetime depression in world history. Real (inflation-adjusted) GDP, or income, fell by 74%. Think of the economic destruction of the U.S. Great Depression, multiplied by three times. Most of this was the result of the sanctions.

This unprecedented devastation is generally attributed to Maduro in public discussion. But U.S. sanctions deliberately cut Venezuela off from international finance, as well as blocking most of its oil sales, which accounted for more than 90% of foreign exchange (mostly dollar) earnings. This devastated the economy.

In the first year of Trump sanctions from 2017-18, Venezuela’s deaths increased by tens of thousands of people, at a time when oil prices were increasing. Sanctions were expanded even more the following year. About a quarter of the population, more than 7 million people, emigrated after 2015 — 750,000 of them to the United States.

We know that the deadly impact of sanctions that target the civilian population is real. Research published in July by the Lancet Global Health, by my colleagues Francisco Rodriguez, Silvio Rendon and myself, estimated the global death toll from unilateral economic sanctions, as these are, at 564,000 per year over the past decade. This is comparable to the worldwide deaths from armed conflict. A majority of the victims over the 1970-2021 period were children.

The Trump administration has, in the last few days, been moving in the direction of lifting some sanctions to allow for oil exports, according to the president’s stated plan to “run Venezuela.” This is ironic because Venezuela has for many years wanted more investment and trade, including in oil, with the United States, and it was U.S. sanctions that prohibited it.

Such lifting of sanctions would be a big step forward, in terms of saving lives of people who are deprived of food, medicine and other necessities in Venezuela, as a result of these sanctions and the economic destruction that they cause.

But to create the stability that Venezuela needs to recover, we will have to take the military and economic violence out of this campaign. There are members of Congress moving toward that goal, and they need all the help that they can get, before it’s too late.

Mark Weisbrot is co-director of the Center for Economic and Policy Research and author of “Failed: What the ‘Experts’ Got Wrong About the Global Economy.”

Now that I know how fond chatbots are of the em dash — the thing I just used to convey a thought that intruded on but is connected to the main sentence — I have a confession to make.

It’s in part my fault, apparently. Watch out for the semicolon, too; I sprinkle them like salt.

I’m one of those authors whose books AI ate for lunch a few years back, making us unwitting and unwilling contributors to the chatbot writing style, if you want to call it that. At some point I might get a check to pay me for a dozen years’ work on the three books it stole, but really, there’s no way to compensate for the fallout. AI seems to think — no, it can’t think, only shuffle what real people thought — that a machine can write as well as a person can. In the process of trying, it’s compromised the very tools we use.

I taught at Columbia Journalism School for 10 years, and was surprised to learn from a second-semester student that a first-semester professor had forbidden the use of the semicolon. It was sloppy, he said. Evidence of an indecisive mind. A better writer would find a more definitive way to punctuate the space between two thoughts.

He was tenured. I was an adjunct and surprised to find myself in the classroom at all, so I did what any decent writer does and succumbed to self-doubt. I write by ear — I worshipped another adjunct who insisted that all writing was musical — only to find that someone higher up the academic ladder believed I’d been doing it wrong, forever.

Then I did the other thing any decent writer does: I defended myself. Banning the semicolon seemed rather hard-line, I said. I joked about the possibility that our conflicting attitudes were gender-based. I softened my indignation with a reference to my West Coast woo-woo roots: Everything is related to everything, hence the semicolon, even though my childhood was spent in the decent and rule-bound Midwest.

I told my students that they should try what sounded right to them as long as they didn’t sacrifice clarity. There are lots of melodies out there.

But back to em dashes. I’ve just finished writing a book that’s as full of them as the other books I’ve written over 40-plus years, so I’m stymied by what to do next, because it seems my writing style now invites suspicion. I could go back through 63,000 words and change the em dashes to I don’t know what. Periods. Commas, which lose the half-beat hesitation a semicolon provides — and might splice together two independent clauses. Or colons, which are too emphatic. Or I could run a disclaimer on the title page: No AI programs were used in the creation of this book.

That, of course, puts me at greater risk. “The lady doth protest too much”: Some readers will assume that I did, in fact, collaborate with a machine.

Maybe we need a certification office whose logo would sit right above the publisher’s on a book’s spine, so that anyone who still bought books could tell at a glance if a human being consumed too much coffee and developed turtleneck in the service of storytelling. Even as I type, paranoia reaches out to tap me on the shoulder. Who’s certifying the certifiers to make sure they aren’t letting ChatGPT do the analysis?

By the way, the Copilot feature on Word, which I cannot turn off no matter what I try, just butted in to highlight “at a glance.” Readers would be better served, I’m told, if I used “briefly” or “immediately,” neither of which is exactly what I meant.

I worked with a magazine editor, in the very long ago, who seemed really to enjoy his work, particularly the part about choosing exactly the right word. We’d go through the almost-final draft, paragraph by paragraph, to address passages or even single words he felt were not quite right. I’d suggest a change or two and then surrender to insecurity, because this was early in the game for me, and I had a small case of impostor syndrome. Clearly he had the right word in mind, and whatever it was was OK with me.

His answer was always the same. This is your piece, he’d say, and I know you can come up with it. He’d repeat the point he thought I was trying to make, and I’d suggest a few more options until I hit the right one.

I’ve been grateful to him ever since, although now I hold him partly responsible for my willingness to use em dashes and semicolons.

When I found out about my Columbia colleague’s ban on semicolons, I checked a few books by favorite authors of mine and — lo and behold — found em dashes and semicolons galore and felt redeemed. Yes, I use them too often, and yes, I’ve occasionally done a punctuation reread to see if some of them are superfluous. I left all of them in this essay on purpose, so that commenters can complain about how many I use or accuse me of being a front for ChatGPT.

I’m not saying everyone needs to write without AI assistance. I’ve read about job seekers who use AI to thwart AI applicant-screening systems and am all for it, but that’s about survival tactics, not self-expression. I am saying we ought to value the human voice the way we value any other natural resource, and be wary of pretenders. But em dashes don’t prove that software wrote something. Affectless language, the lack of anything like a writer’s idiosyncratic style, is the dead giveaway that nobody’s home. Writing that’s as boring as your dullest relative was likely written by a chatbot that can’t see, hear, taste, smell, touch — or feel. Settle for that and we’re all the poorer for it.

Karen Stabiner is the author, most recently, of “Generation Chef: Risking It All for a New American Dream.”

In Springfield, Ill., in 1838, a young Abraham Lincoln delivered a powerful speech decrying the “ravages of mob law” throughout the land. Lincoln warned, in eerily prescient fashion, that the spread of a then-ascendant “mobocratic spirit” threatened to sever the “attachment of the People” to their fellow countrymen and their nation. Lincoln’s opposition to anarchy of any kind was absolute and clarion: “There is no grievance that is a fit object of redress by mob law.”

Unfortunately, it seems that every few years, Americans must be reminded anew of Lincoln’s wisdom. This week’s lethal Immigration and Customs Enforcement standoff in the Twin Cities is but the latest instance of a years-long baleful trend.

On Wednesday, a 37-year-old stay-at-home mom, Renee Nicole Good, was fatally shot by an ICE agent in Minneapolis. Her ex-husband said she and her partner encountered ICE agents after dropping off Good’s 6-year-old at school. The federal government has called Good’s encounter “an act of domestic terrorism” and said the agent shot in self-defense.

Suffice it to say Minnesota’s Democratic establishment does not see it this way.

Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey responded to the deployment of 2,000 immigration agents in the area and the deadly encounter by telling ICE to “get the f— out” of Minnesota, while Gov. Tim Walz called the shooting “totally predictable” and “totally avoidable.” Frey, who was also mayor during the mayhem after George Floyd’s murder by city police in 2020, has lent succor to the anti-ICE provocateurs, seemingly encouraging them to make Good a Floyd-like martyr. As for Walz, he’s right that this tragedy was eminently “avoidable” — but not only for the reasons he thinks. If the Biden-Harris administration hadn’t allowed unvetted immigrants to remain in the country without legal status and if Walz’s administration hadn’t moved too slowly in its investigations of hundreds of Minnesotans — of mixed immigration status — defrauding taxpayers to the tune of billions of dollars, ICE never would have embarked on this particular operation.

National Democrats took the rage even further. Following the fateful shooting, the Democratic Party’s official X feed promptly tweeted, without any morsel of nuance, that “ICE shot and killed a woman on camera.” This sort of irresponsible fear-mongering already may have prompted a crazed activist to shoot three detainees at an ICE facility in Dallas last September while targeting officers; similar dehumanizing rhetoric about the National Guard perhaps also played a role in November’s lethal shooting of a soldier in Washington, D.C.

Liberals and open-border activists play with fire when they so casually compare ICE, as Walz previously has, to a “modern-day Gestapo.” The fact is, ICE is not the Gestapo, Donald Trump is not Hitler, and Charlie Kirk was not a goose-stepping brownshirt. To pretend otherwise is to deprive words of meaning and to live in the theater of the absurd.

But as dangerous as this rhetoric is for officers and agents, it is the moral blackmail and “mobocratic spirit” of it all that is even more harmful to the rule of law.

The implicit threat of all “sanctuary” jurisdictions, whose resistance to aiding federal law enforcement smacks of John C. Calhoun-style antebellum “nullification,” is to tell the feds not to operate and enforce federal law in a certain area — or else. The result is crass lawlessness, Mafia-esque shakedown artistry and a fetid neo-confederate stench combined in one dystopian package.

The truth is that swaths of the activist left now engage in these sorts of threats as a matter of course. In 2020, the left’s months-long rioting following the death of Floyd led to upward of $2 billion in insurance claims. In 2021, they threatened the same rioting unless Derek Chauvin, the officer who infamously kneeled on Floyd’s neck, was found guilty of murder (which he was, twice). In 2022, following the unprecedented (and still unsolved) leak of the draft majority opinion in the Dobbs vs. Jackson Women’s Health Organization Supreme Court case, abortion-rights activists protested outside many of the right-leaning justices’ homes, perhaps hoping to induce them to change their minds and flip their votes. And now, ICE agents throughout the country face threats of violence — egged on by local Democratic leaders — simply for enforcing federal law.

In “The Godfather,” Luca Brasi referred to this sort of thuggery as making someone an offer that he can’t refuse. We might also think of it as Lincoln’s dreaded “ravages of mob law.”

Regardless, a free republic cannot long endure like this. The rule of law cannot be held hostage to the histrionic temper tantrums of a radical ideological flank. The law must be enforced solemnly, without fear or favor. There can be no overarching blackmail lurking in the background — no Sword of Damocles hovering over the heads of a free people, ready to crash down on us all if a certain select few do not get their way.

The proper recourse for changing immigration law — or any federal law — is to lobby Congress to do so, or to make a case in federal court. The ginned-up martyrdom complex that leads some to take matters into their own hands is a recipe for personal and national ruination. There is nothing good down that road — only death, despair and mobocracy.

Josh Hammer’s latest book is “Israel and Civilization: The Fate of the Jewish Nation and the Destiny of the West.” This article was produced in collaboration with Creators Syndicate. X: @josh_hammer

That escalated quickly. We’re barely into 2026, and events are already unfolding that could meaningfully reshape the political landscape.

The death of Renee Nicole Good, a 37-year-old mother and U.S. citizen who was shot and killed by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent in Minneapolis on Wednesday, has the potential to shake the political landscape in ways reminiscent of George Floyd’s killing in 2020.

The Trump administration initially claimed Good “weaponized her vehicle” in an act of “domestic terrorism,” an account that appears to be contradicted by video evidence. Whether the incident escalates into a broader political reckoning — or fades from public attention — may determine its lasting effect on President Trump’s popularity and his immigration policies.

Meanwhile, Trump’s decision to invade Venezuela and capture then-President Nicolás Maduro remains controversial, even among some of his fans.

The attack drew immediate criticism from Marjorie Taylor Greene, Tucker Carlson and Laura Loomer, with Carlson and Loomer going so far as to float the claim that Maduro’s ouster was really about imposing gay marriage on Venezuela (this is impressive, because it manages to combine foreign policy, culture war panic and complete nonsense into a single sentence).

But this schism isn’t limited to ex-House members, podcasters and conspiracy theorists. Inside the administration, the balance of power appears to be tilting away from the noninterventionists and toward the hawks — at least, for now.

The current beneficiary of this shift is Secretary of State Marco Rubio. As recently as last month, JD Vance, who has generally staked out an anti-interventionist posture, seemed like Trump’s obvious heir. Now, Rubio’s stock is up (if “Lil Marco” falls short, he can always settle for Viceroy of Venezuela).

That’s not to say Rubio is anywhere near being Trump’s clear successor. Venezuela could disappear from the headlines as quickly as it arrived, buried beneath the next crisis, scandal or social media outburst. Or it could go sideways and dominate headlines for years or decades.

Military adventurism has an uncanny habit of doing exactly that.

If Venezuela turns into a slow-motion disaster, Democrats will reap the benefits as will the GOP’s “America First” contingent.

But January hasn’t just presented a possible touchstone for Republicans; Democrats have been hit with their own challenge, too: the Minnesota fraud scandal, which has already pushed Democratic Gov. Tim Walz out of a reelection bid. It is the kind of story that reinforces voters’ worst suspicions about their party.

During the past five years, parts of Minnesota’s Somali diaspora became entangled in alleged fraudulent activity, reportedly submitting millions of dollars in claims for social services that were not actually rendered.

The details are complicated; the implications are not. Public programs retain support only when voters believe they are competently managed, and this story suggests the opposite.

The fact that the scandal involves the Somali community makes it even more combustible. Fair or not, it provides ready-made ammunition for those eager to stoke racial resentment, discredit refugee policies and turn bureaucratic failure into an indictment on Democrats.

The fallout extends well beyond Minnesota. Kamala Harris has been signaling interest in another presidential run, and Walz was her vice-presidential pick in what was already a truncated and awkward campaign. That decision alone won’t sink a future bid for her, but it certainly doesn’t strengthen her already dubious case that she has exceptional political judgment.

More troubling for Democrats is the fear that Minnesota is the tip of the iceberg. Walz’s exodus was sparked by a right-wing YouTuber who started doing some sleuthing — and brought attention to years-old investigations by the Walz and Biden administrations. Other influencers are already promising similar exposés elsewhere.

Right-wing podcaster Benny Johnson, for example, has announced plans to descend on California, declaring it “the fraud capital of the world.” Newsom returned fire with a vicious Trump-like retort, demonstrating once again why he became the Democratic frontrunner in 2025.

Newsom’s Twitter rejoinder aside, it’s not crazy to think that the Democrats’ recent momentum could be squandered if it turns out more of these scandals exist and have been ignored, downplayed or (worse) covered up.

It’s risky to describe anything in modern politics as a turning point, because each week reliably produces something that eclipses the last outrage. Still, the opening days of this new year already feel consequential. Seeds have been planted. Whether they mature is the question.

Buckle up. It’s only January.

Matt K. Lewis is the author of “Filthy Rich Politicians” and “Too Dumb to Fail.”

As we head into 2026 and Democrats try to figure out how to regain power, their New Year’s resolution should be simple: Manage egos better.

In recent years, they seem to have forgotten the time-tested necessity of placating people. In other words, doing the same basic drudgery the rest of us rely on to get through this chaotic world.

This effort cannot merely be directed toward voters, as important as they are. It must also include elite stakeholders, some of whom might (rightly) be considered kooks, weirdos and otherwise high-maintenance eccentrics.

Lest you think Dems should simply shrug off these folks and say “good riddance,” consider this: Both Trump terms might have been avoided if Democrats had been more willing to nurture the nuts in years gone by.

Let’s start with their treatment of America’s top crank: Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

As journalist Michael Scherer, who profiled RFK Jr. for The Atlantic, told Alex Wagner of “Pod Save America”: Once Kennedy’s own 2024 presidential campaign started to flounder, he and his campaign manager began “to make sort of outreach to Democrats … to see if they can open a conversation with Biden to sort of trade something.”

Unfortunately, “the Democratic response [was] silence.” They wouldn’t meet with him, they wouldn’t talk to him.

Later, as Scherer recounts: “A friend of [Kennedy’s] connects him with Tucker Carlson who connects him with Donald Trump. And that night, just hours later, they’re talking, and Trump at that point wants to make a deal.”

The rest is history.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “But Kennedy is a nut! Why should Democrats have humored him?”

How about this: Because Trump narrowly won the presidency in 2024 by forming a disparate coalition held together by duct tape, resentment and (possibly) a cursed amulet.

This motley crew included more prominent Dems than just RFK Jr. Remember when Biden basically ghosted Elon Musk for that big 2021 White House electric vehicle summit? Even Kamala Harris — who happily agreed with Biden on just about everything except her own polling numbers — called that a huge mistake.

Then again, Harris committed her own costly slight when she decided against going on Joe Rogan’s podcast.

For an entire decade now, Democrats have consistently alienated allies — with devastating results. I’m talking about the snubs that might have prevented Trump’s first presidential run entirely.

Not just the famous humiliation of Trump at the 2011 White House Correspondents’ Dinner. Here’s the more tragic prequel: Former “Meet the Press” host Chuck Todd told the Bulwark’s Tim Miller that before Trump went full birther, he actually called the Obama White House offering “ideas on how to improve the state dinner.”

That’s right. Donald J. Trump — future leader of the free world — just wanted to talk about better parties. Shrimp trays. Tablecloths. Maybe a chocolate fountain.

Just as the world would have been better had the Washington Senators signed Fidel Castro to a huge baseball contract before he got too interested in politics, America might have been better if Obama had made Trump the White House state dinner czar.

But as Todd put it, “The last thing the Obama White House was going to do was placate a guy like Donald Trump.”

Understandable — until you consider that the alternative to humoring him was, you know … President Trump. Twice.

Look, I totally understand why a U.S. president might think he or she shouldn’t have to stoop to kissing some crank’s ring or placating some gilded, phony billionaire. But let’s be honest: It’s part of the job.

Instead of performing this sort of ego cultivation, Democrats — whether because of snobbery, elite gatekeeping, geriatric aloofness or a disciplined disdain for “time burglars” — have repeatedly alienated potential allies (or at least neutral parties). Then they act shocked when these same people drift into the MAGA solar system like space debris.

If Trump is truly an existential threat — and Democrats say this approximately 87 times a week — then maybe, just maybe, they should Return. A. Phone. Call.

Otherwise, Donald Trump will. Probably at 3 a.m., while eating a Big Mac.

So grovel if you must. Fake interest. Smile like you’re not dying inside. Do the basic humiliations the rest of us perform daily to get hired, get promoted or get a date.

It’s the least you can do. So make it your New Year’s resolution and honor it.

But if you think you’re too good to perform the basic glad-handing and ego-stroking, even for the nuttiest eccentrics, bad things will happen.

Trust me — I’ve seen this movie. And we’re only a year into his second term.

Matt K. Lewis is the author of “Filthy Rich Politicians” and “Too Dumb to Fail.”

Listening to the usual legacy media suspects, one might think 2025 was an apocalyptic wasteland of sorts — an authoritarian fever dream brought on by the return of Donald J. Trump to the Oval Office. The reality looked very different. This past year was, in many ways, a pretty great and clarifying one. Let’s take stock of what happened when our government remembered whom it serves, as well as what unfinished business remains as we flip the calendar.

First, the obvious: Political sanity was restored to the nation’s capital. After years of leftist elite-driven chaos — wide-open borders, hyper-vindictive lawfare, fecklessness on the world stage and more — the nation has begun to revert back to first principles: national sovereignty, law and order, and strong leadership abroad. Under Trump, the United States has once again acted like a real nation-state that pursues its real interests — not a nongovernmental organization with a nagging guilt complex.

That reorientation has paid huge dividends. On immigration, the Biden-era invasion at the southern border has tapered by more than 90%. On energy, a renewed embrace of domestic production has led to the lowest average national gas prices in nearly five years. Violent crime, thanks to Trump’s law enforcement operations and innovative use of the National Guard, has dramatically fallen: Murders decreased by nearly 20% from 2024, and robbery and burglary also saw double-digit percentage decreases. Abroad, allies and adversaries alike recalibrated to the reality that the White House once again means what it says.

Still, work always remains. Here, then, is my 2026 wish list.

Peace in Eastern Europe

The Russia-Ukraine war has gone on far, far too long. The Trump administration has exerted tremendous diplomatic effort trying to orchestrate a peace deal, which remains elusive. A durable peace — one that halts the senseless slaughter on both sides, respects Ukrainian sovereignty and accommodates legitimate Russian concerns, and avoids a wider great-power conflagration — should be a paramount Trump administration foreign policy goal in 2026. Russia is the invader and Vladimir Putin is the greater obstacle to a lasting peace, but both sides need to make painful — if, frustratingly, also painfully obvious — concessions.

Victory on birthright citizenship

Back home, a consequential legal battle now sits before the U.S. Supreme Court: the Trump administration’s righteous challenge to the erroneous practice of constitutionally “required” birthright citizenship for the U.S.-born children of noncitizens. The notion that the 14th Amendment, ratified in 1868 in the aftermath of the Civil War, was meant to constitutionalize a global human trafficking magnet — granting automatic citizenship to all children born here, including those whose parents entered the country illegally — is indefensible as a matter of plain constitutional text, the congressional history in the House and Senate Judiciary Committees, and basic common sense. Indeed, birthright citizenship has been nothing short of ruinous for the United States. A Trump administration victory would restore Congress’s rightful authority over circumscribing citizenship and remove a longstanding incentive for illegal immigration.

Improved affordability and housing costs

Legal victories mean relatively little if ordinary Americans continue to feel like they are getting squeezed. Improved affordability must be front and center in 2026 — from the federal level down to states and localities. The cost of living is not an economic abstraction; it affects rent, groceries, child care and the difficulty of buying a first home. Housing, in particular, demands attention. Housing policy should reward supply, not suffocate it — cutting red tape and burdensome construction fees, reforming zoning incentives, and curtailing the inflationary spending that puts upward pressure on mortgage rates. A nation where young families cannot afford to put down roots is a nation courting decline — the very antithesis of Trumpian restoration.

Justice for Minnesota fraud scandal

The burgeoning fraud scandal over state and federal funds for child care in Minnesota, including at businesses run by Somali Americans — astonishing in scale — has become a test case for whether the rule of law still applies when politics get uncomfortable. Justice means following the facts wherever they lead: recovering stolen taxpayer dollars and holding wrongdoers and abettors legally accountable without fear or favor. To wit, on the subject of abettors: What did Gov. Tim Walz (D-Minn.), Atty. Gen. Keith Ellison (D-Minn.), Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-Minn.) and other prominent Minnesota politicians know, and when did they know it? Moreover, what did Kamala Harris — who picked Walz as her 2024 presidential running mate — know, and when did she know it? The Biden administration and the Walz administration began investigating these fraud allegations years ago, and the American people deserve answers to all these questions.

Tamed Communist China

Finally, no wish list can be complete without confronting the central geopolitical challenge of our age: that of Communist China. Simply put, Xi Jinping and the Chinese Communist Party, who just presided over their largest live-fire military exercises around Taiwan, must be meaningfully deterred in the Indo-Pacific. That means maintaining a combative tariff posture, implementing as much economic decoupling as is feasible and emboldening key regional allies — such as Japan — who share America’s interest in freedom of maritime navigation and diminished Chinese hegemony. Decades from now, Trump’s presidential legacy will be partially defined by how he handled the China challenge. Now is not the time to take the foot off the gas pedal.

This past year showed what is possible when Washington rejects the politics of managed decline and reembraces the best of the American tradition and way of life. Let us hope we will see more — a lot more — of that same success in this new year.

Josh Hammer’s latest book is “Israel and Civilization: The Fate of the Jewish Nation and the Destiny of the West.” This article was produced in collaboration with Creators Syndicate. X: @josh_hammer