The Founding Fathers missed “Frankenstein” by 30 years and the Mar-a-Lago face — that overused, unnatural, unmistakably edited look — by a few hundred more. But they might have recognized the presidency we have today: a grotesque concentration of power in the hands of Donald Trump. The modern executive branch is a creature made monstrous by what George Washington called “unprincipled men.” The Framers had another name for them: Congress.
Anyone who thinks the presidency is dangerous should not stare at Article II of the Constitution, the part that defines the president’s powers. The office grows because Article I allows it. The Constitution begins with Congress – taxes, spending, war, commerce, and the laws that are “necessary and proper.” This is constitutional architecture: the branch that writes the rules determines the outcome.
The Framers feared concentrated executive power. After all, they had just fought a king. So they built a system in which Congress writes the rules and the President executes them. James Madison’s draft in Federalist No. 51 was intended to be mechanical: ambition should counteract ambition. The powers should rub against each other. Freedom lived in this friction—but Madison assumed that ambition drove the legislature as much as the executive. He doesn’t do that anymore.
Party instead of institution
In a polarized Congress, ambition runs through the party, not the institution. Safe constituencies and incumbency advantages mean that many representatives fear an intraparty primary more than a general election. They are threatened by ideological hardliners, not swing voters. The incentive is obvious: protect the president of your own party, not the prerogatives of your own constitutional body. The rivalry Madison had envisioned was replaced by party loyalty. Control over the president is dissolving; the presidency is growing.
It didn’t start with Trump. As the 20th century progressed—particularly after 1945—Congress began to give the White House broad discretion. Laws were worded in flexible terms: “in the national interest,” “at the discretion of the President,” and so on. Wars accelerated this habit, and the rise of open-ended “national emergencies” made this temporary flexibility seem permanent. After the Vietnam War, Congress passed the War Powers Resolution in 1973 to regain control of military operations. Presidents of both parties have since treated it like a polite briefing, and Congress has done little to enforce it.
After Vietnam, Congress also passed the National Emergencies Act of 1976 to prevent indefinite rule by emergency declaration. But to end a state of emergency, a joint resolution from both chambers is needed – which the president can block with a veto. To override a veto, Congress needs a two-thirds majority, which in practice means a president only needs a third of one chamber plus a simple majority of the others to maintain the state of emergency. In a polarized era, that minority shield is often enough.
Congress as co-creator
The hurdle for Congress is real – but it is of its own making. Congress wrote these rules. He could introduce automatic expiry dates, narrow the trigger requirements or attach conditions to budget funds.
Instead, Congress does this: it leaves decades-old war authorizations on the books and then acts surprised when presidents carry out attacks without new congressional action. He approves billions for ICE and Customs and Border Protection, funds special forces and expanded enforcement powers – and then expresses alarm when federal agents are deployed in cities despite local resistance. He extends emergency declarations year after year, maintains laws allowing tariffs for “national security” considerations, and approves sanctions without new congressional approval—only to complain about the executive branch’s usurpation of power. And he finances the executive branch at ever higher levels, leaving its power to reallocate funds untouched – and when funds are diverted or used extensively, he organizes hearings that regulate this about as effectively as a tweet.
Congress wields budgetary power—the Constitution’s bluntest instrument—and yet almost never uses it for targeted funding cuts or conditions to regain specific executive authority. Government shutdowns become theater, real structural reforms remain unthinkable.
Control only against the other person
Partisanship has not only dulled Congress’s duty of oversight – it has reprogrammed it. Representatives defend Article I’s presidential barriers only when they harm the president of the other party. If their own party sits in the Oval Office, they give power to the president to save their own ass. Political scientists call this “congressional drift”: MPs prefer large delegations that protect them from difficult votes. The president should decide; If he fails, he gets blamed; if he succeeds, they complain about being close to him. They retain nominal authority and outsource responsibility – and voters have so far rewarded these arrangements.
Courts intervene only when Congress has clearly retained its own power. In Youngstown Sheet & Tube Co. v. Sawyer (1952), the Supreme Court stopped President Harry Truman from seizing steel mills during the Korean War because Congress did not authorize it. The line counted because Congress had drawn it – clearly.
The same principle cropped up again and again. In Biden v. Nebraska (2023), the Supreme Court rejected widespread student loan forbearance because Congress had not clearly authorized debt relief on this scale. And in Learning Resources v. Trump (2026), he invalidated global tariffs imposed under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act on the grounds that the law did not confer customs authority. Justice Neil Gorsuch recalled in his reasoning that “most important decisions affecting the rights and responsibilities of the American people (including the obligation to pay taxes and tariffs)” should pass through Congress.
Ambiguity as a risk
But the modern Supreme Court wants Congress to speak – and speak clearly. For decades, under a doctrine called “Chevron” deference, courts favored agencies—the Environmental Protection Agency, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the Food and Drug Administration, the Securities and Exchange Commission, the Federal Communications Commission, the Department of Education, and their administrative counterparts—when laws were ambiguous. In 2024, Loper Bright Enterprises v. Raimondo overturned the Chevron doctrine and established that courts—not agencies—must exercise independent judgment when interpreting ambiguous federal law. This era is over. In “Biden” and “Learning Resources,” ambiguity was fatal. Combined with the “major questions” doctrine—which requires unequivocal clarity before authorities can exercise broad economic or political power—ambiguity no longer expands executive power. It triggers resistance from the judiciary.
The common denominator is neither activism nor judicial restraint. It is the legislative formulation work. If Congress draws a line, the judiciary enforces it. If he formulates vaguely or broadly, the president is testing the boundaries – and courts are now often narrowing them. In any case, the presidency relies on authorizations written by Congress.
The president is irrelevant. Without congressional authority, the court blocked the measure. Everything else passes because MPs simply do not want to use the powers they have. The creature changes face—powdered wig, Texas accent, Mar-a-Lago gloss—but the pattern remains. Every time Congress sews up a seam, adds a limb, and looks the other way as it stumbles off the table and into public life.
Bad presidents are temporary
Bad presidents are temporary. Congress is the common thread – and it continues to stoke a fire that will not spare him either.
