President Trump enters the final stretch of his second term governing as if he has nothing to lose, steamrolling his own party with escalating demands that defy political arithmetic. The strategy once worked. Republican lawmakers learned long ago that resistance brought public humiliation. Now, that calculation is breaking down.
The collapse accelerated this week with a series of confrontations that exposed the limits of Trump's leverage over his own caucus. He killed a bipartisan housing bill hours before its signing ceremony, demanding Republicans pass a sweeping voter identification measure with no path to the required votes. His own White House had called the housing package "one of the most significant pieces of housing affordability legislation in American history." Trump dismissed it as "of minor importance."
Days later, he lashed out at four Republican senators who voted to restrict his Iran war powers, calling them "losers" over what he branded a "poorly timed and meaningless" rebuke. The senators voted anyway. He scuttled a bipartisan renewal of FISA surveillance authorities by insisting on voter ID provisions attached to it, allowing the program to lapse rather than compromise. He yanked his own intelligence nominee from a confirmation hearing hours before it started, leaving spy agencies without confirmed leadership.
The pattern reveals a president operating without the constraints of reelection anxiety or deference to Congressional norms. "I don't think about Americans' financial situation," Trump told reporters in May when asked if domestic economic pressure shaped his Iran strategy. "I don't care about the midterms," he later told his Cabinet, dismissing the notion that opponents could simply wait out his demands.
Republican senators bloodied in primary battles backed by Trump are finding unexpected courage. Senator Thom Tillis of North Carolina, who chose retirement over a Trump-backed challenger, has become the public face of GOP Senate resistance. He has publicly attacked Trump nominees, pledged to block the voter ID bill, and vowed to protect the filibuster against any effort to weaken it. Senator Bill Cassidy of Louisiana, defeated in a Trump-backed primary, joined the Iran powers vote and later squared off with Trump during a closed-door Senate lunch that erupted into shouting. Senator John Cornyn of Texas, who voted with Trump 99 percent of the time before Trump backed a primary challenger against him anyway, joined the resistance on an attorney general nominee.
Trump's response has been ineffectual fury. Allies close to Congress now warn that his lashing out offers a preview of how he will govern as his political capital erodes. The midterms loom as a potential inflection point. A favorable environment could hand Democrats the House despite Republican redistricting advantages. The Senate remains in play. "The Senate is now behaving like the Senate," said a longtime Trump confidant. "More to come. If he loses the Senate, his presidency will be effectively over. Yet he's acting like it doesn't matter."
Author James Rodriguez: "Trump built a machine that rewarded obedience above all else, and now that machine is grinding against him when he needs it most."
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