In September, after nearly two years of work, the House Select Committee on the Modernization of Congress released its final report — a package of eight dozen recommendations to help make Congress more effective and responsive to the public.
As the majority Democrats map out their priorities for the new Congress, they should commit to the committee's reauthorization.
Much has been written about the committee's work as a bipartisan bright spot. Its members are laudatory about the space it provided for cross-aisle cooperation, and outside advocates have applauded the output: bundles of detailed recommendations that would genuinely improve how the House does its job, from reforms to the budget process and regulatory oversight to staff retention and administrative efficiencies. There is little doubt about the quality of the committee's product.
But there are other compelling reasons that House Democrats should support reauthorization. Beyond the obvious need for more high-quality ideas, sustaining (or making permanent) the Modernization Committee would also be good politics.
First, a congressional reform panel gives members interested in the health of the institution a structured place to funnel their expertise.
Political scientist Roger H. Davidson once coined these reform-minded members "procedural entrepreneurs." In every era, he observed, "at least a few members of Congress cultivate a lively interest in the institution itself: how Congress works, how its virtues can be nurtured, how its effectiveness can be improved." Davidson was studying the Legislative Reorganization Act of 1946. But the observation still holds true.
Some members now, as then, are particularly drawn to the machinery of the institution, but only rarely have an avenue to do much about it. "Internal House operations have always interested me," says GOP Rep. Rodney Davis of Illinois, and yet his assignment to the Modernization Committee was "the first opportunity in over a decade to take a deep, internal look at how the House functions."
Providing that opportunity at all times is important. The absence of a dedicated space to study, debate and propose reforms does not do away with calls for reform — but it does risk making those calls more unwieldy and, potentially, fractious.
For example, the arrival of the so-called Watergate Babies, the huge class of House members elected after President Richard Nixon resigned in 1974 on a commitment to make the government more honest and transparent, precipitated a period of bitter intraparty battles. The newcomers arrived with fresh and incredulous eyes, and with the help of elder reformers adopted a sweeping agenda to remake Congress. It was a distinctly confrontational approach, where reforms were not so much thoughtfully studied and debated as decreed and relentlessly fought for.
Those that came to pass — from televised committee sessions to floor procedures allowing more votes on divisive issues — generated a range of unintended consequences.
The virtue of a Modernization Committee is not only that it tackles tough institutional issues, but that it provides an insulated and contained space for doing so. Reform topics that are politically tricky ( earmarks), have thorny partisan histories ( the Office of Technology Assessment), or are genuinely complex ( biennial budgeting) enjoy a holding space for careful treatment by reform-minded members.
Second, while the Modernization Committee's work may not strike the same political points as members' work on health care, jobs or climate change, it still pays political dividends.
Coverage in local papers has been congratulatory and approving. A newspaper in the western Washington district of Derek Kilmer, the committee's Democratic chairman, framed the panel's work as promoting "civility and bipartisanship," for example. And while it's unlikely many voters care about the congressional calendar or hearing formats, most do care that the people they send to Congress are making concerted efforts to improve through compromise a broken branch of government.
Perhaps most importantly, the Modernization Committee represents a distinctly better approach for updating Congress than past waves of reform — and one less likely to so radically upset existing power structures that the reforms are put to bed quickly.
The history of legislative reform is characterized by big bursts of energy followed by murky legacies.
The 1946 law reorganizing Congress — which included radical budget reforms, streamlining committee jurisdictions and the start of merit-based staffing — was historic in ambition. In practice, though, most of its cornerstone changes were scuttled. Senior members jettisoned the budget reforms; committee members didn't much care for more independent staff; and a proliferation of subcommittees limited the law's capacity to rein in a sprawling committee system.
Then, as now, a special panel had been formed and given just two years to propose improvements. Its short lifespan put it under significant pressure. Most of its ideas were imported from political scientists and were not the product of internal deliberation and compromise. And the committee was neither truly representative of the membership nor meaningfully engaged the regular committees that would be responsible for turning proposed reforms into reality. And so the approach destined the law's far-reaching provisions to disappointment.
Adaptive changes that stick require time to socialize and iterate. They benefit from internal grappling among those who will be affected. Like any complex body, Congress is more amenable to disciplined and incremental changes than hurried and sweeping ones.
The Modernization Committee, under celebrated leadership, has made strenuous efforts to involve members across the institution in its work. It has demonstrably committed to careful study and deliberation of ideas — and worked collaboratively with the committees responsible for implementing its 97 proposals.
To cut its lifespan short now would be to terminate a worthwhile experiment that seems to be on a different path than its predecessors.
The politics of change never suggest good odds, especially at the Capitol. And the congressional history of select committees that push through big changes don't enjoy rosy histories. Reauthorizing the Modernization Committee would signal support for a different, smarter approach. It's a safe bet for any party committed to better government.



















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.