Congress’s latest shutdown scare ended the way these episodes usually do: with a stopgap deal, a sigh of relief, and little sense that the underlying conflict had been resolved. But buried inside the agreement was a revealing maneuver. While most of the federal government received longer-term funding, the Department of Homeland Security, and especially Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), was given only a short-term extension. That asymmetry was deliberate. It preserved leverage over one of the most controversial federal agencies without triggering a prolonged shutdown, while also exposing the narrow terrain on which Congress is still willing to confront executive power. As with so many recent budget deals, the decision emerged less from open debate than from late-stage negotiations compressed into the final hours before the deadline.
How the Deal Was Framed
Democrats used the funding deadline to force a conversation about ICE’s enforcement practices, but they were careful about how that conversation was structured. Rather than reopening the far more combustible debate over immigration levels, deportation priorities, or statutory authority, they framed the dispute as one about law-enforcement standards, specifically transparency, accountability, and oversight.
That choice was strategic. Questions of policing norms are familiar ground for Congress, where bipartisan precedents already exist in areas such as body cameras, use-of-force policies, and reporting requirements. By treating ICE less as an immigration authority and more as a federal law-enforcement agency subject to baseline professional standards, lawmakers lowered the political temperature enough to keep negotiations alive.
At the same time, this framing imposed clear limits. It narrowed the scope of what could be discussed and, more importantly, what could be resolved. Issues of democratic authority, including who should decide the scope of enforcement, how expansive that authority should be, and how it ought to be constrained, were set aside in favor of technical questions about compliance and procedure.
Framing the dispute this way kept the government open, but it also narrowed the civic conversation. The result was a debate understandable to insiders but increasingly opaque to the public it was meant to serve. A question about democratic authority became a technical debate over how enforcement is carried out rather than whether it is properly authorized or accountable in the first place.
That distinction matters. It defines both the political limits of the moment and the reforms most likely to survive.
What Congress Can Agree On, and What It Can’t
Several proposed changes track existing norms in federal and local policing and therefore stand a realistic chance of becoming law. Agent identification requirements are likely to endure. Requiring visible badges or identifying information during enforcement actions aligns ICE with standard Justice Department practice. With exceptions for undercover or high-risk operations, the reform is widely viewed as common sense rather than constraint.
Body-worn cameras also have bipartisan precedent. Mandating their use during arrests and raids, paired with clear activation and data-retention rules, emphasizes documentation rather than deterrence. That focus makes the reform politically durable. Similarly, codifying use-of-force standards appears to be a low bar Congress is willing to clear. Turning internal ICE guidance into a formal national policy, with mandatory reporting of serious injuries or deaths, is framed as baseline accountability rather than interference.
Expanded reporting to Congress is the easiest concession of all. Regular disclosure of arrest data, complaints, and disciplinary outcomes strengthens oversight without limiting operational authority, making it attractive even to lawmakers wary of constraining enforcement.
Other proposals, however, may survive only in diluted form. Restrictions on masks or face coverings are unlikely to amount to an outright ban. More plausible are limits paired with broad safety exceptions, enough to gesture toward transparency without provoking law-enforcement backlash. Likewise, protections for “sensitive locations” such as schools, hospitals, and places of worship may be partially restored. Expansive exigent-circumstance carve-outs, however, are likely to blunt their real-world impact.
Two proposals are unlikely to survive intact. Requiring judicial warrants for most ICE arrests would fundamentally alter how immigration enforcement operates, and Republicans view this as a substantive policy shift rather than a procedural tweak. Binding limits on cooperation between ICE and local law enforcement face a similar fate, as they risk fracturing the fragile shutdown deal and are more likely to be postponed than resolved.
What the Episode Reveals
Taken together, the ICE funding deal reveals something deeper about Congress’s current posture. Lawmakers are willing to regulate how enforcement is carried out, focusing on visibility, documentation, and reporting, but not whether it is carried out or how expansive it should be. Oversight is asserted at the margins, while core authority remains firmly in executive hands.
As Yale law professor Richard Pildes has argued, this pattern reflects not just polarization, but a deeper weakening of Congress’s capacity to broker durable compromises and translate conflict into authoritative decisions. As party leadership fragments and procedural tools replace negotiation, institutions remain active but less decisive.
That focus on oversight and institutional responsibility reflects a broader scholarly view, including work like The Democracy Playbook by Norman Eisen and his coauthors, which argues that democracy is sustained not by sweeping reforms but by consistently upholding institutional norms and accountability.
What this episode reveals is not legislative failure in the dramatic sense, but something more subtle. Congress remains capable of keeping government running, yet it is increasingly unable to convert deep disagreement into clear, authoritative decisions. The trade-off avoided a shutdown, but it also reinforces a familiar pattern. Congress responds to institutional anxiety with procedural fixes rather than structural reform.
In that sense, the deal did more than keep the lights on. It captured a Congress uneasy about executive power, yet increasingly willing to manage conflict procedurally rather than confront it directly, in ways the Constitution’s framers warned would hollow out legislative responsibility.
Robert Cropf is a Professor of Political Science at Saint Louis University.























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.