Senate Showdown: JD Vance Sides With Trump, Blocks War Powers Curb

Paul Riverbank, 1/15/2026A razor-thin Senate vote exposes deep divisions over Trump’s military authority in Venezuela, renewing the enduring debate over who controls America’s war powers. The constitutional struggle between Congress and the presidency remains unresolved—proof that some political questions never disappear.

What unfolded was as dramatic as any political thriller. A war powers resolution aimed at reining in President Donald Trump’s authority in Venezuela had managed to slice straight through party lines—a rarity indeed. When the votes were tallied, it was a dead heat: fifty in favor, fifty opposed. Enter Vice President JD Vance. In an almost cinematic twist, Vance strode in and cast the tie-breaker, snuffing out the measure and, for now, leaving Trump’s hands untied in Caracas.

Anyone following this fight saw the backroom dealings that preceded the vote. Josh Hawley of Missouri and Todd Young of Indiana, both Republicans, seemed conflicted. Just days earlier they’d been willing to cross their own party, siding with Democrats to advance the resolution. But politics, as ever, is the art of pressure. Reporters spotted discreet calls between senators and the White House, and by sundown, Hawley and Young’s positions had wavered. Only three Republicans, unyielding, stayed with their initial convictions. The rest, no doubt feeling the urgency of party leadership, fell in line. Leadership, for its part, painted the resolution as a partisan play—an ill-timed constraint, they argued, that would only embolden America’s adversaries.

The debate, however, revealed a deep unease that refused to sit quietly along party lines. War powers have been a point of friction since the ink dried on the Constitution. Everyone claims to know what the framers intended, but precious few want to be on record forcing the issue—least of all with U.S. forces operating in far-flung places. This time, the legal rationale only muddied the waters. The Trump administration insisted its military actions in Venezuela—namely, the capture of Nicolás Maduro—were not a war, at least not in any constitutional sense. The Justice Department produced a lengthy memo, thick as a phonebook, saying the operation amounted to law enforcement, not “major military operations.” For some in Congress, the hairsplitting felt unconvincing.

Senator Tim Kaine, a Democrat who’s long made war powers his cause, wasn’t having it. He stood and said—plainly, almost with exasperation—that sending warships to blockade a foreign coast and months of military buildup weren’t mere “judicial operations.” He gestured towards the open-ended nature of the action, pointing out that the difference between law enforcement and armed conflict is not merely academic.

With the temperature rising, President Trump took his frustration public. From a rally stage in Michigan, he lashed out at lawmakers threatening his authority, deriding GOP backers of the resolution as “disasters” and “stone cold losers.” But behind the scenes, a flurry of calls went out from both the president himself and Secretary of State Marco Rubio. Whatever was said worked; Hawley later cited assurances that the administration would consult Congress if U.S. troops were ever needed in force, and Young received similar commitments regarding future deployments.

Majority Leader John Thune kept to a tried-and-true argument from the well of the Senate: “We have no troops on the ground. There are no major operations in Venezuela.” For him and his allies, this was yet another Democratic attempt to hamstring the Commander in Chief—politics, pure and simple.

But Minority Leader Chuck Schumer painted a grimmer picture. In his view, Trump’s willingness to expand American reach—whether in Venezuela, or with his bold, sometimes bizarre pronouncements about other nations—reflected a dangerous drift. Schumer pointed to recent polling that showed a majority of Americans worried Trump is overreaching with military force. He reminded colleagues that the country had not signed up to be the world’s policeman, and cautioned against what he called “a slide into endless war.”

The partisan lines, for all their boldness, masked a more unsettled reality. Politicians notoriously shrink from the responsibility of authorizing war, their reluctance shaped by decades of unpopular quagmires. It’s a dilemma as old as the republic, and one that political scientist Peter Mansoor articulated succinctly: everyone wants to keep their hands clean, but the result is often open-ended intervention with little clear oversight.

Though the resolution was defeated—Vance’s vote doing what the administration needed—the clash is far from finished. House Democrats prepare to renew the debate. Constitutional scholars now sift through memos, parsing definitions and precedents that only grow knottier with time. And should circumstances change on the ground in Venezuela, or elsewhere, Congress may again find itself at this uncertain crossroads.

For now, President Trump’s strategy remains the law of the land, but the uncomfortable questions over how—and when—America uses its might are never truly put away. The nation’s old debates, born anew, find ways to return to center stage, unresolved and unfinished.

There are nights on Capitol Hill when you can almost hear the strain in senators’ voices before they cast a vote. Wednesday was one such night. The chamber hung in a prickly silence as lawmakers faced an age-old question: how far should a president be allowed to go in wielding military power, especially beyond our borders?What unfolded was as dramatic as any political thriller. A war powers resolution aimed at reining in President Donald Trump’s authority in Venezuela had managed to slice straight through party lines—a rarity indeed. When the votes were tallied, it was a dead heat: fifty in favor, fifty opposed. Enter Vice President JD Vance. In an almost cinematic twist, Vance strode in and cast the tie-breaker, snuffing out the measure and, for now, leaving Trump’s hands untied in Caracas.Anyone following this fight saw the backroom dealings that preceded the vote. Josh Hawley of Missouri and Todd Young of Indiana, both Republicans, seemed conflicted. Just days earlier they’d been willing to cross their own party, siding with Democrats to advance the resolution. But politics, as ever, is the art of pressure. Reporters spotted discreet calls between senators and the White House, and by sundown, Hawley and Young’s positions had wavered. Only three Republicans, unyielding, stayed with their initial convictions. The rest, no doubt feeling the urgency of party leadership, fell in line. Leadership, for its part, painted the resolution as a partisan play—an ill-timed constraint, they argued, that would only embolden America’s adversaries.The debate, however, revealed a deep unease that refused to sit quietly along party lines. War powers have been a point of friction since the ink dried on the Constitution. Everyone claims to know what the framers intended, but precious few want to be on record forcing the issue—least of all with U.S. forces operating in far-flung places. This time, the legal rationale only muddied the waters. The Trump administration insisted its military actions in Venezuela—namely, the capture of Nicolás Maduro—were not a war, at least not in any constitutional sense. The Justice Department produced a lengthy memo, thick as a phonebook, saying the operation amounted to law enforcement, not “major military operations.” For some in Congress, the hairsplitting felt unconvincing.Senator Tim Kaine, a Democrat who’s long made war powers his cause, wasn’t having it. He stood and said—plainly, almost with exasperation—that sending warships to blockade a foreign coast and months of military buildup weren’t mere “judicial operations.” He gestured towards the open-ended nature of the action, pointing out that the difference between law enforcement and armed conflict is not merely academic.With the temperature rising, President Trump took his frustration public. From a rally stage in Michigan, he lashed out at lawmakers threatening his authority, deriding GOP backers of the resolution as “disasters” and “stone cold losers.” But behind the scenes, a flurry of calls went out from both the president himself and Secretary of State Marco Rubio. Whatever was said worked; Hawley later cited assurances that the administration would consult Congress if U.S. troops were ever needed in force, and Young received similar commitments regarding future deployments.Majority Leader John Thune kept to a tried-and-true argument from the well of the Senate: “We have no troops on the ground. There are no major operations in Venezuela.” For him and his allies, this was yet another Democratic attempt to hamstring the Commander in Chief—politics, pure and simple.But Minority Leader Chuck Schumer painted a grimmer picture. In his view, Trump’s willingness to expand American reach—whether in Venezuela, or with his bold, sometimes bizarre pronouncements about other nations—reflected a dangerous drift. Schumer pointed to recent polling that showed a majority of Americans worried Trump is overreaching with military force. He reminded colleagues that the country had not signed up to be the world’s policeman, and cautioned against what he called “a slide into endless war.”The partisan lines, for all their boldness, masked a more unsettled reality. Politicians notoriously shrink from the responsibility of authorizing war, their reluctance shaped by decades of unpopular quagmires. It’s a dilemma as old as the republic, and one that political scientist Peter Mansoor articulated succinctly: everyone wants to keep their hands clean, but the result is often open-ended intervention with little clear oversight.Though the resolution was defeated—Vance’s vote doing what the administration needed—the clash is far from finished. House Democrats prepare to renew the debate. Constitutional scholars now sift through memos, parsing definitions and precedents that only grow knottier with time. And should circumstances change on the ground in Venezuela, or elsewhere, Congress may again find itself at this uncertain crossroads.For now, President Trump’s strategy remains the law of the land, but the uncomfortable questions over how—and when—America uses its might are never truly put away. The nation’s old debates, born anew, find ways to return to center stage, unresolved and unfinished.