Trump Crushes GOP Rebels in Senate Venezuela Showdown

Paul Riverbank, 1/16/2026Caught in a dramatic Senate deadlock, Vice President Vance’s tie-breaking vote underscores bitter divisions over Trump’s authority in Venezuela and reignites debate about Congress’s fading war powers. The episode reveals both the fragility and enduring potential of legislative checks on presidential military action.

The whole standoff turned on a resolution from an odd couple: Tim Kaine, a seasoned Democrat familiar with such skirmishes, and Kentucky Republican Rand Paul, long skeptical of broad executive authority in foreign policy. Their joint effort was deceptively simple—no green light from Congress, no U.S. military operations in Venezuela. That tugged a few GOP senators—five, to be precise—across party lines, a crack that didn’t go unnoticed in the White House.

President Trump’s response landed not with subtlety, but with characteristic force. He lashed out at defectors, deriding them at rallies and on social media as if they’d committed heresy, not a vote. In Michigan, he zeroed in on Paul (“stone cold loser”) and took swipes at others like Murkowski and Collins. The message wasn’t complicated: You cross me, you pay.

Yet, curiously, not everyone retreated. Despite the heat—and it was intense, by all accounts—Paul, Murkowski, and Collins held firm, sending their own message: party loyalty has its limits.

Senate rules, however, often decide these matters as much as principle. James Risch, a fixture among legislative tacticians, waved off the resolution as out of order. No “troops on the ground,” he argued, so this isn’t privileged business. Procedural sleight-of-hand moved the fight to a razor’s edge: a 50-50 split, with Vance nudging the outcome as presiding officer.

It’s worth noting just how tight these margins are—and how much last-minute lobbying can tilt them. A week ago, Josh Hawley and Todd Young seemed on board with reigning in presidential war powers. Then came a pair of calls—one from Secretary of State Rubio, another a personal letter—reassuring them that ground troops in Venezuela weren’t on the agenda, or so the administration insisted. Their support evaporated as quickly as it had appeared.

Still, Kaine and Paul remained unconvinced, arguing that the U.S. presence in the Caribbean and Trump’s saber-rattling—this time directed at Venezuela’s embattled leadership—offered little reassurance that restraint would actually hold.

Outside the Senate, advocacy groups were only half-defeated. Demand Progress called the maneuvering proof that real congressional oversight isn’t a fantasy, if lawmakers are willing to dig in. As Cavan Kharrazian told me, “Congress’s war powers aren’t about trusting any president at his word. They’re guaranteed, or they’re not worth the parchment.”

The larger story here dwarfs the specifics of Venezuela. Since World War II, presidents have often sidestepped Congress on matters of force. The 1973 War Powers Resolution was supposed to shift the balance, yet decades on, its effect remains uncertain—almost symbolic, critics argue, without a Congress disposed to assert itself. As historian Peter Mansoor put it to me, “Nobody in politics seems eager to shoulder the responsibility for wars, yet here we are again, tinkering at the edge of escalation.”

Meanwhile, the trigger for this latest spat—U.S. forces’ dramatic capture of Nicolás Maduro—remains shrouded in official secrecy. Brief Senate summaries hint at legal acrobatics, framing the episode as strictly “law enforcement,” not war. The full story, buried in classified files, hasn’t yet seen daylight.

At street level, public unease is growing. Polling by the AP and NORC finds most Americans—not just traditional skeptics—believe the executive branch is pushing too far, too often, in overseas actions. Chuck Schumer has picked up that baton, warning about “dangerous drift” and the specter of endless entanglements abroad—a theme familiar to students of recent history.

Even as the White House touts partnerships (Venezuela included), the subtext is far from harmonious. Trump, when pressed, hints at far bigger designs—a military gaze that scans beyond Caracas, perhaps Greenland or God knows where next.

And on the House side? Democratic leaders are sketching out a parallel challenge, although whether that one gets as much oxygen—or as public a showdown—remains an open question. This latest Senate cliffhanger reminds us that, for all the president’s power, Congress is not wholly sidelined. When its members flex what muscle they have, they can—in fits and starts—force accountability into the conversation.

In Washington, these moments never last long. But every so often, you get a glimpse of the old Madisonian give-and-take: noisy, messy, and, just occasionally, consequential.

An uneasy hush settled over the Senate on Tuesday—one of those days where the air itself seemed charged. Vice President JD Vance, largely a background figure until now, found himself squarely in the spotlight, forced to break the chamber’s deadlock on President Trump’s latest maneuver over Venezuela—another reminder that, on Capitol Hill, the math of power is never set in stone.The whole standoff turned on a resolution from an odd couple: Tim Kaine, a seasoned Democrat familiar with such skirmishes, and Kentucky Republican Rand Paul, long skeptical of broad executive authority in foreign policy. Their joint effort was deceptively simple—no green light from Congress, no U.S. military operations in Venezuela. That tugged a few GOP senators—five, to be precise—across party lines, a crack that didn’t go unnoticed in the White House.President Trump’s response landed not with subtlety, but with characteristic force. He lashed out at defectors, deriding them at rallies and on social media as if they’d committed heresy, not a vote. In Michigan, he zeroed in on Paul (“stone cold loser”) and took swipes at others like Murkowski and Collins. The message wasn’t complicated: You cross me, you pay.Yet, curiously, not everyone retreated. Despite the heat—and it was intense, by all accounts—Paul, Murkowski, and Collins held firm, sending their own message: party loyalty has its limits.Senate rules, however, often decide these matters as much as principle. James Risch, a fixture among legislative tacticians, waved off the resolution as out of order. No “troops on the ground,” he argued, so this isn’t privileged business. Procedural sleight-of-hand moved the fight to a razor’s edge: a 50-50 split, with Vance nudging the outcome as presiding officer.It’s worth noting just how tight these margins are—and how much last-minute lobbying can tilt them. A week ago, Josh Hawley and Todd Young seemed on board with reigning in presidential war powers. Then came a pair of calls—one from Secretary of State Rubio, another a personal letter—reassuring them that ground troops in Venezuela weren’t on the agenda, or so the administration insisted. Their support evaporated as quickly as it had appeared.Still, Kaine and Paul remained unconvinced, arguing that the U.S. presence in the Caribbean and Trump’s saber-rattling—this time directed at Venezuela’s embattled leadership—offered little reassurance that restraint would actually hold.Outside the Senate, advocacy groups were only half-defeated. Demand Progress called the maneuvering proof that real congressional oversight isn’t a fantasy, if lawmakers are willing to dig in. As Cavan Kharrazian told me, “Congress’s war powers aren’t about trusting any president at his word. They’re guaranteed, or they’re not worth the parchment.”The larger story here dwarfs the specifics of Venezuela. Since World War II, presidents have often sidestepped Congress on matters of force. The 1973 War Powers Resolution was supposed to shift the balance, yet decades on, its effect remains uncertain—almost symbolic, critics argue, without a Congress disposed to assert itself. As historian Peter Mansoor put it to me, “Nobody in politics seems eager to shoulder the responsibility for wars, yet here we are again, tinkering at the edge of escalation.”Meanwhile, the trigger for this latest spat—U.S. forces’ dramatic capture of Nicolás Maduro—remains shrouded in official secrecy. Brief Senate summaries hint at legal acrobatics, framing the episode as strictly “law enforcement,” not war. The full story, buried in classified files, hasn’t yet seen daylight.At street level, public unease is growing. Polling by the AP and NORC finds most Americans—not just traditional skeptics—believe the executive branch is pushing too far, too often, in overseas actions. Chuck Schumer has picked up that baton, warning about “dangerous drift” and the specter of endless entanglements abroad—a theme familiar to students of recent history.Even as the White House touts partnerships (Venezuela included), the subtext is far from harmonious. Trump, when pressed, hints at far bigger designs—a military gaze that scans beyond Caracas, perhaps Greenland or God knows where next.And on the House side? Democratic leaders are sketching out a parallel challenge, although whether that one gets as much oxygen—or as public a showdown—remains an open question. This latest Senate cliffhanger reminds us that, for all the president’s power, Congress is not wholly sidelined. When its members flex what muscle they have, they can—in fits and starts—force accountability into the conversation.In Washington, these moments never last long. But every so often, you get a glimpse of the old Madisonian give-and-take: noisy, messy, and, just occasionally, consequential.