VP Vance Breaks Senate Deadlock, Trump Crushes War Powers Challenge

Paul Riverbank, 1/15/2026A deadlocked Senate, divided over Trump’s war powers after the Venezuela raid, leaves Congress grappling with presidential authority and the specter of unchecked military force—an unresolved tension set to fuel further debate in Washington.

The backdrop was anything but theatrical: over several days, senators faced a barrage of calls and closed-door meetings. At the heart of the maneuvering, two Republican senators who’d initially leaned one way—Josh Hawley of Missouri and Todd Young of Indiana—shifted course after White House overtures. Hawley spoke afterward, describing a blunt warning from both the president and Secretary of State Marco Rubio: “The president thinks this bill would really tie his hands.” The message was clear, as was Rubio’s pledge—no ground troops, not now. Young, after much prodding, revealed he had received a private letter from Rubio, spelling out that Congress would be consulted, “circumstances permitting,” if major military action loomed. Young added that he’d only be satisfied if Rubio appeared publicly before the Foreign Relations Committee to field senators’ questions.

Beneath the cheery facade of legislative formality, there was a sense among lawmakers that the U.S. strike capturing Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela had opened a deeper wound. Senator Rand Paul, unshaken by presidential invective—Trump labeled him a “stone cold loser”—stood with Republicans Lisa Murkowski and Susan Collins, both derided as “disasters” by the president. Those three, notably, didn’t budge.

If party loyalty seemed to wobble, so too did the broader confidence in Trump’s foreign policy instincts. Senators have been left guessing—the president speaks offhand about running Venezuela for years, muses about acquiring Greenland, then blasts critics as un-American. Inside the Capitol, the mood is one of unease more than malice.

On the floor, Senate Democrats didn’t hold back. Chuck Schumer condemned the blocked resolution as paving “a roadmap to another endless war,” and Tim Kaine challenged the administration to air its legal arguments in the light of day: “If the justification is so sound, why shy away from debate?” Kaine pressed.

Republican leaders pushed back, casting the whole effort as an overblown reaction to a situation where, by their lights, there is no U.S. combat role. “We’re not engaged in active fighting there,” insisted John Thune, the Senate Majority Leader. He dismissed the measure as Democratic theatricality driven by “anti-Trump hysteria.”

In one awkward moment, the Justice Department released a cavity-ridden memo, its pages heavily blacked out, laying out the official legal rationale for the Maduro operation. The document emphasized there were “no plans for further escalation,” but offered little else.

Public sentiment, perhaps tellingly, is less forgiving. In a recent poll, a majority of Americans said President Trump had stretched his powers too far in deploying force overseas.

Meanwhile, House Democrats are, by all signals, preparing their own push for a war powers clampdown, hinting at a vote in the coming days. This debate does not map only onto Trump; lawmakers on both sides seem acutely aware that, since World War II, presidents have routinely acted well outside direct Congressional checks. The 1973 War Powers Resolution—meant as a bulwark—now seems, in many ways, more historical artifact than living curb.

Historian Peter Mansoor, surveying this landscape, summed it up with characteristic dryness: “Politicians prefer to evade responsibility—but that’s how you end up mired in perpetual conflict.”

So while Wednesday’s vote keeps presidential freedom on foreign deployments intact—for now—it has almost certainly set the stage for a grinding, possibly generational, argument over war, constitutional authority, and the balance of power between Congress and the Executive. In Washington, these things rarely rest for long.

Tense debates on war powers are hardly a novelty in Washington, but Wednesday’s narrow Senate vote brought the question into sharp relief. The chamber was, for a long hour, perched on edge—split right down the middle—before Vice President JD Vance descended to cast the deciding vote, effectively shelving a measure that aimed to put stricter limits on President Trump’s ability to take independent military action in Venezuela.The backdrop was anything but theatrical: over several days, senators faced a barrage of calls and closed-door meetings. At the heart of the maneuvering, two Republican senators who’d initially leaned one way—Josh Hawley of Missouri and Todd Young of Indiana—shifted course after White House overtures. Hawley spoke afterward, describing a blunt warning from both the president and Secretary of State Marco Rubio: “The president thinks this bill would really tie his hands.” The message was clear, as was Rubio’s pledge—no ground troops, not now. Young, after much prodding, revealed he had received a private letter from Rubio, spelling out that Congress would be consulted, “circumstances permitting,” if major military action loomed. Young added that he’d only be satisfied if Rubio appeared publicly before the Foreign Relations Committee to field senators’ questions.Beneath the cheery facade of legislative formality, there was a sense among lawmakers that the U.S. strike capturing Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela had opened a deeper wound. Senator Rand Paul, unshaken by presidential invective—Trump labeled him a “stone cold loser”—stood with Republicans Lisa Murkowski and Susan Collins, both derided as “disasters” by the president. Those three, notably, didn’t budge.If party loyalty seemed to wobble, so too did the broader confidence in Trump’s foreign policy instincts. Senators have been left guessing—the president speaks offhand about running Venezuela for years, muses about acquiring Greenland, then blasts critics as un-American. Inside the Capitol, the mood is one of unease more than malice.On the floor, Senate Democrats didn’t hold back. Chuck Schumer condemned the blocked resolution as paving “a roadmap to another endless war,” and Tim Kaine challenged the administration to air its legal arguments in the light of day: “If the justification is so sound, why shy away from debate?” Kaine pressed.Republican leaders pushed back, casting the whole effort as an overblown reaction to a situation where, by their lights, there is no U.S. combat role. “We’re not engaged in active fighting there,” insisted John Thune, the Senate Majority Leader. He dismissed the measure as Democratic theatricality driven by “anti-Trump hysteria.”In one awkward moment, the Justice Department released a cavity-ridden memo, its pages heavily blacked out, laying out the official legal rationale for the Maduro operation. The document emphasized there were “no plans for further escalation,” but offered little else.Public sentiment, perhaps tellingly, is less forgiving. In a recent poll, a majority of Americans said President Trump had stretched his powers too far in deploying force overseas.Meanwhile, House Democrats are, by all signals, preparing their own push for a war powers clampdown, hinting at a vote in the coming days. This debate does not map only onto Trump; lawmakers on both sides seem acutely aware that, since World War II, presidents have routinely acted well outside direct Congressional checks. The 1973 War Powers Resolution—meant as a bulwark—now seems, in many ways, more historical artifact than living curb.Historian Peter Mansoor, surveying this landscape, summed it up with characteristic dryness: “Politicians prefer to evade responsibility—but that’s how you end up mired in perpetual conflict.”So while Wednesday’s vote keeps presidential freedom on foreign deployments intact—for now—it has almost certainly set the stage for a grinding, possibly generational, argument over war, constitutional authority, and the balance of power between Congress and the Executive. In Washington, these things rarely rest for long.