Samuel Garrett, University of Sydney

A year into US President Donald Trump’s second term, his record use of executive orders, impoundment of government spending, and military interventions in Venezuela and Iran have sparked criticisms from Democrats and even some Republicans. They say he is unconstitutionally sidelining Congress.

As Trump increasingly wields his power unilaterally, some have wondered what the point of Congress is now. Isn’t it supposed to act as a check on the president?

But the power of the modern presidency had already been growing for decades. Successive presidents from both parties have taken advantage of constitutional vagaries to increase the power of the executive branch. It’s a long-running institutional battle that has underwritten US political history.

The years-long erosion of Congress’ influence leaves the president with largely unchecked power. We’re now seeing the consequences.

A fraught relationship

Congress is made up of the House of Representatives and the Senate. Under the US Constitution, it’s the branch of the government tasked with making laws. It’s supposed to act as a check on the president and the courts.

It can pass legislation, raise taxes, control government spending, review and approve presidential nominees, advise and consent on treaties, conduct investigations, declare war, impeach officials, and even choose the president in a disputed election.

But the Constitution leaves open many questions about where the powers of Congress end and the powers of the president begin.

In a 2019 ruling on Trump’s tax returns, the judge commented:

disputes between Congress and the President are a recurring plot in our national story. And that is precisely what the Framers intended.

Relative power between the different branches of the US government has changed since independence as constitutional interpretations shifted. This includes whether the president or Congress takes the lead on making laws.

Although Congress holds legislative power, intense negotiations between Congress and the executive branch (led by the president) are now a common feature of US lawmaking. Modern political parties work closely with the president to design and pass new laws.

Redefining the presidency

By contrast, presidents in the 19th and early 20th centuries generally left Congress to lead policymaking. Party “czars” in Congress dominated the national legislative agenda.

Future president Woodrow Wilson noted in 1885 that Congress:

has entered more and more into the details of administration, until it has virtually taken into its own hands all the substantial powers of government.

Wilson and Franklin Roosevelt after him would later help to redefine the president not only as the head of the executive branch, but as head of their party and of the government.

In the 1970s, in the wake of the Watergate scandal and secret bombing of Cambodia, Congress sought to expand its oversight over what commentators suggested was becoming an “imperial presidency”.

This included the passage of the 1973 War Powers Resolution, designed to wrest back Congressional control of unauthorised military deployments.

Nevertheless, the Clinton, George W. Bush and Obama administrations all argued that Congressional authorisation was not required for operations in Kosovo, Iraq and Libya (though Bush still sought authorisation to secure public support).

In turn, the Trump administration argued its actions in Venezuela were a law-enforcement operation, to which the resolution does not apply.

Why presidents bypass Congress

Historically, presidents have sought to bypass Congress for reasons of personality or politics. Controversial decisions that would struggle to pass through Congress are often made using executive orders.

Obama’s 2011 “We Can’t Wait” initiative used executive orders to enact policy priorities without needing to go through a gridlocked Congress. One such policy was the 2012 creation of the DACA program for undocumented immigrants.

Franklin Roosevelt’s use of executive orders dwarfed that of his predecessors. He issued eight times as many orders in his 12-year tenure than were signed in the first 100 years of the United States’ existence.

The question of what constitutes a genuine threat to the preservation of the nation is especially pertinent now. More than 50 “national emergencies” are currently in effect in the United States.

This was the controversial basis of Trump’s tariff policy under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act. It bypassed Congressional approval and is now being considered by the Supreme Court.

Recent presidents have also increasingly claimed executive privilege to block Congress’ subpoena power.

Institutional wrestling

Institutional wrestling is a feature of Congressional relations with the president, even when the same party controls the White House and both chambers of the legislature, as the Republican party does now.

While Roosevelt dominated Congress, his “court-packing plan” to take control of the US Supreme Court in 1937 proved a bridge too far, even for his own sweeping Democratic majorities. The Democrats controlled three quarters of both the House and Senate and yet refused to back his plan.

More recently, former Democrat Speaker Nancy Pelosi delivered many of Barack Obama’s early legislative achievements, but still clashed with the president in 2010 over congressional oversight.

As House minority leader, she rallied many Democrats against Obama’s US$1.1 trillion (A$1.6 trillion) budget proposal in 2014. Obama was forced to rely on Republican votes in 2015 to secure approval for the Trans-Pacific Partnership, despite his heavy lobbying of congressional Democrats.

Even today’s Congress, which has taken Trump’s direction at almost every turn, demonstrated its influence perhaps most notably by forcing the president into a backflip on the release of the Epstein files after a revolt within Trump’s supporters in the Republican party.

Given the extremely slim Republican majority in Congress, the general unity of the Republican party behind Trump has been a key source of his political strength. That may be lost if public opinion continues to turn against him.

Is Trump breaking the rules?

Trump and his administration have taken an expansive view of presidential power by regularly bypassing Congress.

But he’s not the first president to have pushed the already blurry limits of executive power to redefine what is or is not within the president’s remit. The extent to which presidents are even bound by law at all is a matter of long running academic debate.

Deliberate vagaries in US law and the Constitution mean the Supreme Court is ultimately the arbiter of what is legal.

The court is currently the most conservative in modern history and has taken a sweeping view of presidential power. The 2024 Supreme Court ruling that presidents enjoy extensive immunity suggests the president is, in fact, legally able to do almost anything.

Regardless, public opinion and perceptions of illegality continue to be one of the most important constraints on presidential action. Constituents can take a dim view of presidential behaviour, even if it’s not technically illegal.

Even if Trump can legally act with complete authority, it’s public opinion — not the letter of the law — that may continue to shape when, and if, he does so.

Samuel Garrett, Research Associate, United States Studies Centre, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Brian Robert Cook, The University of Melbourne; Nicholas Harrigan, Macquarie University, and Peter Kamstra, The University of Melbourne

Weekend storms and flooding in New South Wales led to the NSW State Emergency Service responding to more than 1,600 incidents across the state.

This follows last week’s flash floods in Victoria, where cars were swept to sea and people raced to escape. Many affected were holidaymakers but even locals were caught unprepared.

Previous flood-preparedness approaches have proved insufficient. Government and risk agencies have relied on top-down approaches that broadcast information to people and then expect them to act on it.

Despite decades of increasingly sophisticated warnings and campaigns, attempting to tell people what to do has delivered uneven and often limited results.

So what actually works?

This question was at the heart of our new paper, published in the Journal of Hydrology, which involved engaging with 641 households in flood-prone areas of Kingston and Darebin in the Greater Melbourne area.

We found a more participatory one-on-one approach leads to behaviour changes that actually reduce risk to people and property. That means really listening to people about what they know and how they feel about flood risk.

What we did

The study used a real-world, before-and-after research design to understand how households decide to reduce flood risk. We used a methodology called Community Engagement for Disaster Risk Reduction, conceived by one of us (Brian Cook) but implemented by an extensive team, which prioritises meaningful human engagement over simply spreading awareness or telling people what to do.

Our researchers worked with households in flood-prone areas, holding one-on-one conversations.

Each household completed an initial survey-interview about their experiences, perceptions, and past actions.

Researchers returned months later to repeat the process and record changes.

By combining survey data with recorded conversations, our study tracked what people actually did over time.

What we found

Our research found people made practical changes to reduce flood risk after these engagements.

What mattered was not being told something, but having the space to talk through their own situation, receive follow-up material, and feel supported in making decisions relevant to them.

One participant reflected:

I can’t recall the detail of the conversation but certainly learned from the links you sent me in reference to the SES and the responses to various potential disasters.

Others described how seeing their home in context helped:

I think the maps and the resources that [your research assistant] sent me are what increased my awareness; I think I looked at the map and where we live, and I think I saw that it was probably the risk of flooding was worse than I thought it was.

For some, the engagement helped them think through

What to do if there’s a flood, acting early, making sure everyone’s safe, just like a bushfire.

Several participants described small but meaningful steps, such as:

I’m getting my emergency box together, so if something happens then I will be prepared or at least know what to grab and run for my life.

The conversations also shaped people’s connections with others. One said they:

Got in contact with a couple more neighbours since then, just exchanged numbers so that if they see something happening in our place, or vice versa, that we’ve got a contact for them to call.

Another said:

When it came time to renew my insurance policy, double checked it for our flood cover.

One explained:

I increased my house, contents, and building insurance.

Importantly, participants often framed flood risk as something shared and ongoing, not a problem solved by individual vigilance. One reflected:

There are a lot of leaves in the driveway that I went and swept up and put in my bin and then I thought “I’m never going to get them all in my bin”. I needed to make it a council issue rather than an individual owner’s issue. And if the leaves aren’t swept up, they go in the drains and then we get flooding in the driveway.

Another said:

I have asked the body corporate if they could do some new concreting because the ground has settled and that’s more risky. The water actually can come in [to the house] if we have a lot of rain.

Change emerged through feeling supported, being taken seriously, and acting within everyday constraints.

Where to from here?

In our study, change didn’t occur because people were instructed, persuaded, or repeatedly told what to do.

Nor was it the result of improved messaging, scarier warnings, or more information.

What mattered was participatory learning over time: people being invited into respectful conversations, treated as capable decision-makers, and supported to work through risk in ways that made sense within their own lives.

When people are engaged as partners rather than passive recipients, learning becomes relational, actions feel legitimate, and responsibility is shared across households, neighbours, and institutions.

Is it affordable?

Well, continuing on the current, ineffective path might well be even costlier in the long-term. Governments spend vast amounts on each advertisement campaign, with underwhelming results.

The 2022 floods along Australia’s east coast cost around A$7.7 billion in Queensland alone. If you reduced the damages by 10% you’d have more than $700 million in savings.

Engaging one-on-one with each household in high risk flood zones sounds expensive, but so too are many other tailored services provided by governments in Australia. Think, for instance, of home visits by a midwife or child health nurse after a person gives birth, or an in-home assessment provided by My Aged Care. As a society, we’ve decided those one-on-one engagements, while costly, are worth it.

Our research suggests it’s time we consider a similar approach with disaster risk reduction.

We know what works

Disaster preparedness has for too long persisted with approaches that seek to persuade, instruct, or direct.

But as recent events confirm, disasters do not unfold in neat or predictable ways.

Floods demand judgement, improvisation, and quick decisions made under extreme stress. What’s required isn’t simple compliance with predetermined instructions, but learning that can be adapted and adjusted in the moment.

Crucially, nearly all participants reported enjoying or appreciating the engagements, which helped spread the word and support further community connections.

When people are engaged in conversations that take their circumstances seriously, they build confidence and capacity to respond to unpredictable situations.

This is why participatory engagement and collaboration sit at the heart of the durable risk reduction we will need in an increasingly dangerous future.

Brian Robert Cook, Associate Professor of Geography, The University of Melbourne; Nicholas Harrigan, Senior Lecturer in Quantitative Sociology, Macquarie University, and Peter Kamstra, Post-doctoral Research Fellow of Geography, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.