A curious constitutional drama unfolded in the nation’s capital last week. Having failed to pass a moratorium on evictions, members of Congress took to the steps of the U.S. Capitol to demand that President Biden impose one.
For his part, Mr. Biden strode into the White House briefing room and suggested that the prerogative to make policy on the issue lay with Congress.
Soon enough, though, Mr. Biden relented, and Democrats celebrated. As policy, it was a progressive victory. Constitutionally, it was both troubling and bizarre.
The issue was not simply whether the moratorium was constitutional, though the federal courts have questioned the statutory authority the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention claimed. The underlying constitutional derangement pertained to the way members of Congress and the president were eager to endorse each other’s authority without exercising their own.
Democrats might protest that they had no choice but to turn to the White House because Republicans would not support a legislative moratorium. That may be, but the framers would have expected the defense of legislative power to take precedence over a policy dispute.
The framers assumed that each branch of government would maintain the separation of powers by jealously guarding its authority from encroachments by the others. The evictions episode was less tug of war than hot potato: Congress wanted the president to use executive authority, and the president wanted the legislature to legislate.
Democrats are not the only ones refusing to defend legislative authority. Republicans denigrating the House investigation into the insurrection of Jan. 6 — a physical assault on one branch of government incited by another — are unwilling even to defend the institution bodily.
The acid test of separation of powers is whether members of Congress are willing to assert their authority against a president of their own party. Democrats failed that on evictions, just as Republicans did by handing off authority to Donald Trump. Given this bipartisan consensus for presidential authority, it may be time to acknowledge reality: The concept of the separation of powers — which depends on members of Congress unifying to protect legislative power — has collapsed in the United States. We have become a de facto parliamentary system in which competing parties battle for executive power. The problem is that we have acquired all the vices of such a system but none of its virtues.
A parliamentary system typically has the effects of discouraging demagogues and ensuring competence, by seasoning leaders on the journey from the backbenches to the ones at the front. By contrast, three presidents who served before Joe Biden — George W. Bush, Barack Obama and Mr. Trump — arrived in the White House as either newcomers or latecomers to national office. Parliamentary systems also feature vigorous debates with real consequences. Governments rise and fall on the basis of their legislative agendas. Debates in Congress are largely stagecraft, with actual governing being relegated to a vast executive branch empowered to turn vague laws into detailed policy.
The primary vice of parliamentary systems is their incompatibility with the separation of powers. James Madison felt this separation was so important that the lack of it was “the very definition of tyranny,” even if concentrated powers were exercised benignly. Montesquieu warned that when executive and legislative power are mixed, “there is no liberty, because one can fear that the same monarch or senate that makes tyrannical laws will execute them tyrannically.”
The separation of powers should not be romanticized. The only president to rise fully above party was the first one, and George Washington took office before parties solidified. But even after that, the fact that presidents and members of Congress were elected by different means, with different institutional loyalties, still enabled them to curb each other’s abuses.
There are almost no curbs now. One might say elections control presidents, but Mr. Trump’s efforts to undo the 2020 presidential contest, which culminated in Jan. 6, showed that check is fragile. In addition, a single official who can marshal the direct power of his or supporters may be particularly dangerous, as Mr. Trump’s incitement leading up to and on Jan. 6 also demonstrated.
These are palpable risks today. Between elections, presidents essentially run American government. Republicans and Democrats in Congress play the auxiliary part of either supporting or opposing whoever occupies the White House. Congress generally cedes the initiative on legislation to the executive branch, reserving for itself the role of merely reacting to the president.
This obsession with the presidency also crowds out other advantages the separation of powers should provide. Legislators are chosen geographically in the United States, which ought to mean they reflect not only local interests but also the nuances of diverse views about national politics. Instead, many elections at all levels are proxies for national issues that are increasingly seen as civilizational battles. When Americans vote for members of Congress today, they are largely voting for parties that increasingly operate in lock step. In 2020, 16 out of 435 congressional districts voted for different parties for the White House and House of Representatives. That is less than 4 percent of congressional districts, down from as much as 40 percent in the 1970s and 1980s.
Also lost in the collapse of geographic representation is Madison’s definition of the representative’s role: to “refine and enlarge the public views.” That presumes both acquaintance with those views and the judgment required to align them with the public’s true interest.
Legislative debates now rotate around the president, often because the presidency is seen as an instrument for defending or capturing a legislative majority. That is characteristic of a parliamentary system. But because one is either for or against the president, a system that orbits the White House strips legislators of their ability to exercise independent judgment from issue to issue.
If legislative issues are simply symbols of presidential fortunes, we should expect partisan gridlock: Alliances will solidify around the presidency or the majority rather than shifting from issue to issue. Democrats and Republicans may be able to push a president slightly in one direction or another, or block him or her altogether, but the presidency remains the center of attention. The bipartisan infrastructure deal, for example, originated in negotiations not between members of Congress but between them and the White House.
Finally, by empowering all three branches of government to check one another, the separation of powers forces the nation to look at issues from different angles: the immediate and parochial perspectives of representatives, the national view of presidents and the constitutional outlook of the courts.
The problems with abandoning the separation of powers may be difficult to see if one supports the current president, but it should not take much imagination to contemplate why you wouldn’t like having the bulk of national powers being exercised by a president with whom you disagree. Presidents now sit atop vast administrative apparatuses. They could easily abuse this power, such as by rewarding friends and punishing adversaries. The point for Montesquieu and Madison was not whether they actually did, but whether they could. And the ability to abuse power often leads to the abuse itself.
The deliberate adoption of a parliamentary system would still entail these risks. But it might at least have conferred some of that system’s benefits. As it stands — with Congress unwilling to unite against even a physical assault incited by the president — we have maintained the empty shell of the separation of powers around the core of a partisan system. The result is a system capable of abusing citizens but not governing them. It would be difficult to conjure a worse combination.
Greg Weiner (@GregWeiner1) is a political scientist at Assumption University, a visiting scholar at the American Enterprise Institute and the author of “The Political Constitution: The Case Against Judicial Supremacy.”
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