Every four years presidential candidates barnstorm the country promising sweeping change “on day one.” These grandiose pledges feed a public craving for immediate action, and reinforce an “I alone can fix it” mentality that now defines modern presidencies. While governing by pen may provide quick wins for a public frustrated by the slowness of the swamp, this president-centric approach to governing distorts the constitutional limits of the office, fosters policy instability, and undermines the collaborative spirit of our representative democracy.
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Donald Trump, returning to the White House after a first term that saw him issue 220 executive orders, has guaranteed to continue the trend of bold, unilateral action. Touting to enact stricter border policies, dismantle regulatory frameworks, and end global conflicts, Trump’s second inaugural address, followed by the slew of executive orders he issued on Monday night, suggests his pen will be mightier than ever. But history shows that this approach—while politically expedient—is inherently fragile. Executive actions can be undone by judicial review, legislative opposition, or simply the next guy, proving that the ink of the presidential pen can often be more pencil than permanent.
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To be fair, Trump is far from the only president to legislate from the wrong end of Pennsylvania Avenue. Presidents of both parties have regularly bypassed Congress via executive orders—for good and ill. Consider Franklin D. Roosevelt’s 1942 Executive Order, which authorized the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II, or Harry Truman’s 1948 order desegregating the military. More recently, Barack Obama’s Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program provided temporary protection for Dreamers, while Trump’s Executive Order —the so-called Muslim travel ban—halted entry from several predominantly Muslim countries. All enormous changes in policy, and none receiving a vote in Congress.
The political calculus behind this is straightforward. Voters demand results, and presidents face a ticking clock. Campaign promises create a sense of urgency to deliver quick fixes, from lowering gas prices to cracking down on illegal immigration—both pledges Trump has made. Why slog through the messy grind of congressional compromise when a single signature offers immediate gratification?
This reliance on executive orders has become default—and at a cost. What was once a last resort after negotiations with Congress failed is now the first arrow pulled out of a president’s quiver. Today, candidates don’t even pretend they’ll work with Congress; instead, they promise “day one” action, and crowds go crazy. Once in office, they follow through with a stack of orders and a high-profile signing ceremony designed to show decisive leadership. And half of the country cheers.
This method of governance comes at a steep price. Executive orders are easily reversed, often causing a pendulum swing in policy that disrupts both the private sector and international relationships. Joe Biden’s cancellation of the Keystone XL pipeline on his first day in office reversed Trump’s order allowing its construction. Similarly, Trump’s withdrawal from the Paris Climate Agreement, entered via Obama’s executive order, left global allies questioning America’s reliability. Even Trump’s border wall—a cornerstone of his 2016 campaign—faced significant legal and legislative hurdles, with courts blocking his attempt to divert federal funds for its construction. These cases exemplify how governing by pen often sacrifices durability and legitimacy for speed.
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They also come with real human costs. Dreamers, for example, have been living in a state of limbo—if not, outright fear—for a decade, knowing that a simple change of a president’s signature will turn them from protected to targets for deportation.
Congress’s complicity in this erosion of legislative authority is also a key factor. Lawmakers, especially aligned with the president’s party, often welcome executive action when they agree with the outcomes. It’s a politically safe move: It allows them to claim credit for popular results without bearing the political risks of taking a public stand. But this dynamic accelerates the decline of Congress as a coequal branch of government, further shifting power to the presidency.
Trump’s first term serves as a cautionary tale. Despite controlling Congress for two years, his administration failed to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act, demonstrating the limitations of unilateral action. His reliance on emergency declarations to fund the border wall faced significant legal challenges, exposing the constraints imposed by judicial and legislative checks. While executive orders may create the appearance of decisive action, they are no substitute for durable, bipartisan legislation.
How much Trump will legislate through executive orders in a second term largely depends on congressional Republicans. Democrats, we know, will oppose his agenda. With Republican majorities in both chambers for at least the first two years of his term, they hold the power to either restrain or enable his policymaking from the Oval. The critical question is whether any GOP lawmakers will challenge Trump when his actions conflict with constitutional norms or conservative principles. In his first term, congressional Republicans—notably Sens. Bob Corker, John McCain, and Mitt Romney—checked the president’s wishes more than we remember.
The key difference? All of those Senators are gone, and so are many of their institutionalist colleagues. More Trump loyalists have been elected to a legislative branch that was designed to function as an independent check on executive power. This shift raises concerns about whether Congress will fulfill its constitutional role as a check on executive overreach.
The consequences of continuing down this path are clear: power concentrated in the executive branch is power lost to the people. The framers of the Constitution designed a system that required collaboration and compromise, recognizing that durable progress comes not from unilateral action but from collective deliberation.
For Trump—or any president—the challenge lies in balancing the promise of unilateral action with the reality of shared governance. The presidency, often described as the most powerful office in the world, remains tethered to a system of checks and balances designed to prevent overreach. To govern effectively, presidents must recognize that true progress requires working within the system, not skirting it. And Congress–especially members of the president’s party–must resist the urge to let the president do from his office what they must struggle to do from theirs. After all, power is easy to cede but difficult to recover.
In an era of deep political polarization, the temptation to legislate from the Oval Office is stronger than ever. The durability of a president’s legacy depends not on how much power they wield, but on how wisely they share it. For leaders seeking to leave a lasting mark, collaboration is not a weakness; it’s the cornerstone of a strong, lasting political legacy.