Donald Trump did not lose the presidency in the 2026 midterm elections, because the presidency was not on the ballot. What he lost, according to the reported and projected results, was the Republican grip on Congress, and with it the ability to pass his legislative programme through a friendly legislature. That change is profound, but it is not the same as losing power altogether. The American presidency carries a set of authorities that do not depend on which party controls the House or the Senate, and Trump retains all of them. Understanding what he still controls, and what he has now lost, is essential to understanding the next two years of American politics.
That is why analysts have described Trump as a lame duck but not as powerless, a phrase that captures both the limits and the reach of his remaining position. The term lame duck usually refers to a president in the closing period of office, especially after the opposition has taken Congress, when major new legislation becomes much harder to achieve. It does not mean the president becomes a ceremonial figure. In Trump’s case, commentators note that his control of foreign policy, his extensive use of executive orders, his veto power and his command of federal agencies give him continuing influence over events at home and abroad. Whether that influence is used to govern, to obstruct, or to reshape policy unilaterally will be one of the central questions of the coming period.
Trump Powers Without Congress: Foreign Policy and the Commander-in-Chief Role
The war involving Iran illustrates the point most sharply. Decisions about military operations, about escalation or restraint, about negotiations and about the posture of American forces are presidential decisions, taken on the advice of military and civilian officials but ultimately resting with the commander-in-chief. A Democratic Congress may criticise those decisions, hold hearings, restrict certain funding, or pass resolutions expressing its opposition, but it cannot by itself end a military campaign or negotiate a settlement. That reality gives Trump continuing authority over a conflict that, by his own acknowledgement, played a part in the midterm outcome. It also means that voters who hoped the election would immediately change the course of the war may be disappointed by how slowly, if at all, policy shifts in response to congressional pressure alone.
Ukraine presents a different but related test. American support for Ukraine has depended heavily on congressional funding, and a Democratic Congress may approach that question differently from a Republican one. Yet the president still controls the execution of policy: the delivery of approved aid, the diplomatic relationship with Kyiv and with European allies, the tone of negotiations, and the strategic signals sent to Moscow. Congress can appropriate money, but it cannot manage the day-to-day conduct of foreign policy. The interaction between congressional funding decisions and presidential execution will therefore shape Ukraine policy in complex ways, with neither branch able to impose its will entirely on its own. Analysts caution that the precise balance will depend on specific funding bills, on presidential decisions about implementation, and on developments on the ground that neither Washington institution fully controls.
Policy toward Israel and arms transfers follows a similar pattern. The president plays a central role in decisions about military assistance, about diplomatic support, and about the American position in regional diplomacy. Congress can debate, delay or condition certain transfers through legislation, and it can exert powerful political pressure, but the executive branch manages the relationships, the negotiations and the operational decisions. For allies and adversaries alike, the White House therefore remains the primary address for American foreign policy, even when Congress is controlled by the opposition. That continuity is one reason why foreign governments tend to watch presidential statements and actions more closely than congressional resolutions when trying to judge where American policy is heading.
Inside the United States, the most visible remaining instrument of presidential power is the executive order. Reporting has put the number of executive orders signed by Trump since January 2025 at 292, an extensive use of unilateral presidential action. Executive orders allow a president to direct federal agencies, to set enforcement priorities, to reshape regulations within existing law, and to implement policy without waiting for Congress. They are not unlimited: they cannot appropriate money that Congress has not provided, they cannot overturn statutes, and they can be challenged in court. But within those limits, they give a president a powerful way to govern alone, particularly when Congress is unwilling to legislate on his terms.
The Veto Pen, Pardons and the Limits of a Democratic Senate
The veto is the second great lever that remains in presidential hands. When Congress passes a bill, the president can sign it, allow it to become law without his signature, or veto it and return it to Congress with objections. Overriding a veto requires a two-thirds majority in both the House and the Senate, a threshold that is deliberately difficult to reach. In a Congress controlled by Democrats, but not necessarily by veto-proof majorities, that threshold gives Trump a decisive say over legislation he opposes. Democrats may pass bills on their priorities, from domestic policy to oversight measures, only to see them stopped at the White House. That dynamic can produce gridlock, but it can also force negotiation, as congressional leaders seek bills that can attract enough support to survive a veto or that the president can be persuaded to sign.
Pardons form another unilateral presidential power that Congress cannot override. The president can pardon federal offences, commute sentences, and grant clemency in ways that reflect his own judgment and political priorities. That power has often been controversial, particularly when used for allies or in politically charged cases, but it remains entirely within presidential discretion. A Democratic Congress can criticise pardons, hold hearings about them, and debate their wisdom, but it cannot reverse them. Pardons are therefore likely to remain a visible, if episodic, expression of presidential authority in the coming period.
Appointments, by contrast, show where a Democratic Senate can impose real limits. Many senior executive and judicial appointments require Senate confirmation, and a Senate controlled by Democrats can delay, block or reject nominees it opposes. That gives Democrats significant leverage over the composition of the administration and the federal courts, at least for positions that require confirmation. Trump can still make recess appointments in limited circumstances, appoint acting officials, and rely on officials already in place, but he cannot simply install his preferred nominees over Senate opposition. The confirmation process is therefore likely to become one of the most contested arenas of divided government, with vacancies left open, nominees withdrawn, and compromises forced on both sides.
Given all of this, the description of Trump as a lame duck needs careful handling. In one sense, the label fits: his legislative programme faces a much harder path, his party has lost Congress, and his remaining time in office is now measured in a closing phase rather than in an opening period of expansive lawmaking. In another sense, the label misleads if it suggests impotence. A president who controls foreign policy, commands the military, issues executive orders by the hundred, wields the veto and directs the executive branch is not a bystander. Analysts who use the lame-duck description generally mean it in the narrower, legislative sense, while stressing that presidential power in other domains remains substantial. That distinction is speculative in its implications, and observers differ on how Trump will choose to exercise his remaining powers, but the underlying constitutional facts are not in dispute.
Speculation about Trump’s future choices should be labelled as such. Some analysts speculate that he will govern more unilaterally, relying on executive orders and foreign-policy action to compensate for legislative losses. Others speculate that he will seek selective deals with Democrats, using the veto as leverage to extract concessions while claiming bipartisan achievements. Still others speculate that confrontation will dominate, with vetoes, investigations and public clashes crowding out negotiation. Each scenario is plausible, and the actual course may combine elements of all three, varying by issue and by moment. What can be said with confidence is that none of these paths is predetermined by the election result alone; presidential choice, congressional strategy, court rulings and external events will all shape the outcome.
The next two years will test whether that sharing can produce stable government or whether it descends into sustained gridlock. Trump retains the tools to act, to block and to lead on the world stage. Democrats retain the tools to legislate, to fund, to investigate and to confirm or reject. Neither side can govern alone, and neither side can be ignored. That balance, frustrating as it may be to partisans on both sides, is the system the midterm result has produced, and it will define American politics until voters return to choose a new president and a new Congress.
Sources
USN reviewed reporting from multiple outlets for this story. Read more from Al Jazeera, Le Monde and Reuters.