The United States faces no shortage of fiscal fictions. Among the most pernicious is the pretense that meaningful spending restraint can be achieved without conflict. In Washington, every dollar already appropriated is treated not as a proposal, but as holy writ. This illusion must be dispelled. The 1974 Impoundment Control Act, crafted in response to Nixon’s unilateral deferrals, created a legal mechanism known as a rescission, an executive request to Congress to cancel previously approved spending. In other words, a constitutionally sound instrument for dislodging funds from the grip of bureaucratic inertia.
Why does rescission matter now? Because the Trump administration, newly re-inaugurated in 2025, faces a deficit-swelling omnibus known, somewhat grotesquely, as the “Big Beautiful Bill.” While Republicans rightly tout the pro-growth elements of that legislation, it was also larded with waste. Enter the Department of Government Efficiency, previously led by Elon Musk, which has identified over $200 billion in unnecessary federal spending. Yet the rescission package currently under discussion, barely $9 billion, borders on insult. It is not a budgetary scalpel. It is a plastic butter knife.
To grasp the gravity of the moment, consider the statutory power at Trump’s disposal. Under the Impoundment Control Act, the President can send a rescission request to Congress, triggering a 45-legislative-day countdown. During that window, the funds in question can be temporarily frozen. Most crucially, rescission bills are immune to the Senate filibuster, they require only a simple majority to pass. If the GOP cannot act under these favorable conditions, when can it?
History offers precedent. President Reagan submitted over 600 rescission proposals during his two terms, amounting to more than $43 billion in cuts. His largest single-year package in 1981 topped $15 billion, in today’s dollars, north of $50 billion. Reagan understood the virtue of confrontation. Congress would fund frivolity; he would try to claw it back. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes not. But he never mistook the possible for the adequate.
Contrast this with Trump’s first term. In 2018, he proposed a $15 billion rescission package, mostly unobligated funds from dormant accounts. It passed the House, but failed in the Senate, with two Republican defections: Susan Collins and Richard Burr. Their objections? Minor cuts to CHIP reserves and the Land and Water Conservation Fund. A few million dollars. The message was unmistakable: Even within the GOP, there were those who would not trim fat if it endangered a feather.
But that was then. Today, the political terrain is different. Trump has a popular mandate, a reconstituted Cabinet, and a bureaucratic insurgent, Elon Musk, unleashing efficiencies at scale. Musk’s DOGE team has frozen foreign aid, paused discretionary grants, and placed USAID on administrative ice. These are not hypotheticals. They are operational victories, albeit temporary ones. If Congress does not enact these cuts via rescission, courts will restore the funding. The choice is between permanence and performance.
And yet, the current package is a paltry $9 billion, reportedly focused on foreign aid and public broadcasting. That is a good start, but a terrible ending. The GOP has been handed a procedural gift: a fast-track, filibuster-proof tool to enact real reductions. Why act timidly? What signal does it send to voters when Republicans, handed control of Congress and the executive branch, manage only a rounding error?
Let us be clear. A meaningful rescission package must not nibble at the margins. It must reflect the scale of the problem. If DOGE has found $200 billion in waste, why not propose half of it? A $100 billion rescission package, strategically constructed, could achieve three goals: demonstrate seriousness about fiscal restraint, codify Musk’s emergency pauses into law, and dare Democrats to vote to restore waste.
Republicans need not fear this fight. Public broadcasting subsidies, foreign NGO grants, and dormant loan programs do not poll well outside Beltway salons. The American public is not clamoring for more funding for USAID consultants or climate workshops in Davos. They are demanding accountability. And rescission is accountability in legislative form.
Moreover, the GOP faces political peril in 2026. The House majority is fragile. The Senate map is unforgiving. Republicans cannot afford to campaign on slogans alone. They need deliverables. Passing a $9 billion rescission bill would be an asterisk. Passing a $100 billion bill? That would be a headline.
Some will protest that deeper cuts would endanger Republican unity. But this misses the dynamic of contemporary conservatism. MAGA voters do not reward caution. They reward courage. DOGE is not running a think tank it is running a demolition crew. And it has found the rot. Now it is Congress’s turn to wield the hammer.
There is also the matter of principle. If Republicans shrink from rescissions, they surrender the very argument for their existence. They campaign on reducing waste, fraud, and abuse. If they will not cut what Musk and DOGE have already identified, what will they cut? If not now, when?
The procedural stars will not align again soon. The filibuster-proof window is a rare gift. Trump should demand more from his team. The rescission package should be ambitious, unapologetic, and immediate. A $9 billion trim is not a reform. It is a press release.
If Republicans want to keep the House, retake the Senate, and fortify Trump’s second term, they must deliver a genuine fiscal victory. Rescission is not just a budget tool. It is a test. Of will. Of vision. Of fidelity to the promises made.
Cut deep. Cut now. Or prepare to be cut down in 2026.
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