Modern American governance has developed a troubling pattern. Economic shocks like the 21st century’s financial panics and pandemic are often met with vast expansions of federal authority — new spending programs, sweeping regulatory mandates, and institutional changes that linger long after the emergency has passed.
Spending in 2026 remains at pandemic levels, projected by the Congressional Budget Office to top $7.45 trillion and to exceed $10 trillion in 2033. Deficits likewise mirror the pandemic era, standing at $1.8 trillion and expected only to rise. By contrast, the $38 trillion national debt stood at “only” $20 trillion just a decade ago when Donald Trump stepped into his first term.
According to a June 2025 Conference Board report, “there are currently 52 ongoing national emergencies,” nearly all invoking the 1977 International Emergency Economic Powers Act. Trump declared eight “states of emergency” in his first hundred days alone, according to the Board. New military campaigns in the Middle East add more uncertainties for 2026.
The next economic shock, therefore, is a question of when, not if. But how much “flash policy” can be absorbed before we concede that the era of limited government is over? My CEI colleagues and I have recently noted the unappreciated fact that the federal government, on top of already soaking up so much of the nation’s resources, also steers many business sectors rather than the market forces, capitalism, and competitive enterprise naively assumed to be in control.
To confront this dilemma, CEI has in recent years outlined the case for an “Abuse-of-Crisis Prevention Act” to counter the pattern of political predation that accompanies major economic shocks with new structural and institutional guardrails. The framework would consist of several legislative Titles aimed at prioritizing non-government-based resilience and restoring constitutional limits:
- Title I would pursue aggressive spending cuts and regulatory liberalization, including the phaseout of the administrative state.
- Title II would shift policy away from federal intergenerational debt and toward fostering compounding household wealth along with the gradual deactivation of federal entitlements.
- Title III would enable the private sector to harden itself with ironclad corporate resilience — “rainy-day” preparedness that reduces rent-seeking and the political temptation for federal reflexive corporate rescues and bailouts.
- Title IV would strictly limit emergency declarations while privatizing readiness and recovery wherever possible through insurance and other market risk-management institutions.
- Title V would restore meaningful state sovereignty beyond the largely rhetorical federalism touted today.
Taken together, these measures would begin restoring a constitutional framework capable of resisting the political exploitation of crises.
But there is yet another plank — let’s call it Title VI: Discipline — that cannot be ignored, inspired by a certain question: What happens when policymakers exploit crises anyway?
Because right now, the answer is — nothing.
Even the best institutional reforms alone will not eliminate the temptation to exploit emergencies as vehicles and loopholes to excuse sweeping political transformation. After all, enumerated powers, seemingly the most rock-solid institutional guardrail of all, have long since been crashed through by Congress.
The pattern of exploitation has become so predictable that it resembles what the Declaration of Independence called a “long train of abuses.” When sweeping emergency policies later prove excessive, ineffective, and even harmful, the system simply moves on — with those new powers intact as a baseline from which to expand further. Extraordinary measures allegedly justified by necessity outlive the crisis that produced them, and politicians sit in wait to do it again.
An Abuse-of-Crisis framework therefore must also implement institutional disciplinary mechanisms, consistent with constitutional norms, capable of protecting Titles I through V.
This is not meant to be a radical idea, but a simple call for constitutionally grounded accountability. Under Article I, each chamber of Congress may determine its rules, punish members for disorderly behavior, and, with a two-thirds vote, expel them altogether. Congress also possesses formidable investigative powers, distinct from today’s seemingly theatrical ones: oversight hearings, subpoenas, and committee inquiries that can expose misconduct or abuse of authority in both the legislative and executive branches. Inspectors general across agencies — created under the Inspector General Act of 1978 — exist to audit programs and investigate waste, fraud, and abuse within the bureaucracy.
And ultimately the legislative branch retains the most fundamental discipline mechanism of all: the power of the purse — although our concern here is that the purse is too rarely closed. Still, through appropriations riders, program eliminations, or salary reductions, Congress at least in principle can discipline agencies that overstep their bounds. Historically, for example, the Holman Rule (dating to 1876) has permitted lawmakers to reduce the pay of specific federal officials or eliminate particular positions through appropriations legislation. That one example is a blunt reminder that bureaucratic authority ultimately flows from Congress and can be withdrawn.
The point, therefore, is that such mechanisms are not exotic innovations. They are long-standing constitutional safeguards meant to ensure that those wielding public power cannot do so without accountability — and they hardly exhaust the possibilities.
There is, of course, a tension we must appreciate. We expect these reforms from a Congress already revealed to be perpetually disinclined toward restraint and accustomed to providing more rather than less to voters. In turn, those same voters often reward spending and punish cuts, creating a structural bias against everything proposed here. The Abuse-of-Crisis Prevention project therefore presents a genuine chicken-or-egg conundrum.
So we had best get started.
Building on these constitutional disciplines and restoring the expectation that they will actually be used is part of the broader and necessary conversation an Abuse-of-Crisis Prevention framework should provoke. Even those who disagree about the scale of government should be able to agree that extraordinary powers invoked during emergencies should not become a cost-free pathway to permanent political expansion.
An Abuse-of-Crisis Prevention Act would therefore have two complementary goals. First, Titles I–V would systematically reduce the opportunity for crisis exploitation through institutional reforms to federal spending and regulatory governance; maximizing societal resilience rather than dependence; restoration of federalism; and limitations on emergency authorities. Second, it would reassert the principle that abusing crises carries consequences within our constitutional system.
We do not yet know the perfect design for those mechanisms. But ignoring the discipline question altogether guarantees that the next crisis — whatever form it takes — will produce the same familiar result: a permanent expansion of the federal footprint with little accountability for those who imposed it and eroded our liberties.
Crises are inevitable in a complex society. Pandemics, financial shocks, and geopolitical disruptions will occur repeatedly. The real question is whether those events will continue to serve as rationales for political predation and permanent expansions of government power.
A train of abuses is one thing. By contrast, discipline must serve as the caboose on a necessary train of reform — the reminder that exploiting crises will no longer be a cost-free exercise.
If the United States is serious about resilience in the face of inevitable future shocks, discipline must be part of the conversation.
