From Augustine To Jefferson, The Idea Of separating Church And State Has Deep Religious And Secular Roots

The founding generation: James Madison, left, and Thomas Jefferson, both proponents of the separation of church and state. Photo12/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

BY STEPHEN K. GREEN

DIRECTOR OF THE CENTER FOR RELIGION,

LAW & DEMOCRACY, WILLAMETTE

UNIVERSITY

The Trump administration’s Religious Liberty Commission released its report on June 26, 2026, on the state of religious freedom in the United States, declaring it to be under attack.

The commission was established in May 2025 to identify and report on “emerging threats to religious liberty, uphold Federal laws that protect all citizens’ full participation in a pluralistic democracy, and protect the free exercise of religion.” Despite those altruistic goals, from the beginning, the commission faced criticism that the composition and agenda of the body were slanted toward a conservative Christian perspective.

The commission conducted seven hearings over the course of a year, taking testimony from approximately 100 witnesses.

The draft report recounts numerous incidents of reputed bias and mistreatment of people based on their religious faith, and it places the blame on bureaucrats who exhibit a disdain for demonstrations of religious conviction. The report attributes much of this to the use of “the metaphor ‘wall of separation of church and state’ to justify excluding religious Americans from equal participation in the public square.”

As author of the book “Separating Church and State: A History,” I argue that the commission’s broadside on the concept of separation of church and state is misplaced, but not new. Critics have portrayed the idea as anti-religious and ahistorical ever since the Supreme Court embraced it in 1947.

Jefferson’s ‘wall of separation’

In the 1947 landmark case of Everson vs. Board of Education, involving public financial aid for religious education, the justices announced that they would use the concept of church-state separation as a guide for interpreting the religion clauses of the First Amendment to the Constitution. Those clauses state “that Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

In that same decision, the justices also employed the metaphor of “a wall of separation between church and state,” a phrase borrowed from an 1802 letter from President Thomas Jefferson to an association of Baptist churches in Connecticut. At the time, the Baptists were a minority in a state that still maintained a religious establishment. Jefferson sympathized with their plight, employing the wall of separation metaphor to emphasize that “religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his God” and not to “the legislative powers of government.”

Tradition of separation

The idea of separate spheres of spiritual and secular functions and authority was advanced by religious and secular thinkers to benefit both religion and the state.

In his fifth century work “City of God,” St. Augustine advanced the model of two entities, one spiritual and the other temporal or earthly, each with separate authority and functions. Augustine went so far as to use an image of two walled cities separated from each other as a means to protect the purity of the church.

During the Protestant Reformation of the 16th century, both Martin Luther and John Calvin distinguished spiritual from earthly authority and called for a division of labor between the two. Luther distinguished “two kingdoms” – a spiritual kingdom and a temporal kingdom that had separate authority.

Similarly, Calvin wrote that “Christ’s spiritual Kingdom and the civil jurisdiction are things completely distinct” and, as such, “must always be considered separately” because of the great “difference and unlikeness … between ecclesiastical and civil power.”

The metaphor of a ‘wall of separation’

At the same time, religious reformers were employing concepts of walls, hedges or other barriers to ensure that the secular and religious realms remained apart.

Protestant Anabaptists – Mennonites, Hutterites, Brethren – took the theological idea of separationism to heart, seeking to keep their communities apart from what they saw as the corruptions of the fallen world. They were declining to swear oaths of allegiance to civil authorities or otherwise participate in civic functions.

The early leader of the Mennonites, Menno Simons, used the term a “separating wall” to illustrate the degree of separateness their faith required from civil authority.

Finally, Roger Williams, the Puritan-turned-Baptist founder of Rhode Island, advocated for complete religious liberty. He called for maintaining a “hedge, or wall of separation, between the garden of the church and the wilderness of the world.”

Enlightenment figures, such as John Locke, also advanced notions of separation of church and state. In 1689, Locke wrote that the church must be “absolutely separate and distinct from the commonwealth and civil affairs. The boundaries on both sides are fixed and immovable.”

Influential British writer James Burgh called for building “an impenetrable wall of separation between things sacred and civil … the less the church and state had to do with one another, it would be better for both.” Scholars believe that this was likely one source for Jefferson’s famous 1802 letter to the Connecticut Baptists where he used the same metaphor.

A familiar concept

Thus, members of the America’s founding generation were familiar with the concept of distinct spheres of authority between religion and government and the necessity of keeping those functions separate.

Even though Jefferson used the wall metaphor only once, he worked assiduously throughout his life to advance religious freedom via church-state separation. James Madison employed similar imagery, such as calling for “a great barrier” between the two.

Church-state separation wasn’t just an imagery idea; it was a concept that many people embraced. As Madison wrote, “religion & Govt. will both exist in greater purity, the less they are mixed together.”

As a result, to this day, many denominations and religiously affiliated groups, such as many Baptists, Seventh-day Adventists and members of Reform Judaism, among others, support the separation of church and state as essential for maintaining religious freedom.

And church-state separation continues to receive popular support. According to the Pew Research Center, in 2026, 54% of Americans say the government should enforce church-state separation – a consistent percentage – whereas only 13% believe it should stop enforcing it, down from 19% in 2021.

Narrow view

Despite this pedigree, the Religious Liberty Commission’s report expresses particular disdain for the “wall” metaphor, stating that “the ‘wall of separation’ phrase does not appear in the First Amendment or anywhere else in the Constitution.” The report calls it a “belabored metaphor” that “can wrongly imply that church and state are opposed to one another and must remain completely separate.”

The report also takes a narrow view of what is prohibited by the religion clauses: “that the government may not officially prefer one religion over another, take over the functions of a church, or coerce religious observance,” which would otherwise allow for other types of church-state intermixing such as government funding of religious education.

In her final opinion as a Supreme Court justice in 2005, Sandra Day O’Connor – a judicial conservative – reflected on the importance of church-state separation to guarantee full religious freedom.

“The First Amendment expresses our Nation’s fundamental commitment to religious liberty by means of two provisions – one protecting the free exercise of religion, the other barring establishment of religion.”

She concluded with a challenge: “Those who would renegotiate the boundaries between church and state must therefore answer a difficult question: Why would we trade a system that has served us so well for one that has served others so poorly?”

That the commission’s report ignores the benefit of church-state separation to American society is troubling.

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How Did It Feel To Be An American Colonist In 1776? Probably Itchy, Achy And Slightly Nauseated

Life went on in the late 18th century, regardless of your everyday ailments. Archive Photos/Getty Images

BY KATHERINE OTT

CURATOR OF MEDICINE AND SCIENCE,

NATIONAL MUSEUM OF AMERICAN

HISTORY, SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION

Trade the tricorn hats, bonnets and homespun shirts for flip flops, sneakers and soccer jerseys, and the intrepid revolutionaries of 1776 would have looked a lot like the people of 2026. But their sense of embodiment and experience of health was markedly different from Americans today.

It goes deeper than not having aspirin, toothpaste or air conditioning, or not knowing about germs and penicillin. What was happening in their gut and mouth and on their skin was a world away from today. Chronic bodily states of indigestion, itchy skin, flatulence and slow-healing wounds were common and accommodated.

The American colonists were friends with affliction and shared their suffering socially, in writing and conversation. Ben Franklin, no stranger to suffering, wrote that “We are first mov’d by Pain, and the whole succeeding Course of our Lives is but one continu’d Series of Action with a view to be freed from it.”

Acute illnesses like smallpox, typhoid, dysentery, yellow fever and diptheria shadowed every ache and cough. But the everyday diminishment of vitality, mobility and equanimity defined life in 1776. Illness was pervasive. Rich or poor, free or enslaved, everyone was at risk.

Since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated with bodies and what it felt like to be in someone else’s skin. Now that I am a medical historian, I am lucky to be a Smithsonian curator with access to a large collection of medical instruments that figuratively put some flesh on the descriptions in old letters and medical journals about rheum, dyspepsia and other then-common conditions.

Although embodied experience varied in different localities around the Atlantic Basin by climate, legal status, race and other vulnerabilities, the instruments used on those bodies capture general notions of physical well-being. A lot is missing from our connection to people in the past when all we use are words.

Human bodies were like animals’

The few medical instruments of the revolutionary era were heavy in the hand, awkward in use and imprecise to maneuver. They also tell a story of tolerance for pain and discomfort that is both disquieting and fascinating.

The design and materials of devices such as bone saws, fleams and scarifacators – used to bleed veins and skin surfaces – illustrate the close affinity of humans with other animals. The same scalpel or bone saw that cut a human also cleft sheep, horses, pigs and other animals in distress.

The veil between species was thin. In 1776, people lived closely with their animals. They brought them into the house in bad weather or spent nights on straw in the shed with them – exclusive of genteel families, that is.

Cleanliness often took the form of river bathing, intended to invigorate rather than for sanitary purposes. In place of bathing, people changed clothes. The result was a menu of skin complaints – fungal, bacterial and otherwise.

Lice abounded. Bed bugs interrupted sleep. Scabies, ringworm, rashes from numerous unknown sources and unwashed skin was wrapped in clothing of stiff linen, smelly woolens or coarse calico. The byproduct was irritated, itchy skin with the discomfort of scratches, scabs and the stink that accompanied it.

Because infancy was risky, some colonial families and midwives followed tough love and tried to “harden” the child with cold water immersion and weaning. Many Indigenous women, on the other hand, nursed their infants until they were three or four years old. One in three colonist babies did not live to their second birthday.

Tools to purge ill humors

If a person did survive to adulthood, there was a good chance they would live to 55 or 60, barring accidents or childbirth complications.

There were few professional doctors, so healthcare came from midwives, bonesetters who also cut hair and removed cataracts, ministers, and community members, including apothecaries and plantation root doctors who were knowledgeable about plants. Although Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia had been established as the first American hospital 25 years earlier, institutions for care were few at the time of the revolution.

European colonists commonly believed that the balance of humors – yellow and black biles, blood and phlegm – circulating through one’s body was important for health. Belief in the efficacy of bloodletting was well-established and undisputed until well into the 1800s.

Doctors, following accepted practice, would likely have bled or purged an ill person for humoral balance. Surgeons washed their bloody hands in contaminated water and dried them on their equally bloody apron or clothes, unaware of germs.

When fluid accumulated from infection, a practitioner might use a small sharp spear nested in a metal tube, called a trocar and cannula. The pair were pushed into the body wherever swelling threatened a patient’s health, or exploration of an inner cavity was warranted. Then the doctor removed the perforating trocar, with its triangular shaped head, and left the cannula in place, as a conduit for fluids going in or coming out.

Desperate patients drank liquor to escape the procedure in this pre-anaesthesia era. Community care by family, friends and experienced elders was often more effective and safer than a trained physician.

A mouthful of troubles

Low-level scurvy, caused by lack of vitamin C, was common, thanks to diets containing few vegetables and fruits. Mild scurvy caused bleeding gums, tooth loss and foul-smelling breath.

Home manuals offering advice for health, domestic activities and marriage included many recipes for mouth wash. Ingredients often included tobacco ash, alum, sage, clove and sometimes charcoal. Charcoal also doubled for polishing teeth.

To pull a cracked or decayed tooth, a practitioner might yank it with the claw of a tooth key, painful but quicker than slippery fingers or forceps.

Without a reliable way to keep food fresh, many meals included sour milk and meat that was beginning to rot – what colonists called “high.” Spoiled food meant dyspepsia – otherwise known as indigestion – and loose bowels.

People commonly used tobacco to treat many ailments, including indigestion, respiratory problems, pain and loathsome mouth afflictions. They also turned to laudanum, from opium, as well as the poisons mercury and antimony.

A life of daily discomfort

Retrospective diagnosis is always flawed but the Revolutionary generation experienced ailments that sound similar to diabetes, arthritis, cancer, anemia, rabies, the common cold and tuberculosis. There were no effective treatments or consistent diagnosis for any of these.

Some explanations of bodily difference were obviously wrong, such as physician and signer of the Declaration of Independence Benjamin Rush’s conviction that the dark skin of African Americans was a disease, derived from leprosy. Common wisdom also held that birthmarks were caused by the mother’s experience during pregnancy.

Bodily experiences that made sense in 1776 are often inscrutable to people today. Feelings are fleeting and words inadequate. Without considering objects, understanding history is incomplete, leaving people today disconnected from those who lived it.

We can’t directly know each colonist’s individual self. But knowing their material world through medical objects of their time allows us to visit and appreciate how they managed to cut through distractions of the body and bequeath to us those groundbreaking, enduring self-evident truths.

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As The US Turns 250, A Forgotten Founding Influence Helps Explain Its Current Unease

This painting depicts the Constitutional Convention in 1787. The Founding Fathers leaned on French philosopher Montesquieu as they designed the Constitution. GraphicaArtis/Archive Photos via Getty

BY ROBERT A. BALLINGALL

ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL

SCIENCE, UNIVERSITY OF MAINE

As the 250th anniversary of American independence approaches, many people in the U.S. are deeply concerned about the country’s future.

A recent poll by Elon University found that 69% of respondents “believe the signers of the Declaration of Independence would feel more disappointment than pride about modern American democracy.” Confidence in public institutions is historically low, and the most recent Harvard Youth Poll indicates that just a quarter of 18- to 29-year-olds “feel hopeful about the future of America.”

Many are also afraid. For the 10th consecutive year, Americans reported corrupt government officials to be their single greatest fear, according to the Chapman University Survey of American Fears, ranking above financial collapse or a loved one becoming seriously ill.

“Americans have come to see threats as not just the possibility of attack by a foreign adversary. The potential for political violence at home is part of it, along with polarization, corruption and a sense of cultural dysfunction,” pollster Kristen Soltis Anderson wrote in The New York Times. “Americans increasingly view the survival of the country as being at stake.”

How are people in the U.S. to make sense of these trends? As Americans celebrate the country’s 250th anniversary, how faithful is the U.S. today to its founding principles? I’m a political philosophy scholar who studies constitutional government. In my view, an especially helpful approach to answering such questions is to revisit the towering but neglected influence of the French philosopher Montesquieu on the founding of this country.
Montesquieu and the American founding

Charles Louis de Secondat, baron de Montesquieu, was an 18th-century philosopher and aristocrat whose book “The Spirit of the Laws” caused a sensation when published in 1748. His ideas shaped the American founders. At the Constitutional Convention, only the Bible was quoted more often.

On the separation of powers, Montesquieu was, in James Madison’s words, “the oracle who is always consulted and cited.” Of all authors cited in political writings published by Americans between 1760 and 1805, none was more frequently mentioned. He loomed so large that “American republican ideologues could recite the central points of Montesquieu’s doctrine as if it had been a catechism,” according to historian Forrest McDonald.

Montesquieu was especially celebrated for his account of how and why political power needs to be separated into branches. But behind this now familiar idea was another that is less remembered: Montesquieu’s theory of liberty inspired the founders’ own understandings of this core concept of American politics.
A theory of liberty

In “The Spirit of the Laws,” Montesquieu describes political liberty as a “tranquility of mind arising from the opinion each person has of his safety.” To be free is to believe that one is secure. But to believe as much, “it is requisite the government be so constituted as one man need not be afraid of another.”

Liberty cannot be a matter of “doing what one wants,” Montesquieu warns. What if what one person wants threatens others? Then one person’s freedom to act limits everyone else’s. No one can feel secure unless everyone lives under laws that regulate what each may do. Montesquieu understood liberty in terms of this confidence or “tranquility” because it amounts to being free from the arbitrary will of others.

When Montesquieu stresses freedom from fear of other citizens, he doesn’t just mean private individuals. He especially means those acting in a public capacity, like “magistrates” or “rulers.” If public officials’ behavior doesn’t conform to predictable norms set by law, if agents of the government can summarily arrest people, seize their property or revoke their citizenship – say, by denaturalizing and deporting them without due process – it becomes impossible to feel secure.

Even if such actions aren’t directed against me or those like me, such lawlessness is still threatening because it’s unpredictable. I might support the government’s moves against other groups in the moment, but what’s to stop the government from suddenly turning on me when the political winds change?

To prevent public officials from simply doing what they want, Montesquieu famously called for the separation of political power into branches headed by different citizens.

But, he explains, it is not enough that people live under free institutions. They must also believe those institutions to be in the service of their freedom. Liberty, then, is as much a matter of opinion as of fact.
The tyranny of opinion

Montesquieu shows in “The Spirit of the Laws” how the fundamental laws of a country can permit a free way of life even as the country’s cultural norms prevent it. A country might have a free constitution while its citizens believe they hold moral obligations inconsistent with it.

For example, today, Americans might believe that the demands of racial equity or of evangelical Christianity are so pressing that executive power would be justified in ignoring the legislature or the judiciary to serve them.

“In these instances,” Montesquieu writes, “the Constitution will be free by right and not in fact.” The people – or some of them – will experience the law as a hindrance to what they believe they ought or ought not to do.

In such cases, there arises what Montesquieu calls a tyranny “of opinion.” The laws that would otherwise free people from fear of one another and of the government instead inspire a fear all their own. The laws might prevent what some people believe is morally right, or command – in the name of protecting others’ rights or the common good – what others regard as unjust or unholy.

That misalignment between constitutional law and cultural norms makes people feel insecure. It makes the Constitution seem opposed to their will and sense of duty. It can then seem appealing for a leader to promise, in the name of freedom, to ignore the law.
A bracing reminder

In recent years, figures across the political spectrum have called for radical constitutional change – or for ignoring the Constitution outright. There are calls not only to pack the Supreme Court or to ignore its decisions, but also to abolish the Senate and the Electoral College.

From Montesquieu’s perspective, polarization worsens this appetite for disregarding constitutional norms. Each party champions a cultural agenda from which supporters of the other party recoil. Whenever either party is in office, even when it respects constitutional law, its rule can feel to the other side much like the tyranny of opinion Montesquieu describes. The other side’s policies can seem to violate deeply held values, whether it’s banning transgender girls from competing in girls sports or declining to deport immigrants residing in the U.S. illegally.

According to Montesquieu, liberty depends on the kind of civic culture the U.S. seems at risk of losing. No institutions, however well designed, can preserve liberty if citizens believe their preferred cultural norms are so obligatory that political power is needed to enforce them, opposition be damned.

A culture more tolerant of moral disagreements and less quick to reach for political power to force others to accept what they find morally wrong would help ease the distrust many Americans feel toward the government and one another. Until then, Americans will continue drifting away from the liberty that the U.S. was founded to secure.

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China Surpasses US In Research Spending – The Consequences Extend Far Beyond Scientific Ranking And Clout

In a span of a few years, China has outstripped the U.S. in scientific publications, spending and patents. AP Photo/Andy Wong

BY CAROLINE WAGNER

PROFESSOR OF PUBLIC AFFAIRS,

THE OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY

China’s rapid rise in science has hit a milestone. The country’s investment in research and development has reached parity with – and by purchasing power measures has surpassed – that of the United States, according to a March 2026 report from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. Both nations have crossed the US$1 trillion threshold on research spending.

For 80 years, the U.S. operated the most productive scientific and technological enterprise in human history. Breakthroughs and advances that came from American labs included the internet; the mRNA vaccine; the transistor and its children, semiconductors and microprocessors; the Global Positioning System; and many more.

U.S. scientific and technological leadership was nurtured by sustained public investment in research universities and federal laboratories, as well as a culture of open inquiry. These investments turned scientific discovery into economic strength – accounting for more than 20% of all U.S. productivity growth since World War II.

In contrast, China had previously spent little to nothing on research and development. Some estimates show that China was among the lowest research spenders worldwide in 1980.

As a policy analyst and public affairs researcher, I study international collaboration in science and technology and its implications for public and foreign policy. I have tracked China’s rise across every major database for more than a decade.

The most recent reports showing that China is now outspending the U.S. on scientific and technological research is a turning point worth understanding clearly because, historically, global leadership in one sector – including technology and warfare – feeds into others. U.S. dominance is in question.

China’s systematic and unrelenting rise

China’s R&D spending milestone caps a series of achievements that have arrived in rapid succession.

In 2019, China surpassed the U.S. in its share of the top 1% most-highly cited papers – what some call the Nobel class of research. By 2022, it had taken first place globally in most-cited papers overall.

In 2024, China overtook the United States in total scientific publications – the first time any nation has displaced American dominance since the U.S. itself surpassed the United Kingdom in 1948. Researchers found that China overtook the United States in scientific output even earlier. That same year, China pulled ahead in the Nature Index, which tracks publications in the world’s most selective scientific journals, posting a 17% advantage over the U.S. in outlets long considered the gold standard of scientific excellence.

In 2024, Chinese entities also filed roughly 1.8 million patent applications, compared to the U.S.’s 603,191 applications.

Given these milestones, it’s possible to argue that China is quickly taking the lead in global science and technology. These are not isolated data points. They mark a structural shift in where the world’s scientific frontier is being built.

More science is good – the problem lies elsewhere

China’s ascent is, in one sense, good news. More knowledge, generated by more researchers across more institutions, expands the global pool of discovery from which everyone can draw. The world benefits when science thrives.

The problem is not that China is investing, but that the U.S. is not.

First, the U.S. is divesting from basic, open science. Federal R&D spending in the U.S. peaked in 2010 at roughly $160 billion and fell by more than 15% over the following five years. Federal investment in research and development has been in a long, slow slide – from a peak of 1.86% of gross domestic product in 1964 to about 0.66% in 2021.

The federal government is no longer the largest spender in R&D: It funded about 40% of basic research in 2022, while the business sector performed roughly 78% of U.S. R&D. While not a problem in itself, industry has simultaneously withdrawn from open scientific publication over the past four decades, shifting from research toward development. The result is a shrinking pool of openly shared scientific knowledge precisely as public investment in it also contracts.

Under the second Trump administration, U.S. government science agencies have been slow-walking proposals for new research. Current budget cuts from the White House threaten to deepen cuts to government spending significantly.

The second is the active restriction of scientific exchange: tightening access to U.S. institutions, scrutinizing international collaborations and raising barriers to foreign-born researchers. These policies, though intended as security measures, work against the openness that has historically made American science productive and attractive to global talent.

I describe this issue as an example of the stockyard paradox, in which securing research assets may weaken the very system these measures aim to protect.

Disinvestment cuts deeper than it appears

The deeper danger for the U.S. economy is that disinvestment and selective engagement in research erodes the capacity to use cutting-edge science regardless of where it is produced.

Absorbing and applying cutting-edge knowledge, whether developed in Boston or Beijing, requires maintaining research institutions and trained workforces, as well as active participation in global networks. This is not a passive process. You cannot free-ride on Chinese science if you have dismantled the institutional and human capital needed to evaluate, translate and apply it.

A nation that hollows out its research base not only falls behind but also progressively loses its ability to benefit from science, including in technologies it is already able to access.

Talent compounds the problem. The U.S. built its scientific dominance partly by being the destination of choice for the world’s most ambitious researchers. The U.S. leads the world in Nobel Prizes, but, notably, 40% of the Nobel Prizes in chemistry, medicine and physics that were awarded to Americans since 2000 were won by immigrants. The flow of foreign talent is not guaranteed. It follows opportunity, funding and openness.

Researchers who might once have come to American universities are finding welcoming alternatives in Europe, China and elsewhere.

A decision point, not a trend line

China’s milestone in research funding arrives at a moment when the U.S. is deciding whether to maintain its scientific leadership.

Scientific infrastructure does not decline gradually and recover on demand. Doctoral scientists represent a decade or more of training; tacit laboratory knowledge lives in working research groups, not in documents. Once talented young researchers leave the pipeline – or international talent redirects to other countries – the capacity is very hard to rebuild. Early warning signs are already visible in the U.S. system: thousands of NIH grants terminated, a collapse in international applications and an exodus of early-career scientists.

What is at stake is not a ranking. It is whether the U.S. maintains the institutional capacity – the universities, the federal laboratories, the graduate pipelines, the culture of open inquiry – that made those returns on scientific investment possible in the first place.

China’s rise did not create this decision point, although it brings it into sharp relief. Does the U.S. still want to lead in science? The Information Technology and Innovation Foundation, a nonprofit think tank, estimates that a 20% cut in federal research and development starting in fiscal year 2026 would shrink the U.S. economy by nearly $1 trillion over 10 years and reduce tax revenue by around $250 billion. Others point out that the scientific enterprise has contributed at least half of U.S. economic growth.

That is a lot to lose.

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I Wrote A Book On The Politics Of War Powers, And Trump’s Attack On Venezuela Reflects Congress Surrendering Its Decision-Making Powers

Congress has been largely absent as President Donald Trump has escalated his verbal and military attacks on Venezuela. AP Photo/J. Scott Applewhite

BY SARAH BURNS

ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL 

SCIENCE, ROCHESTER INSTITUTE OF

TECHNOLOGY

Americans woke up on Jan. 3, 2025, to blaring headlines: “US CAPTURES MADURO, TRUMP SAYS,” declared The New York Times, using all capital letters. The U.S. had mounted an overnight military raid in Venezuela that immediately raised questions of procedure and legality. Prime among them was what role Congress had – or should have had – in the operation.

Politics editor Naomi Schalit interviewed political scientist Sarah Burns, author of the book “The Politics of War Powers” and an expert at Rochester Institute of Technology on the historical struggle between Congress and U.S. presidents over who has the power to authorize military action.

Is this a war?

I wouldn’t call it a war. This is regime change, and whether or not it has a positive impact on the United States, whether or not it has a positive impact on Venezuela, I think the likelihood is very low for both of those things being true.

How does Congress see its role in terms of military action initiated by the United States?

Congress has been, in my view, incredibly supine. But that’s not just my word. Having said that, it is true that Congress – in the House, predominantly – tried to pass a war powers act recently, saying that President Donald Trump was not allowed to do any action against Venezuela, and that failed on very close votes.

So you see some effort on the part of Congress to assert itself in the realm of war. But it failed predominantly on party lines, with Democrats saying we really don’t want to go into Venezuela. We really don’t want to have this action. Republicans predominantly were supporting the president and whatever it happens to be that he would like to do. Moderate Republicans and Republicans who are in less safe districts were and are more likely to at least stand up a little bit to the president, but there’s a very small number of them.

So there may be an institutional role for Congress, a constitutional role, a role that has been confirmed by legal opinion, but politics takes over in Congress when it comes to asserting its power in this realm?

That’s a perfect way of putting it. They have a legal, constitutional, one might even say moral, responsibility to assert themselves as a branch, right? This is from Federalist 51 where James Madison says “Ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” So it should be that as a branch, they assert themselves against the president and say, “We have a role here.”

In the 1940s, presidential scholar Edward Corwin said that in the realm of foreign policy, it is an invitation for Congress and the president to struggle. So it should be that Congress and the president are struggling against each other to assert, “I’m in charge.” “No, I’m in charge.” “No, I’m in charge,” in an effort to create a balance between the two branches and between the two things that each of the branches does well. What you want from Congress is slow deliberation and a variety of opinions. What you want from the president is energy and dispatch.

So certainly, if we have an attack like 9/11, you would want the president to be able to act quickly. And you know, conversely, in situations like the questions around what the U.S. is doing in Venezuela, you want slow deliberation because there is no emergency that requires energy and dispatch and speed. So the president shouldn’t be entirely in the driver’s seat here, and Congress should very much be trying very hard to restrain him.

What power does Congress have to restrain him?

They have to pass legislation. They aren’t particularly well suited right now to passing legislation, so effectively there is not a very clear way for them to restrain the president.

One of the things that members of Congress have attempted to do several times, with very little positive impact, is go to the courts and say, “Can you restrain the president?” And political scientist Jasmine Farrier has written that the courts have regularly said to members of Congress: “You have the power to stop the president, and you are ineffective at that. And so if you want to stop the president, you shouldn’t turn to us. You should work together to create legislation that would restrain the president.”

What would such legislation do? Cut off money for troops? Is it finger-wagging, or is it something really concrete?

There are a few different tiers. Joint resolutions are finger-wagging. They just say, “Bad, Mr. President, don’t do that.” But they have no effect in law.

The War Powers Resolution, first passed in 1973, is a legitimate way of trying to restrain the president. Congress intended to say to presidents, “You cannot start a war and continue a war without our authorization.” But what they said instead was “You could have a small war or a short war – of 60 to 90 days – without our authorization, and then you have to tell us about it.” That just sort of said to presidents the opposite of what they intended. So President Barack Obama took advantage of that with the military engagement in Libya, as well as Trump in his first administration.

This is not a partisan issue. It’s not Republican presidents who do it. It’s not Democratic presidents who do it. It’s every president since the War Powers Resolution was passed, and the only time that Congress has drawn down troops or drawn down money was the Vietnam War.

Other than that disastrous war, we have not seen Congress willing to put themselves on the politically negative side, which is taking money away from the troops. Because if you take away money right now, they’re going to be harmed.

What is the War Powers Resolution?

The War Powers Resolution from 1973, also known as the War Powers Act, was Congress – during the Vietnam War – saying definitively to President Richard Nixon, “You have overstepped your bounds.” They had explicitly said in law, you cannot go into Cambodia. And Nixon went into Cambodia.

So that was their way of trying to reassert themselves very aggressively; as I mentioned before, it didn’t work effectively. It worked insofar as presidents don’t unilaterally start wars that are large scale, the way that World War II was large scale. But they do have these smaller actions at varying levels.

Then we get to 9/11 and we see the 2001 authorization for the use of military force, and the 2002 authorization for the use of military force. The 2001 law authorized going after anyone in al-Qaida and associated with 9/11. The 2002 authorization was directly related to Iraq, saying “There is a problem with Iraq, we have to do something.” Both of them were extremely vague and broad, and that’s why we’ve seen four presidents, including Trump, using the 2001 and 2002 authorizations to carry out all sorts of operations that had very little to do with Saddam Hussein or al-Qaida.

In 2021, senators Mike Lee, Bernie Sanders and Chris Murphy collectively got together and tried to create a national security document that would restrain presidential unilateralism. It was a good effort on the part of members of Congress from a variety of different ideological views to attempt to restrain the president. It did not even sort-of pass – it barely got out on the floor.

Since that time, we haven’t seen a lot of efforts from members of Congress. They haven’t really reasserted themselves since the war in Korea, which began in 1950. It’s very clear that ambition is no longer checking ambition the way that it was meant to by the founders.

When you woke up this morning and saw the news, what was your first thought?

Here we go again. This is not a Republican or a Democratic issue. Lots of presidents have made this error, which is that they think if you do this smaller-scale action, you are going to get a positive result for the nation, for the region, for international stability. And very rarely is that the case.

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US Strikes On IS Targets In Nigeria May Only Fan The Flames Of Insurgent Violence

BY ONYEDIKACHI MADUEKE,

THE GUARDIAN

The response of Nigerians to the airstrikes against Islamic State (IS) targets in Sokoto state, north-western Nigeria are complicated. The rationale behind them has been widely opposed, but the strikes themselves have been welcomed.

The airstrikes were framed as a response to what have been described as genocidal attacks on Christians in the country. But the Nigerian authorities have consistently rejected this narrative, arguing that armed groups in the country do not discriminate based on religion, and that Christians and Muslims largely coexist peacefully. Ironically, it was Trump’s redesignation of Nigeria as a “country of particular concern” in November that deepened Muslim-Christian tensions. Many northerners, who are predominantly Muslim, blamed southern Nigerians for championing a narrative that ultimately resulted in US sanctions and international stigma.

The geographic and operational focus of the strikes has complicated the “Christian genocide” framing. Sokoto is the spiritual heartland of Islam in Nigeria, but armed violence in the area disproportionately affects Muslim communities. By contrast, attacks against Christian farmers are most prevalent in north-central states such as Benue and Plateau, where violence is often linked to armed Fulani herders rather than explicitly jihadist groups. The strikes targeted IS elements, not herder militias. While some reports suggest tactical collaboration between jihadist groups in the north-west and armed herders, the mismatch between the stated justification and the operational target raises questions about whether Washington fully understands the local drivers of violence it has labelled genocidal.

Despite there being opposition to – and confusion over – the rationale behind the strikes, they have been broadly welcomed, cutting across religious, ethnic and social divides. Earlier fears were shaped by the spectre of the prolonged US occupations in Libya, Iraq, Syria and Afghanistan, cases frequently cited in Nigerian media. By contrast, the Sokoto operation was a limited, targeted precision strike. Moreover, there have so far been no credible reports of civilian casualties, alleviating a major concern in a country where Nigerian air force operations have, on several occasions, accidentally killed hundreds of civilians.

The strikes against IS came at a time of public fatigue with insecurity caused by insurgency, terrorism, banditry and communal violence. Nigerians were ready to accept almost any intervention that promised relief. As terrorist networks become increasingly interconnected across the Sahel and West Africa, Nigerian security forces have become overstretched. Persistent corruption, inadequate training and equipment shortages continue to undermine counterinsurgency efforts. In some theatres, groups such as Boko Haram and its splinter factions now wield more sophisticated weaponry than state forces.

The Nigerian authorities have confirmed that they endorsed the operation. The minister of foreign affairs, Yusuf Tuggar, acknowledged that Abuja provided intelligence that enabled the strikes and Nigerian officials remained in communication with US forces until minutes before execution. This joint counter-terrorism action, rather than a unilateral violation of Nigerian sovereignty, eased concerns about territorial integrity and external military overreach.

Despite the support, Nigeria’s insecurity will not be resolved through airpower alone. Airstrikes may yield short-term tactical gains, but they risk generating longer-term strategic setbacks. Framing the intervention as the defence of persecuted Christians may strengthen extremist narratives of foreign “crusader” aggression, potentially attracting more external funding and support for jihadist groups. Organisations such as Isis-Sahel and emerging groups such as Lakurawa thrive on such symbolism.

The durable solution lies in starving violence of its fuel by addressing its structural drivers: deep socioeconomic inequality (Sokoto has one of the highest numbers of out-of-schoolchildren in Nigeria), desertification and climate stress, weak state presence in rural areas, porous borders and fragile security institutions. Strengthening state capacity to manage grievances, regulate competition over land and resources, and counter extremism remains the only sustainable path to peace.

What U.S. Airstrikes in Nigeria Tell Us About the Hollowness of American Security Thinking

BY DENGIYEFA ANGALAPU

President Donald Trump labelled Nigeria a disgraced country, publicly accusing it of allowing a “genocide” against Christians. More fundamentally, he threatened military action against the country if the actions did not stop. In later weeks, things escalated fast, and Nigeria was designated as a “Country of Particular Concern” (CPC) on 31 October 2025 for severe religious freedom violations. This made him impose a visa ban on Nigerians, both Christians and Muslims, even though he had said the genocide was against Christians. In the weeks that followed, there were several high-level diplomatic exchanges between both governments. Nigerian officials visited the United States, while the US sent fact-finding missions to Nigeria. In what seemed like a positive move, the U.S and the Nigerian government agreed to work together.

However, in what many people did not expect, they woke up to news reports that the US government had carried out an airstrike in Sokoto State on 25 December 2025, later described as a collaborative operation between the US and Nigerian governments. Both governments have described the airstrike as successful. Yet beyond these official statements, there is little publicly available evidence to substantiate the claims of success.

Nigeria unquestionably needs international cooperation in addressing terrorism. No country can effectively confront transnational terrorist threats in isolation. From that perspective, reports of a U.S. airstrike targeting terrorist elements in northwest Nigeria may, on the surface, appear positive, but the episode more clearly reveals a deeper problem: the persistence of external interpretations of Nigeria’s insecurity that underestimate its complexity and overestimate the utility of imported military solutions.

Communication

Many Nigerians first encountered the news of the U.S airstrikes on various social media when Trump shared it on his Truth Platform. The news was then carried by foreign media. Indigenous media trailed behind these platforms, and a press release by the Nigerian government came even later when the whole news had already circulated. If the operation was indeed conducted in collaboration with the Nigerian government, it is diplomatically troubling that the announcement came first from U.S. sources and foreign media. In matters of national security, especially those involving foreign military action on sovereign territory, protocol and symbolism matter. Allowing Nigeria to announce the operation and acknowledge U.S. support would have demonstrated respect for Nigeria’s sovereignty and leadership.

This concern is amplified by the historical context of Trump rhetoric toward Nigeria and Africa in general. During President Trump’s first term, African countries were publicly described as a “shithole” before he recently referred to Nigeria as a “disgraced” country.

Stoking a religious war?

Nigeria faces threats from armed groups linked to ISIS, notably the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP), and the Lakurawa group in the northwest that operates in areas such as Tangaza, Gudu, and Silame in Sokoto state. However, much of the violence in Sokoto is driven by criminal banditry, local political economies, and competition over resources. Lakurawa have recorded no activities in Birikini, the settlement in Jabo that was hit by the U.S airstrikes, and all over Tambuwal Local Government Area in general.

However, there is something more dangerous in this action. Sokoto State is widely regarded as the spiritual and historical centre of Islam in Nigeria, owing to its significance as the seat of the Sokoto Caliphate. The Sultan of Sokoto, who leads the Nigerian Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs (NSCIA), resides there and serves as the spiritual head of Nigerian Muslims. With the narrative already flying around, it is easy to frame this as a fight against Muslims. In an already polarised country like Nigeria, framing the conflict primarily as a campaign of Christian persecution risks inflaming tensions, reinforcing identity-based divisions, and undermining efforts at de-escalation and community-level peacebuilding.

Meanwhile, despite the framing as a Christian genocide, there is a clear dissonance between portraying Nigerian Christians as victims in need of protection while simultaneously imposing blanket visa restrictions on Nigerians, both Christians and Muslims. If the concern is genuinely humanitarian, it is difficult to justify policies that collectively penalise the same population being described as vulnerable.

The contrast with the U.S. response to Afrikaners in South Africa who were offered facilitated entry into the United States raises uncomfortable questions about selectivity and double standards. Such inconsistencies risk being interpreted, rightly or wrongly, through the lenses of racial bias and white supremacist thinking, thereby undermining U.S. credibility and moral authority in Nigeria and across Africa.

The Myth of External Military Precision

Public reactions to the strike also revealed a tendency to elevate the US military to an almost infallible status, assuming levels of precision and intelligence that eliminate uncertainty. This perception is misleading; the U.S. has had several failed military operations. In this case, even the current one in Nigeria, while the U.S has said it was successful and eliminated several terrorists. On the field, intelligence says it was a blanket shot that did not hit any targets.

This lack of evidence of any killing of terrorists is strange because this is not the first time airstrikes have been conducted in Nigeria. The Nigerian air force has been consistent with drone attacks, and they would usually give accounts of the number of those killed. The challenge has been that armed actors in northwest Nigeria are fluid, socially embedded, and highly adaptive. They do not operate from fixed, watertight camps. Many live within communities, move between criminal activity and civilian life, and deliberately use civilians as shields. Some are bandits at night and community members by day.

 
Superior Intelligence?

Again, key factors reveal the hollowness of U.S military intelligence prowess. The first is assuming that the conflict in Nigeria is getting worse. Available data like that on Armed Conflict Location & Event Data, reveal that terrorist fatalities have been declining in Nigeria. The challenge, however, has been that beyond the traditional hotspots of the northeast, the incidents and fatalities took a national spread, especially to the northwest, where new actors emerged styled as bandits. At the height of Nigeria’s insurgency, the death toll hit 11,389 in 2014, with smaller peaks in 2015 (11,119) and 2021 (10,969). Those years coincided with the U.S. reluctance to sell arms to Nigeria. Now, even as fatalities decline, Washington has launched missile strikes in Sokoto—a state the data show is far less affected than bandit-ravaged Zamfara, Katsina and Kaduna in the past 10 years.

 
Conclusion

More importantly, it reflects a deeper colonial residue in security thinking, one that assumes external actors possess superior knowledge of African conflicts. This logic marginalises local expertise, lived experience, and contextual understanding, while privileging distant assessments shaped by global counterterrorism priorities. The U.S. government has pursued a protectionist agenda, tightening policies against African migrants while dismantling USAID and other aid mechanisms that once supported local peacebuilding across Africa. Yet it now expresses concern about rising insecurity in Nigeria, despite the possibility that these same actions contributed to worsening security conditions. It raises serious questions about the depth and coherence of U.S. strategic security thinking. Many African countries are increasingly recognising that sustainable peacebuilding extends beyond purely kinetic approaches, encompassing social, economic, and community-based interventions. By contrast, the U.S. appears to remain heavily oriented toward kinetic solutions. This contrast underscores Africa’s growing sophistication and relative strength in peacebuilding and conflict-resolution practices compared with the United States.

No external country, regardless of capacity, understands Nigeria’s internal dynamics better than Nigerians themselves. Nigeria’s insecurity is rooted in governance failures, weak state presence, and deeply embedded local dynamics. Addressing it requires approaches grounded in Nigerian realities, not externally driven templates. A decolonial security perspective begins with humility, recognises the limits of force, and centres local knowledge as the foundation for any meaningful response.

Fundamentally, the Nigerian government needs to be transparent at this point. At what cost is this new U.S. benevolence? What exactly are we giving in return? It would be remarkable if the answer is nothing. However, the terms of this new counterterrorism arrangement need to be made public, so it does not become another opaque foreign agreement, similar to Nigeria’s undisclosed foreign loans.

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Supreme Court’s Decision On Birthright Citizenship Will Depend On Its Interpretation Of One Key Phrase

When the justices weigh the arguments, they will focus on the meaning of the first sentence of the 14th Amendment, known as the citizenship clause. zimmytws/Getty Images

BY MORGAN MARIETTA

PROFESSOR OF AMERICAN CIVICS,

UNIVERSITY OF TENNESSEE

The Supreme Court on Dec. 5, 2025, agreed to review the long-simmering controversy over birthright citizenship. It will likely hand down a ruling next summer.

In January 2025, President Donald Trump issued an executive order removing the recognition of citizenship for the U.S.-born children of both immigrants here illegally and visitors here only temporarily. The new rule is not retroactive. This change in long-standing U.S. policy sparked a wave of litigation culminating in Trump v. Washington, an appeal by Trump to remove the injunction put in place by federal courts.

When the justices weigh the arguments, they will focus on the meaning of the first sentence of the 14th Amendment, known as the citizenship clause: “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.”

Both sides agree that to be granted birthright citizenship under the Constitution, a child must be born inside U.S. borders and the parents must be “subject to the jurisdiction” of the United States. However, each side will give a very different interpretation of what the second requirement means. Who falls under “the jurisdiction” of the United States in this context?

As a close observer of the court, I anticipate a divided outcome grounded in strong arguments from each side.

Arguments for automatic citizenship

Simply put, the argument against the Trump administration is that the 14th Amendment’s expansion of citizenship after the eradication of slavery was meant to be broad rather than narrow, encompassing not only formerly enslaved Black people but all persons who arrived on U.S. soil under the protection of the Constitution.

The Civil War amendments – the 13th, 14th and 15th – established inherent equality as a constitutional value, which embraced all persons born in the nation without reference to race, ethnicity or origin.

One of the strongest arguments that automatic citizenship is the meaning of the Constitution is long-standing practice. Citizenship by birth regardless of parental status – with few exceptions – has been the effective rule since the time of America’s founding.

Advocates also point to precedent: the landmark case of United States v. Wong Kim Ark in 1898. When an American-born descendant of resident noncitizens sued after being refused re-entry to San Francisco under the Chinese Exclusion Act, the court recognized his natural-born citizenship.

If we read the Constitution in a living fashion – emphasizing the evolution of American beliefs and values over time – the constitutional commitment to broad citizenship grounded in equality, regardless of ethnicity or economic status, seems even more clear.

However, advocates must try to convince the court’s originalists – Clarence Thomas, Samuel Alito, Neil Gorsuch, Brett Kavanaugh and Amy Coney Barrett – who read the Constitution based on its meaning when it was adopted.

The originalist argument in favor of birthright citizenship is that the phrase “subject to the jurisdiction” was meant to invoke only a small set of exceptions found in traditional British common law. In the Wong Kim Ark ruling, the court relied on this “customary law of England, brought to America by the colonists.”

One exception to birthright citizenship covered by this line of rulings is the child of a foreign diplomat, whose parents represent the interests of another country. Another exception is the children of invading foreign armies. A third exception discussed explicitly by the framers of the 14th Amendment was Native Americans, who at the time were understood to be under the jurisdiction of their tribal government as a separate sovereign. That category of exclusion faded away after Congress recognized the citizenship of Native Americans in 1924.

The advocates of automatic birthright citizenship conclude that whether the 14th Amendment is interpreted in a living or in an original way, its small set of exceptions do not override its broad message of citizenship grounded in human equality.

Opposition to birthright citizenship

The opposing argument begins with a simple intuition: In a society defined by self-government, as America is, there is no such thing as citizenship without consent. In the same way that an American citizen cannot declare himself a French citizen and vote in French elections without consent from the French government, a foreign national cannot declare himself a U.S. citizen without consent.

This argument emphasizes that citizenship in a democracy means holding equal political power over our collective decisions. That is something only existing citizens hold the right to offer to others, something which must be decided through elections and the lawmaking process.

The court’s ruling in Elk v. Wilkins in 1884 – just 16 years after the ratification of the 14th Amendment – endorses “the principle that no one can become a citizen of a nation without its consent.” By making entry into the United States without approval a federal offense, Congress has effectively denied that consent.

Scholars who support this view argue that the 14th Amendment does not provide this consent. Instead it sets a limitation. To the authors of the 14th Amendment, “subject to the jurisdiction thereof” conveyed a limit to natural citizenship grounded in mutual allegiance. That means if people are free to deny their old national allegiance, and an independent nation is free to decide its own membership, the recognition of a new national identity must be mutual.

Immigrants living in the United States illegally have not accepted the sovereignty of the nation’s laws. On the other side of the coin, the government has not officially accepted them as residents under its protection.

If mutual recognition of allegiance is the meaning of the 14th Amendment, the Trump administration has not violated it.

The opponents of birthright citizenship argue that the Wong Kim Ark ruling has been misrepresented. In that case, the court only considered permanent legal residents like Wong Kim Ark’s parents, but not residents here illegally or temporarily. The focus on British common law in that ruling is simply misguided because the findings of Calvin’s Case or any other precedents dealing with British subjects were voided by the American Revolution.

In this view, the Declaration of Independence replaced subjects with citizens. The power to determine national membership was taken away from kings and placed in the hands of democratic majorities.

For opponents of birthright citizenship, the 14th Amendment does not take that power away from citizens but instead codifies the rule that mutual consent is the touchstone of admission. The requirement to be “subject to the jurisdiction” provides the mechanism of that consent.

Congress can determine who is accepted as a member of the national community under its jurisdiction. In this view, Congress – and the American people – have spoken: Current federal laws make entry into U.S. borders without permission a crime rather than a forced acceptance of political membership.

What might happen

The court will likely announce a ruling in summer 2026 before early July, just in time for the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. The court will ultimately decide whether the Constitution endorses the declaration’s invocation of essential equality or its creation of a sovereign people empowered to determine the boundaries of national membership.

The court’s three Democratic-appointed justices – Ketanji Brown Jackson, Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor – will surely side against the Trump administration. The six Republican-appointed justices seem likely to divide, a symptom of disagreements within the originalist camp.

The liberal justices need at least two of the conservatives to join them to form a majority of five to uphold universal birthright citizenship. This will likely be some combination of Chief Justice John Roberts, Brett Kavanaugh and Amy Coney Barrett.

The Trump administration will prevail only if five out of the six conservatives reject the British common law foundations of the Wong Kim Ark ruling in favor of citizenship by consent alone.

America should know by July Fourth.

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