How American presidents are checked and challenged

In August 1974, the most powerful man in the world sat alone in the White House and decided to quit. Richard Nixon, cornered by Congress, exposed by the courts, and abandoned by his own party, resigned before impeachment could remove him.

That moment has since become shorthand for a common American belief: no US president is above the law. But history tells a more complicated story. 

The US Constitution has created a system of checks and balances meant to restrain executive power. Sometimes it works with surgical precision. Sometimes it fails spectacularly. And other times, presidents push through the guardrails and walk away unscathed.

This is the story of that tension, between law and power, principle and politics, and of the institutions designed to keep the presidency in check.

The pillar of restraint

The American presidency was never meant to be omnipotent. The framers of the Constitution, wary of monarchy, added limits to the system. Executive power is constantly intersected and restricted by Congress and the courts.

Congress holds the purse strings. No president can spend a dollar without legislative approval. Lawmakers can override a presidential veto with a two-thirds majority in both chambers. The Senate must confirm cabinet members, ambassadors and judges. Treaties negotiated by the president require a two-thirds vote to take effect. Even war, despite the president's role as commander-in-chief, must be declared by Congress.

The ultimate legislative weapon is impeachment. The House indicts; the Senate conducts the trial; removal requires a two-thirds majority. It is deliberately difficult, designed to be used only when a president's conduct crosses a constitutional line.

The judiciary provides the quietest but most profound check. Through judicial review, courts can invalidate presidential actions that violate the Constitution. And when a president is impeached, it is the Chief Justice, not a politician, who presides over the Senate trial.

At the centre of this judicial power stands the Supreme Court of the United States, an institution without an army or a budget, but capable of telling a president: "You cannot do that."

Graphics: TBS

How the Court talks back

When Americans say, "I'll take it all the way to the Supreme Court," they are invoking more than frustration. They are acknowledging finality.

Each year, around 7,000 petitions reach the Court. Roughly 100 are heard. From that small number emerge decisions that redraw the boundaries of presidential power and government authority.

This authority was not inevitable. In the early republic, the Court had no building, little prestige, and few admirers. One of its first justices, John Jay, resigned to become governor of New York and later refused to return, convinced the judiciary would never earn public trust.

That changed with John Marshall. Appointed in 1801, Marshall transformed the Court during his 34-year tenure. His most enduring legacy came in 1803, in "Marbury v. Madison".

The case itself was mundane, a disputed government appointment, but the ruling was revolutionary. Marshall declared that a law repugnant to the Constitution is void. In doing so, he claimed for the Court the power to invalidate acts of Congress and, by extension, executive actions.

As legal scholar Michael Trachtman later put it, the Court gained the authority to say no to both Congress and the president.

Few episodes show authority better than Watergate.

During the scandal, Nixon claimed "executive privilege" to withhold secret Oval Office tapes from investigators. The Supreme Court unanimously rejected the claim in "United States v. Nixon". While acknowledging the existence of executive privilege, the justices ruled it was not absolute and could not override the demands of criminal justice.

Two weeks later, Nixon resigned.

The ultimate legislative weapon is impeachment. The House indicts; the Senate conducts the trial; removal requires a two-thirds majority. It is deliberately difficult, designed to be used only when a president's conduct crosses a constitutional line.

Other presidents also collided with constitutional limits and lost.

In 1952, Harry Truman, facing a steelworkers' strike during the Korean War, seized private steel mills by executive order. The Supreme Court struck him down in "Youngstown Sheet & Tube Co. v. Sawyer", ruling that the president could not seize private property without congressional authorisation. Truman complied immediately.

In 1919, Woodrow Wilson returned from Europe with the Treaty of Versailles, convinced the United States would lead the League of Nations. The Senate, exercising its constitutional role, refused to ratify it. Despite Wilson's nationwide tour to pressure lawmakers, Congress held firm. The US never joined.

Even personal conduct has not escaped judicial scrutiny. In "Clinton v. Jones (1997)", the Supreme Court ruled unanimously that Bill Clinton could not delay a civil sexual harassment lawsuit while in office. Forced to testify, Clinton lied under oath, a decision that directly triggered his impeachment.

In each case, the machinery worked. Power was asserted. Law pushed back.

Presidents who pushed through

History offers an equally troubling list of moments when presidents defied or bypassed checks and paid little immediate price.

In 1832, the Supreme Court ruled in "Worcester v. Georgia" that the state of Georgia had no authority over Cherokee land. Andrew Jackson, an ardent supporter of Native American removal, ignored the decision. Without executive enforcement, the ruling was meaningless. The result was the Trail of Tears, a forced relocation that killed thousands.

During the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln unilaterally suspended habeas corpus, allowing citizens to be imprisoned without trial. Chief Justice Roger Taney ruled the move unconstitutional. Lincoln ignored him, arguing that breaking one law was necessary to save the nation. Congress later retroactively legalised his actions.

In 1942, Franklin D Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, forcing more than 100,000 Japanese Americans into internment camps. Congress supported the policy. The Supreme Court upheld it in "Korematsu v. United States", accepting "military necessity" as justification. Decades later, the government apologised. At the time, the system failed.

After 9/11, George W Bush authorised warrantless surveillance by the NSA, bypassing the special courts created for national security oversight. When exposed, the programme sparked outrage, but no legal consequences. Congress later passed laws retroactively legalising much of the surveillance.

Crisis, it seems, weakens restraint.

Trump and the changing meaning of accountability

No presidency has tested the modern system more aggressively than that of Donald Trump.

Like Nixon, Trump was impeached. Unlike Nixon, he survived.

The House impeached him twice, first in 2019 for abuse of power and obstruction of Congress, and again in 2021 for incitement of insurrection. In both cases, the Senate failed to reach the constitutionally required two-thirds majority for conviction. Party loyalty proved stronger than institutional pressure.

The judiciary, too, took a different path.

In July 2024, the Supreme Court ruled in "Trump v. United States" that presidents enjoy absolute immunity for actions within their "core constitutional powers" and presumptive immunity for other official acts. Where the Nixon court narrowed executive privilege, this court expanded presidential protection.

The ruling placed formidable barriers before federal prosecutors and significantly delayed criminal trials related to the 2020 election and classified documents.

Then came the final check: the electorate. By winning the 2024 election and returning to the White House in January 2025, Trump effectively neutralised federal prosecutions. As head of the executive branch, he regained authority over the Justice Department.

Nixon had lost Congress and the courts. Trump lost neither decisively, and won the voters.

The court still matters

For all its failures, the Supreme Court remains central to the American idea of the rule of law.

As journalist Linda Greenhouse, who covered the Court for three decades, has observed, it stands as a symbol, a place people believe they can turn to when power overreaches.

Its landmark decisions from "Brown v. Board of Education" to "United States v. Nixon" have reshaped society and constrained authority. Yet the Court has no means of enforcement. It depends entirely on public respect and presidential compliance.

That vulnerability was visible when Jackson ignored it. It was absent when Nixon obeyed it.

The American presidency sits inside a constitutional tug-of-war. Congress pulls. The courts push. Presidents resist. Outcomes depend not only on law but on politics, public opinion, crisis, and character.

The system has forced resignations, blocked wars, and exposed lies. It has also sanctioned injustice, tolerated abuse, and rewarded defiance.

Checks and balances, in the end, are not self-executing. They are only as strong as the institutions and people willing to defend them.