There’s a certain rhythm to American dysfunction nowadays—it’s called “Trump gets back from a trip and tries lighting the Capitol on fire.” This latest flameskrieg? The filibuster. No, not the kind your grandfather rambled about in smokey taverns; the modern filibuster, a 60-vote hurdle in the Senate, our last line of defense from rule-by-wacko-majority. With the U.S. government shutdown dragging on for over 30 days, Trump decided compromise is for suckers and bipartisanship is for weaklings. He jumped online to demand the Republican Senate scrap the filibuster, which would let the GOP bumrush whatever disaster bill they want—no Democratic input necessary, just how Donald likes it. This is far from the first time the Big Orange asked for the “nuclear option.” If Trump was handed even slightly less power than a dictator, he’d hold his breath until the Democrats passed out. He’s been obsessed with this rule since his first term, somehow believing a government that governs only for the ruling party is what the Founders really meant by “checks and balances.” (Didn’t see that one in the Federalist Papers.) The filibuster, for the record, is not some sacred relic; it’s a Senate quirk that’s become precious only because everything else is so broken. Right now, with Republicans technically in control (53-47), it means the Democrats can at least slow the chaos while demanding stuff like—gasp!—people not starving, and affordable healthcare. Trump saw this, and like all authoritarians, he wanted it gone.

Miraculously, Trump’s latest outburst did what years of begging from Democrats, activists, and people-who-can-read couldn’t: it got Republican leaders to say, “No, Mr. President.” The Senate has a long and proud tradition of caving at the first sign of Trumpian rage-tweeting, so this moment is actually a rare, semi-spinal phenomenon. Senate Majority Leader John Thune, echoing ghost-of-leadership Mitch McConnell, told the press the legislative filibuster was not up for debate—not now, not ever. Putting aside the exquisite hypocrisy (the GOP has used the filibuster to block everything from voting rights to common sense gun laws for decades), their logic was sound for once: nuke the filibuster as a Republican, and someday a Democrat will make you eat it. Wyoming’s John Barrasso and Speaker Mike Johnson (who, let’s be real, doesn’t control the Senate anyway but loves a spotlight) also backed the filibuster. Johnson at least admitted Trump’s demand was just “anger at the situation” (the understatement of the damned century). Republican Senator John Curtis practically tattooed his views to his forehead and posted on X, “The filibuster forces us to find common ground in the Senate. Power changes hands, but principles shouldn’t. I’m a firm no on eliminating it.” Imagine that: the minority still deserves a voice even when they’re not Republicans. Maybe put that in a civics textbook, GOP.

If you’re stripping this down to its basics, the filibuster exists to make government slow. That’s the point. Governing by majority may sound nice if you trust who’s in charge, but as America keeps proving, we usually shouldn’t. The filibuster keeps the worst legislative ideas from becoming law in the dead of night after a three-Red-Bull committee huddle. Trump’s problem isn’t ideological; it’s personal. He can’t bulldoze his way through the opposition, so the system must be rigged. This guy would call foul on Monopoly if he didn’t own Boardwalk before you got around the board once. Let’s not sell the Democrats short either. When they had the keys, plenty of them also daydreamed about a post-filibuster world. But reality bites, and enough of the responsible ones realized that burning a tool you might need tomorrow is beyond stupid—it’s legislative self-immolation. The filibuster only matters now because, through all the dysfunction, it’s still the speed bump keeping the truly bonkers from speed-running democracy. Even Trump’s most servile lackeys in the GOP realize the next majority—be it socialist vegan anarcho-feminists or, you know, just normal Democrats—will wield infinite power if there are no brakes.

While DC’s titans jackhammer their way through procedural debates and social-media grandstanding, the real blood runs down Main Street. Real people get annihilated by this shutdown. We’re not talking about lobbyists cursing their lunch reservations—we’re talking child nutrition programs going empty, families losing food aid, flights delaying because air traffic control is running on fumes, and government workers getting IOUs for paychecks. Let’s get real: Trump cared enough about the military to keep them paid (he likes his photo ops with generals), but for the rest of us? Tough noogies. SNAP, aka food aid to millions, was left twisting in the wind, with the Trump team only grudgingly continuing checks under court order. Not because they care, but because a couple of judges told them starving voters was a legal PR disaster. Health insurance? Costs are soaring; subsidies for the working poor are at the center of this gridlock; nobody who lives in the real world can miss the pain. Senator Lisa Murkowski from Alaska literally had to watch her state’s food options “grow scarce” while the country’s executive branch fiddled. Oh, and don’t miss Trump’s “big, beautiful” tax bill which—surprise!—is the biggest SNAP cut in history. If you ever get deja vu watching Republicans stuff the rich and starve the poor, congrats: You’re not the problem, the system is.

You might assume, given this is the U.S. government at its most embarrassing, that negotiations would accelerate. You’d be wrong. Trump straight-up refused to meet with Democratic leaders, preferring tweets to solutions. At the same time, Democrats demand the government reopen before any real negotiations begin. In case anyone wondered, this is what “dysfunction” means in the dictionary. According to sources like AP and CNN, House Democratic Leader Hakeem Jeffries pointed out Trump spent more time with global kleptocrats than American lawmakers living in the shadow of a shutdown. Let that sink in: the President of the United States taking more meetings with billionaires and jackbooted autocrats than the hungry kids in Cleveland. Bipartisan “quiet talks” supposedly occurred behind closed doors, but as long as the White House reeked of ego and performative rage, nobody took them seriously. The shutdown, now on pace to break a historic record for government stasis, continues because the game isn’t about solutions—it’s about posturing for future primaries and cable TV soundbites. For some of us, being forced to negotiate by necessity is the only way government works. For the Trump crowd, holding hostages—federal paychecks, food aid, health care, border security—is just another Monday.

The only encouraging newsflash in this trainwreck was that old-school Senate principles survived a Trump drive-by. Not because the Senate is full of true believers in democracy—just ask anyone who’s watched them block civil rights bills for sixty years—but out of pure self-preservation. Thune, McConnell, and even the third-string Republican leadership recognized killing the filibuster to score a win for the man in Mar-a-Lago is a trap. They might win this battle but lose the war as soon as Republicans are in the minority, which, statistically, is always just one cycle away. This is probably the one piece of the Founders’ America still running: Senators, faced with the nuclear option, remembering that one day, they may need those same damn brakes. They didn’t stand up out of courage (don’t be silly), but because self-interest sometimes overlaps with public good. If you scan history, every step away from checks-and-balances makes America dumber and less free. Lucky for us, the GOP decided—for once—not to torch the rulebook to keep Trump happy.

Let’s take a step back and look at the stakes. This isn’t theater—millions of American families face hunger, deprivation, and ruin as the shutdown drags on. SNAP funding runs on legal fumes, court orders the only thing keeping food out of dumpsters instead of in family pantries. Trump, when not blowing smoke about “Make America Great Again,” is fine with holding food aid over heads as leverage. The USDA literally told SNAP recipients their next meal is “pending court review.” Let that one marinate. Beyond bread lines, air traffic controllers are worked to the bone, real wages get replaced with government IOUs, and all of this piles up on those least equipped to deal with it. Poor people don’t have the time or money to lobby Congress, but billionaires sure do. The cruelty, as Rev. Ryan Stoess put it on the Capitol steps during a protest, “is the point.” When public policy is designed to punish the voiceless and reward the powerful, you know the system is way past broken—it’s hostile. Trump’s shutdown strategy is less about compromise and more about asserting dominance over the least powerful citizens, just because he can.

As of the writing of this piece, not a single adult in Washington has found the magic “end this crisis” button. Congress literally took the weekend off as government workers missed crucial paychecks. The next “inflection point” isn’t for another week, after off-year elections (because, you know, priorities). Everyone’s playing chicken to see who blinks first: the Democrats banking on Trump’s plummeting poll numbers, the GOP hoping the country blames “government” and not their own party’s sabotage. The only people who keep winning are the Mar-a-Lago set—Trump gets to play victim of the bureaucrats blocking his “reforms,” and his right-wing media echo chamber tells millions that poor kids going hungry is somehow the fault of socialist liberals. If the shutdown runs past next week, it’ll beat the record for longest ever. All this suffering so Trump can say, “I fought the swamp,” even as the swamp eats working Americans alive. The longer this drags out, the more clear it becomes: nobody in DC is wearing the cape of heroism except perhaps for a handful of judges keeping food flows legal.

This saga is a perfect microcosm of Trumpist politics: endless grandstanding for his base, total disregard for American pain, and a White House that sees working government as optional. Nobody should celebrate a system where “at least the filibuster survived” is a win—but here we are. Maybe next year, with another round of off-year elections in the rearview, this government will find its spine. Maybe not. But Americans are learning: the only real thing in DC is the cruelty of Trump’s power games and a Republican establishment with just enough nerve to stand up for rules—when it benefits them. Those paying the tab? The poor, the working class, anyone who relies on a government that keeps the basics running. The filibuster didn’t save them, but trashing it for Trump would’ve ushered in a full-blown autocracy-with-a-Tan. Let’s call it like it is. DC won’t fix itself. But if you want less dysfunction, start with voting, calling, and yes—mocking—those in “power” until they give it back to the rest of us.

SOURCES: AP News – Trump says scrap filibuster, an idea decried by Republicans | AP News – What to know: US government shutdown