The Democrats’ sweeping victories in the 2026 midterm elections have fundamentally altered the political landscape in Washington. For the first time during Donald Trump’s second presidency, Democrats will control both chambers of Congress, giving them substantial new powers to investigate his administration and challenge his policies.
But I remain deeply skeptical that Trump will ever face meaningful accountability for his conduct in office.
A third impeachment is certainly possible. Indeed, with Democrats assuming control of the House in January, the political circumstances are considerably more favorable to impeachment than they were just a few days ago. But impeachment and removal from office are two very different things.
Conviction in the Senate requires a two-thirds majority, meaning a substantial number of Republican senators would have to join Democrats in voting to remove Trump. Given the Republican Party’s longstanding reluctance to break with him, I have serious doubts that this could happen under almost any imaginable circumstances.
Trump has already survived two impeachments, and neither resulted in his removal from office. His political career has demonstrated an extraordinary ability to withstand controversies that would almost certainly have destroyed the careers of more conventional politicians.
I sometimes wonder whether anything short of incontrovertible evidence of treason would persuade enough Republicans to abandon him. Even then, I am not particularly confident.
My suspicions about Trump’s relationship with Russia contribute to this concern. Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election is well documented, and investigations revealed troubling connections between individuals associated with Trump’s campaign and Russian interests. None of this, however, establishes that Trump himself is secretly controlled by Moscow.
Nevertheless, his relationship with Vladimir Putin remains, to me, one of the more unsettling aspects of his political career. I cannot shake the suspicion that there is something about that relationship the American public does not fully understand. Suspicion, of course, is not proof, and it would be irresponsible to suggest otherwise.
But the broader question remains: What would it actually take for the American political system to hold Trump accountable?
This brings me to an uncomfortable historical comparison.
I have read a fair amount about Nazi Germany, partly because the authoritarian tendencies I perceive within the MAGA movement make me uneasy. One of the things that has surprised me most about the aftermath of the Second World War is how many individuals associated with the Nazi regime escaped meaningful punishment.
Popular memory tends to emphasize the Nuremberg trials, where prominent Nazi officials were prosecuted for war crimes and crimes against humanity. Those proceedings were enormously important, both legally and morally. But they represent only part of the historical record.
Many perpetrators of Nazi-era crimes were never prosecuted. Others served prison sentences, returned to civilian life, or managed to reintegrate into postwar society. Some lived for decades afterward, never facing anything approaching the level of accountability their actions warranted.
This is not to equate Trump’s administration or the MAGA movement with the genocidal crimes of Nazi Germany. The differences in historical circumstances, ideology, and scale are profound.
Rather, the lesson I draw from this history concerns the limitations of political and legal accountability. Even after a regime has been defeated and its crimes exposed, justice is frequently incomplete. Political expediency, institutional self-interest, public exhaustion, and the passage of time can all conspire to allow people responsible for serious wrongdoing to escape the consequences.
And I suspect something similar, at least in this limited respect, may happen with Trump and many of his closest political allies.
There may be investigations, congressional hearings, criminal referrals, and years of public controversy. Some individuals could face legal consequences if evidence establishes that they committed crimes. But I suspect that many of the people who helped enable Trump’s most controversial actions will simply return to private life, political consulting, conservative media, or other positions of influence.
Trump himself may spend his remaining years insisting that he was the victim of a vast political conspiracy, surrounded by supporters who continue to regard him as a heroic figure. His opponents may never receive the sense of justice or historical closure they have spent years hoping for.
In other words, the Trump era may end not with a dramatic reckoning, but with a gradual and deeply unsatisfying return to something resembling normalcy.
And I have a rather unusual indicator for when that return might finally happen.
It will be the day when the anti-Trump Republicans associated with the Lincoln Project no longer feel compelled to make common cause with the center-left political commentators associated with Pod Save America.
These groups disagree on a great many conventional political issues. What has brought them into alignment is the conviction that Trump represents a threat to the institutions and democratic norms on which American political competition depends.
When those groups can return to arguing primarily about taxes, spending, regulation, and the ordinary business of government, it may signal that the extraordinary political circumstances of the Trump era have finally receded.
But that day has not arrived.
Indeed, the next two years could prove particularly consequential.
Trump has just suffered a major political defeat. His party has lost control of Congress, and his administration faces the prospect of aggressive oversight, legislative obstruction, and potentially impeachment proceedings.
How will he respond?
One possibility is that Trump will moderate his behavior, recognize the limitations imposed by divided government, and concentrate on preserving what remains of his political legacy.
Another possibility is that he will become more confrontational, relying increasingly on executive authority, attacking congressional investigators, and portraying Democratic opposition as an illegitimate effort to undermine his presidency.
Given his political history, I worry considerably more about the second possibility.
The most important question, however, concerns the 2028 presidential election.
Trump is constitutionally barred from being elected to a third term, but he will continue to exert enormous influence over the Republican Party and the federal government during his remaining time in office. His willingness to respect electoral institutions and accept outcomes unfavorable to his political movement will therefore remain critically important.
The 2026 midterms offer some grounds for reassurance. Despite years of controversy surrounding American elections, voters were able to deliver a decisive rebuke to the governing party. That result demonstrates that the democratic system retains considerable resilience.
But resilience should not be confused with invulnerability.
Trump’s efforts to overturn the 2020 presidential election remain an essential part of his political record. It would be naive to assume that the conditions surrounding the 2028 election will necessarily be free of similar pressures, particularly if the Republican nominee faces the prospect of defeat.
I am not predicting that Trump will cancel the election or successfully prevent a peaceful transfer of power. There are substantial constitutional, institutional, and practical obstacles to such an outcome. But I am concerned that his final two years could produce additional confrontations over the limits of presidential authority and the integrity of American democracy.
Ultimately, I suspect the United States will survive the Trump era. The recent midterm elections have given me at least some reason to believe that the country’s democratic institutions retain the capacity to resist authoritarian pressures.
What I doubt is that the country will emerge from this period having fully reckoned with what happened.
Trump may leave office without ever being convicted by the Senate, and many of those who enabled him may never face significant consequences.
Perhaps the country will move on. Perhaps the political coalitions formed in opposition to him will gradually dissolve. Perhaps Americans will eventually return to the familiar arguments that characterized political life before Trump.
But there is a troubling distinction between a country moving beyond a political crisis and a country genuinely learning from it.
My fear is that America may accomplish the former without ever fully achieving the latter.
And if that happens, the greatest danger may not be what Donald Trump did during his presidency, but what his successors learn they can get away with.
