For more than six decades, the National Defense Authorization Act has been one of the quiet wonders of American governance. While much of Washington cycles between theatrical crisis and procedural drift, the NDAA has marched forward every year like a metronome. It is the legislative embodiment of something we rarely acknowledge anymore: the capacity of a diverse democracy to identify common purpose, commit to long-term responsibilities, and produce real outcomes.
The NDAA’s durability lies in its roots. Passed first in 1961, the bill reorganized Congress’s approach to national defense at a moment when the Cold War demanded coherence. It did not create a new bureaucracy or a grand new doctrine. It created a habit. The United States would annually take stock of its responsibilities in the world. Congress would authorize how the Pentagon organizes, trains, equips, and supports the people who serve. Presidents and partisans would come and go, but the republic would maintain situational awareness.
Over time, that habit became one of the few bipartisan rituals left. Even during the years when the parties could barely agree on lunch, the NDAA kept moving. Its passage signaled to allies and adversaries alike that American defense strategy was not wholly captive to the passions of the moment. It signaled that Congress, for all its struggles, still recognized the nonnegotiable role of national security.
This year feels different.
Congress is attempting to pass the FY2026 NDAA through one of the narrowest majorities in modern House history and during a season of unusually raw factional tension. A bill that once represented responsible stewardship has become a pressure cooker for long-simmering ideological disputes inside the Republican conference. What is normally a sober debate over modernization plans and force posture is now a showcase of internal conflict over digital currency bans, IVF coverage for military families, zoning rules tucked inside housing packages, and new restrictions on investment flowing into China.
It is tempting to treat these as discrete controversies, but they are symptoms of a deeper phenomenon. The NDAA is no longer just a defense bill. It has evolved into a vessel for everything else Congress is struggling to move. Because it is a must-pass law, it has become a magnet for riders that sit far outside the realm of national security. Because the House majority is razor-thin, every faction sees its leverage in the mirror of procedural necessity.
This shift is not strictly ideological. It is structural. The machinery of Congress is groaning under the weight of unmet demands. When normal committee processes break down, when appropriations bills stall, when broad social policy becomes politically unmanageable, everything migrates toward the one train that must leave the station: the defense authorization. The NDAA becomes less a strategic document and more a proxy battlefield for disputes that have no other outlet.
That distortion has consequences. New technology programs cannot begin without authorization. Artificial intelligence initiatives, hypersonic systems, nuclear modernization, infrastructure resilience, and quality-of-life improvements for military families all depend on this bill passing cleanly. When the NDAA becomes overloaded with extraneous policy fights, the signal weakens. Allies see a superpower distracted by its own internal circuitry. Adversaries see opportunities where clarity once prevailed.
There is a human dimension here too. Military families do not experience these annual debates as abstractions. Pay raises, childcare access, fertility treatment coverage, and housing affordability are not political symbols. They are elements of a life that is already demanding. When Congress hesitates, the cost is measured in doubt.
Still, there is a case for cautious optimism. The NDAA has endured for more than six decades because enough lawmakers in both parties believe that defense policy is a civic responsibility. Even now, through the noise, many members are still trying to preserve that tradition. The rhythm may be more strained, the path more crooked, but the underlying logic remains intact. Democracies wobble, but they also self-correct.
Perhaps the challenge before Congress is not only to pass a bill but to rediscover the discipline that made the NDAA so reliable for so long. It requires the kind of political craftsmanship that sees governing not as an act of tribal affirmation but as a form of public maintenance. It requires the humility to separate essential commitments from opportunistic attachments. It requires something like citizenship.
As I have been writing in my new book, The Machinery of Democracy, the strength of a democratic system is rarely found in grand gestures. It is found in the small, rhythmic acts of collective responsibility that keep the whole structure from wobbling off its foundation. The NDAA has been one such act for more than six decades. The question now is whether Congress can still produce that sense of continuity at a moment defined by fragmentation.
If it can, the country will be better for it. If it cannot, the world will notice.
For readers who want to explore the deeper forces shaping American governance, my new book The Machinery of Democracy offers a clear, accessible look at how our institutions operate and why they matter. The project also includes an interactive companion app and additional resources at http://machineryofdemocracy.com/, giving readers a practical way to engage with the ideas beyond the page. The book is available for preorder here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G5J9MV6K.