Can the Pardon Power Be Saved from Its Own Abusers?

So it is not often a proposed amendment makes waves in Washington — in this case, the Pardon Integrity Act. Unfortunately, while it seeks to address a real problem — the president’s abuse of his constitutional pardon powers — it would further politicize the pardon process, putting justice even more out of reach for everyday Americans.

In 2026, the American political landscape feels less like a deliberative democracy and more like a high-stakes ledger of favors. The headlines are dominated by a series of controversial acts of clemency that have turned the benign prerogative of mercy into a shield for political allies.

From Trump’s sweeping pardons and commutations for Jan. 6 defendants to the high-profile intervention for disgraced former Rep. George Santos (R‑N.Y.) — whose sentence Trump commuted, before quipping that Santos had the “courage to always vote Republican” — the narrative of equal justice is under heavy strain.

This erosion of trust was further deepened by Trump’s stunning pardon of former Honduran president and drug kingpin Juan Orlando Hernández. And before that, in the final days of Joe Biden’s administration, had been marked by the preemptive pardon of his son Hunter and other family members for crimes unspecified.

The bipartisan Pardon Integrity Act aims to install congressional veto power over the president’s mercy, granting Congress the authority to reject pardons and commutations. Under the proposal, 20 House representatives and five senators could initiate a process to nullify a pardon. Congress would have 60 days to reject a challenged pardon with a two-thirds supermajority vote in both chambers.

The impulse to do something is understandable. When a constitutional power is used for overtly partisan reasons — such as the failed attempt to lure Rep. Henry Cuellar (D‑Texas) across the aisle with a pardon — it can feel as though there is some defect with the pardon power itself. Yet in clipping the pardon power, as the amendment aims to do, there is a looming danger of burning down the house to catch a few political foxes.

The pardon power was never meant to be a tool for popularity. It was designed as the ultimate safety valve for the republic. Alexander Hamilton, writing in Federalist No. 74, argued that this authority must remain “as little as possible fettered.” He understood that the law, by its very nature, must be severe, and that without an easy path to mercy, “justice would eventually wear a countenance too sanguinary and cruel.”

Consider the proliferation of federal criminal law. Although the federal government’s powers are finite and enumerated, there are now more than 5,000 federal criminal statutes and an estimated 400,000 regulatory crimes. These have trapped even well-intentioned individuals, such as presidential pardon recipient Michelino Sunseri, in a web of rules so obscure that even the rulemakers and enforcers struggle to identify them. In these cases, the pardon is not an abuse but a vital check on a runaway bureaucracy.

The increasing weaponization of the Justice Department — evidenced by the recent failed attempt to indict six Democratic lawmakers for merely advising the military on the law — also demonstrates the urgent need for a flexible pardon power. Although grand juries have begun to reject such politically motivated prosecutions, and trial jurors should exercise their prerogative to acquit whenever a veneer of political motivation is present, these safeguards can fail. When they do, the unrestrained pardon power by a future president may be the only remaining shield for the citizen against the state.

Restricting the presidential pardon with a congressional veto would paralyze the only mechanism capable of bypassing political gridlock. In a hyper-polarized climate, mercy for unpopular figures — like Silk Road founder Ross Ulbricht — would likely perish in a politicized floor vote, discouraging future presidents from helping the powerless.

Although intended to check partisan favors, the Pardon Integrity Act would likely not accomplish much. A two-thirds supermajority to override a president is a Herculean threshold that few would cross against their own party. Controversial pardons have been a recurring feature of American history.

Following the Civil War, Andrew Johnson pardoned nearly 13,000 confederate officials. After the Vietnam War, Jimmy Carter pardoned the draft-dodgers. On an individual level, pardons of political allies are nothing new. Consider, among many such examples, Gerald Ford’s pardon of former President Richard Nixon, George H.W. Bush’s pardon of former Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger, Bill Clinton’s pardon of financier Marc Rich, George W. Bush’s clemency for Scooter Libby, former chief of staff to the Vice President Cheney, and Trump’s first-term pardon of his chief strategist Steve Bannon.

The pardon power is a double-edged sword, but stripping it away removes the people’s final fail-safe against an overreaching federal government. Red tape does not stop corruption; it just prices regular people out of the process. True reform does not center on fixing the pardon process; we should be building a system where the need for such a radical remedy is rare, not routine.