Stockpiles and Slush Piles: The $900B 2026 National Defense Authorization Act
The Bill No One Reads, But Everyone Funds
Each December, Congress completes a ritual that rarely makes headlines but quietly shapes American power: the passage of the National Defense Authorization Act.
The NDAA is not a traditional spending bill. It doesn’t write checks. It authorizes policies, programs, and funding levels for the Department of Defense and related security priorities. It is, in effect, the blueprint for the military-industrial machine. It is considered must-pass, and has done so with little controversy every year for more than six decades, regardless of which party controls Washington.
On December 10, the House of Representatives approved the final version of the Fiscal Year 2026 NDAA, also known as the conference report, a negotiated compromise between earlier House and Senate versions. The Senate is expected to approve this final version in the coming days. When it does, it will send a record nearly $900 billion defense bill to the president’s desk, all but certain to be signed into law.
This process is treated as routine in Washington. However, what this year’s NDAA contains, and what it says about where our national priorities lie, deserves more than a passing glance.
Let’s dig in.
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The Price of Power: What $900 Billion Buys
The final figure for this year’s defense authorization comes in at just under $900 billion. That number alone may not land for everyone, especially in a political landscape where a billion has become the new baseline and a trillion no longer raises eyebrows. However, it should.
This is the largest single line item in the entire federal budget, and one of the few to see regular, bipartisan increases regardless of economic conditions or performance. It is also more than the Pentagon requested.
That distinction matters. The Department of Defense, an agency already known for waste, redundancy, and logistical dysfunction, did not ask for this much. It was given more anyway, by lawmakers eager to demonstrate “strength” while ignoring the department’s persistent inability to account for the funds it already receives.
The Audit Problem
The Pentagon has never passed a full financial audit. Not once. Not under Democratic administrations, nor under Republican ones. It began conducting full audits only in 2018, nearly three decades after the Chief Financial Officers Act of 1990 required every major federal agency to do so. Try not to think too much about the absurdity of it taking that long for anyone to insist that any agency account for their spending. For 28 years, the Department of Defense was granted waivers, extensions, and excuses citing its size and complexity, while every other cabinet-level department learned to account for its budget.
Let that sink in for a moment. The largest budget item—and the one most consistently linked to bloat, inflated contracts, and overages—was not forced to comply for decades. And when it did? It failed. Badly.
Year after year, the Pentagon has reported that it cannot track major assets, verify inventory, or produce clean records of how hundreds of billions in public funds are spent. In any other corner of government, failure to meet basic accounting standards would result in reduced funding or increased oversight. Here, it results in a raise.
See our earlier reporting on the Pentagon’s audit problem here:
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The Unique Funding Calendar That Creates Slush Funds
Compounding the issue is that not all defense funding is subject to the one-year budget cycle that applies to most federal programs. Some military funding, especially for research, procurement, and weapons development, is multi-year and does not expire at the end of the fiscal year. This allows money to accumulate in internal accounts with little public scrutiny and even less urgency to spend wisely.
During the most recent government shutdown standoff, lawmakers proposed using leftover defense R&D funds totaling in the billions to keep paying active-duty military personnel. The fact that this workaround was even possible speaks volumes. In what other agency does money go unspent for so long, and in such volume, that it can be quietly reprogrammed to fund payroll during a national budget crisis?
This is institutionalized bloat, a slush pile that rewards inefficiency while basic domestic services are told to tighten their belts.
Spending Beyond the Battlefield
While much of the NDAA is devoted to weapons procurement and defense posture, several of its most consequential provisions focus on the U.S. military’s role in the world, and on limiting the ability of any one president to upend that role on a whim.
This year’s bill includes continued support for Ukraine at roughly $800 million over the next two years and expanded backing for the Baltic states to bolster their defenses. It fully funds the Taiwan Security Cooperation Initiative, authorizes funding for training and cooperative drone programs, and authorizes $1.5 billion in new security assistance for the Philippines as part of a broader Indo‑Pacific security posture. Concurrently, the NDAA places restrictions on reducing U.S. troop levels in Europe or South Korea without congressional oversight and detailed justification, a direct rebuke to recent executive actions and strategy shifts.
At first glance, these provisions might seem like straightforward support for allies. However, their inclusion reflects something more profound: an effort by Congress to codify U.S. commitments and constrain executive discretion at a moment when the official foreign‑policy doctrine under the Trump administration has itself signaled a shift in understanding of those commitments. Whereas previous strategic frameworks emphasized collective defense and NATO cohesion, the 2025 National Security Strategy issued by President Trump rejects the idea of the United States propping up a global security order, decrying years of “permanent American domination” and suggesting a sharper focus on regional interests closer to home.
For allies in Europe and Asia, this shift has been unsettling. Without language in the NDAA requiring consultation, certification, or justification for troop reductions — as the bill now does — a future administration could withdraw forces or unravel military partnerships almost unilaterally. In codifying a minimum U.S. force presence in Europe and imposing conditions on troop drawdowns, Congress is saying, effectively: these commitments will not be flipped at a president’s personal discretion. Instead, they must be deliberated with allies and with legislative oversight.
This is not merely a foreign‑policy debate. It is a constitutional and institutional one. The NDAA has become one of the few remaining tools by which Congress can assert its prerogatives over war and peace, even as presidents have tested the boundaries of executive power. By anchoring these commitments in law rather than executive memorandum, lawmakers on both sides are seeking stability in a global landscape where the United States’ word and presence have strategic weight.
Winding Down Wars, Or Pretending To
One of the most symbolic moves in this year’s NDAA is the repeal of two long-standing Authorizations for the Use of Military Force, or AUMFs, the legal justifications that have enabled U.S. presidents to wage war without a formal declaration from Congress.
Specifically, the bill repeals the 1991 and 2002 AUMFs related to Iraq. The 1991 authorization was passed for the Gulf War. The 2002 version was used to justify the U.S. invasion of Iraq under President George W. Bush. These have remained on the books long after their military missions ended, lingering as legal relics that could, in theory, be reactivated by any president.
On its face, repealing them looks like progress, a rollback of the endless war footing that has defined U.S. foreign policy for a generation. However, there’s a glaring omission: the 2001 AUMF remains intact.
What They Left Out
That is the authorization passed just days after September 11, 2001, allowing the president to use military force against those responsible for the attacks and any “associated forces.” It has since been stretched far beyond its original scope, invoked to justify drone strikes, special operations raids, and military actions in more than a dozen countries across four administrations in the name of countering terrorism.
Now, under a second Trump presidency, it remains the core legal scaffolding for unilateral military action abroad, particularly in regions loosely associated with counterterrorism.
The failure to repeal or revise the 2001 AUMF is not an accident. It reflects a political and strategic calculation. Keeping executive war powers intact, especially for operations that can be framed as counterterrorism, continues to be useful, even for lawmakers who publicly oppose “forever wars.”
Who Holds the Power to Declare War
It also reveals the limits of Congress’s willingness to reclaim its constitutional authority over war. Despite bipartisan rhetoric about the need to reassert Congressional control, the most powerful war authorization remains untouched.
The Constitution gives Congress, not the president, the power to declare war. Yet for over two decades, AUMFs — especially the 2001 version — have allowed presidents to blur that line. By repealing two outdated authorizations but leaving the most expansive one in place, this NDAA offers the image of reform without its substance.
The wars of the past are being closed, at least on paper. However, the legal tools to start new ones remain within reach.
See our previous reporting on War Declaration Powers here:
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The War at Home: Pay, Parenthood, and Political Targets
Every year, lawmakers point to the NDAA’s inclusion of a military pay raise as proof that this bill supports the troops. This year’s raise is set at 4.5% and applies to both enlisted personnel and officers. However, with inflation still outpacing wage growth and housing costs spiking nationwide, particularly near military installations, many service members and their families will see little improvement in real terms. A raise on paper does not always mean stability in practice.
What makes that number even more difficult to stomach is what was removed from this year’s bill: access to IVF and fertility support for military families.
The decision to exclude coverage for in vitro fertilization is more than a policy change. It’s a signal. It comes after the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, as states crack down not just on abortion, but increasingly on fertility treatments. For service members who suffer injuries, toxic exposure, or long-term stress that affects reproductive health — particularly those impacted by combat or chemical exposure — IVF is not a luxury, but a lifeline. That this coverage was removed in a bill that spends billions on weaponry speaks volumes about which forms of “family values” are actually supported.
The Culture War Inclusion By Exclusion
Also embedded in the bill is a provision to restrict participation of transgender women in women’s sports at military academies, a clause with no bearing on military readiness, no connection to national security, and no rationale beyond political theater.
Its inclusion is a reminder that even in a bill primarily about defense policy, the culture war finds its way in. This measure has nothing to do with service or safety. It is a rhetorical weapon aimed at a community that, statistically, serves in the military at higher rates than the general population. Its presence in the NDAA is not about protecting fairness, but instead projecting power over identity.
Drone Skies and Digital Frontlines
The 2026 NDAA, like many in recent years, devotes considerable attention to emerging technology, not just as a battlefield concern, but as a national vulnerability. Tucked inside are dozens of provisions touching on cybersecurity, artificial intelligence, biotech, airspace safety, and defense supply chains. Each speaks to a different kind of threat, and perhaps most importantly, a different type of opportunity for private contractors.
Airspace Safety
One of the more accessible concerns this year is airspace safety. Following a surge of drone incursions and near-collisions — some of which involved civilian aircraft — the NDAA directs the Pentagon to work with FAA regulators on developing a military-civilian coordination protocol for unmanned aerial systems (UAS). It also includes funding for counter-drone technologies, a fast-growing sector of military research now being accelerated by lessons from the Ukraine conflict, where small drones have proved devastatingly effective.
Cybersecurity & AI
Cybersecurity and artificial intelligence also receive special attention, framed as both defensive imperatives and competitive arenas. The bill requires the Pentagon to develop frameworks for the safe integration of AI into weapons systems, with limits on the use of fully autonomous systems. There are also expanded pilot programs to partner with civilian tech firms to rapidly test and deploy new software tools, a nod to the growing concern that the U.S. defense apparatus is losing its edge to leaner, more nimble adversaries in both software and drone warfare.
Biotech
Biotech provisions are less prominent but no less critical. The NDAA directs investment toward biomanufacturing, particularly in synthetic biology and genetic engineering. While these technologies are still evolving, the U.S. sees them as essential to countering both biological weapons threats and ensuring medical self-sufficiency in future pandemics or wartime scenarios.
Defense Industrial Base Strategy
Also buried in the bill are updates to the defense industrial base strategy, the long-term plan to revitalize domestic manufacturing, reduce dependence on foreign suppliers (especially China), and ensure secure access to key materials like semiconductors, rare earths, and advanced batteries. These measures align with broader Biden-era policies aimed at rebuilding supply chains in response to vulnerability exposed by the pandemic. Under Trump, similar goals have been reframed through a lens of “national sovereignty” and anti-China sentiment, but the policy outcomes look much the same.
All of these provisions reinforce the growing merger of national security and technological control. Whether in the sky, in cyberspace, or in the genome, the NDAA continues to position cutting-edge industries as extensions of the military, and the military as a primary investor in the future of American innovation.
Secrets in the Caribbean
For all its scale, the NDAA is also a tool of accountability, a rare moment when Congress can demand transparency from a defense apparatus that increasingly operates in the shadows.
That’s why this year’s bill includes a provision requiring the Pentagon to disclose information about a series of military strikes in the Caribbean that occurred in late August and early September. Those strikes, allegedly targeting drug trafficking operations near Venezuela, were launched with little public explanation and no preemptive congressional authorization. Lawmakers were not formally briefed until after the fact, and even then, key details were redacted or classified. Notably, investigations and reviews continue regarding a purported double-tap strike that may have violated international law.
See our initial reporting here:
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The NDAA’s oversight provision compels the Pentagon to produce and release documentation, including what was targeted, what intelligence supported the action, which rules of engagement were applied, and the outcomes. That demand is significant not only because of the strikes themselves, but because the administration had shown no intent to provide this information voluntarily, even as pressure has mounted from members of Congress.
Then, on December 10th, another development underscored why this provision remains relevant. The U.S. seized a large oil tanker, known as The Skipper, off the coast of Venezuela. The operation was carried out by the U.S. Coast Guard with support from Navy vessels, and cited economic sanctions enforcement as its justification. While the Coast Guard falls under the Department of Homeland Security, the involvement of the Department of Defense — particularly through Navy coordination — could bring this action under the NDAA’s reporting provisions, especially given the regional and operational overlap with the earlier strikes.
President Trump publicly announced the seizure, framing it as part of a broader strategy to punish Venezuela’s government. Officials in Caracas denounced the act as piracy. Whether this operation is ultimately included in the Pentagon’s forthcoming report remains to be seen, but its timing and execution have already deepened the call for clarity.
See our initial reporting here:
This is not a debate over whether any single strike or seizure was justified. It’s a debate over whether there is any clear mechanism for accountability. When operations are carried out without public justification, with only minimal after-the-fact disclosures, and under authorities that remain classified or legally murky, Congress is left to chase facts rather than shape policy. The NDAA’s limited transparency requirement is not revolutionary, but it is an attempt to reassert a basic democratic premise: that war, in any form, cannot be waged in total darkness.
The Wrench You Can’t Use
One of the most telling provisions in this year’s NDAA didn’t increase funding or expand a mission. Instead, it quietly reversed a previous commitment to “Right to Repair”, the principle that military personnel should be allowed, trained, and equipped to repair their own gear.
On the surface, it seems like a technical issue. In practice, it reveals the deep dependence of the U.S. military on private contractors, even for basic operational functions. The original Right to Repair provision was designed to ensure that troops, particularly those in maintenance, mechanical, and technical roles, would have access to manuals, tools, and parts required to fix critical equipment without waiting on a contractor.
That provision is now gone, and with it, service members' ability to do their jobs without third-party permission.
From a readiness perspective, the logic is undeniable. Soldiers in the field must be able to fix what breaks. In active combat zones, far-flung bases, or conflict theaters where time is limited and contractor access is nonexistent, self-sufficiency can make the difference between functionality and failure. Even in peacetime, a military that cannot maintain its own equipment is a military at risk.
This is not unlike the dilemma of the modern consumer. Consider the encased engine in a new car and the voided warranty if you dare to lift the hood. It doesn’t matter how much mechanical knowledge you have if you’re denied the right to access the tools or parts that let you act on it. When applied to a trillion-dollar military, the consequences become more than personal inconvenience. They become structural dependency.
And dependency is precisely the point.
By restricting the Right to Repair, the NDAA guarantees job security for defense contractors, who now retain exclusive control over the maintenance of the very systems they sell. It is the most literal form of built-in obsolescence, not because the equipment fails, but because the government, by law, has agreed that only certain hands can fix it.
This isn’t just inefficient. It’s expensive. It’s also emblematic of a defense system that increasingly behaves not as a public institution but as a perpetual income stream for a select group of corporations, whose profits rise with every limitation placed on internal military capability.
Stockpiles and Slush Piles
Even after all of this — the secrecy, the contractor handouts, the eroded oversight — the NDAA still ends where it always does, with an extraordinary investment in more weapons.
The bill greenlights the purchase of new aircraft, ships, and munitions, authorizes the continuation of next-generation fighter jet programs and missile defense systems, and provides funding for the modernization of the defense acquisition process. This phrase typically translates to higher contract amounts, fewer bidders, and greater leeway for overruns.
It’s not that these systems are unnecessary in every case. It’s that the costs are never questioned. The assumption built into every NDAA is that more money means more security.
Yet the Pentagon’s own performance tells a different story.
Accountability Failure
During this fall’s extended government shutdown, when active-duty troops faced the possibility of missed paychecks, Congress proposed a temporary fix: using leftover Pentagon R&D funds to keep military payroll afloat. The fact that this was even possible is the real headline. At a moment when the government claimed it was broke, the Department of Defense had billions in unspent research and development funding just sitting there.
That money wasn’t clawed back. It wasn’t rolled over to support troops in need. It had simply accumulated, a slush pile of unused resources in an agency that already receives more discretionary funding than all other departments combined.
This is a pattern, not an accident. Some defense funding is not time-constrained, which means it can sit untouched year after year. Other funds are so poorly tracked that the Pentagon itself doesn’t know where they’ve gone. And yet, each year, Congress gives more. The Department of Defense is rewarded not for success, but for volume.
Why Innovate When You Can Consume?
There is a consequence to all this, not just in waste or inefficiency, but in the erosion of institutional creativity and accountability. An agency with an unlimited budget stops innovating. It stops questioning. It builds systems that no one else can fix, and incentives that no one else can question. It becomes entitled, not efficient, powerful, not nimble, and less a shield for the republic than a machine with a self-sustaining appetite.
Meanwhile, every other agency in government — education, housing, health, climate — is told to do more with less.
Ask a public school teacher what they could do with a fraction of the defense budget. Ask a librarian what they’d fund first. Ask a social worker. Ask a low-income parent. These are the Americans who innovate out of necessity, who stretch dollars into miracles, not because they want to, but because they have to.
And yet, every year, Congress feeds the military with more — more than it asks for, more than it can manage, more than it can explain — while others are asked to make do.
This isn’t strength. It’s dysfunction masquerading as power.
Budgets Reflect Values
We cannot call ourselves a beacon of democracy while our largest institution fails basic audits, hoards unspent funds, and protects the profits of a privileged few. We cannot claim peace as our purpose while pouring hundreds of billions into weapons we may never use, but cannot repair ourselves. We cannot hold up this budget as a symbol of security while the foundation beneath our society crumbles.
At a certain point, a nation that spends endlessly on war and almost nothing on the things that make peace possible stops being a defender of democracy.
It becomes a warlord in a patriotic suit.
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Sources:
Troop pay, Ukraine and social issues — US House passes massive 2026 defense bill (Reuters)
US House backs massive defense policy bill, Senate next (Reuters)
House passes Pentagon bill pressuring Hegseth to release boat strike evidence (The Washington Post)
New IVF benefits for military families cut from defense bill again (The Washington Post)
Fact Check: Has the Pentagon failed its 7th audit in a row? (Econofact)
Government Accountability Office investigations of the Department of Defense (Wikipedia)
Congress quietly strips right‑to‑repair provisions from 2026 NDAA despite wide support (Federal News Network)
S.2296 — National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2026 (Congress.gov)
Fiscal Year 2026 National Defense Authorization Act (Executive Summary) (Senate Armed Services Committee)
H.R.3838 — Streamlining Procurement for Effective Execution and Delivery and National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2026 (Congress.gov)
And not one a single US taxpayer got to vote on how OUR money is spent.
It's pretty obvious that we are falling behind in innovation, research and development to the extent that soon it won't matter how much money we spend.