The road to authoritarianism, it is often said, is lined by people telling you that you are overreacting. That road is also lined with judges using language like this:

"The United States Government has no legal authority to snatch a person who is lawfully present in the United States off the street and remove him from the country without due process. The Government's contention otherwise, and its argument that the federal courts are powerless to intervene, are unconscionable." —Judge Stephanie Thacker

"Federal courts and judicial review are a feature—not a defect—of this Nation's constitutional structure... And simply because federal courts issue rulings unfavorable to the government is no basis, standing alone, to dispute their constitutional authority or power."—Judge Charlotte Sweeney

Over the past months, I’ve been tracking the federal courts’ response to the Trump administration. For this piece, I used computational text analysis to systematically examine nearly 300 federal cases involving the Trump administration, tracking patterns in judicial language across districts and circuits. What emerged from this data-driven approach isn't the voice of any single judge, but an institutional chorus of constitutional alarm.

The judges are warning us. We need to listen.

Federal judges choose their words carefully. So when judges across the country begin using unequivocal language to describe executive actions, we're witnessing a departure from judicial norms. Judge Ana Reyes examined the military's ban on transgender service members and found it "soaked in animus and dripping with pretext," with language that was "unabashedly demeaning." When the administration terminated a collective bargaining agreement with TSA workers, Judge Marsha Pechman identified retaliation: "the Noem Determination constitutes impermissible retaliation against it for its unwillingness to acquiesce to the Trump Administration's assault on federal workers."

This is only a handful of a much larger collection of judicial statements that have been issued to this effect. What unites them is their willingness to label executive actions not as misguided or poorly implemented, but as fundamentally lawless.

Beyond these direct condemnations, federal judges documented something equally troubling: a systematic breakdown in the basic candor that the legal system requires to function. Judge Amy Berman Jackson's rebuke was devastating: "Saying something does not make it so. Nor does saying it 'repeatedly.'" This wasn't about a particular legal argument—it was about a litigation strategy built on repetition rather than evidence. In a separate case, Judge Jackson found the government's conduct was "so disingenuous that the Court is left with little confidence that the defense can be trusted to tell the truth about anything."

Judges began questioning not just the trustworthiness of government lawyers, but their fundamental understanding of the law itself. Judge Leo T. Sorokin documented a stunning exchange: "At the motion hearing, the defendants doubled down on this point, brazenly claiming that 'dicta can be disregarded.' That position reflects a serious misunderstanding at best—and a conscious flouting at worst—of the judicial process and the rule of law." The government was arguing that it could simply ignore parts of judicial rulings it didn't like.

The separation of powers is Constitutional Law 101. Yet federal judges found themselves repeatedly explaining this fundamental principle to an executive branch that appeared determined to ignore it. Judge John J. McConnell Jr. confronted this directly when the administration froze congressionally appropriated funds: "The Executive's categorical freeze of appropriated and obligated funds fundamentally undermines the distinct constitutional roles of each branch of our government." He spelled out the violation: "Here, the Executive put itself above Congress."

Judge Tanya Chutkan identified a different constitutional violation when the administration created powerful government positions outside normal oversight: "The Constitution does not permit the Executive to commandeer the entire appointments power." When government lawyers argued for unlimited presidential power, Judge Sparkle Sooknanan responded: "But ours is not an autocracy; it is a system of checks and balances. Our Founders recognized that the concentration of power in one branch of government would spell disaster."

As these violations mounted, judges found themselves in the extraordinary position of having to defend their own authority to review executive actions. Judge Charlotte Sweeney stated what should be obvious: "Federal courts and judicial review are a feature—not a defect—of this Nation's constitutional structure." That she needed to write this sentence reveals how basic assumptions about judicial authority have come under assault.

The confrontations escalated when the executive branch began ignoring court orders. Judge Jesse Furman found himself issuing what amounted to a preventive restraining order: "To preserve the Court's jurisdiction pending a ruling on the petition, Petitioner shall not be removed from the United States unless and until the Court orders otherwise." A federal judge had to explicitly order the government not to remove someone from the country while their case was pending because he couldn't trust the executive branch to follow normal legal procedure.

Judge Brian Murphy documented outright defiance: "Defendants have mischaracterized this Court's order, while at the same time manufacturing the very chaos they decry." The government was arguing, in essence, that its own declaration of legality prevented courts (or Congress) from reviewing whether something was actually legal.

These constitutional violations weren't abstract—they had names and faces. The government's detention arguments revealed the scope of its ambitions. Judge William Sessions III laid it bare: "the government argues that § 1226(a) grants practically limitless, unreviewable power to detain individuals for weeks or months, even if the detention is patently unconstitutional."

Judge Deborah Boardman confronted the administration's dismissal of harm to pregnant women whose children would be denied citizenship. The government called such harm "speculative." Judge Boardman's response: "This argument is callous and wrong. The irreparable harm to the plaintiffs and their unborn children is concrete and imminent."

Judge Alvin K. Hellerstein described conditions facing people sent to El Salvador: "they are taken there, and there to remain, indefinitely, in a notoriously evil jail, unable to communicate with counsel, family or friends… If that is not irreparable harm, what is?"

The accumulation of such cases led Judge Boasberg to reach for Kafka: "'I don't know that law,' K. responds. 'You'll feel it eventually,' the guard says." The rulings record human suffering caused by a government that claimed the power to detain without limits, deny citizenship to children, and destroy lives through arbitrary action.

These judicial interventions reveal both democracy's vulnerability and its resilience. When judges must use words like "unconscionable" and quote Kafka to describe government actions, when they must explain basic separation of powers principles, when they must defend their own authority to enforce court orders—democracy is in genuine crisis.

The sharp language from the bench isn't judicial activism; it's the sound of democracy's defense mechanisms under unprecedented stress. These interventions span the political spectrum. Judges were responding not to partisan disagreement but to actions that crossed fundamental legal and constitutional lines.

Perhaps no warning was more chilling than that of Judge J. Harvie Wilkinson III, a respected conservative jurist:

"If today the Executive claims the right to deport without due process and in disregard of court orders, what assurance will there be tomorrow that it will not deport American citizens and then disclaim responsibility to bring them home? And what assurance shall there be that the Executive will not train its broad discretionary powers upon its political enemies? The threat, even if not the actuality, would always be present, and the Executive's obligation to 'take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed' would lose its meaning."

Federal judges are doing their best to hold the line. But they can't hold it alone. Their warnings signal a critical moment where intervention can still prevent systemic failure.

When courts protect protesters' First Amendment rights, they enable the very public mobilization that can, in turn, defend judicial independence. When judges block unconstitutional detention schemes, they preserve the space for democratic organizing.

As citizens, our task is clear: pay attention to these voices, understand their warnings, and recognize that judicial pushback alone cannot preserve democratic norms. When judges start speaking in the language of constitutional crisis, democracy needs every defender it can find.