A Valley Viewpoint Narrative
There is a comfortable fiction we like to tell ourselves about the judiciary—that judges merely “call balls and strikes,” that they are passive umpires standing above politics. It’s a soothing story. It’s also one that no longer matches reality.
This week, Republican senators called for the impeachment of federal judges who repeatedly blocked Trump-era policies. Predictably, the reaction was instant and theatrical: cries of “authoritarianism,” warnings about the “end of democracy,” and breathless claims that judicial independence itself is under assault.
But here’s the inconvenient truth: impeachment of judges is not a constitutional crisis. It is a constitutional remedy.
The Framers did not design the judiciary to be untouchable. They gave federal judges lifetime appointments conditioned on good behavior. That phrase was not ornamental. It was deliberate. And impeachment is the mechanism they provided when judges abandon that standard—not only through corruption, but through sustained abuse of power.
At the center of this debate is James Boasberg, whose rulings repeatedly halted executive actions, not merely on narrow statutory grounds, but through expansive interpretations that critics argue substituted judicial preference for elected policy. Whether one agrees with the underlying policies or not is beside the point. The issue is who decides.
When judges move beyond interpreting the law and begin reshaping it—especially on matters of immigration, national security, and executive authority—they cease to be neutral arbiters. They become political actors with lifetime tenure and no electoral accountability.
That is not what the Constitution envisioned.
Senators like Ted Cruz are right about one thing that critics refuse to acknowledge: impeachment is not limited to indictable crimes. History, text, and precedent all confirm that judges may be removed for conduct that seriously undermines public trust or violates constitutional boundaries.
The idea that the only impeachable offense is bribery is a modern invention—one that conveniently shields the judiciary from meaningful scrutiny while allowing it to exercise enormous power over public life.
And let’s be honest about the real double standard at play.
Presidents are impeached for phone calls. Cabinet officials are hauled before Congress for policy failures. Legislators face primaries for bad votes. But judges—whose rulings can nullify laws passed by millions of voters—are told they must never be questioned, challenged, or held to account beyond polite academic criticism.
That is not judicial independence. That is judicial supremacy.
Supporters of impeachment are not arguing that judges should rule for a president. They are arguing that judges should rule as judges. When courts repeatedly block lawful executive action through sweeping injunctions, speculative reasoning, or creative readings untethered from statute or text, Congress has not only the right—but the obligation—to respond.
Impeachment is not retaliation. It is oversight.
And far from intimidating the judiciary, it restores balance. It reminds the courts that they are one branch among three—not philosopher-kings, not guardians above the Constitution, but servants within it.
If judges are confident their rulings are grounded in law, they have nothing to fear from scrutiny. Lifetime tenure was never meant to be lifetime immunity.
In a system built on checks and balances, no branch gets a veto on accountability—not even one wearing robes.
The Valley Viewpoint 