Chief Justice John Roberts has repeatedly pushed back—most notably in a rare March 2025 statement—against calls to impeach federal judges, emphasizing that disagreement with a ruling should be handled through the appellate process, not removal.
It’s a clean, principled position.
It’s also incomplete.
Because for some of us, this isn’t an academic debate about constitutional theory. It’s lived experience.
I’ve been inside the federal court system. I’ve seen how it operates up close. And my experience before Victor Bolden didn’t leave me reflecting on legal philosophy—it left me asking a far more basic question:
What happens when the process itself feels like the problem?
The answer you hear is predictable: appeal.
Appeal to whom?
On what timeline?
At what cost?
And under what standard?
Appeals courts are not designed to re-try a case from scratch. They defer. They assume the system below functioned properly. That’s not a flaw—it’s by design. But when the concern isn’t just the outcome, but the integrity of the process itself, that design can start to feel less like a safeguard and more like a closed loop.
Roberts is right—impeachment should not be a response to simple disagreement. If every controversial ruling triggered removal proceedings, the judiciary would quickly collapse into political chaos.
But that’s not where this conversation is headed.
What people are increasingly questioning—quietly at first, now more openly—is whether some judges have stepped beyond interpretation into something closer to governance. When a single federal judge can issue sweeping decisions with nationwide impact, it raises a legitimate question about where judicial authority ends and accountability begins.
We’re told there are no “Trump judges” or “Obama judges.” It’s a reassuring sentiment. It speaks to independence, neutrality, and the idea that the rule of law stands above politics.
But independence is not immunity.
The Constitution grants federal judges lifetime appointments to protect them from political pressure—but it also provides a mechanism for removal when that power is abused. Not for unpopular decisions. Not for political disagreement. But for something more serious: a breach of trust.
That mechanism is impeachment.
And yet, in today’s climate, even raising the possibility is treated as if it’s beyond the pale.
It isn’t.
It’s constitutional.
What should concern us more is a system that grows increasingly insulated—where the answer to legitimate concerns is always procedural, always distant, always deferred.
Because from where I sit, having gone through it, the issue isn’t theoretical. It’s real. And it’s shared by more people than the judiciary may be willing to acknowledge.
This isn’t a call for reckless use of impeachment.
It’s a call for honesty.
If we can’t have a serious conversation about judicial accountability—
if every criticism is dismissed as misunderstanding—
if the system closes ranks to protect itself—
then we’re not preserving the judiciary.
We’re placing it beyond scrutiny.
And institutions that exist beyond scrutiny don’t become stronger.
They become untouchable.
The Valley Viewpoint 