Ten Out of Ten Ain’t Bad

The Trump administration loves to advertise its trophies. Biggest economy. Strongest borders. Toughest posture anyone has ever seen. But there is another category in which it may well claim a perfect record: alleged violations of all ten amendments in the Bill of Rights.

Ten out of ten. A clean sweep. If the Bill of Rights were a bowling lane, this would be a strike in every frame.

Let us start with the First Amendment, that inconvenient obstacle guaranteeing freedom of speech, press, and assembly. The administration’s relationship with these freedoms has been, at best, strained. When federal immigration enforcement in Minneapolis resulted in the killing of Alex Pretti, a bystander recording events, the right to observe and document government activity became collateral damage.

Add to that the use of tear gas and chemical irritants to disperse crowds, and the hostility toward journalists branded “enemies of the people.” One reporter was derided publicly; another saw his office searched and files taken. Peaceful protest, that old-fashioned method of petitioning the government for redress, has too often been treated like a nuisance rather than a constitutional guarantee.

The Second Amendment has not fared much better under the weight of selective enthusiasm. When armed demonstrators aligned with the administration’s political interests gathered in previous years, they were praised as patriots. Yet when public anger surged after immigration enforcement shootings, the presence of firearms at rallies suddenly became less charming.

Apparently, the right to bear arms is most robust when the optics cooperate. Constitutional consistency has never been a strong suit. Principles tend to shift depending on who is holding the megaphone.

The Third Amendment is rarely discussed, mostly because quartering soldiers in private homes feels like an 18th-century problem. Technically, troops have not been stationed in suburban living rooms. But when federal agents enter homes without valid warrants and effectively take control of private premises, the spirit of that amendment begins to look less antique.

The founders were suspicious of armed government officials occupying private space without consent. That suspicion has not aged poorly. It feels almost prophetic.

The Fourth Amendment, prohibiting unreasonable searches and seizures, has been front and center in recent enforcement controversies. Numerous accounts describe federal agents entering residences without judicially issued search warrants. A reported internal memo suggesting that such warrants were unnecessary did little to calm concerns.

The Supreme Court has long held that excessive force constitutes a Fourth Amendment violation. The killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti raise precisely those questions. Judges have repeatedly pushed back against expansive enforcement theories, but judicial reprimands do not resurrect constitutional confidence.

The Fifth Amendment adds another layer of complication. It promises that no person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law. Yet reports of arrests without timely hearings before immigration judges, prolonged detentions, and procedural shortcuts suggest that due process has become optional.

Due process also carries an equal protection dimension. Racial profiling allegations have shadowed enforcement operations nationwide. When liberty hinges on skin color or accent, the Fifth Amendment’s quiet guarantees sound almost quaint.

The Sixth Amendment guarantees a speedy trial and the assistance of counsel. Indefinite detention and delayed access to lawyers undermine both promises. Transferring detainees to distant jurisdictions compounds the problem, making meaningful representation nearly impossible.

Speedy trial does not mean “eventually, perhaps.” Counsel does not mean “if you can find one from 1,500 miles away.” The constitutional text is clearer than the administrative practice.

The Seventh Amendment is often overlooked, but it preserves the right to a jury trial in certain civil cases. In SEC v. Jarkesy, the Supreme Court reaffirmed that when federal agencies seek civil penalties resembling traditional common-law claims, defendants are entitled to juries. Efforts to channel enforcement into administrative forums without juries flirt with constitutional limits.

Administrative convenience is not a substitute for constitutional compliance. If civil penalties look like common-law suits, the Seventh Amendment expects a jury box, not just an agency hearing room. Even obscure amendments demand their day in court.

The Eighth Amendment forbids excessive fines and cruel and unusual punishment. Arresting young children, detaining families, and separating parents from minors strain any common-sense understanding of proportionality. Whatever one thinks about immigration enforcement as policy, the optics of a four-year-old in custody are hard to reconcile with constitutional restraint.

Cruel and unusual is not merely a historical phrase. It is a moral boundary. When enforcement practices shock the conscience, the Eighth Amendment does not politely look away.

The Ninth Amendment is the Constitution’s quiet reminder that rights are not limited to those specifically enumerated. Privacy, dignity, and bodily integrity are among the liberties Americans assume they possess. Sweeping surveillance, aggressive raids, and intrusive practices invite the question whether those retained rights still have meaning.

The Ninth Amendment resists narrow readings. It tells us that the Constitution’s list is not exhaustive. The people retain more than what is conveniently cited.

Finally, the Tenth Amendment reserves to the states powers not delegated to the federal government. Federal efforts to pressure or commandeer states like Minnesota into assisting with immigration enforcement revive old federalism battles. The Supreme Court has been clear that the federal government may not compel states to administer federal programs.

Commandeering is not cooperation. Federalism is not a suggestion. When Washington insists that states fall in line or face consequences, the Tenth Amendment becomes less theoretical and more immediate.

Taken together, these episodes form a remarkable constitutional tour. Speech constrained, arms politicized, homes entered, searches expanded, process curtailed, counsel delayed, juries bypassed, punishments intensified, unenumerated rights diminished, and states pressured. It is almost an academic checklist.

The administration may prefer to measure success in GDP or enforcement statistics. But constitutional fidelity is also a benchmark. On that score, critics argue, the record is comprehensive.

Ten amendments. Ten controversies. Ten constitutional pressure points.

Ten out of ten ain’t bad, if the goal is authoritarianism.

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