Due Process on the Precipice: The Quiet Erosion of American Legal Norms

In a democracy, due process is not a luxury afforded to the favored few; it is a cornerstone. The rule of law, the right to a fair hearing, and protection from arbitrary detention are not just legal formalities—they are the scaffolding that holds our constitutional republic upright. And yet, in recent months, we’ve seen a disturbing pattern take shape under the Trump administration that threatens to hollow out that scaffolding from within.

The use of the Alien Enemies Act—a law passed in 1798 under the shadow of war and suspicion—is not new. What is new is its resurrection not as a narrowly targeted tool in times of declared war, but as a blunt instrument to bypass due process and expedite deportations of people deemed undesirable by executive fiat. Over 200 individuals, many of them Venezuelan migrants, were removed from U.S. soil without formal charges, trials, or the opportunity to contest their fates. It was done in the name of national security. But scratch the surface, and the security rationale begins to fray. What we’re left with is an executive branch reaching deep into history to find legal cover for modern-day expulsions—without the burden of proving guilt, or even offering a defense.

This is not happening in isolation. The same logic—that some people, by virtue of their nationality, perceived affiliations, or political beliefs, are unworthy of basic rights—has animated a broader shift in the government’s posture. A Columbia-educated U.S. resident and activist detained without charge. Migrant children left to navigate immigration courts without legal counsel. The suggestion that American citizens convicted of vandalism be sent to prisons in foreign countries, apparently for the spectacle of deterrence.

These are not merely policy choices. They are calculated expressions of power—rooted in a worldview that divides people into camps of deserving and undeserving, citizen and outsider, loyalist and threat. What gets hollowed out in the process is the presumption of innocence, the obligation of the state to prove wrongdoing, and the dignity that our legal system is supposed to extend to every person who walks through its doors.

Some will argue this is toughness. That these are bold steps in uncertain times. But strength in a democracy is measured not by the speed with which we punish, but by the care with which we protect the rights of the vulnerable, the inconvenient, the unpopular. If we are willing to discard due process for one group, we may soon find it missing when we need it most.

There’s an old truth that authoritarianism doesn’t arrive in jackboots—it arrives cloaked in legality, with just enough plausible justification to be waved through by a distracted public. But look closer, and you see what’s really at stake: a corrosion of the very norms that distinguish a free society from a fearful one.

We are not yet beyond the point of return. But it would be naïve to believe that we can flirt with authoritarian tools without empowering authoritarian instincts. The choice before us is not simply about immigration, or security, or law enforcement. It’s about whether we still believe in a system that binds the powerful to the same rules as the rest of us. If we abandon that belief now, we may not get another chance to reclaim it.