A Naked Excuse for Martial Law

Trump is provoking a crisis so he can declare an insurrection

At this point in Donald Trump’s second term, we are no longer watching a presidency. We are watching a hostile occupation of American democracy by a man who treats dissent as treason, and the military (for which he has shown nothing but contempt) as his personal security detail.

Nowhere is that clearer than in his recent deployment of National Guard troops—and Marines—to the streets of Los Angeles. And nowhere is the authoritarian instinct more naked than in his shameless flirtation with the Insurrection Act and martial law as tools to suppress protest and deflect from his own corruption.

There was no insurrection in Los Angeles. We all know that. There was no civil war, no secession, no widespread violent rebellion. There were peaceful demonstrations. But that was insufficient for Donald Trump. He needed to manufacture a reason to throw around his weight. The situation was inflamed by a president who sees every challenge to his power as a threat to be crushed, not a problem to be solved.

But instead of working with state and local officials to calm tensions or address underlying causes, Trump did what he always does—he escalated. He federalized the California National Guard over the objections of state and city leaders. He publicly humiliated Governor Gavin Newsom, accusing him of “losing control” and “harboring thugs.” And then he sent 700 Marines into the area—not as peacekeepers, but as symbols of federal dominance. The Marines, for their part, are most likely wondering what the hell they are doing there. So are we.

This is not about public safety. It’s about political theater. Trump has long admired strongmen who use the military to silence critics—from Vladimir Putin to Rodrigo Duterte—and he’s determined to bring that model home.

His legal justification? The Insurrection Act of 1807, a dusty relic of early American law that allows the president to deploy the military to suppress rebellion or enforce federal authority when civil order completely breaks down.

But historically, the Insurrection Act has been used sparingly and with caution—during the Civil Rights Movement to protect Black students from white supremacist mobs, or in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina to stabilize a collapsing public order.

Trump’s case doesn’t remotely compare. The Los Angeles unrest, while tense and volatile in moments, was being managed by local law enforcement and California officials. No one asked for federal troops. No state of war existed. There was no breakdown of government. The only real crisis was political: a president mired in corruption, facing mounting problems, and desperate to change the narrative.

This is the same Trump who, years ago, wanted to invoke the Insurrection Act during racial justice protests in Washington, D.C. The same Trump who cleared peaceful protesters with tear gas so he could hold up a Bible outside St. John’s Church. The same Trump who mused openly about using tanks in the streets and building internment camps for migrants. His authoritarian impulses are not new—but now, with fewer restraints and a broken Republican Party behind him, they’re being realized.

And let’s not forget the constitutional stakes. Trump’s invocation of martial law—whether formal or informal—represents the most direct threat to civilian rule we’ve seen since the Civil War.

It’s not just a matter of excessive force. It’s an attempt to rewrite the balance of power in American government, turning the military into a domestic police force accountable not to the people, but to a single man.

This is how democracies die—not with a bang, but with a president who wraps himself in the flag while ordering soldiers into American cities to crush opposition.

What’s even more alarming is how many Republican leaders have enabled this appalling behavior. Instead of defending federalism, they’ve cheered Trump’s “decisive action.” Instead of standing up for local control, they’ve smeared California leaders as weak and un-American.

And instead of raising alarms about the use of Marines in a domestic policing role—a blatant violation of the Posse Comitatus Act—they’ve either stayed silent or offered half-hearted legalistic justifications.

The public must not fall for this false choice between chaos and authoritarianism. Trump wants Americans to believe that only he can restore order—that the choice is between military occupation or anarchy. But that’s a lie. The real choice is between rule of law and the rule of one man.

Between democratic accountability and unaccountable force. Between a country governed by its Constitution, or one ruled by a vengeful, paranoid narcissist who believes the presidency is a license to dominate.

We’ve seen this movie before—in Turkey, in Hungary, in Russia. It always starts the same way: with a manufactured crisis, an emergency decree, and troops in the streets. And it never ends well.

The good news is that Americans still have the power to resist, but the clock is ticking. Every time Trump invokes the specter of martial law, he chips away at the foundation of civilian government. Every time he sends troops into blue states without consent, he normalizes the idea of federal military power as a political weapon.

This isn’t about Los Angeles. It’s about the future of the republic.

And unless there is an intervention, Trump will make his dreams of absolute power a reality. There is no Congress to stop him, no court able to enforce its rulings against him. He stands alone, with his army of bigots behind him, ready to trash democracy. He simply has to be stopped.