ANALYSIS: Thirteen charges against Trump — an anatomy of a wide-ranging impeachment

Maxime Marquette

2026-06-26 22:23:01

The Constitutional Core of the Larson Resolution

The first article—and the most fundamental from a constitutional standpoint—accuses Trump of violating the War Powers Resolution of 1973 and Article I, Section 8 of the Constitution, which reserves for Congress the exclusive right to declare war. By ordering military strikes against Iran without any authorization or even prior notification from Congress, Trump allegedly committed an abuse of power that the Founding Fathers specifically sought to prohibit. Representative Tom Barrett of Michigan, one of the few Republicans to vote for the War Powers Resolution on June 3, put it bluntly: according to NPR, “the Constitution gives Congress the authority to declare war” and “the 60-day period provided for in the War Powers Act has expired.”

Representative Brian Fitzpatrick of Pennsylvania drove the point home: “We’ve passed the 60-day mark, so you have two options: comply with the law or amend it. Violating the law is not an option.” These dissenting Republicans voted with the Democrats on June 3, 2026, to pass a resolution by a vote of 215 to 208—the first successful such effort since 2020, according to Al Jazeera. The constitutional scope of the First Amendment is therefore clear: it directly concerns the separation of powers.

The War in Iran as the Trigger for the Resolution

The war against Iran was the immediate trigger for the filing of the thirteen articles. According to Larson, as quoted by MindSite News, “Trump’s illegal war in Iran has cost American lives,” and the president “is escalating his illegal war and threatening to annihilate an entire civilization.” The president’s threats on social media—notably “an entire civilization will die” and “open the Strait or you’ll live in hell”—are documented and included in the constitutional case file as indications of war crimes.

Iran is a tyrannical regime and a direct threat to Israel and to the stability of the Middle East. I write this without ambiguity. But the way Trump launched this war—without consulting Congress, without even informing it—is the very definition of what the framers of the U.S. Constitution sought to prevent. Even a just war can be waged unconstitutionally.

Article Two: Operations in Venezuela and War Crimes

The Caribbean Strikes and the Former JAGs Working Group

The second set of articles covers military operations in Venezuela, notably the strikes on vessels in the Caribbean Sea that targeted survivors of earlier attacks. This issue is particularly serious: according to information compiled from the sources reviewed, a working group composed of former military judges and attorneys (JAGs) issued a unanimous assessment in November 2025 concluding that the follow-up strike on shipwreck survivors constituted a war crime under international humanitarian law. Retired generals described these actions as likely violations of the Geneva Conventions.

This independent documentation—coming from U.S. military legal experts, not Democratic activists—gives the articles an exceptionally solid factual basis. This is no longer merely a dispute between political parties over the interpretation of the Constitution, but rather allegations grounded in international humanitarian law. Representative Shontel Brown put it clearly, according to NPR: “Congress has the power to declare war—not the executive branch.”

The Hegseth Case: Impeachment Extends to the Cabinet

What sets the Larson resolution apart from previous attempts is its systemic nature. Larson simultaneously filed six articles of impeachment against Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, charging him with war crimes, illegal strikes against Iran, negligent handling of classified information, and politicization of the armed forces. According to MindSite News, a group of about a dozen House Democrats has also filed articles of impeachment against Hegseth for ordering attacks on survivors of military strikes in the Caribbean, targeting civilians, and waging an “unauthorized” war against Iran without congressional approval.

A Secretary of Defense facing articles of impeachment for potential war crimes—that’s something I wouldn’t have thought possible just two years ago. This isn’t rhetoric: these assessments were signed by former U.S. military officers and military lawyers. The fact that the administration is brushing all of this aside should deeply concern anyone who believes in the rule of law in armed conflicts.

Article Three: Gaza and International Humanitarian Law

U.S. Involvement in Operations in Gaza

The third focus of Larson’s articles concerns the war in Gaza and U.S. military support for Israeli operations. The resolution alleges that U.S. military support for operations in Gaza implicated the administration in potential violations of international humanitarian law. This charge is the most controversial of the thirteen, as it touches on the complexity of the U.S.-Israeli alliance and the question of the responsibility of the partner supplying the weapons.

The constitutional implications here are twofold: on the one hand, the issue of military engagement without congressional authorization (even indirect), and on the other, possible complicity in acts that international law classifies as war crimes. The Thanodar resolution, introduced in December 2025, had been even more direct, explicitly using the terms “murder, conspiracy, and crimes against humanity” in the context of operations in Iran and their impact on civilian populations. This strong language represents the upper limit of what sitting members of Congress dared to put in writing in an official document.

The Precedent of Command Responsibility

From a legal standpoint, the principle of command responsibility lies at the heart of this article. If subordinates commit war crimes and the commander-in-chief fails to act to prevent or punish them, he or she bears personal responsibility. Former U.S. JAGs who assessed operations in Venezuela and Iran applied this exact legal framework to the Trump administration. Whether or not these assessments are accurate, their official existence in the U.S. constitutional record constitutes a political and legal fact of exceptional gravity.

I recognize the sensitivity of this issue. The war in Gaza is one of the most polarizing topics of our time, and I do not claim to have all the answers regarding who is doing what and under what circumstances. What I do know is that when U.S. military lawyers—not activists—put in writing that certain operations constitute war crimes, it is a signal that institutions cannot ignore—regardless of the geopolitical complexities.

Article Four: Violation of the Posse Comitatus Act

The Militarization of Domestic Law Enforcement

The fourth pillar of the Larson resolution concerns the deployment of the National Guard on U.S. soil in violation of the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878, which prohibits the use of federal military forces to enforce domestic civil law. These deployments have been used in connection with mass deportations of immigrants, maintaining order during protests, and supporting federal law enforcement agencies in the context of open political confrontation.

Violating the Posse Comitatus Act is a serious constitutional violation because it undermines one of the fundamental principles of American republicanism: the separation between the military and the civilian police. Using the National Guard as a tool of immigration policy or domestic law enforcement represents exactly the kind of abuse that the drafters of this law sought to prevent. Democrats in the House have documented several specific cases of deployments that, in their view, cross this line clearly drawn by Congress in 1878.

Permanent State of Emergency as a Means of Circumvention

The Trump administration has justified these deployments by invoking states of emergency at the border and regarding immigration. But the articles of impeachment argue that this use of the state of emergency is itself an abuse of power: it would allow the president to indefinitely circumvent constitutional safeguards through a simple executive declaration. Ralph Nader, in an analysis published on June 5, 2026, sums up the issue: “Only Congress can define the authority vested in the executive branch, not the president.” A permanent state of emergency turns the exception into the rule—and that is precisely what the U.S. Constitution prohibits.

The line between national security and the militarization of domestic policy is one of the most perilous to cross in a liberal democracy. I understand that Trump wanted concrete results on immigration—it’s one of the areas where his base expected action. But when the National Guard is deployed to carry out domestic civil policies, we enter dangerous constitutional territory. This is not a matter of political affiliation; it is a matter of institutional architecture.

Article Five: Abuse of the Power of Pardon

Pardons as Political Currency

The fifth pillar of the Larson resolution targets the use of the presidential power of pardon for personal political gain rather than in the interest of justice. The resolution explicitly targets pardons granted to those convicted in connection with the events of January 6, 2021, and to other political allies, which the articles characterize as an exercise of the power of pardon “for personal political gain” rather than according to traditional criteria for clemency.

Constitutionally speaking, this charge is the most sensitive of the thirteen. The power of pardon granted by Article II is explicitly broad and subject to few constitutional constraints. But the Larson articles argue that when pardons are systematically used to protect political allies from prosecution for acts committed in support of the president, they become an instrument of constitutional corruption—exactly what the Founding Fathers described as “high crimes and misdemeanors.”

The Argument for Presidential Self-Protection

Larson goes a step further with a complementary legislative proposal, the Don’t Settle for Corruption Act, introduced on June 18, 2026, according to his office, which would require congressional approval before the Department of Justice could enter into settlement agreements benefiting the president, his family, or his companies. This bill illustrates the thesis behind the articles of impeachment: Trump allegedly systematically used the levers of executive power—pardons, judicial settlements, and purges at the Department of Justice—to protect himself and his allies from legal accountability. The result would be a “presidentialization” of impunity.

The power to grant pardons is one of the most absolute powers of the U.S. presidency, and I am honestly torn on the issue. Pardoning people convicted of storming the Capitol and pardoning people convicted of assaulting police officers are not acts of equal gravity. But when the pattern becomes systematic—when all pardons seem to go to those who supported the president—we are no longer dealing with the exercise of clemency. We are dealing with the rewarding of political loyalty. And that, the U.S. Constitution calls “high crimes.”

Article Six: Obstruction of Federal Court Orders

Systematic Defiance of the Judiciary

One of the most well-documented themes in the Larson resolution is the systematic defiance of federal court orders. The articles detail specific cases in which the Trump administration directly ignored or circumvented injunctions and orders issued by federal judges—on immigration, budget spending, and civil service layoffs. According to the sources compiled, 140 members of the House had refused to table the December 2025 articles of impeachment, which explicitly cited Trump’s attacks on federal judges as the constitutional basis for the impeachment.

The constitutional implications are fundamental. Article III of the U.S. Constitution establishes the federal judiciary as co-equal to the legislative and executive branches. When the president orders his agencies to ignore court orders, he is not merely attacking individual judges—he is undermining the separation of powers at its very core. Ralph Nader articulates this principle in his June 5 analysis: “Only Congress can spend your money, not the president”—and only the courts can validate or invalidate the actions of the executive branch.

The Hannah Dugan Case and the Intimidation of the Judiciary

On June 16, 2026, the Los Angeles Times reported on the case of Judge Hannah Dugan, who was convicted and ultimately forced to resign under pressure from Republican threats of impeachment for refusing to cooperate with ICE agents in her courtroom. This case illustrates both the repressive dynamics targeting members of the judiciary who refuse to bow to the executive branch and the fear that this climate generates throughout the entire U.S. judicial system.

I cannot remain neutral on this: a president who ignores court orders represents a qualitative break with liberal democracy. We can debate immigration policies; we can debate spending levels; we can even debate war in Iran. But ignoring federal judges’ orders amounts to an end to the rule of law. And if the rule of law disappears in the United States, the entire Western order will begin to crumble. Europe, Canada, NATO allies—all depend on American institutional strength as a bedrock.

Article 7: Attacks on Federal Judges

From Criticism to Intimidation

Distinct from outright obstruction—which involves a refusal to carry out orders—the seventh charge addresses public attacks against federal judges in their personal capacity, on social media and in public statements, with the explicit intent to intimidate or discredit them. The December 2025 articles, cited by 140 members of the House, specifically included this “intimidation of the judiciary” as an impeachable offense under the Constitution.

The line between legitimate criticism and unconstitutional intimidation is one of the most contentious debates in American constitutional law. But the Larson articles propose a specific criterion: when presidential attacks against judges form part of a systematic pattern aimed at discouraging judicial decisions unfavorable to the administration, they cease to be protected speech and become obstruction of justice through intimidation. Several federal judges have had their personal safety threatened following presidential tweets directed at them.

The Nixon Precedent and the Constitutional Framework

In his June 5, 2026, article, Nader draws an analogy with Nixon in 1974: “Trump’s crimes are far worse than Nixon’s and are intensifying every day.” Nixon had attempted to interfere with judicial investigations. Trump has taken this interference to a whole new level by publicly targeting judicial officers, career prosecutors fired in retaliation under the Larson resolution, and lifetime-appointed judges who refuse to follow his political directives. The separation of powers, in this constitutional interpretation, is not merely a formal principle—it is a functional guarantee of democracy.

The analogy with Nixon troubles me, because Nixon ultimately complied with the Constitution under pressure from the institutions—he handed over the tapes; he resigned. What sets Trump apart is that he seems to have decided that the institutions themselves are the enemy. When a president specifically attacks federal judges appointed for life on social media, he is no longer operating within a normal democracy—he is operating within the logic of a strongman. And that is precisely where the West cannot afford to go.

Article Eight: Threats Against Members of Congress

Threats Documented in the Constitutional File

One of the most explosive sections of the Larson resolution concerns threats of violence against members of Congress. According to the sources reviewed, the December 2025 documents included allegations of death threats directed at members of Congress, as well as attempts to intimidate lawmakers in the performance of their constitutional duties. These allegations are supported by public statements, social media posts, and documented FBI investigations into bombings and swatting attacks targeting cabinet members and lawmakers.

Constitutionally speaking, the separation of powers implies not only that Congress is free to deliberate, but also that its members are not subject to pressure or threats from the executive branch. Larson’s articles argue that when the U.S. president—or his allies with his blessing—publicly targets specific lawmakers by name with vengeful rhetoric, he is attacking the constitutional foundations of the legislative branch.

The list of targets: a pattern that cannot be denied

A video of a House debate included in the sources suggests that Trump “orders prosecutions like one orders a pizza” against members of Congress such as Adam Schiff, Mark Kelly, Alyssa Slotkin, Chrissy Houlahan, Jason Crow, Chris Deluzio, and Maggie Hassan. This systematic targeting of Democratic lawmakers through the Department of Justice’s legal apparatus constitutes, according to the articles of impeachment, an abuse of executive power aimed at crushing political opposition through judicial means—the very type of behavior that the U.S. Constitution was intended to prevent.

What strikes me about this list is that these are not abstract statements. These are names, congressional districts, and sitting lawmakers. When a president uses the federal judicial system to target his political opponents, we step outside the framework of Western liberal democracy and into that of authoritarianism. I state this clearly, even though I am aware that Trump also has sincere supporters who see this as a legitimate settling of scores. The difference between political justice and justice, plain and simple, is precisely what our institutions must preserve.

Article 9: Purge at the Ministry of Justice

The Firing of Career Prosecutors as a Political Weapon

One of the most thoroughly documented charges in the Larson resolution concerns the dismissal of career prosecutors from the Department of Justice in retaliation for their prior work on investigations involving Trump or his allies. These dismissals, which affect civil servants protected by civil service rules, are described in the articles as a violation of judicial independence and a de facto obstruction of justice.

The constitutional implications are clear: a president who systematically purges the Department of Justice to remove those who have investigated him transforms the judicial institution into an instrument of personal protection. The sequence of events is documented in the articles: the firings occurred in the weeks following court rulings unfavorable to the administration or procedural actions related to cases in which Trump or his associates were involved. This temporal coincidence is at the heart of the obstruction charge.

The Use of DOGE to Block Approved Appropriations

The Larson resolution also raises the issue of the use of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) to block appropriations voted on by Congress without legislative authorization. This practice, described in the sources as an illegal seizure of Congress’s budgetary power, infringes upon one of the legislature’s most fundamental prerogatives: only Congress, according to Ralph Nader, can spend taxpayer money. When the executive branch unilaterally decides not to spend appropriated funds, it assumes a budgetary veto power that the Constitution does not grant it.

DOGE is probably one of the most controversial projects of Trump’s second term—and I’ll admit something: the idea of reducing government waste doesn’t shock me in principle. What shocks me is the execution. Blocking appropriations voted on by Congress without legislative authorization is not government efficiency; it is a constitutional usurpation. There is a difference between reforming the government and ignoring Congress.

Article 10: Personal Enrichment and Conflicts of Interest

The Emoluments Clause and Its Practical Implications

The Larson resolution reiterates an allegation already present in previous impeachment attempts: the use of the presidency for personal gain, in violation of the Constitution’s Emoluments Clause, which prohibits federal officers from receiving financial benefits from foreign or domestic governments in addition to their official compensation. During his second term, Trump continued to run private companies whose activities were directly linked to presidential decisions.

The “Don’t Settle for Corruption Act,” introduced by Larson on June 18, 2026, directly supports this article: it aims to block a settlement agreement between the DOJ and Trump that would exempt the president and his companies from future tax investigations. According to Larson, such an agreement—funded by American taxpayers—would constitute a public gift to a private individual using presidential power for personal enrichment. The constitutional implications are clear: this is the most basic form of corruption as defined by the Founding Fathers.

Institutionalized Self-Protection

The pattern described in Larson’s articles is consistent: the firing of prosecutors investigating Trump, the use of the DOJ to block unfavorable legal proceedings, and settlement agreements exempting the president from future liability. Taken together, these elements paint a picture of an institutionalized self-protection strategy: the systematic use of the state apparatus to shield oneself from any legal or political accountability—which the resolution characterizes as constitutional corruption in the deepest sense of the term.

On this point, I want to be honest: conflicts of interest involving U.S. presidents did not begin with Trump, and it would be inaccurate to claim that they emerged with him. But the scale and systematic nature of what is documented here exceed anything I have seen in my years of following U.S. politics. This is no longer an isolated conflict of interest—it is an infrastructure of self-protection built within the executive branch. And that is what the U.S. Constitution calls a “high crime.”

Article 11: Discriminatory Deportations

The Equal Protection Clause and the Weapon of Immigration

The thirteen articles include allegations related to discriminatory deportations based on national origin, religion, or political beliefs. These allegations are grounded in the Fourteenth Amendment and its Equal Protection Clause, as well as in international law regarding refugee rights. The articles argue that mass deportation policies disproportionately targeted certain communities in violation of constitutional guarantees.

The constitutional scope of this article is particularly significant for the United States’ international image. Western allies—in Europe as well as in Canada—have watched with concern as U.S. immigration policies have evolved into a system that classifies populations based on criteria that run counter to fundamental human rights principles. For the West as a whole, the actions of the leading nation in the liberal alliance regarding immigrants’ rights send a signal to authoritarian regimes around the world.

Maritime Piracy and International Law

One of the most unexpected elements of Larson’s articles is the characterization of certain U.S. naval operations as “piracy”—a term used in the resolution to refer to the interception and seizure of ships in international waters without a recognized legal basis. This dramatic accusation fits into the broader context of the militarization of immigration policies, where military assets have been deployed for operations that normally fall under the purview of the civilian coast guard or regular law enforcement agencies.

I understand the popular appeal of strict immigration policies—Western populations express legitimate concerns about uncontrolled migration flows. But there is a line between a firm immigration policy and discriminatory deportations that violate the Equal Protection Clause. The West cannot universally defend human rights abroad while systematically violating them at home. It is this contradiction that Larson’s articles highlight, and it deserves serious debate.

Article Twelve: Polls and Political Dynamics

55% of Americans Support Impeachment

Behind the constitutional technicalities of the thirteen articles lies a brutal political reality. According to data reported by El-Balad.com on June 18, 2026, 55% of American adults say the House should vote to impeach Trump. The fact that more than 85 House members have publicly supported either impeachment or invoking the Twenty-Fifth Amendment points to a grassroots movement that Republicans are finding hard to ignore.

The poll showing that 60% of Americans disapprove of Trump’s handling of the war in Iran, according to Al Jazeera—up from 54% in March—and the rise in disapproval even among Republicans themselves (from 15% to 22%) signal an erosion of his base. House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries stated this explicitly, according to the Washington Times on June 14, 2026: Democrats “have not ruled out anything” regarding impeachment if they regain control of Congress in the November 2026 midterms.

The Senate Hurdle and Political Calculations

Procedural realities, however, temper this momentum: while the House can impeach by a simple majority, conviction and removal require a two-thirds majority in the Senate—a threshold that has never been reached in American history, not even with the 57 votes for conviction during Trump’s second impeachment. On June 16, 2026, the Senate blocked a new resolution on war powers by a vote of 47 to 48, according to Politico, despite the defection of four Republicans. The parliamentary arithmetic remains favorable to Trump.

This is the central paradox of this impeachment: everything indicates that the charges are serious, well-documented, and, for the most part, constitutionally sound. And yet, everything also indicates that they will not result in removal from office, because Republicans in the Senate lack the institutional incentives to vote against their president. This does not make the articles any less important—they build a historical record, a constitutional memory. But it should force us, in the West, to face up to the fragility of mechanisms of democratic accountability when they depend solely on the political will of those in power.

Conclusion: Anatomy of a Constitutional Crisis

What the Thirteen Articles Reveal About the State of American Democracy

The thirteen articles of impeachment filed by John Larson on April 6, 2026, constitute a historic document of rare importance, regardless of their fate in Congress. They reveal an administration that has systematically pushed the boundaries of each of the three major constitutional checks and balances in the United States: the balance between the president and Congress, regarding war and the budget; the balance between the president and the judiciary, regarding compliance with court orders; and the balance between power and the law, regarding the use of the state for personal gain. Thirteen counts, five categories, a single conclusion: an administration that behaved as if the Constitution were merely an optional suggestion.

The constitutional implications extend far beyond Trump himself. Whenever executive powers expand without effective institutional resistance, they create structural precedents that future presidents will invoke. If Trump can start a war without consulting Congress, if Trump can ignore court orders without consequences, if Trump can purge the Department of Justice with impunity—these actions become the new baseline for what a president can do. It is the institutions of the entire Western world that are weakened with every unchecked encroachment.

The Institutional Legacy: Constitutional Memory versus Impunity

The constitutional record established by these thirteen articles—even if blocked in the Republican-controlled Senate—fulfills an essential function: it documents, it names, and it assigns responsibility for the historical record. As Nader wrote on June 5, 2026, “The articles of impeachment are constitutional mandates for a political party and its candidates.” They speak to the November midterms, to the long history, and to the ability of American and Western citizens to remember what has happened. The West needs strong institutions, not strongmen. Constitutional memory is the first line of defense against democratic erosion—and that is precisely what these thirteen articles are building.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist