The left loves the courts. They hate constitutional limited

When Dan Bongino declared, “The left loves the courts. They hate constitutional limited government,” he was not merely speaking about a political divide; he was invoking an ancient tension between power and restraint, authority and liberty, the eternal struggle that defines the destiny of free nations. His words carry the weight of a warning — that when any faction seeks to replace constitutional limits with judicial decree, the balance of freedom begins to crumble. For in every age, there are those who believe the ends justify the means, and who, unable to persuade through the voice of the people, turn instead to unelected judges to shape destiny in their favor.

To understand Bongino’s meaning, one must look to the heart of constitutional limited government — a system built not upon passion, but upon principle. It is the covenant of restraint, forged to protect liberty from the fever of the moment. The founders of the United States, scarred by tyranny, knew that unchecked power — whether wielded by kings or by mobs — leads inevitably to oppression. Thus, they built walls of separation, distributing power across branches, ensuring that no one hand could seize total control. The courts, in this design, were guardians of law, not instruments of ideology.

Yet history shows how easily those lines blur. When politics infects the judiciary, when judges become lawmakers cloaked in robes, the people’s voice is silenced. Bongino’s criticism reflects a modern echo of ancient Rome, where the Senate once yielded to emperors who claimed divine right to rule. What began as a republic of balance became a theater of decrees — the law serving the powerful rather than the just. In the same way, when a society turns its hopes from the rule of law to the rule of men, the flame of freedom begins to flicker.

Consider the case of the Weimar Republic in Germany. Its constitution promised liberty, rights, and democracy. But in the chaos of division, factions turned to the courts and executive orders to achieve what they could not through law. In time, the courts surrendered their independence, and the constitution itself became a tool of tyranny. From that collapse rose the totalitarian state — proof that when a people grow weary of limits and seek power without constraint, liberty perishes in silence.

Bongino’s statement, though harsh, holds a deeper truth: that freedom cannot coexist with the lust for control. Those who “love the courts” because they can be used to impose ideology are no different from those in history who loved kings because they issued favorable decrees. The affection is not for justice, but for dominance. True justice, however, demands humility — a recognition that no man, no party, no institution should hold all power. Limited government is not weakness; it is wisdom. It is the recognition that human nature, left unchecked, always drifts toward tyranny.

There is an emotional undercurrent in these words — a plea to remember that liberty is born of restraint. It takes courage to live within boundaries, to persuade rather than impose, to defend even the rights of those we oppose. The greatness of a nation lies not in its ability to rule, but in its willingness to be ruled by principle. When the courts become weapons and the constitution a mere suggestion, freedom becomes fragile, and justice becomes an echo rather than a reality.

The lesson, then, is clear and timeless: cherish the limits that guard your liberty. Let no ideology, left or right, seduce you into surrendering power to unelected hands. Engage in the marketplace of ideas, not the courtroom of imposition. Defend the Constitution not when it serves your cause, but when it restrains it — for that is when your love of freedom is proven true. Only then can a people remain sovereign, and a nation endure not by decree, but by conviction — founded not upon force, but upon faith in liberty’s eternal law.