In a primetime address laced with fury and foreboding, California Governor Gavin Newsom accused President Trump of dragging America to the edge of authoritarian rule.
It was a stark message, delivered not from a campaign trail or party convention, but from a broadcast studio in Los Angeles, where Newsom spoke directly to Americans about what he called a āperilous momentā for democracy.
āCalifornia may be first, but it clearly wonāt end here,ā Newsom warned. āDemocracy is next.ā
The backdrop to this confrontation is as volatile as it is historic. After five consecutive days of protests in Los Angelesāsparked by sweeping federal immigration raidsāPresident Trump deployed thousands of military personnel to the streets, including 4,000 National Guard troops and 700 U.S. Marines. While the administration insists the mobilization targets violent criminals, the governor paints a bleaker picture: that of a āmilitary dragnetā arresting not gang leaders, but ādishwashers, gardeners, day laborers and seamstresses.ā
To the presidentās supporters, this is law and order. To Newsom and a growing chorus of critics, it is the kind of domestic militarisation that belongs in history books chronicling other fallen republics. And unlike earlier disputes over Covid restrictions or border fences, this one is playing out in real time, in federal courtrooms and city streets.
Newsomās decision to challenge the federal deployment with an emergency lawsuit marks a rare and dangerous moment in U.S. politics: a governor suing a sitting president to stop what he sees as the unlawful seizure of state power. At stake is not merely control over Californiaās National Guardābut the principle that Americaās military should not be used as a tool of domestic political enforcement.
The Trump administrationās decision to bypass state consent recalls some of the darkest chapters in post-war American history. Not since the 1960s has a president sent troops into a state without the governorās support, and then it was in defence of civil rightsānot in suppression of peaceful protest. That Trump now orders the military onto Californiaās streets, against the will of its elected leader, is not merely provocativeāit is incendiary.
Yet for all his righteous indignation, Newsom is not without baggage. Republicans have been quick to recall his pandemic-era hypocrisyāmost notably, his now-infamous dinner at Napa Valleyās French Laundry while ordinary Californians were told to stay home. James Gallagher, the GOP leader in Californiaās Assembly, called him āthe ultimate authoritarian,ā deriding Newsomās pivot from lockdown enforcer to democracyās last guardian.
But the stakes have now outgrown the usual partisan jabs. Newsomās Tuesday night speech, titled Democracy at a Crossroads, had a tone more presidential than gubernatorial. Indeed, the governorās emergence as a national figureāhis name increasingly floated for the 2028 Democratic nominationāhas been hastened by his head-on collision with Trump.
For Newsom, the matter is not just about immigration enforcement. It is about a deeper erosion of American political norms. He accused Trump of taking a āwrecking ballā to checks and balances, blaming Congress for its silence and singling out Speaker Mike Johnson for āabdication.ā The language was not abstract: āThe rule of law has increasingly been given way to the rule of Don.ā
Perhaps most striking were the historical allusions. Newsom drew parallels between Trumpās behaviour and that of dictators pastāhighlighting the grotesque symbolism of a military parade scheduled for the presidentās birthday. āHeās ordering our American heroes, the United States military, and forcing them to put on a vulgar display to celebrate his birthday, just as other failed dictators have done,ā Newsom said.
This rhetorical escalation is as bold as it is risky. By invoking authoritarianism so directly, Newsom raises the temperature of an already incendiary national debate. But in doing so, he taps into a fear that many Americansāparticularly younger, urban, and immigrant votersāare beginning to articulate: that Trumpism, left unchecked, no longer respects democratic boundaries.
Still, Newsom was careful to call for calm. He condemned violence, urged peaceful protest, and acknowledged the 370 arrests made so far. But his core message was unmistakable: Trumpās actions in California are not an outlierāthey are a test run.
Whether one sees Gavin Newsom as a principled defender of democracy or an ambitious opportunist, the political and constitutional questions he raises are real. When a president can unilaterally deploy military force inside a U.S. state over the objections of its governor, the republic treads dangerous ground.
California may be first. But if Newsom is right, it wonāt be the last.