Street Logic, State Failure

 I am a man. I’ve been a man for a long time. I’m also an intellectual. I was a precocious child. For a while, I was a thug. Some would argue—incorrectly—I still am. I’m a martial artist. Not gifted or polished. But I know what I know. I can apply those skill sets in a street self-defense situation with little effort. So those who know that part of my background would call me an intelligent thug. But like most folks, I’m more than the sum of my parts.

And yet—I’m scared.

Not of people. Not of violence. Not of hardship. I’ve never been scared of anyone or anything in my life. But I see the precursors of something we’ve never faced before in this country. I see thoughtful, highly educated people defending a common criminal, conflating loyalty with legitimacy, and rationalizing the erosion of constitutional guardrails. What’s forming isn’t just conflict—it’s total collapse. And before we even get to that point, we need to confront what’s already happened.

A high court, scared out of its wits to contain a RICO enterprise masquerading as a legitimate administration—because some members don’t want to become the next high-profile targets of the hit parade—has handed powers to the Executive that belong solely to the Legislative. In doing so, they’ve stripped away the last bulwarks. There are no side rails left. No friction. No institutional resistance. And now, there’s nothing to stop the Executive from inflicting devastating hardship on millions of Americans living on the margins, especially those dependent on Social Security or SSDI during the impending shutdown on October 1, 2025.

Recent executive orders have sparked serious legal and constitutional debate. Critics argue they abridge federal law: encroaching upon the separation of powers. The central issue is the congressional power of the purse, enshrined in Article I, Section 9 of the Constitution. That clause is simple: no money leaves the Treasury without an act of Congress. But this administration has issued orders that freeze or reallocate congressionally appropriated funds—unilaterally. Funds from major legislative acts like the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act have been paused under the guise of internal review. That’s impoundment. And impoundment was supposed to be dead—killed off by the Impoundment Control Act of 1974 after the Supreme Court made it clear: presidents don’t get to withhold funds just because they disagree with policy.

But it hasn’t stopped there. Orders have been issued to dismantle entire federal agencies—like the Department of Education—without congressional approval. That’s not just unconstitutional. It’s reckless. It requires terminating or redirecting funds that Congress already appropriated for specific programs. That’s a power reserved for Congress. And yet, here we are. Other orders have altered federal contracts and grants, especially those tied to diversity, equity, and inclusion—again, without legislative input. Legal challenges to these orders are ongoing, with some courts issuing preliminary injunctions to block their enforcement. But in its willing complicity to stave off unfavorable criticism by a rogue administration, the Supreme Court has implicitly stayed district and often circuit court orders enjoining the administration from enacting these clearly unconstitutional practices.

This isn’t just a legal fight. It’s a shift in the balance of power. These actions rely on the President’s interpretation of executive authority—an interpretation that openly conflicts with federal statutes. The question now is whether the Executive can bypass the checks and balances that define this republic. The courts will decide the scope of presidential power going forward. But the fact that we’re even asking whether a president can override Congress on spending and agency control tells you everything you need to know.

And here’s the linchpin: creating privation and desperation—especially among Black and Brown communities who have historically been at the forefront of political protest—will force a response. When survival becomes untenable, silence breaks. And that’s the moment the administration is waiting for.

Under federal law, the president can declare a national emergency under the National Emergencies Act (NEA) of 1976, which provides a framework for such a declaration. The NEA does not define what constitutes a national emergency, leaving the determination to the president's discretion. A declaration of a national emergency triggers over 130 special statutory powers that allow the president to take extraordinary actions.

Legal checks on a president's ability to abuse these broad authorities are primarily vested in Congress and the judiciary. The NEA requires the president to specify the statutory authorities being used and to transmit the proclamation to Congress. Congress can terminate an emergency declaration through a joint resolution, but this requires a veto-proof majority (two-thirds) to override a presidential veto. The judiciary can review the constitutionality or legality of the exercise of emergency powers, as demonstrated in Youngstown Sheet & Tube Co. v. Sawyer (1952), which ruled that the president could not seize private property without congressional approval. The recent Supreme Court decision on presidential immunity, which applies only to official acts, would not inhibit legal checks on actions that are deemed to be outside the scope of a president's official duties or are challenged on constitutional grounds.

Statutes that may be implicated under a national emergency declaration and could impact United States citizens include, but are not limited to, the following:

    The Insurrection Act (10 U.S.C. §§ 251–255): Grants the president the authority to deploy U.S. armed forces domestically to suppress insurrections, rebellions, or other domestic violence.

    The International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA) (50 U.S.C. §§ 1701–1708): Authorizes the president to regulate international commerce and financial transactions in response to an "unusual and extraordinary threat."

    The Defense Production Act (50 U.S.C. §§ 4501 et seq.): Allows the president to require businesses to prioritize and accept government contracts for national defense.

    10 U.S.C. § 2808: Authorizes the Secretary of Defense, with the approval of the president, to use military construction funds to carry out a project in support of an emergency declaration.

    Communications Act of 1934 (47 U.S.C. § 606): Allows the president to shut down or take control of communications facilities.

    The Clean Water Act (33 U.S.C. § 1344) and the Endangered Species Act (16 U.S.C. §§ 1531 et seq.): These and other environmental statutes contain provisions that allow for waivers or expedited procedures in cases of national emergency.

In aggregate, these immense powers will form a legal arsenal that, once unlocked by a unilateral declaration of emergency, will stymie protest, quell opposition, consolidate power, suppress dissent, and reconfigure the machinery of government in ways that bypass both legislative intent and constitutional constraint. This playbook is not new. It is a well-worn one—tactical in implementation. Manufactured privation—especially among Black and Brown communities already living on the margins—will provoke unrest. Not because people want to protest, but because survival demands it. That unrest becomes the predicate. The justification. The linchpin.

And once the declaration is made, the Executive can deploy military force under the Insurrection Act with rules of engagement that will include the use of deadly force. It can seize communications infrastructure—including Radio One, The Grio, Black News Channel, Roland Martin Unfiltered and the Black Star Network, the Afro-American, Chicago Defender, Atlanta Voice, Los Angeles Sentinel, The Miami Times, and digital platforms like BlackNews.com, The Root, and Blavity. It can redirect congressionally mandated funding to pet projects, oppression, and the military-industrial complex. It can silence opposition under the guise of national security.

What looks like chaos is actually choreography. And the courts, already compromised, will be too slow or too timid to stop it.

This is why I am scared.