Trump’s New Pardons Expose a Harsh Truth — Americans Have Rights, But No Remedies

By any historical measure, the Trump administration’s latest round of pardons — including for Sidney Powell, Rudy Giuliani, and a long list of 2020-election and Jan. 6-related defendants — is breathtaking in scale. It was designed to make a statement about the President’s belief that many of these prosecutions were abusive, politically driven, or otherwise illegitimate. And the January 20, 2025 clemency blitz proved that this wasn’t a one-off gesture but a governing philosophy.

But there is an uncomfortable irony baked deep into all of this: a pardon can forgive, but it cannot repair. And for all of America’s patriotic self-talk about being a nation of laws, the United States remains a country where citizens may possess constitutional rights — yet lack any meaningful mechanism to enforce them when the federal government is the one doing the violating.

That is the real story these pardons reveal.

A pardon is not justice — it is mercy

A pardon wipes away federal criminal punishment. In some cases, depending on how the proclamation is drafted, it may remit federal fines or restitution. But it does not erase the record, clear a person’s name, or compensate them for what they endured — whether it was prosecutorial overreach, investigative misconduct, political targeting, or years spent fighting the federal government’s vast legal resources.

Which is why we now see something unprecedented: Americans who were pardoned are suing the same federal government that punished them, seeking compensation for the very harms the President himself said were unjust. That is not a contradiction. It is a symptom of a deeper structural problem.

When other nations are harmed, the U.S. pays. When Americans are harmed, they wait.

When civilians in Iraq or Afghanistan were harmed by American military operations, U.S. policy created condolence-payment systems, reconstruction funds, and local compensation programs. Imperfect as they were, the government at least recognized the principle: if the U.S. harms you, it should repair the damage.

When Japanese Americans were interned during WWII, the political system eventually responded with the 1988 Civil Liberties Act — a full apology and monetary redress.

We’ve seen the U.S. compensate foreign nationals in conflict zones, rebuild infrastructure overseas, and provide reparations for historical injustices.

So the question becomes obvious:

Why does an American inside the United States — supposedly the sovereign citizen whom government exists to serve — end up last in line for redress?

Why does a foreign family in a war zone sometimes receive compensation more readily than a U.S. citizen harmed by a federal agency on domestic soil?

Why does “America First” so often translate into Americans last when it comes to government accountability?

Rights that cannot be enforced are not real rights

The Constitution promises citizens protection from unreasonable searches, from politically motivated prosecution, from abusive government surveillance, and from violations of due process. But in modern American law, if you try to sue federal officials for violating those rights, you run into a nearly impenetrable wall:

• Bivens remedies for constitutional damages have been almost entirely shut down by the Supreme Court.

• The Federal Tort Claims Act, the only major route for suing the federal government, is riddled with exceptions that swallow the rule.

• Qualified immunity protects individual officials even when conduct is plainly unlawful.

• Sovereign immunity shields agencies unless Congress carves out an exception — something Congress rarely does.

In plain English, the government that possesses the most power is also the one you can least effectively sue.

This is why many Americans feel the system is upside-down: the more serious the constitutional violation, the fewer the remedies.

Thus, the President hands out pardons like political fire extinguishers — but the house remains on fire because the underlying system gives harmed citizens nowhere to go.

The post-pardon struggle highlights a fundamental imbalance

What we are watching now — including lawsuits filed by pardoned Jan. 6 defendants, demands for restitution, and public pleas for recognition — is the predictable result of a system where mercy is available, but justice is not.

A pardon may declare that a person was wronged. It may acknowledge, implicitly or explicitly, that the prosecution never should have happened. But it does not compensate for:

• Legal fees

• Lost years

• Ravaged reputations

• Financial destruction

• Government overreach

• Emotional harm to families

Only a functioning civil-remedy system can do that. And America simply does not have one.

If Americans cannot enforce their rights, they do not truly possess them

The Founders believed that a right without a remedy is no right at all. Yet that is precisely the legal reality for millions of Americans living under modern federal power. When the government violates your constitutional protections, often the only “remedy” available is political — a congressional act (rare), an administrative claims program (rarer), or a presidential pardon (rarest of all).

This is not how a free society is meant to function.

If the federal government has the power to investigate, prosecute, surveil, and imprison, then citizens must have a correspondingly robust power to seek damages and accountability when that power is abused. Otherwise the constitutional balance collapses.

The current pardon saga is therefore not merely about Trump, Powell, or Giuliani. It is about whether the American people still live under a system where government can violate rights without consequence — and whether the Constitution has become a promise without a pathway.

The fix: Congress must act, or nothing changes

There is a straightforward solution: create a statutory cause of action allowing Americans to seek damages for constitutional violations by federal officials. Revive and expand the Bivens framework Congress has long allowed to wither. Reform the FTCA so its exceptions do not nullify it. Restore parity between the rights Americans theoretically possess and the remedies they can practically obtain.

Until then, pardons will continue to serve as band-aids on a systemic wound.

And Americans will continue to discover the bitter truth: in the United States, your rights may be sacred — but your remedies are optional.