The second Trump administration began with a flurry of activity, but no action has provoked so much ire as the order to halt all federal spending.

While the Office of Management and Budget claimed to have rescinded the order, Democratic attorneys general from 22 states nonetheless sued in federal court to compel the administration to release those funds — in part because it was not clear that the OMB rescission actually had reopened the tap of federal money. District Court Judge John J. McConnell Jr of Rhode Island agreed, and ordered that the funds be paid out.

This pantomime has been common in recent American history: the executive takes action, his opponents find a friendly judge to issue a restraining order in response, and all await the court resolution some months or years in the future. The third branch of government in this scenario, the legislature, typically does nothing — a big part of the problem.

As Donald Trump signed these orders in the Oval Office, you could see over his shoulder the portrait of Andrew Jackson, America’s first populist president. Perhaps Trump looked to Jackson for guidance on how to respond to Judge McConnell’s order. Jackson, when confronted with a rebuke from Chief Justice John Marshall in Worcester v. Georgia in 1832, is supposed to have said: “John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it!”

Jackson probably never said that, but it did describe his next moves: ignoring the court and proceeding with his chosen policy, in this case the removal of the Cherokee Tribe from Georgia to modern-day Oklahoma in the infamous Trail of Tears. The subject matter of Trump’s decision is less egregious, but the spirit is similar. Trump and his appointees see their actions as justified and within their power, while viewing those of the courts as an unconstitutional diversion into the executive branch’s affairs.

On Sunday, the plaintiffs returned to court and said the administration was still not disbursing the funds. The administration claimed it “worked in good faith” to comply, but Judge McConnell disagreed, and issued a second order demanding that the President follow the first order. He will presumably issue a third if this keeps up.

It’s a good illustration of why, in the essay Federalist No. 78, Alexander Hamilton called the judiciary the “least dangerous” branch of government. The legislature can write the laws, the executive can enforce them, but the judiciary “may truly be said to have neither force nor will, but merely judgment; and must ultimately depend upon the aid of the executive arm even for the efficacy of its judgments”.

Hamilton and his fellow Founders imagined a country that would be ruled by its elected government, with an unelected judiciary that was independent but not overpowering. The executive would follow the laws and, if he failed to do so, he would be impeached. It never quite worked out as planned. In place of impeachment, we have lawsuits and more lawsuits. Many people — including at least one Supreme Court justice — are beginning to question this ramshackle system.

Is it a constitutional crisis? It’s at least a constitutional question, a clash of two branches of government, each guarding — and expanding — its own power. This, of course, is how separation of powers is supposed to work.

Turning again to the Founders, we see that James Madison described this interplay in Federalist No. 51, in which he argued that “ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” Contrary to the technocratic progressive dream, the three branches of government were never meant to agree with each other all the time. Each was meant to protect its own sphere of power. The President is doing it. So are the courts. The remaining branch, the legislature, could settle the matter, if its members could bestir themselves.

That they can’t, or won’t, is the real crisis gripping the nation.