March 24, 2025
Reversals
The Supreme Court Must Rescue
Itself From Its Own Madness
To stand up to Trump’s lawless power
grabs, the Roberts court must disavow its own mirror-image corruptions. It may
yet feel obliged to do just that.
To belabor the obvious, given the
Senate Republicans’ stubbornly lockstep devotion to Trumpification, the only
civic bastion potentially able to brake this flamboyantly lawless White House’s
drive for unbounded power is the federal judiciary, in particular the Supreme
Court. Long aware of this last potential obstacle to their ambitions, Trump and
his team have been unreserved about impugning the court’s authority to dispute
their sweeping definition of presidential power. Trump’s most hawkish
presidential imperialists, Vice President JD Vance and Office of Management and
Budget Director Russell Vought, have trumpeted their zest for defying any
judicial orders to respect legal boundaries.
At the same time, Trump himself, along
with Attorney General Pam Bondi’s Justice Department, has been more coy, at
least until their circumvention of U.S. District Judge James Boasberg’s March
15 order to halt extralegal deportation of alleged Venezuelan gang members to
El Salvador. So all eyes have turned to Chief Justice John Roberts and his five
conservative colleagues to divine whether, when, and how they might stand up to
this unprecedented existential threat to the rule of law.
In a recent article, I laid out the most promising approach for
the justices to take up this challenge. Namely, just do their job, as the
Constitution and laws prescribe, as the Framers of those enactments
anticipated, and the electorate expects. That means the straightforward civics
class imperative: laser-focus on the relevant enacted text of the Constitution
and pertinent statutes; interpret that text in good faith, with the lawyerly
discipline of their craft, in light of its Framers’ design; and apply and
enforce that interpretation, without regard to partisan, policy, personal, or
institutional preferences and interests.
That approach will enable the justices
to fight this epochal war on their own turf, playing to their strengths,
forcing Trump and his henchmen to play defense—and simultaneously spotlight his
agenda as the lawless bid for raw, unbounded power that in fact it is. The
justices will have to hope for, and cannily encourage, politically credible
allies to mobilize and public support to crystallize. There is a well-known,
encouraging precedent—Watergate, the court’s U.S. v. Nixon no-nonsense
order joined by three Nixon-appointed justices, and its denouement—Nixon’s
resignation. Indeed, there are signs, highlighted recently in these pages by
Michael Tomasky and Trump’s most loathed courtroom
nemesis, Norm Eisen, that a similar pushback groundswell may already be
underway.
But there is a catch. When Roberts and
those of his colleagues who choose to join him set out on this high road, they
may quickly find themselves saying, “We have met the enemy, and it is us”—that
is, themselves and their own record.
For the most part, the record
established by Roberts and Trump’s first-term judicial appointments on and, for
the most part, off the high court itself, have vindicated Roberts’s
fulminations that they are not “Trump’s” judges. During his first term, on significant
occasions, they ostentatiously quashed attempts by him and his appointees to
play fast and loose with the facts underlying legally baseless decisions. Most
galling to Trump, they repeatedly rejected his multiple bids to enable him to
hijack the 2020 presidential election.
However, while thus frequently
frustrating Trump, Roberts and his fellow conservative justices were
simultaneously hard at work on a quite different enterprise: empowering
themselves to circumvent applicable law to pursue various agendas, and
aggrandize their own raw power by concocting an elaborate doctrinal
edifice enabling that illicit design. Often, that self-aggrandizing framework
embraced notions popular in conservative ideological circles, which weakened
legal guardrails against presidential abuse. And it is precisely those errant
actions, disdaining long-entrenched checks and balances, on which Trump lawyers
now rely to justify their power grabs—and which have given them hope, however
wary, for ultimate vindication by the high court.
To win a war they cannot avoid,
Roberts and his allies must rediscover their belief in a simple notion: The
American president is not above the law—and they are, as Chief Justice John
Marshall decreed two centuries ago, assigned by the Constitution to have the
last word as to “what the law is.” But to assert that claim and make it stick
politically, the justices will have to confront—and disavow—their own decisions
and rhetoric in which they themselves have spurned the plain meaning of laws
and decisions, pandered by mouthing extravagant far-right buzzwords, and
jettisoned modi operandi central to the concept of the rule of law
itself.
Examples of the Roberts court’s
readiness to push aside unambiguous legal text and its Framers’ design are too
many and too familiar to burden readers with anything like a complete list.
Here I will showcase particularly egregious rulings occupying, in liberal
Justice Elena Kagan’s apt chestnut, a “law-free zone,” and that are
particularly likely to loom over the court’s responses to lawless Trump
misadventures likely to reach the court.
The top of that short list is
Roberts’s widely noted decades-long drive to sideline explicit core commands of
the 1965 Voting Rights Act and the Fifteenth Amendment. As I and many others have detailed, before and after he joined the court,
Roberts had repeatedly vented obsessive hostility to legal race preference
provisions, the VRA in particular, as “a sordid business, this divvying us up
by race.”
As chief justice, in decisions in
2010, 2013, and 2021, Roberts and his conservative colleagues had, as observed in a fierce
2021 Kagan dissent, repeatedly “rewritten” the VRA, with their “own set of
extra-textual rules,“ to gut a statute meticulously drafted to implement
President Lyndon Johnson’s instruction to his
Attorney General Nicholas Katzenbach, “I want you to write the goddamndest
toughest voting rights act that you can devise.” In its 6–3 2021 decision
upending Katzenbach’s handiwork, the court blew past several VRA provisions,
the most egregious being its insistence that the law banned only state election
laws or practices that intentionally caused ballot-box
discrimination, in the face of “Congress’s use of an effects test, rather than
a purpose test, to assess [state actions’] rules’ legality.”
Roberts and his majority didn’t misinterpret the
terms of the law in question, they ignored them altogether and substituted an
approach “founded,” as the Kagan dissent skewered, “on a list of mostly made-up
factors, at odds with [the VRA’s] itself.” Trump’s strategists could be
forgiven for reaching the obvious conclusion: If that’s the model deployed by
the cadre atop the Article 3 branch to reach their policy or political goals,
why shouldn’t the head of Article 2 show the same indifference to applicable
law in pursuing his agendas?
The next best example of the Supreme
Court supermajority’s penchant for sidelining laws inimical to their own policy
preferences is the conservative justices’ drive to gut provisions of the Clean
Air Act, or CAA, that direct the Environmental Protection Agency to adopt and
enforce regulations to combat global warming. This campaign reached its most
extreme level yet of “We’ll do whatever we want” indifference
to duly enacted law on the last day of its 2021–2022 term. The chief justice,
writing for the rest of the conservative bloc, barred President Joe Biden’s
EPA—in advance, before the agency had even initiated a rulemaking
proceeding—from requiring utilities to increase their use of wind and solar
sources (rather than coal) to fuel their power plants.
Roberts et al. acknowledged that the
switch-to-renewables approach was authorized by the pertinent CAA text, which
explicitly commands that the EPA require utilities to deploy the “best system
for emission reduction.” But Roberts et al. decreed the text—and the evident
design of its congressional Framers—to be irrelevant. They fabricated a novel
version of a little used, and theretofore comparatively unexceptionable, “major
questions” doctrine, which newly empowered themselves to shelve any agency
action that portends “significant economic or political consequences,” even if,
as in this case, the agency action in question was within the agency’s core
environmental mission, and the statute was crafted precisely to confer broad
authority flexible enough to handle urgent needs under unforeseeable
circumstances.
Thus, to put Roberts’s CAA demolition
in perspective with the Trump administration’s law-shredding antics, the chief
justice and his cadre did so in a manner designed to exponentially bloat their
own power. They revamped the “major questions” doctrinal construct into a club
enabling them to pulverize any agency action that could have what they are
willing to label prohibitively significant economic or political impact—in
effect, anything that matters at all.
A third “law-free” foray by the
justices on the court’s right is the most recent and most blatant: their
notorious 2024 conferral of unbounded permanent presidential immunity from
criminal liability, for virtually any “official” actions. To reach
this result, they did not even pretend to claim any statutory or constitutional
authority. As recognized across the
ideological spectrum, Roberts’s opinion in Trump v. United States cast
aside not just twentieth-century progressive–New Deal–Great-Society liberal
governance long derided in far-right ideology, not just the “Second Founding”
Reconstruction Amendments sabotaged by a century of Jim Crow rule in the South,
but the core grand design for a democratic republic written unambiguously into
the original 1789 Constitution, until that moment never questioned. As
conservative Professor Michael Rappaport painfully acknowledged,
“Presidential immunity does not accord with [the Constitution’s] original
meaning.”
The point pertinent here is not
that Trump v. United States rescued Donald Trump from Jack
Smith’s investigations, nor even that the decision unleashed Trump to commit
second-term crimes. Roberts and at least some of the five justices who joined
his opinion may have sincerely believed that tit-for-tat prosecutions of
presidential predecessors would spiral over time into a fixed pattern
catastrophic for constitutional democracy. Given Trump’s serial threats to
prosecute his predecessor, they could have, not unreasonably, viewed Biden as a
likely first beneficiary of their decision. (Of course, Trump and his acolytes
are now making a mockery of any such notions that immunizing presidential
criminality would banish banana republic governance from the United States.)
What matters most is that fabricating
presidential immunity out of whole cloth only served to demonstrate that these
justices have no compunction about throwing the law and the Constitution
overboard when necessary to enable some policy or other outcome they favor.
Discerning court-watchers, such as Trump’s henchmen Vought and Vance, are
unlikely to have missed this inference. Nor would pundits, politicians, and
much of the electorate, cued by the liberal justices’ searing dissents.
Perhaps most telling, as far as esteem
for the court’s law-respecting bona fides is concerned, is the Roberts’s
majority’s resistance to an enforceable code of ethics similar to that
applicable to all other federal judges. In the public eye, this disdain for
universally acknowledged standards of conduct must come across as greenlighting
overt conflicts of interest, given the brazen misconduct of some justices or
their spouses. (Some of the justices, quite possibly a majority, appear to be
aware of this reputational threat and seem to favor an enforceable ethics code
for their court.)
All of which leads us to the
proverbial $64,000 question: Can these justices take Donald Trump or Elon Musk
to task, when their own claim to fidelity to law and to ethical norms is thus
flawed? Can they disavow their own “law-free” actions? The answer is, maybe
they can.
Recently, especially during the
court’s 2022–2023 term, bipartisan court majorities have taken
steps—inconclusive but more than baby steps—down that very path, as I
have elaborated. To take the example that most
startled court-watchers: In overturning an Alabama redistricting gerrymander,
Roberts struck an audibly different chord from his career-long antipathy to the
1965 Voting Rights Act. Laying out a widely noted “expansive interpretation,“
he lauded the VRA for “creating stringent new remedies attempting to forever
banish the blight of racial discrimination in voting.” He labeled the VRA “the
most successful civil rights statute in the history of the nation.”
Most eyebrow-raising, he put aside his
oft-repeated visceral distaste for race preferences, observing that “the
question whether additional majority-minority districts can be drawn, after
all, [inherently] involves a quintessentially race-conscious calculus.”
(Next Monday, March 24, the court will hear oral arguments in a substantially
identical Louisiana gerrymandering case, so we will see whether Roberts and his
bipartisan five-justice majority stick to their revisionist pro-VRA guns.)
But, whether or not Roberts and one or
more of his conservative colleagues feel inclined to sustain their 2022–2023
tack to the center, there is another, more compelling consideration likely to
spur them to prioritize turning back Trump’s second-term muscle flexing. That
motivation surfaced in their skirmishes during Trump’s first term.
Particularly revealing was Roberts’s
angry 2019 rejection of Trump’s ploy to add a citizenship question to census
questionnaires, intended to frighten noncitizens from participating in
compiling the census. What stoked Roberts’s ire
was the administration’s disingenuousness to the courts, the
“disconnect between the decision made and the explanation given,” which Roberts
pilloried with epithets of a sort this decorously professional superlawyer
rarely reaches for—“pretextual,” “contrived,“ ”bad faith.” Roberts expressly
based his decision to stifle Trump’s census scheme on the need to protect the
judiciary, especially, his court—their authority, credibility, and ultimately,
their relevance and power.
He explained that when judges review
agency actions, “Accepting contrived reasons would defeat the purpose of the
enterprise,” effectively rendering them irrelevant. He brandished a
quote from Second Circuit icon Judge Henry Friendly, whom he had served as a
law clerk, “Our review is deferential, but we are not required to exhibit a
naïveté from which ordinary citizens are free.’”
As I and others have observed, the most consistent thread running
through Roberts’s two-decade tenure has been his “drive to advance the Court’s
power … as the final decider and major direction-setter on the nation’s most
fought-over issues.” To his eyes, Trump’s census ploy threatened that priority;
manifestly, a far more dire such threat is posed by the second-term Trump
team’s ambition to elevate the presidency, not simply over the executive
branch, top to bottom, but over the legislative and judicial branches, as
well—a power grab far beyond any of the conservative justices’ dabblings in “unitary
executive” theorizing.
His appointees to the Supreme Court,
and lower court federal judges appointed by him and other Republican
presidents, are of course cognizant of Trump’s and his field generals’
oft-vented enmity toward them, along with the administration’s slow-walking compliance
with court orders and threats of outright refusal to comply—most notably in the
Justice Department’s March 15 evasion of deportation procedures for alleged
Venezuelan gang members, an apparent actual act of noncompliance.
They know they are in a veritable war
for the life of the institution over which they had been set to preside for
their entire professional lives. They have no option but to wage that war, as
fiercely but cannily as feasible. If Roberts and his cadre cannot meet this
imposing challenge, their legacy will be the enfeeblement of what had long been
admired as the most powerful judicial institution in the world. The irony will
be that the precedent-shattering, often lawless decisions they rendered to
boost that power ended in facilitating its destruction, by an even more
power-hungry and lawless White House wannabe authoritarian.
Simon
Lazarus served as associate director of President Jimmy Carter’s White House
Domestic Policy Staff, and since then with private and public-interest law
firms in Washington, D.C.