In less than two weeks, Chief Justice John Roberts has delighted liberals and infuriated conservatives by joining the majority in three of the year's biggest cases.
On Monday he agreed to strike down Louisiana's highly restrictive abortion law. Days eralier he decided to uphold protections for young undocumented workers known as Dreamers, and to bar job discrimination against gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender workers. Two of his votes were decisive and the third one may effectively have been, since it's unclear Justice Neil Gorsuch would have been ready to stand alone against his conservative brethren in the LGBTQ case.
Constitutional law professors and analysts have been parsing precedent and otherwise trawling jurisprudence to speculate on the reasons for what seems atypical behavior, but few have yet to explore the possibility that the explanation does not lie in jurisprudence at all.
Supreme Court eras are always discussed and evaluated in terms of the chief justice. The Marshall Court and the Taney Court were the most memorable ones in the 19th century, and the Warren Court reshaped the nation in the 1950s and '60s. Now, it will be the Roberts Court.
And he bears a burden that even the most prominent associate justices — Oliver Wendell Holmes or John Marshall Harlan, Antonin Scalia or Ruth Bader Ginsburg — never have. As Roberts noted ruefully in a 2017 interview: "It's sobering to think of the 17 chief justices; certainly a solid majority of them have to be characterized as failures."
The fact that the most historic cases — from Marbury v. Madison (John Marshall) to Dred Scott v. Sandford (Roger Taney) to Brown v. Board of Education (Earl Warren) — are inextricably linked with their presiding officer perhaps explains why Roberts previously refused to be identified with dismantling the Affordable Care Act. (In the most consequential and polarizing opinion of his early years, he wrote the 5-4 majority decision upholding Obamacare back in 2012.)
This is not the role he sought. A naturally collegial man, Roberts prides himself on both adhering to the law and bridging ideological divides.
"If I'm sitting there telling people, 'We should decide the case on this basis,' and if you, another justice, think, 'That's just Roberts trying to push some agenda again, and if it were more of a different result that he didn't like then he wouldn't be saying it," they are not likely to listen very often," he told constitutional scholar Jeffrey Rosen for his book on the court.
In that interview, when Roberts had been in the chief's job less than two years, he venerated his legendary predecessor Marshall and spoke glowingly of his ability to promote harmony by being "convivial," and taking "great pride in sharing his Madeira with his colleagues."
To be worthy of walking in Marshall's footsteps, Roberts vowed, he intended to use his power to achieve as broad a consensus as possible.
Still, although he may genuinely believe he lacks an ideological agenda, Roberts most definitely does not lack an ideology. He has in the past, with few exceptions, been predictably and reliably conservative — as in Citizens United v. FEC, the decision that opened the floodgates of campaign cash a decade ago. And he has almost always deferred to the wishes of Republican presidents.
But this Republican president is like no other. There can be little question that with Donald Trump in the White House, the nation has been sliding toward dictatorship. Vitriolic attacks on an independent judiciary have been numerous, and what Republicans formerly praised as "the rule of law" has been quickly disappearing.
Roberts is thus in an increasingly fraught position.
If he personally perceives Trump as a threat to fundamental democratic institutions, as the president himself seems to want to be, does the chief justice decide he must use the Supreme Court's power to protect those institutions?
Or does he look the other way and defer? As such a self-described "keen student of constitutional history" is doubtless aware, whatever course Roberts chooses — enabler or opponent — will have a significant impact on his legacy.
To date, he has chosen generally to remain conservative — although he has occasionally bounced across the ideological divide to demonstrate that both he and the court are fair. But the political landscape has suddenly and drastically changed, and these past few weeks just may mark the moment when the chief justice decided that the nation is under sufficient threat that he must use the judiciary's power to stop it.
The stakes are enormous because the court will undoubtedly be forced to rule on a number of voting rights cases, which could well determine the outcome of the election in November. Florida and Iowa have been pursuing initiatives to add financial requirements that prevent felons from voting after their release from prison. And other states, including Georgia, Texas, and Wisconsin, have initiated voter identification requirements widely recognized as attempts to keep African-Americans from the polls.
These transparent attempts to desiccate Black voting smack of the Jim Crow South, where every state in the old Confederacy redrew its constitutions specifically to disenfranchise Black voters. To the shame of the court under Chief Justices Morrison Waite and Melville Fuller, between 1874 and 1910 the court used tortured logic and verbal gymnastics to permit blatantly discriminatory state laws to stand — helping doom the nation to decades of post-Reconstruction infamy.
With his four conservative colleagues almost certain to line up on one side of the question, only Roberts himself, already under a cloud for the gutting of the Voting Rights Act in Shelby County v. Holder seven years ago, can decide if the Roberts Court will do the same.
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image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.