The Supreme Court on Thursday blocked several hundred thousand Florida felons from exercising their new voting rights in next month's primary.
The decision was the first from the high court in one of the past decade's most important, impassioned and complicated stories about expanding democracy.
The justices refused to quickly intervene in an appeals court decision that is preventing felons released from prison from registering and voting until they pay all fines, court costs and restitution. The ruling certainly sidelines them from the August primary and perhaps also the general election, when their votes might prove dispositive in another of Florida's razor-close presidential contests.
The court's three most liberal justices — Sonia Sotomayor, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Elena Kagan — dissented. Sotomayor, writing for the three, said that thousands of ex-felons are being blocked from voting in the primary "simply because they are poor."
"This court's inaction continues a trend of condoning disfranchisement," she wrote, deriding the rules at the center of the case as a "voter paywall."
The decision is the latest twist in a complex legal battle that goes back to the fall of 2018, when 65 percent of Florida voters decided to restore voting rights to almost all convicted felons who had completed their sentences, including probation and parole.
The following year, the GOP-majority Legislature passed and Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis signed a law requiring felons to pay all their court-ordered financial obligations before registering. It was based on the rationale that those payments constitute completion of a criminal sentence.
That law was then challenged and federal Judge Robert Hinkle struck it down in May — ruling the law created a "pay-to-vote" system that was akin to the poll taxes barred by constitutional amendment during the civil rights era.
The state appealed, and this month the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals granted a request from DeSantis to put the judge's decision on hold until the full court could hear arguments Aug. 18 — coincidentally or not, the same day as the primary.
"This is a deeply disappointing decision," said Paul Smith of the Campaign Legal Center, the voting rights advocacy group that asked the court to allow felons to vote right away.
An estimated 85,000 felons have registered during the period in the legal wrangling when that was allowed.
As many as 1.4 million ex-convicts were covered by the voters' decision, but about half of them appear to have some sort of financial obligations to the state — although how many of them and how much they owe, remains a mystery because of poor government record-keeping. That confusion is cited by voting rights groups as one of the reasons why the new law amounts to unconstitutional voter suppression.
But how many ultimately would register and vote is uncertain — and now will continue to be. The deadline for getting on the rolls in time for the primary is Monday.
Most states restore the franchise to felons after their sentences, along with time on parole or probation. About a dozen impose significantly restrictive additional requirements. Before the referendum, almost no felons in the state were ever allowed to cast a ballot again. It was one of the most restrictive rules in the country — so the statewide vote at the time amounted to one of the biggest single expansions of the franchise in modern American history.
States run by both parties have been moving steadily to expand the political rights of criminals who have done their time, agreeing with civil rights groups that such moves accelerate their return to productive roles in their communities. Many conservatives disagree, saying their debts to society should not be too easy to retire. They also concede, however, that the more felons vote the worse Republican candidates fare.
Since Florida's felon population, like that of almost all states, is disproportionately Black and Latino, a new burst of their votes would almost certainly propel Joe Biden to carrying the state's 29 electoral votes. President Trump won them last time by less than 1 point.
In several voting rights cases that have landed on its doorstep near election dates, the Supreme Court has declined to intervene — citing the precedent the court set 14 years ago, dubbed the Purcell principle: "Court orders affecting elections, especially conflicting orders, can themselves result in voter confusion and consequent incentive to remain away from the polls," the court ruled then. "As an election draws closer, that risk will increase."
The state of Florida argued that the trial judge's decision had run afoul of that principle.




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.