Last week, Justice Samuel Alito delivered a rousing keynote address to the annual convention of the Federalist Society, arguably the nation's most influential conservative legal group.
The speech was starkly different from the guarded public pronouncements that are the usual fare from members of the Supreme Court. Instead, it was a full-throated attack on policies and judicial decisions that, he contended, grant too much power to government agencies charged with protecting public health — and further threaten religious liberties already under assault.
Afterward, one could hardly be blamed for musing on the hypocrisy of Supreme Court nominees who regularly claim they have no political agenda only to pursue such an agenda once they've secured confirmation. It was only last month when the nation witnessed this charade at the Senate Judiciary Committee, with Amy Coney Barrett repeatedly assuring the committee that "I have no mission and no agenda. Judges don't have campaign promises."
Like the newest justice, Alito at his 2006 confirmation hearings promised his political views would be irrelevant to his work on the high court. Then on a federal appeals court, he contended there is a stark difference between being a judge and an advocate who "has the goal of achieving the result that the client wants within the bounds of professional responsibility." A judge, he said, "doesn't have an agenda, and a judge has to follow the law."
And when asked if he agreed with a series of Supreme Court rulings, or continued to subscribe to previous criticisms of other decisions, he consistently. refused to answer. He insisted he could not comment on cases or issues that might come before the court, lest he be seen as prejudging them.
Such reticence vanished before the Federalist Society. Alito unburdened himself of grievances, legal and political. And he freely talked about issues already on the Supreme Court docket. He seemed untroubled skating up to the line of ethics rules requiring judges to remain impartial, to avoid any appearance of bias and to avoid public comment on the merits of any pending matter.
About state public health measures attempting to curb the spread of the coronavirus, he observed that "the pandemic has resulted in previously unimaginable restrictions on individual liberty" and asserted that "We have never before seen restrictions as severe, extensive and prolonged as those experienced for most of 2020."
Abandoning the posture he assumed at his confirmation hearings, Alito specifically criticized his own court's recent refusal to stop restrictions imposed by two states to fight Covid-19 — measures, he contended, that "blatantly discriminated against houses of worship."
Those cases reveal what he called "emerging trends in the assessment of individual rights" by the court. "It pains me to say this, but in certain quarters, religious liberty is fast becoming a disfavored right."
The justice proudly proclaimed his belief in the virtues of the 1993 law dubbed the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, even as the court is currently considering a case that could curtail its reach.
And in discussing the 2018 case of a Colorado baker who refused on religious grounds to sell a wedding cake to a gay couple, the justice declared such treatment caused the couple no harm because a nearby baker provided them a "free cake." He professed that view even though a similar issue involving religious freedom and discrimination against same-sex couples is also pending in his courthouse.
Warming to another conservative legal cause celebre, Alito cited what he called the "disturbing trend" of the growing power of federal regulatory agencies. Again, he spoke while the court's docketnow has cases testing the authority of the Federal Communications Commission, the Federal Housing Finance Agency and the Federal Trade Commission.
"Every year," the justice complained, "administrative agencies acting under broad delegations of authority churn out huge volumes of regulations that dwarf the statutes enacted by the people's elected representatives." Echoing the Trump administration's paranoia about a "deep state" and its hostility to science, Alito decried what he called "government by executive officials."
These are hardly the words of a justice without an agenda. Indeed, they seem to be a rallying cry for the Supreme Court's newly augmented conservative majority to use its power to curtail the power of government agencies responsible for protecting public health and safety and to advance the libertarian cause.
As Gabe Roth of Fix the Court, a nonprofit group that has called for stricter ethics rules for the Supreme Court, rightly noted, the speech "was more befitting a Trump rally than a legal society." It provides yet another occasion for Americans to wonder whether our judges can be trusted when they claim that they are merely neutral arbiters of the law.
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.