Alexander Vanderklipp is a Senior Fellow at Election Reformers Network, where he contributes to projects on impartial election administration, independent redistricting, and election dispute resolution. He is the author of the recent policy brief, “ Why do we elect judges? Wisconsin’s highly partisan race begs the question.”
The nation is watching Wisconsin as a state Supreme Court race with major implications for democratic outcomes—at both state and national levels—becomes an all-out spending war on behalf of the liberal and conservative candidates. No one expects the record-breaking spending or heated partisan rhetoric to die down until the race in this crucial swing state is decided.
Yet while coverage of this race makes clear the public distaste for the polarization of an ostensibly nonpartisan position, few articles have been written about the systems in play that have driven up the stakes and rhetoric to a once-unimaginable degree. The framing should not be “which candidate will come out on top” but “why do we elect judges in the first place?”
It may come as a surprise that many states do not elect Supreme Court justices at all, but instead use a process called “merit selection” by a judicial nominating commission to pick impartial judges for the high court. These commissions, when structured properly, represent the viewpoints of a diverse group of stakeholders from across a state who are all equally incentivized to pick candidates with a track record of impartiality. When no one group, person, or party can be in control of the process, members are more motivated to find consensus.
This model has several benefits. Applicants for judgeships can rely on their experience and background, rather than rhetoric, funding, or political connections, to be considered for a judicial position. And court rulings will be more likely to be accepted by all sides and viewed with finality, rather than as one side’s victory the other side will organize to counter and overturn (as we have seen recently with the newly-composed North Carolina Supreme Court reconsidering recent decisions on Voter ID and redistricting).
The merit selection process also avoids many of the pitfalls of judicial elections, such as low-information or low-turnout races, which force judges to appeal to the extremes, and conflicts of interest, which inevitably arise when elected judges take campaign contributions or make decisions on tight election outcomes.
A 2016 study found that elected judges’ “decisions are systematically biased by … campaign finance and re-election influences to help their party’s candidates win office and favor their party’s interests in election disputes.” Research also shows that in nonpartisan judicial races, candidates must take more extreme positions to “signal” their true preferences to voters. Not only that, but interest group funding and dark money have increased sharply over the last two decades, and now dominate judicial campaigns.
So rather than dealing with the myriad problems presented by judicial elections, Wisconsin should switch to a merit selection model to tamp down polarization in such a sharply divided state. Of course, for this to happen, many pieces will have to fall into place.
For starters, both parties will have to recognize the mutually assured destruction of all-out campaign warfare over the institution intended to preserve justice and the rule of law. Even then, a constitutional amendment would have to pass the legislature in two consecutive sessions to make it onto the ballot for voter approval in a referendum election—which would also attract dark money from groups opposed to fairness.
But difficult reforms are still worth pursuing, and not only in Wisconsin. Montana, Michigan, Texas, Illinois, and many other states still elect judges despite evidence that this method does not promote fairness. Momentum for changing this flawed process begins with a reframing of the issue in the press, research, and everyday conversation. Not “who do we elect,” but “why would we elect them when a better model exists?”




















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.