Census forms asking a citizenship question may not be printed yet, the Supreme Court decided Thursday, because new evidence about the Trump administration's rationale for the query must be considered first.
The ruling put into limbo one of the most politically consequential legal battles in recent years, and called into question whether the dispute would be settled in time for the regularly scheduled nationwide headcount in 2020. The Commerce Department has asked the justices to settle the case in time to roll the presses on millions of census forms next week, which now seems almost impossible. Other government officials, though, have said all the preparations could get done on time even if the citizenship question's fate continues to be hashed out in the courts until the end of September.
For advocates of a better-functioning democracy, the census case is enormously important for two reasons.
They fear that asking about citizenship could result in such a significant undercount, especially in Latino communities where people fear that honest answers would mean their deportation, that the partisan balance of power in Congress and several big states' legislatures could be contorted for a decade.
And they worry that permitting the executive branch broad leeway to ask whatever questions it wants, without a rock-ribbed rationale, tips the balance too far in the president's favor.
The court says the administration's explanation for wanting to add the question was "more of a distraction" than an explanation.
The opinion by Chief Justice John Roberts, who joined the four liberals in deciding to kick the case back to the lower courts, included a serious note of skepticism about the administration's motive.
"We cannot ignore the disconnect between the decision made and the explanation given," Roberts wrote, referencing Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross' stated objective of getting better data to enforce the Voting Rights Act. "If judicial review is to be more than an empty ritual, it must demand something better than the explanation offered for the action taken in this case."
It had appeared, from the oral arguments, that the court's five-member conservative bloc was ready to allow the question – until the files of a deceased Republican strategist, Thomas Hofeller, emerged last month. They laid bare details about the genesis of the question, suggesting the motive was in fact to produce an undercount that would benefit Republicans in the nationwide round of mapmaking that happens with the results of every census.
Judges in three federal lawsuits opposing the question have said the Voting Rights Act rationale doesn't stand up to serious scrutiny and was designed to conceal a different and more partisan motive.
The Trump administration not only wants an undercount to tip more districts Republican, the plaintiffs in the several lawsuits say, but also wants to count noncitizens so that they can someday be excluded from the population counts used for drawing political maps.
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.