Goldstone is the author of the forthcoming "Not White Enough: The Long Shameful Road to Japanese American Internment."
In a recent Washington Post opinion piece, Ruth Marcus castigated the Supreme Court’s conservative majority for allowing their originalist legal philosophy to contribute to the “insane state of Second Amendment law” by ruling in New York State Rifle & Pistol Association v. Bruen that “ordinary, law-abiding citizens have a right to carry handguns publicly for their self-defense.”
While Marcus is correct that Second Amendment law is currently too absurd for even Samuel Beckett, she errs in pinning the blame on originalism, or in fact on any body of legal theory. The justices did not rule the way they did in Bruen, or its predecessor District of Columbia v. Heller, or in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization or Citizens United for that matter, to adhere to deeply held views of law and justice, but rather because of a political agenda into which legal philosophy was shoe-horned to fit.
Court critics make a grievous error by turning these outlandish and contrived legal constructions into debate topics for law school seminars. It masks the true problem with the federal court system in general and the Supreme Court in particular—they have evolved into a political body, a government within a government, accountable to no one, either in Congress, the presidency, or among the citizenry.
By not attacking this question straight on, pundits and legal scholars have allowed the justices to equivocate their way past the issue. Their straight-faced denials begin at confirmation hearings, which have become a glorified reality show, sort of “The Real Judges of Capitol Hill.” As Senator Charles Grassley observed during Samuel Alito’s confirmation, with either a wink and a nod or stunning naivete, “Like Chief Justice Roberts, it appears that Judge Alito tries to act like an umpire, calling the balls and strikes, rather than advocating a particular outcome.” Vast swathes of Americans, many with unwanted pregnancies, should feel extremely distressed that Justice Alito has been allowed to umpire a game in which they have been forced to play. Then there is Brett Kavanaugh, who called Roe v. Wade “settled law” in the same hearings in which he assured senators that he only occasionally had a beer or two. Finally, of course, there is Clarence Thomas, who happily played the race card, calling his hearings “a high-tech lynching,” before going on at every opportunity to rule against the same racial preferencing from which he had benefited his entire career.
High school students used to be taught in civics class—when there was a civics class—that there were “two political branches of government” from which the third, the judiciary, stood apart. It was not true then and it is less so now.
The Court has put its political agenda ahead of the law many times in American history to devastating effect, none more so than at the end of the nineteenth century, when, in a series of atrocious decisions, the justices disemboweled both the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments, leaving them unable to offer the protections to Black Americans for which they had been created in the first place.
In one especially egregious example, in 1874, Associate Justice Joseph P. Bradley took on the Fifteenth Amendment, which had been drafted specifically to guarantee voting rights to Black Americans. But Bradley concluded the amendment, “confers no right to vote. That is the exclusive prerogative of the states. It does confer a right not to be excluded from voting by reason of race, color or previous condition of servitude, and this is all the right that Congress can enforce.”
Bradley’s linguistic tap dance was precisely what equal rights advocates had feared, and it totally changed both the amendment’s meaning and its potential as a tool for the federal government to protect Black voters. Under Bradley’s definition, if an African American was threatened, beaten, and his house burned to the ground in order to terrorize him into not voting, and the state refused to prosecute the offenders, the federal government could do nothing unless the victim could prove that the actions were motivated only by race.
Bradley had thus transferred the burden of proof from the state to demonstrate it had not discriminated to the individual whose right to vote had been denied to demonstrate that it had. That task was difficult enough, but had the potential, which was fully realized, to become virtually impossible depending on the standard of proof the Court would require. Bradley’s opinion and a number of others, most notably Oliver Wendell Holmes’s in Giles v. Harris in 1903, ushered in decades of almost total voter suppression and the horrors of Jim Crow.
The impetus for Bradley’s opinion, and the others that robbed Black Americans of their constitutional rights, was simple. White America, including white Supreme Court justices, did not want Black citizens on equal footing, and if the law and even the Constitution said different, then the law and Constitution must be overruled.
And so, in a series of decisions spanning almost three decades, the Supreme Court announced that it considered popular will and its own notions of racial hierarchy more compelling than the promise of equality under the Constitution. On the altar of strict adherence to the law, they ruled time and again to deny fundamental rights to Black Americans and rewrote Constitutional amendments to suit white America’s racial attitudes.
Americans today face the same dictatorial rule from unelected ideologues serving for life—although they should not be—who are immune from oversight. As “Brutus” wrote in 1788, opposing ratification of the Constitution, “the opinions of the supreme court, whatever they may be, will have the force of law; because there is no power provided in the constitution, that can correct their errors, or control their adjudications. From this court there is no appeal.”
Then as now, the Court did not render its decisions to conform to the law but rather contorted the law to conform to its decisions. The real problem with judges who claim to be “originalists” is that originalism is not so much a legal philosophy as a construct to allow its adherents to pass off personal prejudice as law.
Conservatives have decried the accusation that among the current roster of justices are those who are merely “politicians in robes.” They are correct. Politicians are far less powerful.




















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.