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.




















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.