When a Supreme Court justice warns that the decisions of her colleagues pose an “existential threat to the rule of law,” it’s not just a legal disagreement – it’s a performance. Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson’s recent dissents, particularly in Trump v. Casa, show a troubling shift in the role of a justice. Instead of offering careful counterpoints rooted in constitutional reasoning, she delivers ideological monologues that sound tailor-made for MSNBC clips and Essence Fest applause lines.
This isn’t a critique of dissent itself. Dissent is vital to the integrity of the Court. The late Antonin Scalia built an entire legacy on it – scorching in tone, yes, but always grounded in jurisprudence. Even Justice Sotomayor, who leans progressive, typically stays within the framework of legal analysis. But Jackson’s dissents feel different. They are often infused with the emotional urgency of a political stump speech rather than the deliberative tone of a judicial opinion. That’s not a matter of style – it’s a matter of purpose.
In Trump v. Casa, a case about whether the Biden administration could block a Trump-era executive order related to birthright citizenship, Jackson went far beyond dissent. She warned that the Court had opened the door to “uncontainable” executive power and “executive lawlessness,” claiming that this decision placed the very structure of American government at risk. If you’re wondering whether this sounds like a measured legal analysis or the script for a constitutional horror movie, you’re not alone.
Justice Amy Coney Barrett, writing separately, took issue with the tone and lack of doctrinal clarity in Jackson’s dissent – and rightly so. Legal dissents, no matter how passionate, should be rooted in precedent, logic, and a serious engagement with the constitutional questions at hand. Jackson’s opinion reads more like a dire cable news commentary than a legal roadmap.
What’s even more telling is where Jackson chose to defend her approach: the Essence Festival in New Orleans, a culturally rich but highly political venue. In front of a friendly audience, she doubled down, saying the public needed to know the stakes and that “transparency strengthens democracy.” But there’s a difference between transparency and theatrics. When a Supreme Court justice positions herself as a political narrator warning the masses of institutional collapse, she’s no longer just interpreting the Constitution – she’s shaping the narrative.
This kind of rhetorical grandstanding might earn applause from progressive audiences, but it comes at a steep cost to the institution of the Court. Judicial authority is built on the perception of impartiality – on the idea that justices, even when they disagree, are operating from shared constitutional principles, not political tribes. When dissents are laced with catastrophic language designed to rally ideological bases, the public doesn’t just lose trust in one opinion – it starts to lose trust in the entire Court.
It’s not as if Jackson is unaware of the effect she’s having. She noted in her public remarks that she authored twenty-four opinions this term – second only to Clarence Thomas – and spoke nearly 79,000 words during oral arguments. That’s not the resume of a quiet constitutionalist. It’s the profile of someone who understands the power of visibility and is using her platform as more than a legal mind – she’s becoming a political symbol.
Of course, some will say this is exactly the point. That Jackson represents something bigger than the Court – that her voice is necessary to challenge what many see as a hard-right turn. But that’s precisely the problem. When a justice views the bench as a place to “challenge” the Court rather than serve on it, we’re no longer in the realm of law. We’re in the realm of ideology – and the robes are just set dressing.
There’s a troubling double standard at work here, too. Imagine if Justice Clarence Thomas, who rarely speaks publicly, suddenly took to conservative rallies to call liberal rulings an “existential threat” to the Constitution. The headlines would be endless. His impartiality would be questioned, and the legitimacy of the Court would be under fire. Yet when Jackson does it, it’s celebrated as “speaking truth to power.”
The Court isn’t supposed to be a place for personal catharsis or political expression. It’s not Congress. It’s not a cable news roundtable. It’s the final guardian of the Constitution – a role that demands discipline, not dramatics. Dissent is a sacred tool, not a soapbox.
Justice Jackson may see herself as a truth-teller in a time of crisis. But what the Court – and the country – needs is not louder dissents, but better ones. Ones that engage the law, not the emotions. Ones that respect the constitutional order rather than stage-manage its demise.
Because in the end, the greatest threat to the rule of law isn’t a conservative majority – it’s the transformation of judges into pundits.
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