President Donald Trump’s Justice Department filed a lawsuit on Thursday seeking to block former Democratic Rep. Mary Peltola’s victory in the 2026 US Senate election. If you’re confused by this development, you should be. Because the election won’t happen for more than a week.

The case arises out of an odd candidacy that might undercut incumbent Republican Sen. Dan S. Sullivan’s reelection bid against Peltola. A man named Dan J. Sullivan also secured a spot on the ballot, and Republicans fear that the not-Senator Sullivan’s presence on the ballot might trick voters who wish to vote for the incumbent into voting for the not-senator instead.

In the abstract, it’s a fair concern. But there are two reasons to doubt that not-Senator Sullivan will attract many voters who actually wanted to vote for the Republican. According to a sample ballot published by Alaska’s Division of Elections, Sen. Sullivan will be identified as a “Registered Republican” and as the “Incumbent,” so voters will be told which Dan Sullivan to vote for if they wish to reelect the one who is actually a senator. 

Additionally, Alaska uses ranked-choice voting, a system where voters rank candidates in order of preference, and votes cast for losing candidates are redistributed to voters’ next choice. So an Alaska voter who wants to reelect the Dan Sullivan who is actually a senator, but who is confused as to which Dan Sullivan is the incumbent, can simply rank both Dans Sullivan as their top two choices, and the ranked choice system should ensure that their vote is counted as a vote for Senator Sullivan (and against Peltola).

The question of whether not-Senator Sullivan may appear on the ballot, moreover, has already been litigated. Initially, the Alaska Division of Elections, which is led by a Republican, attempted to disqualify the not-senator because it concluded that he did not seek election to the Senate in “good faith.” Not-Senator Sullivan sued, and an Alaska court ordered him reinstated as a candidate because “the Division’s decision to exclude Mr. Sullivan from the primary ballot was based on a ‘good-faith’ requirement that does not appear in the U.S. Constitution, the Alaska Statutes, or the implementing regulations adopted by the Division” — that is, there is not actually a law that prevents the not-senator from running, even if he is intentionally running as a spoiler candidate.

This lower court order was affirmed by the Alaska Supreme Court last June. If Republicans thought that this decision violates federal law, they could have asked the Division of Elections — which, again, is run by a Republican — to appeal to the US Supreme Court.

Instead, they appear to have let the issue lie until less than two weeks before Election Day, when Trump’s Justice Department filed a new, federal lawsuit claiming that not-Senator Sullivan’s presence on the ballot is somehow illegal, and asking a federal court to preemptively block a Peltola victory in the upcoming election. Trump says that he personally told the Justice Department to file this suit.

It is difficult to find an actual legal argument, much less a persuasive one, anywhere in the Trump DOJ’s complaint initiating the lawsuit. Trump’s lawsuit also runs afoul of something called the “Purcell principle” — a concept that, ironically, the Supreme Court reaffirmed the same day that the Trump administration filed its suit — which says that federal courts should be reluctant to intervene in election-related disputes when the election itself is about to happen.

It is likely, in other words, that the Trump administration’s attempt to overturn a Democratic victory that hasn’t even happened yet will fail. But the mere existence of this new lawsuit, which is known as United States v. Alaska, is an ominous sign that the Trump administration will use every tool in its shed to overturn Democratic victories in the upcoming election.

So what are the actual legal arguments in the Alaska case?

It is a bit of a stretch to even describe the Justice Department’s complaint in this case as a “legal” document, as the complaint does not so much as point to any law that either not-Senator Sullivan or the state of Alaska may have violated, and instead vaguely alludes to legal sources that use terms like “integrity.”

Specifically, the Justice Department points to a federal law which says that it has four purposes, one of which is to “protect the integrity of the electoral process.” It also points to the Supreme Court’s decision in Bullock v. Carter (1972), which said that “a State has an interest, if not a duty, to protect the integrity of its political processes from frivolous or fraudulent candidacies.”

But the statute that Trump’s lawyers quote, the National Voter Registration Act of 1993, does not concern which candidates’ names should appear on the ballot. As its name suggests, it is a law about voter registration, and it imposes requirements on states, such as requiring them to register voters when those voters obtain a driver’s license.

Similarly, while Bullock does include a single line indicating that states may enact laws targeting “frivolous or fraudulent candidacies,” nothing in the opinion suggests that sharing another candidate’s name makes someone’s candidacy frivolous or fraudulent. The decision itself concerned unusually high fees charged to a candidate for public office in Texas, and the Court concluded that Texas’s fees were unconstitutional. 

The line about “frivolous or fraudulent candidacies,” meanwhile, was included to clarify that states still have some power to regulate ballot access. While Bullock concluded that Texas’s fees were excessive, the opinion also suggests that states may impose more reasonable filing fees on candidates to discourage unserious candidates from seeking office. Alaska, for example, charges a modest filing fee of $100 to US Senate candidates.

The Trump DOJ’s entire argument, in other words, appears to turn on the fact that it identified two legal sources that use the word “integrity” in contexts that bear little resemblance to the Alaska case. 

Nevertheless, Trump’s lawyers claim that the court must prevent Alaska from certifying a Peltola victory “pending an investigation to determine whether votes cast for Daniel J. Sullivan were meant to be cast for Senator Sullivan.”

This lawsuit also cannot be squared with one of the Republican Party’s favorite legal doctrines

Even if Trump’s Justice Department had a persuasive argument that leaving not-Senator Sullivan on the ballot is illegal, they should still lose Alaska because they waited too long to file the case.

In Purcell v. Gonzalez (2006), the Supreme Court warned that “court orders affecting elections, especially conflicting orders, can themselves result in voter confusion and consequent incentive to remain away from the polls,” and it added that this “risk will increase” as Election Day draws closer. More recent decisions, many of them joined only by the Court’s Republicans, have read this “Purcell principle” quite expansively to forbid federal courts from issuing election-related decisions in the months leading up to an election. Justice Brett Kavanaugh has even claimed that Purcell prevents federal courts from issuing election-related decisions as soon as nine months before the general election date.

Supreme Court decisions invoking Purcell to shut down lower court orders altering a state’s election rules are now very common in the weeks leading up to an election. On Thursday, for example, the Court relied on the Purcell principle to block a lower court order that would have made it easier for college students to vote in New Hampshire. The Court began its decision with this line: “This Court has repeatedly emphasized that lower federal courts should ordinarily not alter the election rules on the eve of an election.” 

Trump’s DOJ, meanwhile, did not even file its lawsuit seeking to preemptively invalidate a Peltola victory until less than two weeks before Election Day. If Purcell means anything, it must mean that a federal court cannot force Alaska to kick a candidate off the ballot mere days before a federal election.

American elections aren’t what they used to be: Thanks to relentless, politically driven gerrymandering, fewer and fewer congressional seats are truly competitive. Millions of Americans are locked into districts where their vote will never elect the party of their choice.

But gerrymandering is also notoriously hard to fix. Many sitting lawmakers owe their seats to districts that have been wildly contorted to create secure seats. So asking legislators to ban gerrymandering often means asking them to endanger their own jobs.

Nevertheless, the stars may soon align for opponents of partisan electoral maps. Last time Democrats controlled the US House, they passed a bill that sought to eliminate gerrymandering. That bill died in the Senate. But, if the polls are correct, Democrats are poised to take both houses of Congress in November. If President Donald Trump remains an albatross around Republicans’ necks through 2028, Democrats could soon control both elected branches of government.

That’s good news for opponents of gerrymandered maps, because, as recent developments show, any viable solution to congressional gerrymandering will have to come from Congress and not the states. Some blue states, such as California and Virginia, had previously enacted constitutional amendments intended to halt gerrymandering in those states. But Democrats are now trying to bypass those bans because they prevent blue states from countering Republican gerrymanders in red states.

Still, even if Democrats win the next two federal elections in historic landslides, they then must overcome the final boss monster standing between the United States and fair elections: the Supreme Court.

And unless the Court’s membership changes dramatically, that will be no easy task. Until fairly recently, the Supreme Court often blocked racial gerrymanders — those intended to lock voters of a particular race out of power — and it at least held open the possibility that a state’s maps could be struck down because of excessive partisanship.

Now, by contrast, many of the Court’s redistricting decisions read like a love letter to partisan maps. The Court’s Republican majority held in Rucho v. Common Cause (2019) that federal courts are forbidden from hearing cases alleging that a particular legislative map was drawn to benefit one political party. More recently, in Louisiana v. Callais (2026), the Court’s Republicans abolished longstanding safeguards against racial gerrymandering, ushering in a new wave of maps that favor white Republicans in the South. 

There’s no way to guarantee that a Republican Supreme Court won’t simply make up a reason to toss out a Democratic voting rights law, no matter what that law says. Still, there are strategic ways to mitigate that risk. Opponents of gerrymandering can maximize the likelihood that redistricting reforms will survive judicial review by paying close attention to what the Supreme Court has already said about race, election law, and other related topics. Many of the Court’s recent cases suggest that Democrats may want to tweak their approach to a federal redistricting law — and the Court’s opinions give clues into how.

Don’t even think about passing a law that mentions race

The most obvious trap that Democrats could fall into when drafting an anti-gerrymandering bill is to mention race, or otherwise draw racial distinctions of any kind.

Until just a few months ago, the federal Voting Rights Act offered some of America’s strongest protections against gerrymandering. A 1982 amendment to that law prevented many racially polarized states — often states where white people vote Republican and Black people vote for Democrats — from drawing maps that maximized white power. This had the side effect of limiting partisan gerrymandering in that space, because requiring these red states to draw more Black-majority districts meant electing more Democrats.

But the Republican justices effectively repealed this amendment, which was signed into law by President Ronald Reagan, in Callais. That’s because all six of the Court’s Republicans swear fealty to an idea known as “colorblindness” — the idea that any law that draws racial distinctions, no matter the purpose, is equally repugnant. Under this theory, laws that aim to lift up historically disadvantaged racial groups are legally indistinguishable from the laws that codified Jim Crow. So, if a new act of Congress requires states to consider race when they draw legislative maps, that new law will almost certainly be struck down by this Court.

Congress takes an extraordinary risk, moreover, if it inserts a race-based provision into a broader law governing redistricting, even if the vast bulk of that law does not concern race at all. NFIB v. Sebelius (2012) is one big example of how that could go wrong: In that case, four of the Republican justices claimed that the entire Affordable Care Act must be struck down because those four concluded that just two provisions of the law are unconstitutional. 

The current Court is both much more conservative and much more Republican than the one that heard NFIB — and probably will be just as motivated on the issue of gerrymandering as they were on Obamacare —  so a majority of its members could potentially order an entire act of Congress repealed if they deem one provision in that law unconstitutional. And, even if they do not go that far, they still might carve giant holes in a law because of one provision that mentions race.

Democrats seem to understand these limitations: The last time Democrats controlled the House, it passed two significant voting rights bills (both of which died in the Senate). The For the People Act is an omnibus bill that includes many of the Democratic Party’s ideas to improve elections, including several provisions targeting gerrymandering. Meanwhile, the John R. Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act seeks to undo many of the Supreme Court’s attacks on the Voting Rights Act, the landmark law barring race discrimination in voting, while also enhancing some of the VRA’s protections.

Democrats’ decision to, well, segregate racial reforms from their other voting rights proposals shows that they understand many of the tactical decisions they need to make because of this Court. By placing race-related reforms in the John Lewis Act, while passing non-race-related ideas in the separate For the People Act, Democrats reduce the likelihood that the later bill will fall. It would be extraordinary, even for this Supreme Court, to strike down one law because five or more justices deem an entirely separate law unconstitutional.

But let’s say the Democrats decide the best way to get gerrymandering reform through early next year is by reviving the For the People Act. That bill’s anti-gerrymandering provisions do still contain some references to race which Democrats may want to strip out in an abundance of caution. The bill, for example, would require states to draw their congressional districts using a commission made up of Democrats, Republicans, and people affiliated with neither party. One provision of this bill provides that the pool of potential members of these commissions should be screened to ensure that it is “representative of the demographic groups (including racial, ethnic, economic, and gender) and geographic regions of the State.” 

Because this provision requires the government to consider race, this Court would very likely strike it down. If that happens, the Court might simply excise the reference to race from the broader statute and leave the rest of it intact, but there’s a danger that this Court could strike down all of the For the People Act’s provision calling for congressional maps to be drawn by independent commissions — or even possibly the entire Act. 

So If Democrats decide the best way to enact gerrymandering reform early next year is by reviving that bill and finally getting it passed, they may want to strip out any mentions of race in an abundance of caution.

Relying on independent redistricting commissions to draw congressional districts is a dicey proposition with this Supreme Court

At least eight states currently use independent commissions to draw legislative maps, and several other states involve commissions in their mapmaking process. It’s a promising model because empirical research does suggest that these commissions are effective in reducing partisanship in legislative maps. One recent study, for example, found that moving from legislatively drawn maps to commissions “would increase the share of competitive seats within a state from 25 percent to 38 percent on average.”

The idea behind an independent commission is to take the task of drawing maps away from a partisan state legislature, and give it to a multipartisan body tasked with drawing maps that favor neither major political party. The For the People Act adopts this model. It proposes that each state should have a 15-member commission consisting of five Democrats, five Republicans, and five people affiliated with neither major party. Elected officials and their immediate family, candidates for office, significant political donors, and lobbyists are all barred from commission membership.

But there’s a constitutional problem with this approach, which arises out of a surprisingly banal question: Who, exactly, would employ these commissioners?

One possibility is to make them federal officials. But if these commissioners are employed by the federal government, the Constitution would probably classify them as “principal officers,” which would mean that they would have to be chosen by the president and confirmed by the Senate. And, in any event, the Court’s “unitary executive” cases establish that, if these commissioners count as federal officials, either the president or one of the president’s subordinates would have to have the power to fire them at-will.

Classifying the mapmaking commissioners as federal officials, in other words, would defeat the purpose of creating the redistricting commissions in the first place — because the commissioners would be partisan officials and not independent actors.

The For the People Act attempts to get around this problem by calling for state-run commissions. It requires each state to “establish a nonpartisan agency,” which will appoint commissioners to draw the state’s maps. But under the Supreme Court’s “anti-commandeering” doctrine, a doctrine that precedes the Roberts Court, the federal government is typically forbidden from ”issu[ing] direct orders to the governments of the States.” So that suggests that Congress may neither order a state to appoint these commissioners, nor control how a state’s commissioners draw the state’s maps.

In fairness, there is a plausible argument that the anti-commandeering doctrine does not apply to federal laws governing congressional elections. The Constitution allows states to determine the “Times, Places and Manner” for holding such elections, but it also permits Congress to “make or alter such Regulations.” So that suggests that, when Congress writes laws governing congressional elections, it may effectively rewrite a state’s laws to conform to the federal government’s wishes.

Still, this argument is untested. And the question of whether Congress can require states to set up redistricting commissions would ultimately be decided by a Supreme Court with a 6-3 Republican majority that is often hostile toward voting rights legislation. The fate of a federal law requiring states to set up their own commissions would depend on six Republican political appointees who were confronted with a law whose very purpose is to take the Republican Party’s gerrymandering tactics off the table. 

Maybe these justices would set partisanship aside and allow a law calling for mandatory state-run commissions to exist. But Congress takes an enormous risk if it bets the future of redistricting on an untested legal theory that, at least, plausibly violates the anti-commandeering doctrine. If the Republican justices want to strike such a law down, they won’t have to work hard to come up with an argument for doing so.

Democrats may want to reconsider whether to rely on independent commissions as their primary solution to gerrymandering. At the very least, they should insert language into the For the People Act stating that, if the commissions are struck down, some alternative mechanism to restrict partisan gerrymandering will immediately spring into effect.

So what can Congress do?

Though independent commissions and race-conscious attempts to combat gerrymandering may be vulnerable to constitutional challenges, Congress’s power to “make or alter” the rules governing congressional elections is in the Constitution, and it is quite broad. That should permit Congress to order the states to draw maps using congressionally determined criteria.

Indeed, Congress has long exercised this power to dictate how states must draw their congressional districts. In 1842, for example, Congress required every state to elect members of the US using single-member districts. This law lapsed in 1929, but a similar law was put back into place in 1967. That law, which provides that no congressional district may “elect more than one Representative,” remains on the books today. 

Right now, this law prevents states from enacting many promising reforms, such as proportional representation, but the fact that this law has existed for so long suggests that Congress does, in fact, have broad power to dictate how states draw congressional districts.

Some of the Court’s older precedents, moreover, also suggest that Congress’s power over congressional elections is expansive.  Recall that the Constitution itself gives both state lawmakers and Congress authority to determine the “Times, Places and Manner” for holding these elections. States typically get the first crack at determining their own election laws, but Congress can “make or alter such Regulations.” In Smiley v. Holm (1932), the Court said that the power to determine the times, places, and manner for holding these elections includes the power “to provide a complete code for congressional elections.” 

So that suggests that Congress may lay out a “complete code” governing how congressional districts should be drawn — assuming, of course, that Congress does not violate some other provision of the Constitution, such as the rules against race discrimination.

An act of Congress governing redistricting could take many forms. Congress might, for example, repeal the ban on multi-member districts established by the 1967 law, and implement proportional representation. Such a system could be set up in different ways, but in the simplest version, voters would cast a ballot for the party they want to control Congress, rather than voting for an individual candidate. Seats would then be allocated to parties based on the percentage of votes that party received. So if the Republican Party received 40 percent of the vote in a state with 10 House members, the GOP would get to pick four of those members of Congress.

Alternatively, Congress could retain the one-member-per-district rule, but implement rules governing how those districts must be drawn. The For the People Act, for example, lays out several criteria that the Act’s independent commissions must use when drawing congressional maps. Among other things, districts must “respect communities of interest, neighborhoods, and political subdivisions to the extent practicable.” The act would also prohibit states from redrawing their maps outside of the 10-year cycle established by the US census.

The bill also proposes several mathematical methods, which have names such as the “efficiency gap,” or the “Seats-Votes Curve,” that may be used to evaluate whether a particular map gives an unfair advantage to one political party.

As I’ve already explained, it is unclear whether Congress could actually create independent redistricting commissions. But a law mandating that congressional districts must be drawn in a particular way could still be enforced by a different body — the federal judiciary. If a state drew a map that violated Congress’s new rules, voters or political candidates in that state could file a lawsuit, and a court could order the state to come into compliance with federal law.

That said, one problem with this solution is that litigation often takes a long time. Historically, states that drew illegal maps that were eventually struck down by the courts often got to run one or more elections under the deficient maps before a court could determine that they were unlawful and must be replaced. 

Another potential solution is that Congress could require states to “preclear” new maps with federal officials — borrowing from a method the original Voting Rights Act of 1965 used to prevent states from implementing racist maps before those maps could be challenged in litigation. Under that law, some states had to preclear new election rules with either the Justice Department or a DC-based federal court.

Though the Supreme Court effectively neutralized the VRA’s preclearance provision in Shelby County v. Holder (2013), much of the Shelby County decision criticized the VRA for applying preclearance only to some states and not others. So it is possible that this Court might uphold a new preclearance regime that applies to all 50 states. And even if it will not, Congress could adopt a belt-and-suspenders approach — requiring states to preclear their maps and permitting individual citizens to sue in order to challenge those maps. That way, if preclearance is struck down, lawsuits could still move forward.

There is no telling how this Supreme Court, which often makes up new legal rules that cannot be found in the Constitution’s text, would approach a federal law governing how states must draw their congressional maps. But existing precedents suggest that Congress would have broad discretion to design these rules how its members see fit. Outside of the racial context, the Court’s precedents largely limit which institutions may be placed in charge of redistricting or how members of those institutions are selected or removed. They place far fewer restrictions on the substance of federal election law.

Could judges be given the task of drawing maps?

Another way to potentially insulate the mapmaking process from partisan politics is for Congress to pass a law requiring maps to be drawn by judges, who are at least nominally nonpartisan. Virginia’s constitution, for example, provides that its districts shall be drawn by the state supreme court if the state legislature and a redistricting commission are unable to agree on legislative maps. 

Similarly, the For the People Act would require a panel of three federal judges to draw a state’s maps if that state either fails to set up a redistricting commission, or the state’s commission does not come up with maps on its own.

Unfortunately, the For the People Act’s proposed process for creating these judge-drawn maps may be unconstitutional. That’s because the Constitution only permits federal courts to decide matters arising out of “cases” or “controversies” — meaning that the matter is presented to the court in a proper lawsuit where a plaintiff, who was actually injured in some way by a defendant, sues that defendant.

The For the People Act seems to contemplate a kind of public hearing, presided over by three judges, where any “interested members of the public may appear and be heard and present testimony” on what a state’s maps should look like. This process, in other words, does not really resemble a lawsuit, where a plaintiff and a defendant both make adversarial arguments and a judge determines which one of them is correct.

Although the bill does indicate that an individual plaintiff may trigger a hearing by filing a formal request with an appropriate court, this individual doesn’t really resemble a party to a lawsuit, in part because they do not appear to have any greater ability to present evidence to the three-judge panel than any other member of the public.

That said, these deficiencies in the For the People Act could probably be fixed with fairly minor tweaks. Instead of allowing any random member of the public to call for a hearing, the bill should identify specific classes of individuals — be they voters within a state, candidates, or political parties — who have standing to sue the state. The ensuing hearing should be conducted like a lawsuit, with both the plaintiff and the state presenting their own arguments for how to design the state’s maps. If Congress also wants the court to consider arguments from the public at large, those arguments could be submitted in amicus briefs.

And, of course, the bill should also lay out a legal criteria that judges can use to determine if a particular map is legal.

The biggest challenge for lawmakers probably won’t be the Constitution. It will be coming up with a solution that actually prevents partisans from drawing biased maps.

At least under current law, Congress has broad discretion to lay out nationwide rules governing congressional mapmaking. A federal law mandating proportional representation, or requiring states to draw compact districts, or mandating that states must use a particular mathematical model to construct maps that are free from partisan bias, or potentially even a law allowing  judges to draw maps, would all likely be constitutional — even according to this Supreme Court.

But the fact that a particular law is constitutional does not mean that it will be effective in increasing the number of competitive districts and reducing the role that partisans play in the mapdrawing process.

The most challenging task facing Congress — or, at least, a future Congress that actually wants to do something about gerrymandering — is coming up with rules that actually force states to draw fair maps. It would be a tragedy if Congress enacts a law requiring states to use a particular method to design its districts, only to discover that this method does not actually prevent states from drawing partisan gerrymanders.

In a 2016 speech, for example, former Attorney General Eric Holder mocked states that draw districts that are “only contiguous at low tide” or that are “shaped like a contorted snake.” And he suggested that states should be required to draw maps which ensure that “people who live near each other, and who have similar interests” vote in the same district. Holder, in other words, seemed to suggest that compact districts are superior to ones that spread out throughout much of a state.

But this proposal could actually make some states’ maps more biased. That’s because Democrats tend to cluster together in cities, while Republicans tend to spread out more in rural and suburban areas of a state. So, if a state’s mapmaking process fetishizes drawing nearby voters together into the same district, Democrats may all be packed into urban districts that are so overwhelmingly Democratic that many of the votes cast in these districts will be wasted. Republicans, meanwhile, could be spread out across multiple districts to ensure that their votes are counted more efficiently.

These challenges don’t mean that federal lawmakers should abandon the project of halting partisan gerrymandering. But it does mean that they should proceed with some caution. The worst outcome would be if Congress required states to use a particular method when they draw their maps, and then that method did not achieve what Congress intended it to achieve. 

Avoiding this outcome, moreover, will be more difficult because Congress may need to choose second-best solutions to reduce the likelihood that the Supreme Court strikes the entire law down. 

It would be better if Congress could address partisan redistricting without an increasingly partisan Court breathing down its members’ necks. But Democrats cannot choose which justices sit on the Supreme Court at the moment they gain a congressional majority large enough to actually legislate. Absent extraordinary events, they will need to do their best to draft a law that this Court will not sabotage.

This story was produced in partnership with Protect Democracy and Journalism Funding Partners.

One of the last decade’s most consequential changes to how the Supreme Court operates is the growth of the so-called shadow docket — a process that allows the justices to decide cases unusually quickly, and often without full briefing or oral argument.

Historically, the Court would typically allow contentious legal issues to percolate in the lower courts for months or even years before the justices agreed to decide one of those issues. Then they’d spend months reading briefs, hearing arguments, and debating the case amongst themselves before they finally issued an opinion. This slow process existed because the Supreme Court is the final word on many legal questions — the Court can even override Congress if it claims a law is unconstitutional — and so it should be cautious before it hands down a decision that cannot easily be displaced.

A new case, which recently arrived on the Court’s shadow docket, embodies all the reasons why America’s highest Court should act carefully and slowly. K.M.K. v. Washington Interscholastic Activities Association involves a highly contentious issue — the plaintiffs in the case effectively want the Supreme Court to bar transgender women from women’s sports teams at high schools and universities, even in states that support trans inclusion in sports.

It also involves an appalling sexual assault allegation. One of the plaintiffs in the case is a high school women’s team wrestler who is identified only by her initials because she is a minor. She claims that one of her wrestling opponents, who is transgender, “forcefully” penetrated the plaintiff’s vagina with her fingers during a match.

As a memo from the local prosecutor’s office points out, if these allegations are true then K.M.K. is the victim of a very serious crime — rape in the third degree. The prosecutor’s office, however, decided not to prosecute because it concluded that it could not prove that a sex crime was committed beyond a reasonable doubt. Among other things, prosecutors spoke to the referee who officiated the match, and he said that “nothing stood out to him during the match” and that “after watching the video of the match, he could not say that the suspect’s hand placement was ‘anything out of the ordinary.’”

The school district, meanwhile, says that it has reviewed video of the match, interviewed both competitors, and that its investigation into the allegation is “still ongoing.”

K.M.K., in other words, is exactly the sort of case that the justices should step away from, sending it back down to the lower courts to gather more information and to fully think through the difficult legal issues presented by the case. Setting aside the horrifying allegations against her one-time opponent, K.M.K.’s lawyers — most of whom work for a Christian right law firm, the Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF) — make novel legal arguments that ask the Court to make broad pronouncements that go far beyond its previous precedents. 

One of their arguments, if taken seriously by the justices, could potentially make it impossible for any school athletes, whether cis or trans, to participate in competitive sports of any kind.

There is a very real risk, in other words, that the Supreme Court will, if it moves too quickly in this case, harm millions of school athletes throughout the country. The factual question of whether a particular wrestler committed a crime is separate from the legal question of whether federal law strips states of their authority over trans participation in women’s sports. And this legal question deserves more deliberation than the Court can give it if it decides this case on the shadow docket.

So what are the actual legal issues in K.M.K.?

In West Virginia v. B.P.J. (2026), the Supreme Court warned that judges should not be given the power to decide which athletes may compete on a women’s sports team. “The legislatures and the schools are better equipped — and under the Constitution, are the more appropriate entities,” Justice Brett Kavanaugh wrote for his Court, “to assess the competing medical and scientific considerations and draw appropriate lines.”

B.P.J., of course, was a loss for transgender rights. The Court rejected a constitutional challenge to state laws that forbid trans women from playing on school sports teams within that state. But the legal question in B.P.J. was whether laws barring trans women from women’s sports are allowed — a question that the Court’s Republican majority answered in the affirmative. A victory for the plaintiffs in K.M.K., by contrast, would likely establish that no state may permit trans women to compete on women’s sports teams, regardless of what the people of that state want.

This Court is often skeptical of claims by trans rights advocates, and it almost always resolves disputes between cultural liberals and religious conservatives in favor of the religious right. That said, this Court has thus far respected states’ rights on another contentious issue that is a high priority for the religious right: abortion. Although the Court’s Republican majority overruled Roe v. Wade and eliminated the constitutional right to an abortion, it has rejected some attempts to restrict abortion in blue states — including by repeatedly ruling against litigants who seek to ban the abortion medication mifepristone.

So it is, at least, possible that this Court will follow a similar path in K.M.K. and conclude that the question of which team trans women should play on should be answered by the states and not the Supreme Court.

Broadly speaking, ADF raises two legal arguments against Washington state’s policy allowing trans women to play on women’s sports teams. It claims that Title IX, a federal law that bars “sex” discrimination by most schools, implicitly requires those schools to have sports teams that only cisgender women may play on. It also claims that the Court’s recent decision in Mirabelli v. Bonta (2026), which requires public schools to out trans students to their parents even if the students wish to keep their gender identity secret, also requires those schools to exclude trans women from women’s sports.

There’s no reason for the Supreme Court to decide either of these questions now, however. As Chief Justice John Roberts wrote in Lux v. Rodrigues (2010), when a party that lost in the lower courts seeks an injunction from a Supreme Court justice before their case is fully litigated in those lower courts, they must demonstrate that “the legal rights at issue are ‘indisputably clear.’” This rule, like many old rules disfavoring shadow docket decisions, exists to prevent the justices from rushing into a decision that may later prove unwise.

There is no plausible argument that Title IX “indisputably” bars trans women from women’s sports. That’s because, just a few months ago in B.P.J., the Court held that it was not deciding the question of “whether, under Title IX and the Equal Protection Clause, schools may allow biological males who identify as female to participate on girls’ and women’s sports teams.” So that’s a recent Supreme Court precedent holding that the answer to this legal question remains open.

Mirabelli, meanwhile, is an unusually thinly reasoned decision. The Court’s Republican majority held that schools must out trans students because of a judicially created doctrine saying that parents have “primary authority with respect to ‘the upbringing and education of children.’” But the Court’s analysis of this issue was just a single paragraph long, it relied on the most malleable doctrine in all of US constitutional law, and it had nothing to say about sports. 

Moreover, as the school district points out in its brief, the Court has never held that a parent’s right to direct the upbringing of their child includes a right to dictate which rules will be used by school sports teams. If such a right existed, a parent might insist that a school bar players of a particular race. Or they might demand that their child be allowed to play football without being tackled.

Competitive team sports simply cannot exist if one player’s mother is allowed to demand changes to the rules that neither the league nor the other players support.

In any event, at this stage in the litigation it should be enough for the Court to say that the unique right claimed by K.M.K.’s mother — the right to dictate which rules a multischool competitive sports league will use — is not “indisputably clear” under current law. 

What should happen when the Court eventually decides whether blue states may allow trans women to play on women’s teams?

It is, to borrow from Lux, indisputably clear that the Court should not give the K.M.K. plaintiffs the sweeping policy change that they seek in a shadow docket ruling. But the justices cannot avoid, forever, the question of whether federal law forbids trans women from playing on women’s teams. So how should they resolve this question when it is more properly presented to them?

Let’s dispose of the plaintiffs’ Mirabelli argument first. While the Court has held that parents have some right to direct the education of their children, prior to Mirabelli, this right was construed narrowly. One older case held that states may not forbid parents from sending their children to private schools. Another held that the government may not bar teachers at these schools from teaching the German language.

Prior to the Court’s barely explained decision in Mirabelli, however, the Court had never held that parents may dictate how public schools operate, and the school district’s brief in K.M.K. cites several court decisions warning against giving parents too much authority over public schools. (The Court did hold, in Mahmoud v. Taylor (2025), that parents who object to a school’s curriculum on religious grounds may opt their children out of certain lessons. But the K.M.K. plaintiffs do not raise a religious objection.) As the Supreme Court said in Prince v. Massachusetts (1944), states may “restrict the parent’s control by requiring school attendance, regulating or prohibiting the child’s labor and in many other ways.” 

It’s clear from Mirabelli that the Court’s Republicans do not share this caution about judicial control over public schools. But, because Mirabelli was so thinly reasoned, it’s also impossible for outside observers to determine why these justices want an unprecedented amount of control over public schooling, or whether they have good reasons for asserting this new power.

I will simply reiterate the school district’s objection that, once the Supreme Court opens the door to parents dictating which rules will be used in school sporting competitions, the lawsuits will not end with parents seeking to kick trans women out of women’s sports. The next parent may object to their child wrestling Black people. Or they may demand that their child be given protective gear that gives them a competitive advantage. Some parents may also demand rules changes that conflict with changes demanded by other parents. And there is no principled way to distinguish these requests from a request to exclude trans women.

There are myriad problems, meanwhile, with the K.M.K. plaintiffs’ Title IX argument. That statute provides that schools that receive “Federal financial assistance” may not exclude individuals from “any education program” on “the basis of sex.” This statute has long been read to require equal treatment of men’s and women’s sports by schools that receive federal funds.

But, as the school district argues in its brief, Washington schools do not discriminate on the basis of “sex” — which the Court has defined to mean sex assigned at birth in this context. Instead, they classify athletes on the basis of gender identity. There is one team for all people who identify as male, whether trans or cis, and another team for all people who identify as female. Social conservatives may object to this arrangement, but it does not classify students based on their sex assigned at birth at all.

The K.M.K. plaintiffs’ argument is also undermined by federal regulations implementing Title IX. Those regulations provide that schools generally should not separate women and men in sports, but that they “may operate or sponsor separate teams for members of each sex where selection for such teams is based upon competitive skill or the activity involved is a contact sport.” It is quite a stretch to read regulations saying that schools “may” have sex-segregated teams to say that schools must ensure that their teams are strictly sex segregated.

Finally, recall that Title IX only applies to schools that accept federal funding — schools have the option of rejecting Title IX’s requirements if they also forego federal grants. This matters because, as the Court recently held in Landor v. Louisiana Department of Corrections (2026), “Congress must clearly and unambiguously alert a grant recipient to any condition on federal funds.”

Thus, if there is any ambiguity about whether Title IX requires schools to exclude trans women from women’s sports, that ambiguity must be resolved against imposing any requirements on public schools. Title IX may only be read to ban trans women from women’s sports if it “clearly and unambiguously” does so.

Again, there’s no reason for the justices to resolve either of these questions because, at this early stage in the litigation, the Supreme Court should simply decline to decide K.M.K. because the plaintiffs’ legal rights are not “indisputably clear.” But this Court is often impatient, especially in cases involving culture war issues. Mirabelli was also a shadow docket case, but that didn’t stop the Court’s Republicans from inventing a new legal rule compelling teachers to out their trans students.

There’s a serious risk, in other words, that this Court will rush to decide K.M.K. before it fully considers the legal arguments on either side, or even learns whether the genuinely shocking allegations raised by the plaintiffs have merit.

Justice Samuel Alito’s new book, So Ordered: An Originalist’s View of the Constitution, the Court, and Our Country, isn’t going to set the world on fire with its bold new ideas. It’s mostly a collection of Alito’s old speeches. 

But if the book treads familiar ground, the reception to it among writers who share Alito’s broad alignment with the political right is quite surprising. Three recent reviews of Alito’s new book —  all by right-leaning authors — sound a lot like the longtime liberal criticisms of Alito.

All three of these reviews accuse Alito of engaging in results-oriented decision-making — meaning that he often seems to start with the outcome that he prefers, and then comes up with a rationale to justify that outcome. This, they argue, is at odds with Alito’s fairly recent decision to label himself an “originalist,” an approach to judging that’s long been sold as a way to keep judges from mistaking “their own predilections for the law.”

Originalism, for the uninitiated, is the idea that the only legitimate way to interpret the Constitution is to ask what its words meant at the time it was ratified. It’s more than just a fashionable idea among many Republican lawyers and judges. Many legal conservatives view originalism as a central part of their professional identity, and powerful conservative organizations like the Federalist Society have long evangelized originalism as the one true way to interpret the Constitution.

Yet, a consistent theme in the critical reviews of So Ordered is that Alito’s actual approach to judging cannot be squared with his decision to label himself an “originalist” in the book’s title. As Harvard law professor Jack Goldsmith, a conservative who has written critically about originalism in the past, writes in his review of the book: “Alito’s embrace of the originalist label is also likely to come as a surprise to people on the left and the right.”

Goldsmith, who led the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel during the second Bush administration, writes in his review of the book that early proponents of originalism, including Scalia, often sold it as a more restrained alternative to “a liberal conception of judging called ‘living constitutionalism.’” Goldsmith says that approach, which was ascendant among liberals several decades ago but has since fallen out of favor, read the Constitution as an adaptable document whose meaning could evolve to deal with “current needs.” 

Conservatives needed an intellectually consistent way to put the brakes on that impulse, and originalism was their answer. By treating the Constitution as an inflexible charter whose meaning was fixed at some distant point in the past, Scalia and his fellow travelers hoped to “limit or reverse the progressive transformation of American society set in motion by Supreme Court decisions that had expanded criminal-defense rights, ended prayer in public school, recognized the rights to contraception and abortion, strengthened voting equality, and supported affirmative action and busing.”

Now that movement conservatives control the Supreme Court, however, it’s less clear whether originalism is still useful to conservatism. As Jason Willick, a conservative Washington Post columnist, writes in his review of Alito’s book, “originalism can get in the way of the right’s ambitions.” Sometimes, an honest application of originalism produces liberal results.

Willick interprets Alito’s book as an attempt to “keep the marriage” between conservatives and originalism together. But if that’s true, it is an open marriage. Alito is happy to make originalist arguments when they suit his preferred outcomes. But his greatest value to conservative Republicans is often that he is willing to write non-originalist opinions that reach the result his team desires, but that a more principled originalist would view as beyond the pale.

On the surface, the fact that conservative intellectuals are starting to notice, and criticize, Alito’s weak commitment to one of the conservative legal movement’s core ideas might indicate that a schism is forming between committed originalists and more flexible partisans like Alito. Perhaps the conservative legal movement is becoming a victim of its own success?

In So Ordered, Alito seems to be suggesting the opposite: He’s offering proof that a judge can still identify as an out and proud originalist, even if they enjoy frequent flings with the right-wing version of “living constitutionalism.” 

More broadly, if Democrats hope that the growing tension between Republican judges’ preferred methodology and their ability to reach reliably conservative results will lead to more liberal outcomes, they should expect to be disappointed. Alito, despite his apostasy, is still one of the most celebrated figures in the Federalist Society, the powerful conservative bar association that has long evangelized originalism as the one true way to interpret the Constitution. 

What is Alito’s actual approach to judging?

So Ordered offers a simple way for judges whose originalist and conservative identities are in tension to resolve that tension: They can continue to self-identify as “originalists,” while still reaching whatever result they want in the most important cases.

Alito hasn’t always described himself as an originalist. In fact, at times he’s openly mocked originalism. In a 2011 argument about how the First Amendment applies to violent video games, Alito responded to an originalist question from Justice Antonin Scalia by quipping, “I think what Justice Scalia wants to know is what James Madison thought about video games. Did he enjoy them?” 

In the past, Alito has, at some points, called himself a “practical originalist,” and at other times expressed doubt about that self-description.

In their reviews, both Goldsmith and Willick highlight Alito’s statement that originalism can only survive as “anything other than a minor academic curiosity” if it is “widely viewed as generally producing good results.” But, as Willick notes, this raises an important question: “Viewed as producing good results by whom?”

The answer to this question is that the justice wants to reach results that he personally, as well as other members of the Republican Party’s right flank, view as good. That, as Willick lays out, entails cracking down on broad exercises of executive power during the Obama administration, then letting those reins go slack during Donald Trump’s presidencies. 

The actual approach to judging Alito describes in So Ordered, the libertarian author Damon Root writes, sounds “much more like the results-oriented ‘living constitutionalism’ that originalists are supposed to oppose.”

Goldsmith, Willick and Root are hardly the only right-leaning thinkers to notice Alito’s thin commitment to originalism. There is also Alito’s closest ideological ally on the Court, Justice Clarence Thomas.

The occasion for Thomas’s criticism was Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (“CFPB”) v. Community Financial Services (2024), a bizarre lawsuit where a lower federal court claimed that an entire federal agency, the CFPB, violated a provision of the Constitution that had literally never been cited by any other court in all of US history to strike down a federal law. 

That provision says that the Treasury may not pay money unless Congress allows that spending through “Appropriations made by law.” As Thomas explained in the Court’s opinion in CFPB, this constitutional provision merely establishes that Congress must identify a “specified source of public money” that an agency may draw upon when it funds that agency. Because the CFPB cleared this low bar, it is constitutional.

Alito’s dissent, meanwhile, did not really make a legal argument against the CFPB. Instead, he spent the bulk of his dissent discussing centuries-old conflicts between England’s Parliament and its king, which eventually inspired the drafters of the Constitution to place appropriations in Congress’s hands. Yet, as Thomas writes, Alito “never connects its summary of history back to the word ‘Appropriations.’” Alito simply listed a bunch of historical facts that are tangentially related to the legal question before his Court, then leapt to the conclusion that the CFPB is unconstitutional.

Alito, in other words, did not actually practice originalism when he wrote this dissent. As Alito concedes in So Ordered, originalism isn’t simply the idea that judges should rely on historical sources when deciding cases. It is, in Alito’s own words, “the theory that constitutional provisions should be understood to mean what the public would have taken them to mean when they were adopted.” Originalists, in other words, are supposed to use history to determine what the words of the Constitution mean, not to vomit historical anecdotes onto a page before reaching an irrelevant legal conclusion.

So Alito’s CFPB dissent is not originalist, but it is entirely consistent with the results-oriented approach to judging that even his conservative critics have begun to notice. One of Alito’s major projects as a justice appears to be attempting to dismantle anything accomplished by President Barack Obama. The CFPB was created by the financial reform legislation that Obama signed in 2010. Alito has also tried three times to kill Obama’s signature legislative accomplishment, the Affordable Care Act.

Yet, as Goldsmith writes in his review of So Ordered, Alito “has supported the Trump administration in every second-term case of importance, including with dissents in every major Trump loss.”

Beyond his unapologetic partisanship, Alito is, as law professor Neil Siegel wrote in a 2017 review of the justice’s career, “the primary judicial voice of the many millions of Americans who appear to be losing the culture wars.”

In So Ordered, for example, Alito repeatedly brings up an argument against same-sex marriage that he first raised in his dissenting opinion in Obergefell v. Hodges (2015), the Court’s landmark marriage equality decision. Same-sex marriage should remain illegal, Alito claims, because its legalization “will be used to vilify Americans who are unwilling to assent to the new orthodoxy.” Alito feared that, once gay equality became enshrined in the law, Americans who reject that equality “risk being labeled as bigots.”

But this isn’t even a legal argument, much less an originalist one. The First Amendment’s free speech clause protects the right to call someone a bigot, even if Alito believes that the charge is unjustified. And the First Amendment’s guarantee that everyone may freely exercise their religion allows believers in liberal faiths to teach others that God abhors discrimination. The Constitution has never been understood to deny civil rights to a group of people because someone might speak disparagingly about individuals who oppose that right. If it did, constitutional rights could not exist.

All of which is a long way of saying that Alito’s conservative critics are right to label him a results-oriented judge. He has no real commitment to a principled theory of interpretation like originalism. His approach to individual cases often turns on whether the defendant is a Democrat or a Republican. And many of his opinions do not so much make legal arguments as, to borrow the words of Lionel Trilling, rely on “irritable mental gestures which seek to resemble ideas.”

Originalists need Alito more than Alito needs originalism

Originalism is a powerful tool in the hands of judges who wish to radically change how the Constitution is understood. In the American legal system, courts typically follow a principle known as stare decisis — Latin for “to stand by things decided” — which holds that judges should almost always follow the legal rules laid down by previous decisions, even if a judge does not like how that earlier case was decided.

Originalism, by contrast, posits that a judicial decision’s legitimacy flows, not from its alignment with prior precedents, but from the judge’s understanding of how the words of the Constitution were originally understood. This allows judges who wish to toss out longstanding legal rules to wrap their opinions in the trappings of America’s founding, and to paint judges who honor stare decisis as betrayers of the Constitution’s true meaning.

Historically, originalism has been used by liberals and conservatives alike to justify dismantling legal rules they despised. Franklin D. Roosevelt-appointed Justice Hugo Black, for example, wielded originalist arguments to attack precedents that undercut the New Deal, or that otherwise interfered with progressive economic legislation.

Similarly, conservatives like Alito use originalist rhetoric to undermine liberal precedents that they abhor. Alito’s opinion in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization (2022), which abolished the constitutional right to an abortion, is chock-full of originalist arguments that “until the latter part of the 20th century, such a right was entirely unknown in American law.”

But one problem with the Constitution’s early history, at least if you are a results-driven judge, is that it does not map perfectly onto anyone’s modern-day political beliefs. While originalism sometimes gives judges strong arguments that they can use to undermine previous Supreme Court decisions, a results-oriented judge like Alito will inevitably want to reach outcomes that originalist arguments cannot support.

Consider, for example, affirmative action. There is no plausible originalist argument against it. The same Congress that drafted the 14th Amendment, which the Court’s Republican majority used in 2023 to abolish race-conscious admissions programs at most universities, also enacted numerous affirmative action programs — ranging from the 1866 Freedmen’s Bureau Act to a much smaller program providing money “for the relief of freedmen or destitute colored people in the District of Columbia.”

But the dearth of originalist arguments against affirmative action has not stopped this Court from implementing its preferred racial policies. As Goldsmith notes, only three members of the current Court — Thomas, plus Justices Neil Gorsuch and Amy Coney Barrett — “regularly try to practice originalism, and they do so very unevenly.” So, when the Republican justices wish to reach a result that cannot be justified by originalist arguments, the opinion is typically authored by one of the Court’s three non-originalist Republicans.

Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard (2023), the decision ending affirmative action on college and university campuses, was authored by Chief Justice John Roberts — who declared during his 2005 confirmation hearing that “I do not have an overarching judicial philosophy that I bring to every case.” The Court’s more recent decision in Louisiana v. Callais (2026), which applied the Republican justices’ skepticism of race-conscious laws to voting rights, was authored by Alito.

Republicans, in other words, would be in rough shape if they actually filled the Supreme Court with principled originalists. The conservative legal project depends on flexible, results-focused justices like Alito, who will reach ideologically correct conclusions even when originalism calls for a more liberal result, and who will sign their name to opinions that may make their originalist colleagues quietly cringe.

Does that mean that originalist rhetoric will fade in Republican legal circles? It’s certainly possible. In So Ordered, Alito gives a mixed review of the work of Adrian Vermeule, a Catholic conservative law professor at Harvard who argues that legal conservatives should abandon originalism altogether because it constrains their ability to impose their own vision of the “common good.”

Trump, meanwhile, has had a falling out with the Federalist Society. While the Federalist Society successfully pushed Trump to appoint outspoken proponents of originalism to the bench during his first term, many of his second-term nominees’ primary qualification is their personal loyalty to Trump. At least three of his former criminal defense lawyers are now US Court of Appeals judges.

At the same time, some members of the Court’s Democratic minority appear to be taking a page from Justice Black’s playbook. Liberals who disagree with the current Court’s precedents will often find that constitutional history supports their preferred outcomes. Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, in particular, often wields originalist arguments to disparage her Republican colleagues’ approach to race.

So it’s certainly possible to imagine a future where Republicans abandon originalism in favor of Trump’s personalism or Vermeule’s unapologetically results-driven approach. Democrats, meanwhile, could become outspoken originalists because originalism gives them a vocabulary they can use to argue against applying stare decisis to the Roberts Court’s most right-wing decisions.

But this future is not inevitable. The most important lesson taught by Alito’s new book is that judges do not need to hold any principled legal views in order to identify as an “originalist.” Regardless of how partisan your rulings are, calling yourself an originalist is enough.

Update, October 21, 11:45 am ET: The Supreme Court released a brief order on October 21, which ruled against the Trump administration’s request to deny gender-affirming care to transgender prisoners. The order is two sentences long. It is temporary. And it does not explain the Court’s reasoning. So it is not clear why the Court ruled against Trump or even whether Trump will lose if this case reaches the Court again after it has be fully litigated in lower courts. Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito dissented. The article below was originally published on October 13.

On the first day of his second term, President Donald Trump issued an executive order requiring the Bureau of Prisons to “ensure that no Federal funds are expended for any medical procedure, treatment, or drug for the purpose of conforming an inmate’s appearance to that of the opposite sex.” Issued alongside a record 26 other orders that day, it was an unsurprising development, because Trump had made this issue one of the centerpieces of his 2024 campaign.

The fate of that executive order, as well as the US Bureau of Prisons’ (“BOP”) memoranda implementing the order, is now before the Supreme Court in a case called Trump v. Kingdom. And, while this case obviously has high stakes for incarcerated transgender people specifically, the Court’s resolution of this case could potentially have far greater reach — cutting off many cis and transgender people’s access to healthcare while they are incarcerated.

That’s because one of the central questions in Kingdom — though this issue is not yet before the justices — is when the Constitution requires prisons to provide medical care to incarcerated people. In Estelle v. Gamble (1976), the Supreme Court held that the Eighth Amendment’s ban on “cruel and unusual punishments” imposes on the government an “obligation to provide medical care for those whom it is punishing by incarceration.” People in prison, after all, cannot simply drive themselves to the hospital if they get sick. If the prison does not give them adequate medical care, they will suffer untreated and potentially die.

For procedural reasons, the Court is unlikely to opine on whether Estelle requires prisons to provide gender-affirming care to trans people right away. But the question of when the Eighth Amendment requires prisons to provide medical care to incarcerated people is front and center in the Kingdom case, which means the Court could potentially use Kingdom to limit all imprisoned people’s access to healthcare — or even to undercut the Constitution’s protections against cruel and unusual punishments more broadly.

Ironically, this case also arises out of a famous political blunder by pro-trans advocates. In 2019, when then-Sen. Kamala Harris was seeking her party’s 2020 presidential nomination, the ACLU circulated a questionnaire to candidates that asked if they would use presidential authority “to ensure that transgender and nonbinary people who rely on the state for medical care — including those in prison and immigration detention — will have access to comprehensive treatment associated with gender transition, including all necessary surgical care?” 

Harris responded that she would, and also said that she “pushed the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation to provide gender transition surgery to state inmates” while she was state attorney general. 

Years later, during his 2024 debate with Harris, Trump claimed that the then-vice president “wants to do transgender operations on illegal aliens that are in prison.” And not long after, his opposition to gender-affirming care for trans people in prison became a key part of his campaign.

It’s unclear why the ACLU thought it was a good idea to shine a light on this issue in 2019 because, at the time, the BOP provided gender-affirming care to people in federal prison. The ACLU — which represents the pro-trans side in the Kingdom case — now argues that transgender people in federal prison have had access to at least some forms of gender-affirming care “since at least 1992.”

Indeed, Trump’s own administration concluded in a 2018 memo that the Bureau of Prisons’ “statutory mandate to provide basic medical and mental health care” to incarcerated people obligated it to provide “pharmaceutical interventions (e.g., cross-gender hormone therapy), hair removal and surgery (if individualized assessment indicates surgical intervention is applicable)” to transgender people in prison if their doctors determined that these interventions are “medically necessary care.”

In any event, regardless of why Trump fixated on cutting off trans healthcare for people in federal prison, Kingdom is now before the Court. That means that the fate of trans people in prison — and, if the Eighth Amendment issue eventually reaches the Court, all incarcerated people — is now in the hands of a Republican Court that is often hostile to trans litigants, and that has, at times, signaled that it wants to drastically roll back the scope of the Eighth Amendment.

What are the legal issues in the Kingdom case?

At least since Estelle, the Court has held that people who are incarcerated are not also sentenced to live and die without medical care. As the Court said in Brown v. Plata (2011), “a prison that deprives prisoners of basic sustenance, including adequate medical care, is incompatible with the concept of human dignity and has no place in civilized society.”

Under Estelle and Brown, transgender people often have a right to gender-affirming care during their incarceration. As the US Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit held in Edmo v. Corizon (2019), such a person must show that they have a “serious medical need” for such care — typically by demonstrating that the care was prescribed to them by their health provider. But the Constitution does not permit prisons to deny medically necessary care to incarcerated people.

In Kingdom, the ACLU raised this Eighth Amendment argument in the lower courts, but those lower courts ruled in favor of transgender people in prison on different, much more technical legal grounds.

For over three decades, from at least 1992 to 2025, according to the ACLU’s brief to the justices, the BOP provided at least some gender-affirming care, including hormone therapy, to transgender people. This matters because, when a federal agency changes its policies, a federal law typically requires it to “examine the relevant data and articulate a satisfactory explanation for its action, including a rational connection between the facts found and the choice made.” This explanation often must explain the agency’s justification for “disregarding facts and circumstances” that justified the previous policy.

Both the ACLU and the lower courts that heard Kingdom argue that the Trump administration did not comply with this obligation when it cut off care for trans people in prison. 

Among other things, the district court that heard this case determined that the administration cited “zero evidence from its own medical or mental health care professionals to support its conclusions” against providing transgender healthcare. While the Trump administration argues that providing gender-affirming care makes prisons less safe, the district court also noted that “the government has not cited a single instance of gender-affirming care giving rise to safety concerns despite having provided such care for many years.”

Is this a persuasive legal argument against the Trump administration’s new policy? I think it is. And so did three federal judges that previously heard the Kingdom case. But the fate of trans people in prison is now in the hands of a Supreme Court that rarely rules in favor of transgender litigants, and that has a history of handing down legally incoherent opinions that are inconsistent with the Court’s own precedents, and that also deny legal rights to trans people.

The current Court’s uncertain commitment to the Eighth Amendment

Because the lower courts that heard Kingdom did not rule on the Eighth Amendment question, Kingdom should not currently give the justices an opportunity to roll back Estelle. But, in the likely event that this Court rejects the ACLU’s argument that the Trump administration did not adequately explain its new policy, the case will return to the lower courts and the Eighth Amendment issue will be fully litigated — teeing up the Eighth Amendment question for the justices to decide in the near future.

This issue could arise, moreover, at the exact moment that some justices are pushing for sweeping changes to how their Court understands the term “cruel and unusual punishments.” Indeed, at least some of the Supreme Court’s recent Eighth Amendment precedents suggest that the Republican justices want a wholesale rewrite of the Court’s previous precedents laying out what constitutes cruel and unusual punishment.

Since the mid-to-late twentieth century, the Court has held that, in Chief Justice Earl Warren’s words, the Eighth Amendment “must draw its meaning from the evolving standards of decency that mark the progress of a maturing society.” Thus, as certain forms of punishment grow more uncommon, they become more constitutionally dubious.

This “evolving standards of decency” framework is front and center in nearly every major Supreme Court decision interpreting the Eighth Amendment for the last five or six decades, including Estelle.

In Bucklew v. Precythe (2019), however, the Court’s Republican majority seemed to abandon this framework. Although decades worth of pre-Bucklew decisions established that a punishment is unconstitutional if it is considered cruel and unusual today, Bucklew suggested that a method of punishment is unconstitutional only if it “had fallen out of use” at “the time of the founding.” 

Bucklew did list some methods of punishment that fail this test, but they are things like “disemboweling” or “burning alive.”  

Thus, if taken seriously, Bucklew’s new approach to Eighth Amendment cases would dramatically expand the government’s power to impose harsh punishments. The late Justice Antonin Scalia, for example, argued that a Bucklew-like approach to the Eighth Amendment does not prohibit the government from executing most intellectually disabled offenders, and that it does not limit the government’s ability to impose excessive punishments for minor crimes.

In fairness, some of the Court’s post-Bucklew decisions are inconsistent with the framework the Court laid out in that case. So at least some of the justices who joined Bucklew may have since decided that it’s a bad idea to toss out the Court’s entire framework for Eighth Amendment cases. But Bucklew was one hell of a warning shot over the bow of the Eighth Amendment. And the mere fact that the Bucklew decision exists means that advocates for humane punishments must hold their breath any time this Court is asked whether a particular punishment is cruel and unusual.

In the worst-case scenario for people in prison, a case like Kingdom could inspire the Republican justices to overrule — or, at least, drastically limit — decisions like Estelle and Brown. That would mean that all incarcerated people, regardless of their gender identity, could lose access to medically necessary care unless the government decides to give it to them as an act of grace.

Inside Chief Justice John Roberts are two wolves.

The first wolf is a staunch conservative who spent much of his career litigating on behalf of corporate interests. This wolf looks at a series of climate change lawsuits that could potentially cost the oil industry billions of dollars or more, and recoils in horror.

The second wolf is a judge tasked with following the law wherever it leads. And that wolf seemed baffled by the oil industry’s arguments in Suncor Energy v. County Commissioners of Boulder County, a Supreme Court case where two oil companies are asking the justices to shut down dozens of climate change lawsuits.

The Court’s decision in Suncor is likely to shape the future of climate litigation in the United States. If the oil industry prevails, that will probably shut down climate change-related suits in state courts — and it may shut them down entirely because it is unclear whether federal law allows these suits to proceed in federal court. If the oil industry loses, by contrast, it could face dozens of suits in state courts across the country seeking billions of dollars or more.

And the outcome in Suncor is likely to turn on which wolf shows up to the justices’ conference on how to decide the case. Roberts, who asked the most ambiguous questions at Monday’s oral argument in Suncor, clearly wants these lawsuits to disappear. But he also appeared doubtful that the oil companies’ weak legal arguments will allow him to make that disappearing act happen.

Notably, Justice Samuel Alito, who owns stock in oil and gas companies, is recused from hearing the case. So, in the likely event that all three of the Court’s Democrats hold together against the oil companies, Roberts would split the Court 4-4 if he decides to join them. That would leave the Court unable to render a decision, and a lower court opinion, which rejected the oil companies’ bid for lawsuit immunity, would remain in effect.

That said, at least two other justices asked questions suggesting that their votes may potentially be in play. Justice Clarence Thomas, who otherwise appeared sympathetic to the oil companies, repeatedly asked whether his Court has jurisdiction to hear Suncor in the first place. Meanwhile, while most of Democratic Justice Elena Kagan’s questions seemed to favor allowing the climate change lawsuits to proceed, she did ask some questions at the end that indicated that she may be looking for a narrow reason to hand the oil companies a win.

The bottom line is that it is difficult to predict how this case will turn out, as more than one justice asked questions that suggest that their vote is, at least, in play. But the outcome is likely to hinge upon the tension within Roberts — who both signaled that he wants the oil companies to win, but who also expressed deep skepticism of their primary legal argument.

So what is Suncor actually about?

Suncor is one of many lawsuits brought by state or local governments (in this case, the plaintiff is Boulder, Colorado) who’ve sued oil companies claiming that those companies should be liable for the harms caused by climate change within those governments’ jurisdictions. In this particular case, the defendants are Exxon Mobil and Suncor, a company that operates two oil refineries in Colorado. 

The lawyer for these two companies, Kannon Shanmugam, told the justices that there are about 60 similar cases brought by municipal governments throughout the country. And, in one of his more pro-oil moments during Monday’s oral argument, Roberts predicted that if Boulder wins in the Supreme Court, there will be numerous other copycat lawsuits filed by other municipalities.

The question in Suncor is whether state courts, including Colorado’s own courts, are forbidden from hearing these sorts of climate change lawsuits.

As Roberts pointed out in one of his less pro-oil moments during Monday’s argument, “there are a lot of familiar situations where conduct outside of a state has broad effects on other states…and yet we allow the state courts in a particular state to bring litigation.” He pointed to “mass tort” suits and “complaints about operations of the internet” as two examples where state courts hear lawsuits involving harms that arise across state borders.

The oil companies’ primary argument is that suits involving air and water pollution are special. But their evidence supporting this argument is confusing and difficult to parse. 

Briefly, the oil companies point to several cases, many of which were decided more than a century ago. These cases held that, before Congress enacted the Clean Air Act in 1963, states could sometimes sue other states for cross-border pollution, even though no federal law forbade such pollution. The Supreme Court created “federal common law” permitting these suits, and the oil companies claim that this federal common law preempted any state lawsuits that covered a similar subject matter.

This federal common law, they now argue, has itself been displaced by the Clear Air Act and its partner statute, the Clean Water Act, but the principle that state suits involving air and water pollution are preempted is somehow still in effect. Although there is no provision in the text of the Constitution that supports this argument by the oil companies, those companies claim that their argument is implicit in the “structure of the Constitution.”

The oil companies’ primary legal argument is difficult to understand

If you are confused by all the arcane history and logical leaps contained in the oil companies’ argument, don’t worry. So were most of the justices. Only Justice Brett Kavanaugh, who repeatedly claimed that his Court’s precedents bar Boulder’s lawsuit, seemed to buy what the oil companies are saying without reservation. Most of the other justices expressed at least some reservations.

Justice Amy Coney Barrett, for example, argued that even under the older “federal common law” regime, states still retained some authority over environmental lawsuits, although she noted that the Court’s previous decisions do not really define the scope of that authority. Kagan pointed out that the many suits challenging climate change are similar to past litigation against tobacco and opioid manufacturers. But those suits were heard by state courts.

Many of the justices appear bothered that these lawsuits exist, but the most skeptical justices couldn’t agree on a legal theory they could use to shut them down.

It seems unlikely, in other words, that there are five votes for the oil companies’ convoluted claim that the “structure of the Constitution” somehow bars state courts from hearing climate change lawsuits. But several of the justices did appear troubled by what could happen if dozens of state courts reach conflicting judgments on who is responsible for climate change and who should receive compensation because of it. And some of these justices floated alternative theories for how to hand the oil companies a win. 

At one point, for example, Barrett floated the possibility that, if the plaintiffs lose in Suncor, they might file a new suit under the now-defunct federal common law that existed prior to the Clean Air Act. Kagan, meanwhile, suggested that perhaps the Clean Air Act could be read to preempt these suits like Suncor. According to Kagan, that law “sets up an extremely complicated scheme about how regulations of emissions should operate,” and allowing states to hear lawsuits like Suncor would “get in the way of how Congress decided to regulate greenhouse gases.”

And Roberts didn’t so much offer a legal argument in favor of the oil companies’ position as express incredulity of what would happen if those companies lose. “Presumably if you prevail,” before the Supreme Court, Roberts told Kevin Russell, the lawyer for Boulder, “the next day a municipality in every single state will file a lawsuit, copy your pleadings, and then there will be at least 50…how do you think that will work out on the ground?”

All of which is a long way of saying that the outcome in Suncor is uncertain. The oil companies led with a weak legal argument, and only Kavanaugh seemed to fully embrace that argument. Many of the justices appear bothered that these lawsuits exist, but the most skeptical justices couldn’t agree on a legal theory they could use to shut them down.

For what it is worth, the oil companies actually do make a strong policy argument that it is a bad idea to allow state courts to do so. As they argue, climate change is a global problem caused by many polluters (and companies like Exxon that supply the oil burned by polluters) throughout the world. It could be impossible to determine which specific companies caused the specific problems caused by climate change in Boulder, Colorado. And even if this obstacle can be overcome, there are many thorny questions about which state’s law should apply when pollution from one state crosses over into another, not to mention the difficult diplomatic issues that could arise if a state court orders a foreign company to pay a large sum of money.

But under our Constitution, the proper solution if the oil companies want federal law to preempt state court suits like Suncor is that they can lobby Congress, and Congress could then draft a statute that balances these companies’ interest in avoiding many conflicting legal decisions with the interests of plaintiffs like Boulder who say they are experiencing real harms from climate change. Congress has the power, for example, to combine all of these state lawsuits into one grand federal lawsuit, where a single proceeding could determine how to portion out the costs of climate change to various energy companies, and how to divide whatever these companies are ordered to pay among the various plaintiffs.

But that solution would undoubtedly require compromises that companies like Exxon will not like. So, instead, they’ve asked the Supreme Court to give them the legal regime that they want, despite the fact that they could not articulate a persuasive legal argument for that outcome. It remains to be seen whether this Court will give the oil companies a win anyway.

The Supreme Court ruled on Friday that Missouri may not use a newly drawn Republican gerrymander during the 2026 congressional election. This decision should surprise no one because, about two weeks ago, the Supreme Court ruled that Missouri may not use a newly drawn Republican gerrymander during the 2026 congressional election.

That second decision, moreover, followed an even earlier one by Justice Brett Kavanaugh, which ruled that Missouri may not use a newly drawn Republican gerrymander during the 2026 congressional election. In that matter, Kavanaugh acted alone under a process that allows a single justice to dispose of a case — a process that the justices rarely invoke unless they view a case as so one-sided that there’s no need to formally refer it to their colleagues.

So, for those keeping track at home, that’s three times that the Supreme Court needed to decide the same exact question in less than three weeks. 

This happened because of an extraordinary round of defiance by Republican judges in the lower courts. Just minutes after Kavanaugh determined (for the first time) that Missouri cannot use the Republican gerrymander, a Trump-appointed judge in Missouri tried to countermand Kavanaugh’s decision. Then, after the full Court reaffirmed Kavanaugh’s decision, a panel of three Republican appellate judges again tried to reinstate the new maps that the Supreme Court had already twice rejected.

These judges’ behavior is disturbing. But it is also potentially a window into the future of the Supreme Court — at least if Republicans keep winning elections that allow them to fill seats on the federal judiciary.

The lower federal courts are gravid with ambitious Republican judges who reach conclusions that are either too extreme or too partisan for the current Supreme Court — such as the ones they reached in this case. These courts are also full of plausible candidates for a Supreme Court nomination who have shown unwavering loyalty to Trump, the MAGA movement, or the Republican Party — regardless of whether there are legal arguments supporting the GOP’s preferred outcomes.

Indeed, one lower court, the US Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit, now functions as a kind of think tank for MAGA legal theories that less partisan judges would scoff at in disgust. This is the same court, for example, that attempted to pull the abortion medication mifepristone from the market. It’s a court that declares entire federal agencies unconstitutional. Or that orders thousands of lawfully cast ballots thrown in the trash after the Republican Party asks them to do so. The Fifth Circuit is also frequently reversed from the left by the Supreme Court.

That means that, if Republicans hold onto the Senate after the upcoming 2026 midterm elections, Trump will be able to easily identify and confirm Supreme Court nominees who make Justice Samuel Alito, the most partisan member of the current Court, look like an icon of disinterested fairness. And many of these ultra-partisan judges are young enough that they will remain viable Supreme Court candidates in future Republican administrations.

Eliminating judicial filibusters transformed who gets nominated to federal judgeships

About 13 years ago, the Senate fundamentally changed how federal judges are confirmed. Prior to late 2013, senators in the minority party could use the filibuster to block any judicial nominee who couldn’t find 60 senators who would support their confirmation. But the Senate voted in November of 2013 to allow judges to be confirmed by a simple majority vote.

Both parties have their own narratives blaming the other for this development. Republicans often claim that Democrats’ decision to filibuster a handful of President George W. Bush’s lower court nominees — before the second Bush administration, judicial filibusters were rare — was a major escalation in the partisan war over judicial confirmations. Democrats, meanwhile, blame Republicans for a significant uptick in judicial filibusters under President Barack Obama.

In any event, Senate Democrats eventually decided to allow judges to be confirmed by a majority vote after Republicans filibustered all of Obama’s nominees to three vacant seats on the powerful US Court of Appeals for the DC Circuit. That broke a logjam that otherwise would have prevented Obama from filling any of these seats, but it also created a new world where lawyers who wished to become federal judges or justices no longer needed to worry about winning votes from senators in the other party.

This new world was apparent immediately after Trump took office the first time in 2017. There was a vacant seat on the Supreme Court, largely because Senate Republicans had held it open for a year until Trump could fill it. 

During his first term, Trump largely delegated the task of picking judges to the Federalist Society, a kind of bar association for right-wing lawyers. And the Federalist Society was obsessively focused on weakening the power of federal agencies to regulate private business. 

Trump’s eventual nominee for the open seat, now-Justice Neil Gorsuch, secured his new job by advertising his eagerness to advance the conservative legal movement’s top priority. Shortly before his nomination, Gorsuch wrote a pair of opinions laying out his plan to make federal agencies subservient to the judges. And one of these opinions, according to the journalist David Kaplan, “proved decisive in clinching” the nomination for Gorsuch.

In the pre-2013 world, judges with Supreme Court ambitions often avoided making their most controversial views public out of fear that doing so would antagonize other-party senators who they might need to support their confirmation to a higher court. In 2011, for example, Kavanaugh, then a judge, was assigned to a panel considering the constitutionality of Obamacare. But he dodged the key issue in the case, instead claiming that he lacked jurisdiction to rule on whether Obamacare is lawful.

After Gorsuch’s anti-regulatory opinions scored him a Supreme Court seat, however, lower court judges took notice. And the most ambitious Republican judges started looking for opportunities to prove their conservative bona fides to the Trump White House. Before 2017, for example, Kavanaugh had avoided taking a public position on abortion. Months after Gorsuch’s confirmation, however, Kavanaugh gave a speech to a conservative think tank signaling that he would be a vote to overrule Roe v. Wade if he were given a promotion.

The confirmation process, in other words, now favors candidates who audition for judicial jobs by demonstrating that they are dependable votes on issues that drive their political party. This is especially true for Republican judicial candidates, because the Trump White House has shown such favor toward candidates who are personally loyal to Trump. But Democrats who want a judicial appointment also have similar incentives. 

Gorsuch got his seat because Republicans, who controlled the Senate in 2016 when Justice Antonin Scalia’s death opened a vacancy on the Supreme Court, refused to confirm anyone that Obama nominated to fill this seat. It now appears, in other words, that no Democrat can get confirmed to the Supreme Court unless their party controls the Senate. So Democrats with Supreme Court ambitions also have no incentive to make nice with Republicans.

The way to get a high-powered judgeship is to convince your own political party that you will use that judgeship to advance its goals.

Republican judges are openly auditioning for the Supreme Court

Gorsuch and Kavanaugh are hardly the only judges who started advertising their ideological and partisan loyalty in an apparent effort to get ahead. The lower courts are now full of judges who write extreme and often needlessly provocative opinions that seem designed to catch the eye of someone in the White House.

The Ninth Circuit’s Lawrence VanDyke, for example, is a particularly vulgar judge who was reportedly on Trump’s short list for the Supreme Court during his first term. He’s best known for opinions mocking his colleagues and left-leaning litigants in a tone more often found on MAGA podcasts than in judicial opinions. VanDyke began an opinion about transgender women last March, for example, with the line “this is a case about swinging dicks.”

Or consider Andrew Oldham, a Fifth Circuit judge known for his opinions undercutting the First Amendment, attacking voting by mail, and standing up for vaping companies’ ability to sell bubblegum-flavored nicotine products — among other things. Oldham’s chambers is a factory pumping out decisions that even cause many of the Supreme Court’s Republicans to cringe — his vaping opinion was tossed out in a unanimous decision by Alito — but that also align perfectly with the Trump administration’s preferred policy outcomes.

The federal judiciary has become a partisan institution. And that means that the future of the courts is on the ballot every two years.

Or take Judge James Ho, Oldham’s colleague on the Fifth Circuit, who is also known for his trolly opinions attacking liberal shibboleths. Rather than attempt to summarize Ho’s jurisprudence, I will simply refer readers to my 2023 profile of him: “The edgelord of the federal judiciary.”

I could name more judges who behave similarly — I bring up these three largely because they’ve been discussed in the national media as potential Supreme Court candidates if Trump gets to appoint another justice. But there’s no need to belabor the point. The bottom line is that, if a vacancy does open up on the Supreme Court, Trump will have no shortage of judges who appear to have spent their judicial careers looking for opportunities to demonstrate just how eager they are to advance a MAGA agenda, even when that means moving several steps to the right of a Supreme Court dominated by conservative Republicans.

Indeed, the Missouri incident reveals just how widespread these sorts of judicial partisans are within the lower courts. None of the Republican judges who tried to reinstate the Missouri gerrymander after it was rejected by the Supreme Court, for example, have received the same attention that VanDyke, Oldham, and Ho have received as possible Supreme Court candidates. One of them, Judge James Loken, is an 86-year-old George H.W. Bush nominee with no prospects whatsoever of getting promoted.

But the culture in the lower courts has grown so open to partisan decisionmaking that he, along with two younger colleagues, literally tried to give the Republican Party an extra US House seat after the Supreme Court had told them not to do it twice.

Which isn’t to say that every Republican federal judge, or even every Trump appointee, is a partisan hack. One of the most pointed opinions rejecting Trump’s attempt to overthrow former President Joe Biden’s victory in the 2020 election, for example, was authored by Judge Stephanos Bibas, a Trump appointee. But, while Bibas’s opinion in Donald J. Trump for President v. Secretary (2020) was excellent, it also almost certainly guaranteed that he will never become a justice. And it absolutely guaranteed that he will never be nominated by Trump.

There’s no good solution to this problem

The biggest reason why America is stuck in this mess is that its two major parties have polarized on the proper role of judges. Even setting aside the youngest generation of hyperpartisan judges, it’s long been the case that any Republican nominated to the Supreme Court will be a reliable vote against causes like abortion rights, affirmative action, and the Voting Rights Act, and an equally reliable vote in favor of the “unitary executive” and for religious conservatives who seek exemptions from state and federal laws. Any Democrat, meanwhile, will take the opposite position on these, and a whole array of other issues where the two parties have consistent positions.

This is why restoring the old filibuster rules that existed prior to 2013 will not succeed in moderating the judiciary. If anything, allowing the minority party to filibuster judges again would mean that no one would ever be confirmed to the Supreme Court, because any nominee who is acceptable to one party would be radioactive in the other party.

Ultimately, the only effective way to keep people like Oldham, Ho, or VanDyke off the Supreme Court is to elect senators and presidents who do not want them on the Supreme Court. The federal judiciary has become a partisan institution. And that means that the future of the courts is on the ballot every two years.

In a 2016 opinion, authored one year before he became a Supreme Court justice, then-Judge Neil Gorsuch warned against lawyers who tempt judges to reach conclusions that aren’t supported by the Constitution’s text. “Ours is the job of interpreting the Constitution,” the future justice wrote. “And that document isn’t some inkblot on which litigants may project their hopes and dreams for a new and perfected tort law, but a carefully drafted text judges are charged with applying according to its original public meaning.”

Gorsuch might have gazed into a crystal ball when he wrote this line, because it could have been written with a case that is now before Gorsuch’s new Court — Suncor Energy v. County Commissioners of Boulder County — in mind. 

In Suncor, city and county officials in Boulder, Colorado sued the oil behemoth Exxon Mobil, along with a company named Suncor that operates two oil refineries in Colorado. They sued in Colorado state court, seeking, in their own words, to require the two companies “to share a portion of the costs [Boulder] taxpayers face in coping with a climate altered” by the oil industry.

That alone makes Suncor, which the justices will hear on October 5, a hugely important case, because it could be the first of many lawsuits ordering oil companies to compensate the public for the costs of climate change. But the stakes in this case are even higher because of the audacity of the oil companies’ argument to the justices. 

Exxon and Suncor claim that their clients should be immune from this suit, not because any particular provision of the Constitution grants them immunity, but because state courts are forbidden from hearing climate change lawsuits under something called the “structure of the Constitution.” The oil companies claim that there’s a rule against many state environmental suits buried somewhere in this “structure,” even though it cannot be found in the Constitution’s text. 

This argument exists in an entirely different universe than the Supreme Court’s precedents governing environmental suits, which explicitly permit — and even sometimes require — state courts to hear lawsuits alleging that a company in another state or country caused pollution that migrated across state or international lines.

But there’s a bigger issue at stake here, too. If you take seriously these justices’ pledged allegiance to textualism — and its close cousin, originalism, which, in Justice Amy Coney Barrett’s words, claims that “constitutional text means what it did at the time it was ratified and that this original public meaning is authoritative” — then Suncor should be an easy case. The oil companies’ failure to even articulate an argument rooted in constitutional text should be disqualifying.

But Exxon and Suncor clearly believe they can win the case while thumbing their nose at many of the justices’ purported allegiance to textualism and originalism. It’s not hard to guess why they would believe this. Increasingly, the same justices who evangelize for textualism and originalism ignore the Constitution’s text when necessary to achieve their political goals. 

There is no textual basis, for example, for the Republican justices’ claim that President Donald Trump may use the powers of the presidency to commit crimes. Similarly, the Court’s Republican majority recently invented something called the “major questions doctrine,” which allows the justices to veto federal regulations that they deem too ambitious, even though the full Court has never even attempted to justify this doctrine by citing the text of the Constitution or any federal statute.

Now, Suncor will be a test of just how far they will go, with big ramifications not just for climate lawsuits, but potentially for any lawsuit that seeks to declare a state or federal law unconstitutional..

What are the actual legal issues in Suncor?

Many of Boulder’s claims against the oil companies arise out of a tort law theory known as “nuisance,” which often allows someone who uses their property in a way that harms someone else to be sued. If your neighbor lights a trash fire in their yard that fills your house with noxious fumes, they have created a nuisance and you may have a viable lawsuit against them.

Often, these nuisance suits involve major environmental claims, and they also often involve claims that cross state lines or even international borders. In Ohio v. Wyandotte Chemicals (1971), for example, the state of Ohio sued chemical companies located in Michigan and Canada, claiming that they “each dumped mercury into streams whose courses ultimately reach Lake Erie,” thus poisoning Ohio’s waters. The US Supreme Court ruled that Ohio’s state courts should hear this lawsuit.

In Suncor, however, the oil companies claim that lawsuits arising out of climate change are special, and may not be heard by any state’s courts. Broadly speaking, these oil companies raise two arguments, one of which is easily refuted by quoting a statute; the other is their cockamamie claim that the “structure of the Constitution” prevents state courts from hearing Boulder’s lawsuit.

One of the oil companies’ claims is that Boulder’s lawsuit is “preempted” by the federal Clean Air Act. On the surface, this argument is at least plausible, as Congress does have the power to enact federal laws that effectively nullify a state law. The Constitution states that federal laws are “the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding.” 

But the oil companies’ claim that the Clean Air Act preempts climate change lawsuits in state courts is weak. That law states that “air pollution control at its source is the primary responsibility of States and local governments.” And it states that, at least with respect to stationary polluters like factories, power plants, or Suncor’s refineries, “nothing in this chapter shall preclude or deny the right of” states to adopt or enforce air pollution standards or laws, unless the state’s rule is less stringent than what federal law requires. (The Clean Air Act does sometimes preempt state suits involving pollution caused by mobile sources, such as airplanes.)

So it’s pretty clear that the Clean Air Act does not bar state nuisance suits such as Suncor.

Which brings us to the oil companies’ claim that the Constitution’s “structure” somehow bars this suit. Their brief makes the extraordinary claim that “the Court has long held that interstate pollution is an inherently federal area in which state law cannot govern,” a claim that is easily repudiated by the Wyandotte Chemicals decision, among others.

In the same brief, the oil companies claim that the structural principle that only federal courts can hear climate change lawsuits can somehow be derived from an unusual approach to environmental lawsuits that the Court invented more than 100 years ago, and that it abandoned many decades ago.

In Missouri v. Illinois (1906), the Supreme Court heard a claim that Chicago, Illinois was dumping sewage in a river that eventually flowed into Missouri. Despite the fact that there was no federal law governing water pollution at the time, the Court apparently concluded that there should be some process that states can use to sue other states that do what Illinois was accused of doing. 

The Court’s opinion in Missouri weighed the evidence in the case before ruling in Illinois’s favor. So Missouri seemed to suggest that federal courts have some power to hear environmental suits even in the absence of an act of Congress permitting them to do so.

Based on this and similar older cases that reached similar conclusions, the oil companies claim that Missouri created a “federal common law” that governed interstate environmental lawsuits in the absence of a federal statute. And they also argue that this judicially created “common law” preempted certain state environmental lawsuits. They also argue that this preemption remains in place even though federal laws such as the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act have now displaced this federal common law.

Needless to say, that’s a lot of logical leaps. The oil companies’ argument is that an extra-statutory workaround that existed many decades ago still preempts state environmental lawsuits, even though that workaround no longer exists and has been replaced by an act of Congress. They also claim that this rule against state environmental suits can be found somewhere in the “structure” of the Constitution, despite the fact that it is nowhere in the Constitution’s text.

Among other things, this confusing argument is inconsistent with a case the Supreme Court decided as recently as April. As the Court said in Hencely v. Fluor Corp. (2026), “there is no federal pre-emption in vacuo,” a Latin term meaning “in isolation,” “without a constitutional text or a federal statute to assert it.”

So the oil companies’ claim that the “structure of the Constitution,” whatever the hell that means, somehow precludes climate change lawsuits in state courts should be easily dismissed. Further, as the Court said in Hencely, a litigant making a constitutional preemption claim must cite the text of the Constitution — and the oil companies have not done that here. 

The oil companies’ brief actually makes a pretty good policy argument for only allowing federal courts to hear climate change lawsuits

Setting aside the oil companies’ risible legal arguments, they actually make a decent argument that, as a matter of policy, it would be best if climate change cases were heard in one grand federal lawsuit rather than dozens of piecemeal suits brought in state courts.

Many different fossil fuel companies in both the United States and abroad have contributed to climate change. It may be impossible to determine which company is specifically responsible for any climate change-related problems that arise in Boulder, Colorado. And, because some of the responsibility for climate change falls on foreign actors, allowing a state court to adjudicate climate change-related suits raises difficult questions of international diplomacy. 

Additionally, the fact that the Clean Air Act treats pollution from stationary and mobile sources differently complicates this case even further. How is a court supposed to determine to what extent climate change in Boulder was caused by pollution emitted from oil refineries or power plants, rather than cars or airplanes?

But these are arguments that the oil companies should present to Congress, not the Supreme Court. It is Congress’s job to decide when to preempt state law. And there’s no question that Congress could pass a law shutting down lawsuits like Suncor, while simultaneously creating a federal process that will allow Americans who are injured by climate change to seek compensation in federal court.

Passing a federal law, however, requires compromise. It requires lawmakers to weigh the concerns of voters who don’t want the same outcome that Exxon wants. And, especially given the likely outcome of the 2026 midterms, it would require the oil companies to work with Democrats to come up with a legal framework that would actually earn some bipartisan support.

Instead, the oil companies want to bypass all that by getting a Republican Supreme Court to declare lawsuits like Suncor unconstitutional. And they are apparently so confident that they can convince these justices to do so that they barely even managed to articulate a legal argument for their position.

If you felt a gust of wind late on Friday, it came from hundreds of immigration lawyers who simultaneously exhaled after the Supreme Court announced it would not hear a case known as Genalo v. Black. That case asked whether certain immigrants could be held in immigration detention facilities indefinitely without ever receiving a bond hearing or other opportunity to seek temporary release. And if the Court had decided this case, its recent immigration decisions suggest that most of the justices may have blessed indefinite detention.

The Black case originally concerned two lawful permanent residents of the United States who were arrested during the first Trump administration because of crimes the two men committed years before, and that they had already served prison sentences for committing. 

These immigrants were arrested because of a federal law, which provides that the federal government “shall take into custody” noncitizens who committed certain crimes or who are accused of involvement with terrorism so that the government may begin deportation proceedings against these individuals. This law does not allow these noncitizens to challenge their detention while their deportation case is pending. (Notably, the relevant federal law sometimes allows an immigrant to be detained without hearing if they are merely suspected of terrorism, which means the person could be detained indefinitely based on false allegations.)

Both men sued, claiming that it is unconstitutional to hold them for too long without some kind of hearing to determine whether they should be released after paying a bond. And a federal appeals court agreed, holding that “due process bars the Executive from detaining such individuals for an unreasonably prolonged period…without a bond hearing.” 

Thus, Black was more than just another flash point in America’s debates over immigration. It was a test of one of the most fundamental protections that a liberal society provides to its residents — the right not to be locked up, forever, without any way to challenge the basis of that detention. 

Now that the Supreme Court has removed the Black case from its own docket, this appeals court decision will not be formally repudiated by the Supreme Court. So immigrants who are detained indefinitely may still ask courts to give them a bond hearing — at least for now.

Still, the Court’s nondecision in Black leaves a cloud of uncertainty hanging over similarly situated immigrants. The Trump administration will no doubt continue to detain people for prolonged periods of time (most of whom won’t be able to obtain a gubernatorial pardon, like one of the men was in this case). And the question of whether these immigrants can be detained forever will remain unresolved until the Supreme Court takes up another case involving a similarly situated immigrant.

Why the case was dismissed 

Both men at the heart of the Black case spent significant amounts of time in immigration detention facilities years after serving sentences for crimes. One, a Jamaican citizen named Carol Williams Black, spent seven months in an immigration detention facility. The other, Keisy Guerrero Mariano, spent 21 months in detention without a bond hearing or other procedure that could allow him to seek release while his case was pending. These 21 months in immigration detention more than doubled the time he spent in New York state prison for his actual crime — he pled guilty to second-degree assault after he got into a fight outside a New York City restaurant.

But there is no longer a legal dispute about what should happen to either man — in the words of the law, both cases are now moot. Black has since been released from detention and says that he “made the difficult decision to leave the United States” and has no intention to return. And the Trump administration’s case against Guerrero Mariano went up in smoke in late August, after New York Gov. Kathy Hochul gave him a pardon — thus wiping away the conviction that allowed the Trump administration to detain Guerrero Mariano in the first place.

Guerrero Mariano is one of six individuals that Hochul pardoned at the time. In her official announcement, she said that she did so because these six people “have demonstrated remorse, exemplified rehabilitation and displayed a commitment to improving themselves and their communities.”

There’s also a great deal of evidence indicating that Hochul pardoned Guerrero Mariano in order to resolve his immigration case — and potentially keep the Supreme Court from deciding Black. Among other things, the actual pardon document signed by Hochul specifically states that it will grant Guerrero Mariano “relief from removal.” Guerrero Mariano’s lawyers had sought this pardon, and Hochul granted it mere days before his brief was due in the Supreme Court. 

That brief’s very first sentence, moreover, states that Hochul “granted Respondent Keisy G.M. a full and unconditional pardon of the state criminal conviction that is the sole basis for his removal,” and it urges the justices to dismiss the case as moot.

Last Thursday, Trump’s Justice Department joined a stipulation calling for the justices to dismiss the case against Guerrero Mariano, most likely because even they recognized that a lawful permanent resident with no conviction may not be detained. The Court granted that request on Friday.

So that’s good news for Guerrero Mariano, who presumably will now be able to live freely in the United States. 

Guerrero Mariano’s lawyers were right to fear a trip to the Supreme Court

It’s possible that the Supreme Court might have agreed with the lower court’s holding that immigrants who are detained for an “unreasonably prolonged period” have a constitutional right to a bond hearing — this Court has, on rare occasions, broken with the Trump administration in immigration cases. But those decisions are few and far between.

Among other things, this Court has allowed President Donald Trump to deport immigrants back to war zones. The Court’s Republican majority effectively nullified the Convention Against Torture, a treaty that is supposed to protect immigrants from being deported to nations where they will be tortured. The Court also blessed so-called Kavanaugh stops, which permit suspected immigrants to be racially profiled so long as their race or ethnicity isn’t the sole reason why they are stopped by law enforcement.

Moreover, while the US Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit’s decision in Black — the one holding that immigrants like Guerrero Mariano may receive a bond hearing if their detention is “unreasonably prolonged” — reached a plausible legal conclusion, this conclusion was not a slam dunk under the Supreme Court’s previous precedents. And that means that the justices could have easily come up with a reason to reverse that decision if they wanted.

On the one hand, the Court said in Zadvydas v. Davis (2001) that “a statute permitting indefinite detention of an alien would raise a serious constitutional problem.” On the other hand, the Court held in Demore v. Kim (2003) that an immigrant similarly situated to Guerrero Mariano may “be detained for the brief period necessary for their removal proceedings.” 

Read together, these decisions suggest that the government does have some power to detain people while their immigration case is pending. While Zadvydas indicates that this detention can go on for too long, the Court has never established when an immigrant’s detention has stretched too long. So that means that the justices would have a fair amount of leeway to allow prolonged detentions without defying any of their previous precedents.

So it’s clear why everyone from Guerrero Mariano’s lawyers to Hochul seemed concerned about what would happen if the Court decided this case. In the worst-case scenario for immigrants, Trump could have gained the power to lock many people up for years without any meaningful way to challenge their detention. In the best case, the Supreme Court may have reached the same conclusion as the Second Circuit — but even that decision was vague about how long an immigrant must be detained before they must receive a bond hearing.

In any event, the bottom line is that the Court’s decision to dismiss the Black case is good news for Guerrero Mariano. But that dismissal merely delays a reckoning for other immigrants who face prolonged detention while their case is pending.