Something subtle but seismic is happening in America. Decision by decision, the Supreme Court has been giving the presidency a little more room to stretch — a little more discretion, a little less accountability. Not enough to call it a dictatorship, at least not yet. But enough to feel the ground shifting under the idea of checks and balances.
The founders imagined three branches of government that would restrain each other — an ongoing argument in the name of liberty. Lately, that argument feels one-sided. When the Court broadens presidential immunity, curtails the power of federal agencies, or dismisses congressional oversight as partisan noise, it isn’t just changing the law — it’s changing the architecture of democracy itself.
Once a president can classify almost anything as an “official act,” the line between authority and abuse starts to fade. What happens when the law becomes whatever the president says it is? Every decision that enlarges executive power sets a precedent, a tool waiting for the next occupant of the Oval Office — whoever that might be.
Now imagine that same president, emboldened by years of judicial indulgence, deciding that even the Supreme Court is an obstacle, dissolves it with an executive order. He claims the Court is “politicized” or “inefficient,” and proposes to “modernize” it. Congress hesitates, then caves. New justices appear — not for their wisdom, but for their loyalty. The old balance is gone, replaced by a chamber of legal mirrors where every reflection nods in agreement.
It would all look perfectly legal. The paperwork would be immaculate, the speeches patriotic. “Judicial reform,” they’d call it. And yet, beneath the slogans, the final safeguard of constitutional government would quietly vanish. The Court that once said “no” would now say “yes,” and the Constitution would survive only as decoration.
That’s how democracies die in daylight — not from tanks in the street, but from signatures on official stationery. From rulings that sound reasonable until you read what they replace. From citizens too weary or distracted to notice when the law becomes a performance.
When the Court crowns the presidency, and the president crowns himself, the republic doesn’t explode — it evaporates. And by the time we realize that the word unconstitutional has lost its meaning, we may also realize it’s too late to bring it back.
Fat Tina