Judges are people.
That sounds almost absurdly obvious, yet it is one of those truths we seem determined to forget. We often speak of courts as though they exist somewhere above ordinary human nature, populated by minds somehow insulated from the ambitions, loyalties, vanities, fears, and incentives that shape everyone else.
They are not.
Judges carry every human strength and every human weakness into the courtroom. They are susceptible to pride, to confirmation bias, to personal conviction, to institutional pressure, and to the quiet but persistent desire for recognition that accompanies almost every successful career.
Supreme Court justices occupy a particularly fascinating place in this landscape.
No one simply appears on the highest court of a nation.
They do not descend from the heavens fully formed, carrying tablets of perfect impartiality.
They arrive there by climbing.
Like every prestigious profession, the law possesses its own ladder. It is steep, crowded, intensely competitive, and occupied by thousands of exceptionally intelligent individuals, all convinced that they possess the talent to reach the summit.
Very few do.
Every rung climbed leaves countless equally ambitious competitors below.
That reality deserves acknowledgement.
Reaching the top of such a profession almost certainly requires extraordinary ability. It also requires resilience, political awareness, strategic judgment, and an exceptional capacity to navigate institutions whose internal dynamics are every bit as complex as those of politics or business.
None of that makes someone corrupt.
Neither does it make them detached from ordinary human incentives.
Quite the opposite.
The higher one climbs, the more relationships matter.
Mentors matter.
Patrons matter.
Professional networks matter.
Political support matters.
Recommendations matter.
Entire careers are built upon alliances, reputations, and the confidence of those already occupying positions of influence. Very few people ascend entirely under their own power. Almost everyone receives assistance somewhere along the journey.
That is simply how institutions function.
The uncomfortable question arises only afterward.
What obligations, if any, accompany that assistance?
Most people prefer imagining that those reaching the highest judicial offices suddenly become entirely detached from the networks that shaped their careers—that appointment instantly transforms ambition into perfect neutrality.
I find that assumption difficult to accept.
Human beings do not suddenly cease being human because they have acquired a more prestigious title.
They remain products of their experiences, loyalties, professional environments, and intellectual communities.
That observation applies regardless of ideological orientation.
Whether one agrees with the opinions of Justice Elena Kagan or profoundly disagrees with them is ultimately secondary. My own suspicion is that many positions adopted by public figures at that level cannot always be understood purely as isolated personal convictions. They may also reflect the broader legal, institutional, political, and professional ecosystems through which those individuals advanced.
That is not necessarily evidence of conspiracy.
It may simply be evidence of incentives.
Every ladder has its price.
Sometimes that price is measured in years of work.
Sometimes it is measured in compromises.
Sometimes it is measured in loyalties that survive long after the climb has ended.
The popular image of the completely disinterested public servant, standing serenely above ambition and untouched by the forces that shape every other human career, is undoubtedly comforting.
It is also, in my view, implausible.
Institutions are populated by people.
People possess ambitions.
Ambition creates incentives.
And incentives have an extraordinary habit of following even the most accomplished individuals all the way to the summit.
https://www.theblaze.com/columns/opinion/elena-kagan-gave-bogus-science-a-blind-endorsement