Restoring Constitutional Balance: Judicial Authority and Democratic Limits

The United States Constitution was designed around a simple but powerful idea: three co-equal branches of government, each checking the others so that no single institution could dominate public life. The executive would enforce the law, Congress would write it, and the courts would interpret it. That balance—fragile by design—has sustained the republic for more than two centuries.

Today, however, that equilibrium is under real strain.

A growing body of judicial doctrine, most notably the Major Questions Doctrine (MQD), has elevated the judiciary from interpreter to final policymaker in disputes involving economic, regulatory, and national policy. The result is a structural imbalance in which unelected judges exercise veto power over elected branches—without any democratic override. Whether one applauds or opposes the outcomes of particular rulings, the constitutional implications deserve serious scrutiny.

This is not a partisan argument. It is an institutional one.

These Constitutionally established three co-equal branches of government — legislative, executive, and judicial — were each designed to check the others. The structure was deliberate. Power was to be divided not merely to slow government, but to prevent dominance by any single institution.

Recent Supreme Court decisions suggest that balance is under increasing strain.

On February 20, 2026, in a 6–3 decision in Learning Resources, Inc. v. Trump (consolidated with Trump v. V.O.S. Selections, Inc.), the Supreme Court invalidated presidential tariffs imposed under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA). Chief Justice Roberts announced the judgment of the Court and authored the principal opinion, which was joined in full on the core statutory holding by Justices Sotomayor, Kagan, Gorsuch, Barrett, and Jackson (though joins varied across sections, with some partial concurrences).

The Court held plainly: “IEEPA does not authorize the President to impose tariffs.”

While IEEPA permits the President to “regulate… importation” during declared national emergencies, the majority concluded that tariffs are taxes or duties — powers constitutionally reserved to Congress under Article I. Regulation, the Court emphasized, is not taxation.

The opinion leaned heavily on statutory text and historical practice. It did not formally adopt the “Major Questions Doctrine” as the exclusive basis in every section, but several justices—including Roberts in the principal opinion, and Gorsuch and Barrett in concurrences—employed closely associated reasoning: where executive action carries vast economic and political significance, courts require unmistakably clear congressional authorization. Such clarity, the majority found, was absent here.

The ruling’s practical effect was to invalidate sweeping tariff measures that had major economic consequences. Its structural effect was to reaffirm the judiciary’s authority to determine when Congress has delegated power clearly enough.

From Judicial Review to Judicial Supremacy

The roots of this issue stretch back to the early 19th century. Judicial review—the power of courts to invalidate laws they find unconstitutional—was established in Marbury v. Madison (1803). While now treated as foundational, that authority does not appear explicitly in the Constitution’s text. It was inferred, accepted, and ultimately normalized.

For much of American history, courts exercised this power cautiously, mindful of their limited democratic legitimacy. But over time, judicial review evolved from a shield against unconstitutional laws into a broader gatekeeping function over policy itself.

The Major Questions Doctrine represents the latest—and most consequential—stage in that evolution, requiring unmistakably clear congressional authorization before agencies or the executive can resolve questions of vast economic or political significance. 

The Institutional Pattern

Two landmark cases—often cited as evidence of ideological inconsistency—actually reveal a deeper institutional pattern.

In NFIB v. Sebelius (2012), the Court upheld the Affordable Care Act’s individual mandate by recharacterizing a statutory “penalty” as a tax. While critics called this judicial gymnastics, the underlying logic was deferential: Congress had acted, and the Court strained to preserve that action under Congress’s taxing authority.

Fast-forward to February 20, 2026, when the Supreme Court, in a 6–3 decision in Learning Resources, Inc. v. Trump, invalidated presidential tariffs imposed under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA). The majority held that while IEEPA permits the President to “regulate… importation” during declared emergencies, it does not authorize tariffs—forms of taxation constitutionally reserved to Congress. Several justices applied reasoning akin to the Major Questions Doctrine, requiring unmistakable congressional authorization for actions of such sweeping economic consequence.

The outcomes differed—one upheld, one struck down—but the through-line remains clear: the Court asserts itself as the final arbiter of congressional delegation boundaries.

What has changed since 2012 is not ideology, but confidence. MQD gives courts a ready-made mechanism to invalidate executive action without rewriting statutes—and without democratic accountability.

What the Major Questions Doctrine Does

In its modern form, formalized in West Virginia v. EPA (2022), the Major Questions Doctrine holds that when an executive agency claims authority over an issue of “vast economic or political significance,” courts should require clear and explicit authorization from Congress. Absent that clarity, the action is struck down.

On its face, this sounds reasonable. Congress, after all, holds legislative power. But the doctrine introduces several profound problems:

• “Major” is undefined. Judges decide which policies qualify.
• The doctrine is not textual. It appears nowhere in the Constitution.
• It is asymmetrical in practice. It overwhelmingly constrains executive and agency action.
• There is no override. Once applied, MQD decisions are effectively final.

In effect, the judiciary has created a filter on political authority, allowing it to determine not only what the law says, but when Congress has spoken clearly enough to permit action.

The Major Questions Doctrine: Protection or Expansion?

Proponents argue MQD protects congressional primacy and prevents agencies from discovering sweeping powers in vague statutes. In that view, the doctrine safeguards democracy by forcing elected legislators to speak clearly when authorizing transformative policy.

Critics respond that MQD substitutes judicial judgment for legislative intent. By deciding what qualifies as “major” and what level of clarity is sufficient, courts impose a judge-made constraint that no elected body approved.

The concern is not motive, but structure. A doctrine that allows courts to define the limits of delegation—without reciprocal checks—reshapes constitutional balance regardless of intent.

The Democratic Gap

The Constitution provides checks on every branch—except one.

• Presidents can veto legislation, but Congress can override.
• Congress controls spending and impeachment.
• The judiciary, by contrast, faces no direct democratic correction when it invents or expands doctrines like MQD.

In an era of polarization, constitutional amendments are functionally unattainable. Clarifying legislation often stalls. The result is a one-way ratchet: judicial authority expands while democratic correction mechanisms atrophy.

This produces a feedback loop. Congressional dysfunction pushes presidents to act through agencies. Courts strike those actions down. Power flows back to Congress—but Congress remains dysfunctional. Over time, the judiciary becomes the most powerful branch not by ambition, but by default.

That is not what the framers intended.

Jurisdiction Stripping: A Constitutional Safety Valve

The Constitution does provide Congress with one underused but legitimate tool: jurisdiction stripping. Under Article III, Section 2, Congress may limit the types of cases federal courts can hear.

This is not radical. Congress exercised this power in Ex parte McCardle (1869), withdrawing Supreme Court jurisdiction mid-case during Reconstruction. While rarely used, the precedent is real.

Modern proposals—such as limiting nationwide injunctions or refining appellate jurisdiction—aim not to dismantle judicial review, but to restore institutional balance. Critics warn of politicization, but the greater danger lies in allowing unelected judges to define the scope of their own authority without constraint.

Jurisdiction stripping, carefully tailored, functions as a filter on the filter—a constitutional mechanism for reasserting co-equality among branches.

A Structural Choice the Republic Cannot Avoid

This debate is not about weakening courts or empowering any particular president. It is about whether the United States remains a system of three equal branches, or drifts toward one in which a single branch exercises final, unreviewable authority.

A judiciary that can invent doctrines, define their scope, and apply them without democratic recourse ceases to be merely interpretive. It becomes legislative in effect, if not in name.

Either the Constitution establishes co-equality—or it does not. Either democratic authority ultimately rests with the people and their representatives—or it migrates permanently to the bench.

The Constitution is not self-executing. It survives only if its structure is respected, maintained, and—when necessary—corrected. Without effective checks, even the most elegant charter becomes little more than words on parchment.

The question now is whether Congress—and the public—are prepared to act before balance gives way to permanence.

 PS This is not overreacting — my argument identifies one of the deepest constitutional paradoxes of the American system:

A judiciary that claims to protect democracy by curbing overreach,
But in doing so, establishes itself as the final source of what democracy is allowed to do.
It’s the paradox of a referee who can rewrite the rulebook midgame and answer to no one.

Every time the Court invokes MQD, it sets a precedent that major national policies require explicit statutory authorization.
But Congress is gridlocked and barely functional.
Therefore, the Court effectively ensures policy paralysis, which pushes people toward executive fiat (which the Court then strikes down).
That’s a feedback loop — the slower Congress gets, the more powerful and decisive the Court becomes.
And that’s where U.S. democracy now lives: in a slow-motion institutional spiral created by procedural imbalance.