The unpopular take is that restraint, not speed, may be the smarter strategy here. In an era when judicial appointments feel like perpetual combat, both parties have embraced a punishing pace of confirmation hearings and votes. But rushing to fill the bench, regardless of which party controls the process, often produces worse outcomes than patience would allow.
We see this impulse everywhere. Administrations want to stack the courts before the next election. Senate majorities want to cement their legacy while they hold power. Advocacy groups demand immediate action on pending cases. The pressure is relentless and understandable. Courts shape policy for generations. But speed creates its own costs.
Consider what happens when confirmation processes accelerate. Vetting becomes superficial. Judicial records receive less thorough examination. Potential conflicts of interest slip through because nobody had time to notice them. Bar associations skip their usual diligence. We end up with nominees who sail through because nobody raised hard questions, only to become problems on the bench years later. That's not winning. That's trading short-term satisfaction for long-term regret.
There's also the simple matter of collegiality. Federal judges serve together for decades. They write opinions that become law for millions. They set the tone for their entire circuit. When judges arrive at court feeling like they were rammed through by a hostile majority, it corrodes the institutional relationships that make judicial systems function. A court packed in haste becomes a court divided by resentment. Slower processes, by contrast, allow judges to arrive with broader legitimacy and less institutional baggage.
The constitutional design actually built in restraint mechanisms. The Senate's advice and consent role was meant to slow things down, not to rubber-stamp. Filibusters existed for a reason. Multiple confirmation votes forced deliberation. Yes, these tools became obstacles that both parties weaponized. But the solution isn't to eliminate restraint entirely. It's to rebuild norms that prioritize careful judgment over tribal victory.
This matters particularly for appellate courts and the Supreme Court. District judges handle specific cases. Appellate judges write precedent. Supreme Court justices shape constitutional understanding itself. These positions demand the most scrutiny, not the least. Yet these are exactly where we see the most rushing and the most partisan warfare. It's backwards.
Recent litigation landscapes illustrate why this matters. Courts are now handling complex questions about voter access, separation of powers, religious liberty, and administrative authority. These cases require judges who've thought deeply about constitutional principles, not judges selected primarily for partisan reliability. A thoughtful judge who wasn't your first choice is preferable to a reliable judge who was confirmed in chaos.
There's also the practical question of vacancies. Yes, judges retire unexpectedly. Emergencies happen. But most vacancies are foreseeable. A president typically knows when Circuit Court judges plan to step down. There's no constitutional requirement to fill every vacancy within months. Strategic patience could mean nominating fewer judges overall but nominating them better, with more thorough vetting and less partisan hardball.
Some will say this is naive. Politics is politics. Power is power. Use it when you have it. But that logic produces an arms race where each side responds to the other's aggression with more aggression. The Senate ends up weaker. The courts end up more politicized. Democracy ends up shakier.
The contrarian truth is this: restraint looks weak in the moment but proves strong over time. A judicial system built on speed and partisan advantage becomes a system nobody trusts. A system built on careful deliberation and genuine scrutiny becomes a system that can actually persuade people, even those who lost individual battles.
That's worth slowing down for.