The Robe Is No Longer Sacred: Could the Courts Finally Get a Reality Check
The Bove Appointment: A Return to Common-Sense Law or a Radical Shift?
This is not a glitch in the system—it is a signal. The monopoly of legal elitism is cracking, and the ripple effect could change everything.
For most of American history, the legal profession was not the academic or bureaucratic ladder it is today. In the 18th and 19th centuries, lawyers were often well-read individuals who studied the law independently or through apprenticeships. Law school, as we now understand it, was not always required. Young men often "read law" under the guidance of a practicing attorney, learning through hands-on mentorship and practical work. Abraham Lincoln famously never attended law school. He became a lawyer through apprenticeship and self-study—once a respected and legitimate route into the profession.
Later, as the legal field expanded and professionalized, bar exams became standardized, and law schools formalized instruction. The American Bar Association (ABA), established in 1878, played a central role in shaping this transformation. By the early 20th century, especially under the influence of institutions like Harvard Law School, the Juris Doctor (J.D.) degree was introduced to give law the same academic prestige as the M.D. in medicine. Over time, the ABA gained influence over accreditation, admissions standards, and judicial appointments, creating a tightly controlled professional pipeline.
One of the clearest signs of this shift is seen in judicial appointments. Historically, presidents and Congress had more discretion in choosing judges. Today, most federal judges follow a predictable path: top law school, prestigious clerkships, government or academic roles, and eventually, the bench. That path is now so entrenched that deviating from it is seen as shocking. But it was not always this way.
Which brings us to Emil Bove III.
On July 30, 2025, the U.S. Senate confirmed Bove to the Third Circuit Court of Appeals by a narrow 50-49 vote. At 44 years old, Bove has never served as a judge. He is a former federal prosecutor with a strong reputation for tackling terrorism and financial crimes. Most recently, he served on Donald Trump’s legal team during the Manhattan trial and later held a senior role in the Justice Department.
The New York Times painted his confirmation as controversial, focusing almost entirely on a last-minute whistleblower claim that Bove once made an offhand remark suggesting that the Department of Justice could ignore certain judicial rulings. The article did not present documentary proof. Nor did it emphasize the broader significance of Bove’s nomination.
Here is what the Times left out—and why it matters.
First, Bove’s direct appointment to an appellate court is rare. It bypasses the traditional path of district court service. Historically, almost all appellate judges have served as lower court judges first. That Bove skipped this step suggests a deliberate and symbolic shift in judicial selection—one that places greater value on prosecutorial experience and real-world legal practice over judicial tenure.
Second, the ABA declined to rate Bove due to a lack of access—something that would have been headline news in prior decades. This silence reveals just how much the ABA’s influence has faded. At one time, its ratings could make or break a nomination. Today, that authority is eroding. Attorney General Pam Bondi reportedly blocked the DOJ from participating in the ABA’s review process, signaling an intentional departure from the old rules of judicial gatekeeping.
To understand the deeper implications of Emil Bove’s confirmation, one must consider the role of the American Bar Association (ABA), not just in judicial nominations, but in the entire structure of legal education and access to the profession. The ABA operates, in practical terms, as a monopoly. It is the central gatekeeper of law school accreditation, curriculum standards, and even the physical layout of educational institutions—controlling who gets to teach, who gets to learn, and ultimately, who gets to practice law.
This kind of influence has long drawn scrutiny. In fact, during the Clinton administration in the 1990s, the U.S. Department of Justice launched an antitrust investigation into the ABA, alleging that its accreditation practices were anti-competitive. The DOJ argued that the ABA had created barriers to entry into the legal profession by enforcing rigid rules that had little to do with educational quality and much more to do with preserving institutional power. For example, the ABA imposed faculty tenure requirements, library square footage minimums, and student-faculty ratios that disproportionately favored established schools with deep pockets.
The investigation resulted in a settlement in 1996, in which the ABA agreed to make changes to its accreditation process. However, the enforcement was weak, and the ABA’s control over legal education and bar admission remained largely intact. The case did not result in meaningful structural change. Like many regulatory entanglements involving powerful interest groups, it faded into obscurity. The ABA simply waited out the storm.
The question now arises: Would a second Trump administration revisit this unfinished business? The antitrust precedent is there. The legal framework for action has already been explored. And as we have seen across other industries—such as tech monopolies like Google, Amazon, and Meta—concentrated institutional power can often become detached from the needs of the public it is supposed to serve.
The ABA’s influence extends far beyond curriculum. During the COVID-19 pandemic, many ABA-accredited law schools suspended in-person attendance, allowed remote learning, and even delayed bar exams. Yet, the ABA continues to mandate that law schools maintain physical libraries, specific building designs, and classroom-based educational structures—rules based on a pre-digital model that is now outdated by more than a decade. It is a glaring contradiction: If students could graduate and become practicing attorneys during a global emergency without ever setting foot on campus, then why does the ABA still require millions of dollars in physical infrastructure?
This hypocrisy raises serious questions about motive and fairness. On one hand, the ABA demands traditional standards in order to accredit new schools or maintain existing approvals. On the other hand, it allowed an entire class of law graduates to bypass those very standards when convenient. This reveals the central issue: The ABA’s rules are not about competence—they are about control.
Legal education has not evolved at the pace of technology. While engineers, business professionals, and even medical experts have embraced flexible, hybrid, and online models of training, the law remains stuck in a rigid, guild-like structure. This structure enriches the few, protects legacy institutions, and makes innovation nearly impossible. It also makes legal services more expensive and less accessible to the public.
Bove’s confirmation could signal a broader willingness to reconsider who belongs on the bench. Rather than only selecting career jurists, this nomination opens the door for experienced lawyers—especially those with prosecutorial or business backgrounds—to serve at the highest levels. Critics say this undermines judicial tradition. Supporters argue it reintroduces practical thinking and real-world experience into a judiciary that has become too academic, too insular, and too political.
It is worth remembering that William Howard Taft, the 27th president of the United States, later served as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. He remains the only person to have led both the executive and judicial branches. His journey was not driven by ABA checklists or law school rankings. It was shaped by broad legal experience and national service. His path would be nearly impossible today under current ABA-influenced norms.
Emil Bove’s confirmation may serve as a lightning rod to reignite this long-dormant discussion. If the judiciary is opening its doors to individuals with real-world experience outside of traditional judicial channels, then perhaps the legal profession itself must undergo similar reform. Revisiting the antitrust case against the ABA—left unresolved in the Clinton era—could become a centerpiece of that effort.
It is not simply a matter of politics or ideology. It is a matter of fairness, modernization, and removing artificial barriers that stifle competition and innovation. As with other monopolistic institutions, when control is too centralized for too long, stagnation follows. The time may be coming when the ABA’s control is no longer assumed—but challenged.
The choice of the Third Circuit is also tantalizingly suggestive. It sits over the political battlegrounds of swing states Pennsylvania and New Jersey, which in recent years have been ruling on binders’ full of elections cases. It handles immigration appeals, and decides top-tier business cases arising from Delaware, where most big corporations are headquartered. None of that background appeared anywhere in the story. Coincidentally, Justice Alito served on the Third Circuit before ascending to SCOTUS.
Perhaps most of all, Emil Bove’s nomination and confirmation sent a loud, unmistakable signal to the judiciary. Trump just opened their velvet-roped, invitation-only club up to the general public. He kicked down the mahogany doors, tore up the guest list, and told the bouncer to get lost. The clear message is: If the judiciary is going to act like a political branch, then we’ll treat it like one. And we’ll win.
The fact that the Senate just boosted a non-judge straight to the appellate level also signals that the judiciary has lost senators’ respect. They essentially said, anybody can do this job.
At 44, “Trump lawyer” Bove is a judicial spring chicken. He could shape policy on the court for 30-40 years. Bove’s historic confirmation was a hypersonic missile aimed right at the progressive judiciary’s heart. His success wasn’t just a victory. It was a proof of concept; an invitation for Trump to do more like this.
It was yet more shattered norms.