FREE SPEECH, GOVERNANCE, AND THE LIMITS OF JUDICIAL AUTHORITY

FREE SPEECH, GOVERNANCE, AND THE LIMITS OF JUDICIAL AUTHORITY

A Commentary on the Elizabeth School District Case

The concept of free speech in the United States is frequently distorted. Many believe it to be an unlimited license to say anything, anywhere, without consequence. That is not now, and never has been, the legal or constitutional reality.

The First Amendment protects individuals from government censorship—but only in specific contexts. It does not apply universally, and it certainly does not give a person the right to speak freely in every situation, particularly in environments governed by contracts, policies, or institutional authority.

In the workplace, for example, employers maintain full discretion to restrict speech that disrupts productivity, violates internal codes of conduct, or undermines organizational objectives. Employees who disregard those limits are routinely terminated, not because they are victims of unconstitutional censorship, but because they failed to operate within clearly defined rules of engagement. This same principle applies across other structured arenas of public life, including public schools.

Public education in the United States is managed at the local level by elected school boards. These boards are charged with making reasoned, community-based decisions about what is appropriate in classrooms and libraries. Their authority stems from the voters. If the community disapproves of their decisions, the recourse is the ballot box—not the federal bench.

The situation involving the Elizabeth School District in Colorado is a prime example of how judicial overreach can disrupt local governance. After receiving multiple complaints from concerned parents, the school board followed a procedural and transparent process to review and remove a small selection of books deemed age-inappropriate due to explicit sexual content and violent themes.

The board invited public input, conducted a review through a formal committee, and voted on the removals through established procedures. Yet, despite this thorough and democratic process, U.S. District Judge Charlotte Sweeney issued a preliminary injunction, preventing the school district from removing the books. Her reasoning? The board’s “conservative values” allegedly motivated the removal.

The judge’s decision leaned heavily on a fragmented, non-binding plurality opinion from the 1982 Supreme Court case *Board of Education v. Pico*. That case, involving book removals, suggested that schools may not remove materials simply because they disagree with the ideas presented. But this interpretation overextends the scope of judicial authority and misunderstands the school board’s intent.

The board members testified—under penalty of perjury—that their objections were based solely on the books’ content. They explicitly stated that their decisions had nothing to do with the presence of LGBTQ+ topics or racial themes, and that they would oppose similarly explicit content regardless of the ideological slant. That testimony was dismissed.

What this case highlights is the growing confusion between censorship and content curation. Libraries across the country remove books all the time—for poor condition, outdated material, irrelevance, or lack of educational value. That is not censorship. It is responsible stewardship.

When a federal judge overrides such decisions without conducting a full evidentiary hearing, and without considering the actual content of the disputed materials, the court is no longer acting as a neutral arbiter. It is functioning as a policy-making entity. That is not its role.

The judiciary does not possess independent enforcement authority. Courts issue rulings, but they rely on institutional respect and voluntary compliance to give their decisions weight. When a judge dismisses all due process, refuses to consider facts, and instead rules based on personal political alignment, the court’s authority begins to crumble.

We must not forget: federal judges are not community representatives. They are not elected. They are appointed to apply the law—not rewrite it. When their decisions depart from that narrow mandate, they undermine the legitimacy of the entire system.

The U.S. Constitution provides a mechanism for holding judges accountable: impeachment. That process was not intended as a symbolic relic. It is a necessary tool for preserving balance among the branches of government.

Impeachment of federal judges is not a radical idea. It is a constitutional remedy for judicial overreach, corruption, or abuse of authority. And yet today, we find ourselves in a position where Congress refuses to use this tool. Not because the criteria are unmet—but because the will is absent.

Let me be clear. When a judge imposes ideology over lawful, fact-based, community decisions, that judge is violating the boundaries of their office. The people’s representatives have every right—and I would argue, the duty—to step in. Sadly, there is not a single member of Congress with the intestinal fortitude to initiate this process.

Most of them are so obsessed with their reelection, their fundraising totals, and their media profiles that they have forgotten what it means to be a public servant. That is why I say without hesitation: if you have been in Congress for more than six years and have done nothing to restore judicial boundaries, then you need to get out.

We do not need more career politicians. We need leaders. Statesmen. Public servants with spine, clarity, and conviction. The judiciary is not above the Constitution. And if Congress continues to treat it as such, the entire structure of our republic will continue to weaken—one decision at a time.