Chief Justice Taft and several Circuit Court judges, gathering for their annual conference, call upon President Coolidge at the White House.

“Courts are established, not to determine the popularity of a cause, but to adjudicate and enforce rights. No litigant should be required to submit his case to the hazard and expense of a political campaign. No judge should be required to seek or receive political rewards.”

Courts do not decide issues, as much as we would like them to or actually take upon themselves to do at times. Courts are political institutions and yet they are not to serve as official polls to endorse or set aside popular opinion on the latest “hot button” topic or current news item. The Courts do not exist to decide “trial balloon” cases floated through the system merely for the purpose of registering approval or disapproval on x, y, or z, influencing how people are to think, using the sanctity of law to amend whatever someone, somewhere does not like about our political and economic structure. Used as a short-cut to change culture, transform institutions we do not like and amend laws without resort to Congress, amendments or even elections, the Courts are allowed to stray far and wide from their original purpose. They do not exist to determine the rightness or wrongness of our every decision, every act, or every thought, relieving us of those terrible burdens known as conscience and self-government. Coolidge understood that the courts were there to hear the facts brought to them so that justice is done to both parties, rights are enforced and the party infringing those rights is held liable as the law requires. Cases are not to subjected to judicial grandstanding carrying political or philosophical arguments out into the public sphere to pressure different outcomes or enhance social standing. A fundamental grasp of true justice to all concerned demands something far better than that. That is equally as true whether your name is Scalia or Breyer.

“If I appoint him as a judge, can he see the issues of the case over the heads of the parties? I do not intend to appoint any man to the Superior Court, or to any court, who cannot do that.”

It is not the role of a judge to empathize, to be able to emotionally identify with or personally relate to the situation faced by either party in a case. This is irrelevant to the work a judge is to do. By appointing judges on the basis of their subjective quantity of “compassion,” specific skin color, proximity to poverty, gender or, as Coolidge would say, things that are non-essential to qualification for this important work, it debases justice itself and thereby deprives either party of a righteous and fair result. It expects courts to no longer look past the particulars of the persons involved with even an attempt at objectivity and impartiality — the blindfold — of real justice. Instead, the facts of the case and the proper application of the law to the question at issue are secondary to how difficult it is to be a poor single mother, a juvenile with prior offenses or a convicted murderer awaiting the death penalty. In short, the legal and factual questions of the particular case under review are barely considered, if at all. The decision, instead, devolves upon how badly do the men and women of the Court feel for either party on a given day. By adhering to what the court is supposed to do – apply the provisions of the law to the facts of the case — compassion and justice retain their proper balance and proportions, victims find remedy and guilt is held accountable. That is the profound and indispensable purpose of judging. While Coolidge appointed the best jurists he could find by this standard, their failure at times to uphold it hardly invalidates the rule he applied or makes Cal inconsistent, it confirms the supreme importance of judging our judges well before we bestow them greater responsibilities.

Leaving aside the absurd claim that each young person is somehow socially remiss without the full “college experience,” a more useful and infinitely more important line of thought asks, “Is college for everyone?” Since the generation that fought and won the Second World War returned home, the expectation has continued to the current day that college is essential and ought to be secured by everyone, whatever the costs. However, there are more than monetary debts incurred by the cultural standardization of education, a virtual assembly-line that, rather than encouraging the pursuit of truth and development of character, suppresses thoughts, beliefs and views contrary to the accepted norm, a constantly expanding code of conduct defined by the ever-shifting sands of political correctness. This process of dehumanizing education, subordinating the individuality of learning to the one-size-must-fit-all methods we now witness is hardly new. Coolidge saw its incremental influence on the culture in his time, as he warned, “Progress depends very largely on the encouragement of variety. Whatever tends to standardize the community, to establish fixed and rigid modes of thought, tends to fossilize society. If we all believed the same thing and thought the same thoughts and applied the same valuations to all the occurrences about us, we should reach a state of equilibrium closely akin to an intellectual and spiritual paralysis. It is the ferment of ideas, the clash of disagreeing judgments, the privilege of the individual to develop his own thoughts and shape his own character, that makes progress possible.”

Coolidge also thought through whether college should be forced on everyone alike. Is it the essential stepping-stone to success that it was once thought to be? Is such a cultural coercion really necessary or right? What if there is a more fundamental purpose to higher education than expecting everyone to find equal success through the same system? Merely pursuing advanced degrees in technical fields, the most important training is denied, mocked and neglected: a cultivation of the moral virtues, the very building blocks for life, whatever one chooses to be and do. The alternative is hardly an abandonment of continued education. It simply and reasonably asks whether the returns on what has been invested are yielding better people and good works. To answer that question, however, the reason for college must be defined. Is it, first, as Coolidge enumerates, “merely to train sufficient leaders in thought for the professions and statecraft”? Then education is only for an elite few, a class born to leadership, an assembly carefully selected for their value to government and large concerns around the world.

Coolidge presents an alternative, a second reason for college. It is “a general preparation for life, a method by which individual existence is broadened and sweetened.” It was more than maximizing the “college experience,” taking full advantage of the opportunity to “sow wild oats.” Rather it required the sober-minded application not only of the intellect but of the whole person — including the spiritual nature within each individual — to the preparation of life well-lived. This theory “sees no reason for confining the colleges to the professions or to those of exceptional capacity. Certainly the world now rewards the trades to an even higher degree than it does some professions. If we would stop thinking that a bachelor of arts must be a white-collar man and let him be any kind of man he is adapted to be, the danger of spoiling a good craftsman to make a poor professional man would vanish.” It would do no good to predetermine or plan where someone belongs based on their educational credentials. That road leads backward to caste and serfdom not forward to freedom and opportunity. Coolidge would have no part in an “aristocracy of learning.” If colleges accomplished their true mission, ministering to the mind, body — and the soul — there would be no hierarchy of higher learning, no pressuring young men and women to conform to a preset future or status to secure whatever constitutes success in society. “Every life needs more light,” Coolidge believed. Classical education furnishes that light.

Suppressing individual interests and aptitudes to whatever those with authority deem necessary to global competition (as “workers of the world,” after all) is merely another way of grooming a fixed class of mendicants looking to government for placement in all of life. Whereas career skills have limited power, the development of character is unlimited and something we all, however humble our vocation, would be bettered thereby.

College graduates after all “will not be judged by their diplomas but by what they produce. As the years pass some of them will discover that they put too much emphasis in their student days on how to get a living and not enough on how to live. Even if they do not appear so successful in the competition for gain, those who have a background of liberal culture have a satisfaction that wealth cannot buy. One great benefit of a college education is a better appreciation of the real values of life.” If that is what college accomplishes, then who can say it is not for you? If you ignore the failure of colleges in this essential, no amount of professional expertise will compensate for what it will cost your soul.