A VALLEY VIEWPOINT NARRATIVE
Federal judges don’t resign. They age on the bench like marble statues, accumulating clerks, citations, and reverence while their robes outlive entire political movements. So when they do quit, it’s supposed to mean something. But Judge Mark Wolf’s grand exit — celebrated in some corners as a brave defense of constitutional norms — lands with a thud once you strip away the theatrics. Wolf, a Reagan appointee who enjoyed nearly forty years of judicial insulation, suddenly discovers in 2025 that the rule of law is under attack and that he simply cannot bear the “ethical constraints” preventing him from speaking freely. This would be moving if it weren’t so perfectly timed to cost him absolutely nothing.
Wolf was already on senior status, the judicial equivalent of semi-retirement with full benefits — the phase where you’re closer to the alumni newsletter than the front lines. His resignation created no vacancy, no real disruption, no sacrifice. And yet he frames his departure like he’s bravely stepping away from power to sound the alarm. In reality, he’s giving an after-dinner speech about a house fire he lived in comfortably for decades. Now that he’s off the clock, he’s ready to tell America that Trump is corrupting the Justice Department, targeting enemies, shielding friends, and threatening the rule of law. All legitimate concerns — but where was this voice when it might have mattered? Where was this urgency when courts were already bending under political pressure long before Trump came back to power? And more importantly, where was Wolf when the judiciary itself was failing people who didn’t have the luxury of writing Atlantic essays?
Because if you want to talk about judges who resigned for reasons that actually mattered, look at Richard Posner. Posner didn’t wait for senior status. He didn’t wait until speaking up was safe, forgettable, or legacy-enhancing. He resigned because he couldn’t stomach how the federal judiciary treats the powerless — the pro se litigants who come into federal court without a lawyer, often because they can’t afford one, or because no one will take their case, or because they still foolishly believe the Constitution protects the poor as much as the wealthy. Posner looked around and saw judges mocking these people, clerks tossing their filings aside, and an entire culture of contempt baked into the daily routine of justice. He didn’t write about a president. He wrote about his colleagues. He didn’t accuse the executive branch of bending the system. He accused the judiciary itself of being morally asleep at the wheel. And unlike Wolf, Posner paid a price for it. His resignation wasn’t a symbolic gesture from the comfort of senior status — it was a rupture, a refusal to participate in a machine that ground up the vulnerable and called it “efficiency.”
So forgive me if I’m unmoved by Wolf’s suddenly awakened conscience. It’s very easy to find your voice once you’ve cashed in all the power that voice once held. It’s easy to be outraged when outrage carries no professional risk. Posner confronted rot from within. Wolf confronts politics from without. Posner quit because real people were being harmed. Wolf quit because he wants to be able to speak on cable news without a judicial ethics complaint. One resignation exposed the institution’s hypocrisy. The other exposed its comfort.
If the rule of law is in danger — and it is — it’s not going to be saved by late-life courage from judges who waited until retirement to sound wise. It will be saved by those who are willing to risk something while they still have something to risk. Posner walked away to change the system. Wolf walked away to comment on it. Only one of those choices deserves applause.
The Valley Viewpoint 