We Are the Guardrails

Vernon E. Jordan Jr., speaking at a National Urban League event during his tenure as president of the organization, where he played a pivotal role in advancing civil rights and economic empowerment for Black Americans. | Image source: The New York Times

“Democracy dies in darkness.” That is The Washington Post’s slogan.

Or so it was—until its owner, Jeff Bezos, who once vowed not to interfere in editorial affairs, made an about-face, capitulating to the new administration.

But he’s not alone.

Corporate America is following the classic business playbook: lay low, follow the trend, maximize profit. Just like the flavor-of-the-month DEI campaigns five years ago—corporations go where the country’s wind blows. And truthfully, that’s predictable. Understandable, even. It’s business.

I would be the last person to fault a business owner for prioritizing profits and returning value to shareholders.

But the surrender of Paul Weiss painted a different picture.

Sure, Paul Weiss is part of the American corporate zeitgeist—raking in billions annually, sitting at the top of the AmLaw list. But unlike Amazon or Meta, Paul Weiss is a law firm. And like the media, lawyers hold a unique responsibility in our democracy. We help maintain the integrity of the system. We are not just participants—we are its protectors.

President Trump is openly weaponizing the Oval Office—not just against his perceived enemies, but against their lawyers. The people whose job is to make sure our republic functions. The people who fulfill a special duty under our system: advocates, officers of the court.

This should alarm everyone, regardless of party or faction.

President Trump is doing what many predicted—testing the limits of executive power, rewriting 1L Constitutional Law courses in real time. (I’m sure he’s keeping Chemerinsky booked and busy.)

Even Trump’s own supporters did not deny the constitutional risk his second stay at the White House posed. But they—and we all—had faith that this country’s systemic guardrails would hold.

But what we may forget is that America’s guardrails aren’t automatic. They don’t engage on their own. They require people. And more often than not, those people are lawyers.

When you challenge the President, you need representation. Not just any representation—you need representation with resources. Resources a firm like Paul Weiss possesses.

So when Paul Weiss bends the knee, it sends a signal far beyond its client roster. It tells the world that the most prominent law firms are afraid—or at least making a business decision. (Reports say that the firm was concerned about clients leaving en masse.)

But if a firm with all the resources is skittish… what about the rest of us?

To be clear, not everyone has folded. Other firms are fighting. But that only sharpens the contrast. It shows that choices were made.

The most disturbing part of this is that the administration isn’t punishing these firms for misconduct—it’s punishing them for doing their jobs. For representing clients. For engaging in the very act that the Supreme Court has held is a form of political expression.

What makes this moment different—and dangerous—is not just the politics. It’s the law.

The courts have long held that the government cannot use its power to retaliate against political speech, legal advocacy, or association. In NAACP v. Button (1963), the Supreme Court affirmed that litigation—particularly by lawyers challenging the state—is a form of protected political expression under the First Amendment. In Board of County Commissioners v. Umbehr (1996), the Court extended that protection to government contractors, holding that public contracts cannot be revoked as punishment for political speech. And in South Dakota v. Dole (1987), the Court set boundaries on the federal spending power—it cannot be used to coerce institutions into giving up constitutional rights in exchange for funding.

What the Trump administration is doing—revoking contracts, yanking federal dollars, and targeting law firms based on the clients they represent—is not governance. It’s coercion. It is viewpoint discrimination, unconstitutional conditions, and First Amendment retaliation masquerading as executive discretion.

And if we don’t name it for what it is—illegal, not just unseemly—we allow the precedent to set.

Now, I don’t know what this letter will accomplish. My advisors told me not to write it.

“Lay low,” they said.

“Make your money.”

“Get your chili up,” like Kendrick said.

Business Owner Playbook 101.

But I am not just a business owner. I am an attorney. A Howard Law-trained attorney at that. And if that means what it is meant to, I have to recognize I have that special duty as well.

Last week, I had the pleasure of meeting an older Black man—the same age Emmett Till would be if he were still alive. He marched with Dr. King. Was arrested twice fighting for dignity.

I am able to write this freely, in large part, because of the sacrifices his generation made.

As I was speaking with him, I was reminded of two things: (1) the shoulders we stand on, and (2) how fragile this whole thing really is. That it takes real people to ensure that this country lives up to its design.

—Langston A. Tolbert, Esq.