Stanley Forman Reed, an illustrious figure in the annals of the U.S. Supreme Court, still carries the badge of a no-nonsense judicial conservative. Born in 1884 in the solid ground of Minerva, Kentucky, Reed saw the world through a prism of clear-cut principles that today’s progressives would likely shudder at. As Attorney General in Franklin D. Roosevelt's administration and later as a Supreme Court justice from 1938 to 1957, Reed made decisions that left a lasting imprint on American law. He gave the liberals of his time much to fret about and, trust me, he’d surely leave them speechless today.
Justice Reed had no problem backing FDR’s New Deal policies, which some might erroneously jump to brand as 'liberal.' But wait—Reed was the sharp edge of conservatism that saw these programs through the lens of national necessity, not as endless handouts. His support wasn’t about fostering dependency, but about ensuring stability during desperate times. Reed was a Harvard-educated man who knew where the lines between government intervention and overreach ought to be drawn—a skill today’s left often lacks.
The 1939 Chamber of Commerce decision, where Reed ruled with an unyielding hand that states had the power to tax federal government contract workers, kicked up dust then and would do more than ruffle feathers now. Why? Because it emphasized federalism—a true conservative hallmark that modern-day critics tend to dismiss when it doesn’t suit their narratives. Reed made it clear that states have their sovereignty and should exercise it without fearing a mama-bear federal government.
Reed embraced anti-communism like it was an Olympic sport, most evident when he backed loyalty-security programs during the Red Scare. These policies aimed to root out communist influences within the government, prioritizing national security over individual complaints about privacy. Wouldn't that make today's civil liberty warriors perspire? He viewed the containment of communism as not merely a choice but a duty, fundamentally based on protecting American interests.
One Reed case that still echoes for its sheer audacity is Brown v. Board of Education in 1954. While he voted in favor of desegregating schools, Reed displayed classic pragmatism. He recognized the historical urgency but also the incredible challenge that abrupt social change posed. In fact, it’s been said his initial reluctance was so profound, he preferred a more gradual approach to prevent societal upheaval. Yet, he realigned his thoughts to stand against racial segregation, which obviously wouldn’t make him unfriendly, even to conservatives exalting states' rights. Reed didn’t see this as a victory of ideology but as a step toward genuine unity and order.
Let’s not forget Reed's authoritative positions in cases like Chaplinsky v. New Hampshire—that in 1942, unequivocally supported restrictions on "fighting words," literally the kind of speech that incites violence. That’s a conservative’s way of saying: don’t hide behind the First Amendment to perpetuate chaos. Reed would take a grim view of today’s cancel culture that cries foul play when speech is regulated. Regulating speech isn't censorship, but rather setting societal standards—a lost art in today’s wild west of opinions.
His pride in the legal system was more than just a professional duty; it was a demonstration of his belief in rule by law rather than rule by the riotous whims of mass protests. Reed was no shrinking violet on issues of law and order. His belief in constitutional limits on presidential power in steel seizures was indicative of a cautious approach to executive authority that’s sorely missing with today's policies of overreach and unilateral executive orders.
In the backdrop of Reed's decisions was always his legal realism, balancing fervent conservatism with pragmatic acceptance of necessary change. For a politician deeply rooted in Southern tradition, he understood very well the limits of pushing one's ideology when it could fracture the nation. That’s why he often practiced judicial restraint—a method hardly traceable in the risqué, activist approaches visible in today's courts.
As Reed retired in 1957, his standing judicial principles remain a blueprint for conservatives who aspire to tread the middle ground judicially, yet maintain a robust adherence to originalism. If you want to talk about legacy, let’s talk about Stanley Forman Reed leaving a roadmap to governance that’s less about bending to the whims of change and more about steering the ship, steady and firm.
Stanley Forman Reed’s journey through the chambers of power was a lesson in contrast to the mediocrity peddled by some policymakers today. He held onto American values with a grip that would likely send modern-day progressives into spirals of disbelief. It’s time to bow to historical prowess and revive some semblance of Reed’s principles in today's discourse. But hey, be careful what you wish for—it might just offend someone.