MPCooper

In recent years, many Americans have argued that the “rule of law” is under threat, particularly in the era of Donald Trump. Much of that concern has come from members of the legal profession itself. There is understandable anxiety about constitutional norms, equal justice, and whether anyone truly stands above the law.

But there is also an uncomfortable irony in this conversation.

For decades, long before Trump entered politics, the structure of our legal system has increasingly favored those with the resources to navigate and shape it. The rule of law, in its ideal form, means that the Constitution is the supreme law of the land, that statutes apply equally, and that no individual or institution is above accountability. In practice, however, access to that system is not equal.

The modern legal landscape is heavily influenced by corporate and special interests. Large companies and well-funded advocacy groups retain teams of attorneys whose job is not merely to defend clients in court, but to strategically shape legislation, bring carefully selected cases, and pursue long-term legal strategies that ultimately redefine how laws are interpreted. Over time, these efforts have helped reshape regulatory frameworks, labor protections, environmental rules, campaign finance laws, and more.

This is not an indictment of lawyers as individuals. Like professionals in any field, attorneys seek stable careers and financial security. It is simply a structural reality that the most lucrative areas of law tend to involve corporate representation, regulatory navigation, mergers and acquisitions, intellectual property, and complex litigation. By contrast, many areas centered on individual representation—such as immigration law, civil rights law, or small-scale public defense—often operate with far fewer resources and significantly lower compensation.

The result is an imbalance. Most Americans will rarely need a lawyer, and when they do, they often cannot afford the kind of sustained, high-level legal advocacy that corporations can marshal at will. When one side of a legal dispute can deploy an entire firm and the other side can barely afford a single attorney, equality before the law becomes more theoretical than real.

Campaign finance law has intensified this imbalance. The 2010 Supreme Court decision in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission did not create corporate political influence, but it significantly expanded the role of money in elections. The decision allowed corporations and unions to spend unlimited funds on independent political expenditures. Critics argue that this ruling amplified the influence of wealthy donors and corporate entities, making elected officials more responsive to well-funded interests than to ordinary constituents.

This dynamic has consequences beyond elections. Well-funded interests can challenge regulations, lobby for legislative changes, and sustain multi-year legal battles. Individuals and grassroots groups rarely have comparable capacity. Over time, this creates a system where law evolves in response to those who can afford to shape it.

There have been rare and instructive exceptions. In the 1980s, consumer advocate Edward M. Swartz led a campaign that resulted in the banning of lawn darts after children were seriously injured. Lawn darts represented a niche product with limited financial backing. There was no powerful industry capable of mounting a prolonged legal or political counteroffensive. The product was eventually banned by the Consumer Product Safety Commission.

By contrast, when it comes to debates over gun regulation—particularly around so-called “assault weapons”—the legal and political terrain is far more complex. Firearms represent a multibillion-dollar industry with extensive lobbying networks and significant political influence. Organizations and manufacturers have the financial capacity to fund litigation, advocacy campaigns, and electoral efforts. In this environment, proposed gun bans often face sustained legal challenges and well-funded opposition. The difference is not necessarily the intensity of public concern, but the disparity in available resources.

This comparison highlights a broader issue: outcomes are often shaped not only by public will or policy merit, but by financial capacity. When there is little money at stake, reform can move swiftly. When billions of dollars and organized lobbying efforts are involved, change becomes far more difficult.

If Americans are concerned about the health of the rule of law, the conversation must extend beyond individual political figures. The deeper issue is structural. Equal protection under the law requires more than constitutional language; it requires meaningful access. When corporations and special interests can deploy armies of attorneys while ordinary citizens struggle to secure basic representation, the system’s fairness is inevitably questioned.

The challenge, then, is not to silence lawyers who raise alarms about the rule of law, but to address the imbalance that has developed over decades. Reform efforts might include expanded access to legal services for individuals, campaign finance reform, stronger transparency requirements, and limits on the ways concentrated wealth can influence both legislation and litigation.

The rule of law cannot thrive if it is perceived as something navigable primarily by those who can afford it. Restoring trust requires confronting the structural realities that have shaped the legal system long before today’s political conflicts.