Let’s talk about codification. No, not a new TikTok dance or some bizarre diet where you only eat fish. Codification is what happens when Congress gets off its collective couch and actually turns ideas into laws. Sounds simple, right? Well, let me tell you, the simplicity stops right there.
Here’s the deal: Executive orders and Supreme Court decisions? They’re like putting a Post-it on your fridge that says, “Don’t eat the last slice of pizza.” Sure, it gets the message across, but it’s not legally binding. And if someone tears it down, you’re left with nothing but sadness and grease stains. Codification, on the other hand, is like tattooing “No pineapple on pizza” directly into the Constitution—permanent, enforceable, and there for generations to argue about.
Let’s take Roe v. Wade. For nearly 50 years, it was the big dog protecting reproductive rights. But here’s the kicker: it wasn’t a law! It was a Supreme Court decision. A really important one, but still just a decision. It’s like building a sandcastle and calling it a fortress—looks great until the tide comes in. And in 2022, the tide came in. The Supreme Court overturned Roe, not because they outlawed abortion, but because they decided, “Hey, maybe it’s up to the states!” And the states? Well, some rolled out the welcome mat for rights, while others said, “No rights for you!” like a mean Soup Nazi of democracy.
Why did this happen? Because Congress never got around to making Roe’s protections into federal law. Think about it: Roe was the legal equivalent of a Netflix password you’re sharing with your whole family—convenient but doomed to get revoked. Codification would’ve been like buying the DVD box set. No one could’ve touched it.
And this isn’t just about reproductive rights. In 2022, Congress did manage to codify same-sex and interracial marriage with the Respect for Marriage Act. Why? Because they were worried the Supreme Court might start treating marriage equality like a bad sequel—something they’d be more than happy to cancel. So Congress said, “Nope, we’re locking this one in.” A rare win for teamwork! Gold star, Congress. Don’t get used to it.
Now, let’s zoom out a bit. Executive orders? They’re like those coupons you get in the mail. One president says, “Here, free shipping on civil rights!” The next one cancels the deal and says, “Sorry, back to paying full price for discrimination.” They’re temporary. They expire. Codification is the Costco membership of government—bulk protections that last.
And just to add to the circus, President Trump recently issued an executive order redefining gender. It’s filled with language nodding to fetal personhood, which is a fancy way of saying, “Hey, zygotes, we’ve got your back.” It’s a huge move toward anti-abortion policies, but it’s not law. The next president could toss it in the trash, right next to Trump’s stakes and university degrees.
So, here’s the bottom line: Without codification, our rights are like a Jenga tower—one bad move, and the whole thing collapses. Congress needs to step up, write the laws, and quit relying on the Supreme Court to do their homework. Because while interpretation is great for jazz and abstract art, it’s a lousy way to run a country.
