I disagree with the sentiment that the way we pick Kansas Supreme Court justices is somehow above reproach and free from political taint and influence. I hate to break the news to those that share this sentiment, but the process is rife with politics — it’s just happening behind closed doors.
Five of the nine members on the Kansas Supreme Court Nominating Commission are lawyers. These lawyer seats are filled through elections open only to licensed Kansas attorneys — roughly 8,000 to 11,000 people. But here’s the thing: We have no idea who actually shows up to vote in those elections. The Kansas Supreme Court clerk releases only the winners’ names. No vote totals. No turnout numbers. Nothing. So, we do not know if it is a broad slice of the legal profession or just a small, active group of insiders. The decision to not be transparent is a political choice, is it not?
The Kansas Bar Association doesn’t make direct donations or run a PAC, but its members sure do. Nationally, when lawyers write campaign checks, they give to Democrats over Republicans by at least a 2-to-1 margin — often much more. That partisan lean from the same group that controls the majority of the commission matters. That is political by definition.
I sat and watched seven of the 15 interviews for the last state Supreme Court opening, including all three finalists who went to the governor. They were only half-hour interviews, and the questions struck me as pretty soft. I’m not surprised though, as several of the commissioners are lawyers. They might have to practice their craft one day in front of these applicants. Surely that is political gamesmanship.
If in this cascade of political activity, you are left wondering how we ended up here, it goes back to the Kansas “Triple Play” scandal in the 1950s. A governor lost reelection, resigned and was quickly appointed chief justice by the lieutenant governor who replaced him before the new governor could be sworn in — raw cronyism to be sure. The public was furious, and in 1958 passed a constitutional amendment to fix it.
Unfortunately, all they accomplished was to move the process behind closed doors, referring to it as the so-called “merit-based” system.
That is why I will vote yes on Aug. 4 to amend the Kansas Constitution to let voters — instead of just lawyers and politicians — directly elect state Supreme Court justices. Let candidates run in the open for several months. Let them answer real questions in public forums and debates with no doubt a hostile press in hot pursuit. A half-hour private interview simply cannot compare to that kind of rigorous public scrutiny.
Jim Eschrich, a nearly 40-year Johnson County resident, is running as a Republican candidate for Kansas House District 17.
Source: https://www.kansascity.com/opinion/readers-opinion/guest-commentary/article315963173.html
On one hand, opposing this rapidly expanding technology feels as shortsighted as protesting the invention of the wheel. It is coming, whether Kansas welcomes it or not.
On the other hand, the current rush in our state has the feel of a California Gold Rush. State and local governments are offering substantial tax incentives to attract developers, and I worry these breaks may be out of proportion to the lasting economic benefits they deliver.
Consider this comparison: Building a modern GM Fairfax Assembly & Stamping Plant in Kansas City today – a full-scale stamping, body shop, paint, and assembly operation on nearly 600 acres – would cost between $1 billion and $3 billion and create roughly 2,200 to 2,600 permanent hourly and salaried jobs.
By contrast, Kansas has roughly nine data centers that are built, under construction or proposed. Each represents an investment of $250 million to more than $3 billion yet would generate only 20 to 200+ permanent on-site jobs. And even those modest numbers are likely to decline over time as automation and artificial intelligence advance.
The real employment impact appears limited largely to the construction phase, which typically lasts just one to three years. After that, the crews move on – much like storm-chasing roofers following the next project. The permanent on-site positions are welcome, but they remain relatively modest in the larger picture.
These concerns are sharpened by the incentives themselves. The state offers 20-year sales and use tax exemption for qualifying projects of $250 million or more, while local governments frequently add 10-year property tax abatements through Industrial Revenue Bonds.
Given these realities, I respectfully suggest that Kansas consider a temporary pause on approving new data center projects while we develop a comprehensive, transparent statewide plan. The early-adopter phase of hyperscale AI infrastructure is proving extraordinarily capital-intensive and resource-demanding, placing long-term pressure on electricity, water supplies and transmission infrastructure.
A thoughtful pause would allow time to address several key questions:
I do not claim to have covered all the questions, far from it. Like many Kansans, I simply want us to approach this technological wave thoughtfully rather than reactively. Other states have already encountered challenges we can learn from. By taking time now to craft a deliberate strategy, Kansas can better protect its long-term interests while still positioning itself for responsible growth.
Out on the campaign trail as I run for state representative in the 17th district, I often hear people describe the idea of electing our supreme court justices in partisan elections as unseemly – or similar terms implying it’s improper, distasteful, or beneath the dignity of the judiciary.
Full disclosure: I support partisan judicial elections. As I argued in my June 2nd op-ed in The Kansas City Star, the current nominating process is already rife with political influence. But standing on someone’s front porch is no place for a lengthy lecture – folks’ eyes start rolling back in their heads fast.
No, I have a better argument: the current nominating process, in which legal elites and politicians pick our supreme court justices, and the proposed electoral option, which will bring plenty of dark money into the state, are both unseemly. There, I said it. Don’t fight it. Acknowledge it. And then quickly pivot faster than a teenager deleting their search history to letting the people vote. It’s the ultimate tiebreaker in a democracy.
Yes, dark money will be part of the mix. But so will real accountability. Judges will have to sit for interviews, town halls, candidate forums, and debates. They’ll be forced to explain, in plain language, where they stand on the Constitution, criminal justice, property rights, parental rights, school funding, abortion, and the proper limits of government power. Voters will finally see their judicial philosophy, temperament, and record – not hidden behind a nominating commission’s press release, but out in the open.
That public scrutiny is the best disinfectant we have. In Texas and Alabama, voters have used the ballot box to push back against courts too cozy with trial lawyers, flipping majorities and advancing tort reform. In North Carolina, Republicans flipped the supreme court to a solid conservative majority and reversed prior rulings on voter ID and redistricting. In Wisconsin, liberals used a record-shattering, high-spending election to flip the court the other way on abortion and legislative maps. In each case, the people – not a small circle of legal elites – decided the outcome.
Elections drag the judges, the special interests, and the dark money into the sunlight. It’s not perfect – nothing in politics ever is – but it is far more transparent and democratic than letting insiders in Topeka keep choosing our highest court behind closed doors.
In the end, the people of Kansas who must live under these rulings deserve to be the ones who decide who wears the robe.
Take Reconstruction, the turbulent era after the Civil War. The North fought to secure constitutional rights for the newly freed slaves, but the presidents of the period faced brutal realities. Andrew Johnson favored minimal federal involvement, leaving matters to white Southerners. Ulysses S. Grant took a far tougher line, deploying federal troops, prosecutions, and civil rights laws to protect Black Americans. Yet Rutherford B. Hayes, desperate to secure his contested presidency, reversed course. In 1877, he withdrew the last federal troops, abandoning Southern Blacks to the mercy of local white majorities.
The central lesson is clear: on profound moral questions, you cannot outrun what the public is willing to support. No matter how noble the intent, executive orders, legislation, or court rulings eventually falter when they race too far ahead of the culture. Moral issues are cultural at their core – touching our deepest beliefs about life, liberty, responsibility, and human dignity. They cannot be settled by government fiat alone.
Reconstruction proved this. President Andrew Johnson assumed white Southerners would voluntarily extend full citizenship. They didn’t. Usysses S. Grant’s aggressive enforcement brought real but temporary gains: Black men voted and held office in striking numbers. But Northern voters wearied of the cost, violence, and endless struggle. Once Rutherford B. Hayes struck his deal and pulled the troops, public support collapsed. What followed was the rapid rise of Jim Crow, poll taxes, and disenfranchisement. Noble ambitions, backed by federal power, crumbled under human frailties – tribalism, fatigue, resentment, and the stubborn grip of old customs.
For those who view abortion as a moral evil as grave as slavery, the warning is direct. In our post-Dobbs world, where policy has returned to the states, pressing too hard or too fast risks the same backlash. States pursuing near-total bans without broad public support, strong maternal safety nets, or practical enforcement may achieve temporary legal wins only to see them erode through evasion, interstate travel, or medication abortions. Even in solidly conservative Kansas in 2022, voters rejected a ballot measure to strip constitutional protections for abortion. Many Americans favor limits – but with compassion and reasonable exceptions.
Laws alone are not enough. Real, lasting change demands more than government force. It requires persuasion, incremental progress, honest attention to human realities, expanded support for mothers, better adoption systems, and dialogue that respects genuine moral concerns on all sides.
History’s hardest lesson is humility. Ending slavery required a brutal war and constitutional revolution, yet even that victory needed decades of cultural and political work to endure. Abortion will not yield to aggressive overreach that outpaces what people will sustain. Our frailties ensure that overreach breeds reversal.
The states remain the laboratories of democracy. The wisest will act with moral clarity – but also with Reconstruction’s hard-earned realism: move only as fast as the public can follow, build coalitions rather than demand surrender, and remember that laws cannot remake human hearts. Only then can we achieve enduring progress instead of another cycle of noble ambition and bitter retrenchment.
