When Justice Becomes a Market Good
I received word this week from the federal court in Eugene about my civil rights case (Isaac v. Manning, 6:25-cv-01159-MC). The judge approved my request to proceed in forma pauperis—which means I don’t have to pay the filing fees because I’ve proven I can’t afford them. At the same time, he denied my request for pro bono representation.
That combination deserves some reflection. On paper, the court agrees I’m too poor to hire a lawyer. But I'm still expected to represent myself in a complex constitutional law case against seasoned, tax-payer funded attorneys. How's that for boiling a calf in it's mother's milk?
The Fault Line
This exposes a deep contradiction in our system: the assumption that money and work are interchangeable. If you can’t pay for the labor of a lawyer, the courts act as though you can simply become that lawyer yourself. But poverty doesn’t turn anyone into an expert in constitutional litigation.
What it does is strip away your ability to hire help—while the government enjoys teams of trained legal professionals, researchers, and staff, all funded from the public purse. It’s not an even match; it’s the system eating itself, expecting that those with the least wealth bear the greatest burden.
The Alliance of Capitalism and Justice
This isn’t just about my case. It’s about how justice in America is structured. In criminal law, the Supreme Court recognized in Gideon v. Wainwright that poor defendants need lawyers appointed to them, because liberty itself is at stake. But in civil law—even when fundamental rights are implicated—the system falls back on the fiction that “access” is equal.
What that means in practice is that rights are formally equal but functionally priced: they exist on paper for everyone, but only those with money (or institutional power) can fully exercise them. Rights become a kind of market good—available in theory, but privatized behind a paywall.
What It Demands of the Poor
In my situation, the court is effectively asking me to be Thurgood Marshall in practice, Pauli Murray in theory, and Ralph Abernathy in spirit—all at once. My situation reveals the system’s quiet alliance with capitalism: if you cannot buy representation, then you must work as if you were trained counsel. Because that's who I must face, and I always rise to the occasion.
An image of stained glass with legal theorist and Episcopal priest Pauli Murray, activist Ralph Abernathy, and Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall.
Why This Matters
I share this not to complain, but to expose how deeply this structure affects all of us. Veterans, activists, working families—anyone without deep pockets or huge audiences—are forced to fight uphill battles where the rules are written by and for those with more resources than your average American.
If Justice is blind, why does it feel like she's keeping tabs on our bank accounts? 🤔
This case is about more than me. It’s about whether military families—and by extension, any marginalized group—can actually access the rights that are 👏 already 👏 theirs 👏. And it’s about whether we’ll keep letting money stand in for justice, or whether we’ll insist that work, dignity, and rights be recognized on their own terms.
