Imagine you walk into court with what appears to be a strong case. The law is on your side. The facts are on your side. Even the judge seems troubled by what the government is doing. And then you lose anyway. Not because you're wrong. Because the court ...
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Sometimes the merits don't matter. And that's exactly the point.

Imagine you walk into court with what appears to be a strong case. The law is on your side. The facts are on your side. Even the judge seems troubled by what the government is doing. And then you lose anyway. Not because you're wrong. Because the court says it lacks the power to decide whether you're right.

That's essentially what happened last week in FreeState Justice v. EEOC.

The case arose from the EEOC's response to President Trump's January 2025 executive order recognizing only two sexes, male and female. Following that order, then Acting EEOC Chair Andrea Lucas announced that the agency was rolling back what it characterized as the prior administration's "gender identity agenda."

Words turned into actions.

According to the lawsuit, the EEOC stopped processing certain categories of gender-identity discrimination charges. The agency resumed investigating some claims involving hiring, firing, and promotion decisions. But it allegedly continued refusing to process claims alleging harassment based on gender identity and retaliation against employees who complained about such discrimination.

In practical terms, transgender employees could still file certain discrimination charges with the EEOC. But if a transgender employee alleged workplace harassment or retaliation, the agency allegedly would not investigate those claims.

The lawsuit also alleged that the EEOC directed state fair-employment agencies that it would no longer reimburse them for investigating gender-identity charges on the agency's behalf.

The plaintiff, an LGBTQ+ legal-services organization called FreeState Justice, argued that these policy changes effectively denied transgender workers access to protections that Title VII guarantees.

They have a point. 

In 2020, the Supreme Court held in Bostock v. Clayton County that discrimination because of transgender status is discrimination because of sex under Title VII. Since then, the EEOC has treated gender-identity discrimination claims as falling within the statute's protections.

The lawsuit essentially alleged that the EEOC had decided to stop enforcing part of Title VII for a particular group of employees.

That's why Chief Judge George Russell's opinion contains a remarkable phrase.

Describing the EEOC's actions, he called them "deeply troubling."

Judges don't casually insert language like that into opinions. It's hard to read those two words as anything other than an acknowledgment that the court saw serious issues with what the agency was doing.

But then the judge did something that infuriated the plaintiffs and anyone who agrees with them. He dismissed the case without ever deciding whether the EEOC's conduct was legal.

The problem wasn't the merits. The problem was standing.

The court relied heavily on the Supreme Court's 2023 decision in United States v. Texas. That case reaffirmed a basic principle about separation of powers: courts generally do not get to tell executive agencies whom to investigate, whom to prosecute, or how aggressively to enforce the law.

Those decisions belong to the Executive Branch.

The plaintiff wasn't asking the court to stop the government from doing something. It was asking the court to require the government to do something — namely, investigate and process more discrimination charges. Under Texas, that's usually a bridge too far.

And so the court never reached the underlying question that everyone actually cares about: whether the EEOC's policy violates Title VII. Instead, the case ended at the courthouse door.

It's easy to find that outcome frustrating. After all, if a court believes government conduct is "deeply troubling," shouldn't it decide whether that conduct is lawful?

Not necessarily.

One of the most important principles in our legal system is that courts are courts of limited jurisdiction. They don't get to decide every dispute. They don't get to answer every important question. They don't get to issue advisory opinions simply because an issue matters. They can decide only the cases the Constitution and Congress authorize them to decide.

That's where standing comes in. Standing doctrine often feels like legal housekeeping. Lawyers love arguing it. Clients hate hearing about it. But standing serves an important function. It prevents courts from becoming roving commissions empowered to supervise every policy disagreement between citizens and the government.

Without those limits, judges could effectively become policymakers. That's a dangerous road regardless of whose policies are at issue.

The lesson from FreeState Justice is not that the EEOC was right.
The lesson is not that the EEOC was wrong.
The lesson is that sometimes a court never gets that far.

Sometimes a case is decided on the merits.
Sometimes it's decided on procedure.

And while it can be maddening to watch procedure trump substance — especially when the court itself describes the underlying conduct as "deeply troubling" — procedural rules are what keep our legal system functioning. They define the boundaries of judicial power. They preserve the separation of powers. They ensure that courts remain courts rather than political actors.

The alternative is a system in which judges decide whichever disputes they think deserve an answer. That might sound appealing when the judge agrees with you. It becomes a lot less appealing when the judge doesn't.

That's why procedure matters. Not because it's exciting. Because it's what stands between the rule of law and the rule of whoever happens to hold judicial power.

DOJ's attack on disparate impact gets Title VII exactly backwards

The Department of Justice just issued a legal opinion claiming that disparate impact liability is unconstitutional because it supposedly "incent[s] — and even coerce[s] — employers to make race-based decisions to avoid liability."

That's a remarkable claim.

It's also a fundamental misunderstanding of how disparate impact law actually works.

Disparate impact claims exist precisely because they target facially neutral policies. No one is alleging intentional discrimination. No one is claiming that an employer adopted a policy because of race, sex, or some other protected characteristic.

The entire point of disparate impact is that a neutral rule can nonetheless operate as an unnecessary barrier to employment opportunities.

In fact, that's exactly why the Supreme Court recognized disparate impact liability in Griggs v. Duke Power Co. in 1971. The employer in Griggs required a high school diploma and certain aptitude test scores for transfers and promotions. The policies were facially neutral. They said nothing about race. Yet they disproportionately excluded Black employees and bore little relationship to successful job performance. The Supreme Court held that Title VII "proscribes not only overt discrimination but also practices that are fair in form, but discriminatory in operation." The Court's point was simple: employment criteria should measure a person's ability to perform a job, not create arbitrary barriers that disproportionately exclude protected groups.

Think aptitude tests. Physical fitness standards. Educational requirements. Criminal background checks. Credit checks. Hiring algorithms. AI screening tools.

None of these practices are discriminatory on their face. Yet all have the potential to disproportionately exclude certain protected groups.

Title VII's disparate impact framework asks a simple question: Does the employer have a legitimate business reason for using the practice?

If the answer is yes, the employer wins.

That's the part DOJ's opinion conveniently ignores.

Disparate impact liability does not require employers to adopt quotas. It does not require race-based hiring. It does not require preferential treatment.

It requires employers to justify employment practices that disproportionately exclude protected groups.

That's it.

An employer that uses a criminal background check because it is job-related and consistent with business necessity has a defense. An employer that uses a validated aptitude test tied to actual job performance has a defense. An employer that can demonstrate a legitimate need for a particular hiring criterion has a defense.

The law does not say, "You must hire more people from Group X."

The law says, "If your policy disproportionately screens out Group X, explain why the policy is necessary."

Those are very different things.

What's especially strange about DOJ's position is that it essentially assumes employers will engage in intentional discrimination to avoid being accused of unintentional discrimination.

That logic makes no sense.

If an employer responds to disparate impact concerns by making race-based employment decisions, that employer has created an entirely different legal problem. Title VII already prohibits intentional discrimination.

The cure for a potentially problematic employment practice is not race-conscious decision-making. The cure is validating the practice, modifying it, or eliminating it if it lacks a sufficient business justification.

The practical implications of this position could be enormous.

Consider criminal background checks.

For years, employers have been advised to carefully tailor criminal history screens to the requirements of specific jobs because broad exclusions can disproportionately affect certain racial groups. Employers have been encouraged to consider the nature of the offense, the time elapsed since conviction, and the relationship between the offense and the job.

Under DOJ's new theory, those concerns could largely disappear.

The same would be true for educational requirements that aren't actually necessary for job performance. Aptitude tests that have never been validated. Physical requirements that exceed what the job actually demands. AI hiring tools that systematically exclude qualified candidates.

Ironically, many of these are the very types of employment criteria that gave rise to disparate impact liability in Griggs more than five decades ago.

The question would no longer be whether these practices create unnecessary barriers to employment.

The question would be whether someone can prove intentional discrimination.

That's a much higher hurdle.

And that's exactly why disparate impact has been a cornerstone of civil rights enforcement for more than half a century.

Discrimination doesn't always announce itself with a racist memo or a smoking-gun email. Sometimes it appears through systems, policies, and practices that produce exclusionary outcomes despite facial neutrality.

That's why Congress codified Griggs' disparate-impact framework in the Civil Rights Act of 1991. That's why the Supreme Court has repeatedly recognized it. And that's why the EEOC has spent decades enforcing it.

The DOJ's opinion may signal the administration's enforcement priorities. It may embolden employers to challenge disparate impact claims. It may even preview future litigation aimed at persuading courts to revisit longstanding precedent.

But that would require overturning more than fifty years of settled law dating back to Griggs v. Duke Power.

Let's not pretend that disparate impact liability somehow forces employers to engage in intentional discrimination. The doctrine exists because facially neutral employment practices can sometimes function as unnecessary barriers to equal employment opportunity. That's not a bug in Title VII. It's one of the statute's core features.

Eliminating disparate impact liability would not create a more merit-based workplace.

It would simply make it harder to challenge employment barriers that disproportionately exclude protected groups while serving little or no legitimate business purpose.

Unpaid leave is an ADA reasonable accommodation; it just can't be the only one you offer

If your ADA accommodation policy starts with "take unpaid leave," you're doing it wrong.

Just ask the 15 Dunkin' Donuts franchisees that recently agreed to pay $250,000 to settle an EEOC disability discrimination lawsuit.

According to the EEOC, these franchisees maintained a policy that refused to provide reasonable accommodations to employees with medical restrictions. Instead, workers were placed on unpaid, indefinite leave until they could return to work with no restrictions whatsoever. In other words, if an employee wasn't "100% healed," they weren't working.

The EEOC calls this a "100%-healed" policy. The ADA calls it unlawful.

Too many employers mistakenly assume that if an employee has medical restrictions, the safest course is to send them home until they're fully recovered. That instinct is understandable. It's also exactly what the ADA is designed to prevent.

The ADA requires employers to engage in an interactive process with employees seeking accommodations and to conduct an individualized assessment of whether they can perform the essential functions of their jobs with a reasonable accommodation. Sometimes that assessment and interactive process results in modified duties. Sometimes it's a schedule change. Sometimes it's assistive equipment. And yes, sometimes it's a leave of absence.

Leave can absolutely be a reasonable accommodation under the ADA. It just can't be the only accommodation you're willing to consider.

An employee with lifting restrictions might still be able to perform the essential functions of a cashier position. An employee recovering from surgery might need a temporary schedule adjustment. An employee with a mobility impairment might need a workstation modification. Automatically placing these employees on unpaid leave skips the interactive process entirely and assumes that disability equals inability.

That's precisely what got these Dunkin' franchisees into trouble.

The EEOC also alleged that employees were effectively forced to resign or were terminated because they couldn't provide a doctor's note releasing them to work without restrictions. That's another hallmark of an unlawful 100%-healed policy. The ADA doesn't require employees to be restriction-free. It requires employers to determine whether employees can perform their jobs with reasonable accommodation.

The agency's settlement announcement contains a quote every employer should tape to its ADA policy manual: "The ADA requires employers to individually assess reasonable accommodations and grant those which do not pose an undue hardship for the employer. Uniform policies eliminating such individual considerations are red flags for ADA violations."

That's the lesson every employer should take from this settlement.

If your handbook, leave policy, or accommodation practices contain language requiring employees to be fully recovered, have no restrictions, or be 100% healed before returning to work, fix it now. Likewise, if your managers routinely respond to medical restrictions by immediately placing employees on unpaid leave without exploring other options, you're creating the same risk that cost these franchisees a quarter-million dollars.

The ADA requires individualized assessments, not automatic decisions. If your default response to workplace restrictions is unpaid leave, you're not engaging in the interactive process. You're building the plaintiff's case for them.

The EEOC's new Enforcement Plan is way more politics than strategy

The EEOC has replaced its 2024-2028 Strategic Enforcement Plan with a new National Enforcement Plan for 2025-2029. The change is more than cosmetic. It reflects a significant shift in what the agency believes its mission should be.

To be clear, intentional discrimination against anyone because of race, sex, religion, national origin, age, disability, or any other protected characteristic is unlawful. Full stop. Title VII protects everyone. An employer cannot justify discrimination simply because it occurs in the name of diversity, equity, or inclusion.

But that's not really the story here.

The story is what the EEOC has chosen to prioritize.

The agency's stated Chair Priorities now include "remedying DEI-related race and sex discrimination," "protecting American workers from anti-American national origin discrimination," "defending women's rights to single-sex spaces at work and workers' rights to express the binary nature of sex," and protecting religious liberty and religious accommodations. The plan also repeatedly identifies DEI programs, hiring initiatives, and workplace diversity practices as enforcement targets.

None of these issues fall outside the EEOC's jurisdiction. If an employer intentionally discriminates based on race, sex, religion, or national origin, the agency should investigate. The question is whether elevating these issues to the agency's highest enforcement priorities reflects a neutral assessment of workplace discrimination or a political response to the culture-war issues dominating today's headlines.

The most revealing sentence in the entire document may be the one few employers will notice. The EEOC expressly states that it will use its enforcement authority "to advance the Administration's policy objectives."

That's an astonishing admission. The EEOC was not created to advance presidential policy objectives. It was created to enforce federal anti-discrimination laws. Those are not always the same thing.

Every administration leaves its fingerprints on federal agencies. That's politics. But this plan reads less like a neutral enforcement roadmap and more like a political document designed to reassure the White House that the agency is aligned with its culture-war priorities.

For most of its history, the EEOC has focused its resources on combating discrimination that has historically excluded and marginalized workers from equal employment opportunity. This plan does not abandon that mission outright. But it unmistakably shifts the agency's attention toward issues that have become central to the current Administration's political agenda.

An EEOC focused on rooting out discrimination wherever it exists is fulfilling its statutory mission. An EEOC focused on advancing the political objectives of its boss is something very different.

What should employers do? Don't overreact, but don't ignore the signal. Review DEI initiatives for legal compliance. Ensure accommodation processes work effectively for both disability and religious requests. Revisit policies addressing sex-segregated facilities, pronoun usage, and employee expression. Most importantly, continue making employment decisions based on qualifications, performance, and business needs—not politics.

Administrations change. Enforcement priorities change. The law changes more slowly. Smart employers should keep their focus there.

WIRTW #800: the 'world cup' edition

The World Cup kicks off on June 11, and plenty of matches will be played during the workday. (June 17, I'm looking at you. Portugal vs. DR Congo starts at 1 p.m. ET, followed by England vs. Croatia just three hours later.)

So what's an employer of football-loving employees to do?

Nick Mohammed, of Ted Lasso fame, has a suggestion. He's released a tongue-in-cheek video called Fight for Your Right to Watch the 2026 FIFA World Cup at Work.

 

I'm not suggesting employees spend the next six weeks with one eye on their work and the other on a World Cup stream.

Then again, I'm not exactly suggesting they don't, at least for games that matter to them.

Instead of treating the World Cup as six weeks of lost productivity, smart employers might view it as six weeks of culture-building. A lunchtime watch party. A company bracket. National team jerseys on match days.

If employees are going to be paying attention anyway, you might as well harness the enthusiasm rather than police it. Productivity might dip for 90 minutes, but morale and goodwill can last a lot longer.



Here's what I read this week that you should read, too. 

Is Beer at Work a Problem, or Is It a Sign of Something Bigger? — via Improve Your HR by Suzanne Lucas, the Evil HR Lady


How People Are Really Using AI in 2026 — via Harvard Business Review





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