Alabama's Justice System Is Under Threat From Governor Ivey's Appointments

In Montgomery County, a new district judge, Bruce Lieberman, now holds the gavel, appointed by Governor Kay Ivey to replace a retiring predecessor. Alongside him, 19 other appointees have been named to various posts across Alabama, from sheriffs to board members, each decision shaping the state’s future. On the surface, these moves signal continuity, filling gaps left by retirements with seasoned professionals. Yet beneath this veneer of stability lies a troubling pattern, one that threatens the impartiality and inclusivity of Alabama’s judiciary and public institutions.

Ivey’s latest appointments, including Lieberman’s, arrive with little fanfare but carry immense weight. Judges wield extraordinary power, interpreting laws that affect everything from voting rights to criminal justice. When a governor handpicks these arbiters, the process demands scrutiny. Are these selections truly about qualifications, or do they serve a narrower agenda? For those who value fairness and equity, the answer is disheartening. The governor’s choices reflect a troubling preference for loyalty over diversity, raising questions about whose voices will shape Alabama’s courts for years to come.

This isn’t just about one judge or one county. It’s about a system that allows unchecked executive power to mold the judiciary in ways that can entrench inequality. Lieberman, like many of Ivey’s appointees, brings a resume heavy with prosecutorial experience, a background that risks tilting the bench toward punitive perspectives. For communities already grappling with systemic biases in the justice system, this is a step backward, not forward. The stakes are too high for such decisions to escape rigorous public debate.

Advocates for a more equitable Alabama have long warned that judicial appointments can either break or reinforce cycles of injustice. When the governor prioritizes candidates who align with her political vision over those who reflect the state’s diverse population, the courts risk becoming echo chambers of privilege. This isn’t progress; it’s a power grab disguised as routine governance.

Alabama’s judiciary has a diversity problem, and Ivey’s appointments do little to fix it. Recent data shows that the state’s courts remain overwhelmingly white and male, despite a population where nearly a third of residents are Black and women make up half the electorate. Lieberman’s appointment, following Tiffany McCord’s elevation to a circuit judgeship, continues a trend of selecting candidates who fit a narrow mold. While McCord’s experience as a circuit clerk is commendable, the broader pattern reveals a failure to prioritize judges who reflect the communities they serve.

Diverse courts aren’t just a feel-good ideal; they’re a practical necessity. Studies, including a 2023 report from the Brennan Center for Justice, show that judges from varied backgrounds are more likely to challenge biased sentencing practices and uphold civil rights protections. In Alabama, where Black residents face disproportionate incarceration rates, a judiciary that mirrors the state’s demographics could help dismantle these inequities. Yet Ivey’s picks, like Matthew McCullars in Calhoun County, lean heavily on prosecutorial pedigrees, often sidelining candidates with public defense or community advocacy experience.

The counterargument, often voiced by those defending Ivey’s approach, is that qualifications should trump all else. They point to appointees like Lieberman, with years of legal experience, as evidence of merit-based selection. But this ignores a critical truth: qualifications aren’t just about years served or cases won. A judge’s ability to empathize with marginalized communities, to question systemic flaws, is just as vital. By overlooking candidates who bring these perspectives, Ivey risks creating courts that are technically proficient but morally shortsighted.

This homogeneity has real-world consequences. In Montgomery County, where Lieberman now presides, residents deserve judges who understand the complexities of poverty, racial profiling, and over-policing. Instead, they get a bench shaped by a governor whose priorities seem more about consolidating influence than advancing justice. The result is a judiciary that may serve the powerful but leaves the vulnerable behind.

Ivey’s appointments aren’t just about who sits on the bench; they’re about who controls the state’s future. Alabama’s governor wields vast appointive powers, naming not only judges but also agency heads and board members across sectors like health and education. With over 450 boards and commissions under her purview, Ivey’s choices shape everything from healthcare access to economic policy. Yet the process often feels more like political patronage than a commitment to public service.

Historically, Alabama’s appointment system has been a tool for rewarding allies, a practice rooted in the state’s political past. While reforms like the 1939 merit system curbed some abuses, high-level appointments remain a governor’s prerogative, often with minimal oversight. Ivey’s recent selections, including 25 board appointments alongside Lieberman’s judgeship, suggest a preference for insiders who share her vision. This risks prioritizing loyalty over innovation, stifling the bold ideas needed to address Alabama’s pressing challenges.

Defenders of this system argue that a governor should have the freedom to appoint those who align with her agenda, ensuring policy coherence. But when alignment trumps merit, the public loses. Take the Alabama Growth Alliance, where Ivey appointed business leaders to drive economic development. While expertise is crucial, the absence of community advocates or labor representatives on such boards tilts priorities toward corporate interests, not working families. This isn’t governance; it’s favoritism dressed up as strategy.

The good news is that change is possible. Alabama has taken steps toward transparency, like the 2024 public records law that mandates timely responses to information requests. But these reforms don’t go far enough. To ensure a judiciary and government that serve all Alabamians, the appointment process needs an overhaul. Judicial nominating commissions, used in some counties, should be expanded statewide, requiring diverse candidate slates that reflect Alabama’s demographics. Senate confirmation for key appointments could also add accountability, forcing governors to justify their choices publicly.

Advocates for reform aren’t asking for perfection; they’re demanding fairness. A system where one person holds near-unchecked power to shape the courts and agencies is inherently flawed. By prioritizing diversity, transparency, and merit, Alabama could build institutions that inspire trust, not skepticism. Until then, each appointment like Lieberman’s will feel like a missed opportunity to move the state forward.

Governor Ivey’s appointments, from Lieberman’s judgeship to the dozens of board members named this year, reveal a troubling vision for Alabama’s future. It’s a vision that favors familiarity over inclusivity, loyalty over justice. For those who believe in a state where every voice matters, this cannot stand. The courts, the agencies, the boards—they belong to the people, not the governor’s inner circle.

The fight for a fairer Alabama starts with demanding better. It means pushing for reforms that make appointments transparent and equitable, ensuring that the judiciary reflects the state’s rich diversity. It means holding leaders accountable, not just for who they appoint, but for what those choices mean for the vulnerable. Alabama deserves a system that uplifts, not excludes. Until that day comes, every gavel that falls in a courtroom shaped by Ivey’s hand will echo with the weight of unfinished justice.