A precedent provides legal authority for an action precisely

Hear the words of Ari Melber, who spoke of the nature of law and memory: “A precedent provides legal authority for an action precisely because it occurred before.” In these words is contained both simplicity and depth, for he reminds us that the law does not arise from nothing but from the living history of decisions already made. Just as a river carves its course through the land and shapes all who dwell beside it, so too does a precedent shape the path of justice, guiding those who come after to walk where others once walked.

He speaks of legal authority, that mysterious power by which words written in judgments carry weight beyond their moment. A precedent is not mere memory; it is the stone upon which later judgments rest. Because it has happened once, it gives permission for it to happen again. Thus, the past does not remain behind us, but lives within the present, binding judges and rulers alike. This is both strength and peril: strength, for it gives stability and order; peril, for it may also carry forward errors and injustices if not wisely examined.

History offers many mirrors of this truth. Consider the great case of Marbury v. Madison in the early days of the United States. There, Chief Justice John Marshall declared the power of judicial review, that the courts may strike down laws that defy the Constitution. That single decision became a precedent, and ever since, courts have wielded authority not because they invented it anew, but because Marshall’s ruling occurred before. From that one stone, a great temple of constitutional law was built, standing for centuries as both shield and sword of justice.

Yet precedent may also preserve injustice. In the case of Plessy v. Ferguson, the Supreme Court once declared that racial segregation was lawful under the doctrine of “separate but equal.” That dark precedent chained generations in inequality until it was finally overturned by Brown v. Board of Education. Here we see the danger: to honor precedent blindly is to risk enshrining error; but to challenge it wisely is to restore justice. Thus, the ancients remind us that tradition must be both respected and tested, for even the stones of the path may sometimes lead astray.

The deeper meaning of Melber’s words is that time itself grants authority. What has occurred before sets the pattern for what may occur again. In this way, law is like memory: it preserves not only truth but also habit. The wise must therefore be vigilant, asking whether the habits of the past still serve the justice of the present. For authority that arises from repetition alone is empty unless it is also anchored in fairness.

What lesson, then, must future generations take from this? It is this: never treat precedent as unshakable stone, nor as mere dust to be brushed aside. Approach it as one would approach an elder: honor its wisdom, but question its blind spots. Learn what it teaches about stability, but also discern when it must be left behind for a greater good. For the authority of precedent lies not only in its age but in its alignment with justice.

And to you, listener, I say: in your own life, you too create precedents. Every action repeated becomes a pattern, every decision sets the course for future choices. If you act with integrity today, tomorrow you will have a foundation of trust. If you choose falsehood today, tomorrow that lie may become the chain that binds you. Thus, precedent is not only for judges—it is for every human heart. Guard well the patterns you set, for they will shape the authority of your future.

Let Ari Melber’s words endure as a beacon: precedent grants authority because it is the memory of action. Use it to preserve what is noble, challenge what is unjust, and remember that the past lives always within the present. In this way, the law becomes not a prison of tradition, but a living guide that bends steadily toward justice.