President Donald Trump hinted for weeks that he might pardon former Arizona sheriff Joe Arpaio. When he finally did so last Friday, the White House’s official statement lauding Arpaio failed to mention the charge for which Trump had granted clemency: a criminal conviction of contempt of court for defying an order to halt racial profiling. Whatever the White House may say about Arpaio’s “selfless public service”, the President’s decision is a slap in the face to Latinos and undocumented immigrants, and a gift to Trump’s most far-Right supporters.

Despite Trump’s suggestion that Arpaio was “convicted for doing his job”, a federal judge found the former sheriff guilty of contempt when he refused to cease rounding up suspected undocumented immigrants on the basis of appearance alone. But Arpaio’s abuse of his authority as sheriff went well beyond racial profiling. With pride, he detained inmates in inhumane conditions and humiliated them in the name of deterring crime. And like Trump, he rose to national prominence by casting doubt on whether Barack Obama was born in the United States.

Trump did not consult with the Justice Department before pardoning Arpaio. Indeed, the former sheriff had not even applied for a pardon through the longstanding Justice Department system. Perhaps that is appropriate: The department’s guidelines state that pardon applicants should show remorse and atonement for their actions. Arpaio has shown none. (He is now pushing for the federal court to vacate its verdict against him.)

A pardon was Trump’s second choice. Last spring, the President reportedly asked Attorney-General Jeff Sessions whether the Justice Department might be able to drop the active investigation of Arpaio at the time. When Sessions informed Trump that such a request would be inappropriate, the President settled on clemency instead.

Trump’s authority to bestow pardons is nearly without restraint. But granting clemency for a defendant convicted of contempt of court speaks to the same disdain towards the judicial system that Trump has displayed in his attacks on “so-called” judges. (Arpaio has taken a similar approach, decrying his conviction as a “political witch-hunt”.) And Trump’s discussion with Sessions recalls his suggestion to the FBI director of the day, James Comey, to drop the bureau’s investigation of Michael Flynn, Trump’s former national security adviser.

This pardon is not only a mark of Trump’s inclination to inflame rather than bind up the nation’s wounds. It is also a warning of his lack of respect for the independence of the courts and of law enforcement in a country governed by the rule of law — a worrying characteristic in a president facing a special counsel investigation. But Trump should take the outraged response to Arpaio’s pardon from across the political spectrum as a warning, too: a sign of the resistance he will encounter if he chooses to issue further pardons, particularly in the Russia affair, on the basis of political concerns rather than those of justice.