By Yuval Levin
Friday, January 20, 2017
Being a sucker for civic rituals, I’ve attended every
presidential inauguration since Clinton’s second in 1997. Regardless of my
opinion of the person being inaugurated—when I have voted for him and when I
have not—I’ve stood in the rain or the cold and relished the opportunity to
observe the ceremony and hear what the new or returning chief executive has to
say.
So I was there today too. Both rain and cold were on
offer, and the ceremonial aspects of the day were unchanged from the past five.
Showing up for each inauguration is a good reminder that the president’s time
is limited. The same kind of crowd will be there for the same kind of ceremony
four years from today, perhaps for the same president or perhaps for another.
It will seem to have passed in a flash.
Trump’s speech was what any observer of his campaign
rhetoric might have expected, for good and bad. Rooted in the view that
contemporary American life is a nightmarish scene of unrelenting carnage, despair,
and desolation caused by the simple unwillingness of our leaders to act in
America’s interest, Trump’s rhetoric manages to exaggerate our problems and yet
also exaggerate how easy it would be to solve them. It lets him set a low bar
for himself yet also causes him to make promises no one could keep.
But the speech was also rooted, as much of Trump’s
rhetoric has been, in a plainly genuine patriotism and in a healthy sense that
leaders need to care for their country and not just for some theoretical ideal
version of their country. Trump also did a better job than I’ve heard him do
before of connecting his vision to the country’s desire for unity. I think it
has always been linked to it, offering a particular (if problematic) answer to
the question of how to address our divisions. But he came closer here, even
using the term solidarity, to suggesting that he believes that by building
walls around our country we can break down the walls within our society.
Although I think it grossly understates the challenges of unity in our vast and
diverse country, this is one serious answer to the challenge of solidarity in
21st century America, and it is in many respects a more coherent and appealing
answer than the one the Left tends to propose.
But to draw these themes out of Trump’s remarks is not to
say that he offered a traditional inaugural address geared to conveying his
particular vision. The speech he delivered was normal for him, but not for
presidential inaugural addresses. And in the broader context of the inaugural
ceremony, it helped to bring into sharper relief for me the ways in which Trump
is likely to be very unusual.
Observing these ceremonies every four years is a reminder
that the presidency is for the most part a pre-defined role in a larger
political drama—a niche that can be occupied by different people with different
goals and characters, and used by them to their different ends while largely
keeping its shape. That shape has itself changed over time, of course, mostly
expanding in our living memory. But the office has grown through use (and
over-use) and every president has run to fill the role. The inaugural ceremony
helps to highlight this: It is essentially the same every time, with a
different glutton for punishment taking the same oath as all who came before,
and setting out to occupy the same position in the same system.
But Trump’s way of speaking about his vision and
intentions suggests his case will be different. He did not really run to occupy
the presidency as it exists, and does not seem to think of himself as stepping
now into a role he is obliged to carry out. He ran to disrupt a broken system,
and to be himself but with more power and authority. He is our president, but
he has not taken on the job with any clear sense of the presidency as a
distinct function and office which he should now stretch and bend to embody.
This has not been easy to accept, and so we have tended
implicitly to wait for the moment when Trump would put aside his childish
antics and step up into the role. Or else we have inclined to think about the
prospects for Trump’s presidency in terms of whether he would be too strong or
too weak a president. But this is probably the wrong way to think about what
Trump is doing. He is not filling the role in a certain way. He is playing a
different role. He is being himself.
This suggests a different way to think about the
challenges and opportunities the Trump presidency may pose. Trump seems
inclined to leave largely unfilled the part traditionally played by the
president in our system while playing another part formed around the peculiar
contours of his bombastic, combative, and at times surely disordered
personality. That means that Trump’s team, the Congress, the courts, and the
public will need to confront the implications of both the absence of a more
traditional president and the presence of a different and unfamiliar kind of
figure at the heart of the constitutional order. These are two distinct
problems.
There may well be some bright sides to both of these
facets of our situation. The absence of a strong executive on the model that
has taken form (and grown ever stronger) since at least the middle of the last
century could become a spur to a reassertion of congressional authority in its
proper realm, or in any case a shrinking of the president’s role in the
everyday work of governing. The presence of a bombastic populist in the White
House could force some common sense on a political culture too dominated by
abstract sloganeering. Trump is often irresponsible, but he has better
political instincts than most of our politicians. Responding to the presence of
this unusual figure at the heart of our politics with an effort to formulate
responsible applications of his political instincts could redound to the good
in some cases.
But there are obviously dark sides to both facets too.
The absence of an executive eager to play his complex part could easily drive
our constitutional system badly out of balance and leave it unfocused and
hapless. And in foreign policy it looks likely to undermine the post-World War
II system of liberal-democratic alliances in which the President of the United
States has had a distinct role to play for seven decades, about which Trump
appears to know or care very little. And the presence of an undisciplined,
aggressive performance artist at the heart of our system of government, a
figure whose excesses are not structurally counterbalanced by others in the
system (in the way that the excesses of the traditional presidency are), could
alter the public’s expectations of government and politics in ways decidedly
unhelpful to American constitutionalism.
This combination of potential good and harm poses a very
complicated problem for Congress, for Trump’s cabinet and staff, and for others
in the constitutional system. The morning after the election, I suggested we
might think of this as a standing crisis in the executive—and that these years
would yield many important opportunities, but also grave risks. The transition
period has left me with the same sense, eased a little by some of Trump’s
cabinet and other personnel choices but sharpened too by the sense that our new
president enters office without a clear idea of the job.
President Trump’s term seems less likely than that of any
modern president’s to be defined by the role of the presidency in our system of
government—not just by the limits of that role but even by its general form.
Instead, to a greater degree than any modern president, his time in office
seems likely to be shaped by his own character and personality. This is not
good news.
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