Is It OK for a President to be Boring?
At a recent Dallas rally, President Trump argued that it was easy to be presidential: “All you have to do is act like a stiff.” He demonstrated with a monotone and a rigid body, claiming that if he actually acted that way, “everybody would be out of here so fast! You wouldn’t come in the first place!” The crowd laughed in agreement.
Contrast that with George Washington, who held strictly formal levees in the White House, at which anything approaching familiarity on his part would have been shocking. Indeed, most presidents until the twentieth century observed a humble and guarded presence to demonstrate a “presidential” mien that was culturally expected for the highest office.
Woodrow Wilson signaled how different things would become when, in 1913, he became the first president since Thomas Jefferson to deliver his State of the Union address in person to Congress. Teddy Roosevelt mastered the “bully pulpit” with a presence as large and boisterous as his life. Since the Nixon-Kennedy televised debates, in which the former was viewed as stiff, presidential candidates who do not establish a commanding media presence have faced an uphill battle. It may be no coincidence that, since 1980, we have had an actor, a senator who rose to national prominence with an electrifying convention speech, and a reality TV star ascend to the presidency. Is President Trump correct that boring does not work?
Yet it’s worth asking whether what some desire serves the nation’s interests. At our founding, fame mattered, but it was based on character, reflected in a reputation earned through public service, prudence, and integrity. Now, does celebrity matter more, based on one's ability to command the media and generate rock-star loyalty?
This trajectory tracks with the movement from Congress as the dominant branch of government (what the Constitution intended) to the presidency as the center of public action. Washington was deferential to the legislative branch, exercising the veto only if he thought a bill was unconstitutional. Today, Congress defers to the president, in many cases not even passing a bill he disagrees with. In our early history, Congressional leaders were the stars in the political firmament; today, it’s presidents.
The potential danger of government centered on presidential celebrity is at least four-fold. First, it increases the chance for demagoguery. Delegates at the Constitutional Convention worried about demagogues who, they understood from history, gained power when they aroused the passions of the people. Their rhetorical skills led passion to overtake reason, at the cost of liberty and often national survival. That is why the Constitution created an executive branch whose president would not be elected directly by the people, but instead by electors chosen most often by state legislatures.
Second, demagoguery emphasizes style over substance and opinion over fact. It encourages evaluation of presidents and presidential ideas based on their popularity rather than their wisdom. It asks people to pledge primary loyalty to the president, substituting fidelity to the person for fidelity to either the merit of a proposal or, in the worst case, the Constitution itself. This helps explain how presidential loyalists can so easily disdain the very principles and proposals their party previously supported, when their president also disdains them.
Third, a presidency-centered government weakens Congress. It can short-circuit the mature deliberation essential to sound policy. Congress was meant to act slowly – requiring the exact same bill to be passed by two separate bodies. The slowness was meant to prevent emotionally generated legislation that could prove dangerous to the rights of citizens. Further, when a president has an "electric" following, members of the president's party are loath to disagree publicly, even against their better judgment about the nation's interests. Their fear that his passionate followers will turn them out of office can tame Congress into silence, weakening the independence intended by the separation of powers.
Fourth, excessive admiration for a thrilling president can distort his decision making, especially if he depends too heavily on being loved instead of being right - or, even worse, conflates the two.
It may be hard, in today’s culture and media-saturated environment, for a presidential candidate to succeed who is too “boring,” so long as the public demands celebrities. But once elected, a president need not continue to cultivate rock-star status to be effective. Madison was shy in public yet preserved the Constitution during the War of 1812 rather than seeking to amass executive power. Lincoln was humble, spoke in public only rarely, yet saved our form of government and ended slavery. Truman, whom most Americans did not even know when he became president, was resolute but hardly boisterous on the stump or airwaves. Eisenhower was a military hero, which certainly helped get him elected, but was perceived as mild-mannered and reserved as president. Yet his behind the scenes execution of the presidency charted the containment policy that would eventually win the Cold War.
Many have observed that, in a democracy, voters get what they want. But that does not mean they get what they need. Exciting presidents may be fine, though we should be wary of them. Boring is not necessarily bad.
Photo Credit: Hanson Lu
