Every four years, the United States of America inaugurates a new presidency. It doesn’t matter if, as a result of free and fair elections, a president remains in office for two terms. The winner of the November election, no matter who he or she might be, incumbent or successful challenger, must be sworn in to a brand new term after four years have elapsed.
Until this year, many of us Americans took this ceremony for granted,
giving no real thought to how unique a thing it is in the world. The words
“peaceful transfer of power” have seemed almost as mundane to us as “have a
nice day” or “thank you for your service.” Formalities that are expected and almost
socially compulsory. But the fact that it has been happening like clockwork
every four years ever since the first president of the United States, George
Washington, rejected the idea of being an emperor and “presided” over the
federal government for the two terms that he thought prudent and then retired
after a peaceful transfer of power to John Adams, is nothing short of a
miracle.
Although he established an important precedent by serving two four-year
terms and no more, Washington’s reasons for leaving were political and
personal—including a major rift between Jeffersonian Republicans and
Hamiltonian Federalists, which was his main reason for staying for a second
term, so as to act as a peacemaker in his troubled cabinet. But it seemed clear
to him after two terms that his remaining in office might only deepen the
divisions. And so, he withdrew his candidacy for a third term and peacefully
and graciously handed over the post to the next president.
A Federalist, Adams would only serve for one term before Thomas
Jefferson was voted in to replace him. But even in these troubled early days of
the new nation—which famously led to Jefferson’s first Vice-President Aaron
Burr’s shooting and killing Hamilton in a duel—presidents were legitimately
voted into office and certified by the Electoral College, and each and every
transfer of power was prompt and peaceful, no matter what kind of bitter
political rivalries might separate the candidates. It was, in fact, Jefferson,
who had acrimoniously feuded with Washington and Hamilton, who encouraged
Washington to stay for a second term and offered to quit the government as well
if the first president didn’t remain in office. And it was Jefferson, too, who
cemented the eight-year mandate precedent that Washington set by also leaving
office after his second term and peacefully transferring power to the newly
elected James Madison, who, along with Hamilton and John Jay, had collaborated
in the writing of The Federalist Papers,
which would greatly contribute to the ratification of the nation’s
Constitution.
Thomas Jefferson and John Adams - differences of opinion, not principle |
It was thanks to the clear democratic vision of these first patriots—
who, no matter how they might disagree on the issues, agreed on the importance
of each voice being heard and each issue being debated in a climate of
democratic order—that set the guidelines and code for the future. And with each
new peaceful transfer of power, democracy, and so the nation, only grew
stronger.
This “established order” and peaceful transfer of power that we have so
taken for granted, have continued unabated throughout the two and a half
centuries of US history. Even in the most troubled and divisive of times,
indeed, even during the years before, during and after the Civil War. One
president after the other has respected the will of the people and the rules of
the Electoral College and peacefully ceded power to the next without incident,
most with extraordinary grace and an almost ritual respect for the democratic
process. A very few—John Adams, who bitterly opposed Jefferson’s Republicanism;
his son, John Quincy Adams, the sixth president, who abhorred the seventh,
Andrew Jackson; and Andrew Johnson, a
Southerner who opposed Reconstruction and hated the next president and Union
hero, Ulysses S. Grant—snubbed their successors by refusing to attend their
inaugurations. But all of them, to a man, respected the democratic process and
quietly and peacefully left office when the people and the people’s
representatives determined that their time was through.
This year’s Inauguration Day, celebrated last Wednesday, was anything
but mundane. Never has an Inauguration Day been less taken for granted by a
large segment of the population. Because, for the first time in history, the
peaceful transfer of power came under serious and unequivocal threat. And so
too did two and a half centuries of US stability and American democracy. For
the first time, a president who lost a free, fair and democratic election
sought to deny the results, fabricate a false narrative among a radical segment
of his followers, and remain in power by inciting violence against another
branch of government. In other words, for the first time, the United States has
failed to have a peaceful transfer of power in keeping with our nation’s
democratic norms.
Four years ago, few of us would ever have thought such a scenario was
possible. It could never happen in the United States of America, many were
convinced. That was the sort of thing that happened in unstable “third world”
countries, not in “the land of the free and the home of the brave.”
But it did, and created the biggest threat to democracy and to the
integrity of the nation since the Civil War ripped the country in two. That’s
why, when a new president was sworn in last Wednesday at high noon, I, along
with many other Americans, I’m sure, had a knot in my throat and tears in my eyes
as I watched. It was the emotion of joy that welled up in me, despite all of my
hard-earned cynicism about politics and politicians.
The tears and emotion weren’t, I realized, for the new president, no
matter how much I wish him well and hope he’ll have enormous success. Rather,
they were for democracy, tears of relief that it was still standing, though
badly battered, and clearly not out of the woods yet. My joy was that our two
and a half-century experiment in representative democracy had survived a very clear
and present threat. We had, to a much greater extent than many of us cared to
admit, dodged a bullet, stemmed an insurrection, overcome a rebellion against
the majority will, a revolt that counted on the active assistance and authority
or the passive acquiescence and silence of far too many internal players.
People we Americans have voted into office, and who failed miserably to honor
our trust that they would keep their vow to “support and defend the
Constitution of the United States.”
As I’ve been thinking about these things, I’ve been recalling the messages of Inauguration Days past. The sixteenth president’s, for instance. Emerging from a bitter war of brother against brother—a war with the unconscionable injustice of slavery at its core, a prolonged war from which, under Abraham Lincoln’s leadership, the Union emerged victorious—instead of taking the victory lap he so deserved, instead of warning the former Confederate States that they had best have learned a lesson, because if not they would be in for another whipping, the president chose his second inaugural address as an occasion to promote unity and forgiveness.
"With malice toward none..." |
“With malice toward none, with charity for all,” he said, “with firmness
in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the
work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have
borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve
and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”
I spoke earlier of the bitter feuding between Federalists and
Republicans in the times of the forefathers. And it was seldom any worse than
between Thomas Jefferson and John Adams. And yet, despite Adams’ inaugural
snub, Jefferson’s inaugural speech was clearly democratic and conciliatory. “Every
difference of opinion,” he said, “is not a difference of principle. We have
called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all
Republicans, we are all Federalists.”
Nothing to fear but fear itself |
Ask what you can do for your country |
Nor did Abraham Lincoln sound the clarions of battle and division in his
first inaugural address, right at the beginning of what was to be America’s
most bloody and bitter war, and even as the Southern slave states were seceding
from the Union. That speech was just as unifying and inspiring as his last, and
even more poetically beautiful. In it, he said, "We are not enemies, but
friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not
break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from
every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all
over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again
touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”
As we approach the next four years, after the last four which were,
unquestionably, some of the most divisive in our history, we would do well to
re-read and recall the words of all of these great leaders. But we should
particularly take to heart those of Lincoln, who is taken by many to have been
the gold standard for selfless, patriotic presidents. We should remember his
words and try to see past the divisive rhetoric and actions of the last four
years, draw a line and start a new road on which we allow ourselves to be
guided by “the better angels of our nature.”