Why Presidents Can’t Quit, Part Two

Last week, I explored the curious historical fact that American presidents never resign from office – even in circumstances which would be regarded as completely untenable in a parliamentary democracy. With the exception of Richard Nixon, who resigned only to avoid the inevitable shame of impeachment and removal, no president – even under conditions of disability or disgrace – has chosen to leave office before the end of his term.

This historical anomaly has much to do with the weakness of American political parties vis-a-vis incumbent presidents. Another explanation lies in the absence of historical precedents. Simply stated, Americans – with their characteristic ignorance of how other democracies govern themselves – simply can’t imagine resignation as a viable option, because it doesn’t appear in their own history.

Today, as an intellectual exercise, I’d like to imagine that – over the course of American history – two or three presidents had been compelled to step down by the leaders of their parties. Imagine, for example, that congressional Democrats had insisted that Woodrow Wilson do the right thing after a series of strokes disabled him. Or that Warren G. Harding – instead of dying with suspicious convenience on the eve of scandal – had been forced to resign in favor of the upright Calvin Coolidge.

Would these hypothetical events, combined with Nixon’s resignation, have created sufficient precedent for Americans to consider resignation as a viable part of our political heritage? And, if so, might we have witnessed other historic resignations in our own times?

I was not a writer when George H. W. Bush announced for re-election in 1992, so I cannot prove what follows. But I recall, during several Charlottesville bull sessions, strongly advocating that President Bush resign before the end of his first term – not in disgrace, but to win greater glory.

My argument ran as follows.

President Bush stood at the pinnacle of national and international esteem. He had deftly managed America’s response to the implosion of the Soviet Union and its aftermath. He had, for the first time since the Korean War, rallied the United Nations to repel an act of military aggression by force, thus restoring the independence of Kuwait.

That said, Mr. Bush appeared to have no second-term agenda. He was running for re-election, it seemed, not because he had “fire in the belly”, but because he liked being President. Without passion or agenda, he seemed likely to lose to whomever the Democrats nominated.

But what if the President indicated a willingness to resign a year early in order to be named the first American Secretary-General of the United Nations? He would, by that single, dramatic act, add immeasurably to the prestige and power of the UN – while securing his place in history as the man gave up the world’s greatest job in order to make the UN a viable force for peace and justice in the world.

He would also permit the Republican Party to choose a candidate up to the challenge eventually provided by Bill Clinton.

It is, of course, inconceivable that President Bush would have followed this course. That is precisely my point. It shouldn’t have been inconceivable.

In 1998, after the Lewinsky affair had derailed the Clinton presidency, I joined a handful of other Democrats who called for the President to resign – not because of his sexual peccadilloes, but because his subsequent lies had destroyed the most indispensable of presidential assets – his credibility.


Understand, please, that I’d always liked President Clinton. I still do. But I believed he had forfeited any chance of achieving further policy successes. I also believed the Democratic Party would fare far better in 2000 if a President Gore entered the campaign with two years of incumbency to his credit – and considerable distance between himself and the Clinton scandals.

Today, looking back on the disaster of the Bush presidency, I regard Clinton’s failure to resign as one of the most consequential decisions in American history.

Had Clinton resigned, we would – in all probability – be in the ninth year of the Gore administration. American troops would certainly be in Afghanistan. They would almost certainly not be in Iraq, though we might now be doing something about Darfur.
America would be leading the world in seeking alternate energy sources and combating global warming. The Supreme Court would probably remain balanced between its left and right wings. And New Orleans, I sincerely believe, would be far closer to a brilliant renaissance.

In historical hindsight, Democrats, liberals – and all those who have lost loved ones in the Mesopotamian quagmire – have much to regret in Mr. Clinton’s decision to cling to office.

It isn’t hard to imagine Republicans, a decade hence, feeling much the same about their inability to compel the resignation of the disastrous George W. Bush in time to salvage their prospects in 2008.

Why Presidents Can’t Quit, Part One

The death of Gerald Ford has become – as befits our late President – a welcome opportunity for the American people to reflect upon our recent history.

In contrast with the funeral for Ronald Reagan – which was transformed by Hollywood grandiosity, a full-court press by an administration and Congress eager to claim his mantle, and the obsequious timidity of our media into something resembling the deification of a deceased Roman emperor – President Ford’s passing has offered that most useful of occasions, a teachable moment.

To be sure, there has been great emphasis on the positive, which is only natural and proper when burying an honorable man. There has also been a good deal of popular sentimentality about a bygone era which – but for the fact that we Boomers were much younger and slimmer then – hardly merits much nostalgia. But there has also been refreshing candor and some genuine effort at honest appraisal – an attempt to anticipate the long view of history in assessing Mr. Ford’s 2 ½ years in the White House.

Over the past week, I have begun to realize that we may gain a relatively balanced assessment of Mr. Ford’s presidency in our own time – something which will almost certainly not happen with respect to presidents with so many idolators as John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan, or so many detractors as Richard Nixon.

Fascinating as I find these proto-historical appraisals of the Ford presidency, though, what keeps intruding into my thoughts is the simple fact that Mr. Ford came to office through the only presidential resignation in our history.

The only one.

And I find myself thinking what a fine thing it would have been had other recent presidents taken advantage of Mr. Nixon’s precedent.

If you think you know where this is going, you’re partly right – but I have a larger point in mind than the fate of the current administration. Especially since the dawn of the 20th century, a number of American presidents have overstayed their welcomes – to the detriment of their historical reputations, our national interests, and their own political parties.

As a student of both American and English history, I have often reflected upon the disadvantages of the American presidency in comparison with the office of Prime Minister. First among these, in my estimation, is the fact that – by the logic of our Constitution – ex-presidents almost never make political comebacks.

To be sure, John Quincy Adams served with distinction in the House of Representatives after losing the presidency to Andrew Jackson. Martin van Buren and Millard Fillmore ran for president as candidates of third parties. And the redoubtable Theodore Roosevelt – having voluntarily left office after two terms – actually came in second as the Bull Moose candidate for president in 1912.

But, with the single exception of Grover Cleveland, no former president has ever regained the White House – a fact which perhaps accounts for the extreme reluctance of presidents to surrender office one hour before they constitutionally must.

Once in office, almost every president – including President Ford – has sought re-election. Once re-elected, every second-term president has clung to power – even Mr. Nixon, who resigned only when his removal became certain.

Even presidents whose administrations have sunk irredeemably into failure, irrelevance, or – in the case of Woodrow Wilson – literal impotence, seem to find resignation unthinkable.

Under parliamentary constitutions, by way of contrast, prime ministers are far less apt to cling to office past the point of absurdity. Assuming that human nature is everywhere much the same, the relative intransigence of American presidents cannot be attributed to some greater degree of arrogance or addiction to power.

Institutional factors cause Presidents to cling to office. The American presidency is, in many ways, an extraordinary office – vested with incredible domestic and international power – but it is also a pinnacle achieved only once. Especially since the enactment of the 22nd Amendment – which forever ends the future prospects of any president elected to a second full term – there seems little incentive for a president to leave office before his time.

In addition to the office itself, however, there is another factor which makes it nearly impossible to persuade a sitting president to step down – the relative weakness of the Republican or Democratic party vis-a-vis an incumbent president who is, among other things, its de facto head.

This has led to a great curiosity in American politics – the fact that a party’s fortunes can suffer more from the re-election of its incumbent president than from his defeat by their rivals. Parties, of course, are institutionally incapable of taking this view, but it is nonetheless worth exploring – if only for the edification of those considering starting a third party which might someday replace one of the two parties presently sharing power in this country.

I will explore these ideas further in a subsequent post.