Two hands reach out to grab the twin handles of a mug bearing the legend THE BOSS, symboling the problems of success and of the transition of power from one president to another. Illustration by Nicholas Blackmore.

Just who is in charge here?

We all want clear lines of succession and shared rules for the peaceful transfer of power. But focusing on protocol can make us lose sight of the job at hand…

Joe Biden’s inauguration as President of the United States took place under extraordinary circumstances. One of many idiosyncrasies that day: he took the oath of office with 13 minutes still remaining in his predecessor’s term.

According to constitutional experts, the 20th Amendment takes precedence over the inaugural itinerary, so Biden didn’t begin his term any earlier than planned on that chilly January day.

Observers could be forgiven for deeply being confused who was actually ‘in charge’ for that brief period.

Succession planning

This intense curiosity is a modern obsession: who holds the highest office during moments of uncertainty, and when precisely does the handover occur?

The trend probably began with the advent of mass communication, and grew each year as technology made it possible for us to monitor the news, second by second.

Of course, we want to know who is next in line – to the throne, or the oval office, or the papacy. More than that, we want to know precisely when and how the changeover will happen, during succession or amid a crisis.

The drivers for the obsession probably go somewhere deeper in the modern human psyche. Maybe we need to know who is in charge.

Like the ‘failed seekers’ that Hunter S Thompson mentions in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, we’re operating under “the desperate assumption that somebody… or at least some force – is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.”

The reality is rarely so comforting.

Power struggles and pageantry

The period since the mid-2010s has felt like a uniquely dicey era for Western democracy – a time in which the probity of elections and the guarantee of a peaceful transfer of power has come into question.

But if you think these existential worries are unique, even just to the recent history of the United States, then you have a short memory.

Certainly, the Covid-19 pandemic exposed unique issues around US presidential succession with the potential to cause “power struggles and fraught questions about whom military and government officials should be listening to”.

The COVID-19 pandemic exposed issues around presidential succession

But these what-if worries have probably existed for as long as humans have organised themselves into hierarchies. As time goes on, the ritual of succession can become more elaborate – embroidered by constitutional bills and state pageantry – but confusion can still occur at a level that would surprise most of those being governed.

We want to believe that succession plans have the sanctity and permanence of stone tablets from Mount Sinai.

Yet conflicting documents can be found, the rules can be changed, and public opinion can be as powerful as birth right in deciding who has the right to rule. Was Lady Jane Grey ‘the Nine Days’ Queen,’ or never queen at all?

The United States has never officially had a female president. Yet Edith Wilson has a strong claim to the title, having secretly worked as regent for President Woodrow Wilson for the last year and a half of his administration, after he suffered a debilitating stroke.

Even in clearer scenarios there are always niggling little details to work out. In 2010 David Cameron was on his way to meet the Queen at Buckingham Palace to succeed Gordon Brown as Prime Minister, even as his team was still striving to hammer out an agreement for the UK’s first coalition government in more than 60 years.

Bullets and dilemmas

The way in which modern succession issues can play havoc with personal judgment was underlined by the events of March 30, 1981, when President Ronald Reagan was shot and wounded in an assassination attempt. The President was near death as he was delivered to hospital. Vice President George H W Bush raced to Washington DC on Air Force Two.

In a vivid 2015 article, the Dallas Morning News recounted the dynamics within Reagan’s cabinet, huddling inside the situation room and trying to make sense of the extraordinary situation. 

Other than the assassination attempt itself, the most well-known moment of that day was Secretary of State Alexander Haig’s emotional (and erroneous) assertion to the press that he was in charge until Vice President Bush returned.

Haig seemed panicked by the ambiguity of the situation

In public appearances and private discussions, Haig seemed panicked by the ambiguity of the situation. Perhaps because of his distinguished military background, he wanted a strict chain of command to be articulated and acknowledged.

His fellow cabinet members retained their detachment, not even bothering to correct his mistake in private. They weren’t focused on Haig’s claims about where “the helm was”. They were focused on what they could contribute in the moment.

When Bush arrived (after refusing to make a grandstanding entrance on the White House’s South Lawn), he defused the situation. He was keen to avoid making more drama out of the crisis. 

“The more normal everything is, the better it is,” he counselled, encouraging everyone to get out of the situation room and get on with their jobs.

Who do we want in charge when it matters: the person who is fixated on the rules and the optics, or the person who is focused on getting on with the job at hand?

Taking the helm

After all the drama, presidential succession was never formally invoked. Reagan was released from hospital 12 days later.

It was early in Reagan’s first term. His inauguration had taken place only two months prior to the event.

His inaugural address was heavy on limited-government rhetoric. But it included a koan that might have proved useful in the situation room on that heady March afternoon.

Reagan asked, “if no one among us is capable of governing himself, then who among us has the capacity to govern someone else?”

In a time of crisis, knowing precisely who governs us becomes less important than exercising true self-government. Instead of watching the throne, watch yourself.