This is a book written by lawyers. Sometimes that’s a bad thing, but in this case it is a very good thing, as it really takes a pair of lawyers like Hennessey and Wittes to carve out the controlling language of what the American presidency has been and what it may be becoming.
Let’s start here, with what I take to be their central thesis:
Most of all, Trump proposes a presidency that elevates the expressive and personal dimensions of the office over everything else. It is one in which the institutional office and the personality of the occupant are almost entirely merged -- merged in their interests, in their impulses, in their finances, and in their public character. In elevating the expressive, vanity-plate dimensions of the office and making it a personal vehicle for the public self-expression of the officeholder, he proposes sublimating nearly all other traditional features of the presidency: its management functions; its expectation of good-faith execution of law; its expectation of ethical conduct, truthfulness, and service. This vision of the presidency thus unsurprisingly produces a genuinely novel set of deployments of the executive’s traditional powers, ones that are profoundly different from those of prior presidents.
Arthur Schlesinger wrote about the rise of the Imperial Presidency. Hennessey and Wittes are writing about the rise of the Expressive Presidency. A presidency that is dedicated not to “faithfully executing” the powers of the office, but to using those powers to support and express the person holding the office. It’s a very different world than the one we’re used to.
The Oath
And the troubles begin at the very beginning -- on inauguration day when this new expressive president takes the oath of office.
The political scientist Edward Corwin, in his book ‘The President: Office and Powers, 1787-1984,’ described the coronation oath of the English kings “from which the President’s oath is lineally descended,” saying that “its purpose, definitely, was to put the King’s conscience in bonds to the law.” The early constitutional treatise writer Justice Joseph Story considered the purpose of the oath so obvious that he began his one-paragraph discussion of it by saying that there “is little need of commentary upon this clause” because “no man can well doubt the propriety of placing a president of the United States under to most solemn obligations to preserve, protect, and defend the constitution.” Story described the oath as actively cultivating virtue in a president, “creat[ing] upon his conscience a deep sense of duty, but an appeal, at once in the presence of God and man, to the most sacred and solemn sanctions, which can operate upon the human mind.”
In a recent law review article about the original meaning of the oath and the take care clause, the legal scholars Andrew Kent, Ethan Leib, and Jed Shugerman note that the promise of faithful execution in the clauses was commonly associated at the time of the founding with “true, honest, diligent, due, skillful, careful, good faith, and impartial execution of the law or office.” The oath, they write, is thus a promise on the part of presidents “to exercise their power only when it is motivated in the public interest rather than in their private self-interest, consistent with fiduciary obligation in the private law.”
This is all important background to the essential point of the authors in this section.
The problem is that the oath works only when the president actually means it. It instills a sense of duty only when the oath’s words and the solemn occasion of its delivery matters to the president and when others recognize that he means it. What if the person swearing is the sort of person who cannot credibly swear an oath?
More to the point -- did Trump “mean it” when he took this oath? The authors take us back to that inauguration day in 2017, and provide us with plenty of doubt that not only didn’t he, but that he probably couldn’t.
Return for a moment to the strange scene on the dais at Trump’s inauguration. Even in this unusually fractured period of American politics, the day offered a rare show of bipartisanship: Democrats and Republicans sat there united both in their shared commitment to the peaceful transition of power and -- we suspect, but cannot prove -- also in a profound unease about the man who raised his right hand before them. It’s true that around the country, tens of millions of Trump voters delighted in his inauguration. But there was still an undeniable anxiety etched on the faces of many people on that dais about whether this was a man capable of solemnly swearing anything, let alone swearing to “faithfully execute” something like the office of the presidency. It wasn’t just the Democrats. House Speaker Paul Ryan managed a weak smile but tightly gripped the arm of his wife, Janna. Past him, Senator John Cornyn and Representative Kevin McCarthy, both of whom should have been witnessing a moment of Republican triumph, gazed on somberly. Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell frowned, even more than usual, and appeared to wish he were anywhere else.
Pinning down the precise defect in Trump’s oath is impossible. Indeed, the claim that there is a defect is inherently unprovable. One cannot know what was in Trump’s heart as he said the words the Constitution prescribes. No public opinion experts polled anyone on public faith in President Trump’s oath. Very few of the many Americans who fear or hate Trump frame their suspicions, either intellectually or emotionally, in terms of doubt as to the integrity of his oath.
Moreover, the history of hating a president, and of suspecting his illegitimacy in office, is old. A great many voters -- including Trump himself -- harbored deep enough questions about Obama’s legitimacy to doubt his American birth. Many Democrats did not believe that George W. Bush was legitimate in office because he had prevailed in the 2000 election only after the intervention of the Supreme Court. And that contested election, in turn, reran aspects of the earlier contested election of 1876 between Rutherford B. Hayes and Samuel Tilden -- one that left a mark of illegitimacy on Hayes’s presidency. Most famously, it was an earlier presidential election and impending inauguration that triggered the South’s secession from the Union in 1861.
The defect in Trump’s oath was certainly not technical. Presidents have flubbed their oaths before. Herbert Hoover swore to “maintain” the Constitution rather than protect it; Nixon inserted an “and” that didn’t belong. At Obama’s first inauguration, Chief Justice Roberts fumbled his role, resulting in the new president swearing to “execute faithfully” rather than “faithfully execute” the office; the fastidious Roberts re-administered the oath the next day to be safe. For his part, Trump said all the right words -- prompted by the chief justice, surrounded by his family, congressional leadership, and justices of the Supreme Court -- and he did so without faltering or ad-libbing. He shook Obama’s hand afterward, as one would expect. He observed all the niceties. Yet an unformed question tugged at the back of millions of minds even as he did so: Is this a man capable of being faithful to anything? Does he even know what it means to preserve, protect, and defend something other than himself?
The authors don’t think so, and neither do I, and they go on to cite example after example of people in Trump’s inner orbit not trusting him at his word, of documenting their interactions with him in order to preserve a true record of their encounters, rather than what Trump would inevitable say about them later.
The sense of something being wrong was, we submit, rooted in what James Comey would later call “the nature of the person.” Comey would use this phrase before the Senate Intelligence Committee in an attempt to explain why he had felt compelled to memorialize his first interaction with Trump in writing. Senator Mark Warner asked Comey what it was about the interaction with the president-elect that made him so keen to write down the details right away, typing the memo out on a laptop in an FBI car as he was being driven away from Trump Tower. Comey’s response is worth considering in relation to the oath Trump would swear two weeks after their meeting:
“I was alone with the president of the United States, or the president-elect, soon to be president … I was talking about matters that touch on the FBI’s core responsibility, and that relate to the president, president-elect personally. And then the nature of the person. I was honestly concerned he might lie about the nature of our meeting, and so I thought it really important to document.”
Consider Comey’s invocation of “the nature of the person.” He means, of course, that Trump is the sort of person one does not trust. And Comey was not alone. In the days following Comey’s firing, his successor -- Andrew McCabe -- also memorialized his conversations with Trump, later writing that he “wrote memos about my interactions with President Trump for the same reason that Comey did: to have a contemporaneous record of conversation with a person who cannot be trusted.” It matters if a person swearing the presidential oath is so lacking in civic virtue and trustworthiness that an officer of the government feels compelled to document conversations with him -- and that the desirability of doing so is so self-explanatory that it can be justified by a mere reference to “the nature of the person” with whom he is dealing.
All of this, to my way of thinking, invites a larger question that the authors never fully address. If the “nature of the person” who is the president can prevent that person from taking the oath of office in good faith -- and more pointedly, if everyone recognizes that this expressive president is exactly that kind of person -- then can that person actually BE the president of the United States? Constitutionally speaking, of course, Donald Trump was the president of the United States. The Electoral College took care of that. But if he didn’t mean it when he said the words of the oath of office, as a matter of legal philosophy, did the office of the presidency actually reside in him?
There are so many problems that stem from this initial premise regarding the oath of office. Much later in the book, when the authors are talking about Trump’s giving security clearance to his son-in-law Jared Kushner, despite Kushner’s inability to pass the necessary background checks, they make this observation.
Then, suddenly, in May 2018, Kushner was granted a full top secret clearance. Everything was aboveboard, the White House insisted. Sources “familiar with the matter” made a point of telling the major papers that the permanent clearance was “granted by career White House and intelligence officials after the completion of his FBI background check.” These sources even pointed to the observance of this rigid process as vindication, evidence that Kushner was no longer any kind of focus of the special counsel’s investigation and that it should clear any suspicion regarding his conduct. Kushner’s lawyer, Abbe Lowell, underscored the point in a statement that Kushner’s “application was properly submitted, reviewed by numerous career officials and underwent the normal process.”
But none of that was true. The process hadn’t cleared Kushner; it had concluded that he posed too great a threat. It took nearly a year before the public learned not only that Trump had personally intervened -- in the face of contrary recommendations at the highest levels -- to order that Kushner be given a clearance but also that the administration had been lying to the public about it ever since. The administration’s response? Counselor to the president Kellyanne Conway went on Fox News and declared that while the White House wouldn’t discuss security clearances, “I will tell you the president has the absolute right to do what was described.”
It was the equivalent of a child’s taunt, but Conway was at some level correct. Just as he’d been able to pardon Arpaio, just as he had the power to take away Brennan’s clearance, the president did have the authority to overrule his own staff and the intelligence community to grant his son-in-law access to the nation’s most consequential secrets. For that matter, he also has an absolute right to give a security clearance to Kim Jong Un or Chinese leader Xi Jinping or Ayatollah Khamenei in Iran if he feels so inclined. What went unaddressed in Conway’s response is that “can” is not the same as “should,” though the only mechanism the founders had for distinguishing between the two -- the oath of office -- has to be felt as a burden by the president in order to do its work of distinguishing. If the president doesn’t feel some difference between self-dealing and working on behalf of the public interest, if she experiences her powers as monarchical prerogatives there for personal grandeur and benefit, the distinction between what she may do and what she ought to do becomes one without meaningful difference.
See how dangerous this idea of a president “not meaning it” when he takes the oath of office can be? In a world in which the president makes no distinction between what is good for him and what is good for the country -- there is no power in the world that can stop him from acting. Again, I ask, can such a person actually BE the president of the United States?
Bad At His Job
But put that idea aside for the moment. It’s probably too esoteric to even make basic sense. There were many other things wrong with the expressive nature of this president -- and one of the most fundamental was that it made him simply bad at the job of being president. As an expressive president, Trump acted like authority and execution resided entirely with him, rarely, if ever, coordinating his decisions and actions with the vast bureaucracy he had at his command. The authors illustrate this in their description of Trump’s “Muslim travel ban,” an action he tried to take very early in his presidency designed to prevent people from certain countries from entering the United States.
The chaos the travel ban unleashed outside the administration reflected a certain chaos within the administration that had produced it. Normally, a major presidential action in the national security realm that affects the lives of millions of people and the security of the country at large involves a complex process within the government. An action like the travel ban affects many different agencies with different interests. The Department of Homeland Security mans the ports of entry. The State Department issues visas and has to respond to the diplomatic fallout from countries that don’t want their citizens banned from entering the United States -- not to mention the negative backlash from Muslim countries that perceive such an action as discriminatory with respect to Islam. One would expect consultation with the intelligence agencies as to whether a ban is even necessary -- and, if so, how broadly it should sweep, against which countries it should be directed, and on what sort of people it should focus. If the goal is to protect national security, one would presumably want to hear from the folks who have insight into which kinds of people do and do not pose threats to national security. It turned out that the military had important dogs in this fight too: people who had helped U.S. forces in Iraq, to whom the military had promised shelter, were suddenly barred from entering the country. And, of course, the Justice Department has to consider the legality of any major federal action to make sure it can survive the legal challenges that have to be anticipated.
This is all entirely reasonable -- especially if a president wants to actually do things successfully. And it is really what the executive branch is designed to do.
This sort of complex integration of different governmental entities is why the executive branch developed the so-called interagency process, a system of coordination and discussion between the federal agencies, at escalating levels of authority, designed to unify and deconflict policy and make sure all of the different agencies’ concerns are accounted for and addressed. The goal is ultimately to tee up policy decisions for a president adequately informed of the costs and benefits of different courses -- and, in order to preserve presidential time and focus, to resolve matters between agencies that do not require presidential involvement at lower levels.
Process is hard to love. It slows things down. It is frustrating to people who want action. No one votes for process. All presidents have chafed at and sidestepped it to some degree. But all presidents have been forced to rely on it too. This is because the executive branch is, in reality, a network of giant bureaucracies, not just a person who wants to express herself.
Let’s just stop there for emphasis. The executive branch IS a network of bureaucracies, not just a person. Trump, of course, called those bureaucracies the “deep state,” and complained about how it was working against him. But he and them were part of the same thing, both essential parts of the executive branch. After all…
Some kind of system has to make sure that these bureaucracies are not working at cross-purposes and that the president gets the information she needs in order to act wisely. In the preparation of the travel ban, there was as little process as the modern presidency has seen on a major decision. Consultation with the Justice Department was limited to a facial review of the order’s text for obvious illegality. The Homeland Security Department was briefed only shortly before the ban was released. Neother the military nor the intelligence community was meaningfully consulted.
If the president had consulted with those agencies, the executive order would have looked quite different. It would have applied to fewer groups of people for shorter periods of time; its language would have been cleansed of the lingering hints of racial and religious animus; and it would have contained safety valves in the forms of carve-outs and discretionary exemptions. In other words, it would have been less like what Trump said he wanted: “a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States.” For many of the president’s supporters, this would have been far less satisfying, and they surely would have viewed such an outcome as the kind of business-as-usual watering down of campaign promises delivered by regular politicians. They didn’t want that.
No, they didn’t. But they, like Trump, didn’t get what they wanted. And they didn’t get it because this expressive president worked outside the system, forcing his expressive will and his expressive will only into the process. As the authors note:
The irony is that Trump regularly pays a huge price for this vision of the presidency. Mostly it’s a price in effectiveness. The travel ban debacle turned out to be a kind of template. Time after time, traditional processes have simply vanished, to the detriment of the administration’s ability to carry out the president’s own objectives in a timely, efficient, and coherent manner.
Set aside whether what Trump wanted to do was a good thing or a bad thing. As a practical matter, he wasn’t able to execute on his own objectives -- and that made him bad at his job.
The Deep State
In this regard, the “deep state” was a real thing -- as there were officials in a number of executive branch departments who came to work at cross purposes with President Trump, who, in a number of high-profile Twitter battles, became frequently referred to as the “toddler-in-chief.”
But a funny thing happened on the way to a restoration of the Hamiltonian presidency in Trump’s image (i.e., that of the unitary executive): the executive branch’s unity dissolved visibly before the public’s eye. And as the toddler-in-chief thread showed, in important respects, the president ceased to be at the helm of the executive branch and instead became its mascot. Trump was proposing such a massive and radical change that the rest of the executive branch could not simply continue with business as usual; it had to adapt -- and resist. Its response was in equal parts understandable and destructive of important constitutional norms.
Trump’s supporters were fairly outraged when the executive branch opposed the president -- after all, he is the president and represents the highest expression of executive authority that exists. But what is often overlooked is how dumb and counterfactual Trump’s executive mandates were.
The disuniting of the executive under Trump began immediately on his assumption of the presidency. Recall again that incident in which he was so incensed by the National Park Service crowd size retweet that on his first full day in office, he personally called the acting National Park Service director to demand that the agency produce photos to support Trump’s claim that his crowds were larger. Indeed, an “urgent directive” went to thousands of people at the U.S. Department of the Interior that “all bureaus and the department have been directed by incoming administration to shut down Twitter platforms immediately until further notice.” Despite the potential impact on emergency communications, officials were permitted to reactivate department Twitter accounts only once messages of atonement -- apologizing for the “accidental” retweet -- had been posted.
That’s right. Stop tweeting things I don’t like. This was the era when alternate, unofficial Twitter accounts were created so that “bureaucrats” could continue to communicate with the public matters important to their agency missions, despite the toddler-in-chief in the White House. I, myself, remember following the “alt-NPS” account for a while.
Ironically, it was not the apology or the discipling of the wayward agency that had a lasting impact. It was the defiance and contradiction of the president by subordinate officers who quickly stopped bothering to retract or to apologize when they strayed.
The Official Voice
Much of this behavior of the “wayward agencies” is attributable less to a conscious desire to thwart the president’s intentions and more to a befuddlement over exactly what the president’s intentions were.
A final exceptional feature of Trump’s rhetoric that operates in tandem with this media ecosystem is his mantra-like repetition of specific phrases -- “Witch Hunt,” “Make America Great Again,” “Build the Wall,” “No Collusion,” “No Obstruction,” “I have nothing to do with Russia,” “It’s a disgrace” -- both in tweets and in speeches, and specifically the repetition of these memes in lieu of argumentation. Trump never made or developed an argument against Robert Mueller’s investigation nor made a reasoned case against the suggestion that there was something untoward in his campaign’s relationship with Russian operatives, for example. He simply repeated key phrases and let others fill in the gaps. These phrases come to represent the terms of the argument that others -- Hannity, Lou Dobbs, Mark Meadows, and Jim Jordan, for example -- will make in his place. Trump himself, instead of making the argument, simply announces the articles of faith around which others have to navigate in building it. His political allies could then criticize Mueller however they wanted and develop the argument against the prosecutor in any number of fashions, as long as they hit -- or at least didn’t contradict -- these key points: Trump didn’t do anything wrong with respect to Russia, however things might appear; he didn’t corruptly seek to impede the investigation of his conduct; and the investigation against him was an unfair effort to damage him and his presidency.
In this environment, it is extremely difficult to understand what it is the president wants, as the “official voice” of his office is practically non-existent. There is a lot of discussion about whether this represents a conscious strategy on Trump’s part -- a clever ploy to keep his opponents off base and his options always open -- or whether this is reactive output of a disordered mind. The authors leave little doubt about what they think.
Indeed, Trump’s lies about intelligence are generally not of a strategic nature, designed to support some policy objective or conceal some short-term operation that publicity may put at risk. They are like his other lies -- self-serving matters of momentary convenience that may deny intelligence, make it up, or mischaracterize it. And they are often less about the intelligence itself than about the agencies responsible for it. When he tweets something that is plausible on its face but lacks public evidence to support, it is impossible to know if he is disclosing sensitive government information or if he just watched a segment on Fox & Friends. Moreover, his policy lies are generally not attempts to persuade the country to follow him on a particular policy course; they are more often simple self-promoting bluster.
On occasion, he has also lied about factual matters by way of creating space for his policies. One of the present authors spent a year litigating a Freedom of Information Act request in an attempt to prove false a single line about immigrants and terrorism and Justice Department statistics in Trump’s February 2017 speech to a joint session of Congress. The line was designed to gin up public fear of immigration and thus generate support for his travel ban executive order. But this sort of lie is actually the expectation, not the rule. Far more often, Trump’s lies serve no policy purpose. They are bloviating swagger and nothing else. In this sense, Trump not only depletes the reserve of trust and presumption of good faith in the presidency; he creates a presidency truly based on the Frankfurtian concept of bullshit. He is the politician of Swift’s precise description -- you “will find yourself equally deceived whether you believe or not.”
And that’s exactly the point. If you want people to take you seriously, or to understand you clearly, don’t lie to them. And when lies become understood as the bedrock of the “official voice” of the presidency, we are moving into very dangerous ground.
This is Trump’s radical proposed revision to the traditional presidency: not only that the president doesn’t need to be honest, but that he can be known to everyone as a “fucking liar” -- not an occasional liar, not a calculating liar, but a pervasive, constant liar and bullshitter on all subjects at all times. What would this revision mean in the long term for the presidency? In the broadest sense, nobody knows, because nobody knows how deeply such leadership will erode public confidence in the possibility of government -- indeed, to what extent it will erode public belief in objective truth itself. Presidents are, among other things, modelers of public beliefs and aspirations politically. Does having a president who is a bullshitter change the public’s sense of truth over time? The point of Trump’s lies is not to convince the public that he can be believed, but rather to convince people that no one can be believed.
I would make a minor quibble here. It is not the point of Trump’s lies, but rather the result -- since I don’t think that even this is a conscious strategy. And that’s partly what makes it so dangerous. Conscious strategy can be thwarted, can be resisted. But in doing what he does, and in us doing what we do in reaction, there is no consciousness, instead it is the subconscious interplay of the narcissist and his followers. It is part of the slippery slope toward despotism, and once begun, there is little that can be consciously done to retard its progress.
A Culture of Ethics
One other point that is worth illuminating on how the authors see Trump changing the very nature of the presidency.
A culture of ethics is a fragile thing. It begins with the law, but it doesn’t end there. The space the law leaves for self-dealing and graft, either by choice or because of the nature of the presidential office, is vast. And if the president makes a decision to exploit that space rather than prudentially protecting it -- to push every line rather than drawing lines that set confidence-building boundaries, to dare the public rather than reassuring the public -- the law will not substitute for political pushback as a remedy. The culture of ethics will decay. The decay begins at the head and spreads downward. If the president doesn’t actually divest, why should anyone else? If the president’s children aren’t punished for ethical violations, why shouldn’t others break the same rules with impunity? If cabinet officials keep their jobs despite scandals, why should those serving beneath them fear losing their own?
They’re talking here about Trump’s refusal to divest from his private business concerns and even to use the office of the presidency for his personal profit. Like so much of what Trump does -- he just does it, and no one seems to hold him accountable.
Thus far, Trump’s bet has paid off to an astonishing degree. Nobody has taken up his dares. Congress has done little, though it may be beginning to stir. The courts, limited by the slow pace of litigation and legitimate substantive and procedural legal barriers to action, offer little short-term relief. So far, anyway, the only real pushback has come from prosecutors and state attorneys general who have probed the conduct of his campaign and foundation. And it has come from a dogged and relentless press, which has accomplished a great deal of disclosure -- disclosure that, in turn, gives rise to the possibility of political response. As other billionaires eye the presidency, it’s not hard to imagine them following the example of minimal ethical compliance and preserving their business entanglements. Contrary to former OGE director Shaub’s admonition, as far as some very rich people were concerned, divestment has, in fact, been too high a price to pay for the presidency. Now, it seems, it doesn’t need to be paid after all. As Trump has set the presidency to protecting his personal business interests and dared the polity to stop him, the polity has responded with a shrug. Perhaps a disgusted shrug, but a shrug nonetheless.
The point about future billionaires now running for president because they no longer need to divest themselves of their businesses really hit home for me. That is not a world I want to live in.
The authors wrote in 2020 -- and now I am writing in 2024. And although Trump is facing a whole bevy of legal challenges and court cases -- none of them have anything to do with the way he used the office of the president for his private inurement. Future billionaires with presidential aspirations: take note.
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This post appeared on Eric Lanke's blog, an association executive and author. You can contact him at eric.lanke@gmail.com.


