NIALL FERGUSON: The Monarch of Mar-a-Lago.
Alexander Hamilton, famously, was among the strongest supporters of a monarchical order. He himself proposed that the president be elected for life—a position supported by James Madison, John Adams, and George Washington himself. And Hamilton wanted the president to have “an absolute negative (i.e., unlimited veto) on the laws” passed by Congress.
The counterargument against American monarchy was as much cultural as constitutional. As Adams explained in a letter in 1776, “A Monarchy would. . . produce So much Taste and Politeness, So much Elegance in Dress, Furniture, Equipage, So much Musick and Dancing, So much Fencing and Skaiting; So much Cards and Backgammon; so much Horse Racing and Cock fighting; so many Balls and Assemblies, so many Plays and Concerts that the very Imagination of them makes me feel vain, light, frivolous and insignificant.” Not everyone accepted the radical Whig position that the presidency was nothing more than an “executive magistracy. . . for carrying the will of the Legislature into effect.”
The result, enshrined in the Constitution, was a compromise. The president was elected for four years, but there were no term limits until 1951. He had a veto over legislation, but not an unlimited one.
Since November 5, there has been no shortage at Mar-a-Lago of the frivolities and luxuries Adams associated with monarchy. Though one pays to play, Trump’s Palm Beach club is unmistakably reminiscent of a royal palace, and Trump holds court there with regal relish. Its décor a gaudy fusion of Las Vegas and Renaissance Florence (as seen on TV), Mar-a-Lago’s most striking features are the absence of art, aside from a “capitalist-realist” depiction of a young Trump as a tennis champion; the centrally located, elevated, and roped-off royal dining table in the middle of the alfresco restaurant; and the multiple stages on which the monarch can present himself to the courtiers.
Moreover, like most courts in history, Trump’s is a scene of ferocious intrigue. The power of patronage is essential to monarchy, and—after four years in the political wilderness—Trump has learned how to turn the traditional process of naming administration appointees into something between The Structure of Politics at the Accession of George III and The Apprentice.
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The problem is that this is almost certainly the zenith of Trump’s power. At Mar-a-Lago, he truly is King of the World. The world leaders and tech CEOs all come to do homage and pay tribute. Apple’s Tim Cook donated $1 million to the inauguration. Jeff Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg—all must kiss the ring. Best of all, His Royal Highness can troll the world with impunity. Canada for 51st state? Take back the Panama Canal? Stake a claim to Greenland? Rename the Gulf of Mexico? The whims and memes of the Sun(tanned) King can conjure up a new American empire just for the lols.
However, the moment he’s sworn in on January 20, Trump’s just the plain, old president of the United States, for four years, with congressional majorities only for the first half of that term (unless the midterms defy history), and with his powers deliberately circumscribed by a constitution designed, despite Alexander Hamilton, to prevent a King of America.
I’m hoping that as Scott Adams tweets, Trump’s boasts about annexing Greenland, making Canada the 51st state, renaming the Gulf of Mexico, etc are designed to overwhelm the DNC-MSM with over-the-top lunacy “so his critics don’t know which way to aim their fake news.” We’ll know how disciplined Trump 2.0 is pretty quickly once he’s in office, firing off executive orders, and as Glenn wrote in November, the GOP Congress has “bills lined up like airplanes on a runway.” We’ll see.