First, let’s start with terrible misdeeds. Some people hope the president will do something so awful that he must resign immediately in the face of widespread popular discontent. A few senior members of Trump’s team privately imagined the possibility. As one said, the president’s inclinations are so bad that perhaps we should “give him enough rope” to entangle his own presidency. This wouldn’t be hard. He is a factory that produces a steady stream of presidency-wrecking ideas. In that case, the advisor suggested letting him fire the special counsel and Justice Department leadership. He seemed eager enough to do it. If aides helped him follow his instincts, they speculated, it would lead to his downfall.
I find the proposition disturbing on its face. While the president has unquestionably engaged in conduct that is detrimental to our country, we should never encourage bad behavior only so we can punish it. For that reason, no one to my knowledge considered instigating such an outcome beyond making thoughtless comments. Steady Staters, or what’s left of the group, feel obligated to keep the presidency on the rails and to dissuade Trump from taking self-destructive actions. The country deserves nothing less. To permit a wrong—or to encourage one—is to be culpable in it. For the health of our republic, we should never long for our president to act egregiously enough to inspire bipartisan masses to demand resignation.
Second: the Twenty-fifth Amendment. Although this is a dreadful idea, the concept was informally broached in conversations in Washington’s halls of power. Trump’s behavior became so erratic in the weeks following Jim Comey’s firing and the appointment of the special counsel that a number of senior administration officials worried about his mental state. Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein reportedly considered wearing a wire to his West Wing meetings to document the madness in the president’s White House. Within days of Trump’s “fire Mueller” demands, others in the administration were having the same quiet conversations. They asked themselves, “Is the president still fit for office?”
The Twenty-fifth Amendment is a Constitutional provision that deals with presidential succession in cases of resignation, removal, incapacitation, or death. Specifically, Trump administration officials honed in on section 4:
Whenever the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers of the executive departments or of such other body as Congress may by law provide, transmit to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives their written declaration that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, the Vice President shall immediately assume the powers and duties of the office as Acting President.
In short, if Vice President Pence and a majority of the cabinet felt that Trump could no longer discharge his duties, they could remove him from office.
To be clear, this was not an action the president’s cabinet was preparing (or prepared) to take. However, the disarray was so severe—and concern about Trump’s temperament so pervasive—that his lieutenants talked about what would happen if the situation got worse. This included comparing notes on a breaking point. What level of instability warranted presidential removal? Was it debilitating cognitive impairment? Was it a reckless order that put the American people in danger? There’s no handbook for these situations.
A back-of-the-envelope “whip count” was conducted of officials who were most concerned about the deteriorating situation. Names of cabinet-level officials were placed on a mental list. These were folks who, in the worst-case scenario, would be amenable to huddling discreetly in order to assess how bad the situation was getting. Any discussion of the Twenty-fifth Amendment was hushed and fleeting, because almost everyone concluded it was irresponsible to speculate about it at all.
I froze when I first heard someone suggest that we might be getting into “Twenty-fifth territory.” That’s pretty scary talk, I thought. At home that night, I imagined how the hypothetical scenario would play out. The majority of the cabinet would probably meet somewhere in secret, away from the White House. They would draft a letter to the leaders of Congress certifying the president was “unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office.” Those gathered around the table would take a deep breath and pass the pen in silence, each signing a document they knew would become one of the most consequential in US history.
Once the majority of the cabinet signed, someone would pass a message to the vice president. He would be waiting elsewhere until he was certain there was sufficient support. Then he would make his choice. Mike Pence holds his cards close when it comes to his opinions about Trump, but if a majority of the cabinet was prepared to remove the president and elevate Pence—if the emergency was that serious—there is no doubt what he’d do. He would affix his name to the paper. Everyone would feel the gravity of the moment in their gut. Armored vehicles would race across town to the US Capitol Building, and a protected courier would walk the document into the hands of congressional leaders.
As I contemplated this scenario, that unwelcome visitor in the Trump administration—reason—took over.
I thought… And then what? President Trump would stroll out of the White House, take a bow, and get on a helicopter to head home? Doubtful. If the story didn’t already sound like a B-movie, this is where it would become a horror film. Removal of the president by his own cabinet would be perceived as a coup. The end result would be unrest in the United States the likes of which we haven’t seen since maybe the Civil War. Millions would not accept the outcome, perhaps including the president himself, and many would take to the streets on both sides. Violence would be almost inevitable. The ensuing strife would break us for years to come. Among other good reasons, that is why the option was not seriously contemplated. The whispered conversations about “the Twenty-fifth” ceased, though concerns about the president’s temperament have remained.
Trump’s critics would be smart to drop the idea, too. They should keep such fantasies to themselves, lest they further poison our already toxic discourse. In a democracy we don’t overthrow our leaders when they’re underperforming. That’s for third-rate banana republics and police states. The Twenty-fifth Amendment should be reserved for scenarios when the commander in chief is truly unable to discharge his duties, not when we are dissatisfied with his performance.
Third: impeachment. As of this writing, we are living through the prospect. We should not relish it. Impeachment inquiries are painful for the country and our political system, as history has shown. We must refrain from politicizing the impeachment process by letting frustration with Trump cloud our judgment about the facts. Much of the evidence of wrongdoing is disturbing, from the president urging Ukraine to investigate one of his political rivals to examples of Trump’s efforts to improperly influence the Russia investigation. It is the job of Congress to consider whether these actions rise to the level of “high crimes and misdemeanors” and whether they justify Trump’s removal from office.