Opinions

In Alaska and the U.S., the transfer of power isn’t always cordial

The idea of a seamless transfer of power from one elected presidential administration to another is so normal in American politics that it’s taken for granted. We expect nothing less.

Theodore White captured the seriousness of the phenomenon in his path-breaking book, “The Making of the President 1960.” In America, he wrote, “It is the most awesome transfer of power in the world. Heroes and philosophers, brave men and vile, have since Rome and Athens tried to make this particular transfer of power effectively; no people have succeeded at it better, or over a longer period of time.”

Supporters have often despaired at the election of their candidate’s rival, but only Lincoln suffered the ignominy of a challenge to his legitimacy. That led to Civil War.

It has not always been so with lesser offices. Lincoln’s successor Andrew Johnson was sorely tested with one such incident. After the war, Johnson, a Southern sympathizer, sought to treat the defeated states with leniency, allowing them back into the union with their former leadership largely intact, effectively imposing the same restrictions over lives of former slaves as before. Leaders in the Congress objected, seeking to protect the lives and livelihood, and guarantee the rights, of former slaves.

Johnson had a problem in his Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton. Stanton, whose job it was to oversee the absorption of the Confederate states back into the union, agreed with the Congress, and refused to do the president’s bidding. Instead, he implemented Congressional legislation intended to nurture the freedom and equality of former slaves. Johnson signaled his intention to fire Stanton.

But Congress acted first, passing legislation, the Tenure of Office Act, which prohibited the president from firing a cabinet officer without Congressional approval. The act was defiant and dramatic. Much was at stake, not just the question of who would govern the South, but far more significant, the separation of powers at the heart of the U.S. Constitution. If the president had no discretion to fire his cabinet officers, his independence would be lost. He would be at the whim of Congress.

Exercising his authority, the president sent officers to evict Stanton. Not to be deterred, Stanton barricaded himself in his office. This was a serious embarrassment to the president. Embarrassed herself by Stanton’s theatrics, his wife, furious, refused to send him the linens and food he requested. After reflection, Stanton gave up the show. But Johnson, too, backed down, deciding not to fire Stanton, at least for the time being.

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Johnson vetoed the act. As expected, the Congress overrode his veto. And then they impeached the president.

Alaska has not been spared such constitutional tensions. Under the territorial government, Alaska’s attorney general was elected. The last territorial attorney general, Gerald Williams, was elected to four-year terms in 1949, in 1953 and again in 1957. He was well known across the territory, and quite popular.

The framers of the Alaska Constitution, written at the 1955-56 convention, instead provided for an appointed attorney general. That provision had no immediate impact then, but in 1958, Congress adopted Alaska statehood, and the state constitution became effective on Jan. 3, 1959. That meant that the first governor, William Egan, needed to appoint the attorney general. After a delay of several months, in April 1959, he appointed John Rader, a distinguished attorney and leader of the majority caucus in the newly elected State House.

But Williams declared that, having been elected by the people of Alaska for four years, he was the legitimate attorney general until his term expired. He threatened to remain in office. Cooler heads explained to Williams the embarrassment this would cause the new state, and he relinquished his claim.

Williams was not above theatrics, however. When he was elected in 1957, he was so convinced that Congress would never grant Alaska statehood that he proclaimed he would push a peanut with his nose from Tok to Delta Junction. There is a newspaper photo of him practicing that journey after Congress passed the statehood act.

Measured against history, President Donald Trump’s threatened obstruction of the orderly transfer of power is not just embarrassing; it’s pathetic. Would that it becomes a singular farce in the history of American democracy.

Steve Haycox is professor emeritus of history at the University of Alaska Anchorage.

The views expressed here are the writer’s and are not necessarily endorsed by the Anchorage Daily News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)adn.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@adn.com or click here to submit via any web browser. Read our full guidelines for letters and commentaries here.

Steve Haycox

Steve Haycox is professor emeritus of history at the University of Alaska Anchorage.

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