Category: democracy

  • What happens when tyrants fall from power?

    What happens when tyrants fall from power?

    “The despot is dead. Long live … er, who?“

    Unlike kings or queens, dictators and autocrats find it helpful not to have a clear successor or rival who might soften their hold on power.

    Much as that iron-fisted ruler may be loathed, their abrupt departure from the throne can bring significant risk of subsequent turmoil. They have created a system that puts them alone at the centre of power.

    The White House in March was very quick to deny that President Joe Biden was pressing for regime change when he said that his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, should not remain in power.

    There is no shortage of countries in recent decades where fallen autocrats have left a power vacuum all too quickly filled by chancers, thugs and weird ideologues, or simply some drab toady of the old regime.

    Covering tyranny

    As a reporter, it was impossible for me not to get caught up in the excitement after popular unrest had driven out yet another long-serving despot in power so long that they had forgotten who was serving whom. It really is exhilarating.

    During a long career as a journalist, I reported in a number of countries where autocratic, often staggeringly corrupt, leaders were forced unwillingly out of office. Sometimes, I’ve been there at the moment, more often to report on the aftermath.

    The first time was just over 30 years ago in Bangladesh, whose military dictator Hussain Ershad had lost power in the face of mass protests. And in a rarity for the impoverished country, whose relatively short period of independence had been marked by violence and assassinations, the leader’s downfall had been almost bloodless.

    By the time I arrived in Dhaka, crowds were cheerfully marching through the capital’s streets. The two people who would dominate Bangladeshi politics until today — the widow of one assassinated leader and the daughter of another — were happily giving interviews to visiting journalists, promising a new era for their country.

    Since then, Bangladesh’s economy has indeed grown. But the country’s politics remain plagued by autocratic leadership, corruption and a drawn-out feud between those two women.

    The lingering influence of despotism

    In the Philippines, a reporter colleague liked to tell stories about joining a crowd streaming through the Malacanang presidential palace, vacant after President Ferdinand Marcos and his wife Imelda fled the country in the face of a People’s Power revolt in 1986 following more than 20 years of rule marked by excess and rampant graft.

    This month, their son was elected president with little to offer by way of a platform beyond the promise of a return to those “halcyon days” when his parents were in charge some four decades earlier.

    In neighbouring Indonesia, the family of President Suharto, who led another Southeast Asian kleptocracy into near financial ruin until he was forced to step down in 1998 after more than 32 years of iron rule, continues to try to get back into politics. Suharto’s downfall came with mass protests, violence and fears the giant archipelago would split apart. The country has largely recovered, but some of the elites established during the Suharto years remain a powerful influence.

    Later, I was involved in reporting on the “colour” revolutions of former Soviet states, including Georgia and Ukraine. In both cases, infectious enthusiasm for change and the end of the old regimes did not take all that long to sour.

    The leader of the 2003 Georgian revolution, Mikheil Saakashvili, eventually fled into exile. He is now back in his country where he was jailed on charges of abuse of power.

    Sidelining of opposition

    Ukraine struggled to find a competent leader after casting aside the old guard from the Soviet era with its Orange Revolution, which began the following year.

    Paradoxically, and very unexpectedly, it has taken this year’s Russia’s invasion of Ukraine to reveal a leader of commanding stature in President Volodymyr Zelenskiy, a former comedian.

    In many of these countries and others ruled by long-serving autocracies, the incentive is for leaders to crush any emerging threat to their hold on power. Rising political stars are sidelined, opponents are exiled, jailed or killed and domestic news coverage is limited to the official line.

    And Russia? Rumours abound that Putin, ever tightening his control during more than 20 years in power, is seriously ill or even faces a coup. As with the likes of Suharto or Marcos, Putin took office when his country was lurching through economic crisis. He was a bit dull. Unlike his predecessor, Boris Yeltsin, Putin didn’t make a habit of rolling up drunk.

    He was smart, focused on the economy, not in thrall to Russia’s plundering oligarchs and able to bring stability to the lives of ordinary Russians exhausted and disoriented by the collapse of the Soviet Union. He became hugely popular.

    But there was a sense that his inner circle didn’t quite trust that popularity. By most accounts, Putin would easily have won a second term in the 2004 presidential election. But the Kremlin could not resist making sure the deck was stacked in his favour. He won 71.9% of the vote.

    What would Russia be like post-Putin

    Putin has run the country ever since, either as president or prime minister. Such is the state’s grip on Russian media that it is not really possible to be sure how popular Putin may be now. One recent poll suggested his star, which had started to look a bit faded, has brightened considerably since the invasion of Ukraine.

    His government is clearly in no mood to put that popularity up for too much public scrutiny, throttling the remaining independent Russian media and introducing a law to hand long prison terms to those who openly oppose the war on Ukraine.

    Prominent Russians who might credibly challenge Putin’s grip on the country live abroad, are in prison or dead. His most recent serious opponent, Alexei Navalny, is looking at years in a Russian prison. It isn’t all that clear, either, whether the bulk of Russians would prefer Navalny as their next leader.

    If Putin is no longer in office for whatever reason, who would be in the running to replace him?

    It seems very unlikely that the current political elite would readily allow a reformer to sweep them from power. Quite possibly, the average Russian — sympathetic to the view that the West has for years been treating their country with contempt — would prefer stability, a job and some international prestige.

    When Russia faced revolution more than a century ago, an estimated 10 million people died after the autocrat Tsar Nicholas II was removed from power.

    Perhaps that’s why Biden officials were so quick to rule out regime change. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.


    Questions to consider:

    • If you were working for local media in Moscow, how would you write about the war in Ukraine?

    Do you think your country’s mainstream media can be relied on to be factual in reporting? Why?

    • If the current leader of your nation loses power, how peaceful do you think the aftermath will be?


    Correction: The editor’s note at the top of the story was changed to correct the date the article was originally published.

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  • The one thing that unites French voters

    The one thing that unites French voters

    French President Emmanuel Macron’s grip on stability, progress and voter approval seems to be slipping.

    His party lost its absolute majority in the National Assembly and, following snap elections in the summer of 2024, its relative majority as well. Now, he faces a budget crisis, voter pushback and a geopolitical crisis involving Europe, the United States and Russia.

    Macron had once hoped to bridge France’s political divides and reinvigorate its economy but is now mired in political quicksand and many French voters feel helpless. That’s what I discovered while interviewing people on the street in Rennes, France, where I’m spending a year studying abroad and trying to make sense of French politics.

    One elderly woman I spoke to described what was happening as a catastrophe. “It’s embarrassing,” she said. “All we can do is wait for the next presidential election.”

    My interviews aligned with a November 2024 IPSOS survey, which found that 74% of respondents lack confidence in the presidency, while an overwhelming 86% distrust political parties. Trust in the National Assembly has plummeted as well, with 74% of respondents expressing no faith in the institution.

    What voters say

    People are frustrated. A middle-aged man told me: “Macron has lost his authority. France is unstable, gridlocked and hostile.”

    Back in September, Macron appointed Michel Barnier as prime minister in an attempt to stabilize his government but it backfired. By December, Barnier’s government had collapsed after losing a no-confidence vote, ousting him and his ministers and triggering yet another governmental reset.

    The vote came in response to Barnier’s use of Article 49.3 of the French Constitution, which allows the executive to pass a budget without parliamentary approval.

    It wasn’t until February 2025 that lawmakers finally agreed on a budget — one met with widespread discontent over spending cuts and reallocations. Now, many French citizens are asking: What’s next for the Republic?

    A law student I spoke with who goes to the University of Rennes expressed uncertainty about the country’s future. “I’m scared because we’re walking back on progress,” he said.

    A nation disunited

    Political divisions seem to be deepening, amplified by social media.

    A political science student at Rennes 2 University noted that people seem unable to talk to each other. “It’s harder than ever to have conversations with people who disagree with us,” the student said. “We don’t just see differing opinions, we see them as attacks on who we are.”

    Another student said that at university, now, you find yourself attacked or excluded if you don’t agree.

    This polarization was evident in the most recent European elections. The far-right Rassemblement National secured 31.5% of the vote — a 40-year record for any French party in a European election. Their campaign focused on hard-line immigration policies, crime reduction and tax cuts on fossil fuels.

    Despite shared dissatisfaction, French citizens are divided on the changes they seek. One university student emphasized the need for a more equitable education system.

    “We’ve made strides in accessibility, but students are locked into career paths too early,” she said. “My younger brother, for example, always dreamed of becoming a pilot. But because his undiagnosed ADHD hurt his test scores, he was placed in a vocational high school instead of a general one. Now he’s studying to be an air steward.”

    Some want a strong government.

    A retired woman expressed concern over global instability. “Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is terrifying,” she said. “And with Trump distancing the U.S. from the EU, I worry our military isn’t strong enough. France and the EU need to invest in defense.”

    To put what I found on the streets into perspective, I spoke with Alistair Lyon, a News Decoder correspondent and former reporter with the Reuters international news service who lives in France.

    He highlighted the long-term consequences of the gridlock in French politics. “In a time when France faces huge challenges like a budget deficit and a major geopolitical crisis involving the U.S., Europe and Russia, now is not a great time to have a political stalemate,” Lyon said.

    He expects the stalemate to continue until the 2027 presidential election, given Macron’s loss of both absolute and relative majorities in the National Assembly.

    He pointed to two major sources of division: growing disillusionment with politicians and resistance to reform. Many French voters feel politically homeless, fueling a cycle where reforms are met with fierce backlash, ultimately deterring further change.

    Disinformation breeds distrust.

    Compounding the problem is the erosion of independent journalism.

    “You have to be very careful reading the news,” Lyon said. “Journalists that remain anchored to traditional values of accuracy and impartiality are becoming few and far between.”

    In France, billionaire and right-wing proponent Vincent Bolloré has bought up news and media outlets, raising concerns about bias and misinformation. In a way, Lyon said, the media is fueling the fires of divisions in new ways because now the press is controlled and owned by people with vested political interests.

    France finds itself at a crossroads. Uncertainty, frustration and political polarization are creating more gloom than ever.

    Whether stability can be restored depends on Macron, the parliament and their willingness to compromise. If cooperation remains minimal, France may continue down a path of deepening division, one with consequences far beyond its borders.


    Three questions to consider:

    1. Why has French President Emmanuel Macron lost significant support from voters?

    2. What is one thing voters are in France want from their government?

    3. As a citizen of your country, what do you expect your government to do for you?


     

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  • Decoder: The Silence of America

    Decoder: The Silence of America

    Iconic photos from the Cold War cover the corridors of the Prague headquarters of Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty, news networks created by the U.S. government to counter censorship and disinformation from the Soviet Union and their East European satellite nations during the Cold War.

    Images from 1989, the year communist rule melted away in more than a dozen countries, were reminders of earlier days when Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty had broadcast news in Polish, Czech, Slovakian and the Baltic languages; those countries are now robust democracies as well as members of the European Union and NATO.

    Those historic photos jostle with more recent images from countries where human rights and democracy are not observed, including Russia, Belarus, Iran, Afghanistan and other nations across Central and South Asia. In total, the two networks broadcasted in 27 languages to 23 countries providing news coverage and cultural programming where free media doesn’t exist or is threatened.

    The journalists who broadcast there often do so at great risk. 

    Many are exiles unable to return to their own countries. Three of their journalists are currently jailed in Russian-occupied Crimea, Russia and Azerbaijan. The charges against them are viewed as politically motivated.

    Countering power with news

    On 14 March 2025, U.S. President Donald Trump signed an executive order which cut the funding for the U.S. Agency for Global Media, the parent agency of Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty. It also cut the funding of Radio Free Asia and the Middle East Broadcasting Network, the Voice of America — the “official” voice of the United States — as well as Radio & Television Marti which broadcasts to Cuba.

    The funding cuts would effectively silence these networks. In response, Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty filed a lawsuit in Washington, D.C. 18 March that argued that Congress has exclusive authority over federal spending and that cannot be altered by a presidential executive order. Voice of America Director Michael Abramowitz filed suit 26 March. 

    On March 27, the Trump administration announced it had restored the funding for Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty. 

    Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty came into being after the end of the second World War when Europe became a divided continent. While the wartime allies, including Britain and the United States, focused on rebuilding their economies after years of war, Soviet leader Joseph Stalin sent his army to occupy most of Eastern Europe. 

    Despite promises made at a meeting in the Crimea, known as the Yalta Conference, during the final months of the war in 1945, Stalin refused to allow free elections in East Germany, Romania, Bulgaria, Poland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. 

    Neither were free elections held in the three Baltic countries — Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania — which the Soviet Union had annexed in 1940. The crushing of democratic rule in so many nations was characterised by British Prime Minister Winston Churchill as “an iron curtain” that had “descended across the continent.” 

    After years of fighting Nazi Germany, half of Europe was now ruled under a Soviet dictatorship.

    Containing communism

    The United States responded with a policy of ‘containment’ that aimed to halt the spread of communism without using soldiers and tanks. Radio Free Europe started broadcasting in 1950 followed by Radio Liberty in 1953. 

    With a system of transmitters pointing east, news programmes that countered the state propaganda were beamed to the countries in the Soviet bloc, eventually in 17 languages. These were tactics that came to be known as ‘soft power’.

    Based in Munich, Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty, or RFE/RL as they became known, attracted dissidents who opposed the Soviet-imposed governments. Their audiences grew during the Cold War, despite threats of prosecution. 

    In addition to news, broadcasts covered music, sports and science. Banned literature written by dissidents who challenged the communist systems could be heard on RFE/RL. Czech dissident Vaclav Havel was one of those voices.

    The Berlin Wall tumbled down in November 1989. It was followed by the Velvet Revolution that overthrew the Czech government and installed as its president, the former political prisoner Haval. He invited RFE/RL to move their base from Munich to Prague. 

    “My confinement in prison might have lasted longer had it not been for the publicity I had through these two stations,” Haval said at the time. 

    An outcry in Europe and elsewhere

    The news that the Trump administration would shut down the radio networks spread quickly. Listeners, viewers and supporters who had lived through the Cold War years when only pro-government broadcasts were legal, shared their stories on social media:

    “In Romania, they [RFE] lightened communism with the hope of freedom.”

    “As a small girl, living under a communist regime in Poland, I remember my grandfather listening every night to Radio Free Europe, to get uncensored news from around the world, to get different opinions on the world’s affairs, and probably hoping that one day, he would live in a free world. It was illegal to listen to this Radio, and the quality was very poor, and yet, he would do it every night … ” 

    Polish Foreign Minister Radek Sikorski recalled how his father had listened to Radio Free Europe and Voice of America. “This is a great shame,” he wrote. “My grandfather was listening to RFE in Soviet-occupied Poland in 80s. It’s how we learned basic facts about our own countries because communist propaganda was so tightly controlled.”

    On 17 March the Czech Republic asked the foreign ministers of the European Union to support RFE/RL so the journalism could continue. 

    One diplomat who was in the meeting said that stopping RFE/RL’s broadcasts would “be a gift to Europe’s adversaries.” Already Russia’s state broadcaster, Russia Today, had tweeted that cutting the funding for RFE/RL was an “awesome decision by Trump.”

    When Vaclav Havel welcomed Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty to Prague after democracy had been restored to Czechoslovakia, he said that having RFE/RL in the Czech capital was equivalent to having three NATO divisions. 

    The supporters of the networks are hoping that the soft power of free media is indeed able to pack a powerful punch for free media.

    Update to this story: As of 30 March, Radio Free Liberty has informed News Decoder that, while two weeks worth of funds have been received, the rest of U.S. government funding had not yet been restored. We will continue to update this story as we learn of further developments. 


     

    Three questions to consider:

    1. Why, during the Cold War, were radio broadcasts across closed borders one of the few ways people could receive news that was not controlled by the government?
    2. In what ways are people limited in accessing news, culture and music?
    3. In what ways might a free media be important in a democracy?


     

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  • Our navigators in the sea of information

    Our navigators in the sea of information

    While my educational experience is limited in both time and geographic scope, I have been alarmed by the lack of general knowledge and culture among many journalism students. 

    They are unaware of what has happened in the world over the last 50 years, so they don’t understand current events and their potential consequences. We must return to basics, ensuring journalists have an excellent general culture that allows them to make the most of their work.

    Third, and related to acquiring a broad general culture, new journalists must be much better at prioritizing and categorizing news. 

    They need to be out on the streets, taking the pulse of people’s reality, talking to them, empathizing with them and experiencing the world as the majority of people do. This is how one truly understands what is important and what people prioritize. 

    Reconnect the public to the press.

    The detachment between journalists and the public is one of the reasons for the decline in newspaper readership.

    Unfortunately, this is not taught in journalism schools, yet it is essential. Most journalists spend their days in front of screens whether in newsrooms or remotely in their homes. They rely on secondary sources of information that are often produced by organizations with interests different from those of the general public.

    A fourth area for improvement is the permanent implementation of critical thinking throughout journalistic processes. In many daily news articles essential information — the traditional five Ws (who, what, when, where and why) — are missing. Most important, the stories often lack context. 

    Journalists should ask themselves why they report on a given topic, who provides the information, what hidden interests might be involved and what value this information holds for the public.

    It is true that journalists alone cannot change the current media landscape. But in their role as the central actors in the system, they can do much to improve the quality of information and support citizens. 

    A well-rounded “classical” education, coupled with a curious and critical mind, should produce good journalists. These “new professionals” would be better equipped to face the current economic model of information, which favors powerful entities controlling information, the overwhelming information saturation, the prevailing negativity and cynicism and the constant distractions in the form of screens that affect our lives.

    If concerned citizens also make an effort to support and reward this new form of quality journalism, we will all benefit. And our societies will gain a stronger democratic and peaceful coexistence. This is why it is worth valuing and improving journalism education.


     

    Three questions to consider:

    1. What is meant by an “information ecosystem”?
    2. Why does the author argue that many journalists are disconnected from the public they are trying to reach?
    3. If you were a journalist, what stories would you want to tell?

     

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  • What nations have the strongest democracies?

    What nations have the strongest democracies?

    In my capacity as a globetrotting Asianist, I frequently encounter people from the United States who want to brag about democracy. They are often surprised to discover how healthy it is in many Asian countries.

    The United States as the world’s longest standing democracy stands in contrast with its great geopolitical rival, China, one of the world’s most authoritarian political regimes. The U.S. Constitution came into effect in 1789, and famously begins with “We the people…” affirming that a government must serve its citizens.

    What’s more, U.S. law declares the promotion and protection of democracy, human rights and fundamental freedoms to be “principal” and “fundamental” goals of U.S. foreign policy. 

    But over the years, politics has evolved across both sides of the Pacific Ocean. By the measure of democracy set by the Economist Intelligence Unit (EIU) the United States now falls short.

    The EIU considers it a “flawed democracy” and ranks it 29th out of the 167 jurisdictions surveyed. The demotion from “full democracy” to a “flawed democracy” came in 2016, the year Donald Trump was elected to his first term as president.

    The EIU assesses democracy worldwide based on five criteria: electoral process and pluralism, functioning of government, political participation, political culture and civil liberties. In other words, there is a lot more to democracy than simply having elections.  

    Measuring democracy by world standards

    In this context, the United States scores poorly for its political culture. “The U.S. score is weighed down by intense political and cultural polarisation,” its report noted. “Social cohesion and consensus have collapsed in recent years as disagreements over an expanding list of issues have fuelled the country’s ‘culture wars’.” 

    Fault lines have deepened in particular over LGBTQ+ rights, climate policy and reproductive health. 

    Polarisation has long compromised the functioning of government in the United States and the country’s score for this category is also particularly low.  

    “Pluralism and competing alternatives are essential for a functioning democracy, but differences of opinion in the U.S. have hardened into political sectarianism and almost permanent institutional gridlock,” the EIU reported.

    Freedom House, a think tank which analyses freedom across the world, has also observed that democratic institutions in the United States have eroded. It cites: “Rising political polarisation and extremism, partisan pressure on the electoral process, mistreatment and dysfunction in the criminal justice and immigration systems and growing disparities in wealth, economic opportunity and political influence.”

    Democracy in Asia and the Pacific

    Across the Pacific, we find five “full democracies”: Australia, Japan, South Korea, New Zealand and Taiwan, although the EIU’s report preceded the current political turmoil in South Korea. The region also has 10 “flawed democracies,” including Malaysia, India, The Philippines and Indonesia.

    Singapore, a country which is often criticised for its soft authoritarian political system, is also assessed to be a flawed democracy. But there can be little doubt about the government’s effectiveness in delivering services to its citizens. Singapore’s technocratic and managerial style governance have generated one of the world’s most prosperous and efficient economies. 

    Its GDP per capita, which is a way of measuring the economic wellbeing of a country, is $148,000 — among the very highest in the world, and ahead of the United States, Germany or Japan.  

    When it comes to economic freedom, Singapore leads the world according to the Heritage Foundation, while the United States ranks a mere 25th out of the 176 jurisdictions surveyed. Other Asia-Pacific economies which rank well are Taiwan (4th) New Zealand (6th), Australia (13th) and South Korea (14th). 

    Human capital has long been a key ingredient in Singapore’s economic success story. Singapore’s students topped the OECD’s 2022 Programme for Student Assessment which assessed the capabilities for 15-year-old students from 81 countries and economies for reading, science and maths. Indeed, Japan and South Korea are also ranked in the top 10 countries. The United States was ranked 34th with a similar score to Vietnam.

    Education is key to democracy.

    When it comes to universities, the United States is still the world leader, with the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Harvard University, Princeton University, Stanford University, the California Institute of Technology, the University of California, Berkeley and Yale University all being ranked in the top 10 by Times Higher Education.  

    But Asian universities are now climbing the ladder, with China’s Tsinghua University now number 12, Peking University 13th, National University of Singapore 17th, the University of Tokyo 28th and Nanyang Technological University Singapore 30th.

    Asian citizens also enjoy much higher life expectancies than U.S. citizens or those of most other developed countries. Hong Kong tops the list of the world’s highest life expectancy at 86 years, with Japan, South Korea, Australia and Singapore all being in the top 10.  

    In comparison, the United States ranks just 48th in the world; Americans live on average some six years less than Hong Kongers. 

    And while Singapore and many other Asian countries are notorious for restrictions on personal freedoms, the trade-off is a safe society and an efficient economy. For example, Singapore is estimated by research group Numbeo to have a much better crime index and safety scale than the United States or France.  

    No monopoly on democratic values

    My American friends seem insistent that their open and free-wheeling society represents a unique source of creativity and innovation.  

    There is no doubt some truth in this perception — U.S. companies dominate Forbes list of the world’s most innovative companies. At the same time, companies from India, South Korea, Indonesia, Thailand, China and Japan are now climbing up the Forbes list.  

    And while Switzerland, Sweden and the United States might top the Global Innovation Index, Singapore, South Korea, China and Japan are not far behind.

    Comparing the quality of democracy and governance is a complex exercise, something that a short article like this cannot sufficiently tackle.  

    But it is clear, based on a number of factors, that many Asian countries are doing quite well in developing systems of democracy and governance. The United States faces many deep challenges in contrast and could draw lessons from its Asian friends across the ocean.


     

    Three questions to consider:

    1. What is one common measure of democracy?
    2. In what way does the United States fall short on measures of democratic strength?
    3. What do you think is the most important characteristic of a democracy?


     

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  • What a peaceful transition of power looks like

    What a peaceful transition of power looks like

    On 20 January, Donald Trump will take the office of president of the United States for the second time. It remains to be seen how this second term — interrupted by the four-year term of Joe Biden — will play itself out. 

    The first time around, President Barack Obama had left Trump a relatively stable nation and world. Trump’s term proved so disruptive, 41 of his 44 top aides, including his own vice president, refused to back him for a return to office. The next four years are likely to be a bumpy ride.

    Americans have long prided themselves on the peaceful transition of leadership.

    Traditionally, on the morning of the transfer of power, the outgoing president meets with the incoming president for coffee at the White House, they share a ride to the Capitol, trade places and say goodbye. Trump scorned that tradition by flying home to his Mar-a-Lago club in the state of Florida a few hours before the inauguration.

    Before Trump, outgoing presidents tried to ease the transition by leaving notes offering advice and best wishes to their successors in the top drawer of the desk in the Oval Office. George H.W. Bush’s note to Bill Clinton, with whom he’d waged a bare-knuckles election campaign a few months earlier, was especially gracious. 

    “I wish you well. I wish your family well. Your success now is our country’s success. I am rooting hard for you,” Bush wrote.

    Peaceful transition signals a healthy democracy.

    The tradition of a peaceful transfer of power, which dates back to George Washington, crumbled four years ago when Trump, refusing to accept the voters’ rejection of his bid for another four years of office in the 2020 U.S. election, inspired an angry mob to storm the halls of Congress. Their aim was to block certification of Joe Biden’s election to succeed Trump, something that is generally considered a formality. The would-be insurrection failed.  

    Trump is now poised to again assume the highest office in the United States. To the surprise and disappointment of nearly half the country, he narrowly prevailed over Biden’s vice president, Kamala Harris, in last November’s bitterly contested presidential race. Bowing to tradition and a sense of decency, Harris conceded the election.

    “A fundamental principle of American democracy is that when we lose an election, we accept the results,” Harris said in her concession speech. “That principle, as much as any other, distinguishes democracy from monarchy or tyranny.” 

    The current transfer of power has proceeded peacefully and the inauguration itself is expected to follow the historic norm.

    While the transfer is usually thought to include just a few procedural events and the presidential oath-taking, it consists of much more and begins almost immediately after voters cast their ballots in the fall. 

    Handing over the reins of power

    If the election winner is new to the office of president, they and their team are briefed on issues and challenges they’ll face and undergo background checks to assure their avoidance of conflicts of interest and qualification to handle sensitive information.

    Normally, the focus of a transition is on appointments to top government positions and on policy changes. 

    With the Trump transition, both have been controversial. Some of the people he’s chosen for some of the most critical jobs are far out of the U.S. political mainstream. And some of the policies he says he intends to pursue — a massive nationwide roundup and deportation of illegal immigrants, the annexation of Greenland and a takeover of the Panama Canal to mention a few — are raising alarms in the United States and abroad.

    With the recent passing of former President Jimmy Carter, I can’t help remembering a time of sharp contrast to the one we are in now. 

    The 20th of January 1981 was one of the more memorable days in U.S. history. Carter had lost his bid for reelection in large part because he had been unable to secure the release of 53 U.S. diplomats and citizens who’d been held hostage in Iran for more than a year. He’d been up until 4 a.m. that day trying to sew up a deal for their release.

    It was almost done but still incomplete as he and incoming president Ronald Reagan rode up Pennsylvania Avenue together for the inaugural ceremony in a big black armored presidential limousine known as “The Beast.”

    Front row seat to a presidential transition

    I was one of the newsmen covering Carter that day. So I got a firsthand view of how the transfer of power unfolded. When we reached the U.S. Capitol, one of the television networks aired a report that the hostages had been freed. It was premature. 

    In a final indignity to Carter, the Iranians waited until minutes after Reagan was sworn in to let an Algerian aircraft chartered to bring the hostages home take off.

    What the new president said in his inaugural speech was all but lost in the celebrations over the end of the hostage ordeal. Once the formalities were over, Carter and his entourage — his wife Rosalynn, family members, top aides and a small group of reporters — walked to a small motorcade waiting outside the Capitol building. 

    In place of “The Beast” and a long trail of support vehicles was a small sedan and several vans. We slowly made our way to Andrews Air Force Base in the Maryland suburbs of Washington D.C. where a military transport plane waited to take Carter home to Georgia. 

    Although it was the same plane he’d flown on as president, its radio call sign was no longer “Air Force One.” Now it was identified as “Special Air Mission” followed by the aircraft’s tail number, “Twenty-Seven Thousand.” Reagan was president. Carter was history.

    Before turning south, the plane flew over the White House and dipped a wing. Many aboard were in tears. But the tears turned to laughter when a young Carter aide, Philip Wise, humorously borrowed a line from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the martyred U.S. civil rights leader. “Free at last, free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last,” Wise shouted.

    Witnessing the most powerful office in the world change hands was like living a real-life version of the storybook “Cinderella” and seeing the coach turn into a pumpkin.

    Having witnessed so many times in so many places where a change at the top was brought about by armed conflict or a military coup, this turnover from Carter to Reagan showed the world the power of a peaceful transition.


     

    Three questions to consider:

    1. Can you think of a recent changeover from one national leader to the next that wasn’t peaceful?
    2. If a new leader is appointed by the old one without an election, would you consider that a peaceful transition of power?
    3. If you were in an important leadership position, do you think you would find it difficult to step down?


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