The Bearable Burden

THE PRESIDENCY

James Buchanan called the presidency "a crown of thorns," and Herbert Hoover pronounced it "a hair shirt." Lyndon Johnson spoke in sepulchral tones of "the awesome burden." There is an article of faith, enshrined in the national mythology, that the leader of the most powerful country on earth must hold the world's most onerous and agonizing job. Knowing how hard the President is working not only reassures Americans, it inspires some in a small way to carry on their own more or less demanding tasks.

Consider, then, this recent observation by Richard Nixon, a man not generally noted for his iconoclasms: "I know the job I have is supposed to be the most difficult job in the world. But it has not yet become for me that great, awesome burden that some have described it." His actions seem to support the words. The presidency has made a regular golfer of Nixon, who, as a private citizen, found golf "a waste of time." He has taken some evenings off this season to root for the Washington Senators, and will doubtless keep a number of his Sunday afternoons free this fall to watch the Washington Redskins. The White House operated half days for a month from California. Last week, after his reception for U.N. delegates, Nixon took Secretary of State William Rogers, Adviser Henry Kissinger and Chief of Protocol and Mrs. Emil Mosbacher Jr. to Manhattan's "21" Club.

Measure of Efficiency. Is Nixon's burden too light? His aides, of course, would say no, and argue rather that it is a measure of the President's efficiency that he has time for other things. It is true that Nixon, unlike his predecessor, is fairly serene about delegating authority and awaiting reports from his subalterns. It is doubtless also true that a President need sign only one piece of paper a day--if it is the right piece:of paper.

One extreme version of carrying on the presidency (or any other executive job) is the hectic style of Lyndon Johnson. Its danger is that it can exhaust the nerves and make mistakes inevitable. But the other extreme may be equally dangerous: for a President to insist on an air of effortless efficiency, to wrap himself in an illusion of serenity. It is a species of solipsism ("L'etat c'est moi") for a President to imagine that the national realities always conform to his own mood of equanimity.

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