The Man Who Would not be King

It disturbs me to hear that Mario Cuomo is remembered for when he did not choose to run for President and contented himself with the record of a three-term Governor of New York State. It is a shame that the ambitions others had for him overshadow the humility and integrity of a man who took political office as a calling. More could follow his example.

The notion of high-calling runs against the Peter Principle in politics, that leaders often aspire to positions beyond their competence or aptitude. Those who accept their limitations or sense of self are too often taunted with what might have been. Everett Dirksen was constantly pressured to run for President, when he understood his aptitude for legislation and negotiation. More recently Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice were pressed to break ground by running as their party’s first African-American Presidential nominee. They left that job to Barack Obama, who proved that race was neither a qualification nor a prohibition to be President.

It seems to me we should honor the decisions that restrained our leaders from presuming power, when it might not have been warranted. Such leaders understand that power is not an end in itself and that public service is an honor at any level. Not every President has shown such discretion.

Gail Collins cites James Buchanan as a man with the perfect resume for the Presidency, who was too weak to hold the Union together, as the South teetered toward secession. Apparently Buchanan’s strong bonds with Southern legislators, such as William King of Alabama, weakened his resolve to sustain the Union. He once described the abolition movement as “weak, powerless and soon to be forgotten.” An instructive example of a man who could be king, but shouldn’t have been. (New York Times, January 3, 2015),

Mario Cuomo did not lack vision and aspiration to power. His famous keynote at the 1984 Democratic Convention demonstrated his will to lead and to espouse core values. He accused the Reagan Administration of immunity to the plight of the poor, arguing that that America was more “a tale of two cities” than “a shining city upon a hill.” In that speech he seemed to lay the foundation for a Presidential run, just as Barack Obama did in the 2004 Democratic Convention.

But when the moment of truth came, Cuomo backed away, not with weakness, but humility. To back away from power seems so quaint and unorthodox in politics, yet the choice proves as much about the character of a leader as the choice to assume power might. So it is disrespectful to write about “what might have been,” when the choice was to demur.

Perhaps Cuomo’s choice followed the path of Jesus Christ, his spiritual model. No one was more pressed to step into power, and no one rejected that role at so much cost to himself. In the Garden of Gethsemane the Apostle Peter was said to have lifted his sword against the high priest’s guard, while Jesus said, “Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?” (John 18:11). At that moment a revolution turned on its axis, and Jesus was led to a trial, rather than fomenting a revolt.

There is honor in refusing power, and it should be acknowledged in Mario Cuomo’s passing. He modeled the principle that just because you can doesn’t mean you should. As the Times editorial acknowledged today.

His career may have been rich in might-have-beens–a presidential run? a Supreme Court seat?–but Mr. Cuomo was true to himself at critical moments.

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