There is no question that Donald Trump’s ambition in the first 100 days of his return to the Oval Office was to set a new standard for presidential accomplishment. To rival, even surpass, the scope of Franklin Roosevelt’s efforts nearly a century ago, when he moved so quickly — and so decisively — that he established the first 100 days as a yardstick for executive action.
But as consequential as they have been, and as exhausting as they’ve felt to many Americans, these first months of Trump’s second term fall far short of what Roosevelt accomplished. Yes, Trump has wreaked havoc throughout the federal government and destroyed our relationships abroad, but his main goal — the total subordination of American democracy to his will — remains unfulfilled. You could even say it is slipping away, as he sabotages his administration with a ruinous trade war, deals with the stiff opposition of a large part of civil society and plummets in his standing with most Americans.
If measured by his ultimate aims, Trump’s first 100 days are a failure. To understand why he failed, we must do a bit of compare-and-contrast. First, let’s look at the details of Trump’s opening gambit. And second, let’s measure his efforts against the man who set the terms in the first place: Franklin Delano Roosevelt. To do so is to see that the first 100 days of Trump’s second term aren’t what we think they are. More important, it is to see that the ends of a political project cannot be separated from the means that are used to bring it into this world.
Trump began his second term with a shock-and-awe campaign of executive actions. He, or rather the people around him, devised more than 100 executive orders, all part of a program to repeal the better part of the 20th century — from the New Deal onward — as well as fundamentally transform the relationship between the federal government and the American people.
His ultimate aim is to turn a constitutional republic centered on limited government and the rule of law into a personalist autocracy centered on the rule of one man, Donald J. Trump, and his unlimited authority. Trump’s vision for the United States, put differently, has more in common with foreign dictatorships than it does with almost anything you might find in America’s tradition of republican self-government.
To that end, the president’s executive orders are meant to act as royal decrees — demands that the country bend to his will. In one, among the more than four dozen issued in his first weeks in office, Trump purports to purge the nation’s primary and secondary schools of supposed “radical indoctrination” and promote a program of “patriotic education” instead. In another, signed in the flurry of executive activity that marked his first afternoon back in the Oval Office, Trump asserts the power to define “biological” sex and “gender identity” themselves, in an attempt to end official recognition of trans and other gender nonconforming people.
In Trump’s America, diversity, equity and inclusion programs aren’t just frowned upon; they’re grounds for purges in the public sector and investigations in the private sector. Scientific and medical research must align with his ideological agenda; anything that doesn’t — no matter how promising or useful — is on the chopping block. Any institutions that assert independent authority, like law firms and universities, must be brought to heel with the force of the state itself. Everything in American society must align with the president’s agenda. Those who disagree might find themselves at the mercy of his Department of Justice or worse, his deportation forces.
Trump claims sovereign authority. He claims the right to dismantle entire federal agencies, regardless of the law. He claims the right to spend taxpayer dollars as he sees fit, regardless of what Congress has appropriated. He even claims the right to banish American citizens from the country and send them to rot in a foreign prison.
Trump has deployed autocratic means toward authoritarian ends. And the results, while sweeping, rest on a shaky foundation of unlawful actions and potentially illegal executive actions.
Now, let’s consider Roosevelt.
It’s from Roosevelt, of course, that we get the idea that the 100th day is a milestone worth marking.
Roosevelt took office at a time of deprivation and desperation. The Great Depression had reached its depths during the winter of his inauguration in March 1933. Total estimated national income had dropped by half, and the financial economy had all but shut down, with banks closed and markets frozen. About one-quarter of the nation’s work force — or close to 15 million people — was out of work. Countless businesses had failed. What little relief was available, from either public or private sources, was painfully inadequate.
“Now is the winter of our discontent the chilliest,” Merle Thorpe, the editor of Nation’s Business — then the national magazine of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce — wrote in an editorial that captured the mood of the country on the eve of Roosevelt’s inauguration. “Fear, bordering on panic, loss of faith in everything, our fellow-man, our institutions, private and government. Worst of all, no faith in ourselves, or the future. Almost everyone ready to scuttle the ship, and not even ‘women and children first.’”
It was this pall of despair that led Roosevelt to tell the nation in his Inaugural Address that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself — nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.” Despite the real calls for someone to seize dictatorial power in the face of crisis, Roosevelt’s goal — more, possibly, than anything else — was to rescue and rejuvenate American democracy: to rebuild it as a force that could tame the destructive force of unregulated capitalism.
As such, the new president insisted, the country “must move as a trained and loyal army willing to sacrifice for the good of a common discipline.” His means would fit his ends. He would use democracy to save democracy. He would go to the people’s representatives with an ambitious plan of action. “These measures,” he said, “or such other measures as the Congress may build out of its experience and wisdom, I shall seek, within my constitutional authority, to bring to speedy adoption.”
What followed was a blitz of action meant to ameliorate the worst of the crisis. “On his very first night in office,” the historian William E. Leuchtenburg (who died three months ago) recounted in his seminal volume, “Franklin D. Roosevelt and the New Deal, 1932-1940,” Roosevelt “directed Secretary of the Treasury William Woodin to draft an emergency banking bill, and gave him less than five days to get it ready.”
Five days later, on March 9, 1933, Congress convened a special session during which it approved the president’s banking bill with a unanimous vote in the House and a nearly unanimous vote in the Senate. Soon after, Roosevelt urged the legislature to pass an unemployment relief measure. By the end of the month, on March 31, Congress had created the Civilian Conservation Corps.
This was just the beginning of a burst of legislative and executive activity. On May 12 alone, Roosevelt signed the Federal Emergency Relief Act — establishing the precursor to the Works Progress Administration — the Agricultural Adjustment Act and the Emergency Farm Mortgage Act. He signed the bill creating the Tennessee Valley Authority less than a week later, on May 18, and the Securities Act regulating the offer and sale of securities on May 27. On June 16, Roosevelt signed Glass-Steagall, a law regulating the banking system, and the National Industrial Recovery Act, an omnibus business and labor relations bill with a public works component. With that, and 100 days after it began, Congress went out of session.
The legislature, Leuchtenburg wrote,
had written into the laws of the land the most extraordinary series of reforms in the nation’s history. It had committed the country to an unprecedented program of government-industry cooperation; promised to distribute stupendous sums to millions of staple farmers; accepted responsibility for the welfare of millions of unemployed; agreed to engage in far-reaching experimentation in regional planning; pledged billions of dollars to save homes and farms from foreclosure; undertaken huge public works spending; guaranteed the small bank deposits of the country; and had, for the first time, established federal regulation of Wall Street.
And Roosevelt, Leuchtenburg continued, “had directed the entire operation like a seasoned field general.” The president even coined the “hundred days” phrasing, using it in a July 24, 1933, fireside chat on his recovery program, describing it as a period “devoted to the starting of the wheels of the New Deal.”
The frantic movement of Roosevelt’s first months set a high standard for all future presidents; all fell short. “The first 100 days make him look like a minor league statesman,” said one journalist of Roosevelt’s successor Harry S. Truman. The Times described the first 100 days of the Eisenhower administration as a “slow start.” And after John F. Kennedy’s first 100 days yielded few significant accomplishments, the young president let the occasion pass without remark.
There is much to be said about why Roosevelt was able to do so much in such a short window of time. It is impossible to overstate the importance of the crisis of the Depression. “The country was in such a state of confused desperation that it would have followed almost any leader anywhere he chose to go,” observed the renowned columnist and public intellectual Walter Lippmann. It also helped that there was no meaningful political opposition to either Roosevelt or the Democratic Party — the president took power with overwhelming majorities in the House and the Senate. The Great Depression had made the Republicans a rump party, unable to mount an effective opposition to the early stages of the New Deal.
This note on Congress is key. Beyond the particular context of Roosevelt’s moment, both the expectation and the myth of Roosevelt’s 100 days miss the extent to which it was a legislative accomplishment as much as an executive one. Roosevelt did not transform the United States with a series of executive orders; he did so with a series of laws.
Roosevelt was chief legislator as much as he was chief executive. “He wrote letters to committee chairmen or members of Congress to urge passage of his proposals, summoned the congressional leadership to White House conferences on legislation … and appeared in person before Congress,” Leuchtenburg wrote in an essay arguing that Roosevelt was “the first modern president”:
He made even the hitherto mundane business of bill signing an occasion for political theater; it was he who initiated the custom of giving a presidential pen to a congressional sponsor of legislation as a memento.
Or as the journalist Raymond Clapper wrote of Roosevelt at the end of his first term: “It is scarcely an exaggeration to say that the president, although not a member of Congress, has become almost the equivalent of the prime minister of the British system, because he’s both executive and the guiding hand of the legislative branch.”
Laws are never fixed in place. But neither are they easily moved. It’s for this reason that any president who hopes to make a lasting mark on the United States must eventually turn to legislation. It is in lawmaking that presidents secure their legacy for the long haul.
This brings us back to Trump, whose desire to be a strongman has led him to rule like a strongman under the belief that he can impose an authoritarian system on the United States through sheer force of will.
His White House doesn’t just rely on executive orders; it revolves around them. They are the primary means through which the administration takes action (he has signed only five bills into law), under a radical assertion of executive power: the unitary executive taken to its most extreme form. And for Trump himself, they seem to define his vision of the presidency. He holds his ceremonies — always televised, of course — where subordinates present his orders as he gushes over them.
But while we have no choice but to recognize the significance of the president’s use of executive power, we also can’t believe the hype. Just because Trump desires to transform the American system of government doesn’t mean that he will. Autocratic intent does not translate automatically into autocratic success.
Remember, an executive order isn’t law. It is, as Philip J. Cooper explained in “By Order of the President: The Use and Abuse of Executive Direct Action,” a directive “issued by the president to officers of the executive branch, requiring them to take an action, stop a certain type of activity, alter policy, change management practices, or accept a delegation of authority under which they will henceforth be responsible for the implementation of law.” When devised carefully and within the scope of the president’s lawful authority, an executive order can have the force of law (provided the underlying statute was passed within the constitutional authority of Congress), but it does not carry any inherent authority. An executive order is not law simply because the president says it is.
Even though Trump seems to think he is issuing decrees, the truth is that his directives are provisional and subject to the judgment of the courts as well as future administrations. And if there is a major story to tell about Trump’s second term so far, it is the extent to which many of the president’s most sweeping executive actions have been tied up in the federal judiciary. The White House, while loath to admit it, has even had to back down in the face of hostile rulings.
The president might want to be a king, but despite the best efforts of his allies on the Supreme Court, the American system is not one of executive supremacy. Congress has all the power it needs to reverse the president’s orders and thwart his ambitions. Yes, the national legislature is held by the president’s party right now. But that won’t be a permanent state of affairs, especially given the president’s unpopularity.
MAGA propaganda notwithstanding, Trump is not some grand impresario skillfully playing American politics to his precise tune. He may want to bend the nation to his will, but he does not have the capacity to do the kind of work that would make this possible, as well as permanent — or as close to permanent as lawmaking allows. If Roosevelt’s legislative skill was a demonstration of his strength, then Trump’s reliance on executive orders is a sign of his weakness.
None of this is to discount the real damage that he has inflicted on the country. It is precisely because Republicans in Congress have abdicated their duty to the Constitution that Trump has the capacity to act in catastrophically disastrous ways.
But the overarching project of the second Trump administration — to put the United States on the path toward a consolidated authoritarian state — has stalled out. And it has done so because Trump lacks what Roosevelt had in spades: a commitment to governance and a deep understanding of the system in which he operated.
Roosevelt could orchestrate the transformative program of his 100 days because he tied his plan to American government as it existed, even as he worked to remake it. Trump has pursued his by treating the American government as he wants it to be. It is very difficult to close the gap between those two things, and it will become all the more difficult as the bottom falls out of Trump’s standing with the public.
Do not take this as succor. Do not think it means that the United States is in the clear. American democracy is still as fragile and as vulnerable as it has ever been, and Trump is still motivated to make his vision a reality. He may even lash out as it becomes clear that he has lost whatever initiative he had to begin with. This makes his first 100 days less a triumph for him than a warning to the rest of us. The unthinkable, an American dictatorship, is possible.
But Trump may not have the skills to effect the permanent transformation of his despotic dreams. Despite the chaos of the moment, it is possible that freedom-loving Americans have gotten the luck of the draw. Our most serious would-be tyrant is also among our least capable presidents, and he has surrounded himself with people as fundamentally flawed as he is.
On Inauguration Day, Donald Trump seemed to be on top of the world. One hundred days later, he’s all but a lame duck. He can rage and he can bluster — and he will do a lot more damage — but the fact of the matter is that he can be beaten. Now the task is to deliver him his defeat.
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Jamelle Bouie became a New York Times Opinion columnist in 2019. Before that he was the chief political correspondent for Slate magazine. He is based in Charlottesville, Va., and Washington. @jbouie
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