Chunk 15: “Friends, Romans,Washington, lend me your ears.”

There are two teachers from school who I look back on with particular fondness, from Years 9 and 11. They both taught English and introduced me to Shakespeare: “Julius Caesar” and “Hamlet”, to be precise.

Yet, it wasn’t until recently that I considered how much the overall theme of “Julius Caesar” - a republic wrestling with how much power should be held by one man - had in common with the creation of the presidency of the United States.

I’m assuming most of you know the famous, “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” speech, whereby Mark Antony exposes Brutus’s treachery by declaring of Caesar:

“I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?”

Well, at the end of the American revolution in 1783, the framers of what would become the US Constitution, were faced with two crucial decisions, not unlike that of the senators in ancient Rome.

Firstly, how should they decide who should lead them? Should the decision be left to the people, to a newly formed congress, or an electoral college that effectively represented both?

And secondly, what powers should that leader then have, including, how long should they be allowed to serve for?

Oddly, given they had just finished a seven year war against a British king, the Americans briefly considered an “Elective Monarchy”, which would effectively have given them a king of their own. (“All hail King Donald the Make America Great!”) It was very narrowly defeated six votes to four.

After much hand-wringing, those in power ultimately settled on a system whereby presidents be elected via the electoral college, but that their terms remain unlimited. In short, they could serve in four year blocks for as long as they liked.

Enter General George Washington. Having successfully led America through the revolution, he was always the obvious choice to be the first president, although he almost didn’t make it that far. Twice during battle his horse was shot out from underneath him, and on four separate occasions, his coat was pierced by musket balls.

But following two terms as president, Washington - against the advice of all around him - then did something truly unthinkable: he announced his retirement. (“Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.”)

Sidebar: searching online, I discovered that Washington was quite the fan of the Bard and that, during his second year in office, he even hosted an amateur production of “Julius Caesar” in Philadelphia, the nation’s temporary capital. You wonder whether that might have helped inspire his later actions? …

Washington’s retirement was - and remains - a radical notion. A beloved and unopposed political leader walking away at the zenith of their power. (Just as a contrast, look at Australia’s own recent history; how Hawke refused to step aside for Keating, Howard for Costello, or Abbott for Turnbull, and Turnbull for Morrison.)

But Washington believed a precedent needed to be set, to show that democracy in America could live on without him. And so, two-year term limits became the presidential norm - not by law, but by Washington’s example - which remained the status quo until 1940, when Roosevelt was elected to a third year in office.

In fairness, those circumstances were truly exceptional, it being WWII. So exceptional, in fact, that in Great Britain, a parliamentary act requiring general elections every five years was amended, giving Churchill’s government another five-year term.

But when Roosevelt subsequently went on to win a fourth term (and the war), well, America had just about had enough. That brings us to the 22nd Amendment; which in 1951, formally put down in writing what Washington had put in practice almost two hundred years earlier: that an American president can only serve a maximum of two, four year terms.

How’s that for being ahead of your time?