Good afternoon, everyone:

Because I’m across the Pond this week, navigating a six-hour time difference, I thought I might not even try to be original, but instead look back at some of the notes of the last six years that might have some relevance today – perhaps spread across a handful of categories: politics, inspiration in hard times, space, arts, .

So, tonight, I’ll live a bit dangerously with one from the political category.

The recent “No More Kings” marches were astounding and inspirational in their organizational complexity, sweep of issues, and invitation to continuing grassroots engagement. But it did raise – at least for me – a gnarly linguistic perplexity: what in the world would we call the current occupant of the White House if indeed he shouldn’t be called a King?

I had a dim memory of a note of some six years ago grounded in a similar situation. Helpful. But because times have changed, and the Executive’s behaviors have changed, it needed some revisions, updates, and softening modulations.

So, with every good intention of ensuring that the 46^th President of the United States can appropriately claim a secondary appellation other than “King,” here goes:

April 14, 2020, modified to apply to April 6, 2026

Good evening everyone:

With the overwhelming consensus evidenced on the streets of America that this is not/cannot be a country led by a King, we’re faced with the dilemma of what term applies to the 46^th occupant of the Oval Office. “President” is unquestionably technically correct – Donald Trump was duly elected. He gets to keep that title.

But in light of a head of state behaving in ways fundamentally unlike any other occupant who has held that office, one might wonder what moniker would more accurately reflect the reality of this presidency.

“King” certainly does strike many as an accurate characterization of executive gestures and actions designed to unravel fundamental norms of respect  . . . to ignore separation-of-power principles . . . to crush dissenting views . . .  to obliterate nettlesome regulatory constraints . . . to coerce ideological compliance of the press, universities, and other civic institutions . . . to convert the office into a machinery of enrichment for a small circle of privileged family members, friends, and sycophants . . . and . . . .  well, each of you could construct a list of your own about why the marchers are probably right that this behavior is less “presidential” than it is regal.

And yet, I’m not sure the marchers have fully grappled with the question of why, if so many other nations recognize the importance of a leader with the title of “King,” not here? It’s just a title after all. Indeed, the list of King-led nations is long and distinguished – even longer if one includes those who don’t confer the title, but have come up with something of equal or greater weight.

Consider:

·       Belgium (King Phillippe)

·       Brunei (actually a “Sultan”)

·       Bhutan (a “Jigme”)

·       Cambodia (King Norodom Sihamoni)

·       Japan (well, technically, an emperor)

·       Jordan (King Abdullah)

·       Kuwait (a “Sabah”)

·       Lesotho (King Letsie)

·       Liechtenstein (doesn’t appear they could come up with a King, so Prince Adam is in charge),

·       Luxembourg (like Liechtenstein, no King, but a Grand Duke)

·       Malaysia (stay with me on this one: Almu’tasimu Billahi Muhibbuddin Tuanku Alhaj Addul Halim Mu-adzam Shah Ibni Almarhum Sultan Badishah – not sure if that is a         Shah or a Sultan or something else)

·       Morocco (back to the familiar: King Muhammad VI)

·       Netherlands (King Willem-Alexander)

·       Oman (in the Sultan camp)

·       Samoa (a Tama-a-Aiga Tupua, or – loosely translated – a royal chief)

·       Saudi Arabia (King Salman)

·       Spain (King Felipe)

·       Swaziland (King Mswati III)

·       Sweden (King Carl XVI)

·       Tonga (King Tupou VI)

But the marchers unquestionably have a point. What’s troubling is not so much the title per se as it is the appropriated positional authorities the title conveys. So, they’re right: King should be off the table.

But clearly our current resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue relishes obsequiousness ­ deference. I don’t know him, but I can only assume he’d accordingly welcome a supplemental title that conveys weight, stateliness, even nobility. That’s a tough challenge, though: we haven’t had to deliberate about what to term our head of state since – well, 1776.

So, what would a title be that respects his legitimacy as the elected sovereign, but torques just a hair to acknowledge our discomfort?

·       Prince Trump (a la Lichtenstein)? Probably not. Too close to King. And it would also be confused with Barron Trump, which might be interpreted as positioning a next-in-line heir to the throne;

·       Tama-a-Aiga Tupua Trump (a la Samoa)? This has possibilities in the abbreviated form:  “T3” – but then again the entry music of “ Hail to the T3” lacks a certain poetic quality;

·       Grand Duke Donald (a la Luxembourg)? Unlikely because it might be mistaken for Grand Hyatt Regency, cutting into potential presidential revenues in Saudi Arabia;

·       Sultan Trump (a la multiple places)? Possible – but a bit too fraught given the turmoil in the Mideast;

This kind of narrows the field.

It seems, though, as if one might work: “Jigme” (a la Bhutan) Easily pronounceable (which 46 would appreciate). Readily applicable to naming opportunities (the Jigme Ballroom would seem a perfect fit).  Conveying gravitas (even has something of a gilded ring to it, which is important). Unique, even mysterious (fits the “nobody can do it like me” ethic).

And, importantly, it doesn’t seem disrespectful, or at least not unduly so (a slight caution: although “jigme” in Bhutanese means fearless, in Nepalese it means empty vessel).

And from the White House perspective, it would have the enormous advantage of undercutting street protests. Seems ludicrous to try to organize people around “No more Jigmes.” So, perhaps: “Jigme Donald the First.” I don’t know about the marchers, but I could probably live with that.

Rip

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