I’ve Never Been Fond of the State of the Union Address

The State of the Union speech is considered a hallowed American political ritual. It has immense sway over the policy world. Its relevance is understandable, but I have always had an aversion to its pageantry. Some of my disinclination may stem from when I came of age and became more acquainted with politics. I don’t recall George W. Bush’s speeches well, but I have vivid memories of the tail end of Obama’s administration. For me, despite the production being draped in significance and patriotism, it always seemed like an illiberal incarnation, venerating a managerial theory of governance at the expense of Constitutional temperance.

Most take the State of the Union Address for granted as a long-standing tradition. However, its history is relatively recent. Article II, Section 3, of the Constitution requires that the President “shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.” The Constitution does not prescribe a specific form for this communication or detail its content. It does not require a speech, an audience, or a broadcast, which the framers could not have foreseen. All that is needed is some unspecified information and recommendations.​

In the early days of the republic, Presidents Washington and Adams delivered addresses in person to Congress. In the first speech of its kind, Washington discusses relations with “hostile tribes of Indians” and postal roads. Its tone is less pomp and more of a check-in. Thomas Jefferson, who disliked in-person addresses for being too similar to the British monarch’s Speech from the Throne, gave his address in writing. For over a century, presidents followed Jefferson’s lead by delivering what was then called the “Annual Message.” The message was akin to a job review and accounting of the executive branch. It was not an opportunity to grandstand.

The practice changed in 1913, when Woodrow Wilson delivered a speech before Congress. Wilson, who believed in a strong, active, and centralized executive, used the opportunity to rally public opinion and push legislators to pursue his agenda. Franklin Delano Roosevelt formalized it as the “State of the Union,” and with the advent of radio, he addressed the public. Lyndon B. Johnson moved the address to prime time in 1965 to maximize television viewership, cementing its role as an annual political event. Presidents have followed ever since.

The transformation from a written address to televised extravagance symbolizes a change in philosophy and political culture. The classical liberal creed that America was predicated on a skepticism of concentrated power. Its foundation was the belief that society had within it the ability to self-organize. The enlightenment state was meant to be a referee, not an active, top-down manager or agenda-setter. It exists to secure individuals’ rights so they may pursue their own endeavors.

The modern orientation of nation-states emphasizes executive supremacy. The implicit message is that the nation is commanded by a single visionary managing the entire enterprise of the United States. The setting and production of the State of the Union reinforce this theme. The president ascends a dais among assembled representatives and justices, and the Speaker of the House announces the president as if introducing royalty.

The president then gives a great man of history message. Some might contend the address fulfills the function of democratic accountability, but what sort of accountability, aside from political commentators giving their recap, actually occurs? The address is rarely a real, neutral accounting of the executive. It is political theater overflowing with anecdotes and cherry-picked data, sprinkled over lines designed to generate applause.

Then comes the “opposition response.” Beginning in 1966, the minority party offers its own rebuttal, seeking to counter the president’s claims and to provide a balanced view. It is a hasty rejoinder. In doing so, it reinforces the binary contest between partisan groups rather than stressing line-item accountability.

Overall, the tradition seems to have evolved to exalt the president and his party above coequal branches of government. I would much rather see a return to the Jeffersonian model than another opportunity to perpetuate the idea that the president is the leader of the whole government.