In the Washington Monthly’s final print edition of 2024, which went to press before Election Day, Mike Lofgren reflected on Donald Trump’s firing of six Inspectors general in his first presidential administration. He predicted another round in a potential second administration:
This unprecedented mass firing was a clear signal that for all their limitations, inspectors general are seen as a threat by the corrupt and the venal. The firings are also a dire warning of what a second Trump administration would entail: a systematic purge of competent employees; a dismantling of safeguards and anti-fraud procedures; and a general trashing of the concept of good government.
Less than a week after Trump was sworn in, he fired 17 inspectors general.
Inspectors general are federal government investigators embedded in government agencies to ferret out waste, fraud, and abuse. Lofgren’s prediction came in a review of the book Watchdogs by Glenn Fine, a former inspector general fired by Trump after 20 years of exemplary service.
Last week’s pink slips violated a law enacted three years ago in response to Trump’s first-term firings, which mandated 30 days’ notice to Congress before the president could terminate an Inspector General.
Trump’s illegal assertion of executive power echoes the attempt 158 years ago by President Andrew Johnson to fire Secretary of War Edward Stanton. Johnson, of course, was the cantankerous Democrat who ascended to the presidency after the assassination of the Republican Abraham Lincoln. Stanton was a Lincoln administration holdover unfriendly to Johnson. The Republican-controlled Congress, looking to strip power from Johnson, passed the Tenure in Office Act, which aimed to prevent presidents from removing executive officers previously confirmed by the Senate without approval from the Senate.
An attempt by Johnson to suspend Stanton while the Senate was not in session was rebuffed when the Senate returned and reinstated Stanton. Undeterred and contemptuous of the Tenure in Office Act, Johnson wrote the order to fire Stanton and gave it to the person tapped for his replacement, General Lorenzo P. Thomas (described by historian Gene Smith as “generally considered to be a fool and the next thing to a confirmed alcoholic.”)
Thomas brought the order to Stanton in the Secretary’s office. Stanton replied, “I don’t know whether I shall obey your orders or not,” and did not leave. Once the Republican Senate was informed, a resolution was passed declaring Johnson’s act to be illegal. A judge quickly issued a warrant for Thomas’s arrest, though he was soon free on bail.
From there, events grew more comic, as depicted in Smith’s book High Crimes and Misdemeanors. Johnson instructed Thomas to “take charge” and get rid of Stanton. Thomas returned to Stanton’s office and declared, in the presence of other military officers and Republican allies of Stanton, “I claim the office of Secretary of War and demand it by order of the President.” “I deny your authority to act,” replied Stanton, “and order you back to your own office.”
Stubborn bickering continued.
THOMAS: I refuse to go and will stand here.
STANTON: How are you to get possession? Do you mean to use force?
THOMAS: I do not care to use force, but my mind is made up as to what I shall do. I want no unpleasantness, though. I shall stay here and act as Secretary of War.
STANTON: You shall not. And I order you, as your superior, back to your own office.
THOMAS: I will not obey you, but will stand here and remain here.
Both began barking competing orders to the nearby officers. But the stalemate was evident. Finally, Thomas cut the tension: “The next time you have me arrested, please do not do it before I get something to eat.” A suddenly jocular Stanton broke out some whiskey. After some amiable chat, Thomas left.
A few days later, the House would impeach Johnson on several counts related to violating the Tenure in Office Act. Stanton would barricade himself in his office for the next three months until the impeachment trial in the Senate was over. Once Johnson narrowly escaped conviction, Stanton resigned, and the constitutional crisis ended. After Johnson’s term in office ended, the Tenure in Office Act was soon modified and eventually repealed. The Supreme Court deemed the Act unconstitutional ex post facto in 1926 while striking down a similar but narrow law regarding postmasters because the legislative branch encroached on the executive branch. Few would argue today that presidents should not have the right to dismiss Cabinet members.
Trump, of course, won’t get impeached (for a third time) because he violated the 30-day notice rule established in the Securing Inspector General Independence Act of 2022. None of the fired inspectors general, who got sacked via terse emails Friday night, could easily resist by barricading themselves in their offices, as they had computer, email, and building access taken away. (Some are unsure how to retrieve their belongings.) They may, and should, sue to challenge the legality of their firing. But Jack Goldsmith of Lawfare argues that Trump has a decent argument that the 2022 law is another unconstitutional encroachment on executive power; indeed, this Supreme Court has been prone to defer to the executive.
Besides, meeting the 30-day notice requirement in the law is not a steep climb. If Trump lost at the Supreme Court and the IGs were reinstated, he could issue a legal notice, and they would be gone in a month. (What nefarious acts did Trump have in mind for his first 30 days that required such a hasty IG purge?)
Johnson, an unelected president substantively at odds with the popularly elected legislature, was caught in a power struggle regarding the direction of post-Civil War reunification. The policy goals of the racist Johnson were not laudatory, but it was reasonable for a president to want loyal Cabinet members.
Inspectors general, however, are not supposed to be loyalists. They are supposed to be independent watchdogs. They are supposed to root out waste, fraud, and abuse.
A president who is secure about his public agenda and personal integrity would not flinch at the prospect of people hired by our government to ensure our government is run efficiently and honestly. Since the establishment of inspectors general in 1978 (thanks to Jimmy Carter), most presidents haven’t flinched. But most presidents aren’t convicted felons. As Lofgren warned, “Inspectors general are seen as a threat by the corrupt and the venal.”
In terms of unconstitutionality, Trump’s fatuous termination of birthright citizenship—filleted by our Garrett Epps—is the bigger transgression. But Trump’s Friday Night Massacre, whether barely legal or illegal, reflects Trump’s inner criminal.
