Exiting With Grace: The Delicate Art Of Leaving The Public Life

The unforced departure of Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma, the two pillars of 온라인카지노 cricket for the last decade, has reminded us of the necessity—and importance—in our collective life of that elusive virtue—the subtle and essentially sublime art of leaving the arena gracefully.

Leaving the arena, especially the public arena, is not an easy call to make. It is, at the end of the day, a personal decision for a political leader but in every case, a host of individual calculations and vested interests do intrude in deciding whether to hang up the boots. There is always the allure of one more fight in the ring; the temptation to get one more (hopefully the final) chance to achieve this or that milestone; or, simply, the delusion that if one left the ramparts the barbarians would force their way in. The delicious dish of indispensability is served to the “leader” every morning and evening by courtiers.

We can talk, for example, of former President Joe Biden of the United States. Despite all the signs of a fading president, the family, staffers, and hangers-on would not allow Old Joe to call it a day when he was in office. All the power and the patronage of the White House was used; first to hide the seriousness of the president’s creeping ill-health, and, then, to bulldoze the Democratic Party into nominating him for a second term in 2024; and when the shit hit the fan in the first presidential debate with Donald Trump, there was a scramble to re-arrange the Democratic national ticket. It is anybody’s guess whether Kamala Harris would have won the Democratic presidential primary sweepstakes, and whether a different candidate would have emerged with the potential to stop Trump from storming back to the White House.

And, not to forget, Trump’s own graceless refusal to leave the office after the 2020 elections, despite a very clear vote against him and in favour of Joe Biden. Mercifully, Trump did pack his suitcases but not before allowing his supporters to stage that ugly and repulsive “coup” of January 6, 2021.

In non-democratic settings, the very thought of the leader “leaving” is fraught with unpredictable, often violent, consequences. The habits and traditions of a peaceful transfer of power have eluded most governing arrangements around the world.

Charles de Gaulle is one of the few examples in post-World War II history of a leader who walked away from the job. A war-time hero, he had the charisma to elevate himself as the saviour of French honour and prestige and he made French politics adjust itself to his personality. He was the emperor of all he surveyed in the French political landscape. De Gaulle provided stability and restored a sense of purpose but then failed to appreciate that his leadership itself had ushered in forces of modernisation and cultural transformation in its wake.

Increasingly, he became a victim of the heady cocktail of indispensability and self-belief in his incorruptibility, omnipotence and invincibility. And when French voters did not endorse his proposals for reforms in a referendum in April 1969, he took the rebuff as a vote of no-confidence in his leadership. He walked away. (Forty-seven years later, a less dramatic leader, David Cameron, chose to leave 10 Downing Street when the British electorate voted for exiting the European Union).

A supremely self-centered de Gaulle would have it his way or no other way. He told a confidante: “If the French do not want to listen to me, well, I will go, and afterwards people will see that I was right.” And then he left.

De Gaulle, well, was de Gaulle. But even when there are well-respected rules of the game about change of leadership, the rub remains that the incumbent is unwilling to see the writing on the wall.

Margaret Thatcher, another consequential leader, failed to read the changing winds in her own Conservative Party and therefore had to be made to leave. She was not unaware of growing discontent in the party over her style, dominant and unyielding, but cheerfully persuaded herself that what she was doing or had accomplished was bound to produce some discord and unhappiness—and so be it. She was not prepared to throw in the towel in anger or frustration.

She refused to bow to the eternal reality that all good things come to an end. In her memoir, The Downing Street Years, she herself decodes the reluctance to leave:

“My problem was the lack of a successor whom I could trust both to keep my legacy secure and to build on it.”

This obsession with a “legacy” becomes a consuming concern in all settings. The leader convinces himself or herself that there was still unfinished “work” that could only be attended to under her watch.

“Nor, however, did I seriously intend to go ‘on and on.’ I thought that about two years into the next Parliament would be the right time to leave. Of course, even that would a wrench. I felt as full of energy as ever. But I accepted that one day it would be my duty to leave No 10, whether the electorate had demanded it or not.”

Thatcher had already been prime minister for 11 years, yet, she had not found the verve to leave the arena.

We in India can take considerable satisfaction in the way in which the 온라인카지노 political system has sorted out the business of transfer of power. Those who lost at the numbers game handed over power and walked away. Even the mighty Indira Gandhi made no fuss about making way for a new set of rulers in 1977. She just left. And, so did every other successor.

Yet, many historians believe that Jawaharlal Nehru should have called it a day after his two elected terms as prime minister. By 1957/58 he had accomplished his most consequential milestones: steered the new country to a critical stability, firmed up the parliamentary system, and set the tone for a secular and equitable social order.

As per the law of history, the forces of modernisation Nehru had unleashed in our stagnant society produced different responses, from the Left and the Right. But by 1957/58 he had lost that magic touch and was unable to tame neither the Right nor the Left. Even his own Congress Party had lost all enthusiasm for his “work”. There was a palpable dissipation of national purpose, but Nehru could not read the incipient itch for change.

So, he did not leave, and had to live with the ignominy of the Chinese debacle. Perhaps a different leader would have produced a different leadership rhythm and music to handle the vexatious Chinese problem. And history is harsh on him.

Many historians are also of the view that Atal Bihari Vajpayee should have heeded the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh’s advice—though not a demarche—to make way for L.K. Advani in 2003. But who knows how the Bharatiya Janata Party would have re-grouped itself under a different leader and how the national political forces would have realigned themselves! Vajpayee, however, did not leave.

In 2014, a new, dramatic, and very consequential, principle was enunciated: those over 75 years should not aspire for hands-on constitutional slots; instead, we were told, the seniors’ experience and wisdom should be available to guide the new regime. A very worthwhile principle, an honourable mantra, bespeaking of a mature political system.

(Views expressed are personal)

Harish Khare is a Delhi-based senior journalist and public commentator

This article is part of 온라인 카지노 사이트 Magazine's June 11, 2025 issue, 'Living on the Edge', which explores India’s fragile borderlands and the human cost of conflict. It appeared in print as 'Art of Leaving.'