I am grateful to Daniel Brinks for identifying the implicit debate within the field of comparative politics that underpins our respective arguments concerning actors' time horizons when formulating preferences for institutional change. Do actors think mostly about present challenges, or do they think about future probabilities? Brinks is right that my main conclusion—that actors worry about maximizing the power of the office that they hold—is mostly a “presentist” claim.
Like Brinks, however, I do confess to feeling some discomfort making this argument sound too absolute. If actors are strategic in thinking about the present, why should we assume that they will opt not to be strategic about the future?
My main response is that, for presidents at least, the decision to increase the powers of the executive branch in constitutional change, though very much based on present realities, is one way that they try to control future contingencies. Incumbents typically reason that the more powers to govern that they acquire now, the more likely it is that they or their designee will be able to hang on to power. Fewer checks on their power now will allow presidents to achieve goals, and this, in turn, may help divide the opposition, maintain support from key societal allies, and keep loyalists ensconced across the bureaucracy, all of which allow presidents to beat enemies in elections.
Thus, I do not completely dismiss the assumption that presidents think about the future; I simply propose that they think that to control the future, it is better to strengthen their institutional home in the present. Power today keeps enemies at bay tomorrow.
Nevertheless, I agree that this self-dealing argument should not be overstated. After all, I did find evidence of two presidents who chose not to strengthen the presidency, fearing that their rivals (in the form of ex-presidents) might recapture those offices. One could also argue that when presidents yield to the opposition more than one would have expected—that is, when they display some forbearance—they are also thinking about the future; that is, they may be hoping to increase the probability of better future relations with the opposition.
Speaking of the opposition, I truly appreciate Brinks’s reminder that opposition forces could also be located within ruling parties. It is ironic that someone whose first book focused on executive–ruling party relations and who treats the ruling party as a central veto player in the quantitative section chose to hardly mention this issue in the case studies. In retrospect, I should have been more attentive to ruling parties in the case studies.
I also agree with Brinks’s suggestion that the process of constitution making is itself perhaps stacked against presidents. Even presidents facing favorable conditions (pro-Incumbent power asymmetry) end up having to concede far more than they initially anticipated. Perhaps, as Brinks suggests, there is something about the process of crafting constitutions that creates opportunities for nonincumbent forces to assert themselves.
Or maybe it is not the game itself but the players and their training. In Latin America, the key players have been parties and nongovernmental organizations. And there is reason to think that in Latin America, these players, facing so many tribulations, have acquired the necessary training to fight hard—and score some concessions—even if the odds are against them.
