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It is difficult to know how to write a remembrance of a leader whose tenure was marked much more by absence than by any clearly identifiable action or agenda. In their eulogy, NPR called Monson “The Private Prophet.” The Salt Lake Tribune writes that “[t]he Mormon president remained silent [as] the…battles raged on.”

An absence of fingerprints

However, it was not a “silent” time in terms of news for the church! The Tribune’s sprawling retrospective enumerates the major news stories during Monson’s presidency–and it is a formidable list of formidable events–but what is striking is that one would seek in vain to find public evidence of Monson’s own fingerprints on any of it. Many of the most significant events are things that happened to the church from the outside, or at least outside of official leadership: a Broadway musical, Romney and Huntsman presidential campaigns, the Ordain Women movement, Obergefell‘s legalization of same-sex marriage across the whole US, and much more. But even of the major changes undertaken by the church under Monson’s watch, one struggles to discern any direct connection to Monson personally. On such ground-shifting issues as the missionary age change, the November 2015 gay exclusion policy, high-profile excommunications, and even the very Monsonesque addition of “care for the poor and needy” as a fourth mission of the church, we can guess, gossip, and infer about the extent of Monson’s role, but the state of our knowledge ends there.

Was this, as NPR’s headline suggests, just the nature of a “private” personality in the role of president? Or was his lack of public leadership largely due to what the church eventually acknowledged were activity limitations due to progressive health infirmities (an recognition that itself was yet another big change for the church)? Or was this some kind of strategic leadership decision, born of who knows what motivation, anything from humility to plausible deniability? We not only don’t know the extent of Monson’s involvement in any given decision or change, we don’t even know enough to decide for certain among the various theories of the absence of fingerprints on those decisions!

Church Governance Structure and the Incapacitated President

Monson’s presidency is not the first time the church has relied on its governance structure in which apostles collectively act as a co-equal body to the president that can step in seamlessly should he be incapacitated. Presidents Benson, Hunter, and George Albert Smith had periods of health challenges that would have prevented full participation in day-to-day leadership tasks. The church’s recent strides towards openly acknowledging when this is the case and fostering a sense of “nothing to hide” about the role of the rest of “the 15” leaders in taking the reigns in such cases should be applauded.

That said, I think what we learn from the Monson era is that the “it’s ok the 12 just step in” model of incapacitated leader management is not as effective as we might have hoped. The bureaucracy continues its work apace and seamlessly, of that there is no doubt. But in an era like Monson’s, full of change and turmoil in and out of the church (and will we ever return to a time that isn’t?), the lack of a firm hand on the rudder has been painful to me personally, and I believe deeply painful to the body of Christ. A bureaucracy and a set of apostles that remain dearly devoted to their leader can keep the ship’s decks clean, the meals served on time, and the course steady ahead, but they can’t steer the ship. A committee structure is simply not well suited to the task of charting a new course or steering around newly arising obstacles. Inspiration may soften that reality around the edges and foster more unity of purpose and vision than might otherwise be, but a committee structure is still a committee structure. I think what we have seen in the Monson era is that the Twelve will be–with just a few exceptions, notably the gay exclusion policy–very hesitant to do anything other than maintain the status quo at the time the president stepped back.

A kind of apostolic version of “judicial restraint” is not a bad default impulse, and I can imagine they must feel incredible personal love and loyalty to the president leading to a desire to voluntarily reserve for the him the sole discretion to make a radical changes in direction. But these impulses can be disastrous in waters so full of icebergs as our current era. It’s not just progressives like me who feel deep wounds about lack of responsiveness on issues like women’s roles, LGBT acceptance, science, empowerment of racially diverse and worldwide perspectives, and so on. The brethren themselves have acknowledged generation-level dangers such as stalled growth, popular charismatic offshoots like Denver Snuffer, historical and other doubts spreading on the internet, and loss of activity among younger members.

Going Forward

I hope that the lessons of the Monson era can impel us to seek new approaches to our challenges and opportunities going forward. With the increasing age of our highest leadership, it may become more common than not that the currently serving president has a diminished physical or mental capacity to perform leadership tasks. Nelson, although by all appearances currently vigorous, is 93 years old. Those who would eventually follow are Oaks and Ballard, who are 85 and 89, respectively, and could be into their 90s by the time they ascend to the presidency.

One model for addressing this situation has been modeled (very successfully) by the Catholic church’s Pope Benedict, who of his own volition decided it was time to go into an emeritus status, clearing the way for Pope Francis. I’m not convinced that a fixed age limit on apostolic service makes sense, given the wide variation in personal health and circumstance across individuals, but this kind of self-selecting, voluntary emeritus status would be an almost trivially small–but potentially hugely important–change to our current structure.