A Pen Is Not a Crown

Executive Orders Are Not Law—And the President Is Not a King

By Dino Alonso

We ought to tell the truth, even when it’s inconvenient, especially when it's problematic.

So let’s begin here: A presidential executive order is not a royal decree. It is not divine law handed down from Olympus. It is not magic. It does not rewrite the Constitution. And it most certainly is not the will of the people made manifest through a single man’s signature.

In its plainest form, an executive order is a memo, directive, or command within the house that the president administers—the executive branch. It has power, yes. But that power stops at the front door of the legislative process, and it dies the moment it tries to pretend it is law.

Yet, we have a president who signs executive orders like edicts from a throne. He holds up the pen like a scepter, flashes the page like scripture, and expects the world to bow.

He would have you believe that whatever he writes becomes truth. The stroke of his pen can command judges, silence lawmakers, overrule voters, and dismiss the rule of law like a servant in his hall.

But that is not what America is. That is not what the presidency is. And if we are not brave enough to say so, we may as well stop pretending we live in a republic.

The executive order is not law. It is an administration. The president says to his agencies, “This is how we will carry out the laws Congress has passed.” That is all. It does not create new powers, erase statutes, or override the will of the people, the courts, or the states.

The presidency is a trust, not a throne—a responsibility, not a weapon.

But this administration treats power like theater. It holds press conferences where pageantry replaces principle. It signs orders with the drama of kings because it knows that perception is faster than truth, and more profitable. The image of command is far more satisfying than the slow, democratic work of persuasion and compromise.

So the president puts on a show. And the country, weary and distracted, sometimes forgets that it is only a show.

But here is what I know: A show is not a government. A show cannot keep its promises. A show will not defend your rights when the power decides you are no longer helpful.

This is not a partisan warning. It is not even political. It is moral, civic, and human.

Because when we allow any president—this one or the next—to behave as though the pen in his hand grants him dominion over the whole nation, we are not being governed. We are being ruled. And that is not the promise this country made.

A president may direct his departments. He may guide his branch. But he may not—he cannot—decide for you what is valid, legal, or just.

That job belongs to all of us.

So when the cameras flash and the page is held aloft, ask yourself: Does this order implement the law, or replace it? Does this document respect your voice, or try to speak over it? Is this the pen of a president—or the fantasy of a king?

Because a pen is not a crown.
And this is still our country.
If we say so.