The leadership question only you can answer

By Joseph B.D. Arriola

Guam loves to act like elections are one big fiesta. Posters everywhere, rallies blasting music, candidates handing out fans like we’re collecting Pokémon cards. And voters? We play along. We treat the governor’s race like it’s a popularity contest where the only thing that matters is who smiles nicer on a billboard

Meanwhile, the one question that matters—the one question written in black‑and‑white law—gets shoved under the table

like a burnt empanada.

What happens if the governor dies, resigns, or becomes unable to serve?

It’s not scandalous. It’s not disrespectful. It’s literally the rulebook. The lieutenant governor becomes governor. Immediately. Automatically. No special election. No “Wait, I didn’t mean them.” No chance to fix your ballot because you were too busy judging who had the better rally barbecue.

But every election, we pretend the lieutenant governor is just the campaign’s designated extra. A background character. Someone whose job is to clap on cue and stay out of the camera shot. Then we act shocked when reality reminds us that life doesn’t care about campaign season fantasies.

If the governor can’t serve, the lieutenant governor becomes the governor. That’s the law. That’s the system. That’s the part voters conveniently ignore because it requires actual thinking.

And let’s be honest: Guam voters spend more time debating who had the better campaign T‑shirt than who might end up running the island during a federal audit or a typhoon recovery. We obsess over slogans and selfies but skip the part where we ask, “Hey, if things go sideways, who’s actually taking over?”

So here’s the blunt truth: when you vote, you’re not just choosing a governor. You’re choosing the person who might have to lead Guam when everything hits the fan.

But we don’t talk about that. No, no — that would require treating elections like a serious civic duty instead of a village carnival.

So before anyone fills in that oval, maybe ask yourself a few grown‑up questions:

·        If the worst happened, who would I trust to take over — not in theory, but in reality?

·        Who has the judgment to lead without warning, without a transition, without a script?

·        Who can handle the federal fights, the budget messes, the emergencies, and the everyday grind — not just the campaign stage?

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These aren’t partisan questions. They’re competence questions. And if asking them makes people uncomfortable, maybe that discomfort is long overdue.

Succession planning isn’t morbid. It’s responsible. It’s what families do. It’s what businesses do. It’s what serious governments do. But somehow, during election season, Guam decides it’s more polite to pretend nothing unexpected ever happens — as if ignoring reality is a sign of respect instead of denial.

So, let’s stop pretending. When you vote, you’re choosing two leaders — the one on the poster and the one who might end up running the island. And pretending otherwise doesn’t make the responsibility disappear.

Joseph B.D. Arriola is a resident of Dededo.

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