In January 1981, my dad and I watched on TV as Ronald Reagan took the oath of office and Jimmy Carter got on an airplane. Despite the well-publicized animosity between the two men, it was a calm, bloodless affair — one man moved into the White House and the other one moved back home.

My father seemed spellbound as he watched the process. When I asked him why, he pointed out how rare this event was: In our country, Presidents changed office every 4–8 years without bloodshed or rioting, public rancor or the involvement of the military.

Part of Dad’s appreciation may have been due to the still fairly recent Nixon resignation, but I imagine a lot of it had to do with his career as a historian and Naval officer during the Cold War. My dad was well aware of the fact that, historically, government transitions often involve the former leader being sent into exile or being carried out in a body bag. They weren’t polite or sedate — and, all too often, they weren’t bloodless.

Since then, I’ve watched five presidential transitions — one with my dad and four more on my own. I appreciate just how boring they are: Two people take a car ride to the Capitol, one takes an oath, and one gets on a plane. Despite all the bunting and the crowds, it’s not a spectacle — and that’s a good thing. I love that our government transitions are dull, sedate affairs. I love that, while our Presidents may fight tooth and nail during an election, when it’s over, they care enough about our country to choke up their disappointment and focus on our security.

This year, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to be the case.

We always knew Trump was going to act this way — he was a sore winner in 2016, and being a sore loser in 2020 is right on brand. But I have to wonder about all the Republicans in Congress, the Senate, and in statehouses across the country. Are they afraid of angering Trump supporters? Do they underestimate the damage that they can do to our country and its institutions? Are they covering their bases in case of a coup, or are they simply assuming that none of it matters, and that it’s all politics?

Ultimately, they’re missing the point…and ignoring America’s largest constituency. Regardless of whether they vote Republican or Democrat, and regardless of whether they demonize the protesters in the cities or the rednecks in the country, most Americans share a desire for one thing: stability. They want to go to bed knowing that their world will still be intact when they wake up. They want to know that their government will be functioning (within the parameters of how we currently define that word), their dollars will still have value, and their economic system will still be chugging along. When they’re secure about their country’s stability, they feel comfortable doing their jobs, taking their kids to school, and spending their money. When they aren’t, the daily workings of our society and economy stutter.

We’ve just gone through eight months of those stutters and we’re looking at even more as COVID-19 reasserts itself. If our elected representatives truly care about their country — and, by extension, their own stability — it’s time to embrace the dull, boring, and reassuring process of yet another American inauguration.