2018 lessons from historic post-Watergate election

Over four decades ago, more than 70 mostly young, often impatient, and frequently unconventional candidates rode public disenchantment over Vietnam, Watergate and the state of the economy into one of the most historic wave elections in American history.

The disenchantment of the public toward Congress in 2018 bears striking similarities to the environment that lured the Class of 1974, the so-called “Watergate Babies,” which included George Miller of Martinez, Norm Mineta of San Jose and Henry Waxman of Los Angeles.

Seven of those impatient freshmen were from California. They quickly allied with other longtime reformers, including San Francisco’s Phillip Burton, to reshape the House of Representatives into a more transparent, accountable and modern institution.

Nearly a half-century later, the political atmosphere in the country seems disturbingly reminiscent. Once again, there is a controversial president, talk of impeachment, an independent Justice Department inquiry, seemingly unwinnable wars trying the nation’s patience and treasury, and a widespread belief that Congress has withered into what Pennsylvania Sen. Joseph Clark once called “the sapless branch of government.”

According to a recent Newsweek poll, fewer than 1 in 5 Americans has confidence that our elected legislators in Washington are capable of acting even when broad, bipartisan majorities favor legislation on issues like immigration and gun reform. Even more disturbing, fewer than one-third of those born after 1980 believe it is even “essential” to live in a democracy.

Yet much is very different compared to 1974: Unlimited campaign spending has overwhelmed and intimidated those in politics; a highly partisan media reinforces extreme views rather than informing; severely gerrymandered House districts and the Electoral College seem to defy the voters’ will by rewarding those who lose popular votes with victories.

In particular, a deep and bitter partisanship has polarized Americans into ideologically differentiated camps that, unlike in the 1970s, are reflected in party loyalties. Rather than rewarding or valuing compromise and collaboration, the hallmarks of a functional legislature and enduring legislation, elected officials become targets of their base if they appear willing to negotiate with those who are viewed not simply as the other party, but as the enemy.

As in 1974, however, the despair felt by many voters is not discouraging a new generation of aspirants from seeking office. Surprisingly, the deepening of the crisis appears to be encouraging them. Across the country, dozens of younger men and, unlike 1974, women from widely diverse backgrounds and outlooks are not dropping out of politics but elbowing their way in.

In 1974, those insurgents included a minister, a steel worker and a house painter, as well as more experienced hands like Waxman, a state legislator, Miller, an aide to the California Senate majority leader, and Mineta, the mayor of San Jose. They were not uniformly liberal or reformers, but they did share a conviction with their 2018 counterparts: Congress must become a revitalized and respected institution.

Ultimately, voters will decide whether the new crop of candidates will succeed in achieving the kinds of reforms that marked the Class of ’74 and made them, as one scholar has labeled them, “the most consequential congressional class” in the 20th century.