by Luke A. Nichter, Chapman University
Here we go again. The presidential primaries are upon us. We approach another historically divisive election. We are reminded the nation might be more divided than at any other point in our history. Many Americans seem to be voting against someone as much as they are for a candidate. Later this year, the Democrats are headed to Chicago for what is likely to be a chaotic convention, and Robert Kennedy (Jr.) has the potential to shake up the race. The Republicans are desperate to take back the White House; however, some in the party wonder whether their presumed nominee, whose best years might be in his controversial past, could pull down the rest of the ticket. Amidst all of this, in the White House sits an unpopular, moderate, Democratic incumbent – unpopular especially in his own party. Everyone can see how old he looks. Many in his party question whether he has it in him to run again; an increasing number call for him to step aside and let someone else have a chance.
These points are as valid today as they were at this point in the year 1968, when the attitude of many Americans, as well as some in the national media, was that the sky was indeed falling. It was not clear how we were going to emerge as a society from this tumultuous period, or what the nation might look like on the other side. The political establishment on both sides of the aisle did not seem to have the answers to the challenges confronting the nation. A substantial number of Americans had begun to lose faith in the nation’s institutions: Congress, the Supreme Court, political parties, the national media, higher education, and religious leaders. The similarities between the years are not difficult to see, whether in coverage by the media or in my latest book, The Year That Broke Politics: Collusion and Chaos in the Presidential Election of 1968 (Yale University Press, 2023). However, before we get to the way I hope 1968 will be a guide for 2024, let’s remember that history does not exactly repeat itself. There are also at least two key differences between the time periods.
First, the Vietnam War. In 1968, what was then the nation’s longest war was both a critical domestic issue and a foreign policy issue. A half million American soldiers were stationed in Southeast Asia, many against their will in compliance with the draft. American Presidents since Harry Truman had gradually escalated the American commitment to Vietnam, to stabilize the region following Japanese occupation during World War II and later to fill the void left by the departure of the French colonizers following their defeat at Dien Bien Phu in 1954. The disastrous failure of the Diem coup in late 1963, which the U.S. supported in order to strengthen South Vietnam by removing its unpopular leader, Ngo Dinh Diem, instead destabilized the nation and led to the first deployments of U.S. Marines in March 1965. Patriotic Americans rallied around President Lyndon Johnson’s management of the war, which ultimately became a political liability beginning in late 1966 when Republicans made major gains in the midterm elections that virtually wiped out those achieved by Democrats during LBJ’s landslide reelection in 1964. The draft played an increasing role in meeting manpower quotas, but also dividing the younger generation against their parents and turning university campuses into hotbeds of antiwar activism. The year 1968 was the beginning of the end of the draft, which was phased out in early 1973. We do not have anything quite like it today or its impact on the coming election.
Second, the degree of violence. The first college class I taught was during the Fall 2004 semester at Bowling Green State University in Bowling Green, Ohio. It was mostly freshmen and sophomores in a section of what was then called HIST 206: Modern America. We were entering another bitter election season, pitting incumbent President George W. Bush against Senator John Kerry. Some in the national media regularly called that period the most divided in U.S. history. It seemed to provide a good teaching moment, true to the Socratic style I have honed since in which I try to let students work through difficult issues rather than by telling them what I think and ending the debate. When I asked them whether they agreed with what some in the media were saying, at first timidly but then more fully hands began to go up all over the classroom. What about the U.S. Civil War in the 1860s? Good question. What about other times, such as the 1960s? In fact, Richard Nixon’s longtime speechwriter Ray Price liked to say that if the 1860s was an actual civil war, then the 1960s were a proxy civil war. We were nowhere near either precipice in 2004 – or today, for that matter. In particular, the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in April 1968 and Senator Robert Kennedy in June, marked a degree of violence that, thankfully, we do not see today and I hope we never do again. This example is a good reminder that regardless of where you find yourself on the political spectrum, it is important to be our own fact checkers when it comes to some of the sensational stories in our newsfeeds. Both sides of the aisle are capable of using and misusing examples from history in order to illuminate the present.
Perhaps the greatest similarity between 1968 and 2024 is the range of crises confronting the nation. The political establishment once again does not seem to have the answers. All presidents govern during a time of crisis, whether political, economic, social or cultural, or military or foreign policy. The Johnson-Nixon era of the late 1960s checked all these boxes, and so has the Trump-Biden era of the past eight years. One cannot say the same about other eras in U.S. history. Many of these challenges were called “nerve issues” in the 1960s, which make it difficult to remain neutral. How many Americans do not have an opinion about either Trump or Biden? They might keep such opinions to themselves, but few are without them. Many voters in either party do not seem thrilled about their options. A growing subset of those no longer associate with a political party, are supporting an independent or “No Labels” candidate, or have checked out of the political system altogether and might not vote at all. Turnout, or lack of, more so than political passions on either side, could determine our fate later this year. Many in the national media worry about the state of our democracy, or the kind of nation we will be no matter who wins.
Where do we go from here? In 1968, if there was one issue that united Americans across the political spectrum, it was the desire to turn the noise level down. Richard Nixon campaigned on that theme, and made it a major part of his nomination acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention in Miami Beach on August 8. It is worth recalling a few lines that have particular resonance today:
We see Americans hating each other; fighting each other; killing each other at home.
And as we see and hear these things, millions of Americans cry out in anguish.
Did we come all this way for this?
Did American boys die in Normandy, and Korea, and in Valley Forge for this?
Listen to the answer to those questions.
It is another voice. It is the quiet voice in the tumult and the shouting.
It is the voice of the great majority of Americans, the forgotten Americans—the non-shouters; the non-demonstrators.
They are not racists or sick; they are not guilty of the crime that plagues the land.
They are black and they are white—they're native born and foreign born —they're young and they're old.
They work in America's factories.
They run America's businesses.
They serve in government.
They provide most of the soldiers who died to keep us free.
They give drive to the spirit of America.
They give lift to the American Dream.
They give steel to the backbone of America.
They are good people, they are decent people; they work, and they save, and they pay their taxes, and they care.
Prior to his acceptance speech, Nixon and speechwriter Pat Buchanan played around with the theme of “the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid,” later shortened to “the forgotten man,” “the silent center,” and finally “the silent majority.” They did not invent the concept, which made its political debut during the New Deal but had even earlier origins in William Graham Sumner’s eponymous 1883 essay. “We pass him by because he is independent, self-supporting, and asks no favors,” Sumner wrote. However, Nixon was the first Republican to use it effectively in a campaign, believing the experiences of the 1960s had transformed them from a minority to the majority. In the first year of his presidency he delivered arguably the most important speech of his presidency, on November 3, 1969, which became known as the Silent Majority speech.
If the rise of a Silent Majority prevented the sky from falling in 1968, we might need them again in 2024. It is not clear where they will emanate from this year, but that is also because we are currently in the eye of the storm which makes it especially difficult to make historical judgments. That will take considerable time and perspective. If it has taken more than a half-century to make greater sense of 1968, it could take that long to make sense of our current political era. The good news is that we made it out of the 1960s. Like then, today a growing number of Americans again want to turn the noise level down. Can the political class help us to return to moderate leaders? Can the national media unite us more than they divide us? Can we again discover all that brings us together as Americans, especially as we approach the important milestone of our 250th anniversary in 2026? I suspect that millions of Americans across class, social, and racial lines again share this goal. An exceptionally turbulent period in the 1960s compelled them to come forward, for the good of the nation. Again we build towards a crescendo even as the outcome and our destination remain unclear. We need them again.
Luke A. Nichter is a Professor of History and James H. Cavanaugh Endowed Chair in Presidential Studies at Chapman University. He is the New York Times bestselling author of eight books including, most recently, The Year That Broke Politics: Collusion and Chaos in the Presidential Election of 1968 (Yale University Press, 2023), which was chosen as a Best Book of 2023 by the Wall Street Journal. He is now at work on a book tentatively titled LBJ: The White House Years of Lyndon Johnson.