On Aug. 8, 1974, Republican U.S. President Richard Nixon shocked the nation. Following more than a year of multiple investigations into his administration over the Watergate scandal, Nixon went on television and announced that he would be resigning from office the following day.
“To continue to fight through the months ahead for my personal vindication would almost totally absorb the time and attention of both the president and the Congress in a period when our entire focus should be on the great issues of peace abroad and prosperity without inflation at home,” Nixon said as the nation watched. “Therefore, I shall resign the presidency effective at noon tomorrow.”
Less than two years earlier, Nixon had defeated South Dakota Sen. George McGovern, the Democratic Party’s candidate, in a landslide victory that pundits had compared to former President Franklin Roosevelt’s historic reelection in 1936. But now, Nixon became the first president in the nation’s history to step down before finishing his term. Americans were stunned and relieved. But even as Nixon’s administration has come to represent the ultimate rupture of a presidency, his was in fact the third consecutive administration to end in disruption in the mid-20th century. John F. Kennedy had been assassinated in November 1963. Lyndon Johnson had unexpectedly withdrawn from his reelection campaign in 1968. And then, six years later, Nixon would resign.
Nor was the outcome inevitable, as it may seem today. Nixon had fought when Congress, a grand jury, special prosecutors, judges, and reporters tried to find out what his role had been in the break-in at the Democratic National Committee headquarters in June 1972, and whether he had obstructed subsequent investigations. Just a few days before Nixon’s announcement, a mere 31 percent of Republicans polled by Gallup felt that he should no longer hold the office.
The pressure had mounted. On July 24, in United States v. Nixon, the Supreme Court ruled that the president must turn over secret White House tape recordings—one of which contained a “smoking gun” in which legislators could hear him in a conversation with advisor H.R. Haldeman, agreeing that they should persuade the CIA to stop the FBI from looking into the matter. On Aug. 7, Sen. Barry Goldwater, Senate Minority Leader Hugh Scott, and House Minority Leader John Rhodes—all Republicans—met with Nixon and said that if the House voted to send them articles of impeachment, which seemed likely, many in the GOP would join the Democrats in voting to remove him from office. Nixon’s job approval, according to Gallup, fell to 24 percent, with more than a majority of the country thinking he should leave. That’s what he did.
On Aug. 9, at 9:31 a.m., the president entered into the East Room with the first lady, Pat Nixon, and addressed a small group of cabinet officials, friends, and supporters. As he held back tears during different moments of his talk, Nixon advised everyone who was surrounding him: “Aways give your best. Never get discouraged, never be petty. Always remember, others may hate you, but those who hate you don’t win unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself.”
He then went down to the Diplomatic Reception Room, where he wished the new president, Gerald Ford, good luck. Nixon walked up the staircase to the helicopter that was waiting for him outside, turned to look at the White House one last time as president, waved with his fingers shaped as a “V” for victory, and then flew off to Andrews Air Force Base, where Air Force One brought him back to California.
“With his departure,” wrote Jules Witcover in the Washington Post on Aug. 9, “he leaves behind a political legacy of negativism that far transcends the damage to his own party.”
Nixon’s presidency came to an abrupt end, but the resignation was just the final stage of a tumultuous era. The nation had been embroiled in fierce internal battles over issues such civil rights and the war in Vietnam. College campuses had been rocked by ongoing protest. Even the clothing that a person chose to wear sent strong signals about what they stood for. The Democratic Convention in August 1968 in Chicago had been a fiasco. The whole world watched as anti-war activists clashed with Mayor Richard Daley’s police force; inside the convention, anti-war delegates fought with supporters of then-Vice President Hubert Humphrey, who had become the nominee when Johnson withdrew from the race
And all of this took place after there had been a series of assassinations that started with Kennedy. When Martin Luther King Jr. was killed in Memphis, Tennessee, in April 1968, unrest swept through major cities. When an assassin killed one of the late president’s brothers, Sen. Robert F. Kennedy, in June, many young people lost all hope.
It is not a surprise that in 1974, Knopf published Robert Caro’s The Power Broker, a masterful work that would come to be considered one of the greatest nonfiction books of the century. Caro traced the career of the legendary unelected civil servant Robert Moses, who started his career as an idealistic reformer but ended as someone who did whatever was necessary, and to whomever, in his quest for total power. “The real lesson of Moses’ career,” wrote a reviewer in the Los Angeles Times, “and it is not nearly so difficult to understand in light of recent events such as Watergate—is the way the techniques of opinion manipulation and power use can operate within democracy.”
But another perspective suggested that perhaps Nixon’s resignation demonstrated that “the system worked,” with the optimists wanting to believe that a scandalous president being forced to give up power would restore the trust in government and elected officials that Vietnam and Watergate had stolen from them.
“No one can rejoice in the events which culminated in the resignation of the President,” noted American Bar Association President Chesterfield Smith in a newspaper interview. “We can, however, find comfort in the fact that … when our system for the administration of justice was tested—by perhaps its greatest challenge of all time—that system proved equal to the task.”
Such feelings did not last long. History took a different turn, and public distrust of government worsened. In 2024, Americans have trouble believing that their leaders will serve the public interest. According to Pew, a mere 22 percent trust the federal government to do what is right “just about always.” Though there have been some moments of improvement, such as at times during Ronald Reagan’s presidency and in the years immediately after 9/11, the public trust percentages upward of 70 percent that were normative in the early 1960s currently feel impossible to recreate. Even in recent years, when trust has grown slightly higher, positive numbers remain far lower than before.
So why didn’t Nixon’s resignation make things better? How did an act of such massive historical weight fail to cure the ills that were afflicting the body politic?
To begin with, Richard Nixon was never held accountable. Just one month after he told Americans that he was stepping down, his successor, Ford—who Nixon had appointed to be his vice president in 1973, when Spiro Agnew resigned in scandal—pardoned Nixon for any crimes that he might have committed. Seeking to heal the nation, Ford did the opposite. Nixon, who in 1977 told television interviewer David Frost that if a president did something, then it was legal, went on to have a career writing books and giving advice to future leaders. Rather than a criminal, he was treated as a statesman.
Public distrust also never went away because Vietnam and Watergate created a more vigilant outlook, with institutional support, as more people on both the left and right were constantly on the lookout for wrongdoing. Investigative journalists, nonprofit organizations, and good government groups such as a Common Cause were determined to keep holding elected officials accountable. So Americans naturally learned more about the bad things that politicians could do, such as when Sen. Frank Church’s committee revealed the illicit activities of the CIA during the Cold War, as the forces of reform struggled to clean the government so that it work be better. The quest for improvement tapped into a distrust of government that had always been part of the United States since its founding, when the country was created in a rebellion against a corrupt and oppressive British government.
Had this healthy skepticism been balanced with messages about the virtues of what Washington could do, such as when elderly Americans received health care through Medicare or poor young kids received nutrition through school lunch programs, public opinion might have improved. But instead, a conservative movement swept through the nation. Conservatism targeted the ills of government. As Reagan declared in his inaugural address, “government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem.”
These feelings only intensified as more conservatism became more entrenched in politics and as the United States moved further away from Roosevelt’s New Deal and Johnson’s Great Society. Even some Democratic leaders such as President Bill Clinton, though still liberal, embraced Reagan’s logic as well. During his State of the Union address in 1996, Clinton proclaimed that “the era of big government” was “over.”
As if all of this was not enough, the intensification of hyperpolarization over the past two decades has caused red and blue Americans to distrust officials from the other side. To be sure, strong partisanship is a good thing. Robust parties offer Americans real mechanisms within the mainstream political system to express differences and to struggle over policy. Parties have helped to provide coherence to the country’s incredibly fragmented government.
But when “affective polarization” became normative, as political scientist such as Liliana Mason have argued, intense emotionalism left members of each party disliking the other and disgusted by their opponents to the point that there could be no reconciliation. Fundamental differences have been supplanted by fundamental distrust. And social media has created multiple opportunities to spread all kind of information regardless of its veracity, which further fuels these feelings.
Besides the sorts of tensions that this culture of distrust has created, the sentiment also makes it more difficult for the government that we all need to survive, thrive, and do good work.
Rather than hoping that somehow conditions will miraculously change, the time has come for a new reform agenda, where the country’s elected officials take the concerns that were at the root of the good-faith skepticism that took hold when Nixon stepped down. Instead of just railing against those in charge, Americans need more dialogue about improving processes, procedures, and rules—while demanding better leadership—in order to produce a government that is always looking out for the national interest.