This is a guest post by Donald G. Nieman, author of The Path to Paralysis: How American Politics Became Nasty, Dysfunctional, and a Threat to the Republic.
Most Americans say they’re disgusted with a political system that’s polarised, nasty and incapable of resolving the nation’s most pressing problems. Asked to describe politics in one word, they answer ‘divisive’, ‘corrupt’, ‘polarised’, ‘chaotic’ and ‘bad’. Almost two-thirds have little or no hope things will get better.
My book, The Path to Paralysis: How American Politics Became Nasty, Dysfunctional, and a Threat to the Republic, explains how we lurched from the optimism that fuelled Lyndon Johnson’s landslide 1964 victory to our current malaise. It also offers hope.
It’s tempting to assume, as some have, that our current predicament is so deeply rooted as to be permanent. It’s true that since 1964, Americans’ politics have been torn apart by bitter conflict over military intervention abroad, race, women’s reproductive rights, and a host of moral and cultural issues.
But we shouldn’t confuse conflict and partisanship with polarisation. Partisan conflict is inherent in America’s two-party system. Differences between the two major parties are relatively narrow, yet each strives to attract a majority of the electorate by drawing stark contrasts with and demonising the opposing party. A positive vision for the future helps, but appealing to fear often helps more.
A case in point is Lyndon Johnson’s 1964 campaign. It offered a compelling vision of a Great Society that appealed to post-war Americans’ brash optimism. But LBJ also appealed to fear, portraying Barry Goldwater as a mad man who would unleash nuclear war.
Yet for all this nation’s 20th-century divisions – over Vietnam, race, welfare, gender, abortion, sexual orientation and more – American politics wasn’t polarised until recently. We know this because ticket-splitting was common. States routinely sent Democrats to the U.S. Senate while casting their electoral votes for Republican presidential candidates. And vice versa. Most states were in play in presidential elections. Some Republicans were moderate and some Democrats conservative. Politicians valued compromise and getting things done over obstructionism and grandstanding.
Richard Nixon used racially coded language to appeal to White Southerners, but he became the architect of affirmative action. Ronald Reagan was the face of a conservative revival, but he cut a deal with Democrats to raise taxes to reduce deficits and save Social Security.
After surviving scurrilous attacks from the right, Bill Clinton joined his nemesis Newt Gingrich to forge a grand compromise on Social Security that was only derailed by Clinton’s sexual scandals. George W. Bush worked closely with Senator Ted Kennedy to pass sweeping education reform that combined the accountability Republicans demanded with a massive infusion of federal support for schools that served poor children.
What changed? The convergence of the Great Recession of 2008 and the election of the nation’s first Black president.
Fearing that a popular Democrat might relegate them to permanent minority status, Republicans locked arms to obstruct Barrack Obama’s agenda. They also appealed to the anger felt by many Americans towards the government’s bailout of bankers who had amassed huge fortunes through the wild speculation that had led to the crash.
The party of business and the country club set pivoted to a populist attack on big government and the educated elites who ran it, served the special interests and told everyone else how to live their lives. (Even as it prioritised tax cuts skewed to the wealthy.) A Black president was the perfect foil for this new Republican populism. For many Whites, a Black man in the White House proved that they had lost their country.
Republican populism thrived on a passionate base in rural America and the South that fuelled a Republican resurgence. But Republicans soon became prisoners of their own device. Hard line conservatives gained power in the party, moderates became an endangered species, and compromise a dirty word.
Political discourse got nastier, conspiracy theories gained currency, and many Americans lived in media echo chambers that confirmed their prejudices and stoked their resentment. The nation became divided by region, race, religion and education. Ticket-splitting shrunk, very few House or Senate seats were competitive, and slightly more than a half dozen states were in play in presidential elections. Allegiances hardened, and we were polarised.
That’s where we were in 2016 and 2020 and where we remain in 2024. So, it’s not surprising that voters express despair. However, history offers hope. The politics we claim to hate are of relatively recent vintage. For most of the past 60 years, Americans disagreed sharply but compromised frequently as politicians devised imperfect solutions to complex problems.
Returning to that norm is possible. If voters – beginning with the few undecided – reject those who lie, traffic in conspiracy theories, demean opponents and appeal to bigotry. If Americans hate their politics, there should be enough of them to change it.