A Moment of (Perhaps) Decency and Courage Remembered
Fri Apr 25, 2008 at 02:15:08 AM PDT
It was near the end of June in the summer of 1973, about 3 weeks after my 15th birthday. Summers were hot in Oklahoma. In the air-conditioned comfort of our family room that summer, my political consciousness was born.
A little while ago on Countdown (11 PM West Coast airing), Keith Olbermann interviewed John Dean about his new book on Barry Goldwater, co-authored with Barry Jr. I think it was the first time I've actually seen Dean since that June that began it all for me. I was struck with an overwhelming urge to write this diary.
At the time of Nixon's re-election in '72, I had been still in my gestation as a political being.
The seeds had been planted long before -- indeed, had been there for as long as I can remember. The essential values -- belief in the dignity of every human being, regardless of race, creed or gender; an insistence on fairness; the tendency to rail against doing what had always been done just because that's the way it had always been done; the belief that we as human beings can take control of history and change what needs to be changed; the passion, along with Bobby, for dreaming things that never were and asking, "Why not?" (to the consternation of my first-generation Italian-American Republican engineer father) -- had been part of my identity for as long as I had had an identity.
But before the spring and summer of '73, I had been largely uninformed about the actual events and issues forming the warp and woof of contemporaneous political history. To my great embarrassment for the past 35 years, I remember, on the day after Nixon's re-election, sitting down in my Journalism class and blowing a raspberry at my friend Steve Maple, who had supported Humphrey. I cringe.
Over the ensuing months, I gradually began to awaken to what was happening in the political arena -- the oil crisis, the Agnew scandal and resignation, the process of "normalizing" relations with China. But the moment of my political birthing occurred there in the family room in June of 1973 as I watched and listened slack-jawed to what was happening on the TV screen in front of me.
Because, to be honest, I don't really know much about John Dean the man; I don't know what he's been doing for the past 35 years (other than spending a few months in prison), I don't know what kind of person he is; I don't even know why he did what he did back in 1973 -- but what I do know is that perhaps the greatest political moment in my life to date (until Obama gets inaugurated) was the moment I heard him blow the lid off the Watergate scandal.
On June 25, Dean began his testimony before the Senate Watergate Committee in which he implicated administration officials including Nixon fundraiser and former Attorney General John Mitchell, Nixon and himself. He was the first administration official to accuse Nixon of direct involvement with Watergate and the resulting cover up in press interviews.
I had spent much of my time for several days watching the hearings on our local PBS station, trying to get a handle on complex accounts of events, expressed in obfuscatory phrases ("that statement is no longer operative" will alwasys be my favorite). I remember staring at the screen in confusion after Dean's revelation. I got up from the couch and slowly, dazedly wandered into the kitchen, where my mom was busy with something.
"Mom, I think this guy just said that Nixon's lying."
Yes, we learned, that was in fact what "this guy" had said.
That moment in and of itself did not prove to be enough to bring down the imperial president.
Such testimony against Nixon, while damaging to the president's credibility, had little impact legally, as it was merely his word against Nixon's. Nixon vigorously denied all accusations against him that he authorized a cover up, and Dean had no proof beyond various notes he had taken in his meetings with the president. It was not until secret White House tape recordings were made public and analyzed that Dean's accusations were established as true.
It took over a year, much more evidence, and a visit by a delegation of the 1974 Republican version of "superdelegates" (led ironically by none other than Barry Goldwater) for Nixon to bow to the inevitable. But Dean's testimony was the beginning of the end.
And at a time when our politics was sorely lacking in heroes, he became a hero to me for championing truth in an environment in which it was not particularly safe to do so. I'm sure like all heroes he has clay feet, and I freely acknowledge the possibility that his actions arose not out of heroic motives, but because it somehow helped him save his skin.
Fact is, I don't really care. To do the right thing for the wrong reason is not noble, but the mere fact that he did the right thing - for whatever reason -- only serves to highlight for me how far our politics have strayed since that time.
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