TLIAW: Bring Us Together or Tear Us Apart

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...So.

So.

Which one is it?

What do you mean?

Is it a TLIAW, like the title says, or a TLIAD, like the title card says?

Well, the timeline will, indeed, take a week to post. But I think TLIAD is a more general format, one not limited to the single day.

A more suspicious voice might accuse you of revising the concept after making the title card, or even outright making an error, and not bothering to go back and change it.

Yes. One might.

Is this even either of those? Because I know you have most of the timeline pre-written, and it's mostly been posted before.

Well, it was. I didn't initially intend to write this as a TL. I didn't even intend to make any of this at all, initially - I just had an idea and nobody talked me out of it.

Go on.

Over the summer, I was a staffer at a Quiz Bowl camp, and I had the idea to write a quiz bowl packet from an alternate timeline. So, over the course of three days, I did. Then I posted it here, and people asked me to write a list for it - which, at the time, I was against, because I felt like a big part of what it was was that the window through which the timeline could be seen was so narrow. But I did. And then I decided to turn it into a list.

And then...

And then I wrote sixteen hundred god damn words about a President who didn't even serve for three full years. At that point I was basically writing a TLIAD already, it was just in the wrong place and format.

But there is new material, right?

I've pretty extensively rewritten the first few Presidencies, and added a bit of stuff to the ones after that. And nobody but nobody has seen anything from 1997 onwards.

Because you haven't actually written it yet.

Well, yeah.

This is just going to be like all your other timelines, right?

I sure hope not!


Bring Us Together or Tear Us Apart
50 Years in American Politics


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(Pictured: Nixon celebrating at the 1968 Republican National Convention.)

Richard M. Nixon (Republican)

January 20th, 1969 - August 13, 1971
Before Richard M. Nixon's tragic death, commentators spoke of the death of John F. Kennedy as a watershed moment, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

The two certainly had a lot of similarities beyond both running in the 1960 election. Both were big dreamers who left behind unfinished legacies - Kennedy with civil rights and the space program, Nixon with ending the Vietnam War, getting the economy on track, and ratifying the Equal Rights Amendment. Both of them were ready young, with Nixon being elected to the Vice Presidency at 39 and Kennedy being elected to the Presidency at 43. Both of them fought adversity on their way, Kennedy with his health problems and the headwinds of anti-Catholic prejudice and Nixon with his family's modest means. Both of them were staunch anti-communists, foreign policy wonks, strong politicians.

Both of them died tragically, Kennedy shot dead in a Dallas motorcade and Nixon bleeding out on a Bethesda operating table as doctors tried to remove a clot from the President's left leg, a consequence of his chronic phlebitis. Both of them left behind the image of a martyr, with Kennedy shot dead by a Communist and Nixon refusing to seek medical attention until it was too late as he fought to stabilize the international economy and end the Vietnam War. Both left tricky situations for their successors, Kennedy with Vietnam and civil rights and Nixon with both of those same things and an economic crisis atop them.

It would be reductionist to call Richard Nixon the Republican Jack Kennedy. But it wouldn't exactly be wrong.​
 
How close did this come to killing Nixon IOTL?

Anyways, very interested!
Nixon didn't have any major health issues that I know of at this time OTL. About three years later, though (on the same day he received the pardon from Ford), he did have a similar attack that was to all accounts fairly serious (doctors said it was "life-threatening" and he went into shock during the surgery), and his phlebitis was a recurring issue that had flared up twice before.
 

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(Pictured: "Spiro T. Agnew Overpowering the Statue of Liberty", a poster by Bob Dara made in response to a 1969 speech by then-Vice President Agnew accusing the news media of liberal bias and censorship. Copies of the poster became a common sight both in America and abroad after 1971, in large part in protest of the "Agnew Doctrine", particularly as applied to Greece.)

Spiro T. Agnew (Republican)
August 13, 1971 - October 5, 1975
Spiro Agnew's path towards the Presidency was a crooked one. The son of a first-generation Greek immigrant, Agnew seemed like a perfectly ordinary suburbanite as late as the '50s - a veteran of the European Theater and moderately-successful lawyer described by later historians as an "almost compulsive conformist." Perhaps that was his trouble - perhaps all it takes to become a figure of public hate, the bête noire of every American left of the center and most of the rest of the world, is to be an average American with average tastes and beliefs, and then to become President. America looked at Agnew and saw a mirror, and they didn't like what they saw there.

When Nixon died, the hope was that Agnew would at least be a fitting successor. The evidence for that was mixed. Certainly, he had been an attack dog on the campaign trail, equal parts crude and offensive. In office, he had accused the media of "liberal bias", Northern liberals of condescending to the South, and student protestors of inciting violence. And his response to the 1968 Baltimore riots - castigating moderate African-American leaders for their "complicity" - concerned many. But before that he had been a moderate, even liberal, Governor, integrating Baltimore public facilities and backing Nelson Rockefeller for the Presidency. With most Americans not knowing about Agnew, he had the choice of what face to put forward to the American people.

He chose to be an attack dog, the arch-conservative hippie-puncher who the Republican base had fallen in love with. In office, he was white middle-class alienation made manifest. Nixon's "Suburban Strategy" took a similar tack, preying on Anglo concerns about integration and the welfare state, but Nixon wasn't a genuine believer in the way Agnew was. Agnew neutered the EPA that Nixon had established, largely over concerns about business, and then tarred the protestors as "anti-progress" - helped along by covertly-boosted radical groups like the Haydukes, inspired by the work of Edward Abbey. He broke off negotiations with the People's Republic of China over disputes over China's UN seat, scuttling Nixon's previously-announced visit to China. While historians have argued over how committed Nixon really was to desegregation, Agnew tore up the plans HUD had put forward, prompting George Romney to resign in protest.

His presidency was almost undone by economic crisis, very early in his term. One of the things that Nixon had been planning to do before his death, and indeed perhaps the thing that pushed his stress to fatal levels and distracted him from the pain in his leg, was take action to deal with the crisis of Bretton Woods - the dangerous overvaluing of the American dollar abroad, draining of the gold reserves, and rampant inflation, all consequences of the Vietnam War, as well as the moves by countries like France and West Germany to leaving the Bretton Woods system altogether and unilaterally devaluing their currencies.

Agnew put dealing with the crisis off. Initially, this was because of concerns that the shocks of the unexpected death of a President and the greatest shock to the international economy in decades could combine to create market panic. But then the crisis dragged on, partly because of Agnew's lack of understanding of the issue, partly because of conflicting directives from the White House undermining American negotiators, partly just due to a hesitance to take potentially disastrous action.

In the end, he made his choice on the advice of new Special Economic Adviser Milton Friedman, whose "Chicago Boys" formed the nucleus of the Adam Smith Institute, whose influence over the Republican Party would only increase. December 1971 saw President Agnew issue an executive order freezing the convertibility of the dollar to gold, dealing a fatal blow to the Bretton Woods system, although it would officially persist until well after the end of not only Agnew's presidency but also that of his successor. He also cut spending, and pressed Congress to do the same, in order to fight inflation, although he couldn't quite bring himself to raise taxes in an election year to do so.

It wasn't enough. Even though the "Agnew Shock" was relatively small and ended fairly quickly, particularly compared to events later in the decade, it still cast a shadow over the Presidency. The Democratic campaigns of former Vice President Hubert Humphrey and Senators Ed Muskie, George McGovern, and Scoop Jackson fought between themselves, but they were of one mind on one topic - Spiro Agnew was a second-rate mind, giving in to cheap bigotry to distract from the fact that he was in over his head on the economy. He had to go. Even many Republicans agreed. After Agnew failed to win a majority in the Republican Primary in New Hampshire, though the vote was split between more liberal critic Pete McCloskey and far-right Orange County representative John Schmitz, the latter boosted by Manchester Union-Leader publisher William Loeb.

Contrary to what one might see in Oliver Stone films, Agnew's acquaintance with CREEP was not born out of them inviting themselves to a meeting shortly after the New Hampshire primary. The reality of their relationship may never be known, amongst all the possible perjury and after-the-fact tell-all memoirs, but they seem to have known about each other and even worked together before Agnew ascended to the Presidency. But Agnew kept a wide berth of them, wary of trusting "Nixon's people" and believing that he might just be able to win it by honest means, more or less. But with Pete McCloskey breathing down his neck like Gene McCarthy did to Lyndon Johnson - they even sounded similar, as MAD Magazine pointed out - his scruples melted away.

The 1972 election was thus, if not stage-managed start to finish, at least guided to its eventual end. John Lindsay's independent campaign was boosted to take the wind out of McCloskey's sails, unbeknownst to Lindsay himself, and then his strings were cut after the convention and the new "Liberal Party" dissolved into engineered shambles. The Democratic campaign, though, was the main locus of chaos. Doing so didn't even take much interference from CREEP, besides Eugene McCarthy's Potemkin village of a campaign and some rumor-mongering that created ill will between the campaigns. The convention in Miami Beach at least avoided the riots of Chicago, but the tense repeated balloting that put Hubert Humphrey in the nomination for the second time turned most Americans off much the same. Two days later, the Chicago Tribune published the exclusive story that Humphrey had conveniently failed to mention the fact that his bladder cancer had returned and was incurable.

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(Pictured: The 1972 election. Humphrey won six states, including a victory in West Virginia by less than a thousand votes - his vote percentage was only marginally lower than four years earlier, but the main spoiler, Lindsay, took votes from him, while four years earlier Wallace had taken votes primarily from Nixon.)

Some observers, after the election, said that the real story was that, even with incurable bladder cancer and a record as a loser and a triangulator, Humphrey was still able to win almost the same percentage of the vote as he had four years previously. Those observers were pretty much ignored.

His second term, despite the hopes of many Americans was not much better than the first. Ending Bretton Woods was an effective stay of execution, but soon enough stagflation, the two-headed giant that stomped on the American economy and destroyed jobs and regional economies even despite Agnew's genuine efforts, causing poverty and crime and sickness and death, appeared in the American economy. Those issues, compounded by spending cuts hitting welfare programs hard, intensified other issues - racial tensions, crime in inner cities, poverty, social unrest, white flight, and so on. The election of Bobby Seale as Mayor of Oakland was a significant symbol of the times, although Seale's term was cut short by allegations of inciting violence and terrorism.

The news from abroad was not much better. Though the tactic of Vietnamization - begun by Nixon, continued by Agnew, and named by Melvin Laird (who had served as Secretary of Defense until 1973, but stepped down in Agnew's second term in favor of Nixon's protegé Robert Finch) - the United States had staunched the flow of bodies coming home in caskets. But the blood ran other places, with thousands or millions dying in bloody bombing campaigns. And when the final end came for the South Vietnamese government, when Saigon fell, Agnew washed his hands of both the outcome and the resolution, even dramatically limiting refugee entry to the United States to protect American jobs.

But Vietnam was not where the seeds of Agnew's fall were planted. Nor was it in the Middle East - Agnew's disinclination to intervene there may have led to the first use of tactical nuclear weapons in anger since Nagasaki, but that also led many Americans to the conclusion that the President was right to leave well enough alone. The United Nations was another issue - compromises failed, and the dispute over the Chinese seat there led Agnew to go so far as leading the United States out of the United Nations altogether, trailing its protectorates in its wake. That decision was unpopular, but the public perception of the UN as a "talking shop" without real effect meant that it was not a very big deal, at least not at first.

Instead, it happened in Greece. Agnew was hardly responsible for the formation of the "Regime of the Colonels" led by Georgios Papadopoulos, but even under Nixon he had backed it to the hilt, openly promoting it and meeting with the nation's military rulers. When he became President, American support of the Greek regime kicked into high gear - Agnew supported it not only as a way to base American equipment in the Eastern Mediterranean, but saw it as an end in and of itself. When Papadopoulos attempted to use the leeway his government was granted to pursue limited reform of the regime, Agnew, taking advice from some of the more conservative colonels, backed a coup d'etat against him "like Kennedy did to Diem", installing Michalis Roufogalis, the former head of the junta's intelligence agency, as the new President.

At first, Greece was a sideshow to an America tired of hearing about foreign affairs. But as time went on, and the blood - of the students of Greece's universities, of the purged naval officers, of the dissidents and poets hauled into the police headquarters on Bouboulina Street and secret police facilities across Greece - began to pool, America had enough.

Wright Patman had attempted to impeach Agnew previously, but his investigation had bogged down - he couldn't effectively pursue any leads that didn't pertain to banking - and was hamstrung by outright sabotage, including filing cabinets of evidence finding themselves at the bottom of the Anacostia courtesy of the White House Plumbers. But after Mark Hatfield and George McGovern got together again, pushing a resolution to get the US out of Greece through both houses of Congress, the heat was on. And when Agnew blithely ignored it, Congress elected to dust off Patman's research into impeachment proceedings.

And then the mask came off. The bribes that Agnew had taken. The reporters his Plumbers had blackmailed, or sabotaged when that didn't work. Everything that had happened in Greece, and other European nations as well - the fact that the Plumbers had gone international, even bugging the offices of Deputy Prime Minister Michael Foot, a fact which helped him win the Leadership and Prime Ministership a year later, after the failure of the EEC referendum.

Agnew fought to the bitter end, but only served to alienate more and more of his former supporters. In the end, he did go quietly, resigning with only a written statement.
 
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The United Nations was another issue - compromises failed, and the dispute over the Chinese seat there led Agnew to go so far as leading the United States out of the United Nations altogether, trailing its protectorates in its wake. That decision was unpopular, but the public perception of the UN as a "talking shop" without real effect meant that it was not a very big deal, at least not at first.
Oof, that can’t be good.
 
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(Pictured: President Laird on Face The Nation in 1976, talking about the Hindustani Crisis. Laird took an open stance with the press to contrast as much as possible with Agnew's hostility and secrecy, a tactic which helped restore some trust in government but did not win him the election.)

Melvin Laird (Republican)
October 5, 1975 - January 20, 1977
The one thing that prolonged Spiro Agnew's Presidency, in its final days, was the issue of succession. At the beginning of his Presidency, Agnew had appointed New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller to the Vice Presidency, becoming the first President to appoint a Vice President under the terms of the 25th Amendment. Rockefeller ticked a number of boxes - a moderate to counterbalance Agnew's conservative lean, an establishment figure to counterbalance Agnew's outsider nature, a foreign policy expert to counterbalance Agnew's domestic experience. Democrats and liberal Republicans had no compunctions about making Nelson Rockefeller President of the United States.

But Nelson Rockefeller died, allegedly in intimate circumstances, in the summer of 1975. In other circumstances Congress would have negotiated with the President to put forward an acceptable compromise candidate. But Agnew was in a no-surrender mood, and he was not at all inclined to negotiate with Congress. It didn't help that the Speaker of the House, Carl Albert, had been deposed, replaced with Tip O'Neill over Albert's unwillingness to begin impeachment proceedings in earnest. To replace Agnew with Albert would have been one thing - to replace him with O'Neill would have been another entirely, and something many Americans would have seen as a coup d'etat.

To resolve this, a conclave of top Congresspeople - including O'Neill, pro-impeachment Republican Lawrence Hogan, Wallace Democrat Walter Flowers, and first African-American woman in the House Barbara Jordan - decided to take advantage of a curious omission in the Constitution. Nowhere did it state that the Speaker of the House, who would by statute be the next person in line for the Presidency, had to be a Representative. They only had to be able to win the votes of a majority of its Representatives.

Historians have speculated for quite some time on what would have happened had they gone with someone else. Gerald Ford would have been a credible candidate even without the loopholes, but he said no. James Gavin, general and critic of the Vietnam War, would have been a sound non-partisan candidate, but had no electoral experience. There were suggestions of bringing back Thomas S. Gates, Jr., Eisenhower's Secretary of Defense, or Henry Cabot Lodge, Jr., Nixon's first running mate, or even Barry Goldwater.

Instead, they went with Melvin Laird. Secretary of Defense under Nixon and Agnew, he was perhaps the closest figure to Agnew politically that congressional leadership thought they could trust. A Nixonite without the baggage, and someone who had resigned from the Agnew administration (albeit not in public protest), Laird agreed to leave his position at Reader's Digest to serve as Speaker for the two-and-a-half hours before the impeachment vote, and then President.

In the presidency, he focused on foreign affairs. As the Greek junta retrenched in the hopes of becoming "Franco on the Aegean", Laird turned his attention to the legacy of the original Franco. After the Generalissimo's death in 1974, Juan Carlos, heir to the Spanish throne, had taken power and attempted to institute democratic reforms. That didn't sit well with the group of hardline Francoists known as the Alcázaristas, who were opposed to any sort of reforms - nor to the resurgent Communist Party, frustrated with the slow pace of reforms and the institution of the monarchy itself, as well as Juan Carlos' friendship with the Americans, which they saw as putting Spain in danger of seeing another Greece.

On February 7th, 1975, a student protest against the retention of Franquista Prime Minister Carlos Arias Navarro turned bloody. As radical student groups across the country clashed with law enforcement, Arias Navarro conducted an autogolpe, seizing power from the King, who was currently on a state visit to South America. Royal loyalists, Franquistas, and Communists clashed across the country, while Basque and Catalan nationalists took the opportunity to try to make a break for it, declaring independent republics while the rest of Spain burned.

Agnew left the crisis to burn while he focused on Greece and avoiding impeachment. That left Laird a fine line to walk, between letting Spain - a crucial base for the US Navy, a chokepoint for the international shipping network, and a nation of 35 million people - turn into the newest battlefield of the Cold War, and continuing the "meddling in foreign affairs" that the Agnew presidency seemed to have finally turned the American people against. Laird responded to the crisis by extending recognition to the royalist government, led by Juan Carlos out of Salamanca, and by pressing the various sides to agree to roundtable talks, which culminated in the Mexico City Accords.

The response to that crisis codified and came to define the "Laird Doctrine". It paid dividends both for peace abroad and for America's international standing - both Agnew and Laird were believers in America's role as the policeman of the world, but where Agnew was a corrupt, brutal cop, Laird at least tried to be a fair and reasonable one. In Namibia, Secretary of State William P. Rogers - holder of the same office under Nixon, but pushed out by Agnew before even the election to make way for Alexander Haig - became a national hero for brokering South African recognition and withdrawal for the new nation in the São Paulo Accords. In India, Indira Gandhi's seizure of power in the Emergency ended before it began at the hands of a tense alliance of convenience between Hindu traditionalists and Marxists, and conspiracy theorists ever since the writing of the Varanasi Constitution have seen the hands of the CIA in its lack of Communist influence.

It seemed like that would be it for the Laird administration, and for the Republican Party's 8-year spell in government. Laird had ruled out running for the nomination, and after a spirited campaign, another Nixon loyalist who had gotten out while the going was good - former Texas Governor and "Democrat for Nixon" John Connally - was in the hot seat. After Agnew and Tower, Connally was considered the inevitable loser, but he was likely to at least give a respectable performance. Immediately to his left was Wally Hickel, yet another former Cabinet member but one who had resigned in protest even before Nixon's death, running as an "Independent Republican" to return the party to its Eisenhowerian roots - his running mate was former primary candidate Pete McCloskey, fired up enough by Agnew's abuses of power to run against him in '72 and ratfucked out of his House seat in retaliation only to come back as an independent two years later. Hickel ran at the head of an odd coalition of Western populists and liberal Republicans alienated from the mainstream party over issues like its refusal to countenance a return to the United Nation without a Security Council seat. And next over from there was Arthur Schlesinger, already the anointed inevitable 41st President, the court historian of Camelot and tribune of modern American liberalism who ran as a sort of appeal to the better angels of the American nature, or of the heavenly choir of public opinion that, in Schattschneider's immortal words, "sings with a prominent upper-class accent."

It was all laid out so neatly - Laird would retire as a statesman without having to seek approval from the voters or spend time campaigning, and American politics would return to normalcy. It was a shame when, only three weeks before the Republican National Convention, the Washington Post broke the news that Connally had likely been taking bribes from a dairy association in exchange for making decisions favorable to their interests while he was Secretary of the Treasury, and the Republican National Committee found itself without a nominee - Connally had dispatched most of his opposition early on, and the ones who remained were factional candidates unpalatable to the majority of the party. It took two days of convention chaos to convince Laird to agree to be nominated.

As he criss-crossed the country, a country in the middle of an economic recovery and gaining more and more respect internationally, Laird could almost believe he would win. But it was simply not to be.

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(Pictured: The 1976 election. While Schlesinger cleaned up in the Northeast, Midwest, and West Coast, Laird's surprisingly strong performance in the South [losing only Texas, Schlesinger's running mate's home state of Georgia, and a Louisiana still reeling from the Mississippi River floods and the opening of the Morganza Spillway] proved a harbinger of future trends.)
 
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(Pictured: Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. in 1973, hosting the PBS miniseries The Politics of Hope. The show was a major factor in propelling him to fame, and led in large part to his becoming President four years later.)

Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. (Democratic)
January 20, 1977 - January 20, 1981
"How the hell did Arthur Schlesinger become President?" has been one of the great questions of American politics since the late '70s. It was a question asked late in the night of November 2, 1976, when David Brinkley intoned on NBC that Missouri's twelve electors had put Schlesinger over the magic number of 270 electoral votes. It was asked in the middle of his long, professorial, inaugural address. It was asked every time the new National Statistical Agency came back with a report of higher inflation and higher unemployment, in every new foreign crisis from Panama to Taiwan, in every painstakingly detailed speech that may have won the Harvard faculty but lost the American people. It's been asked ever since - Hunter S. Thompson's surprisingly even-handed eulogy in Rolling Stone even opened with that question.

It's a fair question. How did a historian with no experience in elected office, a dorky-looking academic and speechwriter, become President of the United States? Who let that happen? The answer to that question begins with another President, sixteen years before Schlesinger's rise to the same office. John F. Kennedy was many things, but among those was "self-mythologizing" - the name "Camelot" may have only come to refer to his Presidency after the fact, but it took root for good reason. Schlesinger, already a well-regarded activist and historian known for his defense of New Deal liberalism in The Vital Center, was brought in both to lend historical perspective and to act as the administration's Geoffrey of Monmouth. And then, when Kennedy died so tragically, Schlesinger's memoir A Thousand Days became one of the more authoritative accounts of his shortened Presidency.

Time passed. Schlesinger went back into academia in the Johnson era, popping his head up to campaign for Bobby Kennedy before that, too, ended in tragedy. And then came Nixon, and Agnew especially, who prompted Schlesinger to work double-time to complete his book The Imperial Presidency, part impartial history and part furious polemic. It was shortly after the publication of that book in 1972 that a producer from PBS approached him to inquire on whether he'd be interested in a television program.

Even if Schlesinger had never gone into electoral politics, his series The Politics of Hope - named after his 1962 book of the same title - would have been one of the more influential works of media ever in the progressive tradition of American politics. It played a massive role in "activating" the liberal base, making liberal Republicans more and more comfortable with voting for Democrats and letting Democrats know about specific policies of the Agnew government and the contrary policies of their opponents. It played a massive, key, role in the 1974 election - unlike past and future waves, the 1974 wave would be driven by people to the left of the median Democrat, not by centrists.

The 1976 Democratic primaries, like those four years previously, were chaotic. Unlike those four years previously, the chaos was wholly organic, driven by the surviving candidates of 1972 and a few new ones. Scoop Jackson - despite his qualified support of the intervention in Greece - soon became the frontrunner on a wave of support from labor unions and conservative Democrats. This was simply untenable, however, to liberal Democrats like George McGovern, Ted Kennedy, and Stewart Udall, who negotiated a "unity liberal" candidate in a series of clandestine meetings in Greenbelt, Maryland.

Schlesinger's name came up late in the discussion. It was likely Kennedy who brought him up, but McGovern and then Udall found Schlesinger agreeable. A call went out to him in mid-May, but Schlesinger dismissed the idea offhand. It took two more calls and an in-person meeting to convince him.

The "Manhattan Coup", put into motion the night before the Democratic National Convention at Madison Square Garden, nearly led to an outright walkout. Only Jackson himself endorsing the ticket kept his followers in line, though many members of his base voted for Laird or failed to show up overall. Some, however, were mollified by his choice of running mate. Governor James E. Carter of Georgia was considered weak on labor issues, but on everything else he appealed strongly to "Jackson Democrats".

More generally, Schlesinger's platform of making the United States less of a hegemon and more the "first among equals" of the free world through diplomacy and trade (including a return to the United Nations), bringing about peace at the home front through a renewed War on Poverty, pushing to bring minorities into a common American identity through demanding both tolerance from the majority and assimilation from minorities, stopping the inflationary spiral that was just beginning in 1976, and most of all bringing the power of the Presidency under control genuinely appealed to most Democrats in one way or another, who looked to the Kennedy era as the last gasp of "normalcy" and thought Schlesinger could bring it back.

The first sign that he couldn't came with the new Cabinet. Schlesinger was inexperienced in government, but the hope was that he would at least surround himself with more experienced advisors. In some areas, he did, putting John Kenneth Galbraith at Treasury and former Supreme Court Justice Arthur Goldberg at State. But other departments were stuffed with pure academics without any practical experience in government or their field. Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Lewis Mumford, for example, fought to stifle the "artificial, alienating" growth of urban sprawl, and in the process massively (and inadvertently) hurt the growth of housing supply, especially in the California cities that were subject to his "Florentine" pilot program.

For other officials, the problem was not merely that they were out of touch. When the Donald C. Cook Nuclear Plant outside South Bend, Indiana underwent a partial meltdown, blowing radioactive material into Lake Michigan (although later studies indicated that the danger of this was significantly overblown by the media), new Energy Secretary Alvin Weinberg (aided by Vice President Carter) fought to prevent the resultant outcry from impeding the construction of new plants. The backlash to this decision forced Weinberg to resign, but the fact that he had been appointed at all still led to more opposition to the Schlesinger administration.

Another issue came from the fact that, despite Schlesinger's experience with policy and knowledge of it, he wasn't very good at enacting it. The greatest priority of his first hundred days was healthcare reform, but his apparent indecision between the single-payer program put forward by Ted Kennedy and the more moderate reforms of the Vance-Brooks Act led to neither coming together in the face of industry opposition. Airline deregulation, rail renationalization, more funding to education and health research and the arts - all initiatives of the Schlesinger government, and all initiatives that failed when faced with Congress, particularly after the 1978 midterms brought in a Republican Senate.

Even if he had been able to get his agenda through, his legacy would have been mixed. "Schlesinger", a later historian wrote, "had seemingly come to the conclusion, after decades of studying government, that the possibilities of government were limited to a really quite narrow space." If conventional wisdom said that the only thing that he could accomplish of his cultural agenda was the restriction of immigration, he would focus his efforts on that and leave the most wide-ranging agenda of integration in American history, reaching from the neighborhood to the school, by the wayside. If it said that the only thing his renewed War on Poverty could do was put a little bit more funding toward school lunches and tax breaks for the working poor, that was the only thing he would spend his energy on.

In foreign policy, too, he was relentlessly conventional and had little effect despite his transformative agenda. What he had intended as the crown jewel of his foreign policy, a more robust Non-Proliferation Treaty, was over before it had begun. After all, not even Schlesinger could wipe away the common knowledge that Israel had been an American ally when the US had failed to aid it, and only its development and use of a nuclear deterrent had preserved its independence. In the end, not even the United States was willing to sign the treaty he created, nor was pretty much anyone else. As nuclear test explosions bhanged in deep tunnels in the Egyptian desert and Balochistan and the Cachimbo Mountains, as the Doomsday Clock began displaying its time in seconds as well as minutes, Schlesinger felt concerned about whether the future would even have historians to judge his administration.

He would have little help from international organizations. The "rechartering" of the UN was a masterful example of destroying the village in order to save it, preserving international organizations with well-respected responsibilities like the World Health Organization at the cost of essentially neutering the General Assembly's ability to discuss sensitive issues, let alone make official decisions on them or enforce those decisions. In its wake, a patchwork of smaller organizations emerged, usually based on region or ideology - notable examples include the new Comintern (known in the West, after some debate, as the Fifth International) in the Soviet Bloc, the re-energized Non-Aligned Movement, the Chinese-backed Committee for a Third World, and smaller regional groupings like ASEAN, the Arab League, and the East African Community.

Indeed, the West was significantly lagging in such institutions. NATO was the strongest, but it was exclusively focused on defense. The European Economic Community, meanwhile, was undergoing quite a bit of stress after the United Kingdom's rejection of membership. Political stresses in West Germany forced narrowly-reelected Chancellor Willy Brandt to make promises about pushing for internal reforms that France was not willing to accept - especially when key parts of the coalition that elected François Mitterrand to the Presidency in 1974 saw the EEC as intrinsically and unavoidably capitalist and incapable of seeing any significant reforms.

Another area of concern for his administration was China. The Nixon administration had gotten close to diplomatic relations with the nation back in 1972, but that had ended abruptly with Agnew. As the power struggle between the "Gang of Four" and its opponents flared up after the death of Mao in late 1974, a stable relationship between the People's Republic and the United States seemed further away. But by 1978, the Gang of Four had decisively won, placing Mao Yuanxin, nephew of the former Chairman, in the hot seat. Schlesinger chose to make another attempt to reach out.

A few things happened at once. Taiwan metaphorically swore a blue streak at the betrayal by the nation that had essentially ended the UN as a relevant body over their interests. China was receptive, at least, but that receptiveness papered over a lot of disagreement and infighting within the Politburo. The preparations quickly got bogged down in discord at both ends of the process - on the Chinese end, by disputes about to what extent good relations with the West were even desirable and what that would entail (and, more prosaically, by disputes about which people's responsibilities should be highlighted, all the way down to the level of seating arrangements), and on the American end, by an outcry from Congress about "weakness" - Jesse Helms even threatened to filibuster the entire Democratic agenda if Schlesinger went ahead with the visit as planned, though he was persuaded to walk it back.

Early in the morning of May 6, 1979, seismic monitoring stations detected a distinctive pattern of shaking in an isolated mountainous region of Nantou County, Taiwan. Soon after, President Chiang Wei-kuo announced that the Republic of China had, in fact, successfully tested a nuclear weapon. This led to a change in goals for the President. He was no longer focused on establishing relations with China - instead, he had to focus on preventing a war and assuring the world that the United States hadn't broken the Non-Proliferation Treaty to arm Taiwan. And while the war never happened and Taiwan pointed the finger at A. Q. Khan and Ernst David Bergmann, both citizens of non-signatory states, rather than Agnew's "scientific diplomacy" (and the current scholarship suggests that they were even being honest on that), Schlesinger hardly got the credit for handling a crisis that, according to public opinion, he himself created.

But there was a side effect of the effort. The Soviet Union, particularly after the death of Brezhnev in the winter of 1976, saw an alliance of the United States and China to be tantamount to a death warrant against the USSR. New Foreign Minister Boris Ponomarev helped broker deals with Goldberg to bring about a genuine diplomatic coup for both sides. In 1979, Arthur Schlesinger would become the first American President to visit the Soviet Union since Roosevelt went to Yalta, and in 1980, General Secretary Mikhail Suslov would become the first Soviet General Secretary to visit the United States since Khrushchev in 1959. While there, the two had many discussions, culminating in arms reduction treaties on both sides and agreements by the Soviet Union to undergo some reforms.

Six days after Suslov left Washington, D.C., the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan, prompted by an alleged right-wing coup attempt against the Soviet-aligned government. The Schlesinger administration condemned the invasion, but did nothing, despite a leaked plan by Deputy Secretary of State Richard Holbrooke, championed in Congress by Texas Representative Charlie Wilson outlining how the United States could stand up to the invasion. All the success of the bilateral talks seemed to turn to ashes in Schlesinger's mouth as he was accused - accurately, as it would later be found - of "selling out" Afghanistan. And as American private businessmen worked to arm the mujahideen, and a handful of American volunteers went so far as to join them, Schlesinger's approval ratings continued to tick down.

But that crisis was far from the only one on Schlesinger's record. The Panama Canal Zone had been an issue on the backburner of American foreign policy for a decade, ever since the 1964 Flagpole Riot led to Panama briefly breaking off diplomatic relations with the United States. Johnson had attempted to bring about some kind of resolution there, but by the time Schlesinger rolled around, it was made clear that no deal would be acceptable to Panamanian President Roberto Diaz, cousin of the assassinated Omar Torrijos, without some sort of provision that would eventually give away the Canal Zone.

This was unacceptable to the Senate, even without all the defeats and surrenders the administration had already faced. In response to that, Deputy Secretary of State Richard Holbrooke hatched a plan to depose Diaz in favor of American "pet strongman" Manuel Noriega. It would be quick, easy, and solve the problem. Schlesinger signed onto the plan, and it began with the attempted assassination of Diaz ally Hugo Spadafora in Managua in February 1979.

But the Panamanian intervention did not, in fact, go smoothly. It was, instead, a thorough quagmire, and the popular uprising it sparked in favor of Diaz actually strengthened his regime, not to mention popular movements against pro-American dictators all across Central America. This time the Congressional outcry came not from the right, where Senators who had backed the intervention completely became mysteriously and suddenly silent, but from the left, with Democratic Senators Frank Church and George McGovern holding combative hearings with Holbrooke.

It was no surprise that Noam Chomsky, who had been criticizing Schlesinger for a decade and a half, announced he would be running as a third-party candidate. It wasn't much of one when Frank Church announced a primary run against Schlesinger. When Ted Kennedy very pointedly refused to endorse Schlesinger's re-election, that raised a few eyebrows. Then Church nearly won the primary in New Hampshire and did win the primary in Wisconsin, then Schlesinger didn't clinch the nomination until Pennsylvania against Church and a last-minute push by Scoop Jackson, who won quite a bit of support from hawkish Democrats even after his near-fatal heart attack. The campaign rallied a little after the conventions - Schlesinger defeated his robotic opposite number, Illinois Senator Donald Rumsfeld, there, and then even received a bit of an October Surprise when a memorandum from Rumsfeld's service in Treasury under Laird surfaced in which he plotted to deliberately overheat the economy to try to win the 1976 election.

It wasn't enough, not nearly. Schlesinger hadn't even won his first state before crucial victories in Illinois, Pennsylvania, and New York pushed Rumsfeld over the edge - in the end, he was limited to Minnesota, Hawaii, and DC. But the final ignominy came when the Electoral College voted. Thanks to a shock win by Noam Chomsky in Massachusetts and two faithless electors in Hawaii, Schlesinger didn't even have the honor of placing second in the electoral vote.

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(Pictured: The 1980 election. Rumsfeld's total number of electoral votes, 507, is the second-largest in American history, beaten only by Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1936. His popular vote percentage of 56.6% is the seventh-highest since the popular vote began to be recorded in 1824.)
 
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