The Fading Lesson of Watergate

As we mark the 52nd anniversary of Richard Nixon’s resignation, it’s tempting to view the scandal as a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked presidential power. Yet, the historical record reveals that the true legacy of Watergate lies not in its ability to rein in the executive branch, but rather in its role in further entrenching the cult of personality surrounding the presidency.

Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr.’s 1973 essay “The Runaway Presidency” captured the spirit of hope that defined many at the time. He argued that Watergate presented a unique opportunity to reassert the separation of powers and restore balance to the system, but his optimism was misplaced. In his magnum opus, The Imperial Presidency, published just months before the Atlantic essay, he painted a damning portrait of presidential overreach. However, Schlesinger himself had contributed significantly to the very mystique he now sought to dismantle through his 1965 biography of John F. Kennedy, which helped cement JFK’s status as an iconic figure.

Schlesinger’s reverence for JFK, as well as his earlier work on Theodore Roosevelt, helped create a mythology around the presidency that would prove difficult to shake. His complicity in promoting this mystique played a significant role in shaping the trajectory of the presidency. Despite his dire assessment of presidential overreach, Schlesinger failed to challenge the cult of personality he had helped create.

In retrospect, it becomes clear that Watergate did not bring about a sea change in American politics or attitudes toward the presidency. Instead, it entrenched the very power dynamics Schlesinger sought to challenge. The scandal itself became a spectacle, one that would be replayed and refined with each subsequent presidential crisis. The “script” of Watergate – crime, cover-up, revelations, hearings, and stern reports on the nightly news – has become a template for every administration’s response to scandal.

The institutions designed to check executive power have either been neutered or co-opted into enabling it. Congress remains ineffective at reining in presidential abuses, while the Supreme Court has expanded its doctrine of executive authority, effectively codifying Nixon’s assertion that “when the president does it, that means it is not illegal.” Today, we see the consequences of this dynamic: presidential scandals now come and go with breathtaking rapidity, their impact limited by an attention economy that demands constant novelty.

The presidency itself has become a media creation, a perpetual spectacle designed to captivate and distract. J.D. Vance’s remark that Watergate would be a 12-hour news story today seems less like hyperbole than a chilling acknowledgment of our current reality. As we mark the anniversary of Nixon’s resignation, it is time to confront the fact that the true legacy of Watergate lies not in its ability to curb presidential power but in its role in perpetuating and entrenching the cult of personality surrounding the presidency.

The lesson of Watergate – or rather, the lack thereof – remains a stark reminder of our ongoing struggle with the balance of power in American politics.