Connecting the dots of public discontent

? The most intriguing insight I brought back from a recent reporting trip to California came in a conversation with a veteran Republican operative, now supporting Arnold Schwarzenegger. “You guys,” he said, referring to political reporters, “have not connected the dots.”

“We often don’t,” I acknowledged. “What connection are we missing this time?”

“What is going on here in this recall election,” he said, “and the Howard Dean phenomenon.”

“What is the connection?” I asked.

“People are fed up with the political establishment and they’re looking for ways to shake it up.”

Clearly, that is the case in California. As much as I have complained about wealthy individuals, such as Rep. Darrell Issa, financing initiative campaigns or — in this instance — a recall election, you’d have to be unconscious not to recognize the anger and frustration with Gov. Gray Davis and the California Legislature. Rightly or wrongly, people think the politicians have not been dealing with the problems that plague their lives, whether it be energy costs, traffic jams or job losses.

If Davis is recalled less than a year after he was re-elected, it will measure the degree of impatience voters feel with a government that seems unresponsive to their needs.

Dean’s rise in the Democratic presidential field reflects a similar disillusionment among Democratic (and some independent) voters, not just with the Iraq policies of President Bush, but more generally with the performance of the administration and Congress across the board.

Covering the former Vermont governor almost 15 months ago, before Iraq held center stage as an issue, I was struck by the anti-Washington tone of his speeches. He was scoring points with dissatisfied Democrats even then by condemning the party’s congressional leaders for “not standing up to” Bush on education and taxes — and he soon added to his indictment that they looked feckless in the face of Republican attacks during the 2002 midterm election.

What these examples suggest is a restlessness on the part of the voters — a nagging sense of dissatisfaction with the way public business is being handled by the people in power, coupled with a readiness to look far and wide for other options. A recall of a governor has happened only once before in American history. Howard Dean would normally be regarded as a real long shot against more credentialed and experienced candidates from more populous and politically significant states.

But we have seen similarly improbable developments at other times when the public was in one of its cyclical fits of distemper. Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan, each of whom had failed in a previous presidential bid, were elected in 1968 and 1980, respectively, because the public was disillusioned with the politicians in power.

The most recent such period came in the early 1990s. In 1990, observers noted a sudden and widespread decline in the re-election margins of “safe” House incumbents. In 1992, a well-liked President George H.W. Bush, architect of a global coalition in the first Gulf War, was voted out of office as two men — the then little-known Arkansas Gov. Bill Clinton and maverick entrepreneur Ross Perot — seized on the voters’ discontent.

Two years later, still dissatisfied, those voters turned around and threw the Democrats out of control of both the House and the Senate.

Economic discontent played major roles in all of these upheavals. The anger and frustration were defused during the last half of the 1990s, as people enjoyed the booming economy. But now, it appears, some of that discontent has come back.

In both the California recall and the Dean phenomenon, the immediate targets are Democrats — Davis and the five congressional veterans who are seeking the presidential nomination.

But if the mood persists and grows, it could cause problems for the ultimate symbol of the political establishment, the president. Bush has a political lifeline in the emotional bond he formed with millions of Americans during the days following 9-11, but when the impulse to shake up the establishment takes hold, anyone can be caught in the tide.

This is a dynamic worth watching.

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Hugh Gregg, the grand old man of New Hampshire Republican politics, the manager of countless winning and losing presidential primary campaigns, died last week. Long after his tenure as governor, he growled defiance at anyone who dared to suggest some other state should occasionally enjoy the privilege of being host to the first-in-the-nation primary. By warding off all other claimants, he did the republic a service and earned the gratitude of legions of New Hampshire-loving political reporters.


David Broder is a columnist for Washington Post Writers Group.