Stanley Kutler's The Wars of Watergate was the first serious work on the definitive political scandal written by an historian. Where previous books on Watergate had largely been the province of journalists and political scientists, Kutler made a formidable effort to sift through the contradictory mass of evidence, testimony, memoirs and fragmentary documentation and craft a coherent portrait of Nixon's downfall. Kutler later spent years fighting the Nixon Foundation for release of still-classified White House tapes; his eventual success (compiling many of these tapes into his book Abuse of Power) was a crucial victory for historical freedom, affording us a more complete picture of the 37th President. And Kutler helps us understand that, despite ongoing efforts in some corners to dismiss, downplay or excuse Nixon's misdeeds, there was something all-consuming and singular in Watergate that caused it to resonate more than other presidential scandals.
Notably, Kutler wrote his book in the early '90s when Nixon was still alive and receiving a degree of rehabilitation. No longer a disgraced crook, Nixon had become a respected elder statesman, consulted by presidents, the subject of apologetic biographies that stressed his achievements over his crimes; a handful of revisionist books even suggested that Nixon had been framed by the CIA, liberals, disloyal aides and sundry other enemies for Watergate (thus, even Nixon's "underside" wasn't actually his fault). Certainly there's plenty of equivocation that other presidents had done similarly Bad Things (usually presented in abstract terms, so we can't directly compare, say, Kennedy's IRS auditing Republican taxes to Gordon Liddy plotting a journalist's assassination) and therefore Watergate was an inexplicable, if not hypocritical moral paroxysm. Even later writers like Evan Thomas haven't fully abandoned these ideas; the idea that we must be "fair" to Nixon sometimes translates as over-stressing his positive actions and treating Watergate as, indeed, nothing more than the "third-rate burglary" of legend.
If nothing else, then, Kutler did an invaluable service by placing Nixon at the center of his own downfall. Where many Watergate books focus on the eccentricities of the Plumbers and other players in the drama, Kutler stresses the man who set everything in motion. Here Nixon is little more than a glorified mob boss, using the Presidency not only to achieve his own policy goals but to punish enemies, real and imagined, through all means possible. Nixon, of course, had an all-encompassing definition of "enemies," from political opponents to reporters to antiwar demonstrators and career bureaucrats (his rambling about the latter prefigures modern jabbering about the "Deep State") that transcended any realistic concerns about "national security" and "law and order." If the President didn't explicitly order the Watergate break-in, his winks, rages and encouragements allowed the "healthy right wing exuberants" on his staff (the Liddys, Colsons and Segrettis) to interpret his wishes thus. Something like Watergate, if not Watergate specifically, was probably inevitable on Tricky Dick's watch.
Before plunging into the scandal's details, Kutler ably places it in the broader context of '60s politics. He shows that Watergate came at a crucial point in American history, when people were already disillusioned by the Vietnam War, Civil Rights Movement and chaos of the '60s and inclined to question their government; the election of Nixon, already long disliked for his history of Red baiting and divisive rhetoric, only aggravated these tensions further. Issues about government transparency and presidential power which had been taken for granted since World War II were raised, debated and agonized over; a distrust of authority, sometimes healthy but often corrosive and cynical, seeped into public consciousness. In this sense, Nixon was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he took advantage of a powerful executive branch that others before him exploited as well. But it's hard to imagine Robert Kennedy or Hubert Humphrey embroiling themselves in a similar scandal as the combative, paranoid Nixon.
Certainly previous presidents abused their power, as Nixon apologists never forget to remind us: Truman and Eisenhower made liberal use of executive orders; Kennedy used the IRS to audit political opponents, Lyndon Johnson used the FBI to harass Civil Rights workers and antiwar activists. Beyond the childish "two wrongs don't make a right" syllogism here, it's hard to equate their occasional misdeeds with Nixon's systematic crimes: the Huston Plan, his proposed purge of Jewish bureaucrats, intimidation of media companies, assassination and kidnapping plots by the Plumbers and the almost-compulsive wiretapping of reporters, activists and his own staff were not unfortunate adjuncts of his presidency but, in a way, embodied its central character. If there's any shortcoming to Kutler's narrative it's that he spends little time on Nixon's most thuggish actions: the ITT imbroglio, where Nixon personally obstructed an antitrust suit and sent goons to intimidate witnesses against a corporate donor, is granted only a few fleeting references; the Chennault Affair, where Nixon sabotaged Vietnam peace talks to win election, none at all. Even so, there's plenty to indict the President as far worse than your average politician.
Kutler is quite adept at showing the paranoid atmosphere of the White House, along with the public reaction to the scandal. He provides skillful mini-disquisitions on the media's investigative role (despite Nixon's self-serving myth of "media bias," the majority of the press ignored Watergate for almost a year), the various congressional investigations and the role of prosecutors in unraveling the conspiracy. He's complementary towards Justice Department officials like Earl Silbert and Henry Petersen as diligent investigators resisting pressure from above, perhaps an overgenerous assessment of their role in the affair (Silbert, in particular, was reluctant to expand his investigation beyond the burglars). He's more persuasive outlining the role of Archibald Cox, the urbane Special Prosecutor who became the scandal's protagonist for a time, and his successor Leon Jaworski. While Cox, a former Solicitor General to JFK, was accused of partisanship (and Jaworski, conversely, of being too friendly to the President) both came to exemplify the notion that no man, even the President, stood above the law.
Kutler is less flattering towards other players in the drama. John Dean, the White House counsel-turned-informant, is shown for the self-serving stool pigeon he was; Elliot Richardson, an ambitious bureaucrat who unwittingly became hero of the Saturday Night Massacre. Judge John Sirica is taken to task for his abuses of judicial authority which kept Watergate alive while most people were happy to dismiss it; Sirica's role, in particular, inspires troubling questions about how much ends justify means in uncovering misdeeds. Certainly few Senators or Congressmen, some flagrantly partisan, others addicted to the spotlight (Howard Baker comes in for rough handling here), others indecisive and obsessed to a fault with "norms," seem especially admirable. Strangely, Kutler devotes a lot of space to disparaging John Doar, the House's special counsel on impeachment, even though Doar comes off to most readers as standing scrupulously above the committee's partisan backbiting.
The Congressional response to the scandal was certainly imperfect, and it seems unlikely that a Republican-controlled Congress would have taken the charges against Nixon seriously. As much as recent scandals have invoked Watergate as a template for congressional action, there's much to criticize here, and for all the eloquent histrionics of Sam Ervin and Barbara Jordan, much of the same self-righteous grandstanding we're all familiar with from Clinton and Trump's brushes with impeachment. But Kutler usefully reminds us that, however high-minded the language, impeachment ultimately is a partisan process; and the players in the Nixon drama were hardly above partisanship. Today, impeachment feels like an imbalanced mutual assured destruction: Republicans ought not be impeached for real crimes, modern logic goes, or they'll retaliate by attacking Democrats for minor peccadilloes. One wonders, indeed, whether impeachment actually has a useful place in a hopelessly polarized country.
Ultimately, Kutler feels, Watergate was both representative of a deeply flawed system, and singular in that its specifics welled from the character of Richard Nixon. The scandal's resolution offered some solace, in that many of Nixon's henchmen went to prison and the President was at least driven from office. But Nixon escaped prosecution through Gerald Ford's pardon, and efforts to restrict presidential power proved short-lived and marginally effective. Contemporaries of Nixon bemoaned the rise of the "Imperial Presidency" but it remains commonplace; few seriously question that a president has the right, if not responsibility to override Congress, the courts and even public opinion to affect their agenda (at least, if the President belongs to their own party). Watergate teaches many lessons but Kutler, writing thirty years ago, saw that many Americans took the wrong ones from it. That an individual bad president could be held accountable, but deeper rot within politics and government needn't be seriously addressed. And so the system lurches on, waiting for the next Nixon or Trump to abuse it in ways that their predecessors couldn't imagine.