Why Watergate
I first encountered Watergate in my high school US history class. It captivated me mostly because the current state of the political system and the media renders this story impossible. Watching All the President’s Men in a dark classroom transported me to another world. A world dominated by typewriter keys like gunshots, the spinning dials of rotary phones. And of course, the fantasy that at one point in time David could beat Goliath.
More and more, I find myself asking, “If the Watergate story was told today, would anyone believe it?” Our relationship with the media isn’t what it was in the ‘70s. Sure, tension has always existed between the press and the political system, but somewhere between then and now our trust in these systems has become unbalanced. Politicians tell us the news is fake, prejudiced, too left-leaning, too right-leaning. So, those who can afford to have severed ties with the press. Why would we want to bombard ourselves with wars and bombs and blood and violence, anyhow? Let’s just go see that new Marvel movie at the AMC.
We consume media today for a thrill. Big corporations know this, and they spoon-feed us sensationalist slop. Every year, I tell myself the world will get sick of the taste, and every year I’m proven wrong.
All to say: I hoped, as a young person delivering content to young people, I could encourage at least one viewer to expose themselves to stories that can contribute to their understanding of the world. All the President’s Men isn’t so much about politics as it is about truth—and who gets to define that word. Woodward and Bernstein weren’t A-listers, just two dedicated reporters backed by a team of equally driven editors and publishers with a goal of truth-telling. And I’m not entirely convinced that could happen today.
The truth isn’t printed in big black letters. It has always been arbitrary. In the past, people could trust most news sources to be honest or to adhere to the basic principle of relaying truth to the public. That trust no longer exists.
Not only is the “truth” so polarized today, but no one cares to search for it. That is, unless you can fit it in a fifteen second video. The first video I posted, though I did so with jest, came deeply from the heart. It was late at night. I had been scrolling on my phone, as one does, but everything I saw only deepened the pit of rage in my stomach. There’s nothing wrong with brat summer or The Summer I Turned Pretty. It’s equally as important to consume media for entertainment as it is for knowledge. What isn’t okay, and what society encourages, is trapping yourself in a bubble where politics and news don’t affect you, cushioned by whatever media makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Think of the film adaptation of All the President’s Men. When Woodstein’s stories first ran in the post, Robert Redford was convinced he was the only person in the world that cared—besides two no-name journalists. Other news outlets brushed Watergate under the rug, wary of going toe-to-toe with Nixon. Redford wasn’t a journalist, but he knew that when he spoke, American moviegoers would listen. He knew films had a way of sticking with people where books and newspapers couldn’t, and used this influence to draw attention to a pressing political and cultural shift. What makes All the President’s Men so impactful is that it was created by concerned citizens for concerned citizens, tended to all around by people who cared. The heart of the story is the search for truth amid uncertainty, which will always be prevalent in our country no matter who’s in the White House. You don’t need to be a journalist to ask the right questions—to ask uncomfortable questions. It’s your civic duty to probe for answers and find out what the truth means to you.
I love good journalism, period. I always say if I had nine lives, I’d be an investigative journalist in at least one or more of them. Not this one, though. I’m a fiction writer. I like to lie too much. Suffocating in my own nihilism, I convinced myself I was the only one left in the world who cared. So, fueled by spite, I strewed my heap of Watergate summer reading books across my carpet and hit record. I woke up the next morning to be proven wrong. There’s still plenty of people out there asking the right questions—3,367 of them, to be exact. We have a small community of concerned citizens longing for a time when the truth existed. But rallying the troops is the easy part. A united sense of concern is certainly validating, but I have the nagging feeling that it’s not enough. Dread keeps me awake at night, whispering, “What next?”
I’ll get back to you on that.
