When the Clock Broke

When the Clock Broke Plot Summary

Introduction

The early 1990s marked a pivotal moment in American history. As the Berlin Wall fell and the Soviet Union collapsed, the United States found itself without its defining adversary of nearly half a century. This sudden end to the Cold War, rather than ushering in an era of harmony and prosperity, exposed deep fractures within American society that had been masked by the unifying threat of communism. Economic recession, racial tensions, and cultural conflicts emerged with new intensity, challenging the very foundations of American democracy. This period from 1989 to 1992 witnessed a remarkable convergence of transformative events: David Duke's emergence from the fringes of politics to mainstream visibility, Pat Buchanan's insurgent primary challenge to a sitting president, the explosive growth of talk radio as a political force, the Los Angeles riots following the Rodney King verdict, and Ross Perot's unprecedented independent presidential campaign. Through examining these interconnected developments, we gain crucial insight into how economic insecurity can transform into cultural resentment, how media can amplify extremist voices, and how democratic institutions can be undermined from within. The lessons of this turbulent period continue to resonate today, offering essential perspective on the origins of our current political polarization.

Chapter 1: The End of Consensus: Cold War's Collapse and New Uncertainties

When the Berlin Wall fell in November 1989, Americans celebrated what appeared to be the ultimate vindication of Western democracy and capitalism. The Cold War, which had defined American foreign policy and national identity for over four decades, was ending not with nuclear apocalypse but with peaceful revolution. President George H.W. Bush, a cautious and experienced foreign policy hand, managed the transition with diplomatic skill, avoiding triumphalism while supporting democratic movements across Eastern Europe. By December 1991, the Soviet Union itself had dissolved, leaving the United States as the world's sole superpower. Yet this geopolitical triumph quickly gave way to domestic uncertainty. The organizing principle of American politics since World War II—containment of communism—had suddenly vanished. Bush attempted to articulate a vision for this new era, speaking of a "New World Order" where great powers would cooperate to maintain peace and stability. The Persian Gulf War of 1991 briefly seemed to validate this approach, as the United States assembled an international coalition to repel Iraq's invasion of Kuwait. Bush's approval ratings soared to 89 percent after the swift military victory, but this popularity proved ephemeral. Beneath the surface of America's apparent global dominance, troubling economic trends were emerging. A recession began in July 1990, ending the long expansion of the 1980s. Manufacturing jobs continued their decades-long decline, while defense industries faced painful contractions as the military downsized following the Cold War. The recession officially ended in March 1991, but recovery was sluggish, and unemployment continued to rise well into 1992. This "jobless recovery" created profound anxiety among middle-class Americans, many of whom had already experienced wage stagnation during the supposed prosperity of the Reagan years. The end of the Cold War also fractured the foreign policy consensus within the Republican Party. Pat Buchanan led a paleoconservative rebellion against what he called Bush's "globalism," advocating an "America First" approach that rejected humanitarian interventions and international commitments. Meanwhile, neoconservatives pushed for a more assertive use of American power to spread democracy globally. These competing visions reflected deeper questions about America's role in the post-Cold War world: Would it be a benevolent hegemon, a reluctant sheriff, or an empire in denial? The collapse of the Soviet Union had profound psychological effects on American society. For generations, anti-communism had provided a unifying narrative that transcended regional, racial, and class divisions. Without this common enemy, internal differences became more pronounced. As the political scientist Francis Fukuyama suggested in his famous essay "The End of History?", the triumph of liberal democracy might lead not to universal harmony but to a search for new forms of recognition and conflict. The uncertainties of this period created space for new political movements and voices that would challenge the established order in ways few had anticipated when the Berlin Wall came down.

Chapter 2: Populist Rebellion: Duke, Buchanan and the Rise of Outsiders

In January 1989, just as George H.W. Bush was settling into the White House, a disturbing political event took place in Louisiana that would foreshadow the coming fractures in American democracy. David Duke, a former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan and neo-Nazi, won a special election for Louisiana's 81st legislative district, running as a Republican. Despite opposition from the Republican National Committee and both former President Reagan and President Bush, Duke captured 33% of the vote in a three-way primary and then won the runoff with 50.7%. His victory revealed a growing receptiveness to populist messages rooted in racial resentment and economic anxiety. Duke's district in Jefferson Parish, a suburb of New Orleans, had experienced significant economic decline during the 1980s. The oil bust had devastated Louisiana's economy, leading to double-digit unemployment. In Jefferson Parish specifically, income from wages had dropped by 6.5 percent from 1982 to 1987, while income from dividends, interest, and rent rose by 19 percent—a clear indicator of growing inequality. The parish had lost nearly 45 percent of its oil and gas jobs and 17 percent of its manufacturing jobs. Duke cleverly combined standard Reagan-era conservative attacks on welfare and affirmative action with explicit appeals to white racial grievances, resonating with voters who felt economically threatened and culturally displaced. The populist rebellion gained national momentum when Pat Buchanan, a veteran of the Nixon and Reagan administrations and prominent conservative commentator, announced his challenge to President Bush in December 1991. Buchanan's campaign combined economic nationalism, opposition to immigration, and cultural conservatism with a fierce critique of Bush's "New World Order" foreign policy. His slogan, "America First," explicitly rejected the internationalism that had defined both parties' approach to foreign affairs since World War II. Buchanan shocked the political establishment by winning 37 percent of the vote in the New Hampshire primary, demonstrating that even a sitting president was vulnerable to populist insurgency. Both Duke and Buchanan appealed to what political analyst Samuel Francis called "Middle American Radicals" or "MARs"—primarily white members of the lower middle class who felt "squeezed" from both above and below, resentful of elites who looked down on them and minorities who they believed received government benefits at their expense. Francis, a columnist for The Washington Times who had previously worked for Senator John East, became one of the most influential theorists of this emerging populist faction. He argued that these MARs could form the base of a revolutionary movement that would overthrow the managerial class that had dominated American politics since the New Deal. The populist rebellion of this period represented more than just electoral challenges to established politicians; it signaled a fundamental shift in American political culture. Both Duke and Buchanan rejected the post-World War II consensus around civil rights, immigration, and international engagement. Their campaigns revealed that millions of Americans, particularly white working-class voters, felt alienated from both parties' leadership and were receptive to messages that blamed their economic difficulties on globalization, immigration, and racial integration. As novelist Walker Percy warned about Duke's appeal: "Don't make the mistake of thinking David Duke is a unique phenomenon confined to Louisiana rednecks and yahoos. He's not. He's not just appealing to the old Klan constituency, he's appealing to the white middle class." This populist moment would have lasting consequences for American politics. Though neither Duke nor Buchanan won their respective races, they established a template for future outsider candidates who would challenge the political establishment by combining economic nationalism with cultural grievance. The issues they raised—opposition to free trade, restrictions on immigration, and rejection of "political correctness"—would continue to reshape American politics for decades to come, eventually culminating in the election of Donald Trump, who would adopt many of the same themes and appeals that Duke and Buchanan had pioneered.

Chapter 3: Media Revolution: Talk Radio and the New Information Landscape

The early 1990s witnessed a profound transformation in American media that would permanently alter the political landscape. At the center of this revolution was talk radio, which exploded in popularity following the FCC's elimination of the Fairness Doctrine in 1987. This regulatory change, which removed the requirement that broadcasters present controversial issues in a balanced manner, created space for more partisan and provocative programming. Between 1987 and 1992, the number of stations running all-talk or talk-news format grew from 238 to 850, creating a powerful new platform for political discourse outside traditional media channels. Rush Limbaugh emerged as the undisputed king of this new medium. Broadcasting from WABC in New York, Limbaugh's show was syndicated to hundreds of stations nationwide, reaching millions of listeners daily. His bombastic style, combining political commentary with entertainment, resonated particularly with conservative white men who felt alienated from mainstream culture. Limbaugh's listeners, who called themselves "dittoheads," would gather during their lunch hours in "Rush Rooms"—special areas in bars and restaurants where they could listen to the show together, forming a community of the like-minded. By 1992, Limbaugh had also launched a television show and published his first book, The Way Things Ought to Be, which became an instant bestseller. The rise of talk radio coincided with what sociologists were calling an "epidemic of loneliness" in America. The nation was undergoing profound social changes—the decline of traditional communities, the end of lifetime employment, rising divorce rates, and increasing geographic mobility. Many Americans turned to talk radio to fill this void, finding in hosts like Limbaugh, G. Gordon Liddy, and Oliver North not just political allies but virtual friends who validated their worldviews. As Peter Laufer, a former talk radio host, observed: "Callers to talk shows are seeking companionship. They are lonely, stuck at home, or stuck in traffic. They feel disenfranchised from society and desire an opportunity to be heard." The media revolution extended beyond radio to television as well. CNN, founded in 1980, came into its own during the Gulf War, providing 24-hour coverage that traditional networks couldn't match. Programs like CNN's Larry King Live became crucial platforms for political discourse, allowing politicians and outsiders to reach audiences directly without journalistic filtering. It was on King's show in February 1992 that Texas billionaire Ross Perot hinted he might run for president if citizens put him on the ballot in all fifty states—a moment that would launch the most successful third-party presidential campaign in modern American history. This transformation of the media landscape had profound implications for American democracy. Traditional gatekeepers—newspaper editors, network news producers, and established political parties—saw their influence diminish as new voices gained direct access to the public. While this democratization of media created opportunities for previously marginalized perspectives, it also fragmented the information environment, allowing Americans to consume news that reinforced rather than challenged their existing beliefs. As media scholar Kathleen Hall Jamieson noted, talk radio in particular created "a self-contained universe in which callers reinforce the host's views and the host reinforces the callers'." The media revolution of the early 1990s foreshadowed even more dramatic changes to come with the rise of the internet and social media. The fragmentation of the information landscape, the blurring of news and entertainment, and the emergence of partisan media ecosystems all began during this period. As Limbaugh himself observed, "Talk media is to the dominant media institutions what Ross Perot is to the dominant political institutions. It is the portion of the media that the people trust the most." This transformation would have lasting consequences for how Americans received information, formed political opinions, and participated in democratic discourse.

Chapter 4: Racial Tensions Erupt: Rodney King and the Los Angeles Riots

On March 3, 1991, a plumber named George Holliday captured video footage from his apartment balcony that would forever change American perceptions of policing. The grainy nine-minute tape showed Los Angeles police officers brutally beating a Black motorist named Rodney King, striking him 56 times as he lay on the ground. When the four officers involved were acquitted on April 29, 1992, despite the seemingly irrefutable video evidence, Los Angeles erupted in the worst civil unrest the United States had seen in decades. The Los Angeles Police Department under Chief Daryl Gates had developed a paramilitary culture that viewed itself as a "thin blue line" between civilization and chaos. This philosophy, pioneered by former Chief William Parker in the 1950s, emphasized aggressive "proactive policing" and insulated the department from civilian oversight. Gates had further militarized the force, creating specialized units like SWAT (Special Weapons and Tactics) and implementing operations like "Hammer," which resulted in the mass arrest of young Black men. The Christopher Commission, formed after the King beating, found a pattern of excessive force "aggravated by racism" and tolerated by supervisors. The acquittal of the officers in the King case, by a predominantly white jury in suburban Simi Valley, ignited six days of rioting that left 63 people dead, 2,383 injured, and caused approximately $1 billion in property damage. The LAPD's response was disorganized and ineffective. Chief Gates was notably absent during the crucial early hours, attending a political fundraiser in Brentwood. When the National Guard was finally deployed, it took them a day to arrive due to ammunition shortages and coordination problems. The television images of burning buildings, beaten motorists, and armed Korean shopkeepers defending their businesses revealed the profound racial and economic divisions that plagued urban America. Korean merchants bore a disproportionate share of the destruction, with some 2,300 Korean-owned stores looted or burned. Many felt abandoned by law enforcement and formed impromptu militias to protect their businesses. The tensions between Korean shopkeepers and Black residents had been building for years, exacerbated by the killing of 15-year-old Latasha Harlins by a Korean store owner in March 1991. Though convicted of voluntary manslaughter, the store owner received only probation and a $500 fine, fueling perceptions of unequal justice. The political response to the riots revealed deep divisions in how Americans understood urban problems. President Bush initially focused on law and order, condemning the "brutality of a mob" while saying little about the verdict that triggered the unrest. His administration proposed enterprise zones and other market-based solutions, while Democrats called for more direct government intervention and investment in cities. Vice President Dan Quayle sparked controversy by suggesting that the breakdown of family values, exemplified by the TV character Murphy Brown's decision to have a child as a single mother, contributed to urban poverty and violence. The aftermath of the riots brought significant changes to Los Angeles and American policing. Voters overwhelmingly approved Charter Amendment F, which restored civilian control over the LAPD and limited the police chief's tenure. Gates was forced to resign, and the department began a slow process of reform under new leadership. Nationally, the events highlighted the need for community policing, civilian oversight, and greater diversity in law enforcement. The riots also demonstrated how quickly social order could break down when communities lost faith in the justice system, a lesson that would be repeatedly tested in the decades to come as other incidents of police violence captured on video sparked protests across America.

Chapter 5: Economic Anxiety and Cultural Identity: Japan-Bashing and Trade Fears

As America entered the 1990s, economic anxieties increasingly manifested as racial and cultural tensions. Perhaps nowhere was this more evident than in the phenomenon of "Japan-bashing" that swept across political discourse and popular culture. By the end of 1991, a New York Times/CBS Poll found that half of all Americans believed Japan would claim the title of "No. 1 economic power in the world" in the twenty-first century, and half had a negative view of Japan. This fear of Japanese economic dominance became a central theme of the 1992 presidential campaign and revealed deeper insecurities about America's changing position in the global economy. The trade relationship with Japan had become increasingly contentious during the 1980s, as Japanese manufacturers gained market share in industries like automobiles and electronics that had once been dominated by American companies. The U.S. trade deficit with Japan reached $41 billion in 1991, fueling perceptions that Japan was engaged in unfair trade practices. American politicians across the political spectrum adopted increasingly harsh rhetoric. "The Cold War is over—Japan won," Paul Tsongas told the United Auto Workers convention during his presidential campaign. Pat Buchanan claimed that the "big Republican tent" was being replaced with "the big Republican pagoda." When the elderly speaker of Japan's parliament remarked that American workers were "lazy," it triggered a firestorm of outrage. This economic anxiety found expression in popular culture as well. Michael Crichton's novel Rising Sun, featuring Japanese businessmen as villains buying up American property, shot to the top of bestseller lists in January 1992. A wave of books with titles like In the Shadow of the Rising Sun and The Coming War with Japan predicted dire consequences from Japanese economic competition. Hollywood films increasingly portrayed Japanese characters as economic predators. This rhetoric wasn't limited to fringe voices—respected publications and scholars contributed to the alarmism, with The Atlantic Monthly publishing a cover story titled "Containing Japan" that explicitly compared economic competition to the Cold War struggle against the Soviet Union. More disturbingly, this climate coincided with increasing violence against Asian Americans. The U.S. Commission on Civil Rights connected Japan-bashing rhetoric to a wave of hate crimes, many targeting people who weren't even of Japanese descent. In Boston and Philadelphia, Asians were more likely than any other group to be victims of hate crimes. Japanese American Girl Scouts selling cookies in Los Angeles were called "Japs" and told "I only buy from American girls," triggering anxiety in their parents and grandparents who had lived through internment during World War II. The economic reality was more complex than the political rhetoric suggested. The trade imbalance with Japan had been partly engineered by U.S. policy, which encouraged Japanese investment to fund America's growing deficits. Japanese investors poured billions into U.S. Treasury bonds and real estate, including iconic properties like Rockefeller Center. Meanwhile, Japanese manufacturers like Komatsu were opening plants in places like Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Peoria, Illinois, while "American" companies increasingly manufactured overseas. The global economy was becoming more integrated, making national economic competition an increasingly outdated framework. The Japan panic revealed how economic insecurity could transform into racial antagonism and cultural anxiety. It also demonstrated how political leaders could exploit these fears rather than address their underlying causes. As the journalist Karel van Wolferen observed, "Japan has become a screen onto which Americans project their own fears about relative decline." This pattern of economic anxiety fueling racial and cultural tensions would become a defining feature of American politics in the decades to come, with different groups—immigrants, China, Muslims—serving as the focus of similar fears during periods of economic uncertainty.

Chapter 6: Religious Nationalism: Ruby Ridge and the Militia Movement

In August 1992, a remote mountainside in northern Idaho became the site of a deadly confrontation that would galvanize the American far right and reshape the relationship between religious nationalism and government authority. Randy Weaver, a former Green Beret who had moved his family to Ruby Ridge to escape what he saw as a corrupt society, became embroiled in an 11-day standoff with federal agents that left three people dead—a U.S. marshal, Weaver's 14-year-old son Sammy, and his wife Vicki, who was shot while holding her infant daughter. The Weavers had embraced a religious worldview that combined elements of Christian Identity, a white supremacist theology, with apocalyptic beliefs about an imminent "end times." Like many who joined the survivalist movement in the 1980s, they saw themselves as modern Israelites, God's chosen people preparing for the coming tribulation. Their retreat to Ruby Ridge was part of a broader pattern of religious nationalism that viewed the federal government as illegitimate or even satanic—what extremists called the "Zionist Occupied Government" or ZOG. This perspective was nurtured by interpretations of biblical prophecy that cast the U.S. government as an agent of the Antichrist. The confrontation began when Weaver failed to appear in court on charges of selling illegal sawed-off shotguns to an undercover ATF agent. What should have been a routine arrest escalated dramatically when U.S. Marshals attempted to surveil the property and a shootout ensued. The FBI's Hostage Rescue Team was deployed with unprecedented "shoot-on-sight" rules of engagement that were later deemed unconstitutional. The siege ended only after the intervention of Bo Gritz, a former Green Beret and the Populist Party's presidential candidate, who negotiated Weaver's surrender. Ruby Ridge occurred against the backdrop of the Farm Crisis of the 1980s, which had devastated rural communities across America. As family farms foreclosed and rural economies collapsed, many farmers became receptive to conspiracy theories that blamed their plight on international bankers, the Federal Reserve, and shadowy elites. Groups like Posse Comitatus, which claimed that the county sheriff was the only legitimate law enforcement authority, gained traction in the heartland. These movements combined religious fervor with constitutional fundamentalism and often explicit white nationalism. The aftermath of Ruby Ridge proved significant for the growth of anti-government extremism. In October 1992, white supremacist leaders held a meeting in Estes Park, Colorado, where activists from across the far-right spectrum strategized about using Ruby Ridge to build a broader movement. They developed concepts like "leaderless resistance"—the idea that individuals or small cells should carry out acts of violence without central coordination to avoid infiltration. They also recognized Ruby Ridge's potential to attract mainstream conservatives concerned about government overreach, creating opportunities for coalition-building around issues like gun rights. Ruby Ridge transformed fringe religious nationalism into a more mainstream political force. The subsequent acquittal of Randy Weaver on most charges further validated anti-government sentiment. The incident demonstrated how religious identity, when fused with nationalism and grievance, could become a powerful force in American politics—a dynamic that would continue to shape the culture wars for decades to come. More immediately, it set the stage for the deadly confrontation at Waco, Texas, the following year and ultimately inspired Timothy McVeigh's 1995 bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma City, which killed 168 people. What began as a localized standoff in the Idaho wilderness thus became a catalyst for the deadliest act of domestic terrorism in American history prior to 9/11.

Chapter 7: The Perot Phenomenon: Billionaire Populism Challenges the System

In February 1992, a remarkable political phenomenon began when Texas billionaire H. Ross Perot appeared on Larry King Live and suggested he might run for president if citizens put him on the ballot in all fifty states. Within weeks, Perot's toll-free number was receiving 15,000 calls per hour, and volunteers across the country were collecting signatures to get him on the ballot. By June, Perot was leading both Bush and Clinton in three-way polls, with 39 percent support compared to 31 percent for Bush and 25 percent for Clinton. His unprecedented rise represented the most serious challenge to the two-party system in modern American history. Perot's appeal transcended traditional political boundaries. He presented himself as a no-nonsense businessman who could fix government the way he had built his computer services company, Electronic Data Systems (EDS). His folksy Texas manner, complete with homespun sayings and charts explaining the federal deficit, resonated with Americans frustrated by political gridlock and economic uncertainty. "The United States is the largest and most complex business enterprise in the history of mankind," he liked to say, suggesting that government should be run with business efficiency. Unlike traditional third-party candidates who emphasized ideological purity, Perot focused on competence and results. The billionaire's biography was central to his appeal. Born in Texarkana during the Depression, Perot had built EDS from nothing into a technology giant, becoming fabulously wealthy in the process. He had gained national attention in 1979 when he organized a private rescue mission to free two EDS employees imprisoned in revolutionary Iran—an adventure later dramatized in the book and TV miniseries On Wings of Eagles. This episode reinforced Perot's image as a man of action who could accomplish what government bureaucrats could not. His wealth also meant he could fund his own campaign, making him immune to special interest influence—a key selling point for voters disgusted with traditional politics. Perot's campaign attracted a diverse coalition. Many supporters were previously uninvolved in politics but felt called to action by his candidacy. Others had long histories of civic engagement but felt disgusted with the two-party system. A significant number were unemployed and had time to volunteer. While most identified as conservative or Republican, they also supported policies like national health insurance that crossed ideological lines. As one Fort Worth volunteer put it, "This is the silent majority coming out in force. They feel like they are part of something—they are not sure what, but something." The Perot phenomenon revealed deep public dissatisfaction with the political establishment. Polls showed that over two-thirds of Americans believed the country was on "the wrong track." A 1991 report prepared for the Kettering Foundation found that a large portion of the public no longer viewed America as a democracy, but as "a behemoth system spiraling dangerously beyond their control." Perot's candidacy channeled this discontent into a movement that threatened to upend the two-party system. His focus on the federal deficit—which had grown dramatically during the Reagan and Bush years—resonated with voters concerned about fiscal responsibility and intergenerational fairness. Though Perot would abruptly withdraw from the race in July (only to re-enter in October), his campaign demonstrated how a charismatic outsider could bypass traditional political gatekeepers by using television and grassroots organizing. His eventual 19 percent of the popular vote—the strongest third-party showing since Theodore Roosevelt in 1912—signaled that millions of Americans were willing to abandon the major parties in search of alternatives. The billionaire populist had revealed the fragility of America's political consensus at the end of the Cold War and established a template for future outsider candidates who would challenge the establishment by presenting themselves as successful businessmen untainted by political compromise.

Summary

The period from 1989 to 1992 represents a crucial turning point in American democracy, a moment when the post-Cold War triumph quickly gave way to internal fracture and disillusionment. The core narrative running through these years is one of institutional failure and popular revolt. As the Cold War consensus collapsed and economic recession took hold, traditional political structures and elites lost legitimacy in the eyes of many Americans. This created openings for figures like David Duke, Pat Buchanan, and Ross Perot, who channeled populist anger against the establishment and offered simplistic solutions to complex problems. Meanwhile, events like the Los Angeles riots and the Ruby Ridge standoff revealed deep divisions between communities and between citizens and their government. The legacy of this period continues to shape American politics today. The media revolution that elevated talk radio hosts like Rush Limbaugh permanently altered how political information is distributed and consumed, creating parallel information ecosystems that reinforce polarization. The paleoconservative rebellion within the Republican Party, with its emphasis on nationalism, anti-immigration sentiment, and cultural grievance, laid the groundwork for later populist movements. The economic anxieties that manifested as Japan-bashing in the early 1990s would later find new targets in China, immigrants, and global trade agreements. Most importantly, the politics of resentment that emerged during these years—the sense that America was in decline, that elites had betrayed ordinary citizens, and that radical measures were needed to "take the country back"—has become a recurring feature of our political landscape. Understanding this period helps us recognize how economic anxiety can transform into cultural and racial resentment, how media can amplify extremist voices, and how democratic institutions can be undermined from within when citizens lose faith in their legitimacy and effectiveness.

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John Ganz

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