4. Heroes and Villains of the Globalization Era: The 1992 Election and the Beginning of the Clinton Presidency

My Name is Tim Russert: Political Journalist and NBC Washington Bureau Chief

I was born in Buffalo, New York, on May 7, 1950. I grew up in a working-class Catholic family where faith, family, school, sports, and responsibility mattered. My father, whom we called Big Russ, had served in World War II and worked hard to provide for us. Buffalo never really left me. No matter how many senators, presidents, and presidential candidates I eventually interviewed, I tried to remember that politics ultimately mattered because its decisions affected families sitting around kitchen tables.

Law, Politics, and an Unexpected Career

I graduated from John Carroll University and earned a law degree from Cleveland-Marshall College of Law. Journalism wasn't my original destination. I entered politics instead, working on Daniel Patrick Moynihan's U.S. Senate campaigns and later serving as his chief of staff. I subsequently worked for New York Governor Mario Cuomo. Those experiences gave me an education you couldn't get from a textbook: I saw how politicians prepared arguments, handled pressure, worked with reporters, and made decisions.

Walking Into NBC

In 1984, I joined NBC News. I eventually became the network's Washington bureau chief, which put me at the center of American political journalism. But I hadn't forgotten what I learned working inside government. Politicians arrive at interviews prepared with talking points. So my responsibility was to arrive even better prepared—with their speeches, voting records, previous interviews, statistics, and sometimes their own words sitting right in front of me.

Meet the Press

In 1991, I became moderator of Meet the Press. The program had been interviewing America's political leaders since 1947, and I understood the responsibility that came with that desk. My approach wasn't complicated: do your homework, ask a clear question, listen carefully to the answer, and follow up when the answer doesn't address the question. NBC continues to describe Meet the Press as one of its principal news broadcasts devoted to helping audiences understand important events.

Watching the Election of 1992

Then came one fascinating election. President George H. W. Bush was seeking reelection, Bill Clinton emerged from a competitive Democratic primary, and businessman Ross Perot mounted a major independent campaign. My job wasn't to tell Americans whom to support. It was to examine what these candidates said, compare promises with records, and press them on the questions voters wanted answered. With the Cold War ending, domestic concerns such as the economy and federal deficit occupied prominent places in the campaign.

The Whiteboard and Election Nights

Politics could become complicated very quickly, but I always believed journalists should make it understandable. That philosophy eventually produced one of the moments people remembered most about me. On election night in 2000, with the presidency coming down to Florida, I used a little whiteboard to write the words "Florida Florida Florida." Sometimes political journalism needs thousands of pages of research. Sometimes three words tell viewers exactly where to look.

Presidents in the Hot Seat

Over the years, I interviewed presidents, candidates, senators, governors, diplomats, and political strategists from across the ideological spectrum. I tried to make preparation my advantage. An interview wasn't supposed to be about showing how smart the interviewer was. The audience needed information. The guest had answers—or sometimes avoided giving them—and my responsibility was to keep asking until viewers could better understand the issue for themselves.

America Enters the First Post-Cold War Presidential Election - Told by Tim Russert

America entered the 1992 presidential election in a position no voter had experienced in decades. Think about what had just happened. The Berlin Wall had fallen. Communist governments across Eastern Europe had collapsed. The Soviet Union itself ceased to exist in December 1991. The Cold War that had shaped American presidential politics for generations was over. Suddenly, Americans faced an unusual question: What should the United States worry about now?

From Victory Abroad to Trouble at Home

If you had watched President George H. W. Bush immediately after the Gulf War, you might have thought the 1992 election was already decided. In March 1991, Gallup measured his job approval at an extraordinary 89 percent. American forces had participated in a coalition that drove Iraqi forces from Kuwait, and Bush was presiding over the final months of the Cold War. But here's the lesson every political reporter learns: a year is an eternity in politics. By July 1992, Gallup measured Bush's approval at just 29 percent.

The Economy Moves to Center Stage

What happened? Americans started looking closer to home. The United States had entered a recession in July 1990. Although the recession officially ended in March 1991, many families continued to feel economic insecurity as the recovery developed. In Gallup's surveys during 1992, only 12 percent of Americans, on average, described economic conditions as excellent or good, while 42 percent called them poor. Whatever the economic statistics said about recovery, a substantial part of the electorate remained dissatisfied.

An Incumbent Faces Trouble Inside His Own Party

There was another warning sign for Bush: opposition from fellow Republicans. Conservative commentator Pat Buchanan challenged him for the Republican nomination. Buchanan attacked Bush particularly over the 1990 budget agreement that included tax increases after Bush had campaigned in 1988 on his pledge against new taxes. Bush remained the Republican nominee, but the challenge revealed disagreements within the Republican coalition as the party entered the post-Reagan, post-Cold War era.

The Democrats Search for Their Candidate

Now turn to the Democrats. They had lost three consecutive presidential elections—in 1980, 1984, and 1988—and entered 1992 searching for a candidate capable of returning the party to the White House. Arkansas Governor Bill Clinton competed against several Democrats, including former Massachusetts senator Paul Tsongas. The primaries weren't merely a contest between personalities. Democrats were also debating economic policy and what direction their party should take in a country no longer dominated by Cold War politics.

Then Along Came Ross Perot

And just when you thought you understood the election, Texas businessman Ross Perot arrived. Perot wasn't a Republican nominee or a Democratic nominee. He presented himself as an independent alternative and focused intensely on the federal deficit, national debt, trade, government efficiency, and political reform. His candidacy turned what Americans normally expected to be a two-party presidential contest into an unusual three-way race.

A Different Kind of Election

This is what made 1992 so fascinating from a reporter's chair. Americans weren't simply choosing between candidates. They were debating what issues should define the country after the Cold War. Bush could point to enormous international changes during his presidency. Clinton emphasized domestic economic concerns and change. Perot argued that Washington's financial and political systems required major reform. Voters heard three substantially different presentations of America's problems and priorities.

Now Ask the Next Question

That's where I'd tell every student to stop and look closely. How could a president whose approval rating had reached 89 percent find himself fighting a difficult reelection campaign little more than a year later? The answer reminds us why elections must be studied in their own historical moment. Foreign-policy achievements, economic conditions, public perceptions, party divisions, new candidates, and changing national priorities can all reshape political circumstances remarkably quickly. In 1992, America wasn't merely entering another presidential election. It was holding its first presidential election of the post-Cold War age.

My Name is Pat Buchanan: Republican Presidential Candidate and Commentator

I was born in Washington, D.C., on November 2, 1938. Politics was never some distant spectacle to me; Washington was my hometown. I grew up in a large Catholic family, attended Gonzaga College High School, and later studied English and philosophy at Georgetown University before earning a master's degree in journalism from Columbia University. I was argumentative, competitive, deeply interested in history, and attracted to conservative ideas long before television cameras knew my name.

I Picked Up a Pen

At 23, I went to work for the St. Louis Globe-Democrat as an editorial writer. I discovered that an editorial page could be a battlefield of ideas. I wrote forcefully about politics, communism, American power, and the great arguments dividing the country. I did not believe a columnist's job was merely to describe the fight. I wanted to enter it. Before long, that ambition carried me from journalism directly into national politics.

Into Nixon's Arena

In 1965, I arranged a meeting with former Vice President Richard Nixon. He was preparing one of the great political comebacks in American history, and I joined his operation in 1966. I became a speechwriter, political adviser, and loyal member of Nixon's team as he captured the presidency in 1968. I remained with him through campaigns, political battles, and eventually the Watergate era. Those years taught me how presidents communicate, how political coalitions are assembled, and how quickly political power can disappear.

Reagan and the Conservative Revolution

Years later, Ronald Reagan brought a conservative revolution to Washington. I had become a nationally known columnist and television commentator, but in 1985 I returned to the White House as Reagan's communications director. Reagan's presidency represented many principles I had spent years defending: opposition to Soviet communism, smaller government, lower taxes, a strong national defense, and social conservatism. But as the Cold War approached its end, I became convinced that America's political priorities needed to change.

Taking On a Republican President

By 1991, I believed President George H. W. Bush had moved away from important conservative commitments. His agreement to a budget containing tax increases became one of my central complaints, particularly after his famous 1988 pledge against new taxes. So I did something few political commentators ever attempt: I challenged a sitting president of my own party. I entered the 1992 Republican presidential primaries and took the fight directly to New Hampshire.

The New Hampshire Rebellion

The political establishment did not expect my campaign to threaten the president. But New Hampshire was suffering economically, and many voters were angry. I campaigned against tax increases while talking about unemployment, American manufacturing, trade, and what I saw as Washington's abandonment of working- and middle-class Americans. Bush won the New Hampshire Republican primary with about 58 percent, while I received about 40 percent—a showing contemporary reporting described as reflecting substantial dissatisfaction with the incumbent.

The Battles Continued

I did not capture the Republican nomination in 1992, but I was not finished with presidential politics. I sought the Republican nomination again in 1996 and later left the Republican Party temporarily to become the Reform Party's presidential nominee in 2000. Alongside campaigning, I spent decades writing books and columns and appearing on television, arguing for positions associated with nationalism, social conservatism, restrictions on immigration, skepticism toward free-trade agreements, and a more restrained American foreign policy.

Looking Back at the Arguments

I spent my public life fighting political battles, and my rhetoric and positions repeatedly generated intense criticism, including accusations of prejudice and bigotry that I disputed. Looking back, I would tell students not simply to accept my arguments—or those of my critics. Examine the evidence, understand the historical circumstances, and decide for yourselves. Political combat can make people speak as though every opponent is an enemy. If my words sometimes wounded people or reduced complicated human beings to political targets, that is something worth regretting. But the larger lesson of my career is that democracy depends upon citizens who are willing to investigate arguments, challenge their leaders, and think independently.

Republican Discontent and Buchanan's Challenge - Told by Pat Buchanan

By late 1991, George H. W. Bush was president of the United States, commander in chief during the Gulf War, and the man who had occupied the White House while the Soviet Union collapsed. And I was a conservative columnist and television commentator who had never held elected office. On paper, this shouldn't have been much of a contest. But presidential primaries aren't held on paper. I believed a revolt was developing inside the Republican Party, and I intended to give it a candidate.

"Read My Lips" Comes Back

To understand my campaign, go back to the 1988 Republican National Convention. George Bush had made an unmistakable campaign promise against new taxes. Then came the 1990 budget agreement with congressional Democrats, which included tax increases. I regarded that agreement as a serious abandonment of conservative principles. When I entered the race, I made Bush's broken tax pledge one of the central issues of my campaign. My advertisements repeatedly reminded New Hampshire voters of what Bush had promised and what had subsequently happened.

The Cold War Was Over—What Came Next?

There was a larger argument developing as well. For decades, Republicans had been united by opposition to Soviet communism. Now the Soviet Union was disappearing. I argued that conservatism needed to concentrate more heavily on problems at home. I was increasingly skeptical of extensive American commitments overseas and concerned about international trade, manufacturing jobs, immigration, government spending, and America's economic direction. These positions would become increasingly associated with my later presidential campaigns.

Then I Went to New Hampshire

If you want to challenge a sitting president, New Hampshire is where you make your stand. The state was hurting economically. Contemporary reporting described deep anger over the recession, unemployment, taxes, and Washington's response. Even Republican officials supporting Bush acknowledged the intensity of the economic dissatisfaction. So I traveled through New Hampshire arguing that Republicans could either accept the direction of their own administration or challenge it.

Suddenly, the White House Was Paying Attention

At first, my candidacy could be dismissed as a commentator making noise. Then the polls tightened, my advertisements filled New Hampshire television screens, and the president's campaign began responding aggressively. Bush returned to campaign in the state, while his supporters defended his economic program and record. I interpreted all that attention as evidence that our challenge was being taken seriously. The White House, naturally, presented things differently. That was politics: each side trying to explain the same events to voters before the other fellow did.

February 18, 1992

Primary night finally arrived. I did not defeat President Bush. He won New Hampshire and continued toward renomination. But my showing was large enough to demonstrate substantial opposition within the Republican electorate. It was especially striking because I was challenging an incumbent president who only the previous year had enjoyed extraordinary popularity following the Gulf War. The Republican primary had become a genuine political fight rather than the uncontested renomination many might have expected.

The Argument Was Bigger Than One Primary

Bush ultimately won the Republican nomination, and my campaign did not remove him from the ticket. But the contest revealed disagreements that would continue within American conservatism: free trade versus economic nationalism, international engagement versus greater restraint abroad, and disputes over taxes, spending, immigration, and the relationship between Republican leaders and working-class voters. Those arguments did not disappear when the primary ended.

What Students Should Notice

Now, don't study this episode by simply deciding that I was right or Bush was right. Look at what happened. A president coming off major foreign-policy successes encountered serious unrest within his own party when attention shifted toward taxes and economic conditions at home. My rhetoric could be harsh, and throughout my public career critics challenged both my language and some of my positions; there were times when greater restraint would have served political debate better. But 1992 demonstrates something important about American elections: sometimes the candidate who loses a primary can still expose disagreements that tell us where a political party—and perhaps the country—is beginning to change.

My Name is Paul Tsongas: Democratic Presidential Candidate and U.S. Senator

I was born in Lowell, Massachusetts, in 1941. My father was Greek American, and my mother came from a Greek family as well. Lowell was an old industrial city, and growing up there taught me something important: communities depend upon jobs, businesses, workers, and institutions that can survive from one generation to the next. I attended Dartmouth College and later Yale Law School, but some of my most important lessons came from serving overseas with the Peace Corps in Ethiopia. Public service became the direction of my life.

From Lowell to Washington

I entered local politics in Lowell before winning election to Congress in 1974. Four years later, I challenged Republican Senator Edward Brooke and defeated him, sending me to the United States Senate. I was a Democrat, but I never believed every problem could be solved simply by spending more federal money. Government had responsibilities, but so did businesses, communities, and individuals. Environmental protection mattered to me, but so did energy production and economic growth. Politics, as I saw it, required dealing with the world as it actually existed.

A Battle I Never Expected

Then life changed the argument. I was diagnosed with cancer—non-Hodgkin lymphoma—and suddenly political ambition seemed considerably less important. In 1984, I chose not to seek reelection to the Senate. My family needed me, and I needed them. My illness forced me to think about what mattered beyond elections and titles. Eventually my health improved, and I began considering whether I still had something to contribute to the country's political debate.

An Economic Warning

By the beginning of the 1990s, I was increasingly concerned about America's economic future. I believed Democrats needed to think seriously about investment, manufacturing, entrepreneurship, international competition, and the federal deficit. Before running for president, I laid out much of that philosophy in A Call to Economic Arms. One of my former Senate aides later recalled that I approached prospective presidential candidates with these ideas before ultimately deciding to enter the race myself.

Running for President

In 1991, I announced that I would seek the Democratic nomination for president. I wasn't interested in promising every audience everything it wanted. I argued that America could not indefinitely consume more than it produced or promise government programs without considering how they would be financed. Bill Clinton emerged as my principal opponent during the early contests, and our competition represented, among other things, different approaches to economic policy and political strategy within the Democratic Party.

Victory in New Hampshire

New Hampshire gave my campaign its great moment. In February 1992, I won the Democratic primary there, while Clinton finished second. Suddenly, the former senator from Massachusetts whom many Americans barely knew was a serious participant in the presidential contest. But presidential campaigns are long exercises in organization, fundraising, delegate mathematics, and persuasion. Clinton recovered, accumulated delegates across subsequent contests, and I eventually withdrew from the race.

Politics After the Campaign

Losing the nomination did not mean abandoning the ideas that had brought me into the campaign. I continued arguing that Democrats could support social programs and environmental protection while also paying attention to entrepreneurship, balanced finances, investment, and economic growth. My political career had never fit perfectly into convenient ideological categories. I preferred asking whether a policy could actually work rather than whether it satisfied every expectation of a political faction.

The Race I Could Not Win

Cancer eventually returned, and on January 18, 1997, I died at the age of 55. Looking back, there were certainly moments when my confidence in an argument could become impatience with people who disagreed with me. Politics has a way of convincing people that being certain and being correct are the same thing. If I could leave students with one thought, it would be this: don't judge an idea merely by whether a Democrat or Republican proposes it. Ask what it costs, whom it helps, what consequences it might create, and whether the evidence supports it. A democracy needs convictions, but it also needs citizens willing to question their own.

The Democratic Field Searches for a New Direction - Told by Paul Tsongas

When Democrats looked toward the 1992 election, we had a problem bigger than choosing a candidate. Our party had lost three presidential elections in a row—1980, 1984, and 1988. Now the Cold War was ending, America was struggling through the aftermath of a recession, and Democrats had to decide what kind of party we intended to be. Bill Clinton, Tom Harkin, Bob Kerrey, Jerry Brown, Douglas Wilder, and I were among those who entered or initially participated in that conversation. We shared a party label, but that certainly didn't mean we agreed about everything.

It's the Economy—but What Do We Do About It?

For me, economics came first. I had watched American industries compete against increasingly formidable companies from Japan, Germany, and elsewhere, and I believed Democrats had to stop treating business as though economic growth happened automatically. I emphasized investment, manufacturing, entrepreneurship, fiscal restraint, and reducing the federal deficit. Clinton also emphasized economic growth and investment but presented his own combination of government investment, middle-class policies, welfare reform, and fiscal responsibility. By the convention, the Democratic platform was explicitly calling for economic growth while rejecting both laissez-faire government and older assumptions that increased government spending alone could produce prosperity.

Abortion Moves to the Forefront

There was another major difference between the parties in 1992: abortion. Roe v. Wade was nearly twenty years old, but its future remained intensely contested. My position was clear. During a Democratic debate, I said that Roe was the law of the land and should remain so. Clinton likewise supported abortion rights. The Democratic platform eventually supported a woman's right to choose consistent with Roe, contraception and family planning, while stating the goal of making abortion “legal, safe, and rare” and that citizens should have more support to create families, saying "Because governments don't raise children; parents do." The Republican platform took the opposing position, supporting constitutional protection for unborn children and restrictions on public funding for abortion.

Gay Rights—and an Important 1992 Distinction

Same-sex marriage would become a much larger national political issue later. In 1992, Democratic politics concentrated more heavily on discrimination and whether gay Americans should be permitted to serve openly in the military. Clinton was against gay marriage and stated many times that “marriage is between a man and a woman.” Later reaffirming his stance while passing the Defense of Marriage Age (DOMO) said this: "I have long opposed governmental recognition of same-gender marriages". The Democratic platform called for civil-rights protections for gay men and lesbians and an end to Defense Department discrimination. The Republican platform opposed extending certain protected legal status based on sexual orientation and explicitly opposed legal recognition of same-sex marriages.

A Party Trying to Change

Put those arguments together and you can see something happening inside the Democratic Party. The eventual platform spoke favorably about free enterprise and market forces while simultaneously supporting government investment, abortion rights, gay and lesbian civil rights, universal access to affordable health care, environmental protection, and welfare reform. It even declared that government needed to become more efficient, flexible, and results-oriented. Democrats weren't abandoning government; they were debating how it should operate in a changing economy.

Then Came New Hampshire

I believed my economic message could compete, and New Hampshire gave me the opportunity to prove it. I won the February 18 Democratic primary there, with Clinton finishing second. But Clinton survived that defeat and continued campaigning across the country. That's something students should remember about presidential primaries: one state can transform a campaign, but it rarely settles the argument. Candidates need delegates, money, organization, and victories across very different regions and groups of voters.

The Party Chooses Clinton

Eventually, Clinton accumulated the delegates necessary to become our nominee, and I withdrew in March. My presidential campaign was over, but the larger Democratic argument wasn't. By the summer convention, the party had assembled a platform that attempted to combine economic growth and private enterprise with traditional Democratic commitments to social programs and expanded civil rights.

Look Beyond the Labels

If I were teaching this election today, I'd tell you not to reduce 1992 to "liberal versus conservative." Read what the candidates actually proposed. Compare their positions on deficits, business, taxes, abortion, gay rights, welfare, trade, and government investment. I could sometimes become so absorbed in policy details and economic arguments that I failed to communicate them as effectively as politics requires. But that's another lesson from 1992: elections aren't merely contests over personalities. They can also reveal political parties trying to decide what they believe—and what they want to become.

Tsongas, Clinton, and the Battle for the Democratic Nomination - Told by Tsongas

By early 1992, Bill Clinton and I had emerged as two important competitors for the Democratic presidential nomination, but don't make the mistake of thinking we were offering Democrats the same economic program. We weren't. Clinton emphasized helping middle-class families through targeted tax relief, education, training, and public investment. I put greater emphasis on private investment, business competitiveness, manufacturing, savings, and confronting the federal deficit. Clinton wanted to convince Americans government could help families prosper. I wanted Democrats to recognize that without productive businesses creating wealth and jobs, there would eventually be less wealth available to accomplish the party's social goals. Contemporary reporting described this as one of the fundamental differences between our economic approaches.

The Middle-Class Tax Cut Divides Us

Here was one of our clearest disagreements. Clinton proposed cutting taxes for middle-income Americans while increasing taxes on higher-income households. I opposed his middle-class tax cut. My argument was straightforward: with a large federal deficit and an economy needing investment, Washington shouldn't promise voters another tax reduction simply because it sounded attractive. I wanted scarce resources directed toward investment and job creation instead. Clinton answered that middle-class Americans had carried too much of the tax burden and deserved relief. That wasn't a minor disagreement—it represented two different ideas about where limited federal resources should go.

Factories or Families? That Was Too Simple

Clinton increasingly portrayed our differences as a question of whom economic policy should help first. He emphasized what economists call human capital: education, training, workers, and opportunities for middle-class families. I emphasized physical capital: factories, machinery, technology, and productive businesses. I supported investment incentives and a broader long-term capital-gains tax reduction designed to encourage investment. Clinton supported more narrowly targeted capital-gains incentives, particularly for investment in new businesses, and argued that my approach provided too much benefit to investors. I countered that productive investment was precisely what created the jobs workers needed.

I Wanted Democrats to Talk About Business

This difference went deeper than taxes. I deliberately called myself pro-business. I proposed investment incentives, changes to certain corporate regulations, adjustments to antitrust policy, and other measures intended to strengthen American companies competing internationally. Clinton also supported business growth, but he placed greater emphasis on government acting as a catalyst through infrastructure, education, training, technology, and targeted incentives. My experience rebuilding Lowell, Massachusetts, had convinced me that private investment and productive companies had to come first if declining industrial communities were going to recover.

Even Energy Exposed Our Differences

We also disagreed about energy. I supported conservation and renewable energy, but I was willing to consider federal cooperation with industry in developing newer nuclear-power technology. I also supported gradually increasing the gasoline tax as a way to encourage conservation, finance transportation improvements, and reduce dependence on petroleum. Clinton opposed my gasoline-tax approach and argued that it would place additional costs on ordinary families. Once again, our disagreement reflected a broader difference: I was more willing to tell voters that solving long-term economic problems might require accepting immediate costs.

Then New Hampshire Put Me Ahead

On February 18, I won the New Hampshire Democratic primary. Clinton finished second but successfully portrayed his performance as evidence that his campaign had survived the controversies surrounding it. From there, the battle moved across the country. Clinton proved especially successful at building support among lower-income voters and across the South, while exit polling repeatedly showed me doing better among more affluent voters. As the contest continued, Clinton accumulated victories and delegates that I could not match.

The Numbers Finally Decide It

After Clinton defeated me decisively in Illinois and Michigan on March 17, I suspended my campaign two days later. But I didn't simply abandon my economic arguments. My supporters continued pressing Democrats to reconsider the middle-class tax cut, adopt stronger deficit controls, and support broader investment incentives. Even as the Democratic convention approached, Clinton's representatives and mine were still disagreeing over capital gains, taxation, and deficit reduction.

Where Clinton and I Did Agree

For all those disagreements, we weren't opposites. Both of us believed America's economic difficulties were deeper than a temporary recession. Both supported free trade, greater economic growth, investment, research and technology, and a government role in strengthening American competitiveness. We also shared many Democratic positions on social issues. By the convention, I supported Clinton's election even while publicly repeating my disagreement with his proposed middle-class tax cut. The important lesson isn't that one of us represented business and the other didn't. It is that two Democrats could agree about many of America's problems while arguing intensely over how to solve them—and in 1992, Democratic voters ultimately chose Clinton's approach and coalition to carry into the general election.

My Name is Ross Perot: Independent Presidential Candidate and Businessman

I was born in Texarkana, Texas, in 1930. I grew up believing that if something needed doing, you rolled up your sleeves and got to work. I attended the United States Naval Academy and served in the Navy before entering the business world. The Navy reinforced lessons that stayed with me: prepare carefully, accept responsibility, and don't spend all day explaining why a job can't be done. Find a way to do it.

Building a Business

After leaving the Navy, I became a salesman for IBM. I learned computers when computers were enormous machines understood by relatively few people, and I saw an opportunity. In 1962, I founded Electronic Data Systems, better known as EDS. We helped businesses and government agencies manage their computer systems and information. The company grew dramatically. I became wealthy, but money was never particularly interesting to me simply sitting in an account. What interested me was solving difficult problems.

Americans in Trouble

That attitude sometimes took me far outside the boardroom. I became involved in efforts concerning American prisoners of war during the Vietnam era. Later, when two EDS employees were imprisoned in Iran in 1978, I backed an effort led by retired Army Colonel Arthur "Bull" Simons to get them home. Experiences like these strengthened my belief that leaders should take responsibility when the people depending upon them are in trouble.

Looking at Washington

By the early 1990s, I looked at the federal government and saw problems that, to a businessman, seemed impossible to ignore. The national debt was growing, annual deficits were enormous, and many Americans believed Washington wasn't listening. My argument was straightforward: you cannot continually spend more money than you bring in and pretend there will never be consequences. During the 1992 debates, I repeatedly compared federal finances with the basic financial realities faced by businesses and families.

An Independent Runs for President

In 1992, people around the country began organizing an effort to put my name on the presidential ballot. I wasn't running as a Republican or a Democrat. I argued that the political system had become too influenced by lobbyists, political action committees, professional politicians, and special interests. I wanted citizens to have more direct access to information, even proposing what I called electronic town halls so Americans could become more involved in major national decisions.

Out, Back In, and Onto the Debate Stage

My campaign wasn't exactly a straight line. I withdrew from the presidential race in July and returned in October—a decision that drew substantial criticism and raised questions about my campaign. But when I returned, I joined President George H. W. Bush and Governor Bill Clinton in the presidential debates. I brought charts, statistics, business language, and a simple message: Washington needed to get its financial house in order.

Nearly One-Fifth of the Vote

I didn't win the presidency. Bill Clinton did. But almost 19.7 million Americans voted for me—18.91 percent of the popular vote according to the Federal Election Commission. I received no electoral votes, but the result demonstrated the substantial constituency that existed for an independent candidacy centered on deficits, political reform, and dissatisfaction with the two major parties.

I Wasn't Finished

I continued speaking against federal deficits and strongly opposed the North American Free Trade Agreement. I founded the Reform Party and ran for president again in 1996. I never became president, but I continued trying to force issues such as debt, deficits, trade, and government reform into national discussion. I died in Dallas on July 9, 2019, at the age of 89.

Ross Perot Shakes Up the Election - Told by Ross Perot

In February 1992, I wasn't standing behind a podium announcing a presidential campaign. I was sitting across from Larry King on television. He asked whether I would run for president, and I put the responsibility back on the American people: if ordinary citizens organized themselves and got my name on the ballot in all 50 states, I was willing to run. Well, guess what happened? People started organizing. Telephone lines lit up, volunteers appeared around the country, and suddenly a Texas businessman who belonged to neither major party was becoming part of the presidential election.

"You Own This Country"

My message was built around a businessman's way of looking at government. I argued that the American people were the owners of the country and elected officials were their employees. The federal government was running large budget deficits, the national debt had grown dramatically, and I believed Washington was postponing difficult decisions. I wanted voters looking at the numbers themselves. Government wasn't exactly like a corporation or household, of course, but I used business comparisons because I wanted complicated financial problems explained in language ordinary Americans could understand.

An Army of Volunteers Appears

Here's what made our campaign unusual: we didn't begin with the machinery of the Republican or Democratic parties. Volunteers had to navigate state election laws, collect signatures, establish organizations, and qualify me for ballots across the country. This was happening while President George H. W. Bush and the Democrats were running conventional campaigns. By early June, a Washington Post-ABC News poll even showed me running even with or ahead of Bush and Bill Clinton. Nobody knew where this thing was going.

Charts, Deficits, and Electronic Town Halls

I wasn't interested in giving voters nothing but thirty-second slogans. I talked about the deficit, debt, jobs, trade, Social Security, and government reform. I also proposed using technology to create what I called electronic town halls, allowing citizens to become more directly involved in major national questions. Some people liked my businessman's approach; others questioned whether running a government could really be compared with running a company. That's exactly the kind of argument an independent candidacy could put on the table.

Then I Quit

And then, on July 16, I stunned nearly everybody. I announced that I was leaving the presidential race. At the time, I said I had concluded that I could not win and that continuing might disrupt the political process. My campaign organization had also experienced internal turmoil, and my polling support had fallen from its earlier heights. Volunteers who had worked for months to get me onto ballots were understandably angry and disappointed.

Then I Came Back

But those volunteers didn't simply disappear, and neither did my name from the political conversation. On October 1, I announced that I was reentering the race. Now there were only weeks until Election Day. I would have to compete against an incumbent president and the Democratic nominee while rebuilding a campaign I had personally interrupted. It was unconventional, messy, and unlike anything the two major parties were doing.

Taking the Stage With Bush and Clinton

Then came something extraordinarily important for an independent candidate: the presidential debates. I stood on the same stage as President Bush and Governor Clinton and argued directly with them over the economy, federal spending, trade, and the direction of the country. My campaign also purchased lengthy television programs in which I used charts and graphs to explain my economic arguments. The Federal Election Commission later reported that my independent campaign spent $64.7 million in the general election, without accepting public financing.

What Had We Shaken Up?

On Election Day, I didn't win a single electoral vote. But 19,742,267 Americans voted for me—18.91 percent of the national popular vote. Clinton received 43.01 percent and Bush 37.45 percent. Historians continue to examine what my candidacy meant and how my supporters might otherwise have voted, so students shouldn't simply assume that my presence alone determined the winner. What we can say is that nearly one voter in five selected an independent candidate. My withdrawal and return deserved criticism, and I could have handled that episode far better. But 1992 demonstrated something worth remembering: even outside the two major parties, a candidate could force national attention onto issues and voters who believed the political system wasn't adequately hearing them.

The Conventions and the Three-Way Race - Told by Tim Russert

By the summer of 1992, the primaries had done their work. Bill Clinton had emerged from the Democratic field, and President George H. W. Bush had defeated Pat Buchanan's Republican challenge. Normally, this is when a presidential campaign becomes fairly straightforward: two nominees, two conventions, two running mates, one election. But 1992 wasn't going to cooperate. Ross Perot had attracted millions of Americans to an independent movement, and for a time the country appeared headed toward a genuine three-way contest. Then, just as the Democrats gathered in New York, Perot delivered a political shock.

Clinton Makes an Unusual Choice

Before the Democratic convention, Clinton had to choose a running mate. On July 9, he selected Tennessee Senator Al Gore. That was interesting because presidential nominees often chose running mates who provided geographic or ideological contrast. Clinton and Gore were both relatively young Southern Democrats. The campaign instead emphasized their similarities as evidence of a new generation of Democratic leadership. The Democratic National Convention opened at Madison Square Garden on July 13. (presidency.ucsb.edu)

Then Perot Drops a Bombshell

Now imagine you're covering the Democratic convention on July 16. Clinton is preparing to deliver the biggest speech of his political career—and Ross Perot announces that he is withdrawing from the election. Perot said that both major parties were now addressing issues important to his supporters and argued that he did not want the election thrown into the House of Representatives if no candidate won an Electoral College majority. Suddenly, the three-way contest appeared to be over. (presidency.ucsb.edu)

Clinton Takes the Stage

That evening, Clinton formally accepted the Democratic nomination. His speech concentrated heavily on domestic concerns and presented his candidacy as a change in direction after twelve years of Republican presidents. The convention also attempted to reunite Democrats after the primaries: Clinton publicly acknowledged Paul Tsongas, Jerry Brown, Tom Harkin, Bob Kerrey, and Douglas Wilder. The political effect was substantial. American Presidency Project data calculate Clinton's post-convention polling "bounce" at 16 percentage points, unusually large by historical standards. (presidency.ucsb.edu) (presidency.ucsb.edu)

Republicans Gather in Houston

One month later, Republicans met in Houston from August 17 through August 20. Bush was renominated, with Vice President Dan Quayle again as his running mate. The convention defended the administration's record, including its foreign-policy achievements, while arguing for lower taxes, reduced regulation, controlled reductions in defense spending, and other Republican priorities. But the convention also displayed the party's internal ideological debates. Pat Buchanan, who had challenged Bush during the primaries, delivered a prominent address emphasizing social and cultural issues before declaring his support for Bush. (presidency.ucsb.edu)

Bush Tries to Turn the Race Around

When Bush accepted the nomination on August 20, he faced a campaign very different from the one he might have imagined after the Gulf War. Foreign affairs remained part of his case for reelection, but economic concerns were dominating much of the campaign. Immediately after leaving Houston, Bush argued that the end of the Cold War and reduction of the nuclear threat were major accomplishments while attacking Clinton's economic program. The Republican convention produced a polling boost of its own, though American Presidency Project data calculate it at five points compared with Clinton's sixteen. (presidency.ucsb.edu)

Wait—Perot Isn't Finished

For weeks, the election looked like a conventional Clinton-versus-Bush contest. But reporters kept watching Perot and his supporters. Then, on October 1, Perot announced that he was returning to the campaign. Now the three-way race was back—with barely a month remaining before Election Day. Clinton-Gore faced Bush-Quayle, while Perot ran with retired Vice Admiral James Stockdale. (presidency.ucsb.edu)

Now Comes the Hard Part

From a journalist's chair, this is where things become fascinating. Conventions are carefully planned television events designed to introduce candidates, unify parties, and frame the choice voters will make. But campaigns refuse to follow scripts. Between July and October 1992, Clinton selected Gore, Perot withdrew, Democrats gathered in New York, Republicans gathered in Houston, and Perot jumped back into the contest. And now all three presidential candidates were headed toward the same stage. The debates were coming—and millions of Americans would finally see Bush, Clinton, and Perot standing together, answering the same questions.

The 1992 Presidential Debates - Told by Ross Perot

There I was: Ross Perot, a businessman from Texas who had never held public office, standing on the same presidential debate stage as the sitting president of the United States, George Bush, and the governor of Arkansas, Bill Clinton. I'd withdrawn from the campaign in July, returned in October, and only ten days later walked onto that stage. Now America wasn't hearing about me from somebody else. Voters could listen to all three of us, side by side, and decide what they thought for themselves.

October 11: Three Candidates Walk Onto the Stage

The first debate took place at Washington University in St. Louis on October 11. Jim Lehrer moderated, and approximately 62.4 million people watched. The first question came to me: What separated me from the other candidates? I pointed to the grassroots effort that had put me on ballots without the support of either major party. From there we battled over the federal deficit, taxes, jobs, health care, foreign affairs, and America's economic future. Bush defended his administration's record. Clinton argued for economic investment and change. I kept coming back to debt, deficits, and reforming Washington.

Three Very Different Economic Arguments

Listen carefully to those debates and you'll discover that we weren't offering the same medicine with different labels. President Bush emphasized controlling spending, lowering taxes, and defending parts of his administration's economic record. Clinton argued that America faced not only a budget deficit but shortages of investment, jobs, and income growth, and proposed combining investment with gradual deficit reduction. I wanted faster action against the deficit and argued that Americans needed to accept some difficult measures to bring federal finances under control. Those differences gave voters three distinct economic programs to examine.

October 15: The Voters Take Over

Four nights later, we met at the University of Richmond. This one was different—and historically significant. Instead of journalists asking every question, 209 uncommitted voters participated in a town-hall format moderated by ABC's Carole Simpson. Nearly 70 million people watched. Citizens questioned us about jobs, the national debt, health care, and other issues affecting their lives. One voter asked how the national debt had personally affected each of us and challenged us to explain how we could understand ordinary Americans' economic problems. Now the candidates weren't simply arguing with one another; citizens were confronting us directly.

Trade and That "Sucking Sound"

Trade became one of my most memorable arguments. I strongly opposed the proposed North American Free Trade Agreement, or NAFTA. I argued that differences in wages and operating costs could encourage companies to move production to Mexico, and I used the memorable phrase about a "giant sucking sound" of jobs moving south. Clinton supported pursuing the agreement with additional protections, while Bush supported NAFTA as an opportunity to expand trade. It became a major disagreement that continued well beyond the election.

October 19: One Last Round

The final debate came on October 19 at Michigan State University. By now we'd been questioning one another's economic assumptions, records, and credibility for more than a week. Jim Lehrer moderated again. Manufacturing, taxes, jobs, the deficit, foreign policy, and government management all came under discussion. Bush defended his economic and presidential record, Clinton argued that the country needed a different direction, and I continued making the case that neither major party had adequately confronted the government's fiscal problems. About 66.9 million viewers watched.

Three Debates, Three Choices

That's what made these debates unusual. In many presidential elections, voters watch the Democratic and Republican nominees confront each other. In 1992, they saw three candidates in all three presidential debates. I didn't have Bush's presidential experience or Clinton's years in elected office. They didn't have my background building private companies. Those differences didn't prove that any one of us had the correct answer, but they gave voters competing approaches to government, economics, trade, and leadership.

Now Look at What Happened

The debates didn't elect anybody by themselves. Campaign organizations, party loyalties, economic conditions, candidate records, advertising, and many other factors influenced voters. But for three nights, Americans could watch us answer many of the same questions under the same rules. I could be stubborn, and my confidence sometimes made complicated questions sound simpler than they really were. But here's what I'd want students to do with those debates today: don't rely on somebody else's description of what Bush, Clinton, or I believed. The transcripts still exist. Read them. Compare our claims with the evidence. That's one of the great advantages of studying an election after the shouting has stopped—you can go back and see what the candidates actually said.

Election Night: Clinton, Bush, and Perot - Told by Ross Perot

November 3, 1992. Election Day. After all the rallies, television programs, charts, debates, advertisements, arguments, withdrawals, and comebacks, there wasn't anything left for the three of us to do but wait. Bill Clinton wanted to return the Democrats to the White House after twelve years of Republican presidents. George Bush wanted four more years. And I wanted to find out just how many Americans were willing to walk past both major parties and vote for an independent businessman from Texas.

The Numbers Start Coming In

As polls closed across the country, television networks began filling their maps with results. Clinton was winning states that provided him with a substantial Electoral College advantage. Bush carried much of the South and several states in the Plains and Mountain West. I was receiving millions of votes across the country, but here's the thing about presidential elections: finishing second in a state doesn't earn you electoral votes in nearly every state. You generally have to finish first. I was getting plenty of votes—but I wasn't winning states.

America Chooses Clinton

By the end of the night, the result was clear. Bill Clinton had defeated President Bush. The final Electoral College count was 370 votes for Clinton and 168 for Bush. I received zero. But look at the popular vote and you see another part of the story. According to the Federal Election Commission's official compilation, Clinton received 44,909,889 votes, or 43.01 percent. Bush received 39,104,545, or 37.45 percent. And 19,742,267 Americans voted for me—18.91 percent.

Nearly Twenty Million Independent Votes

Think about that number: nearly 20 million people. Earlier in the year, some polls had even shown my support roughly even with Clinton and Bush, and a few surveys placed me ahead. Then I withdrew in July, reentered in October, participated in all three presidential debates, and finished with 18.9 percent of the popular vote. It was the largest percentage won by a non-major-party presidential candidate since Theodore Roosevelt's Progressive Party campaign in 1912.

But Not One Electoral Vote

Students sometimes look at 18.9 percent of the popular vote and ask: How did that produce zero electoral votes? Because presidential elections aren't decided by simply adding every vote nationally and awarding the presidency to whoever has the largest total. Electoral votes are awarded state by state, with nearly every state using a winner-take-all system. I didn't finish first in any state. Clinton did—and he won enough states to pass the 270 electoral votes required for victory.

Did Perot Cost Bush the Election?

Now here's a question you'll hear whenever people discuss 1992: Did I take enough votes from George Bush to elect Bill Clinton? Be careful. You cannot simply take my 19.7 million votes and hand them to Bush. My supporters were not automatically Republican voters, and analysts have debated where those votes would have gone in a two-candidate contest. The election results tell us exactly how people voted in the election that actually occurred; they cannot tell us with certainty how millions of individuals would have behaved in a hypothetical election without me.

A Remarkable Three-Way Election

The final numbers tell us something else. Clinton won the presidency with 43 percent of the popular vote because the vote was divided among several candidates, principally Clinton, Bush, and me. More than 104 million presidential votes were cast nationwide, representing about 55 percent of the voting-age population according to the FEC's compilation. The country had experienced a presidential contest unlike the usual two-candidate race.

The Campaign Ends, but the Questions Don't

I didn't become president. I didn't win a state. And withdrawing from the campaign and then returning was a decision I could have handled much better. But those nearly 20 million votes showed that a substantial number of Americans were willing to support an independent candidate campaigning heavily on deficits, debt, trade, and government reform. Clinton would now have to turn from campaigning to governing. Bush would prepare to leave the White House. And the questions raised during our strange three-way race—about debt, trade, political parties, and dissatisfaction with Washington—weren't going anywhere.

From Campaigning to Governing: The Presidential Transition - Told by Russert

Election night was over, but here's the first thing every political reporter knows: winning the presidency and running the presidency are two entirely different jobs. Bill Clinton had spent months explaining what he wanted America to do. Now he had only about eleven weeks before January 20, 1993, to start building an administration capable of doing it. Thousands of federal positions had to be considered, Cabinet officers selected, policies developed, relations with Congress established, and national-security responsibilities transferred from President George H. W. Bush. The campaign signs could come down. The governing had to begin.

America Still Had One President

Clinton understood something especially important about the transition. On November 4, the day after the election, he emphasized that the United States still had only one president: George Bush. That mattered because the world wasn't going to stop while America changed administrations. Negotiations over START II nuclear arms reductions were continuing. Russia's new democracy remained uncertain. War was raging in the former Yugoslavia, famine devastated Somalia, and Middle East diplomacy continued. Clinton publicly called for continuity in American foreign policy during the transition and said he would work with Bush on these issues.

Building a Government in Little Rock

Here's an unusual sight: the next American government was being assembled not in Washington but largely from Little Rock, Arkansas. Clinton's transition organization began examining candidates for departments and White House positions while reporters tried to discover who was getting which job. Presidential-library records show transition work involving everything from Treasury and Education to Justice, the National Security Council, the Office of Management and Budget, and presidential personnel. A campaign organization built to win votes was gradually being transformed into an organization built to operate the executive branch.

Who Gets a Seat at the Table?

Cabinet appointments tell you a great deal about an incoming president's priorities. On December 10, Clinton announced Senator Lloyd Bentsen as his choice for Treasury secretary and Robert Rubin for a new White House economic-policy coordinating role. Clinton said his economic officials would work as a team and announced the creation of a National Economic Council modeled in some respects on the coordinating role of the National Security Council. The message was unmistakable: the economy that had dominated the election would also dominate the opening of the administration.

An Economic Summit in Arkansas

Clinton did something else before taking office. In December, he gathered business leaders, economists, labor representatives, and others in Little Rock for an economic conference. Instead of waiting until inauguration to begin discussing policy, the president-elect used the transition to examine unemployment, deficits, investment, productivity, and economic growth. Clinton later remembered those meetings as an important part of developing his administration's economic strategy.

Campaign Promises Meet Washington

This is where reporters start asking harder questions. During a campaign, candidates can say, "Here's what I'm going to do." A president has to answer: How much will it cost? Will Congress pass it? Which department will administer it? What happens if conditions change? Clinton himself acknowledged shortly after the election that America's economic problems had not developed overnight and wouldn't disappear overnight. He said he needed to assemble an economic team and present Congress with an aggressive program.

The Clock Reaches January 20

And then the transition clock ran out. On January 20, 1993, Bill Clinton became the 42nd president of the United States. The campaign headquarters had produced a White House. Advisers became administration officials. Promises became proposed policies. Reporters who had spent months asking, "Can Clinton win?" now had a different question: "What will President Clinton actually do?" That's the fascinating thing about a presidential transition. Election Day tells you who gets the job. The months and years afterward tell you what that person does with it.

The First Months of the Clinton Presidency - Told by Tim Russert and Paul Tsongas

Tim Russert: January 20, 1993. Bill Clinton takes the oath of office as America's 42nd president, and suddenly the campaign promises have to survive contact with Washington. Democrats controlled both houses of Congress, but that didn't mean Clinton could simply send Capitol Hill a wish list and expect it back with a presidential signing pen attached. His administration immediately faced questions about the economy, federal deficit, health care, taxes, family leave, military policy, and the size and responsibilities of government. For a political reporter, the question had changed overnight from "What does Clinton promise?" to "What can President Clinton actually accomplish?"

A Bill Reaches the President's Desk

Paul Tsongas: And one of the first answers came quickly. On February 5, Clinton signed the Family and Medical Leave Act. It generally required covered employers with 50 or more employees to provide eligible workers as much as 12 weeks of unpaid, job-protected leave for qualifying family or medical reasons. Similar legislation had been vetoed during the Bush administration. Clinton had supported family leave during the campaign, and now, barely two weeks into his presidency, it became law. Whether one agreed with the policy or worried about requirements placed on employers, this demonstrated an important difference between campaigning and governing: now Clinton's signature changed federal law.

Then Clinton Opens the Books

Tim Russert: Now comes the big one—the economy. Clinton had campaigned on economic change, but after taking office his administration confronted deficit projections that affected what it believed it could afford. On February 17, Clinton went before a joint session of Congress with an economic program combining deficit reduction, tax increases, spending reductions, and investments intended to encourage growth. He told Congress that restoring economic strength was the administration's central immediate challenge. Republicans and Democrats would spend months fighting over the details.

Tsongas Looks at Clinton's Economic Plan

Paul Tsongas: This was where I paid particular attention, because during the Democratic primaries Clinton and I had disagreed over economic priorities. I had repeatedly warned that Democrats needed to take deficits, investment, productivity, and business competitiveness seriously. As president, Clinton moved toward substantial deficit reduction while still proposing government investment. His February program included higher taxes concentrated on upper-income taxpayers, spending restraints, and investment proposals. I wouldn't have agreed with every element, but the important historical point is that deficit reduction had moved from our Democratic primary arguments directly into the center of presidential policy.

Health Care Moves onto the Table

Tim Russert: Meanwhile, another enormous project was beginning. On January 25, Clinton established a national health-care reform task force and placed First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton in charge of it. The administration wanted comprehensive reform aimed at expanding coverage and controlling costs. More than 500 people eventually participated in the accompanying interdepartmental working-group process. But here's the reporter's question: could an administration simultaneously push a major economic program through Congress and redesign America's health-care system? The health-care effort would eventually stretch far beyond Clinton's first months.

Governing Gets Complicated Quickly

Paul Tsongas: And that's the part students should understand. Presidents don't work on one problem at a time. While Clinton was arguing about taxes and deficits, his administration was developing health-care reform, making appointments, negotiating with Congress, and responding to foreign and domestic events. Every proposal created another set of questions: Who pays? Who benefits? What does it cost? What unintended effects might follow? Those aren't Republican questions or Democratic questions. They're questions citizens ought to ask of every government program.

The Campaign Is Definitely Over

Tim Russert: Exactly. During 1992, Clinton could stand at a campaign rally and describe where he wanted to take the country. By the spring of 1993, Congress could rewrite his proposals, interest groups could organize for or against them, journalists could examine the numbers, and voters could judge what they were seeing. That's governing. Clinton's first months already showed that his presidency would focus heavily on domestic policy—particularly the economy, deficits, families, and health care. The much larger battles over those policies were only beginning.

Two Different Chairs, One Final Question

Paul Tsongas: If I were sitting beside Tim, I'd tell students to follow the numbers. Ask whether the promises are financially sustainable and whether the policy produces the intended result. I could sometimes be too impatient with people who didn't share my conclusions, and politics requires listening as well as calculating.

Tim Russert: And I'd tell you to follow the words. Save the campaign speech. Save the promises. Then compare them with what the politician actually does after taking office. Don't let me, Paul, Clinton, a Republican, or anybody else make the decision for you. Read the evidence and ask the next question. Because in January 1993, the election story ended—and the Clinton presidency began.