In the standard political histories of the last few decades of American politics, it is Ronald Reagan’s first election, in the fall of 1980, that marks the decisive break between the old Democratic dispensation, which began back in 1932 with FDR’s election, and the ascendance of modern conservatism, which would set the terms for political life in America for the subsequent few decades. But history arrives in different places at different times.
When the 68th Texas Legislature met for a second special session in June of 1984, not long after the class of ‘84 had its commencement ceremonies, the important decisions were all made by Democrats. The Senate was composed of 26 Democrats and 5 Republicans. The House tilted 113-37 for the Dems. Democrat Mark White was the governor, and the Lieutenant Governor was legendary Democratic power player William P. Hobby Jr. It wasn’t even close, in other words.
You know the rest of the story — how Texas, first gradually and then rapidly, became a thoroughly Republican state. George W. Bush’s victory over incumbent Democrat Ann Richards in the 1994 gubernatorial election, a mere decade later, marked the almost total takeover of the state by the Republican Party. Only one Democrat, lieutenant governor Bob Bullock, won statewide office that year, and none have done so since. Here in 2024, we know this blue-to-red story so well that it can come to seem that it must have been obvious which way things were trending from the start. But it wasn’t.
What’s striking, traveling imaginatively back in time to the UT campus in 1984, is how different the relationship was then between politics on campus, politics at the Capitol, and the broader politics of the state. Texas was a conservative state, then as now, and Austin and UT Austin were liberal, then as now. But the liberalism of UT Austin, and of the city of Austin, were much closer to the politics at the Capitol than they are now. Left-leaning students weren’t protesting the governor; they were interning for him, or for his allies in the legislature.
There had already been big signs of impending political change by 1984 — the Democratic edifice had started to show serious cracks — but if you were a young Democrat that year, you simply didn’t imagine that your party would soon be so thoroughly supplanted. Right-wing students, meanwhile, could only dream of the control over the power structure their movement would attain. The future was not at all clear.
The political transformation in Texas over the last four decades, depending on your perspective, is for good or ill. For me, writing as a guy who markets the liberal arts to the world, it is first and foremost fascinating. What a surprising world we live in. Things can change so quickly in some realms while staying so similar in others. 1984 is so long ago, and so close too. And thank god for the liberal arts.
No offense to the many other disciplines that are taught here at UT Austin, but it is our disciplines that provide the most insight into how Texas has changed over the past 40 years. I’m not just talking about our Department of Government faculty, with their insight into macro-political transitions, transformative figures like Karl Rove and George W. Bush, and the complex dynamics of public opinion in Texas. I’m talking about economists exploring the rise of the technology sector in Texas and the diversification of the energy sector. I’m talking about sociologists parsing major demographic shifts in our population, cultural historians looking at the evolving scenes not just in Austin but all the disparate regions in this vast state, and linguists studying the slow death of Texas German. Across the College of Liberal Arts, we are tracking how the world — and Texas as a particularly fascinating microcosm of the world — has changed and is changing.
This is the college where you can most deliberately and intensively figure that all out, then as now. We put together this special Class of 1984 issue primarily because we thought it would be interesting for you to read (and, if we’re being honest, because it was fun for us to create). But we also wanted to remind you why the liberal arts are so essential. Because we’re a time machine. And a now machine. And a why machine. And a so what machine.
As a marketer of liberal arts, I am acutely conscious of all the things that marketing can’t do. Even the most brilliant marketing campaign can’t make kids with visions of smartphone fairies dancing in their eyes decide to major in history or anthropology or government. What I want to believe in, however, is the possibility that good communications can nudge things in the right direction. They can influence the kids on the margin, who love history but are anxious about their resumes. They can push an alumnus over the edge to give a gift to support the college. They can make you, the reader, just a little bit happier about, and more proud of, the education you got here.