
Humphrey-Muskie 1968 Presidential Campaign Commercials
The Politics of Desperation: The Humphrey-Muskie 1968 Presidential Campaign Commercials
If the 1968 Republican media campaign was a study in disciplined control, the Democratic response was a study in raw survival. The Humphrey-Muskie 1968 Presidential campaign commercials tell the story of a candidate fighting a war on two fronts: one against his Republican opponent, Richard Nixon, and another against the shadow of his own administration.
Vice President Hubert Humphrey entered the general election battered. He had won the nomination at a convention defined by tear gas and riots. He was tethered to an unpopular President, Lyndon B. Johnson, and an increasingly disastrous war in Vietnam. For much of the autumn, his campaign was underfunded and disorganized. Yet, as you explore the videos in this archive, you will see a remarkable evolution.
What began as a disjointed effort transformed, in the final weeks, into one of the most effective counter-attacks in political history. The ads you are about to watch are scrappy, witty, and surprisingly modern. They lack the glossy, high-budget sheen of the Nixon montages, but they possess a frantic energy that nearly closed one of the largest polling gaps in American history.
The “Laughter” Ad: Weaponizing the Running Mate
Perhaps the most famous—and devastating—spot in the Humphrey-Muskie 1968 Presidential campaign commercials collection is the ad simply titled “Laughter.”
Created by sound designer Tony Schwartz (the genius behind the 1964 “Daisy” ad), this commercial is a masterclass in minimalism. It features no voiceover, no music, and no images of the candidates. The screen simply displays the text: “Agnew for Vice President?”
Suddenly, a man begins to laugh. The laughter grows hysterical, almost painful, until it descends into a choking cough. The screen then fades to the tagline: “This would be funny if it weren’t so serious.”
This ad did what hours of speeches could not: it defined Nixon’s running mate, Spiro Agnew, as an absurdity. Agnew was a relative unknown, and the Democrats successfully branded him as unqualified to be a heartbeat away from the presidency. It was a savage piece of media that used the viewer’s own skepticism as the punchline.
“What Has Richard Nixon Ever Done for You?”
While the Nixon campaign was busy trying to sell a “New Nixon,” the Humphrey team was determined to remind voters of the “Old Nixon.”
One of the most effective commercials in this archive features a series of “man on the street” interviews. In a spot that feels uncomfortably real, the interviewer asks average citizens a simple question: “What has Richard Nixon ever done for you?”
The genius of the ad is the silence. The voters stumble. They look confused. They stammer. One man simply stares blankly and says, “I don’t know.” It was a direct attack on Nixon’s career, suggesting that for all his visibility, he had no tangible record of helping the working man. This was the “Emperor Has No Clothes” strategy, designed to pierce the veil of competence Nixon’s handlers had so carefully constructed.
The Return of Nuclear Fear
The shadow of the Bomb still loomed large in 1968, and the Humphrey campaign was not afraid to revisit the tactics of 1964. The collection includes a commercial that aired during a television broadcast of the film Dr. Strangelove, creating a synergistic moment of terrifying political theater.
This spot, often referred to as the “Nuclear Treaty” ad, showed images of mushroom clouds exploding in reverse or still photography of devastation. The narrator criticized Nixon for his sluggishness in supporting nuclear non-proliferation treaties. Unlike the “Daisy” ad of 1964, which was about temperament, this ad was about policy. It argued that Nixon was stuck in a Cold War mindset that was obsolete and dangerous. It was a heavy, somber argument that attempted to frame Humphrey not just as a Democrat, but as the “Peace Candidate” (a difficult sell given his proximity to LBJ).
The Muskie Factor: “Two You Can Trust”
A critical component of the Humphrey-Muskie 1968 Presidential campaign commercials was the heavy reliance on the Vice Presidential nominee, Senator Edmund Muskie of Maine.
In stark contrast to the divisive Agnew, Muskie was portrayed as a Lincolnesque figure of calm and integrity. You will see several commercials where the two men are featured together, often with the slogan “Humphrey-Muskie: Two You Can Trust.”
Muskie was an enormous asset. At a time when the country was screaming at itself, Muskie spoke in a low, measured baritone. The ads featuring him were designed to act as a sedative for the electorate. They suggested that while Nixon and Agnew offered “Law and Order” (which many heard as code for police crackdowns), Humphrey and Muskie offered “Justice and Peace.” The visual language of the Muskie spots—often featuring the rocky coast of Maine and quiet, contemplative settings—was intended to make the Democratic ticket feel like the adults in the room.
The “Voting Booth” and Voter Apathy
One of the most intellectually honest commercials in the collection is the “Voting Booth” spot. By late October, millions of liberals and young voters were disillusioned. They felt betrayed by the war and uninspired by Humphrey.
Instead of ignoring this, the campaign tackled it head-on. The ad features a narrator effectively having an internal monologue inside a voting booth. He admits his hesitation. He admits that Humphrey isn’t perfect. But then, he walks through the logic of the alternative—Nixon and Agnew—and concludes that he has to pull the lever for the Democrats.
It was a risky strategy to admit that your candidate was a “lesser of two evils” for some voters, but it was effective. It gave permission to the anti-war Left to come home to the party, not out of love, but out of necessity.
The Surge That Came Too Late
As you watch the progression of these videos, you are watching a miracle in real-time. Following Humphrey’s famous speech in Salt Lake City on September 30, where he finally broke with Johnson on the Vietnam bombing, the tone of the ads shifted. They became more confident. The “Politics of Joy”—a slogan Humphrey had disastrously used earlier in the year—was replaced by a gritty determination.
In the final week of the campaign, the ads helped power a massive surge in the polls. Humphrey closed a double-digit gap to mere decimal points. The commercials you see here are the engine of that comeback. They successfully shifted the narrative from “Humphrey the Johnson puppet” to “Humphrey the last defense against Nixon.”
Why These Ads Matter
The Humphrey-Muskie 1968 Presidential campaign commercials are a testament to the power of negative partisanship. They proved that even a fractured, unpopular campaign could be galvanized by a shared opponent.
While they ultimately fell short of victory, these ads created the template for the “closing argument” in modern elections. They combined humor (the Aew laughter), fear (the nuclear spots), and pragmatism (the voting booth) into a potent cocktail that almost changed history.
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