IN THE "NEW" POLITICS

1968 has been projected as the year in which the new politics would dispossess the old, in which the traditional deployments of blocs and bosses would be short-circuited by new-mold men and electronic eloquence. But events have bypassed such assumptions, dictating instead the politics of paradox.

Oregon is haven to the maverick and uplifter of the underdog. In last week's primary. Oregon Democrats allowed Eugene McCarthy to check Robert Kennedy's drive, while the Republicans gave new velocity to Richard Nixon's bid for the nomination. By so doing, Oregonians made it more likely than ever that the post-convention contest would be between Nixon and Hubert Humphrey, the two ostensible traditionalists in the crowd.

Regardless of the personalities and vintages of the probable candidates, however, the second half of the campaign year will doubtless be as unorthodox as the first. Kennedy and McCarthy may eventually succeed only in canceling each other out, but together, their challenge of party discipline and the response it has evoked have had a rippling effect in which Lyndon Johnson's departure is merely one large circle. Political leaders hear all too loudly the bubbling of events, and sense the need to respond.

Giant Image. Nelson Rockefeller talks of multibillion-dollar schemes for urban redevelopment. Ronald Reagan, though popularly considered to be this year's Mr. Conservative, withdraws his opposition to California's open-housing law, promotes a legislative package aimed at economic salvation of the ghettos. Nixon, still regarded by many as the partisan epitomized, reaches out with new ideas for the support of independents and Democrats, and talks up the development of black capitalism. Humphrey, too, advocates expanded opportunities for Negro ownership of inner-city businesses.

How this ferment translates itself into election results is the yeastiest element of all. Bobby Kennedy, who presents himself as the patent holder of youthful disquiet, found that out last week in Oregon. By virtue of his expertise, diligence and money, and buoyed by a string of primary victories, Kennedy came into Oregon the odds-on favorite. His overconfidence was so manifest that he had come to regard McCarthy as merely a foil for his own continued success. "I'd be in real trouble'" Kennedy told a TIME correspondent after Nebraska "if he got out." And the week before Oregon Kennedy was so sure of himself that he said publicly: "If I get beaten in a primary, then I'm not a very viable candidate."

Kennedy should have been more prudent. Oregon is dovish, and McCarthy, as the first antiwar candidate in the race, was much better known there than in Indiana and Nebraska, where recognition was a major problem. Oregon is also an overwhelmingly white, middle-class state with none of the substantial minority blocs that Kennedy has come to count on for support. For once, McCarthy forces out-organized and even outspent Kennedy's camp, but it was Kennedy who conveyed the giant's presence and McCarthy the shepherd lad's.

No Kicks. Kennedy himself inflated his overdog standing by simply ignoring McCarthy, concentrating instead on flaying Hubert Humphrey. Bobby dodged Gene's challenge to debate; he ignored taunts about his own record concerning Viet Nam; he seemed not to be listening at all as McCarthy increasingly and effectively sharpened his anti-Kennedy rhetoric.

By the end, Kennedy realized that he was lagging. A few hours before Oregon's polls opened, Kennedy said of the campaign: "Sometimes I wished they'd booed me or kicked me or done something. I just couldn't get much response." By then it was too late. McCarthy got 45% of the vote, Kennedy 39%, Johnson (whose abdication came too late to permit his removal from the ballot) 12%, and Humphrey 4%, as a write-in candidate. It was the first defeat suffered by any of the three Kennedy brothers in the 27 primary and general-election campaigns they have waged since John F. first ran for Congress in 1946.

"I am not the candidate that I was before Oregon," Bobby acknowledged. Changing his tactics, he at last began to answer McCarthy's attacks directly and agreed to a joint television appearance--though it hardly developed into a debate (see box).

Pennsylvania Pressure. While the vote was certainly a moral victory for the durable Minnesotan, few powers in the party yet view him as a serious possibility for the nomination. By slowing Kennedy, he increased Humphrey's already strong pulling power in the tug of war for convention delegates. The Vice President was adding to his long lead even before Oregon's votes were counted. In Florida, a slate of delegates pledged to Senator George Smathers as a favorite son, but favorable to Humphrey, captured 55 of the state's 63 convention votes. Members of Pennsylvania's 130-vote delegation met for the first time and, ignoring pleas from Kennedy backers to remain uncommitted, gave Humphrey about 100 of their votes. In Missouri, Kennedy and McCarthy forces defeated a move to give Humphrey all 60 votes under a unit rule, but the Vice President was the heavy favorite at the state convention. Delegates in many states now regarded as strong for Humphrey will be under no compulsion to remain loyal until the national convention, but for the time being, Humphrey's advantage seems unassailable.

On the Republican side, Nixon is in an even stronger position because he has combined effective courtship of delegates in non-primary states with a sweep of the primaries. Oregon was his most impressive win of all. More than in Nebraska, his absentee rivals, Rockefeller and Reagan, had the benefit of well-financed publicity drives aimed at cutting down Nixon's plurality. Yet Nixon smashed all public and private predictions to amass 73% of the vote, compared with 23% for Reagan, who was on the ballot, and a 4% write-in for Rockefeller.

Catch the Train. Much as Oregon enjoys cutting front runners down to size, it apparently has no use at all for those who essay politicking from afar. Nixon conducted a skillful, low-pressure campaign that allowed him to say at the end: "The voters of Oregon have spoken, and I like the sound of their voices." Also listening closely were the uncommitted party leaders, such as Washington Governor Dan Evans, who chatted with Nixon last week and then said of other G.O.P. chiefs: "When the train leaves the station, everyone wants to be aboard."

Reagan retreated behind his noncandidate's cloak, denied any connection with the $300,000 television drive waged on his behalf in Oregon. Rockefeller pooh-poohed Oregon's importance while seeking delegate support in Denver, Albuquerque, Cheyenne, Salt Lake City and Las Vegas. With increasing edginess, New York's Governor questioned both Nixon's ability to win in the general election and to be a successful President even if he did.

In fact, so much has happened in the past eight months, let alone eight years, that many old assumptions about the strengths and weaknesses of parties, policies and personalities are now invalid. More than in most election years, the torrent of change has made for clean political slates, giving the candidates an unusual opportunity to write their credentials big and bright. In this sense, they are all caught up in new politics.

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