So, if you are willing to buy that the Mayer Model accurately describes what’s going on in the primaries, and that what I had thought was going on was does not accurately describe what’s going on, you have to face a question: is it good?
So. Essentially, the primary campaign as it is now, or as it was between 1972 and 2000, anyway, was essentially the one set up by the McGovern-Fraser Commission, which knocked out the old party-boss system, the proverbial back-room with its proverbial cigar smoke. The new system was intended to put the choice of the Party’s nominee largely in the hands of the individual Democratic voters. It’s not so much that we would get better nominees, but that we would get democratically selected nominees, in a transparent process, largely with secret ballots.
The result, essentially, was that we got nominees who were backed both by the rank and file of the Party (as measured by the Gallup poll) and by the Party establishment (as measured by fund-raising prowess). OK, the elections: 1972, the McGovern Commission convention chose George McGovern. I don’t count that one as actually working. 1976 was the first year that I could count as following the modern candidate selection process, and even then, it was very different from the process in 1980. First of all, the leading candidate in the Gallup poll just before the Iowa caucus was Hubert Humphrey, who did not run. The second candidate was a paralyzed post-segregationist George Wallace. Behind them were a pack of under-ten-percent candidates including Scoop Jackson, Sargent Shriver, Mo Udall and Jimmy Carter. The Iowa caucus did make a difference in that year, as Jimmy Carter rose from that pack to be the preferred candidate that was, you know, actually running. And, of course, he won, although one does wonder if any of the four candidates (Go Mo!) in that pack could have beat Gerald Ford.
In 1980, Edward Kennedy provided the brief drama, but by the time the actual campaign came around, Jimmy Carter was clearly the pick of both the rank and file and the elite. In 1984, Walter Mondale was the front-runner, and Gary Hart and Jesse Jackson provided the drama. In the end, back to Fritz. In 1988, Gary Hart was the front-runner, but he dropped out in May, and by the time he came back, he was through. The drama was provided by Jesse Jackson, Paul Simon and Al Gore, none of whom managed to deprive Michael Dukakis of the nomination. That, by the way, was the first year that I supported a candidate, a losing one as would become usual. It was Paul Simon that year. A good man. He would not, I think, have won. In 1992, Bill Clinton began as the favorite, and Paul Tsongas provided the drama before dropping out. 1996 was a re-election year, and 2000 had only minor opposition to Al Gore, who was clearly the Party’s choice.
It seems to me that in each of those six elections, with the possible exception of 1988, the eventual candidate was the “right” candidate, in the McGovern Commission sense that the candidate was chosen openly by the party, with full participation. Yes, it’s true that I didn’t get to vote for Paul Simon, who had fallen off the ballot. And in 1992, I didn’t get to vote for Tom Harkin. And in 2004, I didn’t get to vote for … er, Dick Gephardt? Anyway, my first preference often withdrew from the race before my state (Arizona or California or Massachusetts or Virginia or Connecticut) got its turn. So that’s bad.
Or is it? I mean, yes, it would be better if I got to nudge the party to the left a bit by making it clear that I supported a full employment plan. But really, the reason that Senator Simon withdrew so quickly is that he had no chance of becoming the nominee, and that was true even if he were on the ballot everywhere. If we had (for instance) one national primary, the nominee would have been the same. We have had democratically selected nominees, at least if the polls are halfway accurate. So that’s all right, is it?
Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,
-Vardibidian.