No Kingmakers, Each Democrat for Himself

In a country with a strong political party system, you would not have the spectacle of an Al Gore belittling the credentials of front-runners when he himself is so far behind. He would be bundled off to the woodshed by party leaders and informed bluntly that he would be cut off from his money and organizational support.

That’s the way it is today in Britain, and how it used to be in this country. But politics has changed a good deal since the days of kingmakers like the Republicans’ turn-of-the-century despot Mark Hanna, who told his party’s nominee William McKinley to stay home on his front porch in Canton, Ohio, and not bother to go around the country campaigning. Hanna and his Democratic counterparts controlled vast party organizations that could spread a candidate’s message to the voters. Today, if the presidential hopeful can raise the money, he can hire his own organization and talk to the voters via TV. In 1988, the motto emblazoned on the banner of all Democratic candidates is “Every man for himself.”

The rampant individualism in American politics that now puts the candidate, not the party, at the center of campaigns has produced a Democratic Party that is no greater than the sum of its parts and is often less. So the popular question, “Who will the Democrats nominate for President?” needs to be answered by another question: “Which Democrats?”

The most visible and seemingly institutionalized component of the party is the Democratic National Committee in Washington. The committee, however, inspires about as much awe as the Soviet Union’s toy parliament, the Supreme Soviet. Democratic Chairman Paul Kirk has less political clout than a U.N. secretary general. Sure, the committee does some useful things like choose the site for the national convention. But most of what goes on at Democratic headquarters is party housekeeping and the provision of useful but hardly essential services to Democratic candidates.

If the national committee is without much influence, what about the party elders?

The problem is that no two Democrats could agree on who should be included in their party’s Sanhedrin. There seems to be a core group of party patriarchs located in Washington and consisting of some former aides to President Lyndon Johnson, the last Democratic President to have achieved a measure of success. In this group are former Democratic chairman and trade negotiator Robert Strauss, Johnson’s former Senate aide Harry McPherson, and former White House staffer Jack Valenti. The ranking Democratic graybeard probably is former Defense Secretary Clark Clifford, who won his spurs in the Truman Administration. This consistory of bigwigs does come in for a good deal of deference, but they are less kings of the forest than they are amiable inhabitants of the party’s petting zoo.

Another Democratic element that may well be influential is the group of 645 governors, senators, representatives, and party officials dubbed “super delegates.” This week, the Democrats in the House and Senate will choose 253 of their number to go to the convention.

One preoccupation unites the super delegates who hold elective office: They want to avoid someone with the negative coattails of Jimmy Carter, who in 1980 drove off the cliff with dozens of Democratic senators and House members in the back seat. While Democratic officeholders have shown themselves skilled at distancing themselves from unpopular presidential nominees, many feel they would need ejection seats to escape the negative gravity of a Jesse Jackson candidacy.

But what if Jackson comes to Atlanta with a plurality of delegates, or Dukakis falls short of the 2,082 delegates needed to nominate? Fearing an electoral Armageddon, many would commit to Dukakis. But these delegates would lack a fundamental credential in a party that venerates popular sovereignty: democratic legitimacy. They are not chosen by the voters. They are insiders in a year in which populism has been getting a good ride.

In the recent past, powerful interest groups associated with the Democratic Party have also played a decisive role in the primary process. Without the help of organized labor, Walter Mondale could not have staved off the Gary Hart challenge in 1984. But labor and other Democratic interest groups stung by the accusation that their special pleadings have burdened the party’s nominees with extensive political obligations have remained officially neutral this year and may continue to lie low.

If these elite groups are not going to be decisive, what about the masses, the estimated 40% of the electorate who consider themselves Democrats? This component of the party enjoys the greatest legitimacy. The voice of ordinary Democratic voters has been decisive in all modern primaries. This year, however, they seem bewildered and hesitant. Jesse Jackson, who excites them, also makes them apprehensive. Michael Dukakis is blandly reassuring but sets no hearts aflutter. Albert Gore seems better at impeaching the presidential qualifications of his rivals than at fashioning his own distinctive appeal. Sizable numbers of these Democratic voters, moreover, have developed the habit of walking out on their party’s nominee in general elections. Ronald Reagan garnered 25% of the votes of self-described Democrats in 1980 and 1984.

A great deal is riding on the April 19 primary in New York. If Democratic voters can at least begin to resolve their doubts about one candidate or other, the party can avoid serious discord. The other candidates will not chivalrously stand aside to allow the nomination of a late entrant such as New York Gov. Mario Cuomo. If uncertainty persists to convention time, Atlanta could see grim-visaged warfare as candidates and party factions struggle to interpret the will of an uncertain electorate.

If the party organization lacks the power to nominate, the elders lack the authority to nominate, the super delegates lack the legitimacy to nominate, the interest groups the boldness to nominate, and the Democratic electorate the enthusiasm to nominate, the party’s viability is on the line.