Smartphone politics
worldwide mass communication? I find the question frankly mind-boggling.
But one thing is clear after the election of 2016 — the first American election truly dominated by mobile communication and the social networking it sparks: The future is cloudy for the likes of Mitch McConnell. The power of traditional party leaders flows from their ability to make, and control, connections that are otherwise extremely difficult. A well-run party controls the connection between a candidate and a line on the ballot. It controls access to key donors, who can open the gateway to television, the great persuader. Through these and other linkages, the party mediates the most important connection of all, between the candidate and the voters.
We saw last year that the power of the smartphone is vaporizing these functions. Donald Trump captured the Republican ballot line even though he had no appreciable connection to the Republican Party. Nothing like it had ever happened to an American political party. Mr. Trump had his own access to television after decades as a public performer and provocateur. More important, though, was the way he leveraged his celebrity via smartphone. His millions of followers on Twitter and Facebook became a rapidly growing Party of Trump. His supporters felt a personal and authentic connection that left no room for mediation by GOP elites. (Mr. Trump’s surprise deal on Wednesday with Democrats on the debt ceiling has added a new dimension.)
Democratic bosses narrowly avoided a similar loss of control. Only their insider system of superdelegates cushioned them from the threat of a takeover by independent Sen. Bernie Sanders of Vermont. Powered by smartphone connectivity, Sanders supporters were able to crowdfund a nearly $230 million primary challenge that almost ousted the choice of the party leaders, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.
In the cloisters of the Senate, Abbot McConnell’s scribes are his 51 fellow Republican senators, who, to one degree or another, must be asking themselves what this revolution means for them. If they fall into line behind their party leader on such difficult issues as debt, taxes and immigration, can he shield them from the critics who mobilize at the touch of a screen? Of course not — Mr. McConnell can’t even shield himself from the president’s tweets.
Perhaps Democrats could help him through his legislative minefield? That path is no easier. Mr. McConnell’s knack has always been discipline, not compromise. Reaching across party lines is unnatural for a man whose devotion to the Republican Party is as pure and permanent as a monk’s vow.
Moreover, it’s highly uncertain how much compromise is possible in this new age of direct connectivity. Any Democrat who votes for legislation that frees Mr. McConnell from a jam and gives the president an occasion to brag is likely to face a storm of internet opposition.
In short, Pennsylvania Avenue is not the place to read the future of politics. Look instead toward Cupertino, Calif., where on Sept. 12 a new iPhone will remind us that change is the new normal.