Katie Porter’s California gubernatorial campaign was in trouble a few weeks ago. A day after an infuriating TV interview went viral, an old video has surfaced showing the former Orange County congresswoman cursing and berating one of her aides.
Around the same time, Maine’s U.S. Senate race was shaken by some disturbing online posts. In the emails, Democratic candidate Graham Plattner disparaged police and black people and made other vulgar remarks. Soon after, news broke that Plattner had a tattoo on his chest that resembled a swastika.
Meanwhile, in Virginia, several old text messages have mired attorney general candidate Jay Jones in controversy. The Democrat joked about shooting the Republican leader of the state House of Representatives and talked gleefully of watching his children die in their mother’s arms.
There was a time—say, 20 or 30 years ago—that these outbursts might have been enough to oust each embattled candidate from their respective campaigns, and perhaps even end their political careers altogether.
But in California, Porter moved on and maintained his lead in a crowded gubernatorial field. In Maine, Plattner continues to draw large, enthusiastic crowds and leads the polls in the Democratic primary. In Virginia, Jones had just been elected attorney general, narrowly defeating his Republican opponent.
Clearly, things have changed.
Behavior that once came as a surprise, such as marijuana use that cost Appeals Court Justice Douglas Ginsburg her Supreme Court seat under President Ronald Reagan, now seems quaint. Personal indiscretions once viewed as disqualifying, such as the extramarital affair that led to Gary Hart dropping out of the 1988 presidential campaign, barely register.
In 1988, Gary Hart dropped out of the presidential race shortly after reports of an extramarital affair emerged. He later competed again, but without success.
(Getty Images)
And the old political playbook—confess, repent, surrender—clearly no longer works, as candidates find it not only possible, but even advantageous, to brave the storm of noise and blame.
Just look at this gorgeous plaid owner in the White House. Donald Trump has seemingly experienced more controversy than twinkling stars in the night sky, not to mention two impeachments, an $83.3 million verdict in a sexual abuse and defamation case, and 34 felony convictions.
Bill Carrick has spent decades strategizing for Democratic job seekers. About a generation ago, if faced with a serious scandal, he would tell his candidates, “This is not going to last, you’d better leave.” But now, Carrick said, “I’m very reluctant to tell people that unless there’s evidence that they murdered or kidnapped someone, or robbed a bank.”
Veteran Republican communications strategist Kevin Madden agreed. Surrender is a thing of the past. Survival is the new fallback mode.
“One thing that many politicians on both sides of the aisle have learned is that there are opportunities to overcome and weather the storm,” Madden said. “If you think a news issue is going viral or becoming what everyone is talking about, just wait. A new scandal … or a new shiny object will emerge.”
One of the reasons the nature of political scandals and their predictions have changed is the way we now access information selectively and in bulk.
By personally curating news feeds and reinforcing their attitudes and opinions, people can choose what they want to know about and choose what they want to ignore. Being so fragmented, it’s hard for negative storylines to reach critical mass. This requires a large audience.
“A lot of scandals may not have the impact they once did because people are in these silos or echo chambers,” said Scott Basinger, a political scientist at the University of Houston who has extensively studied the nature of political scandals. “If they don’t want to hear it, they might not even hear about it.”
The speed of information – as Madden puts it, “not just delivered to you at your doorstep or at 6:30 pm across three networks, but in your pocket, in your hand at all times, across multiple platforms” – also makes events more fleeting. This makes it harder for anyone to penetrate deeply or resonate broadly.
“In a world where information is abundant,” he said, “attention is scarce.”
Hart abruptly dropped out of the presidential race in 1988, only to reenter the race seven months later. “Let’s let the people decide,” he said after confessing to his marital sins.
(Months before resuming his campaign, he also said in the same interview that he had no intention of doing so.)
Hart didn’t fare well. Once he was the overwhelming front-runner for the Democratic nomination. He struggled on as a reincarnated candidate for several months before eventually dropping out altogether, as he failed to secure a single convention delegate or win double-digit support in any campaign.
“The people have decided,” he said, “that I should not move on now.”
That’s how it should be.
Porter of California and Plattner of Maine have both faced calls to withdraw from their respective campaigns, with critics questioning their conduct and whether they have the right temperament to serve as California governor or U.S. senator, respectively. Each expressed remorse for their actions. (The same goes for Virginia Attorney General-elect Jones.)
Voters can consider all of these factors when choosing a candidate.
If they want a governor who swears at aides, gets angry at aides, a senator with a history of unsavory remarks, or — ahem — a convicted adulterer in the White House, that’s their choice.
Let the people decide.
