What began as a sharp, almost offhand tactical brainstorm in Detroit hardened into a stress test for the entire system: could a democracy built on dispersed, local contests survive being fused into one continuous national spectacle? A pre‑midterm Republican convention, staged like a season premiere, would swallow every congressional race into its orbit. Candidates who once shook hands at county fairs would now be cast as protagonists or villains on a single, merciless stage, their every misstep looped and weaponized. For the faithful, it could feel like history finally snapping into focus. For the wary, it would look like the last boundary falling.
If it succeeded, politics would no longer be about neighbors making choices; it would be about audiences choosing sides. If it collapsed, the recoil might teach voters to punish anyone who mistakes their lives for ratings. Either way, that phone call quietly changed what campaigns are allowed to be.
