“If the typical Gore event was 20 people in a living room writing six-figure checks,” Gorenberg told me, “and the Kerry event was 2,000 people in a hotel ballroom writing four-figure checks, this year for Obama we have stadium rallies of 20,000 people who pay absolutely nothing, and then go home and contribute a few dollars online.” Obama himself shrewdly capitalizes on both the turnout and the connectivity of his stadium crowds by routinely asking them to hold up their cell phones and punch in a five-digit number to text their contact information to the campaign—to win their commitment right there on the spot.

It’s possible to track the network effects in the growing fund-raising numbers that seem to arrive in ever larger denominations: $25 million … $30 million … $35 million … in February, the staggering $55 million—nearly $2 million a day.

In a sense, Obama represents a triumph of campaign-finance reform. He has not, of course, gotten the money out of politics, as many proponents of reform may have wished, and he will likely forgo public financing if he becomes the nominee. But he has realized the reformers’ other big goal of ending the system whereby a handful of rich donors control the political process. He has done this not by limiting money but by adding much, much more of it—democratizing the system by flooding it with so many new contributors that their combined effect dilutes the old guard to the point that it scarcely poses any threat. Goren­berg says he’s still often asked who the biggest fund-raisers are. He replies that it is no longer possible to tell. “Any one of them could wind up being huge,” he says, “because it no longer matters how big a check you can write; it matters how motivated you are to reach out to others.”

There is some irony in the fact that the architect of the most recent campaign-finance law also happens to be the Republican presidential nominee. John McCain likely views all that has happened with considerable trepidation. Contrary to the widespread assumption at the time the McCain-Feingold Act became law (The Atlantic published an article on the legislation titled “The Democratic Party Suicide Bill”), it has not hurt the Democratic Party. Neither has it clearly benefited Republicans; McCain in particular has little to show for it. He raised $15 million in March, only $4 million of it over the Internet. His small-donor base is virtually nonexistent. When challenged about his staunch support for the Iraq War, McCain likes to say that he’d be willing to sacrifice the White House for principle. Nobody asks about campaign-finance reform. But that, and not Iraq, may wind up being the principled stand that does him in.

Meanwhile, the Obama machine rolls on, to the delight of its early stakeholders. “They’ve gone from zero to 700 employees in a year and raised $200 million,” Steve Spinner says of the campaign. “That’s a super-high-growth, fast-charging operation.”

It’s also one whose growth curve is coming into sharper focus. The Obama campaign has not yet assumed a place in Silicon Valley lore alongside Apple, Google, and Facebook. But a few more months could change that. The hottest start-up in the Valley right now won’t make anybody rich, but it might put the next president in the White House.

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