I DON’T MEAN teenagers in a failing urban high school. It’s political parties that have the real problem. In recent weeks, two high-profile politicians have flamed-out spectacularly. Sen. Robert Torricelli’s abrupt withdrawal from his re-election race came soon after Andrew Cuomo quit the New York Democratic gubernatorial primary last month. These dropouts represent a new phenomenon: candidates who fold after reading bad poll results. Far beyond the pyrotechnics of the New Jersey race, this trendlet could transform the way candidates run for office. In the long run, it may represent the next and latest step in the degradation of American politics. Yet, at the same time, it could help force the revival of something we have needed for a long time: strong parties. First, the short run: Torricelli’s announcement was an instant kitsch classic. He was mesmerizingly bad–grandiose, self-obsessed and in total denial about the root causes of his own downfall. (One low moment: His description of former President Bill Clinton’s phone call to him, placed from London. “The phone connection wasn’t the best, but I could hear his voice crack,” Torricelli recounted. Or maybe the phone connection was just bad!) One could think only of Richard Nixon’s weepy farewell speech to his staff in 1974. Torricelli didn’t declare his own mother “a saint,” though he seemed to think he himself might deserve canonization.

Still, the resignation ramifications go beyond tawdry political theater. What’s noteworthy about Torricelli’s collapse is not that it happened at all, but when. The senator never should have sought reelection. A PAC-check fueled Sammy Glick, he long played close to the line. He should have seen what was coming when the Senate Ethics Committee, long regarded as a toothless watchdog, rebuked him over the summer. By the end, one New York television station devoted nearly an hour to a lurid jailhouse interview with his accuser–possibly more time than it devoted to all political coverage this year. To put it mildly, Torricelli was having a bad week.

Still, what drove him from the race was not repudiation from fellow Democrats; not newspaper endorsements for his foe; not a lack of other traditional measures of support. What made Torricelli resign was plummeting polls. Public survey results were bad; private polls, reportedly, were worse.

So, too, with Andrew Cuomo, the Clinton HUD secretary who made a fierce run for the gubernatorial nomination, then just as suddenly dropped out days before the primary, endorsing state comptroller Carl McCall. Cuomo had enough money to wage a full campaign and he had long decided to run as an “outsider” who would shake the state capitol’s complacent culture. His race was always a bit of a long-shot. But he, too, didn’t wait for election day. By pulling out, he helped unite his party, and perhaps preserved his own political future. But the fact is his decision, too, was made not after hearing the votering results but by reading the tea leaves of polls.

There’s no way to know whether these sudden-withdrawal symptoms are a fluke or a trend. State laws vary–we still don’t know how the courts will rule on the New Jersey ballot–but it’s not hard to imagine candidates for offices high and low deciding, “Hey, I know I printed all those bumper stickers, but things aren’t going so well–so let’s just pack it in early.”

Should we be worried about all this? I think so. An electoral system already driven by professional consultants, made-to-order grass-roots organizations and television ads threatens to become even more abstract, further removed from ordinary citizens. The right to vote the bums in or out is one of our few tools of accountability. Surveys are no substitute. To be sure, polls are not the devil’s work, and the extent to which politicians use them to pander on issues is greatly overstated. Still, they can take on a life of their own. Candidates and journalists act as if they are real, for so long, they become real. Interestingly, behind this cloud is the glint of a silver lining. Political scientists long have bemoaned the decline of real political parties. Once, back-room bosses chose candidates. The system was closed but gave voters real choice in November. (As well as leaders like FDR and Harry Truman.) For 30 years, ever since the McGovern Commission rewrote the rules of the Democratic Party, candidates have selected themselves. They raise their own funds, assemble their own temporary coalitions and rarely act with the party’s interest at heart, such as avoiding bloody primary fights.

This “Survivor”-style system seems natural, but actually, it makes no sense. No other thriving democracy has copied it. We would benefit from a vibrant two-party system. Torricelli was eased out–some reports say shoved–by Democratic bigwigs including Sen. Tom Daschle and Gov. Jim McGreevey. Andrew Cuomo’s withdrawal was brokered by party leaders and choreographed with Bill Clinton. Indeed, the former president now has a unique stature within his party. Some journalists, such as Slate’s Mickey Kaus, long speculated that Clinton would play a key party-leader role–now, with little fanfare, he has. This smoke-filled room may feature bottled water instead of bourbon, but it has its place. Party leaders now have a chance to give New Jersey voters a better choice than they had. Otherwise it may be time for the dropouts to go to political reform school.