Campaign Finance Reform
February 7, 2005
Who gains? That's the question that needs to be asked again and again, and too frequently is not asked at all. In the case of election campaign finance reform, it has an easy answer.
Politics has become something only for the rich. Oh sure, there may be one or two principled but impoverished citizens serving in government at the national level, but most of the people there have plenty of money, are receiving plenty of money through sweetheart investments, and have the ability to raise lots and lots of money for re-election. And boy, do they need it! Over the last few years, the cost of getting elected—or re-elected—has gone through the roof. Federal House candidates are spending $20 million or more, Senate campaigners are spending many times that, and Presidential election coffers need $200 million just to get out of the gate.
Campaign finance reformers are concentrating on where that money comes from. Who pays? Will there be a quid pro quo? Will those that foot the bill expect something in return? Probably. Don't we deserve to know who is footing the bill so we can check to see that there is no quid pro quo? or at least, that the quid pro quo is a general patronage repayment, and not a cash transaction or an illegal contract? The answer is yes, and I hope that something is done to ensure that groups and individuals don't buy undue influence with their money. Keeping the lid on contributions is part of it. But how is that going to reduce the cost of campaigning? Why do elections cost so much anyway?
The answer is television. When campaigns say they need this much money, it's because television networks and local stations make them buy airtime for broadcast advertising. That seems only fair. The networks and stations own the rights to what goes on their airwaves and they can simply charge what the market will bear. That is the essence of capitalism. So when election season comes, the rates go sky-high because there is a lot of demand. The more candidates advertise, the more their opponents feel the pressure to put their message before the public, and the more it costs. The more bitter the campaign, the more ads, the more competition for slots, the more money television is able to charge.
When people complain about the cost of elections, then, what are they saying? That campaign literature costs so much more these days? That really good campaign promises don't grow on trees? No, they're saying that television is charging more and more because it can. Who gets all the money that politicians spend? What happens to the $20 million, $50 million, $200 million and more? It doesn't just disappear—it goes into the pockets of the networks and the local stations. Who, then, has the most to gain from keeping the system the way it is?
How can this be fixed? One way, I believe, is for candidates to be responsible for bearing much more of their own message to the public. Debates require the candidates to articulate their own ideas, defend their policies, challenge their opponents in person, and be seen and heard by the electorate. I think there should be a lot more debates. A LOT more. And television stations and networks should be required to carry them without cost, as partial payment for the broadcast rights granted them by the government (AKA, the people), and for the revenues they receive during election season anyway. If this means that there is less advertising because candidates are getting their message across through debates, then that's OK. With me, anyway. I'm not so sure about the networks and local stations. But I'm sure they'll be right up there, reporting on this as a possible way of reducing the cost of elections.
This idea struck me as I was listening to a debate between Senator (and former Governor) George Voinovich (R) of Ohio and Democratic challenger Eric Fingerhut, during the campaign of 2004. Fingerhut was all over Voinovich. He was far more in command of the facts, far more articulate of his vision, far more able to answer the questions that were posed. All Voinovich could do was to say plaintively that he felt he deserved another six years because he had worked hard for the state of Ohio. And he didn't even say that with too much conviction. He sounded tired. And bored. But, ironically, not very worried. He knew—we all knew—that it was no contest. Voinovich had so much more campaign money than Fingerhut, that there was no hope of a close election, much less a defeat of the incumbent. Fingerhut had scored a knockout, and it might have had an effect on the election for the US Senate in the state of Ohio if it had been broadcast on primetime television, rather than on public radio around midnight, which is when I heard it. Instead, on primetime television, the people of Ohio got slickly produced, feel-good ads about Voinovich and how he cared for the people of Ohio. They got to see them a lot. And the networks and the local stations made a lot of money. But I doubt very much whether the people of Ohio were well served by the result.
Maybe if we make debates a required part of election campaigns, we will see a lot more principled but impoverished people representing the people of America. Maybe their representatives will be a lot more representative of the demographic they represent (gosh, there's that word again!). But don't hold your breath. Incumbents don't want to put themselves in such a vulnerable position, where ignorance—or just being outclassed, or making some verbal gaffe—might lead to defeat at the polls. Much better to use the campaign chest to discredit the opponent. So don't expect encumbent politicians to embrace debates as a way to reform campaigns. And don't expect television networks and local stations to complain about their failure to act.
It's cosy arrangement, and likely to last until the American electorate feels disenfranchised. I think that will happen one day, but I'm not sure when.
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