Political Campaigns in the United States

Richard K. Scher

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781317295891
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politica e relazioni internazionali
• Subtopic: Politica

A Choice Highly Recommended Title—January 2017

This book is an interpretive analysis of political campaigns in America: instead of focusing on how campaigns are designed and run, it investigates the role campaigns play in our American politics, and the close symbiosis between campaigns and those politics. The text examines how campaigns are an important manifestation of how we "do" politics in this country.

Hallmarks of this text include:

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• showing how campaigns can undermine our democracy and asking how democratic they—and by extension, our politics--really are;

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• demonstrating that the ability of the media to accurately, fairly, and deeply report on campaigns has been severely compromised, both because of the growing "distance" between campaigns and media outlets and because of the structure of "Big Media" corporate ownership and its tight relationship to "Big Money." It asks important questions about the media including:

• How do the media, reporters in particular, cover campaigns? What pressures and forces shape what and how they present campaigns?
• What is the impact of the ever-increasing chasm separating campaigns and the media?
• How does the close tie between corporate mainstream media and Super PAC money affect campaign coverage?
• How does the ability of campaigns and media to segment voters into ever-smaller slices influence how campaigns are covered?

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• tracking the continuing growth of unregulated, private, unaccountable "dark money" in campaigns as a threat to our democratic elections and politics. Democracy rests fundamentally on transparency and accountability – sunlight – and our campaign laws and norms now allow and encourage exactly the opposite, largely because of decisions by the United States Supreme Court.

1
Political Campaigns in the United States

The onset of the second decade of the twenty-first century brought the culmination of what had been happening for about two decades in our campaign politics: there was no longer something called the “campaign season” of limited duration—perhaps like the baseball season, or the opera season, or the Christmas season—during which candidates campaigned, and the rest of the time office holders governed, and losing candidates went back to whatever they were doing before.

By the campaign cycles of 2010 and 2012 this distinction had disappeared, because campaigns had become perpetual, never ending. In contrast to politics and campaigns in earlier years, now it is often hard to tell the one from the other. “Campaigning” seems to take roughly 363 days of every calendar year; it seems to go on continuously, except possibly for Yom Kippur and Christmas Day. It is not always clear, for example, whether a politician, glaring into TV cameras in Washington, D.C., or haranguing in the state capitol or county administration building or on the steps of city hall, or posting a high-octane message on his/her blog, or sending out tweets and Facebook and Tumblr messages to his/her social networks, is staking out a position for a possible vote on an issue or firing salvos as part of an ongoing election campaign. Probably, it’s both.

In earlier days of politics, good or bad depending on one’s point of view, it was common to make a distinction between “campaigning” and “governing.” Those who followed politics often heard phrases such as “campaign season,” or “campaign mode,” to describe how office holders and office holder wannabe’s morphed into something other than public officials or private citizens to engage in “campaigning,” as opposed to doing whatever they did as public officials involved in “governing,” or would-be public officials who were engaged in some other kind of activity. And, when the elections were concluded and the campaigns mercifully finished, there would often be editorials or other commentary to the effect that the campaign season was over, time to get back to the business of governing.¹

But while the distinction was a common one, many scholars and pundits began to suspect that by the 1980s and 1990s it was no longer real, nor necessarily an accurate way of portraying how American electoral politics played out.² Professor Lyn Ragsdale of Rice University was one of the first to see that the effectiveness of Ronald Reagan’s presidency was based on the fact that he never stopped campaigning even when he moved into the White House.³ Presidential scholar George C. Edwards III noted that, following the disastrous (at least for Democrats) 1994 midterm elections, President Bill Clinton realized that his ability to govern was intimately tied to his remarkable capacity to wage a perpetual campaign.⁴ Any number of pundits have commented, positively and negatively, that much of President Barack Obama’s standing among the public rests more on his effectiveness as a campaigner than as a “chief executive” who governs.⁵

Thus the point should be clear. The distinction between “political campaigning” and “governing,” in this country had, by the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century, been blurred beyond recognition. They had become not two sides of the same coin, but the very coin itself. How could it be any other way? With the need for politicians/candidates to raise money 363 days a year; with the 24-hour news cycle which foists new rhetoric, new “crises,” new “issues,” new scandals, new anything-to-get-the-public’s-attention virtually hour by hour; with the blogosphere and twittering and instant messaging in fifth gear 24/7/363, all directed at digital speed towards the public, offering “infomation” that may bear no relationship to facts, or sense, or decency—the distinction between “campaigning” on the one hand and the business of “governing” on the other, vanished some time ago.⁶

Does It Matter?

Does it matter? What difference does it make that the separation of “governing” and “campaigning” has narrowed to the point that they are indistinguishable?

Able journalists such as Elizabeth Drew along with a host of others, and scholars of American politics such as those mentioned in the Preface, have thought and written extensively about the consequences of the breakdown between campaigning and governing, and we need not plow again over ground they have broken. But three consequences are of such importance that they bear at least a brief mention.

The Money Machine in Fifth Gear

Because there is no respite in campaigning, campaign money machines operate 24/7/363. Campaigns have become incredibly expensive. They suck up money not just like vacuum cleaners but like black holes. To feed their insatiable demands, candidates—especially those for major statewide or national offices—are forced to “dial for dollars” continually; and their finance committees—arguably the most important component of a political campaign—have to operate around the clock.

Raising Campaign Money Non-Stop⁷

Consider the following eye-popping examples. The following shows the cost of gubernatorial elections in four states during the 2014 cycle.

Cost of Gubernatorial Elections, 2014
Florida—$150 M
Wisconsin—$82 M
Pennsylvania—$54 M
Connecticut—$30 M

Consider further that money for these races mentioned above is raised over a 4-year period. Table 1.1 shows, for each state, how much money needed to be raised per year, per month over 48 months, per day (363 days/year over 4 years, 1,452 days), and per hour (12-hour day, 1,452 days, 17,424 hours). Calculations in Table 1.1 were made by the author from the above data, cited in Note 7.

Table 1.1 Raising Money over Time for Gubernatorial Elections, 2014

	Florida	Wisconsin	Pennsylvania	Connecticut
Yearly	$37.5 M	$20.5 M	$13.5 M	$7.5 M
Monthly	$3.1 M	$1.7 M	$1.1 M	$625,000
Daily	$103,000	$56,500	$37,200	$20,700
Hourly	$8,609	$4,706	$3,099	$1,722

Why is this important? Because time spent raising money is not time spent on policy questions, or resolving disputes, or creating a consensus around which to move forward. It is not time meeting with people (even non-voters), listening to their concerns and views. It is not time spent mobilizing support across a range of constituents and groups. It is not time spent with the public as a whole, but only that part of the public willing to donate money. And we leave until a later chapter the impact that raising money has in creating the relationship of obligation and dependence between candidate and donor, a relationship that may exclude consideration of the public interest in favor of narrow, private ones.

Compromising the Politics of Compromise and Accommodation

Rhetoric in American political campaigns, as we will see in the next chapter, has often gotten ugly, nasty, ad hominem, and caustic to the point of toxicity. And so it does today, as well.

But in years past, once campaigns were concluded and the business of governing took over, rhetoric usually—but not always—changed. Because hammering out public policy required some degree of respect for opponents, and because the American political tradition of compromise and accommodation rested heavily on interpersonal relations in Congress, state legislatures, city councils, and executive branches at all levels, rhetoric needed to be tempered, and levels of vitriol lowered. Of course there were always broadsides and verbal shellings across party lines—and sometimes geographic and cultural lines as well—but this was mainly for public consumption and fodder for media stories. The actual behind-the-scenes negotiating over language in legislative bills and executive rules could get testy, but in the end it had to proceed in a reasonably seemly manner or nothing would happen.

But one of the consequences of the merging of campaigning and governing is that the old language and rhetorical rules no longer apply. As our boxed anecdote below will illustrate, interpersonal relations are no longer important to fostering public policy. Posturing, posing, attempting to seize the moral and political high ground, painting opponents as naysayers, persons of bad faith, and worse, has become all too common. This is precisely because the linguistic style of campaigning has replaced the verbal requirements of negotiating and consensus building. The effect of course is to undermine, even compromise, our traditional politics of accommodation and compromise, and to create gridlock and ill-feeling in the arenas of politics.

Losing Respect for Political Institutions

The final consequence that we will mention of the merging of campaigning and governing is a bit more speculative, but highly likely. It is that office holders, constantly campaigning, and wannabes trying to get into the office, seem to have less of a sense of respect for the institutions to which they belong, or seek to join, than was the case years and decades ago.

True, office holders seeking re-election have always had to have one eye, at least, on the next election. But the other eye would have been on “governing,” and playing a role in, even contributing to, the functioning of the institution to which they belonged. But that distinction has now largely vanished.

If office holders and candidates need to think mainly about their campaigns and elections (or re-elections) 24/7/363, then their orientation is far more heavily geared toward firing up their electoral base than to maintaining the integrity and strength of governing institutions, or working to ensure that they carry out their Constitutional functions. Why care about the traditions or mores and historical stature of Congress, or a state legislature, or the Mayor’s Office, if what its members or aspirants really are concerned about is grandstanding and posturing and preaching to the choir for success in the next election?⁹

A Sea Change in Our Political Environment

The author had the occasion a few years ago in Tallahassee to be sitting with a small group of officials and academics one afternoon in the Capitol office of a senior member of Florida’s executive branch. Suddenly the receptionist ushered in a very distinguished gentleman, long-time Republican lawyer and lobbyist, much respected and trusted on both sides of the aisle. He looked old, exhausted, thin, grey, completely worn out. Immediately a restorative beverage was placed in his hands, and he began to relax. When prompted, he said, he could not take it anymore, he could no longer do his job. Lobbying in Tallahassee, he said, used to be based on personal relationships and friendships across party lines; a commitment was a commitment, a promise a promise; and it was in everyone’s interest to find a way past seeming impasses. No longer, he said. Partisanship and ideology trumped everything else; friendship meant nothing; and the word of an opponent was not to be trusted, indeed, your opponent could not be your friend. It was a disheartening and discouraging moment for everyone in the room.⁸

The point should not be overstated; most office holders show at least a modicum of respect for the offices they hold and the institutions of which they are members. But recent electoral results suggest that there are increasing numbers who do not, or not to the same degree that has been shown in the past. The effect, in the short run, is to increase governmental “gridlock,” because there is very little incentive to make the wheels of government turn. Over the long term, the effect will be to erode support for governmental institutions, and to increase the gap between the public and the agencies of government that are supposed to serve their interests.

New Developments in our Politics and in Our Campaigns

But the discussion thus far is really the beginning of the matter, not the end. What has also happened is that, just as campaign politics and “everyday” politics have merged, from a stylistic standpoint it is no longer possible to differentiate them. Not so long ago campaign politics could well be down and dirty; but “everyday” politics usually—not always— maintained a veneer of civility and respect for opponents. No longer. Ideological purity and partisan rigidity have become the norm in our politics and campaigns.¹⁰

Many other scholars, pundits, and politicians themselves have noted that, beginning in the 1980s, when the Republican party was taken over by right-wing conservatives and the Democratic party lost its identity, coherence, sense of direction, even moxie, politics in this country became increasingly rigid, ideological, and partisan. Political discourse, in campaigns and elsewhere, has become much more characterized by polarization, fulminations and vitriol than the traditional American style of accommodation, compromise, and bargaining.

What has assuredly changed in our politics, and our campaigns, is the intensity, the vehemence and viciousness, the finality with which political ideology and partisanship shove everything else off the table. Nowadays, promptly after the last ballot is cast and counted, and immediately after the last TV talking head has “analyzed” the results of the just-completed campaign, the savagery and blood-letting begin anew. Indeed, there is very little let-up, because the next campaign cycle literally begins the nanosecond after the previous one stops, even before its detritus is cleared away.

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