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Campaign Finance—The Government We Deserve, and Why It Won’t Reform
“New friends pourthrough the revolving door,maybe there’s one that’s moreif you find one, that’ll do.But us, Old Friend, what’s to discuss, Old Friend?Here’s to us!Who’s like us?Damn few!”—Old Friends; Merilly We Roll Along; Stephen Sondheim
Antipathy towards, and contempt of, political leaders has always existed but rarely, it seems, to the degree we are currently experiencing. But this is unsurprising—we have lousy representatives, terrible representation, and you know what? We deserve it.
Campaign finance reform has always been an issue in American politics from its inception, but it seems especially pertinent today. Many people agree that there is too much money in politics, that power and speech are disproportionately bought and sold by the monetary movers and shakers in the upper echelons of society, whose interests are seen to while the rest of us flounder and flail about in useless, impotent rage. The general solution to the problem that seems to be most often proposed is to limit the ability of individuals and collectives to donate to given campaigns and candidates, to reduce the amount of money any one politician can receive from a single donor. The proponents of these reforms frequently attempt to structure them in such a way as to limit only the abilities of their political opposition’s potential contributions while simultaneously preserving their own. The creation of Super PACs as a method of circumventing this current reality only further compounds and confuses the issue.
The problems with top-down attempts to control and curtail the influence of money on politicians and their campaigns are varied and many but most people seem to agree that the largest issue is one of interest; the people who could level the political landscape most effectively are the very people whose interests would be harmed as a result. That no one ever proposes to limit the discretionary limits of Government largess, or the ability of government agents to distribute such, seems proof enough of this. So platitudes are said, speeches are made, and nothing gets done.
Increasingly, many feel that we are limited to one of two avenues of action: to organize into collectives large enough to challenge these interests, which historically has only ever had the sort of success where, at the end of the day, the heroes of justice and equality look in the mirror to find that they have become the beasts they meant to slay; or, to await the coming of a political maverick—a messiah!—to lead us forward and overwhelm the corporate bureaucrats, part the sea of red tape, and push through the necessary legislation that will magically prevent the masters of capital from ever again wielding the influence they always have.
These opinions, regardless of their validity, miss the larger point. People declare that money is the root of our problems, that too much money in our politics is why our political system is (supposedly) broken. This viewpoint, aside from being overwhelmingly Christian in nature, confuses cause for effect. Money is not the reason for our broken political system; rather, our broken system is what enables money to have such a perceived influence.
Political campaigns are studies in incentives. In order for a politician to get elected (or re-elected) the politician must connect with as many people as possible and convince or persuade them to vote for him. This can be accomplished in a variety of ways, some more effective than others, and all of these cost money. Good campaigners will seek to maximize the potential return on their advertising investments. The cheapest methods—print media, books, pamphleteering—are the methods that require active engagement from the intended recipients, and are by their nature the least effective, the least likely to reach undecided or persuadable voters.
The average American has a reputation for laziness when it comes to anything outside their work or personal pleasure, and while this is not an entirely unfair assumption the simple truth is that most people, after a full day of work, do not have the time or energy to make the effort necessary to thoroughly inform themselves of the issues and people on the ballot, all of whom seem so removed from their daily realities. Thus, the most effective means of communicating with—or rather, to—the average voter are media advertisements; television, radio, and so on, which are disengaged, passive methods of absorption. These avenues of communication take less energy than active engagement but also result in weak understanding. Reading, discussion, dialogue—these methods of engagement are the respiration of political thought, breathing life into the process and energizing the participants.
But while visual media are far and away the most effective methods of reaching voters they are also the most expensive. Politicians, by existential necessity, are incentivized to spend most of their week seeking contributions to fund their next campaign, rather than working primarily on solving the problems for which they were elected. The result is that we elect a class of politicians whose primary skills lie in extracting money from people and firms, rather than solving their problems—and we wonder why there is so much money in politics while nothing gets done!
Worst of all, when these do-nothing politicians finally retire, are defeated, or otherwise leave office, they are quickly hired by various firms and organizations that use their access and connections to lobby their replacements on their behalf, creating revolving door of influence peddlers and an aristocracy of political pull. In such an environment, where the decision-makers are divorced from the consequences of their actions and never have to leave their protective political bubble or face the vulgar subjects of their policy decisions, is it any wonder that moral hazard predominates in Washington?
The most pathetic aspect of this demented dance is that various economic studies suggest that this mad scramble for political cash, at least for campaign purposes, is largely a waste of everyone’s time—and money. Large volumes of campaign spending have, at best, a marginal effect on electoral outcomes, and money has a tendency to find its way into the hands of political candidates that were already more attractive to voters from the beginning. Thus, the correlation between greater campaign dollars and political victory is not a causal relationship, but an expensive coincidence, resulting in the raising and spending of lots of superfluous campaign cash could have been put to more productive use.
So who is to blame for this situation? What is wrong with our system? As implied earlier, it’s us, the voters—we are what’s wrong. We are unwilling or unable to meet our politicians and office seekers halfway, to challenge them, to engage them in dialogue rather than be engaged by advertisements; to push back, rather than be pushed, or “nudged” as it is now termed by behavioral economists. And until we voters change our habits and priorities we will continue to get the politicians we deserve.
The Nature of the Economy
Note: Edited, retitled and re-posted from October 21, 2013
Lately, I have been making the most of my work commute by getting a subscription to audible so as to catch up on the reading I would otherwise rather be doing in place of the 1-2 hours daily I spend on the road.
I was listening to the audible edition of Basic Economics, by Thomas Sowell, when a thought occurred to me: The economic environment is a not so surprising parallel to the natural environment. (To be fair, thoughts occur to me all the time while reading/listening to books, which is often highly distracting). This may not come as much of a revelation to most, and in truth I had made this connection before; but, for some reason this time I saw it in a way I hadn’t really understood before; The economy cares about individual businesses, their successes and failures, to the exact same degree that nature cares about individual species—not at all. Species thrive; species die. Businesses thrive; businesses die. The world keeps turning and the market keeps moving.
It is not enough to say that both environments run on the Darwinian principle—survival of the fittest. While true, this statement does not go deep enough. Most people do not understand the exact degree to which this is the case.
For example: When Arnold Schwarzenegger announced c.2003 that he was considering making Warren Buffett his economic advisor to help California through it’s financial crisis, many people were quite excited at the prospect. Even some of Schwarzenegger’s harshest critics had little to criticize about such a possibility. In fact, whenever Buffett makes comments about matters relating to business, people attend his words as to Moses at Sinai. And why wouldn’t they? The man is the most successful individual investor in the world; clearly he knows what he is doing. If he can run such a successful business, then he must know everything there is to know about how to manage an economy! Predicting the economy is what he does for a living—and he wins!
Nevermind that no one can possibly know everything, and even Buffett makes mistakes, this sort of logic is what allows for brigands like Donald Trump, (whose entire existence is built on plying money from his investors and then filing bankruptcy in his corporations, leaving them in the lurch after absconding with the profits—and I use the term ‘profits’ loosely; these companies never make a dime in profit, but his corporate salary is nevertheless his from the outset) to constantly threaten to run for president on an economic platform based entirely on their reputation for business acumen, expecting that people will believe such an attribute to be applicable to the economy at large.
The truth is that Buffett—and Trump, in his own way—is a businessman, not an economist. These two things are not the same. The purpose of a business is to make a profit, and a businessman does his best to steer the business in such a way that it is most likely to succeed in this task; an economy—increasingly The Economy—is the environment in which this happens. But the environment owes nothing to its denizens and operates under its own set of rules, independent of what the businesses under its aegis might desire. Outside factors—the government, for example—can try to affect The Economy to its own ends, but ultimately it is simply outside of anyone’s ability to command; to command it one must command the trillions of individual transactions that occur daily as the result of the interactions between the millions of active participants within it, as well as control their needs and desires to a degree of exactitude impossible outside of an Orwellian nightmare-state, and maybe not even then.
The economic environment is indifferent to the concerns of business, or rather, individual businesses. Whether they succeed or fail, so long as activity continues, the economy thrives—and activity always continues.
The parallels with the natural environment are so obvious that any concrete examples risk belaboring the already extended point. You need only notice the stunning biodiversity of your immediate location, expand that to the entirety our little blue marble, and then realize that the vast majority of these species are relatively young, and have little to nothing in common with their ancestors. The species that exist today are nothing like the species that once were, and for good reason; 99% of everything that has ever lived is dead. Gone. Extinct. Several times over. Extinction events have happened multiple times in the course of terrestrial history. And each time, nearly everything was wiped out. I suppose we could retroactively blame the mass extinction of very nearly everything that has ever lived on the malfeasance of human activity echoing backward into the distant past (since there is simply not enough room in our current era to contain all of our combined environmental evil), but that seems like a bit of a stretch (though a great premise for a sci-fi novel). The simple truth, as George Carlin said, is “we didn’t kill them all.”
We are not the culprit; Nature is.
Nature does not care about individual species, if it can even be said to possess such a human quality. It simply is. It grows and changes, and the species that can adapt to these environmental changes survive; those that cannot, die. And nature goes on, uncaring and unending, until the stars burn out.
Attempts to command nature or control an economy invariably meet with embarrassing results, as Xerxes and the various communists discovered. Examples of the consequences of this sort of folly are found everywhere, from real life to the wildest science fiction: killer robots, inefficient factories, mad scientists, pervasive poverty, overwhelmed dikes, sunken ships, rampant AIs, the zombie apocalypse—all of these examples of the catastrophic failure, real or imagined, of human ingenuity serve to underscore a fundamental truth; some things are just too big to fuck with.
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