Gilens finds that wealthier Americans lean
to the left on social issues (especially religiously-charged ones such as
abortion) and to the right on economic issues. The issues on which rich and
poor Americans agree include defence policy, environmental protection, and
social issues less tied to religion (such as drugs, parental leave, and
neo-liberal restructuring of welfare policy). The federal government is never
as responsive to the policy preferences of lower-income groups as it is to
those of higher-income ones, but the gap is lessened during closely-contested
presidential election campaigns. (Note that he specifies presidential elections
– midterms are decided by an older, whiter, and richer electorate.) Naturally,
parties tend to the interests of the core supporters when they can, except when
the threat of electoral defeat disciplines them into appealing to a broader
base. However, this levelling doesn’t last, and the later years of a
president’s term see the policy preferences of the elites rise again in
importance.
The most striking part of Gilens’ findings
is that the influence of wealthier Americans is not due to their education,
civic awareness, work on campaigns, willingness to contact representatives, or
more intense preferences about the issues. After controlling for these factors,
they still have much more influence; politicians simply heed their concerns
because of their money. A person in the ninetieth percentile in terms of income
but only the tenth percentile in terms of education has the same influence on
their representatives as someone in the fiftieth income percentile and the
ninetieth education percentile. Likewise, turnout and work on political
campaigns correlate with income levels, but political donations rise rapidly
with increased income. All this suggests that efforts to reform American
democracy by encouraging such things as voter registration, voter turnout, and
fair redistricting are doomed to fail unless the question of money in politics
is addressed head-on.
In his third post, Gilens makes perhaps the
most important observation: that in modern-day American politics, money is
increasingly more effective than other resources. He uses the example of
television advertising, which requires more money and fewer warm bodies than,
say, door-to-door canvassing. I would add that the decline of patronage has had
a similar effect; without the lure of a government job afterwards, there are
fewer rewards for participating in a political campaign, with the result that
modern campaigns look less plebeian than those of previous eras. (Compare the
rustic, backwoods feel of Andrew Jackson’s support with the iPad-using
bourgeois hipster demographic which propelled Obama into office.) In both cases,
the process has been helped along by the Supreme Court; its conservative wing
has been hostile to campaign finance reform (eg. Buckley v. Valeo and Citizens
United) while its liberal wing dealt the final blows to old-school
patronage politics in cases such as Elrod
v. Burns (which barred the firing of political appointees for political
reasons) and Rutan v. Republican Party of
Illinois (which prevented officials from denying government contracts to
companies which donated to their opponents). It is no wonder, then, that the
class of people who fund the television ads and whose Ivy League-educated ‘best
and brightest’ staff the campaigns and the permanent bureaucracy are the only
Americans who matter to politicians.
Gilens’ work gels with that of Larry Bartels,
who shows (in Unequal Democracy) that
the votes of members of Congress reflect the policy preferences of the top one-third
of income-earners. Another interesting analysis of what drives Americans’
political views is that of Bryan Caplan, a denizen of the über-libertarian
economics faculty at George
Mason University .
Caplan (in his 2006 book The Myth of the
Rational Voter) compares economists and non-economists, and after
controlling for race, income, and ideology, finds that economists’ support for
free market policies are merely a function of their superior knowledge of
economics. To that end, he suggests various measures to increase their
political influence: extra votes, an economic equivalent of the Supreme Court
to strike down anti-free market legislation, and the delegation of fiscal
policy decisions to the Fed. Where Caplan goes wrong is evident in his title –
even if lower-income Americans support protectionist and welfare-statist
economic policies at the ballot box once every four years, it is the policy
preferences of their affluent compatriots which politicians heed in the
intervening years.
Gilens’ findings paint a disturbing
portrait of a nation increasingly in the grip of a narrow, plutocratic elite.
But what can be done to make the United States government better
reflect the policy preferences of the 99%, instead of those of the elites?
First, as Gilens suggests, sometimes needs
to be done about the power of money in American politics. A constitutional
amendment overturning the Supreme Court’s decisions in Buckley v. Valeo and Citizens
United is necessary, and should be followed up by a federal campaign
finance scheme such as the ‘democracy vouchers’ proposed by Bruce Ackerman.
Second, in order to make warm bodies count
for as much as cold hard cash, the spoils system should be revived. In the
nineteenth century, it allowed ordinary Americans to hold offices that the
Federalist/Whig gentry had tried to monopolise and treat as their personal
property. At the state and local levels, patronage helped the Irish, Italian,
Jewish, and Polish poor of America’s cities to capture a share of power,
integrate into American society, and launch themselves into the middle class;
its demise has prevented African-Americans and Latino/as from doing the same.
The enthusiasm for a meritocratic civil service was historically driven by
anglophile northeastern WASPs, who calculated (correctly) that government jobs
would come to be dominated by themselves. Apart from positions that are merely
clerical or administrative in nature, all civilian federal employees should be
political appointees subject to dismissal on political grounds. The proposal
advanced in the 1840s and 1850s by future President Andrew Johnson, that they
be subject to an eight-year term limit, might also be adopted. Parties should
be able to collect a percentage of their appointees’ salaries, lessening the
need to go cap-in-hand to hedge fund billionaires for funding.
Third, the structure of the federal
government could be reformed to promote a less plutocratic politics. If
elections make politicians more responsive to the policy preferences of
lower-income Americans, let’s have more elections and more elective offices.
Some ideas:
*shorter Senate terms and an end to its
malapportionment in favour of sparsely-populated, non-urban, white-dominated
states;
*separate elections for the heads of
executive departments, as is the case to varying extents in all fifty states
(would the 2008 electorate have elected a Wall Street insider like Timothy
Geithner as Treasury Secretary?);
*elections for the federal judiciary (historically,
merit selection of judges has been implemented at state level at the behest of
corporate interests outraged at the election of pro-labour and minority judges);
*elections for federal regulatory bodies
(authorities such as the FTC, FCC, SEC, NLRB, and Federal Reserve are rendered
toothless and subject to institutional capture due to the behind-closed-doors
appointment process; twelve states elect public utility regulators, and the adoption
of the practice at federal level would force the likes of Ben Bernanke to
justify their policies to the electorate).
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