Nancy Watzman is research and investigative projects director for Public Campaign. She also blogs at Muckraking Mom and is a fellow with the Center for Independent Media.
Some people use their fortunes to buy mega-mansions, others to buy private jets and rare art or pricey jewelry. Some buy all of these things and still have money left over to buy a seat in Congress, or at least do their best to try.
This political season, in what has become a biennial showing of wealth—akin to the wearing the royal Ascot or eating at Spago—there have been at least 10 candidates for Senate so far who have spent more than $1 million on their own campaigns, as have nine would-be representatives, according to the Center for Responsive Politics. Twelve members of this exclusive club are Republicans, seven are Democrats. Of the 10 candidates still standing for the general election, only one is running for re-election while the others are challenging incumbents or vying for open seats.
Attempting to buy elections with personal wealth is nothing new. In 1958, John F. Kennedy famously quipped that his father, Joe, had told him, “Don’t buy a single vote more than is necessary—I’ll be damned if I’m going to buy a landslide.” And it doesn’t even guarantee a win—far from it. Of the 29 candidates who spent $500,000 or more of their own cash in 2002, the last midterm elections, only three were elected, and none of those three were political newcomers.
So why the willingness to plunk down so much cash for uncertain outcomes? In many ways it’s not so hard to understand. For a wealthy person with political aspirations who is trying to topple an incumbent or win an open seat, spending one’s own money is more of a sure thing than being able to raise enough from other wealthy people, at least to start. The average cost of winning a Senate seat in 2004 was $7.2 million; a House seat, at $1 million, was a comparative bargain. If you’re an incumbent, it’s pretty easy to raise this kind of cash from special interest donors who have more than a passing interest in influencing how you vote in committee on legislation that benefits or hurts them. If you’re a challenger, not so much.
Here’s a case in point. In 2000 Democrat Maria Cantwell used $10.3 million of her own cash—money earned from her work for Internet innovator Real Networks—to scrape out a victory over incumbent Slade Gorton. Her top contributing industry that election, was, unsurprisingly, the computer industry, which gave her $144,190. But for her race this November, she’s raised more than $15 million so far from private sources. Lawyers and law firms alone gave her $1.6 million. Ironically, she now faces a self-funder in her Republican challenger, Michael McGavick, who has contributed $2 million to his own campaign.
In what was undoubtedly the most famous upset in the election season so far, Ned Lamont won the Democratic nomination in the Connecticut Senate race over incumbent Joe Lieberman. The netroots jubilantly claimed that the influence of the internet helped him raise small-dollar contributions to secure his victory. But surely the $2.6 million of his personal fortune he spent also had something to do with it, particularly when considering that the amount he collected in contributions under $200 totaled some $821,000.
Beyond millionaires using their own cash to run for office is the even more troubling issue that the crowd walking the halls of the nation’s Capitol looks more like the folks you might see an exclusive country club than in the aisles at Target. About half of senators and one-third of House members are millionaires, according to Public Citizen. The truth is, as hard as it is for a wealthy challenger to raise campaign cash to mount a competitive campaign, he or she still has a lot more rich friends to hit up for donations than a challenger of modest means. A September Roll Call article on the 50 richest members of Congress shows that the poorest of the bunch boasts a fortune worth $4.67 million. Knowing that the wealthy are such a dominant bloc in Congress certainly helps explain the body’s predilection for approving legislation that benefits—the wealthy.
What is the answer to this problem of wealth buying power? In 2002, Congress attempted to deal with it by including a provision in the Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act (aka McCain-Feingold) that gives candidates the opportunity to apply for a hike in contribution limits if they face an opponent who spends his own cash lavishly. But many saw this as a cynical ploy by incumbents to protect their jobs from millionaire challengers rather than a true solution. In any case, the provision exacerbates the problem, by allowing more special interest influence in elections.
Instead, the best solution for improving competition in elections and leveling the playing field is to provide a full public financing option for candidates. Full public financing of elections—also known as “Clean Elections” in many of the seven states and two municipalities that have approved it—changes the dynamic of how elections are run. Candidates collect an established number of small contributions—typically $5—from supporters. They then qualify for a public grant to run their campaigns, providing they also agree to take no more private money and abide by strict spending limits. If they are running against privately funded candidates who outspend them, they can qualify for additional public funding, up to a limit. The same goes if they are faced with outside advertising opposing them.
Clean Elections is a practical, proven reform. Arizona and Maine have run their statewide and legislative races with the program since 2000, and North Carolina started its public funding program for judicial races in 2004. Right now nearly 80 percent of the legislators in Maine and half in Arizona were elected using public funds. In North Carolina, since the program began, 20 out of 28 candidates in the general elections for seats on the Supreme Court and Court of Appeals have qualified for public funds.
Having access to public funding levels the playing field, so that candidates can run a competitive campaign without relying on big donors or requiring a lot of their own money to invest in a race. For example, in Maine, a waitress and single mother who was politically active in her community is now a state representative. In Arizona, a small business owner and former school teacher is now a state representative from Phoenix. Clean Elections states have seen an increase in competition and in the diversity of candidates running for office.
In the House, Reps. John Tierney, D-Mass., and Raul Grijalva, D-Ariz., are sponsors of HR 3099, the Clean Money, Clean Elections Act, which would establish full public financing of elections for House candidates. A similar bill is expected to be introduced in the Senate soon. Meanwhile, in California, voters will have the opportunity this November to vote on Proposition 89, the California Clean Money and Fair Elections Act, which would provide full public financing for statewide and legislative races.
If we’d like to see the likes of waitresses, school teachers and small business owners who are involved in their communities be as able to launch competitive campaigns for Congress as wealthy executives, Clean Elections provides a proven, practical way to do so. Barring a significant change in our Constitution or its interpretation, there always have been and always will be people who use their personal wealth to try to buy a seat in Congress. What we need to do is make sure that others have a fair chance, too.
