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(10/29/20 9:57am)
Since the beginning of the Trump Administration, a group of political scientists has conducted surveys of experts and the general public for a project called “Bright Line Watch.” A series of questions in the expert survey prompts respondents to rate recent events on two scales: first, is the event normal or abnormal? And second, is the event important or unimportant? The August 2020 questionnaire asked respondents to rate on both scales such episodes as the U.S. withdrawal from the World Health Organization and law enforcement’s use of chemical irritants against protestors outside the White House in advance of President Trump’s walk to St. John’s Church in Lafayette Square.
The necessity for such a survey highlights a dilemma facing many of us who study American politics. Our outlook, our training and our methods are premised on an environment that is normal. Our explanations are more convincing if we can bring more information to bear on a subject, so we seek as many cases as possible of things that are as comparable as possible. Voters, members of Congress, U.S. states, pieces of legislation and so on.
As some critics have long argued, this approach can predispose us to believe that things are the same when they really are different. People or public officials or policies are not always easily compared. The circumstances of one era may so fundamentally differ from another that information from the two periods should not be included in the same dataset. The desire to build a neat spreadsheet can cause scholars to dismiss much that is interesting or vital about their subjects.
So how should we view this administration and this election? The 2016 election result was a surprise to most of us (myself included). But in retrospect, there is much about it that looked normal. A simple model that uses economic indicators and public approval of the incumbent president predicts the result quite well. Notwithstanding all the profiles of the “typical Trump voter,” the vast majority of those who voted for Trump in 2016 also voted for Mitt Romney in 2012, consistent with what we know about the stability of party identification and its role in explaining vote choice.
And yet, this year, we are in the midst of a global pandemic. This year, we have seen what may have been the most extensive anti-racism protests ever. This year, there has been an economic downturn that is unprecedented for an election season. And this year, the president has pressured his attorney general to investigate his opponent, has called into question the integrity of the vote and has been curiously reluctant to distance himself from racist extremist groups. This is all abnormal and it is all important.
When it comes to the election, I’m betting on the normal indicators. Despite so much that has been upsetting and new, the data that is now filling up our spreadsheets is behaving about as we would expect it to behave. The basic contours of a presidential race almost never change in the closing days of a campaign, and I don’t expect them to change this time.
But a larger lesson of the last four years, and of this year especially, is that understanding what is normal in U.S. politics does not mean understanding the entirety of U.S. politics. We “experts” should be humble enough to recognize that there is much that we do not know about the emergence and impact of the abnormal. And we should engage with these questions, not just in our responses to surveys, but in our research, our teaching and our lives as citizens.
Bert Johnson is a professor of political science at Middlebury.
(11/01/18 11:59am)
Money is the “lifeblood of politics,” or so election observers have always said. The headlines about this year’s congressional races would seem to confirm that this maxim is truer today than ever. Media outlets report fundraising hauls as if congressional campaigns — and indeed, the future of the country — depended on them. Political scientists view matters differently, and although popular conceptions aren’t all wrong, they provide only part of the picture. Here are a few basic tenets of the campaign finance world, from the political scientists’ point of view.
Money doesn’t guarantee a win, but lack of money can guarantee a loss.
Of the top seven spenders in 2016 House races, three lost, even though they outspent their opponents by an average margin of more than three to one. In general, candidates try to raise and spend more money if they’re in trouble in the polls, but they inevitably discover that if they’re in a competitive race, no amount of spending suffices to make it non-competitive.
At the other extreme, candidates who spend next to nothing almost always lose. But they don’t have to match their opponents dollar-for-dollar to make it close. All they need is enough money to get their message out to voters. To be sure, this need for a significant baseline spending level ($1 million or more in a typical House race) still means that well-connected, wealthy people with elite backgrounds have advantages. But these advantages are not insurmountable.
A lesson for this year’s races: Don’t assume that success in fundraising automatically means success at the polls. And don’t assume that a candidate will lose just because he or she is being outspent.
Politicians aren’t (necessarily) bought and paid for.
A close look at who gives money to which campaigns can easily lead to the conclusion that politicians are corrupt. Top campaign contributors to members of the House Agriculture Committee include agribusiness interests, for example. (See OpenSecrets.org) The fact that in 2018 the Agriculture Committee approved a farm bill that pleased many agricultural lobbyists may appear, therefore, to be evidence of a quid pro quo.
But consider other explanations of Congressional behavior. Take longtime Agriculture Committee member Frank Lucas (R-OK). Lucas gets contributions from agriculture interests, but he also represents Oklahoma’s rural third district, where agriculture is a major employer. Furthermore, Lucas himself is a farmer with a degree in agricultural economics. Does he vote in favor of agriculture interests because of the contributions, because of his constituents, or because of his own background? It’s tough to tell — and this difficulty applies in some way to most members of Congress. This is why political scientists have a tough time determining whether contributions affect Congressional votes.
A lesson for this year’s races: It is implausible that in raising money now, politicians are making deals that will bind them later. Constituent interests — and their own preferences — will shape members’ choices in the Congress to come.
Tell me who you walk with and I will tell you who you are.
Just because it is difficult to say that moneyed interests affect members’ decisions does not mean that a candidate’s contributor list conveys no information. On the contrary, the Spanish proverb “Dime con quién andas, y te diré quién eres” (translated above) applies. Campaign finance reports can tell us a lot about who a candidate’s friends are because it is easiest to raise money from one’s closest friends and allies. (Think about it: if you had to run for office, who would you solicit for contributions first?)
In the Texas Senate race this year, for instance, OpenSecrets reports that Ted Cruz has received over $100,000 from employees of Woodforest Financial Group, a bank holding company, while Beto O’Rourke has received nearly $300,000 from employees of the University of Texas. This information tells us who the candidates view as their friends, and in turn, says something about their perspective on government.
“The most expensive campaign ever.”
Huey Long famously accused the Standard Oil Company of injecting “enough money to burn a wet mule” into Louisiana politics. What seemed like a lot of money then would seem a paltry sum now, as this year’s Congressional races may cost a total of $5 billion — the most expensive midterm campaign ever.
But although it is true that the total cost of elections has more than doubled since 1998, even when accounting for inflation, the amount of spending on campaigns relative to Gross Domestic Product (GDP) has not budged. Spending on campaign goods and services, like spending on other goods and services, grows proportionally with the size of the national economy.
In sum, money matters — just in a different way than many people think. An understanding of the “lifeblood of politics” will help us better grasp this election and its consequences for the future.
(04/27/17 2:41am)
What did I just do?
Last week in the Middlebury Campus newspaper I published an apology for the “closed decisionmaking process” by which I offered a departmental co-sponsorship to the Charles Murray event earlier this year.
I’ve since been called lots of names online, mostly centering on my alleged cowardice, spinelessness, gutlessness, and my similarity to a show trial victim in a totalitarian regime. One Twitter user reminded me of the John Wayne quote, “Never apologize – it’s a sign of weakness.” Have I “capitulated” to the “mob”?
I don’t think so. Before I go on, let me assure readers that I am speaking only for myself – not for my department or for the college. Despite allegations to the contrary, there is not a “party line” here, and faculty, staff and students have points of view that span the spectrum.
First, I agree with what some of my faculty colleagues have said at faculty meetings: free speech is a foundational value in the academy, second only to safety and security. I was an early signatory of the Statement of Principles on Free Inquiry on Campus that my faculty colleagues Keegan Callanan and Jay Parini wrote and posted online. I am not withdrawing my signature from that petition.
I offered the departmental co-sponsorship (not endorsement) of Charles Murray’s visit and defended it under intense pressure in the days leading up to the event. Internally divided, the department did not revoke the co-sponsorship.
Further, I abhor the disruptive violence that took place on March 2. No academic department chair thinks his or her job will ever entail staying up all night trying to gather information on the extent of a colleague’s injuries.
This could have gone better. Many poor decisions were made. The instigators of the disruptions and violence, of course, bear the responsibility for their actions, which are antithetical to the principle of free speech and inquiry.
But I believe it is incumbent on us all to think about what we might have done differently to contribute to a better outcome, and what can be done generally on campuses in such situations. My research on campaign finance has convinced me that more is better than less when it comes to speech. There is little evidence that high-spending candidates “drown out” the message of others, for example. Instead, more spending by more candidates allows the public to make better judgments with more information.
Therefore, a better process for such talks might be to be to have more advance notice, discussion and consideration of various points of view. As it was, the college had little more than a week to prepare.
Because of my lack of early consultation with others, I abruptly placed my departmental colleagues into the middle of a controversy that they did not expect or ask for. Under great pressure, they accepted this challenge – but in a very compressed period.
This short notice also gave the community at large little time to react. If they had received more warning, groups could have invited other speakers, held more teach-ins or taken other steps to join the debate. Professors could also have held more discussions in their classrooms on Murray’s work and on his critics.
To be clear – I am not calling for new rules or restrictions on speakers or on speech. We should not be requiring a specific amount of advanced notice for controversial speakers.
But advanced notice and greater discussion surrounding speakers is polite. It shows respect for the community and for others who may want to contribute and respond. This enhances speech and dialogue rather than restricting it.
As I have heard time and again since the event, there are many on this campus who feel disrespected and ignored, particularly people of color. It is not a “capitulation” to recognize this fact and to try to address it. It can be done consistent with the principles of free speech.
To be sure, some conservative students have felt isolated on campus also, indicating the need for conservative speakers and for openness to discussion of conservative ideas.
My apology was narrowly focused on my own actions that contributed to this feeling of disrespect and lack of robust discussion. I meant what I said: I focused on the closed process as the problem, rather than on a specific decision.
My hope is that my message will open the door to reflection on all sides about how best to advance robust dialogue. More is better than less when it comes to speech on campus.
Bert Johnson, Chair of the Political Science Department, follows up on his apology published in last week’s edition.
(04/21/17 3:17am)
Earlier this year I, as chair of the political science department, offered a symbolic departmental co-sponsorship to the Charles Murray event in the same way that I had done with other events in the past: on my own, without wider consultation. This was a mistake.
Last week, I apologized to my departmental colleagues for this closed decisionmaking process, and I apologize now to the broader Middlebury community. The short amount of time between when the event became public and when it occurred gave all of us scant opportunity to listen to and understand alternative points of view. Most importantly, and to my deep regret, it contributed to a feeling of voicelessness that many already experience on this campus, and it contributed to the very real pain that many people – particularly people of color – have felt as a result of this event.
As we debate what to do next, I look forward to hearing from the college-wide committee on invited speakers that is currently taking shape, as well as from my departmental colleagues and our department’s student advisory committee. I thank all of the members of the college community who have shared their views with me, with the department, and with the college administration over the past few months. I will continue to listen.
Bertram Johnson is an associate professor of political science and chair of the department.