This post is named after the second album by my all-time favorite indie band, The Figgs. I always thought it was a wonderful title for a record. It’s also the first phrase that popped into my head when I read this op-ed, which you will be hearing a whole lot about on Monday, despite the fact that its premise is that President Obama should step aside so that Hilary Clinton can win the 2012 election and “unite the country around a bipartisan economic and foreign policy.”
Read that last sentence again. Yes, indeed. Ready Steady Stoned.
Tomorrow, a whole lot of people will shred the op-ed, Westen-style. I mean, Brendan Nyhan is already tweeting up a storm. I’m not going to go line by line through the thing, but I do want to make a few historical points:
1. The proposition that LBJ “decided against running” in 1968 because he “accepted the reality that [he] could not effectively govern the nation if [he] sought re-election” is complete nonsense. LBJ didn’t “not run.” He dropped out of the race after Eugene McCarthy and a bunch of college kids landed what amounted to a knock-out blow in New Hampshire, which convinced RFK to get in to the race four days later. LBJ didn’t step aside; he was a candidate who dropped out when it became clear he couldn’t win. In other words, he sought the nomination, and he lost the nomination.
2. It’s certainly theoretically true that a party might benefit from not renominating an unpopular president. But the problem is that there’s a huge correlation between presidential popularity and party popularity, and historically it has been the case that whatever positive marginal effect there is from replacement, it hasn’t been enough to get the party over the top. As John Tabin noted on Twitter, Truman and LBJ “stepping aside” didn’t exactly result in President Stevenson and President Humphrey (and don’t start in on how RFK would have beat Nixon; it’s far, far from obvious).
In fact, even if you go back to the 19th century strong-party era, when replacing the president on the ticket was easier and more common, only twice did a party win back to back elections with two different non-incumbents — Pierce/Buchanan, ’52 and ’56, and Hayes/Garfield, ’76 and ’80. And neither Pierce nor Hayes were unelectable candidates who stepped aside for the good of the party. The Pierce administration had indeed been destroyed by the Kansas-Nebraska Act and its aftermath, but he stood for nomination at the 1856 Democratic convention, and lost a four-way race in which he got 40% of the vote on the first ballot. The Hayes example I don’t even count as relevant — he certainly didn’t seek renomination in ’80, but he had pledged not to do so back in ’76 and was not particularly unpopular when he left office.
3. Finally, there’s this:
Never before has there been such an obvious potential successor—one who has been a loyal and effective member of the president’s administration, who has the stature to take on the office, and who is the only leader capable of uniting the country around a bipartisan economic and foreign policy.
Say what? Obviously, as mentioned above, the last clause of that sentence is just absurd. A Clinton presidency right now might be effective or might not be, but in any case it wouldn’t be bipartisan and it wouldn’t unite the country, even if those ridiculous things were somehow the goals. But the first clause is my real favorite. Never has there been such an obvious potential successor? What about Seward in 1864? What about Webster in 1852? Have the authors even heard of the 19th century? On the flip side, it’s not always going to work out when you stick the most obvious potential successor of all-time onto the ticket — see Henry Clay, 1844. It just drives me nuts when people make historical claims, but limit them to a history that starts about the time their parents were born.
Ok, enough. I’ll just leave you with a funny thought an old college buddy emailed me, writing “the only upside to Gingrich winning the nomination and then taking on HRC for the presidency would be that Kurt Cobain would probably come out of hiding with like 5 full albums worth of great new material.” Amen to that.
Two things I have enjoyed reading and thinking about in the last few days, with a quick take on each:
- Baseball is changing in the post-season. Ben Morris had what I thought was the most interesting take on the new system. See also Jon Bernstein on what the system won’t fix, and Christina Kahrl and Jayson Stark from espn for some other insta-reactions.
I think the baseball playoffs are both amazing and stupid. Amazing because there is simply nothing in all of sports like high-tension baseball. It’s incredible to watch. But stupid in that they aren’t really a legitimate mechanism of determining the best team; it’s more or less a crapshoot, just a fun bonus add-on at the end of the season. Baseball as a spectator sport is about two things: the thrill of really getting to know a team over the course of a spring and summer through the monotonous grind of seemingly meaningless game after meaningless game; and the live-or-die excitement of a September pennant race. I know MLB has money it needs to make, but the long-term viability of baseball is not in trying to structurally duplicate the product that the NFL and NBA and NCAA basketball produce. It’s about playing to the strengths of baseball. Every step that expands the importance of the post-season, in my opinion, takes baseball one step in the wrong direction.
- The dust-up over election forecasting and the relative importance of campaigns vs. fundamentals continues unabated. John Sides post was excellent and provides a good set of references to the whole conversation. The reads and reactions section of Nate Silver’s blog also has a nice digest.
I don’t have much to add to this debate, except to say that I think a lot of people get clouded by their normative desires for democracy when they think about this issue. People want to believe in the importance of ideas and the importance of leadership and the ability of impassioned advocates swaying votes through powerful speeches that change voters hearts and minds. They don’t want to believe that voters will toss honest men with good ideas out of office and replace them with crooked hacks simply because time are tough. And so I think many people tend to overestimate and romanticize the electoral/campaign system. Obviously, campaigns have some marginal effect on outcomes. But in my view, assuming you get candidates who are of a minimal-threshold of competency, the cake is baked more often than not well before the campaign starts.
Later today, the House of Representatives will vote on House Joint Resolution 2, a proposal to amend the Constitution. Here is the text:
Section 1. Total outlays for any fiscal year shall not exceed total receipts for that fiscal year, unless three-fifths of the whole number of each House of Congress shall provide by law for a specific excess of outlays over receipts by a rollcall vote.
Section 2. The limit on the debt of the United States held by the public shall not be increased, unless three-fifths of the whole number of each House shall provide by law for such an increase by a rollcall vote.
Section 3. Prior to each fiscal year, the President shall transmit to the Congress a proposed budget for the United States Government for that fiscal year in which total outlays do not exceed total receipts.
Section 4. No bill to increase revenue shall become law unless approved by a majority of the whole number of each House by a rollcall vote.
Section 5. The Congress may waive the provisions of this article for any fiscal year in which a declaration of war is in effect. The provisions of this article may be waived for any fiscal year in which the United States is engaged in military conflict which causes an imminent and serious military threat to national security and is so declared by a joint resolution, adopted by a majority of the whole number of each House, which becomes law.
Section 6. The Congress shall enforce and implement this article by appropriate legislation, which may rely on estimates of outlays and receipts.
Section 7. Total receipts shall include all receipts of the United States Government except those derived from borrowing. Total outlays shall include all outlays of the United States Government except for those for repayment of debt principal.
Section 8. This article shall take effect beginning with the later of the second fiscal year beginning after its ratification or the first fiscal year beginning after December 31, 2016.
This is a big deal. Not because it looks like it will pass Congress; based on the reported tea leaves, it will probably not pass the House (the Democratic leadership is whipping against the resolution), the Senate is probably an even bigger hurdle, and who knows what would happen in the states. No, it’s a big deal because the elected representatives of the United States may plausibly propose that we change the constitutional structure of our government and our nation. Setting all the politics aside, we are watching a centuries-old mechanism of self-government being put to use. And that’s fundamentally important.
Anyway, let’s get to the numbers!
0: The number of Constitutional amendments that have been passed by Congress and sent to the states for ratification since August 22, 1978, when the D.C. Voting Rights Amendment was passed by Congress.
2/3: The fraction of votes necessary in the House (and the Senate if the resolution passes the House) necessary to pass the resolution and send it to the states as required under the Constitution. Many news outlets are reporting that the resolution needs 290 votes (2/3 of the 435 Members of the House) to pass. That’s not true. Under past court rulings, it has been decided that “2/3″ as written in Article V refers to two-thirds of the Members present, assuming a quorum, not two-thirds of the total membership. With Oregon’s 1st district currently vacant and Rep. Giffords unlikely to return to Washington for the vote, the maximum number of Members present should not exceed 433, two-thirds of which is only 289.
3/4: The constitutional fraction of states need to ratify an amendment. Currently, this is 38. If states are added to the union while an amendment is open for ratification, the threshold can go up; it is not fixed to the number of states existing at the time of passage.
1: The number of Amendments added to the Constitution since August 22, 1978, when the D.C. Voting Rights Amendment was passed by Congress. No, it wasn’t the DC voting rights amendment. It was the 27th amendment, which prevents Member pay increases from going into effect prior to the following election and was passed by Congress on September 25, 1789, but not ratified by 3/4 of the states until 1992. Under a 1939 Supreme Court decision, any proposed amendment that does not specify an expiration date may be ratified at any time in the future.
5: The number of hours of debate there will be in the House on the proposed amendment. This is under a special rule, H.Res.466, which was agreed to yesterday. Here is the text:
Resolved, That it shall be in order at any time through the legislative day of November 18, 2011, for the Speaker to entertain motions that the House suspend the rules, as though under clause 1 of rule XV, relating to the joint resolution (H.J. Res. 2) proposing a balanced budget amendment to the Constitution of the United States. Debate on such a motion shall be extended to five hours.
Sec. 2. The Chair may postpone further consideration of a motion considered pursuant to this resolution to such time as may be designated by the Speaker.
Why will the House be considering the joint resolution under the suspension procedure, which requires a 2/3 vote for passage and usually is reserved for non-controversial legislation? And why are they using a special rule to get there? Three points: first, the resolution needs a 2/3 vote anyway, so it doesn’t matter if they do it by suspension or by rule; there’s no handicap to using the suspension process. Second, they needed to pass the special rule to extend the debate time, which is limited to 40 minutes under the suspension procedures. Finally — and this is just speculation — they might have gone with a suspension in order to avoid the motion to recommit, which would have allowed the Democrats to propose an amendment to the resolution. A strategic amendment (a so-called ‘poison pill’) — such as a more conservative version of the resolution — might have been able to get the bare majority needed to amend the resolution, but also guarantee that the amended resolution could not capture the 2/3 for passage.
6: The number of proposed Constitutional Amendments that have been passed by Congress but failed to be ratified. These include two early proposed amendments (one to adjust the size of the House in 1789, another to strip citizenship of anyone who accepts a foreign title in 1810); the Corwin Amendment, passed in March 1861 by a secession-shrunk Republican Congress, which was an attempt to end the secession crisis by offering guarantees to the South that slavery could not be attacked in states where it already existed; an anti-child-labor amendment, passed in 1926, which would have empowered Congress to regulate child labor; the well-known ERA amendment; and, of course, the DC Voting Rights Amendment. Both the ERA amendment and the DC voting rights amendment were time-limited and have since expired. The other four are still eligible for ratification, although the Corwin amendment is now moot. The anti-foreign title amendment has been ratified by 12 states so far, but none since 1812. The child labor amendment is functionally moot, but has been ratified by 28 states, the last in 1937. The House size amendment is also functionally moot, and has been ratified by 10 states, the last in 1791.
7: The number of proposed Constitutional Amendments that have been passed by the House since the DC Voting Rights Amendment went to the states in 1978. Six have been amendments to empower the states and federal government to ban flag burning. The other was the Balanced Budget Amendment of 1995. None of the flag burning amendments received a vote in the Senate. The balanced budget amendment in 1995 fell two votes short (64-35) of passage on June 6, 1996.
7: The number of years that today’s proposed amendment will be open for ratification by the states if passed by Congress.
28: The number of proposed Constitutional Amendments that have seen floor action in the House since the DC Voting Rights Amendment went to the states in 1978. In addition to the 7 described above that have passed the house, these have included balanced budget amendments, an anti-busing amendment, an amendment to alter the system of filling vacant House seats, an equal rights amendment, a term limits amendment, an amendment to require a 2/3 vote to raise taxes, other tax limitation amendments, an amendment to limit campaign spending, and a definition of marriage amendment.
59: The number of proposed Constitutional Amendments that have been introduced in the House so far this Congress.
268: My guess for the number of votes the resolution gets in the House today. Not enough to pass.
Update: The vote was 261-165, with 8 not voting. 4 Republicans vote against it; 25 Democrats votes for it.
Three weeks ago, I asserted that Drew Westen had achieved anti-perfection with a New York Times piece. But he may have outdone himself last night. Last time, people were joking on Twitter that his article had been so completely shredded that the only thing left to go after was the grammar and punctuation. Mr. Westen may have been following that conversation, because not only did he bring all the nonsense we’ve become accustomed to in his latest piece, but he has also decided to start using unnecessary quotation marks, like “pre-existing conditions” and “adult in the room” and “grand bargain,” the last one selectively.
So there’s once again plenty of room for take-down commentary.
But you have to get up pretty early in the morning to have first crack at Mr. Westen: Brendan Nyhan was on the case via Twitter shortly after publication last night, and Jonathan Bernstein did an excellent full-length takedown before 7:30am. More are surely to follow; it’s just preposterously poor quality for a college daily. Or the global paper of record. If you think I’m exaggerating for effect, I urge you to go read the article. It’s a stunning achievement for something that’s not even 1400 words long.
Here’s one thing that bothered me that hasn’t been covered yet: Westen seems to have no sense of the role and power of the President within the political system. (This makes him two for two, since I’ve already covered his misunderstanding of the legislature; maybe next week he can write about the health care lawsuit!) Brendan Nyhan pointed out the most egregious example of this — Westen’s claim that the President was crazy for leaving decisions about legislation to Congress — but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Five times, Westen suggests presidential ownership of things that are unambiguously shared responsibilities with Congress:
- “When [Obama] made his ‘grand bargain’ over the summer”
- “He created the Congressional committee”
- “After his grand bargain on the debt”
- “he has empowered a ‘supercommittee’ to make just the kinds of decisions”
- “a decision to override a plan produced by his own Environmental Protection Agency
Maybe I’m just being a cranky Whig because of Rick Perry’s assault on Congress this week, but this stuff really bothers me. Too many people already think the president is an all-powerful political actor. I hate seeing respectable media sources allowing it to be repeated as if it’s not up for debate. I know all the presidential candidates say things like “under my plan” and “when you compare my tax plan with his plan,” but the assertion that the President has unilateral control over policymaking or policy implementation simply does not reflect either the constitutional arrangements of the federal government or the practice of contemporary federal politics.
The President cannot create congressional committees. The President cannot empower congressional committees. The President does not declare “grand bargains” by fiat. The President cannot raise or lower taxes. The President cannot increase or cut spending. And the executive branch is not exclusively owned by the President. The job of the EPA is to implement and enforce laws passed by Congress. Arrggghhh! And lest you think this is just a style and usage issue for Westen, in other places in the article he says “the White House and the Democrats” when referring to the legislative process. Just kill me.
I’m still digesting Rick Perry’s plan to uproot and overhaul Washington. There’s just a lot to take in.
There’s been some good writing around the blogsphere already on the congressional side of things — Jamelle Bouie and Jonathan Bernstein and Matt Yglesias addressed many of the fundamental problems with populist downsizing and amatuerization of legislatures; Kevin Collins pointed out that de-professionalization would probably reduce congressional responsiveness to voters and cited some political science on the topic; and I made a small empirical point about congressional salary.
One thing that hasn’t been voiced so far is the whiggish response to Perry’s plan, and I just can’t let this pass. If you look at the document from a holistic point of view and strip away all the policy-side stuff, it boils down to a pretty strong attack on the legislative and judicial branches, while leaving the Presidency largely intact, or in some cases enhancing its power.
Start with the judiciary: Perry’s plan it to pass a constitutional amendment ending life tenure for federal judges, replacing it with fixed terms. But unless judges are not allowed to be reappointed — and that would be insane in the lower federal courts — the obvious results would be a politicization of the courts and significant political leverage for the president (and, to a lesser degree, Congress) over the judiciary. You think the court decisions are political now? Just wait!
But the courts aren’t the most egregious issue; the real problem is that Perry’s plan would strip Congress of its political resources but do nothing to reduce the resources of the President. Yesterday, many of the commentators focused on how reducing the staff and deprofessionalizing the legislature would empower interest groups: Members need to get information about legislation and oversight from somewhere, and if they do not have the resource capacity to gather it themselves, they will turn to other places, like leadership and interest groups. If congressional staff are cut, interest groups (and leadership) would gain an informational advantage, and thus increase their power over legislation.
But the President would also gain a massive informational advantage. Right now, the president gets just north of $800 million annually to fund the Executive Office of the President, which employs over 1800 people and exists to provide the president with a myriad of staff support: it includes OMB, the National Security Council, the Council of Economic Advisers, the direct White House staff, and other offices. There’s not a word in Perry’s plan about cutting the EOP.
And the end result of cutting congressional staff but not EOP staff would be to politically advantage the president in any legislative dispute that required research, analysis, or public persuasion. Which is, to say, all of them. This isn’t fantasy: one of the reasons the Congressional Budget Office was created in the 70′s was because Congress did not have their own independent source of budgeting and economic numbers; they had to rely on OMB, which was perceived to have a bias toward the president’s positions. Not only can you not make informed decisions without resources, you also can’t effectively take part in a public debate.
This is not to say that my solution would be to cut the EOP. Far from it. And this raises the main blindspot of Perry’s plan: part of the reason the number of staffers in Washington has grown is because the complexity of issues facing the nation has grown. It’s not 1915 — the president cannot survive on a dozen or so White House staffers, and individual Members of Congress cannot make optimally-informed decisions without significant staff research and analysis. Maybe Perry has read the Brownlow Commission report from 1937 but is taking its core message — The President needs help — a little too literally. Everyone needs help in the modern environment.
And look, I’m a libertarian. My personal preference would probably be for a somewhat smaller federal government. But even a small federal government — which is clearly what Perry wants — needs informed policymakers. But that’s really besides the point, because the fundamental issue is how all the Washington staff affect the government. This is another blind spot of Perry’s; he seems to think that because the growth of Washington followed the growth of government, you can somehow shrink the government by shrinking the Washington establishment. I don’t buy it. Shrinking the political apparatus in Washington will certainly produce a different government, but I doubt it would be a smaller one, and I’m quite certain it won’t be a better one.
But let’s move on. Perry does propose some reforms for the executive branch, none of which seem to affect the power of the president very much. He wants a freeze on federal regulations, followed by an OMB review of existing regulations promulgated since 2008. This could mostly be done by executive order (I think) and, of course, he notes that “common-sense exceptions” would be made by the President. He proposes that FOIA be applied to both the legislative branch as well as the White House, but my impression is that the president could always fall back on some variation of the constitutional executive privilege doctrine or a national-security FOIA exemption to avoid application.
Next, Perry proposes that the annual congressional budget resolution become statutory, which could in theory create stronger spending caps, but definitely brings the president into the equation. This is odd given that (a) the President already submits his own complete budget as Congress requires under law, and (b) he can already veto appropriations bills. But leave that aside. Suggesting that Congress should modify a process that is designed to regulate the inner-workings of the legislative appropriations process so that the president can become a veto player is, well, it’s just out of line. It’s like Congress asking the President to submit to Senate approval for presidential pardons.
Finally, I want to say a word about oversight. Perry seems to take the view that congressional staff serve two main functions: helping constituents and getting in the way of Members’ direct control over legislation. Not surprisingly, he leaves out one of the most important functions of congressional committee staff: oversight of the executive branch. Whether you think Congress is doing a good job or a terrible job of oversight in the modern era, it’s pretty obvious that reducing the number of staff will not help improve it. And the crazy thing is that congressional oversight of the executive branch is a core conservative concern; if Congress does not have the tools to properly evaluate bureaucratic effectiveness and uncover problems, then popular control over government is reduced. And, more importantly, political power is further concentrated into the presidency.
I don’t want to make too big a deal about all of this stuff; it’s unlikely Perry is going to be President, and even if he was, it’s unlikely many of these reforms would be put into place. But I also believe that ideas matter, and anyone who believes in the power of Congress and worries about the expansion of the power of the president should not sit by and watch when presidential candidates propose things that, whether intended or not, are quite obviously consequential power plays in favor of the executive over the legislature.
In his plan to overhaul Washington, Rick Perry states that:
When the first Congress convened in 1789 following the ratification of the Constitution, federal lawmakers were paid $6 a day, and an annual salary of $1,500 was not authorized until 1815. Had Congressional salaries merely risen with inflation, a member of Congress today would make less than $20,000 each year. Instead, annual Congressional salaries have risen almost 10 times faster than inflation and now total $174,000 – more than 3.5 times higher than the country’s median household income of $49,445 in 2010.
He then follows them with this chart, showing congressional salaries, 1933-present:
I haven’t checked if his statements about inflation are true (I have no reason to doubt them technically), but if they are true then almost all the real increase in congressional salaries took place in the 19th century.* According to the inflation figures Perry used, real prices fell by almost 50% between 1815 and 1907, while Members’ salaries went from $1500 to $7500. There’s the entirety of the 10-fold increase he cites.
Contemporary Members make little more in real dollars than Members did in the early 20th century. Below is a graph that charts inflation-adjusted (CPI) salaries for Members, 1913-2010, in constant 1913 dollars.** (For the short period of time in 1990-1991 during which pay differed for Representatives and Senators, Representatives salaries are used).
As the chart shows — and this is the same data that Perry uses — Members make approximately 1.7% more in real dollars than they did 100 years ago. So if the salaries of the legislative branch ran wild because something changed in Washington, that something took place in the 19th century, not the 20th.
Some details for people interested in the spikes on the chart: prior to 1967, pay raises were accomplished by specific pieces of legislation, and were sporadic. They occurred in 1925, 1934, 1935, 1947, 1955, 1965, and are reflected in the chart by the various spikes, which are then eroded/augmented over time by inflation/deflation (pay was also reduced in 1932 and 1933).
While Congress may still adjust pay by stand-alone legislation, since 1967 there have been a few other statutory mechanisms: first a commission to recommend increases (which occurred in 1969, 1977, and 1987), followed by a system begun in 1975 in which Congress needed to accept or reject raises based on formula (accepted in 1975, 1979, 1984, 1985, and 1987; rejected all other years 1976-1989), and finally, under the Ethics Reform Act of 1989, a system of automatic raises that go into effect unless Congress rejects them (rejected in 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997, 2007, 2010, 2011). Under the automatic system, Members will also not get a raise in 2012, because the law bars Members from getting a larger increase than federal workers, who are currently under a COLA freeze.
Because the automatic adjustment (1) has occurred more often; and (2) is calculated from a formula based on variables that reflect inflation, real pay is somewhat more stable in recent decades than it was for much of the 20th century, as shown in the chart. It is also the case, however, that real wages for Members are likely to slowly decline, because in any given year, the most likely outcome is either (a) an automatic raise that keeps pace with inflation; or (b) a rejection of the automatic raise, which results in real pay erosion. The action necessary to reverse inflation-erosion from the rejected years would be stand-alone legislation that authorized a greater-than-inflation increase in pay, and that is politically unlikely to pass in most climates. at least until real pay has eroded significantly over many years.
* One slightly misleading statement Perry makes is that “an annual salary of $1,500 was not authorized until 1815.” That’s true, but it implies an annual salary was then used going forward. In fact, the annual salary was only used from 1815-1817, after which Congress returned to a per diem system until 1855, when the salary was set at $3,000.
**1913 was used instead of 1907 so that the consistent CPI metric could be used; the estimated CPI from 1907 to 1913 shows virtually no aggregate inflation, and using 1907 would not alter the findings.
Each Congress, quite a few pieces of legislation are introduced to amend the Constitution. If you look through the House Joint Resolutions introduced this Congress, you will find the following:
proposals for a balanced budget amendment; proposals for term limits on Members of Congress; a proposal for a parents’ rights amendment; proposals to cap total federal spending; proposals to empower Congress to regulate campaign finance; a proposal to bar out-of-district campaign contributions; a proposal to empower the regulation of flag burning; a proposal for a presidential line-item veto; a proposal to repeal the 16th amendment (graduated income tax); a proposal to repeal the 22nd amendment (presidential term limit); a proposal to prohibit the United States from owning stock; a proposal to require a super-majority vote to raise taxes; a proposal to allow residents of territories to vote for president and vice-president; a proposal to restructure congressional succession with an “alternate Member” system; a proposal to establish a right to public prayer; a proposal to alter voting rights; a proposal to establish a constitutional right to an education; a proposal to establish a constitutional equal right for men and women, and reproductive rights; a proposal to establish a constitutional right to affordable housing; a proposal to establish a constitutional mandate for progressive taxation; a proposal to establish a constitutional worker’s rights; a proposal to establish a constitutional right to a clean environment; a proposal to bar all income, estate, and gift taxes, and prevent the government from competing with private business; a proposal to repeal the deadline for the ERA amendment; a proposal for a new ERA amendment; a proposal to restrict the authority of executive orders, treaties, and international agreements; a proposal to abolish the electoral college; a proposal to require a super-majority to increase the debt limit; two proposals to allow repeal of federal laws by the vote of 2/3 of state legislatures; and a proposal to bar the use of foreign law as authority in federal courts.
What you will not find, best I can tell, is a Right to Life or other anti-abortion amendment. This surprised me greatly. Hundreds of RTL amendments have been introduced since the Supreme Court decision in Roe. v. Wade, and at least one was proposed in the House each Congress for decades. Then, in 2005, they just stop. The last one that I can find is H.J.Res 4 from the 109th Congress, introduced on January 4, 2005.
Perhaps there’s a back story here about the changing strategy of the pro-life movement, but it’s not one I’m familiar with. Or maybe I’m missing something. But I don’t think so.
Last Tuesday, former president Clinton gave his support to altering the 22nd amendment so that it only limited the number of consecutive terms a person could serve as president, allowing people to leave office and serve again later:
I’ve always thought that should be the rule … I think as a practical matter, you couldn’t apply this to anyone who has already served, but going forward, I personally believe that should be the rule.
How should we think about presidential term limits? Five points.
1) The presidency is different than other offices. I’m totally against any term limits for Representatives or Senators or other officeholders. For all the usual reasons.
But the presidency is far more politically powerful and, more importantly, more ripe for highly-consequential abuse. As Jonathan Bernstein noted while thinking about this a while back, presidents are in a unique position of influence across all policy areas, with lasting effects on the systemic power structure. Someone who could build even a modest House-like incumbency advantage would gain a whole lot of discretion without much of a check from popular elections. And that could have long-term consequences, for both the presidency and for the relative power of the presidency within the system. It’s not clear what kind of incumbency advantage first-term presidents gain — for what it’s worth, David Mayhew thinks it’s pretty significant, and Larry Sabato’s shop has hilariously calculated it at 4.4% — but it’s hard to imagine it’s nothing.
But the thing that scares me about a four-term president isn’t that he might be winning the elections due to an artificial incumbency advantage. It’s that the lack of rotation in the most powerful office might have a seriously corrosive effect on the democratic character of the system itself. The American system does not differentiate between the head of state and head of government, and the fusion of those two roles creates a presidency that not only embodies the nation, but also comes to define it. Ever been in the same general vicinity of a president who you didn’t vote for and really don’t care for? It’s not uncommon for people to just start spontaneously clapping. That sort of gut-patriotism alone is enough to creep me out when I think about undoing the 22nd amendment; then I imagine someone turning 18 who can’t ever remember anyone else being president.
2) The 22nd amendment has some negative consequences. Despite everything said above, there’s little doubt that the 22nd amendment (or the norm that preceded it) has a few serious negative consequences, which can be broadly placed into three different buckets. First, second- term presidents have no electoral incentives to constrain their actions. Sure, public opinion polling matters and presidents certainly prefer to be in good standing over bad. And people like to talk about “legacy” as the constraint. But the observable actions of 2nd term presidents —like proposing politically-risky policies (like Bush re: SS privatization) or making inexcusable pardons — point toward these alleged constraints being quite different than the electoral connection. You might, of course, think these are good things, and it’s true that they would be available to any president who knew he wasn’t running again, but my instinct is that a higher percentage of presidents would leave office due to electoral defeat absent the 22nd, and so there would be an overall aggregate mitigation of these concerns.
The second issue is that the lame-duck status of the president tends to hamper his political effectiveness during his second term. Especially by the second Congress of his second term, the president begins to lose public attention and standing as the competitors for the nomination in both parties — as well as their policy prescriptions — arise. Similarly, the various tools of political leverage — patronage appointments, campaign assistance, greasing the skids for specific legislation — become less valuable and less effective, because presidents can’t make future guarantees about anything that happens after the are out of office, and because they tend to run out of chits before then anyway. This point (as well as the first) is not a specific function of the 22nd amendment — it would be true of any last term president who made his intentions known prior to nomination season — but the amendment guarantees that half of any re-elected presidency will function under this cloud.
Finally, there’s the crisis issue. It’s a silly political saying, but there’s a lot of merit to the don’t-change-horses-midstream logic. I think FDR’s decision to run in 1944 was quite justifiable. Much more so than in 1940. Roosevelt was managing a global war and had personal relationships with the leadership of our allies. It was a tough enough transition when he abruptly died; to crate 2+ months of lame-duckness followed by a change in command might have seriously impacted our global strategy and prospects. The point is that I think it would be a tough situation to be trapped in a long war or crisis situation and be constitutionally required to change leadership. This was one of the key minority arguments against the amendment in the committee report that came to the House floor with it.
3) We never really got to see the post-two-term world. When you stop and think about it, there was a very strange dynamic at play when the amendment was ratified in 1951. In effect, a constitutional amendment was passed to enforce a norm. But that raises the question: if the norm was so widely believed, what need was the amendment? And if the amendment was popular enough to pass, why wasn’t the norm good enough? The answer, of course, is somehow related to FDR and/or the depression and the war. But it’s an open question as to whether 3rd terms — or even presidents seeking 3rd terms — would have become commonplace.
It’s true that the approval ratings of Eisenhower, Reagan, and Clinton were high enough during their last Congresses to plausibly have made reelection possible (Bush 43′s were not). But there’s too much endogeneity to know for sure, and 2nd term presidents might benefit from good feeling once they are out of the electoral game. But even though the norm had been crumbling for the better part of a century — Grant sought a non-consecutive nomination in 1880, TR ran for what would have more or less been a non-consecutive 3rd term in 1912 — it would still have had an impact, judging from the fact that the amendment was ratified. So it’s far from clear that FDR would have opened the floodgates to 2nd term presidents automatically standing for re-election the way 1st term presidents do.
In effect, we’ve had four historical phases regarding the terms. First, in the patrician era there was strong elite opinion against the 3rd term, stemming from some combination of political theory, Founding thought, and Washington’s example. Following Jackson’s presidency and the onset of the powerful mass political parties, there was an institutional constraint on the 3rd term — the parties were loathe to nominate candidates even a second time, out of fear that the president could build his own patronage system and come to dominate the party, rather than be beholden to it. Later, in the later 19th and early 20th century, there existed a popular norm against the 3rd term, even as the parties warmed to the idea of multi-term candidates. Finally, beginning with the Eisenhower presidency, there is the constitutional rule.
4) Clinton’s plan does not strike me as an improvement. There are two distinct ides in the 22nd amendment. The first is that no one should be president for more than 8 consecutive years (or 10 in the case of inheriting the office). The second is that no one should be president for more than 8 years (or 10) during their lifetime. Clinton’s proposal is to scrap the second idea, and allow former presidents to stand for the office. There’s an intuitive appeal to this; it certainly mitigates the incumbency-advantage issue. But it doesn’t do anything to address the problems of the 2nd term president or the changing-horses-midstream problem.
And I think it comes with it’s own problems. Former presidents in the modern age are not, by and large, political animals. They are around as statesmen and such, but they don’t hang huge shadows over the political parties. If they were allowed to run again, but not run for a 3rd term, you might end up in a situation where they very much were shadows. That might not be a bad thing, it’s pretty fuzzy. But my intuition is that presidents are quite influential in shaping the party ideology these days, and when combined with the open possibility of running again but having to sit on the sidelines, might create a mess. Could it work out well? Sure, I think Clinton in 2004 might have been a good and winning candidate. But we don’t really know what a Clinton shadow over the party would have meant from 2001-2004.
5) On balance, I think it’s a very close call on repeal. I’d probably end up opposing a straight repeal of the 22nd amendment, because I’m both risk-averse and very much an opponent of expanded presidential power. And that’s what really worries me, the worst-case scenario: someone developing a personal cult, serving for seven terms, and then having his son elected to the office upon his death. It’s farfetched, but in the age of the runaway executive I think any move that expands the power of the presidency has to be approached with an eye toward the worst-case scenarios. It’s naive to think that a contemporary four-term president wouldn’t develop a personal power that went beyond anything we’ve ever seen. And that’s very troubling.
Still, I would be pretty torn about it. The problems with the unlimited system are, like the above hypothetical, almost completely theoretical, whereas the problems with the limited system are well-known and consistently evidenced in two-term presidencies. On this I agree with Bernstein; the best world would be the post-Jacksonian and pre-FDR world, where the norm was either culturally strong among voters or institutionally enforced by political parties jealous of the power multi-term presidents might acquire at their expense. And while the latter is unlikely to ever be coming back, the cultural/electoral norm could theoretically be resurrected.
Still, the ship has sailed on a two-term system held together by norms. Not because I don’t think the norm exists in the modern mindset, but because the only plausible situation in which the 22nd amendment could be undone is one in which there is a groundswell against both the amendment and the norm. Nor do I think there are other workable solutions. I don’t like Clinton’s plan. I think a three-term limit would be completely counterproductive, embodying the worst of both an unlimited system and the 22nd amendment system. And you don’t have to live in Virginia to know that all the proposals for a single 6-year term are insane.
Our church was holding elections this morning for the pastoral council. So much to talk about, but just a few quick points here.
1) I’m a huge fan of democratically-structured institutions of civil society. At my wife’s request, we go to a Catholic church, which I have always rated low the self-democracy scale. It’s an international institutions with a pretty strong hierarchy preaching a pretty strong organizational authoritarianism and providing little congregation control over decision-making at the local or regional level. So I was pleased to see the ballot boxes out today, even if the organizational structure doesn’t allow for a whole lot of democratic decision-making and the elections were for what is, more or less, an advisory council..
I grew up in a liberal Protestant church that was pretty much exactly the opposite — close to total self-reliance on donated funds from the small congregation to run the church, with corresponding democratic control over pretty much the whole ball of wax — pastor salary, worship logistics and contents, youth curriculum, building improvements — with minimal to no input from the larger national church structure. As with any organization, there were large variations among the congregation regarding interest in decision-making, and practical political control of the church fell to a small cadre of highly-interested people. But the basic sense of the community was self-governance, and it was a pervasive cultural attitude of the church. People talked about the church budget, and the sunday school curriculum, and the proposed additions to the building. And when decisions were made, it felt like the community was making them.
Honestly, to me this is the single best thing about the American-born churches, as well as one reason I am more fond of American protestantism than I am of Catholicism. Strip away all of the salvation theology and the ethics system and what you have at the foundations of American protestantism is the essence of democratic civil society. We voted on everything in my church growing up. Yes, it could be bitter, and yes there were political factions. But it gave people a chance to participate in self-government in a way that I think reinforced both the clear advantages of the democratic system over all possible governing structures as well as the limitations and shortcomings of the same. Democracy is far from perfect, but you can’t help but believe in its magic after you observe how well it serves a 300-person church that doesn’t even have the power to tax. The spillover effects of democracy, both from public life to our church, and from our church to public life, were unmistakable.
2) I was unimpressed with the election structure today. Nine candidates for four seats, voters allowed to mark four candidates on a ballot, top four plurality winners elected, voting open after mass yesterday, today, and next Saturday and Sunday. This looks to me like a structure that could likely result in factional candidates — ones with lots of support but also lots of opposition — winning seats over consensus candidates. That’s never a great outcome, but it’s especially bad in a private non-profit organization, I think. One remedy would be to go to some form of Borda voting, but that would never happen in a church. Nor would a runoff. Luckily, this election did not seem at all divisive.
Another problem in a massive Catholic parish is that not everyone knows each other. With four different masses on a given weekend and people tending to always go to the same one, it can kind of feel like four different churches. And thus you get a situation where the candidates are unknown to a good many of the voters. Obviously, you can’t do anything about this; but it does speak to how the usually-smaller protestant churches, with their single services and tighter communities, are perhaps better structured for democracy. To combat this today, there was a candidate brochure available, which had pictures of each of the nine candidates and a brief (150 word) statement from each of them. Perusing the brochure, not a single candidate spoke to policy; the appeals were either made to gyroscopic representation (I’ve been a member here for 20 years; my kids are in the youth program, etc.) or to experience (I’ve been on the board for 3 terms, etc.).
The lack of policy positions revealed what was actually the most problematic aspect of the election — I don’t think most voters have any more than a vague sense of what the job actually entails. Well, I don’t at any rate. And maybe that’s because I’m not Catholic, but my wife didn’t know either. I assume it’s some sort of advisory group to the parish priests on various church matters, but I really don’t know. It can’t be like a stand-alone protestant church trustees situation, because there’s not that much congregation control in a Catholic church. But on the other hand, it might have actual administrative powers of some sort. I guess the point is that it would probably serve the church well to put up a description of the powers/duties of the job in the front of the candidate brochure.
3) On the good side, the voter eligibility was wide. According to the candidate brochure, any “registered parishoner” was eligible to vote. I assume this means any confirmed member of the church, which means that most high school students would qualify. That’s good for both the teenagers and the church. The teenagers benefit because there’s something very powerful about participatory democracy and self-government, and there’s no way to build a lifetime understanding of that then by getting started at it early. Teenagers live in a world dominated by authority: at home, at school, on the sports teams. To hand them even the smallest token of equality in a private institution is an eye-opener. I know it was for me. And this is to say nothing of the spill-over effects it may have on public society in their community or the nation.
But I think the big winner is the church. There’s no real reason to restrict the franchise in a situation like this; I’m almost certain that any of the nine candidates would be minimally-competent at the job. But the gains an organization can make by including their children and young adults in a process like this are potentially huge. First, you give them a sense of ownership over the church; it may be a trivial election to the adults, but any child who feels like they helped put a winning candidate over the top will find themselves looking at the institution in a new way, and they will bring a new sense of care to it. Second, churches constantly struggle to maintain memberships. In a country with a protestant/capitalist mentality, even the Catholic church cannot rely on its theology to bind parishoners; it surely competes less on the open-market than the protestant churches, but it still competes. Allowing teenagers to participate in the church administrative structure aids this retention, through both participatory effects and (in theory) policy outcomes.
4) I observed turnout for a while after church. It was abysmal.This doesn’t surprise me, because as I noted above, I don’t think a lot of people understand what the job does, nor do I think that the council has a lot of actual administrative powers. Still, it irks me that they don’t do a better job with it on the institutional side. The election was reasonably publicized, but the voting table was out of the way and not particularly visible. The in-mass message from the priest reminding people to vote was also pretty lukewarm. For a church that has no problem issuing dead-serious prescriptions for salvation and ethics, I would think that something along the lines of “it’s your duty to vote” could have been proffered without a lot of trouble and to some definite effect. I doubt they get 10% turnout across all of the voting days.
A few months ago, I put up a post with a long list of Hill jargon in response to a short-but- good published article (subscription required). Since my original post was pretty well received, here’s an updated version with another three dozen terms. As with the first installment, this isn’t formal terminology related to floor procedure, that can be found in quite a few places. This is the language that staffers use. Like any profession, the Hill is chock-full of wonderful phrases and sayings. But unlike a lot of other professions, politics tends garner a lot of interest from non-practitioners. So enjoy. These are off the top of my head. So feel free to add on in the comments.
BTU (or BTU’d): When backbench majority House Members cast a tough vote to support the leadership, but then the policy never even materializes because the Senate doesn’t take up the bill. Named after a vote in 1993, in which House Democrats cast a painful vote to raise taxes on home heating oil and other energy, measured in BTU’s, only to see the Senate never even take up the bill. Usage: I hope to god we don’t get BTU’d on this health care vote. It was bad enough on the climate change bill.
Rolled: When a faction of a party or group gets end-run or otherwise outmaneuvered politically. Usage: I can already see what’s going to happen here: the liberals are going to get rolled again by a conservative coalition.
Apoplectic: When a Member or staff gets enraged by new information or news. Usage: When he found out the minority was going to move 30 amendments, the Chairman was apoplectic.
Recommend: Polite language staffers often use to tell their bosses what they should do. Usage: On the tax amendment, I recommend you vote no.
Ping-pong: Reconciling the differences between a House-passed bill and a Senate-passed bill by amendments between the chambers, rather than forming a conference committee. More common now than in the past. Usage: I don’t think they have the time or inclination to put a conference together on the omnibus, we’ll probably just ping-pong it.
Mr./Ms.: The title staffers use for Members other than “their boss.” Usage: Is everyone in the hearing room? No, we’re still waiting on Mr. Obey and Mr. Skelton.
Camel’s nose: The principle that once funding starts — no matter how little — for a project, it will be difficult to cut and probably grow larger. Usage: But they only want $250,000 for it. Yeah, but that’s just the camel’s nose.
Justifications: Short for budget justifications, documents submitted by agencies to the appropriations committee outlining their budget requests for the following fiscal year. Usage: What the hell is this $2 million for “additional overages”? I don’t know, check the justifications.
Push-back: When a stakeholder objects to draft or proposed legislation coming out of a Member’s office or a committee. Usage: We thought it would work to structure it that way too, but we got a lot of push-back from the auto industry.
Stakeholder: An interest group or other entity that has a position on a piece of legislation. Usage: This bill is a nightmare. There are a million stakeholders,and they all want something different!
Pen and Pad: A type of press availability held by Members on the Hill at which video/photography is not allowed, usually associated with leadership Members who often hold them on a weekly basis at a scheduled time. Named as such because the reporters all used to gather around the Member with their pads of paper and pens. Now many just put a tape recorder on the table. Usage: Are you going to Hoyer’s pen and pad tomorrow?
Build a public record: The main reason for holding a hearing, which is to get the committee majority’s position and rationale for a bill down on paper. Usage: The boss wants it to move by Christmas. So we need to build a public record on this thing. I guess we should schedule a hearing.
MRA: Short for Members Representational Allowance. The money that each House office is given to fund staff salaries, travel, office expenses and franked mail. Senate equivalent is the SOPOEA (Senator’s Official Personnel and Office Expense Account). Usage: Can drinks at Bullfeather’s be charged to the MRA if we talk about politics?
Face Time: One-on-one interactions between a staffer and the Member he/she works for. Usage: How’s your new job on the Hill? It’s great, but my boss is so busy that I’m lucky to get 30 minutes of face time a week.
D.O.: District Office. Virtually all Members employ staffers to work in their home districts, usually to handle casework and constituent outreach. Usage: What the intake procedure for these constituent passport questions? I have no idea, call the DO.
Move: To advance legislative action on a bill, either in committee or on the floor. Usage: Any word on when the defense reauthorization is going to move? Nope. But they’re moving the minibus on Thursday, so I think it might happen next week.
D-Trip: Short for D-Triple-C, which is slang for DCCC, which is the acronym for the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, which is the primary campaign arm of the House Democrats. Republican equivalent is the NRCC; Senate equivalents are the DSCC and NRSC. Usage: Did Chris get that job with Smith? No, but he landed a sweet position at the D-Trip.
Christmas Tree / too many ornaments: Refers to the process of too many amendments/ideas being added to a bill, causing opposition to grow. Interchangeable with “collapsed under its own weight.” Usage: I thought the omnibus had a chance, but now there are too many ornaments weighing down the Christmas tree.
Subcommittee print: A document produced by subcommittee staff for Members and other staff, often related to a bill. Usually never made public, but often a great source of information. Usage: How much money did that agency get in FY08? I have no idea, check the subcommittee print.
FTE: Acronym for “full-time equivalent,” which is the standard metric for number of employees in an executive branch agency. Usage:Did you see the budget justifications the agency sent over? They’re asking for 45 new FTEs!
Report language: Instructions, observations, and expectations found in the committee report that accompanies a bill to the floor. Does not have the force of law (as “bill language” does), but agencies ignore it at their own risk. Usage: Call them back and tell them we’re serious about the unauthorized travel. And if they don’t want to listen, tell them we’ll add some stern report language to the reauthorization. And if they still don’t want to listen, we’ll just put it in bill language.
Budget drills: In the early stages of appropriations season, prior to the passage of a budget resolution and 302(b) suballocations, appropriations staffers will often produce hypothetical appropriation bill estimates at various percentages of the previous year’s allocation. Usage: What have you been up to? Just some light budget drills — we look good at 2% over FY11, but anything less is going to be tough.
Test vote: A procedural or other non-final vote, almost always in the Senate, that gives a signal as to where different Members stand on the underlying issue, and thus a roadmap as to how a bill might or might not have to change to win support. Usage: I don’t know where we stand on the debt deal, but they’ve lined up a couple test votes this afternoon, so we’ll know then.
Marker: A piece of legislation intended not to make law, but to lay down a position, for either political or negotiation purposes, or both. Often the introduction of a bill or a proposed amendment. Usage: The details of the legislative language don’t have to be perfect, we’re just laying down a marker.
Byrd bath: A review of legislative language prior to floor action under the reconciliation process to make sure that it conforms to the Byrd Rule, which bars certain extraneous legislation in reconciliation bills. Usage: When do you think they are going to move the reconciliation package? I know that they are doing the Byrd bath on Tuesday night, so probably by the end of the week.
Take down / bring down: When the majority is defeated on the floor in the House, which by definition involves Members of the majority voting against the leadership. Usage: The blue dogs are pretty upset right now, but I don’t think they’ll try to take down the rule on the Labor/H bill.
Lovefest: A committee hearing or markup in which the majority and minority are almost entirely in agreement, featuring little opposition and perhaps no amendments offered. Usage: I thought we’d see some fireworks at the Interior markup, but it turned out to be a lovefest.
Case: A constituent request for help from their Member’s office. Usage: I’m absolutely swamped here in the DO, we’ve got over 1500 open cases, and half of them are passport requests because of the State Department backup.
Floor: The actual House and Senate chambers, the only places where legislation can actually pass. Usage:When do you think the Defense bill will be on the floor? No idea, but if they can’t get a UC on the Patriot Act reauthorization, that could take the rest of the week.
Eat: When an agency is given a new responsibility but not increased appropriations to pay for it. Usage: We’re not going to be able to get an appropriations for this. Well, they’ll just have to eat it out of the Administrator’s funds.
Stack: Votes in the House can be postponed, and then taken one after another. Usage: What time do we have to be back in DC on Tuesday? Not till late. It’s just a pile of suspension votes, and they’re going to stack all the votes around 5pm.
Over a barrel: Having people in a political bind, such that they have to do what you want. Usage: It really looked like Stupak had the leadership over a barrel during the health care fight, but they managed to break his support.
Cardinal: An appropriations subcommittee chairman/chairwoman. Usage: I can’t believe Mr. Smith is already a cardinal. I feel like he was just a freshman on the committee yesterday.
UC: unanimous consent, or unanimous consent agreement. Perhaps the most important phrase in the Senate. If no one objects, the time-consuming process for moving anything on the Senate floor can be reduced to mere seconds. Usage: We need to line everyone up on this, if we can’t get a UC then it’s not going to move.
Run the traps: The process of vetting an idea by making sure all key players sign-off on it. Usage: I think this language will work, but you need to run the traps on it. Start by calling Ben in the Speaker’s office.
Member-level: In bill or report language negotiations, an issue that can’t be handled by staff and will require Member-to-Member communication. Usage: Q: Can you delete the language on the park issue? A: No. That’s going to have to be a Member-level decision.
Mark: The version of a bill used by a committee when the committee formally acts to amend legislation. Usage: Have you seen the mark for the Defense bill yet?
Rattle the cage: To surprise a hearing witness with unexpected or unwanted questions. Usage: When the secretary comes down here next week, I think the chairman is going to rattle the cage a little.
Embargo: A ban on the disclosure of information of any sort until a certain time. Usage: Here’s the report language for the bill. There’s an embargo on it until 3pm tomorrow.
D’s/R’s: Democrats and Republicans. Usage: If we put that on the floor this week, the D’s are going to be might upset.
Scores: When a provision in a bill costs money, but especially when the provision does not appropriate money, it scores. The Congressional Budget Office evaluates the cost of all bills that come out of committee, and appropriations bills are subject to caps on their budget authority and outlays. So it’s not good when something scores. Usage: I don’t think we can include those riders. They’re both going to score, and we don’t have room under the cap.
Book(s): Short for briefing book(s). The large binders that staff put together for Members and themselves prior to committee and other events, filled with things like statement texts, markup notes, bill language, data, etc. Usage: We’ve got to get moving on this draft. It’s already 9pm and we haven’t even started putting the books together.
Go down: Send bill or report language to GPO for overnight printing. Usage: I’m hoping we can finish this afternoon and go down tonight. That way we can read a bit tomorrow.
Sit and read/ turn pages: Collectively walking through a bill (especially an appropriations bill) out loud with multiple people, to check new drafts against old ones and confirm that language is exactly correct. A slow process. Usage: I’d like to turn pages on Thursday, so adjust your schedule accordingly.
Optics: how a bill or report language or policy will look from a constituent point of view. Usage: I agree with you, John, but the optics of this thing are terrible.
Drop: to introduce a bill. Usage: We need that language ASAP, because we want to drop this bill tomorrow.
Take a haircut: have your appropriation cut by some percentage. Usage: I know you have a lot of needs, but in this climate everyone is going to have to take a haircut.
Plus up: An appropriations increase, especially in contrast. Usage: the overall bill is flat but we gave a plus up to agency XYZ.
Four corners discussion: staff or Member meeting (often prior to formal conference) that includes majority and minority staff or Members of both House and Senate. Usage: Let’s try to put together a four corners discussion for Tuesday. See if they’ll come over here.
CR: continuing resolution. If all 12 appropriations bills are not signed into law by October 1, the government will have at least a partial shutdown, unless a continuing resolution is passed to temporarily fund things until the regular bills can be passed. Usage: The CR expires on November 3rd. Do you think they’ll have it all done by then, or do you think there will be another CR?
IQ: the most popular correspondence management system on the Hill. Used by Member offices to track and respond to constituent communications. Usage: Our new staff assistant is terrible. Five weeks and he can’t figure out IQ.
SA/LC/LA/LD: Four common positions in a Member office: Staff Assistant, Legislative Correspondent, Legislative Assistant, and Legislative Director. The basic chain of command beneath the chief of staff. Usage: We need to hire two new LAs this month and it looks like our LD might be leaving.
Clerk: lead staffer on a committee or subcommittee, particularly on Appropriations. Largely interchangeable with Staff Director. Calls the roll for committee votes. Usage: I think that’s right, but you better check with the Clerk.
CRS/CBO/GPO/GAO/LOC/AOC: Some of the legislative branch agencies. Congressional Research Service, Congressional Budget Office, Government Printing Office, Government Accountability Office, Library of Congress, Architect of the Capitol. Usage: I can’t believe the roof is leaking again. Get the AOC down here stat.
Give away: to have no floor votes on a day when there were initially going to be votes. Thus, Members are free to return to their districts early, and the Hill quiets down. Usage: I heard they are going to give away Friday this week.
The smell of jet fuel: an allusion to the impatience that sets in when Members are imminently leaving town for the weekend. Such situations can be used to quickly get through mark ups or floor action that might have otherwise taken time. Usage: It’s great we’re going last today. The smell of jet fuel is in the air, so there’s little chance we’ll face many hostile amendments.
Cats and dogs: Small details in a bill. Usage: we’ve pretty much ironed out all the outstanding issues. Just a few cats and dogs left, but nothing major.
CODEL/STAFDEL: Acronym for congressional delegation and staff delegation, the groups that might go on an official trip overseas. Usage: Did we get the money for the CODEL to South Africa yet? No, but I hear its coming.
Hotline: any number of uses related to moving a bill through the Senate by unanimous consent. Formally the decentralized phone system used to clear bills with all Members prior to bringing them to the floor. As a verb, the practice of moving bills in this manner. Usage: When are they going to do the land use bill? They’re going to try to hotline it tomorrow afternoon.
Ramseyers: refers to the Ramseyer’s Rule, which requires committee reports for House bills to include a section that describes how the proposed legislation would alter current law. Usage: I’m so glad we can farm out the Ramseyers to legislative counsel, those are a pain to write.
Side-by-side: A document that places the text of two similar bills (perhaps a House version and a Senate version) next to each, line by line. Allows easier comparison of the exact language difference between the bills. Usage: We’re almost ready for the staff-level conference negotiations, but we need to finish the side-by-side.
Markup notes: a document produced by committee staff for Members to use as a companion to a bill at markup. Most common in appropriations bills. Usage: If you’re having trouble understanding section 5, refer to the markup notes, which have more details.
HR/SR: House recedes or Senate recedes. Notation used in conference negotiations to indicate one chamber or the other giving in on bill language that differs between the chamber-passed versions. Usage: On page 12, section 3, 4, and 5 are all HR’s.
Suspension: Any bill going through the House of Representatives under suspension of the rules, which can move a bill quickly, but requires a 2/3 vote. Usually used with non-controversial legislation. Usage: How many suspensions are we doing today?
Two quick items and then a bunch of recommendations for excellent blog reads from this week:
1. I haven’t said anything about Penn State, mostly because I don’t have the heart to really get into it. I tried to read the grand jury presentment, but I had to stop because it I couldn’t take it; it was (literally) making me physically ill. I don’t see how any parent could read that whole thing. Sandusky is obviously a monster. Paterno, McQueary, and the Penn State administration are clearly morally bankrupt. The riot on Wednesday night might have been the dumbest protest/riot in U.S. history, and that’s saying something. And big-money college sports are perhaps beyond saving at this point.
The last point makes me sad because my one of my first sporting loves as a child was watching college basketball with my father. My parents’ house is spitting distance from Siena College, a tiny Catholic school with a cult following for its high mid-major basketball team. One thing you learn when you go to a lot of Catholic school college basketball games is that priests love college basketball. I can remember asking my father once why that was the case. And he said, “This — watching college sports — is pretty much the most wholesome and innocent entertainment available on a Saturday night in America.” That’s a fantasy I’ve always enjoyed, even as it has gradually crumbled for me. I won’t be able to stop watching Siena basketball, but I never really liked college football anyway. And so I’m done with it.
2. It’s Veteran’s Day. I have very mixed feelings about it as a holiday. I don’t believe in violence for either individuals or nations, except in the most direct cases of self defense. And I don’t believe that any modern war can be conducted in even a remotely just manner, certainly not by the classic Roman or Christian standards. Both of my grandfathers were in the Navy in WW2 — one as a radio operator on a boat in the Pacific, the other stateside as a chaplain counseling returning sailors — and while both of them always made the war seem like McHale’s Navy, it was pretty obvious that what they saw/heard scarred them for life.
On the other hand, I accept the imperfections of the world and I have an admiration for people who are willing to set their own lives aside for national service. I don’t hate the military; in fact, in an age of decreasing social mobility in America, it’s still one of the best ways for someone born into poverty to lift themselves and their family into the middle class. But I see a lot of people lament the muted celebrations of today compared to Veterans’ Days past — there’s no parade in my town today and the schools aren’t even closed — and I couldn’t disagree with them with more. Less celebration on Veteran’s Day indicates there are fewer veterans, which means fewer or less intense recent wars. And that is unambiguously a good thing.
Here’s a bunch of reads from this week that I highly recommend:
1. Brendan Nyhan and Jacob Montgomery have an excellent post on presidential election forecasting.
3. William Galston’s piece on mandatory voting provoked solid responses from Sides and from Jon Bernstein and also see this from Josh Huder. I also really liked Bernstein’s post on involving yourself in politics this electoral season.
4. And speaking of the Rule 22 bloggers, they are running a great political science series on institutions. Anyone interested in Congress should read it.
5. Buzz Bizzinger’s take on Penn State is a must-read.
6.. Bret Victor’s article on the future of technology is awesome.
7. I have no idea if he’s correct but Ken Anderson’s cold calculus about higher education is scary if you have kids.
Question: How many times was the word “Obamacare” said during the debate last night?
Answer: Based on this transcript, it was said 11 times.
Question: Who said it?
Answer: Bachmann said it four times. Romney said it three times. Perry and Santorum said it once each. Gingrich, Huntsman, Paul, and Cain never said it.
Question: But that only adds to 9? I thought the answer was 11?
Answer: That’s because moderator Maria Bartiromo said it twice. First, when introducing the topic of what would replace the ACA, she said:
“You have all said that — that you will repeal the president’s health care legislation. We will get into that, because we want to know, then what? What is the plan once you repeal Obamacare?”
Later, she reintroduced the issue:
You have all said that you will repeal President Obama’s health care legislation. Down the line, 30 seconds, if you repeal Obamacare, what’s the answer?
Question: What do you make of this?
Answer: I didn’t like it, for two reasons. First, I think it’s a pejorative term for the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, or at least a loaded one, and I don’t think debate moderators should be using politically loaded terms when they ask questions. My hunch is that the vast majority of people who use the term are negatively describing the law, and my guess is that a lot of liberals and supporters of the bill find ‘Obamacare’ to be partisan slang.
Now, it may be the case that ‘ObamaCare’ has just simply entered the lexicon as popular slang. I still don’t think journalists should be using it. It assumes a certain political orientation. I’m pretty skeptical about the health care plan — I don’t think it’s going to accomplish the bulk of what it sets out to do — but I would still never refer to it as ‘Obamacare’ if I was asking politicians questions.
Second, I don’t like the president-centric aspect of the name. Maybe I’m too much of a Whig, but President Obama didn’t pass the law, Congress did. Hell, President Obama didn’t even propose the bill; as we all know so well, it came straight through the committee system without the White House ever offering up their own public version of health care reform in legislative language.
I don’t mean to take this too far. There’s obviously a line to be drawn. For example, I don’t think ‘Bush tax cuts’ is out of bounds; that’s what everyone calls them, both opponents and supporters. But to me, ‘Obamacare’ is more like saying ‘death tax’ than it is like saying ‘Bush tax cuts.’ If moderators want to say ‘the President’s health care legislation’ as Maria did, I’m ok with it (although I would still think it less than perfect given my second objection). But I think ‘Obamacare’ crosses a line.
Some people might say who really cares? Maybe that’s a fair point. But I think language matters significantly in politics, and the words we choose to represent different ideas and policies have consequences. Like I said, I’m skeptical of the law and think it’s not ultimately going to be the final national health care policy, even if it’s not repealed. So it’s not like my blood is boiling over this. But if I were a liberal Democrat, I’d be at least a little ticked off about it.
Question: Is Maria the first moderator to use the term in a debate?
Answer: Actually, no. I went back and checked the transcripts. The word ‘Obamacare’ had been said 124 times by candidates in the eight debates going into last night. It had been said 5 times by moderators, but 4 of those instances were somewhat special circumstances.
Here are the number of times a candidate said ‘ObamaCare’ and the number of times a moderator said “ObamaCare” in each of the debates:
- FOX NEWS / SC Republican Party Debate (5/5, transcript here): 0 candidates /0 moderator
- CNN / NH Union Leader (6/13. transcript here): 24/0
- FOX NEWS /Iowa GOP Debate (8/11, transcript here): 14 / 0
- NBC NEWS / Politico Debate (9/7, transcript here): 15 / 0
- CNN / Tea Party Express Debate (9/12, transcript here): 16 / 0
- FOX NEWS / FL GOP Debate (9/22, transcript here): 18/2 (both in reference to a word cloud graphic)
- BLOOMBERG / WaPo Debate (10/11, transcript here): 17/2 (both clarifying what a candidate meant)
- CNN/Western Republican Debate (10/18, transcript here): 18/1 (Anderson Cooper question)
“Speaker Gingrich, you’ve also been very critical of Mitt Romney’s plan, not only on “Obamacare” but his plan to lower the capital gains tax only on those earning under $200,000.”
Since I’m chastising Maria here, it’s only fair that I chastise Anderson as well. Bad job, Mr. Cooper.
Update: Go read Jon Bernstein’s thoughts on this, in which he argues quite rightly that Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act is not a neutral term, but a propaganda titling. Good point! He recommends using ACA, which I 100% agree with, and usually use myself. I don’t fully agree, however, that ‘ObamaCare’ is the equivalent of ‘Dodd/Frank’ or ‘Pell Grants’ or ‘Bush Tax Cuts.’ All of those terms are used by both supporters and opponents of the laws. Two years ago, Democrats on the Hill were bristling at the ‘ObamaCare’ terminology; if they now accept it, that just tells me that they’ve lost part of the rhetorical battle over the law. But I don’t think liberals have generally accepted the term, and I don’t think they should have to accept it from the press.
Reported below are voter turnout and roll-off figures for last night’s elections in Fairfax County, Virginia. Data was assembled from election returns available here. Turnout is calculated from the reported 696,083 eligible voters. Races allowing a voter to pick multiple candidates from a field are denoted with an M (and total votes divided by appropriate number). An asterisk denotes uncontested races or partially uncontested races. Roll-off is calculated as the percentage of votes cast in the top race but not cast in a lower race; since there was no gubernatorial election, the aggregate votes cast in the state Senate races is used as the top race.
State Senate (Aggregate of 9 races )
|Board of Supervisors Chair||191,510||27.5%||9,534||4.7%|
|School Bond referendum||188,593||27.1%||12,451||5.1%|
|House of Delegates (Aggreg. of 17 races)*||182,823||26.3%||18,221||9.1%|
|School Board (Aggreg. of 9 races)*||178,870||25.7%||22,174||11.0%|
|Board of Supervisors (Aggreg. of 9 races)*||178,278||25.6%||22,766||11.3%|
|School Board At-Large (M)||170,991||24.6%||30,053||14.9%|
|Soil and Water Conservation Board (M)||128,148||18.4%||72,896||36.3%|
A few comments:
1) Low turnout is no surprise here. You don’t have to read the endless political science studies to know that state and local elections held in an off-year are going to feature lower turnout than presidential elections. Last night, 201,044 votes were cast in Fairfax County for State Senate, the most in any race. In 2010, 303,379 voters cast votes in the U.S. House elections in Fairfax County, and 516,254 votes were cast for President in Fairfax County in 2008. There is simply less voter interest in state and local politics, and as I’ve written before, that’s a fact that I find highly lamentable. Still, it could be a lot worse: 25% of all possible voters were cast, and that’s many multiples of what some localities in other parts of the country received last night, I’m sure.
2) Um, what’s roll-off? It’s the tendency of voters to only cast a vote for the top races on a ballot, such as President, and to decline to cast a vote in lower-profile races that appear on the same ballot. The standard metric is the percentage of voters who vote in the top race but do not vote in a lower race. Roll-off tends to increase as you head down a ballot, such that in a Presidential election year you might get a 2 to 5% roll-off in a given House race, but 15% or more roll-off for a local election. For example, in Fairfax County in 2008, 516,254 voters were cast for President, but only 509,473 for U.S. Senate (1.3% rolloff), only 504,243 for U.S House (2.3%) , and only 493,642 for the lone bond issue (4.4%). The roll-off in Fairfax County last night was massive in some cases. A full one-third of votes for the soil and water conservation board were left on the table. As were 15% of the votes for School Board At-Large.
Roll-off raises a number of issue for a democracy: is it an indication of voter indifference for local government? A crowding out of local politics by state and federal issue coverage? A reason to not have concurrent federal,state, and local elections? Roll-off figures also provide us with clues as to the health of local democracy: if the number of voters who are already at the polling place but who cannot be compelled to choose a local official increases over time, that might be cause for concern.
3) What caused the roll-off last night? The political science literature regarding roll-off suggests three causes: voter fatigue from long ballots, the structure of the ballot itself, and rational voter abstention. Voter fatigue is unlikely to have had a large effect last night in Fairfax County; not only was the ballot a short three pages, but the school bond referendum, which received the third-most total votes cast, was on the last page. Therefore, a maximum of 5.1% of all roll-off can be attributed to fatigued voters not completing their ballots. But wait! The Board of Supervisor Chair was on the first page, meaning it’s highly unlikely that any of the 4.7% of that roll-off was fatigue. Which suggests that voter fatigue was no more than 0.4% of the roll-off.
The structure of the ballot may have contributed to the roll-off last night. Fairfax county uses a “pure office block” arrangement of the ballot, in which the offices are listed sequentially with the candidates listed under each office. This structure has been shown to produce more roll-off than the main alternative, the “party column” ballot, in which the offices are listed down the side of the ballot and each party has a column running across the top of the ballot, allowing voters to easily vote a straight party line, and sometimes even including an automated mechanism to do so. Another potential factor is multi-candidate races; last night in Fairfax the ballot for both the School Board At-Large race and the Soil and Water Conservation Board race asked voters to elect three candidates from a list. Some voters may have been confused and only selected one candidate, although voters who used the touch-screens would have been reminded at least once that they had not made all possible choices. And this, of course, raises the final structural issue: there is some evidence that the electronic voting machines reduce roll-off, in part because they can do things like remind you that you didn’t fill out all races.
The most likely culprit for the roll-off last night, however, is rational voter abstention, which includes several things. The most obvious is uncontested elections; voters have little incentive to vote in a race that only features one candidate. The only completely uncontested race last night in Fairfax was for Commonwealth Attorney, and it featured a 25% roll-off. Three other races featured were partially uncontested: the school board (3 of 9 districts uncontested), the Board of Supervisors (3 of 9 districts uncontested), and the state House of Delegates (6 of 17 districts uncontested). The second reason for a voter to abstain is if they have no information about an election; if they have not been exposed to any candidate information and/or have no knowledge of the responsibilities of an office, it’s not hard to see why they might leave a voting choice blank. And information about local races is almost always less available than information about state races, which in turn is less available than information about federal races. But the most frustrating problem is that…
4) Non-partisan elections are bad democracy. I cannot emphasize this enough. The ballots in Fairfax County do not list the partisan affiliations of the candidates for local offices. The candidates for state offices have party affiliation listed right next to their name, as required by state law. But not local candidates. I can’t determine whether state law proscribes it for local elections or if it is county discretion – the state law seems to imply no party labels (“for elections for federal, statewide, and General Assembly offices only“), but it’s not clear. The crazy thing in Fairfax County is that most of the local officials are running as partisans, in that they are nominated in partisan primary elections. Only the school board elections and the soil and water board elections are deemed “non-partisan” and the candidates all run as independents. In any case, there is no excuse for this; in my mind, it’s a basic injustice against democracy.
As I’ve written before and others routinely blog about, party cues are not only the best available quick information for low-information voters, but they are damn good pieces of information as well. If voters could just see a D or R next to the names of local office candidates, not only would roll-off go down due to otherwise ignorant voters having all the information they need to make an informed choice, but many voters who did not roll-off would be given more information. The political parties do an admirable job of trying to hand out sample ballots to voters at the precincts that list their nominees and their endorsements for non-partisan races, but that can only accomplish so much. Putting the affiliations on the ballot would be a simple way to improve the quality of the voter signal in our elections.
5) Why are we even electing the soil and water conservation board? Not 1 in 10 people in the county even know what they do, I would bet, and no one has any clue how to judge the candidates, because they’ve never heard of them and don’t have any party cues to go on. It would be a lot easier to just have the Board of Supervisors appoint the whole board.
Bullock and Dunn. 1996. “Election Roll-Off: A Test of Three Explanations.” Urban Affairs Review, 32(1): 71-86.
Matthew J. Streb, Brian Frederick, and Casey LaFrance. “Voter Roll-off in a Low-Information Context: Evidence from Intermediate Appellate Court Elections,” American Politics Research, vol. 37, no. 49 (2009).
Nichols, Stephen M. and Gregory A. Strizek. 1995. “Electronic Voting Machines and Ballot Roll-Off.” American Politics Quarterly 23(3): 300-318.
5:55am: I close the door to my car and pull out onto the street. It’s chilly and dark. I don’t turn on the radio, because it’s only a two-minute drive. I always go to the polls in the early morning. To beat the crowds, I would say. But also because I like going alone. Sure, it’s fun to take kids into a voting booth and all that jazz. But it’s not the same. Ever sit in a pew in an empty church and stare at the stained glass? Or stand on a deserted football field after dark and look up at the posts?
5:56am: I pull up at the one four-way stop on the trip. I don’t know why and I guess it’s kind of awkward to admit this, but I always get mild butterflies in my stomach when I’m on my way to vote. Not like climbing the lift-hill on a roller coaster butterflies or 10 seconds before the whistle blows to start a rugby game butterflies; there’s nothing unknown about to happen. I think it’s more the connection to the process, the idea that I’m about to do something real and consequential. Something that will tie me to the past and tie me to the future.
5:57am: I pull into the parking lot and park the car. I live in the Nottaway precinct of the Providence District of Fairfax County in the state of Virginia in the United States of America. Impassioned revolutions overthrow monarchs and tyrants, both then and now. But the alternative system, the democratic system, is held together by solving a logistical nightmare. And so this is where I vote: an old house on a couple acres of cleared land in a park. There are about a dozen cars in the parking lot.
5:58am: I walk past the party people. Virginia law does not allow any electioneering within 40 feet of the polling place, but 40 feet is not very far, and both parties are already stationed at their usual spots, at the edge of the parking lot in front of the sidewalk up to the front door of the house. Each side offers me a ballot, pre-marked with the party-endorsed candidates to serve as a guide in the booth. It brings to mind what I’ve read of 19th century elections, prior to the Australian ballot, when you voted with your own ticket and often got it from a party representative outside the polling place. I take one of each.
5:59am: I get in line. This is not like the 19th century. It’s dead quiet. No bands, no liquor, no fights. As Richard Bensel conveys in his majestic survey of voting in the 1800s, it’s safer and less corrupt now, but it’s also a lot less exciting and a lot less fun. There are four people ahead of me. No one says a word. Inside the house, we can see poll workers scrambling with final preparations. This is either the most exciting dullness or the most dull excitement in the world. At any rate, it’s some combination of those two words.
6:00am: A woman opens the doors. “Alright everyone, the polls are open!” And we shuffle into the house. Just past the vestibule I enter a small room, probably once a study, and proceed to the table labled “A – K.” Two older women are sitting at the table, one holding a thick book of names, the other a piece of paper covered in numbers and a stack of green cards. They will repeat their tasks 500 times or more today. But for now it’s fresh and exciting. Both of them are eating donuts and drinking coffee, the universal poll-worker compensation.
6:01am: I tell them my name. They look it up in the thick book, and then verify my address with me verbally. I can see my wife’s name just below mine. With both kids in tow for a mid-day vote, she will not have the same experience as me. The second woman calls out “Voter number 3″ and crosses off the three on her piece of paper. Looks up at me and smiles. Then she hands me a green card. It’s says “Fairfax County Voter Card — Do Not Remove From Polling Place.” On the back are some instructions. Unlike most of the signage in the polling place, it is written in English only. By the end of the day it will be worn and wrinkled. But right now it’s pristine.
6:02am: I walk down the hall to the polling room. It’s not like the polling setups of my childhood in upstate New York, with the heavy metal stand-up voting machines and metal levers and huge handle that closes the curtain behind you. It’s both more old and more new than that. The actual voting “booths” are just tall desks, each with a small table-top touch-screen voting machine, almost like the old pictures you see of people dropping slips of paper into actual boxes. Not much privacy. But high-tech to the max. There’s an optical-scan option, but no one is taking it.
6:03am: I hand my green card to a poll worker. She directs me to a touch-screen, follows me over, and puts a keycard in the machine. I look around the polling room and at the three other touch-screen booths set up. At one is an older African-American man, holding a sample ballot from one of the parties and dutifully marking his choices. At another is a younger woman being assisted by a poll worker, her computer evidently malfunctioning. The third is empty, one voter having left and another yet to arrive.
6:04am: I mark each of my votes. The touch-screen is silent. No mechanical click like the lever supstate. No sound of graphite rubbing like the paper ballots. I take my time. Board of Supervisors. State Senate. County Sheriff. At the end, the final screen includes a large flashing box that says “Click here to cast your VOTE.” I click and I cast. I walk away from the touch-screen. A poll worker hands me a sticker featuring an American flag and the words “I voted.” I put it on.
6:05am: I walk out of the voting room. There’s a door that leads through a screened-porch and out to the front yard. The line of voters has grown longer, but it’s still silent. A small garbage can stands ready to collect party sample ballot. I drop both of mine in. I walk past the party tables, but they don’t even see me; all their attention is focused on those still-yet to vote.
6:06am: I climb in my car and look back up at the house.It’s still dark outside. All the lights are on in the house, and I can see people through the illuminated windows: reporting their names, being handed green cards, standing in the voting room. I turn the ignition, pull out of the parking lot and turn onto the access road. A long line of headlights streams my way. More voters. More citizens.
“Tell your Representative to vote ‘No’ on House Resolution 2309.”
As soon as I heard it, I knew someone had messed up:
1. There’s no way 2309 resolutions have already been introduced this Congress (it turns out only 460 have); and, more importantly,
2. There’s no way the APWU would be spending television ad money to fight a House resolution.
The problem, as I’m sure most Congress-jocks have already noticed, is that the APWU has seemingly confused the concepts of a bill and a resolution. And indeed, that’s what has happened: the APWU is almost certainly concerned with proposed bill H.R. 2309, the Postal Reform Act.
My guess is that someone involved with the production of the ad thought the “H.R.” in “H.R. 2309″ stood for “House Resolution” rather than “House of Representatives.” That’s a minor slip up, but it’s pretty sloppy and it’s pretty important: a bill and a resolution are completely different things legislatively. Bills change laws. Resolutions do not. It doesn’t matter in the big-picture, but it doesn’t speak particularly well of the APWU’s legislative affairs acumen. (In the APWU defense, they do call it “a bill” in another part of the ad.)
It does, however, give us a good reason to review the different types of measures introduced in Congress:
Bills are proposed measures that will become law if passed in identical form by both chambers and not vetoed by the president (or signed over his veto). They are numbered with either an S. or H.R. prefix, depending on the chamber of origination.
Joint Resolutions, which are designated as H.J.Res. or S.J.Res. depending on chamber of origin, are identical to bills, but are only used for certain specific purposes, including proposing constitutional amendments, declaring war, and temporarily extended appropriations (known as a “continuing resolution” or CR).
Simple Resolutions, which are designated as H.Res. or S.Res. depending on chamber of origin, are not used to make laws. Instead, they tend to deal with internal chamber housekeeping, or non-binding public policy statements. As such, they do not require the concurrence of the other chamber. Examples of the uses of resolutions include: special rules from the Rules Committee in the House, commemorative legislation, creation of special or select committees, funding resolutions for committees, electing chamber officers, treaty ratifications in the Senate, and “sense of the House” or “sense of the Senate” legislation.
Concurrent Resolutions, which are designated as H.Con.Res. or S.Con.Res. depending on chamber of origin, also do not make law. They are otherwise like simple resolutions, except they address matters of the internal affairs of both chambers. Examples include annual budget resolutions and resolutions providing for the adjournment of Congress.
[condensed from an academic piece I'm working on...]
Historians and political scientists have long viewed the civil war and its aftermath as a formative period of American political development. Across numerous dimensions of political life, the United States was radically altered between the beginning of secession in 1861 and the end of Reconstruction in 1876. Rights of citizenship, the structure and role of the military, the relative power of the presidency, taxation policies, and the structure of the party system were all strongly affected by the war. And decisive answers were obtained for two pressing questions of the first half of the 19th century: what was the future of slavery and does the ultimate authority within the federal system lay with the federal government or the individual states.
There is also a sense that wars, in general, are likely to have dramatic effects on the development of politics within a nation. Throughout American history, wars have served as distinct moments of political change, as simultaneously the power relations of the federal and state government have shifted to address the necessities of war, while the wars themselves have altered the landscape underneath the feet of citizens and political actors.
Here I discuss the development of the political structure of the western United States – the creation of new states, as well as the territories that would become these new states – during the civil war and Reconstruction. Although the civil war Congresses are best known for their attempts to deal with the secession crisis and their management of the war, the tenures of the 36th-39th Congresses are also marked by the most rapid and consequential alterations to the political structure of the burgeoning proto-states of the American west: the creation of new territories, the geographic alteration of existing territories, and the admission of these territories as states to the union.
When South Carolina left the union on December 20, 1860, the American west consisted of two states (Oregon and California) and 5 large territories, all of whose boundaries would be unrecognizable to a modern observer (see Figure 1). By the close of 1868 – prior to the readmission of most of the southern states – the political geography of the American west had largely been transformed into its modern (and thus final) form: Nevada, Kansas, and Nebraska had been admitted to the union, and the remaining 11 (new) territories would undergo virtually no serious political alterations prior to admission to the union over the next 40 years, save for the division of Dakota territory in 1889. For all intents and purposes, by the time of Grant’s election in 1868, the underlying political structure of the continental United States was complete (see Figure 2).
Why did the war affect western political development at all? Fundamentally, the answer lies in the the structure of the statehood process in the Constitution. Among the various plans discussed between 1776 and 1787, the one that appears in the Constitution is by far the most radical — it provides for total congressional control, without any specific mandated guidelines such as population thresholds and square mileage requirements. Virtually every other proposed plan, including 19th century plans to reform the system, included such mandates. As a consequence, the constitutional structure made the process inherently and fully political, subjecting the long-term process of new state creation to the short-term push and pull of day-to-day politics. Issues and events that had a strong impact on the polity necessarily had a strong impact on western state development. The civil war – being perhaps the single most consequential event in American history – is no exception.
The secession of the south from the union in 1860-61, the military conflict from 1861-1865, and the Reconstructive period that took place from 1865-1876 are all examples of the contingent strand of politics that affected the formation and construction of new states in the west. Although it is not possible to conclusively determine the exact effects of secession, war, and reconstruction on the development of the west – we would need to know the contemporary political geography of the west sans civil war – we can identify through the historical record the actions which were made because of the war, and thus were unlikely to happen without the war. This sort of counterfactual thinking requires a certain degree of structure.
We can organize our thinking about these changes by asking a few questions: first, would the institutional change have occurred at all if it were not for the contingent event? A “no” answer to this question would result in the strongest claim that we could make about an institutional changes relationship to the contingent event. A good example from our list of changes made in the 1860’s is the admission of West Virginia to the union. Clearly, without Virginia’s secession from the union, this institutional change would never have occurred.
A second-degree question: would the institutional change have taken place in the identical form if it were not for the contingent event? A “no” answer to this question implies something like this supposition: the New Mexico territory of 1850 was likely to be divided at least once at some point prior to its becoming a state (or states). However, the decision to divide it with a north-south meridian instead of an east-west parallel was contingent on the civil war. Finally, would the institutional change have taken place at the time it did if it were not for the contingent event? This is the weakest claim, but not a trivial one, since the timing and sequence of these institutional changes are constitutive of the underlying structure of democratic aggregation in the United States, as well as highly consequential for the development of other future states and territories.
Again, although we can never be certain about any of these claims of contingency, one might expect that an event like secession and civil war would be most influential in the third class of effects (timing), somewhat influential in the second class (form), and least influential in the first class (direct consequence). And that appears to be the case with the 12 institutional changes that occurred in the 1860’s. Only West Virginia’s admission to the union can confidently be declared a direct consequence of the war that would not have happened otherwise. One additional change – the creation of Arizona – can confidently be said to be dependent in form on the war. And seven of the changes – the admission of Kansas, Nevada, and Nebraska, as well as the creation of Colorado, Nevada, Arizona, and Dakota territories – would not have happened when they did had it not been for the war. Only the creation of Montana, the redefining of Nevada, and the creation of Wyoming and Idaho seem relatively unrelated to the war.
We can classify the mechanism by which secession and war affected these institutional changes into three general groups: the secession of the south, worries about the secession of the west, and the desire to reinforce electoral victory in 1864 for the Republican party.
Ideological divisions over slavery had helped structure the politics of admissions to the union since almost the first days of the nation, and during the period from 1848 to 1860, slavery came to increasingly structure the politics of altering the territorial structure of the west. After 1852, the political parties in the United States began to quickly drift toward an increasingly perfect correlation with the sectional division. By the 1857 fight over the Lecompton Constitution in Kansas, the deadlock in Congress over the alteration of the political structure of the west had become severe. Although two states (Minnesota and Oregon) were admitted to the union between 1857 and the beginning of southern secession, both of these institutional changes were aided by very precise political circumstances in the prospective state that led to barely-sustainable compromises to achieve their success. In the 35th and 36th Congresses (1857-1861), bills to organize new western territories were proposed and routinely defeated, both in and out of committee, by southern members of Congress and their (increasingly fewer) allies in the north.
Beginning December 20th, 1860 with the secession of South Carolina, the southern ideological wing of Congress slowly left Washington, D.C. By February 1st, 1861, they had lost a sizeable portion (and the most radical wing) of their voting power in the national government. In terms of policy output, this was the equivalent of an exogenous shock: although none of the existing preferences had changed about the organization of the west, only one side of a two-sided debate remained in the democratic assembly. Without opposition, they were free to act. And act they did. The Republicans in Congress enacted four major alterations to the west as quickly as they possibly could in the 2nd session of the 36th Congress. In just over a month, they admitted Kansas to the union and created the Colorado, Nevada, and Dakota territories. None of these alterations would have been possible without the secession of the south.
Fears of Western Rebellion
The second mechanism by which the war affected the process of institutional change in the west was through the general fear of a western rebellion and secession from the union. Although the exact nature of the relationship between the states and the federal government had been up for debate for almost two generations, the reality of the southern secession in 1860-61 quickly turned all of the theoretical arguments of the past 70 years into questions of immediate and concrete reality, including questions that had not been fully contemplated over the years: if the south was free to leave the union, was the west? If the south (free or not) did leave the union, did they have any claim over the western territories? If the north made peaceful disunion with the south, did that affirm the concept that peaceful separation from the union was both legal and attainable for other states, or for western territories? It is easy to see how these ideas made northern leaders, trying to hold the union together, quite nervous.
Of greatest concern to the union, however, was the competition with the south for the territories. There was no compelling reason to believe that the western territories, particularly political communities in the west that had been denied territorial status over the past decade, would side with the union in the war. The combination of these fears – the rebellion of the west into its own nation and the competition with the south for the allegiance and control of the territories – and the reality of watching their fears realized, spurred Congress into action during the war.
The creation of the Arizona territory is a good example. After the New Mexico territory was created as part of the compromise of 1850 (the Gadsden Purchase was added in 1853), there was a period of about 5 years where there was very little local or national voice for further division of the territory. Staring in 1856, however, residents of the southwestern portion of the territory living in Tucson began to petition Congress to divide the state along an east-west line. From 1857 until 1859, residents of Tucson annually sent a delegate to Washington from their proposed territory, but Congress refused to seat him. There were sympathetic politicians in Washington, particularly southerners eager to see the creation of new plausibly pro-slavery states, and bills were introduced in both chambers of Congress for the creation of Arizona annually from 1857 to 1860. Northern Republicans had little interest in creating a new southern-leaning territory, however, and correctly pointed out that the 1860 census revealed that Arizona county (the western portion of New Mexico territory) had only 6,482 residents, far too small a population to merit a territorial government. With the northerners firmly in control of the national government after the 1860 election, the prospects for Arizona territory looked slim.
The secession of the south, paradoxically, was just what Arizona needed. With the southern portion of the New Mexico territory largely a pro-confederacy population, territorial secession conventions took place at both Tucson and Mesilla in March of 1861. The conventions seceded the territory from the union, created a provisional territorial government, and sent out a petition to the Confederacy for admission. By January, 1862, the Confederate States of America had passed legislation organizing the territory of Arizona, and had accepted a delegate from the territory to their Congress. Arizona was officially a political institution of governance, only it was now in the Confederacy.
The union did not wait to act. Lincoln dispatched the Army to occupy Tucson, and Congress prepared legislation in March to create the United States territory of Arizona. The decision was made to split the old New Mexico territory along a north-south line, in order to reduce the influence of southern-sympathizers in both the new territory as well as the (new) New Mexico territory, as well as to avoid the appearance of rewarding rebel communities in the west who might seek to organize future territories by seceding from the union. The legislation for the territory stalled for a bit in Congress, and Arizona territory was not officially created until February 24, 1863, long after the Union Army had retaken control of the area.
Manipulating the 1864 Election
The third mechanism that contingently affected western institutional change during the civil war era was the desire of the controlling pro-war Republicans to ensure electoral victory in the 1864 election. This contingency has been well-documented. By the spring of 1864, disillusionment in the North with the progress of the war had emboldened the Democrats to support a platform of peaceful settlement with the south, and they had nominated a candidate, General George McClellan, who was committed to ending the war. The Radical Republicans in control of Congress saw the reelection of Lincoln as absolutely vital to preserving the war effort.
Admitting additional western states to the union prior to the 1864 election could potentially put Lincoln over the top if the election were close. Although any newly admitted state would likely have a low population, the new state would have at least the guaranteed minimum of three electoral votes, and that could make the difference in a close election. The admission of Nevada to the union is relatively well-known as the best example of a short-term electoral incentive shaping a state admission to the union. Nevada’s population in 1864 was a paltry 6,857, far fewer people than any of the other existing western territories save Dakota. Still, Nevada would stand to be the most reliably Republican state of any of the territories if it were admitted to the union prior to the 1864 election. In addition, the Republicans saw other advantages in the admission of Nevada: it might increase their chances of holding onto the Senate, and it also would add another state inclined to vote for passage of the 13th amendment.
At the time of the final readmission of the southern states to Congress in 1870, the political structure of the American west looked completely different than it had just 10 years earlier. The rapid pace of western institutional change, combined with the utterly contingent nature of many of the changes, had created a continental political structure whose details could hardly have been fathomed by even the most creative political thinkers of the 1850’s. Even more startling, from the perspective of national politics, was that the entire political role of the territories for the previous 25 years – as the explosive sideshow setting where the factions of the national slave debate could engage each other – had ceased to exist with the military defeat of the Confederacy and the passage of the 13th amendment barring slavery. Whatever the civil war did to change the nation, its final resolution profoundly closed one chapter of American territorial history, without anyone clearly seeing what was to come.
Numerous historians of the American west have noted that the contours and features of the territorial system in the first half of the 19th century were dramatically different than the features of the system after the civil war. The disappearance of the slavery issue, the rise of the west as a section with a distinct political interest, and the hegemony of the Republican Party’s control of the national government all served to radically alter the place of western institutional development within the national political context. For the average citizen, the disappearance of the slavery issue had rendered the importance of the territories near nil. To the national politicians of both parties, the prospect of using new western state admissions to bolster their partisan numbers had to be tempered against the ideological cleavages that pitted westerners against the interests of both the northern Republicans and Southern Democrats. Without the stability of the slavery issue (as discussed in chapter 6), use of the territories as sectional leverage became much more risky; the signal had become noisy. And to the ruling Republican Party of the late 19th century, the western territories seemed more useful as sources of patronage than as prospective states.
One consequence of this that could not have been foreseen during the rapid developments of the 1860’s was the sheer finality of the enterprise. After 1870, there were virtually no adjustments to the boundaries of the existing territories, and no territories were created, save the division of the Dakota territory into North and South just prior to statehood. Over the next 43 years, these territories were admitted to the union as states. But their final boundaries – indeed, the final contours of the American federation – were the ones drawn in the middle of the civil war. The exogenous shock of the war led to a highly contingent development of the western political structure, and the cataclysmic changes that the end of the war brought upon American national politics served to solidify those changes into place.
A second consequence of these rapid and contingent changes made to the western political structure was a certain amount of buyer’s remorse, both locally in the territories and also among national politicians. The Republican Party, prior to the war, had long sought to encourage western migration and the political development of the western territories, as these types of things both naturally fit with their free labor, free soil ideology while simultaneously creating more Republican voters and new Republican states. The push to create the new territories that began and the late 1850’s and succeeded after the secession of the southerners was driven in part by a desire to enlarge a coalition that, by 1870, had in many ways ceased to exist. Without the anti-slavery narrative, it became more obvious that western Republicanism was differentiable from Northern Republicanism on a number of key issues, notably silver.
The emergence of a third economic section of the country presented a new wrinkle to the statehood politics of a two-party system. The addition of a new western state to the union was far less palatable to the existing states when the benefit was reduced from a permanent vote against slavery to a partisan agreement on the speaker, but certain differences on economic policy. Republican enthusiasm in Congress for the admission of new states, even Republican-leaning states, waned in the wake of the civil war. The prospect of further dividing the existing territories, and thus creating even more potential western states, was unpleasant, if not unthinkable. Indeed, bills put forth in Congress in the 1870’s were just as likely to suggest shrinking the number of western territories – through the abolition of one or more and the expansion of the others – as they were to propose the division of territories into new potential states.
In the territories themselves, the buyer’s remorse evidenced itself somewhat differently. Here, the politics was local, and the rush to create territories in the previous 15 years in what had been relatively unpopulated areas led to a somewhat incongruent set of political communities. This was exacerbated by the unwillingness of Congress to alter the territories during the late 19th century. This is not to say that efforts weren’t taking place to alter the structure of western government. To the contrary, the House and Senate committees on Territories were kept busy with a steady stream of petitions arrived at Congress between 1865 and 1880 asking for either the division of a territory, the rearrangement of territorial boundaries, or the admission of territories as states to the union.
 Eric Foner and American Historical Association., Slavery, the Civil War, and Reconstruction ([Washington, D.C.]: American Historical Association, 1997), David Morris Potter and Don Edward Fehrenbacher, The Impending Crisis, 1848-1861, 1st ed., The New American Nation Series (New York: Harper & Row, 1976).
David R. Mayhew, “Wars and American Politics,” Perspectives on Politics 3, no. 4 (2005).
 See Bruce A. Ackerman, We the People (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1991), Akhil Reed Amar, The Bill of Rights : Creation and Reconstruction (New Haven ; London: Yale University Press, 1998), Louis Fisher, Presidential War Power, 2nd ed. (Lawrence, Kan.: University Press of Kansas, 2004).
 See John Ashworth, Slavery, Capitalism, and Politics in the Antebellum Republic (Cambridge [England] ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995), Eugene H. Berwanger, The Frontier against Slavery; Western Anti-Negro Prejudice and the Slavery Extension Controversy (Urbana,: University of Illinois Press, 1967), Jesse T. Carpenter, The South as a Conscious Minority, 1789-1861; a Study in Political Thought (Gloucester, Mass.,: P. Smith, 1963), Arthur Charles Cole, The Irrepressible Conflict, 1850-1865 (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1934), Richard Patrick McCormick, The Second American Party System; Party Formation in the Jacksonian Era (Chapel Hill,: University of North Carolina Press, 1966), Roy F. Nichols, The Disruption of American Democracy (New York,: Collier, 1962), Potter and Fehrenbacher, The Impending Crisis, 1848-1861.
 The legislation was done quickly for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that the political environment was a great unknown, and it was not out of the question that a settlement of the secession crisis might happen prior to the end of the 36th Congress and the southern members of Congress might return to the chamber, and recommence their obstruction of western political development.
 And in one sense, they were a concession toward the south. The territories were all admitted without reference to slavery, a sticking point that had kept the north and south deadlocked for the previous 5 years.
 Paul L. Allen and Peter M. Pegnam, Arizona Territory, Baptism in Blood (Tucson, Ariz.: Tucson Citizen Pub. Co., 1990), Arizona. Legislative Assembly. and Anson Peasley Keeler Safford, The Territory of Arizona : A Brief History and Summary of the Territory’s Acquisition, Organization, and Mineral, Agricultural and Grazing Resources : Embracing a Review of Its Indian Tribes, Their Depredations and Subjugation : And Showing in Brief the Present Condition and Prospects of the Territory ([Arizona: The Legislative Assembly], 1874), H. C. Stinson, Arizona : A Comprehensive Review of Its History, Counties, Principal Cities, Resources and Prospects, Together with Notices of the Business Men and Firms Who Have Made the Territory ([Los Angeles: s.n.],, 1891), Microform.
 See Lauriston, “Abraham Lincoln and the Statehood of Nevada..”, Pomeroy, The Pacific Slope; a History of California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada, Charles Stewart and Barry R. Weingast, “Stacking the Senate, Changing the Nation: Republican Rotten Boroughs, Statehood Politics, and American Political Development,” Studies in American Political Development 6 (1992).
 Stewart and Weingast, “Stacking the Senate, Changing the Nation: Republican Rotten Boroughs, Statehood Politics, and American Political Development.”
 Earl S. Pomeroy, “Lincoln, the 13th Amendment, and the Admission of Nevada,” Pacific Historical Review 112 (1943).
 See John Porter Bloom, The American Territorial System; [Papers] (Athens,: Ohio University Press, 1973), Jack Ericson Eblen, The First and Second United States Empires; Governors and Territorial Government, 1784-1912 ([Pittsburgh]: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1968), Edmund Steele Joy, “The Right of the Territories to Become States of the Union” (Thesis Ph. D. –Columbia college., Advertiser printing house,, 1892), Lamar, Dakota Territory, 1861-1889: A Study of Frontier Politics, Gary Lawson and Guy Seidman, The Constitution of Empire : Territorial Expansion and American Legal History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), Earl S. Pomeroy, The Territories and the United States, 1861-1890; Studies in Colonial Administration (Seattle,: University of Washington Press, 1969).
 Even state admissions were not common. Referring back to figure 2, one can see that alterations to the political system were few and far between in the late 19th century. Between the 1868 and 1889, only one change was made – the admission of Colorado as a state in 1876. No other 20 year period in American history had seen fewer than 8 changes or fewer than 3 state admissions. Territorial politics continued in the territories, but the collective will in Congress seemed uninterested in any further development.
 For an excellent comparison of old and new state Republican views on Silver, See Stewart and Weingast, “Stacking the Senate, Changing the Nation: Republican Rotten Boroughs, Statehood Politics, and American Political Development.”
As election week begins, let me point you to the work of Sarah Anzia, who has written some excellent papers on both the causes and consequences of holding local elections in off-years from the federal and (in many cases) state elections. Well worth the read.
One of my earliest memories of politics is walking door-to-door with my father when I was about five years old, talking to voters and handing out palm cards with him when he was running for local office. Every night after he got home from work, we’d quickly eat dinner, make sure the trunk of the car was loaded with literature and lawn signs, and head off to some neighborhood in town that we hadn’t been to yet, ringing doorbells until 7:30pm, the universal time in our neck of the woods at which political cold-calls were deemed to be acceptable.
From my point of view as a child, this was the essence of campaigning. We got so many local and state-level candidates knocking on our door that I just assumed this was how you campaigned: you personally talked to as many people as possible, and tried to convince them to vote for you. Of course, this is not how contemporary federal election campaigns work; instead, mass media — and particularly television ads — is the heart of campaign strategies in the modern age. Still, door-to-door campaigning is still the essence of local campaign activity in many places. And in the all the campaigns I’ve worked on in my life, it is always my favorite part.
Four related thoughts about door-to-door campaigns and local elections:
(1) Flying blind and poor. Local elections are really the last place left in electoral politics that public opinion polling is not part of the equation at all. There’s no polling of the issues, and there’s no polling of the horse-race. And if you have some money to spend, it’s never enough to get on the airwaves. The upshot is that local races tend to resemble 19th century campaigns, both descriptively and strategically. Candidates try to spread their name and a very basic message through free media, personal contact, and palm cards. They judge how they are doing on intuition and non-random opinion samples.
As such, the races can be both more exciting and tougher to approach strategically: you never know if your plans are effective, and you really don’t know what is going to happen until the votes are counted. Consequently, pretty much all strategy revolves around some version of pushing your name and face out there on the cheap. Which means hitting the shoe leather. The irony, of course, is that door-to-door campaigning is way more effective than mailers or phone callers or other forms of mass campaigning.
(2) A different shamelessness. Local politics has a different personality screen than national politics. If you want to run for Congress, you usually have to be able and willing to beg total strangers for money, over and over again. If you want to run for a local office, you usually have to be willing to knock on people’s doors, interrupt their dinner, and ask them to vote for you. These are very different personal attributes. Some people, of course, have both. Some have neither. But there are many people like my father, who would never have been able to beg people for money, but was able to at least stomach interrupting dinner and the occasional door slammed in his face.
Sometimes this isn’t the case. A local election can be so locked-down by a party that you don’t even really have to campaign after you get the nomination, and getting the nomination might be more about inside politics among local leaders than any actual campaigning. And some towns are so small that you can know, or at least know of, most of the voters. But those are the exceptions, and unless you have an uncontested race, the lock-down situation is never such a shoe in that you can kick back.
(3) The fieldcraft of shoe-leather campaigning. There are all sorts of theories about what you are best off doing when you go door-to-door. Some people think it’s best to treat it as GOTV activity; just hit the neighborhoods that are solidly in your partisan camp, and encourage them to go to the polls. Other people think you want to go right to the swing districts and hit the independents. At any rate, the name of the game is approaches per hour and memorable contact, but mostly the former. There are some things you can do to increase approaches per hour without any costs: these include running (literally) from house to house; concentrating on dense population neighborhoods, and working public events. It’s no surprise that town Halloween parades are filled with local candidates; the greet/hour rate is incredible.
But often, approaches/hour is at direct war with memorable contact; if you want to get to more people, you’ve got to spend less time with each of them. Which raises the obvious question: what are you actually trying to accomplish when you ring the doorbell, and what’s the most effective way to do it? There’s virtually no political science literature on this question, but there are generally accepted maxims: first and foremost, you aren’t there to debate policy. There’s a fantasy in many candidates’ heads that they will convince someone about something on a front porch, and that person will not only vote for them but become a cult follower and volunteer extraordinaire. Actually, it’s just a complete waste of time. On the other hand, however, if you can get someone to ask you a question that you have an easy and surefire answer for, you probably just collected a vote. So most candidates use a basic formula: say your name and what office you are running for, tell them one reason you are running, and then offer them a piece of literature and ask if they have any questions.
My dad preferred a more personal/GOTV strategy, which I still think is a good one, and definitely a more efficient one. He simply gathered the names of the residents, and then calmly introduced himself by using both his and their first name, and tried to shake their hands. “Bill, I’m Dave. I’m running for county judge. [hold out hand] I hope you’ll vote for me, but either way I want to remind you to vote next month. Here’s a pamphlet about me.” If they said anything, great. If not, he added a “We’ll see you at the polls” and left. There’s no way my dad ever read Home Style, but his door-to-door strategy tracked right into Fenno’s Member A anecdote: you will never lose a vote from someone on a first-name basis with you. This strategy, however, only works for the candidate himself; campaign workers going door-to-door have to stick to pretty basic lit-drop scripts.
Besides the approach rate and the contact style, one other key aspect of shoe-leather fieldcraft is how you handle getting the door slammed in your face, both figuratively and literally. One way to deal with this is to find some ways to preempt it; that was certainly one value to having a 5-year old tag along with you while you walked the neighborhoods. People just don;t seem to be as mean if there are children around, either their own or yours. But you are still going to get a high percentage of people who refuse to engage at even the most basic level; this problem leads a lot of door-to-door campaigners to believe that you are almost better off with the people not being home, so you can just lit-drop (always with a personal scribble on it!) and be done with it. I don’t think that’s quite right, but I do think it’s the right impulse; there’s only a very narrow band of people you are trying to reach by door-to-door’ing — people who weren’t going to vote or weren’t going to vote for you, who now will show up and vote for you. The probability of those people being among the percentage who slam the door in your face is so small as to not be worth dealing with. And the golden rule, of course, is don’t create a negative memorable moment. So don’t fight for a contact. Just drop the palm-card and be done with it.
(4) Turning the tables. The flip side of door-to-door is what you do when a candidate knocks on your door. I see so many people completely freeze up when they run into a politician standing outside the grocery store or subway station, like it’s rude or something to talk to them when they approach you. Whenever candidates knock on my door, I always ask them the same question: what got you into politics? It’s a good question for two reasons. First, many local candidates don’t have a stock prepared answer to it. If you ask them why you should vote for them or how they feel about policy X, you’ll get some robotic nonsense. Second, it tells you a lot about who you are dealing with. Not substantively; I don’t really care why people got into politics. But it’s pretty darn easy to gauge a person’s honestly and sincerity when they have to answer that question on the spot. Some people go into some bullshit about helping people and quickly shift to one of their key policy ideas. Others tell a story about a particular event. And some just stare blankly and then come up with something really lame. But no matter what they say, you can usually see right through it and figure out if it’s the kind of person you want running the town council.
On Tuesday, Virginia will hold it’s biennial state and local elections. As I’ve written about before, I don’t think there’s any doubt that the preponderance of important government decisions made by your elected officials each year are concentrated at the local or state level. If you have kids, I’m positive this is true: unless there is a depression or conscription, the school board, local government, and state government decisions over the public schools will be the most important for you and your family.
The problem, of course, is threefold: first, many people either don’t realize how important local government is, or they flat out disagree about its importance. Second, it’s more difficult to be even minimally knowledgeable about local politics than national politics in the run-up to an election, because it’s often not something you can pick up through osmosis in the last few frenzied weeks. Finally, there’s much less social pressure to vote in the local elections, so even people who vote religiously in the federal elections sometimes don’t pay attention to the local campaigns or issues.
All of this results in some people consciously deciding not to vote because “they don’t know anything about the candidates,” or “it’s not that important.” (This is further complicated in Virginia, because we have our state and local elections in the odd-numbered years. That’s theoretically good because the federal elections don’t overshadow the state elections, but it’s bad because turnout goes way down and the social pressure to vote evaporates.) I think it is a mistake to decline to vote for these reasons. And I think a lot of people overestimate how much time they will need to spend in order to cast a meaningful vote in a local election.
So if you weren’t planning to vote because you feel like you don’t know anything about the state or local issues in your area, let me offer you this: by the time you finish reading this first bullet point on this blog post, you’ll be more than ready to go vote, even if you don’t do any further research. And if you’re willing to read the rest of the blog post and then invest another 60 minutes of effort, I promise you’ll feel nearly as comfortable voting in the local elections as you do in the federal elections.
Let’s start with the fundamental tip:
1) It’s perfectly fine to use party affiliation as 100% of your knowledge. A lot of observers and intellectuals deride partisan voting, but if you don’t know much about the politics of an election it is absolutely the best shortcut available. That’s true for the federal elections, and it’s also true for the state and local elections. Yes, not ever person affiliated with a party agrees with the party all the time. And yes, state and local parties don’t perfectly match their national counterparts. But it’s close enough often enough that if you prefer one national party to another, it’s worth voting that way in state and local elections. And if you don’t even know what national party you like, just ask yourself this: would you prefer somewhat more (or somewhat better quality) public services in exchange for slightly higher taxes, or would you prefer somewhat fewer (or somewhat worse quality) public services in exchange for slightly lower taxes. If it’s the former, vote for Democrats. If it’s the latter, vote for Republicans. That sounds absurdly simple. but it’s a close enough proxy most of the time in a local election to make your vote credible.
You now have no excuse: go to the polling place, pick all the candidates affiliated with your party, skip all the races that are contested non-partisan (more on that in a minute), read the bond issues and decide on the spot, and pat yourself on the back as you leave.
You can stop right now if you want. But here are four (ok, four and a half) more tips that take less than hour to implement and will really improve your confidence about local voting:
2) Understand the basic structure of your governments. Where I live in Virginia — Fairfax county — we have a county Board of Supervisors that consists of 9 district representatives and a chairman elected by the whole county. The terms are four years and collectively appoint the county chief executive. We also have two elected executives — a commonwealth attorney and a sheriff, both elected county-wide on four-year terms. Finally, we have a school board, which has a representative from each of the same 9 districts, plus three at-large members elected county wide. All terms are four years. This is a pretty standard local structure: you either have a town or county board, plus a town or county executive, plus a school board and a few other elected executive officials.
As with many states, Virginia has a legislature with an assembly on a 2-year term and a Senate on a 4-year term, plus a governor, lieutenant governor, and an attorney general on 4-year terms. I learned all of this in less than 2 minutes by going to my county government website, where you can also learn the responsibilities of each office.
2a) Learn what offices are up for election this year. This information will usually be available on the same website that gives you the structural information about the local government. All you really need is the offices that are up and the list of candidates for each. In my case, the whole school board, the whole board of supervisors, both county elected executives, and the state assembly and senate offices are up this year.
3) If there’s a burning issue in your local community, figure out how you feel about it. If one exists, it will usually be pretty obvious. It might be property tax rates, it might be road conditions, it might be commercial zoning issues. It could really be anything. In northern Virginia, it’s traffic congestion. Once you’ve identified the issue, talk to a few people, think about how you feel about it, and then decide (a) if anything can be done about it; and (b) what that should be. And really pay attention to (a). Everyone from the dogcatcher on up to the governor says they are concerned about traffic in northern Virginia, but only some people can do anything about it. Everyone else is just selling you a bill of goods. Similarly, if there is a bond issue or other referendum on the ballot, read it ahead of time and, if you don’t have a strong opinion, consider looking into it.
4) Check out some party and candidate websites. Once upon a time, it might have been difficult to find out about local candidates. Not anymore. Here are my two candidates for Board of Supervisors: Chris Grisafe and Linda Symth. They have websites similar to candidates for Congress. Same thing for the local political parties in my county. If you want to get into the nitty-gritty of policy positions, that’s great. But when you check out the candidate websites, you might be better off (hold your breath, elitist intellectuals!) looking over their biography pages. There’s a perfectly reasonable case for gyroscopic representation; that is, voting for someone because you think they have a similar background or lifestyle or outlook as you, and not worrying about their specific policy positions, but instead trusting that they will reason the same way you do. It’s also noteworthy that some offices are non-partisan, like school board in Fairfax County. That means you can’t use the party shorthand in the voting booth. So make sure you check out those candidates in particular.
5) Gather some endorsements, preferably from a source you trust — like a friend or a newspaper. This is the final step. Now that you have some intuition about the candidates, run a diagnostic by getting some independent opinion. For instance, I was able to check my intuition for school board against the Washington Post endorsements. If your friend or the newspaper confirms what you already thought, then you’re done. If they don’t, think through their argument for 10 minutes and see if you change your mind. If so, great. If not, also great. But don’t belabor it.
Once you’ve done all of those steps, run a self-check on where you stand. You may have determined that you prefer one party or the other. Great! Just write down who you like in any non-partisan race and vote for all the partisan candidates in the other races. If you like candidates across the parties, download a sample ballot (again, often available at the county website), mark your choices, and bring it with you to the polling place. It’s also ok to skip races if you really have no opinion. Nothing wrong with that!
It’s that easy. And I can’t help but reiterate: you don’t need to do very much, or really any, research to be a credible voter in local elections. The party cue will usually get you 95% of the way there, and a bit more research will do the rest.
And in case you’re reading in Providence district of Fairfax County in Virginia, here are my specific endorsements for Tuesday (I have only endorsed races where I have a clear preference):
State Senate (district 34) — Chap Peterson (D)
Providence District Rep to Board of Supervisors — Linda Q. Smyth (D)
School Board At-large (pick 3): Theodore Velkoff, Ilyrong Moon, and Lolita Smoak
When I was a kid, my family used to spend a lot of time on our screened porch, mostly playing cards but sometimes playing old-school parlor games. Often, that meant rank’em, which entailed the following: a question that forced you to rank some set of things on some scale, a set of ground rules to guide you, 20 minutes for each person to come up with their answer, and then a discussion among the participants, hopefully heavy on the merits and light on the mocking/fights.
So here we go…rank’em!
If you were forced to repeal an unspecified number of amendments to the U.S. Constitution, in what order would you rank them, #1 being the one you’d jettison first and #27 being the one you’d only give up after all the others were already gone?
A. The game is played in present-day America.
B. Repealing an amendment does not go back and change history. You are merely setting the terms for a new Constitution that will apply starting today (i.e. repealing the 13th amendment does not reinstall slavery in Kentucky, it just opens up the possibility of a state adopting slavery; likewise, repealing the 26th amendment does not end the right of 18-year-olds to vote, just ends the prohibition on states having higher voting ages).
C. No future amendments are allowed. Nothing can be re-enacted.
D. No assumptions about SCOTUS decisions are allowed (i.e. you aren’t allowed to repeal the 15th and 19th amendment on the grounds that the modern court would read those voting rights into the 14th amendment); nor are future SCOTUS decisions allowed to impact things.
E. Do not rank the Prohibition amendments (18 and 21); that’s a paradox we don’t need to deal with here.
So go ahead, rank’em.
Here is my annotated answer, 1 to 25. They are grouped in categories for intellectual purposes. To me, the key to this rank’em is trying to imagine what the effect of removing the amendment would be today, while setting aside the importance of the amendment historically. As it turns out, I think, many of the most important amendments historically are more or less functionally inert today, because of changing norms. It’s also important to weigh the impact of an amendment; many of the amendments that are still fully functionally have trivial outcomes for the polity.
Amendments that are more or less trivial
1. The 27th Amendment – Precludes adjustments in the pay of Members of Congress from taking effect prior to the next congressional election. It serves little purpose: Members are loathe to raise their own pay in any case, and the Ethics Reform Act of 1989 sets up an automatic adjustment system which renders the entire prohibition academic. Even if it was fully functional, it’s just not a very big deal. I don’t think there’s any doubt that this is the first one you’d want to jettison, unless you have a specific beef with another amendment.
Amendments rendered mostly trivial in the modern age
2. The 9th Amendment - Conveys that rights of the people exist beyond those enumerated in the Constitution. This may have been an open question in 1791, but I don’t think it is now. In theory it may convey that certain specific rights exists (such as those found in the Declaration of Independence), but in practice it merely suggests something to keep in mind when interpreting the rest of the Constitution.
3. The 3rd Amendment – Prevents forced quartering of troops in private homes during peacetime. A concern that has never materialized since the American Revolution. Now, that could be because of the existence of the amendment. But somehow I doubt it.
4. The 13th Amendment – Prohibits slavery. I can’t see any possible way that, absent this amendment, slavery returns. And if such a situation did arise, it would probably be precipitated by crises that had already left most of the Constitution in tatters.
5. The 15th Amendment – Guaranteed suffrage regardless of race. This is a tricky one because while the general principle is very well ingrained in our society and enshrined in state constitutions, there are continual worries about racial discrimination in voting access and such. Still, I can’t see any states enacting measures that fundamentally cross the basic principle of voting equality.
6. The 19th Amendment – Guaranteed suffrage regardless of gender. Like slavery and racial restrictions on voting, shouldn’t be a problem going forward in the absence of the amendment, especially because women form a voting majority or near-majority in every jurisdiction. I rank it below the 13th and 15th, however, because I can imagine some future zany state system in which women and men had different legal voting arrangements (like different age requirements or something). However unlikely that would be, it’s even more unlikely along racial lines.
Minimally Consequential Amendments
7. The 10th Amendment – Powers not delegated to the federal government or prohibited to the States, are reserved to the States or to the people. More or less an implied truism of the Constitution, and described as such by SCOUTS in 1931. Very rarely comes into play, but on occasion the Courts will use it to strike down federal laws forcing state actors to implement federal programs. And no, I don’t think it will come into play in the health care rulings.
8. The 11th Amendment – guarantees states sovereign immunity from suits brought against it in federal court. I suppose I don’t know enough about the jurisprudence to judge its importance, but my sense is that, while it might trigger a flood of federal lawsuits against states, the substantive outcomes would not have massive ramifications. But I reserve all rights to be dead wrong about this, and I’m open to contrary arguments.
9. The 24th Amendment – Bars poll taxes. Poll taxes were already on their way out in 1964; at the time of adoption, only five states (Virginia, Alabama, Texas, Arkansas, and Mississippi) still had them, whereas all the states of the former Confederacy had them in 1920. This is the first amendment on the lis, however,t that I think might stand a reasonable chance of actually shaping a core democratic function; I could imagine a state implementing a poll tax today if it were repealed.
Consequential but not inherently important
1o. The 12th Amendment – Revamping of the presidential selection system. It’s an improvement on the old system — in which each elector got two votes and the second place finisher became VP — but the old system could have been lived with. The party system was what broke it in the 1790s, but also would have made it work had they stuck it out. The debacle in 1800 was a mistake, and I think parties would have figured out a way to ensure that no future Burr got all the second elector-votes that created the tie with Jefferson.
11. The 26th Amendment – Lowers the voting age. Or more precisely, bars states and the federal government from setting the voting age higher than 18. I’m quite sure that, absent the amendment, at least a few states would have a voting age of 21. Although I disagree with that policy (and mostly agree with Jon Bernstein), I don’t see it as particularly consequential as a substantive matter, and I’d be fine with a federalism approach to voting ages. Most of the benefits of a lower voting age are related to participatory democracy, not substantive policy outcomes.
12. The 22nd Amendment – Term limits for the President. This is the first amendment on the list that I think a sizeable number of people might want to kill. And I can definitely see the argument. But I’m no fan of the presidency, and I don’t like the idea of one person monopolizing it for someone’s entire childhood. Perhaps a three-term limit would have been better, but I’m definitely of the mind that a two-term limit is preferable to no limit.
13. The 23rd Amendment – DC voting rights for President. As far as symbolic amendments go, this is a good one. But without voting rights in the House, it’s a halfway measure that has never had any substantive consequence. Still, we are talking about the right to vote here. So I’d need a strong reason to move it further up the list and jettison it sooner.
14. The 20th Amendment – Adjusting the start date of terms of the Members of Congress and the President. I’ve written an extensive blog post on this, which hopefully will convince you that I haven’t given it too much priority here.
15. The 25th Amendment – Makes provisions for the replacement of the Vice President if he leaves office and provides for the situation of the incapacitation of the President. One of the amendments that’s almost never important, but could be strikingly important. I wrote an offshoot about this a few weeks ago.
16. The 7th Amendment – Trial by jury in civil cases. I do not have a good feel for just how important this is. On the one hand, my sense is that a large percentage of Americans will never be involved in a serious civil case. On the other, it’s probably a pretty strong bulwark against crony capitalism to have juries punishing corporate malpractice. But I honestly don’t have a great feel for how its repeal would condition state law, etc.
Important but not foundational amendments
17. The 8th Amendment – Bars excessive bail and cruel and unusual punishments. I consider this the least important of the criminal defendants’ rights in modern times. Most states have constitutional or statutory defendants’ rights that go beyond the basic federal Constitutional rights, and the range of acceptable punishments in the modern era are certainly narrower than in the late 18th century.
18. The 16th Amendment – Empowers Congress to impose graduated income tax. Pollock v. Farmers’ Loan & Trust had declared income taxes on non-wage income (such as investment or rent income) to be unconstitutional non-apportioned direct taxes. Whether an income tax on wages could be structured successfully without creating massive tax havens, disproportionately favoring the wealthy, or creating other economic problems, I do not know. But I’m guessing the answer is that it could not be. Therefore, pretty important amendment given the structure of modern revenue-raising in the United States.
19. The 2nd Amendment – Right to bear arms. I don’t own any guns, and I’m not a huge gun-rights guy, especially for a libertarian. For instance, I have no problem with background checks and purchase limits and other non-fundamental restrictions. But when you watch how state-sponsored thugs in Iran or elsewhere assault private citizens on their own property with total fearlessness and impunity, it makes me 100% in favor of the Heller decision. I’m sure many people would jettison this much sooner.
20. The 17th Amendment – Direct election of Senators. I’ve written an extensive blog post on this amendment as well, specifically dealing with the idea of repeal. In the modern environment, malapportionment and the filibuster already create tremendous public angst about the Senate; returning to the old selection system would only increase that angst.
Uniquely important, but not foundational
21. The 14th Amendment – Much of the 14th amendment — the implicit setting of the maximum voting age at 21, the barring of former rebels from federal office, the validity of the public debt (ed: well maybe not that one!) — is irrelevant now. But the relevant parts — the citizenship clause, the due process clause, and the equal protection clause — form the basis of the modern constitutional structure and the relationship between the States and the Constitution. It’s very easy to imagine a democratic republic without the 14th amendment. But there’s a decent chance it would be a very different republic.
22. The 5th Amendment – Right to jury indictment; due process; no double jeopardy; no self-incrimination; no government takings of property.
23. The 6th Amendment – Right to a speedy public trial by jury in criminal cases; right to legal counsel.
These can be grouped together in my mind. Highly important defendants’ rights. I place the 6th amendment as higher priority than the 5th, because of the way the two amendments work in concert. Absent the right to a speedy public trial by jury, the 5th amendment ceases to protect you in a meaningful way. But (I think) the opposite is not quite as true: even without protections against double jeopardy and self-incrimination, a requirement of a speedy public trial by jury assisted by counsel should still afford the defendant a decent situation.
Essential Elements of a Modern Liberal Democratic Society
24. The 4th Amendment – Prohibition on unreasonable search and seizure. I’ve written a blog post on my recent personal experience with this amendment, and another on the Patriot Act. There’s a non-crazy argument, in my mind, that you’d want to get rid of the 1st amendment before this; the norms of the 1st amendment are probably more embedded in society than the norms of the 4th amendment. But in any case, this has to be at least second-to-last. The natural impulse of state power in a democracy is to chip away at this right. Ditching it would open the floodgates to a less free society. And while it’s true that most states have the equivalent amendment in their constitutions, the federal government is of a main concern here, which (I think) is less so in the case of the 5th and 6th amendments.
25. The 1st Amendment – Freedom of speech, press, and religion. Again, I’m not 100% sure this is more important than the 4th amendment on a day-to-day basis in contemporary America. But it’s definitely more important in theory, since it affects the policy outputs of the democratic process so much more directly. It’s true that the basic norms of the amendment are well ingrained in the United States. But it’s also true that the limits of the boundaries on these norms are constantly tested by both state and, to a lesser degree, federal law. So I think it has to be the foundation of any constitution, and therefore it’s the last amendment I’d dump.
Feel free to bicker with me in the comments.
Yesterday, Jonathan Bernstein posed a good question:
If my twitter feed is any indication, everyone is still focused on the Joint Select (Super) Committee, which is still unlikely to do anything, which will in turn trigger something that won’t happen for another year, except by then it won’t happen.
Meanwhile, as far as I can tell the real budget news continues to be the likely shutdown showdown over FY 2012 appropriations, coming later this month…
…I’m entirely baffled by the whole thing; it just seems to me that the press has this entirely backwards … As far as I can tell, the JSC just isn’t a very big deal, while the other track — FY2012 appropriations — is a real and serious battle. That’s what I’ve been saying, and I think Stan Collender has been mostly saying the same thing, but everyone else seems to be fixated on the wrong thing. Anyone have a good explanation?
Let me take a crack at this. Five general points:
1. The Joint Committee is potentially a huge deal. First, I should say that I’m with Bernstein in thinking that the JSC, as structured and incentivized, is highly unlikely to lead to much in the way of substantial legislation. As such, I think the action on the FY12 appropriations will probably be more consequential. But the theoretical significance of the JSC process is massive; its capacity for change (again, in theory) is far greater than the likely path of the annual appropriations process. And that means that even if the probability of the JSC process producing anything is tiny, the ramifications of that small chance might make it worth focusing on. Put it this way: if there’s a 2% chance that the JSC process produces (1) major alterations to entitlement spending; (2) sweeping tax reform; and (3) huge cuts to defense spending, then that 49-to-1 bet might be more worth focusing on than an annual appropriations process that is 3-to-1 to crash into a shutdown. And it will be imperatively more worth focusing on if you are singularly concerned about a policy potentially in the JSC crosshairs (i.e. AARP re: Medicare).
2. Even if the JSC process fails, how it fails is of potentially huge political significance. Even if the JSC process does nothing as a matter of policy, it’s going to have a political effect, and a potentially large one. Therefore, political actors have a large incentive to attempt to manage that failure and maximize the benefits (or minimize the damage) from it. Bernstein seems to think it’s unlikely the committee will do anything. I think that’s possible, maybe even likely, but I think it’s also plausible that the failure will come on the chamber floors. If the JSC is to a large degree just a proxy for the four-corners leadership, and those leaders think either that a deal is actually possible or they all think that they can win the politics of floor failure, then you might see something crash at a later stage. That would be intensely politically consequential. But no matter where this fails, it will need to be managed. Lack of output does not equal lack of winners and losers. And the groundwork for not losing is making sure that the JSC was a high-focus, high-priority item for each party, lest they be open to the charge of never giving it a chance.
3. Many political actors have incentives to be optimistic about JSC, but not Approps. This follows somewhat from the last point. The BCA was created by Congress to solve a problem; they probably need to believe it can work, or at least not completely crash. There are at least some negative political ramifications if its fails, at least for one party or the other, and maybe for both. Even if they don’t actually believe it can work, the JSC-process is probably a huge lobbying and fundraising winner, so there are reasons to keep up appearances. As Bernstein notes, however, a failure by the JSC process isn’t particularly substantively damning in the short run; it will potentially create political winners and losers, but mostly will set sail a new politics of sequester-avoidance. The clock is ticking, but it’s a long clock.
Appropriations, on the other hand, is structured exactly the opposite: there’s a short clock with concrete ramifications waiting just around the corner, built into a process that neither side specifically created and, in fact, most agree is at least half-broken. This encourages a focus on the doom-and-gloom, for two reasons: first, all the bargaining leverage is in convincing the other side that a shutdown will hurt them more, and hurt them immediately. Second, the external gains from lobbying/fundraising/etc are, unlike the JSC situation, drawn from pretending that the process will fail. So, in the end, you have a world where the political actors overstate the probability of JSC success and understate the possibility of appropriations success.
4. A shutdown might look relatively benign these days, and less likely. Relatively-speaking, that is. After battling out the debt limit earlier this year, and standing in the face of fiscal collapse in Europe, the prospect of the funding gap for a few days in the federal government probably doesn’t seem nearly as high-stakes as it did in, say, 1995. I don’t think that’s true at all; a shutdown is pretty catastrophic. But I can see why it looks more and more like small beer to a lot of people. Plus, the appropriations process is not completely stalled right now. It’s actually moving in the Senate. In and of itself, that doesn’t make it any more likely to not trigger a shutdown. But it helps frame the viewpoint of observers that are used to very few bills moving through the Senate.
5. There are institutional media factors driving JSC-process coverage. The JSC is both easy to cover, and sexy to cover. It’s new, it’s different, and it’s promising a lot. The appropriations process, on the other hand, is complex to cover, old, and anything but sexy. Even if it succeeds, it doesn’t do anything that will light the newsstands on fire. That can’t possibly compete with something dubbed the “supercommitte.”
So where does this leave me in regard to Bernstein’s question — why are people fixated on the supercommitee?
Well, I think the answer is a mix of two things: first, the JSC-process is probably somewhat more important than he suggests, especially in that it’s failure will be important politics. This is, of course, something a self-fulfilling prophecy; the extended media coverage has helped create the public illusion of greater probable success, which in turn will intensify the politics of failure. Conversely, I think the appropriations process is somewhat less important, mostly because I rate the probability of shutdown somewhat lower than Jonathan. And that’s in part because of the existence of the JSC; it strikes me that a shutdown now would have cross-contamination politically. The loser of the shutdown might very well be blamed for the failure of the JSC. And that raises the brinksmanship, which in turn I think increases the possibility someone caves. So that’s a substantive reason.
Second, I think a lot of observers are largely ignorant of the true probabilities and true consequences of success and failure in both cases. At the voter/observer level, people want to believe in big solutions to big problems and the basic ability of democratic governance to, if not solve all problems, at least avoid all disasters. I know I have to fight that urge constantly. At the political actor level, there are a myriad of incentives for either a genuine or strategic optimism that feeds this public belief, and in any case there are self-interested incentives to prioritize and promote the special device developed to solve the big problem. I’m not a big fan of traditional arguments about press incentives, but they certainly exist too. Besides all the ones mentioned above, the press can’t ignore, day after day, everything the political actors say. And the political actors are certainly rating the JSC chances much better than Bernstein, Stan, or I do.
So, I guess I’m less baffled about the press/observer focus than Jonathan, but that doesn’t make me any less worried. I still don’t see a lot of hope for the JSC process. The whole thing reminds me of how Potter described Buchanan’s plan to solve the secession crisis in his final annual address in December 1860 — that in proposing a constitutional amendment, he had raised the stakes and elevated the process, but had done nothing to change the underlying dynamics of the situation.
We took Anna (3.5 years old, Minnie Mouse) and Abby (1.5, Bumble Bee) trick-or-treating last night with a rather large group of their neighborhood friends. After we arrived home, we let them each have one piece of self-selected candy (Tootsie Roll Pop for each), and then we put them to bed and got down to the fun stuff: statistical analysis of the haul!
The loot analysis is limited to Anna’s trick-or-treating, since Abigail’s haul has a selection bias due to skipping some houses that had steep steps and/or scary decorations.
Total homes approached: 51
Total time trick or treating: 70 minutes
Approaches/Hour: 51/70*60 = 43.7
Comments: We live in a townhouse neighborhood, so even with a dozen pre-schoolers and toddlers in our posse, we are able to cover a lot of ground quickly. In addition, our neighborhood uses a pretty standard system of porch lights and glowing pumpkins to indicate whether the door will be answered, so some strategic skipping (after cursory checks for stoop jars of candy) was employed by the older children, with the younger ones following along. We lost some time due to mildly-enforced rules that all children say “thank you.”
Binary Success Rate
Subtotal, doors answered: 29
Subtotal, candy jars on steps: 6
Total, homes delivering candy: 35
Success rate: 35/51 = 68.6%
Comments: Given the housing stock, demographically our neighborhood has a disproportionate number of young families and couples-soon-to-be-families. This depresses the success rate because (a) many of the young families do not leave someone home to hand out candy; and (b) many of the young couples without kids are out attending adult Halloween parties. The jars-on-steps are probably higher than other neighborhoods, because we get virtually no unaccompanied older children who are likely candidates to completely clean you out in one approach.
Loot Gathering Efficiency
Total pieces of candy: 80
Yield/Approach: 80/51 = 1.6 pieces/approach
Yield/Delivery: 80/35 = 2.3 pieces/delivery
Pieces/Hour: 80/70*60 = 68.6
Comments: Yield and rate figures are sub-optimal because we reminded Anna to only take one piece from jars on steps, and attempted to limit multi-piece grabs from bowls, even when offered by distributors. There was some visible shirking of these rules. Counts were made post-bedtime, and reflect one authorized consumption and no observed illegal consumptions.
Descriptive Loot Analysis
Complete list of all pieces of candy (all “fun” size where applicable, unless otherwise noted): seven Kit-Kat, four Skittles, six Laffy Taffy, two pixie stix, one Hot Tamales, four full-size single Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, one miniature Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, one Three Musketeers, one Dots, two sour patch kids bags, one apple head, seven Bottle Caps, one sour punch twist, one Scooby Doo fruit snacks pouch, two sweet tarts, four boxes of Nerds, two Smarties, three Tootsie Roll Pops, one Dum Dum Pop, one bag of Gobstoppers, one bag of pretzels, two bags of Peanut M&Ms, three Twix, three Krackel, two Almond Joy, eight Starburst, one Butterfinger, two Hershey bars, two Cowtails, Two Snickers, and two Crunch bars.
Standard metric of candy value:
10: Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup
9: miniature Reese’ Peanut Butter Cup
8: Excellent chocolate bars (Twix, Kit Kat, Crunch Bar, Krackel, Butterfinger, etc.)
7: Good chocolate bars plus M&Ms (Snickers, 3 Musketeers, Hershey bar, M&Ms, Almond Joy, etc.)
6: Pops and chocolate sweets (Tootsie Rolls, Tootsie Roll Pops, Dum Dum Pop)
5: taffy-life creations plus Skittles (Laffy Taffy, Starburst, Skittles, etc.)
4: All other Wonka-style candy (Nerds, Bottlecaps, Gobstoppers, sweet tarts, smarties, Pixie Stix etc.)
3: psuedo-candy and sour candy (fruit snacks, sour patch kids, etc.)
2: non-candy (pretzels, apples, etc.)
1: trade-value-to-suckers only (Dots, Cowtails, Hot Tamales, apple heads, etc.)
0: non-food items; items that must be chucked for unsafe packaging.
Bonuses: +25 for each full-size candy bar.
Comments: The standard metric is not debateble, except for whether a Hershey’s Kiss comes in unsafe packaging. If not, it’s a 6.
Statistical Loot Analysis
Total Haul Value: 445
Mean Piece Value: 5.56
Standard Deviation: 2.24
Median Piece Value: 5
Number of non-food or unsafe items: 0
Number of full-size candy bars: 0
Comments: I thought this was a pretty mediocre haul. Way, way too much Wonka crap, and it’s not like we’re talking about Wacky Wafers or Runts here, just your pedestrian sweet tarts and Nerds. The high-end was also very unrepresented. Four regular peanut-butter cups? Yikes. No full-size bars? That’s unlucky. I’m still in search of a repeat of the holy grail of successful deliveries: October 31, 1989, last house on Primrose Drive, Loudonville NY, which featured full-size Crunch Bars and two-pack Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in a candy jar on the steps!
Outlook for Anna and Abby
Pieces allowed per day: 1
Theoretical last day of Halloween candy: January 17th, 2012.
Estimated adult pilferage rate: 1 piece/day/adult
Estimated “forgot” rate/week: 3
Estimated illegal consumption by children: 0
Realistic last day: December 2nd, 2011.
Comments: My strong working assumption is that 3 year-olds will neither notice missing candy, nor treat themselves to illegal candy. But we’ll find out.
Drew Westen’s piece in the New York Times this weekend might have achieved anti-perfection. John Sides already dismantled it yesterday. And Jon Bernstein piled on this morning. Seth Masket added some more this afternoon. I was going to write a longer post, but the targets are quickly evaporating, so I’ll just address one so-far-unaddressed paragraph that really bothered me:
It is deeply ironic that the Republican Party, long the party of privilege, has become the party that champions the view that anyone — from an exterminator (Tom DeLay, former House majority leader) to the owner of a pizza joint (Bobby Schilling, freshman congressman from Illinois) — has what it takes to run a country.
This is, I think, an elitist critique of, well, elitism(?). Usually when a group dispatches a remnant of its former ideology of privilege, we clap. Here, we’re knocking the Republican Party for its history of elitism, but then noting that, ahem, not just anyone can run a country. In fact, it’s so illogical that I’ve actually been going back and forth on whether he’s being sarcastic or serious. But it must be sarcasm, the examples are derisive, right?
But those derisive examples are heartbreaking. What the hell is wrong with owning a pizza joint and running for Congress? And unless the point is that exterminators are, as a class, likely to be corrupt, I see no reason to knock DeLay based on his employment background: he was a powerful politician and a reasonably effective majority leader, and a veteran of state legislative politics to boot. Is there something I don’t know about small business owners that makes them particularly unsuited to be community leaders?
Westen is presenting a strain of elitism that absolutely drives me batty. Lodged in the middle of an essay that alleges both parties have a tin ear for what the masses of voters actually want, Westen lets slip that he doesn’t have much patience for people that don’t have a certain pedigree. He’s contemptuous of both the political class and the working class. I have little doubt that he fancies himself a philosopher-king of sorts, and it’s dollars to doughnuts that his ideal candidate/leader fits a very particular mold — probably college followed by law/professional school followed by a job as a political staffer followed by some policy work — and people outside of that mold should stick to pulling voting levers.
But leave that aside: five paragraphs after declaring that a pizza joint owner and the owner of a pest control business aren’t capable of leadership, Westen says that “another quality that distinguishes effective leaders [is] experience,” and then uses running a business as an example. Huh? Who the hell edited this piece?
Even stranger is Westen’s understanding of how the national government works. Does anyone equate serving in Congress to “running the country?” Even uninformed voters make a pretty bright line distinction between the standards they employ when voting for president and when voting for Representative — all sorts of people who would never stand a chance at the presidency are routinely elected to Congress, or even serve as congressional leaders. And with good reason: it doesn’t really matter if the Speaker of the House is a drunk. Or if a freshman in Congress doesn’t have a perfect grasp of policy or politics. Legislative leadership itself is something quite different than national leadership, and I suspect Westen is conflating the two completely.
1. Amateur presidential candidates are more likely than career politicians to be tripped up by past indiscretions. This is because they’ve never been vetted politically before. For career politicians, chances are that many of the embarrassing indiscretions of the past have been dug up and aired publicly by opponents in previous campaigns. This is only natural; opposition researchers exist at all levels of politics, and very few campaigns have any misgivings about using what they find if they think it at all effective. And thus when faced with two presidential candidates, one amateur and one career politician, you are looking at two very different people in relation to scandal. All else equal, the career politician is
(a) less likely to have something in the past that could ruin a career, as there’s a real chance it would already have been found by a previous opponent; and
(b) more likely to have already dealt with and controlled small to medium-sized issues from the past, neutralizing their effectiveness if recycled.
And thus any career politician who becomes a presidential candidate has survived an evolutionary test for scandal; natural selection has not exposed a disqualifying scandal, and has partial-immunized him from many minor allegations that have already surfaced. The unvetted amateur, on the other hand, stands at the first stage of the evolutionary process. Think you’re going to find a silver bullet scandal in president Obama’s past at this point? Not a chance. Think Romney’s groundskeepers-who-employed-illegals is going to make above-the-fold news years after it first came out? Doubtful. Think a random chattering-class amateur-cum-politico has a past indiscretion or two? You bet.
Now, presidential campaigns expose all candidates to a level of scrutiny and opposition research that is unparalleled, regardless of previous political experience. But that’s kind of the point: it’s all coming out when you submit yourself to the presidential election machinery. For career politicians, that means the last scrapings from the bottom of a well-traveled barrel. For amateurs, it means the same scrapings, plus all the low-hanging fruit. Both can be good sources of fodder. But they are far from the same thing.
2. I’m surprised some people think this won’t hurt Cain. Last night on Twitter, both Ryan Lizza and Rich Lowry indicated that Cain might not be damaged by this story. The theory goes something like this: Cain will effectively spin the story as an example of the high tech lynching he already predicted from the liberal media, and conservatives, in turn, will rush to his defense, making him more popular than ever. And this morning, we do indeed find some conservatives coming to his defense.
It sounds plausible, but there are at least four problems with the theory: first, Cain isn’t competing against the liberals right now. He’s in a primary against other conservatives. Unless the allegations are completely baseless and can be proven as such, it’s going to be tough to sell this as the liberals smearing him. It may be done quietly, but if this story has legs, it will be kept alive by his primary opponents, not the Democrats. More to the point: is it really the case that the Democrats would rather face Romney? That doesn’t pass the smell test.
Second, GOP primary voters aren’t being forced to choose between a flawed Cain and a Democratic candidate; the political cost of abandoning him is very small, and thus the incentives to rally behind him are very low. It’s one thing to hold your nose and vote for someone with a flawed-character if the cost of abandoning him is a partisan loss in the election. But, if anything, the opposite is true here. And all just for a chance to stick it to the liberal media? Cain may get a sympathy bump from the right, but it won’t last if the story pans out. For the same reasons, I don’t buy the analogy to Clarence Thomas.
Third, one of Cain’s big selling points right now is his very low negatives among voters. This is bound to affect that, even if it didn’t injure his overall support. Part of his popular appeal, I think, is the public sense that he’s not an ordinary politician. A scandal like this will start to break down that narrative. Even if the allegations don’t reshape how people view him, the campaign’s response to them probably will.
Fourth, I don’t see how this helps Cain’s fundamentals. He still has no endorsements from federal elected officials and very little in the way of fundraising. This will probably solidify those realities. I don’t think party actors were giving him much of a look before, but now they won’t touch him, even if only because they get nervous about what else is hiding in the closet. It’s just more potential risk in a year that the party wants to reduce variance. If Cain can survive a medium-sized scandal and win this nomination, it will definitely be reason to re-assess our understanding of party influence on the presidential nomination process.
Now, I was already on the record believing that Cain had almost no chance at the nomination. In that sense, I guess this strikes me more as a time/place/manner thing that something that actually affected the future. Perhaps the biggest effect, one way or another, will be on book sales and speaking fees. In fact, my first reaction to the breaking of the scandal was that it probably let the observers/pundits who were bullish on Cain off the hook with an excuse for what I see as an inevitable crash.
But part of me thinks that things like this should be built into any estimation model. Everyone has past indiscretions, at least minor ones. Was it really going to be possible for Cain to get through the nomination process without them being dug up? I’m not saying that I thought about this much before yesterday, or that scandal was the likeliest way for Cain to be brought down. But given his unvetted status, it was always a possibility.
As of 7am this morning, Cain is down 36% on Intrade. There’s certainly a chance he could recover from this and reverse those numbers. But this was always a campaign teetering on the brink. My guess is this is the beginning of the end.
Drew Westen’s piece in the New York Times this weekend might have achieved anti-perfection. John Sides has already dismantled it as a factual matter. Tomorrow I’ll have some thoughts of my own on Westen’s understanding of politics.
The floor of the House chamber plays a central role in the practice of congressional politics in Washington. In one sense, this centrality is obvious: the floor serves as the physical location of official decision-making and debate. But the importance of the floor to the structure of congressional politics is much wider than this, in a way that is not often appreciated: the rules, norms, and practices that occur on the floor fundamentally shape the structure of legislative and representative practices of Members that occur off the floor in Washington.
Although floor action is the most visibly consequential congressional activity, it is far from the only representational activity that Members undertake in DC; but because of the primacy of the floor, the other activities of Members must play a subjugated role to the demands the floor places on their time and attention. Regardless of the priorities a Member has on any given day, a call to the floor for a vote will have to take precedence, except in the most extreme of circumstances. The demands of the floor, however, can be shaped by the Members through changes to the rules, norms, and practices. And thus we might expect that exogenous changes to the off-floor needs of Members might result in deliberate changes to the structure of floor action to better meet those needs.
Which brings us to clustered voting.
In the 1960s, the practice of voting on the floor of the House was quite different than it is today, and would in many ways be unrecognizable to an observer familiar only with the modern practice. Many of these practices were altered beginning in 1970, and two changes in particular are well-known. First, in the Legislative Reorganization Act of 1970 (P.L. 91-510), the rules of the House were amended to allow recorded votes in the Committee of the Whole. Previously, votes on floor amendments in the Committee of the Whole were usually taken by voice, leaving no trace of how individual Members had voted. The second change, also initiated by the Reorganization Act, was the introduction of the electronic voting system, which was first used in January 1973, several weeks into the 93rd Congress. Prior to its introduction, recorded votes in the House were usually taken by roll-call, as they are in the modern Senate. In the larger House, however, this was a serious time-consuming process; roll-call votes often took 45 minutes to complete. The introduction of electronic voting significantly shortened the time it took to vote. Under current House rules (Rule XX(2)(a) and Rule XVIII(6)(g)) 15 minutes are allotted for a vote (and in many cases, as discussed below, less). The introduction of “scoreboards” also left, for the first time, a visual record of the vote as it was in progress.
A third change, however, has received less attention: alteration of the rules to allow the postponement and clustering of record votes (found currently at Rule XX(8)). Prior to these changes, votes occurred on the floor in their natural locations; if several motions were expected to be entertained under the suspension of the rules, for example, there would be a vote on each motion at the conclusion of debate on the motion. Beginning in the 93rd Congress (1973-74), the rules were gradually altered to allow the Speaker to postpone and cluster votes together. The first change allowed clustering of suspension votes, as described above. Whereas previously there would have been a vote at the end of debate on each suspension motion (which could range from 0-40 minutes), the Speaker would now be allowed to postpone all of the votes until all of the motions had been debated, and then have one long series of votes at the end.
The ramifications of this for the Members was enormous. Instead of having to come to the floor to vote at a series of unknown random times throughout the suspension calendar on a given day, now only one trip to the floor for the series of votes would be necessary. While under the prior system Members were forced to either continually be called away to the floor or hang around the floor waiting for votes, the postponement rules meant that the leadership could roughly schedule when the votes would take place, and Members would be free to conduct non-floor activities without interruption. This not only allowed for more efficient use of time on and off the floor, but it also enlarged the very scope of things that were possible off the floor. Prior to clustered voting, a meeting on the other side of Washington would be difficult to schedule with six suspension votes likely at random times over the course of an afternoon; under the modern system, those votes can be condensed to one series in the early evening, requiring the Member to be on the floor for only about 40 minutes total, in one block.
Further changes to the rules in subsequent years allowed every vote after the first in a clustered series to be a 5-minute vote, further reducing the total amount of time spent on the floor (first used in the 96th Congress). Rules were also subsequently altered to allow votes to be postponed to the following day, providing even more flexibility in scheduling. And, most importantly, over the following two decades, more and more types of motions were added to the list of things that could be postponed. In the modern House, the vast majority of votes can be postponed, including ordering the previous question (starting in the 95th Congress), adoption of privileged resolutions from the rules committee (95th Congress), final passage on bills and resolutions (96th Congress), agreements on conference reports (96th Congress). Later precedents allowed for the clustering of many of these different types of votes together, with only one 15-minute vote in any series. This gives the majority leadership incredibly flexibility in shaping when floor action demands the attendance of the Members; as such, they can schedule the floor to the utmost convenience of the off-floor needs of the typical Member.
There are potential downsides to this. While the ability to postpone and cluster votes makes the floor schedule both more predictable and more efficient, that very predictability reduces the need of Members to be anywhere near the floor during debate, which theoretically reduces both the informative quality of the debate, as well as the interest of Members in even having a debate. After all, if you have to be hanging around the floor, you might as well discuss things. But if you don’t need to be there, maybe other things are more important than debate. In the contemporary Congress, the chamber is mostly empty during debate. The ability of the leadership to postpone and cluster votes allows the Whips to send out daily notices to the House community, with detailed (and pretty accurate) guesses as to the expected time of the first vote and how long the series will last. Furthermore, if things are going slow, some of the votes can be pushed to the following day. While all of this maximizes efficiency, it also virtually reduces to the bare minimum the amount of time Members actually need to be collectively present in the House chamber.
The combination of clustered votes and reduced times for the latter votes in a clustered series makes the modern House floor utterly different than the floor in the 1960s. Particularly on a day when the only business is suspension motions, the Members are almost perfectly free to ignore the floor until what is usually about 6pm, at which time they can convene together and take all the necessary votes in less than an hour. This frees up the entire day for both official action (such as committee hearings) or other representational functions (such as meeting with constituents or interest group representatives) or off-campus political activity (such as fundraising or campaign matters). Unchained from potential votes, Members need not keep themselves within quick walking distance of the floor; meetings and events can take place all over Washington or even farther away. Even more so, any shortened week House schedule can be even further reduced: the so-called Tuesday-Thursday calendar can include all postponed votes on Tuesday, making Tuesday night the deadline to return, not Tuesday mid-day. Whether the move toward clustered voting was a cause or consequence of the changing patterns of Member off-floor activities is known; mostly likely, it was both.
One final consequence of the clustered votes is perhaps worth mentioning. It makes following the House on C-SPAN much tougher for the uninitiated viewer. Faced with a series of votes that are often completely unrelated and with no intervening debate, it can make the patterns of procedure on the House floor seem even more indecipherable than normal. Even more frustrating to many is that watching a floor debate that does not end in a vote on the matter at hand, but simply postpones the vote and proceeds to a different debate on a different topic. While such concerns are definitely secondary, it is not just C-SPAN viewers who can suffer this problem; without a linear progression of votes, coupled with the ability to ignore the floor most of the day, Members themselves can be unsure about the exact sequence of votes in a clustered series. While this virtually never results in a Member voting incorrectly (it’s easy enough to ask someone on the floor what the current vote is), it does further disconnect the individual Members from the traditional ideal of the floor as a place to debate an issue and then vote on it.
As macro-development, it’s also important to see the linkages between record votes in the Committee of the Whole, electronic voting, and cluster voting. Without electronic voting, record votes in the Committee of the Whole would not have been feasible, given the potential time commitment. Similarly, it would hardly have been worth clustering votes if they couldn’t be taken electronically: part of the benefit is that the subsequent electronic votes can be reduced to five minutes; if each vote took 45 minutes, it would hardly be worth clustering them. (In reality, the only reason the first vote now is 15-minutes is so that people have time to get to the floor; in certain situations, the chair is actually allowed to reduce the vote time to 2-minutes).
First off, the win-probability fangraph from last night is just ridiculous.
Anyway, less than five minutes after the game ended, a friend of mine texted me the following:
amazing. too bad game 7 will probably be a huge letdown.
In one sense, that’s almost certainly true. It’s hard to imagine tonight’s game topping last night. But the implicit thrust — that game seven would probably be a poor game — didn’t strike me as correct. Thinking back, my intuition was that most of the game sevens I could remember were actually pretty good.
SportsCenter is also running a piece right now talking about how great game 6s have been historically, relatively to game 7s. They show 1975 (carbo homer, fisk homer), 1986 (Schiraldi/Stanley/Buckner), 1991 (Puckett), 1992 (Joe Carter), and of course last night. But game 7 was pretty darn good in 1975 and 1986, and in 1991 game seven was absolutely better than game 6. So the piece struck me as kind of hollow.
Here are all the World Series game sevens since I was old enough to remember them:
1985: Royals 11, Cardinals 0. Not an exciting game. But it does include the ejection of Whitey Herzog, who allegedly told Don Denkinger “We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t fuck up the call last night,” in reference to the possibly-worst missed call of all time in game 6, to which Denkinger allegedly responded,” We wouldn’t be here if your team wasn’t hitting .120.” Awesome.
1986: Mets 8, Red Sox 5. I wasn’t alive for game seven in ’75, but I have to think this was the most highly-anticipated game seven of all-time, especially when you throw in the rain-out day (although that was true in ’75 as well). And it delivered. McNamara going with Hurst instead of Oil Can, followed later by Oil Can being too hungover to pitch in relief when the barn was on fire; the Sox jumping out to a 3-run lead, the Mets pounding Schiraldi again in the 7th; Strawberry’s towering homer (and slow-as-molasses trot around the bases) in the 8th. Great game.
1987: Twins 4, Cardinals 2. Somewhat marred by a pile of missed calls, this was still a very good game. The Cardinals got to Viola early, but he settled down nicely. Vince Coleman threw two Twins out at the plate to keep things close.
1991: Twins 1, Braves 0. Jack Morris refuses to come out and goes 10 innings for the shutout, with Smoltz et. al getting a 9-inning shutout of their own, before Gene Larkin delivered the walk-off hit to win it. Probably the greatest game in my lifetime, and definitely one of the most underrated.
1997: Marlins 3, Indians 2. A fantastic game and a fantastic finish. Alomar cut down at the plate trying to get an insurance run in the top of the 9th. The Marlins get to Mesa in the bottom of the ninth for the tying run. I think the single-most exciting thing that can happen in a baseball game is when the visiting team has to intentionally walk the bases loaded and then bring the infield and outfield in. The Indians had to do that in the 11th inning of game 7 of the world series! They cut a guy down at home for a second out, but then Renteria slaps in the winning run.
2001: Diamondbacks 3, Yankees 2. A classic. Clemens and Schilling locked in a duel for seven innings. Brenley brings in Randy Johnson (who had started game 6) in relief mid-8th. Mariano Rivera, greatest closer of all time, can’t save a 2-1 lead and the Diamondbacks walk off.
2002: Angels 4, Giants 1. Not a great game, but high drama right to the end. Percival put two runners on the 9th, bringing the tying run to the plate. Also, a great outing for a rookie John Lackey.
So that’s a pretty good track record. Not that it can predict anything.
Finally, I still have no idea how Sunday night regular season NFL games draw higher ratings than World Series games. Mind boggling. And I won’t entertain any nonsense about baseball being boring. If that’s your position, you need to: (a) re-evaluate which sport involves more standing around doing nothing; and (b) drop football and start watching rugby. As I wrote after the last day of the regular season, baseball drama is unlike any other kind of sports drama. And post-season baseball drama is even more unique. It’s not the most heart-stopping (that would be overtime playoff hockey, in my mind), but it’s the most agonizing and the most personal.
Enjoy the game tonight, everyone!
But I do know what an analyst should not do: he should not use terms like “never” and “no chance” when applied to Mr. Cain’s chances of winning the nomination, as many analysts have.
There is simply no precedent for a candidate like Mr. Cain, one with such strong polling but such weak fundamentals. We do have some basic sense that both categories are important. This evidence is probably persuasive enough to say that Mr. Cain’s chances are much less than implied by his polling alone. They may, in fact, be fairly slim.
But slim (say, positing Mr. Cain’s odds at 50-to-1 against) is much different than none (infinity-to-1 against). We don’t know enough about the way these factors interact, and we can’t be sure enough that the way they’ve interacted in the past will continue on into the future, to say that Mr. Cain has no chance or effectively no chance.
I think there are a few things to say about this. First, Nate is obviously right from a technical standpoint. Cain doesn’t actually have a zero percent chance of winning the nomination. But that’s also true of both Nate and myself, despite the fact that neither of us is old enough to be president, or currently running for the office. So it doesn’t tell you much. More generally, there’s almost no situation in the study of behavioral politics (or social science, for that matter) in which we could makes such a claim. Forever is, as they say, quite a long time. If that is Nate’s point — that people saying that Cain has no chance should actually be saying he has “less than a 1% chance” — well, fine. But in that case it’s just semantics, or maybe a criticism about imprecise writing.
But that’s not what bothers me about the article. The real problem is that Nate seems to more or less agree with the people who think Cain has no chance. He concedes that Cain’s chances might be “slim” and then suggests that “slim” might mean slightly less than two percent. In effect, Nate is doing exactly what he claims the analysts shouldn’t be doing: disregarding the polling numbers and putting the vast preponderance of the explanatory weight on the fundamentals, or their intuition. How else can you get the polling front-runner down to 2%? But if it’s “arrogant to say that the man leading in the polls two months before Iowa has no chance,” then it’s probably pretty arrogant to make him a 50 to 1 longshot.
Nate also wants people to put their money where their mouth is. He offers a silly one-sided bet — will you quit your job if Cain wins? — in an attempt to prove that Cain doesn’t have “no chance.” This goes right back to the semantics. But we can harness the market without betting our livelihood at infinity-to-1 odds. For instance, Cain is currently trading at 7.4% to win the nomination on Intrade. That’s far below his polling numbers, but I have a hunch it’s still well above Nate’s estimate of the true probability of him winning.
So I’ll throw down a counter-challenge to Nate. I’ll admit that I’ve been guilty of saying Cain has “no chance” of winning the nomination when I actually meant he has less than a 1% chance. I also think that the public opinion polling showing Cain in the lead is basically worthless (not because it’s wrong, just because it has little predictive value relative to the fundamentals). So here’s the bet: if Cain doesn’t win the nomination, Nate, you buy me a happy hour beer next time I’m in New York or you’re in DC. If he does win, I’ll treat you to a very fancy dinner (say, $400/person) next time I’m in the city or, if you prefer, donate the money in your name to the charity of your choice.
That’s roughly 100 to 1 against. If Cain has anything more than “no chance” of winning the nomination, it should be a very attractive bet.
Update: Jonathan Bernstein posted a very nice piece that is both a more complete and much cooler-headed analysis/critique of the situation, and which I highly recommend reading.
Update II: Hans Noel has a nice post up over at the Monkey Cage regarding all of this, and he’s definitely an expert that everyone should listen to. Also highly recommended.
Today, October 26th, is the 10th anniversary of the Patriot Act. I’m pretty surprised that no one seems to care.
Whatever you think of the merits of the law (P.L. 107-56; reauthorizations in P.L. 109-177, P.L. 109-178, P.L. 111-142, P.L. 112-14), I don’t think there’s any doubt that it’s the symbol of America’s public security response to 9/11 (although I guess if you wanted to argue for TSA, I’d have to at least listen).
What’s a sensible libertarian to think of all this? Three thoughts:
1) As with the “war on terror,” much of the Patriot Act has become utterly normalized. This is absolutely the saddest part of the whole post-9/11 experience for me. The various trade-offs of liberty for increased security was, by all accounts and on all sides of the debate, a temporary measure in response to an acute problem. And I’m no conspiracy theorist or weak-kneed liberal on this; in the post-9/11 environment, I don’t think it was inherently unreasonable to statutorily increase the ability of federal law enforcement to aggressively pursue terrorists. I wasn’t crazy about the law at the time, but I could see the arguments in its favor and I was willing (at the time) to accept that it was necessary in the face of the potential risk.
But I think the basic feedback loop of a democracy doesn’t work well with policies like this one: the vast majority of citizens never have any actual contact with the Patriot Act: virtually none of them ever get detained or are even suspects, and any surveillance of their communications is not something they know about. So, in effect, the entire implementation of the policy is hidden from view. Except when one of its provisions helps law enforcement do its job. Then everyone hears about it. Like many issues of liberty, it’s an abstraction that people can’t viscerally relate to and often don’t want to think about. That is a sub-optimal context for any public policy, and a dangerous one for any trade-off regarding the 4th amendment. It effectively allows the law to ingrain itself as the status quo without a whole lot of public consternation. And it puts the burden of explanation on people who want to repeal it. And then it just becomes something that’s always been there.
Everyone always talks about how kids who were born in the last 15 years will have no memory of how different America was before 9/11. And when they say it, they usually means things like “you could go to the gate at the airport to pick someone up” or “you were carefree in the sense that you never thought about buildings blowing up.” I’m more worried about the things that don’t seem to have changed at all, but have actually changed drastically. Like the idea that someone is sitting in jail in America today, indefinitely detained but without any charges filed against them now or perhaps ever. There’s only two possibilities: either the Patriot Act has been an utterly smashing success as a law enforcement tool, or the danger of international terrorism was not quite as great as we thought in Fall 2001. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle. But laws like the Patriot Act are still predicated on the unknowns of October 2001, perhaps justified at the time, but now surviving in no small part on the inertia of normalization.
2) It’s a good thing much of it was sunset, but even that is a very small escape hatch. Congress was smart to sunset many of the provisions of the Patriot Act, because it’s quite dangerous to statutorily hand unending power to the executive branch. And that’s for two reasons: first, regardless of ideology or party, all presidents prefer to have more power than less power. Even if they have no intention of using statutory powers handed to them by Congress, the last thing they are going to do is hand them back. The second reason is structural: because Congress can hand the executive power by majority vote but can only repeal those powers by supermajority (because of the veto), there’s a ratcheting-up effect. The president can almost always summon 1/3 of Congress to his defense, simply because partisans have less concerns about power under their president and often simply do not want to make their man look bad. And so Congress has trouble ending statutory grants of authority to the president.
Luckily, there’s an easy solution that was implemented with much of the Patriot Act: sunsets. So long as the authority expires, then Congress can always choose to extend or end the statutory power by majority vote. In fact, I think sunsets on presidential power are so important that they should be installed on all grants of power to the executive, and should never last more than a Congress. That way, no Congress can bind a future one into a situation where a clear majority rejects the grant of power, but cannot undo it. It wouldn’t be hard to implement: on the first day or in the first week of each new Congress, a bill could be brought forward that was the “presidential power package,” which would contain all the presidential powers that were about to expire (the laws could be written to have them expire, say, a month into the new Congress). Congress could then re-pass all the powers they wished the president to statutorily retain (perhaps most, or all, of them), while excluding the ones they wanted to end. And this could all be done by majority vote. Sure, there would be veto-bargaining and filibuster issues, but at least that would get people talking and debating the issues; right now, no one even contemplates undoing some of the presidential powers because it’s simply impossible.
Even with sunsets, statutory executive power is a tough thing to undo. The politics of security almost always play toward conservatism, and with presidents almost always pressing to keep or expand the powers, opponents have an uphill fight. This is, of course, better than no sunsets. But it also speaks to their necessity: without them, it’s not an uphill fight, it’s just game over.
3) I worry that the Obama administration has done for security what Ike did for the New Deal. People tend to forget, but there was a fair number of Republicans in the late 40′s and early 50′s who were still of the mindset that the New Deal policies of the Roosevelt years could be undone in a favorable political environment. Eisenhower’s disinterest or unwillingness to engage in such policies was not only a disappointment to orthodox conservatives at the time, but it was also the nail in the coffin for their cause (at least for a while…). Such cross-party acceptance of a controversial set of policies is pretty common, I think, and tends to be what fundamentally solidifies policy development in much of American history.
My guess is that the Obama administration has done the same for the enhanced security powers of the executive branch. It was always my conclusion that liberals were deluding themselves in ’08 if they thought that just getting their man into the office would solve the problems of Bushism; as I believed then and still believe now, the problem wasn’t just the president, the problem was the presidency. Of course, we’re unlikely to see a Whig in the White House anytime soon, someone who will just hand back power under a theory of legislative supremacy. But at least that debate seemed plausible under Bush. Sometimes I wonder if the conservatives would have put up a better fight on civil liberties had Gore been president for 9/11. Perhaps, although perhaps the solidification of the new era would have just been that much quicker. But it’s utterly clear to me that the modal liberals are mostly done with the issue, as is the median voter.
Back when I was a lowly intern on the Hill in the 90′s and flat tax proposals were enjoying their second(?) renaissance, I got talking about them to my boss (a conservative Democrat) on a car ride and he said something that always stuck with me. I don’t think it gets more succinctly correct than this:
There’s a simple reason that no flat tax will ever pass, nor should one. First, no matter how you structure it, the richest people will pay less than they do now. That’s a basic consequence of getting off a graduated tax. Any sane plan is going to also have an exemption for the first 20 or 25k of income, to help the poor. So if the tax is good for the rich and good for the poor and still revenue neutral, who does it screw? The middle class.
Second, everyone keeps saying how simple it is, that you can do your taxes on a post card. Nonsense. Simplicity is not inherent to the flat tax any more than it is to the graduated income tax. We could eliminate all deductions and adjustments from the current income tax, and you could do the three-bracket math on a post card too. But more importantly, there’s zero chance a flat tax doesn’t eventually get loaded up with deductions and credits.
All that said, it takes some real effort to come up with a flat tax as bad as the one Rick Perry is now proposing, which would allow people to chose between their current taxes and a 20% flat tax. Everyone from Jon Bernstein to Kevin Drum to Reihan Salam have already eviscerated it this morning, so I won’t go into detail, but here are three quick thoughts:
1. Under Perry’s plan, we wouldn’t get any benefit of reforming the zany current system. Perry’s plan is doomed for a lot of reasons, but this is my favorite. The tax system is completely broken in this country, so we’re going to reform it by letting some people pay less in a really simple way, but some people stick with the old system. So in order to do your taxes in the simple way, you’ll have to do them in the hard way to see if the simple way is better. Awesome. It’s not even good politics, because it doesn’t let Perry effectively talk about “abolishing the IRS” or “simplifying the tax code.” In effect, we have to keep the entire structure of the current system in place, and dump a new one on top of it. Brilliant. (Sidebar: I wonder how much extra I would pay to do the flat tax and not have to keep any records or do a 1040. I wonder what the aggregate average would be for that question.)
2. I’m pretty sure the only relevant distinction is between zero and one deduction. Every scholarly history of the income tax I’ve seen says the same thing: it started out pretty clean, but over time the carve-outs, deductions, breaks, and all the rest just keep getting piled on. Perry’s plan has mortgage deductions and charitable giving deductions. You think more isn’t coming down the road? You are naive. Once you allow and deductions or breaks or whatever, the flood gates will eventually (and probably pretty soon) open. People love deductions. Makes them feel like they are getting something that others aren’t. My mom — who is a pretty smart lady — once told me that she’d rather keep her mortgage deduction than pay overall less taxes. I could not change her mind. That tells you all you need to know. If you can’t abide by an absolutely no deductions policy, you are probably headed toward the full menu.
3. Why not a graduated income tax that is as simple as a flat tax? If someone proposed this, it might actually get me thinking. Just like my old boss said. Three or four brackets, no deductions or credits. Use the postcard. Make it as progressive as you want. I guarantee this polls better than any flat tax ever has. Still a pipe dream, but now at least it’s a normatively desirable pipe dream.
It appears that President Obama is about to unveil some new initiatives regarding housing and student loans. These may or may not be good policies — I honestly have no idea. But the idea that the president is somehow “sidestepping” Congress in doing this strikes me as just wrong. And yet that’s exactly how the Drudge Report is billing it, and also how Phil Kerpin is describing it in his Fox News opinion piece:
Last month at a gala for the Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute, President Obama said: “I wish I had a magic wand and could make this all happen on my own…There are times where — until Nancy Pelosi is speaker again, I’d like to work my way around Congress.”
This week, Mr. Obama is moving forward to do precisely that.
He is acting to disregard the bipartisan rejection of his so-called jobs bill – another warmed over stimulus bill like the one that already spectacularly failed – and implement large pieces of it without approval from Congress. The president is simply pretending the bill passed and moving forward, starting with yet another mortgage bailout.
Again, I don’t think this is even close to correct. And I say that as someone who is very skeptical of executive power within the American system. Three points:
1) The president can only act on legal authority. He’s not a monarch. His authority comes from two places: either under the Constitution or under laws enacted by Congress. To suggest that the president is “sidestepping” Congress is akin to saying he’s violating either the law or the Constitution. Which in some cases is a reasonable position: there are certainly arguments to be made that, in the case of war powers, presidents throughout history have stretched well past the limits of their constitutional bounds. I happen to think that’s true.
But such arguments are much tougher to make about domestic policy; the president doesn’t really have much inherent constitutional authority beyond the general grant to “faithfully execute the laws.” He can’t build an army, he can’t spend money from the Treasury, he can’t raise money for the Treasury, he’s not even entitled to a free house in Washington to live in. And he sure as heck can’t change legislatively-enacted policies regarding federal mortgages or student loans. All of those things are controlled by law, and the laws are made by Congress. Period. Via the veto, the president gains some bargaining leverage as a negative actor in the legislative process, but that just makes him a player, not a unilateral actor.
Are there things in the president’s failed legislative jobs package that would have gone through under law but now might go through under executive order or agency rule-making? Maybe. But none of those things would have been prohibited from going through under executive order prior to the legislative stall-out. If the president has the discretion under law to make executive decisions over certain policies, then he has it, regardless of whether Congress rejected his attempt to make those same decisions by legal enactment. Conversely, there are things the president can never do without congress — first and foremost expend money from the Treasury — and that doesn’t change regardless of circumstance or legislative gridlock.
2) Executive branch discretion in domestic policy is largely a grant of power provided by Congress. What the president can do is make discretionary decisions when Congress has authorized him to do so, or when the law plainly calls for executive discretion, or at the most when Congress has not prohibited him from doing so. Executive orders aren’t magical tools that allow the president to circumvent the law or decide that when Congress said X they really meant Y; they are mostly consequences of purposeful congressional action, combined with executive and legislative reality. You simply can’t write laws to cover all situations and details. In fact, you wouldn’t even want to try. Congress explicitly and regularly designs the overall policy, but then asks the executive branch — full of people with policy and implementation experience — to fill in the details.
So Congress regularly empowers the executive branch agencies with rule-making authority — think of the dozens and dozens of rules required by the ACA — and it occasionally grants the president explicit personal statutory discretion (think TARP or the resolution for use of force in Iraq for high-profile examples). But beyond that, some stuff is just inherent discretion. If someone tells you to build a doghouse and writes down your instructions and hands you some money and a deadline, you don’t stop working just because they didn’t specify what type of wood to buy or what shape the door should be. You make a decision. That’s raw executive discretion under law in a nutshell. But a lot of the time it’s even more explicit: your orders for the doghouse plainly state that you should choose the type of wood and shape of the door. Do presidents attempt to stretch this? Sure. But they still have to build the doghouse. They can’t decide to use the lumber for a new deck. Unless Congress says they can.
3) Congress can theoretically reclaim this power whenever it wants. At the highest level, it’s important to remember that, from a legal perspective, Congress owns the executive branch. With the exception of the president himself, pretty much the entire structure of the bureaucracy is a creation of laws made by the legislature. It could theoretically all be torn down in one statute. On a more practical level, it informs a logical consequence: executive orders and rule-making done under congressional-enacted statutes are all subject to reversal by law. Yes, Congress faces a problem that the it can grant the executive branch powers by bare majority but can only reclaim them by supermajority (because of the veto), but the ultimately authority rests with Congress. This is true of virtually everything in the executive branch: if Congress wanted, they could shut off the power at the White House and make the president walk down to the State Department if he wanted to call our allies. They could reduce funding for the president’s staff to zero and move him out of the White House. Obviously, these things are fanciful, but if Congress were to reduce the president to just his constitutional authority, the presidency would look dramatically different.
But we don’t do this. Because it makes perfect sense for a legislature to empower an executive branch to sort out many of the details of policy. There are lots of things for one who believes in congressional supremacy to worry about in the current separation of powers environment. To build a narrative that executive discretion over federal mortgage and student loans programs is the front line in such a battle is at best alarmist, but mostly just wrong and misleading.
Kerpin did get one thing right in his article:
It is clearly no longer enough for Congress to reject Obama’s bad ideas – they need to step up and actively stop him from working his way around them.
That’s right. If Congress does not like the authority granted to the president under law, they can always change law. And that’s a perfectly sound strategy if you disagree with the president’s actions.
1. The Iraq war is about to end, at least for U.S. armed forces. I don’t care what your partisan alignment is, this is a great thing. Period. I only hope that it will begin a more general policy of reversing the trend of American military presence abroad. And I don’t mean the post-9/11 trend. I mean the post-1945 trend. Could fiscal austerity have the side benefit of turning public opinion against empire? A libertarian can dream, can’t he!
2. I had the day off from work on Friday, and I took my girls down to the National Mall for a picnic. We went to the Lincoln Memorial — by far my favorite of all the memorials. I’m fascinated by the politics of national memory, and the political messages that national memorials reveal. In the case of the Lincoln Memorial, the core message is not about anti-slavery or cvil war, but union. The states names running across the frieze. The choice of speeches (Gettysburg, 2nd inaugural). The epitaph marking “saved the union” as the reason for the memorial. Never fails to evoke wonderful emotions. This time, it also made me think of Rogan Kersh’s great book on the importance of the idea of union in 19th century America.
3. The Rugby World Cup championship game is on NBC at 3pm EST (actual game will probably start around 3:45). France vs. New Zealand. As I’ve written about before, if you planning on watching some random NFL game, do yourself a favor and watch the rugby game instead.
4. In a similar vein, I agree with Mad Dog Russo that anyone who chooses Saints-Colts over World Series game 4 tonight is crazy. But most people will.
5. Having grown up in northern New York — where each high school was its own school district — I’m continually amazed at how a county-wide school system works, like the one we have in Fairfax County. Today, the Washington Post issued it’s endorsements for our school board races, which seem more like state legislature races than the school board elections I remember back home. As I’ve written before, I think school board elections are almost certainly the most important political events for any parent, far more important than the congressional elections. So I encourage everyone in Fairfax to read the post editorial and use it as a springboard for doing some research on the races. If you read this blog, you’ll spend countless hours thinking about the ’12 federal elections; do your democracy a favor and spend an hour learning the school board issues.