CAMPAIGN COSTS: FLOOR, NOT CEILING

IN an expansive mood, the mayor of Buffalo, N.Y., recently described himself as "the best mayor that money can buy." He was kidding, of course--but it was the kind of joke that many politicians today would make at their peril. Once such a line might have brought down the house, but nowadays it comes uncomfortably close to the truth--not about corruption, but about a far more costly phenomenon: campaign expenditures. The growing dominance of TV on every level of political salesmanship has raised campaign costs astronomically and convinced the public that politics really is a rich man's game. Even running for a modest office like, for instance, Congressman from the First District in Utah, requires at least $70,000; in a few hotly contested urban constituencies, the cost of running a successful campaign would boggle the mind of an old-fashioned Tammany boss. When it comes to a major campaign for Senator or Governor, let alone President, the cash required would have stunned even so peerless a fund raiser of a generation or two ago as James Aloysius Farley.

Not that the political magic of money is limitless. Money can help make a candidate a household word--but it cannot guarantee that the household will vote for him. Too many other factors determine an election. No matter how much he might have spent on campaigning, it is most unlikely that Barry Goldwater could have defeated Lyndon Johnson for the presidency in 1964. In 1970, Industrialist Norton Simon, despite a bottomless purse, could not win the Republican senatorial nomination in California from the vulnerable, venerable incumbent, George Murphy. Regardless of his gifts, or the size of his war chest, a Republican candidate for Congress in Mississippi starts with two strikes against him; so does anyone who runs against a Kennedy in Massachusetts.

P:

Even if big money is not necessarily decisive, it has certainly become, for most politicians, indispensable. A single federal law regulates campaign spending --the amended Corrupt Practices Act of 1925. The law limits the amount that an individual contributor can donate to a single campaign committee; so candidates organize a multiplicity of committees. The law requires candidates to report expenditures of which they are aware; so they profess general unawareness. It bars corporate contributions; so corporate executives act as individuals in distributing company largesse. It bans labor-union outlays; so unions form political-action committees. The law's effectiveness may be measured by the fact that no candidate has ever been convicted of violating it.

Now Congress is under strong public pressure to pass realistic, enforceable legislation that would put a ceiling on campaign expenditures. Seven months ago, President Nixon vetoed a bill limiting the amount a candidate could spend on radio and television on the ground that it provided for equity in only the broadcast media. Nixon also contended that the bill favored incumbents, who are almost always better known than their opponents and whose perquisites of office--such as staff, franking and office space--amount to a campaign subsidy. Last month the Senate Commerce Committee reported out another bill, clamping a limit of 10-c- per eligible voter on spending for all forms of communication, with no more than half the money to be used on radio and TV. Swift passage by the Senate is likely, although prospects in the House are uncertain.

Those who favor a ceiling on campaign expenditures appear to have a strong case. The present situation clearly seems to favor the rich and jeopardize the chances of a candidate without personal wealth. Usually, it is argued, he must turn to big contributors --big lobbies, big business, big labor. Senator Edmund Muskie, who has no fortune of his own, will need at least $25 million to win the Democratic nomination and wage a respectable campaign for the presidency in 1972. Must a candidate with insufficient mortgageable property mortgage his soul? Did the U.S. really benefit because political parties spent $300 million on candidates in the 1968 elections?

But the matter is not as simple or one-sided as it appears. One objection to a ceiling is that despite television, campaign expenditures for 1968 consumed proportionately less of the gross national product than those in 1952. An even more effective point is that a ceiling on spending is unenforceable, ineffective and probably unconstitutional as well.

P:

On balance, opponents of a ceiling seem right in arguing that the benefits of incumbency, particularly in congressional elections, are as important as funds. How can any law make up for the free time and free space that the press and TV lavish on an office holder? How can the public discern the line separating the political and the official acts of an incumbent? Even without effective spending limits to hamper their challengers, more than 90% of House members who seek re-election win another term.

The question is whether democracy is well served by perpetuating incumbents in office. Would it not be better to afford challengers the opportunity to make their names and programs as familiar to the voters as are those of entrenched opponents? Last year's congressional elections brought two notable examples. In Ohio, an obscure millionaire named Howard Metzenbaum bought state-wide name recognition through heavy TV spending; without it, he could not possibly have defeated Former Astronaut, John Glenn in the Democratic senatorial primary. In New York, a slightly known, but wealthy Democratic Congressman, Richard Ottinger, won his party's senatorial nomination largely because of a similar lavish expenditure on television spots. Both Metzenbaum and Ottinger outspent their primary opponents by a wide margin--only to lose in the general election that followed.

The two cases illustrate both the limitations of money in politics, and its ability to lessen the odds between newcomers and incumbents or glamorous public figures. Both Metzenbaum and Ottinger were reasonably able, attractive candidates, and voters were entitled to know about their credentials. Under a restrictive spending law, the voters could not have known. Ottinger's ultimate defeat, it might be noted, raises the point that in certain situations, spending too much may be as risky as spending too little. Many political experts believe that a contributory factor in his loss was the resentment of voters who felt that Ottinger's incessant TV commercials represented an attempt to buy victory with publicity.

There is a widespread misconception that only "special interests"--the fat cats --would be inhibited by ceilings. What about contributors motivated by a cause? Could a citizen committed to ending the war in Indochina be legally prohibited from using the most effective method available to him in achieving his goal--giving money to an anti-war candidate? No law could plainly differentiate between "special" and ideological interests.

P:

Labor unions conduct "educational programs" whose intent is to register voters favorable to union-backed candidates. Are the costs of such undertakings to be included in the spending limitations imposed on those candidates? And what about the millions of brochures, flyers and house organs distributed at great cost by both unions and trade associations? They heap praise on Candidate Y, the friend of the drug industry, or Candidate X, labor's advocate in Washington. Are such publications part of a campaign? Or are they instruments of free speech? It is doubtful that any law could draw the line.

Most of these arguments are forcefully advanced by Howard R. Penniman, professor of government at Georgetown University, in a paper published by the American Enterprise Institute. In the same publication, Ralph K. Winter Jr., professor of law at Yale, argues that Government regulation of a campaigner's fund will "skew the political process in unforeseen and undesirable ways." Candidates opposed to the Establishment would suffer most. If campaign contributions were controlled by law, how could a McCarthy mount a challenge to a sitting President of his own party? To get the candidate around the country, on the tube, and in the papers, takes money. The incumbent is accorded greater exposure at no cost.

"The notion that the Establishment 'buys' elections by campaign financing is a myth," Winter writes. It ignores the fact that the "outs" depend upon adequate financing to offset, at least in part, the advantages that the Establishment enjoys simply by being the Establishment. Winter further suggests that spending limitations would increase candidate reliance on fat cats. Why assemble a campaign kitty from a variety of sources with a variety of interests, when a small coterie of like-minded contributors can provide all that the law allows?

P:

One problem that may well merit new legislation, involves the full disclosure of campaign contributions. Winter resists changes even in this area, arguing that any law might inhibit an idealistic philanthropist from backing a candidate who favors a seemingly unpopular cause. Perhaps so. On the other hand, if a candidate's financial support comes largely from the drug manufacturers or the oil industry or labor political-action committees, the voter is entitled to know that.

Given their eagerness to fall in on the side of the angels, there is a danger that lawmakers will take poorly considered action in preference to no action at all. Yet something needs to be done. That something should be the building of a floor, rather than a ceiling. Every potential candidate is entitled to a minimum reasonable exposure of his person and ideas. Challenging incumbents clearly requires money; it is unfair to give that chance to only the rich, or the allies of the rich. For every Metzenbaum and Ottinger, there may be half a dozen abler candidates who cannot raise enough money to campaign. Public funding is required. Each candidate should be provided with an amount based on the vote cast in the previous election for the office he seeks. Thus, through television and other means, he could at least alert the electorate as to who he is and what he proposes. The money would be appropriated by Congress. Above the floor, candidates could spend any amount they deemed prudent--and could lay their hands on. The candidate with lots of money would still have an advantage, but not such an overwhelming one.

Apart from money, voters can be swayed by a candidate's vigor, by the beauty of his wife, by the skill of his speechwriters, and by his reputation outside of politics (no matter how irrelevant that may be to his qualifications for office). There is no practical way to achieve absolute equity for candidates. But in a capitalist democracy, money is the great equalizer, the great leveler of odds. To limit its use in politics would limit freedom, rather than protect it.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.