John McCain has parted with Feingold, and he has put some distance between himself and Shays and Meehan, by declining to sponsor the major proposal now pending for the reform of the public financing system. This has been noted, and some have suggested, critically, that he is acting to preserve his flexibility to decline public funds if the system is not reformed by the time his candidacy for the Presidency comes to pass. But John Samples sees it differently and, most probably, accurately: that McCain understands that this is proposal is unpopular with many Republican conservative activists and primary voters. See Josh Gerstein, "
Campaign Finance Effort Resumes, Without McCain,"
New York Sun (July 28, 2006). Of the two explanations now before us, this is also the most interesting, with the most to say about the political difficulties of the proposal.
But first: why does the first explanation—that McCain simply needs flexibility to decline public money—not hold water? McCain could easily sponsor this proposal but also decline funding under the existing system, which is widely appreciated to be in bad condition and a poor strategic choice for any serious candidate. John Kerry elected against participation, and before him, Howard Dean: and both of them, one as Senator and the other as Governor, had carved out a reputation for themselves as reform proponents, neither of them suffering the least political damage by spurning public money in their Presidential efforts. McCain’s position is no different, and the danger to him no greater: the press that indulged the Kerry and Dean choices would not turn nasty, all of a sudden, toward the John McCain so well-respected (especially on this issue) in the national press.
A far more serious problem for McCain is the reception awaiting this proposal in the Republican primary electorate. It is a problem with two troublesome aspects for McCain. First, there is the powerful strain of antagonism within his party toward campaign finance regulation generally. Among conservative voters, it is another form of governmental bullying and intrusiveness, and it is seen as appealing primarily to liberal elites making use of it to their political advantage. Second, those voters suspicious of McCain on this issue are quite taken with him on another—responsible government spending, including opposition to generous slabs of "pork"—but the new presidential campaign finance proposal, unlike McCain-Feingold, would commit the government to the support of political campaigns. Or, in a formulation reformers strongly protest, "welfare for politicians." By supporting the new proposal, McCain risks damage to his standing as a guardian of the public purse.
McCain’s flight from the bill, if seen in this light, helps explain one of the problems facing advocates of this proposal. McCain-Feingold could be marketed as merely a law enforcement measure, necessary to compel compliance with Congress’ directives under existing law. It was a clean shot at politicians and at those having money to ingratiate themselves with the powerful. Voters were the beneficiaries—victims of a sort, for whose benefit the Congress was acting. In the dark, off to the corner and out of sight, interests had been thwarting the public will, expressed in the l974 enactment. Something could supposedly be done about this, in their name and at no cost to them.
Now, in the debate on the pending proposal, the voters are right in the middle of things, under pressure to support changes in the "system." The existing program is faltering in part because they won’t fund it: check-off rates have plunged, now around 10%. The bill introduced by Feingold, et al. would target money at the voters, to re-educate them about the advantages of the program, and the software used by tax preparers would be rewritten by government mandate to assure that it does not operate by default to decline, on the taxpayers’ behalf, the check-off contribution. Voters would be asked to check-off more, to fatten the funds available. If passed, the government would lend funds until the books began to balance with the arrival of the voters’ voluntarily donated money.
As Samples has pointed out, this means that the government is funding an effort to drum up support for its own legislation. The object is to coax out of now indifferent voters some hundreds of millions of dollars, and the direct beneficiaries—the ones to whom the deposits will be made—are politicians. Voters will be told that this will make campaigns better, more competitive and more focused on the issues. So says the Government, approaching its citizens on behalf of politicians and only with the intention of being helpful.
By taking his name off the bill, McCain makes this case harder. What is to be said for a reform bill, particularly one faced with these political challenges, when the nation’s premiere reformer chooses not to associate with it? It would be awkward, on many levels, for McCain to explain that he is avoiding conflict with voters who are opposed to this reform. It would not do much for his image as a fearless crusader for reform, and it would highlight, embarrassingly, that the bill is not a response to public demand, at least by his party, but will meet with serious resistance.
With the loss of McCain’s perceived authority on this issue, the bill must be sold to the public by editorial boards and good government organizations and committed supporters in the academy. Elite argument will replace the more populist case that McCain would normally make. This puts severe strains on the bill’s politics. McCain may have had no better success in making the case, but without him, it will have that much more of the sound of another self-serving argument by Washington and for Washington, far from home.
Bob Bauer