There was something comically self-evident about the headline on the story that led the April 13 print edition of The New York Times: “Campaigns Plan Maximum Push to Raise Money.” Unless the political world is struck by a wave of Gandhian self-abnegation, it is nearly impossible to imagine a scenario that would justify the opposite headline: “Campaigns Languid About Money in White House Race.”
The actual story, by Nicholas Confessore, was standard-issue money-in-politics journalism. It offered vague estimates that as much as $1 billion each could be spent on behalf of Barack Obama and Mitt Romney; it predicted the final breakdown of the federal public financing system; it included the obligatory ain’t-it-terrible quote from the president of Common Cause; and it detailed the role that super PACs and state party committees will play in the upcoming presidential race.
What makes the article relevant for our purposes was both its placement on the Times front page and the generic qualities that make it almost certain to be replicated in the weeks ahead. The next day, April 14, Politico featured a story by Kenneth P. Vogel and Robin Bravender headlined, “Democratic super PACs gain ground but still trail GOP in fundraising.” Confessore returned to the topic April 16 in a widely quoted blog post for the Times detailing an internal Romney memo that put the campaign’s fundraising goals (in conjunction with the Republican Party) at $800 million, with an estimated additional $200 million slated to come from super PACs.
Money in presidential politics is a worthy topic covering everything from the contortions that candidates go through to raise it (Obama, according to Confessore, has already held more than 100 major fund-raisers) to the presidential access major donors receive in all administrations (remember Bill Clinton’s White House coffees and Lincoln Bedroom sleep-overs?). But the problem with most campaign spending coverage (and I am not trying to single out either Confessore or the Times) is what it leaves out. The stories almost invariably reflect the narrow world view of campaign consultants and politics insiders, which holds that more money always equals more votes in presidential politics.
Missing from the equation is skepticism about the self-interested role of political insiders and campaign consultants in ballyhooing the merits of unlimited campaign spending. Good reporters would not be swayed if prominent Realtors trumpeted the benefits of home ownership over renting, but there is a long tradition of glossing over the built-in bias of campaign ad-makers and strategists when they prophesize doom if candidates fail to raise more money to pay for their services. A typical example is the April 16 Associated Press dispatch by Ken Thomas about the president’s March fundraising haul, which noted, “Obama’s campaign team has tried to generate a sense of urgency, telling donors they need to get involved because of Republican-leaning super PACs aiming to raise hundreds of millions of dollars to defeat the president.” Though the story distanced itself from the fundraising frenzy by attributing the “sense of urgency” to the Obama camp, nothing in the article challenged the underlying money-always-talks ethos of campaign consultants.
No, I have not been reading Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm and taking my political cues from Doctor Pangloss. Cash-on-hand calculations can shape destiny in presidential primaries, such as when former Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty, once regarded as the most serious rival to Romney, dropped out after losing the Iowa Straw Poll last August. Rick Santorum, in his first interview after bowing to Romney’s inevitability, invoked the political aphorism: “Every presidential campaign ends for the same reason—you run out of money.” And in congressional elections, too, money really shouts; this year, super PAC spending by groups like Karl Rove’s American Crossroads may hand the Republicans a decisive edge.