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Don't Mean A Thing - 2000 presidential campaign strategies
Washington Monthly, Nov, 2000 by James P. Rooney
Why your vote doesn't count unless you live in Kalamazoo or Morgantown
DURING THE FIRST PRESIDENTIAL debate this year, moderator Jim Lehrer asked George W. Bush and Al Gore to contrast their approaches to preventing future oil crises. Gore, predictably and at length, proposed developing renewable energy sources and creating tax credits that would spur the development of fuel-efficient cars. But when it came time for Bush to respond, his answer was less predictable:
"I want to develop the coal resources in America," he said emphatically.
Coal? Solar, maybe. Natural gas, even methane gas, would seem more obvious responses to the question. But coal? Bush sounded like John Lewis rallying mine workers in the 1950s.
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Of course, nothing in the canned televised debates could be that extemporaneous. No, Bush's solution to the nation's energy woes was a calculated response, targeted not at the 30 million or so Americans who may have been watching the debates, but the 951,000 registered voters in the heart of the nation's coal country: West Virginia.
It's hard to imagine that little old West Virginia could hold such sway in the presidential election. But if you think back to the debate, you probably won't recall either candidate stumping for, say, more earthquake-victim relief funds or subway-token subsidies for seniors--goodies that might appeal to the residents of more populous states like California or New York.
In fact, for the Republican candidate, West Virginia, with its five votes in the Electoral College, is one of a handful of battleground states where this year's election is likely to be decided. The other states up for grabs are Arkansas, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Illinois, Iowa, Kentucky; Louisiana, Maine, Michigan, Missouri, New Mexico, Ohio, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Washington, and Wisconsin.
If you live in one of these states, the political parties care about your opinion and have worked hard for your vote. If your state is not on that list, the parties think your vote won't impact the election. And they are right.
If you don't believe that statement 1992, the Clinton campaign targeted 80 percent of its $37 million advertising budget to the states it had identified as battleground states. In this year's race, the two parties have run television ads exclusively in the states listed above.
Campaign appearances are just as targeted. Al Gore and Joe Lieberman kicked off the fall campaign with appearances in Pennsylvania, Michigan, Florida, and Illinois over a 27-hour marthon. Bush responded with appearances in Illinois, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. Since then, campaign appearances by the presidential candidates outside of the battleground states have been rare indeed.
Campaign Swings
Much as I enjoy the geography lesson on small towns in the Midwest every four years, when I find myself stuck reading about the candidates' political ads in the Boston Globe (because the candidates rarely advertise in Massachusetts), I am left to wonder why my vote, which would count so much if I lived in Cleveland, counts for so little in Boston.
The answer has to do with the Electoral College, but it takes some explaining. As good a place as any to start is with Richard Nixon.
In 1956, Nixon wanted to campaign for vice president in all 50 states. Eisemhower's campaign staff vetoed the idea because they thought Nixon's show of youthful vigor would contrast poorly with Eisenhower, who was still recovering from a heart attack. In 1960, when he was running his own show, Nixon--against all sound political advice--pledged to do what he had been prevented from doing four years earlier.
As part of his effort to fulfill that pledge, on August 26, 1960, he made a triumphal campaign appearance in Atlanta. Adantans lined Peachtree Street, according to Theodore White in The Making of the President, 1960, "not in the twos and threes of ordinary, orderly political demonstrations, but ... in ranks five deep, six deep, eight deep that blotted the sidewalks and then, as one approached the center of the city, choked the streets themselves"
Speaking to an overflowing crowd in Hurt Park, Nixon told them, "In the last quarter century there hasn't been a Democratic candidate for president that has ... bothered to campaign in the state of Georgia. I don't think that's a good thing. The people of this state, the people of all our country should have a choice ... in selecting the man who is going to lead the nation." White says Nixon later remarked that this "was the most impressive demonstration he had seen in 14 years of campaigning."
What's striking 40 years later is that Richard Nixon was ever received this enthusiastically. More pertinent is what happened next. Nothing happened next. When the election campaign began in earnest after Labor Day, Nixon did not return to Georgia. There was simply no point. He did not stand a chance in Georgia, and on election day, Kennedy walloped him.
This episode illustrates one of the principle rules of presidential campaigning: If a state is sure to vote for one party, neither candidate has an incentive to campaign there. That's because the current rules award the winning candidate all the electors from that state. Even if Nixon had made more of an effort in Georgia, he would not have netted a single elector unless he somehow overcame his 25-point deficit. By the same token Kennedy, with such a huge lead, was going to get all the electoral votes available. He, too, had nothing to gain from campaigning in Georgia, and he only stopped there briefly for part of a day.
