Sometime in the mid-1950s, I rode
around on the trunk lid of Wanda Whitfield’s car in Webster County Kentucky,
with my Sousaphone wrapped around my middle, heading for pep rallies for Happy
Chandler. In my memory, Chandler, who was Governor of Kentucky and later became
Commissioner of Baseball, was the quintessential Kentucky politician, a
charismatic, “glad handing”, baby kissing, sort of pudgy, “go to” guy. These
pep rallies, plus pep rally organizers like Wanda Whitfield, and probably some
smoky backroom deal making, comprised the campaign strategy for politicians, as
far as I could tell. Campaign messages were mostly delivered in stump speeches,
“town square” debates, and by word of mouth.
I was thinking about that experience as
I listened to newscasts the past few weeks telling me that another new
fund-raising record will be reached this election year, which made me wonder
about money and politics.
Specifically, what I wonder is, who do
politicians think I am that they think they it takes that much money to buy me
off?
It seems to have become a given fact
that those who raise the most money win. Now I know the contest is not about
amassing piles of money, then measuring the piles, and the person with the
largest pile, or greatest piles, wins. That would make for interesting races
though, and would allow us to use metrics and rubrics in assessing the worth of
candidates, always a good business school model, and God knows what’s good for
business schools is good for America.
Anyway, as far as I can tell, the current
formula is to raise as much money as possible in order to buy as many
television advertisements, Internet banners, and robocallers as possible. The messages
come from two sources, the candidate, and the candidates’ political action
committees. The messages embedded in those media are made to be as nasty as
possible, without regard for facts or truth—in fact the “big lie”, the more
dramatic with the most loaded and scary language, is preferred. These messages are
aired as often as funding makes possible to as many people as possible twenty
four hours a day, seven days a week. The more money you have, the more you can
air. The candidate with the most air time wins.
The theory is that if you bombard your
audience with your message, from a variety of media sources, your audience will
believe you, no matter what you say. Consequently, the candidate with the most
messages bombarded wins, because people will believe the group that they hear
from the most, or the most recently.
I wonder who these messages are created
for. I get them, so they were created implicitly for me, right? If so, I wonder
whether I should be depressed or angry. The picture created of me, the voter,
is just about as demeaning as it possibly could be. I, as a voter, am seen as an
ignorant follow-the-crowd “mark”, who will believe whatever I’m told if I hear
it often enough from my phone, my computer, and my television.
I wonder if that is not a variation of
the notion that my vote can be bought. From analysis of elections the past few
years, the answer is yes, votes are being bought, with a potential billion
dollars in bribes being raised and spent this year.
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