The American Electoral Process
CommonLit Companions
CommonLit Companions
Every four years, when we Americans set out to elect our president, we complain about our electoral system. We gripe that it's more complicated than the Rubik's cube; it takes too much time; it's too expensive; and it is unfair. And, in fact, it is all of the above.
The problem can be traced back to 1787, when our Founding Fathers neglected to create rules regarding the official role of political parties (which they did not trust); instead, they left it to individual states to shape the process by which we choose the chief executive of our government. By and large, the states took their time to rise to the challenge. In the first place, they did not grant the right to vote to women or African Americans.
Over the years, the United States Congress and the states have repeatedly taken steps to do away with these obvious systemic injustices:
In 1879, the 15th Amendment of our Constitution guaranteed the right to vote to male African Americans.
In 1920, the 19th Amendment gave the same right to women.
In 1971, the 26th Amendment gave the vote to all citizens over the age of 18.
In 1965, Congress passed the historic Voting Rights Act, which protected the viability of the 15th Amendment by guaranteeing that the federal government would intervene if any state would attempt to deny a citizen his or her voting rights on the basis of race.
But after all these legislative reforms, in 2000, Republican presidential candidate George W. Bush-who received fewer than 50.5 million votes-defeated Democrat Al Gore, whose popular support was just 103 votes short of 51 million. How could that happen?
AN "APPLESAUCE" SYSTEM?
The explanation is that, while our system does give all citizens over 18 the right to vote, the votes they cast are not equal. With the details of the electoral system left to be worked out by the individual states and by the political parties, we now have a system that Will Rogers, America's funny man and social commentator, famously described as "an applesauce."
One glaring shortcoming of our existing system is the bewildering labyrinth of ways in which the individual states, the Democrats, and the Republicans, decide who to nominate for the White House. To get the party's nod as the presidential candidate, a Republican must win the support of 1,237 delegates to the nomination convention; a Democrat must win over 2,382 of these party stalwarts.
The processes through which these delegates are selected attests to the rule-making creativity of each party and state. Republicans generally prefer to choose their delegates through conventions and state-run primaries. These venues can be open (i.e., anyone can vote) or closed (i.e., only party members vote), and bound (i.e., the delegates are pledged to vote for the winning candidate) or unbound (i.e., the delegates are free to choose whomever they want). The number of delegates the candidate can win depends on whether their apportioning is direct, proportional, or winner-take all.
Democrats, in addition to primaries, also have caucuses, which are conducted by the party and (like the primaries) can be open, closed, semi-open, or semi-closed. The caucus rules trump the entire system. Typically, the participants assemble in a large hall and indicate their support for a particular candidate by standing in a designated area. A separate area may also be set aside for undecided participants.
Then, for about 30 minutes, the voters attempt to convince their neighbors to support their candidates of choice. Following that wheeling and dealing, the electioneering is temporarily halted, the votes are counted and the caucus officials determine which candidates-usually those with at least 15% of the votes-are viable. With that done, participants then have another 30 minutes during which they may throw their support behind a new candidate if they so desire.
Perhaps the most astounding aspect of this convoluted process is the dubious nature of the results it delivers. For one thing, 712 of the 2,382 Democratic delegates needed for the nomination are not elected in the primaries or caucuses. They are so-called "super delegates"-the party's former governors, Congress members, and other top officials-who are appointed, and can vote for any nominee they want.
The rest of the delegates, both Democrats and Republicans, who are selected by the primaries and caucuses generally pledge to support the winning nominee. In most cases, however, the pledge is good only for the first, or the first three ballots in the nominating convention. If the nominee fails to win during those early rounds, the delegates are free to vote for whomever they chose.
THE FINAL FLAW
The final flaw of the system is that we do not vote directly for the presidential candidates (and the vice presidential candidates they chose) who won the Democratic and Republican conventions. We vote for members of an electoral college in which, under the Constitution, each state has the number of delegates equal to the total of its senators and members of Congress.
And therein lies potential unfairness of the system: because every state, regardless of the size of its population, has two senators, the voters in small states have-per capita-greater electoral power than their big-state counterparts.
For example, the State of New York, with a population of 19.7 million, has 29 electoral delegates, or one for each 680,000 New Yorkers. Vermont, not very far away, has a population of 626,000 and 3 electoral delegates, or one each for about 209,000 Vermonters. When it comes to the choice of the U.S. president and vice president, one Vermonter's vote counts as much as the votes of three of his or her fellow citizens in New York.
This means that, to win the requisite 270 votes, or 50 percent-plus-one of the 538-members of the electoral college-a total which is equal to 435 members of the U.S. Representatives, 100 U.S. Senators, and 3 electors from Washington, D.C.-the candidates have to focus on winning enough states, as well as enough voters. And that's what George W. Bush did in 2000 by winning 30 states with 271 electoral votes, while Al Gore, despite his greater popular support, carried only 26 states with 266 electoral delegates.
One consequence of our byzantine electoral system is that it is extremely expensive and time-consuming. In 2012, for example, the presidential candidates spent $2.6 billion and almost two years of intensive work before reaching Election Day on November 3. Another downside is that the complexity and uncertainties of the process tempt some would-be participants to try to win another way.
TWO FAILED MAVERICKS
One prominent attempt to bypass the process was made by Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt, a highly popular ex-president. After losing a bid for a return to power in the 1912 Republican convention, he started his own Progressive Party (nicknamed the "Bull Moose Party"). The result was that he split the votes for devotees of the Republican Party, which resulted in the nomination of the incumbent President William Howard Taft. Roosevelt won 27.4% of the popular vote and 88 electoral votes; Taft got 23% and 8 electoral votes; and Democrat Woodrow Wilson walked away with 41.87% of the vote-and the presidency.
Another attempt at an insurgency was made in 1992 by Ross Perot, a successful businessmen, who ran for the White House as an independent. He had a sensible populist program, campaigned in 16 states, made effective use of television, and spent an estimated $12.3 million of his own money. Perot successfully debated with the two major party candidates, George Herbert Bush and Bill Clinton and, for a time, maintained a 39% rating in polls. In the election, he won 18.9% of the popular vote-but carried no states, and won no Electoral College votes.
What do these two failures say about our quadrennial discontent? Do we have an "applesauce" or a system of remarkable endurance?
Undoubtedly, reform is necessary. As Perot said, "Our founders did not know about electricity, the train, telephones, radio, television, automobiles, airplanes, rockets, nuclear weapons, satellites, or space exploration. There's a lot they didn't know about. It would be interesting to see what kind of document they'd draft today."
But it's also true that, for all its warts, the system has served us well. It has helped create history's most stable, free, and affluent society, and it has had the consent of the governed-the bedrock of democracy.
The problem can be traced back to 1787, when our Founding Fathers neglected to create rules regarding the official role of political parties (which they did not trust); instead, they left it to individual states to shape the process by which we choose the chief executive of our government. By and large, the states took their time to rise to the challenge. In the first place, they did not grant the right to vote to women or African Americans.
Over the years, the United States Congress and the states have repeatedly taken steps to do away with these obvious systemic injustices:
In 1879, the 15th Amendment of our Constitution guaranteed the right to vote to male African Americans.
In 1920, the 19th Amendment gave the same right to women.
In 1971, the 26th Amendment gave the vote to all citizens over the age of 18.
In 1965, Congress passed the historic Voting Rights Act, which protected the viability of the 15th Amendment by guaranteeing that the federal government would intervene if any state would attempt to deny a citizen his or her voting rights on the basis of race.
But after all these legislative reforms, in 2000, Republican presidential candidate George W. Bush-who received fewer than 50.5 million votes-defeated Democrat Al Gore, whose popular support was just 103 votes short of 51 million. How could that happen?
AN "APPLESAUCE" SYSTEM?
The explanation is that, while our system does give all citizens over 18 the right to vote, the votes they cast are not equal. With the details of the electoral system left to be worked out by the individual states and by the political parties, we now have a system that Will Rogers, America's funny man and social commentator, famously described as "an applesauce."
One glaring shortcoming of our existing system is the bewildering labyrinth of ways in which the individual states, the Democrats, and the Republicans, decide who to nominate for the White House. To get the party's nod as the presidential candidate, a Republican must win the support of 1,237 delegates to the nomination convention; a Democrat must win over 2,382 of these party stalwarts.
The processes through which these delegates are selected attests to the rule-making creativity of each party and state. Republicans generally prefer to choose their delegates through conventions and state-run primaries. These venues can be open (i.e., anyone can vote) or closed (i.e., only party members vote), and bound (i.e., the delegates are pledged to vote for the winning candidate) or unbound (i.e., the delegates are free to choose whomever they want). The number of delegates the candidate can win depends on whether their apportioning is direct, proportional, or winner-take all.
Democrats, in addition to primaries, also have caucuses, which are conducted by the party and (like the primaries) can be open, closed, semi-open, or semi-closed. The caucus rules trump the entire system. Typically, the participants assemble in a large hall and indicate their support for a particular candidate by standing in a designated area. A separate area may also be set aside for undecided participants.
Then, for about 30 minutes, the voters attempt to convince their neighbors to support their candidates of choice. Following that wheeling and dealing, the electioneering is temporarily halted, the votes are counted and the caucus officials determine which candidates-usually those with at least 15% of the votes-are viable. With that done, participants then have another 30 minutes during which they may throw their support behind a new candidate if they so desire.
Perhaps the most astounding aspect of this convoluted process is the dubious nature of the results it delivers. For one thing, 712 of the 2,382 Democratic delegates needed for the nomination are not elected in the primaries or caucuses. They are so-called "super delegates"-the party's former governors, Congress members, and other top officials-who are appointed, and can vote for any nominee they want.
The rest of the delegates, both Democrats and Republicans, who are selected by the primaries and caucuses generally pledge to support the winning nominee. In most cases, however, the pledge is good only for the first, or the first three ballots in the nominating convention. If the nominee fails to win during those early rounds, the delegates are free to vote for whomever they chose.
THE FINAL FLAW
The final flaw of the system is that we do not vote directly for the presidential candidates (and the vice presidential candidates they chose) who won the Democratic and Republican conventions. We vote for members of an electoral college in which, under the Constitution, each state has the number of delegates equal to the total of its senators and members of Congress.
And therein lies potential unfairness of the system: because every state, regardless of the size of its population, has two senators, the voters in small states have-per capita-greater electoral power than their big-state counterparts.
For example, the State of New York, with a population of 19.7 million, has 29 electoral delegates, or one for each 680,000 New Yorkers. Vermont, not very far away, has a population of 626,000 and 3 electoral delegates, or one each for about 209,000 Vermonters. When it comes to the choice of the U.S. president and vice president, one Vermonter's vote counts as much as the votes of three of his or her fellow citizens in New York.
This means that, to win the requisite 270 votes, or 50 percent-plus-one of the 538-members of the electoral college-a total which is equal to 435 members of the U.S. Representatives, 100 U.S. Senators, and 3 electors from Washington, D.C.-the candidates have to focus on winning enough states, as well as enough voters. And that's what George W. Bush did in 2000 by winning 30 states with 271 electoral votes, while Al Gore, despite his greater popular support, carried only 26 states with 266 electoral delegates.
One consequence of our byzantine electoral system is that it is extremely expensive and time-consuming. In 2012, for example, the presidential candidates spent $2.6 billion and almost two years of intensive work before reaching Election Day on November 3. Another downside is that the complexity and uncertainties of the process tempt some would-be participants to try to win another way.
TWO FAILED MAVERICKS
One prominent attempt to bypass the process was made by Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt, a highly popular ex-president. After losing a bid for a return to power in the 1912 Republican convention, he started his own Progressive Party (nicknamed the "Bull Moose Party"). The result was that he split the votes for devotees of the Republican Party, which resulted in the nomination of the incumbent President William Howard Taft. Roosevelt won 27.4% of the popular vote and 88 electoral votes; Taft got 23% and 8 electoral votes; and Democrat Woodrow Wilson walked away with 41.87% of the vote-and the presidency.
Another attempt at an insurgency was made in 1992 by Ross Perot, a successful businessmen, who ran for the White House as an independent. He had a sensible populist program, campaigned in 16 states, made effective use of television, and spent an estimated $12.3 million of his own money. Perot successfully debated with the two major party candidates, George Herbert Bush and Bill Clinton and, for a time, maintained a 39% rating in polls. In the election, he won 18.9% of the popular vote-but carried no states, and won no Electoral College votes.
What do these two failures say about our quadrennial discontent? Do we have an "applesauce" or a system of remarkable endurance?
Undoubtedly, reform is necessary. As Perot said, "Our founders did not know about electricity, the train, telephones, radio, television, automobiles, airplanes, rockets, nuclear weapons, satellites, or space exploration. There's a lot they didn't know about. It would be interesting to see what kind of document they'd draft today."
But it's also true that, for all its warts, the system has served us well. It has helped create history's most stable, free, and affluent society, and it has had the consent of the governed-the bedrock of democracy.