Investigating money in politics is a little like studying dark matter: we
have to make inferences about what we can’t detect from the behavior of things
that we can see. While the “visible” universe of money in politics—mandatory
disclosure of campaign contributions, some types of election spending, and
lobbying—is sizeable in its own right, it represents only a fraction of the
money spent on influencing government. Ken Silverstein’s recent e-book Pay to
Play Think Tanks: Institutional Corruption and the Industry of Ideas (PDF)
delves into the invisible world, demonstrating that influencers have plenty of
other, less transparent tactics at their disposal.
Think tanks are not usually mentioned alongside super PACs and lobbying
firms, but Silverstein argues that they are increasingly willing to help
interest groups convert money into political power. Silverstein chronicles
several of the most egregious cases: lobbyists who use their positions at think
tanks to advance their clients’ interests, prestigious think tanks (including
the Brookings Institution) that openly advertise their readiness to draw up
custom research agendas for major donors, and “strategic partnerships” through
which think tanks lend an aura of civic-mindedness to corporate donors, to name
just a few. In the most egregious cases Silverstein cites, think tanks have even
done complete about-faces on policy in apparent attempts to please clients, as
when the Heritage Foundation went from criticizing the Malaysian government to
touting it as a beacon of democracy once “Malaysian business interests” hired a
consulting firm founded by Heritage’s president. Though Silverstein overstates
his case when he claims that “the core policy options and alliances that shape
American politics are simply dictated by the flow of cash”—for one thing, his
own reporting shows that partisan and ideological loyalties often guide think
tanks’ research and outreach—he makes a strong argument that think tanks are
part of the money-in-politics complex (as have organizations, such as
Transparify, that study think tank finances more systematically). How should we
go about examining the role and importance of such diverse and opaque players in
the influence game?
Step back and consider what (thanks to disclosure laws) we do know about
money in politics. The 2012 congressional and presidential elections cost about
$6.3 billion in reported spending, and state-level candidates raised another
$3.1 billion (per the National Institute on Money in State Politics). About $3
billion in federal lobbying is disclosed every year. While these numbers appear
large, they are small relative to the size of the U.S. economy, leading some
political scientists to ask why, given the immense economic stakes, corporations
and unions spend so little money on politics. Generally, they conclude that
lobbying and donations matter at the margins but don’t determine policy outcomes
all by themselves. Campaign contributions, for example, are not usually powerful
enough to convince a congressperson to vote against his core ideology or his
party’s line on a salient issue. Given that wealthy interests are still very
good at getting their way, then, it makes sense to look at the aspects of money
in politics beyond campaign contributions and lobbying to understand why.
Unfortunately, this is easier said than done, since money spent on
political influence can take any number of forms, some relatively easy to
investigate and others nearly impossible. The former include obviously political
activities that are just barely concealed, such as the “issue ads” run by groups
like Americans for Prosperity (part of the Koch brothers’ network). Given their
focus on vulnerable Democratic senators, these ads are clearly intended to sway
voters, but do not need to be reported to the Federal Election Commission
because they avoid using words like “vote for” or “vote against” and run many
months before Election Day. Journalists and other observers (including my
colleagues at the Center for Responsive Politics) have made strenuous efforts to
unearth and publicize this type of spending, but attempts to do so are always
time-consuming and incomplete simply because the spenders are good at not
disclosing anything unnecessarily. The ads’ existence is no secret, but their
effect can’t be measured in any comprehensive way.
Somewhat harder to unearth are the wide variety of activities that are not
disclosed because they fall just outside the technical definition of “lobbying.”
If a lobbyist initiates contact with a congressional office, that activity has
to be reported, but if the congressman calls up an old colleague (who now
happens to work for a K Street firm) to ask for guidance, the latter doesn’t
need to disclose the meeting even if the advice he gives helps his clients. A
“government relations professional” who sticks to tactics like this one may not
even need to register as a lobbyist. According to political scientist Tim
LaPira’s estimate, D.C. lobbying firms employ almost as many “shadow” lobbyists
as lobbyists that disclose their activities. Consequently, it seems likely that
the recent decline in lobbying reflects money moving away from the light, not
out of politics.
Even more difficult to study are the tactics that influencers use to set
the terms of debate long before public officials are involved. Right now, for
example, when I visit the New York Times’ site I see a banner ad by the
“Regulation Resource Center” urging me to oppose a specific financial
regulation. The Center is a project of MetLife, and the URL on the Times’ site
indicates that the ad is part of a “DC Influencer Campaign”; anyone who rides
the Washington Metro sees ads by unions and trade associations with the same
goal. As Silverstein’s e-book demonstrates, think tanks have much more
sophisticated means of facilitating access to “influencers”, such as luncheons
or briefings sponsored by interest groups and attended by Hill staffers. As a
result, those who can afford their services have a major advantage in setting
the terms of debate on issues like Social Security and the deficit. While these
tactics are not necessarily clandestine (and are typically well on the right
side of the law), they tend to stay off the public radar.
In short, beyond the transparent world of money in politics exists a wide
array of strategies that range from legitimate contributions to public debate to
outright influence-buying. Where think tanks fall on this spectrum is not clear,
and that ambiguity, argues sociologist Thomas Medvetz, is actually an
indispensable part of think tanks’ influence. In Think Tanks in America (2012),
Medvetz writes that think tanks are in a “quadruple bind,” simultaneously
balancing their ties to the business, media, academic, and political spheres. A
think tank that drifts too close to one of those spheres could lose its
credibility, funding, or access to insiders. Silverstein makes the case that
think tanks have strayed too close to the business and political spheres (he
decries the “growing number” of “highly partisan think tanks” such as the Center
for American Progress) and are weakening their credibility as a result. His
brief discussion of the prehistory of the Washington think tank, which mentions
the Brookings Institution and the Council on Foreign Relations, stresses that
“the earliest were modeled on academic institutions and focused on technical
aspects of policy”; without saying so explicitly, Silverstein implies that
producing impeccably technocratic research was a more proper goal for think
tanks than maximizing their press hits or disseminating partisan talking
points.
Silverstein suggests disclosure as a remedy, arguing that think tanks
should voluntarily publish their officials’ financial statements as well as
their donor list, but provides little evidence that think tanks are worried
enough about their credibility to do so. On the contrary, think tanks are
probably more concerned about the loss of credibility that would come with
disclosing donors and having the media and political opponents pore over the
list for embarrassing details. Moreover, disclosure will do nothing to address
Silverstein’s other concern, the transformation of think tanks from idea
factories into partisan attack dogs. Medvetz’s argument suggests that think
tanks simply have too much to gain by “binding” themselves—turning themselves
into reliable sources for the media and allies for politicians—to care about the
loss of their autonomy.
Enough bad publicity from embarrassing anecdotes like the ones Silverstein
mentions could help shift think tanks’ incentives, perhaps making them
marginally less likely to put out shamelessly partisan reports or hawk their
services to interest groups. That would, in turn, slightly reduce money’s impact
on political discourse, which would be a minor victory in itself. What it won’t
do, however, is provide the kind of widespread transparency that we (mostly)
enjoy in the realm of campaign finance—transparency that would help us
understand how and to what extent money rules our political system. In its
absence, scholars and watchdogs of transparency should do what we can with the
data we have, while being aware that we are engaged in a drunkard’s search that
may not always reveal the true patterns of power. August 12, 2014.
(theothernews)
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Chapisha Maoni