A long shot that matters
For a third political party -- Reform, Libertarian, or Green -- victory
won't come by winning. It will come by finishing second.
by Robert David Sullivan
Seven months to go before the presidential election,
and we're already well into the "Is that all there is?" phase of the campaign.
Not only have the nominees for the two major parties been selected, but several
possibilities for a third, independent choice (including Donald Trump and Jesse
Ventura) have already been laughed out of consideration. John McCain, beaten in
the Republican primaries, has declined to risk further humiliation with an
independent candidacy. That leaves us with a couple of retreads trying to reach
disaffected voters: Pat Buchanan of the Reform Party (unless Ross Perot grabs
the nomination for himself again) and Ralph Nader, the repeat nominee of the
Green Party. As for the major candidates, Democrat Al Gore and Republican
George W. Bush, they seem ready to wage a campaign based on character issues
rather than political philosophy. The only real element of suspense is whether
we'll break the record for lowest voter turnout come November.
Not too long ago, there was reason to hope that the two-party system would
become as obsolete as Ma Bell's telephone monopoly. In the 1992 presidential
election, independent candidate Ross Perot, a semi-coherent egomaniac whom you
wouldn't trust to walk your dog, managed to win 19 percent of the vote.
Four years later, Perot ran again and got eight percent, a comedown but
good enough to qualify his new Reform Party for federal matching funds and a
guaranteed place on many states' ballots in 2000. Since Perot's strong 1992
showing, two states (Maine and Minnesota) have elected independent governors,
and there have been scattered victories by the Green Party in local elections
(mostly in coastal California). And only a few weeks ago, McCain's insurgent
candidacy prompted record-high turnouts in several presidential primaries --
supporting the idea that a large bloc of independent voters is out there
waiting for an alternative to the Democrats and Republicans.
Clearly, there's a demand for a strong new party, especially among younger
voters and other traditionally low-turnout groups. But Perot's candidacies
didn't go far enough toward breaking the Democratic-Republican monopoly. In
order to survive, a new party must "shoot to kill" one of the two main parties
and take its place in the two-candidate system. That's how the Republican Party
established itself in the 19th century. It didn't aim for the middle between
the pro-slavery Democrats and the wishy-washy Whigs; in taking a harder line
against slavery, it pretty much left the Democrats alone while destroying the
Whigs. The first Republican presidential candidate (in 1856) finished second to
the Democrat, and by the next election the Whig party was extinct.
That said, it's essentially impossible today for a third party to knock out the
Republicans or the Democrats at the national level. The major parties have too
much money, and together they more or less represent the views of most voters
in most parts of the country. Not all of the country, though. We're too
big and too complex to be served by just two parties. There's no way that any
party could be a serious force in both the Bronx (where one congressional
district voted 95 percent for Bill Clinton in the last election) and
Amarillo, Texas (whose congressional district gave Clinton 26 percent). In
large chunks of the United States, either the Democrats or the Republicans are
so despised that it almost seems sadistic to prove the point by holding an
election. Indeed, in 99 congressional districts (out of a total of 435), one of
the parties didn't even bother to field a candidate in the last election. In at
least as many districts, some poor soul ran without the support of his or her
party, was outspent by at least 10 to 1, and had more chance of getting sent to
Mars than to Capitol Hill.
In those parts of the country, it really is pointless to vote in a
congressional election. What possible difference could it make whether your
congressman is elected with 80 percent or 85 percent of the vote,
unless you want to give him bragging rights in the locker room of the House
gym? After living almost my entire life in overwhelmingly Democratic districts,
I've never voted for a Democratic congressional candidate, because I'd feel
ridiculous doing it. It would be like signing a petition to keep my local
Starbucks open. Neither one needs my support to stay in business.
I just can't take seriously any match between a Democrat and someone
representing the party of Jesse Helms and Trent Lott. The latter might as well
be running as the "Bring Back Smallpox" candidate for all the support he'll get
in my district. But I would consider my vote carefully if I had to choose
between the Democrat and a strong Reform candidate (perhaps better on
campaign-finance laws and cutting wasteful spending), or the Democrat and a
Green candidate (probably stronger on health care), or even the Democrat and a
Libertarian (could be preferable on free-speech issues).
It's in just such states, where one of the two main parties is hugely
unpopular, that a regional third party may be possible. New England, the only
part of the country outside Arizona where John McCain beat George W. Bush among
Republicans, may be the most fertile region for a party realignment. The
national Republican party is so weak here (Bob Dole's best showing was
39 percent in New Hampshire) that a centrist or progressive party might be
able to take its place. The same holds true for some of the Rocky Mountain
states, except there the Democrats might be pushed out of the way. Other
democracies follow this pattern -- notably Canada and Great Britain, where
there are two strong parties at the national level but different sets of two
strong parties in different regions. (In Canada, the Liberals and Conservatives
compete nationwide, but in Quebec it's the Liberals and the Parti
Québecois.) The regional parties have no chance of winning a national
election, but they do influence the government though sizable blocs in
Parliament.
In 1992, Ross Perot finished second in two states: he was ahead of the
Republicans in Maine and the Democrats in Utah. If he had really been serious
about building a party, he would have looked at the returns and immediately set
up high-profile campaign offices in downtown Portland and Salt Lake City. He
would have dangled a couple of six-digit checks to obtain the services of two
state chairpersons who would be taken seriously. Then he would have given money
to local Reform candidates in both states.
This scenario wouldn't have been so far-fetched for Maine, where the election
results were highly encouraging to third-party advocates. In the 1992
presidential election, Clinton got 39 percent of the Maine vote, and Perot
edged out Bush by 316 votes, with both men getting 31 percent.
Two years later, Maine voters elected a third-party candidate for governor. The
winner, Angus King, had successfully started his own energy-conservation
business and was the perfect opposition to the Democrats. He attacked high
taxes, over-regulation, and government spending, but he was a moderate on the
environment and leaned to the left on social issues. In the 1994 election, King
got 35 percent of the vote, the Democratic candidate got 34 percent,
and the GOP candidate was far behind with 23 percent. Maine voters who
didn't like the Democrats were getting used to the idea that they didn't have
to vote Republican.
King didn't run as a Reform candidate. Even so, Perot should have begged the
new governor to join his party. He should have bought TV spots praising King to
the heavens: "Sure, I started things rolling. I might have dumped Grandma out
of her wheelchair and put her cat in the thresher. But this guy actually got
elected to something." But of course Perot couldn't stand the thought of
someone else getting some attention, so he let King get away. And in the next
gubernatorial election in Maine, King was re-elected with 59 percent of
the vote, to the Democrat's 19 percent and the Republican's
12 percent. This was actually terrible news for third-party advocates,
because it meant that King had become a middle-of-the-road consensus figure
with no real opposition. If the result had been 49 percent to
29 percent to 12 percent, the marginalization of the Republicans
might have been complete.
Jesse Ventura, too, could have marginalized one of the two major parties in his
state if things had gone differently for him. By finishing second in 1998's
Minnesota gubernatorial election, he and the Reform Party would have had a shot
at displacing whichever party finished third and might have permanently
realigned politics at the state level. As it is, the Democrats and Republicans,
still embarrassed over losing to a professional wrestler, will probably unite
to stamp out any chance of another independent's succeeding Ventura.
In contrast, there's the story of socialist Bernard Sanders in Vermont, who
seems to have followed the early Republicans' path. He ran for Congress as an
independent in 1988 and finished second to a moderate Republican. Two years
later, he ran again as an independent, and the Democratic nominee was quickly
dismissed as a fringe candidate. Sanders won, and Vermont got a congressman who
wasn't beholden to the power structure (i.e., the major contributors) of
either party. Still in Congress, he stands a good chance of getting a
like-minded independent to succeed him.
But third-party advocates don't seem drawn to that approach. Even Pat Buchanan,
despite a long history of right-wing extremism, now seems to be running as a
consensus figure. In a recent speech at Harvard University, which he titled "A
Plague on Both Your Houses," Buchanan attacked the "Republicrat collusion"
against reformist candidates. Speaking of the current system of campaign
financing, he said, "Friends, neither Beltway party is going to drain this
swamp. . . . They swim in it, feed in it, spawn in it." By
downplaying his far-right views on social issues and instead touting his
support for term limits, Buchanan is trying to follow the lead of both Perot
and Ventura: aim for the middle of the ideological spectrum and draw voters
from both major parties.
This is a doomed strategy. It contributed to Perot's collapse between 1992 and
1996, and it will probably prevent Ventura from establishing a permanent party
in Minnesota. Even if we change campaign-finance and ballot-access laws to help
third parties, the United States still operates under a winner-take-all system.
That is, a candidate can win an election even with a minority of the vote --
provided that the opposition is divided between several other candidates. One
alternative is some kind of proportional-representation system, like the ones
in Israel and Italy (if a party gets 30 percent of the vote, it gets
30 percent of the seats in Congress). But that's never going to happen
here: who wants the government to collapse every other week the way it does in
Israel and Italy? So it's true that voting for a third candidate in a close
election is essentially throwing away your power to help choose the winner.
Under freakish conditions, it's possible to have a genuine three-way race (the
1998 Minnesota election with Ventura was the closest thing to one at the state
level in many years), but it's impossible for more than two parties to remain
viable for the election after that.
If Buchanan really wants to help the Reform Party, he should spend a lot of
time in Massachusetts this summer. Not that he has any chance of winning it in
the fall -- Al Gore would have to put on a New York Yankees uniform, blow up
the Citgo sign, and set fire to Julia Child in order to blow his lead in the
Bay State. But with his populist economic views and an appeal to conservative
Catholic voters, Buchanan has a small chance of finishing ahead of George W.
Bush. In 1996, Bob Dole got only 28 percent of the vote in Massachusetts,
and although Bush will certainly improve on Dole's showing nationally, he might
have more trouble in a state where McCain whipped him in the primary.
In fact, all three minor parties with a real chance for growth -- Reform,
Green, and Libertarian -- should concentrate on the handful of states where one
of the two major parties is particularly weak. They should look at Clinton's
six weakest states in 1996: Utah, Alaska (where the Green Party finished a
distant second to the Republicans in a 1996 US Senate race), Idaho, Nebraska,
Kansas, and Wyoming. And they should study Bob Dole's weakest states: Rhode
Island, Massachusetts, New York (at least New York City, where Dole got a
pitiful 17 percent), Maine, Vermont, and Hawaii. The goal should be to
finish second somewhere -- if not in a state, then in a congressional district
or even a county -- and establish a beachhead for future elections.
Unfortunately, presidential candidates tend to get caught up in the fantasy of
winning, or at least of competing on a level playing field, and they try to
wage a national campaign -- spending most of their money to get on all 50
ballots, suing for inclusion in the debates, and hitting all the major media
markets. That's good for the ego, but not so good for party-building. It may be
naive to expect a candidate to think of anything other than his or her own
election -- Ross Perot has certainly shown that he's no different than the
Democrats and the Republicans in that respect. But what we need is an
independent politician with enough nerve to run for president and enough brains
to realize how long it will take to build a new party. Then maybe when Bush or
Gore runs for re-election, we won't still be asking, "Is that all there
is?"
Robert David Sullivan is a contributing writer to the Boston Phoenix;
he can be reached at Robt555@aol.com.