Giuliani, Palin attack people who help themselves

For decades conservatives argued that civil society, not government, is the answer to poverty and other community problems. Communities have been doing just that, thanks to the help of community organizers. But rather than laud these private citizens, Rudolph Giuliani and Sarah Palin mocked them.

Organizers pick up where government leaves off. They exemplify communities trying to fix their own issues. So when Sarah Palin compares her taxpayer-funded job as mayor favorably to community organizers with no “actual responsibilities,” we can only conclude that today’s Republican Party isn’t so keen on self-help after all.

Seems today’s GOP doesn’t just hate government solutions to our communities’ problems. They hate ANY solutions.

Community organizers: American heroes

Maybe this is chauvinist, but there’s nothing like hearing your wife’s profession being attacked on national television by small-minded, small-hearted vermin to get your blood boiling. Community organizing is a lot like being a mayor, except that the pay is worse and the issues are harder. Why? Because organizing picks up where government leaves off.

Community organizers work among churches, synagogues, blue-collar unions, veterans, the homeless. They fight for the least among us, because not everyone is born to power or amasses great wealth.

The rich and powerful don’t need organizers: they are heard loud and clear in our society.

Community organizers get out the vote. And in this election, at least, Republicans seem to be fine with brushing off the people who work tirelessly to get them elected. Because they don’t need organizers: the paid help can do it for them.

Here’s a true story passed along several months ago by a friend:

Yesterday, I got a call from a McCain fundraiser. I am still on McCain’s mailing list/calling list because I donated to his 2000 campaign, back when I leaned farther right and he leaned farther left (or at least I perceived him to be more left leaning)… [T]he young man who called said thank you for your past donation, your support of the Republicans. We all know we can’t rely on the Democrats to do anything right and certainly can’t count on Barack Obama. McCain’s our man. Won’t you give McCain some money? The rant on the Dems was not obnoxious but pretty negative. So too the rant on Obama.

So I decided to be polite but firmly said that I had switched my affiliation to Democratic and that I was behind Barack Obama 100 percent. Pretty much just that.

Here’s the kicker: The guy on the other end of the line, the McCain fundraiser, said that he agreed with me, that he was supporting Barack too, and that “this was just my job.” He ended by saying “See you at the polls.”

So go on, taunt the community organizers. It’s a lousy economy right now: I’m sure McCain can go pick up a few more cheap telemarketers to go do all the hard work.

New Yorker cover: smug, self-satisfied, satire

I’ve been of many minds about this week’s New Yorker cover — I wrote the piece below yesterday but held back from publishing it because, well, on the face of it, it’s not exactly racist, and it is satire after all. But in some ways the furor is itself worth considering, and so I put this out there in, perhaps, the same spirit as the New Yorker put out their cover:

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On the night of Barack Obama’s primary victory in South Carolina, thousands of us who gathered at the victory rally spontaneously erupted in the chant, “Race doesn’t matter!” This wasn’t a profession of faith so much as a willing suspension of disbelief: South Carolina’s January primary also marked the place and time when race did start to matter in the Presidential campaign.

Race matters, as the conflation of “white” with “American” illustrates. But in critiquing that attitude, Barry Blitt’s cover illustration for this week’s New Yorker commits the same error of judgment that a white man who uses the N-word among black friends would commit if he spoke in the same way among strangers. It’s the kind of faux passé that the privileged have the luxury of committing, and therefore the responsibility not to.

Privilege underlies the even deeper problem of the cover, which is the way it bounces its satire off a deep contempt for Michael Moore’s “stupid white men.” Moore, at least, could profess to be of the group he mocks; not so for the New Yorker. Thus the magazine does Obama few favors, instead cementing the perception that his campaign is fueled by limousine liberalism. But it also does itself a serious disfavor, demonstrating not just disdain for but also ignorance of these other Americans. Pauline Kael didn’t know anyone who voted for Nixon; I doubt the staff of the New Yorker know anyone who thinks Obama is Muslim. Obama calls for understanding over condemnation, and I hope his supporters – especially the privileged ones – will consider what kinds of attitudinal sacrifices such a politics would entail.

Law, not just the Internet, fuels fundraising success

Sure, the Internet has given Barack Obama’s presidential campaign an incredible fundraising edge. But smart use of technology only partially explains the breathtaking numbers (over $260M raised, over 1.5M individual donors). Obama’s online fundraising strategy is possible only because of the Federal Election Campaign Act — ironically, the very legislation that pundits claim he now threatens with his decision to opt out of federal public campaign financing.

In 1974, Congress amended FECA to limit the total amount that individuals can contribute to individual candidates. One of the goals behind this cap was to somewhat equalize citizens’ voices by muffling the wealthiest (and therefore “loudest”) individuals. In reality, the cap remained high enough ($1,000 in 1974, $2,300 today) that while the filthy-rich could no longer buy the vote outright, the merely wealthy still had an outsized impact on elections. In 2000, of donors who contributed $200 or more to any given political contribution, those who gave more than $999 made up only 44% of contributors but constituted over 86% of the total dollars taken in.

Then Howard Dean came along and upended this cozy arrangement. The progressive Netroots helped Dean raise over $30M from small (under $200) donations during the 2004 Democratic primaries — just $4.4M shy of what Gore raised for the entire 2000 race. Suddenly, small donors became a viable way to fund a major campaign. And even though Dean was far more successful than his peers that year at galvanizing small-donor support — they made up 60% of his individual fundraising — both major parties’ 2004 nominees relied far more on small contributions than in 2000 (See chart).

Law matters, because without caps on the amount of hard money any one person could give to a candidate, neither Dean’s nor Obama’s army of small donors could keep up with the astonishingly deep pockets of the American mega-rich. Technology matters too, of course, because it is the mature Internet — one that citizens trust with their credit cards — that makes small-donor fundraising efficient enough to pursue as a serious fundraising strategy. But it took 30 years before fundraising technology realized FECA’s goal of (somewhat) leveling the playing field across campaign donors.

Policy — even if it’s no policy at all — always tilts the playing-field in one direction or another. Capping campaign contributions dampens the voices of the very rich; conversely, removing them would reduce the relative power of the small donor. Banning cash contributions altogether would favor those with time rather than money to give. Our laws define fair play: we can’t ban campaign money because it’s a Constitutionally protected form of free speech, but we don’t want it to be too influential, either.

For any given policy landscape, there’s a set of technologies and tactics that best advances the players’ strategic goals. It would seem that the Obama campaign has struck one such optimal combination, fusing Dean’s Netroots with old-fashioned grassroots. But lest Democrats feel too smug about striking that sweet spot, they might do well to recognize the Howard Dean of the 2008 Republican field: Mike Huckabee muscled his way to third place with half of his contributions coming from small donors. Broad-based, Internet-enabled fundraising has no ideological bias, only a small nudge for those with wide grassroots appeal.