As mentioned earlier, this page is up for “best expert blog.” If you are so moved, you may vote for it by putting a comment here or emailing the authorities. In the “best new blog” category, I voted for Phronesisiacal (twice, but that was by accident).

Vermont’s campaign finance law (with its stringent limits on both political contributions and campaign spending) faced tough questions at the Supreme Court on Tuesday. Vermont argued that the limits are necessary to combat corruption–specifically, a pattern of buying access to politicians. But Justice Kennedy said: “Let’s assume that some members of the court simply accept the proposition that money buys access … It’s a common-sense conclusion. I tend to think that money does buy access. But what follows from that? … Isn’t the answer that voters can see what’s going on and throw the incumbents out?”

One response: We already have access to vast amounts of campaign finance data: more than anyone can take in. Challengers as well as incumbents accept money from interested parties with whom they meet privately. Disclosure doesn’t give citizens enough recourse, because both sides in any serious race take money.

There’s also a deeper problem, going to the heart of what legitimizes a democracy. Assume that publicly disclosed campaign finance reports influence some voters. Then incumbents face pressure not to appear to do favors for their own donors. But they must also raise money, so they face pressure to do what potential donors want. At the very least, those politicians whose genuine views align with the interests of big donors have an advantage in elections. “Pluralist” political scientists have long argued that money doesn’t simply purchase political influence; the market is more complicated. Donors have influence on politicians, but politicians have a choice about their donors; and voters and membership groups also make decisions. Multivariate models tend to show that campaign money itself has a small impact, once you control for other factors, such as candidates’ ideologies and constituents.

But the “pluralist” view of politics is fundamentally flawed. It legitimizes pressure from moneyed interest groups as long as other pressures counteract it. But money should have no impact at all; it’s an illegitimate form of political power, even if it isn’t decisive. Moreover, voters shouldn’t have to rely on elaborate models to prove that money does not actually cause legislative responses, even though lobbyists who give money seem to get better legislation. It is unreasonable to expect people to trust a market-like system of politics when the fundamental ethic of democracy is not the ethic of a market. A representative democracy isn’t legitimate when various interest groups and voters are in equilibrium and no one is able to purchase excessive influence. It is legitimate when the arguments that legislators make in public are their actual reasons, and financial pressure is absent.

(I made this case at more length in a 1997 article, which later expanded into a chapter of my book on the New Progressive Era. See also this post, where I emphasize the inequality caused by campaign donations. Incidentally, I do not recommend Vermont’s approach as the best public policy: stringent contribution limitations can restrict speech and favor incumbents. Public subsidies for campaigning are better.)

“We must stop the obesity epidemic.” “We need to tap the energies and talents of young people.” “We have to defeat these incumbents.” … Those are exhortations aimed at an unspecified “we.” They are very common in politics and political commentary. But I am increasingly impatient with that rhetorical style. It begs the critical questions: Who has a reason to, or an interest in, making the proposed change? How are such people organized? What assets do they have? What strategies or incentives would make them act in favor of the recommendation?

Here’s a paradox: We need to drop the hortatory “we” and start thinking more strategically.