I have never really thought deeply about money -- that is, how to make more of it. Early on, while I certainly didn't attach a moral value to money in and of itself, I saw it as a medium of exchange, and beyond a certain level of sufficiency, most of what I valued, couldn't be exchanged for money. The Beatles lyric, "I don't care too much for money, 'cause money can't buy me love," summed up symbolically, if not comprehensively, pretty much how I felt. I was, of course, aware of the ironies. The Beatles had more money than I could begin to imagine, and were not particularly averse to making more of it, but for myself, if I had sufficient income to cover the traditional necessities of food, clothing and shelter, I could happily pursue other, more important matters. Because I was in government service, where the salary scale reigned supreme, most of my peers made about the same amount that I made, so there was little cause for the truly invidious comparison. The little discretionary money we did have, we often spent differently than one another, but those differences were differences in kind, not scope, and revealed individual differences in values before and beyond the monetary exchange -- the camping trip to Wyoming as opposed to the down on a new sports car. While I might have been envious of the new car, neither my wife nor I were envious enough to choose it over the camping trip, and generally speaking, we knew that life was simply a matter of choices.
Having said all that, there were a number of attitudes toward money that I did disdain. As a "medium of exchange," money was merely instrumental to an end. The "merely" set an important attitudinal boundary. The pursuit of money for the sake of money struck me as a perversion. The important thing, the most important thing, the moral decision, were the ends one chose. There was always the possibility that one could choose immoral ends, but morality, the proper end for mankind, was a matter of political debate aimed at a broad consensus. I have never felt that this broad consensus was a matter that could be settled once and and for all -- not by the Bible and certainly not by Marx -- and the always emergent consensus was like the weather, sometimes violent, sometimes calm, but always changing. Different people, and different peoples, would have different ideas about the proper ends for mankind, and that was all to the good, because the differences informed one another, enriched one another. The notion of "political debate" did bring forward what might be called an "instrumental value" -- free speech within the marketplace of ideas -- without which there would be no emergent consensus around morality. Language was the "medium of exchange" within the marketplace of ideas, and money, or so it seemed to me, was the medium of exchange within the marketplace proper. Language was worthy of study, so too was money, but ultimately neither could be valued as an end unto itself, only as a means to an end -- the pursuit of an idea -- the pursuit of values -- and likewise, if the pursuit of an idea required free speech within the marketplace of ideas, then too the pursuit of values required free exchange of money within the marketplace proper.
There are, however, differences between the domain of money and the domain of speech that might best be summed up by the phrase "money talks, bullshit walks." On the one hand, though I doubt it was what Aristotle had in mind, if rhetoric is finding the best available means of persuasion, most would admit that money is not only a form expression, but also, short of an immediate threat of violence, the most efficacious means of persuading others to a particular behavior. The reasons, or course, are straight forward. Money, or more perhaps more precisely the expenditure of money, while expression of a sort, also has dominion beyond expression and it is beyond expression that "money talks." If I were to come to someone in a position of power -- a legislator -- and were to offer him a large sum of money to "change his mind" on a certain piece of legislation and vote against it, there would be a question whether my expenditure of money actually "changed his mind," actually persuaded him to think otherwise, or whether it simply changed his behavior when the negative vote was cast. Indeed, whether he actually changed his mind or not is irrelevant once the proffered money is accepted, and most would recognize this as a form of bribery. The person in power -- the legislator -- was either corrupt in the first place or had been corrupted by the offer of money. As we all know, the corrupting effect of money is possible, in part, because it can be translated into goods beyond the particular decision in question, if not wine, women and song, then the moral equivalent thereof. I am, or rather the one offering the bribe is corrupt, or corrupting, in part because I am expending monies to purchase something that should not be for sale. The "should not" in the previous sentence points to the moral imperative that would limit or ban certain types of market place transactions. It is clear enough from the simple example that "political power" can be bought and sold, that one holding power can hold it up for sale to the highest bidder, and in a perfectly free market place, one with no moral or ethical restrictions, there would be little reason to object to the transaction. We do, however, object to the transaction, and even in that most corruptible of corrupt domains, we place limits on what is available for sale within the market place.
On the other hand, more consonant with what Aristotle had in mind, and what the framers of the constitution had in mind when they prohibited Congress from making laws to limit speech, to include the inordinate amount of bullshit that passes between people and over the public airwaves. We can mount any hobby horse we choose and rock it furiously until we wither from exhaustion or triumph in persuasion. I am suggesting something similar to Michael Walzer's defense of pluralism and equality, when he writes that "democracy is a way of allocating power and legitimating its use -- or better, it is the political way of allocating power. ... What counts is argument among the citizens. Democracy puts a premium on speech, persuasion, rhetorical skill. Ideally, the citizen who makes the most persuasive argument -- that is, the argument that actually persuades the largest number of citizens -- gets his way. But he can't use force, or pull rank, or distribute money; he must talk about the issues at hand." Ideally, of course, we would be persuaded by those arguments that have pragmatic efficacy and are consonant with our shared sense of cultural and ethical norms. Faced with a problem, we want to do something, but not just anything. We want to do something that will not only help fix the problem, but in doing so will also contribute to our common sense of self-respect. Ideally, of course, the electoral process is founded on rhetoric. The candidates for office argue it out, and the one who persuades the majority of the people prevails in the election. He or she is given the mandate to use the power inherent to the office to effectuate the proposed solution.
There are several things wrong with this ideal picture, but it is still something to be desired. When we bemoan the fact that elections do not focus on the issues, we are bemoaning a lost opportunity to hear arguments around those solutions that may have some pragmatic efficacy. We want arguments with substance, but there are several reasons why we don't get them. The first and most obvious is the increasing technicality of the problems. The economy is at the instant a perceived problem. It is, as has been said repeatedly, the worst since the great depression. What to do? It takes some humility to make this admission, but in truth, I am not entirely sure. I suspect not one in a thousand Americans, for example, can understand what is meant by a "derivative," and how it functions within the market place and whether the buying and selling of those "financial instruments" should be left unregulated within the market or whether they should be tightly regulated, and if regulated then precisely how they should be regulated. The problems only get more complex from there. What is the effect of "derivatives" on the mortgage market, and what is the effect of the mortgage market on jobs? I am reasonably certain that the vast majority of Americans have little inclination to dig into the intricacies of the financial system, and those that do have motives beyond simply making it work more effectively in the interests of the people. Those that do are much more likely to be motivated to make it work more effectively toward their own self-interests, toward their own personal profit. Although the problems we face are increasingly technical, and require a sort of specialized knowledge not possessed by the majority of Americans, we cannot simply turn the problem over to experts. We can suspect the motives of those proposing solutions without fully understanding the problem or how it might be solved, so most problems, to include the problems of the economy, remain, properly speaking, political.
This lack of substance, coupled with a deep seated distrust, contributes to the decay of political rhetoric into ad hominem attacks. When we bemoan the fact that elections have become more virulently negative, we are bemoaning the growing impression that government is peopled with little more than a parade of charlatans. That judgement is a bit overweening, and I have no doubt that there are many career politicians who are genuine public servants, but there are trends that should be noted. One might be characterized as the growing disparity between "becoming president" and "being president." The process of "becoming president" resembles more and more the process of "becoming a celebrity" -- indeed, there is virtually no difference in the means and manner, only in the ostensible end, "being president," and I hedge even that insofar as celebrity status affords them the opportunity, if not the official entitlement, to "rule" on various issues. Not everyone can become a celebrity, and there are those that are selected out of the crowd so there is a something to celebrity, some substance that is captured and critiqued by the pundits, and ends with a confirming national vote. Think of the American Idol auditions, or even more tragically the America's Got Talent auditions, and the parade of wannabes and gottabes who line up in hopes of fulfilling their "dream," and from there the grinding process of winnowing on the national media stage that results in a winner. There are differences, of course, but the arc is recognizably the same, and there is some recognition that the wannabes are not being advanced to celebrity on the strength of their merits alone, but because they represent an investment. As with any investment, the object of investment is more or less irrelevant, so long as it provides a return on investment, and while I don't really doubt the sincerity of the celebrity politician's "dreams," those investing in his or her celebrity, those plunking down the cash for the enormous media exposure, are doing so because they hope for a particular sort of return on their investment.
I am suggesting simply that the domain of money and the domain of speech have collapsed into each other in ways that the framers of our constitution would have found difficult to imagine. On the one side, in the domain of money, we are prepared to accept a greater degree of inequality between people -- in part because we want to believe that money follows from and rewards talent and tenacity, which is justified by a corresponding belief in a game bound by rules played out on a level playing field. We also want to believe that there are things that money just can't buy, our "love" being one such thing. I can plunk down a considerable sum of cash, and I suspect there are plenty of escorts willing to provide a simulacra of the "girl friend experience," but no mater how successful the simulacra, there is the understanding that it extends no further than the cash allows. In the American Idol game, we are OK if some rise to the top, because we recognize not only the grind to get there, but also the disparity of talent between the contestants. They are, at least within the limits of the contest, deserving. It is also to the point that, beyond the limits of the contest, few go on to become actual American Idols once the infusion of network cash comes grinding to a halt. We have been offered a simulacra of idolatry, and perhaps its fun while it lasts, but outside the enormous expense of their weekly media exposure, neither their talent nor their tenacity counts for much, and their "dream" counts for nothing.
I would not presume to draw a direct analogy between escorts, the American Idol contestants, and our emergent political culture, but I would suggest that money amplifies and distorts political discourse. While the "campaign contribution" is not exactly petty bribery, given the hoards of cash let loose by Citizens United, I am rather certain there are those who will stand up and provide the desired "political commitment experience." I am also rather certain there are those who have the talent and tenacity to "make it real," or real enough for the duration of the contest, but regardless of a candidate's actual sincerity in pursuit of their "dream," the very presence of the money imbues it all with the aura of the counterfeit, provides a real and compelling motive that draws into doubt even the most authentic and sincere "dream," and this aura of the counterfeit, this nagging background doubt, is in itself inherently corrupting. I should say though the campaign contribution isn't exactly petty bribery The investors are investing in a politician already predisposed to take the sort of action they desire, whether out of sincere conviction or outright chicanery, and so there should be no surprises when those same politicians tend to serve their investors interests over others once in office. The corruption is more subtle and more pervasive. Candidacy for public office has been reduced to a commodity, or perhaps more precisely nearly reduced to a commodity. A candidate's ability to "raise cash" seems increasingly to be a pre-requisite for success, and indeed newscasters have used it as a way of keeping score -- Mitt Romney has raised so many millions, President Obama so many millions, and there is a direct correlation between the amount of cash and their ability to spread their message. Here again I would not go quite so far as to say the candidates are offering their "desirability" up directly for sale, but they have turned themselves into something resembling an "political product" for packaged donors, who must make two decisions, the first being the candidate's complicity with their goals, the second being the candidate's desirability on the open market. Will the people, so to speak, "buy into this guy" with their vote. If donors resemble anything, they resemble venture capitalists calculating the degree of risk and the expectation of return once the candidate is in office. I would suggest that the commodification pertains even if the transaction is sincere, even if it attempts to purchase a good beyond the self-interest of either the candidate or the contributor -- a monied contributor investing in a candidate she believes will protect environmental interests.
Should candidacy for office be commodified? I would, of course, answer in the negative, in part because the collapse of speech into money -- or perhaps more precisely, the assumption that the free expenditure of monies is the moral and ethical equivalent of free speech -- corrupts both money and speech and ultimately democracy. Amartya Sen, quoting Walter Bagehot in a recent issue of the New Republic, defined democracy as "government by discussion." Sen, like others, sees "government by discussion" as essential to public reasoning, and "public reasoning is not only crucial for democratic legitimacy, it is essential for a better public epistemology that would allow the consideration of divergent perspectives," and that same public reasoning "is also required for more effective practical reasoning." The collapse of speech into the expenditure of money leaves us, not with public reasoning, or anything that might resemble public reasoning within the public sphere, but rather competing commercials. While the competition clearly brings to the foreground the fact of divergent perspectives, the reasons one might have for selecting the view of one paid spokesman over another paid spokesman, to include the consumer's own self-interests, are left well in the background. Public office has been reduced to a product, and the competition for public office a competition for brand preference and loyalty. It is a vision for America, even a vision for a "free" America, but it is one that should give us pause. As I said, I wouldn't want to extend the analogy between the escort, the Idol contestant, and the political candidate too far. The differences are these. At the end of the day, the escort, having provided the "girl friend experience," goes on to another client -- the wannabe Idol, having provided the "aspiring artist experience," fades into the background of the next year's contestants -- but the candidate for political office takes office, and the office has consequence well beyond the contest. I probably don't need to detail the nature of that consequence on our lives, and besides it differs with the different offices, and it distracts from the question at hand -- the consumer preference that will result in a President.
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