In my life, email is ubiquitous. It arrives in my inbox morning, noon and night. Some of it is junk. Much of it is substantive. All of it needs to be managed. Indeed, managing my email occupies way too much of my time. There are many things I would rather be doing, and just about all of them would be more productive.
Unfortunately, I do not have a choice. Email has become the primary vehicle for communicating with clients. It is, after all, instant, and written. Senders know their message will be instantly received, especially since most of us receive them on our phones as well. That makes it the best method of communication for people engaged in business. Whether I like it or not, that makes it the best method for me.
Managing the volume of emails I receive is a chore. As a lawyer, I am charged with ethical responsibilities relative to retaining client communications and confidentiality. Those duties, I know, must be taken very seriously. They cannot be neglected. To do so would be irresponsible. To do so could constitute malpractice. So client emails are dutifully sorted and saved in the appropriate location. When we run out of space on the system we get more.
All of this makes Hillary Clinton’s recent admission regarding her email management as Secretary of State unfathomable to me. Ms. Clinton has confessed that she not only used a personal email account to conduct official business, but deleted thousands of those email as well, without retaining copies. How could this be? Read More
I did not want to write this article. I tried to suppress it, I really did. I know that by the time the recent election ended, most of us were fed up with it. Most of us are sick and tired of reading about it, hearing about it or even thinking about it. I get that. Nonetheless, and with apologies to readers who may have overdosed on the topic, I need to write a post-election diatribe. Bear with me if you can.
My diatribe really is not about the election results. With a few notable exceptions, I can live with the choices New Hampshire voters ultimately made. What I cannot get past is what voters were subjected to during the weeks and months preceding the election. What I cannot fathom is the extent to which money is continuing to insidiously corrupt the electoral process and our democracy.
The sheer volume of political advertising was overwhelming. As Election Day approached, it took up more and more space inside my mailbox. My response was a political statement of sorts. I threw them out without reading them. I threw out every last one of them – before they could even enter my house. I separated them from the rest of the mail at my mailbox (without looking at them, of course), and walked to my garage to throw them in the recycling bin. In this fashion, I prevented them from even entering the premises.
Then there were the incessant, mind-numbing television advertisements. They were loud, obnoxious, ominous, dark, negative and repetitive. Eventually, I pretended to be Chauncey Gardiner, the odd chap brilliantly played by Peter Sellers in the movie “Being There.” “What would Chauncey think of this?” I asked myself as I watched Frank Guinta’s round head superimposed inside the 1950s TV set on Carol Shea-Porter’s attack ad for the 42nd time. My eventual conclusion was that the advertisements would have ruined the story, as Chauncey would have been too terrified by the portrayal of the outside world to ever leave the house.
A lot of money was spent on those ads. The Washington Post pegged the total amount spent on the 2014 election at $3.7 billion dollars. But to put that in perspective, the article also pointed out that Americans spend $7.4 billion dollars annually on lawn care. So the problem is less the total amount spent on the election, and more the source of the amount spent. According to the Post, all of that money came from only 0.2 percent of the U.S. population of 316 million. To put it bluntly, all that money came from a very concentrated, small portion of the electorate.
There is a lesson here, I think, and an important one to bear in mind when the ads start next week for the 2016 primaries. There is a direct correlation between the concentration of the funding sources that pay for political advertisements and the partisan, extreme and obnoxious nature of the political advertisements themselves.
That alone ought to be enough to get all of us on the campaign-finance-reform bandwagon. Better we federally fund elections to the tune of $10 billion than go through another $4 billion election cycle like the last one. Honestly, I’m not sure I could withstand one.
Our political parties don’t seem to be helping things, either. I tried to listen carefully to the candidates, but I heard very little of substance from any of the ones running for national office. From the Republicans, I heard nothing but negativity. From the Democrats, I heard nothing. For me, at least, the two sides’ comments were white noise. Neither party cared to inform me.
Sadly, voters need to get used to this sort of campaigning. We may have reached the breaking point, where there is so much money at stake for those in the game that they are afraid to say anything that has the slightest possibility of compromising their chances of winning it.
For incumbents, losing an election means giving up the chance to make a fortune in the private sector down the road, perhaps as a lobbyist. For the challengers, winning an election means a ticket to financial freedom and future prosperity.
These same financial stakes drive all the candidates’ advisors, handlers and contributors. There is just so much money at stake inside the game, driving so many private agendas inside the game, that the public agenda may be become lost. Modern politics have become like the lottery: One needs to be in it to win it.
This is tough stuff to think, and to write, because I genuinely like and respect many of the individuals who are brave enough to wade into the political waters. I wish no misfortune, financial or otherwise, on any of them. I agree with Lawrence Lessig, who wrote that the people in the system are not corrupt – the system is. The money has corrupted it.
That grim realization, though, does nothing to change the sinking feeling I have that those on the inside playing the game are increasingly playing it for themselves, and not for the rest of us.