By Brenda Fullick

How much does Big Money affect the decisions made under Iowa’s golden dome? Consider: House Speaker Christopher Rants received gifts totaling $60,000 from Big Tobacco in 2005 through the Iowa Leadership Council, his 527 committee.

Rants received $25,000 from R.J. Reynolds on Oct. 12, 2005; $10,000 from Lorillard Tobacco on Dec. 12, 2005; and $25,000 from Altria Corporate Services (representing Phillip Morris) on Dec. 29, 2005 — the eve of the 2006 legislative session.

So what does Big Tobacco want for its troubles? For one thing, it doesn’t want a higher statewide tax on cigarettes that might cut down on sales.

Meanwhile, Rants also has other special interests plying him with money, and some of them have very different goals. During the 2003-04 election cycle, the influential Iowa Republican received the following state-level donations to his political war chest, as tallied by Drake political science professor Art Sanders:

• $5,900 from the Iowa Medical Association, representing 76 percent of Iowa’s doctors and osteopaths. One of the group’s goals is to increase the tax on tobacco products to improve public health.
• $3,900 from the Iowa Hospital Association, which would like to raise money through a tobacco tax.
• $1,000 from Wellmark (Blue Cross/Blue Shield), which promotes a higher tax on tobacco in hopes of reducing long-term medical costs.
• $5,550 from the Federation of Iowa Insurers, representing multiple insurance companies that would benefit financially from having healthier customers who don’t smoke.

The tax on tobacco isn’t the only issue on healthcare providers’ agendas, but it was a hot-button issue that was extensively debated during the 2006 legislative session.

Meanwhile, Rants wasn’t the only politician who had been elected to office with financial help from the healthcare and insurance industries.

Professor Sanders counted the following direct contributions to Iowa political campaigns from groups with an interest in tobacco taxes — among other health-care issues — during the 2003-04 election cycle (many of them giving to both Democrats and Republicans):

• Iowa Health Care Association: $101,000
• Iowa Hospital Association: $134,000
• Wellmark: $124,000
• Iowa Medical Association: $137,000
• The Federation of Iowa Insurers: $76,000
• Independent Insurance Agents of Iowa: $41,000
• The National Federation of Independent Business (which also opposed a higher cigarette tax, arguing that it would hurt retailers near neighboring states with lower tobacco taxes): $8,500.

But other contributions often fly under the radar, through the 527 committees. For instance, the Iowa Health Care Association gave Rants’ Iowa Leadership Council a check for $10,000 on Dec. 1, 2005, and another check for $15,000 on this past June 14.

So, with all this money floating about, what happened? Did all those financial gifts make a difference in the way Iowa legislators shaped public policy on tobacco?

After all the Statehouse brouhaha, the cigarette tax failed to come to a vote on the House floor because Rants refused to add it to the agenda. Legislators couldn’t raise the tax on tobacco if they wanted to because they never had the chance.

This led to widespread speculation about Rants’ motives — and about which deep pockets he is beholden to.

As Rep. Pam Jochum from Dubuque sees it, Rants surely had to be influenced by the Big Tobacco money funneled through his 527 committee, donations that don’t have to be disclosed to Iowa’s Ethics & Campaign Disclosure Board.

But Professor Sanders came to a different conclusion after studying the Iowa Legislature’s actions in a special analysis commissioned by Iowa Citizens for Community Improvement (CCI).

After conducting multiple interviews with Iowa’s state-level politicians, observers and strategists who see the action from inside the Statehouse, Sanders concluded that Rants opposed an increase on the cigarette tax because he wants to be able to tell the voters back home that he has never voted for a tax increase.

“That’s important to him,” Sanders says.

Although money is an increasingly important factor as elections become more expensive, Sanders argues, there are still some things in Iowa politics that are worth more than money.

The study

Iowa CCI commissioned Sanders to conduct an objective study of the role of money in Iowa politics. He decided to focus specifically on healthcare issues.

Sanders analyzed campaign contributions in the 2003-04 cycle, when money donated to political campaigns would have helped legislators get into office.

Then during the 2006 session, he interviewed legislators and lobbyists. Finally, he looked at the policy outcomes this spring in an attempt to gauge the influence of money on politics in Iowa. (His findings are posted at www.iowacci.org.)

Sanders concluded that although money plays a key role in Iowa politics, it doesn’t currently hold the sway it does in other states.

“Money competes with other influences,” Sanders told Iowa CCI members. “And sometimes those influences are more important.”

However, Sanders warns that as special-interest contributions drive up the cost of elections — it now takes about $100,000 to win a seat in the Iowa Senate — regular citizens will have less and less influence in the state democratic process.

One way to combat the effect of Big Money is to create public awareness on controversial issues, Sanders advises. He contends that when the public knows what’s going on, special-interest groups tend to become less powerful.

Therefore, Sanders says, one key goal of special-interest groups is to work their issues quietly, keeping their causes out of the public eye.

For instance, the big money in this year’s eminent domain debate favored more control for local governments to condemn private property, for public or commercial use. There are Iowa developers who want the opportunity to build on rural land with farms and small homes.

However, Iowa legislators voted to strengthen property owners’ protections — even overriding the governor on that issue for the first time in 40 years. Iowans from across Iowa packed the Capitol to witness the debate.

“When those issues become visible,” Sanders says, “money becomes less influential.”

He also concludes that in Iowa politics, rarely are there blatant quid pro quo, “I’ll give you money if you do me a favor” sorts of agreements.

Sanders interviewed some legislators, including former Republican Senate leader Stew Iverson and House Minority Leader Pat Murphy, who insist that legislators are willing to hear from everyone, regardless of whether they’ve donated to political campaigns.

However, Senate Democratic Leader Mike Gronstal and Republican Rep. Lance Horbach admitted that campaign contributions can help special interests gain access to politicians — donations can “get you a hearing,” as Horbach put it.

The only politician Sanders interviewed who expressed concern that money taints the Iowa political process is Democrat Sen. Jack Hatch, a developer from Des Moines. “Hatch argued that money might not be as important as we sometimes think it is, but it is more important than it should be,” Sanders writes in his study.

Sanders takes the politicians at their word, concluding that the Iowa political process is less tainted than politics in other states. Still, he suggests that regular citizens will become increasingly distanced from the democratic process as special-interest groups make large donations in contested races, leading to increasingly expensive political races that force politicians to do even more to curry favor from vested interests with lots of cash to spare.

“The one thing to always keep in mind is you’re never going to eliminate the influence of money,” Sanders warns.

He suggests that people who care about free access should instead try to minimize the effect of money. For instance, he suggests that this state should adopt a cap on how much individuals can donate to Iowa politicians, which theoretically would make those politicians feel freer to vote their consciences rather than pacifying their deep-pocketed campaign contributors.

Voter-owned elections

Another option is voter-owned elections, which are labeled “clean” elections in some camps. Various states are experimenting with the concept.

Voter-owned elections spring from a grassroots reform movement that started in Arizona, where the process was first used in the 2002 elections and immediately changed the political landscape.

Essentially, people who want to run for office in Arizona with public financing must prove that they’re viable candidates by collecting $5 contributions from a minimum number of eligible voters in their districts. Once they prove they have a base of support, those politicians qualify for public financing in the primary and general elections.

It’s a voluntary program, but some politicians like being able to tell their constituents that they’re not beholden to interest groups, Sanders says. “As candidates see that voters like it, more candidates sign up for it.”

There’s the added benefit that candidates don’t have to spend their money raising more money and can focus on pressing the palms of their constituents.

In 2002, the first election cycle after public campaign-financing became available in Arizona, more candidates ran for office — including more women and minorities, Sanders says.

At the same time, more voters show up at the polls, apparently because they have more confidence in the democratic process.

The U.S. General Accounting Office surveyed Arizona candidates who used public financing for their campaigns. The study reports that 81 percent of those politicians said they decided to use public financing rather than seeking private campaign contributions because they “did not want to feel obligated to special interest groups or lobbyists.”

The state of Maine has also adopted the option of public financing for its politicians, and other states are testing the idea in certain statewide offices.

Realistically, it’s easier to adopt public financing of elections in states like Maine and Arizona, where voters have the option of putting initiatives on a public ballot, Sanders notes. In Iowa, where there is no option for a ballot initiative, any change in campaign financing would have to be adopted by the Legislature — and, realistically speaking, the people who control the Legislature are the people who are good at raising money under the current system, so they’d have little inspiration to change.

Connecticut’s Legislature recently adopted public financing for elections, primarily because political scandals in that state inspired local politicians to show that they’re part of the solution.

It might not take a big public scandal for Iowa’s Legislature to adopt voter-owned election financing, Sanders suggests, because Iowans are less willing to stomach scandal than voters in more politically messy states.

“Iowans like relatively clean campaigns,” Sanders says.

There is a fledgling movement to create voter-owned elections at the federal level. However, Sanders predicts that any national reform would have to come from pressure at the state level.

Voters would have to see reforms working at the state level to create a culture in which people believe that it’s possible, he says.

Growing movement

Jochum has already been introducing legislation, dubbed the Iowa Clean Elections Act, which has gained little traction among fellow legislators. However, she sees growing statewide support for the concept, from such different camps as the trial attorneys and various unions. The Iowa League of Women Voters has adopted this as its top priority, she says.

“We’ve been trying to build a grassroots movement for several years now,” Jochum says.

With every election cycle, candidates need to raise larger amounts of money. She says that frankly, lobbyists are tired of what they call “the shakedown,” and she thinks the public is sick of the system, too. “They’d like to trust and have some confidence in their government again.”

Jochum argues that every decision the Iowa Legislature makes on issues that involve spending and taxes are somehow influenced by special-interest money. And she thinks that influence is strong on the national level as well.

She maintains, for instance, that Congress has not found the backbone to talk about universal healthcare because the insurance industry is concerned that universal healthcare would put them out of business. She believes it’s disingenuous for politicians to claim that money doesn’t affect their votes. Special interests “give the money for a purpose. It’s to buy access because they want to be heard.”

Jochum says she’s hearing that politicians who’ve tried public financing in other states — both Democrats and Republicans — were relieved to be able to dedicate their time to meeting constituents rather than raising money. “It was a relief, like this weight had been lifted off them,” she says.

But has public financing changed the policy decisions that are made?

Maybe, says Eric Ehst, executive director of the Clean Elections Institute, who helped lobby for the reform in Arizona law after an Arizona bribery scandal helped prime the pump.

“To show that it’s actually changed policy decisions is very difficult, as far as voting patterns and things like that,” Ehst says.

Also, because most of the districts are heavily Democrat or Republican, the change hasn’t affected the partisan makeup of the Arizona Legislature.

Arizona finances its voter-owned elections with a surcharge on criminal and civil fines, including speeding tickets.

Generally, the people who have opposed voter-owned elections in Arizona are politicians who are good at raising money in traditional ways, Ehst says. “They know where the money is, and they have access to it.” On the other side are the politicians who are relieved not to have to beat the bushes for money.

Ehst figures that about 75 percent of the Arizona residents who understand voter-owned elections support the concept, though a lot of citizens still haven’t figured out how it works, and politicians who are out door-knocking find they have to spend a lot of time explaining why they want citizens to give them exactly $5 — not more, not less.

Arizona is still working out the kinks in its system, and the election commission frequently has to interpret the law as new situations arise.

Yet already, groups in virtually every state are trying to follow Arizona’s lead, Ehst says. “We’re a resource for the states all over the country.”

The Iowa plan

Iowa CCI has launched a campaign for public financing of political campaigns.

The group maintains that with $12 million a year — or $6 per voter — the state could offer campaign financing in the primary and general elections for two candidates in every race in the state.

Some candidates would choose not to participate, instead opting to collect contributions and try to outspend their opponents on advertising, direct mailing and other expenses.

“I really don’t think leadership from either party has a whole lot of interest in seeing this happen because they have a lot of control,” says Tyler Uetz, the organizer at Iowa CCI who’s heading the voter-owned elections campaign.

However, it would appeal to candidates who don’t like begging for money, or candidates who want to prove to their constituents that they’re beholden to no one.

Staff in gubernatorial candidate Chet Culver’s campaign say that he “would be inclined to participate in a fair and competitive public financing system if one were put in place.” Jim Nussle’s staff did not respond to Cityview’s question on the matter.

Personally, Uetz doesn’t buy the argument that politicians can accept large campaign contributions from special interests without feeling obliged to produce something in return. He argues that it’s natural for humans to feel indebted when someone has given them money.

Although CCI is traditionally a left-leaning group, its organizers hope to join forces on this issue with Iowa conservatives who are frustrated with the state of politics. The group hopes to connect with both Republicans and Democrats who’ve traditionally voted in every election, the type of citizens who take democracy very seriously but may no longer vote because they think the system is corrupt.

The idea of voter-owned elections “makes conservative economic sense,” Uetz says. For $6 per voter, Iowa citizens would have the peace of mind of knowing that their politicians are free to represent the best interests of their constituents; citizens would feel less compelled to wonder whether the greater good is being served.

Uetz thinks $12 million is enough for Iowa politicians to run their campaigns; Arizona has more expensive media markets, yet in the last election, 129 candidates were able to run in both the primary and general elections on public financing alone for a total $13 million.

Iowa candidates Doug Gross and Tom Vilsack spent $13 million between them in the last governor’s race. Critics say that’s a lot of money for politicians to come up with from special interest groups.

Iowa CCI has launched a campaign of house parties and church meetings to spread the word that publicly financed elections are possible. The group hopes those citizens will influence their legislators to change Iowa law.

“People think, well, it can’t be done,” Uetz says. “But it is working in Maine and Arizona.”

In Arizona, 10 of the 11 statewide officeholders are now held by politicians who have no ties to private money.

“So it is working,” Uetz says. Plus, “more people are turning out to vote. More people are running for office. There’s more diversity.”

Uetz believes the same thing can happen in Iowa.

“It’s going to be a long fight,” Uetz predicts. “But it’s going to be a winnable one.”

So far, the only Iowa legislators who have come out in favor of public financing for campaigns have been Jochum and Rep. Ed Fallon, who gave up his seat. “So legislators are going to have to feel the heat,” Uetz says. “That’s the only way it’s going to happen.” CV

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