to Rig an Election: In a normal democracy, voters choose
their representatives. In America, it is rapidly becoming the other
April 25, 2002
Imagine a state with five congressional seats and only
25 voters in each. That makes 125 voters. Sixty-five are
Republicans, 60 are Democrats. You might think a fair election in
such a state would produce, say, three Republican representatives
and two Democrats.
Now imagine you can draw the district boundaries any
way you like. The only condition is that you must keep 25 voters in
each one. If you were a Republican, you could carve up the state so
there were 13 Republicans and 12 Democrats per district. Your party
would win every seat narrowly. Republicans, five-nil.
Now imagine you were a Democrat. If you put 15
Republicans in one district, you could then divide the rest of the
state so that each district had 13 Democrats and 12 Republicans.
Democrats, four-one. Same state, same number of districts, same
party affiliation: completely different results. All you need is the
power to draw district lines. And that is what America provides: a
process, called redistricting, which, through back-room negotiations
too boring for most voters to think about, can distort the
democratic system itself.
All countries, in the interests of equal
representation, adjust their electoral boundaries to reflect
population changes. Most democracies hand over this job to
independent commissions, which content themselves with tinkering
with existing boundaries. In America, in all but a few states, that
idea sounds elitist and undemocratic. So every ten years, after the
census, politicians in state legislatures meet to draw new voting
maps which are approved by the state governor. Since America's
population is both faster-growing and more mobile than that of other
old democracies, and since the Voting Rights Act actually requires
minorities to have special ìmajority-minority districtsî in order to
get an equal chance to elect candidates of their choice (ie, their
race), redistricters end up doing a lot more than tinker.
The results are as bizarre as you would expect.
Florida's 22nd District is 90 miles long and never more than 3 miles
wide. It consists of every beach house lining Route A1A along
Florida's Gold Coast from West Palm Beach to Miami Beach. You could
say about this district, as used to be said of the old Texas 6th
(which was a road from Houston to Dallas), that you could kill most
of the constituents by driving down the road with the car doors
open. Other districts look like donuts, embryos or Rorschach tests.
But the champion gerrymandering comes from Illinois.
Chicago has two Hispanic areas. They are in different parts of the
city, but that has not discouraged the good politicians of Illinois
from creating a constituency consisting of these two areas only.
They lie on either side of a black part of the city like the bread
of a sandwich. Worst of all is the state's extraordinary 17th
District, which is a crab (see chart). Though most of it lies in the
western part of the state, two claws stretch out towards the eastern
part to grab Democratic cities in order to make the surrounding 18th
and 19th districts more reliably Republican.
Weirdly shaped districts like these are signs that a
crime has been committed. Again, start with Florida. This year, the
Republican-controlled legislature has proposed a map with 18
Republican-leaning seats and seven Democratic ones. But as the 2000
presidential vote showed, Florida's electorate is split perfectly
down the middle. The map has been rigged outrageously to favour the
Florida is gaining population and seats. But it is
just as easy to rig elections if your population is falling.
Michigan, for example, will lose a seat this time. There, the
Republican-dominated state assembly has managed to arrange matters
so that six Democratic incumbent congressmen will have to slug it
out among themselves for only three Democratic-leaning districts.
Democrats will probably lose three seats in a state that Al Gore
Michigan also provides an extreme example of what
clever redistricting can do for an individual. Mike Rogers
represents the 8th District around the state capital, Lansing. He
squeezed into office by a mere 160 votes in 2000, and had to wait
even longer than George Bush for confirmation of his victory. The
new redistricting plan tacks on a lot of Republican suburbs to his
seat. So, after only two years, the man who won by the narrowest of
margins in 2000 finds himself in such a safe Republican seat that no
Democrat is bothering to challenge him in 2002.
Needless to say, Democrats are equally partisan. In
Georgia they have drawn a map which means they will probably pick
upómirabile dictuóboth of the state's new districts. And in North
Carolina, long notorious for outrageous reapportionment, the
chairman of the state redistricting committee is running for a new
congressional seat that he himself mapped out.
And now technology makes it worse
Such things have long been staples of American
political life. It would be too much to claim that redistricting has
fundamentally altered any nationwide election result. But this year
is slightly different, and in some ways worse, for two reasons.
First, new software has made it easier to draw more ìreliableî
electoral mapsóie, to be more exact in your partisanship. Until the
1990s, legislators had to draw districts using coloured pens on
acetate sheets spread out on big maps on the floor. Computers
appeared in the 1990s, but only big, sophisticated ones could handle
the demographic data, putting the cost beyond all but a few states.
Now the Census Bureau puts out digitised maps, called
TIGER/Line files. New geographic information systems for mapping and
analysing demographic data cost only a few thousand dollars, work on
ordinary Windows operating systems, and can draw up partisan maps
automatically. This has turned gerrymanderingósorry,
redistrictingófrom an art into a science.
Second, the 50-50 split in the 2000 election has
changed what the parties want from redistricting. Under the old
plans, you maximised your seats by drawing up districts which you
would win narrowly. That was risky, because it gave your opponents a
chance. Now the parties have adopted a policy of safety first.
Because the House of Representatives is so closely balanced,
legislatures try to maximise the number of safe seats for each side,
drawing competitive districts only if they cannot avoid it.
In California, the Democrats in the legislature passed
up a chance of grabbing risky seats from Republicans, and approved a
map with only one competitive district out of 53 seats in Congress.
That district is the disgraced Gary Condit's. ìIf the average
Californian doesn't like his congressman,î says a Republican
adviser, Dan Schnur, ìthe only option is to call the moving vans.î
It is a similar story in the other big states that have issued their
maps so far.
All in all, reckons Charlie Cook, a political analyst,
with four-fifths of the states having issued their new district
plans, there will be fewer than 50 competitive races this time
(meaning races in which the candidates are only a few points apart)
compared with 121 ten years ago. Of those 50, only half will really
be toss-ups. This is worsening existing trends. In 1998 and 2000,
nine out of ten winning candidates in the House of Representatives
won with 55% of the vote or more. That was the lowest percentage of
close races of any election year since 1946, save one. In other
words, redistricting is becoming a glorified incumbent-protection
racket. And that is having all sorts of odd effects.
For one thing, it means the Democrats probably cannot
take over the House this year unless a miracle occurs. The House
will be decided by the toss-up seats. Roughly half of them are
Democratic, half Republican. To overcome their current six-seat
deficit, therefore, Democrats will have to take three-quarters of
the closest seatsósomething they cannot do unless there is a
dramatic change in the national mood.
The 2002 redistricting plans are making an already
change-resistant Congress even more immutable. Only six sitting
congressmen were defeated in the general election in 2000, a
re-election rate of 98%. Such a result, which would hardly shame
North Korea, is becoming the norm: the re-election rate has averaged
more than 90% since 1952. Not surprisingly, congressmen are
reluctant to leave their warm nests. Only 28 have announced their
retirements so far, compared with 64 in 1992.
The combination of larger numbers of safe seats and
increasingly expensive election campaigns is undermining the quality
of American politics. There are now two categories of House races:
the overwhelming majority, where the incumbent is a shoo-in and
which national parties ignore, and a tiny number of competitive
races into which the parties pour all their money and energy. Of
course ìall politics is localî. But in the current political
arrangement, the local concerns of a handful of seats are inflated
by a vast amount of national attention and end up deciding the
balance of Congress.
Redistricting is also reinforcing a self-perpetuating
quality in American politics. Incumbents anyway find it easier to
raise money than challengers (House incumbents outspend challengers
by five to one.) If they can make their seats safer by redrawing
boundaries, they discourage challengers even more. And that in turn
must depress voter turnout. The connection is not direct, since
turnout usually depends on the races at the top of the ticketófor
president or governor. But it is hard to believe there is no link
between America's astoundingly high re-election rates and its
astoundingly low voter turnout.
Putting it into cleaner hands
So what, if anything, can be done? Some states already
use alternative systems that could be copied. Iowa lets civil
servants draw new lines without reference to incumbents or regional
voting patterns (rather as in Europe). Five other states hand
redistricting authority over to bipartisan commissions, sometimes
with a neutral tie-breaker approved by both parties.
Neither system works perfectly. But either would be
better than the existing one. Both would limit partisan
gerrymandering by removing debates about redistricting from
legislatures, leaving them free to get on undistracted with their
proper business, such as crafting budgets. Best of all, they do seem
to work quite well. Washington and Iowaówhich use alternative
systemsósaw more competitive House races in the 1990s, in proportion
to their population, than other states.
Extending such practices would not be easy:
politicians would naturally be reluctant to cede power. But even
this barrier is not insuperable, at least in states which allow
people to sponsor referendums. Citizens in Arizona, for instance,
demanded a referendum to approve a redistricting commission in 2000,
and, to the surprise of most experts, the measure passed. As the
campaign-finance battle has shown, it is possible to reform
America's electoral system, even if it takes years. And there are
still years to go before the 2010 round of redistricting arrives.