Lobbying for Change

by Alberto Alemanno

  This situation of systemic unbalances in the representation of interests is expected to worsen. Runaway inequality has created a world where eight people own as much as the poorest half of the world’s population, according to a 2017 study.22 This number has fallen dramatically from 388 as recently as 2010, 80 in 2015 and 62 in 2016.23 While just six of the 62 were women in 2016, the eight super-rich in 2017 are all men.

  Billionaires who own the same wealth as half the world

  And what transport they would fit on

  © Table – Oxfam, 201624

  Even if we accept – as we do – that lobbying is a legitimate activity aimed at informing the policy process by making sure everyone’s interests are represented, policymakers hear far more from one side than from the other. While the evidence about the effectiveness of lobbying is mixed,25 it is undeniable that having a louder voice improves your chance. More resources allow organised interests to hire more experienced and connected people, to work on more issues and to be more vocal.

  In the 18th century, the Scottish moral philosopher and pioneer of political economy, Adam Smith, was already condemning the elite of his day – the ‘merchants and manufacturers’ of England. He identified them as ‘the principal architects’ of policy who strived to make sure that their own interests were ‘most particularly attended to’, even though the effect on others could be ‘grievous’.

  Today the scale of corporate lobbying is unprecedented. In the US, the $2.6 billion reportedly spent on it now adds up to more than the combined budgets of the Senate ($860 million) and the House of Representatives ($1.18 billion).26 Business accounts for roughly 90 per cent of all reported lobbying expenditure in the EU.27 As a result, 75 per cent of declared lobbying meetings between EU lobbyists and public authorities in the first half of 2015 were with corporate companies or consultancy firms. Only 18 per cent were with NGOs.28 In the US, of the 100 organisations that spend the most on lobbying annually, 90 per cent or more represent business interests. Many of the other non-business organisations claiming to speak for citizens lack much representation at all.29

  When only large corporations or dominant non-business organisations can play the game, what chance do we have of influencing policy or politics? Challenging any existing policy that benefits or supports big business is increasingly difficult. So, if you want to change things, you’d better have powerful allies. However, the scale and rapidity of the growth in lobbying has outpaced the traditional forces that are supposed to keep it in check to protect us from undue influence exercised by dominant interests. Those forces include ‘general interest intermediaries’ like political parties and the media, as well as traditional civil society organisations such as trade unions, churches and community groups that stand up for the various public interests of consumers and taxpayers. They have undergone a massive transformation. Political parties, at least those that survive, no longer act as intermediaries between people and power; they are either part of the state apparatus or political movements committed to fighting it. The media, driven by the struggle for readers and viewers, has emerged as the key builder of social consensus. Yet, as the majority of news is consumed via social media, what each of us chooses to read fosters a false sense that everyone agrees with us. As predicted more than a decade ago by Cass Sunstein, our digital social existence has turned into a echo chamber, where we discuss similar views with like-minded peers and fail to penetrate other social bubbles that are often misled by fear and xenophobia.30 This amplification of our respective views robs us of a truly democratic conversation. More critically, it empowers a new generation of ‘polarisation entrepreneurs’ ready to exploit confirmation biases.

  As a result of the progressive disappearance of disintermediation bodies – which act as intermediaries between governments and citizens, such as political parties, trade unions and media – civil society has lost ground. Civil society organisations spend a tiny fraction of their budgets on advocacy and, in any event, cannot afford to lobby at the same level as corporate players. The subsequent gap in civic empowerment is disturbing. Political power is distributed in vastly unequal ways. A US report on inequality noted that: ‘Citizens with low or moderate incomes speak with a whisper that is lost on the ears of inattentive government, while the advantaged roar with the clarity and consistency that policymakers readily heed’.31

  The effects of this gap explain why so many of us feel estranged from public life:

  Under a democratic model exclusively sustained and driven by elections, citizens are encouraged to remain passive. They merely respond to a cacophony of signals. While liberal democracies still hold elections regularly, the debate and overall public discourse is a tightly controlled performance, managed by professional communication advisors, and increasingly dependent on data-driven political marketing via social media.32 The result is what British sociologist Colin Crouch described as ‘post-democracy’.33

  Due to the growing weight of the lobbying game, citizens have lost their prerogative when it comes to collective governance. In the absence of a space for citizens or motivation to act, they are no longer in a position to bring about social change through the traditional channels of participation. As the economist William Nordhaus has noted, there is ‘no mechanism by which global citizens can make binding collective decisions’.34

  Policies are condemned to failure if the people at the receiving end do not inform them. Cutting off the governing elites from popular influence lets their members exercise expertise, experience and wisdom independently. But it leads to poor decisions. How can policymakers solve a problem without hearing the voice of those who are the most affected by it? And how do they know whether it is a problem in the first place? The culture of real-time reporting, spurred by social media, does not necessarily make the lives of policymakers – especially of elected representatives – any easier. While social media gives citizens a voice, their input – because it is not mediated through the policy process – often becomes an indecipherable cacophony.

  Because they are deaf to the general public (preferring the affluent, the organised or the most vocal), policymakers are often ideologically biased and driven by short-term interests. Winning the next election is more important than delivering on the promises made in the last. Responding to a sudden spark of protest against a policy proposal is more important than pointing out its underlying merits. Given the dramatic gap between the dominant quick-fix culture and our needs as a society, this is all the more troubling.

  Public policies lack legitimacy, insulated as they are from the public’s influence. Due to the opacity characterising decision-making procedures, only a select few can claim ownership of a new piece of legislation or initiative. And usually those who feel this ownership are those who don’t acknowledge it, but who in fact had a decisive influence – often by drafting texts for the policymakers.

  Put simply, the decisions our representatives take are often not in the public interest. They are shaped by those who can afford to shout the loudest and represent only a handful of partisan interests, many of which run counter to the public good. This is coupled with the fact that citizens have become more and more cut off from the institutions that are supposed to represent them.

  As a result, we are witnessing a crisis of political representation throughout the world. Low turnout, electoral volatility and crisis-ridden political parties are some of the more obvious symptoms of this disease. We have not only grown more critical of our political leaders but have also become more cynical about the value of democracy as a political system and have thus become less hopeful that anything we do might influence public policy.35 The graph on the next page portrays the percentage of people rating it essential to live in a country that is governed democratically, by age cohort (decade of birth).

  Young people are especially disengaged. According to the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance (IDEA), global voter turnout is lowest among 18–29 year-olds – a trend observable not onl
y in developed democracies, but also in emerging ones.36 At an IDEA forum hosted in 1999, 100 young people were asked their opinion on youth participation in politics. Their answers revealed the extent of their disengagement:

  Participants noted several factors affecting youth participation in politics, from not understanding how the system works, to a growing distrust of political institutions and leaders, to a lack of time in today’s competitive environment. They also emphasized that they are not apathetic about politics but rather that they feel alienated from traditional political processes and are not convinced their participation can make a difference.

  Source: World Values Surveys, Waves 5 and 6 (2005–14)

  Most of us have indeed lost interest in public life and our ability to contribute to it – even though we could if we chose to do so. And even though we know that a more egalitarian political process would result in a more egalitarian society. The interest group theory theorised and advocated by James Madison,37 Alexis de Tocqueville38 and Robert Dahl39 shows how a fairer society gives under-represented groups more power. So, making civic engagement more equal must be a crucial part of any solution to this disengagement. We should never be reduced to believing that only a comfortable elite can influence policy and politics. Part II of the book will provide more detail on how to revamp civic engagement to contribute to a fairer society.

  You’re Not in the Club: the Gap Between You and Your Representatives

  ‘I’ve always tried to explain democracy is not perfect. But it gives you a chance to shape your own destiny.’

  Aung San Suu Kyi

  Who are the people who claim to represent us?

  Most of them are white males, and their lives and backgrounds are far removed from the world most of us inhabit. Ordinary life is an unknown entity to most of our elected representatives. Across the world, more and more people are going into politics straight from university. The non-career politician is an endangered species. This leads to a loss of experience, moderation and judgement, as we are increasingly governed by people with a diminished experience of the world beyond politics. The vast majority never have to face the threat of unemployment, street violence or the struggle to pay the bills. This is not to suggest that politicians don’t care about us. But the truth is that by the time they make it to public office, they have largely forgotten what it’s like to be an ordinary citizen.

  Much of the distance between voter and elected official stems from the fact that representative democracy has come of age. As we have seen, behind the original idea of representation was the legitimate belief that only a well-trained elite group of individuals, insulated from citizens’ emotional responses, and having gained knowledge from studying and traveling the world, were capable of making the best decisions for the rest of society. While this system – often referred to as a ‘technocracy’ – might have had some logic in the past (and did indeed work for some time), in today’s society, where knowledge is largely shared and can be acquired in just a few clicks, it is outdated. Instead, by distancing actual decision-making from everyday people and delegating it to an elite group, our democratic system has helped foster disconnect between the voters – who became laymen – and the elected – who became professional politicians. As knowledge becomes steadily more democratised, very few citizens really believe that our elected representatives are experts who alone possess the wisdom and skills needed to solve problems. Not even the most charismatic leaders succeed in holding the respect of the public for any considerable length of time.

  Yet a few figures have recently managed to energise young people and engage them in democracy by taking an overtly ‘anti-establishment’ stance. Bernie Sanders in the US and Jeremy Corbyn in the UK have both galvanised young people. They are not the only ones. Four other unconventional politicians have spearheaded youth movements precisely because they reject the mould of the traditional politician.

  Jón Gnarr, Iceland

  In the wake of the financial crisis of 2008, Jón Gnarr founded The Best Party as a jokey backlash against the ruling elite in Iceland. Initially intended as political satire, the party went on to win a majority on the Reykjavik City Council in 2010 and developed into Bright Future, which now holds six seats in Iceland’s national parliament.

  Tiririca, Brazil

  With a nickname meaning ‘Grumpy’ and slogans like ‘it can’t get any worse’, Tiririca won a seat in the Brazilian Congress as a federal deputy for São Paolo on an anti-elite ticket in 2010. Raised in a very poor family in the north of the country, Tiririca was a circus clown and TV comedian before entering politics. During the election campaign, he asked voters: ‘What does a federal deputy do? Truly, I don’t know. But vote for me and I will find out for you.’

  Mhairi Black, UK

  Mhairi Black was twenty years old when she won a seat in the 2015 UK general election. The average age of a British MP is 50, making Black by far one of the youngest ever, and she was elected with a massive 27 per cent swing from the incumbent. Young, lesbian and state-educated, she certainly doesn’t fit the mould of the old, male, privately-educated politician that she and her Scottish National Party reject.

  Erin Schrode, USA

  Having co-founded an environmental non-profit at the age of thirteen, Erin also led education projects and peace-building movements early on. As a firm believer in representative (!) democracy, Erin was frustrated by the fact that 51 per cent of the US population are women and 35 per cent are under the age of 30, yet there had never been a woman under 30 elected to the United States Congress. In 2016, Erin launched a congressional campaign as a 24-year-old woman and was the youngest person ever to do so in the US. Although she lost the primaries in California, Erin gained international attention from media and politicians and forced her competitors to address the youth-relevant issues of her agenda. Erin is preparing to run in the next election cycle.

  And yet many of our elected representatives regard themselves as belonging to a different class. They live and act outside the common life. They derive their authority from elections and proximity to influential circles rather than from erudition and learning. Their alleged superiority is based on the fact they belong to a governing elite made up of corporate leaders, journalists and other influential actors who court their favours. They all go to the same parties, read the same books, send their kids to the same schools and rarely take public transport. As this circle of the happy few draws closer and closer, their distance from the rest of the world grows exponentially.

  Psychology offers some insights into why this distance exists, in particular, illustrating why politicians are increasingly unable to understand the ordinary citizen’s experience. Alarmingly, these mechanisms apply to all of us, regardless of our best intentions.40

  According to social identity theory, our attitudes and behaviour in life are determined by our sense of identification with a group (the ‘in-group’). Because they perceive themselves as part of the governing class, politicians not only take a benign view of their colleagues, but look on everyone else – ‘the out-group’, i.e. citizens – less positively. As a result, the people in power become less and less capable of empathy. Since, by definition, problem-solving requires a thorough understanding of the people affected by an issue, this is very problematic.

  How can we possibly expect politicians to solve our problems when they are not their problems? How can they grasp the consequences of their decisions on our lives?

  The condescending view they hold of the rest of us certainly doesn’t encourage us to interact with our ‘representatives’, to share our problems, keep track of their actions (or inaction) or gain a better understanding of the challenges faced by society. The growing distance between them and us instead stokes deep-seated feelings of powerlessness, detachment and even anger towards our representatives, which is at the heart of the growing lack of interest in public life. We are constantly reminded that we are ‘not in the club’. We are the out-group. We are the spectators. We’ll ad
dress how to counteract such a feeling of powerlessness in the next section of the book.

  Nobody Teaches You (to Act like a Citizen)

  ‘I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand.’

  Confucius

  From the early days of Western civilisation, dating back to Plato and Aristotle, education has been regarded as essential to the training of good citizens and the cultivation of a proper attachment to the state. It is not just about study and reflection, but also uncovering individual talent and applying it for the benefit of the whole of society. Public education therefore should not only aim to teach an individual to succeed, but also to participate in community life.41

  However, at school, hardly anybody prepares you for informed, engaged participation in public life. Most of the time, we don’t have the chance to experience what it is like to participate in the political process, in our community or in wider society. True, some of you might have had a ‘citizenship’ lesson. Done well, civic education not only teaches the civic knowledge and skills we need to keep our democracy safe, but also builds the techniques most needed in the global knowledge economy – things like effective communication, collaboration and critical thinking.

  Yet the evidence suggests that no country has managed to give its citizens enough understanding and awareness of their rights and responsibilities to adequately preserve democracy.

  Democracy is not ‘a machine that would go of itself’.42 As Alexis de Tocqueville reminded us, each new generation is a ‘new people’ who must acquire the knowledge, learn the skills and develop the right private and public temperament to underpin any constitutional democracy.