Two weeks ago, I packed my bags and left the chill and damp of a British October for the sunshine of south Florida. I went to work on the “Ron Klein for Congress” Democratic campaign in the race for an ultra marginal Congress seat. Even in the best of times, Florida is a swing state –and in Florida District 22, an area that stretches for 70 miles from Fort Lauderdale to Juno Beach and has 400,000 or so registered voters– it is always closer than most. There are 37 per cent registered Democrats and 37 per cent registered Republicans, with the rest being independents. The mid-term elections in the United States may have less glamour than a presidential campaign, but they have greater similarity to British elections. The mid-terms involve numerous individual contests. Each contest is local and personal. Candidates have to campaign on their own records against a backdrop of national issues that are often unfavourable. That is likely to sound familiar to those used to campaigning in marginal constituencies in Britain.
The biggest single issue of America’s 2010 mid-term elections was not healthcare, security or even the economy. It was motivation – what was dubbed by many as “the enthusiasm gap”. This is the emotional gap between the previously victorious Democratic supporters and the defeated Republicans. Democratic supporters have been feeling the disaffection that comes from the reality of governing, while Republicans were fired up by the simplicity of oppositional politics and the emergence of the Tea Party movement with an attack line based on pseudo-patriotism and defence of “the American way of life”.
The result was that the enthusiasm gap became a chasm as Barack Obama struggled to define what his administration stood for while coping with an ailing economy and rising unemployment.
In Florida, the lack of motivation among Democrats was ever-present. During the week before election day, I spent time with my sister’s family doing what Americans do at this time of year: watching hockey, football and basketball and planning Halloween.
I spent time conversing with hockey moms, that all-American phenomenon. They are not “Guns and God” Americans. They are outward looking, educated and broadly liberal. South Florida is a genuine melting pot – people from across the world have come to live here. They have a saying here that if you have lived in south Florida for five years, you’re a native. Yet when I asked about the election, there was an air of resignation about them – if to say: “It’s all a screw up, but what can I do about it?” I got rather more detailed answers when I asked a question about the Miami Heat or about their son’s performance on the ice rink.
In District 22, the campaign was fought as hard as any I have seen in Britain. Volunteers flooded into the campaign offices, phone calls were made, posters were distributed and houses were visited – nearly 5,000 of them in one week. In the final three days of the campaign, 100,000 phone calls were made.
Ron Klein was out every single day: addressing a myriad of different audiences, making calls and shaking hands. He campaigned on his four-year record, which was strong and moderate. He lambasted his opponent as extreme and he promised to do even more for the people of south Florida. He defended Obama’s agenda and set out his own priorities, such as homeowner insurance reform and a drive to harness the renewable power source that is ever present in the sunshine state.
But Klein still lost. And he lost to a man who was forced to leave the military over to his conduct when questioning a prisoner and was friends with a notorious criminal biker gang.
So what do the mid-term election results tell us about the American people and what can the left in British politics learn from all this?
First, the outcome once and for all puts to bed the idea that the US Democrats have discovered a magic formula when it comes to winning elections. The hype around the Obama campaign believed by some in the labour movement fails to acknowledge that his capture of the White House was a one-off – an historic moment that, with the help of huge budgets and a massive paid army of organisers, was able to capture and mobilise the public mood. Here in south Florida, the legacy of the Obama campaign legacy is small. There was no sign of teams of community activists on the streets campaigning to keep the healthcare reforms and the progressive agenda alive.
Second, these results are indicative of the emotional nature of politics. Emotional connections and feelings can be stronger motivating forces than the best policies, strategies or plans. The target electorate and a politician have to be in tune with one another if the latter is to secure victory. The side best able to motivate its core supporters along with those may who lean in its favour is the side most likely to win.
Time and again, the likelihood to vote is closely linked to the party which succeeds in motivating people. And motivation is generated by emotional engagement, not hard policy. Even with fantastic organisation, it is hard to win a marginal contest if the national mood music is against you.
To his credit, Obama managed to connect with people in 2008. He did build a movement for change and this movement was successful, at least in electoral terms.
But now the Obama movement has achieved its goal – the election of a black, progressive president – it seems to have evaporated. It has been superseded by its polar opposite, the Tea Party movement. And there is now a similar challenge for the so-called Tea Baggers: to maintain their momentum now they have achieved a degree of electoral success.
Finally, the Florida election has taught me that the similarities between street level politics in the US and in Britain outnumber the differences. US politics is flooded with donations, campaign budgets are eye-wateringly large and consequently there are well-organised, professional campaign teams. But the legwork required to get voters to the polls is the same.
The campaign rooms I worked in at Delray Beach and Fort Lauderdale were strikingly similar to those in places such as Weymouth or Swindon. There were boxes of leaflets stacked against walls, piles of T-shirts and posters everywhere, dirty coffee cups, litter scattered across tables, volunteers and staff coming and going, a candidate pressing the flesh at every opportunity and endless phone calls being made. To a British political activist, this was home from home – but in the sun.
