David M. Primo is associate professor of political science and business administration at the University of Rochester. He is the author of Full Disclosure: How Campaign Finance Laws Fail to Inform Voters and Stifle Public Debate.
This past election when Dina Galassini emailed some friends urging them to join her in opposing a ballot initiative proposing $30 million in bonds for the town of Fountain Hills, Ariz., she thought she was doing what Americans have done throughout our nation’s history—speaking out on matters of public concern. Instead, she received a letter from a town clerk strongly urging her to “cease any campaign related activities.” It turns out she failed to fill out the paperwork required by Arizona’s campaign finance laws and therefore didn’t have the government’s permission to speak.
Under Arizona law, as in most states, anytime two or more people work together to support or oppose a ballot issue, they become a “political committee.” Even before they speak, they must register with the state, and then they must track every penny they spend, and if spending more than a small amount, fill out complicated reports detailing every move.
The Fountain Hills election went forward in November, but thanks to Arizona law, most voters made their choices without having heard Dina’s views. Only a last-minute intervention from a federal court freed her to speak in the final five days of the election, which ultimately helped her to defeat the bond issue.
Supporters of “disclosure” laws like these say that more information is better. When voters know which interests financially support a candidate or ballot issue campaign, the theory goes, they are better equipped to make a good voting decision. For example, if Jones dislikes oil companies and disclosure reveals that oil companies have spent $1 million to oppose a ballot issue, this gives Jones a cue that he should vote for it.
I put this “informational interest” to the test in a recent experiment with more than 1,000 registered voters in Florida. Participants were randomly assigned to three groups: one received only the text of a hypothetical ballot issue, while the second and third groups could also access a voter guide, campaign ads and newspaper articles about the ballot issue, but only the third group could access newspaper articles with disclosure information. It was up to participants to decide which sources, if any, to view before voting.
The first striking finding was how little interest voters showed in disclosure information. Among the third group, the two articles with contribution information were the least viewed. Indeed, the article titled “Elite Donors Fuel Ballot Initiatives” was the single least popular item.
The second striking finding was how little disclosure affected voters’ understanding of interest groups’ positions on an issue. I asked all participants to identify where particular interest groups (all mentioned in at least one of the sources) stood on the issue. If reformers are correct, those who viewed disclosure information ought to have fared better.
But this is not what happened. After taking into account all the sources viewed by participants, reading disclosure-related newspaper articles made virtually no difference in their ability to identify where interest groups stood.
This is a critical blow to the disclosure argument. If voters know just as much about interest group positions without disclosure as with, then the “informational interest” is nil.
This should not be surprising, given the wealth of information available about elections. Voters have plenty of cues even without disclosure. Most interest groups, like the Sierra Club and National Rifle Association, work hard to make sure voters are aware of their views. Knowing just one of these groups’ well-publicized positions can provide voters with all of the cues they need to vote in line with their preferences.
In short, more information—specifically, government-mandated information—isn’t necessarily better. Moreover, it comes at a cost. The complex reporting requirements are onerous, especially for average citizens. Economist Jeffrey Milyo asked 255 people to fill out real ballot issue disclosure forms; not one did so correctly. In the real world, these violators would be exposed to lawsuits, fines and attacks from political opponents. In fact, a Florida Elections Commission official testified that 98 percent of the campaign-finance complaints received by his office are politically motivated.
Second, there is a “fear factor” associated with disclosure. Research by Dr. Dick Carpenter of the Institute for Justice finds that voters favor disclosure laws in the abstract, but oppose the release of their own information as a consequence of political giving, desiring privacy and fearing reprisals.
By tying up speakers in red tape and intimidating would-be contributors, disclosure depresses political participation—with very little benefit. Nonetheless, campaign-finance reformers frustrated by the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision have trumpeted increased disclosure of political spending in response. But if campaign-finance reformers really wanted to improve democracy and not just score political points, they would start by removing most existing disclosure requirements, not by creating new ones.
David M. Primo is associate professor of political science and business administration at the University of Rochester and author of Full Disclosure: How Campaign Finance Laws Fail to Inform Voters and Stifle Public Debate, available at www.ij.org.
