Opinion: How cheap are Iowans?
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There’s a story about the Des Moines family that goes on vacation to historic Boston where, waiting in a restaurant line, they begin conversing with a local couple. ‘Where do you live?’ asks the Boston woman.
‘We live in Iowa,’ replies the vacationing wife.
‘Well,’ says the Boston woman, ‘in the Northeast we pronounce it Ohio.’
Today, everyone in the political world is clearly pronouncing it Iowa, the I-state not famous for potatoes, which every four years gets its unearned moment of glory in the spotlight as the first -- and certainly one of the least representative -- states to vote early on presidential nominees.
Iowa has nearly 3 million by-and-large neighborly residents, although there are some grumps around Ames and Davenport. Despite the impression you’ll get from tonight’s TV coverage, barely 7% of Iowans will participate in tonight’s arcane caucus process, a Rube Goldberg mechanism that resembles an endless PTA meeting without the homemade cookies. Many suspect the purpose of locking caucus doors is not really to keep latecomers out.
Iowans, especially the TV stations that reap millions of out-of-state ad dollars and the downtown Des Moines Marriott, which will close this weekend until the next caucus season begins in three years, really enjoy the quadrennial caucus process and their moment ...
... in the national sun. Would-be national leaders troop through Iowa for months, shaking hands, talking earnestly and (unless their name is John McCain), agreeing about the fundamental importance to humanity of ethanol.
Iowans get the impression from all this that they matter in the national picture beyond being a place that houses more hogs than humans. Tomorrow morning about 6 a.m., Iowa’s importance will evaporate. The visitors in their new winter coats will flee, thinking New Hampshire is better. And for another nearly four years, Iowa will become a place where people watch movies at 37,000 feet while they fly over.
But here’s a little-known fact about Iowans and politics: They are among the cheapest participants in the entire American political process. That’s right. For all the attention we have to pay Iowa for these long months but just a few more hours, Iowans donate very little of their own money to presidential candidates.
According to the Federal Election Commission website, as of Sept. 30 Iowans had donated a whopping $834,417 to presidential candidates. That works out to about 28 cents per Iowan. Even Wyoming’s lonely population chips in about $1 apiece to the democratic process.
Wisconsinites next door have given $1,599,921 to presidential candidates, Minnesotans $1.9 million, Nevadans nearly $3 million, Texans $21 million, Arizonans $5.5 million, Oregonians $1.5 million and Washingtonians $3.7 million. Even Idahoans, the I-state that isn’t famous for corn and humidity, dropped $14,000 more into the presidential kitty than Iowans.
New Yorkers, who have a rooting interest because they’ve produced two leading White House candidates in Rudy Giuliani and Hillary Clinton, have donated $48.9 million to presidential campaigns. And (Duncan Hunter aside) Californians, who would run for the presidency if they didn’t have to leave California, have poured the most cash into these endless presidential races -- $51.2 million. That’s about $1.42 apiece.
To be fair, we must point out that Iowans are not the stingiest American presidential campaign donors. That dubious distinction falls to North Dakotans, who had a couple of statewide bake sales and chipped in a whole $57,613. You heard about the North Dakota businessman who needed to fly to Minneapolis. But when he was driving to his flight and reached the main intersection, the sign said: ‘Airport Left.’
So he turned around and went home.
-- Andrew Malcolm