This week there was
considerable fuss, first about the FCC’s proposal to repeal the net neutrality
rules, and then about the emails they received in response—in particular, those
emails that appeared to have false or temporary addresses or to have originated from Russia. This started me thinking about our communications with our
government more generally. Since we are usually communicating with our
legislators about bills (rather than sending comments to the FCC), I’m just
going to talk about that.
The point of communicating
with your congressperson is to influence his/her decisions and change his/her
behavior. There are three ways a communication (letter/email/call/visit) could
do this.
(1) The content of the
communication could be reasons for or against the bill in question.
(2) People’s communications
could arrive in such profusion that it causes chaos and makes it impossible for
the legislator to ignore the fact that people are concerned about the bill, and
maybe also impossible to conduct the rest of his/her business.
(3) The communications
could give evidence of grassroots opinions—that many people are very concerned
about the bill.
The first possibility,
that the communications will give the legislator reasons to change his/her
mind, seems fairly unlikely. Probably by that point, he/she has already heard
most of the reasons given by both sides, has made up his/her mind to some
degree, and isn’t likely to even see, let alone be influenced by, any single
communication. (Other people are opening the mail and answering the phone
anyway, especially if the legislator is getting tons of mail and phone calls.)
Still, that doesn’t mean the communication doesn’t need to offer any reasons.
If nothing else, it will give the office workers who tally people’s positions a
general sense of people’s reasons.
The second possibility,
that the sheer volume of communications is what matters, suggests that politics
is a matter of beating your legislator into submission, which is a pretty
cynical view of things, though maybe with a grain of truth to it. Maybe we want
the letters to be disruptive enough to get the legislator’s attention, but
surely not so much that it prevents him/her from doing other useful things, or
thinking about other forthcoming
bills. Otherwise legislators won’t be able to do anything most of the time, and
why would we want that?
The third possibility
seems the strongest. If lots of people hold a particular opinion on a bill and
hold it very strongly, then not only
should the legislator, as representative, be concerned about representing their
view, but the legislator’s vote on the bill could have an effect on his/her
chances of re-election. And that’s a powerful motivator.
How much is his/her vote
on the bill likely to affect his/her re-election? Well, how many people are for
it, and how strongly do they feel? Both matter. If lots of people support the
bill but only lukewarmly, the legislator could probably get away with voting
against it. If only a few people support it, it doesn’t matter how much they care, they still only have
a few votes to give.
So what kind of evidence
do the various forms of communication give of these things? Long ago, when I
was an intern in Congressman Whitehurst’s office*, I was given the relatively
unimportant job of looking up the addresses of people who had signed their
names to form postcards. Form postcards were, I think, supplied by political
organizations and probably dropped off by them as well—I don’t think the
individuals who signed the cards had to actually mail the cards themselves. But
they did have to sign their names and maybe give their town. I was to look up
the full addresses so the office could send them a form letter in response.
Remember, this was before most people had personal
computers, and well before there was
a world wide web. No cutting and pasting letters (except in the very literal
sense) and no email. So there were form postcards, regular letters, phone calls
(long distance was still expensive), and personal visits. Form postcards were
the least important, because they took the least effort and expense on the part
of the sender.
Now emails make
communicating with your legislator easier, but as this week’s kerfuffle makes
clear, there is the problem of knowing whether the email represents a
particular individual, or if it has been sent by a bot, or if one individual or
sneaky organization has sent many emails, and whether the sender is even an
American and eligible to vote.
On top of that, emails
can be sent with very little effort, especially if they are pre-written and
addressed by an organization, so that the individual has only to enter his or
her email address and click a button. So the emails don’t do a good job of
showing just how much the sender
cares about the issue. Is this a make-it or break-it issue for them, or just
one among many concerns?
So I’m sending the FCC
chairman and commissioners hand-written letters that will arrive with my local
postmark on them. I doubt hand-written letters are a solution long-term. If
people take to writing their letters by hand, some sneaky group may find a way
to fake them. On the other hand, it costs 49 cents apiece to mail them, so maybe
no organization will find it worth the money.
On reflection, I should have sent a single letter to the FCC in general. |
Till next post.
*I was politically
apathetic in high school, but we were required to intern in a congressional office
junior year. I had no idea where to start, so I took the suggestion of the
program director and asked to intern in G. William Whitehurst’s office. They
were lovely people, but I don’t remember ever actually trying to find out what their
positions on any issues were. I’m not sure what most of the issues of the day
even were, other than nuclear arms
policies. I find it funny now, to think that I, who even then counted myself at
least vaguely a Democrat, did my internship in a Republican’s office. I really
had no idea what I was about. Fortunately, they were very patient.
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