Economist, April 20, 2011
Direct democracy

ONE HUNDRED YEARS ago Hiram Johnson, one of the most consequential governors in California’s history, called a special election. Johnson was a leader of a movement called Progressivism that reacted to America’s industrialisation by demanding women’s suffrage, direct election of United States senators (originally chosen by state legislatures) and other expansions of democracy. In this Californian election voters had to decide on three new types of balloting: referendums, recalls and initiatives. They accepted them all with enthusiasm.

And thus, in October 1911, California adopted the three tools of modern direct democracy. It was not the first state to do so. South Dakota had adopted initiatives in 1898, and Utah, Oregon, Montana, Oklahoma and other states had begun mixing their own cocktails of direct democracy from the three ingredients. Referendums, in which voters approve or reject laws already passed by a legislature, were the least radical change. Recalls, in which voters remove elected representatives and even judges in mid-term, seemed more adventurous.

Voters had to decide on three new types of balloting: referendums, recalls and initiatives. They accepted them all with enthusiasm.

But initiatives (called “propositions” in California once they are listed on an actual ballot) had the most potential to turn politics upside down. They turn voters into legislators, since a successful initiative becomes statute. In states like California, initiatives can even turn voters into founding fathers who amend the state constitution. There are worlds of nuance in the detail. The package that California chose was especially powerful.

Californians thus explicitly chose a path that diverged from the one America’s founders had taken. To understand California’s problems today, you need to know what tradition California departed from. James Madison, Alexander Hamilton and their peers, as they met for the constitutional convention in Philadelphia in 1787, had deliberately rejected direct democracy. So why did Californians second-guess them?

Deeply versed in the classics, the founders had seen ancient Athens as the main historical example of direct democracy. In that city every male adult citizen voted in the assembly and there were no distinct executive or judicial branches. But this was also the Athens that condemned Socrates to death, rashly launched a disastrous pre-emptive war against Syracuse and barely survived repeated oligarchic coups before succumbing to undemocratic Macedonia.

Greek thinkers such as Aristotle and Polybius concluded that democracy was inherently unstable because it led to mob rule (in the same way that monarchy deteriorated into tyranny and aristocracy into oligarchy). Those three elements, monarchy, aristocracy and democracy, thus had to be balanced for a state to remain free, they argued. Rome (before the emperors) became the prime example of such a mixture. It was a republic, a “public thing”, but not a democracy, a thing “ruled by the people”. It had executives (in the shape of two annually elected consuls), an elite in the senate, and outlets for the vox populi in the popular assemblies.

To this Roman ideal of republicanism the thinkers of the Enlightenment added more liberal notions of freedom. John Locke injected a rather English emphasis on property and individualism. France’s Baron de Montesquieu, a huge influence on America’s founders, celebrated the commercial aspects of liberty. He also spelled out the separation of powers between the executive, legislative and judicial branches.

Against this intellectual backdrop, much of the famous debate that took place in 1787 and 1788, as the states had to ratify the proposed new constitution, was about how indirect America’s democracy should be. Both sides showed fealty to the historical ideal by writing under Roman pen names. Madison, Hamilton and John Jay, in the Federalist Papers, wrote as Publius, one of republican Rome’s first consuls. The Anti-Federalists opposing the constitution wrote as Brutus, the other consul, or as Cato.

The Anti-Federalists made a populist case for a direct democracy in which citizens participated actively, says Thomas Pangle, a professor at the University of Texas at Austin. The Federalists considered this view naive and dangerous. The society they envisioned was to be large, diverse and commercial. Madison, in particular, worried that a majority might oppress minorities, and that elected representatives might legislate out of “passion”.

Above all, Madison understood that a large and diverse nation would necessarily have many antagonistic “minority factions”, or special interests in today’s language. He wanted to contain these interests safely within a republican structure. Yes, they should have representation. But they should all compete against one another in the House of Representatives. The resulting laws would then be filtered through the Senate and the two other branches. As George Washington memorably told Thomas Jefferson, this was to “cool” House legislation as a saucer cools hot tea.

The Federalists won the debate, and America’s constitution (though much amended) remains the most durable in existence today. It balances not only minority factions, as well as populism and elitism, but also the federal and state governments.

Californian reformers had in mind a specific enemy, against which direct democracy seemed the ideal weapon: the railroad.

Founded in 1861 as the Central Pacific and later renamed the Southern Pacific, it was soon known as “the Octopus” because its tentacles corrupted every part of the state. The Southern Pacific bribed and cajoled legislators, judges, journalists and mayors. At one point one of its founders, Leland Stanford, was governor. He appointed a co-founder’s brother, who was also the railroad’s chief counsel, to the state’s Supreme Court.

As one reporter wrote in 1896, “it didn’t matter whether a man was a Republican or Democrat. The Southern Pacific Railroad controlled both parties, and he either had to stay out of the game altogether or play it with the railroad.” This was the corruption that enraged California’s Progressives. Hiram Johnson was especially livid. He had begun as a fisticuffs prosecutor in bribery and graft trials where he won the fame that launched him into politics.

California is unique, in America and the world, in treating every successful initiative as irreversible (unless the initiative itself says otherwise). The legislature cannot change it. In effect, this makes initiatives a higher class of law. In California they often amend the constitution. A single ballot can contain directly contradictory initiatives, in which case the one with the most yes votes wins.

Direct democracy in California is thus an aberration. It has no safeguards against Madison’s tyranny of the majority. It recognises no saucer that might cool the passions of the people. Above all, it is not a system intended to contain minority factions. Instead, it encourages special interests to wage war by ballot measure until one lobby prevails and imposes its will on all. Madison and Hamilton would have been horrified.

Questions:  What flaws would James Madison see in the institutions of direct democracy?  Given California’s experience with direct democracy, do you think James Madison was right in his concerns?  Why? (Why not?)