U.S. votes, Brexit reveal problems from overuse of referendums

Gordon L. Weil

The 2016 presidential vote and Brexit have something in common. In both cases, many voters found the result was much different than their expectations.

In recent months, the British Parliament has been grappling with putting into effect the closely decided referendum vote to leave the European Union. It proved easier to say "Leave" than finding a way to do it.

The main problem is Northern Ireland, a part of the United Kingdom. Leaving the E.U. means either it will have a new border with the country of Ireland or one with the rest of the U.K. It has neither now. Nobody has come up with a solution to avoid one or the other.

This issue has disastrously complicated the "Leave" decision. Faced with uncertainty, major parts of the U.K. economy are departing for the E.U. They cannot accept the situation and assume the worst. Confusion reigns.

Resolving the issues created by the "Leave" vote has been left to Parliament, which cannot agree on any course of action except delay. The result is political chaos.

The Brexit crisis is the result of using a popular referendum in a country having little experience with direct democracy – decision-making by the people rather than by their legislative representatives. Perhaps the most national voting experience many people had was the Eurovision Song Contest.

In the U.S., Donald Trump's election was the American version of a national referendum, and he got four years at the helm. Not only did he win the presidency without a majority of the popular vote, but he has stirred deep concerns about his leadership on matters ranging from race to trade.

The safety valve on this national vote has always been the election of the House of Representatives. The people get to express their political opinion midway through a presidential term. If they dislike the results of the presidential election, they may elect an opposition House.

That's why the entire House is elected every two years while senators, members of a body designed to slow change, are elected for six-year terms. The House can become the short-term monitor of the president. The Democrats, newly in control, are trying to slow Trump down.

There are two solutions for dealing with the complicated consequences of a referendum.

One is used in Switzerland where voters participate in national referendums as often as four times a year. The issues are usually narrow and specific, and their votes make laws that can be immediately applied.

The other approach is to allow the legislative body to complete or even modify referendum results. There are 23 states, including Maine, that authorize referendums initiated by voters, while 49 allow legislatures to put questions before the voters.

State legislatures can deal with trying the fulfill voters' decisions that cannot go directly into law. In Maine, when a vote authorizes action without providing necessary funding, the Legislature regains control. The 2004 vote on school funding has not gone into effect, because it might force an increase in state taxes.

A possible reform proposed for referendums would be to require a super-majority for passage. If, say, 60 percent of voters were needed, legislatures would be more likely to find ways of fulfilling the will of the people. Another suggestion is that the number of signatures to initiate a referendum could be increased.

The problem in the U.K. undoubtedly arose out of the lack of familiarity with direct democracy. The error was using a referendum. After the vote, the British Government mistakenly tried to keep Parliament out of the "Leave" process. It did not succeed.

In the U.S., Trump won in one of the four presidential elections since 1824 in which another candidate got more votes. Despite having won only a minority popular victory, he has sought to make huge changes in American policy. The House can block some of his moves, but Congress has given presidents great, unchecked powers.

Some House members propose impeachment, implying that it can be used for policy reasons, as in the past. Both of the earlier times it was tried amounted to a pure politics, and it failed.

Direct democracy works on a small scale, as in Switzerland. The New England town meeting system succeeds, though with low participation. But referendums are beginning to show defects, especially in mass democracies like the U.S. and the U.K.

Elected legislators need to exercise their powers. The British Parliament could have dealt better with E.U. issues by itself without first holding a referendum. Congress should cease delegating its powers to presidents and recover its constitutional authority.

Moderates count little in partisan world; voters harbor unrealistic hopes

Many voters consider themselves to be political moderates, not partisans on the right or left. To appeal for their votes, candidates claim they can "work across the aisle."

But do voters really favor political leaders who will sometimes vote in line with their wishes and sometimes against them? Is it possible to be a moderate politician, if the "aisle" turns out to be a canyon?

Moderate politics may be one of the grand myths of American politics and more wishful thinking by voters than reality.

A moderate might propose solutions to political issues that yield some satisfaction to each side, but also some dissatisfaction. Compromise might be acceptable, because everybody wins something, just not everything, they sought.

That kind of moderation is only possible if both sides are willing to give some ground. If one side insists on full acceptance of its demands, a moderate politician will fail. In Congress, the extremes of both parties show little willingness to accept anything less than complete victory.

The ideological wings of both parties now have enough seats to block compromise. Though still occasionally possible, it is unusual.

More often, what voters mean by "moderate" is the politician who generally supports their party but may sometimes split with it on key votes. Such a moderate may act independently when responding to their constituents or adhering to a personal principle when they resist party discipline. They may do so, especially if they don't tip the balance.

Some voters believe that on issues mattering a lot to them, the office holder can be counted on to split with their party. When that does not happen, the moderate can quickly be scorned as a mere partisan.

Take the case of Sen. Susan Collins. She provided one of the key votes that saved the Affordable Care Act and opposed some major Trump appointments. She has been considered to be a rare GOP moderate and most likely that is how she sees herself.

Then she voted with her party to confirm Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court. Everything changed. In the eyes of Kavanaugh's opponents, Collins became a loyal Trump supporter, though she had not supported him for president and had routinely backed presidential Supreme Court nominees.

Collins' situation is complicated by Sen. Mitch McConnell, her Republican leader in the Senate. As a member of his party, she inevitably votes to retain him as her Senate leader. But McConnell does not see some major issues as she does.

She is then exposed to his obvious willingness to back Trump and his strict discipline in the Senate, blocking many votes that might embarrass GOP senators. He usually bars compromises, insisting on his way or nothing. Collins may have to go along with him so she can get good Senate committee assignments, which he doles out.

McConnell initially expressed concern about President Trump's declaration of a national emergency to fund the Wall. But when Trump insisted, he changed position without hesitation. Collins had been among Republican senators opposed to the declaration. McConnell simply ignored them. She stuck to her opposition.

Does that make her a moderate? Now set against her, some voters disappointed by her Kavanaugh vote said her latest position was a sham, because she could count on Trump successfully vetoing the resolution disapproving his declaration. Had she supported Trump, she would also have been condemned.

Perhaps this case showed there's no room for moderates in American politics. They cannot create compromises, and independent-minded moderates cannot satisfy some voters unless they act like they belong to the other party. Then, of course, they would not be moderates.

It may also show that voters who say they want moderate politics are either chasing a political ghost or badly missing the excessively partisan nature of today's politics.

Suppose a majority of Maine voters had opposed Kavanaugh and believed his appointment would be the single most important issue before the Senate. By voting for Collins, they had given McConnell great power to steer the Kavanaugh vote.

Of course, that kind of foresight by voters is impossible. We cannot predict what votes or nominees are coming and if a senator will break party discipline on a critical issue – even if the senator is a moderate.

Politicians, even moderates, do not often split from their party. If voters want politicians who will reliably vote in favor of their positions, they may have a better chance if they choose between the parties.

In this age of extreme partisanship, more certainty may only come from voting as a partisan, not as a moderate.

Direct election of president expected, despite bitter opposition

The country has found a politician who is honest, speaking the truth as he sees it, no matter the consequences. Paul LePage, the former Republican governor of Maine, has spoken out against the proposal for popular election of the president of the United States.

"It saddens me that we're willing to take everything we stand for and throw it away," LePage said. "It's only going to be the minorities who would elect." He continued, "White people will not have anything to say."

Two of the last three presidents, including Trump, won the electoral vote while losing the popular vote. That has given a big push to the proposal of having presidents elected by a majority of American voters.

LePage has said, "I was Donald Trump before Donald Trump became popular." We are "one of the same cloth," he said, inviting his listeners to accept him as an authentic supporter of the president's views.

Unfortunately, the issue has become partisan. Five times, the U.S. has elected a president supported by only a minority of voters. All of the losers were Democrats. Not surprisingly, the GOP opposes the national popular vote proposal.

Many Republicans seek to suppress the influence of "minority" voters, allowing white voters to continue to dominate the political process. Electoral voting goes along with gerrymandering and measures making it more difficult to register or vote.

These policies amount to a rearguard action to slow the inevitability that the "minority" – mainly African Americans, Hispanics, Asians and American Indians – will soon constitute the majority of the population.

The proposal before Maine and the country is that states will instruct their presidential electors to vote for the candidate who has won the popular vote nationally. When states with 270 electoral votes, a majority, support this approach, it can come into effect. Right now, less than 100 more electoral votes are needed.

One complaint about the proposal is that Maine, a small state, will lose influence. The electoral vote gives Maine 74/100 of one percent of national voting power. The national popular vote, based on the 2016 election, would give Maine 56/100 of one percent. Maine's above-average voter turnout would allow it to retain its modest influence.

We expect every voter to have equal weight in the democratic process – one person, one vote. Without the national popular vote, a Wyoming voter has almost four times the influence of a California voter and counts somewhat more than a Maine voter.

In both the 2000 and 2016 elections, Maine voted with the popular majority only to see the loser in the state gain the presidency. The same was true for California, New York and other states, which could not have seemed fair to their majorities. In Maine, despite LePage's worries, the majority was obviously mostly white people.

In 1787, when the Constitution was drafted, the Framers showed mistrust of democracy, which they limited to the House of Representatives. States retained much power. Each one, no matter its size, got three automatic seats in Congress – two in the Senate and one in the House. The size of a state's congressional delegation determines its electoral vote.

Since then, popular democracy has risen. The Senate is elected by popular vote, not by state legislatures as it was originally. Women, African Americans and younger people have been added to the original corps of white men. National media and a national economy have grown, engaging citizens across the country.

Under the Constitution, each presidential election is actually 51 separate elections – the 50 states and D.C. Maine, with its split electoral vote system, shows that states can act independently in deciding how their electoral votes will be determined. That is what is now happening.

Jurisdictions with a majority of electoral votes can decide that the state will allocate its votes to a national winner. There are now enough states that have seen their majorities overruled by a popular minority to provide the necessary 270 votes to make the change. There's no need to amend the Constitution.

Whatever Maine does, the national popular vote is inevitable. Presidential campaigns are national, ignoring state lines. Healthcare, federal taxes, immigration, individual rights, and the economy are addressed nationally not state-by-state by presidential candidates.

The Republican Party needs to extend its appeal to a broader constituency rather then trying to suppress the vote of non-white ethnic groups. It must see that its policies to discourage voting by new participants in the political process are not good for the party or for the country.