The Rise and Fall of the Parties

Our perceptions of current events are so conditioned by the 24/7 news cycle that we are wont to think of political time in tiny increments. For instance, Barack Obama is up in the polls over the last few weeks, so he is “winning,” in some ephemeral sense. Congressional Republicans are struggling to coordinate on issues like immigration and abortion, so they are “losing.”

But we can take a broader view, much as economists do with the economy. There are the weekly reports on unemployment claims, noisy data that give some sense of the ups-and-downs of the private sector. Then there are monthly jobs data, as well as quarterly GDP results. Finally, economists can get a sense of where we are over the course of years in the broader business cycle. Such a big picture view is also possible in politics. Though it is easy to miss amid the relentless tweeting and cable news chatter, the long view can still be quite illuminating.

Think of a political cycle as akin to a business cycle—dating it from the moment a party acquires the White House to the moment it concedes the presidency to the opposition. Such political cycles are almost embedded by design in our two-party system with quadrennial elections. And since the end of World War II, each has had quite a bit in common with the others.

In the postwar era, political cycles have often mimicked the actual business cycle. More often than not, when a recession occurs, the voters respond by handing power to the opposition. Something like this happened in 1960, when back-to-back recessions helped John F. Kennedy narrowly edge Richard Nixon. A nasty recession in the mid-1970s, combined with the Watergate scandal, helped Jimmy Carter defeat Gerald Ford in 1976; another recession aided Ronald Reagan four years later. Bill Clinton’s slogan “It’s the economy, stupid” would have been stupid indeed were it not for the recession of 1990-91. And of course the 2008 contest might have been a very different affair were it not for the recession and financial panic that fall.

The overlap is not 100 percent. In 1972 Nixon was overwhelmingly reelected despite a (relatively mild) recession on his watch in 1970. There was a particularly nasty recession at the start of Ronald Reagan’s first term, but it was followed by such a dramatic recovery that he too won a huge reelection. George W. Bush entered office in recessionary conditions, followed by a prolonged “jobless recovery,” yet still won in 2004. Furthermore, sustained growth is no guarantee a party will retain power. There was no recession in 1968 when Nixon defeated Hubert Humphrey, nor was there a contraction in 2000 when George W. Bush defeated Al Gore.

This partly explains why Republicans feel bullish about 2016. One does not need a recession for power to transfer from one party to the other. More often than not a party’s hold on the White House expires after eight years. Since FDR and Truman, only once, in 1988, did a political party retain power for three straight terms. And 1988 was really an extraordinary confluence of good luck for the incumbent party. The nation’s economy quickly sloughed off the Wall Street downturn of 1987 to post an impressive growth rate of 4.2 percent. Tensions with the Soviets had largely waned. The Iran-contra scandal did not come close to damaging the reputation of George H. W. Bush, who ran a competent campaign. And the Democrats nominated a cold fish in Michael Dukakis.

What makes political cycles especially interesting, and adds a wrinkle to the foregoing analysis, is the electorate’s relentless hedging of its bet on the majority party. Almost as soon as a new president is elected, the defeated opposition starts down the comeback trail—in Congress, as well as in governors’ mansions and state legislatures all across the country. Not always, of course, but the pattern is clear.

Sean Trende and David Byler of Real Clear Politics have produced an interesting metric of party strength, combining the standing of each party in the White House, Congress, governorships, and state legislatures. Their data indicate that there have been seven full political cycles in the postwar era (from Eisenhower to George W. Bush). In five of them, the dominant party’s first White House victory was its high-water mark. In the other two, it was the reelection four years later. After that, the opposition party began improving, often substantially.

So voters hedge—quite aggressively. This makes intuitive sense, at least when we think about the narrow 15 percent of the country that swings elections. Suppose you are a low-information voter in the middle of the electorate. You are unclear about the details of the major party’s policy programs, let alone whether their ideas will have the promised effects. Arguably, the smart move is to force the president to deal with the opposition party by electing the latter to as many subpresidential offices as possible. That way, at least in theory, you can keep policy from going wildly off the rails. Maybe—as with the budgetary and tax compromises in the 1980s and 1990s—you can actually force Washington to get some stuff done.

What Democrats need to worry about is that the hedging does not really stop. No political party in the postwar era has improved its standing after its first presidential reelection, at least not until after it loses the White House. And in the one postwar instance of a party holding the White House for a third consecutive term (1988), Republicans were still left slightly worse off across all subpresidential offices. The GOP held the White House that year, kept the same number of Senate seats, and picked up a few House seats. But the party lost two governorships and multiple state legislative seats.

Past performance is no guarantee of future results, but the inference is straightforward: For a political party to relive its old glories, it has to lose the presidency. It has to become the party that voters use as a hedge, rather than the party they hedge against.

Another interesting observation from Trende and Byler’s data is that, contrary to proponents of the “Emerging Democratic Majority” thesis, which holds that a coalition of the “ascendant” will drive ever-larger Democratic margins, there has been a trend toward the GOP over the last 30 years. Beyond the ebbs and flows of the cycles, the GOP has been steadily improving its national standing. Its low points in each political cycle are not as low as they used to be, and its high points are higher.

Consider the most recent low, in 2008. Per Trende and Byler, the GOP was still in a slightly stronger position in 2008 than it was after its 1992 rout. And it was substantially improved relative to 1978, 1976, 1964, 1962, and 1960. In fact, the GOP’s net standing in 2008 was similar to 1966, which is remembered as a comeback year for the Republican party.

Meanwhile, the party’s highs are getting higher. Across all subpresidential offices, the GOP today holds a greater share of power than at any time since 1928. And no other cycle in the postwar era comes close to 2014 in terms of Republican subpresidential strength—not in Congress and certainly not in the state capitals. Below the White House, the GOP’s current standing rivals historical blowouts like 1928, 1894, and 1860.

Remember all this next time you read an article about how the Democrats are on the rise. The reality is that the transfer of power in 2008 was entirely predictable, given the economic downturn and the fact that the GOP had already controlled the White House for eight years. Meanwhile, Barack Obama’s high-water mark—a seven-point victory over John McCain—was less than the high points for Eisenhower, Kennedy/Johnson, Nixon/Ford, Reagan, and Clinton. Moreover, Obama’s presidential victory has led to a GOP resurgence in lower offices on a scale that only octogenarians have ever seen before. 

We are now in the seventh year of a Democratic cycle. So what is the Democrats’ best case scenario? While there is never a guarantee, a Democratic presidential victory in 2016 might facilitate some gains down-ballot, but these would likely be muted. Although it is quite possible that the Senate could return to the Democrats, it would be quite unlikely for them to win the 29 House seats needed to reclaim a majority in the lower chamber. Moreover, most governorships will not be up for grabs. While gains in state legislative seats would probably follow for Democrats, it is unlikely that they would come in large numbers.

Flash forward two more years, to 2018, and Democrats would still face the voters’ relentless impulse to hedge—which would probably facilitate Republican gains. Given the landscape in the Senate in 2018—where Democrats will have to defend a mind-boggling 25 of 33 seats—Democratic losses could be substantial in the upper chamber.

And there remains the specter of a recession. Economists are not projecting a downturn in 2015 or 2016. (As late as September 2008, economists polled by the Wall Street Journal still thought that the economy would grow at a 1.5 percent rate that year!) But a recession will come sooner or later. If the past is a guide, we are probably closer to the start of the next recession than we are to the end of the last one. What will Democrats do if they hold the White House during the next economic downturn?

The answer is simple: They will lose.

Like death and taxes, political parties with a grip on the White House eventually give it up. If it does not happen because of war, scandal, or a general desire for change, the inevitable turning of the business cycle will bring it about.

So where do things stand now? The Democrats have been routed on the subpresidential level, leaving them in as weak a position as they have faced in generations. Worse, they probably cannot start seriously rebuilding until they cede the White House to the GOP, which by then will probably sport historically strong margins in the subpresidential offices.

 

Note that very little of this has to do with the triumph of conservatism over liberalism or vice versa. Voters tend to toss incumbent parties out of the White House when the economy sours, and prior to that point they tend to favor the opposition for the rest of the electoral offices. These forces combined to rout the GOP in 2008. It is now the Democrats’ turn to worry about their inevitable fall from grace. Maybe they can delay it past 2016, but it is coming.

 

Jay Cost is a staff writer at The Weekly Standard. His new book, A Republic No More: Big Government and the Rise of American Political Corruption, is forthcoming from Encounter Books.

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