Barriers to entry

The excitement Sen. Bernie Sanders generated among young voters during his runs for president flew in the face of his age. He was already in his mid-seventies and not even a Boomer. He grew a sizeable, enthusiastic following nonetheless and drew younger people into politics more than most Democratic candidates.

Now 79, Sanders joins President Joe Biden (78) and octogenarians House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (80), Majority Whip Jim Clyburn (80), Majority Leader Steny Hoyer (81) as part of America’s unique gerontocracy in Eve Peyser’s essay in New York (although Sanders goes unmentioned). Senators Dianne Feinstein and Chuck Grassley, Peyser adds, as well as Alaska’s lone representative Don Young, are 87.

Feinstein, Jane Mayer’s sources tell her, suffers from significant short-term memory loss. Republican Sen. Strom Thurmond’s was so notorious in South Carolina by his late-80s (I was told) he was said to have introduced himself to one of his sons at an event. During the Clinton impeachment, a reporter recounted Thurmond (96) mistaking him for an aide outside a hearing room and taking his arm as his escort “to the toilee.”

Peyser writes:

If you’re starting to get the feeling that the country is governed as a gerontocracy, you are correct. People over 50 make up 34 percent of the U.S. population, but 52 percent of the electorate, according to Pew. And it’s not only political power that baby-boomers and the Silent Generation have a tight grip on: Americans over 55 own two-thirds of the wealth in this country.

The money it takes to run for office is a key part of the equation. Having a network of acquaintances with sufficient funding to kick-start your campaign is not as easy for politicians in their 30s.

Young people face more barriers when it comes to running for office than old people do. “There is a finite amount of people who can credibly run for Congress,” said Amanda Litman, the co-founder of Run for Something, an organization that supports people under 40 running for political office. “You need the money, the political skills, the network … When you are older, your network has more money.” Voters in national elections skew older, and the more local the election gets, the older the voter tends to be. In a municipal election, the median voter age is 57. Ross Morales Rocketto, the organization’s other co-founder, said their candidates said “the area of identity where the most folks said that they faced discrimination was age,” despite heavy representation of women, people of color, and LGBTQ people.

The problem is worse for later generations than for Boomers born into an economy that allowed them to accumulate wealth earlier in life.

Not having enough millennials and Gen-Zers, or even Gen-Xers, at the table isn’t only worrisome because it’s unfair or because of senility concerns. It threatens the very future of the nation. Because a gerontocratic government is a government that doesn’t represent all its citizens; it’s a government that doesn’t feel very democratic at all. According to a Pew survey, in 2018, the most common age for all Americans was 27, while the most common age for white Americans was an astounding 58. Overrepresentation of older folks both in Congress and the voter registries points to just how overrepresented white interests are in the U.S. Beyond age, the rules we have in place — from gerrymandering to Citizens United to the existence of the electoral college and U.S. Senate — ensure that the government does not accurately represent the increasingly racially diverse populace. (If our lawmakers were in touch with what the people actually wanted, the minimum wage would be $15/hour already.)

Older leaders such as Biden may have a wealth of legislative experience but may lack the life experience to address problems more contemporary than they are. Recall Alaska Republican Sen. Ted Stevens (then 82) describing the internet as “a series of tubes” in 2006. Or Joe Biden urging parents to “have the record player on at night” for their kids.

Peyser adds:

This isn’t happening everywhere. Contemporary gerontocracy, it appears, is a distinctly American problem. “If you look at other countries, they’re not similarly controlled by older politicians. I think that the explanation here is the two-party system,” Munger said. “[A multiparty system gets] young people involved in politics, voting, organizing, running things, organizational politics, [which] means that they are able to start accumulating institutional power.” The two parties of the United States, on the other hand, are staunchly controlled by older generations.

Before things get better, they will get worse. “We have not yet reached the peak of boomer culture. We’re going to see the highest number of people turning 65 in U.S. history in 2023,” Munger said. “The long-run perspective is good. The long run is actually 20, 30 years. Generational replacement will happen.” In other words, things will change, but only after the baby-boomer generation literally dies.

Having the wherewithal to reach for political office requires the financial and family flexibility to do so. And as much as candidate viability is about money, there are exceptions. “The Squad,” for example. Yet some of the limited access younger people have to leadership roles is entrenched leaders not knowing when it is time to retire to make way for the young. A political party’s long-term health depends on it.

Attend Democratic Party meetings and count the few number of younger faces. Many are retired or have the flexibility others lack to pursue this “hobby.” With notable exceptions, the culture of political parties tends to reward longevity before talent. Longevity builds trust. Trust draws supporters. Support draws money. And money, the saying goes, is the mother’s milk of politics.

But longevity itself can be toxic, as I wrote before:

Young politicos jump into the game … to pursue a passion. They begin as Young Democrats and interns. They cannot wait to attend political functions and rub elbows with high-profile elected officials. They angle for selfies with the “poohbahs,” as one friend put it, and can’t wait to get the pictures up on Facebook to show family and friends just how connected they are. Perhaps they graduate to a legislative assistant position for some state representative or senator. They transition to employment with another one. Or perhaps, even to a permanent position with a committee in the legislature or Congress.

By the time they decide to run for office themselves, they have an established network of party friends, colleagues, and former employers with endorsements and fundraising lists to kick off their first campaign. Unless a party insider smoother, better looking, or better connected enters the race, they become their party’s default candidate right out of the gate. As a known quantity and trusted, they are already an establishment candidate and haven’t seen the first dollar of PAC or lobbyist money. Although this is not true of everyone, the need to maintain those professional relationships and a team-player image limits the range of policies they can entertain.

It’s not that they are not nice people with progressive leanings. It is just that, as budding political careerists looking to turn their passion for politics into a profession that pays the bills … their political judgments are colored by a desire to pursue their next professional leg up.

Political culture often resembles a fraternity.

So how to change that? How to maintain valuable institutional knowledge while growing new talent with the right skills and experience to meet the times? Abrupt change is not necessarily positive change. Donald J. Trump arrived on a wave of “throw out the bums” sentiment.

Peyser suggests:

The most obvious way to do this would be to diversify our voter ranks by passing laws that make voting more accessible to everybody, and young people in particular, who tend to move around more than older generations. (Since young people are statistically more ethnically diverse than older folks, passing laws that make voting easier for younger folks would also benefit POC communities across the board.) “If we want to change anything about who participates in democracy,” Kiesa said, “young people [need to see civic] opportunities that they find meaningful, accessible, and even visible. Democratic participation is learned. Whatever happens with early generations is going to sustain us for decades to come.”

The cultural problem and the money hurdles will remain stubborn barriers to entry.