If you're a multimillionaire financial speculator, like Mitt Romney, you don't fiddle around learning your chops on the local school board, or putting in time as a state senator. That's for people who are actually interested in public service as a career. You know, poor people. When your bank account is as fat as Romney's, you can aim straight for president, with only a minor pause as governor (of a state where you aren't legally eligible to run).
But how to make that run? Sure, Romney has the spare cash to flood the airwaves and buy hundreds of sullen sign-waving "volunteers." His run for governor already served as a definition of the politics of deep pockets.
The record for self-financers is Republican Mitt Romney, who spent $6.3 million of his own money in an eight-month period, helping himself win the governorship four years ago. His campaign was the most expensive ever, with total spending of almost $9.4 million.
But Romney has the example of his fellow multimillionaire financier, Steve Forbes, to show that when it comes to a national bid, lighting your cigars with flaming hundreds can look a little aloof. Romney, wasn't going to fall into that trap. He had a plan.
In fact, Romney's plan started before he was elected governor. Many of those who run for governorships have their eye on a higher office, but Romney viewed the governor's mansion only as a tool in his scheme, and even for a guy who had wheeled and dealed $17 billion worth of other people's money, it was an exceptionally clever scheme. Romney wouldn't waste his money buying commercials and organizing campaign stops. He wouldn't bother going after the voters. Instead, he would buy the infrastructure of a party right out from under the collective noses of the members.
Instead of tapping his own money directly, Mr. Romney embarked on an effort to leverage his personal fortune into donations to his Republican primary campaign. He spent $6 million of his own on the campaign that made him governor of Massachusetts in 2002. Then he almost immediately began parlaying his own wealth, a network of his fellow Mormons and financiers, and his fund-raising role for the Republican Governors Association, into a national operation that quietly has signed up some of the biggest supporters of President Bush. Thus, although he remains the least known of the Republican front-runners, he has already locked up some of the most important donors.
Romney didn't set out to raise funds. He bought the fund raising machine. Sure, the Bush administration has proven itself the sorriest bunch of losers who ever tried to govern something larger than a local garden club, but when it comes to fundraising and beating state Republican Parties into submission, the neocons excel.
Romney's not running for president, he's selling an investment. His candidacy is a commitment to a ruling elite, and his promise is that he can show that top 1% of 1% how to stave off any grumblings from the masses. Romney opened the floodgates of his bank account, and dazzled the insiders. After a demonstration of his ability "spend money to make money" by milking funds from a long list of pals among the money men, Republican insiders rubbed their hands in joy. He's the candidate of the money, by the money, for the money.
Mr. Romney’s financial support is deep but narrow. He amassed $20 million from fewer than 33,000 donors, according to figures disclosed by his campaign. By comparison, Mr. McCain raised $12.5 million from nearly 50,000 donors while Senator Barack Obama, Democrat of Illinois, raised $25 million from more than 100,000. Their average contributors each gave about $250; Mr. Romney’s gave more than $600.
If you've wondered why Mitt Romney can at once hold a microscopic piece of the general vote, but still win those straw polls among party organizers, stop wondering. He's sold them a pyramid scheme, bringing every skill honed in avoiding restrictions and taxes on financial investments to the idea of how a party makes money. The more you invest, the more you make, and the more you take from the rest of the country.
Democrats worry about "people powered" campaigns, but Romney promises the antithesis of that idea.
.... soon after he was elected governor of Massachusetts, Mr. Romney turned into a fund-raising machine, setting up a series of federal and state political action committees that together let individual donors give far more than the federal campaign spending limits.
What has the Republican insiders so glassy-eyed in wonder is the idea that Romney will lead them to the real promised land – one in which the elite rule unchecked, buoyed along on a sea of unrestricted dollars. They're unconcerned that his position on social issues changes with every press conference, unfazed that he has less prowess with a rifle than Elmer Fudd, undisturbed by the idea that he may not actually be a conservative (but of course, neither are the Republican insiders). None of those things matter. Romney promises more money for those who have money. That's the beginning, middle, and end of his campaign.
All they need is get the (decreasing number of) Republican voters to follow the plan.