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A recurring mantra across Blue Tent’s work is that donors should give more to organizations and less to candidates. That reflects our view that elections are mainly decided by who’s voting, not who’s running — and thus, you’ll have the most impact by giving for organizing and GOTV work.
This theory of political change is not yet widely embraced among donors on the left, who overwhelmingly favor candidates over voter engagement groups. Blue Tent saw that clearly in 2022, when we offered up both candidate and GOTV giving options. The former was far more popular. Our post-election donor survey confirmed this strong preference.
Why do donors prioritize candidates? It’s hard to say, exactly, but one factor is surely perceived common sense: Elections are between people, so you support those people you want to win. Throw in the charisma of certain candidates — like a Beto O’Rourke or Stacey Abrams — and you can see why fundraising totals can soar into the stratosphere.
More concretely, there’s a widespread view that candidate qualities can make all the difference. Maybe they have a powerful message that can galvanize strong turnout by the base. Or it's thought that their race or gender will excite voters. Or they have personal characteristics that enable them to connect with disaffected or swing voters. Or they’re a brilliant campaign tactician. Whatever the case, it’s thought that strong candidates can clinch close races — or even secure electoral wins that would otherwise be out of reach.
Such logic helps explain why O’Rourke was able to raise $85 million, despite his slim chances against a red-state incumbent governor. Many donors thought that this phenomenal campaigner — appealing to progressives and moderates alike — could pull off a win.
Likewise, many believed that John Fetterman’s quirky populist appeal would put him over the top — and donors flooded him with cash. Tim Ryan’s fundraising success, to the tune of $50 million, was a variation of the same story — he was seen as a guy who could buck the odds by connecting with white working-class voters. Abrams, who objectively faced an uphill battle, pulled in over $100 million thanks to both her star power and reputation as a master organizer. Mandela Barnes — the young Black progressive senate candidate in Wisconsin — generated enthusiasm in part because it was assumed he would help drive high Black turnout, which is key to winning close races in that state.
But Ryan ended up losing in Ohio by the exact same margin Joe Biden did two years earlier, and O’Rourke and Abrams both predictably lost their races, by 11 and 9 points respectively. Barnes came very close to winning, but one reason he didn't is that Black voter turnout in Milwaukee fell to its lowest level in nearly a decade. The Fetterman case is clouded by his health issues, so it’s harder to evaluate. But it’s doubtful that Fetterman’s unique qualities account for his 5-point victory in a year where Democrats across the Great Lakes region did well and Josh Shapiro won the Pennsylvania governor’s race by 15 points. Meanwhile, one of the most lackluster candidates of the 2022 cycle — Katie Hobbs — secured that year’s hardest-won victory, flipping the Arizona governorship. Another bland politician, Tony Evers, pulled out a tough race in Wisconsin. “Boring wins,” he declared on election night.
Political scientists have heavily studied the effect of candidate quality and I won’t pretend to have mastered that literature, which can be quite technical. But my understanding of the evidence is that candidate quality only really matters when there are significant differences at play. So, for example, Doug Mastriano’s glaring weaknesses surely accounted for some portion of Shapiro’s large margin of victory.
But most political candidates are neither amazingly good nor terribly bad. More commonly, races feature competitors who are roughly matched in this department. Which means that elections are most often decided by other factors — mainly voter turnout and the overall political environment. If that’s the case, is there still a logic to giving centered on candidates?
Yes, up to a point. Campaigns and entities that support candidates like the DCCC have levers to pull to turn out voters and make the best of the political environment. They create field programs to canvas door to door, as well as do events and contact voters by text or email. They engage in polling and message testing to better understand voters. They run ads that increase candidate appeal and deflect attacks.
Plenty of close elections have been won by these tactics — and money can make a decisive difference. Democrats would probably still control the U.S. House if candidates like Jevin Hodge, Kirsten Engel and Adam Frisch were able to raise enough money for field programs. None did; all lost.
Still, political campaigns are clearly not the best vehicles for changing voting patterns in a lasting way — and especially who votes. These are short-term operations that spend many of their resources on paid media and leave little behind. They’re not set up to engage deeply with people over time, which is how to change both political beliefs and civic behavior.
Candidates and campaigns matter, for sure. But they shouldn’t be at the center of our giving. More donors than ever now understand this, helping to scale up a new generation of voter groups. But it’s still a small minority. The sooner that changes, the sooner we’ll get the kind of bigger change we all want to see.