Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics Spring 2020 by psajournalou

Vol. XX No. 1

Spring 2020

PI SIGMA ALPHA

Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Oakland University

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

The Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics (ISSN 1556-2034) is published biannually by the Nu Omega Chapter of Pi Sigma Alpha, Oakland University, Department of Political Science, Varner Hall, Room 418, 371 Varner Drive, Rochester, MI 48309-4485. The Journal is funded by Pi Sigma Alpha, the National Political Science Honor Society, 1527 New Hampshire Avenue, NW, Washington, DC 20036, http://www.pisigmaalpha.org/ The Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics was founded in the Spring of 2001 by Delta Omega Chapter of Pi Sigma Alpha at Purdue University, under the name The American Undergraduate Journal of Politics and Government. With the sponsorship of Pi Sigma Alpha, the National Political Science Honor Society, the name of the Journal was changed to The Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics as of the Fall 2004 edition. Electronic editions of the Journal are available online at http://www.psajournal.org. For further information, please contact Dr. Terri Towner at Oakland University (towner@ oakland.edu). All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the editors and faculty advisors of The Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics. The Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics and content appearing therein is copyrighted by Pi Sigma Alpha. While holding these rights, Pi Sigma Alpha does not exert editorial or other control over the content of the Journal or the decisions or actions of its staff in the course of normal business operations. As such, Pi Sigma Alpha neither asserts nor accepts responsibility for the content or actions of staff of the publication in the normal course of business as the customs and usages of the law allow. All assertions of fact and statements of opinion are solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily represent the views of Pi Sigma Alpha, the National Political Science Honor Society, the Editorial Board, the Advisory Board, the Faculty Advisors, Oakland University, or its faculty and administration. COPYRIGHT ÂŠ 2020 PI SIGMA ALPHA. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ÂŠ Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Vol. XX No. 1 • Spring 2020

The Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics Spring 2020 Volume XX

Number 1 Thirty-Ninth Edition

Christina Pearl Walker Ghazi Ghazi Brooke Hebb Tanir-Vefa Avci Dr. Terri L. Towner

Scheduling/Content Editor Outreach Editor Centennial Editor Cover Designer Faculty Advisor and Editor

Editorial Board Jacob Adams Julia Alexander Rachael Baker Chloe Brueck Kristie Crompton Ghazi Ghazi Brooke Hebb Alexander Hoefel

Mary Jackson Eric Mehmetaj Jack Norton Destinee Rule Jeffrey Sands Conor Urban Christina Pearl Walker Hunter Willis

Advisory Board Dr. Robert Alexander Dr. Nicole Asmussen Mathew Dr. Amanda Burgess-Proctor Dr. Cristian Cantir Dr. Rosalee Clawson Dr. Erik Cleven Dr. Cody Eldredge Dr. Alan Epstein Dr. Stephen Farnsworth Dr. Megan Hershey Dr. Dwaine Jengelley Dr. Baris Kesgin Dr. Kellee Kirkpatrick

Dr. John Klemanski Dr. Jeanine Kraybill Dr. Paulette Kurzer Dr. Laura Landolt Dr. Anthony Nowns Dr. Daniel O’Neill Dr. Zoe Oxley Dr. Ronald Rapoport Dr. Jo Reger Dr. Jaime Settle Dr. Harry “Neil” Strine Dr. Peter Trumbore Dr. Kali Wright-Smith

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Editor’s Preface to the Spring Edition The Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics would like to first and foremost acknowledge all of the individuals and institutions who have and continue to make the Journal successful. From 2013 to 2020, the Journal has continued to grow in terms of submissions, quality, and prestige. There has also been the creation of the Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Research Conference that coincides with the Journal’s growth. Over the last seven years at Oakland University, members of the Editorial Board have expanded their own research, analytical skills, and leadership experience while broadening new career and educational opportunities. Submissions to the Spring 2020 issue well-exceeded over 100 manuscripts, representing a diverse array of topics and methods. We much appreciate all those who have submitted their work to the Journal. The articles published herein exemplify a high-quality sample of the types of undergraduate research being conducted across the globe. Although the publication is an entirely student-run endeavor, the efforts of the Editorial Board are guided and supported by many individuals and institutions who we would like to thank. First, we would like to thank the Pi Sigma Alpha Executive Council and Executive Committee, whose vision and financial support have maintained the quality and direction of the Journal. Second, we extend our appreciation to the Oakland University College of Arts and Sciences and the faculty in the Political Science Department who have encouraged and advised students on the Editorial Board. Third, we would like to thank the Faculty Advisory Board, whose constructive reviews ensure the articles published herein meet a consistent standard of quality. Fourth, we would like to thank all of the students who have served on the Editorial Board over the past seven years. Whether you served for one semester or many, you have contributed to the Journal’s success, and for that, we thank you for your dedication. Finally, we extend tremendous thanks to Editorial Board Faculty Advisor Dr. Terri Towner, who has dedicated her time and energy to ensure the Journal’s integrity continues to exceed the standards of excellence set by the editors of its previous editions. Not only is she dedicated to the success of Pi Sigma Alpha, both the Journal and organization, she is dedicated to the betterment of her students and has made tremendous impacts on many. The Editorial Board at Oakland University is proud to present the Spring 2020 issue, which contains a wellrounded set of articles with varied methodological approaches and topical matter. Despite the COVID-19 pandemic, the publishing process for the Spring issue followed a relatively smooth path from submission to publication. The Nu Omega Chapter members at Oakland University wish all readers a good reading experience and congratulate all authors who are published in this issue. Finally, we hope that you also read our Centennial Issue of the Journal and wish for all undergraduates to continue to submit their work to the Journal in its next phase at Elon University. Christina P. Walker, Scheduling/Content Editor Ghazi Ghazi, Outreach Editor

Vol. XX No. 1 • Spring 2020

The Editors Christina P. Walker is a third-year student at Oakland University, majoring in both International Relations and French. She served as Content Editor for the Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics for the past two years while also serving on the executive board of the Pi Sigma Alpha Chapter, Nu Omega. In 2020, Christina was elected Chapter President for the 2020-2021 academic year. During her undergraduate career, Christina has worked on multiple research projects, both independent and collaborative, and attended various research conferences, including the Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Research Conference and the International Studies Association. Her most recent research project focuses on regime stability in the Middle East and Africa. In addition, she has worked as a policy analyst for USAID, a research assistant for the Political Science Department, and has served as Associate Chair for the Student Activities Funding Board. After graduating in Spring 2021, Christina plans to continue her security studies in a graduate program. Ghazi Ghazi graduated from Oakland University in April 2020 with a Bachelor’s Degree in International Relations. He served on the Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics Editorial Board since 2018 and was the Outreach Editor during the 2019-2020 academic year. Ghazi has also served as the Vice-President and President of the Pi Sigma Alpha Chapter, Nu Omega, at Oakland University. His research interests are in Middle East politics and international development. Ghazi has presented his research at several conferences, including the International Studies Association Conference and the Pi Sigma Alpha National Student Research Conference (2019). His paper, “Is Turkey a Rival to the European Union? Neo-Ottoman Influence in the Balkans,” Claremont-UC Undergraduate Research Conference on the European Union: Vol. 2019, Article 4. He is pursuing a graduate degree in Middle Eastern Studies in Fall 2020 at Harvard University.

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Submission of Manuscripts The Journal accepts manuscripts from undergraduates of any class and major. Members of Pi Sigma Alpha are especially encouraged to enter their work. We strive to publish papers of the highest quality in all areas of political science. Generally, selected manuscripts have been well-written works with a fully developed thesis and strong argumentation stemming from original analysis. Authors may be asked to revise their work before being accepted for publication. Submission deadlines are October 1st for the Fall edition and February 1st for the Spring edition. Manuscripts are accepted on a rolling basis; therefore early submissions are strongly encouraged. To submit your work, please email psajournalelon@gmail.com with an attached Word document of the manuscript. Please include your name, university and contact details (mailing address, email address, and phone number) in a separate document. Submitted manuscripts must include a short abstract (approximately 150 words), citations and references that follow the APSA Style Manual for Political Science. Please do not exceed the maximum page length of 35 double-spaced pages, which includes references, tables, figures, and appendices. The Journal is a student-run enterprise with editors and an Editorial Board that are undergraduate students and Pi Sigma Alpha members at Oakland University. The Editorial Board relies heavily on the help of our Faculty Advisory Board consisting of political science faculty from across the nation, including members of the Pi Sigma Alpha Executive Council. Due to the time committed to the manuscript review process, we would like to remind students to submit only one manuscript at a time. Please direct any questions about submissions or the Journalâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s upcoming editions to the editors at Elon University: psajournalelon@gmail.com. .

ÂŠ Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Vol. XX No. 1 â&#x20AC;˘ Spring 2020

Contents Building Better Bridges: Improving Regional Response to Refugees in Latin America through Solidarity ......................................................................................................................................... 8 Mary Freiner, Samford University In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation.................................................................................................................. 18 Jeani Atlas, University of Washington A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories ............................................................... 32 Conner Joyce, Southwestern University How Personal Religious Beliefs Affect Elite Partisan Politics.......................................................................... 46 John Ostermeyer, St. Olaf College Taking Action on Gun Control ................................................................................................................... 59 Peggy-Jean M. Allin and Ryan M. Deutsch, Arizona State University

ÂŠ Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Building Better Bridges: Improving Regional Response to Refugees in Latin America through Solidarity Mary Freiner, Samford University Despite the security issues associated with the sudden outpouring of over four million Venezuelan refugees into other parts of Latin America, reactions from neighboring nations have been shockingly proactive and sympathetic. Through solidarity, States have created a network of bridges across which they can better facilitate the implementation of regional agreements. To conceptualize the relationship between regional solidarity and implementation of regional refugee policies, this study compares Colombia’s implementation of the Brazil Plan of Action during the Venezuelan refugee crisis to Venezuela’s previous enforcement of the Mexico Plan of Action during the Colombian refugee crisis. Although the integration of refugees into the host country has not improved significantly since 2011, the protection and aid of refugees have greatly increased under the Brazil Plan of Action. These findings affirm that when regional solidarity is fortified through more precise goals and broader participation from the regional community, refugee quality of life and security increase for the region as a whole. INTRODUCTION

fter spending time with Venezuelan refugees during the summer of 2019, in Bucaramanga, Colombia, my view of refugee resettlement dramatically changed. Because of Venezuela’s deteriorating economy, countless individuals roam the city’s streets unemployed, pregnant mothers do not receive prenatal care, and numerous children fall behind in their education. Unfortunately, these occurrences typically transpire from forced immigration. However, continual misfortune is not the case for every person. Some refugees earn enough money to send for their loved ones back home, and others live comfortably in tall apartment buildings. If 4.3 million refugees are all simultaneously seeking to establish better lives in Latin America, what separates the “haves” from the “have nots”? (Grupo Intergencial sobre Flujos Migratorios Mixtos, August 2019, 1; hereafter GIFMM and Bennouna 2019). Latin America has made great strides to improve the number of refugees who “have.” However, research has not confirmed that the lives of refugees have improved nor does it explain which changes in policy have been the most effective. The pivot in refugee policy began with the construction of the Cartagena Declaration in 1984. Rather than acting exclusively as individual states to devise their specified plans of action, countries in Latin America have agreed to adopt the principle of regional solidarity and meet every ten years to outline regional programs and standards of treatment for refugees. With each agreement, more goals are included, and the rights of refugees become more specific. If each new 8

agreement is intended to augment the previous plan, it is imperative to analyze these refugee policies consecutively to capture their sequential and progressive nature. Thus, an important question arises: to what extent does this increase in regional solidarity improve implementation of regional policy goals? In this article, regional solidarity is defined as joint action grounded in a shared interest built around a certain common identity or affinity. Whether increased regional solidarity has improved implementation was evaluated by the extent to which Venezuela previously implemented the Mexico Plan of Action (MPA) and the degree to which Colombia is currently implementing the Brazil Plan of Action (BPA). These particular countries were chosen because Colombia experienced a significant refugee crisis beginning in the late 1990s, which lasted within the time frame of the MPA (2004). Whereas, the Venezuelan refugee crisis falls under the umbrella of both the MPA and BPA (2014). (See Figure 1). As signatories of these two most recent regional refugee policies, the solidarity principle states that Colombia has a responsibility to reciprocate Venezuela’s treatment of Colombian refugees. However, in February of 2019, Maduro “decided to sever all ties with the fascist government of Colombia” (Romero 2019). With this bilateral tie severed, scholars are confronted with a new question: does reciprocity still exist between countries committed to regional solidarity? The analysis of these two case studies leads to two overarching conclusions. First, the increase in precision and scope of regional agreements improved the capacity of member states to implement refugee

Building Better Bridges: Improving Regional Response to Refugees in Latin America through Solidarity Columbian Refugee Crisis

Figure 1. Solidarity Timeline

Cartagena Declaration 1984

San Jose Declaration on Refugees and Displaced Persons 1994

policies. Second, as an act of reciprocity in the spirit of regional solidarity, Colombia implemented the BPA to a comparable or exceeding degree as that of Venezuela’s commitment to the MPA. Following the introduction, the literature review secondly explains how specific methods can provide different perspectives on the impact of regional solidarity. The next section then argues for particular attention to how regional solidarity affects the individual refugee and describes why a comparison of the Colombian and Venezuelan refugee crises is appropriate to examine this concept. Then, I analyze the extent to which the MPA and BPA have been implemented during both case studies using 2011 and 2019 data reports from the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) and Interagency Group for Mixed Migration Flows (GIFMM is the Spanish acronym). After conducting the analysis, the findings conclude an overall strengthened notion of regional solidarity and greater implementation by the Colombian government than the Venezuelan government. This study has been limited to only two countries in Latin America. Thus, a suggestion for future research would be to analyze whether regional solidarity improves implementation in Latin American states where a large-scale refugee crisis has not occurred.

LITERATURE REVIEW

Latin American scholars attempting to evaluate various forms of refugee policy debate the importance of regional declarations and plans as effective instruments of regional cooperation. The orchestrating of these regional agreements function as building blocks of the regional solidarity principle. Under the framework of the 1984 Cartagena Declaration, states reconvene every ten years and improve upon previous policy – the 1994 San José Declaration on Refugees and Displaced Persons (1994), the Mexico Declaration and Plan of Action (2004), and most recently the 2014 Brazil Declaration and Plan of Action (2014). Although some scholars praise Latin America as a model for refugee law and policy, the body of literature remains ambiguous as to whether this movement toward better treatment of refugees is enhancing their quality of life. Subsequently, the literature begs the question: to what extent does regional solidarity in Latin America improve implementation of regional refugee policies? The following paragraphs explain how scholars have differed in their approach 9

Venezuelan Refugee Crisis

Mexico Declaration and Plan of Action 2004

Braxi Declaration and Plan of Action 2014

to studying this idea and how looking at this relationship from an international, state, or individual level can radically affect the conclusions. But first, the principle of regional solidarity is placed in the context of Latin American refugee policy.

The Principle of Solidarity

The principle of regional solidarity in Latin America has been borrowed from European law theory to help explain why states engage in regional cooperation. The solidarity principle theorizes that a shared interest built around a specific common identity or affinity will motivate joint action (Vera Espinoza 2018, 87). In the case of displaced people groups in Latin America, there are a few primary affinities that scholars believe motivate cooperation among states. First, the level of development, economic and political stability, and the number of resources available within the confines of national sovereignty are not suited to address the magnitude of displaced persons in the entire region. But collectively, countries can distribute the costs, consolidate resources, and form a network of national projects. This distribution is known as responsibility-sharing (Barichello 2016, 193). Second, solidarity reduces the risk for both the individual and states. In other words, countries do not have to fear the closing of another state’s border, thereby forcing a greater burden on them, and individuals are ensured equal and humane treatment regardless of the country in which they choose to resettle (Vera Espinoza 2018, 262). Scholars identify this as harmonization (Fischel de Andrade 1998, 395). Furthermore, Hilpold (2015, 262) states, “solidarity expects solidarity.” That is, while the decision to help refugees from outside one’s borders might consist of some altruistic motivations, the stronger instrument of persuasion is the hope that one’s actions will be reciprocated if the tables turn in the future (Hipold 2015). Although Hilpold’s (2015, 262) study of solidarity within European Union law supports his claim that the reciprocal nature of regional solidarity “forms the basis of social contract that unites individuals to a political community,” the literature lacks verification of this claim in other areas where regional solidarity exists such as Latin American refugee policy. The underlying motives for Latin American countries to reciprocate are going to be quite different from those that drive the European Union to cooperate. For example, most countries in the E.U. are financially stable on their own, and there is no dominant external power. In contrast, Latin America is

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

composed of several developing nations, and the U.S. has a tremendous impact on regional politics. By providing a pipeline of resources and funding, the U.S. has the power to ease reciprocity or deter it depending on American interests in Latin America. The motivations behind reciprocity require further investigation into the political context of each crisis, but this study simply aims to conclude whether reciprocity exists. The literature includes a variety of methods previously applied to test the influence of solidarity in Latin American refugee policy. These methods commonly dissect the theory of solidarity by comparing the differing levels of influence – international and regional, regional and state, and lastly, regional and individual – but scholars debate which levels of analysis provide the most accurate assessment. Nearly all studies acknowledge consensus between regional and international standards. However, if states do not face any formal punishment or possess any legal obligation to enforce regional programs and procedures, then what incentive do states have to act? In his analysis of the MPA, Fabiano de Menezes (2016) finds that when accounting for implementation, regional solidarity does not improve the treatment of refugees (130140). Basically, scholars’ conclusions about the effectiveness of solidarity depend on the level of their analysis. If solidarity should be effective, evidence of progress should not only be seen within the written agreements but in statistics as well. The schools of thought below have been organized based on the differing entities scholars have analyzed to evaluate the strength of regional solidarity. While the primary focus of this study is to know if solidarity impacts implementation, scholars must also ask, why? This leads to the second question: Does reciprocity exist between Latin American countries committed to regional solidarity? Not only is solidarity assumed to facilitate the implementation of regional refugee policies, but it also serves as an alternative to bilateralism. Despite the heated bilateral tensions between Colombia and Venezuela, the expectation for Colombian assistance still exists because of its reciprocal obligation to other nations in the region.

Regional Solidarity and the Global Community

In the field of International Relations, multilateral agreements often receive criticism for their inability to have direct influence and produce significant results. However, experts contend that immediate influence at the local level is not the purpose of solidarity, but rather regional solidarity operates as a unifier between the regional and global community. Krasner (1993, 162) maintains that “ideals expressed in the Universal Declaration [of Human Rights] were most strongly informed by western liberal conceptions.” It can, therefore, be implied that international declarations necessitate the development of regional plans to adjust for varying interests, cultural compatibility, and geographical proximity. Scholars who textually compare international and strictly regional agreements stress that regional solidarity is dependent upon the mutual acceptance of international norms. For 10

example, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees and its 1951 Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees are cornerstones of the 1984 Cartagena Declaration, which is a regional agreement accepted by almost all of Latin America (Cantor 2019, 283). Fischel de Andrade’s (1998) textual analysis of international refugee policies found Colombia and Venezuela both support the Cartagena definition of a refugee. Still, only Colombia acknowledges the definition adopted by the United Nations’ 1951 Refugee Convention (402 and 404). Coincidentally, one prominent policy difference between the Colombian and Venezuelan governments was Colombia’s greater willingness to accept help from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. Although Colombia gained access to a larger portfolio of experience, financial resources, and data, it had to sacrifice some autonomy to the UNHCR. Venezuela, in contrast, did not want to make this trade because, as with any transnational agreement, countries are not guaranteed tangible results. (Fischel de Andrade 1998, 392). As such, confining assessments to cooperation between the regional and global community is not sufficient to explain the empirical effects of regional solidarity.

Regional Solidarity and the Nation State

The second and most common type of analysis proposes that regional solidarity can be most clearly seen in the decision of nation states to give up some autonomy to collaborate on regional solutions. Fischel de Andrade (1998, 389) explains that in the spirit of solidarity, states recognize it is in their best interest to “avoid unregulated policies.” Scholars who focus mostly on the agreements themselves usually conduct a textual comparison of domestic laws and regional policies to provide support for the question of solidarity as a normative trend. Solidarity goals after each ten-year mark are undeniably more inclusive and precise than the period before, but what is rarely considered is how integrated these norms are on the domestic level. Vera Espinoza (2018, 89) finds that solidarity crumbles when interests of different economies and societies diverge because solidarity depends on “political willingness and budget,” which can fluctuate widely depending on the country and political context. De Menezes (2016, 130) states “Without the right strategic interests, countries will remain reluctant to cooperate.” Here, it is vital to recognize the dominant political influence the U.S. has over the Colombian government, given America’s strategic interest in overthrowing the communist Maduro regime. It is reasonable to believe that many of the resources and support put toward accomplishing the BPA’s goals resulted from Colombia’s desire to remain in good standing with the hegemon of the Western Hemisphere. Conversely, the Chávez dictatorship did not have a friendly relationship with the U.S. in 2011 and did not benefit from U.S. financial aid. De Menezes (2016) criticizes the optimism of some scholars who fail to see how the MPA underestimates the difficulties of cooperation, exaggerates the impact of

Building Better Bridges: Improving Regional Response to Refugees in Latin America through Solidarity

solidarity rhetoric, and ignores the minimal capacity of Latin American states to uphold these commitments. While an optimistic view of regional solidarity in Latin America is not inherently correct or incorrect, optimism must be grounded in reality. Thus, the next school of thought helps examine whether each successive treaty is generating better outcomes, such as more measures of protection, integration, and aid, than the previous one. Also, it makes room for explanation of successful implementation when nation states do not see eye to eye.

Regional Solidarity and the Refugee

While the theme of regional solidarity in Latin American refugee law and policy is relatively new, the area of literature most in need of development is the method of qualitative analysis to evaluate the refugee experience considering the commitment states make to regional solutions. Scholars under this methodological umbrella also compare the regional and domestic spheres, but they take the process further by verifying policies and laws with statistical evidence. Although the three main programs outlined in the MPA are purposefully directed toward the Colombian refugee crisis, Vera Espinoza (2018, 86) found in a 2010 UNHCR evaluation of the MPA that “Colombian refugees experienced persecution and lack of social integration.” Gottwald’s (2004) individual-level investigation of the Colombian refugee crisis repeatedly mentions heightened border security and non-admission and deportation policies in both Venezuelan and Panamanian refugee decrees. At the time of this study, even in the most progressive of states, Chile and Brazil, regional solidarity failed to improve access to education, employment, housing, and legal rights (Vera Espinoza 2018). This gap between the regional level and individual level may not have been bridged very much by the BPA in 2014 as many Venezuelan refugees are currently experiencing the same issues of integration and protection. The Organization of American States calculates Latin America, as a whole, has received more refugees than it did during the height of the Colombian refugee crisis. The top three being Colombia at 1.3 million, Peru (768,000), and Chile (288,200) as of June 2019 (Organization of American States 2019, 7). Consequently, this dramatic increase in refugees provoked scholars to inquire about the role of regional

solidarity. Has there been an advancement in Latin American refugee policy since the Colombian refugee crisis? If so, is it because of individual state effort or because solidarity works as a network of bridges cemented together by expectations of reciprocity? The principle of solidarity, which acts as the fuel for cooperation is impressive in theory, but when put into practice, does it fulfill its purpose to provide protection, aid, and integration to refugees, or will it collapse under pressure? This gap in the literature justifies a comparative analysis of the Venezuelan and Colombian refugee crises for two reasons. First, as more countries look to solidarity as a promise of support in the event of a refugee crisis, the reciprocal nature of regional solidarity could be a powerful tool for future security in Latin America, given that the Venezuelan refugee crisis is so widespread. Second, this analysis contributes to the fact or fiction debate regarding a dramatic shift in Latin American refugee policy.

METHODOLOGY

The first task was to find two regional policies that were formed one after the other because a plan-by-plan analysis only considers absolute success rather than relative progress. The expectation provided by the Cartagena framework is not that a plan of action is perfectly written or executed the first time, but instead, the goal is gradual improvement. To gauge growth, the amount of humanitarian assistance during the refugee crisis under each regional agreement was compared. The Venezuelan refugee crisis and Colombian refugee crisis were chosen as case studies to test the extent to which regional solidarity affects the implementation of the MPA and BPA. The independent variable, regional solidarity, is represented by the two columns in Table 1 labeled “MPA and BPA Goals” and “Goals Exclusive to the BPA.” Goals from both regional agreements were applied to each case study to test whether an increased precision and scope of these goals positively correlated with the dependent variable, implementation. Because the BPA expands the scope and is more precise than the MPA, implementation during the Venezuelan refugee crisis was anticipated to increase overall and

Table 1. Implementation Goals Independent Variable: MPA and BPA Goals

Group

Independent Variable: Goals Exclusive to the BPA

Protection

Asylum Registered Refugees

Birth registration Identification of Sexual Assault Victims

Aid

Financial aid

Healthcare

Integration

Employment

Education Housing Permanent Residence

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

specifically for the actions not listed in the MPA. Index 1 in the Appendix contains the policy objectives in the MPA and BPA that were analyzed and links them to the exact location of the provision outlined in the regional agreement. It is clear from Index 1 (See Appendix) that the BPA built upon what was previously outlined in the MPA and went further to address items that the previous plan did not include, such as statelessness, education, housing, permanent residency, sexual assault, and healthcare. In de Menezes’ (2016) study of the MPA, he concludes that the MPA did not successfully meet its goals and predicted the BPA’s future failure. Had he compared the results of the MPA with the 1994 San Jose Declaration, he would probably have made a different conclusion. Also, if his next body of research only looks at the BPA without taking into consideration the improvements it made on the MPA, de Menezes will likely come to his predicted conclusion. However, these agreements do not seek perfect implementation but improved implementation. Therefore, they should be measured based on improvement, not perfection. As listed in Table 1, the dependent variable was split into three categories – protection, integration, and aid – to provide a comprehensive picture of implementation. Within each group, there were at least two subcategories. By organizing implementation into groups and subcategories, it was easier to see where the regional policies lacked enforcement. The following section analyzed the following research questions: Q1: To what extent does regional solidarity in Latin America increase the implementation of regional policy goals? Q2: Does reciprocity exist between countries committed to regional solidarity? Based on the findings and conclusions within the existing body of literature, this study hypothesized: H1: As the precision and scope of a regional agreement increases, member states will also increase their amount of implementation. H2: As an act of reciprocity in the spirit of regional solidarity, Colombia will implement the BPA to a comparable or exceeding degree as that of Venezuela’s commitment to the MPA. Reports produced by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in 2011 on the Colombian crisis (post-MPA but pre-BPA) and in 2019 on the Venezuelan Refugee Crisis (post-MPA and BPA) were used as datasets intended to measure the dependent variable. Although the data are derived from assessments of international plans of action, these statistics can be applied to regional agreements made among Latin American states because “the implementation 12

of UNHCR activities in the region” depends on government cooperation (Alto Comisionado de las Naciones Unidas para los Refugiados 2011b, 1; hereafter ACNUR). Following the data accumulation, the case studies were compared side by side within the areas of protection, integration, and aid. To account for the comparatively greater magnitude of Venezuelan refugees, the numbers were converted to a percentage and stated as a general increase or decrease. In doing this, the results were better framed within the context of the crisis and allowed for a more balanced comparison. By exclusively selecting data from UNHCR and GIFMM, this study controlled for any state bias that would stem from wanting to appear more proactive or altruistic. In addition, the UNHCR has been the primary institution involved in the implementation of refugee strategies throughout the region, which helped to provide a comprehensive picture of both crises in the context of Latin America as a whole.

ANALYSIS

By applying the above procedures, the following discussion has been split up into the three areas of implementation: protection, aid, and integration. Within these three sections, the 2011 and 2019 reports from UNHCR have been compared for the Colombian and Venezuelan refugee crises. Once the data comparison has been conducted, the theory of reciprocity is applied to explain the increase in implementation.

Protection

Following the 2004 Mexico Plan of Action, twenty countries in Latin America called upon UNHCR to enact a plan facilitating the regional agreement’s implementation (ACNUR 2011b). Under the MPA, the protection of refugees is accomplished through the granting of asylum or refugee status. In 2011, a total of 219,255 Colombian refugees lived in Venezuela, which accounted for 54% of the 404,981 displaced Colombians in Costa Rica, Ecuador, Panamá, and Venezuela (ACNUR 2011b, 2). This number, however, can be deceiving as there were also over 3.6 million internally displaced persons in Colombia. Gottwald (2004) reveals the government did not want the severity of its internal conflict to be known by the international community. At the same time, increasing nationalism and opposition against U.S. involvement in Colombia made Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez more resistant toward cooperation with the Colombian government (Gottwald 2004). Unwilling to bear the international shame and burden of the refugee crisis, both countries deliberately refused to acknowledge the humanitarian issue. In doing so, they managed to free themselves from any commitment to solidarity under the MPA. However, Venezuela still registered 5150-5650 refugees and asylum-seekers, which amounts to approximately 2.3-2.6% of the total refugee population residing in Venezuela (ACNUR 2011b, 2). While a small community of individuals received legal protection, this

Building Better Bridges: Improving Regional Response to Refugees in Latin America through Solidarity

also means over two hundred thousand refugees were left unprotected (ACNUR 2011b, 2). Under the Brazil Plan of Action, Colombian refugees would have also been expected to receive citizenship if they were born in Venezuela and at least be made aware of the potential for sexual assault or genderbased violence (GBV). The MPA did not target statelessness or sexual assault victims until 2014; therefore, there is no data in the UNHCR report on these subcategories. In contrast to the Colombian refugee crisis, the gravity of the Venezuelan refugee crisis is widely known, and countries in Latin America are receiving large waves of refugees daily. Colombia currently contains the largest portion of Venezuelan refugees at 1.4 million, yet less than 1% are asylum-seekers (GIFMM 2019, 1). Because of the rapidly increasing number of people flowing into Colombia, the application process to obtain refugee status or asylum has become suboptimal. Instead, ensuring regular status as opposed to irregular status has become the focus. As of August 2019, 677,313 Venezuelans have either a visa, foreign identity card, or a Special Stay Permit (PEP). Conversely, UNHCR estimates 699,677 individuals exceeded their legal stay (33%) or entered irregularly (67%). When converted to a percentage, the Colombian government is giving about 44% more refugees regular status than the Venezuelan government granted during the Colombian refugee crisis in 2011. Contrary to expectation, regional solidarity has not weakened or buckled under the weight of more refugees. Not only has Colombia improved protection since 2011, but it also has made great strides to meet the protection goals of the BPA as well. For instance, UNHCR made a note of President Iván Duque’s decision to “grant Colombian nationality to children born in Colombia to Venezuelan parents and with undetermined nationality” (GIFMM 2019, 2). This resolution is expected to reach more than 27,000 children and sufficiently reflects the regional commitment under Chapter 6 of the BPA to eradicate statelessness in the region (GIFMM 2019 and ACNUR 2014). Likewise, more precision under the BPA has made it easier for Colombia to strategically address the need to identify, prevent, and protect victims of sexual assault and GBV. As a result, approximately 16,600 potential sexual assault victims were informed of their rights, legal processes, and eligibility for asylum (GIFMM 2019, 5). The precision and scope of a regional agreement do matter because it identifies the unprotected classes and puts pressure on the group to act.

Aid

The necessity of accumulating financial aid to fund various programs, whether they are through domestic or international resources is established in both the BPA and MPA using almost identical wording. Because Latin America mainly consists of developing nations, acting in solidarity to redistribute the financial responsibility works in the interest of all states to prevent weak economies in the region from experiencing a domino effect. While the 2011 report briefly mentions that Venezuela organized ten projects and budgeted

150,000 USD to finance them, this amount is not placed within the broader regional context (ACNUR 2011a, 2). The lack of a clear financial strategy is likely the outcome of states not knowing how much financial cost they are expected to bear in light of the country’s economic condition and amount of refugees. Conversely, the regional response to the Venezuelan refugee crisis has done a much better job of stating financial goals for each country in proportion to their weight of responsibility. According to the 2019 UNHCR Regional Plan to Assist Venezuelan Refugees, Colombia possesses the highest financial requirement of any state in the region, which coincides with the regional dispersion of refugees (UNHCR 2019). Of the 315 million budgeted for Colombia, 119 million has been raised by non-governmental organizations (NGOs), international organizations (I.O.s), and individual states (UNHCR 2019, 9). Instead of competing to receive funding or expecting each state to raise their financial support, regional cooperation serves the critical function of signaling to the global community where the allocation of funds is needed most. Even though the subject of healthcare does not appear anywhere in the MPA, UNHCR references a meeting held in Cúcuta (a border city between Venezuela and Colombia) to address the treatment plan for individuals affected by HIV/AIDS (UNHCR 2019, 2). Also, 5150-5650 registered Colombian refugees and asylum seekers benefited from public health services by their legal status (ACNUR 2011b, 2). Unlike the MPA, the BPA outlines goals for the administration of healthcare to refugees. In agreement with this goal, Colombia has created the Special Stay Permit (PEP), which allows 596,035 or 41% of the total number of regular status refugees in Colombia access to basic rights such as healthcare and education (GIFMM 2019, 1 and UNHCR 2019, 40). The UNHCR additionally reports 220,400 refugees have received food assistance, and thousands more obtained other forms of aid such as vaccinations, prenatal care, and mental health services (GIFMM 2019, 3). Since the passage of the BPA, a wider group of countries are working together to raise money for Venezuelan refugees and implement more concrete solutions to tackle the demand for adequate healthcare.

Integration Finally, integration has gradually become a more prominent area of focus under the Cartagena framework because it focuses on ensuring a stable future for refugees. The purpose of promoting integration is to increase access to education, employment, housing, and permanent residence. As previously stated in the analysis of healthcare during the Colombian refugee crisis, only those who possessed legal status as a refugee or asylum-seeker could receive public services such as healthcare and education. Thus, only 2.3-2.6% of the Colombian refugee population in Venezuela were provided access to education in 2011 (ACNUR 2011b, 2). On the other

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

hand, Venezuelan refugees in Colombia do not have to be granted asylum or refugee status to enroll in an educational institution. Instead, educational opportunity is based on whether or not someone has a PEP, which has the potential to reach close to six hundred thousand people (GIFMM 2019, 1). Under the BPA, Latin America recognized education as a common goal in favor of the entire community because it keeps people, specifically kids, off the streets and in a secure environment. Although employment availability is stated as a goal in both the MPA and BPA, the UNHCR report on the Colombian refugee crisis does not include any information on employment. This failure to implement policies that increase job availability is the weakest link in the development of integration programs. Individuals without money or means of providing for themselves and their families will likely find it more challenging to pay for school or housing. The PEP, in contrast, grants Venezuelan refugees the right to seek employment in Colombia. The BPA expands the scope of integration to incorporate housing and permanent residence. Still, because the number of refugees continues to soar past 1.4 million, Colombia has limited those with PEPs to two years stay (UNHCR 2019, 40). Although housing and permanent residence are likely to have been granted to Colombian and Venezuelan refugees with regular and irregular status, data confirming this is not available. Overall, this suggests that integration presents a particular challenge for solidarity in Latin America. One possible reason for this lack in implementation could be that in the hierarchy of needs, integration falls behind protection and aid. According to the principle of solidarity, however, implementation decreases because political and economic interests diverge. Helping refugees find housing, education, employment, and permanent residence is likely to receive more disapproval from the host population who fear increased scarcity of resources and opportunity. Consequently, politicians are more motivated to act in favor of personal state interests to reiterate commitment to their constituents.

Reciprocity

Due to the more considerable burden created by a higher number of refugees in 2019 than in 2011, opponents of regional solidarity expected implementation to decrease. On the contrary, the data above show a significant increase in people receiving protection, aid, and integration assistance. Table 2 provides a summary of the findings for refugees in the benefactor state and compares implementation before and after the BPA. If a subcategory is bolded, then it indicates implementation during the Venezuelan and Colombian refugee crises. A plus or minus sign follows each subcategory to show whether implementation has increased or decreased from 2011 to 2019. In addition, some data were not available, which is identified by the letters “N/A”. Although the percentage of asylum-seekers in Colombia slightly shrinks from the percentage of asylum-seekers in Venezuela in 2011, failure to reciprocate is not necessarily the issue. When considering all forms of regular status, Colombia has done a significantly better job of providing some kind of legal status to Venezuelan refugees within its borders. Because thousands of refugees are crossing the border daily, vetting everyone who applies for asylum promptly is nearly impossible. The data show strategies to implement birth registration, and protection for sexual assault victims occurred during the Venezuelan refugee crisis but not the Colombian refugee crisis. These findings support the second hypothesis, which predicted: as an act of reciprocity in the spirit of regional solidarity, Colombia will implement the BPA to a degree comparable or exceeding that of Venezuela’s commitment to the MPA. Compared to Venezuela in 2011, Colombia’s distribution of aid has increased significantly since the passing of the BPA. On a per capita scale, Colombia has raised $82.23 per refugee, while the 150,000-budget allotment from Venezuela amounted to $.68 per person. Because it cooperated with UNHCR standards, aid during the Venezuelan refugee crisis has poured in through a variety of international organizations. Colombia is still recovering from its internal conflict and would likely not

Table 2. Summary of Findings Independent Variable: MPA and BPA Goals

Group

Independent Variable: Goals Exclusive to the BPA

Protection

Asylum – Registered Refugees +

Birth registration + Identification of Sexual Assault Victims +

Aid

Financial aid +

Healthcare +

Integration

Employment

Education + Housing (N/A) Permanent Residence (N/A)

Bolded = goal implemented (N/A) = data not available

(+) = increased implementation (–) = decreased implementation

Building Better Bridges: Improving Regional Response to Refugees in Latin America through Solidarity

be able to reciprocate if support beyond the Latin American community did not exist. The latter indicates a certain degree of regional dependence on international support, particularly from wealthier nations like the United States. In fourteen of the past nineteen years, Colombia has received the most U.S. foreign aid in the Western Hemisphere (USAID 2020). Financial assistance from the U.S. and political pressure from the U.N., in this case, is impacting Colombia’s ability and motivation to reciprocate. On the other hand, Venezuela generally did not want involvement from the U.N. but preferred to communicate bilaterally with Colombia (Gottwald 2004, 530). If Venezuela had cooperated with other states under the supervision of UNHCR to create a regional budget, financial resources could have been better allocated. Accessibility to healthcare also improved during the Venezuelan crisis by 38.5%. This change is due to expanding regular status benefits to those with the Special Stay Permit. Similar to protection, this increase in aid since the Colombian refugee crises suggests increased solidarity promotes reciprocity and cooperation. Although employment was listed as a goal under the MPA, implementation in this area of integration did not develop until the BPA’s passage. As a way of achieving this integration goal, Colombia incorporated education and employment as basic rights for those holding PEPs. In the areas of housing and permanent residence, Venezuela did not take any action to ensure access to housing or permanent residence status. Consequently, the findings fail to indicate reciprocation from Colombia in either of these subcategories. Even though the BPA outlined housing and permanent residence as integration goals, the results do not show an increase in implementation like the subcategories for birth registration and sexual assault. Rather than indicating a break in reciprocity, this failure to implement new goals likely stems from an absence of solidarity.

CONCLUSION

Contrary to de Menezes’ prediction that the BPA was “doomed to fail,” these changes indicate improved implementation of the BPA (de Menezes 2016, 141). Because more rights have been extended through Colombia’s special stay permit and aid has increased through supporters in the international community, Venezuelan refugees are receiving better treatment than their Colombian counterparts eight years ago. However, the analysis does not offer positive results across the board. Although employment and education have become more accessible since the Colombian refugee crisis, mechanisms to ensure housing and permanent residence status are still lacking. Regarding integration specifically, if states cannot see it working in the interests of their people, regional solidarity becomes more complicated to achieve. A significant factor in increased implementation from 2011 to 2019 has been the cooperation of Latin American

states to protect, provide aid, and integrate refugees within its borders. During a regional influx of refugees, especially one as big as the Venezuelan refugee crisis, it is typical for national security to become a higher priority, but the method of defense can vary. In this case, Latin American states found it more beneficial to offensively work together to address refugees in the region rather than tighten border security or handle it themselves. The explanation for regional cooperation is expected or indebted reciprocity. Either other countries want the same to be done for them in the future, or in the case of Colombia, they are acting in response to how its refugees have been treated in the past.

LIMITATIONS

The limitations stem primarily from the lack of data in the areas of assistance given to refugees, such as how many cases of sexual assault or gender-based violence have occurred, the number of refugees that received access to housing or permanent residence status, and the portion of individuals who found jobs. While the data from the 2019 report includes more specific statics on the humanitarian work conducted in the region than the 2011 report, a standardized data set would have provided a more accurate comparison. In addition, this study only compares Venezuela and Colombia’s implementation of the MPA and BPA. A truly comprehensive understanding of regional solidarity necessitates a comparative study of all the countries in the region whether or not they have witnessed a refugee crisis. Also, more attention to the U.S.’s role would provide new insight into whether reciprocity in Latin America still exists when U.S. interests are not at stake. Therefore, the first suggestion for future research is to investigate further why solidarity takes root in some states, but not other states. To examine the latter, scholars should examine states who either claim no commitment to the MPA or BPA, or have never suffered a wide-spread refugee crisis. Although the refugee crisis in Venezuela is still ongoing, the findings produced in this study are essential to the decisions made by policymakers and those studying international affairs. For future researchers, this study has provided a guide for studying regional policies and their effectiveness over time. In general, scholars analyze regional policies separately, but the fundamental flaw in this method is that these regional policies are not separate. Instead, they build on one another. If the study was extended back to 1984, the progress would be even more dramatic. Also, this study does not shy away from applying the solidarity principle on the individual level and setting high standards for implementation. Latin America’s regional approach to refugees shows slow but gradual progress in all areas of implementation. However, there is still work to be done as far as integrating refugees into the local population. n

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Freiner graduated in December 2019, from Samford University with a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science and Spanish minor. In addition to Pi Sigma Alpha, Freiner is also a member of the Sigma Delta Pi Spanish Honor Society and Alpha Lambda Delta. Beginning in fall 2020, she plans to move to Washington D.C. to pursue a two-year Master’s degree at the Elliott School of International Affairs. Within the Latin American and Hemispheric Studies program, her specializations will be in global gender policy and migration. “Building Better Bridges: Improving Regional Response to Refugees in Latin America through Solidarity,” is her first academic publication.

REFERENCES

Alto Comisionado de las Naciones Unidas para los Refugiados (ACNUR). 2011a. “Colombia Situation: Fronteras (Ecuador, Colombia, Venezuela) – Año 2011.” ACNUR. 1-2. https://www. acnur.org/fileadmin/Documentos/RefugiadosAmericas/Colombia/ Colombia_Situation_-_Fronteras_-_2011.pdf?view=1 Alto Comisionado de las Naciones Unidas para los Refugiados. 2011b.“Situación Colombia: Panorama Regional - 2011.” ACNUR. 1-4. https://www.acnur.org/fileadmin/Documentos/ RefugiadosAmericas/Colombia/Situacion_Colombia_-_Panorama_ regional_-_2011.pdf?view=1 Alto Comisionado de las Naciones Unidas para los Refugiados. 2014. Brazil Declaration and Plan of Action. ACNUR.1-19. https:// www.acnur.org/fileadmin/Documentos/BDL/2014/9865.pdf Barichello, Stefania Eugenia. 2016. “Refugee protection and responsibility sharing in Latin America: solidarity programs and the Mexico Plan of Action.” The International Journal of Human Rights 20(2):191-207.

Hilpold, Peter. 2015. “Understanding Solidarity within E.U. Law: An Analysis of the ‘Islands of Solidarity’ with Particular Regard to Monetary Union.” Yearbook of European Law 34(1): 257-285. Krasner, Stephen, D. 1993. “Sovereignty, Regimes, and Human Rights.” In Regime Theory and International Relations, eds. Volker Rittberger and Peter Mayer, 139-167. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, Clarendon Paperback. Mexico Declaration and Plan of Action. 2004. Regional Refugee Instruments and Related. https://www.refworld.org/ docid/424bf6914.html Organization of American States. 2019. “OAS Working Group to Address the Regional Crisis Caused by Venezuela’s Migrant and Refugee Flows.” Organization of American States. 1-70. http:// shapersforvenezuela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/OASWorking-Group-to-Address-the-Regional-Crisis-Caused-byVenezuelas-Migrant-and-Refugee-Flows.pdf Romero, Dennis. 2019. Venezuela’s Maduro cuts ties with Colombia amid border conflict.” NBC News. 1-2. https://www.nbcnews. com/news/world/venezuela-s-maduro-cuts-ties-colombia-amidborder-conflict-n974991 San José Declaration on Refugees and Displaced Persons. 1994. Regional Refugee Instruments and Related. https://www.refworld. org/docid/4a54bc3fd.html United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR). 2019. “2019 Regional Refugee Migrant Response Plan for Refugee and Migrants from Venezuela.” 37-50. http://reporting.unhcr.org/ node/21600 USAID. 2020. “U.S. Foreign Aid by Country - Colombia.” USAID from the American People. 2001-2019. https://explorer.usaid.gov/ cd/COL?fiscal_year=2019&measure=Obligations. Vera Espinoza, Marcia. 2018. “The Limits and Opportunities of Regional Solidarity: Exploring Refugee Resettlement in Brazil and Chile.” Global Policy 9(1): 85-94.

Bennouna, Cyril. 2019. “Latin America Shuts Out Desperate Venezuelans but Colombia’s Border Remains Open – For Now.” The Conversation. http://theconversation.com/latin-america-shutsout-desperate-venezuelans-but-colombias-border-remains-openfor-now-123307 Brazil Declaration and Plan of Action. 2014. UNHCR. https://www. acnur.org/cartagena30/en/brazil-declaration-and-plan-of-action/ Cantor, David James. 2019. “Cooperation on Refugees in Latin America and the Caribbean.” In Routledge Handbook of SouthSouth Relations, eds. Elena Fiddian-Qasmiyeh andPatricia Daley, 282-295. New York, NY: Routledge. https://data2.unhcr.org/en/ documents/details/72042 de Menezes, Fabiano L. 2016. “Utopia or Reality: Regional Cooperation in Latin America to Enhance the Protection of Refugees.” Refugee Survey Quarterly 35(4):122-141. Fischel de Andrade, José H. 1998. “Regional policy approaches and harmonization: a Latin American perspective.” International Journal of Refugee Law 10(3):389-409. Gottwald, Martin. 2004. “Protecting Colombian refugees in the Andean region: the fight against invisibility.” International Journal of Refugee Law 16(4): 517-546. Grupo Intergencial sobre Flujos Migratorios Mixtos (GIFMM). 2019. “Colombia Situational Report - August 2019.” GIFMM. 1-10. 16

Building Better Bridges: Improving Regional Response to Refugees in Latin America through Solidarity

APPENDIX Index 1 Asylum BDPA: “asylum‐seekers’ right to receive a decision on their case” (Chapter 2, Section 2, Action F, Line IV) MDPA: “Guaranteeing respect for due process standards by ensuring asylum-seekers’ access to refugee status determination procedures” (Chapter 2, Section 2.2, Paragraph 3)

Birth registration BDPA: “Facilitate universal birth registration and the issuance of documentation” (Chapter 6, Section 2, Action C)

Education BDPA: “effective access for refugees to “solidarity‐based public services”, such as…education” (Chapter 3, Section 3, Action B)

Employment BDPA: “generating employment for refugees” (Chapter 3, Section 3, Action G) MDPA: “Fostering the generation of sources of employment” (Chapter 3, Section1, Paragraph 3)

Financial Aid BDPA: “greater human and financial resources” (Page 4, Provision 5) MDPA: “allocating to them more financial resources” (Chapter 2, Section 2.2, Paragraph 1)

Health Care BDPA: “effective access for refugees to “solidarity‐based public services”, such as health care…” (Chapter 3, Section 3, Action B)

Housing BDPA: “effective access for refugees to “solidarity‐based public services”, such as…housing” (Chapter 3, Section 3, Action B)

Sexual Assault Victims BDPA: “implementation of differentiated referral and response mechanisms for victims of sexual and gender‐based violence” (Page 4, Provision 7)

Permanent Residence BDPA: “Facilitate the change of the migratory status of refugees from temporary residents to permanent residents” (Chapter 3, Section 3, Action F)

Registered Refugees BDPA: “the strengthening of national bodies for refugee status determination” (Chapter 2, Paragraph 2) MDPA: “States were urged to strengthen established refugee status determination mechanisms” (Chapter 3, Section 2.2, Paragraph 1)

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation Jeani Atlas, University of Washington In recent decades, scholars have shown that laws restricting or eliminating convicted felons’ voting rights disproportionately prevent Black people from voting. Scholars have also found that Black voters are more likely to vote for Black political candidates than are voters of other races. However, researchers have yet to link felon disenfranchisement with political representation or access to political power. The purpose of this study is to fill this gap, analyzing the relationship between states’ disenfranchisement laws and Black descriptive representation in state legislatures. To do this, I employ multiple regression analysis to systematically examine whether the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws reduces the percentage of Black state legislators in each state. While my findings show that the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws does not meaningfully affect Black descriptive representation, the results suggest that the existence of disenfranchisement laws may serve as an attempt to curb Black electoral power. INTRODUCTION

ennessee is one case that is suggestive of electoral impacts resulting from disenfranchisement laws. Tennessee disproportionately incarcerates Black people. In 2010, the state incarcerated 1,962 out of every 100,000 Black people while only incarcerating 503 out of every 100,000 White people (Prison Policy Initiative 2018b). Moreover, Tennessee has one of the nation’s most restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws, barring convicted felons from voting unless they successfully petition to have their voting rights restored or are pardoned by the governor (National Conference of State Legislatures 2018b). Since Tennessee disproportionately incarcerates Black people, Black people are likely disproportionately overrepresented in Tennessee’s felon population and likely underrepresented in the state’s voter population. At the same time, Tennessee has had few Black elected officials at several levels of government. Tennessee joins the many states that have never elected a Black governor, nor any governor of color, nor sent a Black person or a person of color to the United States Senate. Even within Tennessee’s minoritymajority districts like the 9th congressional district, where Black people make up 63.8% of the district’s population, few Black elected officials win access to political office (Ballotpedia 2019f ). Tennessee’s 9th district has never had a representative of color (Ballotpedia 2019f ). In what follows, I examine and attempt to explain electoral outcomes like those of Tennessee’s 9th district. Specifically, I analyze the relationship between the restrictiveness of states’ felon disenfranchisement laws and

Black descriptive representation (i.e., the percentage of legislators who are Black) in state legislatures across the United States. To measure this relationship, I estimate two multivariate regression models with Black descriptive representation (the dependent variable) measured with data drawn from the National Conference of State Legislatures. One regression model measures the restrictiveness of each state’s felon disenfranchisement laws (the independent variable) through an original index created from data provided by the National Conference of State Legislatures and The Sentencing Project. The other regression model measures the restrictiveness of each state’s felon disenfranchisement laws by the percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction, utilizing data provided by The Sentencing Project. I hypothesize that states with the most restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws will have lower levels of Black descriptive representation than states with less restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws or no felon disenfranchisement laws. The hypothesis stems from connections between race, the criminal justice system, and voting patterns. In recent decades, incarceration rates in the U.S. reached unprecedented levels. Since 1980, the U.S. prison population has increased by 500% (The Sentencing Project 2018b). Much of this increase is due to various policy changes and social movements, including mandatory minimum sentencing, three-strikes sentencing, and the War on Drugs. Mandatory minimum sentencing requires that people are incarcerated for specific amounts of time for committing certain crimes, regardless of the circumstances around their criminal behavior (Garland 2001; Roberts 2004). These sentences can range anywhere from five years to life for

In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation

non-violent drug offenses (Doyle 2018) and ten years to life for violent crimes (United States Sentencing Commission 2017). Three strikes laws require that any person convicted of three felonies, even those that are non-violent, must be imprisoned for the remainder of their lives (Garland 2001). These policy changes have contributed to larger prison populations because convicted criminals endure longer sentences than they did before the enactment of such laws. The War on Drugs also drastically increased prison populations because significantly more people were imprisoned for drug crimes than had been before its implementation. Specifically, the number of people incarcerated for drug crimes increased 11-fold between 1980 and 2011, which corresponds with the War on Drugs’ emergence (Alexander 2011). The War on Drugs was a political movement designed to stop drug use and trafficking by drastically increasing punishments associated with drug crimes (Provine 2007). Ultimately, the aforementioned policy changes, and the War on Drugs sharply increased the U.S. prison population from 300,000 to over two million in less than 30 years (Alexander 2011). The massive increase in U.S. incarceration rates has had racial consequences. People of color and Black people, in particular, are disproportionately overrepresented in the U.S. prison population (Alexander 2011; Clear 2007; The Sentencing Project 2018b). For example, one in every nine men can expect to go to prison at some point during their lives. However, only one in every 17 White men can expect to do so, compared to one in six Latino men and one in three Black men (The Sentencing Project 2018b). These statistics are suggestive of racially disparate effects of mass incarceration. Although racialized mass incarceration has occurred for several decades in the U.S., it is only in recent years that scholars have devoted attention to significant social, political, and legal issues that result from the expanded carceral state. The Academy Award-nominated documentary “13th” drew broader attention to these issues by describing ways in which the racially biased prison system is similar to slavery (DuVernay 2016). Additionally, scholars have shown that the American prison system disproportionately targets people of color, and specifically Black people (Alexander 2011; Clear 2007; Prison Policy Initiative 2018a). As a result of their disproportionately high rates of incarceration, many Black Americans endure second-class citizenship, both socially, in areas such as housing and employment discrimination, and legally, in the voting arena because convicted felons can be barred from voting (Alexander 2011; Miller and Alexander 2015). However, such accounts have not yet analyzed the full extent of the social and legal impacts of mass incarceration. In particular, scholars have yet to thoroughly study the relationship between barring convicted felons from voting and Black electoral representation. Here, I examine the relationship between states’ felon disenfranchisement laws and Black descriptive representation in state legislatures across the U.S. First, I discuss existing scholarship regarding the 19

societal impacts of felon disenfranchisement. Next, I explain my hypothesis in greater depth. After reviewing the data and statistical methods used to test this hypothesis, I describe my findings, which appear to show that the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws does not meaningfully affect Black descriptive representation. However, results also suggest that the underlying motives behind the passage of felon disenfranchisement laws could account for the null relationship. These results are important as few scholars examine the direct link between felon disenfranchisement laws and Black descriptive representation. Furthermore, this project contributes to the plethora of existing research on the pervasiveness of racial inequality and political exclusion in the U.S.

LITERATURE REVIEW

Citizens elect legislators to represent them in state governments across the U.S. When states hinder citizens’ access to voting, citizens are less likely to be able to elect legislators who accurately represent them. Many states systematically prevent convicted felons from voting even after completing their sentences, an exclusion that can last for the remainder of their lives (National Conference of State Legislatures 2018b). Such political exclusion becomes exceptionally problematic in light of its racial consequences. Specifically, many states disproportionately prevent Black people and people of color from voting as a result of felony convictions (Behrens, Uggen and Manza 2003; Burch 2013; Harvey 1994; Uggen, Larson and Shannon 2018; Weaver and Lerman 2010). Numerous scholars have studied the racially disparate impacts of the carceral state. These scholars have found that the American criminal justice system disproportionately targets people of color and that many Black Americans face social and legal second-class citizenship as a result of their incarceration (Alexander 2011; Harvey 1994; Walker et al. 2017). Second-class citizenship entails individuals enduring systemic disadvantages that prevent them from full access to the benefits of citizenship, including stigma around one’s criminal history and legalized discrimination in access to housing, education, employment, and public benefits (Alexander 2011; Miller and Alexander 2015). In addition, the criminal justice system’s focus on people of color is also reflected in areas such as policing, arrests and felony convictions (Alexander 2011; Beckett, Nyrop and Pfingst 2006; Weaver and Lerman 2010). In 2010, scholars found that 33% of Black men had felony convictions, whereas only 13% of all adult men had felony convictions (The Sentencing Project 2017). In addition to arrests, convictions, and imprisonment rates, these vast racial disparities are also prevalent in felon disenfranchisement. In particular, felon disenfranchisement laws disproportionately prevent Black people from voting (e.g., Behrens, Uggen and Manza 2003; Burch 2013; Harvey 1994; Uggen, Larson and Shannon 2018; Weaver and Lerman 2010). For example, in 1990, Black people constituted 12.1%

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

of the U.S. adult population yet constituted 47% of convicted felons and 48% of felons convicted of violent crimes (Harvey 1994). Several states that prevent felons from voting do so if they have committed violent offenses, disproportionately impacting Black communities (National Conference of State Legislatures 2018b). Additionally, many states enacted felon disenfranchisement laws after Black people were given the right to vote via the 15th Amendment (Behrens, Uggen and Manza 2003). This fact suggests that felon disenfranchisement laws not only result in Black people being disproportionately prevented from voting but also may even be designed to do so. Felon disenfranchisement laws’ effects on voting also extend beyond those who are legally disenfranchised. In communities with high imprisonment rates, people vote significantly less than do people in communities with low imprisonment rates (Burch 2013). Additionally, in communities with high levels of contact with the criminal justice system, people vote significantly less than do people with low levels of contact with the criminal justice system (Weaver and Lerman 2010). Such communities face socialization effects of felon disenfranchisement laws, which result in them becoming politically demobilized. For example, Weaver and Lerman (2010) found that contact with the criminal justice system at every level they studied resulted in people becoming less likely to vote. Their results indicate that “even a minor encounter with the police that did not result in arrest is associated with a reduced likelihood of turning out in an election” (Weaver and Lerman 2010, 8). Scholars observed similar effects in people who have not been imprisoned themselves but are associated with someone who has been imprisoned (Walker 2014). By preventing people with felony convictions from voting and shaping the political behavior of other Black voters, felon disenfranchisement laws diminish the capacity of Black people to have a say in electing legislators to represent them. In this context, felon disenfranchisement laws likely weaken descriptive representation, a concept which suggests that a legislative body’s racial makeup accurately mirrors the population it represents, for the Black community (Dovi 2002; Gay 2002; Grose 2011; Haynie 2001; Preuhs 2006). These laws likely hinder Black descriptive representation because Black voters are more likely to vote for Black political candidates than are voters of other races (Grose 2011). When combining this fact with the fact that felon disenfranchisement laws disproportionately prevent Black people from voting (Behrens, Uggen and Manza 2003; Burch 2013; Harvey 1994; Uggen, Larson and Shannon 2018; Weaver and Lerman 2010), it is likely that felon disenfranchisement laws weaken Black descriptive representation. Black descriptive representation is vital to achieving Black substantive representation. Black substantive representation helps meet Black people’s policy needs. Many scholars have found that Black substantive representation is much more likely to be achieved when Black descriptive representation is 20

achieved (Griffin 2014; Grose 2005, 2011; Haynie 2001). For example, Black legislators “were significantly more likely than nonblack legislators to introduce bills that prohibited racial discrimination in education, employment, and housing, and laws that expressly advanced the socioeconomic well-being of African Americans” (Haynie 2001, 30). Furthermore, Black legislators are more likely than White legislators to support criminal justice reform (Yates and Fording 2005). These findings demonstrate that Black descriptive representation is crucial because Black legislators are more likely to advance Black interests than are legislators of other races. Aside from advancing policy preferences, Black descriptive representation provides additional advantages for Black communities. It tends to result in stronger relationships between elected officials and constituents (Gay 2002). For instance, “descriptive representation consistently is associated with higher approval ratings, greater familiarity with a legislator’s record of service to the district, and more confidence in the quality of a legislator’s constituency service” (Gay 2002, 721). The strengthened relationship between descriptive representatives and constituents stems from constituents experiencing a heightened sense of trust in their representative (Grose 2011). Ultimately, Black descriptive representation tends to advance Black communities’ policy needs and trust in government. Despite the importance of descriptive representation, few scholars have examined the possible link between felon disenfranchisement laws and Black descriptive representation. Scholars have not researched the impact of felon disenfranchisement laws on Black descriptive representation in electoral outcomes for seats in state legislatures. Since felon disenfranchisement laws disproportionately prevent Black people from voting and Black voters are more likely to vote for Black legislators than are voters of other races, the impact of such laws on Black descriptive representation in state legislatures is an important unanswered question.

EXPECTATIONS

I hypothesize that states with the most restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws have lower levels of Black descriptive representation than states with less restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws or no felon disenfranchisement laws at all. This hypothesis stems from two premises. First, as previously discussed, existing research indicates that felon disenfranchisement laws disproportionately prevent Black people from voting in the U.S., both directly through legal prohibitions and indirectly through social and cultural effects. Second, Black voters are more likely to vote for Black candidates for public office than are voters of other races. Together, these two facts generate the expectation that Black people are less descriptively represented in state legislatures in states with more restrictive disenfranchisement laws than in state legislatures in states with

In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation

less restrictive disenfranchisement laws or without restrictive disenfranchisement laws. Consequently, I hypothesize that the more restrictive the felon disenfranchisement law is in a state, the less likely it is that Black people will be descriptively represented in the state’s legislature: H1: As the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws in a state increases, the percentage of members of the state legislature who are Black will decrease, controlling for the size of the state’s Black population in addition to other variables. H2: As the percentage of Black people who are disenfranchised because of a felony conviction increases, the percentage of members of the state’s legislature who are Black will decrease, controlling for the size of the state’s Black population in addition to other variables.

DATA AND METHODS

I empirically test whether felon disenfranchisement laws systematically affect Black descriptive representation in state legislatures. To do so, I examine the percentage of state legislators who are Black in each state’s legislature in 2009 and 2015 in relation to the restrictiveness of state felon disenfranchisement laws in 2008 and 2014, respectively, and the percentage of the Black population in each state that is disenfranchised due to felony convictions in 2010 and 2016, respectively.

Dependent Variable

The dependent variable is measured as the percentage of state legislators who are Black in each state legislature. These percentages are obtained from the National Conference of State Legislatures (NCSL). For 2009, the data are from the NCSL’s “African-American Legislators 2009” table. This table includes each state’s total number of legislative seats, total number of African American state legislators, percentage of the total number of legislative seats held by African Americans, and percentage of each legislative chambers seats that are held by African Americans (National Conference of State Legislatures 2018a). For 2015, the data are from the NCSL’s “Who We Elect” data, which reports the composition of each state’s legislature with respect to generation, gender, age, education, occupation, ethnicity, and religion (National Conference of State Legislatures 2018c). Specifically, its “Table for Race/ Ethnicity” is utilized to obtain data on Black/African American state legislators (National Conference of State Legislators 2015). 2009 and 2015 are the only years for which this data is available. A strength of utilizing the percentage of state legislators who are Black in each state as a measure is that it is continuous rather than ordinal, which enables the detection of smaller differences in Black representation in state legislatures.

Another strength is that it is a direct, not indirect, measure of the phenomenon analyzed. A limitation of examining the percentage of state legislators who are Black, however, is that the years from which I draw these data precede the years from which I measure the independent variable, the percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction. This fact is problematic because, ideally, the years for which the independent variable is measured should temporally precede the years for which the dependent variable is measured.

Independent Variable 1 To account for this limitation in temporal priority, I analyze felon disenfranchisement laws themselves. I employ a measure that captures the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws by state for 2008 and 2014. These are the years directly preceding the years for which I draw data on the percentage of Black state legislators in each state. This oneyear time lag is used to account for temporal mechanisms. I measure the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws in each state with an index created for the years 2008 and 2014. To understand the restrictiveness of the laws themselves, I analyze each state’s felon disenfranchisement laws as categorized by the National Conference of State Legislatures and The Sentencing Project (National Conference of State Legislatures 2018b; The Sentencing Project 2014). I measure the severity of the law by the number of the following categories into which their felon disenfranchisement laws fall: 1) can be disenfranchised during probation and/or parole, 2) can be disenfranchised post-sentence (after probation and/ or parole) and 3) can be disenfranchised indefinitely. Each state is scored on a scale of 0-3, depending upon the number of categories into which it falls. Therefore, states that fall into a greater number of categories, and, thus, have higher scores, have more restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws than states that fall into fewer categories and have lower scores.1 A strength of this measure of felon disenfranchisement laws is that it directly measures the restrictiveness of these laws by state. The benefit of utilizing this direct state-level measurement is that it potentially gives some direct evidence of disenfranchisement laws on descriptive representation. One potential drawback of this ordinal data is that states which are similar, but not identical, may be grouped together. Thus, information about differences between such states could potentially be lost.

Independent Variable 2 One way to address the issue presented by this ordinal data is to measure the actual percentage of each state’s Black population that is disenfranchised because of a felony conviction. These data are continuous, meaning that they may show a more precise association that may not appear in ordinal data where variation across individual states could be lost. Thus, the second way in which I measure the restrictiveness of

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

felon disenfranchisement laws is through the percentage of each state’s Black population that is disenfranchised because of a felony conviction. Once again, these data are only available for 2010 and 2016 and come from The Sentencing Project. Ideally, we would want the years for which the percentage of the Black population that is disenfranchised due to a felony conviction are measured to precede the years for which the percentage of state legislators in each state who are Black are measured. Due to this limitation upon available data, there is a one-year time lag between the dependent and independent variables.2

Control Variables

While I hypothesize that Black descriptive representation is associated with felon disenfranchisement, researchers have found that Black voter turnout is also hindered by several other factors, which, in turn, likely hinder Black descriptive representation. Such factors include the existence of voter identification laws, the absence of same-day voter registration, and the race, biological sex, and partisanship of the voting population (Bacon 2018; Barreto, Nuno and Sanchez 2009; Grose 2011; Junn 2017; Merolla 2018; National Conference of State Legislatures 2017; National Conference of State Legislatures 2015). Furthermore, Black descriptive representation is also likely impacted by multimember legislative districts, overall voter turnout, and the number of legislative seats in each state’s legislature (Ballotpedia 2019e).

Identity Control Variables

The model controls for several features of states’ populations (see Table 1). Specifically, it controls for the percentage of each state’s population that is Black and the percentage of each state’s population that is White in 2009 and 2015. The Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation provides these data on its “Population Distribution by Race/Ethnicity” page (Kaiser Family Foundation 2019a; 2019b). The model also controls for the female population in each state. These data are drawn from the American Community Survey (ACS) for 2009 and 2015 (United States Census Bureau 2010; 2015). The ACS also provides the total population of each state (United States Census Bureau 2010; 2015). By dividing the total female population in each state by the total population in each state, the percentage of each state’s population that is female is calculated. I do not control for the male population because it would be perfectly correlated with the female population.

Political Control Variables

The model controls for different types of voting laws across states. First, it controls for voter identification laws in 2008 and 2014. This data is gathered from the National Conference of State Legislatures (National Conference of State Legislatures 2017; National Conference of State Legislatures 2019d). I code these laws on two separate binary scales: 1) whether a state’s identification law is strict and 2) whether a state’s identification law requires photo identification. 22

States with strict voting laws require people without proper identification to use a provisional ballot for voting and also complete additional requirements after the day of the election for their vote to be counted. For the first binary scale, I code states that have strict voter identification laws as 1 and states that do not have strict voter identification laws as 0. For the second binary scale, I code states that require photo identification as 1 and states that do not require photo identification as 0. Second, the model also controls the status of same-day voter registration policies in 2008 and 2014. I draw the data from The National Conference of State Legislatures’ “Same Day Voter Registration” page (National Conference of State Legislatures 2019b). I employ a binary measure wherein I code states that have any form of same-day registration as 1 and states that do not have any form of same-day registration as 0.3 I also control for the partisanship of individual voters across states. Ramey (2016) measures individual-level voter partisanship by utilizing a given algorithm to score individuals on a scale of 1-7, where more liberal voters are scored closer to 1 and more conservative voters are scored closer to 7 (Ramey 2016).4 In addition, I control for voter turnout in 2008 and 2014. I measure voter turnout by the percentage of the total number of ballots cast by the voting-eligible population in 47 states (McDonald 2019a; 2019b). Data are not available in 2008 for Connecticut, Mississippi, and Texas, and in 2014 for Mississippi, New Mexico, and Texas. Due to a lack of data available for these states, their voter turnout is measured by the percentage of ballots cast for the highest office by the votingeligible population (McDonald 2019a; 2019b). Finally, the model controls for specific features of state legislatures. In particular, it controls for states that utilize multimember districts in 2009 and 2015. Ballotpedia provides these data on its “State legislative chambers that use multimember districts” page (Ballotpedia 2019e). I code this variable using a binary measurement wherein states that utilize multimember legislative districts are coded as 1 and states that do not utilize multimember legislative districts are coded as 0. The model also controls for the number of legislative seats in each state’s legislature in 2009 and 2015. The National Conference of State Legislatures provides the 2009 data on its “African-American Legislators 2009” table (National Conference of State Legislatures 2018a). I draw the 2015 data from several sources. To begin with, the total number of legislative seats by state as of March 3, 2013, is provided by the National Conference of State Legislatures on its “Number of Legislators and Length of Terms in Years” page (National Conference of State Legislatures 2019a). To ensure that the number of legislative seats in each state that were in place in 2013 were still the number of legislative seats in place in 2015, I analyzed any changes to the number of legislative seats across states during this time frame. The National Conference of State Legislators also provides this information. This information is located on its “Sizes of

In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation

Table 1: Summary Statistics on Model Variables Statistic

Mean

St. Dev.

Min

Max

Black Legislators

100

0.080

0.079

0.000

0.290

Disenfranchisement Index

100

1.020

0.887

Percent Black Population Disenfranchised

100

0.064

0.060

0.000

0.262

Partisanship

100

0.270

0.211

-0.564

0.714

Black Population

100

0.100

0.094

0.000

0.380

White Population

100

0.712

0.155

0.220

0.950

Female Population

100

0.506

0.008

0.474

0.516

Legislative Seats

100

147.650

59.885

424

Multimember Districts

100

0.210

0.409

Voter Turnout

100

0.519

0.138

0.283

0.781

Same Day Voter Registration

100

0.240

0.429

Strict ID Laws

100

0.150

0.359

Photo ID Laws

100

0.240

0.429

Legislatures” page (National Conference of State Legislatures 2019c). According to this source, only Idaho, New York, North Dakota, Rhode Island, and Wyoming had changed the number of seats in their legislatures since 1990 (National Conference of State Legislatures 2019c). To examine if any of the changes occurred between March 3, 2013 and 2015, I accessed information on the number of seats in each of the aforementioned states’ legislatures.5

METHODS

I employ multivariate regression to analyze the results. The percentage of Black people disenfranchised due to a felony conviction strongly correlates with the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws as measured by the index used in this model (r = 0.71). Thus, these models are run separately. Model 1 examines the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws by state in 2008 and 2014 and the percentage of state legislators who are Black in 2009 and 2015. Model 2 considers the percentage of Black people disenfranchised due to a felony conviction by state in 2010 and 2016 and the percentage of state legislators who are Black in 2009 and 2015. Both of these models include the aforementioned control variables. Statistical significance will be determined by a p-value of 0.05. That is, for the results to be statistically significant, there must be at least a 95 percent chance that we would not observe a relationship

as extreme as the one exhibited in the model if a relationship between these variables did not exist. If no statistically significant relationship between felon disenfranchisement laws and Black descriptive representation exists (i.e., a p-value of greater than 0.05), then I will reject the hypothesized relationship and accept the null hypothesis.

FINDINGS

Although the literature suggests that there should be a strong negative relationship between disenfranchisement and descriptive representation, the findings in this study are decidedly more mixed. Theoretically, the story regarding descriptive representation is clear: lower Black voter turnout should lead to fewer Black elected officials. If felon voting laws disproportionately decrease Black voter turnout, we should see corresponding declines in the number of Black candidates who end up in the state legislatures. Quantifying this relationship and studying it empirically, however, raises several puzzling results. The results show a paradoxically positive relationship between disenfranchisement laws and Black electoral representation. This finding becomes less paradoxical, however, when we think from a historical perspective. Specifically, we need to consider what might have caused the very enactment of felon disenfranchisement laws from the onset. I suspect that

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

the size of a state’s Black population drives the restrictiveness of its disenfranchisement law. In particular, states with larger Black populations may have enacted more restrictive disenfranchisement laws to hinder the electoral power of those populations. By contrast, states with smaller Black populations could have enacted less restrictive disenfranchisement laws because they may not have felt the need to electorally suppress their Black population as the population was already small, and, thus, not electorally powerful. I conducted a preliminary empirical test to understand the effect that the size of a state’s Black population has on the restrictiveness of a state’s disenfranchisement law. Although I only offer preliminary findings, it appears that this line of research is likely a promising avenue into understanding the relationship between laws that disenfranchise felons and the striking racial disparities among elected officials.

Bivariate Models

Before I discuss my contradictory findings in greater depth, I will discuss the two different ways in which I measured disenfranchisement’s effect on the rate at which Black officials are elected. First, I ran bivariate regression models to understand the relationship between the restrictiveness of felon voting laws and Black descriptive representation. The bivariate association between the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws measured by the index in this model and the percentage of state legislators who are Black is statistically significant (p = 0.02). The regression coefficient is 0.02, which means that for every oneunit increase in the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws as measured by the index in this study, there is a 2% increase in state legislators who are Black. However, because the index is measured on a scale from 1-3, a three-unit increase in the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws (the maximum impact) only generates a 6% increase in state legislators who are Black. In sum, without including control variables, the restrictiveness of disenfranchisement laws as measured by the index has a statistically meaningful effect on Black descriptive representation, and the relationship between these variables is positive. The magnitude of the impact, however, is relatively weak. I also ran a bivariate model between the percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction and the percentage of state legislators who are Black. The model shows that when control variables are not included, the relationship between the independent and dependent variables is positive. The relationship is also statistically significant, with a p-value of 0.01. Thus, without including control variables, the percentage of a state’s Black population that is disenfranchised due to a felony conviction impacts Black descriptive representation in a statistically meaningful way, and the relationship between the two variables is positive. The fact that these relationships are positive is the opposite of what was hypothesized. As previously discussed, I anticipated negative relationships between the restrictiveness of 24

felon disenfranchisement laws, as measured both by the index and by the percentage of the Black population disenfranchised, and the percentage of state legislators who are Black. However, positive relationships could be explained. In particular, states with larger Black populations not only may tend to elect Black representatives but also may have enacted felon disenfranchisement laws wth the goal of suppressing the Black vote. I will return to this issue after discussing multivariate models.

Multivariate Models

The bivariate models do not make a strong claim about the effect of disenfranchisement on descriptive representation, as they do not include other factors that may predict variation in Black descriptive representation. Thus, I estimated multivariate regressions to account for these factors (see Table 2). In Model 1, the felon disenfranchisement law index is the independent variable. Once control variables were included, this model showed the anticipated negative relationship between the restrictiveness of felon voting laws and the percentage of state legislators who are Black. However, it is not statistically significant (p = 0.43). The only statistically significant variables in the model are the percentage of a state’s population that is White (p = 0.02, b = -0.055) and the percentage of a state’s population that is Black (p = 0.00, b= 0.74). The regression coefficient (b) and p-value indicate that the percentage of a state’s population that is Black predicts the percentage of state legislators who are Black. Ultimately, the substantive effects of the findings for this model are that the disenfranchisement index does not meaningfully affect the rate at which Black people are elected to state legislatures. In contrast, the percentage of a state’s population that is Black does seem to affect this rate meaningfully.6 In Model 2, the felon disenfranchisement index is replaced with the percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to felony convictions. Once control variables were incorporated in this model, there is a negative, but insignificant (p = 0.85) relationship between this independent variable and the percentage of state legislators who are Black. Similar to Model 1, the only statistically significant variables in the model are the percentage of a state’s population that is White (p = 0.0251, b = -0.05) and the percentage of a state’s population that is Black (p = 0.00, b = 0.73). Also similar to Model 1, the percentage of a state’s population that is Black is likely driving the results. Ultimately, this model, similar to the other multivariate model, demonstrates that a state’s Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction does not meaningfully affect its state legislature’s Black population. Based on what the literature says about the seemingly straightforward relationship between felon disenfranchisement and Black descriptive representation, it is unexpected that this relationship does not exist based on these data. This fact presents an empirical puzzle that will be further investigated in the next section of this paper.

In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation

Table 2: Effect of Felon Disenfranchisement on Black Descriptive Representation

Dependent variable:

Percentage of State Legislators who are Black (1) Disenfranchisement Index

(2)

-0.003 (0.004)

Percentage of Black Population Disenfranchised

-0.010 (0.055)

Partisanship

0.003 (0.016)

0.002 (0.017)

White Population

-0.055** (0.023)

-0.054** (0.024)

Legislative Seats

0.0001 (0.0001)

Multimember Districts

0.001 (0.008)

Voter Turnout

-0.001 (0.024)

-0.0002 (0.024)

Same Day Voter Registration

0.001 (0.007)

0.0005 (0.007)

Black Population

0.738*** (0.050)

0.730*** (0.049)

Strict Voter ID Laws

0.001 (0.009)

Photo Voter ID Laws

-0.005 (0.008)

-0.004 (0.008)

Female Population

0.369 (0.554)

0.367 (0.556)

Constant

-0.148

-0.151

(0.273)

(0.274)

100

R Squared

0.884

0.883

Adjusted R Squared

0.870

0.869

Residual Std. Error (df = 88)

0.029

60.971***

60.508***

Observations

F Statistic (df = 11; 88)

*p<0.1; **p<0.05; ***p<0.01

Note:

Understanding the Null findings

The null findings might make sense when the underlying motivations behind the enactment of felon disenfranchisement laws are analyzed from a theoretical standpoint. In this section, I begin to speculate about what drives the passage of these laws. Specifically, I suggest that felon disenfranchisement laws may have been enacted to suppress Black electoral power.

I think that this is the case because additional preliminary empirical tests indicate a strong, positive correlation between the percentage of a state’s population that is Black and the restrictiveness of its disenfranchisement law. Furthermore, one scholar tested this hypothesis, finding some supporting evidence. In particular, Preuhs (2001, 744) found that “Even after controlling for a variety of alternative explanations, race

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

remains the primary factor in determining the severity of a policy [felon disenfranchisement] that is one of the last vestiges of the states’ freedom to restrict electoral participation.” To understand these null findings and the effect that the racial composition of a state has on the enactment of felon disenfranchisement laws, I examine states with both restrictive laws and large Black populations and states with less restrictive laws and small Black populations (see Figures 1 and 2). I can provide suggestive and preliminary pieces of supportive evidence. For instance, Vermont, which is a historically progressive state, has taken an extremely soft stance on disenfranchisement laws. In particular, Vermont is one of only two states in the U.S. that does not disenfranchise felons at all (National Conference of State Legislatures 2018b). Vermont is a relatively White state (Kaiser Family Foundation, 2019a; 2019b). This relationship between whiteness and more lenient disenfranchisement laws is repeated in many other states, including Hawaii, Maine, Montana, New Hampshire, North Dakota, and Utah (The Sentencing Project 2018a; National Conference of State Legislatures 2018b; Kaiser Family Foundation, 2019a; 2019b). This anecdotal relationship merits further investigation. There is a similar yet reversed relationship in other states. For example, Alabama and Mississippi have some of the largest Black populations in the country and also some of the most restrictive disenfranchisement laws (Kaiser Family Foundation, 2019a; 2019b; National Conference of State Legislatures 2018b; The Sentencing Project 2018a;). Alabama and Mississippi are deep south states with a long history of racial

issues, including slavery, lynchings, and Jim Crow laws (Little 2019). When combining this history with the fact that these states have the most restrictive disenfranchisement laws and the largest Black populations, it can be argued that the large Black populations may have motivated the enactment of such restrictive disenfranchisement laws. To further understand how the size of a state’s Black population might affect the restrictiveness of its disenfranchisement law, I conducted a bivariate model wherein the percentage of a state’s population that is Black is the independent variable and the disenfranchisement law index is the dependent variable (see Figure 3). Since this model is bivariate, control variables are not included, and thus, results are only suggestive. The model predicts that when the percentage of a state’s population that is Black is at its highest level, states will have an index score that is 2.5 times greater than when the percentage of a state’s population that is Black is at its lowest. The fact that the restrictiveness of a state’s disenfranchisement law is likely to be higher in states with larger Black populations suggests the possibility that the size of a state’s Black population could be a motivating factor behind the enactment of these laws. In other words, this model suggests that more restrictive disenfranchisement laws are more likely to be enacted in states with larger Black populations, and less restrictive disenfranchisement laws are more likely to be enacted in states with smaller Black populations. Without incorporating control variables, when the Black population in a state is the minimum value in this dataset (0%), I can predict with 95% confidence

Figure 1: Percentage of each state’s population that is Black (averaged between 2009 and 2015)

Black Population

Source: Kaiser Family Foundation, 2019a; 2019b

In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation

Figure 2: Each state’s score on the felon disenfranchisement law index used in this study (averaged between 2008 and 2014)

Felon Disenfranchisement Law Scores

Source: The Sentencing Project 2018a; National Conference of State Legislatures 2018b

Figure 3: Predicted Score Ranges of the Felon Disenfranchisement Law Index when the Black Population is at its Minimum and Maximum

Black Population

Predicted Harshness of Felon Disenfranchisement Laws 40% 20% 0%

Score on Felon Disenfranchisement Law Index that the restrictiveness of that state’s felon disenfranchisement law as measured by the index used in this study will be between 0.503 and 0.999. When the Black population in a state is the maximum value in this dataset (38%), I can predict with 95% confidence that the restrictiveness of that state’s felon disenfranchisement law as measured by the index used in this study will be between 1.238 and 2.303. The range in confidence intervals shows the effect specific values of the percentage of the population that is Black has on a state’s score on the felon disenfranchisement law index. Since the

confidence intervals do not overlap, I know that the percentage of each state’s population that is Black has an observable effect on the restrictiveness of a state’s felon disenfranchisement law.

IMPLICATIONS

My findings generate some implications for future research and policy. This project suggests that scholars should consider the historical context within which laws are enacted to understand the motivations for their creation. In particular, researchers can

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

better analyze what motivates states to enact restrictive or not restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws. Empirically, scholars should run multivariate regressions to test the effect that the size of a state’s Black population has on the restrictiveness of its disenfranchisement law while controlling for other factors that may affect the law enactment. By incorporating control variables, multivariate models will be able to more conclusively determine the effect that the size of a state’s Black population has on its felon voting law. This project also suggests that policymakers seeking to promote Black descriptive representation should consider avenues besides easing felon disenfranchisement laws. One existing example of an attempt to encourage Black descriptive representation is majority-minority legislative districts. In majority-minority legislative districts, the majority of the population consists of members of minority groups. In these districts, elected officials are more likely to be members of minority groups than in districts that are predominantly White (Griffin 2014). However, a controversy around majorityminority districts exists. Supporters of majority-minority districts argue that they are necessary to prevent minority political voices from being diluted in White majority districts (Ballotpedia 2019a). People who oppose minority-majority districts argue that cramming members of minority groups into single districts reduces their electoral influence in other districts (Ballotpedia 2019a). Despite these issues, majorityminority districts can be a way to promote Black descriptive representation. Another way to potentially promote Black descriptive representation is through increasing Black access to voting. As previously noted, scholars found that Black people are more likely to vote for Black legislators than are voters of other races (Grose 2011). Moreover, states with smaller Black populations are less likely to elect Black politicians than are states with larger Black populations (Grose 2011). In particular, Grose notes that Black voters show support for Black candidates because of trust, which results in electoral support and high levels of voter turnout (Grose 2011). Because Black people are more likely to vote for Black candidates than are voters of other races, increasing Black voters’ access to voting is a method of potentially promoting Black descriptive representation. Finally, another way to potentially promote Black descriptive representation is through increasing access to voting for members of other racial groups. Scholars found that members of other races support Black candidates under certain circumstances. Specifically, Kaufmann demonstrated a reciprocal relationship of support between Black and Latino voters for Black and Latino candidates (Kaufmann 2003). In other words, Black and Latino voters expressed support for candidates of each other’s racial groups (Kaufmann 2003). Another study found that Latinos were more likely to vote for Latino candidates than candidates of other racial groups (Stokes-Brown 2006). However, after Latino candidates, the racial group they demonstrated the highest level of support for 28

was Black candidates (Stokes-Brown 2006). Because Latinos demonstrate some level of support for Black candidates, increasing their access to voting can potentially promote Black descriptive representation.

CONCLUSION

This study’s purpose is to understand the relationship between the restrictiveness of felon disenfranchisement laws and Black descriptive representation. Because disenfranchisement laws disproportionately hinder Black voting and Black voters disproportionately support Black political candidates, a negative relationship between the restrictiveness of disenfranchisement laws and Black electoral representation was expected. Thus, I hypothesized that states with more restrictive felon voting laws would have fewer Black state legislators than would states with less stringent felon voting laws. Similarly, I also hypothesized that states with a higher percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction would have fewer state legislators who are Black than would states with a smaller percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction. The relationship between felon disenfranchisement and Black descriptive representation seems clear. However, unexpectedly, I did not find empirical support for my hypothesis. My first model shows the effect of the restrictiveness of disenfranchisement laws, as measured by the index I created on Black electoral representation. The model shows that there is no statistically meaningful effect. Similarly, my second model, which measures the restrictiveness of disenfranchisement by the percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction, also does not predict Black descriptive representation. Ultimately, both of my models appear to show that felon disenfranchisement does not affect Black electoral representation within state legislatures in a statistically significant manner. These null findings suggest that scholars may need to consider the historical context in which laws are created to understand the goals behind their enactment. When thinking about felon disenfranchisement laws, if scholars consider the historical context within which they were created, one may be able to make sense of some of my findings. While my models show that felon disenfranchisement laws do not meaningfully affect Black descriptive representation, they also show that the percentage of a state’s population that is Black does significantly affect Black descriptive representation. This effect is exemplified by the fact that there tends to be a larger number of Black legislators in states with larger Black populations. At the same time, states that have larger Black populations also tend to have more restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws. Similarly, states with smaller Black populations tend to have less restrictive felon disenfranchisement laws. To understand this phenomenon, one should consider the motivations behind states’ decision to enact certain levels

In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation

of felon disenfranchisement laws. The relationship between the percentage of a state’s population that is Black and the restrictiveness of that state’s felon disenfranchisement law suggests that restrictive laws may have been enacted to suppress the electoral power of the large Black populations in states that have such populations. Similarly, this relationship also suggests that states with disenfranchisement laws that are not restrictive or no disenfranchisement laws at all may not have large enough Black populations to have felt the need to create legislation to electorally suppress their Black populations. Thus, when considering the historical context within which felon disenfranchisement laws were enacted, scholars may be able to understand what the motivations were behind their enactment. This study contributes to the enormous existing body of literature on the historical legacy of racial inequality. Notably, because scholars can see that the severity of a state’s disenfranchisement policy correlates with the size of its Black population, one can speculate that this relationship may be significantly linked. If the size of a state’s Black population is truly the motivating factor for its felon disenfranchisement law, the pervasiveness of racist political exclusion today is evident. Because Black people are disproportionately hindered from voting by disenfranchisement laws today, and the very goal of the creation of such laws in the past may have been to limit their voting capabilities, it is possible to see contemporary consequences of racism and political exclusion. Thus, this project contributes to the large existing body of literature on the historical legacy of racial inequality and exclusion. n

REFERENCES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Behrens, Angela, Christopher Uggen and Jeff Manza. 2003. “Ballot Manipulation and the Menace of Negro Domination: Racial Threat and Felon Disenfranchisement in the United States, 1850–2002.” American Journal of Sociology 109 (3): 559–605.

Jeani Atlas graduated from the University of Washington in 2020 with a Bachelor of Arts in both Political Science and Law, Societies & Justice, along with a minor in Classical Studies. She graduated Magna Cum Laude and Phi Beta Kappa. During her time at UW, she served as President of the Nu chapter of Pi Sigma Alpha for almost two years and was an Undergraduate Research Fellow for the University of Washington’s Center for American Politics and Public Policy. Jeani also co-led the Read2Me Program for the Incarcerated Mothers Advocacy Project where she recorded incarcerated mothers reading stories and emailed the recordings to their children. She is co-authoring a paper with Professor Scott Lemieux currently entitled “It Takes Conservatives: Analyzing Backlash and Societal Reactions to District of Columbia v. Heller, Shelby County, Alabama v. Holder, and Citizens United v. Federal Elections Commission” with the intent of presenting it at the Pacific Northwest Political Science Association Annual Meeting in 2020. Jeani plans to attend law school beginning in the fall of 2021 and hopes to pursue a career in public interest law thereafter.

Alexander, Michelle. 2011. The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. New York: New Press. Bacon, Perry Jr. 2018. “Have Republicans Given Up On Winning Black Voters?” FiveThirtyEight. https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/ have-republicans-given-up-on-winning-black-voters/. Barreto, Matt A, Stephen A Nuno, and Gabriel R Sanchez. 2009. “The Disproportionate Impact of Voter-ID Requirements on the Electorate-New Evidence from Indiana.” PS: Political Science & Politics 42 (1): 111–116. Ballotpedia. 2019a. “Majority-minority districts.” Ballotpedia. https:// ballotpedia.org/Majority-minority_districts. Ballotpedia. 2019b. “New York State Legislature.” Ballotpedia. https:// ballotpedia.org/New_York_State_Legislature. Ballotpedia. 2019c. “North Dakota State Legislature.” Ballotpedia. https://ballotpedia.org/North_Dakota_Legislative_Assembly. Ballotpedia 2019d. “Rhode Island General Assembly.” Ballotpedia. https://ballotpedia.org/Rhode_Island_General_Assembly. Ballotpedia. 2019e. “State legislative chambers that use multimember districts.” Ballotpedia. https://ballotpedia.org/State_legislative_ chambers_that_use_multi-member_districts. Ballotpedia. 2019f. “Tennessee’s 9th Congressional District.” Ballotpedia. https://ballotpedia.org/Tennessee\%27s\_9th\_ Congressional\_District. Ballotpedia. 2019g. “Wyoming State Legislature.” Ballotpedia. https:// ballotpedia.org/Wyoming_State_Legislature. Beckett, Katherine, Kris Nyrop and Lori Pfingst. 2006. “Race, Drugs, and Policing: Understanding Disparities in Drug Delivery Arrests.” Criminology 44 (1): 105–137.

Burch, Traci. 2013. Trading Democracy for Justice: Criminal Convictions and the Decline of Neighborhood Political Participation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Clear, Todd R. 2007. Imprisoning Communities: How Mass Incarceration Makes Disadvantaged Neighborhoods Worse. New York: Oxford University Press. Dovi, Suzanne. 2002. “Preferable Descriptive Representatives: Will Just Any Woman, Black, or Latino Do?” American Political Science Review 96 (4): 729–743. Doyle, Charles. 2018. “Mandatory Minimum Sentencing of Federal Drug Offenses.” Congressional Research Service. https://fas.org/sgp/ crs/misc/R45074.pdf DuVernay, Ava. 2016. “13th.” A Netflix Original Documentary. Sherman Oaks, CA: Kandoo Films. https://www.netflix.com/wa tch/80091741?trackId=13752289&tctx=0%2C0%2Cf470801d3125-4305-900f-b63c2dfb316e-574711250%2C%2C%2C Garland, David. 2001. Mass Imprisonment: Social Causes and Consequences. London; Thousand Oaks: Sage. Gay, Claudine. 2002. “Spirals of Trust? The Effect of Descriptive Representation on the Relationship Between Citizens and Their

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics Government.” American Journal of Political Science 46 (4): 717732. Griffin, John D. 2014. “When and Why Minority Legislators Matter.” Annual Review of Political Science 17: 327–336. Grose, Christian R. 2005. “Disentangling Constituency and Legislator Effects in Legislative Representation: Black Legislators or Black Districts?” Social Science Quarterly 86 (2) :427– 443. Grose, Christian R. 2011. Congress in Black and White: Race and Representation in Washington and at Home. New York: Cambridge University Press. Harvey, Alice E. 1994. “Ex-Felon Disenfranchisement and Its Influence on the Black Vote: The Need for a Second Look.” University of Pennsylvania Law Review 142 (3): 1145–1189. Haynie, Kerry Lee. 2001. African American Legislators in the American States. New York: Columbia University Press. Idaho Legislature. 2015. “2015 Legislative Directory Errata Sheet.” Idaho Legislature. https://legislature.idaho.gov/wpcontent/uploads/ sessioninfo/2015/directory/Legislative_Director.pdf. Junn, Jane. 2017. “The Trump Majority: White Womanhood and the Making of Female Voters in the U.S.” Politics, Groups, and Identities 5 (2): 343–352. Kaiser Family Foundation. 2019a. “Population Distribution by Race/ Ethnicity 2009.” Kaiser Family Foundation. https://www.kff.org/ other/state-indicator/distribution-by-raceethnicity/?currentTimefra me=9&sortModel=%7B%22colId%22:%22Location%22,%22sort %22:%22asc%22%7D Kaiser Family Foundation. 2019b. “Population Distribution by Race/ Ethnicity 2015.” Kaiser Family Foundation. https://www.kff.org/ other/state-indicator/distribution-by-raceethnicity/?currentTimefra me=3&sortModel=%7B%22colId%22:%22Location%22,%22sort %22:%22asc%22%7D. Kaufmann, Karen M. 2003. “Black and Latino Voters in Denver: Responses to Each Other’s Political Leadership.” Political Science Quarterly 118 (1): 107-126. Little, Becky. 2019. “See America’s First Memorial to its 4,400 Lynching Victims.” History. https://www.history.com/news/ lynching-museum-alabama-national-memorial-for-peace-andjustice McDonald, Michael P. 2019a. “2008 November General Election Turnout Rates.” United States Elections Project. http://www. electproject.org/2008g. McDonald, Michael P. 2019b. “2014 November General Election Turnout Rates.” United States Elections Project. http://www. electproject.org/2014g. Merolla, Jennifer L. 2018. “White Female Voters in the 2016 Presidential Election.” The Journal of Race, Ethnicity, and Politics 3 (1): 52–54. Miller, Reuben Jonathan and Amanda Alexander. 2015. “The Price of Carceral Citizenship: Punishment, Surveillance, and Social Welfare Policy in an Age of Carceral Expansion.” Michigan Journal of Race & Law 21 (2): 291-314. National Conference of State Legislators. 2015. “Legislators’ Race and Ethnicity 2015.” National Conference of State Legislators. http:// www.ncsl.org/Portals/1/Documents/About_State_Legislatures/ Raceethnicity_Rev2.pdf 30

National Conference of State Legislatures. 2017. “History of Voter ID.” National Conference of State Legislatures. http://www.ncsl.org/ research/elections-and-campaigns/voter-id-history.aspx. National Conference of State Legislatures. 2018a. “African-American Legislators 2009.” National Conference of State Legislatures. http:// www.ncsl.org/research/about-state-legislatures/allotp-americanlegislators-in-2009.aspx. National Conference of State Legislatures. 2018b. “Felon Voting Rights.” National Conference of State Legislatures. https://www. ncsl.org/research/elections-and-campaigns/felon-voting-rights. aspx#Table%20One. National Conference of State Legislatures. 2018c. “Who We Elect: An Interactive Graphic”. National Conference of State Legislatures. http://www.ncsl.org/research/about-state-legislatures/who-we-electan-interactive-graphic.aspx. National Conference of State Legislatures. 2019a. “Number of Legislators and Length of Terms in Years.” National Conference of State Legislatures. http://www.ncsl.org/research/about-statelegislatures/number-of-legislators-and-length-of-terms.aspx. National Conference of State Legislatures. 2019b. “Same Day Voter Registration.” National Conference of State Legislatures. http://www. ncsl.org/research/elections-and- campaigns/same-day-registration. aspx. National Conference of State Legislatures. 2019c “Sizes of Legislatures.” National Conference of State Legislatures. http:// www.ncsl.org/research/about-state-legislatures/sizes-oflegislatures.aspx. National Conference of State Legislatures. 2019d. “Voter Identification Requirements — Voter ID Laws.” National Conference of State Legislatures. http://www.ncsl.org/research/ elections-and-campaigns/voter-id.aspx. Preuhs, Robert R. 2001. “State Felon Disenfranchisement Policy.” Social Science Quarterly 82 (4): 733-748. Preuhs, Robert R. 2006. “The Conditional Effects of Minority Descriptive Representation: Black Legislators and Policy Influence in the American States.” The Journal of Politics 68 (3): 585–599. Prison Policy Initiative. 2018a. “State prisons, local jails and federal prisons, incarceration rates and counts, 1925-2016”. Prison Policy Initiative. https://www.prisonpolicy.org/data/#nat. Prison Policy Initiative. 2018b. “Tennessee Profile.” Prison Policy Initiative. https://www.prisonpolicy.org/profiles/TN.html. Provine, Doris Marie. 2007. Unequal Under Law: Race in the War on Drugs. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Ramey, Adam. 2016. “Vox Populi, Vox Dei? Crowdsourced Ideal Point Estimation.” Journal of Politics 78 (1): 281-295. Roberts, Dorothy E. 2004. “The Social and Moral Cost of Mass Incarceration in African American Communities.” Stanford Law Review 56 (5): 1271–1305. Stokes-Brown, Atiya Kai. 2006. “Racial Identity and Latino Vote Choice.” American Politics Research 34 (5): 627-652. The Sentencing Project. 2014. “Felony Disenfranchisement Laws in The United States.” The Sentencing Project. https://www. sentencingproject.org/publications/felony-disenfranchisementlaws-in-the-united-states/.

In the Jailhouse, Not the Statehouse: Racialized Felon Disenfranchisement and Black Descriptive Representation The Sentencing Project. 2018a. “Expanding the Vote: Two Decades of Felony Disenfranchisement Reforms.” The Sentencing Project. https://www.sentencingproject.org/publications/expanding-votetwo-decades-felony-disenfranchisement-reforms/. The Sentencing Project. 2018b. “Trends In U.S. Corrections.” The Sentencing Project. https://www.sentencingproject.org/publications/ trends-in-u-s-corrections/. Uggen, Christopher, Ryan Larson and Sarah Shannon. 2018. “6 Million Lost Voters: State- Level Estimates of Felony Disenfranchisement, 2016.” The Sentencing Project. https://www. sentencingproject.org/publications/6-million-lost-voters-state-levelestimates-felony-disenfranchisement-2016/. United States Census Bureau. 2010. “Age and Sex 2009 American Community Survey 1-Year Estimates.” United States Census Bureau. https://factfinder.census.gov/faces/tableservices/jsf/pages/ productview.xhtml?pid=ACS_17_1YR_S0101&prodType=table. United States Census Bureau. 2015. “Age and Sex 2015 American Community Survey 1-Year Estimates.” 2015. United States Census Bureau. https://factfinder.census.gov/faces/tableservices/jsf/pages/ productview.xhtml?pid=ACS_17_1YR_S0101&prodType=table. United States Sentencing Commission. 2017. “An Overview of Mandatory Minimum Penalties in the Federal Criminal Justice System.” 2017. https://www.ussc.gov/sites/default/files/pdf/ research-and-publications/research-publications/2017/20170711_ Mand-Min.pdf. Walker, Hannah L. 2014. “Extending the Effects of the Carceral State: Proximal Contact, Political Participation, and Race.” Political Research Quarterly 67 (4): 809–822. Walker, Hannah L., Rebecca U. Thorpe, Emily K. Christensen and John-Paul Anderson. 2017. “The Hidden Subsidies of Rural Prisons: Race, Space and the Politics of Cumulative Disadvantage.” Punishment & Society 19 (4): 393–416. Weaver, Vesla M. and Amy E. Lerman. 2010. “Political Consequences of the Carceral State.” American Political Science Review 104 (4): 817–833. Yates, Jeff and Richard Fording. 2005. “Politics and State Punitiveness in Black and White.” The Journal of Politics 67 (4): 1099–1121.

NOTES

1 Two categories were considered for the index but not included due to their lack of variation. The first category is whether the state imposes any sort of disenfranchisement upon convicted felons. The second category is whether the state disenfranchises felons while they are incarcerated. 48 of 50 states disenfranchise felons while they are incarcerated, while two do not do so. The 48 states that impose some sort of disenfranchisement upon convicted felons are the same 48 states that disenfranchise felons while they are incarcerated. Because there is such a small sample size and minimal variation within these two categories, they were excluded from this analysis.

law changed between 2014 and 2016 in a way that affected its score on the index used in this study, the percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction in each state between 2014 and 2016 also did not likely change significantly unless arrests and incarceration rates changed during this time period. (The Sentencing Project 2018a). Incarceration rates in state prisons, federal prisons and local jails between both 2008 and 2010 and 2014 and 2016 remained roughly similar. In 2008, 765 out of every 100,000 people across the nation were incarcerated whereas in 2010, 742 out of every 100,000 people were incarcerated (Prison Policy Initiative 2018a). In 2014, 705 out of every 100,000 people in the United States were incarcerated whereas in 2016, 679 out of every 100,000 people were incarcerated (Prison Policy Initiative 2018a). Thus, despite the reverse temporal order of the continuous measure, the fact that disenfranchisement laws and incarceration rates hardly changed throughout this time period lends credibility to this measure. 3 I was unable to locate information about voter identification laws in Tennessee, Texas, and Virginia in 2008. Based on the fact that voter identification laws in these states were amended to include language that required strict and/or photo identification after 2008, I surmised that these requirements did not exist prior to their enactments (National Conference of State Legislatures 2017). 4 Ramey’s dataset contains values for most states in 2009. For states for which only 2009 data exists, 2009 scores are utilized. For states for which only 2010 data exists, 2010 scores are utilized. For states for which both 2009 and 2010 data exist, the scores are averaged across those two years. Similarly, Ramey’s dataset contains values for most states in 2015. For states for which only 2015 data exists, 2015 scores are utilized. For states for which only 2016 data exists, 2016 scores are utilized. For states for which both 2015 and 2016 data exist, the scores are averaged across those two years. 5 The Idaho state legislature provides information on and contained 105 seats in 2015 (Idaho Legislature 2015). Ballotpedia reports New York State’s legislature as having 63 Senate seats and 150 Assembly seats, for a total of 213 seats, following the 2010 Census (Ballotpedia 2019b). Also, Ballotpedia reports North Dakota’s legislature as having 47 Senate seats and 94 House seats, for a total of 141 seats, following the 2010 Census (Ballotpedia 2019c). In addition, Ballotpedia reports Rhode Island’s General Assembly as having 38 Senate seas and 75 House seats, for a total of 113 seats, following the 2010 Census (Ballotpedia 2019d). Finally, Ballotpedia reports Wyoming’s General Assembly as having 30 Senate seats and 60 House seats, for a total of 90 seats, following the 2010 Census (Ballotpedia 2019g). 6 When the percentage of the population that is Black was excluded from the model, other control variables stood in as proxies for this variable. In other words, when the Black population was removed from the model, additional control variables became statistically meaningful. These variables were also in the expected directions. In particular, this was the case for partisanship where the direction is positive, the percentage of a state’s population that is White where the direction is negative, and the percentage of a state’s population that is female where the direction is positive.

2 The data limitations here are likely mitigated given that the percentage of the Black population disenfranchised due to a felony conviction in each state likely did not change significantly between 2008 and 2010. And, only one state’s felon disenfranchisement law changed between 2008 and 2010 in a way that affected its score on the index used in this study (The Sentencing Project 2018a). Similarly, because only one state’s felon disenfranchisement © Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories Conner Joyce, Southwestern University Scholarship offers several models to explain nuclear proliferation. Each of these models attempts to identify a primary causal variable that answers why states choose to pursue nuclear weapons. This study supplements the logic of an existing model: the security model. Using the most-similar comparative case study analysis of South Korea and Israel’s nuclear programs, this research argues that degree of dependency during post-war recovery determined each state’s propensity to proliferate. A path-dependency model is used as an analytical lens to assess this hypothesis, such that respective paths of recovery will be tested as the primary independent variable. By presenting recovery paths as determinative, this study finds that demand for external protection (shaped by domestic factors), not just supply explains divergent nuclear trajectories. INTRODUCTION

cholarship offers several models to explain nuclear proliferation. Each of these models attempts to identify a primary causal variable that answers why states choose to pursue nuclear weapons. This study supplements the logic of an existing model: the security model. The security model derives from the neorealist theory of international relations, arguing that states proliferate in response to external security threats from other state actors. Because the international system is anarchic, states employ strategies of “self-help” to ensure their defense. According to the security model, the acquisition of nuclear weapons is one such self-help strategy. Several scholars have challenged that the security model ignores alternative determinants and relies on post facto rationalizations. These scholars contend that the security model fails to account for the disparate nuclear tendencies of various state actors. Solingen (2009) levels this critique. Solingen (2009) constructs a comparative model that analyzes the nuclear trajectories of the Near East and the Far East regions. She finds that despite facing comparable threat environments, Middle East states proliferated, while East Asian states did not. Solingen (2009) points to this divergence to question the assumptions of the security model. In response to this challenge, security model theorists attribute divergent nuclear trajectories to the intervention of external power (Bleek and Lorber 2013; Reiter 2014). They expect the positive or negative inducements of a patron to explain nonproliferation. This paper will aim to construct a comparative case study, similar to Solingen’s (2009) model, across the Near East and Far East regions to test whether external power intervention explains proliferation decisions. The case study will consider only South Korea and Israel. A comparison of these states is instructive because both faced

external threats but maintained markedly different attitudes toward U.S. pressure. In the case of Israel, officials decided against a policy of patron reliance. Nuclear acquisition was the objective of Israel’s nuclear program. South Korea differed in that it proliferated to exact a strengthened U.S. security commitment. This study intends to uncover the origins of South Korea and Israel’s respective orientations toward U.S. patronage. The following analysis expects to find that different paths of post-war recovery in the 1950s and 1960s led to divergent proliferation decisions. In the wake of the Korean War, South Korea’s reconstruction was characterized by high-dependence on the United States, while Israel’s relatively limited losses in the 1948 War allowed for the pursuit of self-help mechanisms of security. It is hypothesized that high-dependence recovery generates reliance on third-party security commitments, while low-dependence recovery leads to sovereignty in security affairs. Both paths bind actors through two mechanisms: electoral pressure and parochial bureaucratic returns. By presenting recovery paths as determinative, this study contends that demand for external protection, not just supply explains divergent nuclear trajectories. The following will present a comprehensive review of relevant literature and the methodological approach employed. A general historical summary of each case study will precede the paper’s comparative analysis. Finally, the paper will report the study’s findings, and conclude with implications for future scholarship.

LITERATURE REVIEW

The security model, a term used by Sagan in his survey of proliferation modeling, is what Singh and Way (2004, 861) refer to as a “mono-causal logic.” A mono-causal logic offers

A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories

a single, or principal, determinant to explain a phenomenon. In the case of the security model, external threats constitute the preeminent cause of proliferation. As the historical record has expanded since the end of the Cold War, the central challenge posed to mono-causal models is why some states choose acquisition, while others rollback or even reverse their nuclear programs. In response to this challenge, some scholars have rejected mono-causal models, arguing that proliferation decisions rely upon multi-variate assessments. Singh and Way (2004, 861) conclude that proliferation is a decision arrived at only through the contribution of multiple causalities, and that “current approaches correctly identify several statistically significant and substantively important correlates of proliferation.” But many scholars continue to advance new, or augment, existing mono-casual proliferation models. As noted above, security model theorists direct attention to the moderating effects of external power intervention (Bleek and Lorber 2013; Reiter 2014). In contrast, Solingen (2009) offers the domestic economic model as an original explanation of different nuclear trajectories. The domestic economic model argues that domestic regimes valuing export access will renounce proliferation to avoid exclusion from international markets. For states that maintain “inward-looking” economic mechanisms (import substitution, tariffs, etc.), the model predicts that they will likely proliferate because they already reject the value of trade and economic interdependence (Solingen 2001, 525). To provide support for this model, Solingen (2007) studies the domestic regimes of both regions and finds that post-conflict East Asian states in the 1950s and 1960s, except North Korea, adopted policies that facilitated economic integration with the international community. These states prioritized the maintenance of market access. Tracing the decision making processes of East Asian states, Solingen (2001) then demonstrates that state actors feared the consequences associated with nuclear proliferation, namely exclusion from the international market. This threat, according to Solingen, prevented these states from proliferating despite external security concerns. In contrast, Near East states relied upon inward-looking economics, and as expected, disregarded international threats of detachment. Security model theorists have responded to the domestic economic model by pointing to security commitments as an intervening variable (Bleek and Lorber 2013; Reiter 2014). Bleek and Lorber (2013) estimated a regression model, defining security guarantees as formalized defense pacts. Using these parameters, the authors concluded that security guarantees mitigate both nuclear pursuit and acquisition (Bleek and Lorber 2013, 432). Reiter (2014) reached a similar conclusion. Reiter (2014) limited security commitments to three categories: alliances (mutual defense pacts), troop commitments, and foreign deployed nuclear weapons. Testing these categories of commitments, Reiter (2014, 73) found that each deters nuclear 33

proliferation at a statistically significant level. A final strain of proliferation scholarship disregards both security and economic considerations. This attempt to resolve nuclear divergence arises from the constructivist school of thought, which has been termed the “norms model.” The norms model argues that international and domestic norms shape the proliferation policies of state actors: “state behavior is determined not by leaders’ cold calculations about the national security interests or their parochial bureaucratic interests, but rather by deeper norms and shared beliefs about what actions are legitimate and appropriate in international relations” (Sagan 1996, 73). Norms model theorists argue that states opt for nonproliferation because they value the normative judgements of the international community as formalized by the Treaty on the Non-proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT). Proliferating states are willing to break the proliferation “taboo” because they value prestige and institutional privileges, such as nuclear-weapon state status under the NPT or P-5 membership (Sagan 1996, 76). These three models (norms, domestic economic, and security) have all faced setbacks in their attempts to account for nuclear divergence. The norms model has encountered difficulty in the history of proliferation. Consider the two cases studied in this paper. To date, Israel denies that they maintain nuclear weapons. Though this claim has been disproven, Israeli officials resist all attempts to recognize the state as a nuclear power (Cohen 1995, 12). This long-standing policy of “nuclear opacity” denies Israel the status that norms model theorists would expect to motivate proliferation (Cohen 1995, 20). South Korean President Park Chung-Hee initiated a nuclear program before succumbing to U.S. pressure and choosing nonproliferation. The South Korean government’s attempt at proliferation and later reversal showed a disregard for both the nuclear taboo and prestige. The South Korean case seems to suggest that officials decided whether to proliferate without guidance from norms. The domestic economic model has also had difficulty in synthesizing the historical record. Though Solingen (2009) only posits two orientations to the global economy—trade openness and inward-looking self-help—close analysis reveals a more complex reality. Solingen (2009) argues that Israel resisted economic integration, while South Korea relied on export markets for growth. This characterization seems consistent with the economic policies adopted by each state and the rhetoric of executives. Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion, as leader of the Mapai (Israel’s Workers’ Party), promoted Mamlachtiut (statism) by implementing policies of import-substitution and economic controls (Solingen 2009, 197). But Solingen (2009) disregards that Israel’s diminutive size limited the application of Mamlachtiut. Israel’s economy, even under Mapai leadership, depended on access to foreign markets and external capital. Before and after its acquisition of nuclear capabilities in the 1970s, Israel relied more on international trade than South Korea (see Figure 1).

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Figure 1: Trade % of Gross Domestic Product 120

Trade % of GDP

100 80 KOREA

ISRAEL 40 20 0

1960 1970 1980 1990 2000 2010

Source: World Bank, National Accounts Data and OECD National Account Data.

Finally, security model theorists have defined alliances, troop commitments, and foreign deployed nuclear weapons as intervening variables that deter nuclear pursuit. There is little explanation offered regarding why these factors ought to reduce a client’s likelihood to proliferate. Both Reiter (2014) and Bleek and Lorber (2013) suggest that these variables are crucial to maintaining the client state’s confidence in the patron’s security guarantee. Still, they fail to show why client states choose to rely upon the commitments of external powers in the first place. Providing a basis for this logic is a primary contribution of this study. By analyzing the historical progression of security relations between patron and client states, this paper contends that the degree of dependency is the critical variable that determines whether states prefer reliance on external security commitments.

METHODOLOGY

The central claim of this study relies upon the conceptual logic of path-dependence. Path-dependence is a qualitative method of analysis employed across the social sciences that points to an individual’s, society’s, or institution’s path of progression/ development to explain contemporary decision making. Pathdependence was first formulated and utilized by economists to explain how choices between competing technologies can be affected by events that are “outside the model” or extraneous to the market (Arthur 1989, 123). Political scientists have used path-dependence across the subfields to account for a multitude of phenomena. But some political methodologists have charged that the application of path-dependence in political science lacks consistency and standardization, 34

resulting in the mistaken notion that path-dependence simply means that “history matters” (Bennett and Elman 2006, 257). As a result, Bennett and Elman (2006) developed a framework to identify path-dependent cases in the field of political science. Bennett and Elman (2006, 252) deduce four indicators of path-dependence: causal possibility, contingency, closure, and constraint. Causal possibility is the requirement that more than one possible outcome exists. For a respective path to be a determinant, it is necessary that “different feasible histories” result from different pathways (Bennet and Elman 2006, 252). If the same outcome can be expected regardless of the path taken, then the path-dependent analysis is irrelevant. The next feature of path-dependence is contingency. Contingency is the presence of a “contingent element” whose intervention introduces a new pathway with an identifiable origin. The contingent element must not be explainable based on “prior events or initial conditions” so that the new pathway it initiates is distinguishable as original and not a continuation of an earlier causal process (Mahoney 2000, 511). Lastly, pathdependence necessitates both closure and constraint. Closure is a process by which the choice of one path precludes the selection of alternatives, while constraint is some mechanism that operates to “keep actors on [the path]” (Bennet and Elman 2006, 252). Both features ensure that the path is not easy to exit, and thus maintain the explanatory power of pathdependent analysis. This research asserts that the different nuclear policies of South Korean and Israel are best explained using pathdependence as an analytical lens. The following sections will demonstrate that the contingent event in both states was an

A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories

interstate war and that the subsequent post-war recoveries for these states constituted distinct paths that ultimately determined their nuclear trajectories. Within-case analysis, namely the use of process tracing, will demonstrate that both states conform to the expectations of path-dependence, such that the independent variable in these cases (relative degree of dependency) determines the dependent variable in question (proliferation decision). Process tracing will require the construction of a causal narrative using primary and secondary sources that attest to the decision-making process. Once this narrative has been reconstructed for both states, a comparative framework will be applied. The case selection of South Korea and Israel allows for the utilization of a most-similar framework. A most-similar comparison requires cases to be like one another in as many ways possible but still experience different outcomes. The most-similar comparison also permits the control of independent variables of possibility and the subsequent isolation of the independent variable of interest. Many of the similarities that make a most-similar comparison an ideal methodological tool for studying South Korea and Israel are noted by Solingen (2009) in her “crossregional” analysis of East Asia and the Middle East: Both regions shared common initial conditions in the 1950s to early 1960s: colonialism as formative experiences, comparable state-building challenges, economic crises, low-per-capita GNPs, heavy-handed authoritarianism, low intra- and extra-regional economic interdependence, and weak or nonexisting regional institutions capable of organizing cooperation. (Solingen 2007, 758) South Korea and Israel also experienced interstate conflict shortly after their formation. This interstate conflict led to development characterized by post-conflict insecurity and an emphasis on military superiority. Other states in the Near East and the Middle East also shared these formative experiences. Still, South Korea and Israel are uniquely useful for this study because they hosted the most advanced nuclear programs among states that maintained a relationship with the United States across the two regions. These shared traits give this paper the analytical leverage to study the role of external power in the divergent proliferation decisions of states.

BACKGROUND South Korea In 1950, the Korean War began with the North Korean invasion of South Korea. The U.S. played a central role in defense of the Republic of Korea (ROK) throughout the threeyear war. The conflict proved disastrous for the peninsula. Reported war-related casualties were between 1.5 million and 2

million (Hang Shin 2001, 134). Economic production was also decimated: Destruction ratios of major industries during the first four months of the war were estimated as high as 70% of textile industry, 70% of chemical industry, 40% of agricultural machinery industry, and 10% of rubber industry. In addition, the Korea Transportation Ministry statistics revealed that about 600 thousand housing units, 46.9% of railroad, 1,656 roads of a total of 500km, and 1,453 bridges totaling 49km were destroyed during the war. Furthermore, by August of 1951, 44% of factory buildings and 42% of production facilities lay in ruins. (Won Lee 2001, 98) After the war, South Korea depended heavily on the U.S. for reconstruction. In 1953, the U.S. and the ROK formalized their relationship in the Mutual Defense Treaty. The document articulated the U.S. resolve to pursue “collective defense for the preservation of peace and security pending the development of a more comprehensive and effective system of regional security in the Pacific area” (Mutual Defense Treaty 1953, 1). This guarantee became the foundation of bilateral relations from 1953 to the start of the Nixon administration in 1969. Between 1950 and 1980, the U.S. Military Assistance Program provided $5.8 billion to the South Korean Defense Forces and Foreign Military Sales granted another $1.2 billion in favorable loans (Siler 1998, 58). The U.S. became the ROK’s primary supplier of arms, providing nearly 99.7% of total arms imports into South Korea from the start of the war through 1978 (Jang 2016, 507). The United States Forces Korea (USFK) served as the central component of the U.S.ROK security relationship. Two years after the armistice, nearly 200,000 army personnel had been removed, but the U.S. maintained several infantry divisions in South Korea throughout the next two decades (see Figure 2). On July 25, 1969, during a press conference in Guam, President Nixon announced the “Nixon Doctrine,” also known as the Guam Doctrine. The Doctrine notified U.S. allies that they would be responsible for their defense. During a summit meeting with President Park in the following month, President Nixon promised that USFK troops would remain in South Korea (Lee 2011, 422). However, in March 1970, Ambassador to South Korea William J. Porter (1967-1971) notified the ROK that the U.S. planned to withdraw the 7th infantry division from the peninsula in consonance with the Guam Doctrine (Siler 1998, 59). Ambassador Porter’s notification coincided with a heightened sense of insecurity in South Korea. In January 1968, DPRK forces attempted to assassinate Park in a raid on his official residence. In April 1969, North Korea shot down a U.S. reconnaissance plane, killing all passengers on board. These “major provocations,” along with the DPRK’s military buildup, caused ROK officials to fear that North Korea was preparing for a second invasion (Pollack and Reiss 2004,

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Figure 2: U.S. Army Personnel in South Korea 300,000 250,000 200,000 150,000 100,000 50,000 0

1953 1955 1957 1959 1961 1963 1965 1967 1969 1971 1973

Source: Defense Manpower Data Center. Note: 1955-56 report troop levels as of June 30; 1957-2008 as of September 30.

261). President Nixon’s move presented President Park with a worst-case scenario. North Korea seemed poised to strike just as America appeared to be weakening its security guarantee. In 1975, President Park commented to reporters that “if American ground troops were removed, the enemy will be inclined to make a miscalculation, and American promises would carry far less credibility” (Choi 2014, 78). These developments led the Park administration to initiate “Project 890.” Project 890 created two agencies tasked with the clandestine pursuit of nuclear weapons: the Agency for Defense Development (ADD) and the Weapons Exploitation Committee (WEC) (Siler 1998, 62). Park charged the ADD with domestic nuclear weapons research and the WEC with securing foreign technological assistance. The WEC initiated covert negotiations with numerous states but identified France as the most likely supplier. By mid1974, after high-level negotiations with South Korean officials, such as Prime Minister Kim Jong-pil (1971-1975), France agreed to the sale of a uranium reprocessing plant to South Korea. The planning for the technological transfer occurred in secret, but South Korean officials likely understood that the “frequency and intensity” of the negotiations would alert U.S. intelligence (Siler 1998, 66). In 1974, shortly after the explosion of the Indian atomic bomb, the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission discovered the secret French-ROK arrangement (Spector 1988, 341). Ford demanded that France discontinue all pending nuclear assistance. In the ensuing “consultations,” the U.S. threatened South Korea with accelerated military pullout and an end to critical economic support (Siler 1998, 67). These threats forced the ROK to suspend nuclear activity and even ratify the NPT temporarily. President Park complied 36

with U.S. conditions until the start of Carter’s administration in 1977. President Carter resolved to continue President Nixon’s disengagement from South Korea. To guide U.S. policy towards the ROK, the Carter administration issued Policy Review Memorandum 113 (PRM-113). The document called for further reductions in the U.S. troop presence citing South Korea’s economic growth, the improved U.S. Air Force presence on the peninsula, and planned U.S. military aid packages (Siler 1998, 71). In response to PRM-113, President Chun Doohwan reactivated the operational objectives of the ADD and WEC. South Korean delegations were sent back to France and other Western European states to investigate the possibility of securing enriched weapons-grade uranium (Siler 1998, 73). These overtures continued into the Reagan administration until 1981. President Reagan rejected the PRM-113 framework. The Reagan administration communicated to the Chun government that the U.S. intended to reinvigorate its security commitment on the condition that South Korea “close down” its nuclear program (Siler 75, 1998). This offer included promises to halt all withdrawals of U.S. military personnel and help the ROK economy “absorb the cost of defense purchases” by increasing military sales credits (Siler 1998, 77). These terms were consistent with the ROK’s security aims, and so the Chun administration ended South Korea’s pursuit of nuclear weapons capabilities.

Israel

The 1948 Arab-Israeli War began in response to the adoption of the U.N. Partition Plan for Palestine. The war

A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories

lasted only two years. It escalated from an “inter-communal confrontation” between the Palestinian and Yishuv societies to a “regular war” between Israeli and Arab coalition armies (Naor 2008, 241). After several successful Israeli campaigns waged near the end of 1948, the war concluded with the signing of armistices in early 1949. Reported battlefield casualties were below 10,000 (Reid-Sarkees and Wayman 2010). Israel lost just 1% of its population, including civilian deaths (Naor 2008, 254). Israel’s national means of production were relatively intact after the conflict. From 1946 to 1949, the gainfully employed population grew from 243,000 to 310,000, and GNP more than doubled (Gross 1990, 74). Ben-Gurion, Israel’s de facto leader during the War of Independence, assumed the position of Prime Minister in the newly formed government. From the start of the Ben-Gurion administration, issues of national security dominated the policy agenda. This emphasis on defense followed from the painful history of the Holocaust. Ben-Gurion argued that the threat to the Jewish people was absolute. He referenced the Holocaust often in private conversations, comparing Hitler to Israel’s Arab neighbors (Cohen 2003, 14). The fear that a second Holocaust was imminent led the new government to adopt a posture of self-reliance. The imbalance of military power between Israel and its Arab neighbors throughout the 1950s and 1960s stood as the primary obstacle to a self-reliant defense strategy. The Prime Minister reported to President Kennedy in 1961 that Egypt enjoyed a 15:1 advantage in population ratio and 3:1 advantage in weapons ratio (Solingen 2009, 188). This disparity between Israel and the Arab coalition precluded reliance on conventional buildup, so Ben-Gurion called for a turn to science. The Israeli pursuit of nuclear capabilities began with BenGurion instructing his government to identify foreign sources of military hardware and initiate domestic weapons research and development. The Prime Minister used these ventures to pursue “unconventional deterrence” capabilities (Cohen 2003, 49). Chemical munitions were the first unconventional capabilities produced, but Ben-Gurion continued to press for more advanced weaponry (Cohen 2003, 49). Shimon Peres, Director-General of the Ministry of Defense, identified France as a potential supplier of nuclear knowledge and technology. French-Israeli relations had warmed during the Algerian revolution. French Prime Minister Guy Mollet resented Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser for supporting the Algerian National Liberation Front. In the mid-1950s, France decided to counter Egypt by aiding Israel. The Suez crisis provided the impetus needed to transform France’s conventional support into nuclear cooperation. On July 26, 1956, President Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal. For Britain and France, the seizure of the canal threatened access to vital trade routes. French preparations to retake the canal began immediately following President Nasser’s announcement. French Defense Minister Maurice BourgesMaunoury approached Peres to request Israeli participation

in a military operation against Egypt. Peres responded that “under certain circumstances,” Israel would assist in a military offensive, which likely hinted that Israel expected a nuclear transfer in return (Cohen 2003, 53). Weeks later, the Israel Atomic Energy Commission (IAEC) and the French Alternative Energies and Atomic Energy Commission (CEA) agreed to the sale of a nuclear reactor to Israel. Mollet and Ben-Gurion finalized the agreement at a secret conference in Sèvres, where Israel, France, and Britain completed plans to retake the canal and depose Nasser. Israel insisted on strict secrecy throughout FrenchIsraeli nuclear cooperation. Ben-Gurion and his successors wanted to avoid confrontation with the U.S. France complied, covertly assisting in the construction of the Dimona project. U.S. intelligence first noted the creation of a “nuclear-related site” in early 1958, but intelligence reports did not identify Dimona as a reactor complex until nearly two years later (Cohen 2003, 83). The Eisenhower administration notified both Israeli and French officials when U.S. intelligence discovered the nature of the facility. Ben-Gurion responded by delivering a statement to the Knesset. The Prime Minister characterized Dimona as a research reactor facility designed to address “the needs of industry, agriculture, health and science” (Cohen 2003, 91). Ben-Gurion emphasized the strictly civilian purpose of the project: This reactor, like the American reactor, is designed exclusively for peaceful purposes, and was constructed under the direction of Israeli experts. When it is finished, it will be open to trainees from other countries and will be similar to the reactor with the Canadian government helped to construct in India, with the difference that our reactor is of smaller capacity. (Cohen 2003, 91) President Eisenhower, however, refused to accept BenGurion’s public assurances. President Eisenhower pressed the Prime Minister to allow a delegation of scientists to visit Dimona. Ben-Gurion responded that a delegation would be welcome once public interest in the project “quieted down” (Cohen 2003, 95). This reply allowed Israel to stall until the end of Eisenhower’s presidency. The Kennedy administration revived the issue of a scientific visit. After several attempts at postponement, BenGurion finally relented. On May 17, 1963, two scientists from the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) arrived in Tel Aviv. They proceeded to tour the Dimona site under the tight control and supervision of Israeli counterparts. They concluded, based on limited access, that Israel did not have “weapons production in mind” (Cohen 2003, 106). These visitations were repeated several times throughout the 1960s to satisfy U.S. concerns, but Israel successfully guarded the secrecy of its nuclear weapons program. Israel’s first nuclear weapon likely became operational shortly before the 1967 Arab-Israeli War. The U.S was probably

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

notified of Israel’s nuclear arsenal by Golda Meir in 1969. The Nixon administration did not publicly acknowledge Israel’s nuclear capabilities. Instead, President Nixon stopped the visits to Dimona and suspended arms control diplomacy targeting Israel, including efforts to press for NPT ratification.

COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS Strategic Aims

The Park administration initiated a nuclear weapons project as a bargaining strategy to save the U.S.-ROK security arrangement. In contrast, Ben-Gurion and his successors, at no point in the proliferation process, seriously pursued an external security guarantee. Achieving self-sufficient defense was Israel’s sole objective. Although, these characterizations of each states’ strategic aims are only inferred from the historical record. Secrecy has shrouded the decision-making processes that led to proliferation. No ROK administration has ever confirmed the bargaining theory. Several official statements during the nuclear program tied proliferation to the U.S. security commitment. Foreign Minister Park Dong-Jin (1975-1980) told reporters, “we do not intend to develop nuclear weapons by ourselves. But if it is necessary for national security interests and people's safety, it is possible for Korea as a sovereign state to make its own judgement on the matter” (Hymans, Kim, and Riecke 2001, 105). Park declared more directly that “if the U.S. nuclear umbrella were to be removed, we would have to start developing our nuclear capability to save ourselves” (Choi 2014, 78). These veiled threats suggest that South Korea aimed to maintain the U.S. security guarantee, not acquire nuclear weapons. Oh Won-Chul, the Blue House Senior Staff for Economic Affairs under Park, seemed to confirm this theory, recalling that the purpose of Project 890 was to procure the capability “rather than the actual bomb” (Hyman, Kim, and Riecke 2001, 98). Park’s unwillingness to prioritize funding for nuclear research projects even led some ROK scientists to believe that the program was just “a bargaining card to prevent later U.S. troop withdrawal” (S. Kim 2001, 60). South Korea’s strategic orientation towards the U.S. throughout the 1960s and 1970s provides the most persuasive evidence for the bargaining theory. Park risked much to achieve leverage over U.S. foreign policy. South Korea dispatched 50,000 soldiers to aid the U.S. in the Vietnam War (Lee 2011, 403). Many of Park’s domestic critics charged that his inability to resist U.S. demands for troops demonstrated weak leadership. But Park approached U.S. policymakers first with the proposal to send soldiers to South Vietnam. Park readily offered one of South Korea’s best units, the Tiger Division, tasked with the defense of Seoul (Lee 2011, 403). Park’s eagerness to play a critical role in the Vietnam War stemmed from his fear of abandonment. The Park administration aimed to “use [South Korea’s] commitment of troops to South Vietnam as leverage to tie 38

down the United States’ military options on the Korean Peninsula for good” (Lee 2011, 419). At the direction of Park, Foreign Minister Yi Tong-won (1964-1966) even requested that the Mutual Defense Treaty be revised to require automatic dispatch of troops when either party entered an armed conflict (Lee 2011, 414). U.S. officials rejected the revision, but Ambassador to South Korea Winthrop Brown (1964-1967) did respond with a letter on March 8, 1966, reaffirming the U.S. security commitment and offering increased economic and military assistance to South Korea. Park acquiesced on this point but continued to invoke South Korean military aid. Park repeatedly threatened to remove ROK forces from Vietnam to prevent USFK withdrawals: Park intended to get whatever leverage he could by linking the speed, scale, and timing of KFV troop withdrawal with the United States' concessions on South Korean security issues. Although U.S. policy regarding East Asia had fundamentally changed toward military disengagement, the idea of leveraging based on the Vietnam War had worked so well for Park in the mid1960s that he clung to this negotiating strategy of issue linkage through much of the 1969-1973 period. (Lee 2011, 422) Park lost this leverage with the Paris peace agreement in 1973 and the U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam. The ROK continued to pursue leverage over the U.S. through other means. In 1977, federal investigators acquired a report titled “Plan for Korea’s Foreign Policy Toward the United States.” The document, found in the home of South Korean businessman and unregistered lobbyist Pak Tong-son, detailed an illegal lobbying scheme designed to “prevent the United States from going further down the road of troop reduction and secure U.S. assistance in the modernization of the South Korean armed forces” (Y. Kim 2011, 474). The U.S. government learned of the subversive operation in late 1970. In 1971, Ambassador Porter met with Prime Minister Chung Il Kwon (1964-1970) to request that South Korean recall Pak Tong-son and stop the lobbying operation. Later that year, the Department of State communicated its concerns to the Justice Department. Once uncovered by the Washington Post almost five years later, the illegal lobbying became a national scandal, colloquially known as “Koreagate” (Babcock 1978). Congress tasked the Subcommittee on International Organizations headed by Representative Donald M. Fraser with producing a report on the matter. The report found that the ROK initiated the lobbying scheme in 1970 as a response to the Guam Doctrine. In the years after 1970, Pak Tong-son and other influential South Koreans made substantial donations to congressional campaigns, attempted to use American businesses to pressure Congress, and obtained classified information from congressional staffers (U.S. Congress 1978, 35). The

A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories

investigation concluded that the lobbying scheme had yielded significant results, “getting Congress to approve a $1.5 billion military aid program to South Korea for fiscal years 19711975” (Y. Kim 2011, 474). “Koreagate” and South Korea’s involvement in Vietnam demonstrate that Park aimed to induce a strengthened U.S. security commitment. Park likely initiated the nuclear program hoping to achieve the same strategic objective: “South Korea’s attitude to American pressure demonstrates a very important point with regard to its intentions for the ROK nuclear program after the fall of Saigon. The ROK leadership considered its nascent nuclear program a trump card in negotiations with the U.S.” (Choi 2014, 81). The aim of Israel’s nuclear program differed from the purpose of Project 890. While Park leveraged nuclear pursuit to ensure continued security cooperation, Israeli officials never invoked the specter of proliferation to achieve security arrangements. By the mid-1950s, Ben-Gurion had rejected the prospect of formalizing a U.S.-Israel defense pact (Cohen 2003, 123). Negotiations between Secretary of State John Dulles and Israeli Minister of Foreign Affairs Moshe Sharrett in 1955 failed to produce a U.S. security guarantee because Israeli officials feared “restrictions on Israeli sovereignty” (BarZohar 2003, 231). At times during the proliferation process, the Israeli government did request to negotiate a formal security agreement with the U.S., but these inquiries were just strategic diversions. During Ben-Gurion’s administration, U.S. officials communicated that the United States sought to play a mediating role in the Middle East. This objective prohibited the formalization of a security arrangement. Kennedy summarized this position in a meeting with Israeli Foreign Minister Golda Meir (1956-1966): The United States, the President said, has a special relationship with Israel in the Middle East really comparable only to that which it has with Britain over a wide range of world affairs. But for us to play properly the role we are called upon to play, we cannot afford the luxury of identifying Israel—or Pakistan, or certain other countries—as our exclusive friends, hewing to the line of close and intimate allies (for we feel that about Israel though it is not a formal ally) and letting other countries go. (U.S. Department of State 1962) Understanding that the U.S. would never extend a security guarantee to Israel, Israeli officials strategically expressed interest only to fend off U.S. nonproliferation pressure. In 1963, responding to President Kennedy’s attempts to institute semiannual inspections of Dimona after the Cuban missile crisis, Ben-Gurion proposed a joint U.S.-Soviet declaration to guarantee the territorial integrity of all Near Eastern states. The Prime Minister knew the action of a joint superpower was impossible (Cohen 2003, 123). He raised “clearly unacceptable demands,” expecting that “the inability or

unwillingness of the Americans to provide appropriate security guarantees would lead the Kennedy administration to adopt a more moderate attitude toward the Israeli nuclear program” (Shalom 1996, 12). Years later, when pressed to sign the NPT treaty by Nixon, both the Eshkol and Meir administrations refused to comply, stating that Israel would need an American security guarantee first. Israeli decision makers understood that this condition would be “too high a price for the United States to pay” (Cohen 2003, 283). These maneuvers demonstrate that Israel intended to achieve nuclear weapons capabilities, not secure external patron protection. Scholars have attempted to explain state preference for sovereign nuclear defense by pointing to a state’s technological capacity. Volpe argues that if a proliferating state achieves enrichment or reprocessing (ENR) technology, then a pathdependent process initiates. After the ENR bright-line, “each step the program takes down a technical route to the bomb produces positive benefits” to bureaucratic stakeholders (politicians, military officers, and scientists) (Volpe 2017, 526). The accrual of these benefits increases the political cost of giving up the program and the “relative attractiveness” of proliferation (Volpe 2017, 526). This determinist logic expects that Israel’s refusal to bargain away its nuclear latency coincided with the maturation of its ENR technology; however, Volpe recognizes that Israel defied this expectation (Volpe 2017, 530). Israel developed ENR technology in 1963 (Fuhrmann and Tkach 2015, 451). Before 1963, Israeli officials refused to link the nuclear program with requests for patron protection. The year after Ben-Gurion’s Knesset speech (1961), the Prime Minister met with Kennedy at the Waldorf-Astoria to discuss Dimona. During the discussion, Ben-Gurion maintained that Israel constructed the nuclear reactor to develop energy technology. While offering this assurance, BenGurion did caution that Israel would increase if challenged by neighboring states: “there is no such intention now, not for 4 or 5 years. But we will see what happens in the Middle East. It does not depend on us. Maybe Russia won’t give bombs to China or Egypt, but maybe Egypt will develop them herself ” (Cohen 2003, 108). The Prime Minister did not accompany this warning with demands on U.S. military resources or requests for a security guarantee. As the conversation turned to the “long-term security and the geopolitical vulnerability of the Jewish state,” Ben-Gurion avoided reviving the subject of proliferation at all (Cohen 2003, 111). The refusal to bargain with Dimona, even before the program began to yield “increasing returns to various players within the state,” again confirms that Israel sought nuclear weapons not American protection (Volpe 2017, 526).

Path-Dependence

The proliferation decisions of South Korea and Israel satisfy the expectations of path-dependence. Causal possibility is evidenced in the above comparison of the two states. Both

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

pursued different strategic aims, proving that divergent postwar recovery paths do not lead to a single foregone conclusion. Interstate conflict stands out as the identifiable origin of these distinct paths (i.e., the contingent element). Prior to interstate conflict, the defense strategies of both states had yet to materialize due to institutional underdevelopment. Under British Mandatory rule, voluntary society served as the only form of Israeli social organization (Naor 2008, 244). The diffuse political structures spawned from volunteerism prevented the creation of a singular security strategy. The 1948 War of Independence first prompted the Yishuv to form a centralized state with clearly defined defense objectives. Under Japanese rule, the “modern” Korean protectorate had no army. In the two years leading up to the Korean War, U.S. intelligence noted that this lack of “military tradition” resulted in a shortage of “experienced military leaders and administrators,” which inhibited defense planning (U.S. Office of Reports and Estimates 1948, 13). South Korea only acquired the means to develop a national security strategy after the conflict. The initial underdevelopment of state structures left South Korea and Israel without the ability to choose external protection or proliferation before interstate conflict intervened. For both high- and low-dependence recovery, the level of war-time destruction enacts a process of closure by making the transition from one recovery path to another more difficult. South Korea’s near-total devastation made external reliance the only viable means of survival. At the onset of the high-dependence path, the crippled state lost even the ability to select low-dependence recovery. But the limited damage sustained by Israel gave right-wing nationalist parties the space to advance pro-sovereignty agendas. Key parties, such as BenGurion’s Rafi (Israel’s Workers List), called for “independence in security affairs” because Israel’s defensive capabilities could (and did) repel invasion (Solingen 2009, 201). The emergence of pro-sovereignty factions increased the domestic political cost of moving towards high-dependence recovery in the aftermath of 1948. Finally, two feedback mechanisms (negative and positive) serve as constraints for both recovery paths: electoral pressure and parochial bureaucratic returns.

I. Electoral Pressure The populace of a high-dependence recovery state comes to associate the military and economic presence of the patron state with stability. This association ties the political survival of the domestic regime to its ability to maintain the patron’s security guarantee. The Park government regularly confronted this reality. After failing to resolve internal rivalries, Chang Myon’s democratically elected administration fell to the 1961 military coup. Park rose to leadership, consolidating power by removing key challengers. He cast himself as backed by the U.S government to secure domestic approval for the new government. Park quickly visited Washington D.C. and agreed 40

to demands for eventual elections. Park understood that to win the Korean people’s support he needed to maintain relations with the United States. Ambassador to South Korea (19611964) Samuel Berger in a letter to Secretary of State Dean Rusk noted the importance of the U.S. response to Park: The public support given [to] the military government by the United States and the friendly reception of Park during his visit to the United States have, however, been perhaps the decisive factors in stabilizing the situation. One Korean put it to me in a sentence, “Since the United States is impressed with Park, we Koreans value him more.” (Kim and Baik 67, 2011) The aftermath of the Guam doctrine again demonstrated the importance of electoral pressure. In an attempt to forestall the troop withdrawal, Park called for measures to mitigate the “political and psychological adverse effects on the people of the Republic of Korea” (U.S. Department of State 1970). Observing that the Korean people were “strongly opposed” to U.S. troop reductions, Park requested a delay: “On my part, it would be impossible to persuade the Korean people to accept the partial withdrawal by the end of June 1971, as mentioned in your letter, because of the unexpected shock it would give to them and the shortness of time involved” (U.S. Department of State 1970). The uncertainty of the U.S. security guarantee threatened Park’s political survival because the citizenry valued patron protection (Lanoszka 2012, 32). Low-dependence recovery states face electoral pressure that works against external power intervention. As noted above, Israel’s independent defense in the 1948 War afforded pro-sovereignty parties considerable clout. The existence of nationalist parties meant elected officials could expect political backlash for allowing violations of sovereignty. After Ben-Gurion resigned following the botched cover-up of a covert operation in Egypt, he condemned his successor Levi Eshkol for allowing continued U.S. inspections of Dimona. Ben-Gurion argued that Eshkol had “given in” to Kennedy’s unreasonable demands (Solingen 2009, 201). Rafi and other right-wing parties seized upon Ben-Gurion’s critique citing “nationalist concerns about sovereignty” (Solingen 2009, 201). This rare public debate on Israel’s nuclear program demonstrated that powerful political factions opposed even the semblance of client-patron relations. Nationalist factions did arrive in South Korea as recovery progressed. Even Park espoused the virtues of nationalism. But South Korean nationalism advocated for limited independence within the immediate confines of American patronage. Ambassador to South Korea Phillip Habbib (1971-1974) observed that “Park’s view of self-reliance, paradoxically, includes a desire and an expressed need for the U.S. presence and assistance to continue—at least in the short run” (Lanoszka 2012, 32). Ben-Gurion’s more radical nationalism rejected any reliance on patron guarantees and decried the intrusion

A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories

of external powers. This difference explains why only Israeli nationalism worked against external intervention.

II. Parochial Bureaucratic Returns An immediate consequence of high-dependence recovery is the loss of bureaucratic independence. Debilitation of the state undermines the financing of government institutions. Foreign aid must be secured to fund the recovering state’s bureaucracy. Dependence on unilateral transfers becomes institutionalized through parochial bureaucratic returns. Foreign funding allows bureaucratic structures and relevant stakeholders to maintain or enhance their power, which incentivizes the reproduction of institutional dependence (Mahoney 2000, 511). Preserving bureaucratic power becomes an important political objective because bureaucracies yield domestic benefits to several actors. In South Korea, economic expertise served as the primary return. ROK leadership needed economically trained technocrats to address post-war development. Park promised economic plans that would reshape and revitalize the Korean economy, but he lacked the expertise to “dictate economic policy directly” (Hwang 1996, 309). Despite the centralized nature of the military government and Park’s general distrust of “liberal outward-looking” economic bureaucrats, “[Park] learned by mid-1962 that he needed to rely on professional civil servants in the elite ministries for financial and banking management” (H. Kim 2011, 105). South Korea’s bureaucracy required U.S. financing to operate. The Economic Planning Board, responsible for development, jointly managed a “counterpart fund” with the U.S. Operation Mission (Kim and Baik 58, 2011). The

fund consisted of grants-in-aid from the U.S. Until 1961, these monies covered over 90% of the ROK national budget, ensuring that nearly all bureaucratic functions relied on U.S. funds (Kim and Park 2011, 272). Since South Korea’s bureaucracies depended on U.S. financing, leaders came to equate the loss of U.S. patronage with the loss of economic expertise. Park’s daughter recounted that when forced by the U.S. to choose between proliferation and “the continuation of economic development,” Park “chose economic development” (S. Kim 2001, 73). The return of economic expertise provided positive feedback that confirmed the ROK’s orientation to external intervention. Without an external security guarantee, low-dependence states must allocate the lion’s share of funding to defense. In the post-war years, South Korea and Israel had comparable military spending. In the 1950s, defense expenditures for both fluctuated between 5% and 10% of GNP. Starting in the 1960s, however, Israel’s low-dependence and insecurity forced the government to redirect higher revenue to defense (see Figure 3). While South Korea’s military expenditures stayed below 10% of GNP, Israel’s defense sector became its “most sophisticated industry,” reaching a peak of 30% of GNP in the 1970s (Aharoni 1998, 131). The growth of Israel’s defense spending benefitted external and internal actors. Externally, the military bureaucracy yielded gains to the state economy. Defense spending spurred economic activity like arms production. By the late 1950s, the Israeli government established a government-owned arms industry comprised of three companies: Israel Military Industries (small arms), Israel Aircraft Industries (aircraft and naval vessels), the Rafael Armament Development Authority (missile systems)

Figure 3: Military Expenditures % of Gross Domestic Product

Expenditure % of GDP

35 30 25 20

KOREA

ISRAEL

10 5 0 1960 1970 1980 1990 2000 2010

Source: World Bank, Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) Yearbook: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security.

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

(Friedman 1986). These three companies spawned a network of privately owned firms (Friedman 1986). Within a decade, the Israeli arms industry expanded its market outside of Israel. By 1967, 6% of Israel’s industrial exports, a total value of $14 million, were military goods (Tessler 1989, 103). Arms exports continued to rise throughout the Cold War, reaching a high of 28% of industrial exports in 1978 (Tessler 1989, 103). The creation of an export industry generated positive feedback for low-dependence recovery. As high defense spending continued, a larger portion of the Israeli population secured employment in the arms production industry. By 1989, over fifty thousand individuals worked on the manufacture or sale of armaments, making low-dependence profitable for the state (Tessler 1989, 103). Internally, defense personnel increased in stature with the growth of the military-industrial complex. The prominence of the defense bureaucracy drew the public’s attention to the bureaucratic leaders. Departing personnel became attractive political candidates. Retired Israeli generals often served as “mayors, members of the Knesset, and ministers in government” (Aharoni 1998, 131). The arms industry also recruited defense bureaucrats to fill corporate leadership roles. These gains reinforced the preference for low-dependence recovery by communicating to defense personnel that maintaining sovereignty in national security would yield personal rewards. Many former military officials even joined the powerful “pro-arms” lobby where they worked “directly with or even inside the government” on policy-formulation, to continue defense expenditures (Tessler 1989, 109).

FINDINGS

Electoral pressure and parochial bureaucratic returns constrained South Korea and Israel to their respective recovery paths. Electoral influence served as negative feedback, warning officials of the consequences associated with leaving the path. The Korean people communicated that the political survival of the executive would be jeopardized by weakened patron protection, and Israeli officials faced a pro-sovereignty backlash to external power intervention. Parochial bureaucratic returns presented state actors with positive feedback, incentivizing the maintenance of dependence levels. The value of South Korea’s bureaucratic operations funded by U.S. aid justified dependence and the rewards to internal and external stakeholders pushed Israel to continue its self-help defense. Comparative analysis of South Korea and Israel suggests that external intervention does account for divergent nuclear trajectories but not via the mechanism that security model theorists expect. The security model points to the supply of external protection to explain proliferation decisions. Consider McInnis’s (2005) comparative study of East Asia and the Middle East. McInnis, like Reiter and Bleek and Lorber, contends that the provision of credible security commitments explains East Asia’s disinterest in nuclear defense. America’s 42

robust commitment to the region led East Asian states, including South Korea, to rely on external assurances rather than internal defense (McInnis 2005, 170). In the Middle East, more states proliferated because the region lacked security guarantees, as evidenced by the absence of forward-deployed nuclear weapons and ground troops (McInnis 2005, 180). But a supply-side explanation of proliferation fails to predict the calculus of South Korea and Israel. According to McInnis, South Korea should have opted for nuclear sovereignty in response to the Guam Doctrine. Instead, Park’s bargaining strategy demonstrated that states can, and do, prefer reliance on external guarantees even when patrons are unwilling to provide protection. The supply-side analysis would also predict that Israeli proliferation followed as a reaction to U.S. neutrality. But Israel’s abrupt departure from the Dulles-Sharrett talks in 1955 demonstrated that Israel selected sovereignty over a U.S.-Israel defense pact. Israel disregarded the availability of patron protection when deciding to proliferate. South Korea and Israel’s demand for external protection provides a more nuanced answer for why nuclear trajectories diverge. Security model theorists dismiss demand as a function of the international environment (Bleek and Lorber 2013; Reiter 2014). They argue that if a state faces an interstate threat, then state actors will demand security guarantees (Bleek and Lorber 2013; Reiter 2014). Because the security model expects demand to remain constant in the presence of a threat, only the availability of external protection will change a state’s decision to proliferate. Demand-side analysis of South Korea and Israel reveals that demand is a function of both systemic and domestic variables. The interaction of the international system (interstate competition) and domestic context (electoral pressure and parochial bureaucratic returns) shaped how both states calculated threat, which then determined their demand for external protection. These findings align with the foreign policy analysis (FPA) theory of international relations. FPA questions systemic theory, arguing that states do not act according to “general patterns of international behavior” (Hudson and Vore 1995, 210). FPA challenges models that “assume that all state actors are alike and can be expected to behave in the same way in given situations” (Hudson and Vore 1995, 228). Instead, FPA contends that the foreign policy decisions of states are the product of complex human interactions. These interactions can involve key decision makers, organizations, or entire domestic populations. FPA literature finds that analyzing choices across these multiple levels of human interaction explains decision making better than theoretical generalizations. Lobell (2009, 43) developed a “complex threat identification model,” derived from neoclassical realism, that considered the “multitiered nature of threat assessment.” Lobell expected that threats could arise from interstate competition but also from challenges to the “ruling regime’s survival” (Lobell 2009, 51). His model predicted that state actors

A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories

would “act externally with the intention of manipulating the political and economic power within their society” to preserve regime strength. Evidence for the latter hypothesis was found in both South Korea and Israel. Executives in both states understood that political costs would accompany changes in strategic orientation. They received negative feedback from their domestic populations when recovery strategies were jeopardized or questioned. The need to protect the regime from domestic political attack limited the strategic choices available to executives. Graham Allison, as a “first-generation” FPA researcher, tested a bureaucratic politics model and an organizational process model that examined how institutional processes can shape foreign policy decision making (Hudson and Vore 1995, 216). FPA literature expanded on Allison’s models, showing that organizations influence foreign policy by putting “their own survival at the top of their list of priorities” (Hudson and Vore 1995, 217). The priority of organizational survival can incentivize activity that will raise the bureaucracy’s profile without concern for strategic implications. In South Korea and Israel, bureaucracies continued along the recovery path because the status quo rewarded them with resources and political recognition. South Korea and Israel faced similar external situations before and during the proliferation process. Both states shared borders with hostile neighbors, and in both cases, the U.S. hesitated to provide security guarantees. According to supplyside logic, similar outcomes should have followed from these shared circumstances. Instead, state actors pursued different security strategies. The difference in results demonstrates that demand for external protection, shaped by domestic variables like electoral pressure and parochial bureaucratic returns, should fall within the purview of the security model. States proliferate in response to external threats, but domestic context can factor into threat assessments.

CONCLUSION

This study’s findings can help answer why nuclear trajectories diverge among states. Recent nuclear scholarship has generated numerous domestic-political variables that can override or interact with security concerns to determine a state’s nuclear behavior. Scholars have argued that personalist dictatorships are more likely to proliferate; that proliferation is determined by the level of “professional autonomy” afforded to scientists; that nuclear strategy “depends on civil-military relations;” and that the beliefs of individual political leaders “influence nuclear decisions in both democracies and autocracies” (Saunders 2019, 149). This study presents the novel hypothesis that degree of dependency during post-war recovery can determine a state’s propensity to proliferate by altering its assessment of threat. The findings also raise important questions. The most pressing puzzle is whether current U.S. relations with South Korea and Israel challenge the above analysis. Despite continued

North Korean aggression, South Korea has increasingly established independence in economic and security affairs. In 1991, President Bush announced the removal of U.S. forwarddeployed nuclear weapons and indicated troop withdrawals would follow. These changes were not met with protest or bargaining. Instead, South Korea openly accepted defense responsibility. It even amended the “Agreement on the Status of United States Armed Forces in the Republic of Korea” to allow for greater burden-sharing (Lanoszka 2012, 49). Israel, following the 1969 and 1973 Arab-Israeli wars, accepted large transfers of military and economic aid from the U.S. The “special relationship” has continued into the present day with Israel being the largest annual recipient of U.S. foreign assistance since 1976 (Zanotti 2018, 18). These reversals have not caused any apparent shifts in nuclear policy. South Korea has not proliferated, and Israel is still a nuclear power. Further research is needed to explain this phenomenon. Scholarship suggests that despite the new interstate dynamics, both South Korea and Israel have retained the same strategic orientation to external intervention. Lanoszka (2012, 41) maintains that the ROK accepted recent reductions because the U.S. left a credible “trip-wire.” The trip-wire communicated to South Korea that the U.S. security umbrella would still cover the peninsula, explaining South Korea’s cooperation. Walt (1987) argues that unilateral transfers have bought the U.S. little leverage over Israel’s independent foreign policy. Israel has continued to defy U.S. requests: Israel’s enormous dependence on the United States did not stop it from bombing Iraq, annexing the Golan Heights, invading Lebanon and laying siege to Beirut, expanding settlements on the West Bank, and rejecting the so-called Reagan Plan within twenty-four hours, despite the fact that each step was contrary to expressed U.S. preferences. (Walt 1987, 272) Future research must address how these states continue to act in accordance with the expectations of path-dependence while materially departing from the recovery path. Scholarship should consider applying other proliferation models, like domestic economic and norms, to resolve this puzzle. Alternative models could offer useful insights that would not arise under the security model. For example, the norms model might find that norms influenced decision making more as security threats dissipated. Today “the ROK no longer perceives the North as a major military threat” (Pollack and Reiss 2004, 265). North Korean proliferation has raised tensions, but South Korea seems to believe conflict is unlikely. This assessment could be causing ROK officials to provide further weight to the nonproliferation regime than to the security needs of the state. Israel’s continued disregard for the proliferation taboo could suggest that the modern threat environment has not allowed decision makers the ability to consider norms over security.

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

The findings of this paper should prompt proliferation literature in three other ways. First, scholarship should consider preexisting security orientations. Many theorists fail to explain divergent nuclear trajectories because they ignore that states are already bound to prior strategic postures. Even scholars that use path-dependence to explain proliferation (see Volpe 2017) restrict the analysis to the lifecycle of the nuclear program. This approach fails to recognize that earlier causal processes can determine proliferation decisions. Second, scholarship must note that perception of threat can derive from path-dependent processes. Perception of threat still constitutes a primary causal variable, but scholars must treat it as a product of nuanced and complex human interactions. Finally, literature should study the demand for external protection, not just supply. Security model theorists tend to disregard client preferences. This study demonstrates that proliferation is a function of the decision to pursue sovereignty or reliance and the availability of external protection. A robust study of proliferation must analyze both the supply of and demand for protection. n

Bleek, Philipp C., and Eric B. Lorber. 2013. “Security Guarantees and Allied Nuclear Proliferation.” Journal of Conflict Resolution 58 (3): 429-454. Choi, Lyong. 2014. “The First Nuclear Crisis in the Korean Peninsula, 1975-76.” Cold War History 14 (1): 71-90. doi:10.1163/24681733_shafr_sim180190008. Cohen, Avner. 1995. “The Nuclear Equation in a New Middle East.” The Nonproliferation Review 2 (2): 12-30. doi:10.1080/10736709508436578. Cohen, Avner. 2003. Israel and the Bomb. New York: Columbia UP. Defense Manpower Data Center. Worldwide Manpower Distribution by Geographical Area 1953-1999. Friedman, Thomas. 1986. “How Israel’s Economy Got Hooked On Selling Arms Abroad.” The New York Times. https://www.nytimes. com/1986/12/07/business/how-israel-s-economy-got-hooked-on- selling-arms-abroad.html (February 2 2019). Fuhrmann, Matthew, and Benjamin Tkach. 2015. “Almost Nuclear: Introducing the Nuclear Latency Dataset.” Conflict Management and Peace Science 32 (4): 443-461. Gross, Nachum T. 1990. “Israeli Economic Policies, 1948–1951: Problems of Evaluation.” The Journal of Economic History 50 (1): 67-83. doi:10.1017/s0022050700035725.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Conner Joyce is a Master of Public Affairs student at the LBJ School of Public Affairs. He graduated in 2019 from Southwestern University with a major in political science and a minor in economics. Conner completed an honors thesis at Southwestern University and presented his research at the Midwest Political Science Association. He also interned over two summers with the Department of State’s Bureau of Near Eastern Affairs and the U.S. embassy in Qatar. Conner plans to continue his graduate education in either political science or public affairs.

Aharoni, Yair. 1998. “The Changing Political Economy of Israel.” The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 555: 127-146. doi:66.169.202.147. Arthur, W. Brian. 1989. “Competing Technologies, Increasing Returns, and Lock-In by Historical Events.” The Economic Journal 99 (394): 116-131. doi:10.2307/2234208. Babcock, Charles R. 1978. “Koreagate: Bringing Forth a Mouse, But an Honest One.” Washington Post. https://www.washingtonpost. com/archive/politics/1978/10/09/koreagate-bringing-fortha-mouse-but-an-honest-one/3329ce7e-095f-4bb3-9cd1f909a158183a/ Bar-Zohar, Michael. 2003. Ben-Gurion: A Biography. Tel Aviv: Magal Books.

Hudson, Valerie M. and Christopher S. Vore. 1995. “Foreign Policy Analysis Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow.” Mershon International Studies Review 39 (2): 209-238. Hwang, Kelley K. 1996. “South Koreas Bureaucracy and the Informal Politics of Economic Development.” Asian Survey 36 (3): 306-319. doi:10.1525/as.1996.36.3.01p0118i. Hymans, Jacques E. C., Seung-Young Kim, and Henning Riecke. 2001. “To Go or Not to Go: South and North Koreas Nuclear Decisions in Comparative Context.” Journal of East Asian Studies 1 (1): 91-153. doi:10.1163/2468-1733_shafr_sim200070115. Jang, Se Young. 2016. “The Evolution of U.S. Extended Deterrence and South Korea’s Nuclear Ambitions.” Journal of Strategic Studies 39 (4): 502-520.

REFERENCES

Bennett, Andrew, and Colin Elman. 2006. “Complex Causal Relations and Case Study Methods: The Example of Path Dependence.” Political Analysis 14 (3): 250-267.

Hang Shin, Eui. 2001. “Effects of the Korean War on Social Structures of the Republic of Korea.” International Journal of Korean Studies 5 (1): 133-158.

Kim, Hyung-A.. 2011. “State Building: The Military Junta’s Path to Modernity through Administrative Reforms.” In The Park Chung Hee Era, eds. Byung-Kook Kim and Ezra F. Vogel, 85-112. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kim, Eun Mee and Gil-Sung Park. 2011. “The Chaebol.” In The Park Chung Hee Era, eds. Byung-Kook Kim and Ezra F. Vogel, 265-294. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kim, Seung-Young. 2001. “Security, Nationalism, and the Pursuit of Nuclear Weapons and Missiles: South Korean Case, 19701982.” Diplomacy and Statecraft 12 (4): 53-80. Kim, Taehyun, and Chang Jae Baik. 2011. “Taming and Tamed by the United States.” In The Park Chung Hee Era, eds. Byung-Kook Kim and Ezra F. Vogel, 58-84. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kim, Yong-Jick. 2011. “The Security, Political, and Human Rights Conundrum.” In The Park Chung Hee Era, eds. Byung-Kook Kim

A Path-Dependent Explanation of Divergent Nuclear Trajectories and Ezra F. Vogel, 457-482. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Lanoszka, Alexander. 2012. “Protection States Trust?: Explaining South Korea’s Nuclear Behavior.” PhD diss., Department of Politics, Princeton University. https://www.researchgate.net/ publication/228446340_Protection_States_Trust_Superpower_ Patronage_Nuclear_Behavior_and_Alliance_Dynamics Lee, Min Yong. 2011. “The Vietnam War: South Korea’s Search for National Security.” In The Park Chung Hee Era, eds. Byung-Kook Kim and Ezra F. Vogel, 403-429. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Lobell, Steven E. 2009. “Threat Assessment, the State, and Foreign Policy: a Neoclassical Realist Model.” In Neoclassical Realism, the State, and Foreign Policy, eds. Steven E. Lobell, Norrin M. Ripsman, and Jeffrey W. Taliaferro, 42-74. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mahoney, James. 2000. “Path Dependence in Historical Sociology.” Theory and Society 29 (4): 507-548. doi:10.1023/A:1007113830879. Mutual Defense Treaty, U.S-ROK, October 1, 1953, TIAS 3097. Naor, Moshe. 2008. “Israel’s 1948 War of Independence as a Total War.” Journal of Contemporary History 43 (2): 241-257. doi: 10.1177/0022009408089031. Pollack, Jonathan D., and Mitchell B. Reiss. 2004. “South Korea: the Tyranny of Geography and the Vexations of History.” In The Nuclear Tipping Point: Why States Reconsider Their Nuclear Choices, eds. Kurt M. Campbell, Robert J. Einhorn, and Mitchell D. Reiss, 261-265. Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution Press. Reid-Sarkees, Meredith, and Frank Wayman. 2010. Resort to War: 1816 – 2007. Washington DC: CQ Press. Reiter, Dan. 2013. “Security Commitments and Nuclear Proliferation.” Foreign Policy Analysis 10 (1): 61-80. doi:10.1111/ fpa.12004. Sagan, Scott D. 1996. “Why Do States Build Nuclear Weapons?: Three Models in Search of a Bomb.” International Security 21 (3): 54-86. doi:10.2307/2539273. Saunders, Elizabeth N. 2019. “The Domestic Politics of Nuclear Choices—A Review Essay.” International Security 44 (2): 146-184. Shalom, Zakai. 1996. “Kennedy, Ben-Gurion and the Dimona Project 1962-1963.” Israel Studies 1 (1): 3-33. doi:10.1353/is.2005.0041.

Spector, Leonard S. 1988. The Undeclared Bomb. Cambridge: Ballinger Pub. Tessler, Mark. 1989. “Israel, Arms Exports, and Iran: Some Aspects of Israeli Strategic Thinking.” Arab Studies Quarterly 11 (1): 99-126. doi: 65.196.126.174. U.S. Congress. House. Subcommittee on International Organizations. 1978. Investigation of Korean-American Relations. 95th Cong., 2nd sess. https://archive.org/details/investigationofk00unit/page/446 (February 2 2019). U.S. Department of State. 1962. “Memorandum of Conversation, December 27, 1962. Kennedy-Meir meeting: Israeli security, Israeli-UAR relations, Palestinian refugees.” Foreign

Relations of the United States 1961-1963 vol. 18.

U.S. Department of State. 1970. “Telegram from the Embassy in Korea to the Department of State.” Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969-1976 vol. 19. U.S. Office of Reports and Estimates. 1948. “Prospects for Survival of the Republic of Korea.”Truman Papers, President's Secretary's Files. https://www.trumanlibrary.org/whistlestop/study_ collections/koreanwar/documents/index.php?ocumentid=kr-87&pagenumber=13 (February 2 2019). Volpe, Tristan A. 2017. “Atomic Leverage: Compellence with Nuclear Latency.” Security Studies 26 (3): 517-544. doi:10.1080/09636412 .2017.1306398. Walt, Stephen M. 1986. The Origins of Alliances: Superpower and Regional Diplomacy in the Middle East, 1955-1979. Ann Arbor, MI: Univ. Microfilms Internat. Won Lee, Jong. 2001. “The Impact of the Korean War on the Korean Economy.” International Journal of Korean Studies 5 (1): 97-118. World Bank. 2019. Military expenditure (% of GDP). Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI), Yearbook: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security. Washington, D.C.: The World Bank. https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/ MS.MIL.XPND.GD.ZS?locations=KR-IL World Bank. 2019. Trade (% of GDP). World Bank National Accounts Data and OECD National Account Data. Washington, D.C.: The World Bank. https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/ NE.TRD.GNFS.ZS?locations=KR-IL Zanotti, Jim. 2018. Israel: Background and U.S. Relations. Washington D.C.: Congressional Research Service: 1-36. https://fas.org/sgp/ crs/mideast/RL33476.pdf

Siler, Michael J. 1998. “U.S. Nuclear Nonproliferation Policy in the Northeast Asian Region during the Cold War: The South Korean Case.” East Asia 16 (3-4): 41-86. Singh, Sonali, and Christopher R. Way. 2004. “The Correlates of Nuclear Proliferation.” Journal of Conflict Resolution 48 (6): 859885. doi:10.1177/0022002704269655. Solingen, Etel. 2001. “Mapping Internationalization: Domestic and Regional Impacts.” International Studies Quarterly 45 (4): 517-555. doi:10.1111/0020-8833.00213. Solingen, Etel. 2009. Nuclear Logics: Contrasting Paths in East Asia and the Middle East. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Solingen, Etel. 2007. “Pax Asiatica versus Bella Levantina: The Foundations of War and Peace in East Asia and the Middle East.” American Political Science Review 101 (4): 757-780. © Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Do Personal Religious Beliefs Affect Elite Partisan Politics? John Ostermeyer, St. Olaf College That religion plays a major role in the lives of many Americans is a reality reflected in the language of elected representatives at the local, state, and national levels. Among the factors that affect voting behavior in Congressional representatives, personal religious belief potentially plays a large role due to the un-secularized nature of American politics. I run a binary logistic regression using three independent variables and one dichotomous dependent variable. I find that no significant association exists between religious belief (defined as a combination of religious affiliation and intensity of religious feeling) and vote among Congressional representatives. This finding suggests that, while elected representatives may express religious sentiment in their speeches and campaign promises, a different force— one possibly unconnected to religious affiliation or religious intensity, such as party identification — likely drives their voting behavior. INTRODUCTION

n a democratically elected government, analyzing the actions of elected representatives can help to assure voters that they enjoy faithful and accurate representation. Indeed, many political scientists have examined politicians and how they represent their constituencies. Miller and Stokes (1963, 48) consider three dimensions of policy (social welfare, foreign affairs, and civil rights), as well as how these factors affect congressional representatives). They find that (a) representatives are strongly influenced by their own policy preferences and by the preferences of their constituencies, and (b) that, somewhat ironically, representatives do not fully understand the preferences of their constituencies, and vice versa (Miller and Stokes 1963, 56). Another scholar, Achen (1977), criticizes the methodology of Miller and Stokes (1963), citing the tendency of correlational measures to misrepresent data. Achen (1977) observes, for example, that substantial district heterogeneity exists in policy positions on civil rights, practically guaranteeing a correlation between policy positions of representatives and their constituencies (813), and thus calling into question a finding of Miller and Stokes. In 2003, Mansbridge sought out what constitutes “good” representation, and analyzed several forms of representation: promissory, anticipatory, gyroscopic, and surrogate representation. In 1967, Pitkin (1967, 9) wrote about democracies that “a man is represented if he feels that he is, and not if he does not” (Smith et al. 2010). Secular—which is to say, non-religious—policy and descriptive representations (representations of race, class, etc., but not religion) dominate the public sphere in the West (Guth 2014). As such, the literature summarized above focuses principally on the analysis of secularity in representation. The United States, however, stands out among Western democracies in the sense that, while other industrialized

nations secularize, the U.S. remains subject to rather significant influence from religion in politics. Guth (2014, 299) takes note of this, stating that the United States was “distinguished by a fairly high level of religious practice even in the late twentieth century, seemingly resisting the secularising tides sweeping over much of Europe.” Bolzendahl and Brooks (2005, 47) also note this influence, finding that there has been a rediscovery of religion’s importance in the United States, in contrast to the predicted decline of religion based on the example of Western Europe. The bulk of literature on representation, however, neglects the impact of religion on the voting habits of representatives. Even when research does focus on religious belief, it especially ignores the effect that personal religious beliefs have on political elites in favor of examining the constituent demography’s effect on representation (Baker, Tuch, and D’Antonio 2013; Cann 2009; Fastnow, Grant, and Rudolph 1999; Green and Guth 1991; Guth 2014; Smith, Olson, and Fine 2010). This gap is surprising, but also understandable given the tendencies of political scientists to generalize trends as much as possible to oversimplify complex global dynamics. Where religious belief is concerned, the prevailing paradigm in the field posits “the declining relevance of religion in modern societies” (Green and Guth 1991, 572). Thus, “there has been little analysis of [religion’s] role in legislative institutions” (Guth 2014, 300), especially as it pertains to the personal beliefs of representatives. Still, it is surprising to note the blind eye turned toward the question of how much religious belief influences U.S. citizens and officeholders, especially given the findings of previous literature. Mansbridge (2003) identified gyroscopic representation as one of the significant models of representation in government. This model recognizes that in practice, an

Do Personal Religious Beliefs Affect Elite Partisan Politics?

elected representative’s constituency does not have full control over the representative. As such, voters select a politician who they think will best represent their beliefs, but with the understanding that the representative will act based on internal cues (Mansbridge 2003, 520). One internal cue lacking in research is religious belief, despite the indication that personal beliefs matter. The latter topic requires substantial analysis. In the following analysis of how personal religious beliefs influence the roll-call voting behaviors of elected representatives, I examine previous research, the methodology used to analyze roll-call voting, and gaps in the literature. I will also, to parse the relationship between personal religious beliefs and voting, explain support or opposition to relevant bills based on two measures: denomination and intensity of religious belief. Finally, I will ask this question: does religious affiliation combined with the intensity of religious belief predict party defection? In other words, will representatives stray from voting with their party and instead cast votes based on conscience when considering an issue that involves a dimension of personal religious belief—and especially when the representative holds strong religious convictions? Based on previous literature, I hypothesize that representatives with higher religiosity are more likely to defect from their parties and vote based on what their religions dictate, especially when addressing religiously and morally salient issues.

EFFECT OF CONSTITUENCY

Current literature tends to cover factors outside of religion (e.g., gender, race, and ethnicity) when investigating influences on representation. The research also tends to favor the analysis of external forces over representatives from a given district. For example, Oldmixon (2005) examines conservative Protestantism and how the Christian Right lobbies Congress to push a traditional-values agenda. Green and Guth (1991), too, along with Neiheisel and Djupe (2017) and Smith et al. (2010), note the previous research on constituent influence on roll-call voting. The most striking takeaways from this body of research are (a) its mixed results and (b) that the experts cannot agree on what to conclude about constituent influence on representatives. Neiheisel and Djupe (2017, 64) find in their work that “it has often proven difficult to demonstrate a direct link between religious character of a particular geographic constituency and roll-call records. As a result, evidence that the religious composition of a legislator’s district shapes their legislative behavior is decidedly mixed.” Smith et al. (2010) reach a different conclusion, stating that “the religious makeup of [senators’] constituencies affect the extent to which they vote in line with the [Family Research Council]” (78). The literature of religion’s impact on voting probes the role of constituent demography in representative voting habits more consistently than it examines the personal religious beliefs of political elites, particularly members of Congress. Yet, not all scholars are satisfied with this limited understanding 47

of representation. Of note is Burden’s (2007, 14) work that looks beyond descriptive and substantive representation of constituency—that is, beyond the demography of the constituency and how well the representative acts on behalf of the constituents’ interests. The inspiration for his work comes from the case of two senators, Pennsylvania Senators Rick Santorum and Arlen Specter. Even though Senators Santorum and Spector shared the same constituency, shared similar levels of education, followed similar career paths, and both belonged to the Republican party, the two politicians were more different ideologically than the Democratic and Republican parties themselves (Burden 2007, 2). What then, Burden asks, contributes to the difference between Santorum and Specter? He argues that, because representatives are human, “internal cues” and life experience play a part in roll-call voting (Burden 2007, 14). The latter raises the question of which specific internal cues play a significant role. Existing literature establishes that religion significantly impacts American politics, and therefore strongly suggests that it warrants research as one of the relevant internal cues of voting behavior. Baker et al. (2013, 236) summarize it best: “what role, if any, religion plays in the deeply polarized U.S. Congress has been largely ignored. We argue that a deeper analysis of the role of religion in elite partisan politics is long overdue.” Fastnow et al. (1999, 687) agree, stating that “religion influences political behavior . . . but it is not well studied as a component of congressional behavior.”

EFFECT OF PERSONAL RELIGIOUS BELIEF

Despite agreement on the existing gap in research, the few articles that do examine the effect of personal beliefs on representatives’ voting habits fail to reach a consensus on what precisely that effect may be. One finds a spectrum of conclusions for evaluating the impact of religion on representatives’ voting, with findings ranging from a certainty that religion affects voting behavior, to uncertainty over the effect, to a certainty that religion does not influence voting behavior. Baker et al. (2013, 237) cite a study conducted by Benson and Williams (1982) for the proposition that religion “can tell us as much or more about how [members of Congress] will vote than knowing whether they are Republican or Democrat.” Indeed, Baker et al. (2013) reach a similar finding, declaring that religion contributes to voting behavior (250). Fastnow et al. (1999, 694) express ambivalence in identifying religious affiliation (as it pertains to voting on abortion) as “an important determinant of abortion voting, but that this direct effect has lessened as party has become more important.” And opposite from Baker et al. (2013, 117) stands Cann (2009), who declares that “the effect of personal religious identification on elites is rather muted . . . the religious identity of individual representatives does not seem to affect their ability to represent different constituencies well.”

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

PREVIOUS METHODS OF RESEARCH

Scholars who analyze religion in Congress employ various methods to assess the relationship between representative roll-call votes and religion. Studies of note vary in their use of simple, efficient, complicated, and time-consuming methods. Perhaps the most complicated method is found in Green and Guth (1991, 574), in which the authors use an 8-point scale to measure representatives, with 8 indicating the most devout and 0 representing unaffiliated members. A later study by Guth (2014, 301) again uses a metric that seeks to measure religious intensity, this time on a scale of 0 to 4. This methodology involves subjective measures that are problematic. Guth (2014), for example, measures religious activity as one of his independent variables, but “religious activity” is based on subjective outside observation. A more objective and consistent measure of religious intensity is needed. Baker et al. (2013) provide a better method of measuring religion and representative voting in analyzing the percentage of members in a given denomination (i.e., in their research, Catholics, mainline Protestants, conservative Protestants, and Jews) who favor a certain resolution on a given issue. Even so, the analysis examines only ideology scores and lumps large religious categories into overall liberal or conservative classifications. The latter analysis lacks specificity in independent variables. In other words, the independent variables ignore differences among Protestants to the exclusion of black Protestants and Mormons. Also, the study requires a measure of religious intensity. Fastnow et al. (1999) provide a model way of analyzing the issue at hand. This research examines voting patterns in mainline Protestants, evangelical Protestants, Catholics, Mormons, Black Protestants, and Jews on the topic of abortion (Fastnow et al. 1999, 691). Furthermore, Fastnow et al. (1999, 691) seek to examine issues where “religion’s impact makes intuitive sense.” Namely, the analysis focuses on cultural issues, hence analyzing abortion. Even so, the overall work could examine more issues where the aforementioned “intuitive sense” would apply. A strength of the paper is its inclusion of religiously non-pertinent issues in the form of a general ideology score. This seems to warrant analyzing non-religious issues alongside religious issues to find the influence of personal religious belief and intensity over roll-call voting on religious issues. The most straightforward measure found in the literature comes from Cann’s (2009) examination of voting cohesion among Mormon representatives, where Cann (2009) examines the extent to which Mormons vote together in Congress. Cann (2009, 113) uses the Rice cohesion score, which employs a scale of 0 to 1 (0 representing an even split, 1 representing perfect unity) to gauge the level of voting cohesion among members of a denomination in the House of Representatives. He also compares cohesion scores to randomly drawn groups from the rest of the House to gauge relative cohesion among Mormons compared to a similarly sized group of religiously heterogeneous individuals. However, this study analyzes only Mormon representation in 48

the House of Representatives; given the variety of religious affiliations in Congress, the conclusions drawn may or may not predict behaviors among other faith groups. Furthermore, the study lacks any measure of intensity in religious belief, something that other scholars have tried to capture, and which may explain the difference between their findings and those of Cann (2009). McTague and Pearson-Merkowitz (2013) include one such measure of religious intensity. One dependent variable is the number of times a senator votes conservatively on cultural issues, which indicates both religiosity and a given senator’s core religious beliefs (McTague and Pearson-Merkowitz 2013, 412). McTague and Pearson (2013), however, examine religious intensity as a consequence of religious affiliation. In contrast, I will estimate a model where religious intensity pairs with affiliation as an independent variable to observe how the two factors predict voting behavior.

ISSUES EXAMINED

While the methodologies explained above inspire my research model, many of these studies fail to examine issues that make “intuitive sense” when analyzing religion’s impact on representative voting behavior. Therefore, I searched a variety of sources for information on what issues correlate with religion the most. Yamane and Oldmixon (2006, 437) reference an index that suggests predictive links between religious beliefs and issues that most reflect religious intensity, such as abortion, school prayer, and child care. Yamane and Oldmixon’s (2006) work provides a good start along with Oldmixon’s (2005, 101103) identification of an essential set of issues relevant to the Christian Right, namely women’s and reproductive rights, gay rights, and prayer in schools. Indeed, Oldmixon’s (2005) work hints of a religiously-based divide. Of note is an amendment drafted by Representative Frank Becker (R-N.Y.) that would have supported prayer in public schools. Becker’s amendment enjoyed substantial support among evangelical Christians, but he faced opposition from mainline Protestants, Jews, and Catholics (Oldmixon 2005, 105). These behaviors seem to point to a religious rift in the House, which in turn indicates an area of necessary research. Surprisingly, much of the literature neglects precise analysis of school prayer, women’s and reproductive rights, and gay rights. Generally, prior research avoids these points of debate or fails to distinguish them from religiously non-pertinent topics.

HYPOTHESIS

When literature identifies a gap in research, the authors who recognize the differences attempt to fill those gaps. Such is the case with Baker et al. (2013), Cann (2009), and Fastnow et al. (1999), among others. All examine members of Congress and how personal religious beliefs affect their voting behavior. I plan to research this same connection. As explained below, two issues stand out in this effort.

Do Personal Religious Beliefs Affect Elite Partisan Politics?

First, the subject remains underexplored. The three bodies of research noted above span 14 years, and that over that period, all three authors cite as justification for their work the lack of research on the effect of religion on voting at the Congressional level. This slow pace of research alone indicates a need for greater depth on the subject. Much of the literature predates the Trump presidency (2017 – present)— and even the Obama presidency (2009 – 2017). Yet, a significant takeaway from Baker et al. (2013) is that over the past century, correlations between religious identity and party identity have changed. For example, Catholic Senators used to identify overwhelmingly with the Democratic party but now display a less predictable affiliation—although Catholic Democrats still outnumber Catholic Republicans in the Senate by two to one as of the 113th Congress (Baker et al. 2013, 239). Understanding the current influence of religion on representative voting habits requires studying a more recent Congressional session. Second, the scope of analysis is either too broad or too narrow. For example, Baker et al. (2013) offer a denominational breakdown that is not specific enough. The study investigates Catholics, mainline Protestants, conservative Protestants, and Jews, and in doing so fails to recognize growing divisions within those classifications. Previous literature indicates a difference in descriptive representation (Guth 2014), so perhaps there is a difference between Protestants who fall into different descriptive categories (e.g., a difference between Black Protestants and mainline or evangelical Protestants who are predominantly white). The responsible scholarship entails exploring these differences, rather than merely lumping groups that are “similar enough” together. Furthermore, the issues examined are not the most “intuitively religious” in nature. There exists an argument for the correlation between religious belief and voting on defense spending, taxes, and welfare spending. Still, more overtly religious issues exist, and it is these topics on which scholars should focus. Fastnow et al. (1999) focus on abortion and then ideology in general—that is to say, any and every issue taken to the floor is analyzed, and the votes are used to calculate ideology—when the work could focus on a handful of issues that more directly reflect religious belief. Cann (2009) only analyzes voting behavior among Mormon representatives. Therefore, Cann’s (2009) study lacks the depth that would come with an analysis of more than a single religious denomination, and that would permit results that could more reliably be generalized to estimate general behaviors. For this project, I build on the previous research while accounting for some of their shortcomings. Similar to Fastnow et al. (1999), I estimate a statistical analysis of intuitively religious issues. I selected religiously pertinent issues based on the areas identified by Yamane and Oldmixon (2006). Building on McTague and Pearson-Merkowitz (2013), I examine religious affiliation, while also accounting for religious intensity (Guth 2014). The scope of the investigation (i.e.,

the number of denominations included in the study) will follow Fastnow et al.’s (1999) model. Ultimately, I look for an indication of internally and religiously motivated defection from party by examining the difference in voting patterns for religious and non-religious matters. Previous scholarship indicates a more liberal tendency for Jewish representatives, a more conservative voting record for evangelical Protestant and Mormon representatives, and more moderate ideology among Catholic and mainline Protestant politicians (McTague and Pearson-Merkowitz 2013). Also, Wald and CalhounBrown (2018) document the liberal voting record of Black Protestants. Therefore, I predict the following: Jewish and Black Protestant representatives will vote more often with Democratic colleagues (H1); Catholics and mainline Protestants will vote with both Democratic party and Republican party members (H2); and evangelical Protestants and Mormons will vote with other Republicans (H3). In other words, I expect that Black Protestant and Jewish representatives will vote against religiously pertinent bills, evangelicals and Mormons will vote for religiously pertinent bills, and Catholic and mainliners will both support and oppose these bills. I also anticipate that higher levels of intensity in religious belief will predict voting based more on personal beliefs than voting based on party (H4).

METHODS

I test my hypothesis using three independent variables: religious affiliation, party identification, and religious intensity. The first independent variable is religious affiliation for each member of the House of Representatives in the 115th Congress (2017-2018). I gathered the affiliations from the Pew Research Center (2017), which publishes a list of the professed denomination for each member. However, the listed denominations lack specificity. For example, while “Lutheran” and “Protestant Unspecified” are common categorizations, both groups have evangelical and mainline followings. A simple search for “Lutherans in 115th Congress” revealed the specific categorizations for each Lutheran representative. For each “Protestant Unspecified” and Presbyterian representative, I categorize them as mainline Protestant. There are, therefore, seven categories in all: evangelical Protestant (n=52), mainline Protestant (n=144), Black Protestant (n=39), Catholic (n=143), Jewish (n=23), Mormon (n=7), and an “other” (n=27) category. Each denomination is transformed into a dummy variable, where 1 is the relevant religious affiliation, and 0 is not. (For example, the mainline dummy is 1 = mainline Protestant and 0 = not mainline Protestant. As a result, there are a total of seven dummy variables (n=435). The second independent variable is the party identification of each representative, coded 1 for Democrat, and 0 for Republican. The dummy variable allows for an analysis of the interaction between the dependent variable and party identification to examine if it is a more significant predictor of the vote than religion or religious intensity.

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

The third independent variable is a measure of religious intensity. Using the Linguistic Inquiry and Word Count program (LIWC), a short biography for each representative was analyzed for the number of times the subject invokes religious words such as “God” or “pray.” The proportion of religious terms used in the biography gives a measure of religiosity for each representative. It is assumed that the more religious words invoked in a biography, the more “religiously intense” a given representative will be. The dependent variables represent six bills that made it to a vote during the 115th Congress. Three of these bills were selected because I expect representatives to either support or oppose the legislation based on their personal religious beliefs (i.e., personal religious belief would influence the vote of the representatives over party identification). These three bills include H.R. 1628, American Health Care Act of 2017, H.R. 5247, authorizing the use of experimental drugs on terminal patients, and H.R. 4712, Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act. The latter three bills pertain to the preservation of life, a common point of disagreement that divides people based on religious beliefs. The other three bills were selected because I expect representatives to either support or oppose the legislation based more on their party identification (i.e., they do not ostensibly pertain to religion). The three bills include H.A. 909, preventing the implementation of President Obama’s “social cost of carbon” rule, H.R. 2, the Agriculture Improvement Act of 2018, and

H.A. 414, increasing funding for magnet schools and decreasing funding for charter schools. The dependent variable was coded as follows: each representative received a 1 for a “yes” vote or a 0 for a “no” vote for each bill. To visualize the support for each bill based on party and religious affiliation, I create a clustered bar graph—one for each vote measured for a total of six-bar graphs. While this does not take into account religious intensity, it previews the amount of defection for each issue and each denomination. For example, I would expect to see a higher level of support for the pro-life bill (H.R. 4712) among evangelical Democrats, although the Democratic party supports a pro-choice stance. To test the relationship between the independent variables and a dichotomous dependent variable, I estimate a binary logistic regression. I analyze mainline Protestant, Black Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, and “other” representatives and how they interact with party identification and LIWC. I omit the evangelical Protestant dummy variable from the variable list to make it the constant to which each other dummy variable is compared. Mormons are removed due to their similarity with evangelicals Christians and small sample size (n=7).

RESULTS

Figures 1 and 4 present the interaction between religious affiliation and party identification and their impact on the

Figure 1: Support for H.R. 5247 Versus Religious Denomination

Percent Support for H.R. 5247

100

Party ID 60

100

Democratic

Evangelical Mainline Black Catholic Jewish Protestant

Other Mormon

Religious Denomination Percent of each denomination that voted “yes” on H.R. 5247. Accounts for party identification (n = 398)

Republican

Do Personal Religious Beliefs Affect Elite Partisan Politics?

Figure 2: Support for H.R. 1628 Versus Religious Denomination

Percent Support for H.R. 1628

100

Party ID 60

Republican Democratic

56 52

Evangelical Mainline Black Catholic Jewish Protestant

Other Mormon

Religious Denomination Percent of each denomination that voted “yes” on H.R. 1628. Accounts for party identification (n = 427)

Figure 3: Support for H.R. 4712 Versus Religious Denomination

Percent Support for H.R. 4712

100

Party ID 60

100

Republican Democratic

Evangelical Mainline Black Catholic Jewish Protestant

Other Mormon

Religious Denomination Percent of each denomination that voted “yes” on H.R. 4712. Accounts for party identification (n = 423)

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Figure 4: Support for H.R. 2 Versus Religious Denomination

Percent Support for H.R. 2

100

Party ID 60

100

Republican Democratic

Evangelical Mainline Black Catholic Jewish Protestant

Other Mormon

Religious Denomination Percent of each denomination that voted “yes” on H.R. 2. Accounts for party identification (n = 422)

Figure 5: Support for H.A. 909 Versus Religious Denomination

Percent Support for H.A. 909

100

Party ID 60

100

Democratic

20 20

Evangelical Mainline Black Catholic Jewish Protestant

Other Mormon

Religious Denomination Percent of each denomination that voted “yes” on H.A. 909. Accounts for party identification (n = 410)

Republican

Do Personal Religious Beliefs Affect Elite Partisan Politics?

Figure 6: Support for H.A. 414 Versus Religious Denomination

Percent Support for H.A. 414

100

Party ID 60

100

Republican Democratic

Evangelical Mainline Black Catholic Jewish Protestant

Other Mormon

Religious Denomination Percent of each denomination that voted “yes” on H.A. 414. Accounts for party identification (n = 416)

vote. Figure 1 shows the results for a religiously pertinent bill (n=398). As expected, Figure 1 shows defection from political party based on religious affiliation. Republicans vote overwhelmingly “yes” on this bill (H.R. 5247, authorizing the use of experimental drugs on terminal patients); therefore, one would expect Democrats to vote overwhelmingly “no” on the bill. There is, however, a higher rate of support among Democratic evangelical Protestants, indicating a difference predicted by religious denomination. The other two religiously pertinent bills, H.R. 1628 (Figure 2, n=427) and H.R. 4712 (Figure 3, n=423), do not show apparent defection from political party based on religious affiliation, except for evangelical Democrats (n=6). They were more likely to support H.R. 1628 than their Democratic colleagues. Figure 4 shows the results for a religiously non-pertinent bill (n=422). The lack of support among Democrats for H.R. 2 (the Agriculture and Nutrition Act of 2018) indicates a vote strictly along party lines. However, Republican representatives have varying degrees of support for the bill, which suggests an association between religious denomination and support for the bill among only Republicans. The other two religiously non-pertinent bills, H.A. 909 (Figure 5, n=410) and H.A. 414 (Figure 6, n=416), show some defection from Catholic Republican representatives (sixty-four Catholic Republican representatives voted on H.A. 909, and 65 on H.A. 414). Despite the indication from Figures 1 and 4 that religious affiliation may play a role in how representatives

vote, the binary logistic regression analysis in Table 1 indicates no significant relationship between religious affiliation, LIWC, and vote. Instead, party identification significantly and consistently predicts how representatives will vote across bills. For each bill, the constant value is associated with evangelical Protestants and their likelihood of voting “yes” on a bill. For H.R. 5247 (see Table 1), religiously pertinent bills about using experimental drugs in the case of extreme or terminal illness, LIWC is not a strong predictor of vote choice, nor is religious affiliation. The LIWC coefficient of 2.192 would suggest that representatives with high religious word count in their biographies are 2.192 times more likely to support the bill than representatives with low religious word count, but the finding is insignificant with a p-value of greater than .05. The result is similar for mainline Protestants and every other religious category in Table 1, as the p-values are not statistically significant. The one exception is the p-value for party identification, indicating that it is the only statistically significant finding in Table 1. Because the coefficient is less than 1, and because the value carries statistical significance, this indicates that Republicans are more likely to support the bill than Democrats. For each bill analyzed, an exponential coefficient greater than 1 for party identification indicates higher Democratic support, while a coefficient less than 1 indicates more Republican support for the bill.

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Table 1: Support for H.R. 5247 Sig.

Exp (B)

Linguistic Inquiry and Word Count

.134

2.192

Mainline

.847

1.183

Black Protestant

.341

.385

Catholic

.848

1.181

Jewish

.953

1.060

Other

.733

.702

Party Identification

.000*

.004

Constant

.000*

54.993

Independent Variables: Religious Word Count (LIWC), Religious Denomination, and Party Identification *Statistical Significance = p-value < .05, n = 398

Table 2: Support for H.R. 1628 Sig.

Exp (B)

Linguistic Inquiry and Word Count

.197

1.371

Mainline

.279

.713

Black Protestant

.988

1.007

Catholic

.407

.762

Jewish

.205

.497

Other

.141

.458

Party Identification

.367

.809

Constant

.952

.983

Independent Variables: Religious Word Count (LIWC), Religious Denomination, and Party Identification *Statistical Significance = p-value < .05, n = 427

Table 3: Support for H.R. 4712 Sig.

Exp (B)

Linguistic Inquiry and Word Count

.478

.073

Mainline

.995

816004.435

Black Protestant

1.000

.010

Catholic

.995

1050873.83

Jewish

1.000

.006

Other

.994

.000

Party Identification

.998

.000

Constant

.989

1.085E+13

Independent Variables: Religious Word Count (LIWC), Religious Denomination, and Party Identification *Statistical Significance = p-value < .05, n = 423

ÂŠ Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Do Personal Religious Beliefs Affect Elite Partisan Politics?

Table 4: Support for H.R. 2 Sig.

Exp (B)

Linguistic Inquiry and Word Count

.395

1.838

Mainline

.779

.818

Black Protestant

.997

1331718.122

Catholic

.246

.444

Jewish

.996

2590290.546

Other

.154

.238

Party Identification

.992

.000

Constant

.000*

13.065

Independent Variables: Religious Word Count (LIWC), Religious Denomination, and Party Identification *Statistical Significance = p-value < .05, n = 422

Table 5: Support for H.A. 909 Sig.

Exp (B)

Linguistic Inquiry and Word Count

.037*

3.425

Mainline

.259

.294

Black Protestant

.328

.126

Catholic

.042*

.114

Jewish

.505

.266

Other

.817

.667

Party Identification

.000*

.001

Constant

.000*

41.207

Independent Variables: Religious Word Count (LIWC), Religious Denomination, and Party Identification *Statistical Significance = p-value < .05, n = 410

For H.R. 1628 (see Table 2), a religiously pertinent bill about the American Health Care Act of 2017, LIWC is not a significant predictor of vote choice, nor are any religious denominations. Furthermore, unlike in Table 1, the results in Table 2 do not indicate a significant relationship between party identification and vote choice. This is likely because of inconsistent patterns between party identification and vote choice (i.e., party members did not vote along party lines). Similar to the predictors of H.R. 1628 (in Table 2), none of the variables significantly predict support for H.R. 4712 (see Table 3). Moving to the bills in which representatives are expected to either support or oppose based more on their party identification, Table 4 reports that none of the variables significantly predict support for H.R. 2. In Table 4, it is important to note the extremely high coefficient for Black Protestant and Jewish representatives, which is indicative of collinearity between affiliation and party identification. This is

due to the 100% support from Republicans from both of these categories and the 0% support from Democrats. The model suggests that Black Protestant and Jewish representatives are guaranteed to vote solely based on party identification, hence the high likelihood of support indicated by the coefficients. In Table 5, support for H.A. 909 shows that both LIWC and Catholic religious affiliation significantly predict defection from the party for Republican representatives. This may be because Catholic Republican representatives had lower levels of support for H.A. 909 than their Republican colleagues from other religious backgrounds. Support for H.A. 414 (see Table 6) has similar results to H.R. 5247 (see Table 1). LIWC and religious affiliation are insignificant predictors of vote choice, and political identification is the only significant predictor. The high coefficient for party identification in H.A. 414 indicates near unanimous levels of support from Democratic representatives. Although LIWC is largely not significant in predicting vote choice for Congressional representatives (except for

ÂŠ Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

Table 6: Support for H.A. 414 Sig.

Exp (B)

Linguistic Inquiry and Word Count

.672

.799

Mainline

.523

.664

Black Protestant

.424

3.617

Catholic

.482

1.550

Jewish

.775

1.478

Other

.799

.746

Party Identification

.000*

408.715

Constant

.000*

.097

Independent Variables: Religious Word Count (LIWC), Religious Denomination, and Party Identification *Statistical Significance = p-value < .05, n = 416

Table 7: Support for H.R. 5247 (No LIWC, Democrats Only) Sig.

Exp (B)

Evangelical (n = 6)

.260

2.808

Catholic (n = 73)

.288

1.587

Jewish (n = 20)

.527

1.497

Constant

.000*

.178

Independent Variables: Religious Denomination, Democrat Party Identification *Statistical Significance = p-value < .05, n = 99

support for H.A. 909), Figures 1 and 4 point to an interaction between party identification and religious affiliation. Therefore, I estimated the same binary logistic regression, analyzing religious denomination and party identification – while excluding LIWC – to examine if religious denomination and party identification alone would predict vote choice. Because H.R. 5247 has overwhelming levels of support from Republicans but varying degrees of support from Democrats, I analyze Democratic support for H.R. 5247 to test if religious denomination influences Democrats. Similarly, H.R. 2 has varying degrees of support from Republicans, so I perform the same analysis on Republican representatives for that bill. Table 7 shows the results of the logistic regression for Democratic support for H.R. 5247. Based on McTague and Pearson-Merkowitz (2013), I chose to analyze evangelical Protestants, Catholics, and Jews based on their consistently conservative, moderate, and liberal voting records, respectively. As Table 7 shows, the coefficient for evangelical Democrats suggests a higher likelihood of support for the bill than other representatives. The results for all three denominations, however, are insignificant, thereby making the results inconclusive. Table 8 shows the results for Republican representatives for H.R. 2. The results are similar to those in Table 7: they 56

are an insignificant predictor of vote choice for Republican representatives. Despite what Figure 4 and Table 8 report, the difference in support from Catholic Republicans is insignificant. For Jewish Republicans, we see the same problem as in Table 4—that is to say, collinearity between Jewish affiliation and party identification. Every Jewish Republican voted in favor of the bill, which seemingly indicates guaranteed support for the bill if the representative is Jewish. All results are insignificant with p-values greater than .05, preventing any definite conclusions. This is likely because of collinearity between party identification and vote choice, especially among Democratic representatives for this bill.

DISCUSSION

This study provides no significant evidence supporting the claim that Congressional representative’s religious beliefs affect roll-call voting behavior. Although the coefficients suggest directionality (i.e., the coefficients suggest varying levels of support based on denomination), the results are not statistically significant. One way to interpret this is that personal religious belief does not interfere with a politician’s ability to represent their constituency accurately, nor does it get in the way of their ability to represent the will of

Do Personal Religious Beliefs Affect Elite Partisan Politics?

Table 8: Support for H.R. 2 (No LIWC, Republicans Only) Sig.

Exp (B)

Evangelical (n = 46)

.397

1.963

Catholic (n = 70)

.315

.613

Jewish (n = 3)

.999

150978957.300

Constant

.000*

10.700

Independent Variables: Religious Denomination, Republican Party Identification *Statistical Significance = p-value < .05, n = 119

their party. There is some evidence, however, to support my prediction that Jewish and Black Protestant representatives vote more often with Democratic colleagues (H1): party identification strongly predicts voting behavior in three of the six bills examined. Most Jewish and Black Protestant representatives belong to the Democratic party (20 of 23 and 38 of 39, respectively); therefore, Jewish and Black Protestant representatives vote more often with the Democratic party. Similarly, considering H2 and H3: mainline Protestant and Catholic representatives are more evenly split between parties (H2), with 102 of 144 mainline Protestant and 70 of 143 Catholic representatives belonging to the Republican party; and evangelical and Mormon representatives vote Republican (H3), with 46 of 52 evangelicals and all seven Mormons belonging to the Republican party. There is little evidence to support the hypothesis that religious intensity predicts voting behavior based on personal beliefs (H4), with only one bill (H.A. 909) showing a significant relationship between religious intensity and voting behavior, and only for Catholic representatives. There are some limitations to consider that likely have affected the results. In conducting this research, it became apparent that the independent variable measure of religious intensity may be crude at best, as shown by the insignificant association between vote and LIWC. Over half of the representatives did not make any reference to God or religious action in their campaign biographies. For another significant portion of the representatives, the proportion of religious words compared to the rest of the words used was very low. Therefore, for the majority of the Congress, I was mostly analyzing professed religious affiliation alone, which is not expected to predict roll-call voting (Cann 2010). Of course, it may merely be that party identification is a better predictor of vote choice. For most bills in the 115th Congress not unanimously resolved or resolved without near unanimity, the votes fall primarily along party lines. Also, there is generally little deviation from one’s party in the first place. There is, however, an argument for the predictive power of religion, even if the data do not support such a claim. Wald and Calhoun-Brown (2018) describe the original Democratic association of evangelical Christians in America. This began to change around the time that Jimmy Carter, a Democratic

evangelical himself, was elected in 1976. Wald and CalhounBrown (2018, 192) observe that evangelical Protestants were “disappointed by President Carter’s reluctance to pursue their moral issues,” and that “Evangelical Protestants quickly shifted partisan gears . . . becoming closely allied with the Republican Party.” One may infer from this text that moral issues were of the utmost importance to evangelicals, and so they decided to join the party that most supported their stance on moral and cultural issues. McTague and Pearson-Merkowitz (2013, 424) describe in their study a similar “ripple effect” in which Evangelical Protestants and Jews shifted parties based on cultural issues such as abortion. In turn, both Evangelicals and Jews began to change their overall ideological stances to fit more with the Republican party and the Democratic party, respectively. The implication in this instance is not that party is the predictor of vote choice on religiously pertinent issues, but that religious affiliation drove the sorting into each party—and, after the sorting out, new arrivals began to take on the overall ideology of the party. Thus, religion drives party preference to some extent, at least for evangelical Christians and Jews. At the same time, mainline Protestants and Catholics remain in both parties and “anchor the ideological middle ground” in politics (McTague and Pearson-Merkowitz 424). The latter is not addressed in this study, and it would benefit future researchers to look at the effects of personal religious beliefs with the understanding that religion and party are closely tied together. Perhaps for future research, a measure of religious intensity could be crafted that would analyze data on contributions received from religious lobbying groups. From there, one could observe the relationship between support from religious organizations, religious affiliation, and voting. Alternatively, perhaps this topic would benefit from qualitative research similar to that of Burden (2007)—that is, a case study of the personal experiences of politicians and how those experiences influence voting. This would create a much more compelling argument for my hypothesis than the measures employed here. In any case, this study’s inconclusive nature, and the literature at large, both suggest that more research is needed, mainly due to the problematic measure of religious intensity employed in this study. n

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

John Ostermeyer is from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and currently lives in Phoenix, Arizona. He is a recently graduated member of the class of 2020 at St. Olaf College, where he majored and received distinction in political science. He will accept a commission as a 2nd Lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps.

REFERENCES

Achen, Christopher H. 1977. “Measuring Representation: Perils of the Correlation Coefficient.” American Journal of Political Science 21 (4): 805-815. Agriculture Improvement Act of 2018, H.R. 2, 115th Cong. (2018). https://www.govtrack.us/congress/votes/115-2018/h434

Miller, Warren E., and Donald E. Stokes. 1963. “Constituency Influence in Congress.” American Political Science Association 57 (1): 45-56. Neiheisel, Jacob R., and Paul A. Djupe. 2017. “‘Censor Morum?’ The 17th Amendment, Religious Diversity, and Ideological Extremism in the Senate.” Political Research Quarterly 70 (1): 55-67. Oldmixon, Elizabeth A. 2005. “The Culture of Religious Traditionalism.” In Uncompromising Positions, eds. Mark Rozell, John Green and Ted Jelen, 83-114.Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. Pew Research Center. 2017. “Religious Affiliation of Members of 115th Congress.” Pew Research Center. https://assets.pewresearch. org/wp-content/uploads/sites/11/2017/01/19161723/Memberaffiliations-for-web.pdf. Pitkin, Hanna F. 1967. The Concept of Representation. University of California Press.

American Health Care Act of 2017, H.R. 1628, 115th Cong. (2017). https://www.govtrack.us/congress/votes/115-2017/h256

Smith, Lauren Edwards, Laura R. Olson, and Jeffrey A. Fine. 2010. “Substantive Religious Representation in the U.S. Senate: Voting Alignment with the Family Research Council.” Political Research Quarterly 63 (1): 68-82.

Baker, Josiah R., Steven A. Tuch, and William V. D’Antonio. 2013. “Religion, Politics, and Issue Polarization in the United States Congress, 1959-2013.” Studia Religiologica 46 (4): 235-250.

Trickett Wendler, Frank Mongiello, Jordan McLinn, and Matthew Bellina Right to Try Act of 2018, H.R. 5247, 115th Cong. (2018). https://www.govtrack.us/congress/votes/115-2018/h121

Bolzendahl, Catherine, and Clem Brooks. 2005. “Polarization, Secularization, or Differences as Usual? The Denominational Cleavage in U.S. Social Attitudes since the 1970s.” The Sociological Quarterly 46 (1): 47-78.

Wald, Kenneth D., and Allison Calhoun-Brown. 2018. “Religion and Conservative Political Mobilization.” In Religion and Politics in the United States, eds. Traci Crowell and Mary Malley, 191-224. Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield.

Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act, H.R. 4712, 115th Cong. (2018). https://www.govtrack.us/congress/votes/115-2018/ h36

Yamane, David, and Elizabeth A. Oldmixon. 2006. “Religion in the Legislative Arena: Affiliation, Salience, Advocacy, and Public Policymaking.” Legislative Studies Quarterly 31 (3): 433-460.

Burden, Barry C. 2007. Personal Roots of Representation. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Cann, Damon M. 2009. “Religious Identification and Legislative Voting.” Political Research Quarterly 62 (1): 110-119. Fastnow, Chris, J. Tobin Grant, and Thomas J. Rudolph. 1999. “Holy Roll Calls: Religious Tradition and Voting Behavior in the U.S. House.” Social Science Quarterly 80 (4): 687-701. Green, John C., and James L. Guth. 1991. “Religion, Representatives, and Roll Calls.” Legislative Studies Quarterly 16 (4): 571-584. Guth, James L. 2014. “Religion in the American Congress: The Case of the U.S. House of Representatives, 1953-2003.” Religion, State & Society 42 (2-3): 299-313. H.Amdt. 414 (Courtney) to H.R. 3354: Amendment sought to increase funding for Magnet Schools Assistance by $1,184,000 and decrease funding for Carter School Grants by a similar amount, 115th Cong. (2017). https://www.govtrack.us/congress/ votes/115-2017/h507 H. Amdt. 909 (Mullin) to H.R. 6147: Amendment prohibited funds from implementing the Obama Administration’s social cost of carbon rule, 115th Cong. (2018). https://www.govtrack.us/ congress/votes/115-2018/h347 McTague, John, and Shanna Pearson-Merkowitz. 2013. “Voting from the Pew: The Effect of Senators’ Religious Identities on Partisan Polarization in the U.S. Senate.” Legislative Studies Quarterly 38 (3): 405-430. 58

Taking Action on Gun Control

Taking Action on Gun Control: An Analyzation of Public Opinion on Gun Control Between a Student Sample and General Population Peggy-Jean M. Allin and Ryan M. Deutsch, Arizona State University This article compares and contrasts attitudes on the issue of gun control between the general population and a student sample in the United States today. Through our comparative survey analysis design, we aim to understand attitudes towards gun control regulation in the United States. Since students may believe they are at a higher risk of gun violence, and because of their increased participation in gun control activism, we hypothesize that students will be more likely to favor restrictions on gun regulation. Our results show that students held much more passionate, negative, and dissatisfied attitudes and opinions on the current system, relative to the general public. However, students were more reluctant to support changes or policy reform. Our research design includes a difference of means analysis as well as robust OLS and logistic regression analyses. INTRODUCTION

ince the Parkland, Florida shooting, where 17 high school students lost their lives, there has been significant attention focused on the issue of gun control legislation in the United States and how education institutions are impacted. For example, trends are showing that students who survive mass shootings sometimes become activists. With their efforts, these students pushed the issue of gun control onto the national stage, ensuring that everyone was aware of the serious consequences of mass shootings (Burch 2018). By the 2018 midterm elections, these students and the general population recognized the salience of gun control as a national issue. The trend of college led, student grassroots movements on gun control is, unfortunately, a reaction to another trend: an increase in yearly mass shootings in the United States. According to the Cato Institute, a trend that seems to form a higher apex every year moving forward (Reynolds 2018). Thus, it is reasonable to suspect that the issue of gun control has increased in importance among the American people. It is also feasible to claim that citizens have developed strong opinions on gun control legislation. Researchers show that the mass public is complicatedly divided on the issue of gun control and that opinions are strong, deep, and widespread (Smith 2002; Wright 1981). While membership in the National Rifle Association is flattening, the interest group continues to play an influential role in the gun control debate (Ingraham 2018). That said, research shows that generally, people support measures that regulate guns, increase safety, and reduce violence (Smith 2002).

Â In this paper, we hypothesize that students, because of their increased personal risk to mass shootings on campus as well as their increased exposure to student-led grassroots movements, are more likely to support gun control measures. We emphasize the importance of a student sample, which we purposely targeted and surveyed to better understand the attitudes of current undergraduate students. We will achieve this goal by comparing and contrasting the differences in public opinion between a student sample and the general population. We also provide three models of regression testing. By doing so, we hope to provide a clearer understanding of who supports gun control legislation, who does not, and what this means for the United States moving forward. It is crucial to measure public opinion to gauge attitudes on current issues. For two reasons, there is additional salience in comparing a youth sample to an adult general sample. First, this contrast allows a glimpse of where the debate surrounding attitudes towards gun control is heading in the future. This is critical as we can determine whether or not gun control legislation is likely to change in the future, or at the least continue to become a salient issue among the general public. Second, this contrast also allows us the capability to be able to observe whether or not current undergraduate students hold different attitudes towards gun control legislation than the general population. We theorize that students should support gun reform more than the general population because 1) a student could feel an increased personal risk to mass shootings that occur on school campuses; and 2) a student is often more exposed to events, clubs, protests, and overall grassroots

ÂŠ Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

movements and gun control activism which are usually hosted and facilitated on university campuses. Based on our assumptions and theory, we hypothesize that the student sample will be more supportive of gun legislation in contrast with the general public.

PRIOR RESEARCH

The long history that Americans have with guns creates a complicated relationship, creating mixed research findings. On one hand, research shows that public opinion consistently supports government regulation over firearms (Smith 1999, 2002; Young et al. 1996). However, other research has found that public opinion has developed into a partisan issue that has been divided between those who are pro-gun control and those who are pro-gun rights (Jameson 2015; Oliphant 2017). Public opinion polls have studied American attitudes toward firearms for more than sixty years. During this period, a majority of citizens have consistently supported stronger gun regulation (Blendon et al. 1996; Hemenway 2004). Blendon, Young, and Hemenway (1996, 1719) compiled data from 14 opinion surveys that were conducted nationwide by telephone and in-person between 1959 and 1996. The authors compiled the surveys from the Public Opinion Location Library database at Roper Center for Public Opinion Research, Storrs, Conn; from the General Social Surveys machine-readable data file (1972-1994); and from the Harris subscription service (Blendon et al. 1996, 1719). With this important data, the study concludes that a vast majority, consisting of both gun owners and non-gun owners, favor stronger regulation (Blendon et al. 1996, 1722). Hemenway (2004) again, concisely summarized what this research has found. He states that “every independent national polling firm whether it be Gallup, Roper, Harris, Yankelovich, National Opinion Research Center (NORC), CBS, ABC, or CNN – reports the same findings” (Hemeway 2004, 161). These findings show that most Americans, including most gun-owning Americans, favor gun regulation over gun rights (Blendon et al. 1996; Hemenway 2004, 161; Young et al. 1996). The independent polling organizations cited by Hemenway originate from the Blendon et al. publication of 1996. The data reported in this publication include Gallup, Roper, Harris, Yankelovich, NORC, CBS, ABC, and CNN (Blendon et al. 1996). The surveys conducted by the organizations listed above were compiled from the Roper Center for Public Opinion Research’s on-line Public Opinion Location Library (iPoll) (Young et al. 1996). The compilation of these polls is archived at the Roper Center and also available through POLL. An example of one such poll used by Blendon, Young, and Hemenway is the General Social Survey conducted by the National Opinion Research Center (NORC). This poll was administered from 1972 until 2018 (NORC/GSS 2018). It employs the question wording: “Would you favor or oppose a law which would require a person to obtain a police permit 60

before he or she could buy a gun?” (Hemenway 2004; Young et al. 1996; NORC 2018). Since the GSS/NORC poll began in 1972, the “yes” answers to the question (i.e., support for obtaining a police permit) have ranged from 69 to 75% between the years of 1972 to 1988. Support increases between 1989-2008 and ranges from 78 to 81% (NORC/GSS 2018). Then, in 2014, support decreases to 71.7%, which was the lowest since 1987 (NORC/GSS 2018). By 2018, support is still at about 70%. This is to say that throughout the years, support has increased, but in recent years the gained support has disappeared and is now consistent with the findings from 1972 (NORC/GSS 2018). Also, the findings from three GSS/NORC surveys between 1996 to 1998 (GSS 2019) show that Americans are in favor of gun control regulation except for regulations that involve complete bans on handguns and long guns (GSS 1999; Smith 1999). The NORC surveys posed twentyfive questions that call for gun control measures that are not currently mandated by federal law. Such rules included requiring mandatory gun training, a police permit, background checks, banning the sale of all high capacity gun magazines, and requiring the use of trigger locks. Of these twenty-five measures, the majority of citizens supported all but two rules. The two measures that were largely opposed were the most extreme: a call for “a total ban on handguns,” and restricting handgun possession to only “police and other authorized persons” (Smith 1999, 6). These data suggest that Americans are ready to see a change in federal government regulation but are not willing to support extreme measures, such as complete gun bans. Although the research above demonstrates that a majority of citizens seem to support gun control regulation, those who oppose gun control legislation frame the debate through an ideological lens. Scholars utilizing Pew Research Center Data (Jameson, Doherty, and Kiley 2015; Oliphant 2017) find that public opinion has developed into a partisan divide between those who support gun control and those who support gun rights. According to these findings, the partisan divide has polarized the American public, chiefly because of ideological differences. The National Rifle Association (NRA), a politically powerful gun-rights interest group, claims that protecting society requires more access to guns. As NRA Executive Vice President Wayne LaPierre stated during an NRA Press Conference after the Sandy Hook shootings, “the only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun” (Overby 2012, 1). Research on gun rights culture (Cramer 2006; Hofstadter 1970; Melzer 2009; Squires 2000) have discussed how Constitutionalists claim the right to bear arms is undeniable under the Second Amendment. And, any such violation would be seen as government oppression of freedom. Additionally, surveys conducted by Gallup (2014) and Pew Research Center (2018) also find that specific spikes in support for gun control coincide with the deadliest mass

Taking Action on Gun Control

shootings. For example, support for gun control measures spiked from 45% to 51% between April 2012 and January 2013 (Wozniak 2017). Researchers agree that this spike was influenced by the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in Newtown, Connecticut, in December of 2012, in which 26 people lost their lives, including 20 young students (Wozniak 2017). As Wozniak (2017) emphasizes, the Sandy Hook mass school shooting received an immense amount of media coverage, shaping public opinion for a brief time. However, shortly after the end of the intense media exposure, public opinion resumed a stable trend (Wozniak 2017). To accurately conceptualize public opinion on gun control, it is useful to review the history of mass opinion and how citizen’s attitudes have influenced gun legislation. The first attention given to the gun control movement occurred during the 1960s and 1970s. As Singh (1998) stated, the pressure to reform gun control policy occurred when the public reacted in an uproar to the assassinations of prominent American figures, such as President John F. Kennedy in 1963, Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968 and Robert Kennedy in 1968 (Hunsaker and Smith 1976; Singh 1998). In response to mass opinion, the Gun Control Act of 1968 was passed to limit the ability of individuals to possess firearms. In addition, the 1971 Supreme Court ruling United States v. Freed declared that certain weapons are not innocent and will be subject to criminal liability (Caplan 1976). The urgency of gun control continued in the 1980s. The Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act of 1993 was passed after President Reagan’s press secretary James Scott Brady was shot and injured in the assassination attempt on President Reagan. The Brady Law enforced a strict five-day waiting period to purchase handguns and required background checks on gun purchasers. In 1997, however, a U.S. Supreme Court decision declared the Brady Act unconstitutional (Printz v. the United States). Also, some scholars continue to argue that this attempted assassination of Ronald Reagan in 1981 helped gun-control activists on their mission to create more public policies through the Brady Law (Singh 1998; Vizzard 1999). The issue of gun control is complicated and multidimensional. Although the majority of the public approves of gun control, the opposition has been successful in framing the issue in an ideological lens contributing to this polarization. This partisan divide complicates the issue by creating mixed results for researchers. For example, research shows that people believe that gun control could both reduce violence but also reduce protection. Kleck, Gertz, and Bratton (2009) show that most people believe banning handguns is an effective method for reducing public violence. Yet, Tyler and Lavrakas (1983) while citing Borkowski (2012), conclude that most people feel that banning guns is not “disarming criminals,” but rather “decreasing the potential for protection” (Borkowski 2012, 16). The literature is mixed because it reflects diverse attitudes. Several studies find that many American citizens’ lack information on gun regulations and background checks. For example, a nationally representative survey with a sample

of 1,384 found that 41% of respondents falsely believe that federal law already requires universal background checks for gun purchases, when it does not (Aronow 2016). Thus, research shows that misconceptions about guns in the U.S. hinder people’s ability to understand the complexities of the issue. More importantly, public misunderstandings help to explain why there is this disconnection between public opinion and government policies. Therefore, public education is necessary to further inform and educate the public. Once people dismantle their misconceptions and realize that their beliefs do not align with government policies, then support to mobilize new legislation may occur. Prior research shows that within the gun control debate, public support varies across social demographic categories (Kleck, Gertz, and Bratton 2009; Smith 2002). For instance, research shows that white, male, and conservatives are the least likely group to support gun control policies compared to other groups such as women and people of color because they are more likely to strongly believe that they have a constitutional right to own a firearm (Cornell 2004; Smith 2002; Stell 2001). Correspondingly, Smith (2002) found that women are more likely than men to support gun control measures. The latter may be because one potential dimension of gun violence can be framed as an issue better aligned with communal traits (e.g., caring, sensitive, honest), rather than agentic traits (e.g., dedicated, aggressive, determined). Research has also shown that whites are the least likely to support gun control measures, compared to other racial or ethnic groups in the United States (Kleck, Gertz, and Bratton 2009). We hypothesize that students are more likely to support gun control measures because they are at a personal risk of being victims of school shootings, and younger adults and students are currently leading the gun control movement (Holpuch 2018). However, when it comes to age generation demographics, research is mixed. A Marist Poll, conducted from September 5 through September 8, 2019, found that those aged 60 and over support stricter laws at greater extents than Millennials (Marist 2019). The 2019 Marist poll finds that older respondents are more likely to support congressional candidates who would ban the sale of assault weapons. Also, older respondents are more likely to oppose congressional candidates who are funded and endorsed by the NRA comparative to their younger counterparts. Jameson and coauthors, affiliated with Pew Research Center, found that 18- to 29-year-olds are less likely than older Americans to support a ban on assault weapons (Jameson et. al 2015). Pew Research Center surveys have shown that younger people also support specific policy less than older generations (Pew Research Center 2019). Yet, another three-year ongoing 2015 Gallup poll indicates that respondents under 30 support stricter gun laws only by one percentage point above older respondents (57% in favor compared to 56%, respectively) (Gallup 2015). Therefore, the evidence as to the role of age in the gun control debate is mixed. We believe examining attitudes among current 61

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

undergraduate students might offer a better understanding of public opinion toward gun policy in the U.S. To fully understand the trajectory of public opinion on gun control, we assert that examining a student survey is critical. By comparing student public opinion to the views of the general population, we can understand the attitudes concerning gun control legislation moving forward. Our survey asked 16 key questions, divided into two groups. The first group represents a series of five attitudinal questions and is representative of H1 below. The second group represents eleven questions regarding specific policy proposals represented in H2. The particular questions used in each group are discussed in the next section. Thus, we present the following hypotheses: H1: Students are more likely to display stronger attitudes of disapproval towards the current gun situation climate in the United States. H2: Students are more likely to favor specific policy proposals to combat gun control.

METHODOLOGY

Based on our two hypotheses, we divided our 16 key survey questions into two groups. The first group of questions are attitudinal (H1) and the second group of questions focuses on specific policy proposals (H2). Table 1 below presents the questions asked to participants, divided among the respective question groups. Furthermore, these sixteen survey questions were asked to both a student sample and a general population sample. The student sample was drawn from a large southwestern university where the students participated in the survey for course credit. In total, 275 students participated. To test opinions of gun control for the general public, Research Now SSI (2018) was hired to distribute the survey to over 700 individuals nationwide. Research Now SSI is a reputable survey company that uses a multi-sourcing panel recruitment process to reduce potential bias.1 Specifically, Research Now SSI works through various channels, such as the internet, mail surveys, and telephone interviews, to draw a representative sample. When taking a sample of the general public, it is essential to compare the demographics of the sample to the U.S. Census

Table 1: Breakdown of Key Survey Questions Attitudinal:

Specific Policy Questions:

How much of a problem do you think gun violence is in the United States?

Barring gun purchases by people on the federal no-fly or watch lists

Please put a check next to the one issue you consider the most important issue facing the country right now (select one). Preventing people with mental illnesses from purchasing guns How satisfied are you with the nationâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s current gun laws?

Banning assault-style weapons

Do you think the National Rifle Association (NRA) has too much influence, too little influence, or the right amount of influence over gun control laws in this country?

Creating a federal government database to track all gun sales

We asked participants to rate their feelings of the NRA on a feeling thermometer from 1 to 100. A marking of 50 would indicate neutral attitudes towards the NRA.

Banning high-capacity ammunition magazines Making private gun sales and sales at gun shows subject to background checks Installing more security checkpoints and security systems for allowing people into schools Instituting new programs to identify, assess and manage certain students who may pose a threat Raising the legal age at which people can purchase certain firearms from 18 to 21 Banning bump stocks Having teachers and other school officials with appropriate training carry guns at school

ÂŠ Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Taking Action on Gun Control

Table 2: Demographic Breakdown Demographics Age (mean): Gender:

Student Sample N= 275

General Sample N= 712

2016 U.S. Census

26 years

44 years

37.9 years

54% Male 46% Female

42.5% Male 57.5% Female

49.2% Male 50.8% Female

for generalizability purposes. Table 2 shows the average age and gender from both our student sample and a general population sample. Table 2 demonstrates that our general sample’s average age is slightly higher than the average age in the U.S. (U.S. Census 2016). Also, the general sample recruited by Research Now SSI has more females than the general U.S. population. This may be consequential since females tend to be more liberal than males. Turning to ideology, Table 3 shows the student sample is more liberal. This is also important as it may serve explanatory power as to why students might favor gun control regulations. Often, gun control regulation in the U.S. is an issue widely agreed upon by the Democratic party, who tend to be more liberal than the conservative Republican party. Thus, as party identification might potentially be attributed as a cue for attitudes towards gun control legislation, it is important to show the partisanship differences between both the general sample and the student sample. We asked Research Now SSI to control the general population for partisanship, utilizing a quota sample. Due to the perceived weight that partisanship plays in factoring opinions in the U.S., we believe controlling for party identification allows for more generalizable results of the general population. The questionnaire was composed of various ordinal level questions that could be used to gauge participants’ opinions towards gun control. Ordinal level measurement is critical to

understanding attitudes towards gun control as it allows for the ability to rank responses. An example of a question that was asked on an ordinal level would be: “How much of a problem is gun violence in the United States?” where answer responses could vary from 1) Not a problem, 2) A small problem, 3) A moderately big problem, 4) A very big problem, or to 5) Don’t know. (For our data, “Don’t Know” was coded as missing). Another example of an ordinal question would be “How satisfied are you with the nation’s current gun laws?” where the respondents were then asked to respond between 1) Very satisfied, 2) Somewhat satisfied, 3) Somewhat dissatisfied, 4) Very dissatisfied), or 5) Don’t know. (Furthermore, “Don’t Know” was consistently coded as missing). Once again, this example allows for a ranking of responses. Therefore, the use of ordinal level questions throughout the survey can be beneficial to understand participants’ attitudes on certain issues - in this case, gun control. Furthermore, the consistency of instrumentation is also worth pointing out as a necessity for survey research when attempting to make comparisons. If a question had been changed from the student sample to the general sample, the results might have been skewed. Therefore, we attempted to create identical surveys to be administered to both the general population sample and the student sample. With this, the reliability of our results is increased. Lastly, it is critical to understand the importance of

Table 3: Ideological and Partisanship Breakdowns Student Sample N=275

General Sample N=712

Liberal

49.5%

36.3%

Moderate

23.3%

28.6%

Conservative

27.2%

35.1%

Partisanship

Student Sample N=275

General Sample N=712

Democrat

30.9%

34%

Independent

53.5%

33%

Republican

15.7%

33%

Ideology

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

writing unbiased questions in survey analysis. The phrasing of each question is crucial to the survey’s reliability. If some questions are worded in a manner that leads or “pushes” one way or the other, it can skew the results of the survey, decreasing validity. For example, if asking a question regarding the NRA’s influence in America, and the question is posed as follows: “Do you think the NRA has too much influence in America today?” the results will be skewed because this question is worded as a leading question, ultimately lowering the survey’s validity. Thus, to control for a question-wording effect, it is critical to phrase such a question in a manner as follows: “How much influence do you think the NRA has in the United States today?” and then provide the participant with an ordinal response scale.

In the survey administered, multiple questions were devised to cover a multitude of dimensions that include the broad realm of gun control legislation, thereby enhancing content validity. For example, some of the questions were asked to gauge the various dimensions of gun control and violence, favorability of repealing the second amendment, feelings toward the NRA, and also satisfaction levels with the nation’s current gun laws.

ANALYSIS

Our first and second hypotheses predicted that students would be more supportive of gun control measures than a more diverse sample of the United States. We find some support

Table 4. Comparison of Gun Control Attitudes Between the Adult and College Sample Student

General Public

Mean (SE)

T-Statistic

p-value

Problem of Gun Violence

3.47 (.05)

3.47 (.03)

0.12

n.s.

Identify student threat

3.10 (.05)

3.33 (.03)

-3.84

p<.001

No-Fly list

3.50 (.06)

3.52 (.03)

-0.335

n.s.

Mental Illness

3.56 (.05)

3.57 (.03)

-0.284

n.s.

Tracking Database

3.26 (.06)

3.24 (.04)

0.212

n.s.

.20 (.02)

.11 (.02)

3.82

p<.001

29.44 (2.03)

43.09 (1.31)

5.65

p<.001

Raising purchasing age

3.20 (.06)

3.35 (.04)

-2.13

p<.001

Banning bump stock

3.20 (.07)

3.34 (.04)

-1.72

p<.01

Arming teachers

1.88 (.06)

2.41 (.05)

-6.2

p<.001

Banning assault style weapons

3.01 (.07)

3.28 (.04)

-3.475

p<.001

Gun law satisfaction

1.84 (.06)

2.26 (.04)

-5.58

p<.001

Banning magazines

2.94 (.07)

3.25 (.04)

-3.88

p<.001

Gun show loophole

3.65 (.04)

3.47 (.03)

3.01

p<.001

NRA influence

2.64 (.04)

2.47 (.03)

3.50

p<.001

Similarities Across Samples

Differences Across Samples Gun violence top issue NRA Feeling Thermometer

Note: Mean support indicates the average level of support given by each sample for each corresponding question. The range is from 1 to 4 with 5 being coded as “Don’t Know”.

Taking Action on Gun Control

for our first hypothesis. In particular, four of the gun control proposed questions included in our survey resulted in support for our hypothesis. Specifically, the student population is more likely to 1) disapprove of the NRA, 2) does the NRA have too much influence, 3) indicate that gun violence is the top issue in the U.S., and 4) favor closing the gun show loophole through increased background checks. These results support our first hypothesis for a multitude of reasons. First, we find that students are much more negative in their views of the NRA, compared to the adult sample. We asked respondents to rate their views of the NRA on a feeling thermometer ranging from 0 to 100. A score of 0 would indicate that the participant feels negatively towards the NRA, while a score of 100 would signal that the participant is highly favorable of the NRA. On a feeling thermometer, the student sample gave the NRA an average rating of 29. In contrast, the general population rated the NRA closer to the neutral rating, giving the NRA an average of 43 on the 100-point scale (Table 4). Secondly, another question in our survey asked whether or not the NRA had too much political influence in the American gun control debate. Our findings were indicative of our first hypothesis, showing that students are more liberal towards the gun control debate. Likewise, students oppose the NRA more passionately compared to the general adult sample. As Table 4 reports, this difference in NRA ratings for the two samples is highly significant. It is important to note that on an ordinal scale,2 the student average (or mean) for NRA influence was 2.64 compared to the general public average (mean) of 2.47. This suggests that the students, rather than the general public, believed the NRA has more political influence. Third, students were more likely to identify gun violence as the top, pressing national issue. This confirms our expectations for our first hypothesis, indicating that the student population would list gun violence as the most pressing societal issue. College students believe they are at an increased risk of exposure to gun violence. This, of course, is only speculation but provides an explanation formulated from our hypothesis as to why these results are evident. Lastly, the student sample with an average mean of 3.65 was more in favor of increased background checks at gun shows, making the loophole for purchasing guns more strict. This may be because if a student, under the age of 18, wants to buy a gun - they can do so through a gun show. Moreover, as a result, students may believe they are more likely to be the victim of a school shooting. In contrast, the general population, with a mean of 3.47, was less in favor of increased background checks at gun shows. This may be because all of the general population are above the legal purchasing age of 18. Overall, these findings indicate that the student sample is more in favor of increasing the purchasing age for guns. Although these four measures support our first hypothesis, when we look at remaining policy proposals dealing with gun control and gun violence at schools, we find that the general sample is more supportive of the specific policy

initiatives. The four-gun control policy measures that were highly significant were 1) arming teachers, 2) current gun law satisfaction, 3) banning assault-style weapons, and 4) banning high capacity magazines. All four of these measures were highly significant. The latter is surprising because it contrasts with our initial expectations for our second hypothesis. In general, we expected students to support stricter gun policies, but our results are not congruent with our second hypothesis. We found that students were more negative towards the gun policy debate, but when it comes to implementing policies, they shied away from their values. In other words, although students were more passionate about gun control, they failed to voice their support for change in policy. Based on logic, it is believable that students would not be in favor of arming teachers. This result may stem from the fear of teachers abusing their responsibility with a firearm in a school setting. If teachers are already equipped with a firearm, it is not implausible to assume that the likelihood of them using a gun on school campus increases, regardless of the intent of use. Thus, this result makes sense, at least logically, for the attitude difference between college students and adults.3 The general sample also showed higher support for the current gun laws, indicated by their satisfaction levels and represented by a mean score of 2.26. Although the general public was not extremely satisfied, they still showed more satisfaction than the student sample with an average mean rating of 1.84. Because the general sample had higher satisfaction levels, it was surprising that they supported progressive gun control proposals. This may be because older adults are more likely to participate in politics. Students, or younger voters, are known to not participate as heavily in politics (Pritzker, Springer, and McBride 2015). Thus, even though students have strong views and voice their opinions, they are unlikely to take action to change the issues. However, the support for the final two measures yielded by the general public was surprising. More specifically, the general population was in favor of banning assault-style weapons and banning high capacity magazines. The general sample was more in favor of banning bump stocks on assaultstyle weapons. The adult sample average mean for this question resulted in a score of 3.34, whereas the student sample generated a mean of 3.20. As for the ban on high capacity magazines, the general sample had a mean of 3.25, and the student sample had a mean of 2.94. These results are not consistent with our previous findings regarding the attitudes of the general sample. We expected that the adult ample, who demonstrated less passion for gun control issues, would be less willing to adopt progressive gun control policy changes. Moving onto the similarities across the two samples, we find that both the general and student samples have almostparallel attitudes towards a handful of gun control-related topics. There are four notable similarities: 1) Views towards repealing the second amendment, 2) views regarding mental illness, 3) views towards increasing school security checkpoints,

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

and 4) views towards increased efforts of identifying students who are potential threats. Within this, we break the similarities down by grouping the repealing the second amendment and mental illness survey responses together. It is beneficial to group it this way because they are the two most popular arguments for the gun control issue. The other subset, increasing school security and increasing efforts of identifying students who are threats, are also grouped because they seem to be potential solutions that are aimed directly at the protection of students on campuses. Therefore, this final subset is two issues that are not impactful explicitly to the general population. For example, they would not be impacted by the consequences of increased daily school security, such as metal detectors or enhanced police surveillance. In contrast, such policy changes directly affect students who are attending campus daily. Regarding the similarities of attitudes towards the Second Amendment, both the general and student sample are opposed to repealing the amendment. This is congruent with the literature regarding American feelings towards the repeal of the second amendment (Cramer 2006; Hofstadter 1970; Melzer 2009; Squires 2000). Thus, this result is not surprising, and our study just reinforces this American value. There is also a similarity between opposition for allowing those with mental health issues the right to purchase guns. Table 4 reports the difference between averages for the samples regarding this question is only 0.02. With both means hovering closely around the 3.5, we see that both samples are in favor of limiting the purchase of guns from those with mental health issues. Yet, this result does run counter our second hypothesis regarding the student sample being more in favor of gun control legislation. Regarding our subset of the similarities across samples regarding students on campus, we asked participants about increasing security checkpoints and increasing measures to identify students as potential threats. Both samples yield similar results to these questions. This is an interesting finding because one would expect the general public and student sample to differ on these issues. Arguably, one could also assume that students, who are directly impacted by increased security measures might have stronger views concerning the implementation of specific campus-related policies. The direction of these views, whether positive or negative, is speculation for future research. Nonetheless, it is surprising to see that students who are directly impacted by policies do not differ from the general public who would not have to engage regularly with the consequences of said policies. This may be because the implementation of these policies would hamper the everyday life of students.

REGRESSION TESTING

To complement the presentation of descriptive of mean testing, we also present three different regressions. These regressions 66

have been conducted using the Huber-White remedial measure for robustness to avoid issues with normality distributions and heteroscedasticity. This robustness check also enhances the strength of our findings by providing our OLS models as the best linear unbiased estimator. Recall our two hypotheses: H1: Students are more likely to display stronger attitudes of disapproval towards the current gun situation climate in the United States. H2: Students are more likely to favor specific policy proposals to combat gun control. Table 5 reports the results for three different dependent variables in OLS regression models. Model 1 uses the NRA feeling thermometer as the dependent variable. Model 2 uses a binary dependent variable that records whether respondents think gun violence is the nation’s top issue (coded 1) or not (coded 0). Since the dependent variable is dichotomous (1 or 0), we utilize logistic regression. In the model, we include the same independent variables as in Model 1.The dependent variable in Model 3 is an index that measures policy support. Model 1 and 2 are used to test Hypothesis 1. Model 3 was conducted to test Hypothesis 2. Our main independent variable for each model was “Sample” which was a binary variable that recorded whether or not the respondent was a current undergraduate student. If a participant was part of the student sample they were coded as a 1, adult participants were coded as 0. Finally, each regression model controls for the respondent’s ideology, gender, and age. Ideology was coded on the standard seven-point scale. This means that a score of 1 would indicate that the participant was strongly liberal, whereas a score of 7 would mean that the participant identifies as a strong conservative. As for gender, gender was coded as 0 for male, and 1 if the participant identified as female.4 Age was measured in years ranging from 18 to 70. We begin by examining people’s assessment of the NRA on a 100-point feeling thermometer as a test of Hypothesis 1 (Table 5, Model 1). In particular, we rely on OLS regression to predict ratings for the NRA from very cold (0) to very warm (100). The results show that the two samples have significantly different ratings of the NRA. In particular, the OLS regression results indicate that the general public sample averages almost 19 points higher (i.e., 18.76) on the NRA feeling thermometer, compared to the student sample. Just as predicted, the student sample has significantly more negative views of the NRA than the general sample. This difference is particularly impressive since the OLS regression equation controls for ideology, partisanship, and age. In sum, as for every one-unit increase in support for the NRA, the likelihood of a student giving higher support decreases on average by 19 units, ceteris paribus. A second method of assessing attitudes towards guns can be measured by the open-ended survey question asking

Taking Action on Gun Control

Table 5: Attitudinal and Policy Support of Current Undergraduate Students on Gun Control

Variables Sample

Ideology

Gender

Age

Constant

Observations R-squared

Model 1

Model 2

Model 3

NRA Therm

Gun Violence Top Issue

Gun Policy Support

18.76***

-0.345

0.330

(2.640)

(0.238)

(0.642)

9.146***

-0.109*

-1.094***

(0.626)

(0.0573)

(0.137)

-6.689***

1.114***

1.672***

(2.056)

(0.212)

(0.449)

-0.442***

-0.0292***

0.109***

(0.0848)

(0.00856)

(0.0199)

12.19***

-0.806**

34.30***

(3.744)

(0.343)

(0.793)

907

947

675

0.256

0.158

Robust standard errors in parentheses *** p<0.01, ** p<0.05, * p<0.1

people to identify the most important problem currently facing the nation. Here, we recode peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s answers to this question to 1 (gun violence) and 0 (other). We expect that students will be more likely to list gun violence as the most important problem, compared to the general public sample. From the second regression model (Model 2) presented in Table 5, we can conclude that women are more likely to rate gun violence as the most important issue. Furthermore, the younger population is also more likely to rate gun violence as the most important issue facing the U.S. While ideology is not as strong of a predictor for rating gun violence as the most important issue, it is statistically significant. Furthermore, liberals are more likely than conservatives to state that the most important problem facing the nation currently is gun violence. Therefore, these results support our first hypothesis. Students, who tend to be younger, are more likely to express that gun violence is the most important issue in the U.S. However, our results show that the student sample is not more likely to list gun violence as the most important problem, compared to the general public sample. Finally, to further our investigation regarding favorability toward gun control policies, Model 3 in Table 5 tests our second hypothesis. We created an index comprised of the 11 policy questions from our survey (see Table 1). We regress

ideology, gender, and age on the gun policy index. Similar to Model 2 in Table 5, the student sample is not more likely to support gun policy, compared to the general public sample. Although this was contrary to our original hypothesis, we provide some explanations and possible directions in the conclusion. Before reaching the conclusion, we will briefly interpret other findings from our control variables. We see from the model that ideology is a significant predictor of favorability towards gun control policies. More specifically, from the regression, we see that the more liberal you are, the more likely you are to favor gun control policies. From the regression table (Table 5) of the gun policy index, we gather that females are significantly more likely to be supportive of gun control policies than males. For clarity, this is highlighted by the positive coefficient in the regression. Lastly, our regression controls for age. If a participant of the survey was generally older, they were significantly more likely to express favorability towards gun control policies. Although liberals, women, and younger populations were more likely to favor the gun control policy index â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the majority of the general sample were more likely to favor the policy index than the student sample. To interpret Model 3 in Table 5, for every additional student increase, gun regulation

ÂŠ Pi Sigma Alpha 2020

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics

support decreased on average by more than three quarters of a unit, ceteris paribus. This finding is counter to our original Hypothesis 2. Recall that we hypothesize that students would be more likely to support an increase in gun control policies. However, since we utilize a student sample for comparison with the general sample at large, we did not include education into our model since we (going into the survey) knew the education levels of one of the two samples.

LIMITATIONS AND CONCLUSION

Throughout this paper, we conduct an analysis based on the hypothesis that younger students, influenced by their peer activists, would be more likely to support gun control measures. Thus, because of this increase in youth advocacy, we believed that student attitudes would indicate higher levels of support for increased gun control regulations. We found, however, was that this hypothesis was only partially supported. One of the reasons for this partial finding could have been as a result of the lack of in-depth model testing. Specifically stated, if we had incorporated multiple control variables into our model (which should be utilized in future research), our model might have been strengthened. Moreover, it could be that we missed controlling for a specific variable – such as education – that would have painted a different story. Furthermore, it is possible that some dimensions have not been measured in our study. For example, we did not ask a question regarding how gun policy relates to public health – something that has the potential to be conceptually problematic. For example, our phrasing of specific questions only attempts to assess personal ownership to gun policy; however, it fails to ask if respondents had ever personally been in a dangerous gun-related incident. In other words, we only ask, “Do you own a gun?” yet we fail to ask, “Has a gun ever been pointed at you?”. By failing to ask this type of question, we are only assessing personal connections based on protection, safety, or crime prevention, but not based on endangerment, harm, or public health. We now turn our focus onto the results. Overall, students showed the least amount of support for the NRA and also saw the gun issue as the most important issue facing the U.S. today. This lends support to our first hypothesis. Even though the students supported the gun control debate at higher rates, the general population sample showed more consistent support for the legislation. The latter contrasts with our second hypothesis. Moreover, this tension in reasoning is worth studying in the future. One reason may be because the youth do not vote as much, or participate in politics as much as older generations, the generations that make up our general sample. Furthermore, as a result of not voting as actively as the older general population, they may not be as inclined to follow-through with the legislative process. These findings contribute to the current field of research. Although polls such as Marist (2019), Gallup (2015), and Pew Research Center (2019) highlight the role age and education 68

have in gun control policy support, the current literature does not directly look at a sample of current undergraduate students. By specifically targeting a group of current undergraduate students, we were able to understand their views better. This contributes to the current research field. First, our empirical testing on policy support is not significant, so this type of research should be retested. Second, this article supports other research mentioned in the literature review. Although prior research is mixed, polls conducted by Marist (2019), Gallup (2015), and Pew Research Center (2019) have found that older generations support specific policy more than younger people. They have found that older candidates are more likely to support congressional candidates who would ban the sale of assault weapons. They are also more likely to oppose congressional candidates who take money from the NRA than their younger counterparts. Our research contributes to these prior findings because we find that it is not only younger generations but also current undergraduate students who share these views. This finding shows that being a part of a higher education institution does not have as great of an effect as previously thought. Currently being on school campuses and surrounded by a university atmosphere and culture does not seem to push students to support gun regulation policy. Although activist groups, such as March for Our Lives, targets a grassroots movement based on college students, this leads to an interesting research puzzle that should be further studied (March for Our Lives 2020). Our study that compares the current university student sample to a general public sample provides a better understanding of the intricate and complex layers of how public opinion views gun control. We believe the next step for future research is to understand the extent of the public’s political knowledge about American gun culture, especially the political knowledge of students. Since we believe students are less likely to participate or inform themselves about politics, they may also be more likely to believe certain misconceptions. We must better understand how public education ties into this debate and research. Political knowledge may be crucial in understanding what leads to political decision making and policy support. n

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

Peggy-Jean M. Allin and Ryan M. Deutsch are both in the 4+1 program at Arizona State University where they completed their undergraduate degrees and began their master’s degrees. Peggy switched to focus on international relations and Ryan has been accepted law school.

Taking Action on Gun Control

REFERENCES

Aronow, Peter and Miller, Benjamin. 2016. “Policy Misperceptions and Support for Gun Control Legislation.” The Lancet 387(10015): 223-223. Blendon, Robert J., John T. Youn, and David Hemenway. 1996. “The American Public and the Gun Control Debate.” Journal of the American Medical Association 275:1719-1723. Borkowski, Elizabeth. 2012. “Attitudes Toward Gun Control Laws: Exploring Relationships in Recently Gathered Data.” History Today 59: 10. Burch, Audra. 2018. “Parkland Activists Took On the N.R.A. Here’s How It Turned Out.” The New York Times http://www.nytimes. com/2018/11/07/us/elections-gun-control-florida.html (November 8, 2018). Caplan, David. “Restoring the Balance: The Second Amendment Revisited.” Fordham Urban Law Journal 5:31. Cornell, Saul, and Nathan DeDino. 2004. “A Well Regulated Right: The Early American Origins of Gun control.” Fordham Law Review 73(2): 487–528. Cramer, Clayton E. 2006. Armed America: The Remarkable Story of How and Why Guns Became as American as Apple Pie. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson. Gallup. 2014. “Guns”. https://news.gallup.com/poll/1645/guns.aspx (March 19, 2019). Gallup. 2015. “Majority Say More Concealed Weapons Would Make U.S. Safer.” Gallup. https://news.gallup.com/poll/186263/ majority-say-concealed-weapons-safer.aspx General Social Surveys. 2018. “Favor or Oppose Gun Permits.” https://gssdataexplorer.norc.org/trends/Civil%20 Liberties?measure=gunlaw ( June 14, 2020). General Social Surveys. 2019. “General Social Surveys, 1972-2018: Cumulative Codebook” http://gss.norc.org/documents/codebook/ gss_codebook.pdf (June 14, 2020). Gun Violence Archive. 2019. Number of Shooting Deaths [Data set]. Gun Violence Archive. https://www.gunviolencearchive.org/ (September 10, 2018). Hemenway, David. 2004. Private Guns Public Health. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press. Hofstadter, Richard. 1970. “America as a Gun Culture.” American Heritage 21(6) https://www.americanheritage.com/america-gunculture Holpuch, Amanda. 2018. “Six Victories for the Gun Control Movement since the Parkland Massacre.” The Guardian. https:// www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/mar/26/gun-controlmovement-march-for-our-lives-stoneman-douglas-parkland-buildsmomentum Hunsaker, David M., and Craig R. Smith. 1976. “The Nature of Issues: A Constructive Approach to Situational Rhetoric.” Western Journal of Communication (includes Communication Reports, 40(3):144-156. Ingraham, Christopher. 2018. “Nobody Knows How Many Members the NRA Has, but Its Tax Returns Offer Some Clues.” The Washington Post. http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/ wp/2018/02/26/nobody-knows-how-many-members-the-nra-hasbut-its-tax-returns-offer-some-clues/ (March 26, 2018).

Jameson, Bridget, Carroll Doherty, and Jocelyn Kiley. 2015. “Continued Bipartisan Support for Expanded Background Checks on Gun Sales: More Polarized Views of the NRA’s Influence.” Pew Research Center. https://www.people-press.org/2015/08/13/ continued-bipartisan-support-for-expanded-background-checkson-gun-sales/ (March 28, 2018). Kleck, Garry, Marc Gertz, and Jason Bratton. 2009. “Why Do People Support Gun Control?: Alternative Explanations of Support for Handgun Bans.” Journal of Criminal Justice 37(5): 496-504. Melzer, Scott. 2009. Gun Crusaders: The NRA’s Culture War. New York: New York University Press. March For Our Lives. 2020. “A Peace Plan For A Safer America.” https://marchforourlives.com/peace-plan/ Marist Poll/ NPR/PBS News Hour. 2019. “9/10: Gun Restrictions in the United States.” http://maristpoll.marist.edu/npr-pbs-newshourmarist-poll-results-8/#sthash.EdbUkTkm.dpbs National Opinion Research Center. 2015. “Trends in Gun Ownership in the United States, 1972-2014”. https://www.norc.org/PDFs/ GSS%20Reports/GSS_Trends%20in%20Gun%20Ownership_ US_1972-2014.pdf National Opinion Research Center. 1999. “1999 National Gun Policy Survey of the National Opinion Research Center: Research Findings.” https://www.norc.org/PDFs/publications/SmithT_Nat_ Gun_Policy_1999.pdf Oliphant, Baxter J. 2017. “Bipartisan support for some gun proposals, stark partisan divisions on many others”. Pew Research Center. https://www.pewresearch.org/facttank/2017/06/23/bipartisansupport-for-some-gun-proposals-stark-partisan-divisions-on-manyothers/ Overby, Peter. 2012. “NRA: ‘Only Thing That Stops A Bad Guy With A Gun Is A Good Guy With A Gun’.” National Public Radio. https://www.npr.org/2012/12/21/167824766/nra-only-thing-thatstops-a-bad-guy-with-a-gun-is-a-good-guy-with-a-gun. Pew Research Center. 2017. “America’s Complex Relationship With Guns” https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/wp-content/uploads/ sites/3/2017/06/Guns-Report-FOR-WEBSITE-PDF-6-21.pdf Pew Research Center. 2018. “Gun Policy Remains Divisive, But Several Proposals Still Draw Bipartisan Support”. https://www. people-press.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2018/10/Gunsreport-for-release-upt..pdf Pew Research Center. 2019. “Generation Z Looks a Lot Like Millennials on Key Social Political Issues”. Pew Research Center. https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/2019/01/17/generation-z-looksa-lot-like-millennials-on-key-social-and-political-issues/ Printz v. United States. 1997. 521 U.S. 898, 117 S. Ct. 2365, 138 L. Ed. 2d 914. Pritzker, Suzanne, Springer, Melanie, and McBride, Amanda Moore. 2015. “Learning to Vote: Informing Political Participation Among College Students.” Journal of Community Engagement and Scholarship 8(1): Article 8. https://digitalcommons.northgeorgia. edu/jces/vol8/iss1/8 Reynolds, Alan. 2018. “Are Mass Shootings Becoming More Frequent?” Cato Institute. https://www.cato.org/blog/are-massshootings-becoming-more-frequent Singh, Robert. 1998. “Gun control in America.” The Political Quarterly 69(3): 288-296

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics Smith, Tom W. 2002. “Public Opinion about Gun Policies.” The Future of Children 12:155-163. Smith, Tom W. 1999. 1998 National Gun Policy Survey of the National Opinion Research Center: Research Findings. Chicago: National Opinion Research Center, University of Chicago, 1999. Stell, Lance K. 2001. “Gun control and the regulation of fundamental rights.” Criminal Justice Ethics 20(1): 28-33. Squires, Peter. 2000. Gun Culture or Gun Control? Firearms and Violence: Safety and Society. New York: Routledge. Tyler, Tom R., and Paul J. Lavrakas. 1983. “Support for Gun Control: the Influence of Personal, Sociotropic, and Ideological Concerns 1.” Journal of Applied Social Psychology 13(5): 392-405. United States Census. 2016. “ACS Demographic and Housing Estimates.” United States Census. Page 1. https://data.census. gov/cedsci/table?d=ACS%205-Year%20Estimates%20Data%20 Profiles&table=DP05&tid=ACSDP5Y2016.DP05 Vizzard, William J. 1999. “The Gun Control Act of 1968.” Saint Louis University Public Law Review 18:79. Wozniak, Kevin. H. 2017. “Public Opinion about Gun Control PostSandy Hook.” Criminal Justice Policy Review 28(3):255–278. Wright, James D. 1981. “Public Opinion and Gun Control: A Comparison of Results from Two Recent National Surveys.” The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 455(1): 24-39. Young, John. T., David Hemenway, Robert J. Blendon, and John. M. Benson. 1996. “The Polls: Trends (Guns).” Public Opinion Quarterly 60(4):634-649.

NOTES

1 Institutional Review Board Project ID Number: 00008277 from Arizona State University. 2 Our ordinal scale that will be used throughout this analysis is designed with a numerical range scoring from 1 to 4. If a respondent scored a 1, they would be more likely to oppose such a measure. The closer a respondent moves to the score of 4 would indicate that they were more likely to support this measure. 3 The student sample for this question responded with a mean of 1.88 in contrast with the general sample which had a mean of 2.41 on the ordinal scale. 4 In our survey, although given an “other” option, no participants selected that option. Therefore, we felt as if it was appropriate to code our data in such a manner.

Pi Sigma Alpha Undergraduate Journal of Politics Spring 2020

Articles inside

Contents