The U.S. Constitution mandates a census of the population every ten years. At the time this idea was cooked up, our incipient government was probably hoping to document the nation's growth, while in today's world, many minds turn toward the billions of dollars in federal government funding that flows to states and other jurisdictions based on their populations as defined by the census results.
However, one important result of the Senate is equally important in both in the 18th and 21st centuries -- the allocation of seats in the House of Representatives. As populations in different areas ebb and surge, every ten years some states may hit the jackpot with an extra representative in Congress, while others will get hit with a reminder of their decreasing importance in the world.
A good theory. The population shifts, but its representation in the country's political debates follows it in rough proportion.
But does it really work as advertised? As the current census progresses, without any real way of enforcing the warning that everyone's participation is "required by law," differences emerge. As of this writing, the Chicago area is reporting 36% return of the census forms; Atlanta, 40%; while in states like Nebraska and Minnesota, returns are 60+%. It will be interesting to see what final reporting percentages will be. It's not surprising that, for a variety of reasons, urban areas are less likely to reported fully than rural ones. The government is engaged in a full-fledged campaign to encourage people to fill out and return their forms, and in the end, adjustments will be made based on other factors too.
Yet it seems inevitable to me that to some degree, rural areas will be better and more accurately counted than urban ones. People in cities and in more densely populated areas need to consider the effects their failure to participate may have - but they don't. Resource allocations are affected - perhaps that's why in Virginia, our urban areas can wait for years to get a stoplight installed at a busy intersection, while less populous ones seem to lack for nothing.
In political representation, the inequities of underreporting by the census are less pronounced. It's a fairly blunt instrument, and one or two percent underreporting isn't likely to shift a Congressional seat. (Meanwhile gerrymandering politicians are seeking to skew the allocation of seats on a different axis.)
That works for the House of Representatives, perhaps, but in the Senate, the rigid allocation of two seats per state more than counterbalances the effects of the census in the House. Of course, this was the intended effect as the founders designed the system, but in their agrarian world, I doubt they ever anticipated the extremes that might evolve between, say a Wyoming and a California or Texas.
with dwindling populations not only maintain but increase their relative power as population imbalances occur. It was noteworthy that in the recent health care fight, the key Senators, both Democratic and Republican, who were in a position to hold up progress, demand special deals, and the like, often just happen to be from states with minimal populations: Mitch McConnell's Kentucky, Bart Stupak's Michigan, Kent Conrad's North Dakota. The majority is hostage to a minority.
If we were to engage in an exercise to update our Constitution, the census would likely bite the dust as a relic of a different era. I'm positive that in the age of Google there are better ways.
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