Why did shareholders come to vote for board members (representative democracy once removed), rather than for managers (pure representative democracy)? The answer to this question is not clear, but before going farther down this path of conjecture, it may be helpful to examine Dunlavy’s assumption that useful comparisons can be drawn at all between the corporate and the civic polity. Corporations and political states are marked by differences so fundamental that it is dangerous to extrapolate lessons from one realm to the other. Four key contrasts between corporation and state demonstrate are: (1) investing in a corporation is a completely voluntary endeavor; (2) representative democracy plays only a limited role in a corporation; (3) the shareholder vote, with the important exception of takeovers, is generally an empty exercise; and (4) shareholders have an important power that political voters lack: the power of easy exit through the sale of their shares—that is, the power to leave their polity.
First, investors choose to invest in the corporate form. They can also invest in partnerships, limited liability companies, or sole proprietorships—or not invest at all. Even more importantly, each of these alternative business forms gives the investor the potential for a much greater voice in the management of the business.
There is a second basic difference between corporate and political self-governance: the shareholder does not vote "to make value choices, to reaffirm common membership in a joint enterprise, or to give meaning to collective commitments," as voters do in the political realm. Instead, one votes "to keep directors within their role requirements, [and] to ensure that they are not stealing from the corporation or distorting it to some other purpose." In short, shareholder "democracy" exists only to "police the professionals." It makes little sense to say that the political model for voting should carry over to the corporate context when the reasons for voting in each of the two settings are entirely different.
There is a third way in which corporate and civic democracy differ. Shareholder democracy is extremely undemocratic in actual practice because, unlike political democracy, it offers voters no real choice at all. Because of corporate election structure; shareholders have no choice between nominees. The incumbent board puts forward a slate of candidates. There is almost always only one candidate for each vacant director seat. Shareholders do have the power to withhold votes, and have occasionally exercised it by opposing nominees for directorships in recent years. But the protest via non-voting had no legal significance, because the default rule in most states gives the board seat to the winner of the highest number of votes, even if this is only a small plurality. Even if a board candidate receives less than a majority of votes cast—or, indeed, even if the candidate receives just one vote and no competing ballots are cast—the candidate is still elected. The typical election is uncontested; thus, shareholders have no real choice. Each vacancy has but one nominee, and shareholders’ failure to vote for that nominee has no binding legal power on either the corporation or the board of directors. Margaret Blair and Lynn Stout justifiably have concluded that "shareholders in public corporations do not in any realistic sense elect boards. Rather, boards elect themselves."
The fourth and final disconnect between voting in the corporate context and in the political sphere: shareholders, unlike the political electorate, can exit cheaply. Shareholders can "vote with their wallets" and exit from a corporation when they disagree with management’s decisions. This is known as the "Wall Street Rule": shareholders dissatisfied with management will not attempt to make changes, but instead will sell their shares. The shareholders’ power to sell contrasts sharply with the high cost of exit for the voter in the civic polity. There is no easy exit from citizenship. Discontented members of a particular state may choose to leave it, but the costs of uprooting a household generally far exceed those of selling shares in a corporation.
Dunlavy tempts us with the political analogy, challenging us to find points of connection and disjuncture between corporate and civic polities. These comparisons are illuminating, but the analogy is by no means perfect. Given shareholders’ right of exit and the lack of shareholder interest in democratic representation in any ordinary sense, shareholder voting rights are really not that much like political voting rights. Shareholders are different from citizens; the purpose of their voting power is distinctive and limited, and their elections function very differently from those of the civic polity. Similarly, the board of directors, although sharing the characteristic of a representative democracy once removed, differs fundamentally from the Electoral College. The board provides independent directors to address areas of management conflict, while the Electoral College serves no such additional function. Comparison of political voting to corporate voting provides a useful vehicle for understanding the characteristics of each more fully. The danger lies in taking principles from the civic polity and applying them to the corporate polity without considering the different context of each.
First, investors choose to invest in the corporate form. They can also invest in partnerships, limited liability companies, or sole proprietorships—or not invest at all. Even more importantly, each of these alternative business forms gives the investor the potential for a much greater voice in the management of the business.
There is a second basic difference between corporate and political self-governance: the shareholder does not vote "to make value choices, to reaffirm common membership in a joint enterprise, or to give meaning to collective commitments," as voters do in the political realm. Instead, one votes "to keep directors within their role requirements, [and] to ensure that they are not stealing from the corporation or distorting it to some other purpose." In short, shareholder "democracy" exists only to "police the professionals." It makes little sense to say that the political model for voting should carry over to the corporate context when the reasons for voting in each of the two settings are entirely different.
There is a third way in which corporate and civic democracy differ. Shareholder democracy is extremely undemocratic in actual practice because, unlike political democracy, it offers voters no real choice at all. Because of corporate election structure; shareholders have no choice between nominees. The incumbent board puts forward a slate of candidates. There is almost always only one candidate for each vacant director seat. Shareholders do have the power to withhold votes, and have occasionally exercised it by opposing nominees for directorships in recent years. But the protest via non-voting had no legal significance, because the default rule in most states gives the board seat to the winner of the highest number of votes, even if this is only a small plurality. Even if a board candidate receives less than a majority of votes cast—or, indeed, even if the candidate receives just one vote and no competing ballots are cast—the candidate is still elected. The typical election is uncontested; thus, shareholders have no real choice. Each vacancy has but one nominee, and shareholders’ failure to vote for that nominee has no binding legal power on either the corporation or the board of directors. Margaret Blair and Lynn Stout justifiably have concluded that "shareholders in public corporations do not in any realistic sense elect boards. Rather, boards elect themselves."
The fourth and final disconnect between voting in the corporate context and in the political sphere: shareholders, unlike the political electorate, can exit cheaply. Shareholders can "vote with their wallets" and exit from a corporation when they disagree with management’s decisions. This is known as the "Wall Street Rule": shareholders dissatisfied with management will not attempt to make changes, but instead will sell their shares. The shareholders’ power to sell contrasts sharply with the high cost of exit for the voter in the civic polity. There is no easy exit from citizenship. Discontented members of a particular state may choose to leave it, but the costs of uprooting a household generally far exceed those of selling shares in a corporation.
Dunlavy tempts us with the political analogy, challenging us to find points of connection and disjuncture between corporate and civic polities. These comparisons are illuminating, but the analogy is by no means perfect. Given shareholders’ right of exit and the lack of shareholder interest in democratic representation in any ordinary sense, shareholder voting rights are really not that much like political voting rights. Shareholders are different from citizens; the purpose of their voting power is distinctive and limited, and their elections function very differently from those of the civic polity. Similarly, the board of directors, although sharing the characteristic of a representative democracy once removed, differs fundamentally from the Electoral College. The board provides independent directors to address areas of management conflict, while the Electoral College serves no such additional function. Comparison of political voting to corporate voting provides a useful vehicle for understanding the characteristics of each more fully. The danger lies in taking principles from the civic polity and applying them to the corporate polity without considering the different context of each.