When I served in Congress, I used to tell constituents that any law we passed that actually helped ordinary people was merely a happy accident; laws are designed for, and usually drafted by, special interests. My constituents would always laugh at this, in the casual way that people embarrassingly acknowledge an obvious, if slightly unpleasant, truth. They understood that politics at every level has been tainted by the corrosive influence of money. It was, alas, no news to them that politics in America is corrupt. What surprised them, however, was how simple and cheap the process of buying influence really is.
Tom DeLay's well-publicized ethics troubles have partially revealed the money-driven nature of America's democracy. But the allegations of illegal conduct should not distract from the fact that DeLay's evil genius is found not in overt criminality, but in his navigation through the ethical penumbra where avaricious lobbyists, special interests,
and ambitious politicians legally ply their trade. The House majority leader is only one, albeit the most successful, of the players. While many in Washington may decry
his methods, more aspire to emulate them.
Like DeLay, these elected officials, activists, and lobbyists justify their actions by a tenacious belief in the righteousness of their particular cause and by an inability even to imagine a world in which money, favors, and political power are not inextricably combined. It is a system that destroys the integrity of its participants and makes the legitimacy of American democracy an open question.
One of the most depressing realities is how directly and quickly the financial sewer engulfs the electoral system itself. The money system gets an early hold on candidates.
If you run for office, the first question (and really the only one) you will be asked is not what you believe in or whether you are a well-respected local leader. Instead, the
question asked by party insiders is whether you can raise the money required to wage the campaign.
Then, the system feeds on itself. The quest for campaign contributions only increases once in office, for the size of your political war chest signifies status; it is an insurance policy against electoral unrest and the universal medium for meting out rewards and benefits. I learned this early in my congressional career. When a difficult vote came up only a few weeks after I was sworn in, I was one of only a few Democrats who opposed the measure, though it was strongly backed by organized labor, a traditional ally of Democrats.
The House Democrats caucused to discuss the issue and to convince apostates like me to come back into the fold. But the persuasion was not of the intellectual variety -- not a discussion of the merits of the policy -- but rather of the political kind. A senior House member, who had come to Congress in the 1970s, sat down next to me, and said simply:
"If you vote like you say you plan to, you will never raise another penny from organized labor." He didn't say that thousands of union members in my Oklahoma district would be upset -- an entirely legitimate political argument. It was all about the money.
The connection between money and politics is even more dangerous and widespread than this example would suggest. More pernicious is the case of Westar, a utility in Topeka, Kan. In the first four years of the Bush administration, Congress spent a great deal of time debating an energy bill. Westar desperately wanted to include in the bill an obscure provision that would have exempted the company from certain state and federal regulations. But Westar wasn't naïve; it didn't even try to present the case on its merits.
On the contrary, Westar realized who was in charge of Congress, and devised a plan. Its executives decided to give tens of thousands of dollars to various Republican members of Congress designated by DeLay, and to various political action committees associated with him. In exchange, a provision was included in the energy bill to protect Westar
from regulation. This provision, according to press accounts, would have allowed Westar to make taxpayers pick up a portion of the company's debt -- a nice return for a relatively small amount of campaign contributions. This perverted exemption was removed only when Westar's executives later came under federal investigation. All of those contributions, in the words of an internal memo that surfaced as part of the investigation, were necessary "to get a seat at the table." No doubt.
At about the same time, Democrats and Republicans alike were outraged to learn that Republican House Whip Roy Blunt (Mo.) had inserted a provision in a 475-page bill that could have meant millions of dollars to Philip Morris. It would have restricted Internet sales of tobacco and provided harsher penalties for cigarette smuggling. The underlying
bill had nothing to do with tobacco or any of Philip Morris' other businesses, but rather with creating the Department of Homeland Security. And the provision was discovered
only at the very last minute; it was not supposed to be found, but rather to sneak
through the legislative process unnoticed, despite the large sums involved. Why would the congressman do this? Well, he was dating the top lobbyist for Philip Morris at the time, and later married her. Furthermore, one of his sons was on the company's payroll. But maybe that was coincidence.
The obvious corruption of American politics presents Democrats with a tremendous opportunity to move past the stale debates that have dominated it for much of the last 30 years -- debates that have generally worked to Republican advantage. But to contest the venality of American politics, Democrats must offer institutional responses that promise to reinvigorate and safeguard democracy itself. For the problem is the system, not merely
the people.
In other words, Democrats will find less success in arguing that they are inherently righteous than in proving that they are the party committed to institutional reform that
will make the self-promoting impulses of either party harder to act upon. Redistricting reform, public funding of elections, the provision of free television time to candidates,
compulsory voting, and a prohibition on corporate-funded trips are just some of the reforms that democracy demands and desperately needs.
Together, these reforms could open a new front in the battle to make suffrage, and accountability, real for every person.
