RSS
Home
5 people who ruined the Texas legislature
Print
Email
RSS
Subscribe
The culprit. Wracked with leprosy.
Each year, Texas Monthly puts out their Bum Steer awards for general disservice to the state. For heroic negligence of legislative fortitude, I would like to present my own: The Leprous Armadillo Awards.
The 89th session of the Texas legislature saw little in the way of progress. In 140 days of debate, policymakers managed a few things: the slow painful death of Voter I.D., the paralysis of billions in state funds, the incapacitation of state agencies and the general triumph of party politics. On the whole, a handful of otherwise smart and amiable people froze their state’s machinery. Not as catastrophic as say, what California voters did this year, but still pretty bad.
In a flurry of post-session head shaking, the media has described the session in various unflattering terms, from the simple “chaotic” to the snarky allusion to “a show about nothing.”
Whether or not the legislature truly put politics before policies is open for debate, though it might be limited. On the whole, reports of the lege’s death may have been exaggerated by a press corps (on- and offline) that helped determine the session’s success through perception-shaping reporting. And the perceptions were not good. Call it the political Observer Effect.
Even if lawmakers bickered, ballyhooed and chubbed their way to futility themselves, without any help from blogs, papers and podcasts, it’s worth investigating the specifics – and it’s worth finding a few people to blame.
The Framers
The Texas Constitution, written in a frenzy of Jacksonian and strict-constructivist fervor, is one of the most baffling and complex foundational documents in America. Only Alabama, a version of Texas to the extreme (at least constitutionally) and California (with its insistence upon referenda) are worse. Texas has no version of the Necessary And Proper Clause, so that any time lawmakers want to do something not explicitly accounted for in 1876, like anything that involves cars or computers or, um, the light bulb, it has to be amended. Besides that, the governor has almost no power (not a particularly bad thing) and the lieutenant governor has a surprising amount of control over the legislature – must have been a slip up in Texas’ early limited-government phase.
Their small government convictions were in full display, however, when they mandated that the legislature only meet in odd-numbered years. In an effort to craft a class of citizen legislators with little pay to keep them from becoming career politicians, the Framers managed to stall the process of governing and confine statesmanship to those who can already afford to run. Oddly enough, out of the 456 amendments to the constitution, none of them have upped the lege’s workload to every year, you know, just like people whose jobs don’t involve making our state function.
And with two year terms for state representatives, Texas practically perfected the permanent campaign, meaning election to the statehouse only guarantees one session. A focus on politicking rather than governing was sure to follow. It’s a tradition we Texans haven’t forgotten.
The Chubbers
Chubbing is the practice of stalling a vote (or any action) by bogging the group down in procedural minutiae. While it’s a term near and dear to our Texas capitol, it’s a tactic not unfamiliar to team meetings, group projects, college classes and bored workers the world over.
The practice is common even in Washington. Ten years ago, Democrats led by Byron Dorgan attempted to force a vote on the comprehensive nuclear test ban treaty by refusing to execute the day-to-day functions (“routine business,” as Dorgan said) of Congress. Dorgan blazed forward in an attempt at a Gandhi-esque show of stoic resistance, aided by then Senator Joe Biden. Of course, “nonviolent noncooperation” is too positive a moniker for this pusillanimous realpolitik, so just think of chubbing as “non-productive non-legislation.”
Democrats are likely culprits in this year’s session, stalling a vote on Voter I.D., dragging it to the end of the session, and watching it die. While sounding like the evil designs of the villain in an unread, parliamentary Ian Fleming novel (007 in Point of Order, Point of No Return!), legislators are more likely to consider chubbing a matter of principal.
Despite what we read, the people that work at the capitol are not so much fierce gladiators locked in battle, but more like friendly good old boys locked in the member’s lounge. When speaking with insiders, from aides to messengers, the sense of camaraderie is clear.
So why go all William B. Travis, draw a line down the aisle and chub a bill to death, while stalling everything else – including, even especially, matters where there is consensus? Well, it’s a pretty effective way of holding your ground and forcing your way so you can move on to less controversial matters.
And remember, when you have to run for re-election after every session, you want to seem as principled as you can for your voters.
The Voters
Yeah, I’m talking about you.
When you pick up the Statesman in the morning and shake your head while sipping your mug of Ethiopian fair trade joe, just remember that the infighting in the lege is your fight, and one you’re probably not participating in yourself.
Need I remind you that these guys run for re-election every year? Over ¾ of their term is devoted to running for another term.
So make them work for it, already.
The Governor
If Rick Perry could keep the legislature as neat and orderly as he does his hair, we’d be the slickest, most well oiled government in the States. Unfortunately, he does not.
It might be logical to chalk this up to the Framers again. They were, after all, the ones who so severely limited his power. I’d rather blame it on Rick.
Rick could have already called a special session. He could have pounded his Lt. Governor David Dewhurst, to whip the Senate into shape, or pulled House Speaker Joe Straus aside for a little “Come to Jesus Meeting” (okay, maybe not, Straus is our state’s first Jewish house speaker). Rick didn’t do these things. And since the close of the session, he has been less than trailblazing in his leadership. He didn’t use his bully pulpit to whip up the people of Texas, or anything close to that.
It’s almost like his mind is elsewhere. But where?
Oh. Right. Rick’s been busy suiting up for a re-election battle against a more moderate, more popular, more powerful Kay Bailey Hutchison. With Kay Bailey doing a better job a creating a Big Tent, Rick’s been stuck appealing to the Republican base. Hard to forge consensus while appealing to the stalwarts.
Ugh. Appealing to the base is so 2004.
The “Gang of 11”
At the outset of this session, everyone had had just about enough of then speaker Tom Craddick. Democrats had beef because, well, he’s Republican. Republicans had beef because they had just lost 3 seats in the house, and pinned the blame not on the donkey, but on Craddick.
In January, some secret meetings and public pledging led 11 Republican legislators to command enough votes to put Joe Straus in as speaker. When committee assignments came out, members of the Gang were given cushy positions that gave them substantial control over the agenda and pace of the new session.
A dramatic coup it was, and fodder for plenty of newspaper and blog stories. Unfortunately, I’m willing to bet that it set a rather petty tone for this year’s session. The tone carried through the session, with both sides of the aisle jumping on board, and no one there to keep them from running out of time – not the governor, not the voters, not the constitution.
There are, of course, some bright spots and small successes. Texas Monthly has released their Best and Worst Legislators for 2009, complete with all the highlights and lowlights.
Let’s hope our representatives flip through this issue before they head back to Austin.
Related Articles:
Add a Comment
