Another House Investigation
Walter Shapiro, Senior Correspondent | 07/15/10
Somewhere out there is a citizen so naïve that he actually is convinced that Congress is filled with idealistic men and women completely dedicated to public service who never, ever think about campaign contributions before casting a vote. This American innocent, who believes all the civics book verities about Congress, probably also lives in a cottage with a gingerbread roof and reads "Pollyanna" every night before falling asleep dreaming of sugar plum fairies.
For the rest of the American people -- those cynics who can understand why Congress as a bipartisan institution has an approval rating about on par with the Hell's Angels -- the following will help explain how a bill really becomes a law:
Eight congressmen -- five Republicans and three Democrats -- are under investigation by the Office of Congressional Ethics for allegedly soliciting campaign contributions from the financial services industry just before the House voted on Wall Street reform last December. The investigation, still in its preliminary stages, may never lead to a formal inquiry by the House ethics committee. But the details that have emerged so far, through leaks to The New York Times, paint a disturbing portrait of congressional business as usual when votes and campaign cash were up for grabs and Wall Street fortunes were at stake.
New York Democrat Joseph Crowley attended a 25-person Capitol Hill fundraiser in his honor on December 10, organized by a financial industry lobbyist, just hours before he voted for an amendment to weaken the financial reform bill. That same day Georgia Republican Tom Price, who opposed the bill, held a "Financial Services Luncheon" to solicit campaign contributions from guess what industry?
A senior Crowley staffer issued a statement to the Times declaring (surprise), "Congressman Crowley has always complied with the letter and spirit of all rules regarding fund-raising." Price, through a staffer, sent an equally predictable e-mail to Politics Daily, stating, "My voting record and opposition to Washington bailouts has been consistent since day one...My beliefs reflect the views of my constituents and my policy decisions are based on what's in the best interests of my constituents and our country."
The Times did not provide details why the Office of Congressional Ethics is probing the fundraising activities of six other House members: Republicans Jeb Hensarling (Texas), John Campbell (California), Christopher Lee (New York) and Frank Lucas (Oklahoma), along with Democrats Earl Pomeroy (North Dakota) and Melvin Watt (North Carolina). But all eight legislators raised between $4,000 and $30,000 in contributions from the financial sector in the 10 days before the House voted on Wall Street reform on Dec. 11.
Congressional ethics are an oxymoronic concept -- and Capitol Hill conduct that would appall a moralist may be perfectly legal under the convoluted rules that govern the House. Legislators in both parties are day and night constantly attending corporate-sponsored fundraisers filled with donors whose motivations are not exactly good government. The wink-and-nod transactions are not spelled out (that would be bribery) but even the dimmest legislators know they are being rewarded for prior votes and paid in advance for future votes.
The Office of Congressional Ethics -- a new investigative arm of the House created by Nancy Pelosi after the 2008 elections -- appears to be trying to define periods (such as on the verge of a vote) when special-interest fundraising is inappropriate. The goal seems laudable, but do the precise details of timing really matter? Is a fundraising event that comes with an implicit quid pro quo any more ethically defensible if it occurs a month before a congressional vote rather than the day before the climactic roll call?
An inescapable sense of fatalism overhangs any discussion of congressional fundraising. Public financing of elections -- the favored remedy of reformers for decades -- seems about as politically attainable as immediate statehood for Kazakhstan. After the Supreme Court's eviscerated campaign finance laws early this year with the Citizens United decision legalizing corporate political advertising, it seems futile to look to Congress to write new laws that may not stand constitutional scrutiny. The situation is so bleak that one is almost tempted to propose fanciful notions such as requiring corporate lobbyists to write their political checks directly to the media consultants and the TV stations rather than having them first laundered by passing through a congressman's political bank account.
Even public shaming through full disclosure of everything has its limits. As Meredith McGhee, the policy director at the Campaign Legal Center, a Washington public interest group, put it, "The desperation for money among members of Congress so outweighs the fear of repercussions. There is no shame any more. The only thing that's worse than the bad publicity is not getting the money."
With the exception of Democrat Earl Pomeroy, who faces a difficult re-election as the lone congressman from North Dakota, none of the legislators under investigation by the Office of Congressional Ethics face a vigorous challenge in November. But for a congressman in a one-party district, the power of a hefty campaign bank account is a deterrent. It is a brave and foolhardy primary challenger who would dare take on a House incumbent with $5 million sitting in the bank. The result is that all congressional incumbents -- even those who rack up lopsided victory margins worthy of a North Korean election -- worry about fundraising.
There is, in theory, a free-market solution to the problem of a Congress that puts up a "For Sale" sign before major votes. Every time Internet fundraising takes off -- first with Howard Dean in the 2004 Democratic primaries and then dramatically with Barack Obama in 2008 -- it fosters the hope that the combination of political passions and new technology will usher in an era of small-donor online giving. But, for the most part, this kind of mass-market fundraising that would displace special-interest giving only works in presidential campaigns and a few other high-profile races.
The more unpopular Congress becomes, the more irresistible is the lure of tainted special-interest contributions for legislators in both parties. For the sad truth has become this: Who would willingly write a check to most senators and House members other than those with a financial stake in business before the Congress? So the dance of legislation continues with nightly stops at corporate fundraisers all over Capitol Hill.
Walter Shapiro, Senior Correspondent | 07/15/10
Somewhere out there is a citizen so naïve that he actually is convinced that Congress is filled with idealistic men and women completely dedicated to public service who never, ever think about campaign contributions before casting a vote. This American innocent, who believes all the civics book verities about Congress, probably also lives in a cottage with a gingerbread roof and reads "Pollyanna" every night before falling asleep dreaming of sugar plum fairies.
For the rest of the American people -- those cynics who can understand why Congress as a bipartisan institution has an approval rating about on par with the Hell's Angels -- the following will help explain how a bill really becomes a law:
Eight congressmen -- five Republicans and three Democrats -- are under investigation by the Office of Congressional Ethics for allegedly soliciting campaign contributions from the financial services industry just before the House voted on Wall Street reform last December. The investigation, still in its preliminary stages, may never lead to a formal inquiry by the House ethics committee. But the details that have emerged so far, through leaks to The New York Times, paint a disturbing portrait of congressional business as usual when votes and campaign cash were up for grabs and Wall Street fortunes were at stake.
New York Democrat Joseph Crowley attended a 25-person Capitol Hill fundraiser in his honor on December 10, organized by a financial industry lobbyist, just hours before he voted for an amendment to weaken the financial reform bill. That same day Georgia Republican Tom Price, who opposed the bill, held a "Financial Services Luncheon" to solicit campaign contributions from guess what industry?
A senior Crowley staffer issued a statement to the Times declaring (surprise), "Congressman Crowley has always complied with the letter and spirit of all rules regarding fund-raising." Price, through a staffer, sent an equally predictable e-mail to Politics Daily, stating, "My voting record and opposition to Washington bailouts has been consistent since day one...My beliefs reflect the views of my constituents and my policy decisions are based on what's in the best interests of my constituents and our country."
The Times did not provide details why the Office of Congressional Ethics is probing the fundraising activities of six other House members: Republicans Jeb Hensarling (Texas), John Campbell (California), Christopher Lee (New York) and Frank Lucas (Oklahoma), along with Democrats Earl Pomeroy (North Dakota) and Melvin Watt (North Carolina). But all eight legislators raised between $4,000 and $30,000 in contributions from the financial sector in the 10 days before the House voted on Wall Street reform on Dec. 11.
Congressional ethics are an oxymoronic concept -- and Capitol Hill conduct that would appall a moralist may be perfectly legal under the convoluted rules that govern the House. Legislators in both parties are day and night constantly attending corporate-sponsored fundraisers filled with donors whose motivations are not exactly good government. The wink-and-nod transactions are not spelled out (that would be bribery) but even the dimmest legislators know they are being rewarded for prior votes and paid in advance for future votes.
The Office of Congressional Ethics -- a new investigative arm of the House created by Nancy Pelosi after the 2008 elections -- appears to be trying to define periods (such as on the verge of a vote) when special-interest fundraising is inappropriate. The goal seems laudable, but do the precise details of timing really matter? Is a fundraising event that comes with an implicit quid pro quo any more ethically defensible if it occurs a month before a congressional vote rather than the day before the climactic roll call?
An inescapable sense of fatalism overhangs any discussion of congressional fundraising. Public financing of elections -- the favored remedy of reformers for decades -- seems about as politically attainable as immediate statehood for Kazakhstan. After the Supreme Court's eviscerated campaign finance laws early this year with the Citizens United decision legalizing corporate political advertising, it seems futile to look to Congress to write new laws that may not stand constitutional scrutiny. The situation is so bleak that one is almost tempted to propose fanciful notions such as requiring corporate lobbyists to write their political checks directly to the media consultants and the TV stations rather than having them first laundered by passing through a congressman's political bank account.
Even public shaming through full disclosure of everything has its limits. As Meredith McGhee, the policy director at the Campaign Legal Center, a Washington public interest group, put it, "The desperation for money among members of Congress so outweighs the fear of repercussions. There is no shame any more. The only thing that's worse than the bad publicity is not getting the money."
With the exception of Democrat Earl Pomeroy, who faces a difficult re-election as the lone congressman from North Dakota, none of the legislators under investigation by the Office of Congressional Ethics face a vigorous challenge in November. But for a congressman in a one-party district, the power of a hefty campaign bank account is a deterrent. It is a brave and foolhardy primary challenger who would dare take on a House incumbent with $5 million sitting in the bank. The result is that all congressional incumbents -- even those who rack up lopsided victory margins worthy of a North Korean election -- worry about fundraising.
There is, in theory, a free-market solution to the problem of a Congress that puts up a "For Sale" sign before major votes. Every time Internet fundraising takes off -- first with Howard Dean in the 2004 Democratic primaries and then dramatically with Barack Obama in 2008 -- it fosters the hope that the combination of political passions and new technology will usher in an era of small-donor online giving. But, for the most part, this kind of mass-market fundraising that would displace special-interest giving only works in presidential campaigns and a few other high-profile races.
The more unpopular Congress becomes, the more irresistible is the lure of tainted special-interest contributions for legislators in both parties. For the sad truth has become this: Who would willingly write a check to most senators and House members other than those with a financial stake in business before the Congress? So the dance of legislation continues with nightly stops at corporate fundraisers all over Capitol Hill.
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