Politics                                                   

How to cut 'money influence' between lobbyist and lawmaker By CHARLES N. WHEELER III

Lobbyist Alfred G. Ronan, a former legislator, created quite a stir a few weeks ago when he called several lawmakers off the House floor to give them campaign contributions. Ronan told reporters he handed out about 20 checks ranging from $50 to $300 on behalf of his clients, including the Empress River Casino in Joliet. News of Ronan's activities triggered responses of disbelief and outrage from politicians and legislative watchers. Some lawmakers were shocked or appalled; one said he was "repulsed." Good-government types, meanwhile, demanded a ban on such behavior in the future. Fueling the controversy were stories published a few days earlier that gambling interests reported contributing more than $650,000 to Illinois lawmakers during a one-year period.

The resulting uproar seemed to bemuse Ronan, a Chicago Democrat who took pride in his skill at the old-time politics of jobs and favors during his 14 years in the House. "What difference does it make?" he asked. "I didn't discuss legislation with them." Although posed rhetorically, Ronan's question points to a significant issue that his detractors ought to consider.

Almost all the criticism focused on the appearance of impropriety resulting from campaign contributions passing hands under the Statehouse dome. So, too, did the instant solutions offered by various lawmakers and embraced by some editorial writers and other pundits. One proposal, for example, would ban making or accepting campaign contributions on state property; another would prohibit contributions from the gaming industry. Both ideas are good public relations — something that seems to become more important every day — but neither tackles an issue far more substantive than whether passing checks outside the chambers sends the citizenry a wrong message.

Consider the proposal to outlaw political contributions on state property. Is it suggesting that Ronan's real offense was being too frugal to add the cost of a 29-cent stamp to the donation? Or that everything would have been fine if the lobbyist had passed the checks across the table at a local watering hole? If that's the case, form wins over substance.

Only slightly less myopic is the call for a prohibition on campaign donations from the gaming industry. Those who would single out gaming argue a ban is justified because of the industry's huge profit potential, its close regulation by the state and its sordid history of corrupting Illinois public officials. This approach, too, seems more about perception than reality, and tinged with a bit of hypocrisy. After all, how can a state ascribe a moral taint to gambling while relying on its own numbers game — a state lottery — to help finance its schools?

Racetracks and riverboats may evoke an unfavorable image in some folks' minds, but their potential to impact the lives of most Illinoisans is far less than that of almost any other regulated industry, some of which are generous political donors. Public utilities, insurance companies and banks affect ordinary citizens every day to a much greater degree than any gaming enterprise, yet no one is crusading to ban contributions by their political action committees or their top executives.

Moreover, there's less likelihood now that public officials might be corrupted by gaming industry contributions than there was a quarter of a century ago, when the most celebrated cases involving racetrack stock and racing dates were unfolding. The reason is simple — campaign disclosure requirements put in place in the wake of those scandals make it much harder for an official bent on misconduct to conceal his motives, thus making it more risky to try anything suspect.

Sunshine is a powerful disinfectant in government, and in fact the current disclosure law should be strengthened to require at the least further information about individual donors, such as their profession or broad economic interests.

6/December 1993/Illinois Issues

Perhaps the most serious shortcoming of these single-minded approaches, though, is that they ignore a more fundamental issue. In stressing the where and the who of campaign giving, their proponents overlook a more important interrogative — the why. Why do elected officials and challengers alike accept, even seek out, contributions from special interests of all stripes? The answer, of course, is obvious — the high cost of campaigning. When a six-figure price tag for a legislative race is not unusual, is it any wonder that candidates turn to political action committees for financial help?

Concern that big money contributors might exert undue influence on a lawmaker is not unreasonable. At the very least, it's human nature to want to be responsive to someone who's a benefactor. The best way to combat that problem, however, is not through restrictions on giving. Instead, efforts should center on finding ways to reduce the cost of campaigns and thus the need for contributions from well-heeled special interest groups.

One relatively easy step would be to push back the primary election from mid-March until September. Lopping six months off the timetable surely would result in substantial savings, while sparing voters campaigns that seem to last forever.

The heaviest outlay in legislative races outside the Chicago area often is for television and radio. If local media were to accept some political ads as they do public service announcements, instead of charging premium rates, costs could be cut. Even more effective would be some type of spending limits, perhaps keyed to the number of residents in the district. To avoid constitutional problems, the lids probably would have to be voluntary; to encourage participation, some incentive likely would be needed, perhaps partial public financing for qualified candidates.

While such ideas might seem far-fetched, innovative approaches will be needed if the campaign costs are to be reined in. Until the spending is checked, lawmakers will have little choice but to rely on the largesse of lobbyists like Al Ronan. *

Charles N. Wheeler III is director of the Public Affairs Reporting program at Sangamon State University in Springfield and a former correspondent in the Springfield Bureau of the Chicago Sun-Times.

December 1993/Illinois Issues/7