For baseball fans and public policy devotees, the last several months have been bitterly disappointing.

Labor strife abruptly ended a major league season of great promise in early August, leaving fans to wonder whether the White Sox' Frank Thomas would have won the triple crown or whether the Padres' Tony Gwynn could have posted the first .400 batting average in a half century.

Similarly, as Election Day '94 nears, negative campaigning and sound-bite politics have dashed earlier hopes that the contest for governor would produce a serious discussion of the key issues facing Illinois from the two major candidates, Republican incumbent Jim Edgar and Democratic challenger Dawn dark Netsch.

Perhaps one should not be surprised at the way the campaign developed; sadly, the public welfare consistently seems to take a back seat to self-serving politics. Not surprisingly, the most egregious example in recent weeks comes from Washington, D.C., where Republican congressional leaders embarked on a deliberate campaign to block any legislation, no matter its merits, that might reflect credit on President Bill Clinton or Democratic congressmen before the election.

The GOP strategy was a cynical ploy to capitalize on voter dissatisfaction with Congress in hopes of boosting the stock of Republican congressional candidates across the nation. Never mind that the stall killed reform measures most Americans say they want, such as limits on campaign spending and a ban on lobbyist- financed meals and junkets for lawmakers. All that mattered to the likes of Sen. Bob Dole and Rep. Newt Gingrich was gaining an edge come November 8.

Rank partisanship has been a fact of life in the Statehouse, too, especially this past session, when Senate President James "Pate" Philip and House Speaker

Michael J. Madigan vied to see who could do the most to stifle minority party initiatives in his chamber. Philip, of course, is in a league of his own when it comes to outrageous behavior. If there ever were any doubts about his standing, they should have been dispelled by his suggestion that child care workers who are minorities don't have the same work ethic as folks of his ethnic persuasion. Fair- minded people might suspect skin pigmentation is about as reliable a predictor of industriousness as shoe size, but such concerns don't seem to bother the Wood Dale Republican. His comments proved an embarrassment to Edgar, who urged the Senate leader to apologize, while Netsch sought to use Philip's comments to discredit the governor and to energize black voters. Ultimately, though, it's up to the folks in the 23rd Senate District to pass judgment on Philip.

Given the prevailing political climate, then, it might have been unrealistic to expect a high-level campaign for the Executive Mansion. Still, all the elements for a substantive contest seemed to be in place after the March primary. Both Edgar and Netsch are bright, articulate students of government. Both have lengthy and impressive records of public service. And the pair have sharp differences on school finance, tax policy and other critical issues.

Lamentably, such noble expectations went unfulfilled as the campaign unfolded. Instead, what seemed to be a win-by-any-means mindset caused the contest to degenerate into yet another shallow marketing battle waged between media consultants armed with slick imagery and superficial stereotypes. Consider the treatment afforded by the rival candidates to what voters tell pollsters are the most important issues: crime and education.

Bolstered by a campaign fund several times greater than that of his challenger, Edgar was able to seize the initiative with TV spots portraying Netsch as soft on crime and eager to raise taxes, labels the cash-strapped Democrat has struggled to shake throughout the campaign.

6 / November 1994 / Illinois Issues

To score points on the crime issue, the governor has relied chiefly on Netsch's opposition to the death penalty, ignoring the fact that the Cubs are a lot more likely to win a World Series within the next four years than a bill repealing capital punishment is to reach the governor's desk. Netsch proved herself as willing as Edgar to be selectively truthful, faulting the governor for approving early release for thousands of prisoners. Of course, her TV ad never mentioned that the bill reflected the considered judgment of a prison-crowding task force made up of experts in law enforcement and criminal justice, nor that the measure authorized construction of a super-maximum security prison to house the state's worst inmates.

Edgar also has sought to reduce the education debate to the 42-percent boost in income tax rates Netsch has proposed, while the comptroller has stressed the state's falling share of the total tab for local schools during Edgar's watch. Both are correct as far as they go, but by stopping where they do, each leaves voters with a distorted picture. Netsch's plan, for example, includes property tax and income tax relief, so the total tax burden would be less for many people. Similarly, the state will pump some $600 million more into elementary and secondary education in fiscal 1995 than it did in fiscal 1991, former Gov. James R. Thompson's last budget year. The state's share has declined, however, because local funding has grown at a faster pace.

As Netsch correctly observed early in the campaign, no one is "soft" on crime; similarly, polls regularly show that most Illinoisans favor increased state support for local schools. Thoughtful Illinoisans realize there's a connection between crime prevention and quality education, as the work done by the Illinois Voter Project makes clear. But that sort of enlightened discussion is missing from Election '94. Even more discouraging, though, is the nagging fear that reasoned discourse on public policy choices may never supplant electioneering. After all, if Edgar and Netsch can't wage an issues- oriented campaign, who will? 

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.

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