Signup for email updates
Bo Lipari notes that New York's new voting machines keep failing during certification testing, and that this is a good thing. Here's why he thinks so. We agree that rigorous testing is a good thing—and that it's better to find out about problems now then on Election Day.
Let's just hope the vendors get their acts together in time for New York to use its new voting machines by 2009, as it is required to do by law.
But police interference in politics is not new to New York State. Just over thirty years ago I served as Counsel to the New York State Assembly Task Force on State Police Non-Criminal Files. The task force was established after a newly appointed State Police Superintendent, William Connelie, reported in 1975 that the state police had collected and maintained information on a broad array of what they characterized as "non criminal" individuals and groups. In fact, according to the Task Force Report, these files numbered in the hundreds of thousand. And within in them were well over 600,000 entries. Most of the files dealing with groups or organizations consisted of reports on "meetings, demonstration or planned activities." But the focus often was on ideas. According to the Report, "the Police appeared concerned with any individual or group which was likely to speak publicly...and espouse ideas which challenged the status quo." Ideas seemed to be seen as a precursor to criminal conduct—a "thought crime" if you will—and their proponents as potential criminals. Many individual files also contained personal information such as records of credit checks, and of conversations with employers, neighbors, professors, local government officials and bank officers.
Cross-posted from Daily News editorial
Two weeks ago, state Sen. Frank Padavan received extra credit—quite inappropriately—from Mayor Bloomberg and Schools Chancellor Joel Klein when a cluster of public schools in Bellerose, Queens, was renamed for him. Padavan was apparently instrumental in converting a state-owned psychiatric facility into the three public schools, which now make up what is called the Frank Padavan Campus.
Rather than letting this little favor slide by—as so many of these embellishments do—it's time for the senator and those who bestowed the honor to learn a tough ethics lesson.
The state's Public Officers Law is clear on this: Elected officials cannot receive extra compensation or any gift of more than nominal value. Placing someone's name in a prominent place, whether it's an actual building or a tract of land, has monetary value. That's why many ballfields around the country are known by corporate names, like FedEx or Petco. Citibank will reportedly pay $20 million per year to call the new Mets stadium Citi Field....
Here's where things get interesting: the main duty of the lieutenant governor is casting a tie-breaking vote in the State Senate, known as a "casting vote," similar to the one the Vice President of the United States casts in the U.S. Senate. (Art. IV, Sec. 6 again). However, unlike the Vice President, Bruno would also remain a member of the Senate, enabling him to essentially vote twice when votes are tied: first, his full vote as a senator, and then, a casting vote wearing the hat of the lieutenant governor.
Given the competitiveness of recent Senate elections, it's increasingly possible that Bruno will be compelled to pull double duty. Though Republicans emerged from the 2006 general elections with a 34-28 advantage in the Senate, Democrats have narrowed the gap to 32-30 after capturing two GOP seats (Districts 9 and 48) through special elections. If the Democrats pull even with Republicans in seat share between now and 2010, they would still be, in effect, the minority party. Before the resignation, an even split would have given them control with Lt. Gov. Paterson as the tiebreaker, a fact not likely lost on a party that has not had control in the Senate since 1965. Even though the Dems won the Lieutenant Governorship in 2006, the Republicans will likely control the casting vote for the time being.
However, there's recently been some talk that the "casting vote" called for in the constitution can only be cast on procedural matters. Calling the vote a "casting vote" only means that it is a deciding, or tie-breaking vote, but different legislative bodies have given different power to the casting vote. In the U.S. Senate, any vote can be decided by the Vice President. But in the British House of Commons, the Speaker is only supposed to vote to hold further discussion. Interestingly enough, the Vice Presidency of the United States was modeled after New York's lieutenant governor post. But there's no indication in the constitutional text on whether the "casting vote" is for all votes, or just procedural ones, leading to some back and forth as to what the "casting vote" entails. In the words of one interested party, "The Constitution is clear, very clear. . . The Constitution gives certain rights to duly elected members. The lieutenant governor is not a duly elected member and is limited to certain procedural votes." Or so said John McArdle, spokesman for Majority Leader Bruno, just a week ago. The Dems, for their part, believe "it can be used for organizational matters, for procedural matters, motions made on the floor as well as passage of legislation." For now, the conflict is just hypothetical, but if it does come to pass, look for a fair amount of constitutional do-si-do.
The New York Sun noted another odd quirk in the New York constitution that might come into play with split control of the Lieutenant Governor's and Governor's seats: the Senate leader takes over anytime the governor is temporarily unable to perform his duties. In a provision that can best be understood as a relic of an era before air travel or the Acela, that includes any time the governor is out of the state. Paterson probably won't be taking any long vacations anytime soon.
So what options do the Democrats have if Spitzer resigns to hold onto control of the Lieutenant Governor's casting vote? The short answer is: very few. The state Constitution provides that "No election of a lieutenant-governor shall be had in any event except at the time of electing a governor," meaning an election for lieutenant governor would only take place if Patterson resigned as governor, creating a vacancy in both seats.
That new election can only take place at a general election, and the vacancy must be created not less than three months before that general election. New York has general elections every year, but the three-month window means that Paterson would have to resign by early August of the calendar year in order to trigger a new election. In addition to the incredible risk involved in running a new gubernatorial election in the wake of a scandal, there's also this wrinkle: during the three months before the election during which the governor's chair is empty, guess who acts as governor? That's right: Bruno.
Albany is notoriously broken. When the Brennan Center looked at the legislative process in 2004, we deemed the legislature the nation's "most dysfunctional." In 2006 we checked again and found little progress. Our report on New York's campaign finance laws was entitled "Paper Thin." Trial court judges are chosen by a corrupt system struck down as unconstitutional after a two week trial, but eventually resuscitated by the Supreme Court. Still, one Justice called the system a "stupid law."
Eliot Spitzer vowed to change all that, and he did try to do just that. I saw it with my own eyes. He earnestly pushed for campaign reform, for example, and would not sign the pay raise lawmakers craved until they passed some modest contribution limits. The Brennan Center hosted him to speak to a private meeting of business and civic leaders last spring. He was compelling and convincing. He proposed strong redistricting reform and opposed the status quo on judicial selection. As we know, little came of this reform push even before this week. Relations between the governor and the legislature soured. The joke was, "It used to be that decisions were made by three men in a room. Now you can't get them in a room." Spitzer's progress was hindered, in fact, by the reliance on that very closed system. Negotiations were inevitably conducted in private, without much chance to build public support. As a result, little public outcry occurred. By year's end, reform energy had been well and thoroughly drained. Reformers were reduced to waiting for the long expected but never quite materialized Democratic takeover of the State Senate. The Spitzer era ends with Albany and New York politics essentially unchanged. The power brokers must be laughing.
There is a chance, though, for a new start. David Paterson comes from a special place: he was the leader of the minority in the state senate. The Senate Democrats were always the most enthusiastic for rules reform of any faction in state government. Paterson is now in a position to make progress, using his far smoother legislative relationships. But only if he steps up to the task. He should resist the temptation not to make waves. Sure, he has to consolidate his power. But he must also consciously don the mantle of reform agent, and show that his smooth style will work better than the steamroller. Everything didn't change on Day One—it never could. But Day One of the Paterson governorship is approaching. We hope it will be the beginning of a new, true, reform era. Day One, Take Two?
*Cross-posted from ReformNY
Last week, I spoke at a gathering of state legislators from around the country about post-election audits.
Before
I spoke, I had lunch with a bunch of legislators and staff from various
Statehouses (including, from what I remember, Connecticut, Nebraska,
and Louisiana). Nebraska Senator Bill Avery
told a story about how one of his legislature's committees had recently
voted on a bill he'd introduced. Just before the vote, the Committee
chair had said "I hate this stupid bill, " and it was promptly defeated
by a 9-1 vote (with Senator Avery being the one "yes" vote).
"Wait," I said, "your Committee chair held a vote on a bill that he hated?"
Yes, of course, it was required, the Senator replied.
"And did you have a hearing on the bill beforehand?"
Again, of course -- it was required.
The others at the table looked at me as if I was a fool. I had to explain I was from New York --
where hearings and votes are basically held at the discretion of a
Committee Chair (and her chamber's leader). Of course, I already knew
New York did things differently.
But it was nonetheless striking to see so many from statehouses in
other parts of the country assume that votes and hearings on bills
would happen in any state legislative body, as a matter of course.
*Cross-posted from ReformNY
Back in high school, my father coached my AAU basketball team- a
hodgepodge of players who were just good enough to get invited to
tournaments, where we would then get manhandled by teams with actual
talent. We had very little size, but we played solid, scrappy defense.
Unfortunately, we didn't get a lot of rebounds. This incensed my dad,
whose primary coaching tool was screaming "BOX!" (as in "box out") as
loudly as possible, whenever a shot would go up.
One day, after
a particularly disappointing game, he told us the story of some
barnyard animals who avoided all of the tasks necessary to prepare a
meal for themselves, yet they still wanted to partake in the feast. The
protagonist, Henny Penny, would ask them all "Who will pick the grain?"
or "Who will knead the dough?", and animals like Lucy Goosey and Turkey
Lurkey would summarily reply, "Not I!" Henny Penny was left to do all
of the work, but, predictably, the other animals were more than happy
to dig in once it was time to eat. The goal of the story was to point
out our team's reluctance to do the grunt work that needed to be done
(i.e, rebounding), even though all of us wanted to reap the rewards of
victory.
Enter Assemblywoman Barbara Lifton. Her guest column
on redistricting in the Ithaca Journal illustrates how Henny Penny and
Turkey Lurkey are sometimes the same creature. The beginning of her
piece is in the Henny Penny mold, presenting some important
considerations and questions for redistricting reform, including
compliance with Voting Rights Act, respecting communities of interest,
etc.
But these considerations begin to sound more like excuses
that undermine reform as the article goes on. For instance, Lifton
wonders aloud whether we could find non-partisans "who would be willing
to take on the complex task" of redrawing the boundaries for New York's
Congressional and state legislative districts, even though 2.3 million
New Yorkers are not registered to any
political party. And she struggles to understand how an independent
commission might be structured (as if one must be adopted out of whole
cloth) ignoring the fact that such commissions already exist elsewhere. In short, it's as if she's premptively saying "Not I!", a la Turkey Lurkey.
In fairness, I have no trouble with being cautious on redistricting
reform; we should be wary of recreating the current structure that
keeps the power to draw district lines, in essence, with the
legislature. Similarly, we must ensure that minority communities get a
fair shake. However, those who are facilitating the discussion should,
at the very least, present redistricting reform as an issue with
obstacles and substantial
benefits, not simply highlighting the negatives. Had Henny Penny
pitched the work as back-breaking labor to produce a meal that was
"pedestrian" or "lacking inspiration", the story wouldn't make any
sense. Who's going to give up a day of frolicking on the farm for that?
The Brennan Center salutes any and all who support meaningful and
effective redistricting reform, including Assemblywoman Lipton. But we
hope said supporters are converting more of our state's Turkey Lurkeys
into Henny Pennys, and not the other way around.
0 comments | Permalink