Remember to Separate the Wheat from the Chaff in Congress

Spend some time with a member of Congress, and you're almost certain to hear this lament: Behind all the hoopla, voting on legislation often doesn't feel very important. Day after day on Capitol Hill, the bells ring to signal a vote, sending congressmen or senators racing to the floor. There, they cast ballots to name a new post office, or to pass yet another commemorative like National Indoor Comfort Week, or to approve some 'sense of the Congress' resolution that will have little, if any, impact.

During my years in Congress, I cast more than 16,000 votes, and I have to confess that I don't remember what many of them were about.

I was reminded of this not long ago when the Capitol Hill newspaper Roll Call ran an article on 'Ten Bills That Really Mattered' over the last 50 years. As it happens, I served in Congress when a good number of the "Top Ten" bills came up, and I remember those votes very clearly.

The article drove home the point that Congress does at times emerge as the centerpiece of American democracy, as the Founders intended it to be. When that happens, it can change the nation for good.

Take the first item on Roll Call's list: the Civil Rights Act of 1964. In compiling its list, the newspaper surveyed a range of congressional scholars, both liberal and conservative. Almost all ranked this legislation first. "Coming after a decade of civil rights struggle in the South and on the heels of President John F. Kennedy's assassination," the paper wrote, "the hotly contested act effectively ended racial discrimination in public accommodations and employment. Less noticed initially, but arguably just as significant, is the Act's role in ending discrimination based on sex."

I got to Congress just in time to vote on the next item on the list, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, which had two effects — the intended one of expanding voting rights for African-Americans, and an unintended consequence, the realignment of voting patterns among many Southern whites, who began shifting their allegiance to the Republican Party. Legislation sometimes has repercussions far beyond its intended limits.

Indeed, if you think back over the last half-century, it's not at all difficult to come up with a list longer than 10 items of legislative measures that reshaped the face of American society, in ways both foreseeable and not. There was the creation of the federal highway system in 1956, which spurred the trade of goods and also the decline in population of inner cities. In 1965, the establishment of Medicare and Medicaid gave the nation's poor and elderly access to health care, but now it also poses immense challenges to federal and state budgets. Other landmark measures include the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty in 1963, the deregulation of the airlines in 1978, welfare overhaul in 1998, laws protecting air and water and expanding wilderness.

I could go on, but you get the idea: Congress has few equals in its ability to shape the lives of Americans and influence the direction and success of our country. Congress is where all the varied interests in this vast and diverse nation come together to hash out the future and reach a collective decision on where we want to head as a society.

Often the news from Capitol Hill is about partisan standoffs and petty bickering, rhetorical posturing and ethics controversies. Recent polls show that the public's regard for Congress has dropped sharply. What this tells me is that Americans want their representatives in Washington to pay closer attention to the issues that affect our daily lives. The people of this nation look to Congress for actions that matter to us all.

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Whose Team Should a Member of Congress Be On?

With Democrats and Republicans on Capitol Hill confronting one another over Senate filibusters, Social Security, and the ethics process, the pressure to toe the party line is intense. More than once, I've heard a member of Congress lament that despite his better judgment, he'll vote the way his leadership demands because he wants to be a "team player."

This is, of course, nothing new. "You've got to go along to get along" might as well be engraved in the desktop of every member of Congress; even freshmen members arrive well aware they'll go nowhere fast if they start out by bucking their party leadership.

There is an old story about Lyndon Johnson meeting with a group of new congressmen while he was President. One of them asked Johnson for advice on how to vote during his time in office. The President responded that he should do whatever his party leadership told him. Outside the meeting a few minutes later, a reporter asked Johnson if he'd given any advice to the new legislators. Surely, Johnson replied: "Always vote in the best interests of the American people."

That pretty well captures the realities of Washington. Out in the glare of the television lights, "the people's" interests are trotted out and given the starring role. But behind closed doors, there's a gaggle of competing interests every legislator must weigh. If the President is of your party, there's a natural desire to support him. So, too, with your party's leaders, who can advance your career and make it easier for you to help your constituents. Then there are your constituents, your campaign contributors, lobbyists… All of them have some claim on your loyalties.

It's easy enough to sort all this out when, say, the interests of your party and your district coincide. But what about when the decisions are tough, when the various claims on one's loyalty conflict? Is there no single standard by which a member of Congress can steer?

I think there is a standard, one that every member of Congress is familiar with, because it's contained in the oath he or she swore upon taking office. "I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic," it goes; "that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God."

Notice what is not in there: The oath says nothing about supporting the President of the United States. It is silent about the Republican and Democratic parties. It does not mention the party leadership in the House or the Senate. It does not even mention constituents.

It does, however, insist that legislators bear allegiance to the Constitution, which at its core provides for a Congress that is an equal and independent branch of the government. In other words, it imposes the obligation on members of Congress to act in ways that safeguard their institution's place at the center of our representative democracy.

I wager that if you asked all 535 members of Congress what that means in practice, you'd get 535 different answers. But surely it does not mean placing the interests of other institutions — whether it's the presidency or powerful financial interests — first. At a minimum, I believe, it means giving one's constituents and the country at large the benefit of one's independent judgment about how best to support and defend the Constitution. Weigh the various interests at stake, but think and act for yourself.

I don't want to pretend this is easy. It's in the nature of a congressman's job that everyone from the party leadership to the White House to major campaign contributors expects — even demands — loyalty. "He's not a team player" is not a compliment on Capitol Hill.

But I can also say from experience that when the day arrives for members of Congress to walk away from the job — whether they be senators or representatives, Republicans or Democrats — they are not proudest of the times they rubber-stamped the President or bowed to the wishes of the leadership. They're proudest of the times they stood up for something they believed was right and insisted on their position even as their friends and colleagues pressured them to fall in line. These are tough, even agonizing, moments. But that's what it means to live up to your oath of office.

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Our Need for Reasoned Conversation

Can we talk?

I don’t mean by this that we should sit down right now and have a conversation, you and I. I mean it more literally: Are we, as a nation, still capable of talking with one another about the issues that confront us? Or have shouting, extreme polarization, pitched political battle, and unshakeable mistrust in the motives of anyone who disagrees with us sabotaged our capacity for reasoned discourse?

I don’t think we’re that far gone, at least, not yet. But we’re certainly on dangerous ground. Anyone who cares about the dialogue of democracy ought to be very concerned right now.

The truth is, our public air is toxic. I’m not just talking about the venom that spills out of talk radio or the bellowing that passes for debate on television these days. Even on the floors of Congress and at the podiums commanded by our political leaders, vituperation and disdain are far too much in evidence. We are, at the moment, a nation that seems content with harsh political debate, the artful distortion of an opponent’s views, and even the casual use of demonization and personal attacks to undermine the credibility of ideological antagonists. In addition, opposing groups too often are simply talking past each other, or not even engaging the other side in the discussion at all. This hardly helps us resolve the terribly difficult challenges we confront.

I am not issuing Rodney King’s plea, “Can’t we all just get along?” I know that real beliefs and values are at stake, and that people in a country as diverse as ours are bound to differ, sometimes quite strongly. But if we are going to search for reasonable solutions to difficult domestic and foreign policy conundrums, much less build the consensus needed for the American public to accept them, we have to do better. We have to re-build a politics in which reasoned discourse is a bedrock value.

How do we do this? I think there are several steps that people who value democratic problem-solving can embrace.

To begin with, we should not fear differences or dissent, but welcome them as a vital part of democracy. Differences in a nation of our size and diversity are inevitable. The issue for us is not that they exist, but how we go about resolving them in a manner that allows society as a whole to emerge better off.

We all need, too, to recognize our own fallibility, to understand that our own particular perspective on a problem need not be the only one. In fact, it’s helpful always to keep in mind that we might be wrong. As Justice Learned Hand once said, “The spirit of liberty is the spirit that is not too sure it is right.” When people of opposing viewpoints are willing to give one another the benefit of the doubt– or at least to treat one another with respect– then resolving differences becomes much easier.

At the same time, it helps to keep an eye on the proper target: resolving differences and reconciling views, rather than winning at all costs. Our system was not set up to further a particular set of policy goals, it was designed to provide a way for Americans to come together to decide what those goals ought to be and how to reach them. That means learning how to search for compromises in which everyone is at least a partial winner, and understanding from the start that political differences may be stark, but this does not make them irreconcilable.

For the goal, after all, is to serve the national interest and focus on the common good, asking ourselves not what’s good for any one of us, but what’s good for the country. When we do this, it becomes possible to focus on a rival’s ideas, not his motivations or personal shortcomings. And that, in turn, makes it possible to have a genuine conversation in which opponents search for commonalities, and in particular talk about the concerns they share.

Finally, we need to find a way of celebrating those who quietly maintain civility and act with respect toward their rivals. This seems a quick ticket to irrelevancy in the heated atmosphere of politics today, in which the loudest and most accusatory are the voices that get heard, but I don’t think we’re so far gone that the calm voice of reason no longer commands respect. It’s time to find a way of expanding the space available for it.

At its best, creative dialogue is the very heart of a democratic system. It increases mutual understanding, establishes respect among adversaries, stimulates fresh thinking and new perspectives, and builds the consensus for which Americans so desperately yearn. It is not beyond our capabilities to have that kind of dialogue, but as a society, we have to make it clear that we want it, and hold to account those who get in its way. Our obligation is to strengthen those forces in our society that promote a reasoned dialogue, and to discourage the forces that make it more difficult. It is time, in other words, to get firm about turning the volume down.

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Congress Needs to Invigorate Its Ethics System, Not Weaken It

It's not often that standing still can make headlines, but Congress managed to do just that a few weeks ago. As you may remember, the House leadership decided to abandon two rules changes it had wanted. One would have made it more difficult for legislators to discipline a colleague for ethics violations. The other would have allowed the House majority leader to keep his position even if he is indicted by a grand jury back home.

House members are due a small measure of applause for this, but true congratulations should go to ordinary American citizens. The decision to drop the two proposals came within the Republican caucus, after many of its members pressured their leaders to backtrack. Why did they do this? Having spent time during the end-of-the-year recess listening to complaints from constituents, they understood that weakening ethics provisions would reflect poorly on themselves, their party, and the House itself. The common sense of American voters, who were willing to speak up to their elected representatives, won the day.

Yet it is hard to get too excited about this small victory. Take the proposal to abolish the 30-year-old rule allowing members of the House to be rebuked for bringing discredit on the institution even if they did not violate the law. Instead, the leadership wanted House members to get a pass unless they violated a specific law or rule. This seems reasonable, until you realize that ethical misbehavior comes in so many shapes and sizes that if you have to spell out every possible violation, a member bent on mischief can always find cracks. Is it really too much to expect that the people we entrust with safeguarding our democracy will conduct themselves at all times to reflect creditably on the House? Obviously, Americans don't think this is unreasonable? that's why they let their representatives know what they thought about the rules changes.

Unfortunately, this obvious public hunger for belief in the integrity of our leaders didn't keep the House leadership from using the fact that they did the right thing in two instances to obscure the fact that they did the wrong thing in a third. They changed the rules so that when an ethics complaint is lodged, both parties must agree before it can be investigated. In the past, when the two parties disagreed an investigation would go forward regardless. Now, uncomfortable ethics charges can simply be shoved under the table when either party's leadership wants to do so. At a time when we should be invigorating the ethics system in Congress, in other words, it is headed in the other direction, making it more difficult? not less? to file an ethics complaint against a member.

Why should we care about how robustly Congress polices its own members' behavior? Isn't it enough that if they break the law, they can be prosecuted? In a word, no. To begin with, I don't think we want to defer to prosecutors and the courts when it comes to judging our elected representatives. ?At least he's not a convicted felon? does not strike me as the standard this nation ought to set for its lawmakers. We can do better.

But there's a more fundamental issue at stake. James Wilson of Pennsylvania, a member of the Constitutional Convention who was rivaled only by James Madison in his grasp of the principles at issue in forging a democracy, argued that the behavior of the government depends on the character of those entrusted to guide it. ?As the conduct of a state, both with regard to itself and others, must greatly depend upon the character, the talents, and the principles of those to whom the direction of that conduct is intrusted,? he said, ?it is highly necessary that those who are to protect the rights, and to perform the duties of the commonwealth, should be men of proper principles, talents, and characters.? At the same time, he pointed out, the ultimate responsibility lies with the voters, who need to be able to ?distinguish and select? those with the proper integrity.

Voters want their elected representatives to be men and women of integrity. But they don't always know about their representative's misbehavior, and sometimes they fail to vote the scoundrel out of office. That's where Congress comes in. Congress should set high standards for itself, and then enforce them. Only then will it measure up to the expectations of the voters, and reclaim their respect and confidence. It should listen to ethics complaints, investigate them fully and fairly, and punish transgressions without a lot of hemming and hawing. That's what Americans want, and they deserve to have it.

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Why We Need to Restore Power to Congress

Toward the end of January, Vice President Dick Cheney appeared on the History Channel to reflect on the Bush administration's drive to centralize and expand White House power in Washington . The presidency, he argued, had been hemmed in after the Vietnam War and Watergate, and only now is it returning to its rightful prerogatives. I think there has been over time a restoration, if you will, of the power and authority of the president, he said, and suggested that this is just and proper.

I was struck by his comments, because the Vice President and I have served in public life over much the same period of time, yet have come to opposite conclusions. It is a deeply felt conviction within this administration, and elsewhere as well, that the presidency must be protected and strengthened; the White House approaches national policy from that premise. I believe that the nation benefits from a strong presidency, and I would not want to see that office weakened. Yet, to make democracy work this power must be checked and balanced by an equally strong Congress. To me, the problem is that Congress in recent times has become too weak and timid. The president is now the de facto chief legislator he sets the policy agenda and is by far the dominant player in establishing the federal budget. If power needs bolstering anywhere in Washington, it's on Capitol Hill.

I'll admit that the course of American history at least throughout the 20th Century and into this one is on Vice President Cheney's side, as a series of presidents have worked to bulk up White House power. On the other hand, on my side I've got the Founders. With the exception of Alexander Hamilton, they wanted Congress to be the engine of policy and of law in the United States . They devoted the first Article of the Constitution to enumerating its powers, and spent most of their time at the Federal Convention of 1787 arguing over its shape and reach.

The reasons are straightforward. In part, they were worried about the concentration of power: in the hands of a single person, of a few people, or even of a majority. That is what our system's checks and balances were designed to thwart. But they also believed that in a representative democracy, in which the people are the only legitimate fountain of power, as James Madison put it, Congress was the avenue through which the American people could express their wishes. It was inconceivable to them that a single chief executive could represent the priorities and desires of a diverse nation.

They were right. As power shifts from Congress to the president and the executive branch, the federal government inevitably becomes less representative. For all their faults, members of Congress understand their constituents exceedingly well. The president cannot possibly grasp their concerns as intimately or represent their needs as directly.

Congress, at its best, brings great strength to the system. The White House and executive agencies are far less accessible to ordinary voters than Congress, and while I am well aware that Congress can too easily be swayed by powerful or monied interests, at least ordinary citizens have a chance to engage their representatives if they want. When was the last time you went to a community supper with the secretary of defense?

Similarly, the White House simply cannot reflect the diversity of the American people. It is on Capitol Hill that the regional, class, social, ideological, racial and ethnic variety of this nation's residents come together and, more important, where they must be taken into account. It is hard work to reconcile the diverse interests that come into play around a particular issue, but that is what Congress is for, and efforts to bypass it in the name of efficiency and speed are in reality little more than shrugging off the democratic process.

Finally, when Congress loses power, the nation loses accountability and transparency in the policy-making process. The executive branch is not open to public view. Congress is or at least, it ought to be. When Congress behaves timidly, not only does it leave the field open for the White House to put its own spin on public policy, it also means that the strongest muscle Americans have for getting at the roots of problems the congressional oversight process never gets flexed.

There is, I must acknowledge, a weak spot in my view. It is that the Congress sometimes cannot get its act together well enough to be a strong, effective, and sustained counterbalance to the power of the presidency. That is why reforming the Congress, as difficult as that may be, is crucial. Until then, the power of the presidency will continue to grow.

While I understand the pressures that have led us here, from wars and terrorism to the complexity of the legislative process to the natural inclination of chief executives to place a high value on their own agendas to the difficulty of getting Congress to speak with one voice, I remain puzzled by the willingness of the Congress itself to yield power (for example, its prerogative to declare war). True, Democrats and Republicans both like to bolster presidents of their own party, but they also have a responsibility under the Constitution to ensure that their own institution is at least a co-equal with the presidency in governing the country.

Indeed, they may not remember it, but they've actually taken an oath to that effect. When a member of Congress is sworn in, he or she vows to support and defend the Constitution, a document that right up top says that all legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in Congress. It hardly seems a radical step, or even disrespectful of the presidency, for Congress to turn itself into an equal partner and start behaving as if it took those words seriously.

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