The human side of congress Representative Jim Wright

Representative Jim Wright (D-Tex.), a member of the House of Representatives since 1954, describes the “nuts and bolts” of Congressional decision making – people and personalities. As majority leader, a post he has held since 1977, he works with the speaker and with committee chairmen to oversee party strategy and control the flow of legislation.

After thirty years as a member of Congress, I am not an objective observer. I believe Congress is the most fascinating human institution in the world. It is beyond question the most criticized legislative assembly on earth, and yet it is the most honored. It can rise to heights of sparkling statesmanship, and it can sink to levels of crass mediocrity. In both postures, it is supremely interesting – because it is human. The story of Congress is the story of people.

Congress is a microcosm of the nation. It is a distillate of our strengths and weaknesses, our virtues and our faults. It is a heterogeneous collection of opinionated human beings. On the whole, members are slightly better educated and considerably more ambitious than the average American citizen. But members of Congress reflect the same human frailties and possess the same range of human emotions as their constituents.

Senators and representatives are individualists, not easily stereotyped or categorized. If there is a single thread of similarity that unites most, it is that they are driven in their work. The average member of Congress works longer and harder than do members of any other professional or business group I have ever observed. The average one of my colleagues probably spends from twelve to fourteen hours on work in an average day. If a member of Congress were to expend the same amount of energy and time in furthering any soundly conceived business venture, I have no doubt that he or she would become rich.

A member of Congress is not some inanimate cog in a self-propelling legislative wheel. He or she is a turner of the wheel, a decider – along with others – of the direction the vehicle will take. True, there is a mechanical process that makes the car function. It needs gasoline. It needs a battery, a working engine, tires, and a universal joint. But knowing the mechanics of a motor – important as that knowledge is – does not tell us where the car is going. Its direction and ultimate destination depend upon who is behind the wheel.

That is why careful students of Congress will do well to pay attention to the personalities of decision makers. They will reflect on backgrounds, personal philosophies, religious persuasions, and economic and educational experiences of members of Congress.

These elements determine how well legislators interact with their colleagues and how much they comprehend and even care about different issues. Constituency pressures and interests, political party affiliation, and results of public opinion polls are important factors, but not infallible prognosticators when it comes to understanding how the Congress operates.

It is instructive to ponder how the typical member of Congress sees the job. It includes more than just passing laws. I would suggest that a US representative is a tripartite personality.

In the first place, members of Congress are required to be ombudsmen for their constituents. A less dignified term might be errand boy. A widow does not receive her survivor benefit check in the mail. A college wants to apply for a federal grant. A student cannot find a bank for a student loan. One person wants out of the military service; another wants an emergency leave.

The average representative may receive two hundred letters a day. Forty percent of them will deal with the individual problems of citizens enmeshed in the coils of government and looking to their representative as their intercessor.

The ombudsman role should not be despised. If it takes a disproportionate share of representatives’ time, it keeps them close to real people with real needs. If citizens are entitled to go through doors that they simply cannot find in the bureaucratic maze, by leading citizens to those doors, representatives perform necessary functions. Were government ever to become so remote and aloof that the average citizen had no intercessor it would be a sad thing indeed.

In a second role, members of Congress serve as traveling salesmen for their districts. Each tries to see that his or her slice of America gets its share of the action. Members try to direct federal projects into their cities, contracts to their factories, and grants to their local institutions of learning. Anything that promotes business or employment opportunities in a member’s district is fair game to be pursued with vigor.

The late Senator Robert Kerr (D-Okla.), ranking Democrat on both Public Works and Finance Committees, once was being chided by Senator Albert Gore (D-Tenn.). Gore gently upbraided Kerr for using his powerful posts to promote dams, highways, and public buildings for Oklahoma, while writing tax laws with “unintended benefits” for Oklahomans.

Kerr replied that he wanted to offer only “one slight correction in the otherwise excellent recitation” of his colleague. “That is the point,” said Kerr, “at which my friend refers to these as “unintended benefits”. I want him to know that they are fully intended benefits. While I am a senator of the United States, I am a senator from and for the state of Oklahoma. I am not ashamed of that; I am proud of that.”

Scorn the “pork barrel” function as they may, purists in political science cannot wish it away. It is inherent in human nature. From the clash of conflicting parochial and economic interests, the Congress synthesizes an amalgam that serves the nation as a whole.

In the third role, representatives are often statesmen. There is conviction among members, and courage. If the law makers, on the average, did not usually vote as most of their constituents found acceptable, they probably would not be very good representatives for their districts. They might not be representatives at all for very long.

But occasions arise in the life of each when by reason of conviction deeply held or information not widely known, a law maker is impelled to vote in ways that are al least temporarily unpopular. This is when the mettle of the person is tested. A southerner voting for civil rights two decades ago, a midwesterner supporting the Panama Canal Treaty, someone from the Bible Belt resisting constituent pressures to breach the wall between church and state – these are examples of personal principle under pressure.

In 1956, then Senate Majority Leader Lyndon Johnson was in a fight for his political life on the Texas home front. Antagonists portrayed him as a turncoat, a traitor to the southern case, a tool of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People). Powerful epithets two years after Brown v. Board of Education!

Johnson never waivered. “I am not going to demagogue on that issue,” he once said to me. “If I have to try to prove that I hate Negroes in order to win, then I will just not win.” It was a matter of conscience.

All of the above – a mixture of servitude and conviction, servility and courage – combine to make up the human mosaic of the Сongressional decision-making process. Lyndon Johnson was a master of that process not because he knew the procedures better than others, but because he had an instinctive “feel” for people. He was persuasive with his colleagues because he understood them. He knew what made them tick, collectively and individually.

As House Majority Leader, I am constantly trying to meld together a majority out of an assortment of minorities. It is often frustrating but always fascinating. Building coalitions in Congress is like being a peacemaker within a family. One must know the concerns and needs of the members and must be sensitive to their opinions and the uniqueness of their individual personalities. Sometimes I see my role as a combination parish priest, evangelist, and part-time prophet. Harmony among this mixture of strong-willed individualists is an elusive grail. Sometimes you cannot find it at all, but it is fun trying.

NOTES:

(From 1987 to 1989, Jim Wright was Speaker of the House of Representatives. This interview was given when he was House Majority Leader.)

(D-Tex.): Democrat/Texas.

pork barrel: refers to the practice of using political office to further the interests of one’s supporters.

Panama Canal Treaty: in the Panama Canal Treaties, ratified under President Carter, the United States agreed to hand over the canal to the Republic of Panama on December 31, 1999, and to make the canal a neutral waterway open to all shipping after 1999.

Bible Belt: those sections of the US, chiefly in the South and the Midwest, noted for religious fundamentalism.

NAACP: civil rights organization, founded in 1909.

Brown v. Board of Education (1954): This case was the first successful challenge to segregation of blacks and whites. The Supreme Court ruled that maintaining separate but equal schools for blacks and whites was unconstitutional.

Assignment: Answer the following questions:

1. Does Congress really represent a cross-section of the American people?

2. How does a member of Congress compare with the average American citizen?

3. Is a member of Congress an active factor in the decision-making process or is he/she only part of a machine?

4. Members of Congress are subject to all kinds of pressure from their constituencies, their parties, the opinion polls, and their own convictions. How can they possibly represent such conflicting interests?

5. How much time does a member of Congress devote to the actual needs of his/her constituents?

6. What can a member of Congress in Washington do for his/her home district?

7. If a representative is strongly convinced that he/she ought to vote against the wishes of constituents, what can he/she do?

8. What is the function of a majority leader?

AMERICA AND AMERICANS

Government of the people

(excerpt)

by J. Steinbeck

Our means of governing ourselves, while it doubtless derives from European and Asiatic sources, nevertheless is not only unique and a mystery to non-American but a matter of wonder to Americans themselves. That it works at all is astonishing, and that it works well is a matter for complete amusement. Americans’ attitude towards their government is a mixture perhaps best expressed by the phrase “the American way of life” followed by “Go fight City Hall”.

It is our national conviction that politics is a dirty, tricky and dishonest pursuit and that all politicians are crooks. The reason for this attitude is fairly obvious - we have had cynical and dishonest officials on all levels of our government. When their practices have been exposed, it has been with pyrotechnical publicity which has dazzled to blindness towards the great number of faithful, honest and official political men who make our system workable. When Adlai Stevenson was asked why he had gone into politics he replied that he wanted to raise the threshold and perhaps give politics a better name, so that it could be a decent and honorable profession, thereby leading our best citizens to participate. But we have had over the years every reason to be suspicious of politicians. Such is the ruggedness of the path to election - the violence, the charges, the japes and hurtful trick - that it takes a special kind of man to run for public office, a man with armored skin and practical knowledge of gutter fighting. And it is true on every level, from village school board to the Presidency of the nation. It is little wonder that shy and sensitive men, no matter what their qualifications, are repelled. Such men will accept appointment when they shrink from election.

In the short history of our nation - 200 years - we have managed to accumulate customs inviolable, deep-seated and below the inspection level. One such fiesta is the nominating convention at which the political parties decide on the candidates for President and Vice-President. The ritual of these conventions is binding, the prayers endless, the committees appointed to conduct the so-and-so to the rostrum large and complacent. The nominating speeches are like the litanies in their faithful orthodoxy. Then, after each contestant’s name is put in nomination, the roof comes off; there are parades, marches, costumes, banners, posters, noisemakers. A pandemonium of enthusiasm rips the air and destroys eardrums and vocal cords. It is a veritable volcano of enthusiasm, and it is in no way lessened or abated by the generally known fact that the spontaneous eruption is rehearsed, bought, and paid for, and the same celebrants will in half an hour change their hats and posters and explode in favor of another contestant; and the odd thing is that, although the technique is out and dried, the enthusiasm is genuine.

The business of these conventions could be concluded in a very short time, but it continues for four or five days, with parties, celebrations at night and every excess known to the American away from home. The reason for the duration is obvious but no longer valid: when the first convention met, most of the delegates had to ride on horse-back for days and even weeks to get to the convention city, and those hard-riding delegates were not content to cast their votes and mount their horses and go home; they wanted some fun too; and they still do, even though they arrive by airplane.

Once the nominations are completed, the campaigns for election begin - hurtful, libelous, nasty, murderous affairs wherein motives are muddied, families tarred and tawdried, friends and associates mocked, charged and clobbered. This, of course, for the opposition. At the same time, one’s own candidate becomes saintly in character, solonic in statesmanship, heroic in war, humble towards the poor and weak, implacable toward wrongdoers, a sweet and obedient son to his mother, grateful to his first-grade teachers who taught him everything he knows. The ideal candidate leaps towards the bright and beckoning future, while his feet are firmly planted in the golden past. He worships children, venerates his parents, and creates an image of his wife that is part friend, part goddess - but never bedmate.

The relationship of Americans to their President is a matter of amazement to a foreigner. Of course we respect the office and admire the man who can fill it? But at the same time we inherently fear and suspect power. We are proud of our President, and we blame him for things he did not do. We are related to the President to be cautious in speech, guarded in action, immaculate in his public and private life; in spite of these imposed pressures we are avidly curious about the man hidden behind the formal public image we have created. We have made a tough but unwritten code of conduct for him, and the slightest deviation brings forth a torrent of accusation and abuse.

The President must be greater than anyone else, but not better than anyone else. We subject him and his family to close and constant scrutiny and denounce them for things that we ourselves do every day. A President slip of the tongue, a slight error in his judgment - social, political, ethical - can raise a storm of protest. We give the President more work that a man can do, more responsibility than a man should take, more pressure than a man can bear. We abuse him often and rarely praise him. We wear him out, use him up, eat him up. And with all this, Americans have a love for the President that goes beyond loyalty or party nationality; he is ours, and we exercise the right to destroy him.

To all the other rewards of this greatest office is the gift of the people we add that of assassination. Attempts have been made on the lives of many of our Presidents; four have been murdered. It would be comparatively easy to protect the lives of our Presidents against attacks by foreigners; it is next to impossible to shield them from the Americans. And then the sadness - the terrible sense of family loss. It is said that when Lincoln died African drums carried the news to the centre of the Dark Continent that a savior had been murdered. In our lifetime two events on being mentioned will bring out the vivid memory of what everyone present was doing when he or she heard the news; those two events are Pearl Harbor and the death of John F. Kennedy. I do not know anyone who does not feel a little guilty that out of our soil the warped thing grew that killed him.

NOTES:

Aldai Stevenson - (Democrat) ran for presidency in 1952 and 1956, both times lost to Dwight Eisenhower. In 1960 lost nomination to John F. Kennedy. The same year was appointed the US envoy to the United Nations.

TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION

1. Americans’ attitude towards their government, politics and presidents.

2. The ritual of the nominating conventions.

3. The campaign for election.