On Nov. 20, the House of Representatives voted 344-51 to provide $2.9 billion for global efforts to fight AIDS.
The same day, the House voted for a provision backed by the National Right to Life Committee that blocks federal aid to states that require health-care institutions to provide abortions. The tally on that measure was 344-51, exactly the same as it was on the AIDS provision.
And also on Nov. 20, the House voted (you guessed it) 344-51 to provide $27.1 billion for agriculture programs, much of it for crop price supports.
Coincidence?
Hardly. The reason the vote was identical on this smorgasbord of unrelated legislation was that all these provisions were stuffed into a single bill–an enormous fiscal 2005 appropriations measure.
Congress took a similar approach–cramming all sorts of unrelated legislation into a single bill–when it assembled the corporate tax overhaul passed last year, and in writing the budget.
Doing business this way has important legislative implications. In addition to getting important work done, it also makes it possible for a few powerful members of Congress to secure large numbers of votes for legislative language that violates the will of most members of Congress–and the country in general.
Instead of taking up issues one by one, allowing members to take clear stands on specific issues, these omnibus bills force politicians to make terrible choices. They require rank-and-file lawmakers to swallow all sorts of provisions they might otherwise oppose in order to get a few of the things they support.
This style of legislating, which has been on the rise in the past decade or so, also has dramatic–and often pernicious–effects on the way we elect politicians. It provides fodder for candidates in political races to wildly distort opponents’ records. Party operatives undoubtedly can find many items in these omnibus bills that, if pulled out of their larger legislative context, become valuable campaign weapons.
Add to this the complicated procedural votes and maneuvering that go on in the House and Senate, and sorting out a candidate’s record on any single issue can become close to impossible for even the most motivated citizen voter.
The attack is relatively quick and easy: “My opponent voted for X, and isn’t that a shame.” Rebutting such an attack in a 30-second television commercial is almost impossible, because the explanation would require dissecting complex legislative tactics.
Need for speed
Party leaders say they must sometimes write these gigantic bills to expedite Congress’ work. With so much on Congress’ plate these days, and heightened partisanship making it difficult to get things done, there is some merit to this argument.
But in recent years, this deadline cramming approach seems less like an unfortunate and unavoidable fact of modern legislating and more like an intentional strategy. Writing omnibus bills is a way for a handful of party leaders to take away choices from individual members.
For example, scores of Democrats who hated the abortion provision in the November spending omnibus bill felt compelled to vote for it anyway. Several moderate Republicans who support abortion rights also probably would have voted against the abortion provision on a straight vote on the measure.
But GOP leaders engineered a situation in which a vote against the abortion provision also would have been a vote against the AIDS funding, against home state projects, against popular agriculture programs.
Democrats employed the tactic too when they controlled Congress. For example, in 1990, a bill intended to reduce the deficit with spending cuts was loaded with extraneous provisions, including nursing home reforms, by the time it reached the president.
The problem for voters is: What precisely does someone who votes for one of these legislative behemoths stand for? Or against? Members of Congress could vote against these giant bills on principle, but that has political perils too. These bills often provide billions for some of the most popular programs.
This dilemma for lawmakers was used to devastating effect in 2000 by supporters of President Bush who ran ads accusing Arizona Sen. John McCain, Bush’s chief rival for the Republican nomination, of voting against money for breast cancer research. McCain and his campaign tried in vain to explain how Washington worked; the bill the campaign ads were referring to was legislation intended to fund the military. McCain tried to explain that he supports increased funding for breast cancer research, but he voted against the specific bill referenced by the ad because it was stuffed with too much pork, special projects sought by individual lawmakers, and that such legislation should not be tacked onto a defense bill.
McCain had little success in trying to straighten out his record, and voters undoubtedly were confused. How could he support funding for breast cancer research, as he claimed, if he voted against it? McCain suffered insurmountable losses in the Super Tuesday primaries and dropped out of the race shortly thereafter.
Longtime observers of Congress know that, decades ago, party leaders often didn’t need to offer legislative goodies to win over wavering rank-and-file members on their own side of the aisle.
Party organizations were much more powerful and important to a member’s re-election prospects than they are today, and as a result party leaders in Congress had an easier time enforcing discipline in the ranks.
More ahead
Today, the increase in the number of safe seats in Congress has fundamentally changed the legislative dynamic. Republican Tom DeLay, the House majority leader, recently engineered a redrawing of congressional districts in his home state of Texas, ensuring several new Republican seats in his chamber. This helped Republicans boost their majority in the House by three seats. However, such efforts also tend to create safe seats for lawmakers, and those members no longer need their party to help them defeat rivals in the next election.
The new Texans that DeLay helped usher into the House may feel gratitude and loyalty to their benefactor, but that is undoubtedly a less powerful motivator than political survival. So DeLay and his fellow GOP leaders, even as they expand their majority in the House, may find it increasingly difficult to manage their institution.
The result is likely to be more omnibus bills–and more voter confusion in the next election.
