On April 17, the former governor of Illinois was found guilty on 22 public corruption counts, including conspiracy and racketeering. Following the jury’s decision, he told a newspaper columnist, “I have no feeling of guilt.”
What kind of man would have “no feeling of guilt” following a six-month trial that documented repeated cases of accepting bribes, deliberately turning the other way when close associates broke the law, and pocketing gifts and accepting favors from a long list of cronies with government contracts?
The answer, perhaps surprising, is a very common man.
In March 1999, a few weeks after George Ryan took his oath and became governor, I wrote a Heartlander essay about him titled “The Problem with Bob.” (“Bob” rather than “George” in case he took offense.) Reading it now, in the wake of Gov. Ryan’s conviction, I think it is still insightful, and maybe even prescient.
So without further ado I offer up the essay again, this time using the right name.
Note: A modified version of this essay appeared in the Chicago Sun-Times on April 24, 2006.
There once was a typical politician in a typical state who ran a typical campaign for governor and won. The story of this typical politician–whom I will call “George”–illustrates the fundamental problem affecting all levels of government in the U.S. today.
Not a Risk Taker
George was once a relatively successful small business owner in a typical small city. He managed the business (which he inherited from his father) competently enough, although he did little to build it. While others might have been tempted to create branches or expand into other types of business, George devoted his spare hours to public service, first as a volunteer and later by running for and getting elected to local offices.
Public service suited George. He shared the values and tastes of the average man, which put those around him at ease. In meetings, he was quick to compromise and reach deals with other elected officials.
While he never would have said it of himself, George was comfortable with the notion that the ends justify the means. While some might call his behavior unprincipled, to George it was just a matter of making practical concessions to get the job done. “Politics,” he liked to say, “is the art of the possible.”
The Culture of Spending
George ran as a conservative in his first race for state legislature. Being a small business owner, he felt the heavy burden of taxes and grated under regulations written and enforced by people who knew less than he did about his business. Government programs, George knew, usually spent much more to accomplish what private businesses could do for much less.
In countless hours spent listening to testimony and in meetings with constituents, George repeatedly heard requests for a new law, a larger appropriation, or a new legal privilege. Rarely did he hear from someone opposed to higher taxes or more government spending. The steady drum-beat of special interest pleading gradually wore down George’s conservative resolve (which was hardly granite to start with).
Soon, George was siding with those who called for higher taxes … not big or unnecessary tax increases, just little and badly needed ones on gasoline, telephone calls, things like that. George also warmed up to the idea that in some areas, government is too small to do the job right, so more spending would be a good thing. Schools, prisons, roads, protecting the environment … after a while, George was on record supporting more spending on all these things.
The Last Campaign
When George decided to run for governor, a generation of compromising and deal-making with his peers ensured that he did not face opposition from a current office holder in the primary election. To finance his last campaign, he tapped the teachers and road builders to whom his past votes had delivered billions of taxpayers dollars, as well as the doctors and manufacturers for whom his votes had preserved privileges and subsidies worth billions more. He outspent his opponent by a wide margin.
In the end, George won his last campaign by a narrow margin amid record low voter turnout. Congenial to the end, George pledged to put the divisive campaign behind him and work to “bring opposing sides together.” Important public works projects once sidetracked by “partisan bickering,” such as a new publicly financed sports stadium and more money for teacher pensions, could now move forward.
The Problem with George
George, as I said at the outset, is a typical politician. Our legislatures and governor’s mansions are filled with people just like him.
George chose to run for office to avoid the risks that come with growing a business in the private sector. George got elected because he shared the most common values and interests in his community, his district, and then his state–not because he was exceptionally smart, brave, or honest. Our legislatures, which oversee budgets counted in the tens of billions of dollars, are filled with such risk-averse people of average talent. Any corporation with a board of directors similarly composed would be in serious trouble.
George is a follower rather than a leader, and he moved up the political ladder because he was willing to surrender his principles to those of others. A governor and a legislature comprised of followers moves resolutely toward more spending, more regulation, and higher taxes, a direction dictated by the interest groups that demand to be appeased and the unelected career bureaucrats whose jobs and prestige require constant expansion of the state.
George’s willingness to allow ends to justify means cut him off from the moral code that governs the rest of his life and the lives of those he represents, just as his many years in office cut him off from the values and aspirations of the common man he once knew so well. Elected officials become an elite, not because of their extraordinary skills or high values, but because they are spared the unpleasant consequences that the rest of us endure when we violate moral laws.
George used the resources at his disposal to entrench himself in office, to reward his friends and allies, and to lay up an inventory of favors owed that would one day help him fulfill his greatest political ambition. To accuse him of being unethical or even selfish would be unfair. Put in the same situation, most of us would act the same.
The Biggest Problem
The problem with George is not that he is dishonest, incompetent, or hungry for power. It is, instead, that he is none of those things, yet politics like a giant meat grinder turned him into those things, or rather made his actions indistinguishable from those of a person who is those things.
The situation is not hopeless. Term limits would have required George to return to the private sector from time to time, reminding him of the burden of big government and interrupting his accumulation of political power. Constitutional amendments could have capped taxes and spending, limiting George’s ability to meet the demands of bureaucrats and special interest groups.
Since states and local governments compete with one another for businesses and productive residents, forcing tax and spending authority back down the federalism ladder would limit the amount of damage George could inflict. Persuading the media to cover elections as debates over important issues, rather than races to predict the winner, also would help.
Taking the actions needed to restore true democratic control over government isn’t easy, as advocates of term limits lately discovered. The Empire often strikes back, and the closer we come to hitting its heart, the more furious will be its reaction. But with no less than our lives, liberties, and estates in the balance, we have no choice but to join the fight.
P.S. For more about George and why he is so common in the political world, see “Why the Worst Get On Top,” chapter ten of Friedrich Hayek’s classic, The Road to Serfdom.
