Monthly Archives: March 2013

The World’s Worst Legislature

Harrison Ullmann used to call the Indiana General Assembly “The World’s Worst Legislature.”

At the start of each legislative session, my husband used to warn everyone to watch their pocketbooks and count their spoons–“Like the shark in Jaws, they’re baaack…”

Yesterday, I linked to the Star article detailing the cozy relationships, conflicts of interest, and general lack of sensitivity to ethics that characterize the Indiana legislature. Today’s lesson involves a law that has been sailing through the process with little or no conversation–a measure that illustrates perfectly the perils of being a city in a state with no home rule in a state governed by a herd of petty dictators.

Senate Bill 213 would invalidate Indianapolis’ hard-won ordinance that protects gays and lesbians against job discrimination. By its terms, the law–which has passed both houses and awaits Mike Pence’s signature–denies cities and towns the right to pass employment measures inconsistent with state or federal law. The sponsors insist that their goal was to address the hodgepodge of wage and hour laws around the state, not to invalidate the grant of civil rights, and profess surprise that the measure could be interpreted to do so.

Either the sponsors are being disingenuous, or they are unbelievably naive. By its terms, the bill invalidates any provision of an employment contract that gives employees benefits not granted by the state or required by the federal government. Nowhere does the language limit its effect to wages.

Municipalities in Indiana whose own residents have engaged in the democratic process and passed civil rights protections for GLBT employees include Bloomington, Lafayette and West Lafayette, Michigan City, South Bend, Fort Wayne, Evansville and New Albany. But then, what do the citizens of those cities know? Why should they be allowed to make their own decisions about the requirements of fair treatment?

Even if you believe that this is a case of unintended consequences, the essential lesson remains: our arrogant lawmakers believe they know better than local folks what we should be able to pay workers and how we should be able to treat them. That attitude is manifest in the discussions about mass transit–why should we allow central Indiana residents to decide for themselves whether they want transit enough to pay for it?

I remember the political activism that preceded Indianapolis’ passage of the current ordinance. A lot of people worked very hard to pass the measure–exactly the sort of civic activism that all politicians claim to respect, and that teachers try to encourage.

Yesterday, during a discussion of political activism, several of my undergraduate students justified their political apathy by expressing a belief that individuals really can’t do anything that would change or otherwise affect “the system.”

Indiana’s legislators are working hard to prove them right.

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Conflicts of Interest

Matt Tully has begun a series of articles highlighting the numerous conflicts of interest at the Indiana Statehouse. My husband’s reaction was “so what’s new?” And it is depressingly true that here in the Hoosier state we get these revelations every few years. Nothing seems to change.

On the one hand, there is a legitimate dilemma in states like Indiana, where our legislature is part-time and those we elect have “real world” jobs. One of the arguments for such legislative arrangements is that those who serve will have expertise in the private sector that can illuminate the lawmaking process. If a state representative knows a lot about banking or insurance, for example, should we not avail ourselves of that knowledge?

The problem is, the sorts of conflicts Tully describes go far beyond recognition of specialized knowledge. It’s one thing to listen to a legislator-banker’s opinion on a pending bill, and another to put him in a position to advance legislation benefitting bankers–or worse, a position to derail efforts to regulate them.

I’ve talked with members of the City-County Council and legislature who simply cannot see their own conflicts. It’s easy to convince yourself that what’s good for your law firm, or industry, is good for the city or state as a whole–that you are actually adding value because of your specialized knowledge. But human nature being what it is, it is a very rare individual who can shake off the attitudes and interests of their daily experience and look objectively at proposed rules that will affect his own livelihood.

The examples Tully describes are well beyond the pale. Unfortunately, these conflicts are not new to the Indiana landscape. Whatever corrective measures may come from the first article, or others in the promised series of revelations, it would be comforting if we dealt with the problem this time around by thoroughly revising the system that continues to produce these ethical lapses.

It’s long past time to impose a meaningful code of ethics on the Indiana General Assembly. One that might remind our lawmakers that they are supposed to be acting in the public interest–not their self-interest.

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Intriguing Factoid

Whenever I attend an academic conference, I learn a lot, although what I learn is not necessarily the subject-matter of the conference itself, or the papers that are presented. Often, it’s the “happenstance” nuggets and accidental insights that are most interesting.

I have now unpacked from the recent conference in Detroit, and “debriefed” by sorting through the papers and notes and handouts that accumulate during such meetings, and was reminded of an observation made during one presentation–a research finding that was intriguing, to say the least. The study found a positive correlation between writing proficiency and “engaged and knowledgable citizenship.”

The research was alluded to in passing, and no explanation was offered. I suppose the easy answer might be that people who are bright and well-educated are more likely to write well and more likely to be engaged, informed citizens. But that seems too facile. I know people with degrees from prestigious institutions who can’t write clearly, and I know others with those same credentials who somehow missed elementary civics and government.

Of course, I didn’t see the research and didn’t get a citation, so it may well be that the study was flawed. But if it wasn’t, how might we explain this correlation? What would be the connection between the ability to write with clarity and grace, and the possession of above-average civic knowledge? Why would these two particular skills/understandings be correlated?

Any ideas?

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The Best Definition I’ve Heard

I’m still at the Conference on Citizenship at Wayne State University. Today, in one of the panels, I heard something that really struck me: a definition of a good education.

A good education is learning that has the cumulative effect of increasing the capacity of each citizen to control his/her fate.

I like this definition, because self-determination is at the core of the American ideal. But self-determination requires knowledge and skills that equip individuals to control their own lives and pursue their own dreams. We hear a lot about improving education, about test results and teaching methods; we hear a lot less about the content of that education. Other than STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics), we spend very little time considering the skills and knowledge we should be providing the nation’s schoolchildren.

Controlling one’s fate includes the ability to participate in democratic self-government. There is a lot of research that connects civic engagement with efficacy–confidence in ones ability to navigate the social and political environment. Powerless people don’t engage.

Of course, there are different kinds of powerlessness. There’s the kind we can address through education, by giving students the skills and information they need in order to participate in self-government. There’s also the powerlessness that we all face when the system becomes corrupted; when government and those in positions of power only respond to the privileged and affluent. But that’s a subject for a different blog.

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A Broken City

I am in Detroit. I came with a colleague to present a paper at an academic conference at Wayne State.

The last time I was in Detroit was at least 50 years ago, and even then I didn’t go downtown–I was visiting friends in a suburb. So I really had no idea what to expect as I drove to the Motor City Hotel and Casino, the venue designated as the conference attendee’s accomodations. The hotel/casino is a huge fortress-like structure, surrounded mostly by empty parcels. After circling it twice, we found the valet parking entrance.

Since we were too late to catch the shuttle to the University, we took a cab. The mile or so drive went through a landscape that reminded me of a third-world country; boarded structures, lots where nothing remained of a structure but rubble and trash. Here and there, we passed a new development–forlorn evidence of periodic efforts to resuscitate a dying city.

It had been easy enough to get a cab at the hotel, but when I decided not to wait for the return shuttle at 5:30, and tried to return from campus mid-afternoon, I struck out. I called every taxi company on the list. No luck. Most didn’t even answer the telephone; the two that did explained that today was a “very busy” day, and they’d get a cab to me as soon as possible. After an hour and a half with no taxi in sight, I went back to the conference and waited for the shuttle. (Ordinarily, I’d have walked, since the distance was only a couple of miles, but the weather was gusty, cold and snowy, and the conference staff made it very clear that walking was not considered safe.)

The hotel I’m in isn’t the sort of place I’d choose–I’m not much on gambling and glitz–but the rooms are really luxurious and the service has been exceptional. Anywhere else, a room of this sort would run 250+ per night. (More in New York or Chicago.) Here, it’s 129/night. Granted, that’s a conference rate–but I think what the price (and the presence of the Casino) really reflect is the fact that not many people want to come to Detroit just to visit Detroit.

When a city is broken, it depresses the economy of the whole state. Michigan’s travails have been widely reported, and it’s no surprise.

As yesterday’s post pointed out, keeping a city healthy requires constant attention and talented leadership. It requires attention to infrastructure and economic development, and the “care and feeding” of the service industry folks who are the first ambassadors seen by visitors. When I was serving in the Hudnut Administration, I remember special outreach programs to the cabdrivers and other service personnel who represented Indianapolis to visitors from elsewhere. Those efforts, among others, translated into a reputation that eventually brought us events like the SuperBowl, and the dollars those events pumped into the local economy.

When a city looks like Detroit looks now, it’s hard to believe anything will fix it. It should serve as a cautionary tale to those who take a vibrant city for granted. With enough disinvestment, enough abandonment and neglect, it can happen anywhere.

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