Gov. Rod Blagojevich announced the biggest compromise of his tenure in a way only he could, by declaring victory. He left the proposed Department of Education, his “top legislative priority,” dead on the side of the road, accepted a stripped-down compromise and declared it a “sweeping education reform agreement.”
If only his efforts at persuasion were as graceful as that conciliatory acceptance. Instead, Blagojevich has built a poor reputation by dragging the legislature — and plenty of others — through the mud whenever it has been politically expedient, a tactic that worked early on but now threatens to limit his effectiveness and marginalize his role in the state Democractic Party.
Often inflammatory, the governor’s rhetoric hasn’t changed much in 17 months. Even before his inauguration, Blagojevich promised to upset “entrenched interests” in Springfield. Since then, he’s made it clear the legislature is on that list. Shortly after taking office, he said lawmakers should pass on free tickets to University of Illinois sporting events and stop handing out legislative scholarships, perks he took advantage of during his four years in the House. When they offered gambling as a fix for his first budget, he was noncommittal for months, only to rebuke the idea at a Chicago press conference held while the legislature toiled in Springfield.
“I think the governor should be here, but it serves his purpose not to be here,” Sen. Denny Jacobs said at the time. “He’s the good guy; we’re the bad guys. He’s been painting that picture for quite some time.”
That was before the November veto session, when Blagojevich called legislators “drunken sailors” on a “spending orgy.” At the time, the House and Senate had only begun considering his spending vetoes, meaning neither chamber had added a dime to the budget he authorized that summer.
The legislature is by no means Blagojevich’s lone straw man. Former Gov. George Ryan, whom he criticized for corruption and fiscal irresponsibility, was a frequent foil during Blagojevich’s first year. And the federal government, primarily for its stance against importing Canadian prescription drugs, has been a consistent target.
But Ryan’s tenure is long past and the federal government is far away. And Blagojevich’s mantra is wearing thin.
Initially, his most ardent legislative critics were Republicans, who were muted by their minority status in the House and Senate. But this year, Blagojevich’s free pass with members of his own party expired, and he was unable to get a budget or any major legislative initiatives approved before the May 31 session deadline.
But George Ryan's tenure is long past and the federal government is far away. And Blagojevich's mantra is wearing thin.
He hadn’t expected that sort of acrimony from fellow Democrats. At least that’s what he said during his pre-inaugural barbecue. On the day he sent a warning shot to Springfield’s “entrenched interests,” Blagojevich was asked how he would get along with House Speaker Michael Madigan and Senate President Emil Jones.
“I fully anticipate a cooperative effort,” he said. “After all, we are members of the same political party.”
With his second budget plan treading water only days before June and Demo-crats in disagreement on everything from gun control to education, Blagojevich was again asked how he thought governing would go with his party controlling the legislature. “Frankly I thought it would be harder,” Blagojevich said, launching into a three-minute response in which he cited “the worst budget deficit in Illinois state history,” twice mentioned “misplaced priorities” and reiterated his pledge to avoid tax increases. Those elements were in place before he took office. What changed?
The difference appears to be discord with Speaker Madigan, a fellow Chicago Democrat who has served in the General Assembly since 1971.
The two may have always moved along different ideological paths, with Madigan taking a more long-term perspective, but when or why an impasse might have occurred remains unstated. In fact, the speaker hasn’t spoken with reporters much at all in the past two years. But he did accept an April 12 invitation to Southern Illinois University’s Public Policy Institute, where, answering audience questions, he sketched out some of his thinking.
Madigan made headlines expressing concern over the administration’s penchant for borrowing, citing the $10 billion pension bond deal Blagojevich used to free up $2 billion in operating dollars his first year. This year, the governor has proposed borrowing another $4.2 billion to build roads and schools but has made no attempt to identify new revenue streams to finance the debt.
Madigan also expressed support for a temporary income tax increase but downplayed it by saying Blagojevich’s opposition to tax hikes means “it’s not going to happen.”
For his part, Blagojevich routinely shrugs off criticism from the legislature, calling it “part of the process.” But the day after Madigan’s speech, Blagojevich advised lawmakers to “take a deep breath,” warning that budget negotiations would be a “titanic struggle.” Some would argue we’ve yet to see the iceberg.
Sure, the waters got choppy, but the struggle isn’t over. Both chambers have yet to agree upon a spending plan, or how to fund it. And there exists no capital plan to build schools or roads.
Meanwhile, Blagojevich has aligned himself with Senate President Jones. Yet even Jones has defied the governor, pushing a massive gambling expansion bill that would create a land-based, city-owned mega-casino for Chicago.
Jones also has used the Senate’s “advice and consent” role on the governor’s appointees to send Blagojevich periodic messages. Most recently, he dumped a Blagojevich appointee to the Illinois Gaming Board who had voted against sending the state’s dormant 10th casino license to Jones’ south suburban region.
But those are minor squabbles compared to the titanic struggle shaping up between the governor and the speaker.
For weeks, the governor capitalized on Madigan’s mere mention of an income tax hike. Whenever a Blagojevich budget ideal was questioned, the governor reminded reporters he was not in favor of the temporary income tax increase the speaker had never genuinely proposed.
All the while, Madigan held series after series of legislative hearings on Blagojevich’s initiatives. The proceedings effectively crystalized opposition to the administration’s borrowing practices, the proposed education takeover and a plan to dramatically alter the way the state pays private agencies that care for the developmentally disabled and mentally ill.
At the same time, the speaker took on another speaking engagement, this time in Springfield, as a guest of the business community. In addition to his previous concerns, Madigan directly addressed Blagojevich’s second budget. The governor had just sent legislators a letter meant to buoy support for his plan and the $400 million in business tax hikes it relied on for funding.
“The essence of the letter is in the form of a challenge,” Madigan said. “It’s a challenge to the legislature to either put up or shut up, to go along with his budget and go along with his fee increases or come up with a different way to do things.” The speaker went on to explain that he would soon bring the governor’s revenue pieces up for debate and, “thereafter, everybody, the governor and the legislature, will be in a position to decide if we can move forward with the governor’s budget proposal or whether the governor will be called upon to come back and revise the budget proposal.”
Four weeks later, while the other leaders met with the governor, Madigan called a bill that contained $300 million of Blagojevich’s business tax hikes. It failed by 37 votes.
Blagojevich was unwavering, rejecting talk of a “no-growth” budget that acknowledged aversion to his revenue plan. He again implored legislators to make the “tough choices,” which by then included raiding dozens of special purpose funds.
That week, Madigan also declined invitations to meet with the governor, a fact Blagojevich chose to downplay. On the final session day, Madigan met with the governor for the first time in more than a week. It didn’t help. Hours later Blagojevich and President Jones announced a budget agreement without Madigan.
“Two out of three ain’t bad,” Blagojevich said. “It’s better than Sammy Sosa’s batting average, not as good as Michael Jordan’s free-throw percentage.”
The House adjourned that night before receiving the Senate budget. And now both chambers, Republicans too, have all summer to reach a compromise.
In contrast, the governor’s education plan sped out of the House after Blagojevich capitulated on Madigan’s opposition to creating an entirely new bureaucracy and handing teachers’ unions a controlling vote over certification standards.
But not only has Blagojevich been unwilling to compromise on the major tenets of his budget, he potentially deepened his rift with Speaker Madigan by questioning the autonomy of his daughter, Attorney General Lisa Madigan, after she ruled against the governor’s $200 million mortgage of the Thompson Center.
Perhaps Blagojevich should step back and consider an assessment Speaker Madigan made 16 years ago, after blocking Gov. Jim Thompson’s proposed income tax increase for the second consecutive spring session.
“Some people may not get everything they want. Some people may walk away and say they could have done more. They could have done better,” Madigan said. “But that’s not the nature of a legislative session, the nature of a legislative process. Never should anyone walk away and say I got everything I wanted. That’s just not the nature of what we do.”
By the way, Madigan orchestrated his own income tax increase the following year, earmarking the proceeds for schools and local governments so that Thompson never got to spend a cent.
Pat Guinane can be reached at capitolbureau@aol.com.
Illinois Issues, June 2004
