Five Whys of Vetoing Voter I.D.

Sometime after 5 pm today, Governor Doyle vetoed the Voter I.D. bill. There was little notice: the announcement that he would “act on” the bill came at just before 4 o’clock.

This wasn’t unexpected. He told us he was going to do it. What I can’t figure out is: why?

I don’t mean why, as in “why does he oppose it?” I don’t think he really knows, himself. The stock answer is “disenfranchisement.” Requiring an I.D. to vote would “disenfranchise” too many voters who don’t have an I.D. and, apparently, can’t go get one.

And I don’t mean why, as in “why did he veto it?” That one’s easy: he said he would. He vetoed it the last time it got to his desk, in 2003, and he’s promised to do it again ever since. Over. And over. And over. Back down now? Unthinkable.

I don’t even mean why, as in “why wait until late Friday afternoon to veto it?” That’s the easiest one of all. It’s the weekend – the time of the week when the fewest people are paying attention to the news. Doyle wants voter I.D. to go away, and go away quietly.

That’s important, because Doyle’s got himself in a box on this one. A recent poll showed over 80% of Wisconsinites support requiring a photo I.D. to vote. More than four out of every five.

Voter I.D. polls better among Wisconsinites than Trident sugarless gum among dentists.

Which brings me to another why – one I don’t have a ready answer for: why in the world didn’t Doyle get himself out of this when he had the chance?

On April 1 – April Fool’s Day, unfortunately for him – Doyle wheeled out his own proposal for election reform. Some of the ideas were questionable, but others were good: more recruitment and better training of poll workers; early voting; better access to information at the polls.

The plan was instantly blasted for the one thing it didn’t include: any requirement that voters prove their identities.

This was Doyle’s opportunity. His chance to be a statesman. To ask why Republicans are settling for only part of a solution. To say: fine, you want me to sign voter I.D., give me a bill that does more, that includes what I want. Include X, Y, and Z, to make sure nobody’s disenfranchised. Do that, and I’ll sign it.

He could have done that. He could have made it go away, with plenty of time for the tiny sliver of the electorate that opposes it to forget.

He didn’t. His proposal died like a lit match in a rainstorm. It hasn’t been heard from since.

When it comes to securing our election process, making sure our votes count, that Wisconsin voters can’t be disenfranchised by fraud, Governor Doyle is the new Dr. No.

Which brings me to my final “why?” And this one, I really can’t explain. Why is Doyle spending his capital on this? Why, when such a huge majority thinks voter I.D. is just plain common sense?

Doyle knows that’s true. Otherwise, he’d have had the press waiting on Tuesday, to see him veto it the moment it hit his desk. Instead, he waited until close of business Friday.

You can bet the override attempt won’t go down like that. Hiding behind the weekend won’t help Doyle for long.

Who benefits, if voter I.D. never becomes law? Minorities? The disabled? The elderly?

No, no, and no. The bill’s authors have bent over backwards to make it as cheap and easy as possible to get a photo I.D. Even if they hadn’t, the major political parties are getting so desperate for every single vote, they’ll do everything possible to get their voters out and voting on Election Day, even if it means canvassing neighborhoods weeks in advance to make sure people have I.D.

What about the homeless? No again. The first thing shelters do with people who come to them is make sure they’ve got I.D., so they can access various government programs. If they haven’t got one, they’re taken to go get one.

Wisconsin isn’t buying the “disenfranchisement” defense. It’s a crock. An excuse, that doesn’t – and doesn’t have to – mean anything. It’s a standard objection, like “it’s for the children,” or “risky scheme.”

Opposing voter I.D. has no apparent constituency. There’s no obvious group that is disadvantaged by the simple need for a picture I.D. at the polling booth.

None, that is, except one: those who want to commit voter fraud.

Minimum Thinking, Maximum Advantage

The inexorable march to a higher minimum wage goes on.

I call it inexorable, inevitable, a done deal, because it is. The Legislature, infested with Republicans it may be, can do nothing about it.

Not directly, anyway. More on that later.

This may come as a shock, but the Legislature doesn’t have the power to set the minimum wage – the Department of Workforce Development (DWD) does, and they’ve decided to raise the minimum wage from $5.15 to $6.50.

The Legislature has oversight, true, and could overrule DWD with legislation, except Governor Doyle will veto it. The DWD’s decision plus Governor Doyle’s veto equals a minimum wage increase at the end of next year, if not sooner.

Done deal. The Legislature can delay it, and that’s all.

That fact hasn’t put an end to the debate, because a certain segment of our political society – let’s call them liberals – wants to keep the debate going. Why? Because it’s a great issue for them, and a bad one for the Republicans who run the state legislature.

Here’s the image: sleep-deprived parents, despairingly choosing between buying new shoes for the baby and paying the heating bill, struggling to raise their children but helpless against the influence of popular culture and bad neighborhoods because they’re always gone, working two jobs, because they’ve been making $5.15 an hour for the last 7 years with neither time nor energy to pursue school or job training.

Over the top? Maybe, but that’s the way Governor Doyle and his allies are framing the debate.

But wait! It’s not just liberal do-gooders pushing the minimum wage increase. The business community wants it, too. The governor’s Minimum Wage Advisory Council – the group which recommended the increase – included a healthy dose of Wisconsin business community representation. One of those business leaders was Craig Culver, CEO of Culver’s Restaurants, who wrote:

Personally, I do not believe in a government-regulated minimum wage. I'm of the belief, as most Republicans, are that the market will dictate fair and competitive wages. I'm also a realist and know that the minimum wage will be with us forever.

But…

Just like great companies take care of their team members, I believe the state of Wisconsin should also do the right things for its citizens. After seven years with no increase in the minimum wage, it's time Wisconsin re-invests in people and creates a statewide unified minimum wage to the satisfaction of business and labor.

As qualified as that endorsement is, it’s more than enough for supporters to make the claim: Republicans are out of touch – even the business community supports a higher minimum wage. It’s more than enough to give the liberal side the high ground.

And they’ve taken that high ground, and they’re using it, even though they’ve already won. Why not? It gives them a way to beat up on conservatives until the end of next year. That’s 19 months of bad press we have to look forward to. That, or a humiliating retreat on the issue. Or both.

Enter state representative Steve Nass (R-Palmyra), chairman of the Assembly Labor Committee, and one of the Legislature’s most outspoken opponents of a higher minimum wage.

Nass believes, as many of us do, that a higher minimum wage will have some negative effects on our economy. The DWD’s own report bears this out: they predict a $175 million increase in payroll costs, resulting in higher prices and $3 million in higher sales tax revenues for the state.

Nass proposes that we return that excess sales tax revenue to small business, by directing it to programs that assist small business.

Now, I think the proposal would be better as an actual tax deduction. Something small businesses can plan ahead for. Let them hang onto more of their own money, instead of trusting the government to spend it the way we hope it will be spent.

Money is fungible, after all – just saying we’re going to earmark surplus dollars for programs to assist small business doesn’t mean those programs will actually have more to spend.

Still, this is a nice little bit of political ju-jitsu, with the potential of changing the debate from one we automatically lose to one we can partially win. From making sure the poor get a “living wage” to making sure our tax policies are good for small business.

It’s also good policy. Higher costs, whether wages or gas prices, hurt business. No point handing out the raises if the employers can’t afford them.

Ryan's Fix: Get Government Out

Not content to let Pope Benedict XVI have the spotlight for more than a day, Wisconsin’s Congressman Paul Ryan introduced his plan to reform Social Security on Wednesday.

The plan lets us divert some of the payroll taxes we’re all paying into tax-free personal accounts – our own personal property. We’ll have some options as to exactly how our money’s invested, but won’t be able to gamble it in high-risk ventures.

More to the point, our personal accounts will mean more lucrative, comfortable retirements. Under Ryan’s plan, a worker who earns an average of $25,000 a year over his lifetime can expect 42% more than what Social Security would pay under current law.

It’s hard for a relatively young upwardly-mobile free market capitalist like myself to understand, but there’s a lot of distrust out there over private accounts. Hard, because the arguments are so easy to refute.

First: “transition costs.” Today’s payroll taxes pay today’s benefits. Diverting some payroll taxes to personal accounts means a gap between the incoming and the outgoing – a gap we’ll have to pay, somehow. Those are the “transition costs.”

To cover it, we’ll have to do one of three things: cut benefits, raise taxes, or borrow money.

There is a fourth way: the feds could cut spending elsewhere. Choose between Social Security and some other pet program(s).

Right. Let’s re-join reality now.

The problem with the “transition cost” argument: Social Security is already going broke. It’s obligations – benefits owed – already add up to $11 billion more than it’s got. Reform opponents conveniently ignore this.

As things stand today, incoming taxes will cease to cover outgoing benefits in 2017. Since the feds haven’t saved any of the excess “contributions” over the years (having spent it, instead), we’ll have to raise taxes, cut benefits, or borrow money to cover it.

Or, again, cut other spending. But, again, reality.

So: the consequences of Ryan’s plan and those of doing nothing are the same. We can face those consequences with more money belonging solely to us, or with less money that the government controls.

Gee, that’s a tough one.

The second argument: entrusting our retirements to the market is too risky.

If so, then my pension is risky. Yours, too, if you’re lucky enough to have one. So are Roth IRAs, mutual funds, and all the other myriad retirement investment plans out there.

All retirement plans depend, in one way or another, on the market.

I admit, watching the stock market over the last couple of weeks has been nerve-wracking. It’s up. It’s down. A hundred points here, a hundred points there, and I hope you had stock in the company that makes neck-braces.

But let’s take an example. You started work at 18, and retired 49 years later, at 67. Your retirement date: October 9, 2002 – the very day the Dow Jones Average hit its lowest point of the recession.

If you’d invested in the Dow Jones stocks for those 49 years, you’d have earned an average of nearly 7% annual compound interest.

Can you live with that? I can.

Like the commercial says, past results do not guarantee future success. Even so, let’s weigh the risk of investing against the risks of our alternative: leaving our retirements in the government’s hands.

Did you just feel a chill? I did.

I think columnist Star Parker said it best:

If Social Security did not exist, and we attempted to enact today a system like we currently have, would it pass? The answer is unquestionably no. There is no way that any working American would agree to turn over to the government 12.4 percent of his or her paycheck in exchange for a benefit that has no guarantee, on which ownership has been relinquished and that is less than what could be obtained by buying risk-free government bonds.

The idea of tinkering with Social Security makes people nervous. I understand that. Social Security has been a mainstay in American life for generations.

But Social Security isn’t secure. Congress can change the benefits, raise the taxes, tax the benefits at any time. We’re never more than a vote away. Slip it into some thousand-page omnibus bill, and viola!

Ryan’s plan removes that from the equation. The money we invest, under his plan, will be ours. Forever. We’ll own it.

Instead of spending our time writing letters to protect Social Security, we’ll spend it…spending. Spending more on our homes. Vacations. Grandkids. Because, if Ryan’s plan passes, we’ll all have more.

New Pope? So What?

So we’ve got a new Pope, and to judge from all the media, he’s bigger than Britney’s baby. At least for now.

What exactly do we know about this guy, Joseph Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI?


He’s German – there hasn’t been a German Pope since before there was a Germany to be from.

He’s conservative, known for his dedication to traditional Catholic theology in all its politically incorrect glory.

And he’s old. He turned 78 on Saturday. Because of that, there’s been some media speculation that he’s a “transitional pope” instead of someone who may hold the office for a long time, as his predecessor did.

How long is a “transitional” papacy? Ratzinger is eight years younger than his predecessor. It’s hardly rare to live past 85 these days: what if he lives, and serves, longer? When Strom Thurmond reached 78, he had over twenty years left to go in the Senate.

I could be a grandfather before this “transitional” period ends. The Brewers could win the World Series.

I think two things about the “transitional” theme. One: if it continues, it will be because anti-conservatives want to undermine Ratzinger’s papacy. De-legitimize it. He’s only a transitional pope, after all. Not a real one. This doesn’t really count.

Two, I won’t be the last conservative to attack the transitional theme on that basis. I’m probably not even the first.

So we’ve got a new Pope. I use the word “we” with some reservation: there may be over a billion Catholics in the world, but I’m not one of them.

I’m an Episcopalian. All the pomp of Catholicism, but only half the guilt. We’re just a step away from Catholic, really, but we don’t recognize the Pope’s authority. He’s not in my chain of command.

To an Episcopalian, a new Pope is something like a new British Prime Minister to an American. It’s interesting, in some abstract, notional way. Newsworthy. But it doesn’t really affect me.

Or maybe it does. We Episcopalians share the same problems as the rest of the Christian world. The best-known symptom, in our case: the consecration of Gene Robinson as the Bishop of New Hampshire. Robinson, you may remember, divorced his wife years ago so he could live with his gay lover.

Notice: I didn’t call Robinson or his consecration the problem, only a symptom of the problem. Consecration of gay marriages in the church – same thing. Not the problem, only a symptom.


Ratzinger himself named the problem days ago, during the pre-Conclave Mass he conducted. “We are moving towards a dictatorship of relativism which does not recognize anything as for certain and which has as its highest goal one's own ego and one's own desires,” he said.

Last year, the Episcopal Diocese of Milwaukee convened a Task Force on Human Sexuality. The Task Force’s members eventually split into two distinct groups: those who insisted on biblical authority, and those who wanted to be more “open” to alternate interpretations.

Here’s part of the latter group’s conclusion: “…they (those who wrote the Bible) did this in the words and thought-categories of their own culture. From our present perspective, some of their taken-for-granted assumptions and categories of thought can be recognized as mistaken or no longer adequate without qualification. The authentic ‘Word of God’ is to be discerned in and through the very human words of its writers.”

And “…for the moment, we can at least relativize the biblical prohibitions that otherwise seem to settle the question so decisively.”

The Bible has to adjust to cultural changes. The Bible is to be understood in relative – not absolute – terms. And you’ve got to love the quote marks around the words “Word of God.”

I don’t intend to debate the issues of gay marriage or gay clergy, of biblical infallibility or literalism right now. Nor do I pretend to know what the absolute truth is.

I simply believe we’re better off believing in an absolute truth – something that ranks a little higher than our own puny and shifting desires.

Ratzinger, it appears, believes this, too.

So what? Good question. Knowing what the problem is isn’t the same thing as solving it.

But, with a conservative in Rome, we can at least know there’s a voice – a voice with a bully pulpit, and centuries worth of authority behind him. A voice saying the things we know – or at least hope – are true. A voice, which serves something more substantial than media coverage and polling numbers.

Feeling Good About Taxes?

It was hours before dawn on a Friday morning. My wife woke me up, calling me from the living room.

One of our children, not quite 4 years old then, was sick. He could hardly breathe. At times, he was just barely responsive. My wife walked him, to keep him awake, while I floundered through the dark without my glasses to call 911.

A bare two minutes later, possibly less, a police car was in front of my house, and the officer was inside with an oxygen tank. Perhaps three minutes after that, an ambulance pulled up and took my son and wife to the hospital.

A handful of very frightening minutes, and then everything was fine.

It was the croup, we found out. I never want to see that again.

Shortly after the ambulance left, I remember thinking: that’s my tax dollars at work. I called for help, and help came. Quickly. Potential tragedy averted, because we all help pay for professional police and EMTs who are always on duty.

That got me to thinking about the other things our tax dollars do: wide, safe highways. Snow plows with salt. Free (or very cheap) immunizations. Help paying for heat, for those who need it. Highly trained professionals who arrive within minutes when you need help.

Those are our tax dollars at work. That’s what our taxes do for us. Doesn’t it feel good?

It does. Which leads to another thought: what did people do before taxes got so high?

Robert M. “Fighting Bob” La Follette was the governor of Wisconsin from 1901 to 1906. He later served in the U.S. Senate, and twice ran for President. His lasting legacy: Progressivism, today embraced by the furthest reaches of the liberal left.

While governor, one of La Follette’s accomplishments was a bevy of higher taxes, including a more-than-doubling of corporate property taxes, an inheritance tax, and a graduated individual income tax.

In his autobiography, La Follette wrote: “All of these new sources of income have enabled us to increase greatly the service of the state to the people without noticeably increasing the burden upon the people.”

A Republican who loved higher taxes. No wonder Ed Garvey adores him.

Those first income tax rates were between 1% and 6%. Today, they’re a little higher, ranging from 4.6% to 6.75%. The corporate rate is 7.9%.

Federal tax rates are, of course, higher still. The U.S. government has collected income taxes, on and off, since 1861. They didn’t become a permanent feature of American life until 1913, when the 16th Amendment was ratified.

The rates at that time: 1% on incomes above $3,000, rising to 7% for incomes above $500,000.

Today, ten percent is the lowest rate. The highest is 37.6% (scheduled to fall to a paltry 35% next year). The corporate rate is also 35%.

That’s in addition to sales and property taxes. According to the Tax Foundation, state, local, and federal taxes add up to about thirty percent of Wisconsin’s personal income. Nearly one dollar out of every three.

And that doesn’t count the fees, or the other costs of dealing with the government – tax accountants, lawyers, lost time – most of which are passed on to us, the consumers, in the form of higher prices.

Hey, you’ve got to make a profit. Where else will the government get its money?

And yet, it’s not enough. There are people who want to collect even more. More sales taxes. More property taxes. Higher fees.

They do make a strong case: if schools aren’t funded, kids won’t get educated. Social services keep people warm and fed. Help pay for the doctor visits. The elderly and disabled need programs. So do underprivileged youth. And workers – job training, extended unemployment benefits. It feels good to know that those services are there.

The pro-tax side wants us to think it’s a stark choice: these basic services, or lower taxes.

To a large extent, they succeed. We feel a twinge of conscience when we hold out, when we refuse to budge on the tax issue. It’s like telling your kids no. It’s the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it easy.

Maybe it should be. When school districts are spending fifty large on plasma TVs and sound systems, when government employees can retire at 55, why should we feel bad for wanting to keep more of our own money?

Or perhaps the other side can explain: just how did people manage, before La Follette came along?

My 100th Column

I’ve always been fascinated by reading what writers have to say about writing.

This being my 100th column, I thought I’d do a little of that, myself.

A couple of caveats: I’m being self-indulgent, and I know it. More on that later.

I also see the humor in congratulating myself over a whole 100 columns. If James Lileks or Mark Steyn hear about it, they’ll double over laughing. A hundred columns isn’t a milestone to either of them – it’s a light work-week. They go past hundreds as fast as the altimeter on a free-falling cartoon airplane, and they never seem to run out of gas.

Maybe someday I’ll look back on this and laugh, myself. A hundred columns? So what?

That said, let the navel-gazing begin.

I started writing for several reasons: to get opinions off my chest in some constructive manner; to take part in the debate, maybe help move it in some small way; to see if I could be both original and interesting on a regular basis. Most importantly, to get some practice in.

One of my longstanding ambitions is to become a syndicated newspaper columnist. Most columnists start out as journalists, but the necessity of feeding my four kids forced me out of journalism years ago.

They just refused to eat cardboard for lunch. Spoiled brats. I even colored it purple, to look like peanut butter and jelly.

There’s two reasons columnists tend to start out as journalists. First, journalists write every day. Thus, they get good at it. Second, journalists tend to know the people who can give them jobs as columnists.

Sure, I can practice on my own, but fitting a couple hours’ writing time into my regular day – that’s hard. Stuff gets in the way. The family, the house, the job. The remote, the Internet, minesweeper. You get the idea. Unless I’ve got a deadline – a strict one – I’m not likely to force myself to make the time.

So I took a page from my brother, Mr. Pterodactyl (a pseudonym, in case you were wondering), and started a blog – sort of. I post twice a week. Says so right up at the top: Tuesdays and Fridays. That’s my deadline. I’ve missed it twice: once on Election Day because I was volunteering wall-to-wall, and once on Christmas Eve.

Two columns a week. That takes care of the practice. The people who can make you a columnist? Well, they’re out there, and the Internet is, obviously, growing. It’s not as important as it thinks it is yet, but it’s getting there. A little closer every day.

I can’t work for a newspaper, but I can have a hobby on the Internet. Maybe it will lead me somewhere. Maybe not. At least I’m enjoying the ride.

So. Regular deadline, check. Meeting it regularly, check. Striving to be interesting and original, check. Succeeding at it?

Maybe. Sometimes. Other times, not so much. You can’t win the Pulitzer every week, I guess.

Having an effect on the debate? Heck if I know. If anything, maybe I’m helping somebody else refine their own arguments. Helping keep the troops supplied with bullets. Adding one grain of wheat to the harvest. Maybe two.

Heh. Two metaphors in the same paragraph. I love it when I can do that. Makes me feel all warm inside.

That leads me back to my earlier comment, about being self-indulgent. A friend told me, once, how brave I must be to post my opinions on the Internet, where anybody can see them.

Brave? No. Egotistical? Yes.

Writing, seeing your writing on the screen, knowing others are reading and sometimes praising your writing: it’s an ego trip. That’s not why I started, but it’s a factor in what keeps me going, and I bet I’m not the only one.

Come on, admit it. Why else have a hit counter?

This isn’t all bad. Doesn’t it take a certain amount of ego to insert yourself publicly into the debate? To think you’ve got something to say that somebody else wants to hear?

I think it does. Luckily, I’ve got it. Just ask my wife. And, to keep my ego in check, I read Lileks and Steyn. If they can’t keep a wannabe writer who just posted his hundredth column humble, nobody can.

So, thanks for reading. Hope to see you here again – maybe this Friday. I promise not to indulge myself again until the next milestone.

Let’s call it 250.

The Easy Way Out

We’ve all pondered the question: what if you could be 18 again, knowing what you know today?

Boy, would things have been different. I’d have done better in sports, better in school. I’d have read more, learned more, dated more. Worried less. Invested in Microsoft.

The fantasy never lasts. I soon realize that I’m wasting my time, wishing I’d done these things then, when I could be doing them now.

Sure, my options are more limited today. I’ve got a family. A career. The NFL is not going to call: church-league softball is about my speed these days.

Still, if I’d started twenty years ago, I’d be a concert pianist today. But if I start today, I could be a concert pianist twenty years from now.

There’s nothing stopping me. Nothing except my pillow, that is. And the remote control. And the Internet, and minesweeper, and…

You get the idea.

I fantasize about how rich and successful and knowledgeable I could be, if only I’d wasted less time in my youth. Yet I continue to waste time in my relatively-less-youth.

I know this. I know what I could be doing. But it’s a good bet I’ll be clicking the remote tonight, instead of working on that novel. I’ll stay up late and sleep in tomorrow, instead of getting up for a jog.

That’s because I’m living in the now, and right now I’m unwinding from a long, hard work week. Right now, my bed is just too comfortable.

Ask anyone who’s ever tried to diet: it looks easy. Sounds easy. All you have to do is eat less. Exercise more. You promise yourself you’ll stick to it.

But then, you realize you’ve been picking out of the cookie jar for twenty minutes, without thinking. Or rationalizing: there’s always tomorrow. Right now, well, they’re so good.

It’s insidious. It hits without warning – without, it seems, any input from us. It. Just. Happens.

And never mind that we know what’s good for us. One less cookie a day; ten minutes of practice a day; ten minutes of pushups and sit-ups a day. It’s going to add up. So why is it so hard to do?

Human nature, I guess. The best things for us are also the hardest. The easy way beckons, and we answer.

I met a young woman just the other day – a student at a private college. She was complaining about tuition grant money – the state provides far more to the public university than to private colleges. She was angry about that.

I only spoke to her for a few minutes. There was more to her story. Details. She was in a tough spot, and only wanted a little help.

That’s what everybody wants, it seems – a little help. A little more for the schools; more for our grandparents. More job training, more unemployment pay. Help with our heating bills, help fixing up our homes, help paying for daycare.

This young woman wanted help from her government – the natural place to turn, it seems. Government can make things happen. They’ve got the money, after all, and they’re spending it on plenty of things that aren’t as important as heat, health, college tuition, or whatever other need.

Thing is, by looking to the government, we’re depriving ourselves of something else. Possibly, something more important.

Self-reliance, for one thing. It’s amazing to see, but even people who complain loud and long about our dysfunctional government – about our thick and jungled bureaucracy, our often-undependable public services – they still can’t see any other way but government.

If the government doesn’t do it, it won’t happen, no matter how important it is. They certainly can’t do for themselves.

As government has stepped in to make our lives easier, we’ve become accustomed to it. At every step along the way, we’ve come to expect just a little bit more.

That slippery slope again.

Self-reliance suffers, and so does freedom. That sounds trite, but there’s no other way to say it. How does government help you? Taxes and regulations. Restricting others by taking their money, to give it away.

If we want government to help, we have to give government the power to help. The power to give, which necessarily means the power to take away.

I won’t over-generalize. The government handles some big problems. Some big jobs that it’s best we leave to the government.

But the government’s becoming the easy way around any and every problem. Letting go of the remote will be easier.

The Slippery Slope

Coming soon to a list of most-detested clichés near you: the slippery slope.

Don’t step there, man. It’s a slippery slope. Sure, you think it’s just one little step. Can’t hurt. It’s barely further than you’ve already gone – just a couple more inches.

And then, before you even know it’s happening, you’re doing an out-of-control Kathleen Turner down a muddy hillside whether you want to or not with no idea when or where you’re going to stop just hoping you don’t hit a tree on the way down.

Or a Michael Douglas, I suppose. He didn’t take the step, but the slope got him anyway.

I got to thinking about the slippery slope after reading a long and very thoughtful column by Jane Galt. Her subject was gay marriage, and what she sees as flaws in the libertarian view.

She never mentions the slippery slope. Never writes those two words. But that is what she’s describing with three examples – examples of past government actions that were opposed, in part, because of the slippery slope.

First, the income tax: according to Galt, attempts to put a 10% cap on the income tax were quashed because, come on, that’s ridiculous. Nobody will ever agree to a tax that high.

Arguments against expanding welfare to cover unwed mothers were quashed because, come on, that’s ridiculous. The illegitimacy rate won’t rise just because there’s a couple of government bucks available.

And arguments against making it easier to get divorced were quashed because, come on, that’s ridiculous. How will a few more divorces affect the majority of marriages in this country?

We all know the results: the top income tax rate today is 35% - down from 70% in 1979. One out of three children today are born out of wedlock – rates are twice that in the inner city. New marriages today are nearly as likely to end in divorce as to reach their 15th anniversary.

Opponents cried slippery slope, but nobody listened. And now we’re at the bottom of a hill, covered in mud.

There are other examples. Once we normalize experiments on human embryos, for instance, is it such a long way to experiments on cloned fetuses, and then to growing clones specifically for the spare parts?

Once we decide it’s all right to let a heavily disabled woman die because she can’t feed herself, is it such a long way to doing the same with Alzheimer’s victims?

Once we force employers to allow six weeks of maternity leave, is it such a long way to the 30-hour work week, 5-week vacations, and German-style job protection, all with the force of law?

And then, once we get to that, is it such a long way to whatever comes next?

The other side of the spectrum has their own slippery slope bogeymen, too. Letting off-duty cops carry concealed weapons leads to Old West shootouts at Wal-Mart. Outlawing abortions of half-delivered babies leads to government-enforced pregnant-and-barefoot-in-the-kitchen lives for all women. Displaying the Ten Commandments in a public park leads to a Baath-style theocracy or, worse, a President who openly declares his faith.

This isn’t such a horrible thing. The lesson of Galt’s column is that whatever we do, there will be unintended consequences, so if you’re going to change something, you’d better be damn sure of what you’re doing.

And we’ll say we’re sure, and we’ll still screw things up. It’s human nature.

I generally despise the slippery slope argument because I can’t believe we aren’t capable of taking something just so far and then…stopping.

But maybe I should start believing it. The evidence against us is pretty overwhelming. When God said to go forth and multiply, it wasn’t because He likes the way we smell. Perhaps it was because He knew our disagreements – as bad as they can be – have nowhere near the destructive potential of our agreements.

Makes the Founding Fathers look even smarter, doesn’t it?

On another level, I dislike the phrase just because it is such a cliché. I mean, come on, are you that bereft of originality?

But then, a cliché becomes a cliché by being repeated, because there’s at least a nugget of truth in it.

There are slippery slopes. With a little attention to the past, they become easier to see. But, as imperfect human beings do, we ignore them. We let ourselves believe we can avoid them. We forget all about the last ridge we were on, and wander blissfully forth.

A Non-Boring Off-Year Ballot

Be honest: who remembers that there’s an election coming up on Tuesday?

Oh, of course. It’s the first Tuesday in April following the first Monday in April. There’s always an election that day.

The April election in an off-year. Yawn. A few city council races here and there, the odd school referendum, maybe a mayoral race. Boring stuff, even for diehard politics junkies.

But, not this year. This year, there’s plenty on the ballot for all of us.

Start with the referendums. The Wisconsin Counties Association (WCA) has talked sixty-nine out of Wisconsin’s 72 counties into placing referendums on their ballots, asking voters whether the state, rather than the counties, should pay for the courts and for human services. Both are (mostly) mandated by the state.

It’s an interesting question, but I think it goes deeper than the WCA is letting on. As I wrote in a past column, I believe the WCA has an ulterior motive: remove the blame for rising property taxes from local governments, and put it onto the state.

Why do that? Because it makes life easier for elected officials, but also to derail the Property Tax Freeze, and the Taxpayer Bill of Rights. If the state is fully to blame for rising property taxes, then there’s no reason to put limits on the locals.

A crock, of course. Believe it or not, locals are more susceptible to interest group pressure than the Legislature is.

Motives aside, I’ll still vote yes on both. The state would pay for those services with income taxes. I think income taxes are less destructive than property taxes.

Next up on your ballot: another referendum. This one, to extend the terms of office of county elected officials – coroners, treasurers, clerks, etc. – from their current two years to four.

Why would we want to do that? The pro side says it will help ensure professionalism, continuity in office, etc. Tough to do a good job, when you’re running for re-election every two years.

The con side (limited, as far as I can tell, to the Capital Times) says if that’s the case, why not make it 8 years? And why only county officials – why not school boards and the Legislature, too?

The Cap Times’ point is, we’re chipping away at democracy by taking away more frequent elections. Maybe, but come on, does it really matter if we elect a surveyor every two years, or every four?

Right. Slippery slope. I know.

Another opinion (which I tend to share) holds that these positions shouldn’t be elected at all. Appoint them instead, like other department heads, and give county boards control over who does these important jobs.

Let’s just say, for example, that I ran for Sheriff. Never mind that I’m not the least bit qualified: if I got the most votes, I’d have the job. Then I could just spend my days at home watching TV. You can’t fire me. I’m elected.

But that’s another argument, not on the ballot. Four year terms are on the ballot, and this counts: if it passes, it becomes law. Part of the Constitution.

In the grand scheme of things, does it really matter? Not really. Do the WCA referendums matter? Even less – they’re only advisory.

Will they help draw more voters out? Probably not. A shame, because we could use more turnout for Tuesday’s final ballot item – the race for Department of Public Instruction (DPI) Superintendent.

Gregg Underheim, the underdog challenger, is trying to do something improbable, but we hope not impossible. He’s trying to buck WEAC, the teacher’s union, and their money to beat the incumbent, Libby Burmaster, who owes her job to that same union money.

At first glance, this doesn’t look so important. DPI doesn’t have an enormous role in the state’s educational system. They don’t have a particularly large budget, or authority over local school boards, or any direct role over curricula or standards.

But they do have a bully pulpit. Legitimacy. Influence over the legislature, and over public opinion.

And, boy, it would be nice to take that away from WEAC, a special interest which claims to be all about the kids, while having much more selfish interests at heart.

Not that I’m blaming them, mind you. I just wish they’d be more honest about it.

Yes, I know, it’s an off-year April election. Even with these referendums and a statewide election, this ballot doesn’t hold a candle to last November’s.

But you should still go fill one out.