Politics and Policy in Illinois: History

This is the first in a series of eight essays about politics and policy-making in Illinois, which will run between now and the November election, interspersed here and there with a few columns on timely topics. Since we will see no presidential election campaign in Illinois (the race has been ceded to Hillary; campaign money will go elsewhere), election activity here will focus on a few contested state legislative races.

[The Roman philosopher and politician Seneca said that, “All that’s past is prologue,” so I hope this series, a kind of primer, will help us understand how we came to where we are today in Illinois politics—fragmented, fractious, barely functional.]

            In 2010, the Associated Press analyzed our 50 states and found Illinois to be “the most average.” That is, Illinois almost mirrored the nation as a whole in demographic diversity and economic activity.

            Average maybe, but certainly not typical.

            In his book, “The Nine New Nations of North America,” Joel Garreau found Illinois to be part of three of those nations, more than any other state: Foundry, Breadbasket, and Old Dixie.

            We have a deep state, with a latitude at the top the same as that of Portsmouth, NH and that of our southern tip that of Portsmouth, VA. Carbondale is an hour’s drive closer to Oxford, MS than it is to Chicago.

            Half a century ago, the late political scientist Daniel Elazar plotted the political cultures of America. He found three: a traditional, elite-dominated politics, found largely in the South; a Yankee-driven, culture of individualism and, third, a “good government” set of values, located largely across the northern tier states like Wisconsin and Minnesota.

            I would add a fourth: an urban, big city political culture created in the late 1800s by hyphenated Americans, who displaced the Yankees in running the cities.

            All these cultures except for the “good government” one tolerated, sometimes espoused corruption.

            All four cultures are found in Illinois, though the good government values dominated in Elazar’s time only across the northernmost tier of Illinois counties.

            Rivers make terrible boundaries. They bring people together, yet we use them to separate governments, as we do along the Mississippi and Ohio.

            The great, three-state metropolitan Chicago region of 10 million people is a more natural demarcator than those carved by our state boundaries.

            As a result of our state’s geographic depth, initially we developed two geo-political regions in Chicago and Downstate, and now three, with sprawling suburban Chicago added.

            Chicago the city, which had fully one-half the state’s population after World War II, now has but 20 percent, and the fragmented suburbs, 44 percent.

            And the older, near-in suburbs are now often mostly Latino or black, having spilled over from the city.

            Interest groups are also stronger, more entrenched in Illinois than in most states: unions versus management; teachers versus school boards. Farmers, hospitals, doctors, insurers, financial firms protect their interests aggressively; most contribute big money to campaigns.

            All of this means that culturally, demographically, geographically, economically—we are not all in this together, not on the same page politically, certainly not the way more homogenous

neighbors like Iowa and Wisconsin, even Indiana, are.

            Probably the single biggest difference between Illinois and our neighbors is our reputation for corruption.

            In a poll I conducted in 2012, a national sample was asked to identify, unprompted, the one or two most corrupt states in the nation.

One-third named Illinois; 45 percent of those over age 35 fingered Illinois. This was more mentions than for any states other than New York and California. Our neighbors were rarely mentioned.

            Illinois residents share these national perceptions of Illinois corruption. I always get a big, knowing laugh when I open a Rotary or other talk by noting that I have worked for three unindicted Illinois governors.

            This “Where’s mine?” culture of corruption has added to the complexity of policy-making in Illinois, as it accentuates a parochial rather than comprehensive approach to problem solving.

            And there are few unifiers. There is no “Eyes of Texas Are Upon Us” to bring us together emotionally.

            What this all means is that policy-making in Illinois is even messier, more complicated than it is in most states.

            Gov. Brice Rauner had hoped to unify the state behind his “turnaround agenda,” but has failed to do so thus far. He clearly thought doing so would be much easier than it has turned out to be.

            Some now say he should compromise; others say, vehemently, “stay the course.”

In the next installment of this series I will take a look at how governors of Illinois have approached leadership over two centuries to see if there are useful lessons from history.