Tom Keane

Too mired in present to envision future

ONE THING for sure: the next governor won’t be a poet.

Charlie Gibson’s opening question at last night’s debate — give us the poetry of your vision for Massachusetts — met with a resounding thud from the four candidates. Tim Cahill at least admitted he was all prose; in their language, the three others were just as colorless.

Perhaps that defines this race. We’re so deep in the weeds of budget deficits, unemployment, and health care costs that no one, it seems, can look to the horizon and say where they want to go. The debate — rescheduled from tonight so that none of us would be forced to choose between Lebron James and our civic duty — was a determined and slightly dull affair with a few outbursts of snippiness. In truth, I have watched so many debates already that I felt like I was at the “Rocky Horror Picture Show,’’ ready to shout out the lines along with the rest of the audience.

In substance, the two frontrunners seesawed. Baker was strong on his plans to cut the state deficit, but weak when he tried to dance around Question 3 (the sales tax rollback). When the Big Dig came up, he looked as if he’d rather be walking on hot coals. Yet his answers on turning around gateway cities were persuasive.

With a slight lead in the polls, Deval Patrick’s job was to commit no sins. Baker was more animated than in past debates, which helped counter his image as a technocrat. But Patrick seemed the only candidate easily able to express empathy for citizens pressed hard by the recession. It doesn’t mean he would be a better governor than Baker — indeed, too much empathy can stymie good decision-making — but it does mean that he came out of the debate at least as good as when he went in.

Originally published October 26, 2010, in The Boston Globe, op-ed page.

Don't Blame Baker for the Big Dig

FOR MANY of those involved in the Big Dig, the entrance to the Tip O’Neill Tunnel could well be labeled, “Here lie monsters.’’ Charlie Baker, now getting lambasted for having put together financing to support the project, is hearing their snarls.

The critiques are unpersuasive. What else should Baker have done? Refused to find the money? Killed the project altogether? Many today might say yes, but that was hardly an option at the time. The Big Dig was a Democratic (not Republican) initiative, it was already under construction by the time Baker arrived at the scene, and, for all the angst the project continues to engender, it was the right thing to do.

Not that I have much sympathy for Baker’s handling of the issue now. From the moment he thought of running, he should have known the Big Dig would come up. But his answers were confused and often misleading (“I was one of about 50 people’’). His role was not inconsequential, although the project was hardly his brainchild. It was, actually, conceived of under Democratic Governor Michael Dukakis, and it was a Democratic Congress that funded the project in 1987 over the vehement opposition of President Ronald Reagan, who worried about its cost (hmm. . .sometimes those Republicans are right after all).

In 1991, the project broke ground. Baker got involved three years later, in the fall of 1994, when Gov. William Weld appointed him head of Administration and Finance. Baker claims that when he arrived the cost of the project was $11 billion and when he left in September 1998 it was still $11 billion. I’m not sure where that exact number comes from, but newspaper accounts generally support him. The project was originally projected in 1985 to be $2.5 billion, but costs had escalated as new pieces (such as the Zakim Bridge) were added. By September 1994, a Globe article at the time points out, the base cost was $7.7 billion but this figure confusingly excluded inflation. Adding in inflation and possible delays, the estimate was somewhere between $10 billion to $12 billion. (The confusion about inflation led to seemingly different cost estimates in bond offerings, as well.) Four years later in September 1998, the Globe was still reporting roughly the same figure: “$10.8 billion, inflation included.’’

Nevertheless, Baker wasn’t running the project. We had long passed the point of deciding whether it should be built, and were at the stage of figuring out — in the face of declining federal support — how to pay for it. And that was his job. The way he did so was to use a financial device called grant anticipation notes which shifted costs to the future. Much as individuals use mortgages to buy a house, that’s a sensible strategy for any large capital project.

Of course, this was the most expensive capital project of all time. Like it or not, someone eventually would have to pay, which has meant tolls have gone up and funds for other state-wide transportation projects have been scarce. To fault Baker for that, though, is disingenuous; the real blame lies with those who promoted the Big Dig in the first place.

Or, rather than blame, should that be credit? The fear back in the 1980s had been that without something like the Big Dig, the region would be economically strangled to death. With the project now built, that hasn’t happened — the city is vibrant, the state’s economy is strong, and there’s no two-hour wait to exit Logan Airport. As costly as they were, we’re much better off with the new tunnels.

But the lesson politicians draw from the Big Dig is regrettably different. New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie has just killed the Hudson River commuter rail tunnel, an $8.7 billion connection between his state and New York City, and it’s easy to see echoes of the Big Dig in that decision. Megaprojects are by their nature bold and audacious. Their complexity is such that, inevitably, something is bound to go wrong and, as the Big Dig has taught, we’re more than willing to condemn any involved. The politically smart and safe thing to do, then, is avoid that risk. If it never gets built, then no one will ever get criticized. But in fact, do we really want leaders who fear to dream?

Originally published October 25, 2010, in The Boston Globe, op-ed page.

Conspiracy! Betrayal! Deceit!

Better than pulp fiction, the Mass. governor’s race is shaping up to be fantastic entertainment

A CONFESSION: I’m really enjoying this governor’s race.

I know it’s wrong. There are serious issues at stake and people’s lives rest in the balance. We face a Morton’s Fork over the budget: increase taxes and kill the economy or cut to the bone and wipe out needed programs. The list of critical issues seems endless: health care coverage, wind power, education reform, casino gambling, business regulation, job creation, global warming, and transportation, to name but a few. These are difficult times and they call for somber reflection and thoughtful decisions. I just shouldn’t be having so much fun. But I am.

It began just over two weeks ago, when Paul Loscocco, Tim Cahill’s running mate, said he was quitting the race and throwing his support to Charlie Baker. Cahill responded with a lawsuit claiming the whole thing was orchestrated by his former top aides even as they were still in his employ. Moreover he charged that Baker — or at least the Republican Party — had offered bribes for Loscocco to leave. Then came the counterclaims. Cahill was illegally using state funds and workers in his campaign. Deval Patrick and Cahill were colluding. Supporters of one campaign were secretly working for another. Campaign laptops were being stolen from Newbury Street cafes!

It’s great stuff and as it has been unfolding I’ve found myself perched on the edge of my computer, maniacally pressing the refresh button of my browser, waiting for each new revelation. Remember the slogan promoted by the state’s Office of Travel and Tourism? “Massachusetts — It’s all here.’’ It’s true. We don’t need Hollywood for our entertainment. This has been better than any soap opera; better, even, than any New Jersey-based reality show.

For a while, it has seemed as if politics in Massachusetts had lost its edge. We had always prided ourselves on this notion that politics was blood-sport in the Bay State, a rough-and-tumble, take no prisoners game that engaged our passions and dominated talk around the water cooler. But of late, that image wasn’t being matched by reality. Our elections were becoming more tepid affairs, focused on issues, dominated by debates and — with few exceptions (that would be you, Scott Brown) — just not as amusing as they once were.

But now it’s different. True, other states have had their moments. Carl Paladino, Republican for governor in New York, has made the grinds he once saw at a gay pride parade the flashpoint of the campaign. California’s Jerry Brown (or maybe an aide) allegedly called Meg Whitman a “whore’’ for promising Los Angeles cops higher pensions if they’d give her their endorsement. (This itself is a remarkable controversy. Not only is charging one’s opponents with prostituting themselves an almost clichéd campaign ploy, but it appears to be exactly what Whitman was doing.) In Delaware, we’ve seen a major party candidate denying she’s a witch. The Connecticut senatorial race may turn on how voters feel about Republican Linda McMahon kicking professional wrestlers in the testicles. And in Virginia, a Democrat running for Congress is being dogged by photos of her playing with a sex toy.

Nice try, guys, but this is small potatoes compared to what we’re putting up. All of these are one-off smears, on par with the old story of Florida pol George Smathers, who in a 1950s congressional campaign reputedly called his opponent a “shameless extrovert’’ with a sister who was a well-known “thespian’’ (the story itself was probably a smear; it appears to have been made up by a bored reporter). But what we’re seeing in Massachusetts is something different — not just dirty tactics but rather a full-blown saga, a rip-roaring pulp-fiction story filled with betrayal, deceit, corruption, and conspiracy. And a gripping one, at that.

In the midst of a long recession, it’s hard not to feel some gratitude to Baker, Cahill, Patrick, and their workers for the entertainment they’ve given us. Savor it while it lasts. Eventually, and certainly no later than Nov. 2, the show will come to an end. Reality will intrude and we’ll find ourselves soberly blinking in the cold light of day, knowing that, whoever the victor, the news is grim indeed and we’ve got a hard slog ahead.

Originally published October 18, 2010, in The Boston Globe, op-ed page.

Huddled masses for Mass.

The state would do well to attract as many illegal immigrants as possible

THE COUNTING has begun and the results of the 2010 Census look grim for the Bay State. In the 1930s, we had 16 representatives in the US House. Right now we’re down to 10. Come the next election, it appears, we’ll have but nine. The size of the House is fixed at 435, which means that in 70 years, our influence will have been cut almost by half. The solution? We need more illegal immigrants.

I kid you not. The number of US representatives is apportioned based on the number of persons in a state — not citizens. It’s in the Constitution, so as much as it may grate the sensibilities of some, it’s not changing soon. The same rule drives a host of other decisions, including our influence on the election of the president (via the Electoral College) and how much we receive in the way of federal funds.

The relative decline of our population compared to the rest of the nation has been the source of much soul-searching. Why don’t people want to live in Massachusetts? Some blame the weather, an unpersuasive answer if you’ve ever spent a summer in a growing state such as Georgia. Others blame our politics, our high housing costs, our taxes, and even our economy (it’s geared to college grads, and hence shuts out those of lower skills).

Solution: Illegal immigrants. Each member of Congress represents about 647,000 people. Get a few million immigrants to move to Massachusetts, and we’d start to get some muscle.

This isn’t only about one state’s power and money, however. It’s really about our continued vitality as a state and a region. The late Daniel Patrick Moynihan reportedly observed that it is “culture. . .that determines the success of society.’’ America’s has been a culture unlike that of anywhere else. Since the first settlers arrived, we have been defined by the immigrants who have settled here. That has meant a lot more than a growing population, strange languages, and folks who don’t look like other folks. It’s kept the United States continuously fresh and new, creating a cultural ferment that has made our economy and society perhaps the most dynamic in the world. It’s something that is envied and something that should be sustained. Sustaining it, however, requires even more immigrants. Absent them, we’ll become as stagnant as, say, old Europe.

Which is what puzzles me about this paroxysm of anti-immigrant rage that has swept the nation, a paroxysm that has even made its way into Massachusetts’s gubernatorial elections. Republican gubernatorial candidate Charlie Baker has taken a tough line, supporting Arizona’s mean-spirited immigration law, ripping incumbent Deval Patrick for “siding with immigrants,’’ and vowing to put the State Police to work enforcing immigration laws. Patrick has been far better on the issue, but even as he decries “hate-mongering,’’ he agrees that “illegal immigration is a serious national problem.’’

No, it’s not.

Let’s deal first with this obsession over the word “illegal.’’ There is an easy assumption that “illegal’’ equates to immorality. But illegal immigrants are illegal because we have made it much harder today to be legal than it once was (did the Pilgrims ever have to show the Wampanoags their green cards?). Being illegal doesn’t make you a bad person any more than dropping the speed limit to 10 miles per hour would suddenly make those driving faster bad drivers. Indeed, if mere “illegality’’ was truly the issue, then you’d expect to see the anti-immigrant crowd pushing to loosen immigration rules.

But they aren’t, of course. Some anti-immigrant fervor may well be naked bigotry. For most though, it reflects a fear that immigrants are taking their jobs, pushing up their taxes, or otherwise being enriched at their expense. It’s factually not true. Most credible studies conclude that new immigrants — illegal or not — have minimal effects on unemployment rates, for example. Nevertheless, immigrants make easy targets, even though by restricting their numbers we are limiting the new ideas, energy, and culture they bring — the stuff that, in the long run, is what makes America so uniquely powerful. So if no other states want them, perhaps we in Massachusetts should step up. We’d be better off for it. And who knows, the congressman you save might be your own.

Originally published October 11, 2010, in The Boston Globe, op-ed page.

Bottled water: The wrong enemy

Sorry, Concord. Banning sales is the last thing we should be doing.

To many, bottled water is a modern evil, a wasteful and environmentally destructive consumer scam. I say it’s a brilliant triumph for public health.

In this, I part company with the good folks of Concord, that shot-heard-round-the-world town now seemingly determined to seize the mantle of looniness from Cambridge. Someday soon, if the town has its way, a thirsty bicyclist will pull up outside the Cumberland Farms on Thoreau Street, walk inside looking for a bottle of water, and find none. That’s because Concord wants to make bottled water illegal. (The attorney general this summer rejected a ban Concord passed in April, but supporters vow they’ll try again.) No doubt there will be plenty of sodas, sports drinks, and teas to choose from, but of water – just water – there will be none.And so our biker, still seeking hydration of some sort, will be stuck with something flavored and often sweet.

A few weeks ago, my daughter and a group of friends gathered to bid goodbye to summer. We were to provide drinks. “Cola? Root beer?” I asked my daughter. “Water would be fine.” That can’t be right, I thought. “Orange soda?” I proposed. “Iced tea or Gatorade?” “Just water,” she said. “We like water.”

Maybe it’s a generational thing, but many kids and young adults these days seem to prefer bottled water. Well, we’re going to show them. We’re going to ban it.

From one angle, I can understand the combination of disbelief and outrage that has greeted the bottled-water phenomenon. How dare a company take something that is essentially free, pour it into a plastic bottle, and try to sell it for the same price as a Coke? And what kind of fools would then actually believe this swindle and pay good money for it?

But from a different viewpoint, how is it that pure, clean, noncaloric water should be banned, but if you take the same stuff, carbonate it, and then add lots of sugar, artificial coloring, and some flavor, it’s OK? The residents of Concord aren’t rising up against any other beverage except water (even though water containers, usually lighter than the stronger containers needed for carbonated beverages, consume less plastic and are cheaper to ship).

“Fat America” is the public health crisis of the moment, and for good reason. Almost 27 percent of Americans are obese, an all-time high. And directly connected to that is the soaring incidence of diabetes. According to the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the number of new cases tripled from 1980 to 2008, from less than 500,000 to more than 1.6 million, resulting in enormous economic costs, higher mortality rates, and greatly reduced quality of life. And a principal cause of all this, according to many recent studies, is our unrelenting consumption of sugared beverages.

I realize that Poland Spring and Evian aren’t in the business of public health. They just want to make a buck, and they’ve done so brilliantly. But if, let’s say, someone named Dr. Dasani had concocted a scheme to use clever packaging and well-made advertisements to wean our youth off sugared drinks and onto water, we’d be extolling his contribution to the nation.

I know, it still bothers you. It’s just water after all. The stuff found in those bottles is roughly the same as what comes from our kitchen faucets. Why not buy a reusable plastic or aluminum bottle, fill it, and take it with you? Or why not just use water bubblers?

Because it won’t happen. Yes, there are a handful who will truck their own reusable containers, but not a lot. As for those water fountains: If you can find them, they’re likely broken. Even if not, they generally deliver a tepid drink from a spigot flecked with the drool of previous users. No, thanks.

Sure, we should all recycle no matter what we’re drinking. But when people grab an Aquafina from the shelves instead of a Mountain Dew, that’s one less sugary drink they’ll be consuming. Instead of decrying those clever purveyors of water as modern-day charlatans, let’s urge them onward. If marketers could persuade everyone to make bottled water their beverage of choice, we’d all be better off.

Originally published October 10, 2010, in The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine.

Patrick? Baker? So far, both good

I’M WATCHING the Sept. 21 gubernatorial debate, moderated by CNN’s John King, and the topic is the state budget deficit. Charlie Baker is clearly explaining the problem to me. With a possible deficit of $2 billion, spending has got to be cut. He’s put some concrete proposals on the table (well, to be precise, on his web site) that go well beyond the standard “savings’’ claims most politicians make. I’m sold. Charlie’s my guy.

But then Deval Patrick just as clearly explains that it’s not only about cuts. That works for the short-term, he explains, but it’s long-term growth we need. Moreover, he says, real people are hurt by these cuts — it’s not just a theoretical exercise — and I think, yes, absolutely. Deval, I’m with you.

There are now four weeks to go. I’ve watched or listened to most of the debates and I still have no idea who to vote for.

I do know, however, who I will not vote for: Tim Cahill and Jill Stein. It’s not that either has no chance of winning — although that’s clearly a consideration — but that neither seems up to the job. At a Sept. 7 debate hosted by Jon Keller, Cahill promises that the first — first! — thing he’ll do after being inaugurated is to sign a casino bill. I’m taken aback. I don’t mind gambling, but does Cahill really believe the Commonwealth’s economic salvation is truly to be found in a roulette table?

And as for Stein: I cringe. She may be a wonderful physician and perhaps sitting around the kitchen table she’s some sort of public policy genius, but she is rambling and inarticulate. A favorite moment: moderator King invites Stein to ask a question of the governor. She gives a nervous laugh, says, “OK, yeah, great’’ and then pauses while she tries to think one up. It almost seemed as if she were surprised to be at the debate at all.

But enough of those two. There were five debates last month and will be more before the election. Patrick and Baker are both good debaters. They’re smart, know their material and each is making a lot of sense. Take education. Baker worries that the state joining the national core curriculum will dilute the MCAS exam. Patrick believes Massachusetts’s success should become the model for the entire country. I find I agree with both. Or how about employment? Baker says the surest route to more jobs is predictable tax policy, reined in spending and a stable regulatory policy. Patrick says economic growth is tied to investing in comprehensive healthcare, education, and jobs stimulation. Again, both are right.

Therein the dilemma. In their debates, neither Patrick nor Baker comes across as strongly ideological. They’re highly competent managers who look for solutions that work. I suspect each knows that the policies of the other also have merit — for instance, at various points it’s Baker who espouses better education while Patrick advocates for cutting spending. For those of us somewhere in the middle, willing to vote for either party depending on the candidate, it’s tough.How much easier it would be if we didn’t have these debates and I could just rely on political ads where — unlike face-to-face confrontations — it’s far easier to demonize the other guy.

Still, it is possible to tease out some overarching theme to each man’s campaign. Baker — who once served on Patrick’s transition team — is deeply worried: We’ve lost our way, the crisis is upon us, and we’ve got to get back on track. Indeed, he says, that fear of near-disaster is why he left his job as CEO of Harvard Pilgrim Health Care and got into the race.

For his part, Patrick is the sunny optimist. Sure we need to improve, he argues, but it’s not all broken. Massachusetts, he claims, has turned around — the state economy is among the strongest in the nation and we’re tops in educational achievement.

Unfortunately, just as with their policy proposals, I find I agree with both. I like Patrick’s energy and his embrace of the future; I like too Baker’s Mr. Fix-It focus on the present. Election Day looms and I find myself wishing I could vote for both.

Originally published October 4, 2010, in The Boston Globe, op-ed page.