Democracy In Albany

the entrenched Democrats are uneasy, too. Spitzer has made them so, both in his challenge to the status quo and in his mishandling of his relations with them. The political system in Albany favors stasis. The name of the game, of course, is the preservation of power, which means that whoever has it will rig the game to keep it. Bruno and Sheldon Silver, the speaker of the Assembly, wield immense power over their conferences; they effectively decide if and when a bill comes to the floor and then tell everyone how to vote. They dole out what are known as “lulus,” or payments to legislators for extra duties that can be, let’s say, undemanding. They also disburse their party’s campaign funds, seeing to it that incumbents win more than ninety-five per cent of their races. The institutions with the wherewithal to provide the money are the oft-maligned but never curtailed special interests. The leaders excel at harnessing all these stakeholders. In particular, Silver, who represents lower Manhattan, is determinedly stubborn and patient. His modest manner disguises a canny parliamentary style. The contingencies can get so intricate and self-annulling that very little gets done.

Spitzer’s first hostile act as governor—a gentle one, by Spitzer standards—occurred in his inaugural speech. “Like Rip Van Winkle,” he pronounced, “New York has slept through much of the past decade while the rest of the world has passed us by.” The remark, evocative and accurate as it may have been, struck many present as indecorous, disrespectful not only of George Pataki, his predecessor, who was in attendance, but of Bruno and Silver, the presumably somnambulant collaborators, who were seated right behind Spitzer. “That was a cheap shot,” Jack McEneny, a Democratic assemblyman, told me. “Save it for the Bronx Democratic dinner.”

The disdain that Spitzer and his aides had for the niceties of the capitol caused early offense. The legislative staffs complained that Spitzer’s team didn’t know their names or titles. Deference had been replaced by indifference. “It makes no sense to squander good will when it’s there for free,” one legislator said. “The problem is arrogance.” Spitzer is fond of saying that politics is like a sporting contest: you go out, play hard, and shake hands when it’s over. He cites Theodore Roosevelt’s invocation of “the arena.” Of course, for most of his colleagues, politics is not a game but a livelihood. “Tip O’Neill said all politics is local,” McEneny said. “In Albany, I say, all politics is personal.

“The temper tantrum that occurred after the DiNapoli affair did almost irreparable harm to the relationship between the Governor and the Democrats in the Legislature,” McEneny said. “There were a lot of hurt feelings.”

There are people on Spitzer’s team who consider the DiNapoli ruckus to have been one of their finest hours. It is hard for them to see how anybody could object to their insisting on competence