Jack Lessenberry from Michigan Radio

This has been an intense first week of the year in Michigan politics, with Governor Snyder signing deeply controversial bills,the Flint water crisis, and renewed concern over theimpending financial collapse of the Detroit public schools. For now, this has almost blotted out concern over the fast-approaching presidential primary season, after months in which it seemed like the news was all Trump, all the time. Well, think about it or not, Michigan's presidential primary is exactly two months from today. And there's reason to believe the primary might be considerably more important this time than in the past. For one thing, both parties are using it to select their national convention delegates. That has only happened once in the last quarter century. Instead, Republicans have mainly used a primary, and Democrats a variety of complicated caucus systems. Few voters took part, and fewer understood how they worked. This had the additional bad feature of allowing Democrats to vote in the Republican primary, if they so chose. Republicans resented this. Michigan's primary results have often been embarrassing or bizarre. Michigan's primary results have often been embarrassing or bizarre. Republican primary voters chose Henry Ford in the first-ever Michigan primary exactly a century ago, even though he wasn't running for anything. Democrats were embarrassed badly in 1972, when George Wallace won their Michigan primary with a tremendous landslide in the biggest-ever turnout. Eight years ago, the state violated both parties' rules by scheduling a January primary, partly because then-Governor Granholm thought this would give her an "in" and maybe a job with Hillary Clinton, who she was convinced would be the nominee. She was wrong. Even though John McCain was going on to win the nomination that year, Michigan Republican voters chose a candidate who dropped out of that year's race in a few weeks. As for Democrats, they managed to leave one name off the primary ballot: Barack Obama. The state should do better this year. Though we vote after the traditionally early states like New Hampshire, our primary comes before most other big states like Ohio, Illinois, New York and California vote. Every conceivable candidate's name will be on our ballot, including one "Rocky" De La Fuente, a California car dealer, who became the first presidential primary candidate ever to get on by collecting signatures. The one safe prediction is that some of the dozen GOP candidates on their side of the ballot will have dropped out before we vote. Actually, at least two already have – Lindsay Graham and George Pataki. Once voting starts in early other states, candidates who fail to score will quickly see their donations dry up. Nobody wants to give money to a loser, and that will effectively end their campaigns. Michigan has actually been decisive in choosing a nominee a couple of times. President Gerald Ford was in grave danger of losing renomination to Ronald Reagan forty years ago, but scored a huge victory in his home state that started his comeback. In 1992, both President Bush the first and Bill Clinton helped cement their nominations with big victories here. Well, maybe we'll do it again this time. And you may as well plan on voting. You are, after all, paying for it; the primary costs the taxpayers ten million dollars. May the best candidates for Michigan win. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

There were a lot of people – some of them Republicans — who were shocked yesterday afternoon when Governor Rick Snyder signed a bitterly controversial campaign finance bill. Many insiders expected he would veto it. In fact, The Detroit News, whose editorial page is sort of a house organ for the Republican Party, urged a veto. Most attention in recent days centered on a provision that appears to prevent libraries or municipalities from providing any information designed to help voters understand what's in a ballot proposal within two months of an election. Yesterday, in signing Senate Bill 571, the governor said he didn't believe the bill really did that, and added that legislative leaders had promised him they'd try to pass a new law fixing that. ... this was a textbook study in how legislation should not be made. Now, that's a somewhat novel approach to government: Sign a bad bill on a promise the Legislature will fix it later. But it is clear in retrospect that we've all been focusing too much on that particular clause. For one thing, this was a textbook study in how legislation should not be made. This started out as a short, essentially non-controversial bill meant to improve the way political contributions are collected by both union and corporate political action committees. Then, at the very last minute, a bunch of amendments were dumped into the bill that made it more than four times as long. In today's Detroit Free Press, columnist Brian Dickerson shows that even now nobody's too sure who was behind many of these amendments, and that many of the Republicans who voted for the bill had no real idea what was in the final version, including veteran Sen. Mike Kowall, R-White Lake, the sponsor of the original law. Some have buyer's remorse. But it's also now clear the real reasons certain forces wanted this passed have little or nothing to do with libraries providing information to voters. The final bill is expressly meant to hurt political funding for unions, not corporations. The final bill is expressly meant to hurt political funding for unions, not corporations. It would allow General Motors to collect payroll donations for GM's political action committee, but would outlaw similar payroll deductions meant for the United Auto Workers. It would also effectively double the amount a PAC could donate to pay off expenses on any single political campaign, giving such committees that much more sway over candidates. The Free Press quotes one Republican who voted for these bills, Dave Pagel of Berrien Springs, as saying: it is "part of this troubling process is that you don't know who's behind this or what their motives are." I would say it's almost equally troubling that representatives like Pagel voted for this, though they, as he said, were "ignorant" of what it meant. Democrats, by the way, seem to have been as ignorant as the Republicans. As has often been the case during the Snyder years, their opposition yesterday seems to have been confined mostly to whimpering; there doesn't seem to be a fiery orator in the bunch capable of arousing public outrage. Analysts have noted correctly that this bill gives even more power to big-money corporate interests. But what we need to stop doing is asking, as one columnist did, why Governor Snyder keeps going along with the Legislature's hard-right agenda. It now should be very clear that it is his agenda too. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Yesterday was not a good day for Governor Rick Snyder. First, he signed the bill outlawing straight-ticket voting. There was never any real doubt he would do this. Those in politics were surprised he didn't sign it between Christmas and the new year, when most people are paying little attention. This is something voters plainly didn't want, but which was rammed down their throats by Republicans in the Legislature, who care little about democracy and want to rig the game to give themselves every advantage. We know people don't want to lose the option to cast a straight ticket, because Republicans have passed versions of this twice before, and both times the voters restored their right in a statewide referendum. This time, Republicans cynically attached a token appropriation to the bill, which constitutionally takes away people's right to do that. Yet Snyder said he was signing this because "it's time to choose people over politics," a rather bizarre statement given that this bill does precisely the opposite. That was blasted on Facebook by Kurt Metzger, the eminent demographer who is now mayor of tiny Pleasant Ridge. He called this, "ill-conceived and downright discriminatory," adding: "... putting 'people before politics? Please stop taking such good care of us." Now, there is a legitimate argument to be made in favor of getting rid of straight ticket voting. Only ten states still have that option, but most have early voting or let any voter have an absentee ballot who wants one. Michigan doesn't, and Senate Majority Leader Arlan Meekhof and Senate Elections Chair Dave Robertson have made it very clear that they intend to block any effort to make it easier to vote. Mayor Metzger, and others who understand what's going on, were offended by the governor's sheer hypocrisy about this subject; in signing this, Snyder admitted Michigan has an "archaic absentee voting law." He urged the state Senate to pass a bill allowing broader absentee voting as soon as possible "to help alleviate long lines at the ballot box." Well, guess what. They've made it clear they aren't going to do that. "He's just blowing smoke," an angry Metzger wrote. If the governor was sincere, he could have refused to sign this bill unless it was coupled, or "tie-barred," with a bill expanding absentee voting. In fact, it originally was, and that's what the House passed. But Meekhof and his minions cynically broke the agreement, and sent only this bill to the governor, who obligingly signed it. Politically, this may not harm Snyder much, except among whatever few remaining voters still clung to the illusion that he is really an independent. However, something happened later yesterday that could potentially be a major problem for the governor. The U.S. district attorney's office in Detroit, an arm of the Department of Justice, confirmed that it has opened an investigation into the Flint water crisis. Snyder appointees made the decision to switch to the water that ended up poisoning an unknown number of children, and then attempted to cover up the truth. When the governor began his second term a year ago, I predicted that his first day would turn out to be his best day, and things would go downhill from there. I suspect I may have been right. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

President Obama yesterday announced a series of executive orders aimed at enforcing existing laws and lowering the death rate. You might think that was common sense policy. You might, that is, if you lived in a country known for sanity, like Canada. But instead, the President's announcement caused Michigan's Republican National Committeeman to demand his impeachment, and set off a howl throughout the entire opposition party, which likes to pretend it is in favor of law and order. Now, it has been very clear for seven years that anything the President comes out in favor of, probably including God, would meet Pavlovian, knee-jerk opposition from the GOP. Speaker of the House Paul Ryan let that slip yesterday, when he said that anything the President proposes would be "a dangerous level of executive overreach." But you knew this was going to be especially nasty, because the President is going to use the powers of his office to crack down on illegal gun sales. Specifically, his administration wants to ensure that those "engaged in the business" of dealing in guns comply with the law and get a federal license. That's important, because licensed dealers are required to perform instant background checks on anyone to whom they sell firearms. Too many of these dealers, as everyone in law enforcement knows, have been evading this requirement by pretending to be nothing more than collectors and making their sales not from stores, but at gun shows. Now you would think most people would be strongly in favor of background checks, if only to prevent ISIS militants and convicted mass murders from adding to their arsenals. In fact, nearly nine out of ten Americans are – including almost 70 percent of gun owners who belong to the National Rifle Association. But it seems to be the policy of some politicians to cater to people even more extreme than that. Dave Agema is a good example. He thinks America is threatened, not by the guns that murder so many of us every year, but by gay people and Muslims. He has posted things on social media indicating that most gays are attempting to kill us all by spreading venereal disease and intestinal parasites, and seldom misses a chance to convey hatred of Muslims. But guns are mystical and sacred to him. Yesterday he asserted that any attempt to control guns always leads to their confiscation and tyrannical dictatorship, adding that "when the government fears the people, we have freedom." Currently, that freedom is costing us 30,000 firearms deaths a year, which is about a thousand times more than in Japan, which is a happily vibrant democracy. More than thirty people will be shot and murdered today in this country. That happens every day. The president himself said what he is ordering won't do much about that. "It's not going to prevent every mass shooting," or keep every gun out of the hands of a criminal. But it may help save a few lives. Most of us are willing to put up with state "tyranny" to prevent someone from poisoning our drinking water or stealing our property. If President Obama's sensible attempts to enforce our too-weak existing gun laws are tyranny, well, give me tyranny. That sounds a good deal better than senseless death. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Well, Happy New Year. I like to catch up on movies during the holidays, and the first one I saw this season wasSpotlight, the film about how The Boston Globeexposed the Roman Catholic Church's sex scandal 14 years ago. Listen Listening... 3:12 Jack Lessenberry Dozens of journalists I know raved about the movie, and they weren't exaggerating. Spotlight is clearly the most important film about journalism since All The President's Men 40 years ago. Like that film, it is largely a documentary with Hollywood stars reenacting the roles played by actual, less photogenic journalists. Reporters who bring us bad news are never popular; they are always under tremendous pressure not to do their jobs. The most they've usually been able to expect by way of reward is to know they did something for society, and the truth. But the world of journalism has dramatically changed. The very tool that makes it so much easier to find information – the World Wide Web – has destroyed the economic underpinning of journalism. The short version is that classified advertising, that mainstay of newspaper economics, has largely fled to the Internet, where it is mostly free. Advertisers don't want to pay, or pay much, to advertise in an online publication. Besides, young people regard reading a newspaper much as they'd regard cooking on a wood stove. They want to read, if they want to read, on their phones or iPads. That may be adequate for celebrity or sports news. But it is hard to make sense of anything real that way. And journalism jobs are disappearing anyway. The ancient Greek philosopher Plato wanted to set up an ideal republic where virtue was protected by a class of guardians. The classic question, of course, was who would watch over society's guardians. For more than 200 years, our answer has been the press. We journalists haven't always done our jobs perfectly, but we've done them, often for low pay and high stress. But the ability to do them is vanishing. When The Boston Globe did the Spotlight movie stories, it had recently been bought by The New York Times for more than $1 billion. The paper won a Pulitzer Prize for its coverage of that scandal, and six more since then. But two years ago, the Times sold it to a local businessman for a mere $70 million. Newspapers may be in even worse shape in Michigan. The Detroit papers were filled with goodbye stories recently from a large number of experienced reporters, editors and columnists who took buyouts to leave. Some were ready to retire. But many took the money and ran because they feared they might soon be laid off without any cushion. This is a somewhat invisible tragedy. If a tree falls in the forest, or the city council steals the pension funds, how will we know if the media aren't there? We won't, till it's too late. What do we do about this? Some have suggested government subsidize the press as sort of society's ombudsman, but that's not politically realistic. There are fools who think right and left wingers ranting on the airwaves is a substitute for journalism, but it's not. As far as I know, nobody really has any answers. But I do know we need to find some, relatively soon. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Well, the holidays are upon us, and my guess is that you may need some last minute present and that you also might be guilty of reading books, even when you don't have to. So I want to tell you about the best book I've read this year, one you can easily find at any bookstore: David Maraniss's Once in a Great City: A Detroit Story, published by Simon and Schuster. Maraniss is a Pulitzer-Prize winning Washington Post writer. I've enjoyed his work for years, but never realized he was born in Detroit, and lived here as a child. Now, there have been a flood of Detroit books in the market recently, many of which I found pretty contemptible. Most are either ego trips for their authors, romantic visions or nostalgic reveries that ignore large portions of reality, or ruin porn picture books. This book is anything but. It is a fascinating work of history that reads like a novel, and while set more than half a century ago, does more to make it clear what this city was, is and what happened to it than most of what I've read. Once in a Great City covers roughly eighteen pivotal months of Detroit and Michigan history, from the fall of 1962, to the spring of 1964. It begins with the accidental destruction by fire of a legendary Detroit icon, the Ford Rotunda, where I was taken to see Santa as a child. That is paired, however, with the less-than-accidental destruction of a legendary institution in the black community, the Hotel Gotham, where black stars stayed and out of which gamblers ran numbers rackets. This was seen as the beginning of a new golden era in Detroit history. When the book begins, Detroit was making a serious bid for the Summer Olympics. Jerry Cavanagh, Detroit's dynamic, charismatic and Kennedyesque new mayor was still in his mid-thirties, but was getting on the cover of national magazines and seemed to be a cinch for a national career. That was also true for George Romney, Michigan's new outside-the-box governor. But Once in a Great City is not primarily about politics, but life, and one major theme in this book is the sensational explosion of Motown. Motown, and black Detroit, and the story of how Martin Luther King first gave a version of his "I have a dream" speech here. If you thought you knew about Marvin Gaye and Berry Gordy, Diana Ross and Aretha Franklin, you'll see that you didn't. The auto industry is also here, shown in the amazing story of the birth and rise of the Ford Mustang, shepherded by new business star whose name, they said, rhymed with "try a coca." But virtually unnoticed was a Wayne State University study that first fall that predicted with uncanny accuracy what would happen in the years to come. Long before the great riot or Coleman Young, the seeds of destruction were in place. Whether Detroit can again fulfill its motto and rise for the ashes, this book doesn't tell. But my advice is this. Whether or not you get it as a present, get another copy for yourself. Then as soon as you can, hide, and read it. You won't be sorry that you did. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Ten years ago, George Clooney starred in and directed the most socially significant film he's ever done. Good Night and Good Luck was about the famous journalist Edward R. Murrow and his confrontation with Senator Joe McCarthy, the demagogue who ruined lives and careers by recklessly accusing people of being Communists. The film is really about a lot of things – courage and values and the role of journalism. I often show it to classes. And if you know the film, you may remember that early on, Murrow turns to his producer, Fred Friendly. "Ever spent any time in Detroit, Fred?" he asks. There was a young man, not in Detroit, but Ann Arbor, named Milo Radulovich, a student trying to earn a degree in physics to become a meteorologist. He had served with distinction in World War II, and had a top secret clearance. But one day there was a knock at the door. It was two Air Force officers. Milo was to be kicked out of the service, which meant he'd lose his benefits and have a stigma over his name. No, he had done nothing wrong. But his immigrant Serbian father subscribed to a newspaper from his old village, by then in a Communist country, and his older sister Margaret was seen as a left-wing radical. She had picketed a big Detroit hotel for being unwilling to provide a room for the famous black singer Paul Robeson, and thought Communists deserved justice too. George Clooney's film features a brief except from Murrow's interview with Margaret, then a stunning young woman pregnant with her first child. She talked about what it meant to be an American. "Since when can a man be judged because of the alleged activities of a member of his family?" she asked, calling that a "fantastic" and disturbing trend. Milo Radulovich was vindicated by Murrow's show about him, though his career forever suffered and the stress meant he never finished his degree. One day last weekend I took lunch to his sister Margaret, who will be ninety soon, and her two surviving brothers. I went with Mike Ranville, a retired lobbyist who eighteen years ago wrote a superb book about the case, To Strike at a King. Murrow died half a century ago. Milo died eight years ago, just before the U of M finally posthumously awarded him his physics degree. Margaret is in a wheelchair now. The last few years have been hard. First Milo died, then the daughter she was carrying at the time of the show, then her athletic and trim husband Al felled by a sudden heart attack. But she still comes alive when we mention "the case," which is how her family always referred to it, and can put her hands on her copy of the famous early TV show. She is no longer active in politics. But she is proud of what her brother did, and of her parents, who came here from Serbia, and aware enough that when someone mentioned Donald Trump, she made a face. Not a nice face. And I knew her well enough years ago that I'm pretty sure what she'd say about today's climate of fear. She'd tell me, "well, you know, we've seen this all before." Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Well, I do have a little bit of good news to start the week. The United States managed – barely — to avoid crippling sanctions that would have cost Michigan farmers hundreds of millions over the next few years. Several years ago, Congress passed a law that required "country of origin labeling," known as COOL, for all meat products, no matter where they were from. That might have been justified for China, where tainted meat and pet food scandals have been legion. But it made no sense when applied to Canada, our biggest trading partner, a nation with whom we have virtually free trade, and whose standards are as high, or higher, than our own. The new labeling law also violated our treaties with Mexico. But it really played havoc with Canada. For years, American and Canadian ranchers along the border sold hogs and beef back and forth. The U.S. Department of Agriculture said there had never been any problem with Canadian meat. Now, suddenly, Washington was saying any animal from Canada had to be segregated, penned and slaughtered separately. That added expense, and American packing plants stopped buying Canadian meat. Ottawa filed complaints with the WTO, the World Trade Organization, which ruled against the United States – four times. The Canadians blamed Michigan's senior U.S. Senator Debbie Stabenow, the former chair of the U.S. Agriculture Committee. She said she saw the issue differently, that this was more a case of huge meat producers trying to stifle small ones. But in any event, the WTO said what we were doing was illegal, and two weeks ago, authorized Canada and Mexico to levy a billion dollars a year in punitive tariffs against American agriculture, including products like fruits, vegetables and pasta. The sanctions could have kicked in this week. A Canadian official told me that once the tariffs were in place, it could have taken as long as three years to get them removed. That made it clear we needed to work fast. "It is critical that we come together to resolve this issue so that our businesses do not face the cost of retaliation," Stabenow said five days ago. Finally, language to repeal COOL was inserted into the annual government appropriations bill. Both houses of Congress passed it, and President Obama signed it into law Friday night. The next day, I heard from Canada that the crisis was over, in a joint statement from Canada's minister of international trade and Mexico's secretary of the economy. "We are very pleased ... we look forward to the restoration of full access to the U.S. market for Canadian cattle and hogs and Mexican cattle, as this will benefit (all) our farmers and our economies," they said. Americans, especially cattlemen, breathed similar sighs of relief. This is a story that didn't get a thousandth of the press we devote to Donald Trump, but had this not been fixed, it would have had a devastating impact on Michigan's farm economy, which would have had a ripple effect across the state. And while this had a happy ending, we'd do well to remember something every farmer knows and every legislator ought to learn. If it ain't broke ... it may not be a good idea to try to fix it. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Well, we are ending the last full week before Christmas with two pieces of good news: The biggest is that Washington approved a waiver that will enable six hundred thousand relatively poor people in Michigan to continue to get medical coverage under the Healthy Michigan Medicaid expansion program. We barely managed to qualify for this program two years ago after the legislature was dragged kicking and screaming to approve it, even though virtually all the costs are borne by the federal government. Those now in charge don't much like helping poor people, and they insisted on a requirement that anyone in the program get out after four years and buy health care though the program Republicans love to hate – "Obamacare" – or, if they follow what are being called "healthy behavior requirements," pay five to seven percent of their meager incomes to keep their coverage. Folks like Gilda Jacobs, the head of the Michigan League for Public Policy, weren't thrilled about these bash-the-poor rules, but desperately wanted the federal government to approve a waiver. Otherwise, all those people would have lost health care coverage on April Fool's Day. But fortunately, the federal government gave Michigan the waiver. The other good news is that our elected legislators, who like to take frequent vacations, have recessed for the year. The poet W.H. Auden called the 1930s a "low dishonest decade." This was that kind of legislative session, and a pretty bad year for the governor as well. The legislators did manage to pass a bill to improve third-grade reading proficiency, and modified their earlier draconian teacher evaluation standards. But most of what they did was bad, stupid, partisan and harmful, as in outlawing straight-ticket voting in a way that prevents voters, who clearly want that option, from repealing it. The lawmakers, who refused for years to enact the governor's sensible program for fixing the roads, also managed to raise taxes now without providing money to fix the roads in any meaningful way before 2021, by which time they will be in such bad shape the money won't be nearly enough. By the way, they also are forcing future legislatures to cut the general fund for the roads; look for education funding to suffer even more. Senate Majority Leader Arlan Meekhof did suffer one setback; he had hoped to do an end run around the governor and end the requirement to pay decent wage rates to construction workers on state projects. But his buddies who were supposed to deliver petitions to the legislature proved too inept to get enough valid signatures. But don't be too happy; they'll try again. But never let it be said our lawmakers aren't focused on things they can do something about. Yesterday, freshman house member Jim Runestad, a former insurance salesman, introduced a resolution calling on President Obama to declare ISIS terrorism in the Middle East an act of genocide. Runestad said that would enable this to be stopped. Well, if we'd only dreamed it was that easy. Who knew? He also asserted that until ISIS, Christians had lived in peace and harmony with their neighbors in that region for two thousand years. Well, there were those pesky crusades. But hey ... Next time, I hope Runestad asks the president to fix our roads instead. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Once upon a time, newspapers and even TV stations in this state devoted intensive resources to covering Lansing. That wasn't because nobody had heard of the Kardashians; it was because news organizations then realized that when it comes to affecting our lives, state government really is the most important. Federal money is passed down through the states, and the states make rules for what local governments can do. Back in the 1980s, at least one Detroit TV station had a full-time Lansing bureau, and for a time the Detroit News had thirteen reporters in Lansing. These days, I don't think any newspaper has more than one. In the old days, citizens were regularly told when controversial bills were introduced, and could make their opinions known. Now, we're lucky if we get to read a story about what the legislature has done after the fact. This isn't good for anyone. I am in better shape in terms of knowing what's going on than most, because of a private news service called Gongwer, which does provide subscribers with a very detailed account of what state government is doing or about to do. Virtually every lobbyist and special interest group subscribes to Gongwer, or its rival MIRS, the Michigan Information and Research Service. What this means is that we now have two kinds of citizens. A large group who know very little about what is being done to them, and a small set of elites with a lot of information. History would indicate that this is not a long-term prescription for a healthy and stable society. That's not to say we are in anything like a revolutionary situation, but this is clearly contributing to a sense of alienation. The lack of intense media scrutiny also fosters bad behavior in government. When the ancient Greek philosopher Plato imagined an ideal society protected by a class of guardians, Socrates supposedly said something like "Who will watch the guardians?" For our society, that's always been the news media. These days, they are mostly not there. Yesterday, in a blatant power play which had nothing to do with anything the people wanted, the Republican leadership in the senate locked everybody in, stripped the minority party of their staff, and rammed through a bill outlawing straight ticket voting, killing one that would make it easier for people to vote absentee, and preventing voters from being able to overturn it. Senator Steve Bieda, one of the chamber's more principled members, compared this to "fascist dictatorship," and he was right. It is hard to imagine the architects of this coup, Majority Leader Arlan Meekhof and Elections Chair Dave Robertson, getting away with this had it been on live television. Elsewhere yesterday, Gongwer interviewed Governor Snyder, and the news service reported that "he would not say whether there was anything he had learned from the Flint water crisis." Thirty years ago, something that lame would have gotten any governor eviscerated by editorial cartoonists. Now, the odds are that nobody will notice. There's a whole lot wrong with this picture. Actually, when I think about it, what comes to mind is not Plato's Republic, but Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus. The stone really is at the bottom of the hill, and we the people really are alone. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

You expect politicians to do things to give their side partisan advantage, up to a point. Democrats would certainly draw congressional and legislative district boundaries to help them win more seats, if they had a chance. That's how the game is played. But this year, Senate Majority Leader Arlan Meekhof and his disciple, Senate Elections Chair Dave Robertson, have been shockingly open in not only their drive to make it harder to vote, but in showing utter contempt for the will of the people. They are about to ram a pair of bills through which they know Michiganders don't want, and they are cheerfully rigging the process to make sure we can't repeal them. First of all, you should know that most Republicans absolutely do not want to make it easier for people to vote. They know that in most cases, the more people vote, the better Democrats do. They also know that in most cases, more Democrats vote a straight ticket than Republicans. That's why the Dems won eight out of nine statewide education board seats last year. So it is not surprising that Meekhof and Robertson pushed through a bill to prevent people from checking a box and voting a straight ticket. Of course, they are blatantly lying about why they are doing this. They say voters should take time to study each race on the ballot, so that they can make informed choices about every contest. They know if people ever did that it would mean we'd stand in line for days. If they really wanted people to cast informed votes, they switch to a vote-by-mail system, the way they do in Oregon. That's the last thing Republicans want. They just hope Democrats who are not allowed to vote a straight ticket just ignore the lesser-profile races way down on the ballot. By the way, a similar effort is going on in Kansas – but with a twist. Kansas doesn't have straight ticket voting – but there, Republicans want to bring it back! Unlike Michigan, Kansas is a solidly Republican state, and the GOP feels they'd win more races that way. Michigan is exactly the opposite. But here's the really underhanded thing Republicans here are doing. They know voters don't want to lose this right. Twice before, Republicans have outlawed straight ticket voting – and each time, citizens have overturned their action with a statewide ballot initiative. So Republicans are attaching an unnecessary token appropriation to this bill, because under the Michigan Constitution, that takes away voters' ability to repeal any bill. That rule exists, by the way, to protect the budget process. Using it to stifle the people's will is a clear perversion of the Constitution's intent, and Meekhof and Robertson couldn't care less. They are doing something else equally underhanded; the House passed straight ticket voting only under the condition that we tie it to a bill making it easier for voters to get absentee ballots as well. Yesterday, Meekhof said he intends to separate these two bills, because he wants to make it harder, not easier, to vote absentee. Our only hope is that the House refuses to go along, or that the governor has the courage to stand up for democracy and veto these bills. In any event, we'll soon see. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

People have been living with cats and dogs probably as long as modern man has existed. Unfortunately, we often abuse our own species all too often, which, come to think of it, is what much of the news is usually about — and we aren't always good to the animals either. Cruelty and neglect are often tied to poverty, and it's not surprising that some of our biggest animal problems are on the mean streets of Detroit. There, for more than a century, the Michigan Humane Society has been doing what it can to save and rehome animals. There's always controversy, however, and especially perhaps in this age of the pit bull. Some people think all pit bulls and other dangerous breeds should be banned and euthanized. Others think the Humane Society doesn't do nearly enough to save animals. Recently I spent time with two very strong women I've each known for years, who both have dedicated much of their lives to animals. Jeanne Towar is a dynamic retired small newspaper publisher who is a board member of the Michigan Pet Fund Alliance. Their mission is "to end the killing of healthy and treatable homeless dogs and cats in Michigan." They think the Humane Society euthanizes far more animals than they need to, and believe more than ninety percent of them can be saved. Jennifer Rowell is still in her 30s, but has run the Humane Society's Detroit shelter for more than a decade. These are exciting times for her, because they are about to move. For decades they've been in a cramped century-old former piston factory. In two months, they will move to a beautiful and far larger, state of the art shelter now being built off I-75 near Hamtramck. Both sides acknowledge the Society is doing better than it once was at saving animals. However, they differ on the numbers. While Towar claims that the society still kills just over half the animals that come in, Rowell contends that the Detroit shelter places 91 percent of the animals that are considered treatable. I've seen a little of what she has to deal with. If I had her job, I would probably be an alcoholic. Rowell instead devotes herself to new ways to save animals. She gets cats that aren't completely feral, but aren't good choices to live in your house either; so she's working on promoting a "barn cat" or "warehouse cat" program; they are, after all, great safeguards against rats and mice. She thinks attempting to ban a specific breed is emotional and silly. "I would rather see a ban on how a dog is kept," she told me. Most of the dogs that've killed people were essentially yard dogs, she noted, animals that have little interaction with humans outside of the length of their chain or a fenced yard. Being shackled in a prison isn't designed to produce a psychologically healthy man or dog. Rowell has saved animals I would have thought hopeless, and helped make some people better too. She's now has the happy chore of hiring more staff for the new, much larger shelter. Nobody gets rich doing what they do, but they do make a difference. Which some of us think is what life should be about. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

This week, the Michigan House of Representatives is expected to take up a bill already passed by the Senate (SB 638) which has often been referred to as an attempt to enshrine the U.S. Supreme Court decision usually known as Citizens United into state law. That's a reference, of course, to the famous and controversial U.S. Supreme Court case, Citizens United v Federal Elections Commission. The nation's highest court decided six years ago that there could be essentially no restrictions on independent campaign spending by corporations and unions. That was hailed as a victory for free speech by some conservatives, and was greeted with dismay by those who wanted to try and limit the influence of money in politics. We currently have the most aggressively partisan legislature I can remember, and this year the Republicans, who have large majorities in both houses, have been working overtime to gain extra partisan advantage, as in passing a law to eliminate straight-ticket voting. I thought this so-called "Michigan Citizens' United bill" was more symbolic than anything else, and perhaps a little extra statewide insurance in case the Supreme Court decision was ever overturned by a Constitutional amendment or future high court ruling. But this weekend, Rich Robinson, who runs the non-partisan Michigan Campaign Finance Network, told me how wrong I was. This bill, would, Robinson told me, "eliminate a fundamental safeguard against corruption," by essentially wiping out almost any barriers between a candidate for office and a SuperPAC, or Political Action Committee that may be prepared to spend millions in support of its aims. Traditionally, such groups may spend on behalf of a candidate, but the candidate is not supposed to be involved with their efforts in any way. The idea has always been to prevent, say, the Enormous Steel Trust donating to Senate Candidate Jones with the implied or expressed clear understanding that if elected, Jones will vote against any restrictions on Big Steel. The bill would take away those safeguards, Robinson told me. It would revamp the whole notion of an "independent expenditure" to make that virtually meaningless. He said, "This bill specifically articulates the permissibility of a candidate raising unlimited contributions for a SuperPAC that will spend its funds to support that candidate." The bill would allow a candidate and a SuperPAC to share legal counsel and even a communications consultant. Now technically, it would still be against the rules for such a consultant to share information about the candidate's campaign plans to direct how the PAC spent money on the candidate's behalf – but that doesn't mean that couldn't happen with winks and nods. Robinson has spent years working for peanuts, dedicating himself to transparency and accountability in politics. For the last six dismal years, it's been a losing battle, from Citizens' United to Governor Rick Snyder going back on a transparency pledge, and signing a bill allowing the sources of so-called "dark money" campaign contributions to be hidden from the public. Now, if this bill becomes law, he told me it will be further corrosive of whatever integrity remains in state politics. His only hope is that the governor won't sign it. "I intend to let him know we're watching," he said. "Maybe it matters." We should find out soon. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Several of the many Republican candidates for President have been in Michigan lately, including Marco Rubio and John Kasich. They drew small but polite crowds. True, their visits are as much about fundraising as winning votes at this point, but all indications are that the vast majority of the population would have great difficulty recognizing them or articulating where they stand on any issue. And increasingly, when these so-called "mainstream" candidates are asked a question, it turns out to be something like, "what do you think of Donald Trump?" Nearly every morning, I turn on CNN and see some longtime Republican analyst talk about who will be nominated once Trump self-destructs. But earlier this week, I finally saw a reporter interrupt and say the polite, professional equivalent of "what have you been smoking?" It is now beginning to dawn on people that the Trump phenomenon is real, and seems to be getting bigger instead of fading. A while ago, it dawned on me that Michigan has someone for years whose public personality is much like Trump's. That would be Geoffrey Fieger, the flamboyant lawyer who once ran for governor himself. Fieger is politically Trump's polar opposite, but his twin in terms of style. I asked Fieger how he accounts for Trump's appeal. He said, "that's easy. The average guy looks at him and says, "He's got $4 billion dollars, so he has to know what he's talking about. He's (angry) and so am I." Fieger, of course, used somewhat stronger language. Actually, I have been expecting someone like Trump on the national stage for a long time. I went to elementary school with a kid I'll call Dennis, who wasn't much at academics but was superb at beating me up. Dennis got a job on the assembly line, and through our 20s, made far more than I did. Then came the auto industry crisis, and Dennis's good-paying job was gone. He had no skills beyond strapping on fenders. He lost his cottage and his boat and when I ran into him one summer was running around doing several menial jobs including delivering pizzas. He had no real idea what had happened, and I doubt would have appreciated a lecture on globalization. But some of his buddies might find it far easier to blame foreigners. Once, they blamed blacks and Japanese. Now, the fashion is to blame Muslims and terrorists. Our long and noble history as an asylum for refugees is very inspiring. That is, until we feel threatened. My nightmare scenario always has been that some group would simultaneously send guys with assault rifles into shopping malls in places like Bay City, Muskegon and Monroe. With our nerves jangled from the constant stress poured out over the 24 hour news channels, I really fear that would be the end of democracy in America. I've been talking to Democrats gleeful at the thought of Trump as the nominee, certain this brawling buffoon would go down in a landslide. However, I remember when people now old enough to be their parents were thrilled when the GOP nominated an old B-movie actor with "wacky right wing views" of his own. Ronald Reagan won 44 states that November. I'm beginning to think this could be a very interesting year. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.

Detroit's Public Schools are slowly dying. Those who run them would not use those words, but that's what is happening. The schools have lost sixty-five percent of their students in the last ten years, and have closed more than three-fifths of their buildings. There's some evidence of better management in the last year. Enrollment may have temporarily stabilized. The schools have shed some of the top-heavy central office bureaucracy that for years drained resources and messed with education. Other economic reforms are in place, and school officials say their budget would actually be balanced now if it wasn't for half a billion dollars in crippling legacy debt. But that debt isn't going away. And, thanks in large part to charter schools and the failing experiment known as the EAA, Detroit Public Schools are getting less than half the amount of money from the state they once did. DPS is on course to run out of cash well before the school year ends in June. Unless the state does something, it seems inevitable that the schools will spiral into bankruptcy. Bankruptcy worked for General Motors and the City of Detroit. But the schools are different. Bankruptcy would mean potentially shifting billions of dollars in short and long-term liabilities onto the taxpayers. Even after that, the state would still be constitutionally obligated to provide an education for the 47,000 students left in Detroit's Public Schools. Governor Rick Snyder has a proposed solution. He came up with a plan months ago to get the schools on a secure, long-term footing. He would consolidate DPS, his Education Achievement Authority, and the charters under a new umbrella Detroit Community School District. Detroit's public schools themselves would be split into two districts, much as GM was during its bankruptcy. The old district would be saddled mainly with paying off the debt; the new one with educating kids. The governor says he thinks this is a formula for "long-term success." However, he's been unable to get the legislature to give it the time of day. The big problem is that the plan would cost more than $700 million over the next decade. The outstate lawmakers who control both houses mostly have little inclination to help Detroit, much less its schools. Especially by taking school aid fund money away from other districts – their districts – which is what this would mean. The governor's proposal is going nowhere in the last days of this session. Next year is an election year, which means it will be even harder to do difficult things. To an extent, you can't blame the lawmakers for being skeptical. We've had a long line of emergency managers who promised to fix the schools but didn't. When the schools briefly returned to an elected board, it was worse. The schools' image is horrible. They were last in the news when it was discovered that one elementary school had no working toilets, and teachers had to march hundreds of kids to another building. But fixing the schools is terribly important. Detroit will never be able to really revive as a city without a public school system people trust, and Michigan will always be crippled until we have a fully functional Detroit. Somehow, we have to find a way to get this done. Jack Lessenberry is Michigan Radio's political analyst. Views expressed in his essays are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Michigan Radio, its management or the station licensee, The University of Michigan.