COMMENTARY
Donn Esmonde: Paterson takes swing at reform
The man with the toughest job in the state came to its poorest city Wednesday. David Paterson wants to return some semblance of democracy to New York. He wants to reverse — or, at least, to slow down — the forces that scare off business and prompt the job-hungry to flee upstate in droves.
We have heard it all before, from governor after governor. Paterson said he will cure Albany’s high-tax, free-spending addiction. He claims to know how to get Albany to work for, instead of against, most of us.
Hope is a scarce commodity these days. Paterson’s predecessor, Eliot Spitzer — the political caped crusader, the so-called Sheriff of Wall Street — rode to office on a promise to break the petrified politics of Albany. He lasted barely 14 months, his power sapped even before we learned of his hidden taste for high-priced call girls.
Paterson is a different animal than Spitzer. He is a creature of Albany, a longtime legislator who claims his knowledge of the system makes him the perfect infiltrator; the governor-as- Trojan-horse. He sounds like he means it, and — as governor — he cannot afford not to. Unless the bleeding stops, it will be his head on the platter.
The odds are against him. A multitude of special interests, from municipal-worker unions to the construction trades to trial lawyers, use campaign donations and lobbyist muscle to shape policies that suit their members. The rest of us pay the price in spiraling taxes and a consequent job exodus. Unless that system changes, nothing changes — and upstate will continue to empty as if somebody pulled a giant fire alarm.
“There definitely has to be a change in the [political] culture,” Paterson conceded.
He is a slight, quiet man with a sly intelligence who walks into a room as if on tiptoe. He said Wednesday that Spitzer’s frontal assault on the 212-member State Legislature, a strategy of publicly shaming those who defied his call for change, merely unified the enemy.
“You cannot attack [legislators], because they have their own [power],” said Paterson, “and you have to respect that.”
Paterson favors negotiation, not confrontation. He believes that most legislators come to Albany for the right reasons, then find out that independence comes at a price. Defying the party boss — Shelly Silver for Democrats, Dean Skelos (who recently replaced Joe Bruno) for Republicans — means exile to a closet-sized office, or the loss of the coveted personal parking spot, or denial of a salary- padding committee slot. One way or another, mavericks get the message: Go along to get along, or you will be gone.
“The majority [of legislators] are not strong enough to resist a process that in many respects causes people to lose their self-esteem,” Paterson said.
Paterson believes that he can work the room. He thinks that the coming hard times will force party bosses and their disciples to the table, where he can bargain for some changes and strong-arm for others. By going public with what he wants — from spending cuts to a property-tax cap — he thinks he can inject stiffness into legislators’ spines. Given the failure of Spitzer’s hand-to-hand combat, Paterson’s stealth approach is at least worth a try.
“None of these people are profiles in courage,” Paterson said. “Once they see which way the momentum is going, they will bend with it.”
Paterson already claims small victories, from tougher lending laws (overcoming friction from banker-friendly Senate Republicans) to stricter standards for teachers (despite their coziness with Assembly Democrats).
Still, it is hard to believe that one person — even a governor — can change a petrified system. Paterson has the toughest job in New York, and a long way to go before people stop packing their bags.
