It is the eve of election day, and I'm putting up a post I wrote three weeks ago. It's about as good a way to defibrillate my blog as any.
Actually, it isn't. Practically nobody would seem to give a bat's ass about Proposition 20. I would probably do better to talk about Proposition 19, the most newsworthy and groundbreaking ballot measure up for California in November. And rest assured, I have opinions on that. But they are neither inventive or interesting. Truth be told, I'm most excited about Proposition 21, which would give me a great excuse to spend more time on Mount Diablo. But again, that's about the depth of my interest there. I doubt I could go on at great length on that subject.
No, instead I suppose I'll prattle on about Proposition 20. Which, to a more casual observer, holds little interest save possibly for odd timing which places it on the same ballot as Proposition 27. Both measures seek to enact mutually exclusive provisions; only one can pass. And in the event that both are approved by voters, only the one with the most votes will become law.
It's a fun twist, but even this isn't what I'm interested in here.
I will certainly vote against Prop 27. All Prop 27 does is repeal a measure that I voted for in 2008, Prop 11. Which is really where this whole narrative takes off (in case you're having trouble keeping all these numbers straight). Prop 11 took the power to redistrict California's state legislature away from that same legislature, and gave it to an independent commission. Which is an idea that I am, in principle, entirely for. I believe I have mentioned that I am somewhat of a political independent. And while most (but not all) of my political positions can be said to fall on the left side of the spectrum, this does not mean that I have any admiration for the Democratic Party that (sometimes) champions those causes. I will vote for their candidates -- often -- but I find the party itself only marginally more palatable than their frenemies across the aisle. So any measure that wrests power either from that party or the other, as Proposition 11 did in 2008, has my vote. And any transparent attempt to return that power to that party, a la this year's Proposition 27, does not.
But for some reason, Proposition 20 is not so cut and dry for me. Essentially, it is just a simple extension of Prop 11, setting up an independent committee to determine the redistricting of California's congressional districts. The stakes are perhaps a bit higher, but my independent philosophies do not really make a distinction between our state legislature and our congressional delegation; both need to be freed from the tight grip of our two-party system, particularly where boundaries are concerned. But that's just it. It's a problem that Prop 20 has and that Prop 11 had, and I just didn't see it until I really took a hard look. Both of these measures, in kind of a twisted way, actually empower the two-party system in a way that the old system doesn't.
These independent commissions require partisanship. Fourteen members, of whom five must be Democrats, five must be Republicans, and four must be either independents or members of third parties. At least three from each group must approve a final redistricting plan. I like the independent part, but I don't like the language which essentially requires political party participation. It enshrines the two party system in a way that the United States constitution does not, and that George Washington wouldn't have dreamed of. Nor would he have dreamed of California being a state. The biggest state no less. I suppose I digress. My point is, institutionalized partisanship simply rubs me the wrong way.
And yet, how else can an independent counsel operate under our current political situation? All independents? But what if all turned out to be left-leaning, or all right-leaning, and how would you prevent that sort of thing? And worse, what of all the Democrats and Republicans in California who wouldn't have a voice in redistricting? I may hate their party apparatus, but I hold no grudge against the people themselves, surely not to the point of shutting them out politically. On that note, if we are to discuss people being properly represented in these independent committees, why this 5-5-4 ratio? There are quite a few more Democrats than Republicans in this state. According to this poll I dug up, California is about 37% Democratic, 31% Republican, and 21% Independent. Throwing the remainders (likely third party members) to the independents, and sticking to a 14 person committee, that would leave 5.18 democrats, 4.34 republicans, and 4.48 independents. And this is using 2005 numbers; the Democrats gained a wider party advantage in 2008, though perhaps they have lost some of it since. Of course, allowing one party more power in an alleged independent counsel would allow that party to sway the results. And then we're back where we started.
I suppose what it comes down to here is this: there is no good solution toward untangling party influence from redistricting efforts. And essentially, I'm taking out my political party frustrations on a bill that is at least attempting to address these concerns. I don't love Proposition 21. But does it beat the hell out of the status quo? Almost certainly.
Of course, what they really need to do is commission an "independent committee" to write a computer algorithm. Have it take into account population swells and ebbs by region. Have it group constituencies as best it can by economic and political interests. Have it empower no political party more than the state's party identification would suggest it should. And let each party get equally angry about its tough decisions.
That would be perfect. Proposition 20 is merely okay. But I guess it's a possible step toward that direction. I should just be thankful that I live in a state whose voters are willing to experiment with independent committees, jungle primaries, and time-traveling Austrian robot governors. Insert "but not Prop 8" snark here.
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