THE DAY TOM DASCHLE WAS ELECTED Senate minority leader in November 1994, he pledged independence from the Clinton administration. He was as good as his word this past December 30, when the House passed a measure that would have sent federal employees back to work. The measure had the tacit support of the Clinton administration — but Daschle would have none of it. He called it a ” sham” and a “facade,” and his opposition killed it in the Senate.
For all Daschle’s talk of independence, however, this last-minute break with the White House was exceptional. Throughout 1995, he was a staunch administration ally. During meetings over the government shutdown, he allowed White House chief of staff Leon Panetta to be the lead negotiator. And he vigorously championed the administration’s view that Congressional Budget Office forecasts could no longer be trusted.
This maneuvering came at the end of a year in which the minority leader’s influence steadily increased. When Congress convened in January, Daschle, then just 47, was in over his head. He had won the leadership position by a single vote over Chris Dodd of Connecticut (though Daschle had spent eight months campaigning for the job, Dodd just 23 days). And Daschle had an additional handicap: He had never served in the minority, having been elected to the Senate in 1986. Thus, when legislation began making its way through the Senate early in the year, Republicans watched with amusement as Daschle struggled to contain the GOP juggernaut. “He was like a puppy dog lost in the park,” recalls a Senate aide.
The inexperienced Daschle was almost totally eclipsed by Robert Byrd during the early debates over the balanced budget amendment and unfunded mandates. A former Democratic majority leader and the reigning expert on the Senate’s byzantine parliamentary rules, Byrd occasionally lectured Daschle on the Senate floor. At one point during the unfunded mandates debate, Byrd inquired, “Where’s our leader?”
Byrd has been but one hindrance to Daschle’s effectiveness as minority leader. In a Senate populated by Democrats who profess little party allegiance and feel growing frustration with the White House, Daschle “can only reflect the lack of consensus,” says Democratic consultant Ted Van Dyk. Another complication was a messy ethics investigation. In February, 60 Minutes aired a segment on the fatal crash of a small charter aircraft owned by a friend of Daschle’s. The segment focused on the senator, who, at his friend’s behest, had sought to transfer responsibility for inspecting such aircraft from the Forest Service to the supposedly laxer Federal Aviation Administration. Daschle released a 31-page report defending his intervention, and on November 30 the Senate Ethics Committee dismissed the complaint. But the episode distracted him from Senate business off and on for nine months.
Where Daschle has been effective, it’s been partly thanks to his chief counsel, John Hilley, who was chief of staff for the previous majority leader, George Mitchell, and is slated to be the next congressional affairs liaison in the Clinton White House. Daschle has drawn on Hilley’s understanding of legislative and leadership issues to thwart the GOP. He has also foiled the Republicans in another way: Dole and others say they often find it excruciatingly difficult to negotiate with Daschle because they are never sure he has the support from Senate Democrats to live up to his end of a bargain.
One issue where Daschle succeeded in holding the Democrats together is regulatory reform. He labored mostly behind the scenes and at the request of the White House. The president is in a no-win situation if the bill lands on his desk: Signing it would alienate the party’s influential green constituency, while a veto would undermine Clinton’s effort to be seen as pro-business. So Daschle has striven to keep the bill from coming up for a vote, repeatedly cornering pro-reform Democrats such as Chuck Robb of Virginia and J. Bennett Johnston of Louisiana. Frustrated Republicans cite Daschle’s legwork as the reason regulatory reform isn’t likely to pass anytime soon.
Daschle’s all-out effort on this issue is reminiscent of Mitchell’s now-legen dary blocking of a capital-gains tax cut in 1989. But there aren’t many paralle ls between the two. Unlike Mitchell, Daschle is well liked by senators in both parties. His non-threatening demeanor, coupled with his endless back-scratching, endears him. It has also facilitated his rapid rise. Daschle is the prototypical professional politician. He was president of the Young Democrats in college, an intelligence officer in the Air Force, a Senate aide, then a member of Congress. Once in the Senate, Daschle befriended Mitchell and supported him in his 1988 race for majority leader. Later, Mitchell named Daschle head of the influential Senate Democratic policy committee.
Yet except for agriculture, obligatory for a senator from South Dakota, Daschle is not identified with any particular issue. Indeed, for someone who has spent 17 years in Congress, he has a remarkably slim record of legislative achievement. He has never even chaired a full committee in either house. Ideology isn’t the explanation: Daschle is comfortably moderate-to-liberal. He endorsed Richard Gephardt in the 1988 presidential campaign, and in May 1990 he signed up with the Coalition for Democratic Values, a liberal advocacy group formed by now-retired senator Howard Metzenbaum to offset the centrist Democratic Leadership Council.
In his Senate role, Daschle will never be a George Mitchell, much less a Lyndon Johnson. He is far closer in temperament to former House speaker Tom Foley. He is deferential with Democratic senators, who are said to appreciate his manner after the high-handedness of a Mitchell or Byrd. As long as there is a Democrat in the White House and an aggressive Republican legislative agenda to unite Democrats in opposition, the gentle Daschle is secure. Remove either or both of those, and he may get swallowed up by any one of the Senate’s other highly ambitious Democrats.
by Matthew Rees
