Picking battles
Paul Cellucci's wavering liberal principles, Jim Kelly's race initiative that
isn't, and JP's special election
Talking Politics by Michael Crowley
Paul Cellucci's selection of former state senator Jane Swift as his running
mate Monday was yet another appeal to the moderate, soccer-mom vote he'll need
to win November's gubernatorial election. Young and relatively inexperienced,
Swift was clearly chosen for the principal function of standing next to
Cellucci and . . . being female.
This is nothing new from the acting governor. The budget proposal Cellucci
released last week was a poll-tested spending spree with all the stuff that
plays great in the voter-rich suburbs, such as $40 million for expanded
daycare and another $40 million to hire new teachers.
Indeed Cellucci's political identity has long been rooted in his social
liberalism -- his advocacy for the rights of women and gays in particular. It
is Cellucci who is often said to have pulled Bill Weld leftward on social
policy.
But hold on. Cellucci also faces a tough conservative challenge for the
Republican nomination. And even as he plays Mr. Nice Guy, there have been a
couple of subtle, less-noticed signs that Cellucci may be toning down his
commitment -- long believed to be nonnegotiable -- to abortion rights and gay
rights.
First, Cellucci revealed in early January that his pro-choice credentials have
their limits, saying that he supports a ban on the procedure known to its
opponents as "partial-birth" abortion. Cellucci says he would make an exception
for a threat to the mother's life, but not for one to her health. This stance
was certainly news to the state's pro-choice warriors, who consider the
partial-birth abortion debate a guise for smothering abortion rights in
general.
Last week, Cellucci again gave some old allies an unpleasant surprise by
sidestepping an issue that tops the agenda of Massachusetts's gay-rights
activists: health-insurance benefits for domestic partners. While the
partial-birth abortion battle is a nasty and complex business, domestic
partnership is a much easier call -- and Cellucci's position is far more
difficult to understand.
Currently, the state will extend health-insurance benefits to an employee's
spouse. But Massachusetts doesn't recognize same-sex marriage. So although they
work just as hard as anyone else, gay and lesbian employees of the state can't
obtain health benefits for their partners -- benefits that are worth thousands
of dollars annually and that some of the state's largest employers, like
BankBoston, already provide.
Last Thursday, the state senate passed a bill that would correct this
injustice. For gay-rights activists, it was a hard-fought, uplifting victory.
Winning the approval of the more conservative House would be a harder task,
they figured, but at least an old comrade like Paul Cellucci would be on their
side, right?
Not so fast. Not only has Cellucci shown no active support for the
domestic-partners legislation, the early response from his office last week
suggested that he might not even sign such a bill.
"I think we'd have to wait and see if it gets that far in the legislature," a
Cellucci flack told the Boston Globe. "It could be very expensive."
Given another opportunity to elaborate this week, the governor's office
demurred: "We haven't looked at it, and we haven't analyzed it," says Cellucci
spokesman Jose Juves.
That's not flat-out opposition. But it's hardly the kind of leadership that
has rightly won Cellucci goodwill from liberals who disagree with him on issues
like tax cuts and the death penalty.
"I'm very surprised that he's not coming out instinctively in support of
this," says Sean Cahill, chair of the Lesbian and Gay Political Alliance of
Massachusetts. "It was just sort of assumed that he would."
"It was surprising and disappointing," says Mark Merante, chairman of the gay
and lesbian group Bay State Democrats. "And it does not help in terms of the
work we have to do now in getting this through the House."
Cellucci appears to be using the bill's cost as grounds for concern. But
that's a red herring; 1997 estimates by the state's Group Insurance Commission
placed the tab at between $1 million and $3.3 million per year. Even
Senate Ways and Means chairman Stanley Rosenberg's maximum estimate, of
$14.4 million per year, amounts to less than one tenth of
1 percent of the state's $18 billion budget.
What all this seems to be about is election-year jockeying -- and, in
particular, Cellucci's fear of state treasurer Joe Malone, his opponent for the
GOP nomination. Malone's strategy has been to snipe at Cellucci from the right,
painting him as un-Republican before the party's conservative-activist core. So
far, it's been working. Given the weakness of the Democratic field, Malone may
now be Cellucci's biggest obstacle to a November victory.
And so Cellucci throws bones to the conservatives on abortion and gay rights.
But he'd better be careful. Not only does this tactic threaten to make bad
policy, it's bad politics, too.
As Sean Cahill puts it: "Paul Cellucci is making a mistake if he thinks he can
get elected without the gay and lesbian vote. I think he will do the right
thing ultimately because he's a decent person, but I also think that it's
politically in his best interest."
It's been a month since Boston City Council president James Kelly's call for a
new "dialogue on race" within the city. And the early score is: Jimmy Kelly 1,
racial healing 0.
In a January 5 speech after his reelection as council president, Kelly, a
former leader of South Boston's angry anti-busing movement, invoked President
Clinton's "national conversation on race" and proclaimed that he wanted the
council "to embark on such a course" in 1998.
If Kelly does aspire to run for mayor or even Congress someday, as some
suggest, he couldn't have paid the Boston Globe to put a better spin on
his remarks. REELECTED COUNCIL CHIEF VOWS RACIAL HEALING IN CITY, cheered the
Globe on January 6. KELLY OVERTURE STIRS HOPES, was the page-one story
three days later. In between, there was a January 7 editorial, particularly
promising for anyone possibly eyeing higher office: KELLY'S WIDENING SENSE OF
CONSTITUENCY. All told, Kelly's slightly refashioned repetition of old
parochial Southie mantras came across like I Have a Dream II.
What's amazing is that Kelly hasn't altered his basic philosophy at all. Nor
does he even pretend to have done so. Kelly continues his long-time insistence
that kids attend schools in their own neighborhoods, but offers no ideas for
solving the disastrous inequity that once consigned black students to wretched
schools and prompted busing in the first place. He still wants to change
public-housing policy "so people can live in the neighborhood where they want
to live." To him, the difference is that the city's blacks now agree with him.
The trouble is, as even the Globe conceded: "They don't."
In other words, things haven't changed a bit -- except now Kelly is standing
up and saying they have.
"In all frankness, I thought the reaction to that particular speech was as if
people had heard a different speech than I heard," say City Councilor Thomas
Keane. "Jimmy has many times before talked about those particular issues. It
was not a racial-healing speech."
Even Kelly seemed caught off-guard by the Globe's love-in. When the
Phoenix checked in with him this week, he admitted that the race
initiative was on the back burner.
"I'm still playing catch-up, so it probably won't happen until spring at the
earliest," said Kelly, citing plans for a new convention center and waterfront
development in South Boston as his immediate priorities. "I think because it
received some media attention, the issue was getting a little bit ahead of
where I am, and exactly how I'm going to propose my ideas."
Kelly's only had a month to get the '98 city council organized, so it's too
early to say gotcha! on his inaction. But harder to figure is the way
Kelly not only failed to calm a burst of racial tension just days after his
speech -- but intensified it. When three white teenagers charged with hate
crimes got their families evicted from a South Boston housing project last
month, the city's newest racial healer cranked up the incendiary rhetoric. "An
act of viciousness, an act of hatred," Kelly fumed to the Boston
Herald.
Presumably Kelly agrees that the attack, in which the white teens allegedly
kicked and punched a young Hispanic mother, was also an act of viciousness and
hatred. Why he wouldn't make more of an effort to say so is puzzling.
This sort of selective outrage is great for whipping up emotions in Kelly's
Southie district. But when asked to respond to the idea that there might be
some conflict between his pitched rhetoric on the evictions and his call for a
racial dialogue, Kelly bristles. "I'll talk to you later," he says. And
forebodingly, perhaps, he brings the conversation to an abrupt end.