Sanford Bishop’s scholarships are not the real scandal
WASHINGTON — As Congressional scandals go, the controversy over scholarships handed out by U.S. Rep. Sanford Bishop (D-Ga.) won’t merit even a footnote in the history books. The nepotism involved has been a hot topic for Bishop’s challenger, Republican Mike Keown, but it’s hardly destined to become legend. There will be no “scholarship-gate.”
Bishop has acknowledged his error — “It was clearly a mistake,” he told me Monday — in giving privately-funded scholarships to his stepdaughter and his wife’s niece. He said he has repaid $6,350 to the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation, which funnels about $10,000 annually to each CBC member, allowing them to dole out the awards.
Meanwhile, U.S. Rep. Donald Payne (D-N.J.), chairman of the foundation, promised Politico — which first reported Bishop’s largess to family members — an “extensive audit” of the scholarship program by the end of the year. That’s appropriate, too — as far as it goes.
Unfortunately, neither Bishop’s apology nor Payne’s audit gets to the root of the bigger problem reflected by those scholarships: The CBC, like the rest of Congress, is awash in special interest money that influences votes, grants privileges to the powerful and detracts from the people’s business. Rather than auditing the scholarship program, the foundation should abandon it — along with the galas, dinners and other perquisites it funds with donations from big corporations.
Bishop’s awards to his wife’s family attracted attention because they adhere to a narrative that cynical voters can easily follow: Politicians come here and forget about serving the public, instead falling into the established ritual of helping themselves to perks. An egregious recent example of self-dealing was the ethics breach by GOP gubernatorial candidate Nathan Deal, who, as a member of Congress, met with Georgia officials to preserve a no-bid state contract for his private business. That sort of blatant self-enrichment, however, is rare.
Much more common are the galas and grand events paid for by a Congress that has sold itself to the highest bidders — including Wall Street bankers, oil and gas companies and pharmaceutical companies. And let’s not leave out beverage makers such as Coca-Cola, liquor and tobacco companies or Wal-Mart.
Consider the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation, which was the subject of a scathing February 2010 report by The New York Times. The story painted a picture of a supposedly philanthropic non-profit which sucks up money from corporations as varied as the Southern Company and Eli Lilly and uses it to pay for party-filled conventions, golf outings, casino trips and, yes, a few scholarships here and there. (According to the Times, the foundation “spent more on the caterer for its signature legislative dinner and conference — nearly $700,000. . . — than it gave out in scholarships” in 2008.)
And what do those corporations get for their money? They purchase the opportunity to influence votes on matters important to them. Representatives for several big companies sit on the board of the foundation.
That sort of coziness with corporate lobbyists isn’t restricted to black members of Congress, by any means. Take a look at Georgia’s senior senator, Republican Saxby Chambliss. The political action committee that he heads, the Republican Majority Fund, collects donations from military contractors, agribusinesses and financial institutions, among others, according to Atlanta Journal-Constitution reporter Alan Judd.
Ranked as one of the best golfers in Washington, Chambliss used the fund to pay for 20 golfing outings with lobbyists between 2005 and 2008, Judd reported. In Sept. 2008, as the nation’s financial system was teetering on the brink of collapse, Chambliss was feted by banking lobbyists. Though many banks were struggling, the Majority Fund collected $22,500, according to Judd.
That kind of transaction is perfectly legal. And that’s the real scandal.
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