FILIBUSTERING: WHEN IN DOUBT, TRY OBSTRUCTION

The Founding Fathers didn't agree on everything when they met in Philadelphia in 1787 to write a new Constitution. Yes, they wanted a reasonably strong presidency. Yes, they wanted a vigorous House of Representatives directly answerable to the electorate. But there were deep divisions on the nature and composition of the Senate.

James Madison, the great advocate of a strong central government, wanted Senate seats allocated by population. The more conservative delegates to the convention wanted the small, agrarian states to have just as big a say as giant and heavily populated states like New York and Massachusetts.

Lest this whole vox populace business be carried to extremes, the founders preferred that the senators be selected by the state legislatures and not be subject to the passing radical whims of an unchecked populace. It wasn't until 1913 with the passage of the 17th Amendment that senators were required to be popularly elected.

From the beginning, the Senate was to be the brake on the potential of runaway government. If things ran amuck elsewhere, the Senate would be there to keep things in check.

The technique of filibustering, although not embedded into the constitutional underpinnings of the Senate, is consistent with the notion of constituting the Senate as the legislative body that would deliberate more slowly, take its time to consider the pros and cons, and not rush to judgment.

Filibusters were used most sparingly in the 19th century. They occurred a bit more often in the first half of he 20th century as individual Senators took the floor for incredibly long periods of time to dramatize certain specific issues -- and themselves. Robert LaFollette (D-Wis.) and Huey Long (D-La.), for example, could speak without end. In a quieter, slow-moving world, such forensic exercises were deemed newsworthy. Southern Senators excelled at talking long and saying little.

After World War II, as civil rights bills became a contentious focus of legislative attention, the filibuster came into its own as the artful means of opposition. It became the inevitable strategy of resistance. A civil rights filibuster was the predictable ritual of a legislative session. One could pretty well foresee when it would occur, how long it might last and what might be the legislative result at the end. One exception was the filibuster on the 1964 Civil Rights Bill, which lasted 75 days.

In more contemporary times, the filibuster became the customary means to bring the legislative train to a halt on any subject and any vote. The rule to terminate a filibuster was changed from two-thirds of those members present and voting to 60 members so as to make it a shade easier to terminate a filibuster. Even with that change, the frequency of filibusters escalated enormously in the 1970s and thereafter.

While there were but 16 filibusters in all of the 19th century, there were 60 in 1994 alone. Two senators (one on the floor and one in the bathroom), with skillful use of the rules can tie up the Senate for days. The majority leader, the Senate traffic cop, has to accede to their demand (perhaps a highway or bridge in a pork bill) or see the Senate schedule of business collapse.

This year, as the Senate came to a close, four filibusters were being conducted on four different bills simultaneously. The most noteworthy was the Lobby Reform Bill which would have tightened up on lobbying excesses requiring disclosure of expenditures and prohibiting outright gifts, trips, golf outings, and other gratuities to members of Congress. The Republican leader, Senator Bob Dole (R-Kan.) falsely labeled the bill as a threat to lobbying by God-fearing, church-going types.

When his filibuster succeeded, there was an outburst of cheers and yells of approval from the lobbyists stalking the hallways outside the Senate chamber. The business of lobbying would proceed, as usual, not subject to public scrutiny -- another victory for the discredited status quo.

Instead of a unique technique to be utilized sparingly in a distinctive set of circumstances, the filibuster today is a blunderbuss of incessant intimidation and obstructionism. It's rule or ruin; give me what I want or I'll throw a monkey wrench into the engine. Stop the world; I want to get off.

In most years, obstruction for the sake of obstruction would not play in Peoria. This year it seems to be playing well there -- and lots of other places.

~Tom Eagleton is a former U.S. senator from Missouri and a columnist for Pulitzer Publishing Co.