Opinion

Sen. Leland Yee case illustrates culture of corruption

California state Sen. Leland Yee leaves the Phillip Burton Federal Building and United States Courthouse after a bond hearing on Monday, March 31, 2014, in San Francisco, Calif. California state Sen. Leland Yee leaves the Phillip Burton Federal Building and United States Courthouse after a bond hearing on Monday, March 31, 2014, in San Francisco, Calif. Photo: Lea Suzuki, The Chronicle Buy photo Photo: Lea Suzuki, The Chronicle Image 1 of / 1 Caption Close Sen. Leland Yee case illustrates culture of corruption 1 / 1 Back to Gallery

The culture of corruption that has led to the paid suspensions of three Democratic state senators facing serious criminal charges does not begin and end in the state Capitol. It infects the political process from the moment a candidate announces his or her intention to run for office.

It's one of the prices we pay for a democracy that is increasingly driven by special-interest money.

While the indictment of Sen. Leland Yee, D-San Francisco, has many outlandish elements - gun trafficking, drugs, alleged ties to East Coast mobsters and Philippine rebels - also striking is the extent to which some of the suspected crimes are so parallel to the everyday activities in Sacramento.

Are we really supposed to be shocked that Yee allegedly delivered an official Senate proclamation in honor of the Ghee Kung Tong - organization of suspected crime kingpin Raymond "Shrimp Boy" Chow - in return for a $6,800 campaign donation set up in the FBI sting? Isn't pay to play simply the way things work in the state Capitol?

Of course it is. I can't count the number of times we've editorialized about politicians doing the wrong thing - or at least the unexpected thing - with an obvious money trail before or afterward. Yee figured in a number of those pieces, regarding bills on gas prices, agricultural air pollution and toxic baby products.

The distinction is all about whether the quid pro quo is presented or merely implied. In the vast majority of cases, it's only implied, which makes it all legal, though no less stinky.

"This is how I explain it to my students," said longtime strategist Dan Schnur, now a public policy instructor at USC, who is running as an independent for secretary of state. "It's perfectly legal for a legislator to say to a special interest: 'I'm deciding whether or not to vote for your bill. My, what a beautiful sunset tonight. By the way, are you coming to my fundraiser tomorrow?'

"As long as the politician mentions the sunset between those two subjects ... he's in the clear."

Again, the game begins long before a legislator is sworn into office. As I have been detailing in recent weeks, candidates are routinely issued questionnaires by special interests that are seeking policy pledges far more consequential than whether Shrimp Boy's organization is a community asset. For example, labor unions are looking for written commitments from potential elected officials to support and meddle in future strikes, to oppose contracting out for services and to block pension reforms.

Steve Glazer, a centrist Democrat running for Assembly in the East Bay, has refused to fill out any secret questionnaires - which has cost him dearly in endorsements and donations among traditional liberal groups. He has counted more than 600 questions in the 25 questionnaires he has received.

Make no mistake: The quid pro quo in those surveys is implicit. If you answer the right way, the endorsement and money will follow.

"I think we should view these as solicitations for campaign funds," said Derek Cressman, a Democratic candidate for secretary of state who has taken the unusual and highly refreshing step of posting his filled-out questionnaires on his campaign website.

Cressman is absolutely right in saying there is nothing wrong with making a campaign promise, even if it is made in hopes of attracting financial support. Candidates should tell voters what they intend to do if elected. But here's the key point: Voters deserve to know what promises are being made. Hence my proposal to require candidates to disclose any questionnaires or other written promises they have made to donors over a certain dollar limit.

With Yee, the question keeps coming up: How could he be so stupid? The 137-page indictment quotes him on multiple occasions acknowledging that overt pay to play is against the law.

Perhaps the fact that the indictment has not come sooner is just a matter of luck. Yee has a history of playing fast and loose with what appears for all the world to be transactional legislating. One of the goofier bills he ever introduced was his late-session attempt in July 2006 to jam through a scheme to allow racetracks to offer video-gambling machines that used footage of past horse races. To define these slot-like devices as an extension of horse racing, as Yee's AB2409 attempted to do, was just laughable.

Months earlier, Yee had rather inexplicably received four-digit campaign contributions from major tracks up and down the state: Hollywood Park, Del Mar, Los Alamitos, Santa Anita and Golden Gate Fields.

When I asked him about this curious juxtaposition of contributions and his sudden championing of the issue, Yee insisted there was "absolutely not" a connection and he never discussed the matter with industry representatives until after that June's election. The good news is that the bill was shelved by Yee's weary colleagues.

I'll leave it to readers to decide if acceptance of Yee's explanation requires a certain suspension of disbelief. Perhaps those racetracks just had a wild hunch that the San Francisco senator would lend a sympathetic ear to their pitch, and perhaps Yee came to an epiphany on his own about how these lowbrow machines could help resuscitate the sport of kings.

It's not hard to imagine how Yee ended up on the feds' radar.

The corruption scandals of Leland Yee and Ron Calderon and felony perjury conviction of Roderick Wright are repugnant, and a disgrace to the Senate. But the public trust is also compromised by the secret promises and everyday transactions that are made within the letter of the law.