Looking for the Loopholes

By DOUGLAS WALLER/WASHINGTON

Like the hero of a paperback thriller, campaign-finance reform keeps dodging bullets. Legislation meant to clean up the political-money game was almost left for dead last summer, but the Enron scandal revived it again. And last Wednesday evening the bill survived yet another near-death experience, when its backers in the House went head-to-head with one of their most powerful opponents, the National Rifle Association. Republicans, led by Tom DeLay, the majority whip from Sugar Land, Texas, offered a clever "poison pill" amendment that would have exempted gun-rights groups from the bill's limits on paid issues advertising. If the amendment passed, it could have killed the entire bill by forcing it into a House-Senate conference, where opponents could bottle it up forever. N.R.A. lobbyists swarmed through the Capitol, warning Democrats and Republicans alike that they would pay dearly if they voted against the amendment. But the reformers rallied again. Senator John McCain, his nose bandaged because of a recent skin-cancer surgery, camped out in an office on the House side of the Capitol--across the hall from DeLay's suite--and pleaded with Republican supporters not to break ranks. House minority leader Dick Gephardt, hobbled by a recent hernia operation, phoned more than 30 Democrats to stanch defections.

On the House floor, the wily DeLay hunched over a computer screen, tracking the votes of G.O.P. Congressmen. His Democratic counterpart, California Representative Nancy Pelosi--undertaking her first big assignment as the new minority whip--darted around the chamber, keeping wavering Democrats from changing their mind. As time ran out on the vote, DeLay looked back at the rear door to see if any more stragglers were coming. Finally, he drew a finger across his throat: the signal to end the vote tally. The poison pill failed by a narrow 219-to-209 vote.

A cheer went up among the reformers, and eight hours later--just before 3 a.m. Thursday--the House finally passed the campaign-finance bill, as 41 Republicans defied threats from their party leaders and voted for the measure. Sponsored by Democrat Martin Meehan and Republican Christopher Shays, the bill would ban unlimited and unregulated "soft money" donations, $500 million of which were raised and spent in the 2000 election. "This changes the architecture of American politics," said Gephardt, bleary eyed and still aching from his operation on the day after the vote. "This bill will allow the people to be heard again."

Not quite yet. The Senate put through its version of the bill last year, but now Democrats in that chamber must pass the House version so the bill isn't sent to conference, where it might languish. Senate Republicans will try to filibuster that vote, but majority leader Tom Daschle believes he has the 60 votes needed to end debate and get the bill to the White House by early next month. Chastened by the Enron scandal, George W. Bush is expected to sign it. He opposed the measure during his primary battle with McCain, but he would rather ride a train than be run over by it. Last week he enraged House Speaker Dennis Hastert by barely lifting a finger to fight the bill.

If the President does sign it, the reform still won't take hold right away. It was carefully designed not to kick in until after the Nov. 5 election. That way, the parties--which have been stockpiling hundreds of millions of dollars since last year--need not surrender that cash before the upcoming battle for control of Congress. The Democratic National Committee also has $30 million in soft money that it plans to spend quickly for a new headquarters. "It reminds me of the old drunk who swears he will quit drinking tomorrow, but he's going to get drunk tonight," says Representative Tom Davis, who chairs the National Republican Congressional Committee, the fund-raising arm for the House G.O.P.

After Nov. 5, however, the bill would have a dramatic effect--preventing corporations, unions and fat cats from writing million-dollar checks to buy influence with the parties. (Enron and its affiliates, for example, spent over $2 million in soft money for the 2000 elections.) But just as water tends to find ways to flow, "money will still get to the campaigns," predicts a G.O.P. fund raiser. Special-interest groups wouldn't be able to use soft money to broadcast attacks on radio or TV just before an election, but the bill doesn't prevent them from putting that cash into direct-mail, e-mails or get-out-the-vote campaigns against a candidate. The soft-money spigot would be shut for the parties, but more regulated "hard money" would be allowed to pour in. Under the bill, a donor could give $2,000 to a single candidate and a maximum of $95,000 to different candidates and party organizations during a two-year election cycle. That's almost double the current hard-money limits. The new power brokers will be well-heeled types "who can bring in a lot of $2,000 checks from their friends," says a senior official at the Democratic National Committee.

That may explain why Bush isn't too bothered by a soft-money ban. For his 2004 re-election bid, the President is likely to have a huge hard-money advantage--in his first presidential bid, some 200 Bush "Pioneers" each raised $100,000 in $1,000 increments from friends--and the soft-money ban would make it hard for Democrats to catch up. Already the Dems are scrambling to narrow the huge Republican lead in hard money. The Democrats' new headquarters will have high-tech computers to help reach more of the $2,000-range donors.

The last time Congress passed sweeping campaign-finance reform was in 1974, after the Watergate scandal. But the big bucks have long since crept back in. "Any campaign-finance reform law works for a period of time," says Anthony Corrado, a Colby College professor of government. "But it has to be revisited from time to time, or the money will find ways to get back into the system." If Shays-Meehan becomes law, it should help clean up the money game, at least until its reforms are slowly strangled by loopholes. That's a noble fate for a bill that has been so often given up for dead.