Vermont’s Two-Year Term Is Not the Problem

Vermont’s political establishment has often advocated extending the terms of office for some or all statewide offices from two to four years. Today, that group includes Tim Ashe, Senator from Chittenden County and Senate president pro tempore.

1983 Graphic, Vermont Council for Democracy

Ashe, a close political ally of Bernie Sanders who is proposing four constititutional amendments, argues that Vermont's governor should have a four-year term. More would be accomplished, he suggests, if governors did not have to seek re-election so often. This is not a new idea. The surprise is that it is coming this time from a Progressive, albeit one of several who also runs as a Democrat.

In the late 1950s a Commission to Study State Government — known as the “Little Hoover Commission” for its similarity to a federal effort in the 1940s led by the former Republican president — concluded that forcing candidates to campaign for re-election so often was a waste of money and detrimental to the state’s welfare. 

The necessary constitutional amendment failed in the legislature. But the idea was brought back repeatedly over the next decades. In 1974, at the height of the Watergate scandal, it was voted down on Town Meeting Day.

In his 1983 inaugural address, Governor Richard Snelling nevertheless recommended four-year terms for the governor and lieutenant governor “as a team.” His rationale was that the “structure and complexity of our society and the value of experienced administrative leadership” had increased. Leaders of both the Republican and Democratic Party supported the proposal, citing the increased expense of campaigns and the need for more continuity in program implementation.

At first passage seemed assured. But criticism surfaced at a public hearing. Political Scientist Frank Bryan argued that voting for governor every two years tends to “keep the chief executive’s attention on campaign promises made” and serves as a way of make “mid-course corrections.” A four year term, he said, would strengthen the executive branch without helping the legislature to balance that power.

James Guest, Gov. Madeleine Kunin’s Secretary of Development at the time and soon to be elected Secretary of State, was vocally opposed to the change. In response to the argument that running every two years is inconvenient, he replied at the hearing, “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. No one ever said political life was convenient or easy.”

Guest also noted that “it’s a safe bet that many governors in the middle of a four-year term may well run for Congress or the U.S. Senate. The incentive may even be greater because they’ve got a safe job to go back to if they lose...”

He concluded: “No one has shown me that Massachusetts or New York or California or Alaska or any other state has a more efficient, more representative government because they’ve got four-term terms. I’ll take Vermont over any of them.”

When it was finally brought to a vote, the four-term term failed again. But several months later the Democrats took control of the Vermont Senate and Madeleine Kunin became governor.  And she made a Constitutional Amendment to establish four-year terms for statewide officials a priority. 

Supporters of the idea, which was eventually abandoned, included former office-holders and people expressing concern about the increasing expense of campaigns. On the other hand, The Burlington Free Press had joined the opposition. “Should voters be dissatisfied with the performance of a governor,” the paper argued in an editorial, “they would have the opportunity to reject the chief executive after he (sic) has been in office for two years. Election to a four-year term would mean that the public would be forced to tolerate inadequate performance for a longer period.”

The editorial finished with an adage, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” But that didn’t stop politicians from continuing to bring up the idea.

Increasing terms of statewide office would undoubtedly be one of the most significant changes in the structure of Vermont government in more than a century. When proposed in 1960, the amendment was eventually withdrawn by its own sponsor, Edward Janeway. When brought back in the 1970s, it was voted down, largely because people were suspicious of increased executive power at the time. 

A look at Vermont’s constitutional history suggests that a change of similar magnitude has been made only twice. In 1836, after several years with an Anti-Mason governor, the state’s Council of Censors successfully called for a move from a unicameral to a bicameral legislature. There was a good deal of dissatisfaction with the House of Representatives. 

According to historians Andrew and Edith Nuquist, “the bankers of the state seem to have swung behind the movement (to create the Senate) in the expectation that two chambers would be easier to control than a single one.” At this point, all officials were elected annually.

The next major shift came in 1870, when terms of office were extended to two years and the constitutional amendment process itself was changed. The idea was that the legislature, rather than a Constitutional Convention, would henceforth initiate change — but only once every ten years. That “time lock” provision was later shortened to five-year intervals, but it remained a deterrent to rapid changes in the structure and process of governance.

Almost every time that the opportunity to make amendments is open, someone suggests extending terms of office, for governor or all statewide officials. Usually, at least one of the arguments is that it takes more than two years to put programs in place. Meanwhile, opponents have suggested that two-year terms make it easier to dispatch those officials whose policies or performance do not please the electorate. 

As for “putting programs in place,” Secretary of State Guest responded in the 1980s, “The fact that that governor has to run every two years doesn’t mean he (sic) has to solve everything in two years. And the voters aren’t expecting it. Rather, when they assess performance in the biennial elections voters are looking to see if they agree with the direction the governor is taking us.”

Vermont has been governed on the basis of two-year terms for almost 150 years. For many decades most governors, and many legislators, served only a single term. Restricting governors was the “mountain rule,” the informal power-sharing between eastern and western Vermont wings of the Republican Party. In addition, legislators were usually not career politicians or professionals who sought to hold public office indefinitely.

Times have clearly changed. Once in office, few elected officials are eager to surrender their status. Politics has become a career, and the professional pol seeks to “build a base” while establishing influence over specific parts of the local or state bureaucracy. Frequent elections impose an informal constraint, even though the public is usually predisposed to re-elect incumbents unless their records are seriously marred.

In other words, longer terms are more “efficient” for politicians. They bring more stability to their exercise of power. In addition, they serve some needs of the state’s bureaucracy, which generally prefers to develop long-term relations with politicians and the administrators they appoint.

On the other hand, four-year terms also promote generally longer tenure in office. Even with two-year terms, Vermont governors and others now serve at least four years, and since the 1960s many statewide officials have remained in office far longer — often without much campaign expense or serious competition.

In most states with longer terms being a lawmaker has become a full-time job. As political professionals, they also need higher salaries and more operational support. As states extend terms of office, a subsequent step is often longer legislative sessions.

In the past, supporters of longer terms have cited the expense and time consumed by frequent electoral campaigns as a central argument. But the impact could be the reverse of their stated intention. Longer terms increase the stakes of running, thus extending the time politicians spend campaigning and raising money. Campaign war chests are likely to get even bigger.

So, is something wrong with the electoral process? Clearly. But are campaigns in Vermont too long or costly? That’s subjective. But even if they are, the solution is not necessarily to eliminate half of the elections. Instead, the process can be reformed in many other ways, while the decision on whether to retain a governor after considering her or his performance for two years can remain with the voters — with no ill effects.

As the latest debate proceeds, we will likely hear appeals to “keep up” with surrounding states, to modernize and “streamline” the process. And along the way Vermont’s short term, high participation approach to politics may be called a bit “antiquated,” even by some on the left.

But let’s keep things in perspective. Short terms of office, one aspect of Vermont’s open and resilient democratic approach, are also an important check on the growth of centralized, unresponsive power. And that’s a problem which which we should all be concerned.

Reforming Burlington's Commission System

Below is a campaign-related excerpt from Greg Guma's 1989 book, The People's Republic: Vermont and the Sanders Revolution, about Vermont politics in the 1970s and 1980s. It describes the roots of his position on reforming commissions and increasing neighborhood engagement.

 

Greg on protecting neighborhoods, reforming commission representation, and expanding democracy today: “Burlington has been known as a place where issues are openly and thoroughly discussed. But neighborhood planning assemblies have be marginalized and debate has been sidetracked. We can do better. Funding for NPA-selected projects will expand participation and increase accountability. I support the NPA Steering Committee request for $5,000 per NPA. We need more democracy, not less."

 

"Representation is far from equal on Burlington's commissions, which supervise departments and services. This leaves some neighborhoods with less access. As government becomes more complex, we should work to reduce inequality in power and access as well as wealth. Let’s consider reforms like electing some commissioners."

 

FROM THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC:

 In the age of early progressive Mayor James Burke, Burlington’s form of government – a weak mayor, city council and several appointed commissions – was typical and sufficient. Within limited bureaucracies, appointed bodies often handled special municipal functions. By the 1960s, however, political scientists were calling this structure obsolete. In Burlington’s system, wrote Vermont historians Andrew and Edith Nuquist, “responsibility is so diffuse that there is frequent paralysis when effective action is called for.”

The city nevertheless resisted the popular national trend toward unified city administration and increased executive authority. Party machines still supplied the necessary leadership. But even before Bernie Sanders’ election, this arrangement – in which a dominant party exercises power through a diffuse structure – tended to separate authority from responsibility. In the 1980s, faced with complex challenges, political realignment, and intensified demands for both efficiency and democracy, Burlington’s system of government looked even more archaic.

 

Sanders realized after his election that Republicans and Democrats intended to maintain their control over the government machinery by freezing progressives out of the appointment process, much as Gordon Paquette and the old Republicrats had done in the late 1950s. Thus, he launched an attack on the so-called “commission form of government.” At first, he and other Sanderistas wished they could simply abolish the appointed boards and commissions. But that was even less likely than it was workable, and so a campaign gradually developed to reform the system.

At first, the Council majority objected vociferously to criticisms of the “commission system." Commissions were the essence of democracy, “the ultimate in citizen participation,” they claimed, and in criticizing them, the Sanderistas were masking their own bid to impose a dangerous form of one-man rule. This was already an issue in the 1983 mayoral race. But later that year, status quote advocates, including William Aswad and Antonio Pomerleau, faced proponents of change such as Peter Clavelle and myself in a United Way-sponsored debate on access and accountability. And in December 1983 it was Frederick Bailey, chairman of the Republican City Committee, who proposed the appointment of a Citizens’ Panel to study the growing problem.

Five months more passed before the Council appointed the panel. They instructed its members to “study the strengths and weaknesses of Burlington’s Commission Form of Government” and make a report by October 1984. Little did the volunteers – who had been selected by all three of the city’s political factions – suspect how enormous a task they had taken on. Their research took a full year longer than had originally been projected.

Even a small city is a complex organism. Taking its charge seriously, the panel decided to conduct surveys as well as hearings and interviews. Panel members often chuckled over the fact that although they represented warring political factions, the level of cooperation among themselves was surprisingly high. Almost from the first, they agreed that some things indeed needed to be changed.

 

By November 1984, the surveys were in the mail and the panel was ready to hold a series of hearings. Paquette and Sanders gave their views, along with other members of the current and past administrations. For Paquette, commissions were the “most honest form” of government, while Sanders wanted the Mayor and Council to have “ultimate responsibility.” Liberal Democrats called for “management changes,” while Peter Clavelle charged that under the current system, “no one runs the city.”

With the resignation of panel chair Joan Beauchemin, a Progressive who had spent several years fighting the system over the Southern Connector, I assumed responsibility for coordinating the next phase of the study: making sense of the overwhelming amount of data that had begun to pour in. Meeting more and more often, we engaged in a six-month dialogue that ultimately led to the most comprehensive review of the city’s government in a century.

Current Representation

Our report, released in November 1985, represented a consensus among the panel members on all but the two most controversial issues. Three members could not agree with the majority that the mayor ought to hire and remove department heads or that members of eight important city commissions should be elected. Yet all of us did concur that the city charter needed a comprehensive review, that an administrative committee should be set up to coordinate all departments, and that the responsiveness of government ought to be increased through a formal complaint process, an ombudsman, and new provisions for initiative and recall. “The panel fell short of calling for a radical restructuring,” reported the Burlington Free Press, but it concluded that the office of mayor “ought to be strengthened and the commission form of government made more democratic.”

Sanders, who had once hoped to eliminate the commissioners, was satisfied with the panel’s results. “There is no question,” he wrote to Sue Burton, who assumed the panel chair in March 1985, “but that this report will have a significant impact on future debate regarding the structure of Burlington’s city government. I would be very surprised if, as a result of your report, some very specific charter changes were not brought forward…in the near future.”

But this was not to be. Intellectual consensus and political reality are two very different things; we had concluded that the system wasn’t working, but we hadn’t offered the cure that either side wanted. No one faction had “won” the debate over structure. Progressives, who had finally begun to take seats on key commissions – even dominating some – no longer had as great an incentive to eliminate them. Republicans, who had looked for an endorsement of the status quo, were certainly not going to support an increase in mayoral power while Sanders was in office.

The report of the Citizens’ Panel, a product of over 18 months of hard work, therefore went into the city’s bureaucratic “black hole.” Three years later, when someone asked the city clerk’s office for a copy of the document, staff members had no idea where or what it was.