01:00 AM EST on Tuesday, February 22, 2005

PSYCHOLOGISTS have identified something they call "learned helplessness" -- a depressive state brought on by repeated blows to the psyche. When people (or, in laboratory experiments, animals) start believing that nothing they do matters, they stop even trying to have their way.

During the six years I've been in beautiful Rhode Island, I've often wondered if many voters here suffer from that psychological condition -- whether, rather than demanding something better, they have simply given up on having a well-run government. Because, for every step forward, such as the crucial separation-of-powers reform, there seem to be two steps backward, such as what went on in the House of Representatives last week.

At the urging of Speaker William Murphy (D.-West Warwick), Democrats removed checks on the power of House leaders. They stripped away rules for public notice and committee involvement that were wisely put in place in the early 1990s -- by former Democratic House Speaker John Harwood -- after the horrors of self-serving pension bills passed on voice votes and a state banking crisis finally jostled the voters awake. Apparently, Mr. Murphy now believes that Rhode Islanders have forgotten, or are too numb to react -- even though they are still paying the bills for those past disasters.

Legislative rules are an arcane matter, of course, sometimes called "inside baseball," because only devotees follow their complexity. (Journal reporters Liz Anderson and Katherine Gregg have done yeoman's work in digging out and explaining these complicated rules changes.)

But most people understand some basic facts of human nature: Unchecked power corrupts. Secrecy allows the powerful to serve themselves at the expense of the public. Citizen participation, openness and transparency are the hallmarks of well-run governments.

Mr. Murphy and his allies have made it harder for those outside their inner circle to know what is going on in time to influence legislation. They have given themselves greater power to ram through bad bills. They have made the majority -- as defined by House leaders -- immensely powerful.

Those outside Mr. Murphy's circle are no longer guaranteed that they may even read legislation before it comes to a vote. And the House refused to abide by the same open-meeting disclosure requirements it imposes on cities and towns.

"If the leadership wishes, the leadership can completely and totally cut out the public," said Rep. Bruce Long (R.-Middletown). The new rules, he said, give the current speaker more concentrated power than any who has served during the 25 years Mr. Long has been in the legislature.

Why would Speaker Murphy do this to the people of Rhode Island?

His lieutenants argued that their hand was forced by the rising strength of Mr. Murphy's foes. A bloc of 30 legislators who opposed his re-election as speaker could have made it difficult for Mr. Murphy to get crucial legislation through this year -- unless, presumably, he had the additional weapon of surprise.

"For us to get things done, in my opinion, these rules are necessary," said Rep. Paul Crowley (D.-Newport). " . . . They go to the rule that the majority will win at the end of the day."

Deputy House Whip Paul Moura (D.-Providence) told critics of the rules changes to "stop acting like the Philadelphia Eagles. You lost the game. Stop crying."

The analogy, it seems to me, would hold only if the New England Patriots, by virtue of winning the Super Bowl, started changing the rules of the game -- say, requiring all future Pats games to be played only in Foxboro, or mandating that only the Patriots can use headphones and communicate with coaches watching from above. Such unbalanced rules would quickly damage professional football by making one team too powerful.

The damage done by a secretive legislature, of course, would be much worse. Rhode Island's recent history amply demonstrates what happens when checks on power are removed. In the banking crisis, citizens and taxpayers suffered devastating financial losses, and the public's faith in its government was dealt a grievous blow. Is "learned helplessness" part of the price Rhode Island is still paying?

Clearly, Mr. Murphy and his allies went too far in trying to address potential threats from the renegade forces in the House. (The motley crew that was allied to the hapless John DeSimone, who lost his bid to be speaker, cannot possibly be as strong and rigidly united as the Murphy forces apparently fear.) But it seems unlikely that citizens will rise up and demand better House rules until they can feel the effect of bad ones.

"What we have is a disaster waiting to happen," said Representative Long.

And disasters are a very expensive way to learn what works, and what doesn't, in government.

Edward Achorn is The Journal's deputy editorial-pages editor. His e-mail address is eachorn [at] projo.com.