The other day at lunch a friend of mine called me a Washington insider.  “I don’t think so,” I told him, shifting in my seat, feeling uncomfortable. 

You were born here, he reminded me.  You’ve worked in politics almost all of your life.  “Face it, Catherine,” he told me.   

So why did the idea of being a Washington insider bother me so much?  I thought about it all afternoon.  It comes down to this:  these days, when we use the term “Washington insider,” we usually mean someone who uses their specialized knowledge of Washington’s complicated ways to pursue their own goals – to make money, or to gain power – at the expense of their country’s interests.   

But it wasn’t always this way.  Yes, Washington was always insular.  Politicians would come here from their hometowns, spending their nights writing legislation in smoke-filled rooms, then celebrating with their colleagues in smoke-filled bars. 

That is how work got done – relationships grew well in this close-knit world.  Politicians got to know each other personally.  They knew each other’s families; they became friends.  Friends who shared information; friends who could rely on one another’s word.   

Those old-school politicians did not always agree with one another, but their relationships allowed them to teach each other about issues, and allowed them to work together to find legislative compromises.  That is why the term “Washington insider” used to be less tainted – because at one time in this city, most people felt that we were all in this together.  The fact that we were all working for those outside the beltway was a given. 

But over the past couple of decades, that culture of comraderie has faded.  Most Americans see it:  seventy-five percent of participants in a USA Network poll said that Americans are too divided along political lines.  That is more than said we are divided by race (53%) and religion (52%).  (See coverage in the Poll in Politico’s December 1, 2009 news story: http://www.politico.com/news/stories/1209/30035.html 

So what has changed?  I don’t think the politicians want to feel less connection with one another.  I simply don’t think they have the time to form the relationships necessary to do their jobs the way they once did.  Many talk of money’s corrupting influence on lawmaking, but in my opinion it is the time spent fundraising – not necessarily the money itself – that is the larger problem. 

How much time does your representative spend fundraising for their next election?  Check out this excerpt of one of my favorite interviews ever:  60 Minutes legend Mike Wallace interviewing Senate legend (and my old boss) Fritz Hollings, who served for 38 years before he retired in December 2004. 

"When I got up there, it was hardly a breakfast or an evening [fundraising] reception. Now there are three breakfasts, three receptions," says Hollings. "Now, we don’t work here on Fridays. We're back home doing fundraisers. You gotta collect money."

He says it's all about money. "There ain't no question. At my last campaign six years ago, it was $8.5 million. That factors out to about $30,000 a week, each week, every week for six years," says Hollings. "So if I miss a week this time, Christmas week, or New Year's week, I’m $60,000 in the hole. I gotta hurry up and start playing catch-up ball."

Hollings says senators spend hours a day, almost every day, just working the phones to raise cash. 

(See a fuller account of the interview here: http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2004/12/10/60minutes/main660368.shtml) 

Now, instead of staying in Washington working out their issues together, most representatives are forced to fly home on Fridays to work fundraisers.  They often don’t get back to work in Washington until Monday night.  It is not that they are lazy, as they are often accused of.  Indeed, most representatives work exhausting six and seven-day-a-week, often twelve- to fifteen-hour-a-day schedules.   

They spend so much time fundraising that they have little time to tend the relationships that Washington policymakers used to rely upon.  They have less time to listen to each other, less time to learn from each other, less time to build the trust they need to be able to negotiate honorably with one another.     

So do I like being called a Washington insider?  No, not as it is defined nowadays.  But there was a time when being an insider meant something better.  It meant that you had spent enough time here to be a specialist in your policy area.  It meant that you valued your relationships with your opponents enough to think twice about picking up cheap political points by selling them out.  It meant that you understood enough about our system of government that you could take a longer-term view, and would look out for your country’s interests, not just your own. 

Catherine McCullough is an attorney lobbyist who has worked in Washington politics for nineteen years.