When Assemblyman Brian McLaughlin was indicted in October for bid-rigging $162 million in street lighting contracts, misappropriating over $2 million in New York State funds, and stealing from his childhood Little League, it hardly came as a surprise. Mr. McLaughlin is innocent until proven guilty, and he denies the charges. Still, since 2003, nine state lawmakers have been accused of serious crimes. Statistically, New York State legislators are more likely than members of the general population to be engaged in criminal activity.

Unlike New York City, which is setting a national standard for mayoral accountability and transparency, Albany has its own murky culture. In 2004 New York University’s Brennan Center for Justice branded our state Legislature as the worst in the entire nation, citing 20 consecutive years of late budgets, legislative gridlock, empty chair voting, and a “three men in a room” style of government that rivaled the Soviet Politburo. A 2006 follow-up report from the center found this culture unchanged. This is not surprising since the culture is entrenched, well-fed, and hidden from view.

It is a culture of the bipartisan Favor Bank built on state contracts, the disposition of state lands, and patronage spending by the various public authorities. Every year, Democrats and Republicans posture over their differences, while tacitly collaborating to accommodate the permanent interests of each.

That’s why the director of New York Civic, Henry Stern, likens it to “a den of thieves.” Lobbyists feed this culture. In 1978, interest groups spent $5.7 million to influence state legislation; in 1993, $38.5 million, and in 2004, $144 million. As a prime example, consider the health care union Local 1199: It contributed over $2.1 million to incumbents from 2002 to 2005 and endorsed Governor Pataki for reelection. As its reward, New York continues to allocate over 40% of the entire state budget to Medicaid, even though $15 billion per year is lost to fraud, waste, and mismanagement. Such pay-to-play arrangements hurt every New Yorker, as reported by the Manhattan Institute this year.

The culture is hidden, camouflaged by secret party conferences, unreadable budgets, proxy committee voting, fast roll calls, fraudulent travel vouchers, and “007 Accounts” that annually funnel $200 million to family and friends of key legislators — and in some cases to the legislators’ own wallets.

The central metaphor for this culture, and its lowest point, is the governor’s “message of necessity.” Although New York legislators are entitled to a three-day review period of any proposed legislation, the state’s constitution allows the governor to attach a message of necessity to any law he proposes, requiring legislators to vote immediately on a bill they have never seen.

Created in 1894 for dealing with war, plague, catastrophe, and other emergencies, the provision today is used to ram bills through our Legislature, particularly those that require public funds. Over the past 10 years, 25% of all New York State law has been created under such “messages of necessity.” With no public input, press scrutiny, or legislative review, lobbyists have turned these “messages” into a free lunch, with taxpayers footing the bill. If you’ve ever wondered why New York has the third-lowest bond rating in the nation and the second-highest debt per capita, the answer begins with the message of necessity.

For years, editorial boards and civic groups have proposed remedies: ending government by “three men in a room”; abolishing one-house bills and the ability of the majority leader to bury Senate bills; releasing bills from committee onto the Legislature’s floor; independent committee staffing, and bicameral conference committees.

These are fine reforms but, after four years as an assemblyman, I believe only drastic measures could effect a culture change. Here is what must be done:

(1) Dismantle the Albany politburo. The Assembly speaker and Senate majority leader have too much power and too little accountability. The members of each chamber should be allowed to vote for speaker, majority leader, and the chairmen of the Ways and Means and Rules committees.

(2) Abolish all messages of necessity.

(3) Reform Medicaid and the public authorities. The governor should appoint an inspector general with full subpoena powers in each area and put them to work.

(4) Impose term limits. The re-election rate of New York legislators is 98%. Only death or criminal indictment seems to replace them. Term limits are long overdue.

(5) Move the Legislature to New York City. This would maximize efficiency, access, and public accountability. Time Warner Cable could televise the chambers, committee meetings, budget conferences, and public hearings, and the New York press could keep an eye on the politicians.

(6) Invoke the Moreland Act. The Moreland Act of 1907 authorizes the governor to “examine and investigate the management and affairs of any department, board, bureau or commission of the state.” Our new governor should create a Moreland Act Commission, with full subpoena powers and a mandate to uncover the widespread corruption in state government.

(7) Convene a constitutional convention. Under our state constitution, voters may call for a constitutional convention every 20 years. Since our last convention occurred in 1967, we can insist on having one immediately. Reforms could be codified into state law through the statutory power of this convention.

The power to compel these reforms now lies with Governor-elect Spitzer. Let us hope he was serious about “Day One, Everything Changes.”

Mr. Denis, an assemblyman between 1996 and 2000, wrote the Albany exposé “Dead Gringo Malt Liquor.”