Finding new ways to shine light on public officials is the most important of all ethics reform proposals. It’s time for the Legislature to embrace webcasting and develop a formal system to make it happen.
Two years ago, I traveled four hours from Las Cruces to Santa Fe to follow one issue — reform of the state’s housing authority system — through the legislative process. At the time I was in my first year as an independent online journalist, and most lawmakers in Santa Fe didn’t know me by sight.
The issue I went to cover was a contentious one. Most of the housing authority system had crumbled months earlier in a scandal tied to people very close to the speaker of the House, who ruled and continues to rule with an iron fist. The reform bill was set to be killed, and my hope was that shining light on the situation would make it difficult for opponents of reform to kill the legislation.
I didn’t introduce myself to anyone at the first committee meeting I attended. I just sat in the back with my laptop, listened, wrote and published an article on my news Web site. I’m young, and younger than I look, so I don’t think they thought much of me, probably assuming I was some low-level analyst.
Supporters of the reform bill quickly spread my article far and wide. And the group of legislators bent on killing the reform bill started trying to figure out who I was. At the second committee meeting, I got some strange looks, but no one asked me who I was. It wasn’t until the third meeting that the speaker himself came up and introduced himself, and my anonymity was gone.
Sure, it was amusing. But most interesting to me was the way the demeanor and words of the opponents of reform changed after they realized they were being watched. They became more professional and cautious. They were forced to start discussing the merits of the legislation.
Ultimately, their attempts to quietly kill the bill failed. After writing about a couple of committee meetings, I was joined in covering the issue by three newspaper reporters, and eventually even the TV cameras showed up. The speaker and his allies were forced to work out a compromise, and the first steps toward an overhaul of the state’s affordable housing system were approved that year.
A culture that operates in the dark
For me, that was a powerful lesson in the importance of transparency and accessibility, one that I’ve been thinking about this week as I’ve been covering a rogue state representative’s attempt to shine new light on the Roundhouse by carrying a webcam into her House committee meetings and streaming live video and audio of them over the Internet.
Some opponents have made quite telling statements in the course of the debate about webcasting. One New Mexico legislator says he’s worried that video of him at work could be used against him for political purposes. Another says he doesn’t want his embarrassing misstatements showing up on YouTube. A third says he doesn’t want the public seeing video of him sleeping while his colleagues deliberate around him. (Yes, really. You can see Democratic Rep. Ray Begaye’s statement by clicking here.)
These are the reasons a bipartisan group of leaders in the New Mexico Legislature have for years rejected the will of the majority of state lawmakers and refused to begin webcasting audio and video from the House and Senate floors.
Comments like Begaye’s reveal a culture in Santa Fe of people who are accustomed to operating in the dark — the same culture I discovered in 2006 when covering the housing reform bill. New Mexico’s Legislature is one of five that doesn’t broadcast proceedings over the Internet. It’s in the minority of states that don’t allow the public into conference committees. And it’s notorious for backroom, secret deals that are more about power-grabbing than they are about the public’s interest.
The simple truth is this: New Mexico is the fifth-largest state in the nation, land-wise, and it’s one of the poorest states around. For the vast majority of residents, traveling to Santa Fe — a drive that could be as long as five hours — to attend a legislative hearing is at least impractical, if not impossible. Many opponents of webcasting know this, and I suspect they like it because it gives them more power.
It also allows those legislators to operate in a sloppy manner. Legislative hearings rarely, if ever, start on time. It’s fairly common for members to waste time bloviating about unimportant issues like whether to allow bolo ties on the House and Senate floor and whether “Christmas” should be the official answer to the state question: “Red or green (chile)?” Convincing colleagues to approve non-binding resolutions has become a common way for state lawmakers to tell constituents they’re doing something without actually doing anything.
And, as Begaye’s comments indicate, it’s not unheard of for a member to decide to take a nap instead of paying attention. Or to play solitaire. Or come to work in a less-than-sober state.
As a result of all of that, year after year legislative sessions end without scores of important issues having received fair hearings. The majority of bills are killed not because lawmakers vote them down, but because there isn’t time to consider them.
A change New Mexico needs
The real opposition to webcasting comes from people who can’t or don’t want to imagine a Legislature that operates in a more ethical, professional and efficient way.
But that’s exactly what would happen if all legislative proceedings were webcast. Legislators who are worried about political considerations would be compelled to sit up straighter and spend less time wasting time. Because more people would be watching, there would be increased public pressure for the Legislature to actually operate on a schedule the public could follow.
Most important, in public meetings lawmakers would have no idea who was watching, and that would increase pressure to act professionally and ethically. I personally witnessed the effect that had two years ago on a group of lawmakers intent on killing a bill under shady circumstances. Finding new ways to shine light on public officials is the most important of all ethics reform proposals.
It’s time for the Legislature to embrace webcasting and develop a formal system to make it happen.