A Bad Bedtime Story

When I was 6 years old, I had a strict bedtime of 9 p.m. That bedtime was only negotiable under exceptional circumstances, usually when there was something really cool going on—like a fireworks display.

Last week, a 6-year-old boy named Jonah got to say up late to witness fireworks too, except they were the kind I never could have imagined at his age. Jonah is the son of one of my colleagues in the House of Representatives, and got to stay up late to witness an explosive display of parliamentary combat normally reserved for countries where members of hurl their shoes at one another.

Last Thursday was supposed to be a relatively short day in the state Capitol. Republicans in the House and Senate were negotiating the state budget behind closed doors, so we were basically running some “filler” bills to keep everyone busy.

On days like this when the schedule looks fairly light, many representatives bring their children in to show them where they work; and usually get the honorary rank of being a “guest page” who help out on the House floor.

Jonah somehow managed to accompany his father to work on one of the most contentious days the Legislature has seen in recent memory. We were debating House Bill 934, also known as the Voter ID Act. This bill would require everyone in Pennsylvania to present photo identification at the polls in order to be eligible to cast a vote. We had been debating the issue for hours, and tensions were running high because many reasonable amendments were being shot down on party lines for no apparent reason.

Although the idea seems simple, I had several problems with this bill—mainly that it was spending more than $10 million in taxpayer money to solve a problem that no one has been able to prove exists (there have only been four documented cases of voter fraud based on this bill). The real concern is that the legislation would serve to disenfranchise certain groups of voters—such as senior citizens—from voting.

But despite my problems with the bill, I know how the process works and I know how to count. After we wrapped up debate, the bill would likely pass on a straight party line vote and we would all move on with our lives. The problems began when the representative who drafted the bill refused to stand and answer questions from his colleagues, which is generally considered a “no-no” in the Legislature.

The Unspoken Rule is that unless you are being unfairly badgered, you stand and be accountable for legislation you put your name on. His refusal to cooperate got the ball rolling down the mountain, and then all heck broke loose.

One of the Republican members used a parliamentary “nuclear option” known as “moving the previous question,” which cuts off all debate and forces an immediate vote.

The irony of disenfranchising representatives on a bill dealing with voter disenfranchisement was not lost on many of my colleagues, and they began to question the Speaker of the House.

The Speaker then promptly began shutting off microphones, ignoring requests from legislators to speak, and ramming the bill through in the most roughshod manner you could imagine.

Pandemonium ensued on the House floor as representatives with decades of experience were stunned by the raw abuse of parliamentary power being exercised for no reason anyone could surmise. As I made my way up the aisles, watching the scene unfold, I noticed a young boy in a tiny blue blazer sitting in his father’s seat in the House floor and watching “Toy Story 3” on an iPhone. Hours past his bedtime and many miles from home, 6 -year old Jonah was trapped in the eye of a political hurricane.

Given the blatant abuse of power and disenfranchisement of elected representatives of millions of Pennsylvanians taking place around him, maybe it was better that he wasn’t paying attention.

After all, the last thing we needed was to give poor Jonah nightmares.