Sometimes, we say lawmakers act like children, and it seems a valid criticism. But have we ever considered that's an insult to some children?Â
For instance, when I happened to be standing in the shadow of the Capitol dome this week, I was reminded of a particularly childish discussion I witnessed in the House of Delegates just a little more than a year ago.Â
When I say childish, I mean it only in the most literal sense. My son's fourth-grade class spent the day touring the Capitol grounds and got to participate in a mock floor session in the House discussing and voting on an imaginary bill that would allow 9-year-olds to obtain a driver's license. Honestly, and I guess somewhat sadly, that's far from the craziest thing I've heard debated in the West Virginia Legislature over the years.Â
The interaction between the children was fascinating to watch because they were so respectful of the process and of one another. There was no shouting. No antics. No calls for insane amendments that focused on culture war issues. Instead, it was a methodical debate centered on the bill and its implications.Â
Most of the children who spoke argued that giving 9-year-olds the right to drive was obviously unsafe.Â
"Most 9-year-olds' feet can't reach the pedals," one child said. "They can't work the pedals and see over the dash to steer at the same time."
Hard to argue with that.Â
The kids who spoke in support of the bill expressed sentiments mainly along the lines of "Come on, it'll be fun!"
I had to chuckle, noting to myself there were some pint-sized libertarians in the making.Â
"Our parents wouldn't have to drive us everywhere" was another argument for the bill, which is a great example of how children will try to sell their parents on something by pointing out how it would benefit the adults. Unknowingly, the kids taking that stance were also mirroring how some lawmakers will try to rationalize bad policy with an argument that hides the real motivation behind it all.
The bill was defeated, 22-9. I remember grinning and shaking my head at that because it was reflective of the real Legislature, where even the most dangerous and ridiculous proposals manage to pick up at least some votes (if not a majority lately).Â
I also remember thinking that what I had just witnessed was a better version of the legislative process. Don't worry, I'm not going to call my delegate and pitch a bill to allow elementary school students to serve in the Legislature. After all, it was one, brief session. Get those kids hungry and tired, and taking up the 30th bill of the day, and I'm sure I'd have seen some "Lord of the Flies" type stuff. Still, it was nice to witness respect for the legislative process and the responsibility of making policy on display. It seemed so much closer to the more earnest and pure intent of democracy.Â
Could real lawmakers learn from this? Sure. But let's not kid ourselves (no pun intended). The children in the House chamber that day didn't have to go through a grueling campaign starting 18 months before the election and fueled by money that came with attachments. They weren't vetted by a party executive committee. No one had lobbied them on behalf of the Children's Freedom to Drive and Remove DEI from Schools political action committee. They didn't owe anyone anything.Â
Obviously, it would be great if money, partisanship and special interests were not so ingrained in the process of running for office and crafting legislation. Unfortunately, that's not how it works. The system can and should be reformed, but it's an uphill battle.
As for decorum, it'd be wonderful if lawmakers could approach their job with entirely pure intent and the utmost respect for the process and their colleagues. But the entire political process has become such a circus that we've lost a good portion of the people who served or at least tried to serve that way. Not many individuals of that ilk are in the candidate pipeline, either. The system rewards boorishness and crass performance art. Why would anyone of sound mind want to get involved in that?
Despite everything, I yearn for a return to sanity. Those kids gave me hope. Then again, they're all about to enter middle school. If I recall correctly, that's about the time everyone is the worst version of themselves for three years or so. Here's hoping they come out of that crucible with most of their better nature intact. If that happens, maybe I'll consider banging the drum for kids serving in the Statehouse. Â
