The Legislature: You get what you pay for

There’s a move to “professionalize” New Mexico’s Legislature — quote marks are always loaded; I’ll explain in a minute — and before you respond, “Well, it’s about time; those people need professionalizing,” please remember: This isn’t anything new.

Alas, it never happens.

But I’m going to hold out some hope as the circus comes to town later this month, under the big top we call the Roundhouse. I don’t believe you’ll see legislators drawing a salary anytime soon, but with the right approach, the right sales pitch and enough patience, 2023 could be the year things change.

OK, so back to the quote marks. “Professionalizing” the Legislature always is a double-entendre in the minds of a lot of voters. In a state as earthy as this one, with its long history of an unpaid “citizen” Legislature (I’ll explain those, too), it’s always smacked of a slick parlor trick that somehow would give average New Mexicans even less say in their government.

The opposite is true: A legislator who draws a salary from the taxpayers is even more likely to be beholden to them. And it might just open doors for a more representative pool of candidates. The body we have now is too often dominated by those who can simply afford to spend the mountains of time it takes to be a public servant: lawyers, well-off retirees, the self-employed.

Obviously, people in that group are citizens, but they’re not our only citizens.

Put another way: When was the last time you saw Joe the IT guy debating a bill on technology on the floor of the House of Representatives? He can’t — he’s too busy making sure your office internet has three bars.

To make a wholesale change in the way New Mexico is governed eventually will require a constitutional amendment, and that’s tricky business. The supporters of this idea are debating whether to make that charge now, or perhaps in the future after they’ve softened what was once-hardened opposition with a thorough informational campaign.

But in the meantime, legislators are likely to put forward a variety of measures on the subject. One will make it possible legislators have paid staffers to assist them.

Again, opponents won’t have to find negative arguments with a high-beam flashlight: They’re easily obtained.

“You mean we want to grow government more?” they’ll argue. “No way we need more bureaucrats up in Santa Fe.”

I’m hoping the public sees past this tired, old saw.

Anytime the Legislature’s in session — and even when it’s not — your representatives are outnumbered. This isn’t a shot at lobbyists, but there are a lot of them, and they’ve got a mission to accomplish. They are Marines in wingtips and high heels, determined to get a vote.

Legislators also are inundated by, well, us. You and me. We write. We call.

We want an answer. And we want it now. Helping a legislator on that front just makes sense. It’s math.

Without a gatekeeper or a devil’s advocate on staff, it’s not hard to see legislators’ heads turned by whatever argument they hear — or just as troubling, what their caucus leadership hears. A better informed lawmaker doesn’t have to rely on what the whips and leaders and speakers and pro tems tell them. Once in a while, they could just make up their own minds.

Naturally, top leadership in the Legislature does have staffing help. It’s why they always look so cool at the end of a long (or short) session. By mid-February or March, the proletariat in both chambers always appear defeated, bedraggled — Southwest Airlines passengers searching for a flight to Detroit that, alas, has been canceled.

Acquiring and codifying staffing help for the Legislature — that part doesn’t require a constitutional amendment — would be a worthy first step in eventually creating a salaried and, yes, professional Legislature that makes more than per diem. But to fully realize the entire dream will take something I’m not sure exists: the willingness of a cadre of lawmakers, and maybe someone outside the system, to hunker down and battle for the long haul. Before it’s all over, other items, including longer sessions, will come into play.

The template is obvious. The push for dependable early childhood education funding was an outlandish dream a decade ago. But with the help of a determined coalition that was willing to trade early defeat for long-term success, it finally happened: New Mexico is basically printing money for early childhood ed, thanks to the passage of a constitutional amendment.

Allen Sánchez, president of nonprofit CHI St. Joseph’s Children, was a central figure in that fight. But right now, I don’t know who would be the next Sánchez — someone who could hang tough for a pay-the-Legislature siege.

My advice to the proponents of a better Legislature: Find a champion who’s willing to stick around. Get him or her a helmet. And figure out a way to delete the quote marks.