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Landon Morrison, a recovering addict, wanted to tell California lawmakers
why they should support legislation he believes will hold troubled drug
and alcohol treatment centers accountable.
He was told he would only get two minutes to speak, so he spent hours
writing and rehearsing exactly what he wanted to say. But after getting on
the road at 4 a.m. for the six-hour drive to Sacramento from Los Angeles
County, Morrison didn’t get to say a single word because previous
speakers talked for too long.
The committee’s Democratic chairperson, Sen. Caroline Menjivar of Van
Nuys, ended testimony in support of the bill after five minutes.
“In a way, this kind of articulated the stigma of addiction. … I’m at the
bottom of the line, you know?” Morrison said. “It was just kind of very
disheartening.”
Morrison’s experience is hardly unique in the California Legislature as
lawmakers try to jam through the more than 2,000 bills lawmakers have
introduced so far this year. Over the past two months, CalMatters
journalists witnessed more than a dozen examples of committee leaders
cutting speakers off midway through their remarks or prohibiting them
from talking at all because other people went over the few minutes that
members of the public are given to testify.
Lawmakers say the rules are necessary to accommodate the armies of paid
lobbyists, political activists and members of the public who flood the
Capitol each year to jockey for and against legislation. Lawmakers say they
do their best to ensure everyone gets their say while aiming to keep
hearings from dragging on well into the night.
“Some bills you get dozens of people. Some bills you get over 100 people,”
said Assemblymember Marc Berman, a Democrat representing the Palo
Alto area who oversees the Business and Professions Committee. “There is
a real attempt to be fair on both sides and to everybody.”
The public comment limits are yet another symptom of lawmakers rushing
through thousands of bills in the few months they’re in session in
Sacramento – and usually waiting until right before key deadlines to push
through the largest volume of bills.
‘Me too’ speakers get only seconds
To try to fit in all those wishing to speak, most members of the public who
show up at the Capitol can only express their positions through what’s
known as the “me too” portion of a hearing.
After the lead witnesses in support or opposition of a bill each get to
deliver two minutes of testimony, others approach the microphone and
state their name, organization and whether they support or oppose it. In
2023, legislative leaders stopped allowing people to offer their comments
remotely via Zoom as they had during the pandemic.
Members of the public line up to testify in opposition of ACA 5, a measure
to ensure marriage equality, at the state Capitol in Sacramento on June 13, 2023.
Lobbyists and other insiders usually know the drill and keep their “me
toos” to a couple of seconds so the committee leaders don’t cut them off.
But regular people who might not be familiar with the process regularly
get shut down if they speak beyond a few seconds.
That happened to Albert Titman, Sr., a Native American man from the
Sacramento area. He came to the Assembly Business and Professions
Committee in late April to tell lawmakers why they should oppose
a cannabis tax bill he thinks would harm disadvantaged tribal
communities.
But he wasn’t designated as a lead witness, so when he tried to speak
during the “me too” portion of the hearing, Berman, the committee
chairperson, told him to wrap it up.
“Now we’re just at the name, organization and position,” Berman
reminded him as Titman grew frustrated.
“There’s not one Native person here,” Titman shot back. “Not one Native
person.”
Capitol security ushered Titman away from the mic.
“They shut me down, just pretty much telling me to shut up, you know?”
Titman said in an interview. “I wanted to actually sit up there and present
my argument, but they wouldn’t allow me.”
Berman said later that he “felt very bad” for how things went with Titman,
and he noted he did give Titman a little more time than the other “me too”
speakers had. But Berman said he was obligated to keep the hearing
moving. If a committee runs too long, it can delay the subsequent
committees scheduled to use the same room.
“I try to have a little flexibility, but you can’t let somebody talk for, you
know, a minute who’s really just supposed to be providing their name,
organization or affiliation and support or opposition to the bill,” he said.
“Every time is a dance, and it’s not easy.”
Kathi Zollinger, a volunteer with the Lake Tahoe-based BEAR League,
didn’t have security called on her last month when she approached the
mic and tried to say why she opposed a bear-hunting bill.
But she was still taken aback when Diane Papan, the Democratic
chairperson of the Assembly Parks and Wildlife Committee, cut her off mid-
sentence.
“I thought it was kind of rude,” she said afterward. Papan, who represents
the San Mateo area, didn’t respond to an interview request.
One of the bear bill’s supporters, Elizabeth Washoe, took a day off work,
filled up her vehicle with $5-plus a gallon gas before she left Modoc County
and made the five-hour drive to the capital, only to be given a few seconds
at the mic.
In an interview, she said that as a Native American woman from a rural
area, she left feeling that those living in the far reaches of the state have a
harder time having their voices heard.
“I would love to have more time to say something,” she said. “It’s not
equitable representation for rural areas.”
Democrat blocks comment on transgender bill
Some people who get cut off believe it’s because a committee chair
doesn’t like what they have to say. Opponents of a bill to allow
transgender people to more easily change their names say that happened
to them when the proposal was before the Assembly Health Committee on
April 29.
The committee’s chairperson, Mia Bonta, a Democrat from Oakland,
refused to give the lead witnesses for opponents their two minutes
each. Bonta told them they hadn’t properly registered in advance.
“I was very clear and the rules that the Health Committee adopted
indicated that we needed to have registered opposition offering witness
testimony,” she said. “And I reiterated that at the beginning of this hearing,
and those are the rules of this committee.”
But the bill’s opponents said they could find no reference to the rules
online.
After driving from San Francisco to testify, Erin Friday, president of the
group Our Duty, was furious.
“Welcome to China,” she said. Another organization called Californians for
Good Governance later filed a formal complaint over how the opponents
were treated.
Bonta’s spokesperson, Daniel McGreevy, said in an email that Bonta’s
actions were “consistent with updated guidelines which are established
and read at the top of all recent hearings.”
In an interview, Friday said she regularly testifies in other states on similar
legislation. She said no other state she’s been to is as restrictive about
public comment in hearings.
“I’m a lifelong Democrat, so I find it really quite amusing when (California
Democrats) talk about Republicans not wanting to play by the rules, or
constitutional chaos, when we have no voice whatsoever,” said Friday,
whose organization believes there “is no such thing as a transgender
child.”
Are hearings mostly political theater?
After CalMatters highlighted last year the consequences of rushing through
too many bills at the last minute, legislative leaders slightly lowered the
amount of bills each lawmaker could introduce during the two-year
session that began in December. It’s helped a little. At the bill filing
deadline earlier this year, lawmakers had introduced 2,278 bills – down
from 2,640 at the start of the last session.
The committees are still jam-packed, such as in late April, as lawmakers
butted up against a deadline to advance their measures. Two Senate
Judiciary Committee hearings discussed a combined 106 bills. One of
those hearings went 11 hours. The final votes weren’t tallied until
almost 11 p.m.
Supporters and opponents testify on a caste discrimination bill before the
Assembly Judiciary Committee at the state Capitol in Sacramento on July
5, 2023. Photo by Semantha Norris, CalMatters
The public comment limits also underscore another problem that
CalMatters has pointed out. The Democrats who control the Capitol often
make their decisions behind closed doors.
It’s a trend reflected in the Digital Democracy database. Last session, just
25 bills failed because a majority of lawmakers voted “no ” during a
committee hearing or a floor session. Plenty of bills still die — 2,403 of
them were killed during the last two-year session — but they’re almost
always spiked through secretive procedural tactics that leave the public
with little way of knowing who is responsible.
Critics say that makes commenting in hearings mostly performative since
it’s so rare for bills to be killed in public.
San Diego Republican Assemblymember Carl DeMaio says he doesn’t
bother bringing witnesses to testify because he knows what they say won’t
change anyone’s mind — and there’s a good chance they won’t get to say
all they came to say anyway.
It’s “all theater,” he said. “That’s irrelevant, because these politicians
basically do their deals in back rooms, and they walk into the hearing
already decided.”
Other ways to influence legislation
Legislators and Capitol insiders say people can influence legislation before
committee hearings in plenty of other ways. Anyone can submit formal
remarks on individual bills through the Legislature’s online position letter
portal.
They can also write or call lawmakers’ offices and request meetings with
them or their staff, or speak to the politicians when they do events in their
district, which can be more effective than showing up at a hearing whose
outcome could be predetermined.
Lobbyist Jennifer Fearing says she tells advocates that if they really want
to be heard, facetime with a lawmaker in their district is best.
“You don’t have to change the whole system up here (in Sacramento) to
have that kind of impact,” Fearing said. “A minute in a hearing is not a
substitute for a relationship at home.”
For Morrison, a recovering addict, the trip to Sacramento wasn’t a total
loss.
Sen. Tom Umberg, the bill’s author, felt badly that Morrison got cut off and
arranged for him to speak on a related measure.
Umberg, a Democrat representing the Santa Ana area, said it was the least
he could do for a “civilian” — his term for those who aren’t paid advocates.
As chairperson of the Senate Judiciary Committee, he said he tries to
prioritize bills with more “civilian” speakers.
Still, Morrison said that while Umberg treated him well, the experience was
a letdown.
He thought testifying would be “an honor and a prestige.” Instead, “It’s
like well, no, that’s really not that big a deal,” he said. “They slap you to the
side.”
