Legislative Law Bulletin

Politico reports today that the “Republicans are moving to get rid of House votes on symbolic resolutions” when they take the reins in January.  Like practically every other legislative body in America, the U.S. House spends a significant part of its floor sessions on congratulatory and memorial resolutions, as we call them in Texas. These resolutions are used to mark practically any “achievement” you can think of. The report notes, for example, that “[t]he House also voted Wednesday on a resolution “[h]onoring and saluting golf legend Juan Antonio Chi Chi Rodriguez for his commitment to Latino youth programs of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute.”

Members like them because it allows them to present a nicely-prepared parchment with a nice official seal to their constituents and make them feel special. As Ayn Rand observed, if everybody is special, then nobody is. And that’s just about how bad it’s got. I haven’t seen a resolution commending a child for enrolling in kindergarten, but I could certainly see a Member introducing one in the Texas House.

Members rarely oppose their colleagues ridiculous resolutions because they know that, someday, they’ll have one of their own. Most go unread; that’s how Representative Tom Moore of Waco convinced his colleagues in the Texas House to adopt a resolution on April 1, 1971, honoring Albert DeSalvo of Massachusetts for “his noted activities and unconventional techniques involving population control and applied psychology.” DeSalvo is better known as the Boston Strangler, who killed 13 women between 1962 and 1964. Although Moore said it was joke, the Austin American-Statesman quoted another Member’s misgivings: “It just proves you could pass anything in the House.”

Texas House Speaker Pete Laney tried to stop the flow of superfluous resolutions by replacing them with a simpler congratulatory or memorial “motion,” which would be printed in the journal and on a simple certificate, but Members didn’t seem to like those motions as much–probably because their constituents didn’t know what a motion is–and the motion practice died a-borning.

One of the biggest knocks against these kinds of measures is the expense of processing them. They are accorded the dignity of other resolutions, which means they are individually introduced, referred to committee, placed on a calendar that is printed and distributed, and read on the floor–often by title but many times in full, especially if the honoree, the honoree’s family, or the decedent’s family is present. Many are prepared by the research staff of the Texas Legislative Council, which distracts them from performing other, more meaningful tasks for Members. Once passed, the Chief Clerk prepares one or more copies on parchment with seals and ribbons for the Member to present afterwards. Accordingly to Texas Legislature Online, there were 3,140 resolutions introduced in the Texas House in the 2009 regular session; accounting for those that actually transact business such as adopting the House rules and suspending limitations on conference committees, I’d bet that 3,000 of those were puffery. (Although I am pleasantly surprised that my birthday last year was designed as “Texas Friendship Day [to] encourage all Texans to reflect on the meaning of friendships in their own lives.”) While no one has publicly estimated the expense of resolutions, I do know that several House Administration chairmen have privately lamented the cost. I personally think they trivialize the House, the Member, and the recipient, but I don’t think the practice will die out so long as Members think the resolutions help them stay in office.

For your records, the proposed new rule language would ban any measure that “expresses appreciation, commends, congratulates, celebrates, recognizes the accomplishments of, or celebrates the anniversary of an entity, event, group, individual, institution, team or government program; or acknowledges or recognizes a period of time for such purposes.”