The coming gridlock in Tallahassee

Florida’s 2018 election season was, once again, marked by an uncommon amount of inexplicable craziness. Especially mystifying was the resounding success of multifarious constitutional amendments.

Faced with 12 confusing, conflicting and mostly needless statewide amendments — ranging from vaping to greyhound racing — Florida voters eagerly passed all but one. Two had been propounded by Florida’s legislature and two others grew out of citizen petition drives.

All the rest — a veritable grab bag of disparate issues that couldn’t get any traction in the Legislature — were concocted by Florida’s Constitution Revision Commission, a totally feckless group dominated by political appointees (which, for the sake of good-government, needs to be abolished).

This isn’t a general screed against ballot issues. They’re a legitimate method for putting truly large and transformative issues before the general electorate. They’re also a way for public-spirited groups to organize and bypass a conflicted, unresponsive legislature, on such issues as changing the method for drawing electoral districts currently favoring incumbents (i.e., “gerrymandering”).

What we saw in Florida last year, however, was a perversion of the process. It led to issues being presented in confusing, even deceptive language. And, the sheer number of multi-layered amendments virtually guaranteed that there would be no open, transparent debate over the contents or consequences of each subsection of each amendment. It was, in effect, a deceitful end-run around the normal lawmaking process.

In assessing the long-term consequences of last year’s flawed foray into constitutional drafting, one “successful” amendment particularly stands out. That’s Amendment 5, which now requires a two-thirds (“supermajority”) vote in each legislative chamber, instead of a simple majority, to pass any new tax or fee (or to even increase any existing tax or fee).

A great victory for democracy, right? Who doesn’t want lower taxes? Why not enshrine in the state’s constitution a permanent, formidable restraint on future government decision-making?

But think about it. Florida is just one of seven states that doesn’t have a personal income tax (the others are, mostly, very small states). Without it, revenue must be raised by sales taxes (the biggest source, by far), some corporate income taxes, and a wide assortment of licenses and fees.

In short, not only is Florida already institutionally limited in its ability to raise revenue, it has now chosen to amend its constitution in a way that further handcuffs the Legislature’s ability to meet the state’s most pressing needs (like education, health care and safety) — even for programs enjoying strong public support.

Raising taxes and fees will always produce contentious, hard-fought political battles. That’s normal and necessary. But requiring Florida’s House and Senate to both agree on every adjustment (big and small) by a supermajority vote raises the stakes appreciably.

If you think passing any kind of revenue-raising budget has been difficult in the past, just wait for next month (when the 2019 legislative session formally opens) or for every legislative session that follows. Any new fee, any increase in the sales tax, or even just attempting to eliminate any outmoded, unfair tax break (assorted deductions, credits, etc.) will be subject to a two-thirds vote in both chambers.

If you’re a mere fractional group in the House or Senate, dedicated to resisting any government initiative, or, maybe, just a seasoned lobbyist, who’s singularly devoted to protecting clients from certain fees, life just got a lot better. That’s because it’s so much easier to throw a monkey-wrench into ongoing legislative deliberations if those you’re fighting against must marshal a supermajority vote. Indeed, the greatest gift you can give a legislative obstructionist is more leverage to more easily kill something.

At the same time, a supermajority requirement will weaken Florida’s capacity to handle its finances — not only in general, but, especially, in its ability to take quick, decisive action during an economic recession, natural disaster or other crisis.

So, get ready for more partisan wrangling in Tallahassee, marked by more ferocious budget battles and extended periods of gridlock. Of course, it doesn’t have to be this difficult, if lawmakers would just step up and do their job — whatever vote margin is required.

Carl Ramey, a retired Washington communications attorney and monthly contributor to The Sun, lives in Gainesville.