Filing a bill is just the beginning at the Statehouse

“There ought to be a law.”

We’ve all heard that phrase. Often it’s uttered out of frustration; a reaction to express our disgust at something we find wrong with the world around us.

But sometimes we mean it literally, deluding ourselves into thinking that the evils of the world can be cured through legislation, to paraphrase a quote attributed to Thomas Brackett Reed, U.S. Speaker of the House in the late 1800s.

Our state legislators gavel in tomorrow for their annual legislative session. For the next 100 days — longer if they can’t pass a budget in time — members of the state House and Senate will conduct our great state’s business of lawmaking.

It’s a tough job, folks. In the spirit of that, I’m going to suggest a little thought exercise today. I invite you to think of a bill — any bill you would introduce to right some sort of wrong in our state. Then, ask yourself what it would take to apply it as law.

Put yourself in a state legislator’s shoes: What would the text of your bill look like? What would enactment require? How would your law be enforced? How might people find ways to get around it? Could it have unintended consequences? Does your law clash with the state or federal Constitution? Who might oppose it, and why?

If you’re willing to do this little exercise and envision a hypothetical bill, don’t eschew nuance. Don’t just say that you'd pass a law to “fully fund education,” as it’s been stated countless times. This exercise isn’t about what, it’s about how.

How would your bill “fully fund education?” Would you increase regular state supplemental aid? Or would you increase categorical funding for teacher pay and professional development and early intervention services? Would you seek an increase based on a percentage or a dollar amount? Or both? What would a fiscal note from the Legislative Services Agency say about the total cost? Could the rate of the increase be sustained year after year without ballooning the budget?

Those are only a few of the actual questions legislators grapple with when crafting their education spending proposals. The details only get more numerous from there.

Take my own idea, for example: For this thinking exercise, my hypothetical bill proposes this: A prohibition on any Iowa resident who receives welfare benefits from getting a tattoo.

A bit random, I know, but I can make an actual case for this. Poverty is a serious condition, while tattoos are frivolous undertakings that carry health risks like infection and allergic reactions. Not to mention, they’re expensive.

Simply put, if you can’t afford basic living expenses without government help, you can’t afford a tattoo.

Call me a curmudgeon if you must, but I suspect a lot of people feel that way.

Unfortunately, some who rely on public assistance don’t use the best judgment. Pew research shows that adults with tattoos — especially more than one — come predominantly from low-income financial situations. The research doesn’t specify how many tattooed adults receive need-based public assistance, but it’s reasonable to assume that some do. And many are in need of some guardrails on that kind of spending.

That’s when “there ought to be a law” shows itself to be such an easy thought, as does its standard justification: “it will help people.” My hypothetical bill, I submit, would help people in poverty — of which poor financial management is both a symptom and a cause — by keeping some of their limited resources from being frivolously spent.

If only it were that simple, though. But having principles and applying them are two different things.

DRAFTING THE BILL

If my hypothetical bill has any shot at becoming law, it has to withstand issues with wording, enactment, enforcement, evasion and potential unintended consequences.

Not to mention, it must be constitutional — if prohibiting people on public assistance from getting tattoos is in conflict with federal or state law, my bill would, of course, be DOA.

But say for the purposes of this exercise that it isn’t. The wording of my bill would seek to amend Iowa Code to dictate that tattoo establishments shall not provide tattooing services to persons receiving public assistance. The bill would therefore need to define terms such as “tattoo,” “tattoo establishments” and “public assistance,” etc.

As it happens, those terms are already defined elsewhere in Iowa Code. So is public assistance, which is defined as SNAP benefits, Medicaid, the Family Investment Program (Iowa’s version of Temporary Assistance for Needy Families) and the Children’s Health Insurance Program.

If those existing definitions don’t cover the full gambit of public assistance for the sake of my bill, it would then need additional definitions to avoid loopholes wherein people might sidestep enforcement.

See? This is complicated.

ENACTMENT AND ENFORCEMENT

To enact my hypothetical bill, rules would have to be made instructing tattoo establishments how to verify whether a customer receives public assistance.

That in and of itself brings up myriad questions: Is doing so even possible? How would tattoo establishments receive the necessary information from the state, and what are the security implications? Could verification happen in real time, or would proprietors be forced to subject eligible customers to a multiday waiting period during which time the customer decides not to ink those Taylor Swift song lyrics on her left thigh?

Then we get to enforcement. Violations could be punished in the same manner as existing violations of state tattoo rules, which are serious misdemeanors punishable by up to a year in prison and a fine of up to $1,875.

But how would the state catch a violation of this new law?

Iowa law already requires that tattoo establishments maintain records of their client interactions for a minimum of three years, and that those records be made available to the state upon request. Inspecting those records could identify violations. But who pays for the time and technology required to carry out this new step?

CONSEQUENCES, CARVE-OUTS, OPPOSITON AND EVASION

Assuming I can work out all those issues with the researchers at the Legislative Services Agency — where my bill would be drafted — my proposal, like many, many other legislative proposals, would surely face opposition. Iowa’s tattoo artists would of course have plenty to say about how my bill would hamstring their businesses.

Civil liberties groups would likely raise a stink. And (especially since I’m a Republican,) my bill would probably face the typical accusations of racism and bigotry. Research shows that Black and Hispanic adults are somewhat more likely to have tattoos than white adults; lesbian, gay and bisexual adults are tattooed at significantly higher rates than heterosexual adults.

Hopefully, LSA researchers would have already identified and addressed potential concerns from medical advocates regarding medically necessary tattoos for Medicaid patients. According to my own research, Iowa law appears to exempt radiation therapy markers from the state’s definition of tattoos — but makes no other exceptions such as for tattoos that mimic eyebrows for alopecia patients or those similarly intended for breast cancer patients who have undergone mastectomies.

If I didn’t want medically necessary tattoos to be unintentionally withheld for patients on public assistance, my bill would need some finely tailored carveouts. If too narrow, those carveouts wouldn’t reach all the patients they’re intended to help; if too broad, another loophole would emerge, allowing some to evade enforcement.

BIGGER BILLS, BIGGER PROBLEMS

All this for a proposal that only addresses poor people getting tattoos. Imagine all the considerations and conundrums if this hypothetical bill also sought to ban purchases of cigarettes and facial piercings — which, like tattoos, are frivolous, tacky and are predominantly purchased by low-income adults.

So, ought there be a law to correct that? One thinking exercise was enough to cure me of any notion that societal ills can readily be mended with legislation.

The process is never simple, and a bill affects everyone — not just those it is designed to help or hold accountable. Is it any wonder, then, that so many hurdles must be cleared along the way?

From file to finish, a bill endures rounds of committee review and discussion, public testimony — and in cases of controversial bills, public outcry; particularly from the loudest side in the public debate. Lobbyists spend hours, days and weeks pitching their clients’ desires. Ideally, constituents also will show up to give their input.

If brought up for consideration, a bill is debated — sometimes for long periods of time. Amendments are made to secure passage. Versions between chambers might conflict and must then be resolved in a special conference committee.

Sometimes it fails, and sometimes a bill is passed and sent to the governor. Most of the time it is signed into law; every now and then a veto is issued.

After our legislators gavel in tomorrow, they’ll start tackling a big agenda of varying subjects: property taxes, eminent domain, public safety and education funding, to name a few.

They won’t solve every problem that arises. And they certainly won’t cure the evils of the world around us. But in a state of over 3 million people with different needs and different wants, I’m happy to see them start by coming to the table in good faith, ready to work for the people of Iowa.

319-343-8222; althea.cole.writer@gmail.com