Governor Smith, You Just Threw Me Under the Bus
In the world of politics and governance, there are often legal battles that shape the landscape of decision-making. One such case that has garnered attention recently is the Chevron case, which has implications for the interpretation of laws by federal agencies. As a former congressman and someone who values the importance of clear and concise legislation, I believe it is crucial to reevaluate the power given to federal agencies and advocate for a more accountable and transparent system.
Almost 30 years ago, the landmark Chevron case established that federal agencies could play a significant role in interpreting and applying laws when there was ambiguity or uncertainty. This allowed them substantial discretion in shaping policy and determining the intent of laws passed by Congress.
By allowing federal agencies to have the final say in interpreting laws, we risk placing too much power in their hands. While it is true that some businesses may benefit from agency interpretations, it is equally likely that many others have suffered due to unfavorable rulings. This imbalance necessitates a reevaluation of the Chevron case and a return to a system where the courts determine the true meaning of legislation.
The Road Ahead If the Chevron case were to be overturned, it would effectively limit the power of federal agencies to interpret and apply laws. While this may seem daunting, it would also force members of Congress to take greater responsibility in ensuring that legislation is clear, precise, and comprehensive. It would compel them to revisit and clarify laws that may be muddled or open to interpretation, rather than leaving such decisions solely in the hands of agencies.
On a lighter note, I read about a humorous incident involving a snake on a flight out of Bangkok. This cunning reptile was moving through the overhead bins, causing quite a stir among the passengers.It reminds me of a story from Dimmitt, Texas, where a guy filled a barrel with snakes. On the way home they started escaping into his car. He thought he got them all out until he was on a date and she found one wrapped around her leg.
In a related topic, Capitol Police have investigated over 8,000 threats against lawmakers. Most of these threats, often made impulsively late at night, are not serious, but they can lead to real legal consequences.
I once had a direct encounter with such anger in Big Spring, Texas. A man, upset over a military retirement bill I had passed, confronted me, threatening physical violence. The bill ensured that, in a divorce, both spouses received their fair share of military retirement benefits. However, this man, misunderstanding the bill's intent, was furious that his ex-wife would receive any portion of his retirement.
To defuse the situation, I reminded him of the severe legal repercussions for assaulting a congressman. This tactic seemed to work as he refrained from violence.
Security for lawmakers can vary. High-ranking members like House and Senate leaders receive more protection, usually from Capitol Police. After I was elected to Congress, I was offered security by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, they were especially concerned for public events like town hall meetings. One time I had three guys protecting me for a meeting where only two people showed up.
When I was working for Governor Preston Smith, during one memorable drive to Lamesa with the governor and his strategist, Otis Green, we found ourselves running late. Urged by the governor, I sped up, hitting around 90-95 mph. Unsurprisingly, we were pulled over by a police officer.
Upon realizing he had stopped the governor's car, the officer was respectful but still concerned about our speed. Governor Smith said, “I told him not to go so fast.” We were let off with a warning and after a few minutes Governor Smith said if he had openly admitted to instructing me to speed, it would've reflected poorly on us both.
In my early days in the state senate, I quickly learned the art of legislative maneuvering. There was a bill from the house. It aimed to remove all safety and health regulations for religious schools and adoption centers. The push behind this bill came from a prominent Corpus Christi preacher with a significant media presence. State Representative Mac McAllister, who also ran a TV station in Lubbock, brought this to my attention, urging its defeat despite having voted for it due to district pressure.
In a strategic meeting at the lieutenant governor's office, the conversation turned to how to discreetly dispose of this problematic bill. It was here that Senator Moore subtly linked the fate of the bill to a separate need – a new building for Texas A&M, something he was lobbying for. He got a lot of buildings funded this way.
When the bill's hearing arrived, the preacher proclaimed his confidence backed by prayers and support. Senator Moore decisively announced that the bill "doesn't have a prayer" and sent it to a subcommittee – a known graveyard for bills. This bold move left everyone in shock.
