Idaho's election cycle gives bureaucrats more power

Every two years, something unusual happens in Idaho: every single member of the Legislature is up for election.

All 70 members of the Idaho House face the voters. So do all 35 members of the Idaho Senate.

That means every legislator in Boise operates on essentially the same political clock. Every two years, every seat is on the ballot, every incumbent is potentially campaigning, and every member knows the next primary is never far away.

We should change that.

Idaho should keep two-year terms for members of the House but move state senators to four-year terms, staggered so roughly half the Senate is elected every two years.

It would make the Senate more deliberative, provide greater continuity in state government, reduce some of the election-year incentives for political theater and strengthen the Legislature's ability to serve as a check on the permanent bureaucracy.

Most importantly, it would create a meaningful institutional difference between Idaho's two legislative chambers. After all, if we're going to have a House and a Senate, they shouldn't simply be two versions of the same thing.

The Idaho Constitution currently gives representatives and senators the same two-year terms. The House is larger and the Senate smaller, but members of both chambers face voters on precisely the same schedule.

That's not how most states do it.

Across the country, four-year state Senate terms are far more common than Idaho's two-year terms. And some of the best examples are right here in the West.

Washington has two-year terms in the House and four-year, staggered terms in the Senate. Oregon does, too. So do Montana, Utah and Wyoming.

You'll find the same basic structure in states ranging from California and Colorado to Texas, Ohio, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin.

This isn't a radical experiment. It's one of the most common ways states structure their bicameral legislatures.

And there is a reason. The two chambers of a legislature are supposed to serve somewhat different purposes.

The House should be the chamber closest to the people and most immediately responsive to shifts in public opinion. Its members should return to voters frequently. Two-year terms make sense.

The Senate should be different.

A senate is traditionally the smaller and more deliberative legislative body. Its members should have greater opportunity to take a longer view, develop expertise and provide continuity as political winds change.

That doesn't make senators more important than representatives. It gives them a different institutional role.

Idaho's current system works against that distinction.

Consider the political life of a newly elected Idaho senator. Win an election in November. Go to Boise in January. Serve one legislative session. Spend the interim knowing another election is approaching. Return for a second session—and by then the primary election is only months away.

Then start all over again.

There is barely time to govern before it's time to campaign.

And anyone who follows the Idaho Legislature knows how the incentives can change during an election-year session.

There is more temptation for grandstanding. Political stunts become more attractive. Bills and resolutions can become vehicles for campaign mailers, social media clips and talk radio rather than serious policymaking. Difficult compromises become more dangerous because every vote can become fodder for a primary opponent.

Then comes another familiar election-year phenomenon: the growing urgency to get out of Boise.

Wrap things up. Adjourn. Get legislators home.

Why the rush?

Because campaigns are waiting.

There are doors to knock, fundraisers to hold, signs to put up and voters to contact. The May primary is approaching, and every member of both chambers is potentially on the ballot.

That's not an indictment of Idaho legislators. It's an indictment of the incentives we've created for them.

Legislators are politicians. Elections are part of representative government. Of course lawmakers will think about campaigns when their names are about to appear on the ballot.

The better question is why Idaho has chosen to put every member of both chambers under that pressure at exactly the same time?

We don't have to.

Imagine instead an Idaho Legislature with two-year House terms and four-year Senate terms.

Every two years, all 70 House members would continue to face voters. But only about half of the 35 senators would.

One election might include 17 Senate seats. Two years later, the other 18 would be on the ballot.

Every senator would remain accountable to voters. But the entire Senate would no longer be facing reelection simultaneously.

Think about what that would mean during an election-year legislative session.

Every House member would still have an election approaching. That's appropriate for the chamber designed to be most responsive to the immediate political environment.

Half the Senate would, too.

But the other half wouldn't. Those senators would have two years remaining in their terms. When pressure arose to rush complicated issues, produce election-year headlines or adjourn as quickly as possible so campaigning could begin, at least part of the Legislature would be operating under a different set of incentives.

That is exactly what a Senate should do. It should introduce a little patience into the legislative process.

There is another important reason for staggered Senate terms: institutional continuity.

Today, every one of Idaho's 105 legislative seats appears on the ballot at the same time. Theoretically, a single election could send 105 brand-new legislators to Boise.

Some Idahoans might hear that and say: Good. There is something appealing about a clean sweep. Elections are supposed to allow voters to throw the bums out. Turnover can bring fresh ideas, disrupt comfortable relationships and remind elected officials that the offices they occupy belong to the people.

But there is another side to that equation. If every legislator is new, state government isn't. The agencies are still there. The departments are still there. The administrative rules, budget processes and government programs are still there. And the career employees who have spent years—or decades—working inside that system are still there.

Imagine a freshman legislator walking into a committee hearing to question an agency official who has worked on that particular issue for 20 years. Who has the advantage?

The unelected bureaucrat knows the history of the program, the intricacies of the budget, the relevant statutes, the administrative rules and what happened the last five times the Legislature tried to change something.

The brand-new lawmaker may still be learning where to find the committee room.

That imbalance matters.

One of the Legislature's most important responsibilities is overseeing the executive branch and the permanent bureaucracy beneath it. Lawmakers control appropriations, write the laws agencies implement and are supposed to ask hard questions on behalf of taxpayers.

To do that effectively, legislators need expertise of their own.

Institutional knowledge in a legislature isn't merely about preserving tradition. It is a counterweight to the institutional knowledge that already exists inside government agencies.

This is particularly important in a citizen legislature like Idaho's. Idaho lawmakers don't have the massive personal staffs available to members of Congress. Much of the expertise necessary to challenge an agency resides in the legislators themselves and is accumulated through years of committee work, budget hearings and experience.

Lose all of that at once, and power doesn't simply disappear. It shifts. And some of it inevitably shifts toward the people in government who weren't on the ballot.

That's an important point for those of us who believe in limited government. Limiting government isn't only about asking how much power government possesses. We should also care about where that power resides and who exercises it.

When institutional knowledge is concentrated in the executive agencies while legislators are perpetually inexperienced, the balance of power tilts toward the permanent government.

A staggered Senate would provide a safeguard against that.

Under four-year Senate terms, elections could still produce enormous change. Voters could replace the entire House and roughly half the Senate in a single election if they wanted to. But roughly half the Senate would remain.

Those senators would remember previous budget fights. They would know which questions to ask agency directors. They would remember promises made several years earlier. They would understand how legislation evolved and why particular safeguards were included.

Then, two years later, voters would get their opportunity to pass judgment on the other half.

That's not protecting politicians from voters. It's protecting the Legislature's institutional capacity to exercise power on behalf of voters.

Turnover is healthy. So is institutional memory. A staggered Senate gives us both.

There are, of course, reasonable objections to four-year terms.

Longer terms can give incumbents an advantage. A voter unhappy with a senator might have to wait longer for an opportunity to replace that person. Those are legitimate concerns.

But four years is hardly a lifetime appointment.

Idaho's governor serves a four-year term. So do governors across most of the country. We don't conclude that governors are unaccountable because voters don't get to reconsider the office every 24 months.

The question isn't whether senators should be accountable. Of course they should.

The question is how frequently they need to face election to provide that accountability while still allowing the Senate to fulfill a different role from the House.

Most states have already answered that question. Four years.

More frequent elections aren't automatically synonymous with better government. If they were, we'd elect legislators every six months.

Elections create incentives of their own.

They encourage politicians to think about the next campaign, the next headline, the next fundraising appeal and the next primary challenge.

Some of that pressure is healthy. Representative government requires elected officials to listen to the people who elect them.

But we don't need to maximize that pressure in every institution at every moment.

That's one of the virtues of a bicameral legislature.

The chambers can balance one another because they are designed differently.

The House can move faster. The Senate can be more deliberative.

The House can be especially sensitive to immediate changes in public sentiment. The Senate can take a somewhat longer view.

The House can turn over dramatically in a single election. A staggered Senate can provide continuity.

The House can feel the full force of an approaching election. Half the Senate can govern without one eye on a primary just a few months away.

Neither approach is inherently superior. They complement one another.

But that only works if the chambers are actually different.

Right now, Idaho essentially has two legislative bodies operating on the same two-year election cycle.

We can do better.

Keep the Idaho House exactly as it is: 70 representatives serving two-year terms, with every seat before voters every two years.

Change the Idaho Senate to four-year terms, with approximately half its members elected every two years.

It's not a radical idea. It's how Washington does it. And Oregon. And Montana. And Utah. And Wyoming. It's the prevailing model across much of the country.

More importantly, it fits the purpose of having a Senate in the first place.

Idaho doesn't need two Houses of Representatives.