The Brief

As a Republican in the Democratic-controlled state Assembly, Bill Essayli doesn’t expect his bills to pass.

That isn’t going to stop him from introducing some, though. Most recently, the Corona lawmaker proposed repealing new state funding to provide healthcare to undocumented immigrants.

Whether the bill is going to pass is the wrong question, he said. His goal is to start a discussion, and to provide a clear contrast on policy to voters.

“Ultimately, we use a lot of bills to communicate issues and to get the Democrat Party on record on where they stand on common sense policy positions,” he said.

Essayli isn’t alone. It’s common practice for California legislators on both sides of the aisle to author bills to make a political statement.

In 1971, then-Sen. Leroy Greene was motivated by a “bemusing” headline to introduce a bill legalizing prostitution — a tall order, despite support from his district. In 1994, then-Assemblymember Mickey Conroy’s bill to allow “public paddling of graffiti vandals” made it to the Assembly floor before it was defeated.

Besides bills that are just political statements, dozens of others don’t make it into law because they duplicate existing laws, or are deemed “solutions in search of a problem.”

In the 2024 session, the deadline to introduce new bills is Feb. 16 and the final day to pass them is Aug. 31. Because of this year’s multi-billion dollar budget deficit, lawmakers have been warned by legislative leaders and the governor to be judicious in introducing bills.

That may have its upsides. About 2,000 bills are introduced each year, which some legislators say makes it difficult to study each one — or each version — in depth before voting on them.

The lawmaking process is also not free: Although there are fixed costs, in 2002 the Legislative Analyst’s Office estimated that each bill cost at least $18,000 to go from introduction to passage: Each bill is given a title and number, goes through analysis by committee staff and is printed out.

An updated dollar figure from the legislative analyst was not available, but adjusting for inflation, each bill today costs in the neighborhood of $30,000. That means the cost of the 1,046 bills sent to Gov. Gavin Newsom last year would total about $31 million.

Still, party leaders and committee chairpersons might be hard-pressed to block bill introductions. That’s because they understand members must answer to outside forces, which include constituents they’re supposed to represent, voters who decide whether to re-elect them and interest groups that help fund their campaigns.

Even Jerry Brown, who famously vetoed a bill with the message, “Not every human problem deserves a law,” signed a majority of those sent to his desk while he was governor.

“A newly introduced bill is a bright, shiny object that gets lots of attention and gets people excited,” said Dan Schnur, a politics professor at UC Berkeley, USC and Pepperdine University.

But he added: “Making sure that bill does what it was supposed to do isn’t nearly as glamorous, but it’s just as important.”

Shooting for the moon

Ideas for bills come from several different sources — from past lawmakers, advocacy or other interest groups, in response to current events and, occasionally, from constituents.

But why might lawmakers introduce bills they know won’t pass?

“I used to always introduce what I call ‘diarrhea bills,’ to give people a heart attack or to just try to get attention on an issue,” said former Assembly Speaker Bob Hertzberg.

One benefit lies in the “political industrial complex”: Introducing a bill on a hot topic can propel a lawmaker into discussions that might benefit them politically.

“There’s a whole architecture of analysts and lawyers that look at every single piece of legislation — so it’s a unique opportunity to participate in the discussion,” said Hertzberg, who served as Assembly speaker from 2000 to 2002 and Senate majority leader from 2019 to 2022.

Then-state Sen. Robert Hertzberg, a Democrat from Van Nuys, presides over a Senate Governance and Finance Committee meeting in 2015 at the state Capitol in Sacramento.

(

CalMatters

)

But once a less-than-stellar bill is introduced, what keeps it moving?

In Hertzberg’s view, one major reason is because lawmakers are faced with too many bills to review, and are spread too thin on committee assignments — both of which he limited while speaker. That’s why he thinks the key is legislative leadership.

“It really boils down to early management, early understanding, early communication with your members — showing them respect, because you can’t tell a member you can’t do something. They have every constitutional right to do it,” he said. “But at the same time, you have to balance that respect with an institution.”

That also includes clearly defining each Legislature’s objectives: What are the big issues facing Californians? What does success look like?

“It’s not just getting rid of bad bills,” he said. “It’s making sure good bills go through, and making sure that good bills get the proper attention necessary.”

Who decides bills’ fate?

There isn’t an in-depth filtering process before bills are introduced.

The Office of Legislative Counsel, which drafts and reviews bill language, has attorney-client privilege with each lawmaker. So, according to the Senate’s rules, the office only notifies other members if a bill is “substantially identical” to another one in the works.

That leads to bills mostly being weeded out after introduction. One of the main filters: The appropriations committees and their suspense file hearings, where dozens of bills are quickly killed without explanation.

That means how far each bill gets often depends on legislative leadership. Anthony Rendon, the Assembly speaker from 2016 until last year, delegated a lot of decision-making power to committee chairpersons.

At his swearing-in, and at a January discussion hosted by the Public Policy Institute of California, current Speaker Robert Rivas emphasized that lawmakers’ job isn’t just to introduce new bills.

“We’re very good … of introducing bills to solve all of the state’s problems,” said the Salinas Democrat. “But we have a responsibility to look in the rearview mirror to ensure that bills we have passed in the past, policies that have been implemented, that they still work.”

Assemblymember Freddie Rodriguez, a Ponoma Democrat, tracks bills during session at the state Capitol in Sacramento on Aug. 24, 2023. Photo by Rahul Lal for CalMatters

(

Rahul Lal

/

CalMatters

)

Senate President Pro Tem Toni Atkins, a San Diego Democrat who next week hands over the post she has held since 2018 and is running for governor in 2026, said in a statement to CalMatters that “Legislators are acutely aware of the budget constraints that we face and know to be mindful of that when introducing legislation.”

“We will continue to fight to protect our progress and fight for working Californians as we move through this year’s legislative session,” said Atkins, who also served as Assembly speaker from 2014 to 2016.

And, of course, the governor might intervene. In January, Newsom shut down a bill proposing a wealth tax by Bay Area Democratic Assemblymember Alex Lee, and one banning tackle football for kids under age 12 by Sacramento Democratic Assemblymember Kevin McCarty. Newsom also isn’t convinced about a bill by San Francisco Democratic Sen. Scott Wiener to require cars sold in California on or after 2027 to be equipped with speed limiters, telling Politico he’s wary of measures that could be weaponized by Republicans in an election year and to those with virtue signaling as the main motive.

But other bills go all the way through the Legislature before they’re vetoed by the governor.

According to lobbyist Chris Micheli’s review of the 156 bills Newsom vetoed last year:

• 18% were deemed unnecessary; 
• 10% were difficult or complicated to implement; 
• 6% were duplicative of executive branch actions;
• 64% were due to cost and the remainder for other reasons.

That means at least 50 bills “likely should not have been sent to his Desk and, arguably, should not have made it through the process at all,” Micheli wrote. “In fact, perhaps they should not have been introduced at all?”

But whether a bill is necessary, or practical, depends on who you ask. Some see attempts at a single-payer healthcare system as a longshot, while others see any efforts to divest state pension funds for different causes as posturing.

Former and current lawmakers note that sometimes a bill can seem like grandstanding — until social or political winds shift, or the Legislature becomes more diverse.

On Wednesday, the California Legislative Black Caucus announced a package of 14 measures, based on the recommendations of a first-in-the-nation state reparations task force that was created in the aftermath of the police killing of George Floyd and held more than two years of public hearings.

The package does not include direct cash payments to those harmed by slavery — the most controversial aspect of the reparations discussion in California— but instead takes a more comprehensive approach to dismantling the legacy of systemic racism, the caucus said. The bills cover civil rights, criminal justice, education and health, and one would request a formal apology for slavery from the governor and Legislature.

But some of the bills that include a price tag are meant to set the stage for future requests, said Assemblymember Lori Wilson, a Democrat from Suisun City and chairperson of the 12-member caucus.

“There’s a number of bills that they would love to get across the finish line. But they also recognize in this budget environment, and without laying the foundation for reparations yet with colleagues, it is unlikely,” she said. “However, they’re doing it intentionally, to start the conversation.”

Making a statement

Of course, no one says legislators can never make political statements through bills.

That’s where resolutions also come in: Measures that can express the opinions of either one or both chambers — though they don’t create or change state policy. They also don’t always have to go through policy committees, and don’t require the governor’s signature.

They can be an avenue for California lawmakers to weigh in on issues beyond the state’s direct scope: After Hamas’ attack in Israel on Oct. 7 and the Israeli government’s response, several legislative caucuses sent a letter to President Biden, calling on the administration to try and reduce civilian deaths in the Gaza conflict. Last month, the Senate Republican caucus introduced a resolution condemning Hamas.

But some have criticized resolutions as a way to please donors, to give the “false impression” that legislators are taking action on an issue — or just busywork that allows them to earn their per diems.

Neither the Assembly nor Senate restrict the number of resolutions members can introduce. But they’re limited to 40 bills per two-year session in the Senate, and 50 in the Assembly.

To some — including legislators — that’s still too many to be properly vetted, especially as they change through the process.

The bill limit in the Senate has dropped from 65 in 1995-96 to 50 in 2003-04 and to 40 in 2011-12. In the Assembly, the cap was 50 in 1993-94, dropped to 30 in 1997-98, increased to 40 in 2003-04 and back to the current 50 in 2017-18, according to the California State Library.

Prior to 1993, limits were focused not on the number of bills per lawmaker, but on when they could be introduced.

This session, Assemblymember Kate Sanchez, a Republican from Rancho Santa Margarita, introduced a resolution to decrease the Assembly’s limit to 25 bills per two-year session given the projected budget deficit.

“We need quality, not quantity,” she said.

While many lawmakers tout how many bills they passed at the end of each year to their constituents, that measure isn’t necessarily the best way to be a “good” lawmaker.

“My district did not elect me and send me here to pass more laws,” said Essayli. “No one said, ‘I need more laws and rules and regulations in my life.’ In fact, they want less.”

Micheli also supports further reducing the bill limit. He talks to clients about considering options outside the legislative process, such as working on regulations with state agencies, or by suing in the courts.

Often, he said, legislators look at the bill that’s in front of them and debate the language or provisions rather than looking at the underlying problem and determining whether legislation is the right approach. “Having that discussion could potentially reduce the need for bills, because again, does every problem require a bill?” he asked.

Micheli also agrees with Rivas that lawmakers should focus on implementation of the laws that already exist.

“One of your jobs is to make sure that public dollars are being spent wisely and efficiently,” he said. “They just don’t seem to get into it very much. And I think that’s unfortunate, because I think that is an appropriate role and responsibility of the legislative branch of government.”