You don't normally see politicians who are firmly planted in their positions suddenly do acrobatic 180-degree turns. But last week was very abnormal in California's Capitol. Odds are what happened won't be repeated for a long while.
It showed the power of public pressure — and the dexterity of successful politicians quick to recognize the need to backpedal. Actually, it was entertaining to watch.
In sum, first the Assembly speaker, then the Senate leader and governor, reversed course rather than continue to take heavy flak. It involved the sensitive issue of government secrecy — a sensitivity the politicians initially had failed to grasp.
Let's back up. In order to guarantee the citizens' access to government information, Gov. Ronald Reagan signed the California Public Records Act in 1968. Over the years it was expanded. And local governments were allowed to bill the state for performing certain chores mandated by the act.
Gov. Jerry Brown didn't like paying up. And who can blame him? Local governments should foot the tab themselves for carrying out their duties.
In his January budget proposal, Brown sought to avoid dishing out state reimbursements to local governments by eliminating the mandate and making compliance with key parts of the records act optional. On June 14, both houses of the Democratic-controlled Legislature passed a version of Brown's plan as a little-noticed piece of a larger budget bill.
Then the public bombardment began, stunning Capitol pols.
Newspaper editorials — especially — but also open-government activists and many individuals denounced Brown and the Legislature, urging the governor to veto the bill. Countless emails and phone calls poured into the Capitol. Los Angeles Mayor-elect Eric Garcetti called Sacramento's action "corrosive to democracy." Investigative reporters use the records act to uncover incompetence and corruption in local governments, such as Bell. Under the legislation Brown was about to sign, if it had been in effect during the Bell probe, city officials could have covered up their corruption by blocking access to telling data.
As the public outrage grew, Assembly Speaker John A. P?ez, D-Los Angeles, decided to take matters into his own hands. He became the hero, the leader of the backtrack.
P?ez had never liked the idea of gutting the records act in the first place, he says. The Assembly's version of the budget hadn't included it. But the Senate's had. And in conference committee bargaining, the speaker went along to get along, following an old political adage.