It’s the sort of day where you can tell that the state Capitol is bustling with civic activity well before you pass through the security checkpoints. Even by 10 o’clock this sunny March morning, the main parking garage is full. Charter buses, which carried Texans to their capital city from destinations hundreds of miles away, are parked all along the streets.
On almost every one of the 140 days that the Texas Legislature meets for its biennial session, citizens make the pilgrimage to the pink granite-domed Capitol to engage in activism, persuasion, and admonition. Sometimes they are there of their own individual democratic volition; more often they mobilize on behalf of an organized advocacy group.
Demonstrators march and gather near the Capitol following the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade in June 2022. (AP Photo/Eric Gay, File)
The marquee event is the Texas House Public Education Committee’s hearing on House Bill 3, the lower chamber’s proposed school voucher program. It’s a historic day as a school voucher bill is on track to pass through the House for the first time ever. For the hundreds of pro-“school choice” Texans who’ve traveled there to provide a show of mass popular support, it’s a joyous occasion. For the hundreds of opponents—public school teachers, parents, and other activists who’ve shown up to voice their urgent rebukes—it’s an ominous one.
The Capitol Extension, an underground complex that sits below the north grounds, first opened back in 1993, nearly doubling the building’s square footage. Here there are 16 committee hearing rooms, conference rooms, an auditorium, a gift shop, and, of course, the popular Capitol Grill cafeteria, which this day is serving frito pies, loaded baked potatoes, and other standard fare.
This is the hive. The cavernous hallways, with terrazzo floors that mirror those in the Capitol proper, and the four-story inverted rotunda are filled with a constant stream of people wandering in large groups, or beelining for a destination—like a shopping mall of democracy.
Pro-immigrant protesters outside the Texas Capitol in 2017 (Sam DeGrave)
The professionals are easy to pick out from the unwashed masses, who are often all wearing the same colored t-shirts with matching slogans. The lawmakers, dressed in sharp suits or fitted dresses, are often walking briskly with a small entourage of staffers. The lobbyists, typically wearing far more expensive attire, are often the ones sitting on the benches that line the hallways—glued to their phones. On this day, Governor Greg Abbott’s former top aide, now one of the most sought-after lobbyists in Austin, is in an alcove wearing earbuds.
In the auditorium, about 100 home-schooling families are listening to the Texas Home School Coalition go through a legislative primer on their top priority this session: House Joint Resolution 155, a constitutional amendment to enshrine the right to homeschool in the Texas Constitution. “Freedom is fragile,” Jeremy Newman, the coalition’s vice president of policy, tells the crowd. “We know this because home schooling was illegal in the ’70s and ’80s. We know people now who were in jail because of this.”
The group has to wrap up its briefing early, apparently so as not to interfere with the governor’s own pro-voucher press event, which is being held at the swanky downtown office of the Texas Public Policy Foundation. With that, the crowd takes their packet of information flyers, streams out of the auditorium, and into the maze of hallways that contain legislators’ offices.
Pro-Palestine demonstrators ride horses just south of the Capitol in February 2024 (Gus Bova)
Around this time, the Texas Freedom Network is leading an anti-voucher rally on the south steps of the Capitol—the designated area for sanctioned rallies, protests, and press conferences. The granite stairs include a natural “riser” that makes for a perfect stage. For an hourly electricity fee of $35, organizers can plug in their microphones and speakers. For a $50 fee, the State Preservation Board—which is responsible for maintaining all activities on the grounds—can provide a lectern or chairs.
Shortly after the anti-voucher rally, the gun nuts gather around the south side for a rally to push back against the tyranny of so-called red flag laws in Texas and across the nation. A few dozen members of the Gun Owners of America are in attendance, many donning little red flags attached to their caps. Among the VIP attendees there to help rally the troops are tea party firebrand and Dallas County GOP Chair Allen West, plus Kyle Rittenhouse, who moved to Texas a few years ago after becoming a celebrity in the gun rights movement. The event is sponsored by Patriot Mobile, the premier cell-phone carrier for conservatives and an ardent booster of Christian nationalist politics in Texas.
Alas, much of what may appear to be grassroots advocacy is in reality heavily engineered. But there is plenty of more organic citizen engagement too. When encountered, it can serve as a much needed salve for the cynicism that comes from closely following the Texas Legislature.
Family members of those killed in the Robb Elementary School shooting carry a Day of the Dead altar from the Capitol to the Governor’s Mansion in November 2022. (Gus Bova)
Consider Nicholas Gresham, the operator of a small hemp business in East Texas. It’s also a lobby day for the Texas Cannabis Collective. He’s here today to push lawmakers to vote against one of the Senate’s top priorities—Senate Bill 3—that would outright ban any THC products in the state.
When he heard that the Senate was holding a public hearing on the bill a couple weeks earlier, he felt compelled to leave his wife and newborn in the NICU at a Dallas hospital to drive to Austin to testify. Before the committee, he chastised lawmakers for trying to pull the rug out from under a burgeoning legal hemp industry.
He came back again on Tuesday to drop off pro-hemp leaflets at legislators’ offices. For him, it’s a matter of protecting his livelihood. (The baby, by the way, is home and healthy now.)
Gresham may not be a high-powered lobbyist who can easily text with or wine-and-dine legislators. And much of his literature may likely end up in the recycling bin at the end of the day. But everyday Texans like him, who have something personal on the line, are essential to each and every legislative session. And you can count on them to keep showing up.
The post A Day in a Democracy appeared first on The Texas Observer.
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