On Second Thought: Democracy in Montana

Recently, American environmentalists envied the people of Ecuador. In Ecuador, a country where the murder rate is soaring, the economy stagnant and the national government often on the brink, a majority had just voted through a referendum to stop wrecking the Amazon basin for oil profits. For just a moment, it was hard not to fantasize, what if Americans could have a direct say on the big issues — oil drilling in the Alaska wilds, for example?

Of course, that’s not the way we do things here. As some Republicans are fond of pointing out, the United States isn’t a democracy, it’s a constitutional republic. That is, unlike the people of Ecuador, we are never likely to vote directly as a nation on oil drilling or coal mining, or abortion, or some proposal to get ruinous health care costs under control, or how much to spend on what war. … Instead, we elect representatives to Congress to solve those problems for us. Unfortunately, Congress hasn’t done a lot of problem solving lately.

Most of the key environmental protection legislation in the U.S., for example, dates back to the 1970s and early ’80s. When an issue comes up, like a controversial proposal to drill for oil in the Alaska wilderness, it’s generally up to the president, advised by a federal agency (the Biden administration okayed that controversial willow oil project for Alaska in March). At other times, it’s up to the courts. Despite fundraising on the issue for generations, neither Republicans nor Democrats in Congress could summon the energy to settle the abortion issue over the decades between the Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision and a different decision by a new batch of Supremes undoing the old rule.

Thankfully, even if Americans don’t get a direct vote on big national issues, and can’t really expect too much from Congress, action at the state level remains a possibility. The rush of new law on abortion from state legislators in the past year — sometimes guaranteeing a woman’s right to choose, sometimes even more restrictive than the Mississippi law the justices affirmed in their 2022 decision — shows the legislative branch of government is still alive at the state level. Of course, the result is that what is a right and what is a crime depends on what side of a state line a person stands on, but if we are lucky, the very friction between those new state laws may finally move Congress to come up with a law of the land.

The importance of the states as the place where Americans have started to resolve some big issues lately isn’t limited to legislation. Some of the best news American environmentalists have received in a long time came from Montana this summer where a judge ruled that if state agencies allow new coal and oil projects without regard to climate effects, they violate the rights of young Montanans. Similar youth environmental rights cases are already underway in other states, though the outcome may not always be the same as in Montana where the state constitution explicitly guarantees a right to a healthy environment. Once again, in the short term people on one side of a state border may have different rights from people on the other. But over time, the disparity may be exactly what is needed to shake up the national government for some difficult climate justice decisions.

It is just because our states have become the place where contentious issues are sometimes resolved that is so disappointing when someone like Montana Gov. Greg Gianforte throws a wrench into the works. Last spring, the Montana legislative session almost ended on a high note of bipartisan problem solving. Better still, after grumbling for a couple of sessions about voters presuming to tell their leaders how to spend taxes when they approved an initiative to legalize recreational marijuana, the legislators came up with a plan to honor voter wishes for that marijuana tax revenue. The initiative had stipulated that approximately half of the new revenue would support conservation. Miraculously, after years of wrangling, majorities from both parties voted to send the governor a bill that would do just that.

The session almost ended on a high note. Somehow, the governor happened to veto Senate Bill 442, the marijuana tax revenue bill just before the senate had adjourned. It just so happens that because of that timing, the Legislature has no right to override that veto, according to the governor.

Given that overwhelming majorities from both parties voted in favor of SB 442, that other stakeholders — from conservation groups to county commissioners — voiced their support, and that the legislation even aligned with the mandate of that voter referendum, you might expect the governor to be a good sport and give the Legislature a chance to override his veto. But Gov. Gianforte is standing firm. Multiple conservation groups and the Montana Association of Counties are suing, but in the most recent action a couple of weeks ago, Gianforte asked a judge to dismiss the case.

Gianforte’s stance may not seem that odd to Americans accustomed to rule by executive order at the national level, even on matters as serious as sending armies to fight. Dangerous as that autocratic habit may be, our presidents can at least plea the uncertainty of congressional action. But Gov. Gianforte doesn’t have that excuse. In the case of the marijuana tax revenue bill, both representative government and the direct democracy of a voter initiative were aligned in a clear directive he refuses to heed. Whatever the eventual outcome of that court case, if Montanans are serious about government of the people, they won’t let him forget about it.

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Will Rawn of Havre is a retired Montana State University-Northern professor.