How long ago were the late 1990s? What, about 10 years ago? (Editor: no, 25 years ago). Anyway, during summer academic breaks back then from teaching political science at the Air Force Academy, I was twice sent for TDY (temporary duty) to the National Security Council staff at the White House. It was amazing and thrilling duty, some of the very best stuff I did during my 25-plus year military career. What came across my desk daily was amazing.

I had two computers on my desk. One was for regular and unclassified stuff and the other was for, well, classified stuff, dealing with the NSC. The classified computer was connected to this “other” highly-classified internet that was utterly fascinating to explore, with really cool pictures to look at.

The other purpose of the classified system was for NSC folks like me to communicate with other White House folks on a whole range of issues, as well as contacts in other federal agencies, such as the CIA, the FBI and more. And whenever I created an email on the classified system to, say, my NSC boss, before I could type word one, I had to tell the system whether my email was “record or non-record” and if it was classified or not, and if so, at what level.

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As was explained to me very earnestly by the staffer who set me up, the record/no-record determination was telling the computer system whether my email needed to be kept for later inclusion in the annals of the National Archives, or whether it could be erased. Select the record option, and the email was automatically saved for posterity.

I was told by my instructor the only example she could think of that was non-record would be something like “want to meet for lunch?” Everything else, no matter how trivial it sounded, was to be kept as part of the official record. She said if I ever had any doubt, make it record.

I pity the poor researcher in years to come who comes across my thousands of emails from my NSC time, and how many of them were trivial but kept anyway, because I was scared to do it wrong.

I thought of those halcyon days at the White House when I read a recent Colorado Politics article on a proposal by Democrats to exempt state legislators from Colorado’s open secrets act. And is so often the case, I certainly understand why this idea is being put forward, but I must say to my fellow Dems that, at least from a distance, it looks like you are going too far. There you have it, a rare criticism of my own kind.

The CoPo article explores the ramifications of what the Dem leadership has proposed, and I totally get what they are getting at, but the idea needs to be pulled back a bit. Perhaps that is the idea all along: propose a super strict bill, then compromise? That might be what’s going on, but I’ll just take a swipe at the proposal as it stands now, just in case.

Open meetings laws are, in theory, really good ideas. Throughout our nation’s history, far too many decisions that directly impact Americans have come from the legendary “smoke-filled rooms” wherein party leaders decide what new laws will be passed, regardless of other input. We definitely want to stamp those meetings out.

But here’s a problem: sometimes the laws can go too far, or at least be interpreted as going too far. For example, taking my White House example above, if I sent my boss an email that said “let’s have lunch at noon, OK?” I could absolutely list that one as non-record and unclassified, and it would vanish into the ether the moment my boss deleted it. But what if I said, “I have those documents you asked for on the border wall, can we meet at noon to discuss over lunch?” I would have to make that one as “record” as it contained information on what public business we might be doing.

So, does a member of the state House have to declare his or her lunch with a colleague to be an “open meeting” where all are welcome? What about if, say, three elected folks are talking over PB&J sandwiches? Six? At some point, it kind of becomes a meeting, but at what exact point is it a violation? I can understand why party leaders want to change the law to exempt themselves from what can be quite silly reporting requirements.

That said, what if, at the same lunch, they are all talking about a policy they intend to pursue? Well, a violation? Or is it only a violation if that same meeting takes place in a committee room without the aforementioned PB&Js?

As is so often the case, I suspect, from a distance, the most just way forward is somewhere in the middle. I don’t think state lawmakers should be totally immune to the open meetings rules, as that could well create at least the impression of corruption. Heck, if I saw a bunch of GOPers, who are all hard-right Trumpers, going into a secret meeting in the Capitol, I’d certainly wonder what shenanigans they were up to. So, sauce for the goose, I guess?

I’m pretty much OK with lunch meetings and phone calls being private, absent a stated intention to discuss public policy, but even then, I’m inclined to give great latitude to such meetings.

I guess I’m proposing more incremental change in the open meetings law. I agree more wiggle room would be helpful for regular old conversations and get-togethers, but even if the intentions are noble and the reality would be no inappropriate conversations would be held, a total recusal of the legislature from open meetings rules goes too far.

I bet the leadership is fully aware of this and more, and that a compromise will ultimately come out that doesn’t please anyone completely, but which makes meaningful progress.

Stay tuned…

Hal Bidlack is a retired professor of political science and a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel who taught more than 17 years at the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs.