I spent more time attending Colorado legislative committee hearings this past session than I had since the years before COVID. Those often-tedious hours drove home the perverse and unanticipated consequences of term limits.

Legislative customs are built on what has transpired during the previous six years. Aside from a sprinkling of senators who have moved from the House, whatever traditions may have existed 10 or 15, much less 30 or 40 years before, may as well have occurred in the Pleistocene. No better evidence of this disconnect exists than last session’s dust-up over clandestine meetings conducted by leadership in both parties, clearly in violation of the state’s Open Meetings Law. When this commenced was never pinned down, but had become a habit for at least 20 years, perhaps all of the 21st century, according to former Speaker Terrance Carroll.

What was surprising were the expressions of indignation, rather than embarrassment, from legislators. “They were doing this when I got here,” was the most frequent explanation once they were exposed. Rather than apologize, bipartisan majorities scrambled to formally exempt themselves from the restrictions imposed by voters. Turning over this rock revealed an entire network of technology-assisted subterfuges — disappearing email threads, covert coordination of off-the-record negotiations, secret chat rooms and more. When both chambers introduced and adopted a bill this year to strengthen their defenses against nosy journalists and their own constituents, it required a gubernatorial veto to bring a halt to this “cover our asses” initiative. There is some small merit to the argument reaching compromise is made more difficult when conducted in broad daylight, but not enough of an excuse to risk the appearance of chicanery when just 17% of voters trust you.

Forty years ago, accommodating public testimony was often limited to residents who could access the Capitol easily. Speakerphones were installed in each committee room and the occasional rural Coloradan would wait patiently to speak just as Zoom callers do today. By contrast, there was far more expert testimony that opened discussion on each bill — witnesses who were afforded 10 to 15 minutes to make their case. Both proponents and opponents of a bill would often fly a renowned engineer, medical professional, academic or legislator from afar who had dealt with the subject. We rarely see this kind of expertise in a hearing today. There are simply too many voters waiting and ready to speak. Consequently, testimony is limited to two or three minutes, sometimes less. As you would expect, comments are repetitious and lack coherent structure.

Stay up to speed: Sign up for daily opinion in your inbox Monday-Friday

Truth be told, almost no one is listening. Legislators are texting or studying their tablets, wandering in and out of the hearing, while reporters leave the room to interview them, and the public audience is often napping. The entire exercise has become a charade without intrinsic value or purpose — a waste of time for all concerned. COVID must take much of the blame for this state of affairs. It was exciting and small ‘d’ democratic to afford a platform to every interested citizen. Substantive analysis has been lost. No one will pay to bring the nation’s leading expert on any issue to Denver if their time will be confined to three minutes or less.

What is lost is the epiphany that transpires when a knowledgeable critic pokes a hole in a legislative premise or offers a recommendation for strengthening a proposed statute. It was not uncommon 40 years ago for a committee chairman to decide to table a bill with instructions to the sponsors to draft a specific amendment or renegotiate a section premised on expert testimony. There was an opening for persuasion.

Legislative leadership should launch a restructuring of the debate process. In mulling over the current state of affairs, I haven’t hit on the “magic bullet” that might fix everything. But improvements are conceivable. Perhaps there could be two rounds of testimony. An hour would be evenly divided between bill sponsors and their critics to fill as they wish — three 10-minute presentations or a single 30-minute peroration. Then legislators should be afforded a sufficient period to fully quiz these witnesses. This hearing might be best confined to such formal testimony, with general public speakers permitted time to digest its content. Not only could this format assist legislators in grasping the full implications of a proposal, but it would also work equally as well for journalists. I suspect the National Conference of State Legislators, headquartered here in Denver, could offer additional suggestions from around the country. There has to be a better way.

A different problem has arisen in the structure of “town hall” meetings. At the federal level a pattern has developed requiring those who desire to attend to pre-register. They are urged to submit possible questions culled by staff and then read to the senator or member of Congress. You can’t escape the feeling this entire conversation has been choreographed. Only a few minutes, if any, are left for true spontaneous questioning between voters and their leaders. Simply picking questions out of a hat would provide greater spontaneity. Town halls should provide needed training for incumbents in how to handle unexpected challenges. They provide excellent practice for an elected official and tell his or her constituents something about the quality of their reflexes — important stuff.

Wisdom is real. It deserves to be fully aired, yet not slavishly heeded. Facts are facts, while decisions regarding them are political. Closing the information loop, it’s important to recognize anonymous speech isn’t free speech. It’s always propaganda. Few reputable media outlets deliberately produce fake news. Few citizens wishing to speak about laws under consideration at the legislature will repeat someone else’s opinion, although a few may. In both instances, however, they deserve to be heard.

Miller Hudson is a public affairs consultant and a former Colorado legislator.