Randy Evans's blog

Iowa’s 2020 election was one for the record books – with 1.7 million people marking ballots.

It was an impressive turnout in Iowa – with 76 percent of Iowa’s eligible voters taking part.

There were no allegations of election fraud or polling place shenanigans in Iowa. No one suggested people from cemeteries were casting ballots in our state.

We didn’t hear claims Iowa voting machines were rigged by nefarious forces. No one suggested counterfeit ballots were sneaked into counties across Iowa.

So, this question is worth asking: Why is the Iowa Legislature fast-tracking dramatic changes in the state’s election laws that will make it more difficult for people to vote?

Gov. Kim Reynolds’ message for Iowans has been consistent since the coronavirus pandemic arrived a year ago:

Yes, wearing masks is important, the governor has made clear, but government should leave it to people to do right thing.

Reynolds has been under intense pressure, both for and against facial masks. Advocates for a mask mandate have said she could save countless lives and slow the spread of disease if she required masks to be worn whenever people are in public places or large groups.

But government should not dictate people’s behavior, Reynolds insists.

Through the years, the Iowa Legislature has chosen an official a state flower and a state bird. There’s also a state tree and even an official rock.

It may be time for lawmakers to designate an official state punctuation mark, too.

The question mark seems to be an appropriate choice – especially after the troubling news from our state in the past few weeks, news that has left many Iowans asking “why?”.

The purpose was pretty simple when the Iowa Legislature wrote the state’s public meetings law many years ago:

Government boards are required to announce their meetings at least one day in advance, and officials must tell the public what will be discussed and voted on.

People are entitled to participate in our democracy by attending these meetings, so they can understand what the law calls “the basis and rationale” for government decisions.

If that was unclear to anyone, lawmakers added a second sentence to that declaration: “Ambiguity in the construction or application of this chapter should be resolved in favor of openness.”

I was a kid from small-town Iowa when I first laid eyes on the United States Capitol.

It was 1962. My family squeezed into our Dodge and drove to our nation’s capital for the vacation of a lifetime. It was all about history.

We walked through the White House. We climbed the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and peered up at the statue of the great leader.

We stood in awe in the Capitol rotunda, with the massive dome soaring above us. We walked the ornate corridors and made our way into the gallery of the House of Representatives. From there, we gazed down at the representatives on the House floor, where important debates have made history.

That 11-year-old boy thought about the presidents and other leaders who walked where he was walking. That boy never imagined that someday a lawless mob of Americans, egged on by the president of the United States, of all people, would lay siege to this inspiring building.

There are some high-minded legal principles written into Iowa laws and rulings by our state’s Supreme Court.

But in recent weeks, one of those sound principles has run into a few closed-minded state officials and the closed doors of government.

Some officials prefer to conduct the people’s business without being bothered with having the pesky public around.

This has occurred during the Iowa Board of Regents process for learning what students and employees at the University of Iowa hope to see in a new UI president. This has occurred as the Iowa Department of Public Health tapped into the advice of medical experts on what priorities should be established for access to the new coronavirus vaccines.

The boss told Gus Malzahn on Sunday that he was no longer needed. His employment was ending immediately.

With that blunt conversation, Malzahn became another statistic of 2020. He took his place next to the millions of Americans who have lost their jobs this year — a year when unemployment, at times, rivaled those dreadfully dark days of the Great Depression.

But Malzahn is not in the same boat as most of the others.

With all of the frustrations, the tragedies and the maddening political chaos that have been with us this year, I have the perfect recipe for our Thanksgiving celebrations.

No, it is not a new take on green bean casserole. It’s not some newfangled way to ease the strain on our belts after a holiday meal.

More than anything else, what our celebrations need this year is an extra helping of gratitude.

Forgive me, but I don’t think Americans are as tough as we used to be.

Specifically, I don’t think many of us see the big picture the way our parents and our grandparents did.

I venture down this treacherous path because I think this lack of toughness is affecting Iowans’ response to the coronavirus pandemic. Stay with me, and we’ll come back to this shortly. But first, some context.

During the 1940s, ordinary Iowans from Ackley to Zwingle, together with Americans all across this land, helped the Allied powers win World War II. The vast majority of them did this without ever putting on a military uniform, shouldering a weapon or digging a foxhole.

When the Iowa Legislature wrote the state’s public records law 50 years ago, lawmakers wanted to guarantee that anyone could obtain copies of state and local government records that are not designated by statute to be kept confidential.

There is no asterisk in the law. There is no exemption saying the governor can ignore the statute.

But there is evidence Gov. Kim Reynolds believes otherwise.

Lawyers representing the governor made a troubling admission this month in a Polk County District Court lawsuit. They acknowledged that a member of Reynolds’ staff directed the Iowa Department of Public Health on more than one occasion to disregard a request for public records about coronavirus testing.