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Passing the in 2018 was a big move. The bill, which legalized death with dignity for terminally ill patients, followed nearly of contentious debate and made Hawaii only the seventh U.S jurisdiction to pass an assisted-dying bill.

I voted yes. Fourteen legislators voted no. A decision that I disagreed with yet respected. It was a tough vote. At least, they stood by what they thought was best.

But the eight legislators who voted “with reservations” caused me quite a bit of unspoken frustration.

A vote “with reservations” is still a yes vote, but it’s a way to indicate that you’re unsure that what you’re passing is a good idea. I couldn’t imagine voting yes if I had any reservations about making a law that was literally about life and death.

Let’s be honest. We really shouldn’t be passing any laws that we’re not sure about. Yet, as it turns out, I’m guilty of it too.

When I started today’s column, I planned to use a different example about voting with reservations. In 2015, I voted with reservations throughout the legislative session on a bill to establish a licensing system for . My votes allowed me to be on the final committee negotiating the bill. If you vote no on a bill, you don’t have that chance.

I knew I would support a version of the bill, but I did believe we needed to craft a good system to ensure both access and safety. I wasn’t sure we’d achieved that prior to our conference negotiations, which I remember as one of the most difficult yet productive committees I’ve sat on.

In the end, I fully supported the measure. I was even proud of the compromise we produced. In my memory, I voted yes. If that were true, this vote would have been a great example of why “with reservations” votes are beneficial for the legislative process.

As it turns out, I voted yes with reservations. Why? I couldn’t remember so I had to do some digging through the .

My written remarks in the journal are formatted like a speech, which I means I intended to speak on the floor. I probably changed my mind because the debate carried on for a long time about the merits of the bill, and my reservations were a little off topic.

So instead of speaking, I wrote, “While I am supportive of the bill, my reservations stem from the process of bringing this bill back from the dead. I was disappointed that an agreement could not be reached during conference … However, it is a fact of the session that not every bill will get out of conference committee. When we make a special exception to allow a bill to continue in the process after the regulated process has expired, we are setting a dangerous precedent.”

We were negotiating that bill right up to the conference deadline, and it was set to join the rest of the bills in the end-of-session graveyard because we hadn’t arrived at an agreement in time. But, that evening, we got word that the committee received an exemption to continue its work.

I had reservations about the process not the bill, but how would anyone know that? I could easily have been using my “reservations” as a cover for voting yes on a controversial bill. The only way to know the difference is to unearth my remarks in a rarely visited corner of the House website.

This example is just one of the many reasons some good government advocates believe we should scrap this practice altogether.

Essentially, as a previous Civil Beat Editorial Board piece points out, “the option lets legislators play both sides.”

A vote with reservations can easily be spun as “less than a yes” on bills that are unpopular with a legislator’s constituency or specific groups within their communities like social conservatives. On priority bills with tight margins, you can often find vulnerable legislators voting yes with reservations to both help their legislative leaders pass the bill yet maintain the veneer of opposition.

Prior to being elected, I saw the practice of voting with reservations as the equivalent of Pontius Pilate ordering Jesus’ death under political pressure while stating he “washed his hands” of the decision. Once I got elected, I found that a “with reservations” could be more than just a cop-out.

Decision-makers shouldn’t be able to disown their decisions. It’s time for the Legislature to eliminate “with reservations” votes for bills in their final version.

It maintains the ability to work on legislation without outright rejecting someone’s proposed bill and keeps the door open for compromise. It’s a method to signal to your colleagues and the public that you agree with the intent of the bill yet are concerned with its current iteration. It means that conference negotiations can include legislators who will likely be more engaged and watchful because they’re aware of the potential pitfalls.

As a legislator, I used those reasons to vote with reservations, and for the most part, I stand by those decisions. However, I used the practice for selfish reasons too. Preserving your political capital while maintaining your electability is a tempting option if it’s there.  

But decision-makers shouldn’t be able to disown their decisions. For that reason, it’s time for the Legislature to eliminate “with reservations” votes, but I think a forced yes or no vote should be limited to bills that are in their final version and ready to become law.

A legislator will vote on a bill at least three times before it can be sent for the governor’s approval. In committees and early floor votes, it makes sense to allow them to flag a bill that they are concerned about because there is still time to work on it. But when it’s time to make a final decision, it should be a real decision.

This compromise would allow imperfect bills to continue through the early stages of the process yet hold legislators accountable for the final product. At the very least, I think it’s worth a try before we scrap the practice altogether.