Iowa, Maryland and now North Dakota stand out as the states with the hardest brakes on the revolving door between their legislatures and their lobbyists.
That's the assessment of Public Citizen, whose new national study of the rules in all 50 states finds most are tougher or better enforced than what's on the books at the federal level.
The prominent watchdog group is among those hoping to change that — in part by shining new light on the places where it sees ethical governance promoted above special interests' influence.
The limited way that Washington restricts the flow of people from Capitol Hill and the executive agencies down to K Street (and oftentimes back again) is maddening to advocates for a more open and cleaner government — and was raised to new national consciousness by Donald Trump and his "drain the swamp" campaign mantra of 2016.
But as president he's done nothing to push for restrictions on lobbying, while a couple of dozen senior people at least have left his administration to begin careers as influence peddlers. This has created an opening for many of the Democratic presidential candidates to seize the issue in 2020. Two senators in the field, Elizabeth Warren and Michael Bennet, are calling for a lifetime ban on lobbying by former members of Congress.
Others are touting their support for the House-passed political process overhaul, HR 1, which would make it more difficult for government contractors to take administration positions, and vice versa, and restrict communications for two years between departed officials and their former agencies.
Public Citizen calls the current federal rules "sorely inadequate" for preventing government officials and lobbyists from changing places, with each improperly benefitting from the insider knowledge they bring to their new jobs.
It joins the consensus view of good-government groups that the current cooling-off period, one year for former House members and executive branch officials, is too short for those leaving government. And it says the loophole permitting them to work right away as "strategic consultants" (telling colleagues at their new firms whom to call at their former agencies) without formally being "lobbyists" (making calls and visits to apply pressure themselves) is too big.
For its new report, out Monday, the advocacy group studied the mind-boggling array of revolving door restrictions in the 43 states that have some curbs. (The seven that set no limits are Idaho, Illinois, Michigan, Nebraska, New Hampshire, Oklahoma and Wyoming.)
Public Citizen encouraged Congress to do what a dozen states have done and mandate two-year cooling-off periods for former legislators, agency officials and in some cases senior staffers. (Florida will expand its to six years for people leaving state government after 2022.)
As important, they say, is enactment of federal legislation similar to what's on the books in 13 states: laws taking an expansive view of what is restricted during that time, including not only direct lobbying contacts with former colleagues in the arm of government where they once served, but also any other activities that might be seen as aiding advocacy (helping others with a lobbying campaign, most notably) with any arm of the government.
Six states have done versions of both things: Alabama, Washington, Texas and Louisiana in addition to Iowa and North Dakota. Public Citizen hailed the latter as having two of the "best" revolving door polices among the states because their two-year cooling off mandates apply to former lawmakers, executive branch officials and many of their ex-aides — and the definitions of what they're prohibited from doing in Des Moines and Bismarck is very broad.
The new rules in North Dakota were mandated by the voters in a referendum only last fall, ending an era when the state had no revolving door curbs at all. "Thanks to the public, their state has leapfrogged from last to one of the best," noted Graig Holman, one of the lead authors of the Public Citizen study.
Louisiana's rules are similarly stringent, the group said, but there's ample evidence they're being widely ignored, especially by former legislators openly trolling the halls in Baton Rouge. Loopholes in Alabama's rules, and the statute in Texas, permit ex-lawmakers too much immediate access to the back corridors of the statehouses in Montgomery and Austin, while the curbs on lobbying in Olympia only involve people working to win Washington government contracts.
Instead, Public Citizen picked Maryland as the state with the second-best policies, after Iowa. Though it keeps the revolving door closed for only one year, it said, the comprehensive rules effectively bar former legislators from seeking in any way to influence anyone in any position in state government during that time.
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.