Discerning the difference between lawmaking substance and political theater hasn't been easy for us scribblers at the 2016 Legislature. For instance: Was it substance or theater when freshman GOP Rep. Abigail Whelan got a hearing on a bill to withhold $14 million for medical research from the University of Minnesota unless and until it ceased using fetal tissue obtained through abortions?
It's just theater, I thought, as U folk fretted that legislative interference would disrupt potentially lifesaving and disease-curing investigations.
That bill is in for a chilly reception in the DFL-controlled Senate, I observed. And if by some hook-or-crook maneuver it wound up in a final bill, it would be stopped cold by Gov. Mark Dayton, who personally engineered a $30 million state funding boost for medical research just last year.
"No, they're serious!" the university crowd hollered when Whelan's bill got a second hearing. An alarm went out to alumni, who fired off e-mails and phone calls urging hands off medical research. The big guns — President Eric Kaler, medical school dean Brooks Jackson — came to the Capitol to play defense. Higher Education Commissioner Larry Pogemiller appeared in the State Office Building to convey Dayton's displeasure.
The bill went behind the Legislature's curtain for "possible inclusion" in the House's higher-ed spending bill. When it first emerged on April 15, gone was the threat of a $14 million penalty if the university did not end the use of fetal tissue derived from abortions. What amounted to a ban on the use of such tissue remained.
Then on April 19, an amendment arrived at the House Ways and Means Committee, and university lobbyists looked relieved.
The ban had been replaced with a directive that researchers obtain permission from a review panel before using aborted tissue, and that the panel "consider whether nonhuman tissue would be sufficient" for proposed investigations. Further, the medical school is directed to seek fetal tissue derived from miscarriages, not abortion, for research purposes, and the Office of the Legislative Auditor is directed to look over the Medical School's shoulder as it does.
That language doesn't thrill university officials. They hope it evaporates in conference committee. But if it sticks, they concede, they can probably live with it.