Summer in the State House is quiet. Echoes of distant footsteps and doors squeaking shut on muffled conversations are about the only sounds on the main floor.
Echoes of the past on the walls, certainly: portraits of men whose privilege and position somehow gave them the right to govern; a tableau of the Battle of Gettysburg day three, Pickett’s charge, the “high-water mark of the confederacy”; and lists of war heroes, many of whom made the ultimate sacrifice without ever knowing privilege or wealth. There are the Union Army battle flags in somber glass cases lining the lobby in silent witness to visitors on guided tour.
This is the peoples’ house where laws are made. Laws that, ideally, won’t be dismissed as unnecessary, overreaching or unconstitutional. Laws meant to uplift, not endanger; to protect, not poison, even when cloaked in the false language of virtue. In many ways, the State House is New Hampshire. Unquestionably historic, it’s the oldest continually operating legislative building in the nation. Its marble stairs are worn smooth by generations of citizen-legislators trudging to musty chambers and by power brokers pushing narrow interests disguised as public good.
Lobbyists, name-tagged and ever-present, slip into hearings and back offices — though “offices” may be too generous of a word. Here, state representatives carry their desks in backpacks and shopping bags. The State House is New Hampshire: a little shabby, a little battered, not from neglect alone, but from frugality, from use and from a quiet kind of pride.
At first glance, the building evokes a sense of dignity, a place where thoughtful deliberation unfolds among respectful, capable volunteers, serving their state without pay. But do all who walk these halls honor that spirit? Do they uphold their oaths to the State and Federal Constitutions? Or do some exploit their seats to settle personal scores, slash funding out of spite and chip away at the foundations of democracy?
It feels as if New Hampshire may have been played. Its proud legacy of independence, and even its motto, “Live Free or Die,” were hijacked by special interests who used it as a tax shelter while starving it of its own resources. Decades of majority rule by so called “conservatism” gutted public education, let infrastructure crumble, ignored the housing crisis, abandoned rural communities and health care, and hollowed out the state’s future by driving away a generation of talent. Now, weakened and underfunded, New Hampshire stands vulnerable, ripe for capture by forces even more extreme.
New Hampshire risks becoming an intolerant insult to the democracy defended to their death by soldiers who carried those bullet-shredded, blood and mud-stained Union battle flags.
As a new citizen legislator, having just seen a disastrous Republican state budget become law, I’ve been assured by many veteran members of the House that “this is the worst it has ever been.” Yet it seems to me that it’s been decades in the making.
So, with the worst as my baseline, I might optimistically close this communication with the certainty that things can only get better. I’m a realist at heart and I see truth-telling as one of my most important duties.
Things are not going to get better in New Hampshire or in our country by the actions of lawmakers alone. We cannot legislatively restore the validity of “We the People” or “Live Free or Die.” It is up to the people of the Granite State to do the hard work ahead. New Hampshire led this nation through hard times since its founding, and there’s no reason it can’t rise to the occasion again, even in the face of today’s challenges.
If you visit the State House during your summer travels, let this old building, worn by time and history, remind us all of what’s possible when ordinary citizens stand up, speak out and lead with courage.
Janet Lucas has served as a New Hampshire state representative for Grafton County District since 2024. She resides in Campton.