Vermont Sen. Larry Hart, Sr. has become the second rookie Republican state senator to tender his resignation less than a year after voters chose him to represent their interests. Hart’s reasons are less dramatic than Sam Douglass’, but his resignation letter reveals him to be one more Republican who couldn’t handle the reality of life in a legislative body.

In his resignation letter, Hart referenced “the loss of my daughter and grandchild to addiction” as motivation for his candidacy. He took office hoping to “help with substance use addiction legislation among many other goals I outlined in my Senate race,” but he’d found that “it became too difficult for me to accomplish any major goals in my first session.”

I do not question his motives for running or the depth of his personal loss, but c’mon, really? A freshman lawmaker had trouble accomplishing “major goals” in his first go-round? Join the club, man.

With extremely rare exceptions, every new legislator feels marginalized. It usually takes a couple of terms at least to learn the ropes and earn the trust of leadership. There are good reasons for this; legislative bodies are complicated places and lawmaking is by nature a complicated process.

It’s even worse for members of minority caucuses. They just don’t have much clout; the majority sets the agenda. Hell, if Vermont Republicans feel aggrieved, they should ask U.S. Rep. Becca Balint what it’s like to be in a Congressional minority. It’s much better for minority caucuses in Vermont than it is in Washington.

I mean, look: One of Hart’s two committee assignments was on Senate Health & Welfare, the panel that considers substance use issues. Usually, rookie lawmakers (especially minority rookies) get stuck with irrelevant assignments. Agriculture is a favored dumping ground for newbies.

I can’t say whether Hart made a substantial contribution to committee deliberations. What I can see is the list of bills he signed on to; they show no sign of any particular interest in substance use issues — or the entire process, for that matter. Hart was not the lead sponsor on a single policy bill of any kind. He did co-sponsor a total of 16 policy bills, which is not very many. In most cases, he was one of many co-sponsors on bills that sparked no controversy and required little engagement.

Only one of those 16 bills had anything remotely to do with substance use. Hart was one of 25 co-sponsors (reminder: there are only 30 senators in total) on S.157, which would “establish a voluntary recovery residence certification through the Department of Health.” The bill was introduced on May 30 and awaits action in 2026.

Recovery residences are defined as temporary living arrangements in which people in recovery can receive peer support and assistance in identifying other sources of help. It’s not a bad idea, hence the 25 sponsors, but it’s not a game-changer. (S.157 was the second-to-last Senate bill introduced in 2025, so its fate will be determined in 2026.)

And that was it for Hart’s contribution to substance use issues, as far as the legislative record reveals. I find that distinctly underwhelming.

There are echoes of Hart’s self-pity in the crowdfunding pitch posted by Douglass on the Evangelical fundraising site GiveSendGo. Douglass presents himself as a brave victim of the political establishment, which “doesn’t like it when young people get elected themselves and start challenging the status quo.” Sure thing, Robespierre.

In truth, Douglass did little outside his own imagination to challenge the status quo. He served quietly as a backbencher in the minority caucus and didn’t do much to keep in touch with his district.

(Update on Douglass’ self-pity monetization: When I wrote about his GiveSendGo page, he had raised $1,626 toward a goal of $30,000. As of Halloween evening, total takings were a decidedly modest $2,786 — and his goal has been cut from $30,000 to $10,000. Hey, maybe you can go broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people after all.

Hart’s complaints also remind me of first-term Rep. Michael Boutin’s laments, which were given generous coverage in a Seven Days article about the experiences of two rookie state reps. As I wrote at the time about his outlandish expectations:

Boutin came with “a wish list of bills,” seemingly unaware that rookie lawmakers seldom make an impact, especially if they’re in the minority. Look: 521 bills were introduced in the House alone this year. The vast majority were fated to go nowhere. It’s always that way, and it has to be. Legislative committees have time to fully consider only a handful of bills in any given session. And priorities are set by majority leadership who, after all, won their authority fair and square at the ballot box.

It seems rather typical of Republican legislators these days. They aren’t much interested in the scutwork of democracy. They are ill-equipped by experience, temperament, or outlook, for the legislative long game. They arrive full of grandiose ideas and expect to transform the entire institution through the sheer force of their brilliance.

Well, it doesn’t work that way. It shouldn’t work that way. Lawmaking is hard for very good reasons. But there are ways for a Republican to wield influence in a Democratic body. For example, Senate Minority Leader Scott Beck. He is not at all moderate politically, but he proved himself a capable cog in the House machine. He didn’t introduce conservative bills doomed to be ignored; rather, he worked with majority Democrats to influence legislation that might actually become law. He left the House as a solid contributor on the tax-writing House Ways & Means Committee. And when he entered the Senate, he arrived with the well-earned respect of colleagues across the spectrum. He has leveraged his reputation to gain a huge amount of influence in the school redistricting process.

Doubtless a lot of Republican officeholders are taking their cues about democracy from their spray-tanned Dear Leader. Just snap your fingers, Thanos-style, and your wishes become law. Well, democracy doesn’t work that way. And if our system survives the Trump autocracy, then Congressional Republicans will have to learn how the process is supposed to work. And Republican lawmakers in Vermont will have to figure out how they can be effective, even if they can’t simply waltz into the Statehouse and accomplish their major goals in Year One.