One referendum down, 13 referendums to go.

Anyone who thought the people’s veto of the gay rights law was a mere smudge on the big picture of representative democracy will think again come November. There now are 13 citizen-initiative petitions circulating statewide, a full baker’s dozen of sundry unmet needs, a grab bag of demands tied together by one common thread: individually, legislators may be swell folks; collectively, they’re chopped liver.

The issues range from A to beyond Z: shellfish, marijuana, fuel mandates, cigarettes, slot machines, marijuana, pesticides, term limits, other term limits, tax credits, more marijuana, emergency vehicles, tax caps, lottery proceeds, timber, the PUC. Heck, there’s even one to have the taxpayers pay for citizen initiatives.

Whether one thinks this swarm of political mendicants earnestly beseeching the public at polling places and parking lots is out of control depends, of course, on whether one is petitioner or petitionee. But if this trend is not running amok, it’s trotting in that direction.

From 1911 through 1946, Mainers sent a grand total of six citizen initiatives to referendum; a remedy intended to be used sparingly was. Then nary a one until 1971, when the dam burst. Hardly a year has gone by without at least one citizen referendum, sometimes more than one: nuclear power, returnable bottles, nuclear power, taxes, slot machines, milk, mountains, telephones, moose, porn, roads, nuclear power (nukes apparently were to activists of recent yesteryear what pot is to those of today), ad infinitum and nauseam.

To question citizen initiative is to question democracy itself, unless one wants those 186 lawmakers in Augusta to be more than potted plants. Why, in fact, should the House and Senate decide difficult issues based upon days and weeks of testimony, research and debate, with attendance for votes close to 100 percent, when the public can do it based upon ad campaigns, gut feelings and a 30 percent turnout?

The paradox here is that from time to time someone suggests that the Legislature be downsized, perhaps halved, to save money. No way, the public says. The public wants a citizen legislature, it wants its lawmakers to be neighbors, a familiar face it sees at the post office or coffee shop. The public gets what it wants and then ignores it.

There are two recent and disturbing trends. Increasingly, citizen initiative campaigns in Maine are being started, funded and run by national groups. The signature gatherers sometimes are being paid per signature. Maine’s small, cussedly independent population makes it the perfect setting for a trial run.

And Mainers themselves seem to be giving up on the legislative process. Time was when a group with a goal would turn to initiative only when they had banged their heads against the State House wall repeatedly and failed to make a dent. Now, one or two quick passes, or sometimes none at all, and it’s petition time. The old work ethic is not what it used to be, nor are persuasion, consensus building and compromise.

This trend is taking a toll. There are rumblings of discontent among lawmakers, understandably feeling a bit abused, mistrusted and unappreciated. The job of lawmaking is tough; the hours are long, the pay is lousy and Maine needs all the good legislators it can get. Also, petition fever is an expensive malady — ballots, elections, lawsuits against the Secretary of State’s Office by unhappy petitioners don’t come cheap.

No one in the Legislature is talking about doing away with citizen initiative — it is a precious constitutional protection, a guarantee of citizen recourse that must be preserved. But it may well need a refreshing shot of balance and perspective. The bar should be raised.

Some of the ideas being kicked around are to revive the effort to ban petitioners from polling places, or at least to give voters a little breathing room. Perhaps the time limit for collecting signatures should be shortened or the number of signatures needed increased. Maybe citizen initiative should require a two-thirds majority to pass.

Or, Maine could disband the Legislature and just hold a big old State Meetin’ once a year. Rent a really big hall, print up 1.2 million warrants, get 1.2 million folding chairs, put out a couple tons of baked beans and Jell-O mold and argue for hours about nukes, pot and what roads to pave.