In a recent exploration of State Senator Phil King’s legislative endeavors and business engagements, a tension between public office responsibilities and private enterprise interests delineates an intricate narrative. With the senator's introduction of Senate Bill 1015 facilitating semiannual utility rate increase requests—previously limited to an annual basis—the benefits for utility monopolies emerged tangibly, subsequently confirmed by Oncor in an SEC filing citing over $50 million in incremental revenue for 2023, as detailed in a Texas Monthly report. This legislation also curtailed municipalities' capacity to oppose allegedly unreasonable utility expenditures; a concern voiced by Tina Paez, Houston’s head of regulatory affairs, who saw the move as a shift towards utility self-regulation.
Beyond the textual confines of legislative documents, the drafter of said policy, King, seems embroiled in networks of power and capital that might distract from an unbiased representation of Texan citizenry—his affiliation with Oncor extending to financial profits as a former minor partner in Select Mat, which has had $31 million worth contracts with Oncor since 2018. These dealings came to the fore during an inquiry by Texas Monthly, a situation King insists is in full compliance with both the letter and spirit of Texas law, according to a statement obtained by said publication.
The alignment between King's private and public roles emerges in sharper contrast under an examination of his broader career, as chronicled by his Senate profile. King, who brings an array of experiences as a former police officer, an attorney, and a businessman to the Senate, has recently been appointed Chairman for the Texas Conservative Coalition Research Institute, holds a position on the National Board of Directors for the American Legislative Exchange Council, and has been a fervent participant in Texas's conservative lawmaking.
The lawmaker's service is not without scrutiny, with several advocates and analysts voicing concern about the potential for conflicts of interest inherent in such dual pursuits. Energy consultant Alison Silverstein, in a statement obtained by Texas Monthly, lamented on the permissibility of lawmakers to garner profits from business with entities under their legislative purview, a practice which might be forbidden in another, though hypothetical, "good-government state." However, despite these looming ethical quandaries, King continues to maintain his seat and fortify his political garrison, unimpeded by a restructured electoral map ostensibly designed to cement a Republican monolith within his district—a chronic symptom of a greater malaise ensnaring the Lone Star State’s political firmament.
This legislative fortification and its potential ramifications loom over the upcoming elections, where Phil King faces Democratic challenger Andy Morris. Despite the efforts of critics and opposition candidates to shine a light on these overlapping interests, the efficacy of such exposure is questionable in the holdfast of gerrymandered strongholds, as described by author David Daley to Texas Monthly: "There is almost no way to hold a lawmaker accountable when they have drawn themselves into a gerrymandered noncompetitive district that they simply cannot lose." Thus, the narrative of Phil King—and of Texas politics at large—continues to unfold under the watchful eyes of a republic persistently probing the boundaries of democracy and responsibility.
