Walk into Tesla’s design studio and you see a company planning five, 10, even 15 years ahead.
Engineers are thinking about the next generation of batteries, the next frontier of self-driving, and the next gigafactory. Now imagine if Tesla fired its entire leadership team every two years. New executives arrive, just learning the ropes, then are out the door before they can finish what they started. Strategic plans shredded. Projects stalled. Chaos disguised as renewal.
That’s not hypothetical. That’s Tallahassee.
Florida, the nation’s third-largest state, has built a political system that behaves like a high school student council. Freshmen arrive. Seniors graduate. The principal calls the shots.
Our legislators are limited to a term of eight years. Speakerships and Senate presidencies last only two. Since 2000, Florida has had 12 House Speakers and 11 Senate Presidents, each serving just two years. In the private sector, that kind of churn would be unthinkable.
In state government, it’s the norm.
Term limits were meant to keep politicians fresh. And in theory, fresh leaders bring new ideas. But in practice, Florida’s system rewards tactical thinking over strategic planning. Lawmakers spend their brief tenure jockeying for position instead of mastering the hard problems: insurance reform, housing, transportation, education, and the environment. By the time they’re fluent, they’re gone. The staff and lobbyists remain, accumulating expertise, while the elected officials rotate in and out.
The Governor, meanwhile, plays the long game. Because leadership turns over so quickly, Governors can simply wait out House speakers and Senate presidents. The executive branch holds the high ground, and the Legislature becomes a temporary assembly that rubber stamps rather than checks.
Now, at last, voters could have the opportunity to push back.
On the November 2026 ballot, Floridians could have the opportunity to decide HJR 27[1], a constitutional amendment that would impose twelve-year term limits on County Commissioners and School Board members. That’s a smart first step. But it should not stop there. The same twelve-year limit should apply to our legislators. And House and Senate leaders should serve four-year terms — one speaker and one Senate President per Governor’s term, empowered to negotiate as equals and carry a plan across multiple Sessions.
Why does this matter?
Because big states need big thinking. Twelve-year terms and four-year leadership posts would allow Florida to design and execute multiyear strategies rather than lurch from one-year fixes to the next. Leaders could shepherd major infrastructure projects from blueprint to ribbon-cutting. They could build long-term partnerships with local governments and the private sector. Budgets could be written with a five- or ten-year lens instead of a two-year scramble.
No serious company or institution replaces its leadership wholesale every twenty-four months. Tesla would never do that. The U.S. military does not do that either: its senior officers serve tours of varying lengths, and key roles, such as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, hold four-year terms.
Continuity breeds competence. Stability breeds strategy.
Florida deserves leaders who can think beyond the next news cycle. Twelve-year term limits at the county level are a start. Extending them to the Legislature would strengthen governance, deepen expertise, and restore balance between the branches of government. It would also give our state the ability to plan long-term, execute those plans, and adapt them as conditions change — exactly how the best organizations thrive.
Floridians should support HJR 27 in November 2026 and press lawmakers to apply the same reform to themselves. Tesla plans five years ahead. Florida should, too.
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Former Sen. Jeff Brandes is the founder and president of the Florida Policy Project[2].
References
- ^ HJR 27 (www.flsenate.gov)
- ^ Florida Policy Project (floridapolicyproject.com)