In the 1970s and 80s, comedian Gallagher built a career around a simple bit: he would walk on stage with a giant wooden mallet and smash watermelons to pieces. Everything — no matter the size — was met with the same oversized tool.
It was absurd. It was messy. And that was the point. But what worked on a comedy stage doesn’t translate well to public policy.
The Sledgehammer Approach
Yet increasingly, that same approach appears in legislation — where narrow, modern problems are met not with precision, but with sweeping rules that reach far beyond the conduct at issue. House Bill 410 is one such example.
In committee, Representative Laurie Schlegel (R-7/10) raised a contemporary concern. Hidden cameras embedded in smart glasses. AI systems transcribing conversations in real time. Private interactions uploaded, shared, and turned into viral content — sometimes without the knowledge of those being recorded.
She described a world where individuals — particularly women — are unknowingly filmed, mocked online, and exposed to mass audiences through technology they cannot see and do not understand. The recordings, she noted, may be transmitted to companies, stored, and even reviewed by third-party contractors.
Once, a simple piece of parental wisdom was enough: don’t talk to strangers. Not because the world was unsafe, but because individuals bore some responsibility for the interactions they chose to engage in. Today, that expectation is shifting. Instead of the caution of personal responsibility, we are offered more government regulation.
There was also an all too familiar refrain with the rise of the surveillance state — “if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.” We are told that whatever burden such systems impose is simply the price of modern safety and convenience. That logic can now be applied in a different form: “If you don’t say or do anything embarrassing, you shouldn’t worry about being recorded.”
The Actual Mechanism
House Bill 410 does not directly regulate smart-glasses manufacturers, AI companies, or platforms that store and distribute recorded content. Instead, it regulates individuals — and their right to freely record their own interactions. Under HB410, any participant in a “direct conversation” may face civil liability for recording without first notifying “all participants.” But who qualifies as a participant? The original parties? Someone who later interjects? Anyone whose voice is captured, regardless of any reasonable expectation of privacy?
The focus is not on what happens to a recording after it is made — the viral dissemination, the platform amplification, the harassment (often times by people who did not capture the recording to begin with) — but on whether the recording occurred without notice in the first place. This is the central shift. The problem described in testimony is one of technology and alleged misuse — covert devices, third-party storage, and mass dissemination. The solution enacted is a rule governing ordinary human interaction.
A narrow harm. A sweeping response.
Exceptions Everywhere
The breadth of that response becomes clear not in the rule itself, but in what follows: the exceptions. To make the law workable and agreeable for the special interests, carve-outs had to be added. Law enforcement activity, first responder activity, public officials in public settings, recordings for criminal or civil evidence, recordings inside one’s own home, and even recordings by non-participants.
The expansion of the “law enforcement activity” exception was made at the request of the Louisiana Sheriff’s Association. That is a silent admission that even law enforcement officers could be held liable under this bill, despite the legislature providing sweeping liability protections a few years ago that covered everything except “criminal, fraudulent, or intentional misconduct.”
Concerned legislators like Emily Chenevert (R 8/10) expressed concern that this would prevent voters from recording their elected officials’ conduct. She was told no! But this legislation, like all legislation, is not static. There are already over half a dozen carve-outs. Future legislatures will almost undoubtedly expand that list to protect other special interests.
Each exception prevents an obvious and unacceptable consequence. But together, they reveal something more important: The rule is too broad to stand on its own.
A Simple Requirement Creates a Complex Framework
What is presented as a simple requirement — notification before recording — quickly becomes a framework that must be corrected, narrowed, and adjusted to avoid interfering with everyday life and government operations. Without those exceptions, the rule would expose ordinary conduct — and even government activity — to liability.
And even then, the questions remain. What constitutes sufficient notice? Must it be verbal? Written? What if someone wears a t-shirt that says “I am recording our interactions”? What happens when a new person joins an ongoing conversation already being recorded? At what moment does liability attach? The bill does not say. And if similar legislation is any guide, those answers will be left to the courts.
But that is not the role of the courts. It is the responsibility of the legislature to create clear laws that ordinary people can understand — not leave their meaning to be determined later through litigation.
The Structural Shift
Louisiana law already governs recording. Under existing statute, the unlawful “interception” of an oral communication turns on whether the speaker had a reasonable expectation of privacy. It is a framework rooted in privacy itself — was the conversation truly private, and was it secretly captured?
HB410 does something different. While it still incorporates concepts of privacy and reasonable expectations, it shifts the focus toward procedural notice requirements and creates a second layer of liability tied not to unlawful interception, but to whether all participants were notified. In doing so, it creates a second, two-tier system:
- One grounded in criminal law and privacy expectations.
- The other is grounded in civil liability and procedural notice.
A person may now act lawfully under one standard — yet still face liability under the other. Rather than creating clarity, the bill creates competing standards.
The Pattern
This approach is not new. Earlier in this session, Representative Schlegel advanced House Bill 190 to address concerns about specific digital platforms and the risks they may pose, particularly to minors. The public discussion centered on real and troubling examples tied to modern software environments.
But the structure of that bill did not remain confined to those platforms. Instead, it created a broad “duty of care” applied across the entire software industry — sweeping in technologies far removed from the conduct that the legislation was enacted to address. Key terms were left undefined. Boundaries were unclear. And the ultimate meaning of the law was left to be determined through litigation.
The same pattern appears here: A specific harm is identified, a broad rule is enacted, exceptions are added to make it workable, and courts are left to define its limits over time. When the legislature leaves ambiguity in the statutes it creates, it is not making law — it is abdicating its responsibility to the judicial branch. Whether that is intentional or simply the result of lawmakers not fully understanding the downstream effects of their actions is for you to decide.
The Consequence
In a world where recording devices are everywhere — phones in every pocket, cameras on every building, microphones embedded in everyday objects — the expectation that a conversation may be recorded is no longer unusual. Surveillance, both public and private, has become a constant feature of modern life.
Yet HB410 does not address that reality. It does not attempt to refine the “reasonable expectation of privacy” principle, which emerged in response to technological advances. It sidesteps it and replaces it with a requirement modeled from Oregon’s law: give notice or face being sued.
Nor does it limit or require accountability for institutional surveillance being carried out by our own government. It doesn’t address concerns about data being handled by third parties or AI technologies. It does not restrict the systems that store, analyze, and distribute recorded data. Instead, it places new restrictions on individuals documenting their own interactions.
Consider a simple scenario: a group gathered at a restaurant for a birthday. One person begins recording the festivities. Another joins the table mid-conversation. No notice is given. Has a violation occurred? Under HB410’s broad language, that question may ultimately depend on how courts interpret who qualifies as a “participant” in a “direct conversation.” Because the bill does not merely prohibit misconduct — it creates a cause of action. All someone needs to do is allege harm, and they can sue. Then come the damages, attorney fees, and court costs. Not for intercepting a private communication. But for failing to notify “all participants.”
The Call to Wisdom
The normal soothsayers stood and expressed their concerns over the legislation on the House floor. Beryl Amedee (R, 10/10) and Chuck Owen (R, 9/10) both recognized the threat posed by such legislation.
Despite those warnings, it passed the House 54 -34. Since then, HB410 has continued advancing through the legislative process, surviving committee amendments and moving to final Senate passage — demonstrating just how comfortable modern legislatures have become with delegating broad, open-ended regulatory frameworks to the judiciary.
Laws shape behavior. But they also reflect judgment. A well-crafted law identifies a harm and addresses it directly. It draws lines carefully. It respects the balance between protection and freedom. HB410 does something else. It takes a specific concern — covert recording, AI misuse, viral dissemination — and responds with a general rule governing ordinary conversation. It shifts the focus away from the systems that amplify harm and toward the individuals who document their own experiences. And it does so in a way that is becoming familiar.
When every problem is met with a rule broad enough to cover everything, the result is impact without control. The law spreads beyond its purpose. Exceptions multiply. Uncertainty follows. And the real meaning of the rule is left for the courts to work out.
Back on stage, Gallagher always knew exactly what would happen when his hammer came down. The watermelon never stood a chance. In law, the outcome is less predictable. But the approach is the same. And when a sledgehammer is the only tool in hand, everything begins to look like something worth smashing. Your liberties are no exception.
