How can a handful of voters control that much money? Easy. They lived in municipal utility districts, or MUDs. These pop-up governmental entities are authorized by the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality to issue debt without the burden of seeking a countywide vote or formally incorporating a city. Millions can be spent on roads, water, sewers, recreational facilities and all the infrastructure necessary to transform a home in the middle of nowhere into the Houston area’s newest suburban community. Developers get guaranteed infrastructure where none previously existed while future residents and businesses get stuck with most of the bill, but no formal local government. Meanwhile, nearby residents conveniently excluded from the MUD’s boundaries have no say about what happens in their neighborhoods.

There are plenty of problems with MUDs. They undermine transparency. They perpetuate a system of unsustainable growth in unincorporated communities. They hide massive amounts of debt and new taxes. In fact, a state comptroller’s report from 2013 revealed that special-purpose district property tax levies, such as those from MUDs, had increased by 263 percent during the past two decades. And unlike Houston’s city government, with its weekly, livestreamed meetings, most residents probably don’t know what goes on at the MUD level, who board members are or what they even do.

However, the most distressing aspect of MUD management comes down to how they undermine the notion of representative government. MUDs work with companies such as Stingray Services Inc., which specialize in what they call “turn-key voter trailer” election services, to provide an illusion of democracy. Stingray moves trailer homes into districts that can act as temporary legal residences for voters who will authorize millions in debt. As Daniel Spiecher told Chronicle reporter Cindy Horswell, he signed a nine-month lease for a trailer with Stingray because the rent was only $150 a month. In a state where political leadership has done everything possible to set a high bar for voting, how can men like Gov. Greg Abbott bless these kind of shenanigans?

Engaged citizens previously have tried to use the power of the voting booth to reclaim taxing power back from utility districts. About five years ago, Jim Jenkins, a Woodlands resident, joined with a few other concerned Texans to take over the board of the Woodlands Road Utility District and dismantle it. However, like many utility districts, the sprawling, multi-million dollar Woodlands district largely avoided residential areas and housed only four voters. To be able to cast their ballots, Jenkins and his friends tried to register at the address of a Residence Inn within the district. The state brought charges for voter fraud. Perhaps Jenkins should have contracted with Stingray, instead.

The Woodlands activist may have technically broken the letter of law, but utility districts and other similar entities routinely trample the spirit of representative government. It is time for the Texas Legislature to treat these districts with the same scrutiny reserved for fraudulent voting.

But don’t expect the fight to be easy. There’s an entire industry of consultants, law firms and developers that rely on MUDs and other boards for a public-dollar payout. Do you really expect the Texas government to take aim at these big guys? Please. That only ever happens in the movies. As for the $500 million in bonds? That passed 2-0.