The U.S. House is preparing to vote on the Sunshine Protection Act, a bill that would end the twice-yearly clock change and lock the country on daylight saving time year-round. The measure cleared the House Energy and Commerce Committee 48-1 in May and now heads to the full chamber, but a prominent Senate Republican is already working to stop it.

The bill, House Resolution 139 of the 119th Congress, carries a twist from earlier versions: states could opt out before the law takes effect. Those that don't would have their clocks permanently set to the time Americans observe between March and November, the "spring forward" setting. Hawaii and most of Arizona, which already skip the clock change, would remain unaffected.

President Donald Trump has thrown his weight behind the effort. After the committee's lopsided vote, he wrote on Truth Social:

"Big Vote today (48-1!) in the Energy and Commerce Committee on a Bill including The Sunshine Protection Act, which will be making Daylight Saving Time Permanent!"

In a follow-up post, Trump added: "It's time that people can stop worrying about the 'Clock,' not to mention all of the work and money that is spent on this ridiculous, twice yearly production."

A bill with bipartisan momentum, and a familiar history of stalling

This is not Congress's first attempt. The Senate unanimously passed a nearly identical version of the Sunshine Protection Act in 2022, only to watch it die in the House without a floor vote. That failure made the current push all the more notable, the bill has advanced further in the House than any prior version.

The legislation was folded into the broader Motor Vehicle Modernization Act, as Newsmax reported, and carries 32 bipartisan cosponsors in the House. A companion Senate bill, S. 29, sponsored by Sen. Rick Scott of Florida, has 18 cosponsors of its own.

Rep. Vern Buchanan, the Florida Republican who sponsored the House measure, called the current system "the outdated and unpopular practice of changing our clocks twice a year." Public polling backs him up. An AP-NORC survey found only 12 percent of Americans favor the current clock-switching arrangement, while 47 percent actively oppose it, the Washington Examiner reported.

Supporters in the House point to research linking the spring time change to sleep disturbances, greater workplace injuries, and a spike in car crashes. They also argue that brighter winter evenings would spur more economic activity.

Those health claims carry weight. When the Senate passed its version in 2022, backers cited studies showing heart attacks spike 24 percent and stroke rates climb 8 percent in the days following the spring clock change. Sens. Marco Rubio and Ed Markey, the bill's odd-couple sponsors, declared at the time: "We can't always get bipartisan agreement in Congress these days, but here's one thing we can agree on: we could all use a bit more sunshine."

In a Congress that often struggles to pass even national security legislation, the near-unanimous committee vote and broad cosponsorship suggest genuine cross-party appetite for this change.

Tom Cotton's case against the clock

But the bill's path through the Senate is far from clear. Sen. Tom Cotton, the Arkansas Republican, has emerged as its most vocal opponent, and his objections are rooted less in politics than in geography and sunrise tables.

In an October floor speech, Cotton laid out a detailed case against locking clocks forward permanently:

"By moving the clock back an hour in winter, permanent Daylight Savings Time would push winter sunrises to an absurdly late hour, depriving Americans of morning sunshine that's essential for our safety and well-being."

Cotton got specific. Under permanent daylight saving time, he said, the sun would not rise until after 8:00 or even 8:30 a.m. in parts of his home state during the dead of winter.

"Three months out of the year, kids in towns like Bentonville, Fayetteville, and Fort Smith would start school ahead of the sun."

That image, children walking to school in the dark, is not hypothetical. The country tried this once before, and the result was swift backlash.

The 1974 experiment America doesn't remember

President Richard Nixon signed year-round daylight saving time into law in 1974, responding to the energy crisis triggered by the 1973 oil embargo. The logic was simple: more evening daylight meant less electricity for lighting.

The public turned on the policy fast. Dark, cold winter mornings, especially for schoolchildren, generated intense opposition. Congress reversed course and restored the twice-yearly switch. The episode remains the strongest historical argument against permanent daylight saving time, and Cotton knows it.

In his floor speech, the Arkansas senator reached even further back in history, invoking the 11th-century European monarch King Canute, who famously set his throne on the shore and commanded the tide to halt, not out of arrogance, Cotton argued, but to demonstrate the limits of earthly power.

"Good King Canute's wise words are as true now as they were then. No earthly ruler, not even this Congress, can alter the movements of the heavens, not today, not in 1974, not ever."

Cotton acknowledged that "a handful of industries would gain from the bill", naming outdoor entertainment venues, seaside resorts, and golf courses in southern states during winter. But he framed those benefits as narrow and insufficient to justify the disruption.

It was a characteristically methodical performance from a senator who has shown a willingness to break with party momentum when he believes the policy is wrong.

The opt-out wrinkle

The current bill's state opt-out provision is designed to address precisely the kind of concerns Cotton raises. States worried about dark winter mornings could exempt themselves before the law takes effect, preserving the current system within their borders.

But that creates its own complications. A patchwork of time policies, some states locked on daylight saving, others switching twice a year, still others (like Arizona and Hawaii) on permanent standard time, could produce confusion for interstate commerce, travel, and broadcasting. The bill's authors appear to be betting that most states would simply accept the change rather than opt out and become time-zone outliers.

California voters already signaled their preference in 2018, passing a proposition to make daylight saving time permanent. That measure cannot take effect without Congressional approval under federal law, a requirement that has left the state in limbo for years.

The daylight saving debate, for all its seeming triviality, touches real questions about federalism and the limits of one-size-fits-all policy. Congressional power struggles over state-level governance rarely resolve cleanly, and this one may be no different.

What happens next

If the House passes the bill, it moves to the Senate, where Cotton's opposition, and the question of how many colleagues share his concerns, will determine its fate. The Senate passed similar legislation unanimously in 2022, but that was a different chamber with different members and no organized opposition.

Sen. Rick Scott has positioned himself as the bill's Senate champion. "I look forward to FINALLY passing my Sunshine Protection Act out of the Senate and making this commonsense policy a reality for the American people," Scott said.

Trump has pledged to work to get the bill signed into law. His Truth Social post claimed "Hundreds of Millions of Dollars are spent every year by people, Cities, and States, being forced to change their Clocks." Whether that figure holds up to scrutiny is an open question, but the political signal is clear: the White House wants this done.

The open questions are significant. How many senators share Cotton's concerns about dark winter mornings? Will the opt-out provision satisfy skeptics, or will it create a logistical mess that gives opponents ammunition? And will the House vote hold up under floor debate, or will the 48-1 committee margin shrink when the full membership weighs in?

This is a Congress that has shown it can move quickly when leadership and the White House align. Whether that alignment survives Cotton's counterargument, and the ghost of 1974, remains to be seen.

Americans have been complaining about the clock change for decades. Congress has been promising to fix it almost as long. If lawmakers fail again, they'll have no one to blame but themselves, and the sun will keep rising on its own schedule regardless.