IN SOUTH CAROLINA, we have a well-established hierarchy for naming streets, highways, overpasses, intersections, interchanges, boat landings and sidewalks:

First preference goes to state legislators who either sweet-talk or bully their colleagues into feeding their egos with asphalt.

Second preference goes to other politicians whom legislative supporters want to give a political boost.

Third preference goes to lobbyists, big campaign donors and other non-politicians whom legislators hope to ingratiate by granting such honors.

And if all else fails, roads and such get named for people simply because they deserve to be honored — some of whom are even dead.

Self-aggrandizement at taxpayer expense has long been a problem in South Carolina, but in recent years it has escalated — with as many new namings in the past five years as in the previous 13 — to the point that a backlash is beginning to develop within the General Assembly. This was exacerbated when yet another highway namesake was recently sentenced to prison, reminding us once again of how dangerous it is to grant such designations to people who are still alive — and capable of doing things that make us regret bestowing such honors upon them.

And so a House subcommittee will take up a bill to prohibit naming roads and bridges for living people today, and a Senate subcommittee will take up a similar bill Wednesday. The House bill has powerful supporters — House Speaker David Wilkins and the chairmen of all his committees — but even that isn’t enough to assure its passage. Last week, the full House Education and Public Works Committee sent it back to subcommittee after members objected that 1) if you wait until people die to honor them, they won’t know you honored them, and 2) this would tie the hands of local officials.

If the second objection were sincere, it could be easily addressed by simply preventing the state from honoring living people. As Rep. Ted Pitts, who has championed such measures since he was first elected, puts it: “We’re the ones up here doing all the naming.”

But of course the real objection is that legislators would no longer be able to have their own names emblazoned on public facilities or be able to use naming rights to curry favor with donors and voters. If anyone tries to tell you differently, ask them why Mr. Pitts’ bill, which simply prohibits naming roads after elected officials until five years after they leave office, has never gotten anywhere.

If worse came to worst, the Wilkins bill could be amended to cover only current and former elected officials. But that would be a step backward. What this bill needs is to be expanded, to cover public buildings as well. Mr. Wilkins raises a legitimate concern that this could interfere with universities’ efforts to raise money in return for naming rights. But that shouldn’t prevent a ban on naming buildings after elected officials who are still alive.

The conviction of former Comptroller General and highway namesake Earle Morris is a stark reminder of how people who seem deserving of such a permanent and visible honor one day can seem quite undeserving the next. But there also are numerous examples of people who never broke the law but whose actions after their names went on the plaques seem not to rise to the level of such honors. And their recognition cheapens the tribute paid to all those who truly deserve it.