On Beacon Hill, to hear top Massachusetts lawmakers tell it, the people who walk in darkness have seen a great light. The state Legislature — long notorious for its secrecy, authoritarianism, and fecklessness — has embraced the cause of reform and integrity. House Speaker Ron Mariano and Senate President Karen Spilka preached the good news at a press conference Monday, when they announced a package of new rules that will, they claim, make legislating in the Bay State more straightforward, productive, and honest.

“We heard loud and clear that the people want us in the Legislature to move bills more efficiently, more transparently, and give more access to the public,” Spilka told reporters. “That’s exactly what these rules deliver. … This is a win for the public.”

In truth, the changes embodied in the new guidelines are pretty small beer. The Legislature will henceforth provide summaries of bills moving through the legislative process. Written testimony submitted during hearings will be made available to the public. Voters will be able to find out if their senators or representatives attended committee meetings, and how they voted in those meetings will no longer be a secret. Ten days’ notice will be provided before hearings take place.

Such tiny tweaks are what pass for reform on Beacon Hill. In most states, citizens take their right to this kind of information for granted. Only in Massachusetts — which earned an F from the Sunlight Foundation and a D+ from the Center for Public Integrity, and has been described by Forbes as having “arguably the least transparent state government in the entire United States” — do House and Senate leaders pat themselves on the back for deigning to allow a little basic accountability. Henceforth, they assure us, the activities of the Legislature will be more democratic and aboveboard.

If you believe that, I have a Big Dig tunnel to sell you.

Even the most casual familiarity with what goes on in the State House should raise doubts that meaningful reform is on the way. The Massachusetts House and Senate are not modern, capable, businesslike bodies, like those in New Hampshire, South Dakota, and other well-governed states. They are instead akin to medieval courts, with unchallenged power concentrated in the hands of two people: the House speaker and the Senate president. Just about everyone else in the legislative branch is either a loyal courtier, a silent observer, or a soon-to-be-exiled dissenter.

I don’t claim to know what truly lurks in the hearts of Mariano and Spilka, but it would require what Hillary Clinton once memorably called a “willing suspension of disbelief” to imagine that they have become faithful converts to the cause of open, honest, and responsive lawmaking. Still more so to conclude that they are prepared to diminish their own power.

Time and again, House and Senate leaders have promised to be more transparent, or voted for reform, or responded to public frustration, only to backslide once public attention faded. I expect this latest show of turning over a new leaf will be just another episode of that long-running farce.

Let’s take a stroll down memory lane, recalling how often Beacon Hill’s leaders have postured as reformers, only to revert to habit once the spotlight faded.

Consider the rule that strictly limited House speakers to a maximum of eight years, a reform that former speaker Robert DeLeo made a show of supporting when he acceded to the post in 2009. DeLeo’s three immediate predecessors as speaker — Sal DiMasi, Thomas Finneran, and Charles Flaherty — had all resigned in disgrace as convicted criminals, and DeLeo was eager to show that he was a reformer who could resist the temptations of unchecked authority. But in 2015, DeLeo arranged for the House to scrap that rule, clearing the way for him to remain speaker until he retired in 2020. Two years ago, the Senate did the same for its president, which means Spilka too can now rule indefinitely.

Under the pressure of bad publicity, lawmakers in 2016 agreed to establish a commission charged with recommending changes to make the Massachusetts Legislature more open and transparent. But a Globe reporter discovered a year later that the commission had never bothered to convene. A year after that, it still had nothing to recommend. As recently as March, the vast majority of state lawmakers would not say whether they believe the Legislature ought to be subject to the Commonwealth’s public records law.

I keep a file of Globe stories documenting Beacon Hill’s entrenched culture of incumbency, impunity, secrecy, and self-enrichment. Many of the stories are lengthy and detailed, but a handful of headlines will convey the atmosphere that prevails under the Golden Dome:

“Legislative wheels turn out of view.”

“Trio of pay raises set for state leaders.”

“Smoke-filled rooms and the perks of power.”

“Ranks of power are plentiful, as is the extra pay.”

“Chairs get pay boost even as panels don’t legislate.”

“The Beacon Hill side hustle.”

“‘Ripe for corruption’: Lobbyists in Mass. skirt campaign finance laws.”

The Legislature’s misfeasance, incompetence, and disrespect for the public come in many varieties, from its annual failure to craft a budget on time, to its intolerance of meaningful debate, to the robotic unanimity with which rank-and-file members vote as they are instructed.

In recent months, the Legislature’s hostility to outside scrutiny has hit a new peak. Last fall voters overwhelmingly approved a ballot initiative empowering State Auditor Diana DiZoglio to conduct a professional audit of the Legislature. But DiZoglio’s efforts to act on her mandate have met furious resistance. The same legislative leaders who insist on their new commitment to openness and accountability have refused at every turn to let the auditor do her job. Mariano has gone so far as to hire legal counsel to ensure that DiZoglio will be stopped from shining a light on the Legislature’s operations.

All of which is to say that the new rules announced with such fanfare last week are mere reform theater: a performance designed to earn good headlines and tamp down criticism, without actually changing the status quo.

Transparency may be the promise, but opacity remains the product. If I have learned anything from 40 years of observing Massachusetts politics, it is that the only thing our legislative leaders are truly transparent about is their allergy to sunshine.