A Christmas Carol

On Christmas Eve 2002, Gov. Kenny Guinn might have been visited by an apparition of a former governor akin to Jacob Marley.

The apparition might have warned the chief executive not to follow his path toward an easy solution to the state’s growing fiscal crisis, as he and many others had done before him.

If the sleepy Guinn was visited by a ghost of Christmas Past, it would have guided him that eve back in time, to when Nevada was still small enough to accept laying its tax burden on one big industry.

The ghost would show the fervor of Proposition 13 in the state next door and its impact on taxes here and, of course, it would point out a fighter pilot with political aspirations, stumping through the state to impose a two-thirds majority vote requirement for tax hikes.

The second ghost would take the governor on a tour of what he already saw each day, but from the perspective of those struggling so mightily against the rapid growth of the once-sleepy state. Police and schoolteachers, doctors and nurses and social service workers would all present a barely acceptable view of his state.

It was likely the last ghost, who presented a doom-filled view of the future, that shook the good Republican to his core. The overcrowded schools with underpaid teachers would send more youngsters fleeing to a life of undereducated ease in the service industry — or worse, one of crime.

The roads, bridges, washes and infrastructure would be heaving against the constant arrival of newcomers.

And what of those service workers? What would happen to the Tiny Tims in child welfare’s arms?

A giddy Guinn would awaken to propose tax increases that would yield a galling $1 billion in new revenue, largely on the backs of big businesses. He would call for revamping the state’s tax system so that no future denizen of the mansion would be faced with the fiscal crisis he saw.

But Guinn’s vision was only partly achieved by the 2003 Legislature, and only after a mammoth struggle that forged chasms of conflict that have widened in the 41/2 years hence.

The new resident of the mansion may also be haunted by visions of the past and views of the present. But Gov. Jim Gibbons does not appear to worry about what looms in the future. He knows all too well his promises to not raise taxes, rendered at recent Christmases past, and will stay the course no matter what the changing situation means.

His first lesson from cautionary ghosts is apparently that it is better not to flip-flop than to learn from them. Of course, this lesson applies only to his own good political promise, not what he promised the public schools.

The ghost of Christmas present offers a different set of challenges to this governor, given the prologue Guinn provided.

Gibbons knows well the drubbing Guinn took for his bold attempt to correct (albeit with pitiful execution) the state’s overarching problem. But instead of learning from Guinn’s mistakes and the errors of the 2003 Legislature, Gibbons is stuck on a position that not only solves nothing, but could create more havoc for the state’s finances.

Surely the future ghost raised the specter of a massive gaming tax increase, instituted through initiative by the teachers union. And what else? Another terrorist attack? An incident, God forbid, in Las Vegas? Gibbons pays that no mind. Instead, the vision most burned into his soul from the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come is centered on the first Tuesday in November, 2010.

By failing to address the state’s larger fiscal crisis in any way other than cutting the budget, Gibbons is proving his own political future trumps all else.

Of course, this is a governor who does blow with certain winds. Something had to shake him from his recent promise that K-12 education would be off limits to budget cuts. Maybe the revenue projections are worse. Maybe the proposed cuts weren’t nearly enough. Maybe he was talked into viewing the exclusion of K-12 as a policy mistake.

In one of the better non-holiday films set on Christmas Eve, “Die Hard,” the terrorist Hans Gruber tells a cohort not to fear a temporary setback. “It’s Christmas, Theo,” Gruber smiles. “It’s the time of miracles.”

A cynic might note the miracle Gruber sought came in the form of the FBI, an agency still poking around a bit into past actions Gibbons took in office.

The best miracle this time of year would be for the governor to learn the important lessons from the past, understand the reality of the present and act to make the future better.

You don’t have to be in the Christmas spirit to hope Gibbons emerges today happier and clearer-minded than Dickens’ own Ebenezer Scrooge.

“Many laughed to see this alteration in him, but he let them laugh and little heeded them. His own heart laughed and that was quite enough for him. And it was always said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well if any man alive possessed the knowledge.”

In this time of miracles, let us hope our governor has such courage.

Contact Erin Neff at (702) 387-2906, or by e-mail at eneff@reviewjournal.com.