Fear and secrecy in Carson City

The dominant player in this week's special legislative session wasn't elected and won't have to register as a lobbyist.

It's the most powerful special interest in politics: fear. Ominous, look-over-your-shoulder fear.

As if a revenue shortfall just south of $900 million and a devastating recession weren't enough to frighten the bejesus out of anyone.

Democratic leaders are increasingly scared of Nevada's liberal intelligentsia, public employee unions and other agitators for government growth because they've ruled out the crushing tax increases that would spare state government from the budget cuts requested by GOP Gov. Jim Gibbons. The far-left base isn't above making nasty threats to get what it wants.

Of course, Democratic leaders have ruled out those tax increases because they're also scared of the state's independent voters, who are mighty unhappy with the party they overwhelmingly supported less than two years ago.

Republicans, meanwhile, are fearful that some budget reductions have the potential to weaken a political tide surging in their favor. There are plenty of taxpayers who support the idea, on principle, that the public sector should share in the pain of this downturn -- as long as their kid's classroom doesn't grow more crowded and their kid's teacher doesn't get a pay cut.

Businesses, already stressed and struggling to make payroll, are terrified by the ramifications of Democrats' request for $200 million in immediate, ahem, "voluntary" tax payments. What future considerations might they get for such a tribute? And what consequences might they face for not paying what amounts to protection money?

Local government entities know their balance sheets are inviting targets for a legislative revenue raid -- as they were in 2009. They're scared of losing capital funding or entire revenue streams to patch the budget leaks in Carson City, then being left to sink.

And the government unions, behind all their bluster and belligerence, are afraid their members will lose income or, worse, that they'll lose members -- and the dues that fund their lobbying and political activism -- through massive layoffs. Fewer members means fewer votes to promise to the elected officials who keep pouring the gravy.

Fear makes those in and around government do foolish, desperate things. But without fail, it makes elected officials run to the dark embrace of their greatest ally in times of widespread unrest and outcry: secrecy.

Every remotely contentious deal struck in Carson City has been brokered behind closed doors, and this week's drama will be no different. While Gibbons has been open with his proposals to balance the two-year, $6.9 billion spending plan lawmakers passed over his veto, legislative leaders have let precious few specifics sneak into the sunshine.

They're working feverishly through this weekend to reach an accord on the bulk of their plan. They're expected to announce their intentions on Monday, the day before the special session convenes, at which time they'll try to ram the thing through without so much as a single public hearing.

Yes, legislators have held hearings over the past few weeks to take the electorate's temperature and get a sense of the public's priorities (giving tax consumers equal time with taxpayers), but that's not the way legislation is supposed to be passed. Our elected representatives are supposed to present their ideas and proposals to the public well in advance of voting on them, not the other way around.

But it's hard to pass unpopular legislation when voters actually have time to talk about it. Why do you think the covert Democratic Congress was in such a rush to get horrible new health insurance regulations to President Obama's desk? They knew their proposals couldn't survive sustained public scrutiny.

For the Legislature's Democratic majority, it's further proof that, outside of a couple of fringe, entrenched incumbents, they simply can't be open about their political intentions. Their fear of the public is justified; revealing their real policy goals would lead to election losses.

That's why Democrats campaigned as fiscal conservatives in 2008 -- before drawing up $1 billion in tax increases in 2009, while the economy was still tanking. They think they can pull the same trick in 2010 by coming out against tax increases now, talking blithely about "revenue reform" and "tax restructuring" in 2011, and hoping voters forget about the 2009 spending spree.

No one will dare say the words "tax increases" in 2010, then they'll move quickly to double the burden in 2011.

This is the solution so many liberal cheerleaders champion. If only state government could be made flush with cash again, Nevada might have a chance at becoming great, regardless of whether any business resumes hiring.

But this "solution" would only make things worse. Nevada's local governments have, for two decades, had more money than they knew what to do with. Did that buy greatness and superior services? No. It enriched unionized work forces. A lot of good that did taxpayers.

Today, Nevada's political and government establishment has a lot in common with Tiger Woods: It's convinced it won't ever have to answer tough questions about its colossal mistakes.

Putting off the inevitable only makes it harder to move forward.

Nevada can no longer afford the empires our government masters have built, and they want to spend even more? And keep you out of the process?

Now that's scary.

Glenn Cook (gcook@reviewjournal.com) is a Review-Journal editorial writer.