It may surprise the casual observer of the great Silver State, with its noble mountains and ignoble tax base, that the mood in Carson City is less celebratory than a cat in a rainstorm. The reason? A solemn convocation of economists—five in number, each more learned than the last, and all of them employed in that curious profession where one can be wrong with confidence and still be considered a prophet—has gathered to deliver a most inconvenient truth: the money pot is shrinking, or at least not growing as vigorously as the politicians had hoped.
This band of soothsayers, known as the Economic Forum, is tasked with foretelling how many doubloons shall pour into the state’s coffers over the next two years. Due May 1st, their findings will dictate how much brass the Legislature has to play with and whether pet projects like expanding film tax credits or doling out hundreds of millions for the Governor’s priorities, will live to see another committee hearing.
While I ain’t one to accuse a man of misdeeds without a trial, the recent clamor around these budget woes has taken a curious turn, wherein several well-groomed and well-rehearsed politicians have set their sights on a scapegoat so familiar he ought to have his own parking space at the Capitol: one Donald J. Trump. I hold no brief for Mr. Trump, being neither kin nor creditor, but I reckon it’s worth pointing out a simple truth that seems to have fled the minds of these honorable men and women–you can’t blame the last fellow who stirred the pot for the fact that the stew’s been burning for years.
Let us travel back—not in theory, but in fact—to a time before Mr. Trump was anything more than a New York curiosity and television nuisance. Bless her heart, Nevada was already engaged in a delicate dance with fiscal misfortune.
Tourism, that ever-wavering mistress, has flirted and floundered for decades. The budget’s dependence on gaming, sales tax, and the comings and goings of tourists with pockets full of dreams and nickels was always a gamble—and not the kind you win often.
The pandemic put a stopper in every bottle. When folks finally staggered out from under their stay-at-home orders and began spending like drunken sailors, they mistook a temporary sugar high for sustainable growth. Now, the crash is arriving, not because of a tariff here or a grumble about Canada there, but because no economic party lasts forever when built on hope and roulette.
It’s a rare form of nonsense to claim tariffs from four years past are to blame for a downturn rooted in decades of lopsided revenue strategies, misaligned priorities, and an over-reliance on tourism—a fickle friend if ever there was one. But it makes a fine campaign line. And that’s what many of these proclamations are–not economic insight, but political ventriloquism, where the dummy says “Trump” whenever the heat gets too close to home.
Listening to these modern-day Cassandras, one would think that no tourist had ever skipped Las Vegas until the 47th president started spouting off about trade. Yet Harry Reid Airport has seen its fair share of empty seats long before that man ever came down his golden escalator.
If there’s any truth to be gleaned from Mr. Aguero’s observation—that what we don’t know outweighs what we do—we should proceed with humility, not hubris. Blaming a man for the wind when the roof’s leaked for decades is a logic that only passes muster in legislative chambers and lunatic asylums.
The good people of Nevada deserve a sober accounting, not scapegoats. Fix the revenue structure. Diversify the economy. Stop pretending the problem came with a red tie and a loud voice when it arrived decades ago wearing a smile and promising prosperity through slot machines and sales tax alone.
And if you find yourself tempted to believe that one man—love or loathe him—could single-handedly upend the vast machinery of this state’s budget, I’ve got a silver mine outside Vya to sell you. Cheap.
The Old Blog in the Desert 