They never steal
all your chickens
It's time Nevada business faces up to its situation
By Steven
Miller
Some vocal elements
in Nevada's business community often seem to think the way to
deal with human predators is to imitate the most timid
peasants in The Magnificent Seven.
At the start of that western film classic, some of the Mexican
peasants, who— for the nth time—have just been robbed of their
chickens and other property by a bandit gang, still
reflexively shy away from any kind of action.
Instead, they start finding excuses for the leader of the
gang.
"He never steals all our food," observes one. "He leaves us
enough to go on with."
"That's something," nods another.
"We could beg him to leave us more," suggests the first.
"No, no," interjects a third. "That would make him more angry.
I don't think we should do anything."
Those peasants have clear philosophical heirs in Nevada’s
business community today.
“So long as the government bandidos don't take every single
last one of our chickens,” some Nevada business moguls can
almost be heard to say, “we can’t stand up on our hind legs.
That might make them (gulp) angry.”
So what if an openly cynical 2005 Legislature passes an
admittedly unconstitutional 8 percent split-roll property tax
on Nevada businesses? Just curtsy and say: “Gracias, seńor.”
So what if Sharron Angle’s property tax restraint initiative
proposes to cancel out that illegal Legislative monstrosity?
Run away from the idea—and your own self-interest. Instead,
whine that passage might anger the Nevada Legislature’s
bandido caucus and lead it to attempt to imitate its
counterpart in California by shifting more of its
looting activities onto the backs of business people. Keep
reciting instead the peasant mantra:
"No, no. That would make them more angry. I don't think we
should do anything."
Moreover, all the while you’re reciting, simply ignore
the heavy-duty fact that, despite your aimless puttering
about, Angle's Prop 13-style initiative is wildly popular with
homeowners and likely to win Nevada voter approval by a large
margin. That means that precisely what you fear is most
probable—unless you embrace the real protection being offered
Nevada business by another important initiative headed for the
fall ballot—Tax and Spending Control for Nevada (TASC).
TASC would largely block the predator caucus from
imposing on the state business community those new, heavy
taxes you fear. Backing TASC, however, would surely upset
Nevada’s politicos. It would be the equivalent of not doffing
your straw sombrero when cringing before arrogant banditos.
The socio-political system increasingly operative in Nevada is
constructed upon what predatory cultures like to call
“respect.” In fact, that term is a euphemism for the reign of
intimidation and extortion—translated through a veil of
disingenuous smiles and inoffensive weasel words.
Historically, this kind of system marks societies before true
constitutional government and the rule of law takes hold. It
also arises—much evidence suggests—in advanced societies when
corruption has made constitutional protections for property
rights increasingly a dead letter.
At the end of the film’s opening scene, as the bandit chief
Caldera mounts up, he tells the rest of the gang: “We’ll get
the rest [of the village goods] when we come back.” Then, to
the peasants before him, he declares: “I love this
village,” and begins pretending to commiserate with them about
their hard times. It’s the same combination of theft and
feigned friendliness that has characterized the entire film to
that point.
We see the same here in Nevada, every session. The predator
caucus in the Nevada Assembly makes clear that there is no
limit to its appetites and that it intends to “get the rest”
of its higher-tax, higher-spending agenda when it comes back
in the next legislature. At the same time, throughout the
session, its members pretend to commiserate with every voter
in sight—even about high taxes!
Bad as that is, even worse looms on the horizon—a future of
even greater political predation that Nevada businesses
will face if the minimum-wage measure on this
November’s ballot makes it into the state constitution. Passed
by uninformed voters in 2004, while business leaders took a
siesta, the measure is a Trojan Horse. Small-print provisions
legalize union extortion of business people and workers alike,
while providing an engraved invitation for active Mob
re-involvement in Nevada’s labor scene.
In The Magnificent Seven, the bandit leader explicitly
states his view of the peasants:
"If God didn't want them sheared, He wouldn't have made them
sheep."
Nevada business leaders are not sheep. It’s time they stopped
pretending to be.
<747 words>
Steven Miller is editor of BusinessNevada and policy director
for the Nevada Policy Research Institute.
