One bad deal

Last week, responding to my kohlrabi column, my colleague Lee Egerstrom observed that anything drenched in enough sour cream, horseradish and dill will be edible. With that in mind, I’d like to reconsider the single most significant legislative act of the past ten years: Governor Pawlenty’s 2003 biennial budget and revenue restructuring deal.

How much sour cream, horseradish, and dill were required to swallow it?

Minnesota faced a $4.2 billion deficit following the 2002 election. Newly elected Governor Tim Pawlenty, fresh from the State House of Representatives Majority Leader’s Office, solemnly announced that drastic budget deficit reduction measures were required.

It’s clear, five and half years later, that a short-term budget crises solution fronted a radical revenue restructuring, regressively shifting a great deal of core government service funding back on to local property tax payers. In one fell swoop, Governor Pawlenty and his conservative public policy allies reversed 1971’s Minnesota Miracle.

The Minnesota Miracle was itself a dramatic departure from past practice. Faced with citizen-driven government service expansion, local units of government cities, school districts, counties increasingly struggled to fund programs within a property tax-centric revenue generation system. Governor Wendell Anderson proposed sweeping tax reform, anchored by a progressive state-wide tax structure that, in turn, reduced local property tax burdens.

Further, Minnesota began making revenue sharing payments to local government, capturing the state’s substantially greater economies of scale. In turn, local budget demands on property owners sharply decreased.

For schools, increased state funding meant a sea change. Minnesota said, collectively, we will strive to fairly educate our children, mitigating a district’s relative wealth or poverty.

It worked. For thirty-two years, Minnesota’s schools established national achievement standards in public education. And, for thirty-two years, Minnesota’s conservative public policy advocates stewed and waited.

I don’t entirely understand the conservative argument that collective action and community decisions encoded in government service are bad. Actually, I don’t understand it at all. The closer I look, however, the more I see greed and shallow self-interest.

The conservative movement doesn’t speak with a single voice but, generously sampling conservative Minnesota blogs and websites; I’m not finding much Henry David Thoreau inspired, live simply and freely sentiment. No, instead, I read a lot of anger.

There’s a not so subtle pull-the-ladder-up-behind-me vibe at play. In other words, having enjoyed the benefits of a strong public education, public infrastructure investment, public health care access, a public human services safety net and a public regulatory structure, right wingers would deny those same benefits to subsequent generations.

This brings me back to the 2003 budget deficit and revenue restructuring deal. Governor Pawlenty did not act alone. He was joined by a legislative majority. That majority delivered state tax cuts to Minnesota’s wealthiest citizens while hiking everyone else’s burden.

So let’s stop pretending that the 2003 deal was simply “belt tightening.” It wasn’t. It was, in effect, a reward to the “pull up the ladder” crowd. Five and a half years on, Minnesota is paying a terrific price as a consequence.

Minnesota 2020 was founded one year ago today to challenge that consequence. We’ve ruffled feathers, inspired debate, earned both accolades and vitriol, and heaped praise where praise is overdue. In the coming year, we’re going to do all of that and more because there’s a lot at stake.

Governor Pawlenty remains governor and stubbornly resistant to undoing his conservative public policy handiwork. A different legislative majority is working toward policy change but they haven’t achieved it.

It’s true that enough sour cream, horseradish and dill will improve anything’s taste. Just don’t forget, sour cream, left on the table at room temperature, goes “off” quickly. That would explain the public policy stink we smell.