Molly Ivins March 24SANTA FE, N.M. — The pluperfectly daffy charm of New Mexico's politics is in full and glorious display here in the early spring, bursting forth in such zany abundance that the New Mexico political fan can scarcely count all the blessings. The Lege is in emergency session in the Roundhouse (that's the state capitol) trying to deal with a most unfortunate loophole in the state gas law that it wrote. It seems the law permits Indian tribes to sell gasoline wholesale all over the state, tax-free, with an unhappy impact on the state treasury. The Indians are industriously doing so, thus making Republican Gov. Gary Johnson unhappy enough to call this rather expensive special session. (Cultural note on the political correctness front: The Albuquerque Journal now refers to Indians as Native Americans, while the Santa Fe Reporter is sticking with Indians; on the grounds that all the quotes I have concern "Indians," I'm going with the Olde Style.) Meanwhile, Indians from the Pojoaque Pueblo are out fouling up traffic on a major state highway because of a snafu of another sort. Casino gambling is a rich new source of Indian revenue all over the country, and New Mexico Indians are naturally cashing in. Johnson signed a gambling agreement with the tribes that has since been declared illegal by the state Supreme Court, so the casinos are in legal limbo. Johnson refused to put the issue on the agenda for the special session, thus touching off the Pojoaque traffic protest. Tribal governor Jacob Viarrial says that if the state takes away the gambling revenue, his pueblo will put up toll booths on the highway that crosses tribal land to make up for it. Now if one were to step back here and take the long, long view, the prospect of American Indians becoming filthy rich from the stupidity of European-Americans who gamble does constitute a certain — hmmmm, what is the word we want here? — justice. But the long view is ever hard to maintain, and the motorists who were delayed for up to two hours Thursday lost it entirely. While the gambling issue remains unclear, the Lege hastens to close the gasoline tax loophole. Actually, "hasten" barely covers it; this is one of the fastest legislative rush jobs since the Texas Lege honored the Boston Strangler for his work in the field of population control. Meanwhile, Santa Fe — which is now challenging Boulder, Colo., for the title of Alfalfa Sprout Capital of the Universe — is also in a political pickle.
Just as the City Council was voting to fire the brother, Jaramillo received an international award for making Santa Fe a "city of vision," thus completing the confusion. Jaramillo denounced one of the council members who voted against her brother for having "just come in on the bus." This set an alarming number of sensitivities jangling, since the native population of northern New Mexico consists of all the Hispanics, all the Indians and about seven Anglos. Some Anglos who have lived here for 50 or 60 years are grudgingly accorded the status of full New Mexicans, but the interlopers of a mere 10 or 20 years' standing are still regarded with suspicion. In the old days, the division of power in New Mexico was beautifully simple: The Hispanics had the political power, the Indians had the federal government and the Anglos had the money. All were united in their loathing of Texans, who are, of course, loud, vulgar and rich. Happily for Texans, we have since been supplanted in the general loathing by Californians, who are flooding into this very poor state with such buckets of money that Texans seem genteel by comparison. Northern New Mexico is one of those places so ridiculously beautiful that the minute newcomers step aboard, they want to pull up the gangplank so more people won't come and spoil it. Your basic environmentalist-vs.-developer wars here are aggravated by the extremely fragile, arid ecology. Although Santa Fe is now hopelessly condemned to be a tourist town, quainted up to the nines, it stubbornly refuses to build an airport, thus saving itself from becoming Disneyland-on-the-Sangre de Christos. The cultural wars are also lively. The Indians have money to put into politics, the New Agers have introduced crystals and massage, the Hispanics-who-are-NOT-Chicanos are still struggling to preserve their culture, and the most unwelcome California import is gang warfare in Albuquerque. (It is evident to all devout New Mexicans that gang warfare comes from California; obviously, New Mexico kids would never have thought up gang wars on their own.) Although Texas naturally wishes our wonderful neighbors the best of luck in solving all these problems, for the outsider the simplest way to understand politics here remains a saying of my favorite former New Mexico governor, Bruce King: "A promise is not a commitment." *** Molly Ivins is a columnist for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. COPYRIGHT 1996 CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.
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