Volume 92, No.5, September-October 2006

Duke Magazine-The Governor's Axe by Jeffrey E. Stern

Arduin anchors her libertarian philosophy to the ideological immortals. She keeps a copy of the Federalist Papers (signed by Tom Feeney, the ultra-conservative Florida Congressman) in her office, and applies its edicts in her policy decisions. She's made a libertarian mantra out of the Jeffersonian quote "that government which governs best, governs least," and in her own way realizes the message by taking a good hard look at any government program. When she first moved to California to work for Schwarzenegger, she toured the legislative chamber in Sacramento with some friends who were members of the assembly, and asked if she could push the buttons and cast a pretend vote. They said sure. So she walked up and pushed the red button to vote "No."

"Typical," they said. "She votes no without even knowing what she's voting for."

And while some would characterize Arduin's general skepticism about government programs as a reverse-Robin Hood exploitation of the poor, she sees it more as defending taxpayers: "The revenue coming in," she says, "comes from the people who work really hard and pay the money to the state. Most of those people aren't getting back in services what they pay in. You don't read stories about them. You don't read stories about the person who's working two jobs to take care of their family and pay taxes to the state so the folks you're reading about in the papers can take all of these services."

She's well prepared for the criticism she receives because one of her guiding principles is, if you have your hand in economics, you damned well better know your policy. She's well acquainted with the policy ramifications of her budget decisions, and, since her undergraduate days, has considered economics and public policy inseparable.

In Florida one of her structural changes--in addition to adding express elevators between her floor and the governor's--was combining the budget and policy departments. Before she came, the budget director's policy advisers seldom even attended meetings with the governor; Arduin had hers run them. (Jeb Bush recently appointed Arduin to the Florida's Property Tax Reform Commission. "I have big plans," she says. "I am speaking on a panel on state budget and taxes at a summit in Orlando next week. Jack Kemp is before us, and Newt [Gingrich] after, so I will be in conservative heaven.")

But if Arduin's constant inclination to break with custom when she thinks something can be done better flusters traditionalists, she's learned to weather the fallout. "When I cut $400 million in pay raises for California correctional officers, we considered getting me a bodyguard," she recalls. And although she doesn't seem concerned with how many friends she has, even senators who've lost their pet projects to Arduin's unwavering fiscal conservatism eventually come to respect her. Arduin says she's known ever since she took the meat cleaver to her first state budget that, in this job, you have to dig in for the long haul. Back in 1991, after Arduin and Patti Woodworth carved $5 billion in programs out of the Michigan state budget, Governor John Engler's approval rating fell to 13 percent. Arduin didn't blink. They cut taxes, businesses crept back into Michigan, and, come election time, Engler breezed right into his second term.

The morning after the meeting with the Orlando Sentinel's editorial board, Arduin is on her way back to Tallahassee, where Dave Ericks lives. She pulls up the Sentinel's website and reads a glowing editorial about the plans for the UCF medical school. Jeannie Woodford from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation tells her over the phone that they're "very interested" in leasing from CPT, and will soon propose a deal that not only leases the properties but commissions CPT to build more. Arduin checks the analyst report on CPT stock. It's been upgraded to "buy," and has climbed back up to $23. So far, it's been a good day, although there's still plenty of meat left in her schedule for the week. Tonight she'll be back in Orlando, where tomorrow she'll make a presentation on the medical school to the UCF board of trustees, then fly to San Diego for a conference with her partner Arthur Laffer.

On Saturday, after watching Duke win the second-round game in the NCAA tournament, Arduin heads for the airport to fly back to Tallahassee. Waiting at a red light, she looks through the window at a homeless man sitting on the curb, holding up a cardboard sign that reads "Anything helps--Smile--God Bless."

It's an uncomfortable moment. The homeless man sees her, they make eye contact, he smiles, she looks away. Then, she turns back and, too softly for him to hear--but with conviction--says, "Get a job."

 

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