Opinion

Who governs California? The high price of tribal influence

California State Capitol building on a sunny day in Sacramento. Image by miroslav_1.

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OPINION — Over the past two decades, a select group of California tribes has amassed vast financial resources through casino revenues.

Not surprisingly, these interests have sought to translate that wealth directly into political power — through campaign contributions, independent expenditures, ballot measure campaigns and relentless lobbying.

The result is striking: a small group of extraordinarily wealthy tribal gaming interests has developed a level of political influence that few industries can rival — and fewer still can resist.

Nowhere is that clearer than in their ongoing effort to eliminate one of their last remaining competitors: California’s non-tribal cardroom industry.

To be clear, this is not about challenging tribal sovereignty. Tribal leaders rightly note that they are separate sovereign governments, not simply private businesses — a status that affords important legal protections and autonomy.

But that framing raises an uncomfortable question. Californians would not accept a foreign government writing large checks to state politicians or bankrolling ballot campaigns to shape California law.

Yet when it comes to these powerful tribes, that line has blurred to the point of near invisibility.

The scale of this imbalance is troubling.

California is home to roughly 109 federally recognized tribes, but only about 70 operate casinos. The number of tribes generating the overwhelming share of gaming revenue is smaller still.

In total, the population of California’s gaming tribe members is estimated to be in the tens of thousands.

These tens of thousands are exerting outsized influence over public policy in a state of nearly 40 million people, home to the fourth-largest economy in the world.

This is not a question of cultural recognition or tribal rights; it is a question of proportional political power.

Tribes have tried repeatedly to convince voters, legislators and courts to shut down cardrooms, but those efforts have failed. Now, they have turned to a quieter, more effective strategy: leveraging years of political investment to influence our state’s top law enforcement official — Attorney General Rob Bonta.

What is unfolding goes beyond advocacy. It increasingly resembles “regulatory capture” — using financial power to achieve administratively what could not be secured through the ballot box or the courts.

Since 2014, tribal interests have contributed at least $447,000 to Bonta and his family, according to campaign finance records. Today, Bonta’s Department of Justice is advancing regulatory changes that would effectively eliminate legal, tax-paying cardrooms.

The Pechanga tribe — which runs one of California’s most lucrative gaming operations, Pechanga Resort Casino – is among the most politically active, contributing at least $99.4 million to various campaigns and committees since 1998.

This level of spending helps explain how a tribe with just 1,800 members manages to wield such significant influence over policy decisions affecting 40 million Californians.

If the tribes ultimately get the cardroom regulations they want, the consequences will be staggering.

The Bonta-backed regulations that took effect April 1 threaten an estimated 30,000 jobs tied to card rooms — dealers, servers, security personnel and support staff in communities from Los Angeles to the Bay Area.

This occurs while tribal gaming generates $12.1 billion in revenue annually that goes entirely untaxed by the state of California.

Cardrooms are expected to absorb an anticipated $464 million annual revenue hit. That loss will ripple outward, reducing funding for local governments that rely on cardroom taxes to support police, fire, and emergency services.

projected 50% drop in revenue for some cities will force difficult choices: cut essential services or raise taxes on residents.

These are not abstract impacts. They fall on working Californians and the communities that depend on these jobs. Cardrooms are not fringe enterprises; they are economic anchors that provide stable, living-wage employment.

The people most affected are not casino executives or political donors — they are workers who rely on these jobs to support their families.

Yet those impacts appear to be an acceptable trade-off for our attorney general in a system where financial influence carries extraordinary weight. The attorney general’s own estimates show that gaming tribes stand to gain up to $230 million per year from these regulations. The same cannot be said for the workers facing layoffs or the cities confronting budget shortfalls.

This is ultimately not just a dispute between two gaming sectors. It is a test of whether California’s rules apply evenly — and whether financial influence, applied patiently and at scale, can achieve what voters and courts would not allow.

In other words: who governs, and under what rules? In California, the answer increasingly appears to depend on who can spend the most.

Miguel A. Pulido served on the Santa Ana City Council from 1986 to 1994, then was mayor from 1994 to 2020.

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