In his inauguration address, Jeb Bush sparked an ideological debate about the nature and scope of state government by speaking dreamily of a day when state buildings will lay empty as "silent monuments to a time when government played a larger role than it deserved or could adequately fill."

Here in Tallahassee, most folks were more than a little upset at the prospect of empty downtown state office buildings. State government is, after all, very important to our local economy --- and to the health of our state. Why would we want to empty those buildings?

It's not surprising that the governor isn't too concerned with what Tallahasseeans think about him or his philosophy of government. In a recent interview with the Miami Herald, Bush haughtily dismissed critics of his inaugural address with a laugh, suggesting that perhaps his metaphor was "a little too deep for them."

Golly, Jeb, what did that there speech mean, anyhow?

Perhaps what the governor was trying to say is that, in an ideal world, government wouldn't be necessary. This is a timeless maxim that can be found in the writings of thinkers as diverse as Karl Marx and James Madison. In a perfect world, parents would always be mindful of the welfare of their children, criminals would refrain from crime and children would educate themselves. But Floridians are not angels, and, therefore, state government is necessary.

Then again, maybe there's more to Bush's metaphor than is immediately apparent. Perhaps we should take the governor at his condescending word and dig deeper.

As ostensibly radical as Bush's empty-the-buildings charge seemed, it was philosophically consistent with a long tradition of southern governors. Consider the themes of most 20th-century inaugural addresses in the South: low taxes, low levels of state services, conservative fiscal policies and a businesslike approach to running state government.

As University of Florida political scientist Richard Scher wrote: "It was not unusual for a southern governor to characterize himself and his approach to the job, not as a spokesman for popular concerns or issues, but as a businessman or corporation head and to be concerned less with the public welfare than with the financial health and integrity of the state. . . . Few were the southern governors who supported substantial redistributive, regulatory or extractive programs and policies."

Bush's "deep" meaning was really a very old one, rooted in a fear of "creeping government" and "fiscal profligacy." It's a theory of government that complicated the lives of those occasional governors who hoped to accomplish more than stagnation or deconstruction.

LeRoy Collins, for example, made an effort to overcome the soft bigotry of low expectations and citizen apathy. Yet his pursuit of moderate racial policies, constitutional reform and legislative reapportionment found little support in the state. He would later recognize that he may have tried to move too fast, his far-reaching agenda sending Floridians into a kind of shock. It would have been easier for Collins --- and for every governor --- to simply dream of a day when compassion replaced the role of government. Collins, of course, would have never done such a thing.

Bush, on the other hand, has exposed his deviously libertarian thinking for all of Florida to see. How will his empty halls cope with a potential $4 billion gap between what it must pay for in 2003-04 and what it can afford? Will privatization leave Florida a pawn to corporate interests? Who will fill the void of compassion and thwart the greed of industry?

When tumbleweeds gently blow through the empty halls of Tallahassee's state office buildings, who will find Florida's lost children? Certainly, our governor will not.

Mike Pope is letters editor of the Tallahassee Democrat. He can be reached at 599-2173 or mpope@taldem.com.