Oregon's Greens have reason to be disappointed. Not only
did Presidential candidate Ralph Nader post barely 5 percent
of the vote in what was thought to be his strongest state,
he scored just 2 percent nationwide--far short of the 5
percent needed to qualify the Greens for federal funding
next time but enough to earn the wrath of Democrats across
the country.
In Portland, at least, Greens do have one consolation.
By a narrow margin, Xander Patterson, the co-chair of
the state Green party, triumphed over his opponent in
the not-so-hotly contested race for director of the East
Multnomah Soil and Water Conservation District, making
him the highest-ranking Green in the Portland area (a
couple of party members serve on downstate city councils).
Sitting in his one-bedroom apartment in Northeast Portland,
whose décor includes blinky green lights and human
leg bones festooned with yellow police tape, Patterson,
37, is hardly a conventional politician--even by Portland
standards. In addition to an anthropology degree from
Reed College and an MBA from Portland State University,
his resume includes stints at Sunflower Recycling and
KBOO and two years as a reporter in Nicaragua.
But Patterson represents a break with convention in another,
more important sense. The classic third-party strategy
is to mount an insurgent campaign for a high-profile race,
hoping to draw attention to the cause, and maybe, just
maybe, stage a political upset or play the role of spoiler.
In practice, this approach almost never yields tangible
gains, leading to protracted grousing about biased media
coverage and exclusion from debates. This election was
no exception. Fellow Greenie Lloyd Marbet drew just 4
percent of the vote despite his highly publicized bid
for Secretary of State.
Patterson turned this strategy on its head, however.
Instead of waging an uphill battle for Congress or even
the statehouse, he decided to think small. "I thumbed
through old Oregon Voters' Pamphlets and tried to find
something winnable," he says.
That something turned out to be an unpaid position with
the East Multnomah Soil and Water Conservation District--a
government entity so obscure it makes Metro seem like
the White House.
Soil and Water Conservation Districts were first conceived
during the Great Depression as a way of reversing the
Western land use habits that gave rise to the Dustbowl.
They have no power to write regulations or impose government
policies and typically operate without a tax base,
relying on grants from other local governments. Their
mission is to provide technical assistance to farmers,
ranchers and land-users to, well, conserve soil and water.
"They go to great lengths not to ruffle feathers," Patterson
explains. "It's sort of interesting for me, because I'm
more of a bomb-thrower."
Patterson ran the quintessential stealth campaign. No
buttons, no lawn signs, no radio commercials. In fact,
the sum total of his campaign expenses amounted to just
$25 for a statement in the Voters' Pamphlet. Although
he frequently spoke on behalf of Ralph Nader at various
rallies and protests, he often neglected to mention that
he himself was running for office. But Patterson proved
that the Green network is capable of delivering votes.
Although the SWCD is non-partisan, Green Party canvassers
stumping for Nader made a point of mentioning the race.
Patterson is now basking in the afterglow of victory,
as well as the prospect of spending 10 hours a week studying
soil erosion.
If the minutiae of watershed management seem a far cry
from the Green passion for social change, Patterson is
unapologetic. "In the long-term, we're going to build
a much more successful movement if we can build up from
the bottom of the ticket," he says. "Look at how the Christian
Coalition took over the Oregon Republican Party."
Indeed, the most surprising thing about Patterson's election
is that Greens didn't think of this before. SWCDs seem
like a natural place to apply their philosophy and learn
about the nitty-gritty of government. For example, Patterson
hopes to promote more responsible practices--from more
natural golf courses to disconnecting downspouts--to improve
the habitat for salmon and other endangered species.
But this electoral experiment may also yield clues to
a more fundamental issue. "Can an individual who is capable
and committed really make a difference in government?"
he asks. "Or is it all on some vast auto-pilot?" The East
Multnomah Soil and Water Conservation District may seem
like a strange office to answer that question, but for
a guy like Patterson, it's probably as good a place as
any.
