Political Street Theater? Homeless Candidates Run in Arizona

A 20-year-old street kid who lists his business as "busking" is running for a seat on the Arizona Corporation Commission, which oversees public utilities, railroad safety and securities regulation. A 27-year-old tarot card reader with less than a dollar to his name is running for State Treasurer. And a bushy-bearded pedicab driver known as "Grandpa" is running for State Senate. This could almost be an inspirational story, except for one small detail: It's Arizona, circa 2010, where no political trick is too low to be attempted.

In this case, these three "street people" from Tempe, Arizona, have been recruited by Republican operatives to run as Green Party candidates, as recently reported in the New York Times. One of the main architects of this crass ploy is Steve May, a former Republican state legislator who is himself on the ballot this fall. The three homeless candidates all list the local Starbucks as their campaign office, and May performed some political theater there for reporters by shouting out to each one, "Are you fake?" in reference to the apparently sham nature of their candidacies.

The story has since been going viral, with commentators ranging from the DC Examiner to the Dallas Morning News decrying the Republicans' tactics. The scam works because of a quirk in Arizona law that allows individuals to appear on the general ballot if they receive even a single vote (their own, perhaps) in an open primary without an official minor party nominee. Republicans were able to place stealth candidates on the roster in a number of contests around the state — knowing that some left-leaning voters will choose the Green candidate without further inspecting their actual views and values, which could be sufficient to tip the balance in close races toward the Republicans. Under the state's Clean Elections law, these calculating efforts even wind up being funded by the taxpayers, and the political operatives listing themselves as campaign managers for the sham candidates could be paid for their electoral shenanigans.

It's a compelling story with a number of tragic angles that have been largely ignored in the clamor. One is May's apparent descent from his previous reputation as a comparatively "honorable, well-respected" politician, garnered following his disclosure on the Arizona House floor of his homosexuality — which led to his ouster from the U.S. Army and a national spotlight shined on the plight of gays in the military.

The other sad aspect to this story is the blatant exploitation of the homeless for political purposes. On the surface, the notion of homeless people running for office could be seen as a laudable display of democracy and equality in action. But when orchestrated in this manner — the candidates all filed on the eve of the primaries, for instance — it is little more than another denigration of people's character and dignity. The fact that it was a Republican putting them up to run on the Green Party line further indicates the inherently farcical nature of the whole sad affair.

How did this happen? Were the homeless willing participants, or themselves victims of a scam? To answer this, a bit of background on the homeless enclave known colloquially (and somewhat affectionately, in a begrudging way) as the "Mill Rats" is in order. They frequent Mill Avenue in downtown Tempe (hence the name), and are generally a colorful, loose-knit community made up of homeless youth, older street people, and wannabes who gravitate toward this small slice of "urban culture" in an otherwise gentrified and sterilized environment. The Mill Rats tend to be politically cynical, openly sarcastic, and self-consciously anachronistic as they frequent the tony downtown drag that abuts the university district.

While generalizations are never completely accurate, I can claim to know at least a bit about this particular street community, since my 2008 book Lost in Space was based on a case study of homelessness in Tempe. Granted, much has changed in the years since I did the research for this work, and yet evidence suggests that the same anarchistic, sardonic spirit is evident among these homeless candidates — potentially offering a partial explanation for why they might jump at the chance to muck up local politics, as described by the Times:

Dressed up spiffily, [Mr. Pearcy] described himself as the illegitimate son of a stripper who had had run-ins with the law and a tough childhood but who had pulled his life together. "I've been homeless," he said, his eyes darting back and forth. "I got a place. Anyone can do it. We're all good enough." There was nodding all around, more than when he went into his pitch to solve the budget deficit through the installation of solar panels.

Reading tarot cards has taught Mr. Meadows, who is known for his purple and green jester hat, to talk a good game. "This is not the land of the free," he told the loungers on the sidewalk, pitching himself for treasurer. "It's the land of what's for sale."

Grandpa, widely known in the area through the pedicab he drives for hire, is against higher taxes and for God in the classroom. The other night, he was supposed to debate his Democratic and Republican rivals in the race but after seeing only the Democrat on stage, he decided to watch from the back. "I got a bad vibe," he said.

In response to all of this chicanery, the Arizona Green Party has sued in federal court to block the candidacies of 11 office-seekers, including the homeless candidates, alleging that they are shams who are "not standard bearers for the Greens." Frankly, it would make more sense to me if the Green Party embraced candidates such as Mssrs. Pearcy, Meadows and "Grandpa" rather than seeking to remove them from the ballot. This would make a strong statement about political equity and social justice, and would further thwart the Republicans' plan by bringing actual (not fake) dignity to the homeless.

Hey, after all, it's Arizona. Maybe someday the homeless will run the State House, and then immediately pass a social welfare platform that drives Republicans into a tizzy. Now that would be the sort of change we could finally believe in, here in the land of desert mirages and ephemeral politics.

Photo credit: jvumn