June 7, 2000 Salon.com
Reform Party rumble!
Amid defections and threats, the revolt against Pat Buchanan begins -- and threatens to destroy
the house that Ross and The Body built.
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By Anthony York

The Reform Party is perhaps best seen as a modern, political version of the fable of "The Scorpion and the Toad," complete with pitchforks, feather boas, pinup models and of course, $12.6 million in federal matching funds.

In the traditional version of the fable, a scorpion asks a frog to carry him across a stream on its back. The toad asks, "How do I know you won't sting me?" The scorpion says, "Because if I do, I will die too."

The toad agrees and they set out together, but in midstream, the scorpion stings the frog. As paralysis sets in, the toad knows the two will both sink and drown, but has just enough time to gasp, "Why?"

"It's my nature," replies the scorpion.

So it is with the Reform Party. Once upon a time, there was an idealistic political party made up of debt-reducing, social-libertarian isolationists who craved a simpler life. This disparate group, individualistic by nature, rallied first around an eccentric Texas billionaire, until a professional wrestler suddenly stole his thunder.

In an effort to stop the wrestler's meteoric rise, the billionaire and his buddies reached out to a right-wing social conservative, who had been spurned by his own party. Enticed by the fact that this bunch was sitting on a $12.6 million taxpayer-financed pot of gold, the right-wing social conservative made fast friends with the party.

"How do we know you will not sting us with your social conservatism?" some party regulars asked.

"Because it will only hurt me to hurt you," the conservative said. "Plus, I have reached out to Lenora Fulani."

The party was satisfied, and allowed the conservative to ride on their backs, or walk all over them, as the case may be.

Now, with the $12 mil squarely in the conservative's sights, many of the Reform Party old-timers find themselves gasping for air, just now rethinking this Faustian bargain. While the Reform Party mud wrestling has been well-documented, what is most startling about this parable is the utter naiveté of the old guard. Now that the billionaire, Ross Perot, has forsaken another presidential run, some party leaders are turning to an unknown physicist from the Natural Law Party in a last-ditch effort to thwart the conservative, Pat Buchanan.

It is, of course, an understatement to say some in the party are now beginning to have second thoughts. "It was a mistake," says Reform Party national secretary Jim Mangia of the efforts to welcome Buchanan to the party. "All of the in-fighting and the Ventura stuff created an environment where Buchanan could come in and take over."

If his story is true, Mangia and other leaders trying to block the Buchanan nomination ought to be given some kind of medal for political ignorance. "We were welcoming him in with the promise that he wasn't going to talk about social issues," Mangia says. "What [Buchanan staffers] were saying is they had capped out, and they were looking to expand their base. That's what the whole Lenora Fulani thing was about."

Mangia refers to the unlikely alliance between the arch-conservative Buchanan and Fulani, the left-wing presidential candidate who became co-chair of Buchanan's campaign. Tensions between the strange bedfellows have escalated in recent weeks, however.

After inviting the devil into the church, so to speak, Reform Party in-fighting continue to diminish hopes the party may have had of capitalizing on the Perot tidal wave of 1992. Any message of political import has been eclipsed by the freak show that began in earnest as soon as Jesse Ventura was elected governor of Minnesota.

The ideological divide between the old Reformers and the Buchananites has long since turned personal. Last week, Delaware Reform Party chairman William Shields, a Buchanan ally, sent a memo to state party leaders calling for Mangia's political hide. "I am interested in a resolution at the convention to remove Jim Mangia from any leadership role in this party, and to physically eject him, along with any trash or dangerous biological waste that may have found its way onto the convention floor."

Mangia and his allies, who unsuccessfully tried to nudge Perot out of political retirement, were unsuccessful in their efforts to pass a resolution at the California state convention last weekend to prevent Buchanan from tapping a pro-life, social conservative as a running mate. Mangia blamed the loss on "the brown shirt, bully tactics" used by Buchanan forces.

"I've been involved in politics since I was 11 years old," Mangia said, "I've been in some battles, but this was out of control."

Buchanan spokesman Brian Doherty shrugged off the complaints, saying, "the fact of the matter is that people voting for Pat are not doing so with a gun to their head."

Mangia said it got pretty close. "As our resolution came up for a vote, the Buchanan people were in the back chanting, 'lock and load, lock and load.' I guess we're all learning as we go what they'll do and the extent to which they break rules, trash principles and destroy everything this party is supposed to stand for."