[ A version of this story originally appeared in Sept., 1998 on Upside Today. It is no longer carried in Upside's online database.]



Bad Dharma Politics may be the last refuge of the scoundrel in some parts of the world, but here in California ‹ the same state that brought you Warren Beatty, vanity license plates and the human potential movement ‹ running your own political campaign is considered yet another step up the self-actualization pyramid.

Granted, you don't have to be an Al Checchi or Michael Huffington, burning up $40 million of your own personal wealth just to get in touch with your inner Mondale. Thanks to our wise political forebears, the California initiative process lets just about any kook with a million signatures and a half-baked political cause plant his, or her, name on the ballot ‹ at a mere fraction of the price.

Hey, it's either that or attend another Deepak Chopra seminar. You make the call. It shouldn't be too surprising that Silicon Valley, the place that created that ultimate totem to West Coast self-involvement: the personal computer, has exploited this bargain with growing enthusiasm.

Why just this spring, two local high-tech executives put their names and egos behind a pair of prominent ballot measures aimed at whipping some new life into that age old political plowhorse, the California public school system.

While an initiative designed to boost the number of privately operated charter schools was the most widely supported, the measure that scored the most points in terms of name recognition was Proposition 227, or the "Unz Initiative," as some in the press took to calling it midway through the 1998 campaign.

Named after Ron Unz, a Palo Alto software entrepreneur who founded Wall Street Analytics, Inc. back in 1987, Prop. 227 promised ‹ and delivered ‹ a death blow to California's 30-year-old bilingual education system. In addition to authoring the initiative and gathering up the requisite 1 million signatures to place it on the June ballot, Unz spent close to $700,000 of his own money just to see it through to victory.

OK, so never mind the fact that Unz, a 36-year-old single guy with no kids, has little or no connection with the California educational system. This was about opportunity. By successfully identifying a broad vein of discontent within the California populace ‹ bilingual education has come under heavy fire in recent years even from Spanish-speaking parents, many of whom see it as watered-down instruction ‹ Unz, an amateur policy wonk and self-described "Reagan Republican" saw a chance to hack the system while at the same time leaving his indelible mark on the California political landscape.

In a recent Los Angeles Times interview Unz triumphantly summed up the ego-centric logic of the Prop. 227 cause. "If I hadn't done something, nothing would have been done," he said.

Bitchiness aside, Prop. 227 offers convincing proof that one man ‹ plus a million or so dollars ‹ still can make a difference in this crazy, mixed-up world. By the time all the ballots were counted, Unz and his stripped-down campaign staff comprised of two administrative assistants and one very tired fax machine had registered a convincing 2-to-1 knock out at the June polls.

So convincing was this victory, in fact, that Prop. 227 opponents only put a half-hearted effort to block the measure's implementation through the courts. Last month, a San Francisco federal judge stepped in and ended the bloodbath, further legitimizing Unz's status as a heavyweight contender on the GOP national scene.

To paraphrase another Machiavellian genius, Don King: Only in California.

As Unz ponders his next political move ‹ governor? senator? English-only menus in Chinese restaurants? ‹Down the Toilet has to wonder what sort of Pandora's box his Prop. 227 victory has opened for the rest of us. After all, $1.5 ‹ the final budget total of Unz's 227 campaign ‹ isn't exactly a lot of scratch around these parts. Are we looking at a future where any high-tech hotshot with 100,000 fully-vested shares and the intestitinal fortitude to withstand six months on the chicken dinner circuit can impose his or her private will on the public electorate?

Examine the Unz campaign from a purely business perspective and it's easy to see the parallels: Start with a clever idea. Scrape together $700,000 in seed capital. Finance a steady stream of PR vaporware, followed by a few strategic partnerships to help establish your platform's viability in the open market. Win over big investors with a road show, and then on election day foist the whole overblown concept onto private investors who didn't read the prospectus until that morning and voilà: A new law is on the books. Think of it as legislation via IPO.

Until this spring, Silicon Valley moneybags had a convenient reason to avoid politics. Unlike the high-tech industry, which rewards losers for at least taking a chance, politics tends to turn its losers into crippled outcasts while subjecting its winners to four years of unwavering media scrutiny. Given this prisoner's dilemma situation, most Silicon Valley types have opted for money over political influence.

Now that Unz andTechNet, the political consortium behind the charter school initiative, have identified the initiative system as a less risky way for Silicon Valley millionaires to participate in the political process, it looks as though California might have to build a new wing onto the state legislature just to handle the steady influx of vanity laws.

That's one possible outcome. Another is to return to the days when Silicon Valley entrepreneurs left voters alone and focused on their true dharma: Improving the world through the private and making a ton of cash in the process.



Sam Williams is a freelance writer covering high tech culture and new media. His email address is sam@inow.com

Copyright © 1999, 2001 Sam Williams. Verbatim copying and redistribution of this entire article is permitted in any medium if this notice is preserved.