Hits dem hard, upside da melon
steve_...@my-deja.com
Good Vibrations
Disputed Reform Party candidate John Hagelin thinks he can change the
world with the power of positive thinking. Does that make him nuts?
By Jonathan Fox
This is not the place you'd expect to find a physicist. It's early
September, and John Hagelin stands before nearly 400 roaring delegates
and supporters in a hotel conference room in suburban Washington, D.C.,
accepting the presidential nomination of the obscure Natural Law Party.
It is roughly one month since he made a similar claim to the nomination
of the Ross Perot-founded Reform Party at its convention in Long Beach,
California, futilely insisting that he, not perennial presidential
wannabe Pat Buchanan, was the rightful nominee of the Dallas-based
group. Rebuffed at the Reform powwow, devotees gathered at the Hagelin
convention and held up yellow signs embossed with an unintentionally
sarcastic assessment of the Hagelin campaign's
chances: "Hagelin/Goldhaber 2000: Anything's Possible." The 46-year-old
theoretical physicist, wearing a crisp navy suit, waits patiently for
chants of "Go, John, Go!" to subside. Balding, but with a youthful and
serene visage marred only by conspicuous bags underneath his eyes,
Hagelin thanks his audience and launches into a John McCain-esque
denunciation of special interests. "I'm running as a scientist to bring
a common-sense approach to government of what actually works," he
says, "not what's bought and paid for by special interests."
The first few words of that sentence--"running as a scientist"--are
actually more interesting than his policy stance, because they beg the
question that hounds Hagelin: "So how did a Harvard-educated nuclear
physicist, who co-wrote a treatise that built on Einstein's theory of
relativity, end up as a fringe presidential candidate and professor at
a low-ranked Iowan college where all subjects elucidate the teachings
of an aged New Age guru?" Part of that is answerable by recounting his
personal history, of course. A quantum shift in Hagelin's life occurred
in 1983 when he left Stanford in the midst of personal problems
stemming from a messy divorce. A year later, he turned up at the
Maharishi University of Management in Fairfield, Iowa, to head the
physics department. Within a decade, he had combined his obvious
intelligence with a fervent belief in Transcendental Meditation to
become a New Age candidate with legit academic credentials.
But his background also serves to highlight just how deep the goofiness
of his candidacy runs. Despite his invocations of science and
authoritative tone, Hagelin the presidential candidate is far removed
from the stomping grounds of his earlier years, the prestigious Swiss
CERN laboratory (the European Center for Particle Physics) and the
Stanford Linear Accelerator. Once considered a top scientist, Hagelin's
former academic peers ostracized him after the candidate attempted to
shoehorn Eastern metaphysical musings into the realm of quantum physics.
He has found a home in the Natural Law party, where another group
present had made a similar passage from credibility to absurdity. They
included Ross Perot's longtime political advisor Russell Verney and
several other disgruntled former leaders of the Reform Party. Kicked
out of the party after refusing to recognize Pat Buchanan as the
party's presidential pick, they staked their political credibility to
Hagelin by testifying he was the rightful nominee of a hijacked party.
Their presence illustrated a bizarre tale of how the deposed leaders of
a once formidable, solidly Middle American party formed in the cauldron
of early-'90s populism were lulled by a candidate and political party
under the swoon of the strange New Age charlatan. Hagelin is a disciple
of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the aged founder of the Transcendental
Meditation (TM) movement and its related worldwide moneymaking empire
that achieved fame after the Beatles briefly joined his flock in
the '60s. The thought that regular meditation has health benefits is
nearly mainstream today, but the structure built around the TM
philosophy strikes religious notes and is much more questionable, even
cult-like, critics say. One of the Maharishi's deepest-held beliefs is
that the aura created by platoons of incredibly focused meditators
prevents crime and wars, an assertion backers claim is supported by
scientific "research"--much of it done by Hagelin.
Beyond this largely laughable claim, critics say the Maharishi has a
larger goal: Secure government funding to build the TM dominion under
the rubric of improving health care, education, and other areas. The
U.S. Natural Law Party, one of more than 80 chapters worldwide
established by the Maharishi during the '90s, is a political vehicle
with the apparent aim of bagging more tax dollars for TM, even though a
federal court declared it a religion in the '70s. As well, the
Maharishi has made comments that he believes democracy to be
a "corrupt" form of government in need of elimination.
Hagelin plays a starring role in this nuttiness. In 1993, he took
legions of meditators to Washington, D.C., in a failed attempt to lower
the city's notoriously high murder rate, and he (unsuccessfully)
offered contingents for peacekeeping missions to Kosovo and the Persian
Gulf. Since Hagelin's '92 and '96 campaigns flopped, he adopted a new
strategy of sweeping his stranger metaphysical claims under the rug and
trying to swallow other third parties. In part of a divided and
desperate Reform Party, he found a sucker.
Old-line Reformers don't think they're being played by a strange
operator, though. In an affidavit to election authorities, even two-
time candidate Ross Perot (retired from politics) said he supported the
Hagelin faction. Its backers' far-fetched hope: Hagelin's campaign will
catch fire and recapture the Perot glory days and surpass Buchanan's
campaign. Of course, they also believe that backing a man whose
spiritual guide once claimed people could levitate is a good idea.
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Dallasite Paul Truax is one of the veteran Reform Party activists
listening to Hagelin's message. At a Garland Steak & Ale during lunch,
Truax works on a chicken plate while spelling out his reasons for
supporting Hagelin and running mate Nat Goldhaber, most of which center
on the fact that Hagelin is not Pat Buchanan.
"He is not a radical right-winger, and that is what I like about him,"
Truax says. "The Hagelin/Goldhaber combination is a much better fit for
what the Reform Party stands for and the majority of its members stand
for."
Truax has been with the Reform Party since its auspicious beginnings in
1992 when billionaire Ross Perot first announced on CNN's Larry King
Live show that he would run for president if voters would get him on
the ballot in 50 states. At the time, Truax and his wife were lying in
bed watching the program, and the prospect of a Perot run immediately
thrilled him. In fact, his reaction is described in an appropriately TM-
esque way: "My wife says she didn't know a man could levitate and say
Hallelujah."
Truax became one of Perot's most committed grassroots supporters. His
hope didn't ebb after Perot lost the election: Shortly thereafter,
Truax joined Perot's United We Stand America advocacy group and became
vice president of its Texas arm. When in 1995 Perot founded a political
party for his second presidential run, Truax was there, even if many
Perot voters had wandered away. He helped found the Reform Party of
Texas and also served in the national party as a Southwest regional
representative and executive committee member.
So it came as quite a shock to Truax that this election year, he and
other founding Reformers were ejected from the party that they built
from scratch. Another view may be that Truax essentially ousted himself
after protesting the party's post-Perot pick for nominee. The party's
new standard bearer, Patrick J. Buchanan, the conservative commentator
and firebrand, bolted the GOP to run under the Reform Party's banner--
and nab its alluring $12.6 million kitty, federal-matching funds earned
from Perot's 8 percent showing in 1996.
Truax has nothing but contempt for Buchanan. He complains about
Buchanan's "predatory" political tactics and "ultra right-wing
conservative" agenda. "To see Ross Perot's gift to America being
trampled by these foul-mouthed Mongol hordes irritates me beyond
words," he says.
Despite such rancor, Buchanan came to the Reform Party by invitation.
Even Truax admits he spent $10,000 of his own money this year traveling
the country to stump for Buchanan before breaking with him. What
happened?
Desperate for a candidate with name recognition to keep their party
afloat, Reform regulars invited Buchanan into their ranks with one
proviso: He would stress the party's standby issues of economic
nationalism and fiscal conservatism--and not divisive social issues
such as gays and abortion. This agreement, predictably, quickly
evaporated. Once Buchanan had seized the bulk of the party's internal
machinery, his "culture war" rhetoric came out of the closet. The
original Reformers could do little after giving him keys to the house.
Tensions came to a head at the Reform Party's rowdy August convention
in Long Beach, California, where the Buchanan critics staged a
counter-convention to nominate Hagelin that they claimed made him the
genuine representative of the party. Both conventions labeled the other
illegitimate, staking a claim to the Reform Party mantle and the
millions in federal funding. Buchanan handily won the battle; last
month, the Federal Election Committee cut him the check, and a
California state court issued an injunction barring the Hagelin faction
from using the Reform Party moniker.
Despite their cause's apparent defeat, the anti-Buchanan forces--
including Truax, Verney, and former Reform Party Chairman Jim Mangia--
haven't given up. Like other party stalwarts, Truax goes to great
lengths to defend Hagelin against the suggestion that his beliefs are
too unorthodox. "If I had a choice between a criminal meditating or
committing a crime," Truax says, "I'd take the meditation"
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No Lotus-positioned meditators, however, were visible in Alexandria for
the remainder of Hagelin's acceptance speech. In the address, he
eschewed cosmological themes to elucidate reasonable, if debatable,
policy planks, such as preventative medicine and renewable energy.
Critics say each campaign Hagelin has run has seen him further de-
emphasize TM's stranger elements.
"In '92, TM was put in the forefront," says Barry Markovsky, a
University of Iowa sociologist who has studied the TM and Natural Law
organizations. "In '96, that disappeared completely and pretty much has
stayed that way. They found it was just too weird and off-putting, but
it remains the basis of everything."
Luckily, brazen public kookiness is well-documented and not too far in
Hagelin's past. One instance transpired in 1992, when he challenged
candidates Clinton, Bush, and Perot to submit to "brain mapping" by
electroencephalogram (EEG) to determine their mental fitness, a
provocation that enticed a rebuke from Jonathan Pincus, chairman of
Georgetown University's neurology department. He said while EEGs are
instrumental in spotting neurological disorder, "they have nothing
whatsoever to say about a person's moral fiber" or intellectual
qualities.
Another episode occurred in June of 1993, when about 4,000 TM
practitioners traveled to Washington, D.C., with one bold and
transcendent goal: to lower the violent crime rate by at least 20
percent in a city rife with violent crime and municipal chaos--through
the power of incredibly focused meditation. They also harbored national
ambitions, seeking to raise President Clinton's falling popularity
ratings (a botched universal health-care effort and gays in the
military were to blame) while increasing amity in a fractious Congress
(gays in the military and universal health care were to blame).
The legions of TM devotees who jetted to Washington from across the
world in June of 1993 were certain their two-month "National
Demonstration Project to Reduce Violent Crime," funded with $4.2
million from the TM treasury, would be an unparalleled success. By
meditating en masse, they hoped to produce what TM leaders dub "the
Maharishi effect," radiating a powerful yet invisible "coherence of
consciousness," similar to radio waves, that would lower tension across
the city--and as a result, take a bite out of crime.
Indeed, their predictions went, even D.C. denizens unaware that rows of
mantra-repeating, lotus-positioned meditators had populated their city
would be positively affected by good vibes. Would-be felons' stress
levels would drop as well, and they would be less inclined to, well,
shoot or stab somebody.
Heading the operation was Hagelin, one of the TM movement's newest
stars. He confidently predicted that after the Washington experiment's
conclusion, "You should see a resumption of previous levels of
crime...So we can be very bold about the results and take credit for
it."
Two months passed. Good vibrations radiated from meditation locations,
yet TM disciples were unable to stop one of Washington's worst seasons
of mayhem ever. "The weeks that followed seemed like something out of
an old mad-scientist movie--an experiment that had gone horribly
wrong," says Robert Park, a University of Maryland physics professor
and director of the American Physical Society's Washington office, in
his recent book Voodoo Science. "Participants in the project seemed
serenely unaware of the mounting carnage around them...The murder rate
for those two months reached a level unmatched before or since."
Yet on July 29, 1993, Hagelin and other TM leaders held a news
conference to claim victory. They weren't modest in stating their
achievements, attributing improved relations between President Clinton
and Congress and several world events to their efforts. Most important,
Hagelin gave TM credit for less crime.
Number-crunchers were skeptical, to say the least. Fewer robberies and
assaults occurred during TM's tarriance than the previous year, but
what about a whopping 50 percent rise in murders and a 9 percent jump
in rapes? (An astounding 90 killings occurred in Washington during
those two months.) "Homicide is the toughest nut to crack," answered
Hagelin in a troubled tone, promising he would return to elaborate
further.
And he did. At an October 6, 1994 press powwow, he unveiled a 55-
page "scientific analysis" of crime during the TM sojourn. The
meditators' peaceful presence, he claimed, had actually decreased
violent crime by 18 percent, according to a "scientifically rigorous
time-series analysis" based on weather, changes in the earth's magnetic
field, and other factors.
Skeptical scribes asked: Eighteen percent compared to what? Even more
violent crime would have occurred, he claimed, had the thousands of
meditators not been present. Predictably, city officials passed on
Hagelin's $5 million proposal for a permanent Washington contingent of
TMers.
And what would said contingent do to keep itself occupied other than
live on the dole and bounce up and down blissfully on padded floors?
Hagelin had a suggestion last year when he magnanimously offered the
U.S. government 7,000 meditators and allegedly levitating "yogic
flyers" to quell hostilities in war-torn Kosovo. But Hagelin has yet to
answer one question pertinent to such military forays: Can yogic flyers
dodge bullets?
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Reporters present might have asked: Just who were these people holding
weird press conferences? It's necessary to first look at the practice
of Transcendental Meditation and its bearded founder the Maharishi
Mahesh Yogi--former guru to an A-list of stars from the Beatles to Burt
Reynolds and now-estranged New Age healer Deepak Chopra--to understand
Hagelin and TM's political effort.
The elderly Maharishi, in his 90s and directing his empire from the
Netherlands, founded TM in 1957 with one dovelike message: "The basis
of life is unbounded bliss and it can be experienced effortlessly by
anyone." Ever since, he has been adding new facilities and higher-level
techniques to the mix--most notably, yogic flying, in which
advanced "TM-Sidhi" students bounce in a Lotus position under the
belief that they are spreading peace and levitating, a practice blamed
for many back injuries. (Officially, TM leaders admit yogic flyers
haven't yet achieved airborne status.)
Meanwhile, the Maharishi is regarded practically as a deity by his
following: A TM-operated Web site claims "His Holiness" Maharishi
Mahesh Yogi is "considered to be the greatest teacher in the world
today." In a 1990 Life magazine article, John Hagelin said the guru
will bequeath a legacy "far greater than that of Einstein or Gandhi."
The Maharishi, known for habit of giggling while dispensing pearls of
wisdom in videotaped meditation sessions, also heads several
multibillion-dollar businesses, ranging from natural medicine products
to an architectural design firm. But the essence of TM is the starter
program (current cost: $1,000), which TM leaders claim five million
people have taken. New recruits receive a mantra, a single word in
Sanskrit they repeat for 15 to 20 minutes during twice-a-day
meditation. Like other forms of meditation it relaxes its practitioners
while lowering heart rate and blood pressure, benefits corroborated by
a strong base of research.
While TM advocates tout their program above other meditation regimens,
researchers say TM works about as well as other methods. But adherents
don't stop at testimonials that TM simply makes you feel good. They
cite more than 500 studies to prove that TM has a more powerful impact--
including the vaunted "Maharishi effect."
Barry Markovsky, the Iowa University sociologist, said the institution
has an insatiable need for validation in scientific journals and
newspapers. "Once they publish in a certain journal," he said, "they
start to call it 'the prestigious journal,' but that's almost never the
case. They are almost always barraging journalists with articles, and
every once in a while something gets through."
Even as Hagelin wins more visibility for TM in the United States,
however, his organization is fighting decline that has dovetailed with
hippiedom's demise. TM's heyday was in the '70s, when it made its way
into schools and prisons in Western nations. In the U.S., officials and
judges eventually booted TM out of public institutions on the same
grounds as students' being unable to lead prayers at public school
football games: TM is actually a religion.
The final nail excising TM from most of the public sphere was a 1978
federal court ruling in New Jersey that declared TM religious. The
religion revelation flew in the face of adherents' frequent claims that
TM is a mere self-improvement technique with no religious or
philosophical bent. (Hagelin frequently indicates he's an Episcopalian.)
Indeed, critics assert that TM is a bastardized form of Hinduism that
doesn't acknowledge its roots. For instance, religious experts say
TM's "puja" initiation ritual closely resembles ceremonial offerings to
the Hindu god Shiva, while supposedly meaningless Sanskrit mantras that
devotees repeat during meditation actually invoke Hindu deities. Why
deny ties to one of the world's great religions? According to the
Concise Dictionary of Religion, Maharishi denies TM's grounding in
Hinduism "to appeal to a wide spectrum of people who might otherwise
have ignored his teaching."
John Knapp, an ex-TM teacher who operates a document-laden Web site
critical of Transcendental Meditation (www.trancenet.org), suggests
another motive. While other cultic groups lobby the IRS and other tax
authorities for the prestige that religious status brings, TM leaders
go the reverse route because they're "trying to get into government and
get funds for meditation," says Knapp, who left TM in 1990 after 23
years of working as an instructor, press officer, and other roles
within TM.
Knapp, who lives in upstate New York and is working on a master's
degree, faults TM for its moneymaking focus (the Maharishi holds a
trademark on TM) and laughs at the idea that TM could help reduce
health-care costs, one of the Natural Law party's key claims. He
recounts paying thousands for "courses, food, supplements, yogic
flying, medicine, astrology chart, yagya, flowers to the statue of
Shiva...It just goes on and on." Knapp also admits to being part of
TM's frequent yogic flying club. "I believed I was flying," he
says, "but I can tell you right now I was building huge thigh muscles
by jumping up and down in the Lotus position."
Knapp is also one former follower who hurls the "cult" label at TM,
claiming it isolates members from society, tightly controls the
behavior of followers, and doesn't tolerate dissent. The claim is a
familiar one for TM, which in 1991 reached undisclosed settlements with
several ex-followers who claimed they suffered psychological damage and
were induced by fraudulent means to stay in the movement at the expense
of their careers, education, and adult development.
Even so, Knapp admits that not all Transcendental Meditators are cult-
like. Rather, he says 90 percent of meditators take a starter course at
local TM centers and eventually leave with only a nice memory
of "incense, flowers, and smiling gurus."
The other 10 percent become more involved. He recalls "constant
unrelenting psychological pressure" during the time he spent in Swiss
TM training centers, the Iowa Maharishi university, and elsewhere,
environments where adherents often weren't allowed to read the news or
talk to family members. He says he even once participated in a book
burning. Tomes that were "full of stress," including the novel Love
Story, were thrown into the blaze.
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Knapp has redirected his criticism of TM toward its newest incarnation,
the Natural Law Party, and party leader Hagelin. "When Hagelin talks
about 'scientifically proven solutions,'" he says, referring to the
party's proposals for crime, health care, and other issues, "he's
talking about TM products."
Meanwhile, the TM movement has puzzled outsiders by sending bizarre
love letters to third-world dictators, a practice not yet noticed by
the mainstream media. Heralding the "dawn of a New World Order of
Peace" in an April press release, a statement from the Maharishi
University of Management praised "the invincibility of President Fidel
Castro of Cuba, the freedom of President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe, the
Divine Rulership of President Abdurrahman Wahid of Indonesia, and the
casting off of corrupt democracy by Robert Guei of the Ivory Coast."
Denunciation of "corrupt democracy" not only echoes the Maharishi's
avowed repudiation of that form of rule, but sheds light on the Natural
Law party's call for "all-party" rule. "Democracy has had its time,"
Maharishi told followers in the fall of 1999. "Democracy must now be
replaced by a system of administration that will create an integrated
unified nation." The press release reprised failed attempts in the
1980s to convince third-world nations to devote large parts of their
economy to TM. During the '90s, however, the Maharishi shifted his
strategy of weaving TM into the fabric of society by establishing
Natural Law parties worldwide.
For Hagelin, the passage to kookdom occurred gradually. Even at the
Maharishi University of Management, Hagelin continued to distinguish
himself scientifically for some time.
Along with his mentor John Ellis, head of CERN's theoretical physics
department, and other scientists, he co-authored the theory "Flipped SU
(5) Supersymmetric Grand Unification." It's a treatise, according to
Nature, that is "one of the better-accepted unified field theories"
that seek to bring together all of the physical laws into one tidy
package--but the theories are "highly speculative," according to
physicist Robert Park, director of the American Physical Association's
Washington office.
A Transcendental Meditator since his teen years, Hagelin ultimately
wasn't content to keep his scientific and spiritual pursuits separate.
Eventually, he sought to extend the Flipped SU(5) theory to human
consciousness, thus attempting to bring the "Maharishi effect" into the
fold of quantum physics. The move appalled Hagelin's former scientific
colleagues and shattered the remains of his mainstream credibility.
"A lot of people he has collaborated with in the past are very upset
about this," Jorge Lopez, a Texas A&M physicist, told Nature in
1992. "It's absolutely ludicrous to say that TM has anything to do with
flipped SU(5)." John Ellis of CERN also told Hagelin to knock it off
with his "flaky" assertions, to no effect.
Most ignominious of all, Hagelin was awarded an "IgNobel" prize in 1994
by junk science debunking Annals of Improbable Research Journal. But
the clear-minded Hagelin pays little heed to such criticism, even
calling Robert Park's book Voodoo Science, which heaps doubt on
Hagelin's 1993 TM experiment in Washington, a work of narrow-
minded "smut."
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A witty and affable debater, Hagelin appeared on Nightline, Politically
Incorrect, CNN Talkback Live, and other shows in the wake of the Reform
Party convention to plead that he is the rightful heir to the Reform
Party nomination. Only months ago, those TV programs wouldn't have even
fleetingly considered granting a forum to the small-time contender. On
August 11, that changed when Hagelin stood before at least 100
supporters at the Long Beach Performing Arts Center to give his first
major public address.
Earlier that day, Hagelin led a symbolic walk-out from the main
convention to a hastily set-up doppelgänger function at the arts
center. The civil rights anthem "We Shall Overcome" was sung,
symbolizing Buchanan's supposed oppression of the party. Speaking
before his supporters, Hagelin hit not only on generic Reform Party
themes, such as campaign finance reform, but also on more esoteric
topics such as organic farming and other Natural Law issues. "I accept
with humility and pride the mantle of H. Ross Perot," he told a
euphoric crowd on nomination night, August 13.
How did Hagelin make it to Long Beach? He stepped in when the party
that Dallas billionaire H. Ross Perot created in 1996 as a vehicle for
his second presidential run fractured over Buchanan. By the time Perot
loyalists changed their minds about Buchanan, he had already begun
peopling state conventions with his foot soldiers. Livid, the old guard
began looking for an anti-Pat, but found few takers. Minnesota Gov.
Jesse Ventura, the nation's first Reform governor, had already been
driven from the party after he tried to play kingmaker. Ralph Nader and
Sens. Gary Hart and San Nunn, as well as actor Warren Beatty, didn't
bite.
Enter John Hagelin, eager for alliances with other third parties,
especially after an attempt to commandeer the fledgling Green Party
fizzled. Despite the appearance of many shared values, especially on
environmental matters, Green Party activists soured on Hagelin last
spring when he released glossy materials claiming he had led a "Green-
Reform-Natural Law" coalition before consulting them. "I took great
offense when he unilaterally declared the Green Party part of his
coalition," says Nancy Allen, a Maine-based spokeswoman for the
Association of State Green Parties.
Reached in Iowa, Kingsley Brooks, co-chairman of the Natural Law Party,
admits that Hagelin's outreach attempts to Greens were a flop. "They
accused us of trying to take over the party," he says, denying any
underhanded strategies in their bid to join forces with Greens. (He
also denies that the Natural Law party is chiefly about TM and says
TMers have actually become a minority in the growing party.) Anyway,
the Green debacle is ancient history to Natural Law Party backers, who
had better luck lassoing the disorganized Reformers.
A few blocks away in the city's convention hall, Pat Buchanan was also
accepting a Reform Party nomination. Broadcast live on C-SPAN,
Buchanan's shindig looked more professional, with large TV monitors and
upbeat, patriotic rock anthems. But Hagelin, whose show C-SPAN recorded
for later airing, insisted he was the genuine nominee, citing
allegations of ballot fraud made by his campaign and the Perot
loyalists against the Buchanan campaign.
Buchanan strongly denied the charges, and Hagelin's allegations have
yet to find an audience either in court or in election bureaucracies,
where officials avoid internecine party battles. The question of who
exactly was the real Reform Party leader remained unanswered until
September 13, when a California state court forbade Hagelin the use of
the moniker "Reform Party."
The ruling capped a costly battle in state courts across the country,
which proceeded at times on a more humorous level as some state
officials choose Hagelin or Buchanan for the ballot line by picking
names out of hats. (Buchanan won Iowa, while Hagelin won Montana by a
hat pick.) The tussle over the $12.6 million in federal-matching funds
also added to Buchanan's consternation, delaying his campaign for
several weeks until the Federal Election Commission officials finally
awarded him the funds.
Despite both defeats, Hagelin claims he leads the "true Reformers." He
has certainly proved himself a foil to Buchanan by confounding his
campaign in vote-rich Michigan, where officials refused to allow either
candidate on the ballot. Texas may count as one of Buchanan's few
solaces: Hagelin cannot contest Buchanan for the Reform Party ballot
line in Texas because it won't appear there, since Buchanan qualified
as an independent candidate. (Hagelin may not appear on the Texas
ballot at all. Election authorities disqualified the Natural Law Party
after a statistical sampling found a plethora of invalid addresses on
their ballot-access petitions.)
Meanwhile, Hagelin's emergence and support from Reform Party dissidents
have baffled his critics. "This is strange," said Robert Park of the
American Physical Society, which represents the nation's physicists. "I
wonder if they quite understand what Hagelin has stood for." Others
speculated that the anti-Pats didn't care at all about Hagelin, but
needed a "stalking horse" to taunt Buchanan. Anyone would do. "The old-
time Perot people, I'm sure they're privately embarrassed by this
stuff," said David Gillespie, a political scientist and third-party
expert at Presbyterian College in Clinton, South Carolina.
Some Perot stalwarts openly admit their lack of knowledge about
Hagelin, scratching their head over issues such as genetically modified
food (Hagelin's staunchly against it); others say they had no clue
Natural Law parties had been established in 85 nations under the watch
of the Maharishi. Nevertheless, supporters insist they have much in
common with their new candidate. "It's a free country," says Jim
Mangia, a founding national secretary of the Reform Party who is
leading the Buchanan backlash. "Some of us believe in the Virgin Mary,
some of us believe in meditation."
What about Hagelin's overtures to head off warfare in Kosovo and the
Persian Gulf by dispatching legions of levitators? Interestingly,
Mangia wasn't skeptical of the notion, but said it represented one of
many credible ideas suppressed by deep-pocketed special
interests. "Given that everything else over there has failed, I don't
know why they shouldn't try that," Mangia said. "I'm not into
meditation personally, but there has to be more on the table to how we
solve the problems of the world."
In The American Prospect, a left-of-center political magazine, one
observer connected the party's future chances to Reform leaders'
willingness to embrace such ideas: "As I watched the week's goings-on,"
says Alexander Nguyen, "I thought I could hear in the background a
giant sucking sound--the Reform Party's once formidable influence
yogically flying into the atmosphere."
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All through the summer, candidate Hagelin said he is primed for
victory. He claims he's harnessed an "emerging vibrant independent
political movement in America," and even predicts a come-from-behind,
Jesse Ventura-like win in November. "In every single area we have
winning ideas that are long overdue," he told the Dallas Observer in a
brief telephone interview. "We have a foundation for a grassroots
insurrection at the ballot box more than Perot did."
For now, at least, the anti-Buchanan faction of the Reform Party isn't
perturbed by Hagelin's cosmological rants on so-called "universal
fields of intelligence," or the possibility their new leader is a grade-
A kook. As long as Hagelin is "moderate" on issues such as gay rights
and abortion, they're willing not to look so deeply into his
background. "TM is certainly not a danger to our liberty like right-to-
life is," says Reform Party veteran Beverly Kennedy of Dallas.
Why put their weight behind such a strange bird, or even bother to
continue with Reform Party politics after the party has gone a
different direction? Why not throw in the cards for this election and
try again next time from scratch?
Vindictiveness against the Buchanan campaign, which has taken over the
party and steered it in a new direction, seems the obvious answer.
Nevertheless, Reform Party dissenters insist that they too have come to
embrace Hagelin's agenda after getting to know him better. "He's a very
impressive person, and everybody likes him," says Kennedy, who cites
Hagelin's stands on genetically modified food and renewable energy as
dynamic issues she believes the Reform Party should adopt.
Meanwhile, Hagelin the scientist-turned-TM evangelist has tapped a new
audience. Indeed, for Linda Curtis, a Reform Party veteran from Austin
who also attended the Long Beach convention, Hagelin's TM affiliation
is actually a plus, because his unflappable nature has impressed
her. "He seems like a really calm guy," she says. "I've seen him in
confrontations, and he doesn't get angry at all."
Admiring Hagelin's unruffled nature, she adds one more comment after a
moment of reflection: "Maybe I should try TM."
Perhaps that's the idea.
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.
encapsulight
Marriage a joke/failed.
He is a joke among physicists, his career over/failed.
He is a joke in education--he is at a joke of a college
He is a joke in politics--he never had anything but a delusion of a chance
and has nothing to offer anyway!
He has finally hit the bottom of the barrel ( where you would expect to end
up being a stooge for MMY & Co.
Maybe one day when he wakes up and realizes that he is not anything to
anyone and that he has blown all his chances foolishly--he will grow up!
<steve_...@my-deja.com> wrote in message
news:8rnt66$kbc$1...@nnrp1.deja.com...
> The Dallas Morning News 10/05/2000
> Good Vibrations
>
>
>
sudarsha
have but to run for public office
"encapsulight" <NoS...@please.nospam.com> wrote in message
news:F7OD5.42336$ib7.6...@news1.rdc1.nj.home.com...
| Well he is a 4 time looser at least!!
| Marriage a joke/failed.
| He is a joke among physicists, his career over/failed.
| He is a joke in education--he is at a joke of a college
| He is a joke in politics--he never had anything but a delusion of a chance
| and has nothing to offer anyway!
|
| He has finally hit the bottom of the barrel ( where you would expect to
end
| up being a stooge for MMY & Co.
|
| Maybe one day when he wakes up and realizes that he is not anything to
| anyone and that he has blown all his chances foolishly--he will grow up!
|
|
| <steve_...@my-deja.com> wrote in message
| news:8rnt66$kbc$1...@nnrp1.deja.com...
| > The Dallas Morning News 10/05/2000
| > Good Vibrations
|
| >
| >
| >
John A. Stanley
"sudarsha" <suda...@attcanada.ca> wrote:
>if I read your assessment correctly, he is unemployable! what choice does he
>have but to run for public office
He always has this choice:
--
John A. Stanley Remove delicious mucilaginous vegetable to email