Mentally Ill County Commissioner Fuels Controversy : Michigan: He has severe mood swings and has been diagnosed as manic-depressive. He says he wants to help people with disabilities.

Depending on who you ask, Kalamazoo County Commissioner Fred Ruden is either a persecuted champion of the underdog or a short-tempered bully who verbally assaults anyone who dares disagree with him.

At the heart of the debate is whether Ruden’s mental illness has anything to do with it.

Since taking office in January, Ruden has likened a fellow commissioner to a Nazi, made late-night telephone calls to perceived political enemies, bombarded the commission with critical memos, and overturned three Kalamazoo Gazette vending machines after an editorial angered him.

He also has created a community mental health board, made commission meetings more accessible to the public, and argued passionately for better services for the handicapped.

Ruden, an unemployed bill collector with a law degree, has been diagnosed as manic-depressive, a condition that causes severe mood swings. He says he wants to help pave the way for people with disabilities.

But some mental health advocates argue that his combative behavior has only perpetuated the stigma most people tend to associate with the disease.

“Fred’s behavior has scared people. People are writing letters to the editor, saying he’s a loose cannon,” said Elizabeth Plasick, a co-founder of the Kalamazoo County Alliance for the Mentally Ill.

Plasick was an early booster of Ruden but recently resigned from the alliance, partly because it has remained a steadfast supporter despite his outbursts. She says his behavior has “set back years of progress” in destigmatizing mental illness.

“I think a lot of it is just his personality,” she said. “He needs to grow up.”

Ruden, 38, doesn’t deny he can be “undiplomatic” and acknowledges he needs to be more tolerant of others’ views. But he doesn’t make any excuses for his passion about the causes he believes in.

“You don’t have some crazy commissioner tearing up the town down here,” he said. “‘My personal anger leads to public good.”

Michael Gieszer, who is mentally ill and sits on the mental health board created through Ruden’s efforts, has accused Ruden of using his illness as an excuse for his sometimes outrageous behavior--whether or not it is to blame. And Gieszer doesn’t believe it is.

“You can be obnoxious without being mentally ill,” Gieszer said. “Just because you’ve got an illness doesn’t mean you get to throw up on people.”

Ruden acknowledges that several recent incidents, including the newspaper box attack, occurred after he temporarily stopped taking the lithium that controls his condition. And he has asked his fellow commissioners to go easy on him because his illness sometimes triggers emotional outbursts when he is confronted.

Still, he denies that he uses it as an excuse.

Some commissioners say they are sympathetic to Ruden’s illness but argue that his confrontational style and quick temper may be too volatile for politics.

“People keep calling me up, saying, ‘What are you going to do about this guy?’ ” said Richard Kleiman, the commission’s chairman, adding that some people have asked him to beef up security at meetings because of Ruden.

“He can really get quite abusive. . . . He thinks everybody is out to get him.”

Some mental health advocates say the fact that the commission is unwilling to accommodate Ruden’s sometimes erratic behavior is just another example of discrimination.

“People don’t understand mental illness. The symptoms are not visible like having a cast on your arm,” said Bev Lewis, president of the Kalamazoo County Alliance for the Mentally Ill. “The only reason you know someone is mentally ill is their behavior.”

Lewis said Ruden “may not be perfect all the time” but has an attribute she believes so many other politicians lack: an instinct for doing the decent thing.

“Fred has made a tremendous impact on the delivery of services here,” Lewis said. “Things will never be the same for the mentally ill in Kalamazoo County.”

Ruden talks openly about his illness. He began experiencing intense mood swings while attending Michigan State University in the 1970s. During his third year at Emory University School of Law, it got so bad that he was granted temporary psychiatric leave. He says his illness has made it difficult for him to concentrate hard enough to study for the bar exam.

Ruden says he attempted suicide twice before he finally was diagnosed as suffering from manic-depression in 1986. He became an outspoken critic of the local mental health system after a physician tried to cut off the lithium that had restored his balance.

Last fall, running as a Democrat, Ruden waged a $200 campaign for the commission and beat a 14-year incumbent. He lives in a government-subsidized apartment on the $7,700 the county pays him annually.

Few people dispute that Ruden has improved local mental health services. Even before he was elected, Ruden’s podium-pounding speeches convinced the commission to create the mental health board.

And since taking office, he has pushed the commission to scrap its practice of meeting in small committees during the day, when many substantial decisions were made but few citizens could attend.

Ruden also succeeded in getting the commission to approve funding for a bus service for the disabled; he has lobbied for minority and female representation on committees and fought for labor and debtors’ rights.

He is not shy about listing his accomplishments. His battles on behalf of the public, he says, have set him apart from special-interest politicians, whom he refers to as “political whores.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t call myself a hero, but I think I’ve reached warrior-on-behalf-of-the-public status,” he said.

In fact, Ruden says he’d be even more effective as a state senator. He launched his campaign for the 1994 election this spring.

“I think Fred makes a lot of people uncomfortable because he talks about things in public that people don’t want to talk about. I always thought that was the role of an elected official,” said commissioner Mary Powers, Ruden’s strongest supporter on the board.

“At these meetings, you look around and people put their head down and say, ‘Oh, God, do we have to hear it again?’ But Fred feels so intensely about things--and that’s what our society needs a lot more of.”

Even she admits, however, “There are times I just have to say, ‘Fred, shut up.’ ”