Some Unionists See a Power Grab, Others a Bid for Free Choice

Robert Bowen is a union man, tried and tested. A studio engineer for Hollywood, he has manned picket lines and toiled in contract talks. But he hates the way unions spend money on politics, invariably backing Democratic candidates and causes.

Bowen, a Republican, wants to cure his predicament by supporting Proposition 226, the measure on Tuesday’s California ballot that would require annual written permission before a union spends a member’s dues on political campaigns. “A union is my agent for collective bargaining,” Bowen said, “but they’re not my agent for political thought.”

Alan Lee, a Torrance water department employee, also is a union man. He sees Proposition 226 as a “slick and sophisticated power grab” by conservatives. But mostly it’s simply unnecessary, he said, because federal law already allows any member to “opt out” of a union and stop paying dues for politics.

“If you don’t like where your political contributions are going,” Lee said, “they can be stopped.”

In the slashing $25-million battle being waged over Proposition 226, there is only marginal talk these days of a key basic: Is the measure really needed? The answer to this pivotal question is complex and depends on whom you ask.

The measure’s conservative boosters say it will help the working man and woman seize control of their union dollars before they are used on politics.

Foes counter that Proposition 226 is a solution in search of a problem. Labor experts say a 1988 U.S. Supreme Court decision in the case of Harry Beck--a Maryland telephone company employee who fought his union for two decades--already gives all employees the right to keep organized labor from using their dues for politics.

But is the Beck decision enough?

Beck himself is a staunch booster of Proposition 226 and other “paycheck protection” measures sweeping the United States.

His case, Beck said, established an “all or nothing” situation for workers who differ with a union’s political leanings. They must essentially quit the union and lose key rights--among them the ability to vote in union elections--to keep their dues from going to politics.

The beauty of Proposition 226, he said, is it “clearly defines that you shouldn’t have to give up union membership just because you disagree with how your union spends money politically.”

But the nonprofit legal foundation that for years shepherded Beck’s case disagrees with him on the merits of Proposition 226.

Dues refunded because of the legal precedent set by Beck are “far more substantial” than Proposition 226 would provide, said Stefan Gleason of the National Right to Work Legal Defense Foundation. That’s because an employee who opts out of the union also gets to keep dues used for lobbying, issue advocacy, public relations and “soft money” contributions to political parties.

Though the foundation lauds the good intentions of Proposition 226, the ballot route simply isn’t as effective for union reformers as remedies delivered via the federal courts, Gleason said. Unions are very skillful at hiding money used for politics, he said, and it takes a court to “root out” what really should be returned to dissenting workers.

The ultimate goal of many union reformers isn’t paycheck protection, but rather prodding more states to pass right-to-work laws making union membership strictly voluntary. Currently, 21 states have such laws. California is not among them.

Unions have also proved very adept at circumventing paycheck protection laws on the books elsewhere in the nation.

In Washington state, the number of union members contributing to politics dropped steeply after voters approved a 1992 paycheck protection measure. But the state teachers union circumvented the new law by redefining its political program as community outreach. One study found that the union collected more money for political activities after the initiative passed than it had before.

In California, unions have outspent the proponents of Proposition 226 by about 5 to 1, and some of that money has been siphoned from union members who support the measure.

One of those is Deena Ippolito. Until she went to work for the pro-Proposition 226 campaign, she was a cashier at Disneyland. A Republican, she was galled that her union opposed the three-strikes initiative and helped engineer the 1996 defeat of Rep. Robert K. Dornan, the conservative firebrand from Garden Grove.

“I brought it up with my union, and the first thing they said was I had been listening to too many right-wing talk show hosts,” Ippolito said. “I was just astounded. Because I don’t agree with them, my only option was basically to get kicked out of the union.”

Some union members say intimidation is a common tactic. Horacio Grana, a Thousand Oaks carpenter, said trade unions can control wayward members simply by failing to dispatch them to jobs. “You don’t do what they want,” he said, “they don’t send you to work.”

Kim Jacobsma, a Lakewood high school teacher, felt intimidation when he opted out of the California Teachers Assn. in 1996. Jacobsma, a Republican, got a letter warning that he would lose many benefits, including $1 million in liability insurance coverage.

“Just about every teacher freaks when they hear that,” he said. “There’s an implied threat behind it.”

Don’t talk to Toni Sandell about intimidation. She is a teacher at Buena Vista High School in Corona, president of the local teachers union and one of the shortest people on campus, including the students.

“I’m 5 feet nothing,” she said. “Our opponents try to portray union bosses as thugs, a big fat guy with a stogie and a pile of money in front of him. But I don’t get any money, and no one is afraid of me.”

Sandell said the state teachers association, the largest union in California, already lets members direct dues away from politics and into the general fund without dropping their membership. But only about one of 100 teachers chooses that route.

“You find that so much of what you want to do for the kids involves the political process,” Sandell said. “If you just sit there without a voice, your kids get steam-rolled.”

Jacobsma countered that the union focuses more on what’s “politically correct” than what is right for students. And dues funneled into the general fund can be shifted wherever leadership wants, he said. “It’s a shell game.”

Union stalwarts say the real game is being played by Proposition 226 advocates, who simply want to weaken an important arm of the Democratic Party’s fund-raising apparatus. Though unions represent about 10% of California’s work force compared to 35% in the 1950s, organized labor has become an increasingly important ally for Democrats.

Indeed, some labor experts say the initiative seems more about payback than improving the lot of union workers.

“Proposition 226 doesn’t reflect a workplace necessity, but rather a dramatic political point,” said Harley Shaiken, a UC Berkeley professor who specializes in labor issues. “It’s directed at weakening unions at the ballot box.”

Lee, the Torrance water department worker, said union backing for Democrats is buttressed by common sense. “Labor supports candidates who are friendly with labor, and that tends to be Democrats,” he said. “You wouldn’t expect the National Rifle Assn. to support someone who is against guns or the Christian Coalition to back a gay rights advocate.”

But for union members who are Republicans, it creates a conflict. Bowen, the television industry engineer, has refused to opt out of his union. He would have to give up too much, he said. “I’m not willing to throw away my rights as a worker to protect my rights as a citizen.

“I’m by no means against my union or certainly not the guys I work with. I’ve been on strike, I’ve carried a picket sign, I’ve been in negotiations. There’s a need for organized labor--you have to fight like hell to protect the interests of workers. But that shouldn’t include telling them how to vote.”