Return to Sender

As dubious as the information in campaign mailers might be, somebody out there must be reading them. An awful lot of money and argument goes into them each election season.

The latest argument has been about slate mailers, which once were just a list of recommended candidates and stands on ballot measures. They most likely would purport to advise you how the environmentalists or an anti-tax group wanted you to vote.

Slate mailers, though, are evolving in a troubling way. A furor erupted after a new subspecies of campaign literature reached mailboxes during the race this year between incumbent Supervisor Cynthia P. Coad and successful challenger Chris Norby. While sticking to the state’s rule that slate mailers must contain at least four candidates or issues, the series of full-color foldouts--produced by anti-airport consultants--devoted most of their space to criticizing Coad and praising Norby, who won.

Why should anyone care? Because Norby may have reaped the benefit of an expensive mail campaign despite the county’s strict limits on contributions to candidates. He claims he paid his full share; political observers doubt it. Also, the mailers didn’t make it clear who was paying for them--they don’t have to.

Donations to slate mailers are exempt from campaign-limit rules because the money goes straight to the mailer organization, not to the candidate’s campaign. As an independent group, that organization has a free-speech right to spend what it wants. But the mailer still has to be counted as a gift if it was done with the candidate’s cooperation; certainly Norby’s campaign was involved to some extent, but the state is just now making its definitions of “cooperation” clearer.

Norby points out that slate mailers provide an affordable way for cash-strapped candidates to get their names out by sharing costs. Coad didn’t worry about contribution limits because, as a wealthy woman, she was able to loan about $500,000 to her own campaign.

It may seem unfair, but campaign reform isn’t about leveling the playing field. It’s about keeping special interests from having a hold on our elected officials. Now that this use of slate mailers has been pioneered, what’s to keep it from being exploited by big business to shift vast sums of money toward candidates in order to skew decisions on major issues? It’s easy to imagine city council mailers put out by “Citizens for a Safe Beach,” a group made up of businesses worried that proposed rules to stem urban runoff will cost them too much money.

In response to the Norby foldouts, the county passed a policy requiring candidates to pay their share of a slate mailer if more than a fourth of the mailer is devoted to them.

Well-intentioned as the county’s move may be, its ultimate value is debatable. It allows candidates to benefit from untold sums of money through a blizzard of slate mailers that meet the “25% test,” and voters still don’t know who’s behind them.

The state can regulate this more effectively, and is already working on proposed wording that makes slate mailers a gift if the candidate is involved in any meaningful way. Meanwhile, the state’s efforts to make the mailers disclose their money sources upfront are under legal attack. Until matters are resolved on both fronts, voters can register their opinion of slate mailers by dropping them in the recycling bin without so much as a glance.