PRESIDENTIAL RACE Nader rejects requests to drop his campaign

Letters from 15 liberal and progressive groups asked Nader not to run.
KNIGHT RIDDER NEWSPAPERS
WASHINGTON -- When Ralph Nader is amused about something, a crooked smirk creases his somber face, the shoulders beneath the pin-striped suit start to quiver, and the abrupt, shrill laugh that escapes his mouth can best be described as a strangulated giggle.
He did it the other night, in his favorite bookstore cafe eight blocks from the White House, while ruminating about his life as a pariah, as a fringe presidential candidate who is virtually friendless in these early days of his third quixotic campaign.
As for the widely held theory among Democrats that his 2000 candidacy took votes from Al Gore and put George W. Bush in the White House, and that now he seems poised to do it again ... well, Nader thinks that's downright hysterical.
"Oh, the whining!" he declared, after his mirth turned to husky disdain. "The endless whining! The liberals are always whining! You know, scapegoating me is a sign of a decadent party, a party that whines instead of going to work."
Last Thursday, 15 liberal and progressive groups sent letters to Nader imploring him not to run, saying his candidacy last time led to the election of the "most destructive" administration in history.
Nader spurned their plea, and said at the cafe: "This liberal attitude of 'Anybody but Bush,' that's like a virus. ... They say to me: 'Ralph, you've done great things, but don't run again, you're going to hurt your legacy if there's another four years of Bush' -- the sheer hubris of that! They're telling me not to exercise my right of free speech!"
How he sees it
So he's running again -- four years after he won 97,000 votes in Florida, where Bush won by 537 -- and Democrats are apoplectic. These days, they're not lauding his good works -- the padded car dashboards, the cleaner water, the healthier baby food, all the fruits of 40 years as a citizen activist.
No, they're talking like Mitch Caesar, the Democratic chairman of Broward County, Florida, who said the other day: "If I met with him, I might strangle him."
But, this time, Nader insists his candidacy will aid the Democrats. If he seemed contemptuous of Gore last time, that was because he saw the 2000 race as a referendum on Clinton-Gore.
He hawked his candidacy as a haven for liberals who viewed Clinton and Gore as corporate lackeys. But 2004 is a referendum on Bush, and Nader sees himself as John Kerry's helper, constituting "a second front" against the president.
He plans to meet soon with Kerry, to offer advice. He complains that Kerry sometimes seems "drained of any inspiration," and he wants to "jolt" the guy, push him leftward on issues.
But Kathy Roeder, a Kerry spokesman, says that, though the two men will undoubtedly confer, "we're not looking for any shadow candidate, any 'second front,' to provide us with any kind of support."
Changing attitudes
Somehow, Nader's new pitch hasn't mollified his old friends and erstwhile liberal sympathizers. Micah Sifry, a citizen activist and author who has known Nader for several decades, said the other day: "There was a time when I could trust Ralph to be intellectually honest, but I don't feel that way anymore."
And what's the vibe in Washington, where Nader lives?
"Total ostracism!" Nader roared. "There's an annual conference on the 'progressive future of America,' and I'm not invited. [In 2001] I wanted to testify in the Senate against John Ashcroft's nomination. [Democrats] didn't respond to my request. The beat goes on."
Nader still must get his name on 50 state ballots, but he's expected to clear most hurdles (even the high hurdles in Pennsylvania, where state House Democratic leader Bill DeWeese calls his candidacy "an abomination").
And Nader says he won't leave, even if it appears he might be helping Bush: "You don't string people along for 10 months, get them to work their hearts out, then turn around and say 'Sayonara.'"