Fred Hansen DEQ chief works to defuse the agency's controversial role
In 1987, Fred Hansen, director of the Oregon Department of Environmental
Quality, was determined to run in the New York Marathon despite troubles
with a fractured foot. He trained carefully, gradually adding miles to his
workout until he felt confident he could handle the 26-mile event.
Yet in
the 21st mile the fracture snapped again, recalls his longtime running
partner, Dr. Richard Knight.
Rather than quit, Hansen walked the remaining five miles.
"There's a bit of tenacity in the old boy," says Knight.
It's a quality everyone who has dealt with Hansen and his Department of
Environmental Quality (DEQ) has come to appreciate.
When Hansen, 44, arrived at the agency in 1984, it dealt with little more
than air quality, water quality and trash disposal. In the years since,
Hansen has established a hazardous waste control program, built a state
Superfund program and created a DEQ Environmental Clean-up Division to
manage the work. His agency is implementing Oregon's Toxic Waste Reduction
Act, the first in the nation aimed at reducing the use of toxics in
industrial processes before they become a waste problem. And DEQ is setting
some of the toughest standards in the nation for discharge of the carcinogen
dioxin in pulp-mill effluent.
The breadth of environmental regulations in Oregon has more than doubled
during his tenure at DEQ, posing a daunting and expensive challenge for
business. He has tried to do it with fairness, establishing dozens of
advisory committees to bring together both sides on an issue before it
becomes a confrontation. While most of the programs Hansen has created were
mandated by federal law or the Oregon Legislature, how they were applied was
Hansen's responsibility.
Despite the controversial nature of environmental controls, Hansen is
skilled at deflecting criticism of his agency and himself into discussion of
the issues. Toxic waste reduction, removal of leaking fuel tanks, and
setting dioxin limits are controversial issues. Even though Hansen has
played a major role in implementing rules on all of them, he is not
perceived by business as part of the problem. He is reachable by people on
all sides and when crisis looms he brings everyone together to talk.
Consensus is a word he uses frequently.
"There is a place in this state where the buck stops," says Thomas Donaca,
general counsel for Associated Oregon Industries, the state's largest
business lobby.
"His door is open. He can be reached. He does listen. He doesn't always
respond, but he does listen," says Donaca, who since 1965 has been involved
in discussions about every environmental issue of statewide importance.
But some have wondered recently if Hansen isn't looking for greener pastures
at the federal Environmental Protection Agency, which offers more than his
$68,000 salary at DEQ. His firm stand on dioxin control, for example, may be
an effort to groom his image for eyes in Washington D.C.
Hansen smiles at the notion and says no. As for the salary issue, if he were
truly after more money, he would go into private business, where the pay for
running an office of 500 with a $48 million budget would be many times
higher. He deflected questions about his job aspirations.
"If you are looking out for the next job, you're not doing today's job as
well," he says.
Coworkers say he has zeal for his work. Posters about the Peace Corps, which
he once headed, adorn his office walls. A funky brass plaque that says
"certified for mental ward" is always on his desk.
"I got it as a gift while I was at the Peace Corps," Hansen says, turning
the strip of brass in his hands. "it was meant to poke fun at my intensity."
It goes without saying, anyone who finishes the New York Marathon with a
fractured foot is intense.
Phi Beta Kappa graduate, guest lecturer at the John F. Kennedy School of
Politics, Hansen is a smart guy. Keeping up with him in a meeting is a
chore, say coworkers. He spars easily with lawmakers in statehouse hearing
rooms. Taking a stand against him demands that you know your facts and your
arguments well, says Donaca.
Hansen says he deals in "the marketplace of ideas. I like discussion. I like
different ideas. But it has to be based on good reasoning."
Sometimes in staff discussions he plays the devil's advocate.
"I like to push it to find where the soft spots are," he says.
Born in Portland, Hansen earned a bachelor's degree in mathematics and
history from the University of Oregon. He liked math, but in history he
found studies "that were much better at teaching about human relationships
and life."
Catching himself after that statement, he pauses, then says: "It sounds
sappy in one way, but it's the way I feel."
From Oregon he went to McMaster University in Maryland for a master's degree
in history. He began work on a doctorate in history at Johns Hopkins, but
left to become office manager for former Sen. Charles Goodell, a Republican
from New York.
Hansen says he was "turned off by government" during the social turmoil
surrounding the Vietnam War, but he glimpsed its possibility during his time
in Goodell's office. Responsive government was the key to democracy and he
wanted to be a part of it, he said.
When Goodell lost a reelection bid, Hansen went to work for Rep. John
Dellenback, the Republican from Oregon's fourth district. Next came a
succession of posts, first with the Presidential Clemency Board for Vietnam
War era veterans, then a two-year stint at the Peace Corps, and finally
Hansen was named deputy director of President Carter's Federal Cash
Management Project.
He won high marks in Capitol circles for efficiency and performance, but
missed Oregon. So he returned in 1977 to become deputy state treasurer. He
helped design the state's management plan for its investments and was a key
member of the group that put together the deferred compensation retirement
plan for state employees. He became DEQ director in February 1984.
Throughout that time he developed his philosophy that process is the basis
of good government. No matter what the problem, if government approaches a
solution with dedication to the steps it uses to arrive at a solution, then
everyone will be well served, says Hansen.
Oregon political columnist Russell Sadler has jokingly referred to Hansen as
a "process freak," a title the DEQ director readily accepts. If an agency
sticks to a consistent and public process, then the results will be fair, he
believes.
"I want us (DEQ) to reach all of our decisions in such a way that if a
decision appeared on the front page of the paper the next day we could
defend it," says Hansen.
That is critical in pollution control, he says. With dozens of standards for
discharge of everything from storm water to toxics, applying rules
consistently is critical to establishing trust in the agency. That
reputation then serves a dual purpose. The agency has the confidence to lean
on industry, or stand up to the cries of not-in-my-backyard.
PHOTO : DEQ's Fred Hansen works toward consensus on tough issues.
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