Though bipartisanship enjoys almost universal acclaim in theory, it can prove less popular in practice.

The paradox has become familiar to Ken Helm, D-Beaverton, and Mark Owens, R-Crane, who co-chair Oregon’s House Agriculture Committee and are known as leading advocates for modernizing the state’s water policies and infrastructure.

At a time when being uncompromising is associated with ideological purity, compromise can expose a lawmaker to suspicion from their own side of the political aisle.

“They probably want us to be more partisan than we are,” Helm said.

As an “environmentalist” and land use attorney, Helm said it’s regularly assumed that his views will align neatly with those of conservation groups.

“They want me to act a certain way, and when I don’t, I get static about it,” he said.

Similarly, as a farmer from one of the most rural and conservative corners of the state, Owens said he’s come under fire for considering more regulatory oversight, such as a recent proposal to strengthen water measurement and reporting requirements for irrigators.

“I have taken some flak from some of my community members who are concerned with my position on this. I am working through that,” he said.

With their super-majorities in the House and Senate, Democrats may question why they should make concessions to Republicans — who in turn may doubt the value of negotiations.

The ultimate goal of politics often seems to be to attain power and wield it with minimal or zero input from anyone else, Owens said.

“I think that Ken and I are in lockstep agreement: That is not the right way,” he said.

Committee  co-chairs

In most Oregon legislative policy committees, the chair is a Democrat and the vice chair is a Republican.

The House Agriculture Committee — technically the House Committee On Agriculture, Land Use, Natural Resources, and Water — is one of the rare instances where the chair position is shared by a lawmaker from each party.

“It’s a public recognition of the opportunities that Ken has given me,” Owens said.

For his part, Helm said he immediately urged Democratic leaders to make use of Owens’s agricultural experience on an earlier committee devoted to water.

“I went right away and I said, I need this guy on the committee. You can’t waste his expertise by not having him on the committee,” Helm said.

Laws governing agriculture, irrigation, forestry and similar issues seldom involve unbendable moral or ethical principles, so reasonable people should be able to  meet each other halfway for solutions, Owens said.

“Water and natural resources issues should not be partisan, and while we’re here, they’re not going to be partisan,” he said.

For Republican lawmakers in Oregon, bargaining with Democrats is the only way to push through bills that help their constituents, he said.

“Being bipartisan in the minority could be easier if you want to take the risk of trying to govern,” Owens said.

Despite their control of the statehouse, Democrats have been reluctant to attempt certain changes to water law, such as provisions related to transfers, that were traditionally considered “untouchable,” Helm said.

Bringing a Republican onboard lends such proposals legitimacy and provides political cover, he said.

“It was not possible to do without a Republican partner who is willing to take some of the flak,” Helm said.

Similar philosophies

In terms of appearance, Helm and Owens would never be mistaken for twins, but they share a careful, deliberative way of speaking that suggests they’re making their point as precisely as possible.

While their far-flung districts may seem to typify the urban-rural divide, the two men’s approach to thorny water problems doesn’t diverge as much as many would expect.

“As we started to work together, and started to trust each other’s judgment, it became fairly clear that our philosophy on water was not very far apart,” Helm said.

A fundamental pillar of that philosophy is the need to collect accurate information on which to base decisions.

“Ken and I have the same shared goal that as we get more data, then we can have more flexibility and actually manage water better with communities,” Owens said.

That may seem like a common sense conclusion, but with the intricacies involved in Western water law, clear-cut solutions are rare.

In this case, gathering data requires closer scrutiny of water use by irrigators and others — who may consider that a government intrusion with potentially hazardous consequences.

For example, if farmers are irrigating less than they’re entitled to, they may fear forfeiting their water rights.

“We should allow farmers to have the security if they become more efficient, and don’t need their full amount of water for their crop that year, that nobody’s going to come in and take that amount of water they didn’t use,” Owens said.

Though his largely suburban constituents are unlikely to pay as close attention to policies affecting irrigation, Helm realizes the time he devotes to water policy could still raise questions.

So far, though, his district has offered Helm the “grace” to focus on natural resource legislation that doesn’t directly affect the area, he said.

“They’re not criticizing me and saying I ought to be closer to home,” he said. “I do work on a lot of rural issues and I do that on purpose, because I think urbanites need to show folks in the rest of the state that we acknowledge them, that we see them and that we care about them.”

Legislative success
Over the years, Owens and Helm have been successful in drawing the Legislature’s attention to water issues, assisted by prominent droughts afflicting irrigators, riparian health and rural communities.

For example, Oregon lawmakers made about $110 million in water investments during the last full legislative session in 2023.

When it comes to how effectively that money’s been deployed, however, the duo is less than thrilled.

The state government’s record in this regard is “hit and miss,” Helm says, mostly due to resistance from the Oregon Water Resource Department.

“They’ve made some decisions about how to use that money that don’t square with our intent and our desires,” he said. “Sometimes just not spending it. Dragging their feet about getting staffing to do it. And then when it comes to the budget cycle again, leaving those projects behind and not bringing the funding forward.”

The pair also has some frustrations with the agency regarding water policy — specifically in regard to tools such as “place-based planning,” which are supposed to incorporate feedback from regional communities.

“They’re really struggling with how to communicate with communities, take community input and develop a plan. They’re still stuck in their regulatory approach of allocating then reeling back in,” Owens said, referring to OWRD’s history of appropriating more water than is available, which later necessitates curtailing usage.

In the Harney Basin, where Owens grows alfalfa, the community has developed a place-based plan for keeping the agriculture industry viable while stemming the depletion of groundwater.

Though it’s been approved by a commission of state water regulators who oversee OWRD, Owens said the agency is having trouble with actually putting the strategy into practice.

“We don’t want a plan that’s going to sit on the shelf. You know what we have? A plan that is sitting on the shelf because the department hasn’t figured out how to use them — how to work with that community to implement, how to get the funding to implement,” Owens said.

When asked about these criticisms, OWRD responded with a summary of recent legislative investments and projects undertaken by the agency.

Between 2021 and 2024, the department received $208.5 million in new appropriations, of which 80% was dedicated to grants and similar “pass-through” funding, according to the summary.

Among its achievements, the agency obligated about $126.7 million to 370 grant recipients, filled 226 of the 277 positions it recruited for, and substantially increased its field activities, such as completing 92% more well inspections, 49% more dam safety inspections and 56% more staff-initiated investigations, the summary said.

The department acknowledged experiencing challenges, such as spending “a significant amount of time recruiting to fill vacant positions” and finding that many projects slated for pass-through funding were “often not shovel ready,” with recipients who weren’t ready to spend the money.

“In addition, these direct pass-through grants have a large workload associated with establishing grant agreements and actively managing the grants,” the summary said. “Our experience indicates the state must support the entire project process, including funding, permitting, and project management.”

Recognizing that the state’s water problems will probably outlast their own time in the statehouse, two years ago Owens and Helm helped form the Oregon Water Caucus.

The group nurtures the expertise of more that 30 Republican and Democrat lawmakers focused on “sustained bipartisan water leadership,” so they can confidently continue advocating for water legislation.

“Your legacy will only be fully realized if you develop other champions in the building who will champion your priorities after you leave,” Owens said.

Political future

Looking to their own political futures, neither Helm nor Owens professes an eagerness to seek higher office at the statewide or national level.

Serving in the Legislature has required sacrifices of both men.

Helm said his time as a politician “caused an upheaval in my family, a little bit, and my solo law practice slowly died after that” due to potential conflicts of interest.

During legislative sessions, Owens must spend a great deal of time away from his wife and kids, which has also required scaling down his Harney County farm operation and hiring a manager to run it when he’s away.

“I never thought I’d be here today, and about every other day, I wonder why I’m still here, so we’ll have to see what happens,” he jokes.

Though they’ve found a great deal of common ground on water and other natural resource issues, that doesn’t mean the men agree on every bill that passes through the building.

“It’s been important to convey to our colleagues implicitly that we’re not attached at the hip on all things,” Helm said. “We work on water together and it’s hard enough.”

Even so, it’s apparent the men keep any conflicts in perspective, judging from their good-natured ribbing over political style — “I’m not like Mark, I don’t try to draw attention to myself constantly,” Helm says — and policy differences.

“The only time Ken is wrong is when he disagrees with me,” Owens said.

Given the constant churn of political controversy in Washington, D.C., Owens and Helm have relied on a simple method to keep the peace: Unless it affects federal funding for state projects, they avoid discussing the current or previous presidential administration.

“Even over a glass of wine or a beer, I don’t think we’ve ever even talked about it,” Owens said. “I save that for Thanksgiving dinner with my family.”

After all, most of the nuts-and-bolts legislation they negotiate at the Legislature lends itself to deal-making rather than grandstanding, they say.

“You don’t try to make everything a zero-sum game,” Helm said. “Then you’re in solution mode.”