JANUARY 24, 2020 – Today’s paper contains a number of one- or two-liners by people off the street regarding the impeachment proceedings. As I contemplate the mismatch between what people know and think, on the one hand, and on the other hand, what’s required to sustain a democracy in a country of our size and complexity, I’m reminded of a dose of democratic reality several decades ago.
The place was the Bass Lake Township town hall near Grindstone Lake in northwestern Wisconsin.
A few weeks earlier, some friends of ours on the opposite end of the lake caught wind of a local guy’s plan to install a fish farm on Grindstone. He’d quietly rounded up preliminary permits and was waiting for final approval. Our friends called us, and together we launched a counterattack. Since this occurred in ancient times, before widespread use of email and cellphones, we resorted to old-fashioned methods—paper letters, land lines, a mimeograph machine and Scotch tape, and word-of-mouth.
In the end, we rounded up enough folks who could talk and write for the desired aggregate effect. The would-be fish farmer’s final permit application was denied. Grindstone Lake was safe again . . . for the time being.
But the process had been a wake-up call. We realized it was high time to form a lake association to provide a better defense against future assaults on the environment.
A few weeks later, there we stood, leading an “informational session” for formation of a lake association. I gave some background, then invited discussion. What ensued was a stark, dispiriting lesson in democracy.
We were astonished by what people had to say. One woman wanted a strict moratorium on cutting down any trees—anywhere—taller than a person. Another resident wanted the “absolute freedom” to clear-cut everything blocking his view of the lake. Another character wanted to ban all jet skis. Another said no, our biggest issue should be placing bright orange buoys atop the many under-the-surface rock bars so that jet skis could be driven with reckless abandon. Yet another guy pressed to put the sole cranberry grower on the lake out of business, because that operation was “ruining the water quality.” This diatribe prompted another guy, who introduced himself as a PhD hydrologist, to inform us that for years and on his own initiative, he’d investigated that cranberry grower, tested the waters around the bog and concluded that it was among the among the cleanest cranberry growing operations in the state. “Put it out of business,” he said, “and you’ll expose 1,000 feet of lakeshore to development—with far worse consequences for water quality.
We who’d been so eager to form a lake association were wholly disheartened by this dose of democratic reality. We realized that our simple, lofty goal, “Save the environment!” was absurdly naive. We’d have to take a giant step backward to the lowest common denominator. Then, with patience, small doses of education, and lots of compromise, we could work our way toward that “lofty goal.”
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
