Several months ago, when the addition of 30 new police officers was first proposed, I wrote an article about the culture of fear that seemed to have taken over in Madison. I wrote how that culture, sponsored and encouraged by a federal government that would have us sacrifice civil liberties in order to justify two wars (one on terror, the other on Iraq) had woven its way into the very fabric of our lives. As we approached budget deliberations and a full debate on adding 30 police officers, it became clear that the culture of fear had taken over even here in Madison, one of the safest cities on the planet. We became so anchored, so rooted into the culture of fear that the debate had ended before it even began. Crime was everywhere: it was creeping like a virus from Badger and Allied to the southwest, the northeast, and downtown. It was replicating at such an insidious pace that nothing short of 30 new police, mobilized without delay, could stop or even stem the tide.
And what a tide it was. Like a stop sign standing in the path of an avalanche, I and a few other alders attempted to bring some sanity to the discussion. And by sanity, all I really mean is debate. Because without our amendment to add 18 police instead of 30, an unprecedented number in and of itself, there would have been no debate.
The first significant item on the agenda was a proposal by Alder Zach Brandon to take $1.5 million in one-time revenue created by the closure of two TIF districts and apply it to the workers’ compensation fund. This was a significant deviation from the Mayor's budget and would leave us with about $20,000 in wiggle room for the 50-plus amendments yet to come, short of other reductions that could be reapplied. It would force us to be diligent and make difficult choices.
No one expected it to pass. I thought hard about it and the fact that our amendment to add 18 police instead of 30 would save $594,000, more than enough to reinvest in other priorities. With great trepidation (this was a big vote and my first budget), I voted for the amendment. In a surprise to eveyone, the amendment passed 11-9. It was a time to roll up our sleeves and get to work. Except not really.
My arguments were pretty simple:
Fiscal Realities. We were spending one-time-only dollars for this unprecedented increase in police. We also didn't know what the long term fiscal impacts even were (not only salary, but overhead, support costs, computers, police cars, court costs, jail space, etc).
Balance. We invest $5 million a year in community services and $54 million a year in our police department.
Goals. We didn't really have a clear sense of what adding 30 police would accomplish or how much it would really help.
Sustainability. We hadn't considered the impacts on the court system, prison and jail space, or other criminal justice related entities that would be affected by more arrests.
The arguments of common sense, logic, and balance were countered by one theme, and this theme was hammered home with the repetition, monotany, and steadfastness of a clock's second hand clicking itself into place again and again with no allowance for variance, nuance, or shades of gray. Sadly and disturbingly, there was only one way to decribe the argument in favor of the full slate of 30 police officers.
Madison’s culture of fear had evolved into politics of fear.
The debate was focused on the same comments, repeated again and again. The only difference was in the voice who spoke the words.
"If you had been there this summer…"
"If you had heard the 700 people who came…"
"If you had heard the stories, heard about the chainsaws, the breakins, the vandalism…"
"You couldn't hear them and not be affected…"
The culture of fear had rooted itself so deeply into our collective consciousness that we were unable to even fathom a compromise. It was as if my amendment had been to add zero police or to eliminate our police department entirely, as opposed to adding an unprecedented number (18) and using the savings to invest in prevention and strategies that would actually attack the root causes of crime rather than merely reacting to crimes once they've been committed.
I and others talked about sexual assault, domestic violence, and homelessness prevention and after school programs for youth as investments that had a direct impact not only in preventing crime but on reducing the strain on police resources. I asked our police chief the following: "We know about 30% of our police calls are related to domestic abuse. If we could invest in domestic violence awareness and prevention and reduce these calls, wouldn't that free up significant amounts of police resources that could be reallocated to address other emerging issues?" Despite an affirmative response, we never debated this issue or others related to eviction prevention, transit assistance for homeless individuals to access employment opportunities, or a dozen others.
Consider the following example: Something happens (medical emergency, car repair, etc) that leaves a low-income tenant short on rent for a month. Once evicted, the former tenant will undoubtedly draw upon our social service system and our already overwhelmed homeless shelter. It will become far more difficult for this citizen to maintain his job or find employment if he is searching for a job. Even if he is able to straighten out his financial situation, it will be harder for him to get housing now that he has an eviction on his record. Perhaps he'll camp out in his car or join the “homeless throng” at Brittingham Park. Resulting police calls will draw on precious police resources that could have been used elsewhere. Perhaps he'll commit a crime because he feels his options have run out. Eventually he'll get out of jail and will have an even more difficult time obtaining employment and housing. A few hundred dollar investment may be enough to prevent eviction and its potential effects. Eviction requires time and resources of the landlord and our court system. Also, consider the police resources that have been called upon during this entire process. Now let's imagine that this individual has children. Education is one of the single most important predictors of future success. His children have spent all of this time in an environment that makes learning literally impossible. Perhaps as little as $300 could have prevented all of this and helped this family maintain stability.
We had a chance at our budget meeting to spend a very modest $50,000 on eviction prevention, a sum that clearly would have paid for itself a dozen times--not only in dollars but in police resources. With little debate, the amendment failed. We had other opportunities to invest in crime prevention. Some passed but most didn’t. However, none of these alternatives were part of the crime debate where they belonged. The debate was over before it had begun.
Allied Drive, an area replete with victims of crime, falls within my district. When I ask my constituents what will help in their community, not a one mentions an increase in the number of police. This makes me wonder whether our response to crime is focused too heavily on middle class areas experiencing crime for the first time versus lower income areas that continue to be victimized by crime in vastly disproportionate amounts.
I think most of us would acknowledge the severe flaws in our criminal justice system. During the debate, I raised concerns related to the endless cycle of incarceration. I spoke of the shocking cost to taxpayers and society as a whole and the racial disparity in incarceration rates. It wasn’t until two weeks after the budget passed that the Justice Policy Institute reported that 97% of counties demonstrated racial disparities in their incarceration rates, with Dane County ranking third in the nation. While drug sales and use were approximately the same between whites and blacks, the report showed that an astonishing 97 black offenders were locked up in Dane County for every white.
I am very proud that we forced a debate where one would have otherwise not existed. I’m not sure whether we turned a single vote but that wasn’t necessarily the point. Maybe the addition of the thirty new police will help this community move past our culture of fear. Maybe this budget vote will help us elected officials move past the politics of fear. Because there is only one certainty in this world: until we address poverty and the other root causes of crime, we can pass as many feel good proposals as we want, but we’re not going to solve the problem.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
A Peaceful Place
In a crazy, high paced world, filled with terrorism and war, poverty and hunger, ringing cell phones and fighting gangs, I close my eyes and think of home. A peaceful place. A place of support, of calmness, and of love.
Unfortunately, for so many, it is a place of cruelty, of violence, of brutality.
As we sit back this October and consider Domestic Violence Awareness Month, I hope that we will remember that domestic violence affects us all. It does not discriminate across class lines, income lines, or geographic lines. It affects every community in this state. And when one person if affected, every person is affected – every person in that house, in that community, and in our world.
One third of the women murdered in the United States are victims of domestic violence. This gets right at the heart of what it means to have a place to call home, a place where everyone can go and feel safe.
Almost six years ago, out of nowhere, I crossed paths with a family who had endured the most horrible thing anyone could imagine: daughter, mother, sister, friend, woman, and fellow human being Beth Kutz, had been killed by her husband. I spent three weeks as a juror, listening as attorneys, friends, and family members recounted stories of this person who was no more. By the time it was over, I knew her like a sister. I knew her likes, her dislikes, her passions, her promise. And then, when it was all over, I had to commit yet another unthinkable act: I had to sentence a man to life in prison.
I wrote a book about this experience, called Sequestered. I have been in touch with Beth’s family ever since, have stood by as an almost invisible observer, watching as Beth’s mom raised her two grandchildren, Jacob and Jennifer. Two children who, thanks to their grandmother, are flourishing. But two children who, because of this horrible scourge known as domestic violence, now have to grow up with neither parent.
I was proud, last week, to participate as a walker and speaker in DAIS' Purple Ribbon Walk. I was honored to look out among the crowd and see Beth's daughter, mother, uncle, and best friend, honoring her memory.
I have learned a lot in the last five years. As I sat in jury deliberations, I’d almost wished that Beth’s husband had hit her. It would have made my job easier. Because at the time, sitting in a tiny room deciding whether to send a man to prison for life, it was hard to make the leap. But I have learned that domestic violence is not always about escalation. Sometimes verbal and emotional abuse can lead directly to extreme violence or even murder.
I also got a tiny glimpse into what victims must feel, the choice they must make to endure the violence or to tear apart their family. This is not a choice that anyone should have to make. Ever. Finally, I learned that the choice to leave is often not enough. In my case, it was likely Beth’s decision to leave that led to her death. In fact, victims are seven times more likely to be killed when they leave abusive relationships.
This is not something that we as a community can tolerate for another year, another day, another minute. It is not sufficient to stand by, shake your head, and tell yourself it’s not that bad. It’s not sufficient to say: this is not my problem, I can’t get involved. And it’s not sufficient to believe that we aren’t affected.
We are all affected. And as we gathered around the Capitol last week, an amazing, living, breathing tapestry that stood, unified, in memory of those we have lost – our friends, our family, or even a stranger we met through the loving eyes of her family – I asked everyone who could hear my words to pledge to continue this fight, continue this work, and continue to educate survivors to come forward, family members to get involved, and perpetrators to understand that this is not okay and it will not be tolerated. If you are reading this, I ask you the same.
Let’s end domestic violence, and make sure every home is a place of shelter and support and, most importantly, a place where everyone can feel safe.
Unfortunately, for so many, it is a place of cruelty, of violence, of brutality.
As we sit back this October and consider Domestic Violence Awareness Month, I hope that we will remember that domestic violence affects us all. It does not discriminate across class lines, income lines, or geographic lines. It affects every community in this state. And when one person if affected, every person is affected – every person in that house, in that community, and in our world.
One third of the women murdered in the United States are victims of domestic violence. This gets right at the heart of what it means to have a place to call home, a place where everyone can go and feel safe.
Almost six years ago, out of nowhere, I crossed paths with a family who had endured the most horrible thing anyone could imagine: daughter, mother, sister, friend, woman, and fellow human being Beth Kutz, had been killed by her husband. I spent three weeks as a juror, listening as attorneys, friends, and family members recounted stories of this person who was no more. By the time it was over, I knew her like a sister. I knew her likes, her dislikes, her passions, her promise. And then, when it was all over, I had to commit yet another unthinkable act: I had to sentence a man to life in prison.
I wrote a book about this experience, called Sequestered. I have been in touch with Beth’s family ever since, have stood by as an almost invisible observer, watching as Beth’s mom raised her two grandchildren, Jacob and Jennifer. Two children who, thanks to their grandmother, are flourishing. But two children who, because of this horrible scourge known as domestic violence, now have to grow up with neither parent.
I was proud, last week, to participate as a walker and speaker in DAIS' Purple Ribbon Walk. I was honored to look out among the crowd and see Beth's daughter, mother, uncle, and best friend, honoring her memory.
I have learned a lot in the last five years. As I sat in jury deliberations, I’d almost wished that Beth’s husband had hit her. It would have made my job easier. Because at the time, sitting in a tiny room deciding whether to send a man to prison for life, it was hard to make the leap. But I have learned that domestic violence is not always about escalation. Sometimes verbal and emotional abuse can lead directly to extreme violence or even murder.
I also got a tiny glimpse into what victims must feel, the choice they must make to endure the violence or to tear apart their family. This is not a choice that anyone should have to make. Ever. Finally, I learned that the choice to leave is often not enough. In my case, it was likely Beth’s decision to leave that led to her death. In fact, victims are seven times more likely to be killed when they leave abusive relationships.
This is not something that we as a community can tolerate for another year, another day, another minute. It is not sufficient to stand by, shake your head, and tell yourself it’s not that bad. It’s not sufficient to say: this is not my problem, I can’t get involved. And it’s not sufficient to believe that we aren’t affected.
We are all affected. And as we gathered around the Capitol last week, an amazing, living, breathing tapestry that stood, unified, in memory of those we have lost – our friends, our family, or even a stranger we met through the loving eyes of her family – I asked everyone who could hear my words to pledge to continue this fight, continue this work, and continue to educate survivors to come forward, family members to get involved, and perpetrators to understand that this is not okay and it will not be tolerated. If you are reading this, I ask you the same.
Let’s end domestic violence, and make sure every home is a place of shelter and support and, most importantly, a place where everyone can feel safe.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Moving Past a Culture of Fear
We are the most safe, secure people in the history of the planet. Yet, as our safety and security continues to increase, rising almost in direct contradictory proportion is our level of fear. I attribute much of this to our comfort: the level to which we take our quality of life for granted. I attribute more to our hubris: despite the giving nature that resides somewhere in all of us, we default to a place where we believe that our own person and our own family are entitled to something to which the rest of the world is not. However, if I look back over the last five years, I attribute most of this to our reaction to 9/11. Instead of using this opportunity to bring people together, our leaders have taken advantage of this tragedy and turned it into something that not only divides us, but plays upon our comforts and our hubris, forcing us to sink deeper into those realities.
I hoped Madison would be different, that we would build on our progressive tradition of openness and compassion and somehow sidestep this reality. I hoped that we’d show the world how people could react and watch in sadness as the rest of the world tried to catch up. But here we are, in one of the safest places in the world, in one of the most secure times in history, pushing crime, fear, punishment, and public safety to the top of our local agenda. As if this weren’t bad enough, we have taken it a step further by focusing only on reactive solutions, including additional police resources, additional tools for law enforcement, and strategies focused on further dividing an already fractured community.
Madison has held three neighborhood meetings on public safety in the past month, and over 2,000 residents have shown up to decry increasing crime in their neighborhoods. They demanded more police and more support, asking elected officials to focus their sole attention to protecting their neighborhoods. Few, if any, talked about preventive strategies, about poverty or the root causes of crime, about homelessness, about AODA, about childhood abuse or neglect, or about any of the other realities that could cause a person to lose hope and stop caring about the impact his behavior has on others.
Meanwhile, neighborhoods that have faced serious crime for years, perhaps decades, continue to pull together and try to figure out ways to address the root causes of this issue. They fight for affordable housing, they plan mobile food pantries and community dinners to feed their hungry, they beg for additional resources to help their children, and they try to reach through their muddled streets and find hope.
Somewhere in this great city, there resides a solution. A solution that recognizes that society only makes one rock solid commitment to the poor: all one has to do is commit a crime and we will provide him or her with guaranteed food and housing. But where is our commitment to those who don't commit crimes? What of our commitment to one of my constituents, a single mother of four, finally getting her life together, who broke her arm, lost her job, and is now about to be evicted? Think about this, put yourself in these shoes. We are not talking about a hardened criminal, a violent scourge on our society, or a resident of Chicago. We are talking about one of us, one of ours, a Madisonian, living right here in one of the most progressive, wealthy communities on earth. What do we want to do for her?
What of the man who was recently shot in Allied? A horrible, violent act that left him hospitalized and seriously injured. What have we done, in our culture of fear and violence, which has led him to remain unwilling to offer any information about the person who shot him? Is it distrust for our police? Is it the result of a community that has forced the dialogue into us versus them? Is it fear of retribution from his attacker? Or is it his residence in a world outside of that which we can imagine, yet one only a few miles away, where things like this just happen, where life goes on, where it could have just as easily turned out the other way? What do we want to do for him?
People must feel safe. There is an inherent instinct here that drives our behavior and leads us to make decisions we’d otherwise not make. It led millions of white, middle class people to flee to the suburbs for a generation, leaving behind nothing but huge pockets of poverty, scant resources, and decaying inner cities. We can’t allow that to happen in Madison. So we must respond to that which we are hearing. We must stem the very real fear that exists. But we also must work together to help our citizens get past this fear, to help us all understand that the fear itself almost certainly does more damage than the violent act that preceded it. And if we really care about saving our community, we need to move past law and order and find a way past all this violence. If we want peace in Madison, we must have justice. So let’s add police and resources and address this fear. But let’s also recognize that we must be in this together and focus on the root causes of poverty that often lead to crime in the first place.
There are so many solutions that we know work. Just around the corner from Allied Drive resides the Madison Apprenticeship Program (MAP), the brainchild of one woman whose drive for change makes more difference than a dozen new police. One graduate entered the class homeless and jobless. He secured housing and now manages an apartment complex and paints as an independent contractor. Another graduate spent the last dozen years dealing drugs. He now works at an area service station, signing up for every extra hour of overtime he can find. There is a second generation drug dealer who graduated and now works as a sales clerk and attends MATC, working to become a lab technician. Another graduate fought with others regularly, used drugs, and was always involved with police. Now she is employed as a technician with a communications company and is taking computer classes at MATC. She hopes to have her own computer business one day. Just four examples of how, for both the individuals and for our community, engaged participation can trump incarceration.
If we want to move forward as a community and solve this problem, we will have to work together. We may have to put aside our hubris and step, however briefly, outside of our comfort zone. It’s pretty simple: if we are divided and acting out of fear, we’ve already lost.
I hoped Madison would be different, that we would build on our progressive tradition of openness and compassion and somehow sidestep this reality. I hoped that we’d show the world how people could react and watch in sadness as the rest of the world tried to catch up. But here we are, in one of the safest places in the world, in one of the most secure times in history, pushing crime, fear, punishment, and public safety to the top of our local agenda. As if this weren’t bad enough, we have taken it a step further by focusing only on reactive solutions, including additional police resources, additional tools for law enforcement, and strategies focused on further dividing an already fractured community.
Madison has held three neighborhood meetings on public safety in the past month, and over 2,000 residents have shown up to decry increasing crime in their neighborhoods. They demanded more police and more support, asking elected officials to focus their sole attention to protecting their neighborhoods. Few, if any, talked about preventive strategies, about poverty or the root causes of crime, about homelessness, about AODA, about childhood abuse or neglect, or about any of the other realities that could cause a person to lose hope and stop caring about the impact his behavior has on others.
Meanwhile, neighborhoods that have faced serious crime for years, perhaps decades, continue to pull together and try to figure out ways to address the root causes of this issue. They fight for affordable housing, they plan mobile food pantries and community dinners to feed their hungry, they beg for additional resources to help their children, and they try to reach through their muddled streets and find hope.
Somewhere in this great city, there resides a solution. A solution that recognizes that society only makes one rock solid commitment to the poor: all one has to do is commit a crime and we will provide him or her with guaranteed food and housing. But where is our commitment to those who don't commit crimes? What of our commitment to one of my constituents, a single mother of four, finally getting her life together, who broke her arm, lost her job, and is now about to be evicted? Think about this, put yourself in these shoes. We are not talking about a hardened criminal, a violent scourge on our society, or a resident of Chicago. We are talking about one of us, one of ours, a Madisonian, living right here in one of the most progressive, wealthy communities on earth. What do we want to do for her?
What of the man who was recently shot in Allied? A horrible, violent act that left him hospitalized and seriously injured. What have we done, in our culture of fear and violence, which has led him to remain unwilling to offer any information about the person who shot him? Is it distrust for our police? Is it the result of a community that has forced the dialogue into us versus them? Is it fear of retribution from his attacker? Or is it his residence in a world outside of that which we can imagine, yet one only a few miles away, where things like this just happen, where life goes on, where it could have just as easily turned out the other way? What do we want to do for him?
People must feel safe. There is an inherent instinct here that drives our behavior and leads us to make decisions we’d otherwise not make. It led millions of white, middle class people to flee to the suburbs for a generation, leaving behind nothing but huge pockets of poverty, scant resources, and decaying inner cities. We can’t allow that to happen in Madison. So we must respond to that which we are hearing. We must stem the very real fear that exists. But we also must work together to help our citizens get past this fear, to help us all understand that the fear itself almost certainly does more damage than the violent act that preceded it. And if we really care about saving our community, we need to move past law and order and find a way past all this violence. If we want peace in Madison, we must have justice. So let’s add police and resources and address this fear. But let’s also recognize that we must be in this together and focus on the root causes of poverty that often lead to crime in the first place.
There are so many solutions that we know work. Just around the corner from Allied Drive resides the Madison Apprenticeship Program (MAP), the brainchild of one woman whose drive for change makes more difference than a dozen new police. One graduate entered the class homeless and jobless. He secured housing and now manages an apartment complex and paints as an independent contractor. Another graduate spent the last dozen years dealing drugs. He now works at an area service station, signing up for every extra hour of overtime he can find. There is a second generation drug dealer who graduated and now works as a sales clerk and attends MATC, working to become a lab technician. Another graduate fought with others regularly, used drugs, and was always involved with police. Now she is employed as a technician with a communications company and is taking computer classes at MATC. She hopes to have her own computer business one day. Just four examples of how, for both the individuals and for our community, engaged participation can trump incarceration.
If we want to move forward as a community and solve this problem, we will have to work together. We may have to put aside our hubris and step, however briefly, outside of our comfort zone. It’s pretty simple: if we are divided and acting out of fear, we’ve already lost.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Impeachment: Why It Mattered
The Madison City Council voted, 8-3, at their September 4th, 2007 meeting to recommend that we initiate impeachment hearings against President Bush. Sadly, the resolution still failed because 11 votes are needed and impeachment only received 8. Eight alders abstained and one left early.
I have been called a communist, an idiot, and a Bush-hater. I have been told that this debate was needless, counter-productive, and a waste of time. I have been castigated for taking up an issue that is not appropriate for the City Council.
First, I do not hate President Bush. Second, it is never needless to advance a cause that matters to our country, our community, and our constituents. Thirdly, I can't fathom how this issue is inappropriate for the City Council. Another alder, on her own time, took the effort to prepare this resolution and bring it before us. It was wholly legal, ethical, and appropriate for her to do so. Once it was in front of us, it was our obligation to act on it just like we would any other resolution.
We didn't waste any time on this except our own. It was the last item on the agenda; we didn't get to it until 3:00 in the morning. If this hadn't been on the agenda, we would have gone home and gotten a (much needed) extra hour of sleep.
70 of our constituents showed up for a rally before our meeting. 60 of them came to testify. 15 of them stayed nine hours, until 4:00 in the morning, to participate in the debate. We received dozens of phone calls, hundreds of emails, and a petition signed by over 8,000 Madisonians. There is simply no way to deny it. It mattered.
Why I voted yes: I believe it's possible that President Bush didn't tell the truth about why we went into the war with Iraq. I also believe it's possible that executive privilege was misappropriated regarding how long we remained in the war, the use of our US DOJ, the Patriot Act, wiretapping, and other issues. Impeachment doesn't mean someone is guilty. It means there is evidence to suggest the possibility of guilt. I believe that possibility exists and am therefore supportive of an investigation to learn the truth. Some issues are important enough that we (as American citizens) need to know the truth. I am fully appreciative of the fact that the investigation may have turned up nothing. I would be thrilled if that were the case and would feel somewhat better about the course that this administration has taken.
Either way, for me, this is not about Bush hating or wasting time. It's about us, as elected officials who are closer to our constituents than any other level of government, responding to what we are hearing. And thousands of our constituents said this mattered.
I have been called a communist, an idiot, and a Bush-hater. I have been told that this debate was needless, counter-productive, and a waste of time. I have been castigated for taking up an issue that is not appropriate for the City Council.
First, I do not hate President Bush. Second, it is never needless to advance a cause that matters to our country, our community, and our constituents. Thirdly, I can't fathom how this issue is inappropriate for the City Council. Another alder, on her own time, took the effort to prepare this resolution and bring it before us. It was wholly legal, ethical, and appropriate for her to do so. Once it was in front of us, it was our obligation to act on it just like we would any other resolution.
We didn't waste any time on this except our own. It was the last item on the agenda; we didn't get to it until 3:00 in the morning. If this hadn't been on the agenda, we would have gone home and gotten a (much needed) extra hour of sleep.
70 of our constituents showed up for a rally before our meeting. 60 of them came to testify. 15 of them stayed nine hours, until 4:00 in the morning, to participate in the debate. We received dozens of phone calls, hundreds of emails, and a petition signed by over 8,000 Madisonians. There is simply no way to deny it. It mattered.
Why I voted yes: I believe it's possible that President Bush didn't tell the truth about why we went into the war with Iraq. I also believe it's possible that executive privilege was misappropriated regarding how long we remained in the war, the use of our US DOJ, the Patriot Act, wiretapping, and other issues. Impeachment doesn't mean someone is guilty. It means there is evidence to suggest the possibility of guilt. I believe that possibility exists and am therefore supportive of an investigation to learn the truth. Some issues are important enough that we (as American citizens) need to know the truth. I am fully appreciative of the fact that the investigation may have turned up nothing. I would be thrilled if that were the case and would feel somewhat better about the course that this administration has taken.
Either way, for me, this is not about Bush hating or wasting time. It's about us, as elected officials who are closer to our constituents than any other level of government, responding to what we are hearing. And thousands of our constituents said this mattered.
A 9.11 Tribute: Six Years Later
As an alder, a member of the city’s Transit and Parking Commission, and a dedicated supporter (and user) of Madison Metro, I was honored to attend a press conference today at the UW Arboretum, announcing the addition of five hybrid buses to the Metro fleet. There were a lot of speeches and praise offered by numerous dignitaries and partners, but sadly the most important statement went unsaid.
The United States consumes 21 million barrels of oil. Daily. Only 5 million of these barrels are produced domestically; another 5 million are produced in and imported from the Middle East.
And while one can’t blame the entirety of forty years of failed mid-east policy on our insatiable appetite for mid-east oil, it is certainly the leading factor. And regardless of what one believes about September 11, 2001, I think we can all agree that were it not for four decades of intervention in the Middle East, September 11, 2001 may not have happened.
So while everyone was admiring our attractive new buses today, I was saddened by the fact that no one made the connection; that no one mentioned the horrific tragedy that we all experienced six years ago today nor the fact that today’s rollout of five hybrid buses does more than help the environment.
It honors the victims, the heroes, the still sick and forever wounded, of 9/11. It honors them because today, on the sixth anniversary of this horrific event, we took a bold step to reduce our dependence on mid-east oil. A small step that, if replicated a hundred times a day throughout this country, would demonstrate a far greater commitment to their sacrifice than our counterfeit and counterproductive war on terror. On this day, it was the most important thing we did and it was left unspoken.
The United States consumes 21 million barrels of oil. Daily. Only 5 million of these barrels are produced domestically; another 5 million are produced in and imported from the Middle East.
And while one can’t blame the entirety of forty years of failed mid-east policy on our insatiable appetite for mid-east oil, it is certainly the leading factor. And regardless of what one believes about September 11, 2001, I think we can all agree that were it not for four decades of intervention in the Middle East, September 11, 2001 may not have happened.
So while everyone was admiring our attractive new buses today, I was saddened by the fact that no one made the connection; that no one mentioned the horrific tragedy that we all experienced six years ago today nor the fact that today’s rollout of five hybrid buses does more than help the environment.
It honors the victims, the heroes, the still sick and forever wounded, of 9/11. It honors them because today, on the sixth anniversary of this horrific event, we took a bold step to reduce our dependence on mid-east oil. A small step that, if replicated a hundred times a day throughout this country, would demonstrate a far greater commitment to their sacrifice than our counterfeit and counterproductive war on terror. On this day, it was the most important thing we did and it was left unspoken.
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