Think Global, Act Local: Rinse, Repeat, Die28 February 2006
Think Global, Act Local: Rinse, Repeat,Die The fun, fraud, farce and fury of localactivism By Daniel PatrickWelch
Think globally, act locally—this hasbeen the mantra of activists worldwide since at least the1970s, so much so that it has become cliché, coopted, andcorporatized as much as any slogan or phrase since "theAmerican people," or "my good friend." The point, of course,is well taken. It is useless to fight far flung battleswhile ignoring evil and injustice in one s own backyard. Iremember European friends who scoffed at the notion of UShigh school students writing to free political prisonersthrough Amnesty International, while the US death penaltyremained one of AI s top human rights abuses. Moreover, thepath toward change is often only possible when localizedorganizing creates unstoppable momentum to challenge globalforces, as is happening now in Venezuela and Bolivia.
Thatbeing said, of course, much of the decision-making, fundingand power apparatus lies far from any local struggle, and itgoes without saying that the efforts of local groups areoften ineffective without ties to larger movements. And I msure I m not the first to say this: local activism sucks.Okay, that may be harsh, but putting ideals into practice inyour neighborhood can often mean some pretty uncomfortablethings. The first dash of cold water is that all theinfrastructure and drama of a larger struggle usuallyapplies in the microcosm: all the players, the pimps, theshills for developers and corporations, the kiss-asstoadies are all—of course—local, which means you probablyknow them. And they know you.
And let s face it: despitethe glamour of the power couple analogy, no one wants towalk around town like a local Tim Robbins and SusanSarandon, about whom David Letterman quipped: "Uh-oh, herethey come, and you know they re pissed off about something!"Yet, for better and for worse, local struggles embody almostall the characteristics of larger ones: the powerful vs. thepowerless, alliances built on expedience and shortsightedgain, manipulated data, unscrupulous villains, overreaching,expansionist institutions, and tons of regular people whojust go along to get along.
In fact, the geography isoften largely irrelevant: here in "liberal" Massachusetts,for example, the problems can often be worse, where allparties like to cloak themselves in the guise of doing good.Yet, particularly in this case study, Massachusetts is oneof the worst offenders, gobbling up open space at 40 acres aday—seven times the rate of population growth, gleefullysprawling toward our own inevitable gridlocked demise. Buteveryone s a Democrat—and some of them are gay!—so they mustbe well-meaning, sensible people.
But the logic ofexpansion, of corporate and institutional "thinking," isessentially the same as it is with Congress or the WhiteHouse, IBM, or any other behemoth that wants to get its way.Dissenters who don t want to see the last sliver of wetlandpaved over to make tennis courts face the usual coterie ofexperts in suits, who guarantee that their pet project willhave no negative impacts whatsoever, and in fact will leaveeveryone smarter, richer, happier and better dressed. Theonly difference, as I said, is that you know most of them.The local college president, surrounded by a troupe ofconsultants and study-mongers, was my grade schoolprincipal. She calls me by name at meetings where I darespeak out: "Geez, Dan, I should think you d be glad to havetennis courts there." Or dismisses concerns about the floodplain with "Yeah, I have water in my basement, too." And"Don t chew gum in my school!"
Okay, that last one mayhave been a flashback. But I m a pretty accomplished guy: Ispeak five languages, made it through my teen years withoutgetting arrested, have written scores of articles and beentranslated and published in two dozen languages, amrecognized at a rally in DC by random people I ve never met;run a business in town for the better part of 20 years. Allthis not to toot my own horn, but just to show how localpolitics work, here and, I assume, everywhere else. Youcan t often be taken seriously within 100 miles of where youwere born. When I show up at these meetings, I m essentiallythe impudent little twerp from grade school. My wife onceactually overheard me referred to as "Little Danny Welch,"the moniker I had growing up. Local relationships andlongstanding ties are supposed to help pave the way (sorry)for ignoring the fact that half the city is built on aswamp, and that just maybe we should think twice beforefilling in every remaining square inch.
In a strange way,the notion of "outsider" plays a role here, as it does inall politics. Most old cities are fairly insular: ever sincethe new rabble from Ireland, Poland, Russia,Canada—wherever—seized power from the blue bloods, they havebeen careful not to relinquish it to anyone else. I wasshocked recently to find that Salem is only 15% non-whiteaccording to the last census, actually below average. I sayshocked because my own interracial marriage and my workforces me to see things through a different lens. We run aschool which serves a high proportion of low- and moderateincome families, and have almost constant contact with thenewer Caribbean, Asian and African immigrants who make upour circle, most of whom have no voice in the future inwhich they will be a majority. We toggle, fairly easily, orso I thought, between the 15% and the other world, the Irishmiddle class in which I grew up. I could have sworn it wasmore balanced, but when I go to local meetings, caucuses orhearings, I am quickly snapped back to reality.
And ofcourse, it can be relatively easy to meet in huge groups todenounce government policy at a rally, or even todeconstruct Dick Cheney s house of cards when it comes tosecrecy and underhandedness. On the local level, again, thismeans confronting your parents neighbors, employers, and ahost of others with truths that everyone wants to ignore.The corporation which controls the land in question has beenchided by the state for its lack of transparency, but likeevery other developer, is interested in cultivating adifferent perception of itself. College big shots play aleading role in a local neighborhood association, yet such aglaring and egregious conflict of interest doesn t seem tomatter.
Public relations and spin are commonplace, justas they are in the White House press room. "We re bringingback the marsh," is a kind of worry stone for the collegepresident, apparently referring to the fact that the toxicswamp she inherited came with the obligation to continue thelegally mandated restoration. Like most landowners, this onehas actually done less than required and ignored mandatedplans for years, despite having acquired the land at a hugediscount which was supposed to help ease the cost ofrestoration.
So, effectively, the meme performs a sort ofalchemy: from legal dereliction of duty to environmentalheroism. Now that is impressive—basically turning shit intogold. But beyond the minutiae of wetlands preservation—andhere again, the analogy to huge companies, governments orcorporations holds true—a simple statement of partial orarguable truth is belied by an enormous overarching reality.Anyone looking at the area can see how massive developmentover the past few years has all but destroyed theborderlands necessary for true wetland health. We havewatched from our own backyard as the wildlife have fled, thestorm runoff has risen and even the wind marches uncheckedacross dewooded meadow, and over cars parked on newly pavedground. The road salt, leaking brake fluid and motor oil areall, apparently biodegradable. Not to worry, as the suitsreassure us. I can t help but feel the hair stand up on theback of my neck as the radio drifts in and out of myconsciousness, a government source insisting that"force-feeding at Guantanomo is being carried out in ahumane and compassionate manner."
This may all seem smallpotatoes, what with the horrors of war and occupation andWal-Mart filling in lakes and so on. But my point is thatthe local really is a microcosm of the global. Cities arestuck in the same cycle as everyone else, looking for anydevelopment possible to help make ends meet. The problem inboth arenas is that people swallow the fallacy thatdevelopment and progress are one and the same. We sit ingridlock, breathing in carbon monoxide as we welcome theincrease in traffic new development will bring. Applaudingthe prospect of jobs as family incomes shrink, while thewaters rise around us, we may all too soon see the irony ofZippy the Pinhead s stock phrase: "Are we having funyet?"
In the local setting, which is often where it countsmost, these old fallacies are hardest to dispel. It s as ifwe never moved beyond GM Charlie s famous line, "What s goodfor business is good for America." Well maybe it was GECharlie or Calvin Coolidge, but the point is that so manypeople are still holding out hope for that nod from tycoonswho have more than we ever will. And, presumably, what theywant is what we all want, on this Fantasy Island whereeveryone is mesmerized to identify upward. So it ruffles nofeathers that the college president was voted businesswomanof the year (because education is a business? Or becausebusiness and academia have finally merged? Who knows?).Again, like most local struggles, this one has universalechoes. When state and business merge, watch out. Mussolinionce complained that fascism should rightly be calledcorporatism, since it features the perfect merger of stateand business interests. I m not sure when he said this, butI m pretty sure it was before he was hacked to death by hisown people.
Local municipalities are trapped in thisdeadly cycle. And in this trickle-down corporate paradise,the Ponzi scheme works like this. Cities have no moneybecause of state cutbacks. States have no money because offederal cutbacks. The Feds have no money because we have tofund a half-trillion dollar Pentagon budget that exceeds thecombined military spending of every other nation on earth.And there s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza. So,because cities have no money and are on the front lines ofthe economic insanity wrought by federal policy, theyrespond by grabbing at every shitty development scheme thatjust might put an extra few bucks in the till. In essence,the Iraq war, and other adventures like it, are not onlypoisoning the world with uranium dust for generations tocome, not only poisoning the prospects for our grandchildrento live in harmony with the community of nations, not onlybankrupting the federal treasury for a lifetime; but theyare also forcing people to make ridiculous choices in theirdaily lives, selling their souls, their heritage, theirenvironmental integrity, and their very health and wellbeing, all for the privilege of watching their kids sent offto war and their future evaporate before their eyes. Weprivatize war and make dirt poor people pay for water—nowthat s progress! Of course, in the Bolivian city ofCochabamba, locals had finally had enough of choosingbetween food and water: they rose up, brought down thegovernment, and told Bechtel where to go. We should belearning from them.
Neoliberals and neoconservativeseverywhere conspire to whitewash the free-market nightmarethat has plunged the world into the abyss—like theproverbial smearing of lipstick on a pig. When everythinghas finally been privatized, outsourced, or partnered off,the job will be complete. In the US, unchecked growth andprivatization means corporations write the laws. In Boliviait means it's you re a criminal for collecting rainwater foryour own use. The rate at which we are going to hell isaccelerating along with Greenland s ice sheet melt rate. Iguess we re supposed to just shut up and enjoy theride...wheeeeeeee! Comedian George Carlin has long held thatas a species, we re not a dangerous as we seem, beyond theobvious ability to kill off our own species. The earth willbid us good riddance one day and never look back. He mayhave been right with his own, typically blunt assessment:The planet is fine—the people are fucked. Bigdifference.
Another characteristic with broader echoes isthe defeatism that permeates neighborhood opposition to aproject. People are convinced that a state agency can getaway with doing whatever they want, so it s not worthfighting. Sounds a bit like Democrats in Congress. And isthis little stretch of wetland so important? Our littleschool has survived everything thrown at it for 25 years; Ibet we could survive a few more college kids pissing in ourbushes. Along with a few gung ho parents, I had once dreamedof restoring the old riverbed that runs through the area;even approached some land trusts to see how it might bepossible. But then the dorms were built and the war started,and so on and so on. It is like the wind has been taken outof our sails: Everyone is so tired of beating our headsagainst the wall. It is often said that corporations haveno soul, but perhaps a greater advantage is that they haveno memory. Opponents are forced to re-raise arguments thatwere made years ago, but apparently forgotten by everyone inthe room. And the exhaustion of repeat work only helps them.Add the PR of a fait accompli and your project is as good asbuilt in the public mind—and the regulatory agencies willfall into line.
Actually, Massachusetts once hadimpressive wetlands protection, but property rightseventually helped gut the meaning of much of it. Nowcorporations have what they call a Licensed SiteProfessional on their payroll to tell them how to abide bythe law. More outsourcing. Bit of a fox-in-the-henhousetrip, but hey, it beats enforcement. The other developmentis that conservation is largely left to local commissionswith members appointed by the mayor; real estate interestsare, of course, usually well represented. Now, I m surethese mechanisms have nothing to do with how fast we aredevouring open space—it s all one big coincidence.
Citieshave few weapons with which to fight, but they still havesome. Most developments can t get so much as a curb cutwithout local approval, so the democratic process may notquite be dead yet. Easements and paper streets also providesome muscle for local entities to push back against bigdevelopers. And some towns are less charmed by the brassring of tax revenue, realizing that costs often outweighadditional revenue. Next door in Danvers, which maybe bysheer coincidence used to be Salem Village during the witchtrial days, the Town Manager was actually elated to begiving up some town space for conservation, knowing that itwould save money not having extra houses to pipe water to,kids to school, waste to service, and so on.
Localordinances are a neat tool, too; in fact, our own citycouncil actually managed, almost inadvertently, to stand upto Wal-Mart, something few locals can boast. Acting on arequest from the retailer for longer hours during theholiday season, the Council said, sure, as long as you abideby the rules we set for all retailers: workers can t beforced to work until midnight; no retaliation for those whodon t work the extra hours; and overtime pay for those whodo. Wal-Mart withdrew its application. Score one for thegood guys. But big developers just as often pit citiesagainst each other: If you won t let us fill in your lake,we ll fill in the lake a few towns over, and they get thetax revenue [add Holy Grail music here].
Without aregional approach, then, it can be pretty hopeless. Thecollege project in question is one of no less than five hugeprojects along the Forest River watershed, all wanting to beseen in isolation so that they can get quick and painlessapproval. In case anyone needed reminding, these aredepressing times. So why bother? I m thinking this throughas I race in my car toward the only local Post Office openlate, another 12-hour day; just a tad bitter about not beingable to draw a salary. I am scrambling just to get theschool through another winter, and hoping for the best. I mthinking of Kurt Vonnegut s grim prognosis that nobody givesa damn, and it s a lifetime of work trying to get someone tocare. Fine. Let them build their baseball field on a toxicwaste dump and pave the whole place over for tennis courts.They re just going to do whatever they want anyway.
I betNoam Chomsky doesn t waste his time arguing against thetraffic plans proposed by Harvard s latest land grab inCambridge. Oh, I know, more delusions of grandeur—or ofobscurity and marginalization, depending on yourperspective. Why don t I just go home and sit on the couchwatching Law and Order reruns? I can comfort myselfeventually by filing an amicus brief with whatever familywinds up suing the city, state, and everyone else when theirkid gets killed by the extra traffic we ve been warning themabout. And it will probably be years before the filling ofthis last sliver results in a major flood. But of course,this isn t Chicken Little fantasy: Well, the sky may not befalling, but the ocean really is rising. Somehow, a lineneeds to be drawn. Chavez and Morales are doing it, inVenezuela and Bolivia. So how can I whine about organizingthe smallest bit of resistance in our own backyard?
As I mstruggling with this, the radio clicks back in: it s CorettaScott King s funeral, and some commentator is rememberinghow she stood up with the garbage workers in Memphis the dayafter her husband s death. Did I hear that right? Her manlying cold in the morgue, and she is on the march. Wow. Anda quote: "The fact that the things we are fighting for mayseem difficult, even impossible, does not relieve us of theobligation to try." Humbled, I rush home to continuestuffing envelopes. And of course, if things really get asbad as we think, there s always the Cochabamba option. Andnever forget Mussolini .
I know I ve only made passingreference to the outline of these projects, but in theinterest of brevity, I will leave it at that, since it s notthe main focus of my column. However, I encourage thoseinterested to see the maps, documents, and photos here: http://danielpwelch.com0602/ssc.htmc. Ofcourse, politicians need always need support to take strongstands, especially when powerful interests are involved. Andwhile they usually prefer contacts from their ownconstituents, this is also part of the problem. Developerscount on opposition being carved up and localized; it mightnot hurt for people to get a fax or two from Sweden orArgentina urging Americans not to ruin the planet we allshare.
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© 2006 Daniel Patrick Welch. Reprintpermission granted with credit and link tohttp://danielpwelch.com. Writer, singer, linguist andactivist Daniel Patrick Welch lives and writes in Salem,Massachusetts, with his wife, Julia Nambalirwa-Lugudde.Together they run The Greenhouse School(http://www.greenhouseschool.org). Translations of articlesare available in up to 20 languages. Links to the websiteare appreciated atdanielpwelch.com.
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