When I think of the November 7th meeting, (and I think of it often) I remember the remarks in particular of a young man from another town. His comment came late in the meeting, after much discussion of flooding and bridges and possible threats caused by the beavers. He said with a dynamic and oblique wisdom that impressed me greatly at the time, “I hear a lot of talking tonight about possible damage to the bridge. But what I would worry about, if I were you, is the bridge between you all (gesturing to the council) and these people here (indicating the audience.) That’s the bridge that’s in trouble.“
This pithy comment highlighted one of the most important aspects of the civic response to this issue: Martinez residents often don’t feel listened to. We aren’t certain our interests are represented. We drive home past the refinery or stop at the post office near the city central jail and we feel impossibly aware of how little our needs can matter to the management of this town. Certainly someone is getting listened to, but it is rarely us. And when the woman stood up at the meeting and said fiercely, “Maybe the beavers need to stay and all of you need to go” it was obvious where the energy in the room came from. Residents were angry and tired of being ignored, and the beavers were a perfect example of shortsighted, special interest, citizen-indifferent thinking by a body that had given us too many examples already.
Maybe if we lived in a responsive, attentive city we wouldn’t have filled up that room and made our clamor heard. Maybe we would have trusted the judgment of our representatives and allowed the beavers to be bundled off to the reservation for the convenience of the larger town. But we knew from experience that careless decisions could be made on our behalf in the name of “progress”. We knew that sometimes the will of the people was ignored in the service of unseen power. I was born in Martinez, and growing up in the downtown hills I saw an entire neighborhood taken under eminent domain to make way for the county detention center. I remember the lovely houses that were torn down; one in particular with a dumbwaiter and a servants pass thru into the wood-paneled formal dining quarters. I grew up knowing how needs could be eclipsed, and it never occured to me to question whether a city could learn to listen.
The formation of the subcommittee challenged that. Despite my historic mistrust, I was impressed that the s/c included strong beaver advocates who were allowed to speak for the community’s attachment to the animals. In my mind, it marked a perhaps nascent respect for the people that probably can’t be erased. We have tasted democracy and the flavor isn’t likely to go away any time soon. Beavers change things: It’s what they do. Why not let our beavers give residents a voice, while simultaneously giving the city a chance to show that they can make difficult decisions that reflect the needs of their citizens. Keeping the beavers isn’t as difficult as rebuilding roads or making a new downtown. It’s simpler than tearing down the empty county building or creating more parking spaces for the courthouse. It is an easy way to say “yes we’re listening” that will speak to downtown, uptown and all the places inbetween.
It won’t change a history of feeling threatened or ignored – but it could be one heck-of-a start.
Heidi P. Perryman, Ph.D.
