Tom Keane

Memo to Cape Wind foes: Enough already

The arguments have been studied, debated, and finally decided. There's only one thing left to do: Move on.

Dear Alliance to Protect Nantucket Sound (and all of your related hangers-on):

Let’s admit it. It’s never really been about the birds and the fish, has it? Neither has it been about air-traffic patterns, sacred Wampanoag burial grounds, or oil in the turbines’ transformers. Exploitation of a precious natural resource? Save us the big tears. Most of you have been doing that for years, fishing and boating in the water and building outsize eyesores perched far too close to the water’s edge. And surely your cries over the fact that Cape Wind Associates was a for-profit venture were contrived, too. (I mean, having oil billionaire William Koch, your cochair and a major funder, complain about someone making a dime off energy production is one audacious piece of hypocrisy, isn’t it?)

So what’s it really been about? The views. If they happen to be your views (in other words, if you’re one of the lucky folks situated on the beach looking out on the sound), they’re invaluable. If they’re not your views (which is to say, pretty much everyone else), then they have little, if any, value. That’s why the vast majority of Massachusetts residents have no problem with Cape Wind’s proposed 130 turbines on Horseshoe Shoal. Even many residents of the Cape are OK with it. And no wonder. They’re not looking at your waters. You ask how they’d react if someone put a wind turbine next door to them, but they seem unmoved, deficient probably in aesthetics and, in all likelihood, a little jealous of your wealth and privileged location.

When Jim Gordon first proposed his wind farm almost a decade ago, federal officials expected the normal environmental review process would proceed apace, with a decision in no more than three years. One by one, state and federal agencies examined and dismissed the worries you voiced. Bird kills? Insignificant. Fishing and marine life? Minimal impact. Air traffic? The FAA said it could manage. And so it went. The problem was that all of these were issues that could be measured and quantified. But a perfect view of the horizon is ineffable and unquantifiable. Sure, you can make the argument that obstructing a view hurts property values, but your opposition doesn’t hinge on something so crass. In any event, in places like Denmark, wind turbines have become tourist attractions, a kind of public art. My bet is the same would happen on the Cape. Just barely visible anyway, the distant turbines would bring in visitors. And because wind power is a carbon-neutral, guilt-free source of energy, the Cape would become a kind of eco-retreat, a place to indulge in luxuries like heated pools or extra air conditioning with no pricking of the conscience.

So when the numbers didn’t work for you, you went political. The Kennedy family leapt into the fray, with Ted pulling in chits from senatorial buddies. You got Mitt Romney on your side, as well as Bill Delahunt, former attorney general Tom Reilly, and even spanking-new Senator Scott Brown. They went about trying to subvert a process that was supposed to be fact-based, and they did quite well. New agencies got involved, new actors appeared, and ever more esoteric objections were raised. Delay, you knew, was your ally. Gordon had money, but not an unlimited amount, and if you could just stretch things out you might bankrupt him or perhaps just exhaust him. But the stubborn cuss hung on. Ultimately, it took two elections (Deval Patrick and Barack Obama) and one death (Ted Kennedy) for both the state (in 2009) and the federal government (last month) to finally say enough.

Of course, you vow, it’s not over. There are still lawsuits to file, more political strings to pull, and perhaps even a little civil disobedience in the works. Your words are like clarion calls – “We will fight until we win” – as if this were some great crusade for the rights of humankind. It’s not, though. Yes, views are wonderful things. But as oil spreads in the Gulf, families in Louisiana and West Virginia mourn their lost, and ice caps thin, your ardent opposition smacks ever more as irrational and petty selfishness. Virtue is on the other side, and it’s time to quit.

Originally published in The Boston Globe Magazine, June 28, 2010. AP Photo/Cape Cod Times, Merrily Lunsford.

The invisible City Council

It failed to show leadership when it was needed most. So a former councilor asks: Why does it even exist?

Boston's city councilors have a reputation for running from a good fight (just watch them at budget time trade off "principled" opposition for some neighborhood goody). But the latest example - refusing immediately to speak out against an obviously wrongheaded arbitrators' decision on the firefighters' contract - goes beyond the pale. Even now, there is largely silence. It's a personal and institutional embarrassment, an abdication of responsibility, and the kind of behavior that seriously raises the question: Why have a City Council at all?

The personal embarrassment comes from having once been a city councilor myself. To a large degree, it's a penny ante job (though not when it comes to compensation; more on that later), filled with the daily minutiae of potholes, liquor licenses, zoning variances, and the like. The opportunities to effect major changes in public policy are rare. Part of the reason for this is structural: Boston's strong mayor/weak council system of government. Part also is the fact that big issues of public import are more frequently tackled at the state or federal level.

But to say the opportunities are few is not to say they are zero, and in this case, the opportunity handed the council was exceptional. Its members not only had a chance to reverse a bad ruling but also perhaps to gain a measure of control over the city's financial destiny.

Here's why: Binding arbitration is used in many states to resolve labor disputes involving police, fire, and other public employees who aren't permitted to strike. But the process is different in Massachusetts, thanks to Proposition 2½. The law, best known for its tight limits on property and excise taxes, included a provision requiring that any binding arbitration process had to meet with the approval of legislative bodies such as city councils.

In the case of the firefighters, the award - a stunningly high 19 percent raise over several years - symbolically and practically could not have come at a worse time. Boston residents are beset by high unemployment, falling wages, and a deeply constrained city budget. Indeed, shortly before the arbitrators made their decision, the trustees of the Boston Public Library voted to close four branches because of an anticipated $3.3 million shortfall. Moreover, the outsize pay increases almost guarantee that future labor negotiations will be more expensive and contentious than ever as other unions seek parity. In a world where budgets are finite, increases in salaries mean cuts in services to residents.

The council could have struck a blow on all of these issues, showing solidarity with a recession-beleaguered populace, making clear its own spending priorities (and in the process taking some initiative from the mayor), tamping down future budgetary challenges, and clearly asserting that the people, not a trio of arbitrators, should be the ones who run the city.

Now that's power. And given how rarely chances to exercise real power come along, one would have thought all 13 councilors would seize the moment, rising together and loudly vowing that this decision would not stand.

Instead of a roar, we got a whimper. Some were absolutely craven, genuflecting to labor and saying opposition to the ruling would go "against collective bargaining." Others issued mealy-mouthed statements about demanding a "full airing of the issues." Most were quiet.

The price of such timidity is high. The council is a big drain on the city's budget - $4.67 million in the next fiscal year. Councilors each make $87,500 annually (more than 2.5 times the average per capita income in Boston) while each councilor in turn has an annual staff allowance of at least $187,500. That's too much money to spend just to have these folks occupy their days pointing out where plows have missed streets or informing police officials about which favored constituents might make good cadets. Boston residents are entitled to expect that nearly $5 million should buy some measure of courage, independence, and representation.

And if that doesn't happen, it's not unreasonable to wonder whether the money could be better spent some other way. Get rid of the council, and the savings would allow the BPL to keep all branches open with a good amount left over for other needed city services. By doing nothing, the council treads dangerously close to making the case for its own demise.

Originally published in The Boston Globe Magazine, May 11, 2010. Photo by Jonathan Wiggs.