A Prayer for Peace

I come to you, as all do, imperfect.

I can only begin by thanking you for my immense imperfection.
It is one of the many powerful sources of unity that bind us to one another, as well as to you.

I come with aspirations which I trust you will be pleased to see us reach.
They are things I know we must strive for if we are to leave this world acceptable in your eyes, as well as the eyes of our children.

May we know that those who partake in evil acts or wish us harm are only as flawed as we,
For their perspectives we can never hope to fully understand.

May we know that violence and that from which it stems can only give birth to more violence,
For those who are weary will always be driven to violence if it is all they know others will understand.

May we seek to more deeply understand the wisdom laid before us in the natural world that we strive to protect from harm,
For it has given and continues to give us life.

May we seek to understand the struggle of the tree which grows from sheer rock,
For it has made its way without regard for convention, and grows more sturdy than that which grows in the heart of the grove.

May we know that our love of money negates our love of you and of one another,
For money has never solved a problem that love and kindness could not.

May we understand that fear, hatred, jealousy, pride and love are inseparable,
For they are only different manifestations of the same emotion, the power of which is incalculable.

May we be honest with one another as well as with ourselves,
For it is through manipulating, omitting and ignoring that which we know to be true that we separate ourselves from you and from one another.

May we seek to honor those who profess and practice love among us,
For they will always strike great fear in those who profit from fear.

May we never place blame on others for our shortcomings and instead face them bravely and honestly,
For the it is in calmly and sincerely recognizing and addressing our faults that we rectify them.

May we know the immense strength of kindness that comes without stipulation,
For we know in our hearts that it is the only kind of love worth giving or receiving.

May we bring kindness to all things to the center of our lives,
For it renews us and never fail us.

May we accept the responsibility to create a world determined to bring about peace through love, kindness and compassion.
For it will not only honor you, but it will honor all those who are living, have lived, and ever will live.

Amen.

The Tocks Island Dam Project

In examining the relationship between the American people and those they have chosen to govern them, one is almost always confronted with glaring inconsistencies, as well as the tensions that result because of them. These tensions should come as no surprise, as America is ultimately a nation founded upon the unwillingness of its people to be governed by a powerful distant ruler. Though it may not always appear to be so in a world increasingly disconnected to its past, the very first political and social sentiments that led to the independence of the United States continue to have an impact on both  the legislative policy and overall character of the nation. One of these divisive sentiments coincides with one of the great distortions of American law: the right to keep one’s property. Though it is both constitutionally guaranteed and morally essential, Americans’ right to their property is not as sacred as most would like to believe.

In a strikingly scenic but otherwise quiet and unassuming portion of the Delaware River, this puzzling convergence of ideas became a national spectacle for more than four decades. At Tocks Island, just a few miles upstream from the famous Delaware Water Gap, the state governments of New Jersey and Pennsylvania sought to build one of the largest dams in the United States in order to create an enormous reservoir, mostly for hydroelectric power generation. The plan ultimately failed, but it was not without its share of unfortunate consequences. Through a legal principle known as eminent domain, lands on both sides of the river that would have been flooded by the dam were seized by the government, and the buildings thereon were condemned. While a great deal of legal discussion has and will continue to take place regarding the subject of eminent domain, much can be gleaned by an in-depth examination of the social impact of one of the most significant examples of its application in American history. Through an understanding of how the events that were meant to precipitate the completion Tocks Island Dam Project and how they affected the social landscape of the region in which it was to be built, a more thorough understanding of the questionable constitutionality (and morality) of eminent domain can be established.

The Delaware River, just north of the famous Delaware Water Gap, is widely regarded as stunningly picturesque and a place where those in search of the rest and relaxation afforded by nature can find satisfaction. Unfortunately, the natural beauty of the area belies its sordid past. The story of the Tocks Island Dam Project begins in 1955, when devastating floods from the remnants off two successive hurricanes in the span of one week (Connie and then Diane) caused unprecedented and since unmatched destruction in communities along the Delaware River and its many tributaries. The loss of over 100 lives and destruction of property by these events prompted the federal government to allocate two million dollars in 1956 for the Army Corps of Engineers to examine the feasibility of constructing a dam along the Delaware in order to prevent future disasters like those in 1955. The Delaware River Basin Commission (DRBC) was formed in 1961 to decide what direction policy would move in light of the corps’ findings. This commission was headed by the governors of the states of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York and Delaware, as well as the United States Secretary of the Interior.  The corps adopted a plan for the dam, which was approved by the commission in 1962.[1]

What was proposed was, in a word, imposing. The dam itself was planned to be 160 feet high and 3,000 feet long and composed of earth and stone. The resulting reservoir would have been 37 miles long and had a surface area of 12,300 acres.[2] Obviously, the amount of existing land affected would have been equally staggering: the reservoir would have wiped out 12,000 acres of woodland along the sides of the mountains leading down to the Delaware on both the New Jersey and Pennsylvania side of the river.[3] The destruction of an environment of this size would have had ecological impacts which could not have been foreseen at the time, such as the disruption of fish migrations and the destruction of ecosystems which naturally purify river water before it makes its way to the ocean.[4] This factor would become increasingly important, as the environmental movement would begin to orient the national conscience against projects like the dam.

Proponents of the dam countered calls for greater respect for nature and the need for recreational opportunities in the area by citing the authorization of the Delaware Water Gap National Recreational Area (DWGNRA), which today covers even more than the initial 72,000 acres called for by Congress. This was designed to create opportunities for such recreational opportunities as boating, fishing and hiking in and around the reservoir. While the Army Corps of Engineers assumed that the dam would be built (and as such attempted to make the dam and the recreational area inseparable), the National Park Service had no such confidence in the plan and inserted language into the proposal for the DWGNRA which allowed it to exist regardless of whether the dam was built or not.[5] This would prove to be a savvy move, as the DWGNRA exists today and the dam does not.

The acquisition of land for the project did not begin until 1965, but it experienced little opposition and as such took place relatively quickly. The cumulative impact of the government takeover of such a large swath of land, though it was sparsely inhabited, could be starkly seen in the small towns even in 2003, several years after the project was finally terminated:

Bushkill and Dingmans Ferry had become ghost towns and Walpack's population dropped from 384 to 67. People lost their homes, their livelihoods and their heritage. Park records show 10,000 properties, many belonging to generations of families as far back as the colonial period, were bought or condemned. More than 3,000 homes occupied by 8,000 people were razed, 25 summer camps, 125 farms and more than 100 businesses, seven churches and three schools were all demolished or abandoned.[6]

600 residents whose properties were condemned filed a lawsuit against the project and the legal entities that had authorized it. In an ironic turn of events that would set an unfortunate tone for the project as a whole, the case was dismissed on the grounds that the government had not consented to being sued.[7]

            With so much momentum and government backing for the project, it is not difficult to see why the project might have progressed smoothly. However, this would not be the case. A synthesis of many factors led to the stagnation and ultimate demise of the Tocks Island Dam, essentially beginning in 1971 when the Army Corps of Engineers’ environmental impact statement on the project was made public. Though it would eventually prove to be understated, the report created a new (and more powerful) base of resistance for the dam: the environmental community.[8] The chief environmental concern proved to be a process called eutrophication:

Eutrophication causes increased algae blooms and rooted aquatic plants. In turn, this causes the loss of game fish, changes in water quality, and aesthetic problems. Nutrients from chicken and cow dung and from fertilizers have been entering the Delaware River for centuries, but as long as the river is free-flowing, there is no problem. However, if the river were to be dammed, the bacteria would back up at the dam site. This would cause a severe rise in algae, which would eventually take over the reservoir.[9]

As will be touched on later, increased public awareness towards issues such as these only came to the forefront of national attention after 1969, when a great cultural and legislative shift in relation to the environment took place, punctuated by the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency a year later.[10] With the tide of public opinion and subsequent tide of leadership opinion turning against the project, projected costs began to multiply as more and more stringent regulations, expensive impact studies and even public relations campaigns slowed and ultimately helped doom the project.

            While the environmental movement is given a great deal of credit for stunting the Tocks Island Dam Project, there have been compelling arguments made which cite the war in Vietnam as the deciding factor in the project’s demise. This perspective, described at length in Kathleen Duca-Sandberg’s dissertation on the topic, finds support in what is considered the most thorough work on the project, Richard C. Albert’s book Damming the Delaware: The Rise and Fall of the Tocks Island Dam Project. Both make the argument that environmental activists are given a disproportional amount of credit for halting the dam’s construction, and claim that two central factors involved in the conflict in Vietnam during the same period diverted key resources away from the project.

The first, and perhaps most apparent, was the diversion of essential funds originally appropriated by the federal government for the project to functions involved with the war.[11] This of course was compounded by the aforementioned ballooning costs caused by unforeseen regulations, as well as President Lyndon Johnson’s need for federal funds to push his Great Society Legislation. The second factor would be the erosion of public trust in government following the series of disturbing revelations and contradictory policies involved in the war.[12] While it is dangerous to make the generalization that these were the primary, overarching factors in the situation, it is nonetheless a compelling argument.

            Of course, as with all projects which alter the physical landscape to the degree that the Tocks Island Dam would have, concerns regarding the destruction of historically significant structures, natural scenery and archeological sites also played a role in the downfall of the project.[13] Sunfish Pond, a glacial mountaintop lake which hikers can access via the Appalachian Trail, became public relations boon for opponents of the dam. The lake would have been wiped out had the dam been constructed, and nearby residents staged a number of public protests to draw both regional and national attention to the injustices being done to the public in the area.[14] This would become a common theme in the later fight against the dam, as a number of underlying factors in the motivations of the project’s proponents became increasingly public.

            As mentioned before, the convergence of these factors ultimately sunk the project, and placing hierarchical value on the merits of each is unproductive. The most important information gleaned from all of these factors is that they led to the slow but eventual de-authorization of the dam, with the leaders of the DRBC voting to halt construction 3 separate times (finally in 1975).[15] Though it would periodically become a political talking point during elections in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania for a number of years to come, the project fell from public interest. Many local residents did not even know that the project was still technically active when it was definitively de-authorized by congress in 1992.[16] What was left in the wake of the failed plan was a combination of two primary physical consequences: the Delaware Water Gap National Recreational Area, and hundreds of structures, taken by the government, which were now almost entirely derelict. While these factors are easily quantified and assessed, their impact on the lives of those who were directly affected by the initial actions of the project offer equal (if not greater) insight into the legacy of the project.

            The scope of the project, though its immediate impacts were confined to a relatively small area, cannot be ignored. A short article in The Lock Haven Express, over 120 miles west of the proposed dam site, describes the location of the dam and its potential benefits to the regional economy.[17] Though it may come as a surprise in light of the ultimate outcome, the Tocks Island Project was met with relative support from locals. In 1959, Howard Rausch of Pocono Manor, Pennsylvania, wrote a short article for The Middletown Daily Record, a newspaper based out of Middletown, Pennsylvania, in which he seemed to look towards the approval of the dam with optimism. In his article, Rausch says that although it was determined that the dam would likely not be built until the 1970’s, the leaders of the project seemed optimistic that the project would push forward and provide the region with a much needed infusion of tourist attention. His article states that though the project has obviously slowed, the DRBC and its advisory commission are “pulling together in the same direction for the same common cause.”[18]

            By the mid-1960’s, however, public sentiment was clearly on the move. In an article written for The Pocono Record, a newspaper published in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania (only a few miles from the proposed dam site), a “planning expert” who is not directly named warned that the processes which were leading up to the Tocks Island Dam construction threatened to turn the community into a “well-to-do slum.” This assessment, echoed by the then-Monroe County Commissioner Stuart F. Pipher, came in light of the concerns many in the community held regarding the future development in the non-government owned lands surrounding the DWGNRA. With large housing developments already springing up in the area which consisted mostly of summer and vacation homes for residents of New Jersey and New York, the planning expert warned that should these developments become more accommodating for permanent residents in the wake of the dam construction, the infrastructure currently in place (particularly roads and highways) would be woefully insufficient.[19]

            In an article also published on the same day, Van Fleet described a local office to be opened by the Army Corps of Engineers from which they would perform the necessary tasks involved with acquiring land for the proposed dam. The article describes the meeting during which the office was presented to the public as a tense one. Among other questions, local citizens present questioned the safety of the dam, to which the Corps representative replied, “No Corps of Engineers’ dam has failed any place in the country – any place in the world.” Van Fleet went on to essentially validate the citizens’ concerns by citing the admittedly complex and challenging nature of the riverbed, as well as the number of concerns that had postponed the construction.[20]

            August 1, 1975, the day following the final vote to discontinue the Tocks Island Dam construction, The Pocono Record provided almost exclusive coverage of the reactions of locals, union leaders, legislators and others in the wake of the vote. Mark Brown described the fight for the project as a “battle of emotions,” pitting faraway lawmakers against local leaders, almost none of whom wanted the project to move forward. He also cited what he described as the “escalating clash between engineers and environmentalists.”[21] Flip DeLuca provided a number of contexts for the decision in his piece, which cites the reactions of a number of community members and officials representing a number of interests. The mayors of both Stroudsburg and East Stroudsburg were both pleased with the decision, though Stroudsburg mayor Warren F. Loney said of the federal government: “They should have had hearings long before land acquisition started. The way it was handled in the beginning was horrible.”[22]

            Perhaps the most telling article was written by Jeff Widmer, in which he interviews a number of citizens who lost their homes and land to a project which would now likely never be built. Henry Tucker, who lost 110 acres and his home to the project, said, “That was where I wanted to live the rest of my life. It’s a shame, because the whole valley – now it’s nothing but weeds and rubbish” Frank Kober, who also lost his home, expressed a degree of disdain for leadership for not using the land that they purchased: “I still feel they shouldn’t take peoples’ homes and then not put in the dam. Why should people have to give up their homes so that city people can come and live on the land?”[23]

            With this type of testimony in mind, it is clear that the resentment towards the project was and is multifaceted and deep-seated. As mentioned before, the principle of eminent domain was used as the primary means of purchasing the lands needed in order to build the dam. The document which American government uses to derive the power necessary to take individuals’ property is in fact the United States Constitution, which states in its Fifth Amendment, “Nor shall private property be taken for private use without just compensation.”[24] This is obviously somewhat fluid language, and has led to a number of inquiries regarding how it is to be applied. What constitutes “public use?” What constitutes “just compensation?” Who determines both? While the first two questions are obviously contingent on the situation, the answer to the final question has become clear through a number of instances, including the Tocks Island Dam Project: the Federal Government.[25]

            Using the Tocks Island project as a basis of comparison, the Kelo vs. New London Supreme Court decision, handed down in 2005, shows both the stark contrast in public opinion toward forcible government acquisition of private land and the stalwart government position on the same subject. In 2002, the city of New London, Connecticut used eminent domain to acquire a number of houses in the city in order to provide a construction company with land to redevelop.[26] In a 5-4 decision, the Supreme Court decided in favor of the City of New London and authorized the use of eminent domain. Unlike Tocks Island, this was an instance of eminent domain being used to transfer land from one private owner to another, but the cases were similar in that neither proposed project came to fruition. The developer in the Kelo case failed to produce the funds necessary for their housing complex, and the land which was acquired is now vacant. The public in New London was almost universally and vocally opposed to the plan, but their calls went unheeded.[27]

            The facts and figures of Tocks Island, New London and the various government uses of eminent domain that occurred between the two tell an obvious story: government, both local and federal, often gets “the horse before the carriage,” in the words of Warren F. Loney.[28] That is, they take large steps towards an outcome they feel is eventual and certain, but proves to not be so. They tend to operate with an apparent disregard for the citizens they were elected to serve. This may appear harsh, but it is based in fact. In just a tiny sample of the citizens displaced by the Tocks Island project, a common theme is echoed: despite all of their struggles and heartbreak involved in being displaced by their own government, they would have been satisfied if their land had actually been put to the use it had been intended for. Though it now serves as a popular and extremely scenic destination for nature-seekers, it is difficult for former residents to see the present value of their former land when it constitutes the tiniest fraction of the sprawling DWGNRA. Was the taking of the tiny plots of land and the destruction of the homes owned by people like Henry Tucker and Frank Kober necessary for the enjoyment of those who now visit the recreation area that their land is now a part of? The answer is, at best, doubtful.

            The unfortunate correlation one inevitably draws between the Tocks Island and New London cases is this: eminent domain, and legislation like it, has had a negative cumulative effect on Americans, and American government has been exceedingly slow to recognize that fact. In 1956, the national mood was one that promoted any measure which might advance the country economically, and as such the opposition to a plan to supply power and water to a sizable portion of the population experienced almost no resistance. As the nation became increasingly conscious of the effects that rapid economic growth was having on the environment, importance shifted from economic prosperity towards sustainability and balance. As the painfully slow death of the Tocks Island Dam proves, any major legislation which will provide pork-barrel support for politicians (regardless of their proximity to the area actually affected by the legislation) will always garner some degree of support.

            However, it is the social rather than the political aspect of the Tocks Island project which is of greatest import. The distrust clearly created between what can be broadly defined as common citizens and their elected officials by the Tocks Island project and other tragedies like it reveal an unfortunate ignorance of those with little direct political influence and those who do. During the 1970’s, the environmental movement had tangible influence in the halls of congress, and as such they achieved their goals. In the current political arena, however, New London shows that money (in the case of New London, greater tax revenues) has a direct correlation to political influence.

With this in mind, it is not difficult to see why the hundreds of mostly lower-middle class citizens who resided in the area acquired for the Tocks Island Dam Project harbor no small degree of hatred for their government. In his work entitled The Story of the River Road: Life Along the Delaware from Bushkill to Milford, Pike County, PA, William H. Henn seems to capture the prevailing emotions harbored by residents of the areas affected by the project. Published during 1975, Henn’s book (which was self-published) was written both as a lamentation and a celebration of the valley that he himself had once called home. Henn describes the project as destroying “nature’s handiwork” as well as a “distinctive way of life” shared by inhabitants of the valley.[29] The overall tone of the work is captured in a poem named “Farewell to My Valley” by Lydia Brodhead Nyce, another prominent member of the community displaced by the project:

The river runs so peacefully

Between the fields and the hills,

Widening, as the quiet pond,

Or through the deep rift spills-

Her poem goes on to describe the evolution of the region from Native American land to a logging outpost and productive agricultural land:

As rafts of logs, went swiftly down,

The fields were turning green,

And farmers worked hard with their plows

To bring truth to their dreams

This type of lifestyle was typical of rural areas during America’s formative years: industrious, determined people using the environment that they were given to create a sustainable, comfortable future for themselves and their families.

            Of course, the march of progress inevitably made its way into the area, with its proximity to major metropolitan areas like New York City and Philadelphia making it a prime target for exploitation and commercial development. Brodhead Nyce’s poem goes on to describe this change:

There highways and great bridges grew

O’er our peaceful valley,

And throngs of people came this way

Fleeing crowded alleys-

With this influx of what Frank Kober and Brodhead Nyce describe as “city people” came new and more destructive manifestations of prosperity:

So engineers will build a dam

And we shall say farewell –

But in our hearts, there’ll always be –

Fond dreams they cannot quell.[30]

What the testimony of William F. Henn, Brodhead Nyce, and various other local residents of the area affected by the project reflect is an unfortunate change in the social structure of the region from an oasis of rural American work ethic in the often overcrowded Northeast to yet another natural paradise exploited for the benefit of residents of large cities. The homes and livelihoods of people like Lydia Brodhead Nyce held so little value in the eyes of their leaders that they were taken and destroyed without any serious assurance that they would be used for the betterment of the “public” good. Perhaps Mrs. Benedict Pastorini best expressed the emotions of her fellow evictees on the day in 1975 when the project was definitively halted: “What are you going to do? You can’t fight city hall. Losing my home was a very rough feeling. We all enjoyed being down there. It was a beautiful area.”[31]

            Of course, the economic effects of the Tocks Island Dam Project, had it been built, will never be known. Perhaps the influx of new tourism and tourist-friendly amenities would have ushered in a new age of modern economic success to a simple, rural area in the prosperous northeast United States. The area continues to be a popular tourist destination, though the words of Bob Van Fleet’s planning expert have proved to be prophetic: development and widening roads have continued to encroach on the natural scenery and economically disadvantaged portions of the area near the DWGNRA.[32] The area essentially remains under government control, and the application of eminent domain in this instance appears to have essentially given greater power to the federal government to influence the economic and physical fate of the region. While the local government maintains holds a good deal of authority over the operations of the park,[33] the future of the land ultimately lies in the hands of the same entity that evicted most of the area’s residents: the federal government.

Perhaps the most telling account of the project’s cultural legacy was given in 1992, the year that Congress definitively struck the dam from its budget. On July 19^th of that year, Michael Ruane published an article which contained an interview of Leah Bensley, whose father, Isaac Dunlap, had been told 30 years earlier that his tiny home, which he had built entirely himself, would be taken from him. Today, only the chimney of Dunlap’s home remains, which ironically is at risk of being leveled as part of a government construction project which will widen the road near the house’s foundation.[34] Like many who lived in the area, Dunlap was a simple woodsman who was proud of his home and would not sell it for any price. He strove to, in the words of Lydia Brodhead Nyce, “bring truth to his dreams.” Dunlap took his own life in the woods behind his house several weeks after receiving the final offer for his property. It is an event Bensely will likely never forget: ''It's just like it was yesterday. It is, still. It's terrible. Sometimes I look for him to come through the woods."[35]

---

[1] Irene Taviss Thomson. “The Tocks Island Dam Controversy.” In When Values Conflict: Essays on Environmental Analysis, Discourse, and Decision. Edited by Laurence Tribe, Corinne Schelling, and John Voss. Cambridge, MA: Ballinger Publishing Co., 1976: 38-39.

[2] Gale Tellefsen, "Tocks Island Dam: an analysis of the environmental movement" (1992). Lehigh University Theses and Dissertations. Paper 149

[3] Kathleen Duca-Sandberg. “The History and Demise of the Tocks Island Dam Project: Environmental War or the War in Vietnam?” (2011). Seton Hall University Dissertations and Theses (ETDs). Paper 30.

[4] Deborah Bradford. “Tocks Island Dam.” Environmental Action 7, no. 4, 4.

[5] Tellefson. (8)

[6] Judy Peet, A Bitterness Runs Through It, The Star Ledger, 23 November, 2003, p.19. Via Duca-Sandberg. (2)

[7] Thomson. (41)

[8] Bradford.

[9] Tellefeson. (16)

[10] Duca-Sandberg. (3)

[11] Duca-Sandberg. (4)

[12] Richard C. Albert, Damming the Delaware: The Rise and Fall of Tocks Island Dam, (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1987 and 2005) via Duca-Sandberg.

[13] Tellefeson. (15)

[14] Tellefeson. (28)

[15] Thomson. (44)

[16] Duca-Sandberg. (97)

[17] "Tentative Site of the Delaware Dam." The Lock Haven Express, April 21, 1959.

[18] Howard Rausch. "A Delaware River Dam Is Coming, but Not Soon." The Middletown Daily Record, October 16, 1959, Regioinal/World sec.

[19] Bob Van Fleet. "Tocks Progress Could Turn Area into "well-to-do Slum""The Pocono Record, November 9, 1965, Local sec.

[20] Bob Van Fleet. "Army Engineers to Open Tock's Office in December." The Pocono Record, November 9, 1965, Local sec.

[21] Mark Brown. "Tocks - a Clash of Power in the Halls of Congress." The Pocono Record, August 1, 1975, Local sec.

[22] Flip DeLuca. "Where Were You When the Tocks Fell?" The Pocono Record, August 1, 1975, Local sec.

[23] Jeff Widmer. "Former Tocks Residents React." The Pocono Record, August 1, 1975, Local sec.

[24]David A. Schultz. Evicted!: Property Rights and Eminent Domain in America. Santa Barbara, California: Praeger, 2010. (74)

[25] John Ryskamp. The Eminent Domain Revolt: Changing Perceptions in a New Constitutional Epoch. New York, New York: Algora Pub., 2007 (181)

[26] Ryskamp. (50)

[27]David A. Schultz. Evicted!: Property Rights and Eminent Domain in America. Santa Barbara, California: Praeger, 2010. (160)

[28] DeLuca.

[29] William F. Henn. The Story of the River Road: Life Along the Delaware from Bushkill to Milford, Pike County, PA. (Self Published), 1975. (2)

[30] Henn, 226.

[31] Widmer.

[32] Brian Tarpinian. "Determining the Appropriateness of Automobile-based Tourism in the National Park System." Park Break Perspectives: 1-8.

[33] Dave Pierce. "After Dam Died, Park Was Born." The Pocono Record, August 14, 2001.

[34] Witkowski, Wayne. "PennDOT: Milford Road Widening Project Will Have Little Disruption." The Pocono Record, November 18, 2015, Pike & Monroe Life sec.

[35] Michael E Ruane. "Bitterness Lives Where Dam Is Dead A Delaware River Project Lived Too Long For Some. In 30 Years, Many Lost Their Land." The Philadelphia Inquirer, July 19, 1992, Regional sec.

Extremism

This will be one of the more pointed and political (ly incorrect) things I have written. But alas, I feel compelled to say a word or two about our current moral predicament involving religious extremism. As of November of 2015, the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS) has gained a bit of press due to its direct threats (and now actions) against western nations. Touting itself as an educated Christian nation, one might expect the general public of the United States to have built up a rational, productive set of values to deal with cheap, cowardly acts like those perpetrated by "terrorists." This is being written in the wake of more tragic violence, so of course passions are high and irrational reactions can almost be understood. Almost. Calls to arms, talks of nuclear retaliation, and the laughable Monday-morning quarterbacking that has accompanied every terrorist attack that has come to our attention has been spewed from a disturbingly diverse collection of politicians, religious leaders and what I will politely call misled-but-patriotic Americans. I can only ask: do we really think that is the solution? Is this just the post-attack kool-aid talking, or are we just using this tragedy as an excuse to say what we've been thinking all along?

Sensationalism, however, has come to rule the day in this political and social epoch. It isn't a new principle, it's just been perfected. Outrage and calls to violent action can be seen in America history before American history was even a thing. A parallel pattern, however, is the unfailing ability of an almost entirely literate nation to squander every opportunity to take appropriate, cool-headed action in the wake of a national tragedy. Lusitania = WWI. Pearl Harbor = WWII. Gulf of Tonkin = Vietnam. Invasion of Kuwait (and cheap oil fields) = Gulf War. 9/11 = War on Terror. Why do we almost inevitably react to violence with violence? Perhaps an even better question: why the fudge does it keep happening?

It might sound strange, but I draw a correlation between the failure of the United States to effectively deal with violent extremism and bullying. What really causes kids in school to get picked on? Is it their physical weakness, their imperfections, etc.? I would argue that that is not the case. It is the kids who react defensively or violently to provocation that catch the most flak, because they give their bullies what they really want: a reaction. More specifically, they give their bullies proof that they are scared. Yes, what I'm trying to say is that the United States has a serious self-esteem problem. We don't want to look like pansies, so we react to every "threat" like a 7th grader who gets picked on all the time. We've gotten away with it thus far because we have two oceans and the world's largest military separating us from eveyone else's idea of normal. But the sad fact is neither of those things are effective in stopping the march of ideas. No one can drop a bomb on a concept or shell determination.

ISIS and most other violent minority groups understand this. They know better than anyone that their best recruiting tool is a bomb dropped by a plane from a western country. Their "jihad" has taken on a decidedly anti-western complexion because of our belief in our singular right to be the world's policeman instead of its teacher. We have made the (perhaps unconscious) decision to be the hammer of the world rather than the library. We've decided that appearing weak to anyone in any way is not acceptable. Yes, the United States has an obligation to share its wealth of resources and its prosperity with the rest of the world. But thus far, we have shared far more bullets than books. Against a nation like Japan during the Second World War, that was effective because we taught them our rules of war during the 1850's, which they followed (google it).

ISIS and groups like it, however, don't follow our rules. They are willing to blow themselves up not for family honor or their 72 virgins, they will do it because they know what affect their actions will have on the people they hate will be. They know we as westerners will take the bait without hesitation. So how do you fight aggression like this? How do you show people that violence will not get them what they want? If I or anyone else had a definitive answer to that question, I wouldn't be writing this right now (or so I hope). If the last several centuries has taught us anything, however, it is that responding with force is not the solution. We simply cannot hope for peace through war any longer. We've tried it for long enough for that to be an absolute certainty. Proponents of this strategy are of course playing right into the hands of extremist groups. I can think of no more fearful a statement than "you can pry my gun from my cold dead hands" or something of the like. One might as well say, "I am absolutely nothing without this instrument of destruction, and I know it."

Every head we've cut off in the Middle East has sprouted five more because we simply refuse to even try to understand the people we are fighting. We did not necessarily "create" ISIS, but what we certainly did was give them lots of weapons and a common enemy (the west in general). If we actually want to take power away from ISIS, we have to understand what motivates them. So what are their motives? I can't tell you all of them for certain, but the one that concerns me the most is placing emphasis on traits which make us different from one another. They act out of fear of that which they do not understand, and strive to project this fear onto others through violence. This of course leads to division and misunderstanding, which leads to even more fear.

Fear, I think we can all agree, is the most powerful weapon any person, group or nation can bring to bear. What troubles me greatly is that I see a whole lot of fear in America. "If we can't verify that every Syrian refugee isn't a terrorist, I don't want any in my state." "As long as Jihadists have guns, you're not going to take mine away from me." What these statements really say is "ISIS, YOU SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF ME," which is precisely what they want. Of course, people who are scared are inevitably more vocal about their fearlessness than those who are not. Our nation was founded with this power of the minority in mind, as Samuel Adams tells us, "It does not take a majority to prevail... but rather an irate, tireless minority, keen on setting brushfires of freedom in the minds of men." ISIS is playing our game, and if we are not careful, they will win it. 

Ruby

"Why did you give her a gypsy name?" This was my grandfather's reaction to hearing that we had named our newest addition to our family Ruby. It was suggested (for reasons I honestly still do not know) that we name her after a type of stone. Quartz was a bit bland, and Diamond was stripper-esque, so we settled on Ruby. She was a pure-bred German Shephard, the offspring of two beautiful dogs whose name I can't remember. Her father was an enormous and powerful dog, but incredibly obedient. We met her for the first time in a kennel and decided that the sable-coated pup with a hot pink collar would be part of our family. Very early on, we could see that she was not the type of dog we were accustomed to. Mutley, our mixed breed dog who was still alive when Ruby arrived, was the embodiment of "chill." It's my sad contention that the arrival of such a young, energetic dog might have hastened Mutley's departure, but Mutley lived a long life and for the most part they got along.

Ruby was not "chill." She never harmed a person intentionally, though I am absolutely certain that she would have if she felt that we were being threatened by one. One of my earliest interactions with Ruby was provoking her into a frenzy that is typical of young dogs, which involved her running around the room and jumping on everything she could in a big circle for about twenty seconds. Sometimes, these episodes would last a little longer and be a little more intense than expected, and she was liable to cause serious damage if she couldn't be stopped. Like the budding eight-year old genius I was, I decided to play with Ruby the morning that I was scheduled to take my third grade class picture. Now immortalized in glossy glory is a testament to what a young German Shephard is capable of: a frowning 8 year-old me with a large scratch under my eye, hating every single moment of that particular day.

She was not a big dog, particularly for a German Shephard. She was sable-coated and, though her ears would later prove to be an issue, a genuinely beautiful animal. She was relatively small for her breed, but stocky and muscular. Another early encounter I had with Ruby involved her chasing after our cat for about twenty feet, with me attached by way of a leash. That dog dragged me (probably over one hundred pounds at the time) a fair distance with relative ease. Once she had realized what she had done, she was clearly distraught, both by nearly killing me and by not catching that damned cat.

Ruby's general hatred of anything that moved on four legs (or wheels in some cases) is one of her enduring legacies. Her violent tendencies toward other dogs came to our attention in "doggie day-care," which my mother hoped would foster some manners in the young, instinctual Ruby. Instead, it only served to prove that where we lived was probably the only place a dog like Ruby would be able to function: in the middle of the woods. She was never entirely at ease, always alert and prepared for any real or imagined threat to her flock. To my eyes, she seemed most in her element watching intently over the forest while we worked in the garden or on other projects around the house. She did not always see things that struck her as worthy of her full attention. When she did, the gentle, caring dog we knew became the wolf from which her breed has decended.

I do not remember the first time Ruby killed a deer because it happened relatively often. I honestly believe that Ruby saw the care which we took to make our garden and our home worthwhile projects and felt obligated to keep hungry woodland creatures away. This sentiment would play perfectly into her prodigious territorial instincts. I don't use the word prodigious often, but in this particular situation, it fits. She had taken an unspoken vow to protect her home and family, and she would honor it her entire life. Yes, Ruby once chased a full grown black bear up a tree and would not let it down until we forced her inside. To her, any fauna within sight were plotting to not only eat our beans and collards, but kill us, take our money, use our toilets and leave the seats up. I can tell you that as a person living in the Pocono Mountains, I have become fairly familiar with the sight of dead animals on the sides of our roads. Watching a German Shephard make a meal of a full grown deer, however, is glimpse into the primal instincts of a natural predator.

The next chapter of the Ruby saga begins somewhere deep in the forest, where an exceedingly charming dog successfully courted the fierce princess. During her periodic romps through the woods after deer, Ruby scheduled several rendezvous with this charming dog. A few months later, our house became a puppy kennel overnight. I distinctly remember my fifth grade teacher approaching me during class to tell me that my mother had gone home because Ruby had "given birth." Seven healthy puppies would become the talk of the house for a few months. Ruby was the protective, firm and gentle mother that we all expected her to be. We of course decided to keep the largest of litter, who was by far the laziest, and named him Shep, after the suitor with which we had originally intended Ruby to pursue a romantic relationship. As the other puppies went their separate ways, Shep seemed unaffected by the commotion, content with eating, sleeping, and generally being the clumsy, lovable dog that he still is today.

Understandably, Ruby began to lose her characteristic physical vigor after Shep and his sibblings arrived. Although she still managed to wrangle a few deer (perhaps trying unsuccessfully to teach her fierceness to her son), more and more she would only chase other animals to the edge of the property. She remained muscular and tough throughout her life, but running appeared painful as she aged. Her ears were a chronic problem, and constant draining of fluid from them left them collapsed and wrinkled, eventually creating such an issue that we decided that her best option was to have them cropped off. I always sensed that this was extremely embarrassing and demoralizing for her, and that such a proud dog could never survive long in so depressed a state.

She eventually developed several inoperable tumors, a possible product of either her food or even the water that she drank. I can remember going to the veterinarian's office several times, embarrassed by Ruby's behavior and incredibly sad as I began to understand that she would soon be gone. In hindsight, her health deteriorated very quickly. She suffered a stroke following one of her visits to the vet, and the tumors multiplied quickly after that. Of course the visits were necessary, but I know that putting a dog like Ruby in such a stressful, uncomfortable situation at her age did little to help her.

The night before her final visit to the veterinarian, we all said our goodbyes. She always sensed when something was wrong with us, and though I honestly believe that she knew what was going on, she remained stoic. Unshakable. She had stared down animals five times her size ,and it seemed so ridiculous to me, as I think it probably did to my sisters and my parents, that she should meet her end in a veterinarian's office. The next morning it was over in barely an hour. "I'm sorry" was the last thing my father said to his beloved dog. I can certainly romanticize about a noble death at the place where she had lived and protected her flock for her entire life, as I know this was what my father wanted for her, but it was not to be. Burying her was the most difficult part. My mother stood and watched, freezing to death in the cloudy December weather as my father and I made the grave. We laid her to rest on the same rug that she laid on for years in front of the fireplace, and wrapped her in a plaid jacket we used when we worked outside. When the work was finished, we took turns to say our last goodbyes. I wept like I have very few times in my life.

Much is made of the connection between pets and their masters. The concept of dogs in particular creating a special bond with their caretakers is well documented. In my experiences, however, there still exists a great emotional and intellectual divide between most animals and their owners. As a student of social sciences, I could certainly make a historical correlation between the subjugation and emotional detachment from other living things and our modern concept of household pets. That is to say, we have learned to not listen to other animals much in the same way we have learned to not truly listen to each other. Despite the fact that by any serious estimation most other species have existed far longer than humans have, little credence is given to their natural wisdom and intellectual endowment. Popular sentiment seems to dictate that animals, particularly those that are domesticated, only provide mankind with entertainment, sustinence, and perhaps quiet companionship, but little more. I can only say that my time with Ruby disproved this. Animals may not speak languages common to human ears, but they communicate knowledge constantly in ways that have been deemed insignificant. They understand things we as humans can never hope to understand, but since they do not look like us and sound like us, they are altogether separate from us, and certainly can not contribute anything of substantive value to our lives. To call an animal noble or caring or brave, however sincere, is generally considered symbolic. Real nobility and bravery, as most understand it, are attributes that are worthy of genuine recognition when they are used to describe humans. I felt this way when I was young. The beautiful Shepherd that was a part of my life for ten short years forced me to rethink my relationship with other living things, including other people. She showed me that everything, be it a dog, a person, a blade of grass or a drop of water, can be learned from and appreciated, and therefore has value.  She embodied the spirit of the name given to her breed. She was the Good Shepherd. She taught me as much in her short time on earth about things like dignity, bravery and loyalty as any person ever has. I loved her and I miss her very, very much.