Barricaded democracy

I am concerned about the direction of our country. I think many of us are. The question is, what is a better direction and, how do we get there? With so many fundamental social and political disagreements in this one nation, how do we find a stable base from which to build? I found my personal answer to the last question this past week.

As part of my work, I travel throughout the U.S., often in medium and small towns. I work during the day and generally have evenings to myself. It has become a hobby of sorts to see what I can see of each town I visit. I get a sense of community: the local diner or bar, the economy, architecture, churches, schools, and how many people smile and say hello. There are many different flavors, but many common themes in our melting pot. Usually, I find the underlying constancy comforting.

This week I became aware of a different, less pleasing, commonality. It was while I was walking by the district court building in Covington, Ky. It was after hours and the building was dark except for a few lights typically left on, perhaps for security. These particular night lights illuminated a bank of metal detectors stretched across the wide public entrance.

One of our great gifts is our adaptability, and we have quickly absorbed this new landscape of security barriers as normal. Seeing them at night, empty, they became the foreground. And for me, they became a clear symbol of where we are heading. Whether in Covington or Washington, D.C., or Bangor, we are installing substantial physical and psychological barriers to our seats of government. This property is our property, and to be denied free and open access must surely be corrosive to our form of open, participatory democracy.

What message do we send citizens when our executive, legislative and judicial branches of government are all encased in security barriers? It is not an invitation to participate. It is not an invitation to understand. It is not an invitation to serve. It is a clear expression of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of our modern environment, fear of the populace. This is intolerable.

I understand these barriers have been erected in a good cause. I understand they cannot be removed tomorrow. I just as clearly understand that for the health of our nation, they must be removed. Our current, deep, political divide has prevented us from moving forward constructively. We have fallen into a defensive posture.

We have made mistakes before, realized them, and made corrections. We can do the same now. To make a new course, we must understand how we went astray. It appears we are protecting ourselves from three different populations: a small number of foreign nationals who hate us and have access; a small (but larger) number of domestic criminals; and a small number of mentally disturbed individuals. In all cases, it is a question of how to protect our government of the many from the tyranny of a few. Barricading our government is a response, but it is not a solution.

I suggest that we would be better served to direct funds equivalent to those currently used for our castle-and-moat system to community-based education, health services and policing. A substantial investment in the youngest members of our society will provide all of us with a more equitable and functional society. It will also reduce the vast sums being spent to incarcerate people in whom we did not originally invest. This early investment will not only decrease the number of people with a grudge against government, it will shift the large number of currently passive observers to active defenders of our way of life.

I have not addressed the threat of foreign terrorists. Perhaps with a strengthening of our own society we will be able to improve our international security in a more sustainable way. For now, my goals are internal.

I have found my symbol, my measure of our current state. I have a more clear vision for having found a symbol. With a vision in mind, I have better understanding of my core beliefs. Most importantly, I now have a base from which I can decide those things on which I must hold firm, on those things on which I can compromise. For we must all compromise if we are to succeed. We must make clear to ourselves again that we are one great nation of differences, rather than a nation of great differences. Then, perhaps in a generation, we can begin removing the barriers we so quickly installed.

Vern Leeman lives in Bangor.