Keynote
Speech to the Society of Environmental Journalists
Convention
Austin, Texas - October 1, 2005
Thank you for inviting me here today and
for counting me as a colleague.
I don't fit neatly into the job description
of an environmental journalist although I have
kept returning to the beat ever since my first
documentary on the subject some 30 years ago.
That was a story about how the new Republican
governor of Oregon, Tom McCall, had set out
to prove that the economy and the environment
could share the center lane on the highway
to the future.
Those were optimistic years for the emerging
environmental movement. Rachel Carson had rattled
the cage with Silent Spring and on the first
Earth Day in 1970 twenty million Americans
rose from the grassroots to speak for the planet.
Even Richard Nixon couldn't say no to so powerful
a subpoena by public opinion, and he put his
signature to some far-reaching measures for
environmental protection.
I shared that optimism and believed journalism
would help to fulfill it. I thought that when
people saw a good example they would imitate
it, that if Americans knew the facts and the
possibilities they would act on them. After
all, half a century ago, I had walked every
day as a student across the campus of my alma
mater, the University of Texas and could look
up at the main tower and read the words: "You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free." I
believed we were really on the way toward the
third American Revolution. The first had won
our independence as a nation. The second had
finally opened the promise of civil rights
to all Americans. Now the third American Revolution
was to be the Green Revolution for a healthy,
safe, and sustainable future. Sometimes in
a moment of reverie I imagine that it happened.
I imagine that we had brought forth a new paradigm
for nurturing and protecting our global life
support system; that we had faced up to the
greatest ecological challenge in human history
and conquered it with clean renewable energy,
efficient transportation and agriculture, and
the non-toxic production and protection of
our forests, oceans, grasslands and wetlands.
I imagine us leading the world on a new path
of sustainability.
Alas, it was only a reverie. The reality
is otherwise. Rather than leading the world
in finding solutions to the global environmental
crises, the United States is a recalcitrant
naysayer and backslider. Our government and
corporate elites have turned against America's
environmental visionaries - from Teddy Roosevelt
to John Muir, from Rachel Carson to David Brower,
from Gaylord Nelson to Laurence Rockefeller.
They have set out to eviscerate just about
every significant gain of the past generation,
and while they are at it they have managed
to blame the environmental movement itself
for the failure of the Green Revolution. If
environmentalism isn't dead, they say, it should
be. And they will gladly lead the cortege to
the grave.
Yes, I know: the environmental community
has stumbled on many fronts. All of us in this
room have heard and reported the charges: that
the rhetoric is alarmist and the ideology polarizing;
that command-and-control regulation produces
bureaucratic bungles, slows economic growth,
and delays technological advances that save
lives; that what began as a grassroots movement
has now become an entrenched green bureaucracy
precariously hanging on in occupied Washington
while passionate citizens across the country
are starved for financial resources. There
is some truth in these charges; all movements
flounder and must periodically regroup.
Before we consider the case closed, however,
let me urge you to take a hard look at the
backlash. I didn't reckon on the backlash.
If the Green Revolution is a bloody pulp today,
it is not just because the environmental movement
mugged itself. It is because the corporate,
political, and religious right ganged up on
it in the back alleys of power. Big companies
fund a relentless assault on green values and
policies. Political ideologues launch countless
campaigns to strip from government all its
functions except those that reward their rich
benefactors. And homegrown ayatollahs are more
set on savaging gay people than saving the
green earth.
I especially failed to reckon with how ruthless
the reactionaries would be. What they did to
Rachel Carson when Silent Spring appeared in
1962 has been honed to a sharp edge aimed at
the jugular of anyone who challenges them.
I felt the knife's edge some years ago when
I took up the subject of pesticides and food
for a Frontline documentary on PBS. My producer,
Marty Koughan, learned that the industry was
plotting behind the scenes to dilute the findings
of a National Academy of Science study on the
effect of pesticide residues in children. When
the companies found out we were on the story,
they came after us. Before the documentary
aired television reviewers and the editorial
pages of newspapers were flooded with disinformation.
A whispering campaign took hold. One Washington
Post columnist took a dig at the broadcast
without having seen it and later confessed
to me that he had gotten a bum tip about the
content from a top lobbyist for the chemical
industry and printed it without asking me for
a response.
Some public television managers were so unnerved
by the propaganda blitz against a yet-to-be
aired documentary that they actually protested
to PBS with a letter prepared by the chemical
industry.
Here's what most perplexed us: eight days
before the broadcast, the American Cancer Society,
an organization that in no way figured in our
story, sent to its three-thousand local chapters
a "critique" of the unfinished documentary
claiming, wrongly, that it exaggerated the dangers of pesticides in food. We
were puzzled. Why was the American Cancer Society taking the unusual step of
criticizing a documentary that it had not yet seen, that had not yet aired, and
that did not claim what the Society said was in it? An enterprising reporter
named Sheila Kaplan later looked into these questions for Legal Times. She found
that the Porter Novelli public relations firm, which had several chemical companies
as clients, also did pro bono work for the American Cancer Society. The firm
was able to cash in on some of the goodwill from their "charitable" work
to persuade the communications staff at the Society to distribute erroneous talking
points about the documentary before it aired - talking points supplied by, but
not attributed to, Porter Novelli. Legal Times headlined the story, "Porter
Novelli Plays All Sides," a familiar Washington game.
This was just round one. The producer Sherry
Jones and I spent more than a year working
on another PBS documentary called "Trade Secrets." This was
a two-hour investigative special based on records from the industry's own archives.
Those internal documents revealed that for over 40 years big chemical companies
had deliberately withheld from workers and consumers damaging information about
toxic chemicals in their products. They confirmed not only that a shameless and
amoral industry knowingly deceived the public. They also confirmed that we were
living under a regulatory system designed by the chemical industry itself - one
that put profits ahead of safety.
Once again the industry pounced. We found ourselves
the target of another public relations firm
- this one noted for using private detectives
and former CIA, FBI and drug enforcement officers
to conduct investigations for big business.
One of its founders acknowledged that corporations "sometimes" resort
to unconventional resources, including "using deceit." We were the
target of a classic smear campaign and PBS felt the pressure. Still, the documentary
ran, created a big impact across the country, and a year later received an Emmy
from our peers for outstanding investigative journalism.
But this crowd never gives up. President
Bush has turned the agencies charged with environmental
protection over to people who don't believe
in it. To run the Interior Department he chose
a long-time defender of polluters who has opposed
laws to safeguard wildlife, habitat, and public
lands. To run the Forest Service he chose a
timber industry lobbyist. To oversee our public
lands he named a mining industry lobbyist who
believes public lands are unconstitutional.
To run the Superfund he chose a woman who made
a living advising corporate polluters how to
evade the Superfund. And in the White House
office of environmental policy the President
placed a lobbyist from the American Petroleum
Institute whose mission was to make sure the
government's scientific reports on global warming
didn't contradict the party line and the interest
of oil companies. Everywhere you look, the
foxes own the chicken coop.
My colleagues and I reported these stories
again and again on my weekly PBS series, to
the consternation of the President's minions
at the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.
The CPB Chairman, Kenneth Tomlinson, turned
the administration's discomfort at embarrassing
disclosures into a crusade to discredit our
journalism. Tomlinson left the chairmanship
this week but the Rightwing coup at public
broadcasting is complete. He remains on the
board under a new chair who is a former real
estate director and Republican fund raiser.
She recently told a Senate hearing that the
CPB should have the authority to penalize public
broadcasting journalists if they step out of
line. Sitting beside her and Tomlinson on the
board is another Bush appointee - also a partisan
Republican activist - who was a charter member
and chair of Newt Gingrich's notorious political
action committee, GOPAC. Reporting to them
is the White House's handpicked candidate to
be President and chief executive officer of
the CPB - a former co-chair of the Republican
National Committee whose husband became PR
director of the Chemical Manufacturers Association
after he had helped the pesticide industry
smear Rachel Carson for her classic work on
the environment, Silent Spring. Mark my words:
if this gang has anything to say about it,
there will be no challenging journalism to
come from public television while they are
around; no investigative reporting on the environment;
no reporting at all on conflicts of interest
between government and big business; no naming
of names.
So if the environmental movement is pronounced
dead, it won't be from self-inflicted wounds.
We don't blame slavery on the slaves, the Trail
of Tears on the Cherokees, or the Srebrenica
massacre on the bodies in the grave. No, the
lethal threat to the environmental movement
comes from the predatory power of money and
the pathological enmity of rightwing ideology.
Theodore Roosevelt warned a century ago of
the subversive influence of money in politics.
He said the central fact in his time was that
big business had become so dominant it would
chew up democracy and spit it out. The power
of corporations, he said, had to be balanced
with the interest of the general public. That
warning was echoed by his cousin Franklin,
who said a "government by organized
money is as much to be feared as a government by organized mob." Both Roosevelts
rose to that challenge in their day. But a hundred years later mighty corporations
are once again the undisputed overlords of government. Follow the money and you
are inside the inner sanctum of the Business Roundtable, the National Association
of Manufacturers, and the American Petroleum Institute. Here is the super board
of directors for Bush, Incorporated. They own the Administration lock, stock,
and barrel, and their grip on our government's environmental policies is leading
to calamitous consequences. Once the leader in cutting edge environmental policies
and technologies and awareness, America is now eclipsed. As the scientific evidence
grows, pointing to a crisis, our country has become an impediment to action,
not a leader. Earlier this year the White House even conducted an extraordinary
secret campaign to scupper the British government's attempt to tackle global
warming - and then to undermine the UN's effort to stabilize greenhouse gas emissions.
George W. Bush is the Herbert Hoover of the environment. His failure to lead
on global warming means that even if we were dramatically to decrease greenhouse
gases overnight we have already condemned ourselves and generations to come to
a warming planet.
You no doubt saw those reports a few days
ago that the Artic has suffered another record
loss of sea ice. This summer, satellites monitoring
the region found that ice reached its lowest
monthly point on record - the fourth year in
a row it has fallen below the monthly downward
trend. The anticipated effects are well known:
as the Artic region absorbs more heat from
the sun, causing the ice to melt still further,
the relentless cycle of melting and heating
will shrink the massive land glaciers of Greenland
and dramatically raise sea levels. Scientists
were quoted saying that with this new acceleration
of melt the northern hemisphere may have crossed
a critical threshold beyond which the climate
cannot recover.
Nonetheless, last year a Gallup poll found
that nearly half of Americans worry "only
a little" or "not at all" about global warming or "the greenhouse
effect." In July of this year, ABC News reported that 66% of the people
in a new survey said they don't think global warming will affect their lives.
If you've seen the film "March of the Penguins," you know it is a delight
to the eye and a tug at the heart. The camera follows the flocks as they trek
back and forth over the ice to their breeding ground. You see them huddle together
to protect their eggs in temperatures that average 70 degrees below zero Fahrenheit.
So powerful and beautiful a film can only increase one's awe of our small neighbors
far to the north.
In the New York Times recently, Jonathan
Miller reported that conservatives are invoking "March of the Penguins" as an inspiration for their various
causes. Some praise the penguins for their monogamy. Opponents of abortion say
it verifies "the beauty of life and the rightness of protecting it." A
Christian magazine claims it makes "a strong case for intelligent design." On
the website "lionsofgod.com" you can find instructions to take a notebook,
flashlight and pen to the movie "to write down what God speaks to you" as
you watch the film.
Fair enough. It would not be the first time
human beings felt connected to a transcendental
power through nature. But what you will not
find in the film is any reference to global
warming. Why is it relevant? Because to reproduce,
the penguins must go to the thickest part of
the ice where they can safely stand without
fear it will break beneath their weight. Global
warming obviously weakens the ice. If it becomes
too thin, the penguins will lose the support
necessary for reproduction. Yet the film is
silent on this threat to these little creatures
that conservatives are adopting as their mascots
in the culture wars. The film's director explained
that he wanted to reach as many people as possible
and since "Much
of public opinion appears insensitive to the dangers of global warming," he
didn't want to go there.
Again, fair enough. I can't fault him for
the aspiration to tell the story for its own
sake, in the most simple and profound way.
I can't fault him for wanting to avoid disturbing
the comfort of viewers. I often wish that I
were a filmmaker instead of a journalist and
didn't have to give people a headache by reporting
the news they'd rather not hear.
But what we don't know can kill us.
Our oldest son is addicted to alcohol and
drugs. I'm not spilling any family secrets
here; my wife Judith and I produced a PBS series
based on our family's experience and called
it "Close to Home" because we wanted to remind
people that addiction hijacks the brain irrespective of race, creed, color or
street address. He's doing well, thank you - he's been in recovery for ten years
now and has become one of the country's leading public advocates for treatment.
But we almost lost him more than once because he was in denial and so were we.
For a decade prior to his crash he would not admit to himself what was happening,
and he was able to hide it from us; he was, after all, a rising star in journalism,
married, a home-owner and a God-fearing churchgoer. Naturally we believed the
best about him: A drug addict, slowly poisoning himself to death? Not our son!
The day before he crashed I was concerned about his behavior and asked him to
lunch. "Are you in trouble?" I asked? "Are you using?" He
looked me squarely in the eyes and said, "No, Dad, not at all. Just a few
problems at home." "Whew," I said, placing my hand on his. "I'm
really glad to hear that." And I switched the subject. The next day he was
gone. We searched for days before his mother and a friend tracked him down and
coaxed him from a crack house to the hospital.
They say denial is not a river in Egypt.
It is, however, the governing philosophy in
Washington. The President's contempt for science
- for evidence that mounts everyday - is mind
boggling. Here is a man who was quick to launch
a 'preventative war' against Iraq on faulty
intelligence and premature judgment but who
refuses to take preventive action against a
truly global menace about which the scientific
evidence is overwhelming.
Unfortunately, the people in his core constituency
who could most effectively call on this President
to lead are largely silent. I mean the Christian
conservatives who gave President Bush 15 million
votes in 2000 and maybe 20 million in 2004.
Without their support, the transnational corporations
who now control Washington would fail to have
the votes needed to eviscerate our environmental
protections.
Some of these Christian conservatives are
implacable. They have given their proxies to
the televangelists, pastors, and preachers
who have signed on with the Republican Party
to turn their faith into a political religion,
a weapon of partisan conflict.
But millions of these people believe they
are here on earth to serve a higher moral power,
not a partisan agenda. They overwhelmingly
respond to natural disasters like last year's
tsunami or the AIDS crisis in Africa by opening
their hearts and wallets wide. Alas, although
many of them may believe Christians have a
moral obligation to protect God's creation,
most remain uninformed about the true scope
of the environmental crisis and the role of
the Republican Party in it. As a result, they
typically vote their consciences on social
issues rather than environmental ones.
Listen to this anguished moral missive from
Joel Gillespie, a conservative Christian who
recently wrote to On Earth magazine: "I'll admit that when I pushed
the button for President Bush, I did so with some sadness, given his dismal environmental
record. But many of us who love the natural world…feel we face an almost
impossible either-or-predicament. Voting for pro-environmental candidates usually
means voting for a package of other policies that we will never swallow. We're
forced to choose unborn babies or endangered species, traditional marriage or
habitat protection, cleaning up the smut that comes across the airwaves or the
smut that fouls our air. And the fact that we are forced to make such choices
has harmed the natural environment and the special places we love and cherish."
Many evangelical Christians face Gillespie's
dilemma. They need to be challenged to look
more closely at their moral choices - to consider
whether it is possible to be pro-life while
also being anti-earth. If you believe uncompromisingly
in the right of every baby to be born safely
into this world, can you at the same time abandon
the future of that child, allowing its health
and safety to be compromised by a President
who gives big corporations license to poison
our bodies and destroy our climate?
In his grandstanding during the Schiavo right-to-die
case last spring, President Bush said, "It is wise to always err on the side of life," and he pleaded
for a "culture of life." But by ignoring the wise counsel of thousands
of environmental scientists, the President is not erring on the side of life.
He is playing dice with our children's future - dice that we have likely loaded
against our own species, and perhaps against all life on earth.
There is a market here for journalists who
are hungry for new readers. The conservative
Christian audience is some fifty million readers
strong. But to reach them, we have to understand
something of their belief systems.
Reverend Jim Ball of the Evangelical Environmental
Network, for example, tells us that "creation-care is starting to resonate not just with evangelical
progressives but with conservatives who are at the center of the evangelical
spectrum." Last year, in a document entitled For the Health of the Nation:
An Evangelical Call to Civic Responsibility, the National Association of Evangelicals
declared that our Bible "implies the principle of sustainability: our uses
of the earth must be designed to conserve and renew the earth rather than to
deplete or destroy it." In what might have come from the Sierra Club itself,
the declaration urged "government to encourage fuel efficiency, reduce pollution,
encourage sustainable use of natural resources, and provide for the proper care
of wildlife and their natural habitats." Ball and a few evangelical leaders
have also pushed for a climate change plank to their program, standing up to
demagogues like James Dobson, Jerry Falwell, and Pat Robertson who are in the
service of the corporate-funded radical wing of the Republican Party.
But we can't expect to engage this vast conservative
Christian audience with our standard style
of reporting. Environmental journalism has
always spoken in the language of environmental
science. But fundamentalists and Pentecostals
typically speak and think in a different language.
Theirs is a poetic and metaphorical language:
a speech that is anchored in the truth of the
Bible as they read it. Their moral actions
are guided not by the newest IPCC report but
by the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
Here's an important statistic to ponder:
45 percent of Americans hold a creational view
of the world, discounting Darwin's theory of
evolution. I don't think it is a coincidence
then that in a nation where nearly half our
people believe in creationism, much of the
populace also doubts the certainty of climate
change science. Contrast that to other industrial
nations where climate change science is overwhelmingly
accepted as truth; in Britain, for example,
where 8l% of the populace wants the government
to implement the Kyoto Treat. What's going
on here? Simply that millions of American Christians
accept the literal story of Genesis, and they
either dismiss or distrust a lot of science
- not only evolution, but paleontology, archeology,
geology, genetics, even biology and botany.
To those Christians who believe that our history
began with Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden,
and that it will end soon on the plains of
Armageddon, environmental science with its
urgent warnings of planetary peril must look
at the best irrelevant. At worst the environmental
woes we report may be stoically viewed as the
inevitable playing out of the end of time as
presented in the book of Revelation. For Christian
dominionists who believe the Lord will provide
for all human needs and never leave us short
of oil or other resources, no matter how we
overpopulate the earth, our reporting may be
viewed as a direct attack on biblical teachings
that urge humans "to be fruitful and multiply." It's even possible that among
many Christian conservatives, our environmental reporting - if they see it at
all - could seem arrogant in its assumptions, mechanistic, cold and godless in
its world view. That's a tough indictment, but one that must be faced if we want
to understand how these people get their news.
So if I were a free-lance journalist looking
to offer a major piece on global warming to
these people, how would I go about it? I wouldn't
give up fact-based analysis, of course - the
ethical obligation of journalists is to ground
what we report in evidence. But I would tell
some of my stories with an ear for spiritual
language, the language of parable, for that
is the language of faith.
Let's say I wanted to write a piece about
the millions of species that might be put on
the road to extinction by global warming. Reporting
that story to a scientific audience, I would
talk science: tell how a species decimated
by climate change could reach a point of no
return when its gene pool becomes too depleted
to maintain its evolutionary adaptability.
That genetic impoverishment can eventually
lead to extinction.
But how to reach fundamentalist Christians
who doubt evolution? How would I get them to
hear me? I might interview a scientist who
is also a person of faith and ask how he or
she might frame the subject in a way to catch
the attention of other believers. I might interview
a minister who would couch the work of today's
climate and biodiversity scientists in a biblical
metaphor: the story of Noah and the flood,
for example. The parallels of this parable
are wonderful to behold. Both scientists and
Noah possess knowledge of a potentially impending
global catastrophe. They try to spread the
word, to warn the world, but are laughed at,
ridiculed. You can almost hear some philistine
telling old Noah he is nothing but a "gloom and doom" environmentalist," spreading his tale
of abrupt climate change, of a great flood that will drown the world, of the
impending extinction of humanity and animals, if no one acts.
But no one does act, and Noah continues hearing
the word of God: "You are
to bring into the Ark two of all living creatures, male and female, to keep them
alive with you." Noah does as God commands. He agrees to save not only his
own family but to take on the daunting task of rescuing all the biodiversity
of the earth. He builds the Ark and is ridiculed as mad. He gathers two of every
species, the climate does change, the deluge comes as predicted. Everyone not
safely aboard drowns. But Noah and the complete complement of Earth's animals
live on. You've seen depictions of them disembarking the Ark beneath a rainbow,
two by two, the giraffes and hippos, horses and zebras. Noah, then, can be seen
as the first great preservationist, preventing the first great extinction. He
did exactly what wildlife biologists and climatologists are trying to do today:
to act on their moral convictions to conserve diversity, to protect God's creation
in the face of a flood of consumerism and indifference by a materialistic world.
Some of you are probably uncomfortable with
my parable. You may be ready to scoff or laugh.
And now you know exactly how a fundamentalist
Christian who believes devoutly in creationism
feels when we journalists write about the genetics
born of Darwin. If we don't understand how
they see the world, if we can't empathize with
each person's need to grasp a human problem
in language of his or her worldview, then we
will likely fail to reach many Christian conservatives
who have a sense of morality and justice as
strong as our own. And we will have done little
to head off the sixth great extinction.
That's not all we should be doing, of course.
We are journalists first, and trying to reach
one important audience doesn't mean we abandon
other audiences or our challenge to get as
close as possible to the verifiable truth.
Let's go back for a moment to America's first
Gilded Age just over a hundred years ago. That
was a time like now. Gross materialism and
blatant political corruption engulfed the country.
Big business bought the government right out
from under the people. Outraged at the abuse
of power the publisher of McClure's Magazine
cried out to his fellow journalists: "Capitalists…politicians….all
breaking the law, or letting it be broken? There is no one left [to uphold it]:
none but all of us."
Then something remarkable happened. The Gilded
Age became the golden age of muckraking journalism.
Lincoln Steffans plunged into the shame of
the cities - into a putrid urban cauldron of
bribery, intimidation, and fraud, including
voting roles padded with the names of dead
dogs and dead people - and his reporting sparked
an era of electoral reform.
Nellie Bly infiltrated a mental hospital,
pretending to be insane, and wrote of the horrors
she found there, arousing the public conscience.
John Spargo disappeared into the black bowels
of coal mines and came back to crusade against
child labor. For he had found there little
children "alone
in a dark mine passage hour after hour, with no human soul near; to see no living
creature except…a rat or two seeking to share one's meal; to stand in
water or mud that covers the ankles, chilled to the marrow…to work for
fourteen hours…for sixty cents; to reach the surface when all is wrapped
in the mantle of night, and to fall to the earth exhausted and have to be carried
away to the nearest 'shack' to be revived before it is possible to walk to the
farther shack called 'home.'"
Upton Sinclair waded through hell and with "tears and anguish" wrote
what he found on that arm of the Chicago River known as "Bubbly Creek" on
the southern boundary of the [stock] yards [where]: "all the drainage of
the square mile of packing houses empties into it, so that it is really a great
open sewer…and the filth stays there forever and a day. The grease and
chemicals that are poured into it undergo all sorts of strange transformations…bubbles
of carbonic acid gas will rise to the surface and burst, and make rings two or
three feet wide. Here and there the grease and filth have caked solid, and the
creek looks like a bed of lava…the packers used to leave the creek that
way, till every now and then the surface would catch on fire and burn furiously,
and the fire department would have to come and put it out."
The Gilded Age has returned with a vengeance.
Washington again is a spectacle of corruption.
The promise of America has been subverted to
crony capitalism, sleazy lobbyists, and an
arrogance of power matched only by an arrogance
of the present that acts as if there is no
tomorrow. But there is a tomorrow. I see the
future every time I work at my desk. There,
beside my computer, are photographs of Henry,
Thomas, Nancy, Jassie, and SaraJane - my grandchildren,
ages 13 down. They have no vote and they have
no voice. They have no party. They have no
lobbyists in Washington. They have only you
and me - our pens and our keyboards and our
microphones - to seek and to speak and to publish
what we can of how power works, how the world
wags and who wags it. The powers-that-be would
have us merely cover the news; our challenge
is to uncover the news that they would keep
hidden.
A lot is riding on what we do. You may be
the last group of journalists who make the
effort to try to inform the rest of us about
the most complex of issues involving the survival
of life on earth.
Last year, my final year on NOW with Bill Moyers,
we produced a documentary called "Endangered
Species," about a neighborhood in Washington, D.C., known as Anacostia,
just a few blocks from Capitol Hill. It is one of the most violent and dangerous
neighborhoods in the city, one of those places that give Washington the horrendous
distinction of the highest murder rate of any major city in the country. It's
horrendous in other ways too. The Anacostia River that gives the neighborhood
its name is one of the most polluted in America; more than a billion gallons
of raw sewage end up in it every year.
We went there to report on the Earth Conservation
Corps, a project started by one Bob Nixon to
recruit neighborhood kids to help clean up
the river and community. For their efforts,
they earn minimum wage, get health insurance,
and are offered a $5000 scholarship if they
go back to school.
The area where they work is practically a war
zone. Since the project began an average of
one corps member has been murdered almost every
year. One was beaten to death. One was raped
and killed. Another died when he was caught
in the middle of a shooting while riding his
bike. Three were shot execution style.
One of the most charismatic of the kids who
joined the Corps was named Diamond Teague.
He worked so hard the others jokingly called
him "Choir Boy." His
work became his passion; he loved it. It gave purpose and meaning to his life
to try and clean up his neighborhood and river. But one morning while he was
sitting on his front porch someone walked up and shot him in the head.
It's that kind of place, not far from where
the swells of Congress are hosted and toasted
by lobbyists for America's most powerful and
privileged interests.
After his death Diamond Teague got the only
press of his short life - 43 words in the Washington
Post:
"A teenager was found fatally shot about 2:05 Thursday in the 2200 block
of Prout Place SW, police said. Diamond D. Teague, 19, who lived on the block,
was pronounced dead."
That's all. That was Diamond Teague's obit.
Not a word about his work for the Earth's Conservation
Corps. Not a word.
It was left to his friends to tell the world
about Diamond Teague. One of them explained
to us that they wanted people to know that
just because a black man gets killed in the
Southeast corner of the nation's capitol, "he's not just
a drug dealer or gang banger…and not just discount him as nobody when
he deserves for people to know him and to know his life."
They made a video - you can see part of it
in our documentary. They turned out for his
funeral in uniform. They wept and prayed for
their fallen friend. And then they went back
to work, on a dusty patch of land squeezed
between two factories that they envisioned
as a park. "We see the bigger picture," one of
Diamond's friends told us. "All great things have to start in roughness.
We're just at the beginning of something that's gonna be beautiful."
They've said they would call it the Diamond
Teague Memorial Park, in honor of their friend
who was trying to save an endangered river
and neighborhood but couldn't save himself.
On that fleck of land, where anything beautiful
must be born in roughness, they see "the bigger picture."
Just blocks away, at opposite end of Pennsylvania
Avenue, in the White House and the Capitol,
the blind lead the blind, on one more march
of folly.
Who is left to open the eyes of the country
- to tell Americans what is happening? "There
is no one left; none but all of us."
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