By LESLIE MILLER
Contributing Writer

In the aftermath of last year’s horrible wind storm that left so many of us quite literally in the dark, there also came some clarity. On one hand, there was an outpouring of generosity. In my Southeast neighborhoods I saw people helping one another, sharing resources, checking on older residents or those with little ones. I also saw people who became more narrowly focused, bent on their own survival. Some of it I attribute to the behavior any disaster evokes: People either become more generous than usual, or less so.

I was surprised at the very different attitudes people held about whether or not help was on its way. Some, like me, were on the phone the second they lost power while others told me, “I don’t know who to call,” or “Why call? It won’t do any good.” I see this difference as the natural outcome when some people are enfranchised and others are accustomed to waiting, to being last in line. In short, this part was about expectations, and entitlement.

As wild as it was, I won’t remember 2006 as the Year of the Great Wind Storm. For me, 2006 will be forever imprinted in my memory as the Year of Community Renewal. I am president of the Southeast District Council, an umbrella group of community organizations, and we agreed to take the idea of community renewal out to the people of Southeast Seattle. Community renewal is a state law that local jurisdictions may use in economically disadvantaged areas to spur growth, including the possible use of eminent domain. There’s much more to it than that, but the idea was to have a conversation about the current status of the Rainier Valley and of its future; to ask how we might exert some community control over development as it unfolds; to ask how we could get businesses people wanted to see without losing the current population.

Would community renewal solve all these issues? Absolutely not. But part of the conversation was to think of what could. Part of the point was to include those who usually never get asked. That was the idea.

What happened I won’t detail here. You may have read about the ugly fights, the outcry, and the yelling. You may have read the rumors and misinformation; you might not know about the personal attacks. Regardless, let’s just say it went badly. For many reasons, the conversation, the dialog that was supposed to take place, did not happen. More than not engaging in a dialogue, there were some who drew battle lines; at a time when Southeast needs community engagement the most, people were instead divided. The discussion around community renewal was just that, a discussion. At no point did legislation exist nor was the City Council involved. Every part of the proposal was up for debate, including eminent domain. In truth, I was one of those people who had ambivalent feelings about the plan as proposed, but I thought it was an interesting starting point, and I was eager to see what our community came up with.

Many people heard or thought differently, heard or were told the City was coming knocking, ready to take their property. There is a distinct difference between discussing a possibility and responding to a certainty. As with the wind storm, in a crisis people either become more generous or less so. The misinformation, and a long Southeast legacy of being used and treated badly, generated understandable fear, and some responded in kind, as though they were being threatened. But part of the response, and the worst outcome of turning a conversation into a war, lays in that second lesson that the wind storm taught me, the one about expectations and entitlement.

Those in Southeast who have all the City Council members on speed dial have nothing to lose in shutting down the conversation. The people who know the system, who know who to call and when, who expect results from their actions because of their entitlement, know full well only they win when we maintain the status quo. Because those who stand to lose the most still won’t ask for help. Maybe because they simply don’t know who to call, or maybe because they don’t expect action if they do. What I know for certain is when the community turned on itself in Southeast, we simply confirmed that no one will listen.

For many reasons, the conversation didn’t take place the first time around. But for many of the same reasons, it’s imperative the conversation begins now. Let’s take community renewal out of it, and begin working to renew our faith and trust in community. Only then will we be prepared when the next storm hits.

Leslie Miller is president of the Southeast District Council, a group of neighborhood associations, business organizations, and nonprofits active in Columbia City, Rainier Beach, Seward Park, and other Southeast Seattle neighborhoods.