Government by crisis: Can we make it work for more pedestrian needs?

Crisis? What crisis?

At the risk of copyright-violating Pink Floyd (kids: ask the grandparents), the modus operandi for dealing effectively – or to be more cynical, just doing the same thing, with more expressed deep concern – now is the crisis declaration.

It happened again this past week, when the Bellingham City Council declared a crisis in opioid addiction, joining housing, homelessness and other maladies as dueling front-burner priorities — most of which too often just sit and spew smoke.

No quibble here, though; the word fits. In fact, the city seems late in joining Whatcom County, Lummi Nation and even U.S. Rep. Rick Larsen, an entrenched member of one of the least-responsive representative bodies on the planet, in essentially deeming it as such. Box checked, with good reason.

But increasingly the crisis tag seems to be seen not as end-stage for up-ramping, but a starting point for real government action. We saw that reflected in Bellingham City Council talk about the addiction crisis declaration: They made it clear they expect follow-through, not just the obligatory local signaling of virtue.

It’s clearly a broadening of a term that by the old Webster’s definition referred more to imminent threats such as rogue asteroids and troops massed along our borders. That’s OK: today’s crises are every bit as life threatening to too many in our community.

But since it’s become the method du jour of local government focus, perhaps the body politic should just embrace it, pushing for some declarative oomph for other problems that seem to merit their own attention boost.

Should we declare a local Civic Infrastructure Crisis?

Some people might think so. A growing sentiment among ‘Hamsters both old and new is that they live in a city with First World prices and Third World infrastructure. It’s not difficult to see the genesis: Just step out onto a local sidewalk or drive or cycle on a city street. Brace yourself for the look, feel — and hazardous implications — of decay.

It’s a perception, sure. But unlike many others on the political table these days, this view is at least reality-based. Even patient folks who pick up their dog poop — and, one can hope, prove capable of sorting life-threatening crises from lesser irritations — have legitimate civic expectations. From local government, they rightfully expect, if not ongoing improvements in a population-boom zone, at least adequate maintenance of the status quo.

They’re not getting that here.

City streets, buckled by wintry weather and destructive construction, have become a jumble of busted-up asphalt, tire-shredding, shock-busting potholes and rivulets, crumbling curbs and inadequate striping.

The planners on Lottie Street have amplified the effects of physical decay with their own unique cone-placement social engineering, such as installing bike lanes (a worthy goal, usually) in places where even cyclists think they’re unnecessary (see: Holly Street). In the past handful of years, any non-freeway-involved crossing of the (itself increasingly bogged down) freeway has become a daily nod to benign neglect.

A deeper dig reveals a bevy of excuses that streets aren’t maintained to the satisfaction of most. Some are legit; others are not. Most involve inadequate funding.

As a longtime observer of local process, I get this. No government should elevate concerns over convenience above public safety, for instance. But for matters of commerce, safety and civic responsibility, infrastructure matters. It is in fact a core function of local government. If representatives want to save their own electoral hides, they must learn to walk and chew civic gum at the same time.

They’re failing at this today.

Mayor Kim Lund’s “transformational” leadership goals are refreshing and promising. But their application must extend to basic meat/potatoes issues, not just high-minded social goals, or the squeaky wheels of the local zealotry machinery.

To be fair: Every one of the infrastructure challenges facing the City of Deferred Maintenance has deep roots in prior administrations. It’s a textbook history of neglect.

The mayor no more deserves blame for this than predecessors Seth Fleetwood deserved for the COVID-19 Crisis, or Dan Pike deserved for the 2008 Financial Crisis. Stuff happens.

But by grabbing the local throne, Lund, along with council members, owns it — all part of a very big, complicated job that few of us would want.

So this isn’t criticism as much as political flare-shooting, and unsolicited sharing of growing crabby sentiment: Many people see the COB as a place that simply doesn’t care about their day-to-day life needs. They see roads never fixed (literally, over a course of 20 years, in some verifiable cases), bike lanes created for imaginary hordes of year-round cyclists, replacement of neglected or structurally deficient bridges that take years in an effort to protect imaginary anadromous fish — just basic lack of hop-to attention to basic public services.

The nuts/bolts list is longer than just that: Skeptics see a city in collusion with a local garbage company with a throwback, guaranteed-profit contract, headed by an official with deep connections in city offices. Its monopoly status obviates the need for consumer-friendliness.

They fret about a pending crisis of its own in sewage and stormwater treatment, with an uncertain future, and price tag, for a revamped facility at Post Point.

All of this mixed with similar cynicism about a companion local government, the Port of Bellingham, in control of the local airport, marinas and especially the city’s central waterfront property, which has proven to be less than competent, in both structure and execution, at those tasks.

To civic boosters, these perceptions are just that, tinged with crabbiness that tends to come and go with the degree of visibility of Mount Baker. But in an age of deep government distrust, local leaders should be wary of alienating even like-minded constituents — especially for things that are fixable.

That list is long.

Ron Judd's column appears weekly; ronjudd@cascadiadaily.com; @roncjudd.