On July 26, the City and Borough of Juneau hosted a live meeting at the old Armoury because they want us to think that they care about our opinion when it comes to Telephone Hill. I had gone to the meeting in the hope of talking about alternatives to the redevelopment plan, but the general tenor was that demolition of Juneau’s important history was a foregone conclusion; it was as if Juneau didn’t really care about its own history.
Hired consultants had attendees use their cell phones to vote multiple choice on a number of possible outcomes for Juneau’s oldest homes, with anything other than redevelopment checked off as a vague “other.” The wrecking ball aimed at our history was kept hidden from view, even though it is the elephant in the room. Perhaps our local government doesn’t want us to care about our history.
Our city government seems to exist in an artificial reality, where significant structures can be easily razed, exchanged or built at the flick of a keystroke. Perhaps that is the world where administrators live, deep in the solipsism of a board room, far from the messy world the rest of us live in, where the returns predictably match the input. Meanwhile we citizens pay for things without getting a vote.
In truth, Juneau cares deeply about the very historic structures on Telephone Hill, but it doesn’t seem like our government wants to listen to what we have to say. The locals who attended the July 26 meeting include those whose friends face homelessness as a result of the project. It quickly became obvious to those present that the meeting was not an open forum for public opinion or ideas, but simply a vain overture at manufacturing consent for the demolition of Juneau’s most historically significant homes.
The true discussion about Telephone Hill has long since been concluded behind closed doors with the Juneau Assembly and the city manager. The worst part of the whole public discussion farce is that it is an expensive charade, tied in with consultants and public dignitaries, all hired out on the taxpayer dole. The fiasco of a public meeting was a continuing episode of crude armchair realpolitik from an administration that throws taxpayer money at consultancy when faced with polemic issues.
It should come as no surprise that for every dollar we pay in taxes, 12 cents goes into a black hole called government debt. The meeting was a farce, but don’t laugh: you’re paying for it.
Our government seems intent on simulating democracy with these expensive meetings and consultancies, but it’s a fake democracy that can only exist in a vacuum. Juneau does not exist in a vacuum, and thinking so has landed our city in a quagmire of debt. Even if they were to redevelop Telephone Hill, the project would beggar our city budget and possibly incur taxpayer revolt.
What Telephone Hill needs is not another expensive meeting with consultants, but the kind of sweat equity that exclusively resides in the private sector. To save our history doesn’t require a PhD or a license, but that special variety of stewardship that only comes from living and working on something that’s yours.
If our government does not want to simply give the houses to the deserving tenants who have lived there for decades, the best thing that they can do is parcel off the individual houses as separate saleable properties and auction them to private owners on the condition that they preserve the historic character of the houses they purchase. That way Juneau can be making money off the tax revenue that is coincident with home ownership instead of squandering our tax dollars on controversial projects.
• Joshua Adams is a lifelong resident of Southeast Alaska and has dedicated his life to the preservation of historic structures.
