Letters to the Editor; A couple of lessons

A COUPLE OF LESSONS

Every once in a while, when I was in the Montana legislature, I would make it a point to spend time with someone—usually a legislator--that I didn’t really like. It was sort of an experiment to see if I was justified in my opinion or if I was missing something about them that would change my mind. I thought it was a good thing to do, and sometimes I found a new friend.

For two years I was a member of a committee that was studying Montana’s State Parks system with the hopes of finding ways to improve what was then a Montana treasure that was getting to look a little shabby. About every two months we traveled to a different part of Montana to look at the parks there, and listen to what the public and the park managers had to say.

On one occasion we were in Glasgow and travelling by road to Glendive. One of the members, who had a ranch in the Big Open country, told us that he had an Indian battlefield on his ranch, which was not far out of the way, and if we liked he would take us to it on our way to Glendive. We took him up on it, and I elected to ride with him because—well, maybe I was missing something. He and I had interacted for a long time, and frankly, it hadn’t been friendly.

We drove a longish stretch of highway and then turned off on a series of gravel roads that led to his ranch and the battlefield. As we drove along, I was looking out the window and liked what I saw; not just the country, but the rangeland was in good shape and obviously cared for. I asked him if this was his range—yes it was—and told him how impressed I was with it. He said, “Well, I have the luxury of not having to overgraze it.”

Those few words spoke volumes to me. He was not, by any stretch of the imagination, an “environmentalist”, nor did he have much time or patience with environmentalists or their beliefs; in fact, he could be downright hostile about them. But what he said immediately told me that he was a steward of the land, and knew a heck of a lot more about environmentalism—at least on his property-- than I would have ever given him credit for. I knew, too, that I had misjudged him greatly.

He and I belonged to different political parties, and had gone after each other from time to time in the Legislature; there was no love lost between us. But when we put politics aside that day and interacted as ranchers, and not politicians, we were able to become friends. And we remained friends, even though we still had differing views and we still fought each other’s legislation; only now we didn’t fight each other.

So the lesson I learned that day was that there are a lot of people who are already doing the right thing, but they will buck anyone who tells them how to do it.

And there is another, even greater lesson here, namely that is important to respect people on the other side of the aisle, no matter how much you disagree with them. This is what has been lost because of term limits—limiting the number of years a person can serve in office. It takes a long time to build relationships across party lines in the legislature. It took me quite a while to understand how important that was, but it is the most vital of the rules that govern formal groups that make decisions, like the Legislature. It is a simple rule that is often hard to achieve; you argue about an opinion, not with the person who holds it. That rule is thousands of years old, but it needs to be discovered anew by elected officials time and time again. And every time a person discovers it, it is theirs forever. But most importantly, it is good for the people who put you there.