I tend to shy away from politics. Partially because it's uncomfortable. And partially because I'm not really that knowledgeable about most things, despite what my tweed blazer and blue light glasses might communicate otherwise. But when it comes to the Black Oak Savanna on the land belonging to the former South Bend Motor Speedway...
...well, that's something I know about.
More than a hundred years ago, the Grand Kankakee Marsh called Indiana its home, sprouting thousands of unique species within its singularly unique environment. There was nothing else like it in the world, and now that it's gone, there is nothing like it left. Among the many treasures lost to the evisceration of the marsh were the largest oak savannas in the world.
Oak savannas like the remnant of the one at the Speedway used to rule over the Midwest. Now they are among the most threatened ecosystems on the planet. Our portion of the continent used to be covered by 50 million acres of these savannas. Now there are fewer than 30,000 remaining.
That's less than one tenth of one tenth of one percent and it's a tragedy.
It's a more unique environment than you'd think. Prickly pear cactus, which is native to northern Indiana, are only found in oak savannas around these parts. It's not the plant you probably associated with savannas (or with a marsh), but it's real, and it's an example of another fascinating uniqueness we stand to lose.
The land behind the Speedway represents some of the final crumbs of the Kankakee Marsh, and now there is actually a discussion about whether or not we should make those crumbs go away too, all so we can put an auto scrapyard in their place.
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I've heard it said that those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it, but the cynical part of me tends to think that we do know our history and that we just repeat it anyway.
But just in case you're unaware, here's what happened here once before:
The Swampland Acts of 1849 and 1850 transferred control of localized swamplands from the federal government to the states. That was the beginning of the end. Efforts to dredge the Kankakee River began shortly thereafter. The idea was to straighten the path of the river to create more space for farmland. Evidently, some asshole looked at a map of Indiana and decided there wasn't enough room in the state to plant corn.
Typically, when man tries to redirect the course of nature, it ends in different degrees of unplanned disaster, but not this time. This disaster was entirely planned. They knew what they were doing, and they did it anyway. It is not wrong, nor is it hyperbole, to suggest that the dredging of the Grand Kankakee Marsh was an ecological genocide.
Now we're back here again, conversating in council meetings about whether or not we should willfully destroy something unique, something important, something beautiful.
(For the record, I think we shouldn't.)
But I have a different plea for the politicians who will ultimately vote on the measure, the ones who hold a power here that is greater than even they understand. My plea for the Council is this:
When you vote, vote honestly. And when you're done voting, tell the truth about what you just did. If you choose not to protect this habitat, tell your donors, your constituents, and especially your grandchildren that you knew there was something wonderful and entirely irreplaceable here and that you decided willfully to destroy it anyway.
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