What Very Few Tennessee Legislators Understand
An Open Letter to Tennessee's Legislators in 2016
I recently realized that I've behaved like Facebook long before there was a Facebook.
For decades. one of my strengths as a consultant was that I read books, articles, reports and used what I learned to teach others. Every time I discovered something new, something exciting, I reached out to others to share the knowledge and the joy. Some things are just too cool to keep inside. Even now I still share what I find in hopes that it helps whoever it touches.
Today, I'm thinking about legacy, and I'm sharing it with Tennessee legislators because it seems like many don't consider legacy in their deliberation process.
So, Mr. and Ms. Public Official, I offer you the following:
Consider the legacy of your 2016 decisions from a 2036 perspective
It's New Year's Eve, 2035.
You're hosting the family at home, when two of your grandchildren find you sipping a brandy in the library. They are cousins, each on break from their university studies. Curious as they are about their grandparent's achievements as a former legislator, they ask you what your legacy was, through your eyes.
You motion them to sit in the comfortable high back chairs. They wait patiently as you gather your thoughts.
Back then, you had some decisions to make that impacted the whole state. You knew in 2016 that that rural communities were at economic risk. Counties you represented were becoming increasingly less competitive for lack of broadband and high speed internet. You knew, for example, that Joyce Coltrin's business, J and J Nursery in Cleveland, is losing its competitive edge for lack of internet. Or, that just down the street from the nursery, Glenda Sink lost her job as a medical transcriptionist because all that work is now done online and her internet connection could not keep up. (They may not have been your constituents but you had plenty just like them.)
Some of your peers knew, too. Like Senator Frank Niceley, who has internet at his office in Nashville but none when he's home in his district in Jefferson County.
You knew that, just like every other elected official, your own constituents faced the same issues. You knew that some 30% of students in the public schools in your district didn't have access to internet in their homes, and that it put them at a disadvantage in their studies. In turn, that made them less attractive to employers and you knew how many prospective large employers looked at the state as a place to establish new facilities – and passed for lack of skilled workers and broadband. You knew because your own constituents made a point to tell you.
And, you also knew why things were like they were. You know that at the time the leading providers, AT&T, Comcast and others simply did not want to run fiber optic lines to those communities because it cut into their profits. You remember the lobbyists, who told you that their clients, the ones who made donations to your campaign coffers, wanted to cherry pick the best opportunities and were pretty open on two points: they wanted to go where the money is, they didn't want to go where the money isn't – and they surely didn't want anyone else to go there, either. It did not escape you that this same model defined the operations of the Mafia.
As you think back, you recall that in 1999 some communities fought for, and got, legislation that
permitted the state's electric utilities to offer broadband and high speed internet to their customers – but just to their customers. You remember how ticked off the big donors were, and you were happy that they accepted the loss, even though they didn't like it.
You remember how Comcast sued Chattanooga over it, and lost; and that then mayor Ron Littlefield told the giants that, if they would pledge to bring fiber to all the community, the city would step aside – and they refused, saying they couldn't afford to do it. He replied, “We can't afford not to.”
Seven electric utilities stepped up and took the risk to install fiber optics, and all seven prospered while the counties around them faltered. Chattanooga added almost 3,000 new jobs in five years, many of them high tech/high pay. The city attracted some of the best and the brightest people in the nation because it was perceived as the place to be for young innovative, entrepreneurial people as well as a source for tech savvy employees.
Morristown, Tullahoma, Jackson and the rest, all experienced revitalization while the areas around them – the Jefferson and Bradley counties and others – watched. Their success proved that internet and broadband had become the next utility, something as important and as necessary as electricity and water.
Seeing the successes that the broadband communities achieved, and feeling the sting of not being able to compete, your constituents came to you and your peers and said, 'We want the same opportunity those seven have to create our own destinies.” And, that put you in a tough spot. Do you work for the benefit of your constituents, the ones whose taxes paid your salary and expenses – and covered the operating expenses of the state's infrastructures – or do you accede to the demands of the campaign donors whose interests openly conflict with the voters' needs?
So, looking back, Mr. or Ms. legislator, what is your legacy? Did you remember that one of the
responsibilities of your office was to create environments in which your constituents can succeed? Or, did you choose to go for the money, kowtow to your donors, and leave your friends, your neighbors and your fellow Tennessee citizens disadvantaged, many still without those services today?
Finally, how did you respond to your grandchildren?
I await your answer.
Joe Malgeri
Dandridge, TN
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