SATURDAY, MARCH 27, 2021
Baker City, Oregon
4A
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EDITORIAL
Baker City’s flawed COVID-19 resolution
Resolution 3881, which the Baker City
Council passed by a 5-2 vote on Tuesday,
March 23, cites the economic and social
damage resulting from Oregon Gov. Kate
Brown’s executive orders during the
pandemic.
Businesses have suffered. So have
students. So too some seniors and others
who have spent so much of the past year
alone. Criminal suspects who normally
would have been detained for at least a
night or two in the Baker County Jail
have instead been cited and released due
to limits on occupancy to reduce the risk
of the virus spreading in that confi ned
setting. Not all of these resulted directly
from Brown’s decisions, but all refl ect the
atmosphere prevailing in Oregon.
The City Council reasonably questions
whether the governor has recognized the
vastly different situations between rural
areas such as Baker City and, say, the
Portland metro area.
The City Council made a similar
point earlier this month when it voted
to send a letter, written by Councilor
Jason Spriet, to the governor chastising
her and other state offi cials for failing to
consider the opinions of local offi cials in
setting regulations during the pandemic.
Resolution 3881, however, is a much
less focused, and thus fl awed, document.
The resolution, drafted by Mayor
Kerry McQuisten in consultation with
City Manager Jon Cannon and the city’s
attorney, rather than focusing solely on
Brown’s orders and their harmful effects,
and advocating for fi nancial and regu-
latory relief for struggling businesses,
also implies that COVID-19’s danger is
exaggerated. The resolution, though it
concedes that the virus is contagious,
goes on to state that “contagious viruses
do exist in the world.”
Indeed they do. But what’s the point of
noting the obvious? Has any other virus
caused or contributed to the deaths of
more than half a million Americans in
little more than a year?
The resolution: “COVID-19 is over-
whelmingly survivable and lockdowns
do not stop its spread.”
The second part of that sentence is a
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention
A depiction of a coronavirus particle.
legitimate point, and one that relates
directly to the issue of whether Brown’s
executive orders have all been necessary.
The fi rst part, however defensible statis-
tically, is cold comfort to the loved ones of
the 12 Baker County residents who have
died after testing positive for the virus.
Downplaying the danger of COVID-19
is to be expected in a partisan political
screed, but it is wholly inappropriate for
a resolution purporting to represent all
Baker City residents.
The resolution notes that “our local
hospital and health care system are not
overwhelmed with COVID cases, and
never have been.” This is disingenuous,
and another misguided attempt to por-
tray the pandemic as a minor medical is-
sue. County offi cials have said that most
local residents who contracted the virus
and needed treatment, including ventila-
tors, have been sent to a Boise hospital.
The relatively minor effect COVID-19
has had on the local health care system
refl ects not that the virus is benign, as
the resolution implies, but that it is, for
some, dangerous enough to require a
higher level of care.
Rather than focusing solely on restric-
tions the governor has imposed — deci-
sions that have signifi cantly harmed the
local economy and residents — the reso-
lution also delves into the issue of face
masks. The resolution claims Brown’s
“lockdown and masking mandates” —
the former having a much more direct,
and harmful, effect on businesses — “are
actively creating division and unrest
with the increased potential of physical
violence within our community as those
of one opinion are encouraged by it to
impose their opinions over the free will
of those of another in a physical way ...”
The issue of masks is a divisive one,
to be sure. But the resolution offers no
evidence of resulting violence except
the “potential” for such. Moreover, the
resolution, which in an earlier clause
states that “we do believe our citizens
are fully capable of making their private,
individual healthcare and lifestyle deci-
sions themselves” now implies that some
of those citizens, due to mask mandates,
might not be able to resist the urge to
commit physical violence. Unless we’re to
believe the only people likely to get rough
are those who wear masks and are mad
at those who don’t. Which is farcical.
This isn’t the only unclear or inconsis-
tent clause in the resolution. It also states
that “we believe in the kindness, compas-
sion and common sense of our citizens
and businesses to help protect the most
fragile and susceptible in our communi-
ty.” The overwhelming consensus of medi-
cal experts is that wearing face masks,
in certain situations, is an effective way
to reduce the likelihood of spreading the
virus. It’s fair to call mask wearing, to
borrow from the resolution, both “com-
mon sense” and a way to “protect the
most fragile and vulnerable.” Yet the
resolution attacks “masking mandates”
as being divisive, without acknowledging
their medical benefi ts.
The fi nal “whereas” clause in the
resolution features a selection of famous
quotes from American founding fathers.
This is standard fare, of course, in docu-
ments alleging that the government is
infringing on citizens’ rights. But the
inclusion of Patrick Henry’s “give me
liberty or give me death” vow is curious
in this context. Do the fi ve councilors
who voted for the resolution believe their
constituents, including those who have
been infected with COVID-19, must
choose between total rejection of the
governor’s orders, and untimely death?
The very traits that the resolution touts
in local residents — “compassion” and
“kindness” — are the ones that refl ect
our willingness to take temporary steps,
including the trifl ing matter of occasional
mask wearing, to reduce the risk to those
for whom this virus is dangerous.
The resolution has a more promising
conclusion, in part. It states that the city
will support fi nancial reparations for
businesses, and back ballot initiatives to
limit the governor’s emergency pow-
ers. The former, in particular, is vital to
economic recovery, and something the
Council is right to advocate for.
Yet the fi nal clause is another exagger-
ated statement that serves no purpose
except to infl ame. “The City recognizes
the citizenry of Baker City are free, sover-
eign individuals within a Constitutional,
Representative Republic, not subjects or
slaves, and will be recognized as such as
we fi rmly stand to represent them.”
Invoking slavery in this context not
only refl ects the hollowness of the argu-
ment, but it detracts from the admirable
aspects of the resolution.
— Jayson Jacoby, Baker City Herald editor
Your views
Arkansas resident keeps track of about but very few actually attempt. I hope
what’s going on in Baker City
the community will embrace that and get
I’m Charlie Carpenter and I live in Arkan-
sas but I’ve visited Baker City many times.
I keep an eye on things on social media
and I’ve noticed a few things I really like.
I saw that the police department was
seeking input from the public on things they
perceived as opportunities for improvement.
I think that’s really cool!
I also noticed the new mayor has em-
braced a level of transparency politicians talk
involved with the council.
I love the historic downtown area. I hope
people in those businesses have survived the
craziness of the pandemic.
We don’t have that kind of downtown
area where I live and I hope everyone there
realizes how special it is and pulls together to
make sure it’s not lost.
Charlie Carpenter
Springdale, Arkansas
Stuck in a snowbound cabin with the flies
For the fi rst time in my relatively
uneventful life I was truly enter-
tained by the chance to smash a fl y
with a rolled up magazine.
I have in the past felt a certain
smug satisfaction after dispatching
a bug that had been dive-bombing
my eyes for 10 minutes.
And I have on occasion been
frustrated by my failure to deliver
a conclusive whack to an unusually
nimble insect.
But I had not previously watched
a fl y, banging repeatedly against a
window pane in the mindless man-
ner typical of the species, and felt
relieved of the burden of boredom.
I am ashamed to admit this.
Not because I’m leery about
confessing to insecticide.
I’m embarrassed because the
source of my excitement about the
appearance of that single fl y was
the absence of the digital entertain-
ment to which I am accustomed.
No internet.
No television.
My cellphone was as useful as a
two-wheel drive pickup in a mud
bog.
This ought not have bothered
me.
Or at least not to the point that
I leaped with glee from my chair
when I noticed the fl y.
We had rented this rustic cabin
in the woods fully cognizant that
JAYSON
JACOBY
it was as thoroughly analog as the
one-barrel carburetor in a lawn-
mower.
The prospect was in fact enticing.
We would spend a winter night
in the Malheur National Forest’s
Sunshine Guard Station, along the
Middle Fork of the John Day River
about 15 miles from the nearest
gas pump and beer cooler.
We wouldn’t suffer unduly, to be
sure.
Most notably, the wooden struc-
ture has electricity.
And although the guard station
lacks running water, as frequent
campers we’re used to the minor
deprivation of an outhouse.
I thought of our weekend as an
adventure, but one rather more
comfortable than a backpacking
trip or even a couple of nights in
our toilet-less pop up trailer.
No tent poles to fumble with, for
one thing.
Also, comfortable seats and
reliable heating (although I would
have preferred to burn tamarack
rather than kilowatts; alas, the
guard station has electric heaters
in place of a woodstove or fi replace).
We brought our snowshoes and
planned to explore the area during
daylight.
I had one book in progress, and
a second ready in case I made it
through the fi rst.
As the weekend approached —
my wife, Lisa, reserved the guard
station about a month earlier — I
daydreamed occasionally. I con-
ceived the classic scene of the city-
dweller, imagined myself sitting
in a comfortable chair, watching
snowfl akes swirl outside, a mug of
hot cocoa within easy reach.
This wasn’t a fantasy.
Not completely, anyway.
Late on Saturday afternoon,
after we had hiked the road behind
the guard station and snowshoed
for a piece on another road up the
river some miles, I was indeed sit-
ting in a chair.
But rather than feeling cozy and
satisfi ed, as I watched the light
leak out of the day and smelled
the potato soup simmering on the
stove, I was a trifl e bored.
Perhaps more than a trifl e.
I would read a few pages but
instead of settling into the book, as
I usually do at home, sometimes
for the better part of an hour, my
attention would waver.
Except it was the absence of out-
side stimulation that kept distract-
ing me, not its presence.
I found this passing strange, and
not a little exasperating.
With no television blaring, no
promise of a basketball game to
watch or favorite movie to revisit,
no website or weather forecast to
peruse on my phone, I should have
smoothly lost myself in the story I
was reading, only to realize later, as
I looked at the dark windows, that
the sun had set.
And a fi ne story it was — “Burn-
ing Fence,” the compelling nonfi c-
tion book by renowned Oregon
novelist Craig Lesley.
Yet I couldn’t get comfortable.
With hindsight I suspect the
problem was the pressure that
a person sometimes feels when
a long-anticipated event fi nally
arrives. It is much the same with
a vacation — you feel compelled to
make the experience not merely
memorable but transcendent,
having toiled so long to make it
possible.
Yet the burden, almost always, is
too great, the expectations unrea-
sonable.
That perfect Currier and Ives
tableau I had created in my mind,
for instance, surpassed the reality,
as I suppose I knew it would.
There were no snowfl akes, for
one thing.
Also, the guard station, lacking a
woodstove to perfume the air with
pine, actually smelled more like a
place that has been indifferently
maintained and is rarely aired
out. The potato soup couldn’t quite
overcome this slightly unpleasant
scent.
Still and all, as the evening went
on and I began to feel sleepy, there
were moments when the real expe-
rience seemed familiar, resembling
the idyllic scene I had envisioned
over the past month.
In particular I reveled in the
silence.
I don’t mean that the cabin was
quiet.
With a 9-year-old boy and his
13-year-old sister around, true
silence was as improbable as my
learning even the basics of calculus.
Besides which, the fans from the
electric heaters purred constantly.
What I noticed, and appreciated,
was the complete absence of city
sounds. No obnoxious burbling
from a passing car with an exhaust
system held together by rust and
optimism. No slamming doors. No
blaring train whistles.
Just the great silence of the deep
woods.
And an occasional buzzing fl y to
get me out of my chair.
Jayson Jacoby is editor
of the Baker City Herald.