Reader Response to Jim Harper Article Published Friday. Guest Blog by Larry Perez

As a life-long resident of south Florida, I strongly empathize with Jim Harper’s frustration exhibited in the article you published Friday. I too, have watched the ceaseless succession of wetland to farmland, farmland to suburbia, and suburbia to high rise. In all directions, our horizons look dramatically different today than they did only three short decades ago. And much of the change--initiated at the expense of our natural legacy and in service to our ever-growing population--seems to have ultimately done a grave disservice to both. Glancing backwards, I deeply lament that which I never even had the opportunity to see: rapids on the Miami River, springs in Biscayne Bay, and flocks of wading birds so numerous as to block the light from the sun.

Still something about Harper’s article leaves me uneasy. Something in the tone of his message strikes discord despite my own deep sympathies. Are we really as bad as he suggests? Does he fairly remain in the lines while painting south Floridians with so broad a brush? His piece--though flecked with moments of great clarity--seems to grow discolored amidst a stew of self-righteousness and assumed superiority.

Interpreting the complex manner in which south Floridians coexist with their natural surroundings is a matter of perspective and, unfortunately, there are many perspectives that must be considered. Across all demographics and ideologies, the imperative to provide safe food and clean water is almost universally shared. But beyond that, not everyone romanticizes Old Florida as a moral imperative--the way the system “ought to be.” Not everyone laments that new species now overrun our fair state, or that manicured communities have sprouted in place of mangrove coastline, or that the Atlantic Ocean can now be viewed from the rooftops of neon-lit hotels along the shore. Amidst the many values we impart on our surroundings, not one is inherently “good” or “bad.” Rather, our perspectives are not mandates of how a system should be, but subjective expressions of how we want them to be. Exactly how our visiting journalists report on the state of south Florida, therefore, will depend entirely on the wants of those who frames the story.

 Yes, the City of Miami is crowded and desperately yearns for more green space. But take a wider view and consider this:

Thanks to the efforts of many south Floridians, Miami is now bordered by four national parks that rival the spatial equivalent of Yellowstone. And that is to say nothing of the myriad wildlife refuges, marine sanctuaries, and state preserves nearby. From such a perspective, no other municipality in the United States is so fortunate.

Yes, South Florida leaves much to be desired in mass transit, smart growth, and waste management. Still, I’ve lived here long enough to know that many in our community are transplants, transients, and snow birds. I wonder if they might concede that Miami is the antithesis of a “green city.” I would wager many return year after year because south Florida--for all its obvious flaws--is still preferable in many respects to the places from which they came. From their perspective, Miami remains a paradise--and is their view really any less valid than ours? Or are we only to pay mind to those who can properly rattle off the scientific names of our flora and fauna?

Many south Floridians may have never had the opportunity to note the difference between native and exotic plants because they live in a zero lot line home. For want of a boat, they may have never had the opportunity to become familiar with the life that dwells beneath the surface of Biscayne Bay. But because one cannot work through a taxonomic key, or differentiate between geologic formations, does it mean they are incapable of appreciating the biosphere in a way that still encourages stewardship? To assert otherwise seems awfully presumptuous to me.

And as for climate change, is it any wonder that south Floridians remain disengaged? The history of man’s presence in south Florida has always been one of constant change. The effects of fire, frost, and hurricanes have long brought bouts of large-scale disturbance that have, over time, forged in the community a stalwart resiliency. And even these natural stresses cannot hold a candle to the pace of change that south Floridians already witness daily. Yes, sea level has risen rapidly over 20cm during the last century, but skyscrapers rise and fall (in value) much faster. Should we expect all south Floridians to ascribe the same amount of concern over sea level rise when foreclosure, gentrification, or dangerous chemicals present a far more immediate threat of displacement?

Little can be accomplished by assuming we know it all and casting shame upon the masses from one’s self-appointed throne on high. Any journalist who sits across the the table from an ecologist or environmentalist will undoubtedly walk away with accounts of bitter loss and degradation to the south Florida environment, framed by nostalgia, theory, and anger. But it is my hope that our visiting journalists would be responsible enough to not simply stop there. It isn’t until you speak with a wider cross-section of our community--long-time residents, snow birds, recent immigrants, homeowners, Native Americans, etc.--that the full breadth of south Florida’s environmental story takes shape. Considering multiple perspectives in interpreting our story can inspire hope for the future and, perhaps, foster a capacity for empathy that will further steel us to meet the mounting challenges of tomorrow. Time for a new perspective.

Let’s take the opportunity next week to showcase how a diverse community can move beyond their differences to secure an environment that benefits all in the future.