In Anne Arundel, constituents teach Pittman lesson
I know of few politicians who openly admitted they were wrong, unless you count the ones who were the subject of presentencing reports.
Pardon the generality, but I believe it’s true. Rather than express regrets, elected officials — as well as a certain member of the Angelos family of Baltimore — are more likely to double down and fight, even if the fight seems stupid. With hyper partisanship in abundance and shamelessness in short supply, admitting a mistake in public is considered weakness. A politician who reflects on a defeat and says he learned something from it? That’s rare.
But that’s what Steuart Pittman, the Anne Arundel County executive, offered this week, after he lost a battle to help the nonprofit Chesapeake Conservancy establish an office on waterfront land near Annapolis. It was an object lesson for any county executive: If you want something that’s potentially controversial, you have to lay the groundwork and do some serious explaining; you should assume that the most well-intentioned endeavor will offend somebody; and it’s not a good idea to criticize people who are probably on your side in the long term.
Starting a few years ago, the Chesapeake Conservancy worked toward establishing a center on 19 acres of waterfront woodlands adjacent to Quiet Waters Park, south of Annapolis. The county’s $8 million purchase of the land in 2019 constituted an expansion of the popular park and, importantly, it kept developers from building expensive homes there.
The county agreed to lease five acres of the land to the conservancy. The original plan called for converting a farmhouse and some buildings to the conservancy’s use. But those buildings were damaged by fire and harsh weather, so the conservancy made plans for a new building.
The organization cobbled together funds for the project, a large piece of it from the family of Jim and Sylvia Earl. The center, at about 8,200 square feet, would be called the Earl Conservation Center. Pittman, who as a candidate promised a greener, smarter development plan for the county, supported the project.
But opposition grew strong over the fall and early winter. Several neighbors and friends of Quiet Waters opposed an office building on public parkland. Word spread on social media; comments about the size and location of the proposed center heightened opposition.
Pittman and Lisa Rodvien, a member of the County Council, co-authored an op-ed about Quiet Waters that the Capital Gazette published on Jan. 15. While the article described the conservancy’s plans and their potential benefit, it was not enough to counter the opposition.
Though the county had posted notice of the proposal and held at least one public meeting, supporters of Quiet Waters accused county leaders of a lack of transparency. Last Friday, opponents of the project gathered for a meeting. Pittman dropped in and was “booed off the stage,” according to a letter he wrote to county residents.
That letter went out by email on Tuesday because of something Pittman tweeted on Monday, and what he tweeted on Monday was a testy reaction to what had happened on Sunday: The board of the Chesapeake Conservancy, after consulting with the Earl family, pulled out of the project, citing the opposition.
“I am very disappointed,” Pittman tweeted, “that [the conservancy’s] outstanding work to create the Earl Conservation Center was met with such vitriol by nearby residents, leaving the Conservancy no choice but to direct its efforts elsewhere … I am saddened that … online attacks on the organization and its director left the board with no appetite to continue.”
So Pittman, a progressive Democrat, was angry with people who wanted to preserve open space and keep an office building, even one operated by a conservation organization, off public land. The county executive seemed to be criticizing his own constituency: They opposed something he wanted, something well-intentioned. How dare they!
Pittman took some heat for his comments and his attitude. The next day he essentially admitted to a bad take.
“My reaction on Monday was different from the way I have governed,” he wrote in his weekly letter to citizens. “I was angry. My public statement focused on the opponents’ tactics. I wrote a very different version of this letter that I’ve since deleted, and I ‘went off ’ at a staff meeting.
“I was slipping,” he added. “I could feel myself drifting off the path that had served me so well. I was seeing the conservation center opponents who had booed me off the stage as the bad guys, the ‘I got mine and don’t want to share’ group, rather than as individual people who were acting on the information in front of them with goals not that different from mine.”
People in public life, even when pressed, seldom share this kind of insight or admit they were wrong. Judging from comments in social media, Pittman’s Tuesday candor appears to have been well received — certainly better than the reaction to his Monday tweets.
According to Pittman, a man who opposed the conservation center told him that no one had explained the value of it — how it would fit into the mission of environmental protection. “He noted that my statement in support of the project hadn’t helped,” Pittman said, essentially admitting that he just hadn’t made the case for the place. “Lesson learned.”
A politician reflects on a defeat and says he learned something from it. Imagine that.