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Trapped and torn
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Dec. 3, 1999 |
My thoughts, as I nervously realized that I was not going to be able to exit this intersection without some kind of confrontation, were not about world trade, or the environment, or about how I was going to get to the meetings I was scheduled to attend. My thought, instead, was this: What kind of shitty mother am I to let myself get into a jam like this? Also Today Wild in the streets The three horsemen of globalization The great straddler I work for the U.S. Department of the Interior because of a deep and hard- wired love of nature. I spent my childhood summers near the tidal bays of New Jersey, where my mother and father taught me celestial navigation and drop-lining for blue-claw crabs. I was the New Jersey press secretary for Bill Clinton's 1992 presidential campaign, having joined the effort because I was appalled by what the Bush administration was doing to clean-air regulations. I came to Washington to work for Bruce Babbitt, the secretary of the interior, partly because he was a card-carrying member of the League of Conservation Voters. True, the Interior Department hasn't always had much to do with world trade. But now, with the satellite-quick speed of globalization, we have to make sure that migratory birds, endangered butterflies, national parks and the people who love them are represented at these trade negotiations. So I was dispatched as the leader of a lonely delegation of two, to begin our department's nascent presence in WTO trade talks. This was only the third time in four years that I had been away from home for more than one night. I've got two curly-headed babies there, one recently emergent from toddlerhood, one just about to dive in. There has to be a pretty good reason for me to leave them: a romantic anniversary weekend away with my husband, for example; increased globalization of world trade, for another. I've always liked how my work on the environment is another way of taking care of my kids. I wipe their noses; I chop broccoli into microscopic pieces and hide it in macaroni and cheese; I push for a permanent source of funding to purchase more parks and wildlife refuges. All in a day's work. But these threads of my life got somewhat tangled in the streets of Seattle. Shortly before 7 a.m. I walked to the Westin Hotel, where the U.S. delegation held its morning briefing for members. Afterward, several of us walked across the street to a Starbucks (I know, I know) and sat down with coffee and food. Soon after, the capped boys ran past, pounding the windows of the coffee shop and spattering the door with lapis-colored paintballs. One opened the doors and yelled inside. " Join the people, goddamn it!" I was slightly stunned. I agreed with these people: There needs to be
more openness in the proceedings; there needs to be more care taken with
protection of the environment. That's why I came here -- to change the rules. I have, after all, been speaking for the trees for a while now. I've even got a environmentalist husband who favors tactics similar to those erupting around me. But here I was, for all the world just another suit sipping rain-forest- | ||||
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