Of various complaints lodged already about Minnesota's 150th birthday -- we're not regretful enough; we're penny-pinching party poopers -- all seem to miss this important point: Given the wounds we've inflicted on the land and waters within our borders since statehood, and given that reversal of our actions seems unlikely, what will there be to celebrate the next time around, when Minnesota is 300 years old?
It's been noted here previously that 10 years -- no small fraction of the state's existence -- will have passed before the Legislature next month finally approves a constitutional amendment proposal to dedicate a fraction of the state sales tax to conservation.
Embarrassing as that is (What? Legislators didn't notice the algae-filled lakes and dirty rivers?), more embarrassing is that some of the state's so-called conservationists, having settled for morsels all these years, seem now too willing to kowtow to the Legislature still again, even on this, the eve of victory.
Thereby ensuring, over time, defeat.
At stake is an increase of 3/8 of 1 percent of the sales tax, raising some $300 million annually. A majority of people voting in November must approve the constitutionally mandated increase -- assuming, as is expected, the Legislature puts it on the ballot.
About $100 million would help conserve, enhance and refurbish fish and wildlife habitat. Another $100 million would help clean up lakes and rivers. And $100 million would be divided among parks, trails and the arts.
Enter now the aforementioned weak-kneed conservationists, some green, some hook-and-bullet, some conveniently transgender.
Ten years ago when the battle to intensify conservation in Minnesota was joined, "Missouri" was the rallying cry. In that state, a small citizens commission, operating on behalf of conservation alone, hires and fires the Department of Conservation's leader and also sets the agency's policies.