A parable of sights and sound

Picture this.

You live on a pristine speck of land that fronts a picturesque bay. There are evergreen-topped islands out on the horizon and a rocky shoreline at your feet. Soft summer breezes cascade your front porch and, during the night, the only sounds you hear are the lapping of gentle waves.

Then, a powerful developer proposes to build something, right along that shoreline. It's a tower of monstrous proportions, built without concern for architectural aesthetics or protection of the scenic resources all around it. It is designed to be seen, clearly and without obstruction, for miles.

And it's lit! Of all things. The developer wants to put a giant spinning light on top of this ugly, invidious tower, so all through the darkened hours, this blast of garish luminescence would flicker across the front of your home at regular intervals. This effect would drive any sane person mad.

Then there's the sound.

On foggy nights, this terrible tower emits a low-rumble at a deafening decibel. Sleep is impossible, because the sound (and distressed anticipation of the next one) make you restless and angry. Your peaceful nights have been destroyed by this industrial, government-sanctioned monstrosity.

Sounds terrible, doesn't it? Can you imagine such an offensive intrusion that destroys precious viewsheds and does incalculable damage to local wildlife? Sure, the tower may serve an important purpose, but those who would benefit from its construction are likely from away.

There are certainly better options than building the tower. Is it necessary? Is there a clear need for this tower, or is this another shortsighted government policy that will eventually damage the local economy? Plus, who will come visit our shoreline with this awful blemish on it?

Build it somewhere else, you might say. Not here. It's neither appropriate nor fits the character of this community. The best place for this tower is up the coast a few miles, or down the coast a few miles. Right here, however, is absolutely, positively, one-hundred-and-ten-percent wrong.

Let's not forget, too, the motives of those who want to build this tower. They don't have the local community's needs at heart. We will be subsidizing others at our great expense. And on, and on, and on.

All this, over a lighthouse.

There are few parallels between lighthouses and wind turbines; they're both tall, visible and impossible and impractical to blend into the landscape. They are placed in pristine territory. Yet the lighthouse has become Maine's foremost symbol, while turbines are met — by some — with disdain.

We're not saying turbines are lighthouses. What we're saying is over the passage of time, what might be considered a crime against nature and community, can turn into something to be cherished. If a new lighthouse were proposed today, it would likely be welcomed as a blessing to a community. Could this happen someday with turbines?

Something to think about.

editorialboard@sunjournal.com