Two Tuesdays ago, professor George Wright's students interviewed me at the University of Wisconsin-Superior, where I've thoroughly enjoyed teaching for six years. The hourlong video interview was on citizenship.
As it turned out, it was a fortuitous day for me to consider citizenship.
I was in the midst of jury selection that same day.
Allegations required 40 residents of southern St. Louis County to be summoned to my courtroom to participate in the
criminal-justice system. It was an obligation, not a duty, for these folks to make their way from Meadowlands and Floodwood and Proctor and Lakewood and Hermantown and the farthest reaches of Duluth to the St. Louis County Courthouse.
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An obligation is something a citizen is required to do, something he or she must do. Reporting for jury duty is like paying taxes, registering for the draft and obeying the law. Failure to respond to a jury summons can result in a finding of contempt by the court, culminating in time behind bars. But it's been my experience over the 15 years I've been on the bench that when folks are asked to fulfill their obligation to serve on a jury they show up. Their willingness to sit in judgment of another person for 10 bucks a day is, to me, an example of citizenship with a small "c."
That Tuesday also was Election Day.
There were no national or statewide races to draw crowds to the polls, just quiet, local contests for School Board and City Council and county commissioner. In my neck of the woods, Fredenberg Township, there was only one item on the ballot: a nearly $50 million bond issue for the Hermantown school district. My wife Rene' (who served on the Hermantown School Board for 15 years) and I have lived in the district for 30 years. We've voted for most every improvement requested for the schools. But last time out I voted against the bond issue proposed by the Hermantown Board of Education. The details of the plan were sketchy and the costs were high. So, for the first time that I can remember, I voted against suggested improvements for our local schools. I wasn't alone: The proposal failed by a margin of about 80 percent to 20 percent.
This time, from all walks of life, from every corner of the Hermantown school district, and from the extreme edges of the modern political spectrum, folks came together to promote the idea that the Hermantown schools are small, tired, unhealthy, and in need of replacement and upgrade. Hundreds of residents turned out at focus meetings to streamline the proposal so it was palatable to taxpayers. Those same citizens, recognizing a duty to their kids and grandkids, went door-to-door to explain the financial import of the bond issue. And, on Election Day, they stood with their children and grandchildren at virtually every intersection in the Hermantown school district waving signs and urging their fellow citizens to vote yes.
These residents of the Hermantown school district were not obligated to champion the bond issue. They were fulfilling a perceived duty. As I explain to members of Boy Scout Troop 106 (where I am the citizenship merit badge counselor), a duty is something you feel you should do, not something you are obligated to do. That's what was going on in Hermantown on Election Day: good folks exercising citizenship by completing a duty they felt they owed to the next generation.
As I spoke to professor Wright's students, the jurors who showed up to fulfill their obligation and the residents of the Hermantown school district who worked to fulfill their perceived duty were in my thoughts.
Most often, public discussions about citizenship center on Citizenship with a big "C." National politicians have spent the past decade debating what to do about the 12 million undocumented immigrants living in America, how those folks may obtain big "C" Citizenship. We forget that every day, all across this great democracy of ours, folks from all walks of life pay their taxes, serve in the military, walk police beats, respond to emergencies, show up for jury duty, vote, volunteer at food shelves and shelters, and yes, take on public causes dear to their hearts. These folks, like the jurors who showed up and like the residents of the Hermantown school district who worked on the recent bond issue, are living examples of citizenship with a small "c."
That was the gist of my videotaped ramblings: Citizenship is far more than a piece of paper that says you have a right to be here.
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Mark Munger is a state district court judge in Duluth, the author of nine books and the owner of Cloquet River Press who currently is teaching environmental law at the University of Wisconsin-Superior.
