WHERE WE ALL LIVE

Let's Get Serious About Beating The Scourge Of Drugs

Residents of Asheville and surrounding communities may not realize that
they live in one of the safest areas in America. Our violent-crime rate is
fully one-third lower than the statewide average and even further below the
national average. Those are impressive statistics, and our police, district
attorney, courts, educators and employers all deserve our gratitude -- as
does the community at large.

Our city's crime numbers tell us we're doing a good job; but as with all
things human, there are deeper truths here that aren't so readily expressed
by a flow chart, graph or statistic. Consider the following poem, written
by a fourth-grader living in one of Asheville's public-housing
developments. This young lady gives us an anguished glimpse into the harsh
reality of the crime that we do have and the lives on which this dark
shadow falls:

Where I Live

Where I live is a dangerous place. It's not a safe place where children can
play. There's shooting everywhere. When children get scared, they run under
their beds and tables and hide in their closets.

I hate where I live. It's not a safe place to stay. If you go out there,
You'll probably fade away.

Public housing is just that -- housing that is partially supported by
public funds. But that doesn't mean the residents should have to live in
fear, shame or isolation. No Asheville neighborhood, whether publicly
supported or not, should be a place where such poems can bloom in the mind
of a child. Despite our clear successes in containing crime, however,
public-housing developments and other neighborhoods remain where hard-drug
users and dealers continue to poison our city like a toxic waste.

The APD estimates that 80 percent of the local crime we have is directly or
indirectly related to drugs. The majority of the problems we see in our
city schools can be traced to the impact of homes where drug users
undermine the growth, happiness and hope of their children -- and thus
affect all of our children. If your car or home is broken into, if a child
is abused or neglected, if someone is murdered, if a spouse is beaten or a
neighborhood blighted, the odds are that drugs are lurking in the
background somewhere, calling the shots.

For too long, we as a culture have simply accepted as inevitable the damage
drugs inflict on our cities and their people. We have called it "war" but
failed to give our law-enforcement professionals the weapons they need to
strike at the heart of the drug problem. We were right about the need for a
war but wrong in our choice of battle plan. Because we will never win, or
even come close, unless we more realistically address -- right here at home
- -- where the money comes from and where the drugs go to. Who's funding the
drug trade, and who's consuming its devastating wares? This is everybody's
problem, and coming to grips with it will require the entire community's
diligence, persistence and compassion.

In his autobiography, Theodore Roosevelt observed, "The one thing which
corrupt machine politicians most desire is to have decent men frown on the
activity, that is, efficiency, of the honest man who genuinely wishes to
reform politics." And in our fight against hard-drug use today, a shift
from paralysis and ineffectiveness toward decency and efficiency is long
overdue. Those who traffic in hard drugs are counting on us to continue our
long-standing pattern of mustering a short-lived enthusiasm during times of
crisis that gives way to indifference as the need for protracted hard work
becomes clear. Drug dealers applaud those who protect the predator rather
than the victims, as well as those who cling to the comfort of the status
quo rather than embracing the hopes and possibilities that might inspire us
to try to find a better way. We must do everything we can to disappoint
those who ruthlessly prey on our community.

To our credit, we have already begun. Our city leaders are uniting in an
increasingly realistic approach to drug policy. Our police are stepping up
with an enduring commitment to authentic public safety in all our
neighborhoods. And as a community, we're beginning to get the message that
we can ignore our brothers' plight for only so long before -- in one form
or another -- it comes knocking on our door.

Enforcement alone won't do the job, but it is certainly the place to start.
Nothing good happens in a place where people aren't safe. Right now, that
little girl and many like her aren't safe, and we shouldn't rest until
she's writing poems expressing joyful optimism and the visions of a young
mind unbridled by fear and dread.

If we choose to turn away, it will be to our shame. But we're betting on
human decency and the firm belief that there are enough good people
willing, instead, to turn toward the shadows and proclaim with a common
voice, "Enough!"