A recent article in the Seattle Times gave me pause. Some survivors and family members of the Minidoka Japanese interment camp in a rural area of Idaho are celebrating the cancellation of a wind power project that would have been visible from the area where the camp had been. It would not have been built on the site, which is a National Historic Landmark. Rather it would have been nine miles away but visible from the site.

I have been to Minidoka. My first attempt to find it resulted in frustration. On a later road trip through southern Idaho, I made more of an effort and finally found the site. The visitor center was closed that day (it is closed most days), but it was possible to wander the area, ponder the history that led to its creation, and think of the lives of the people who had lived there. It is off the beaten path on roads used by local farmers. Little is left of the 640 structures that were hastily built to house the 13,000 Japanese American families who were uprooted and sent there – just one barrack, one mess hall, one root cellar, and a fire station. Today, most of the site is barren land. 

Japanese American opponents of the wind farm, led by the Minidoka Pilgrimage Planning Committee, objected to it because they claim the site is sacred. “Siting wind projects located in the viewshed of sacred land and over the universal objections of our community and local communities is not clean energy.” 

I fixated on the claim that the site is sacred. Mirriam Webster (online) offer these definitions: 2a worthy of religious veneration, and 2b entitled to reverence and respect. I accept that the Minidoka site is entitled to reverence and respect. But I wonder if the term “sacred” need apply to the entire “viewshed.” This project was shut down by Donald Trump via executive order supported by Republican lawmakers who object to all wind power projects, not by people who are concerned about the “viewshed” of a historical landmark considered sacred by some.. 

Am I wrong to worry that concerns about the viewshed of any site that is worthy of reverence and respect could lead to unintended consequences? Are wind farms so offensive to our eyes? I thought so once, but as I’ve traveled across the west, visions of wind farms have failed to diminish my enjoyment of open spaces. And what about the declaration that a part of the earth, our common home, is sacred? Who gets the privilege of making such a claim? Does everyone else have to accept it? This feels like a sticky wicket to me. Am I wrong? 

Absolutely this history is important. I visited the site knowing something about these camps, but it was sobering to see the actual site and read more of the history. I hope many, many people take the time to visit either Minidoka or one of the other sites of these internment camps. 

Yet, I am truly curious to know how this issue strikes the rest of you! Please, take a few minutes to read the Seattle Times article and view the website for Minidoka. Comments, please.