In Michigan, college hub takes on concerns about environment and economy

by Dante Chinni | The Christian Science Monitor

ANN ARBOR, MICH. - You can't walk too far here without bumping into a "block M" in maize or blue. The bold, seriffed M is the symbol of the University of Michigan, and separating the school from the city is practically impossible.

U of M, as the locals call it, is an urban campus. Its buildings and parking structures blend in with ones not associated with the university. And 40,000 or so students here – that includes both undergraduate and graduate – are a sizable portion of the city's 114,000 residents.

University events are a huge part of the city's culture. On Saturdays in the fall, the streets are packed with students, alumni, and fans who flow down to "the big house," Michigan Stadium, where the Wolverines play football. The university also draws big-name speakers and performers.

But the "town and gown" separation, common in many college towns and cities, exists here, too.

That's partly because U of M students are not all that concerned with local politics. National and international issues are the primary focus at Michigan, which has a storied history as a hotbed of liberal politics.

"I think the radicalism of the students has been overstated," says Andrew Grossman, editor of the Michigan Daily, the biggest campus newspaper. "But the students are definitely politically liberal. For our generation, considering when we became politically aware, being politically liberal means being opposed to the Bush administration. I think it translates into a distaste for the status quo."

Students and nonstudents agree that activism is somewhat quieter than it was in the 1970s and '80s.

"Student activism is being expressed in different ways," says Cynthia Wilbanks, U of M's vice president for government relations. "Taking to the streets or taking to the diag [the campus's town square], which was our forum for massive activism, is pitifully used. If someone had told me 20 years ago that there would be no major demonstrations against the Iraq war...." She shakes her head.

Ms. Wilbanks posits that the absence of a dominant issue and the rise of the Internet explain such change. Students have access to information at their fingertips and can delve into any number of issues that matter to them, she says.

If one issue does seem to unite the student body, it is probably environmentalism. But it's not one that sparks protests. "It's not like there is any major disagreement on global warming," says Mike O'Brien, editor of the conservative campus paper, the Michigan Review. "No one is denying it's a problem."

The campus's tendency to emphasize national issues is reflected in the city's policies. Concern about the environment has led Ann Arbor to install solar panels on the firehouses to heat water and take steps to convert all streetlights to LED bulbs to save energy, says Mayor John Hieftje.

Awareness extends beyond going green. "People accuse us sometimes of being a city with a foreign policy," Mayor Hieftje says with a small smile. The city council here voted to voice its displeasure with the Iraq war and the USA Patriot Act.

The student body may have lost some interest in protesting, but rabid activism lives on in some older residents, many of whom are U of M alumni.

"There's a hard-core group down by the federal building in Ann Arbor, and they'll be there. And bless their hearts, they're the same people that were there 40 years ago. They're old and so am I, but the scene hasn't changed much," Wilbanks says. "They've changed their signs to reflect what the angst is, but that's about it."

Beyond the environment and geopolitics, the economy stirs concern among students. Juniors and seniors look at the national economic environment and wonder if it may be best to go straight to graduate school rather than take their chances in the current job market.

Although the unemployment rate in Ann Arbor is very low – about 2 percent – the auto industry's struggles have been affecting all of southeast Michigan including Washtenaw County, where Ann Arbor sits.

Some here wonder whether Ann Arbor and the university's research environment can drive the economy for the entire state.

That's not such an easy issue here, says Jesse Bernstein, president of the Ann Arbor Chamber of Commerce. "I don't think Ann Arbor is liberal or conservative, I think it is inertial. Ann Arbor doesn't want change," Mr. Bernstein says. "There is a misconception that Ann Arbor is perfect."

Others express a similar view. "The university and the city haven't yet embraced their potential, but they are starting to," says Paul Dimond, a Michigan alumnus and senior counsel at the Miller Canfield law offices in Ann Arbor.

One thing is indisputable about Ann Arbor and its environs: It's a Democratic stronghold. Al Gore won Washtenaw County by about 24 percentage points in 2000. John Kerry won the county by almost 28 points in 2004. This November, observers will be looking at voter turnout – and whether candidates can activate that student base for campaign work.

In the meantime, what happens to Michigan's Democratic delegates is generating a lot of buzz here.

The state unilaterally moved up its primary this year to Jan. 15 to have a larger say in the nominating process. In response, the Democratic National Committee said it would not seat Michigan's delegates at the Democratic convention as punishment for violating a rule that prohibited most states from holding presidential contests before Feb. 5. The DNC told the candidates not to campaign in the state late last year.

All the major candidates except Hillary Rodham Clinton withdrew their names from the ballot. She won the state, but lost Washtenaw County, where she placed a close second to "Uncommitted" – a vessel for unhappy supporters of Barack Obama and John Edwards as well as for people protesting Michigan's disqualification.

Those people want their voices heard – and want to know what's going to be done to ensure that they are.