en·ti·tle·ment, n.
1. The act or process of entitling.
2. The state of being entitled.
3. A government program that guarantees and provides benefits to a particular group.
The Pagosa Springs Town Council held their first meeting of 2023 on January 3, and one of the items on the agenda was a discussion about workforce housing. In particular, the discussion touched on the possible purchase of 3.5 acres of vacant land adjacent to Walmart, and on a proposal by Dallas-based Servitas LLC to develop apartments and townhomes on that property, someday.
Are employees in Pagosa Springs entitled to reasonably priced homes?
Are Pagosa businesses entitled to employees who can afford to live here?
Is the community, as a whole, entitled to a functioning economy?
I planned for this editorial installment to focus on ‘entitlement’, as one of the social and psychological aspects of government decision-making… But I will readily admit, I don’t fully understand the entitlement process.
Part of the reason I write for the Pagosa Daily Post: the act of assembling my thoughts into written sentences helps me better understand my community. Hopefully.
I had a surprising encounter with the concept of ‘entitlement’ back in 1981, when my wife Clarissa and I had a landscaping contract at the Sealaska Plaza — the headquarters of an Alaskan Native corporation in Juneau, Alaska. Clarissa was part Tlingit Indian, and through her — and her family — I’d learned a bit about the Tlingit culture, which has its own traditional rules regarding entitlement and privilege.
While we were planting the garden that summer, a prominent Tlingit artist — Nathan Jackson — was carving a totem pole from a red cedar log, near the building entrance. A few large chunks of red cedar lay on the ground, sawn from the totem pole via Nathan’s chainsaw, and I wanted to get my hands on those ‘scraps’ for some musical instruments I was planning to build. But I also knew Nathan could easily use those same pieces of cedar for his own art projects.
When I finally worked up the courage to ask Nathan if he would allow me to have some of the precious chunks, he gave me a response that baffled me.
Without smiling, he said, “You are entitled to them.”
What did he mean by that?
That I had some kind of ‘inherent right’ to the red cedar pieces?
Or was this a process of ‘entitlement’ — whereby a benefactor bestows a gift, in a ceremonial manner?
I didn’t ask him for an explanation… so I still don’t know, to this day, what Nathan meant.
But my confusion illustrates the two sides of a coin. A person can feel inherently entitled to this or that benefit or privilege… but often, that benefit or privilege is in fact endorsed by, and bestowed by, society itself.
‘Entitlement’ — as heard in contemporary political discussions — is often a loaded word, used as ammunition to disparage this or that person or social group. In that usage, it’s typically connected to some type of financial benefit or privilege. A commentator on the political left might use it in reference to the privileges experienced by ‘the ruling class’… while a critic on the right might apply the word to particular individuals who expect ‘unearned’ benefits from publicly funded programs.
The word is potent, in modern usage.
As I begin writing this installment, I wonder what ‘entitlement’ means to my readers, generally? I suspect it’s human nature to feel ‘entitled’ at certain times, about certain things, and that everyone experiences a sense of entitlement now and then. We might agree that, in some cases, entitlements play a valuable role of human society — as in the case of Social Security, for example. In fact, about 70% of the federal budget, here in the U.S., reportedly consists of various entitlement programs.
So just to be clear, I am definitely not using the word ‘entitlement’ in a purely derogatory sense.
Apparently, some psychologists employ the term ‘entitlement’ to describe a harmful ‘personality trait’, often connected to another negative personality trait, narcissism.
Here’s a typical summary, by Dr. Susan Krauss Whitbourne, from Psychology Today:
When we hear about narcissism, the psychological condition in which people become excessively self-centered, it’s almost a given that we expect narcissists to be high on entitlement. In their relationships, work, and general dealings with others, psychologists argue, the narcisstic expect special treatment. Moreover, the narcissistically entitled think that good things will come their way because they are deserving of favorable outcomes. In competitions, they expect to win, and in measures of their ability, we are told, they expect high scores…
Not the kind of person most of us would want to spend time around, probably… even if the person might make a viable candidate for US President.
In terms of the ‘psychological condition’ just mentioned, we’re talking about an individual person and their behavior. But entitlement also has a cultural component.
Here in Pagosa Springs, and in Archuleta County, we — most of us, I assume — feel entitled to plowed streets, following a winter storm. This sense of entitlement derives from a couple of social realities. One, we pay taxes to our local governments with the expectation that. among other services, our streets and roads will get plowed in a timely manner, not only for our individual access, but also for school buses and emergency vehicles.
But we don’t expect the government to plow our sidewalks. In fact, the Town of Pagosa Springs has a law in place, requiring property owners to shovel the sidewalks adjacent to their property, if the snow is more than one inch deep.
No person shall allow snow and/or ice to remain on any pedestrian infrastructure open to the public and abutting or adjoining the property controlled, owned, or occupied by such person. Any snow and/or ice remaining on any such pedestrian infrastructure more than twenty-four (24) hours after the cessation of snowfall with an accumulation of one inch (1″) or more or the formation of a snowdrift is a public nuisance that may be summarily abated, and/or a summons and complaint may be issued pursuant to Chapter 11, article 2.
As drivers of cars downtown, we are entitled to plowed public streets, funded by our taxes. As pedestrians downtown, we are left to hit-or-miss shoveling of our public sidewalks by property owners who, in many cases, don’t even live here… with the result being sometimes hazardous walking conditions.
What are we entitled to, as we begin 2023?
I pose that question, with the intention of better understanding the answer. Hopefully.