Jeff Gruber recently wrote a series of columns focused on Libby’s economic trajectory from the boom years of the timber industry to the present-day situation in which large-scale logging has ceased, big private employers have absconded and our community is struggling mightily to discover a new economic identity.

Gruber’s five-part analysis, titled “When all that’s left is what there used to be,” provided a detailed historical account of an industry that shaped our community and then slowly vanished during the past three decades as a result of congressional actions and agency rulemaking that essentially cut off the supply of timber to local mills.

The series filled some gaps in our collective memory of Libby’s economic past, providing a summary that future generations may refer to when trying to understand the changes that have occurred in our community. It also provided an excruciating reminder that the old Libby was a lot more prosperous than the new Libby.

For some readers, it was inspiring. For others, it was disheartening. For Gruber, I believe, it was cathartic.

Gruber is one part high school teacher and one part historian. He’s got logger blood coursing through his veins. He lives and breathes Libby. And it’s got to be frustrating for him to watch a cornerstone of the city’s economic foundation crumble and fall away.

When Gruber walked into my office a few months ago to pitch his idea for a series of columns on the local economy, I was thrilled that a respected member of our community was willing to tackle such a cumbersome project and allow my newspaper to publish it. Economic development, after all, is the single biggest challenge facing Libby right now.

It was obvious from the start that the columns would draw criticism. For better or worse, it’s almost impossible to say anything of substance in Libby without attracting critics. And Gruber was planning to write about the Forest Service, which is a lot like mentioning the Civil War in a room full of Hatfields and McCoys.

“This is something that I just have to do,” Gruber said after I warned him about potential criticism. “I’ve been thinking about it for years.”

When Gruber submitted his first column a few weeks later, I was surprised by two things: his masterful ability to tell a story; and the sheer length of his writing. As I tried to cut it down, I realized that every sentence, every word was a critical component to the overall body of work that he had agonized over.

My only concern was that Gruber hadn’t offered much insight on solving some of the problems that he so eloquently pointed out. So, I asked him to present some ideas in his subsequent columns – recognizing fully that I had just exponentially compounded the level of difficulty and public scrutiny that would apply to his project.

As the columns kept coming in, it became increasingly clear to me that Gruber wasn’t trying to direct the future as much as he was trying to establish a common set of historical facts for everyone to digest as we come together to determine a way forward.

In retrospect, Gruber’s approach was perhaps more credible and realistic than, for instance, outlining a 10-step plan to prosperity. He explained the problems, identified the political ideologies that created them and pointed out that rural communities can win the battle by mimicking the strategy that has worked so well for environmentalists: Building consensus around a common goal, buckling down together for a long battle, and making a strong argument to policymakers at every opportunity.

It’s possible to disagree with Gruber on some points and still respect the product of his efforts.   

While I personally would like to see the Forest Service allow a reasonable (more) amount of logging in our area, I disagree that logging – or mining, for that matter – is an indispensable component of a secure economic future in Libby. I happen to believe that Libby, like we tell small children, can grow up to be whatever it wants.

The theory that Libby will only prosper if logging is at the center of our economy, combined with the theory that logging will never come back as strong as it once was, may lead to a very undesirable conclusion.

But it really doesn’t matter if Gruber and I disagree on the minutia of whether logging has to be the lifeblood of the local economy. We can both agree that Libby would be better off tomorrow if we had more workers and chainsaws in the forests.

If all of us can search for something to agree on, we can start to move forward. But if we continue to get bogged down by disagreements on the dirty details, there’s a good chance that we will accomplish nothing.

Gruber is willing to collaborate with people who don’t agree with everything he says. And he demonstrated that he has enough courage to step into the public eye and take the inherent beatings that go along with that.

That’s got leadership written all over it.

 (Matt Bunk is the publisher of The Western News.)