The Green Falls River was the first of many rivers that would hold meaning for Dodd over the years. While serving in the Peace Corps in the Dominican Republic, he was assigned to the small mountain village of Monción, on the border with Haiti. There was a river in Monción, the Mao River, that played a central role in the life of the community. Dodd and his fellow volunteers would visit the river on the weekends, to fish and go swimming.
“When I left Monción there was talk of damming the Mao,” Dodd says. “I’ve been back a number of times to show my children the village where I served, and now there’s just a huge lake where the river used to be. The water is terrible, and it’s been devastating for the community. I’ve never forgotten the impact of damming that river.”
Dodd’s experience in the Peace Corps led him to run for political office. He served six years in the House of Representatives before being elected a US senator from Connecticut in 1980. In the 30 years he held that seat, the lifelong Democrat notes, “I never introduced a single piece of major legislation—with perhaps the exception of a handful of proposals—where I did not have a Republican partner. Otherwise it was just a discussion—an intellectual exercise without having much opportunity for a pragmatic result.”
“Don’t just tell them the longterm impacts for their children and grandchildren [from climate change]; connect it in a real way to their daily lives.”
Chris Dodd
WWF Board of Directors
Dodd points out that all of the landmark environmental legislation passed by Congress in the 1960s and 1970s—the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act—was possible only because of bipartisan cooperation. But today, with the lack of comity in Congress, that type of collegiality seems like wishful thinking.
Which makes it all the more consequential, says Dodd, that we remember to have conversations with constituencies that have typically been ignored in this discussion. “We’ve allowed conservation—and all the issues that fall under that umbrella—to take on an elitist patina,” says Dodd. “People feel like they can’t afford to care about it because no one’s ever taken the time to make a compelling case to them—using reasons that matter to them—why they should.”
He feels strongly that when you talk to people about the practical reasons to care about an issue— say, climate change—they are much more likely to be interested. “Don’t just tell them the longterm impacts for their children and grandchildren; connect it in a real way to their daily lives.”
Today, the Connecticut River runs through Dodd’s daily life. His home for more than 35 years has been a two-room schoolhouse, built in 1853, which is situated on the lower part of the river.
“It’s the largest tidal river in the world, and the only major river from Maine to Florida that’s never been commercially developed at its mouth,” says Dodd. “It’s home to eagles, osprey, fox, deer, and even the occasional seal. And that’s my backyard. My kids love it there. If I ever talked about getting rid of the place, I’d have a major family dispute on my hands. I’d probably get a 20-page letter.”