Public Often Unaware of Nearby Dangerous Chemicals

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Public often unaware of nearby dangerous chemicals

By S. Heather Duncan


Holly Knowles didn't realize she lived near a sewage treatment plant, much less that her family could be affected if a serious chemical accident happens there.

"If it's something that could harm you, shoot, yeah, I'd like to know about it," she says of Sandy Run Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant. The Warner Robins facility reports to the government that it stores 6,000 pounds of chlorine.

As Knowles watches five preschoolers playing in the dirt of her yard, she wonders aloud what to do if the chlorine spills. Inhaling heavy concentrations of it can be fatal.

Others don't know they could face higher risks, either. The Telegraph interviewed residents in three different neighborhoods near facilities with hazardous chemicals, finding none who knew the facility was nearby. As a result, the residents can't prepare by, for example, learning to recognize a chemical's smell or how to shut off outside ventilation.

A 2001 survey by the National Chemical Safety Center found that between 50 percent and 67 percent of "near neighbors" to plants with very hazardous chemicals were unaware the facility existed.

Governments and companies must report their chemical use to the state and to local firefighters. The Clean Air Act requires facilities posing the greatest risk to create risk management plans that estimate what areas might be affected by a major chemical release.

Although the public has access to this information, it's becoming more limited because government officials fear terrorists might use it to target factories and treatment plants.

But supporters of the public's right to know say the best way to reduce the threat is not to cover it up, but remove it: Require companies to keep fewer and safer chemicals.
"If something is so bad that you don't want to tell the public about it, then you better fix it," said Lester Lave, professor of engineering and public policy at Carnegie Mellon University and a member of the advisory committee for the Clean Air Acts of 1970 and 1990.

Shrouding information

Originally, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency said risk management plans would be public. Their summaries were available online, including a general description of each facility's "worst case scenario": how far the worst possible chemical release could travel, and how many people could be affected.

As the first plans were about to be filed in 1999, the rule was changed to withhold copies of worst-case scenarios from the public. Anyone releasing the data, besides the company owner, could face criminal penalties up to $1 million.

Last year the EPA asked facilities to eliminate even summaries of worst-case scenarios from public portions of the plan.

When The Telegraph requested copies of the risk management plan summaries for facilities in Bibb, Houston, Monroe, Jones and Laurens counties, the EPA violated the Freedom of Information Act by failing to respond within 20 days.

When the EPA did respond, The Telegraph received a corrupted electronic copy of the risk management plans (minus the worst-case scenarios), 13 days after the deadline established by the act. About a month later, the EPA provided a working copy.

However, although the agency acknowledged the summaries are public documents under the law, it refused to provide copies because they contain general information about worst-case scenarios.

Bush administration executive orders allow further secrecy: The EPA administrator can now classify documents, making them unavailable to the public. And access to almost any information can be limited by placing it in a vague new "sensitive but unclassified" category.

On top of that, the 2002 Homeland Security Act permits businesses to secretly tell the Department of Homeland Security about "critical infrastructure vulnerabilities," which can include hazardous chemical vulnerability, without having to fix the problems. The EPA isn't allowed to use this information to crack down on companies breaking the law.

Some chemical experts question the effectiveness of these secrecy policies. After all, information about where chemicals are located at a factory, arguably more useful to terrorists, is public. And the worst-case modeling can be done by an engineer using public databases.

"Almost the last people to find out are the people who need to know most, the general public," Lave said. "Terrorists are going to find out the relevant information they want anyway."

The worst case

There are still two ways the public can see worst-case scenarios: Facilities can share their own, or residents can make an appointment to examine them in an EPA reading room. Georgia's only EPA reading room is in Atlanta.

Many neighbors don't have the time, money or education to do that much research. EPA and National Research Council studies are among many that show minorities and the poor face a disproportionate risk from industrial facilities.

Holly Knowles' neighborhood, the one nearest Sandy Run Creek, is a trailer park down a deeply pitted dirt road. Her neighbors say almost everyone who lives there is Hispanic. Most don't speak English at all.

But traveling out of town to see the plans "is just the kind of burden citizens are going to have to deal with, post-9/11," said Tony Rojas, Macon Water Authority director. The authority's water and sewage treatment plants must file the plans.

The EPA maintains a Web site where residents can enter an address to find out if a chemical spill might affect it. But the e-mailed response is only one sentence stating whether the location is "likely" to be in a vulnerable zone. It directs residents to consult their Local Emergency Planning Committee for more information.

However, most Georgians have no such committee to consult. Although federal law called for each state to set them up, Georgia doesn't have functioning LEPCs for most of the state, including Macon, Warner Robins and Milledgeville.

Through the state Environmental Protection Division, Georgians can find out what hazardous chemicals are used at any facility, although not the potential consequences of a spill. However, no resident has requested the information in five years, said Bert Langley, EPD emergency response program manager.

He admitted it's hard for people to seek something they don't know exists.

Public education vs. panic

Residents say information about chemicals and how to respond to a spill should be delivered to them directly.

Brinceson Sanders III, who lives on Mary Drive near Peach State Chemical, said neighbors should be notified by letter.

Peach State now reports to the EPA that any release of its hydrofluoric acid, which creates poisonous fumes, wouldn't affect neighbors. But before the company filed an update in December, its plan showed 150 people could be hurt.

In November, Sanders was a bit scared to learn the chemicals were nearby, because his family members already have breathing problems.

"I put myself in (Peach State's) situation too: I wouldn't want to harm my business," he said. "But if it's life-threatening, I think I would share the information."

Keith Forehand, co-owner of Peach State, said in December he isn't sure whether he would share the information with neighbors.

Although facilities like the Macon Water Authority say they'll tell neighbors who ask, none contact residents directly.

Marcus Walker has lived on Sandy Creek Road for 32 years, but just learned he might be in range of the chlorine at Sandy Run Creek sewage treatment plant. Many questions sprang to his mind.

"What's the chance of something happening?" asked Walker, who spends much of his time outside making cane syrup, grinding cornmeal and grits, and rebuilding cars.

"How fast would they inform you? Should you get out? Would you have time to get out? Do they have any type of warning siren, like for tornadoes? If I live in the immediate area, am I going to be dead and buried before they get out here and tell me?"

Many of these questions aren't answered even by the risk management plans, and local emergency management plans rarely mention individual facilities.

Schools with higher risk

Victor Weeks, EPA risk management program coordinator for the Southeast, said the best way to provide the public with chemical planning information is to send it home with schoolchildren.

But this isn't done in Middle Georgia. In fact, schools aren't even told when they could be directly affected.

Tony Mellone, human resources manager for Perdue Farms in Perry, said the company hasn't notified the Houston County school system that Kings Chapel Elementary School might be affected by a worst-case release of anhydrous ammonia from the plant. The chemical is used to chill equipment and chicken.

Mellone said the company leaves chemical notification to local emergency management officials, who know how much to share without needlessly scaring people.

Beth Burris, director of communications for Houston County schools, said the school system didn't know it was in a vulnerable zone and has no plan for responding to an airborne ammonia release. However, she said all schools have safety plans and evacuation procedures.

The Macon school system hasn't been notified about the potential impact of Rocky Creek's ammonia on Bruce-Weir Elementary School because the Macon Water Authority failed to realize it until December, after a Telegraph inquiry.

Terry Forrest, who manages the authority's sewage treatment plants, said this was an oversight and he has since notified the EPD and local emergency responders.

Although companies often leave the chemical response to emergency management officials, those officials aren't always familiar with the law and the facilities.

Johnny Wingers, Macon-Bibb County Emergency Management Agency director, said, "I'm sure if we had something that would be deadly if it was turned loose, we'd be required by OSHA to notify everybody."

But Bibb County has three facilities that could create deadly clouds of gas in a release, and Wingers has no copies of their risk management plans. He was also wrong about the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, which only regulates employee exposure to chemicals.

Reducing risk

It's become clear since 9/11 that worst-case scenarios are improbable but not impossible. The tragedy prompted Paul Orum, director of the Working Group on Community Right to Know, to argue before Congress that facilities should be required to use fewer and safer chemicals.

Several local facilities that file risk management plans considered switching to safer chemicals but decided not to. Forehand said the company's clients are unwilling to pay more for safer chemicals.

Officials with the Macon Water Authority and Georgia Power both said switching from chlorine gas to a safer bleach solution would be expensive and less effective at killing bacteria.

In 2002, the EPA drafted regulations requiring companies to improve safety by using fewer hazardous processes. But fearing lawsuits, the agency never issued the rules, according to a 2002 report by the U.S. Government Accountability Office.

A congressional bill that would have done the same thing died last year without a vote.

The American Chemistry Council, which represents 140 of the nation's largest chemical companies, opposed the bill because it would have required companies to use "inherently safer" technology.

Dorothy Kellogg, senior director of security and operations for the group, said the safest option isn't always obvious. "You need to look at security broadly enough that you don't just shift the risk somewhere else," she said.

For example, to store fewer chemicals at a time, a facility must receive more shipments. She said chemical spills tend to occur more often during shipping, loading or unloading, so receiving more shipments could increase spill risk. (For example, a chlorine spill resulting from a train wreck in South Carolina killed nine people this month.)

The council supports requiring facilities to evaluate vulnerability and write security plans, which its members do voluntarily.

Orum argues that industry is rarely motivated to spend money on improvements that benefit the neighborhood more than the bottom line.

In a 1999 survey of 175 chemical industry facilities, the Working Group on Community Right to Know found only one with a measurable timeline for eliminating or reducing the size of its worst-case vulnerability zone.

"The question of secrecy versus fixing the problem comes down to money," Orum said. "Secrecy is cheap in the short run, but may be more expensive in the long run."