by Debbie Gilbert
ith all the
other news of vital importance commanding your attention -- a mediocre sitcom
star's announcement of her sexual preference, for example -- it may escape
your notice that this Tuesday, April 22nd, is Earth Day. So this would be
a good time to take a moment and reflect on our progress, or lack thereof,
in environmental protection.
As usual, the news tends to be less than heartening. A few weeks ago, the U.S. Supreme Court dealt the Endangered Species Act another blow by ruling that economic concerns could take precedence over biology. And President Clinton, now safely ensconced in the White House for another four years, has allowed environmental policy to slide back into its former position of not-so-benign neglect.
There was a brief flurry of excitement last year when Clinton, in an election-campaign strategy to capture the green vote, declared 1.7 million acres of scenic Utah desert a national monument. Not all of his constituents thanked him, however; Utah property-rights advocates, angry that the land's protected status would lock out mining claims, have been building roads all over the pristine tract so that it no longer qualifies as wilderness.
In Congress, key environmental committees are still run by Neanderthals such as Republican Don Young of Alaska, who's now chairman of the House Committee on Resources (he removed the word "Natural" from the name). But there has been a glimmer of enlightenment in GOP ranks: Young's counterpart, Sen. Frank Murkowski (R-Alaska), failed last October to push through legislation that would have allowed wholesale clearcutting of the Tongass rain forest along Alaska's southeastern coast.
In Tennessee, environmental protection has also taken a turn for the better. Last month, the state finally renewed an agreement to protect air quality in and around the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and in January Gov. Don Sundquist proposed six new state natural areas, including the Ghost River section of the Wolf River in Fayette County. Sundquist turned these announcements into outdoorsy photo-ops to show what an environmental guy he is, appearing with a group of schoolchildren at a picturesque Smokies overlook and paddling around awkwardly in a canoe at the Ghost River.
But it's mostly fiscal sleight-of-hand. These measures will cost the state little or nothing. In this time of budgetary crisis, any environmental project that requires real money is far down on Sundquist's agenda. Tennessee's state parks continue to deteriorate while scarce maintenance funds are diverted to other agencies. Attention is lavished only on facilities that earn big bucks.
At a recent Tennessee Department of Environment and Conservation ceremony, awards were bestowed upon various state parks for such categories as "Inn of the Year," " Restaurant of the Year," and "Golf Course of the Year." No prizes were given for, say, "Best Hiking Trail" or "Best Management of Wetlands." The event served to underscore a state environmental philosophy entangled in money and politics and a failure to recognize Tennessee's greatest asset, its natural beauty.
Locally, it's been a bumpy year for the environment. On the positive side, Memphis opened a recycling plant operated by FCR Inc., which will pay the city a guaranteed rate of $50 per ton for its recyclables, and the curbside recycling program now reaches a majority of Memphis households. Also, the Wolf River Conservancy continues to acquire and preserve important parcels of wetlands along the Wolf River corridor.
On the other hand, Memphis could benefit from tighter environmental regulation. Three months ago, an explosion and fire at the Perma-Fix chemical plant in South Memphis emphasized the need for separating residential neighborhoods from industrial-zoned areas.
But there has been one victory for environmental justice. On March 21st, U.S. District Court Judge Julia Gibbons sentenced Memphis businessman Johnnie Williams -- operator of the notorious W&R Drum toxic-waste facility, which required a $1.5 million EPA cleanup -- to three years and five months in prison. It was the longest sentence ever imposed in Tennessee for violations of the federal hazardous-waste law.
Take that, polluters! (Staff writer Debbie Gilbert covers the environment for The Memphis Flyer.)