Analyze

 In 1991, the Public Health Service articulated a vision for primary prevention in Strategic Plan for the Elimination of Childhood Lead Poisoning, a departure from previous federal policy focused on finding and treating lead-poisoned children. This publication detailed a 15-year strategy for primary prevention and offered a cost-benefit analysis to demonstrate the monetized benefits of this approach. A strong national effort to follow this strategy developed but was eventually abandoned.

The organized campaign against universal screening began in California, where letters questioning the reported prevalence of elevated BLL began appearing in pediatric journals and newspapers. These letters acknowledged receiving editorial assistance from Kaiser Permanente Foundation Hospitals and argued that money spent on screening, treatment and abatement would be harmful to more worthy public health efforts. The AAP president took up this attack on universal screening as well, and efforts for universal screening were gradually eroded. 

Needleman identifies racism and the belief that lead poisoning “is a product of poor mothering, not of environmental pollution” as a driving factor shaping lead detection and prevention efforts (or the lack thereof) … “this weighting of personal choice or behavior over environment is a tool used to shift responsibility away from health authorities or polluters and onto the victim” (1875).

“...Toxic Wastes and Race at Twenty (Bullard et al., 2007) revealed that communities of colour and poor communities were still being used as dumping grounds for all kinds of toxic contaminants. The authors discovered evidence that the clustering of environmental hazards, in addition to single sources of pollution, presented significant threats to communities of colour. Furthermore, the research showed that polluting industries frequently singled out communities of colour in siting decisions, countering the “minority move-in hypothesis”: the claim that people of colour voluntarily move into contaminated communities rather than being targeted in situ by dirty industries.” (122)

“Bullard (1990) has highlighted the problem of “Black Love Canals” throughout the United States, where issues of environmental injustice are deeply connected with environ- mental racism. For example, Bullard highlights the case of toxic DDT water contamination in the African American community of Triana, Alabama. In 1978, in the midst of the national media attention focused on Love Canal, residents in Triana raised complaints over ill-health effects and contaminated fish and waterfowl. Lawsuits in Triana against the Olin Corporation continued throughout the 1980s. Although the case is noted within environ- mental justice histories (see Taylor, 2014), it is not widely recognized or commemorated.” (126)

“Underpinning the slow, structural violence (see Galtung, 1969; Davies, 2019) of unequal and unjust toxic exposures is the problem of “expendability” … Pellow (2018) proposes that indispensability is a key pillar of critical environmental justice studies (alongside intersectionality, scale, and state power). This idea builds on the work of critical race and ethnic studies scholar John Marquez (2014) on “racial expendability” to argue that, within a white-dominated society, people of colour are typically viewed as expendable.” (127)

“National and international media headlines followed the Flint water crisis story as it unfolded, but, after the initial shock, Flint faded from media attention. It shifted from being a spectacular disaster to a case of slow violence. This paral- lels the dynamics of public memory surrounding many toxic disasters, struggles, and legacies.” (128)

The author’s main argument is two-fold. Acute environmental disasters (e.g., Chernobyl, BP Horizon Spill, Hurricane Katrina) that garnered public attention leave behind legacies of increased support for environmental action and legislation, although the public attention span is often too short for lasting change. At the same time, these disasters have received a disproportionate amount of public attention compared to the many more slow-moving toxicity disasters that affect people in more systematic but often less visible ways. Examples of this disparity include the contrast between the 1984 Bhopal disaster coverage, and the persistent toxicity in the area in the time since then in the form of industrial waste and infrastructure that is not maintained. It is additionally important to note that the cases that don’t receive much attention often affect marginalized groups (by race, socioeconomics) disproportionately.

The Weldon Spring Interpretive Center was a discursive jamboree for those of us curious about how anthropocenics are narrated. This particular display at the center stood out to me becuase of its resemblance to other interpretive center or science museum displays representing the "life cycle" of an organism or of cycles of ecosystem conditions (e.g. forest succession). One of the first displays visitors see upon entering the center, the display's format and captions read to me as a clear attempt to control the discourse about nuclear contamination and remediation in the area. The image--or its creator--wants to do the work of suggesting that the clean up process has brought the place "back to how it was," cycling back to a good beginning. The text used in this display is exclusively neutral or positive. The arrows moving from each circle to the next purports to display how "this area has served many purposes over the years." It states "these exhibits are designed to educate you on the history, science, and efforts of many to bring the Weldon Spring site full circle." In this cycle, Weldon Spring is not a hazardouse waste site or contaminated site but rather "a site for remedial action." Thus we are to see the space as a "home to many people," then "a TNT and DNT plant," then "a uranium feed and matierals plant," then "a site for remedial action," "an extensive cleanup effort," "a successful solution," and, finally, "a place to enjoy and learn." In this emphasis on a "return" to good conditions, the displacement of residents, health issues plant workers and others' faced, and the uncertainties or messiness of what adequate clean up is are omitted. In this image, and in much of the interpretive center, the discourse around nuclear materials, its effects and cleanup, is neatened, simplified, into a narrative that de-emphasizes the actual health impacts of these processes and of the political wherewithall that was required to make that remediation happen.

The notion of cycling back to something is a particularly intriguing move