Backyard Protest: Emergence, Expansion, and Persistence of a Local Hazardous Waste Controversy

Policy Studies Journal, Vol. 21, No. 3,1993 (470-491)

Backyard Protest: Emergence, Expansion, and

Persistence of a Local Hazardous Waste Controversy

James Simmons and Nancy Stark

The toxic waste dispute that is the subject of this article points out one ofthetroubling ironies ofthe modem environmental movement. Many groups andimtividual activists who promoted a national response to the discovery ofthousands c^toxic waste sites over a decade ago are now leading the struggleto prevent govemmerU-sponsored cleanups. This case study examines theevolution and dynamics of one community's pollution controversy, and thenattempts to explain the way in which margirutlized environmentalists wereable to redefine the toxics debate. FinaUy, it shows how local resistence towaste cleanups may shape the next round of environmental policymaking.

The basic question of where issues of public policy originate has become acentral concem for political scientists only in the last two decades (Cobb & Elder,1983). Although there is extensiw literature that attempis to explain the enactment andimplementation of legislatirai, we still know much less about how political issues becomeparamount in the decisionmaking agenda in the first place (Kingdon, 1984). Why dosome issues produce intense, active citizen involvement in a community while othersgenerate litde interest and quickly fade from the political scene? How is it that certainpolicy questions are so compelling that they attract extensive media attention, polarizepublic opinion, and lead to the formation of dissenting groups despite elaborate effortsby institutional elites to resolve the problem?

The emergence of environmental issues in the early 1970s is an importantcase in point. When issues such as pollution and the quality of our physical landscapefirst captured the public's attention over two decades ago, there was much discussionover how central these issues would become and how long they would survive in thepolitical arena. At the time, much of theexpertopinion suggested that the environmen-tal scare would take its place among other emotionally charged issues with a fairlypredictable lifecycle (Downs, 1972). After the initial stage of alarmed discovery hadtriggered support for remedial action, policymakers would seize the issue. Businessand govemment would quickly r e ^ t in ways that would either satisfy, frustrate, ordivert public opinion (Post, 1978). Once elites had begun to manage the agenda, theenvironment would typically decline in importance to be replaced by a rapid succes-sion of otheremerging issues that would come to dominate the limelight and the energyof public authorities.

Despite this conventional wisdom, environmental issues have shown suipris-ing resilience. An enormous number of regulations and laws were indeed passed overthe last 20 years, but, rather than the predicted decline in public interest, thedisanx)indng impact or outright failure of so much of this legislation has producedrenewed demands for action. Public frustration has been especially intense in disputesarising from govemment efforts to clean up existing contamination and dispose of the

Simmons!Stark: Backyard Protest

nation's growing volume of municipal and hazardous waste. Indeed, much of theconflict over recent efforts by authcdties to resolve these issues have proven to be farmore contentious than the furor generated by the "discovery" of these problems duringthe "environmental decade" (Mazmanian & Morell, 1992). In fact, instead ofdesensitizing the public, most attempts at waste-management have tended to generatecontroversy and social protest in each of the communities where remedial govemmentaction has been attempted (Portney, 1991).

This article primarily seeks to set forth the way in which a single issue cameto dominate the politics of one community faced with resolving a toxic waste dilemma.The evolution of the PCB disposal controversy in Bloomington, Indiana, shouldprovide some insight into the process through which decisions by institutional elitesboth influence and are affected by mass attention to a toxics issue. In this case study,we examine the way in which authoritative efforts to resolve the contaminationproblem in a medium-size, Hoosier city produced the kind of emotionally chargeddispute that has become all too common in similar communities during the time frameunder investigation. This analysis should also tell us something about the socialmotivation and mechanisms that generate these emerging environmental disputes, aswell as the nature of the new, localized social movements that now contest bothgovemment and corporate waste policy.

PCB Contamination Controversy Emerges

The environmental issue that would ultimately dominate this Indianacommunity'spoliticallifehadarelativelyunheraldedbeginning. In I957,WestinghouseElectric Corporation opened its new Bloomington plant and, over a 20-year period,manufactured electrical capacitors that usedpolychlorinated biphenal insulation fluidsproduced by Monsanto. Internal company memos describe severe health hazards ofprolonged employee exposure to PCBs in this and other plants (Tescione, 1984). Itwasn't until 1966 that Swedish scientists identified PCBs as a likely toxic pollutant.Sentiment worldwide tumed against the chemical in 1%8 as a likely health hazard,when 1300 residents of Kyusha, Japan, became ill after using rice oi! containing highlevels of the chemical. Media attention was extensive, as the Japanese suffered skinlesions, eye ailments, nausea, joint problems, and, later, birth defects among theiroffspring.

Westinghouse began an internal study, and in 1972 found PCB contamina-tion near its Bloomington plant, but city officials did not leam of the results. Duringthe early 1970s, the recently created federal Environmental Protection Agency beganstudies on this and other potential pollutants. At the same time, Monsanto requiredPCB customers such as Westinghouse to sign a waiver relieving it fiom legal liabilityfor improper uses of the chemical. Westinghouse responded with few changes in itsmanufacturing process, but, in order to avoid future liability, the firm did begin to usesmall, third-party trucking firms to dispose of the fluid in the used câcitors that thecompany had always dumped locally.

471

Policy Studies Journal, 21:3

Figure 1Pattems in Local Media Coverage

Number of Stories Annual PCB ISSUe Newspaper Stories500 -

400 -

300 -

200 -

100 -

0 Hn^^nnn

SourceD LocalH Regionalm Aliernative

n74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 66 87 88 89 90 91 92

YearNewspaper Sources:Local: Bloomington Herald-Telephone, Indiana Daily Student.Regional:CfucagoTribune,IndianapoUsNews,Indianapolis Star,LouisvilleCourier Journal,New York Times, Martinsville Reporter, USA Today.Altemative: Blooming Peace, Bright Lights, CommonGround, Corfidential, City, Examiner,Fun City, Frimo Times, Reai Times, Ryder, Streets, Veridian, Women's Source.

Number of Stories

500 -1Content of PCB Issue Coverage story Focus

I GorvernmeiCorporateInt GroupMedia

D Other

75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92Year

Article Type by Story Source:Govemment: press conferences, news releases, govemment reports, interviews with publicofficials, publicly sponsored events, incumbant reelection stories, guest editorials by publicofficials, government activities.Corporate: finn press conferences, news releases, management and spokesman interviews,guest editorials by corporate officials, business analysis, firm activities.Interest Group: press conferences, news releases, group member interviews, demonstra-tions, electoral, protest and lobbying effort stories, staged events, guest editorials by grouprepresentatives.Media: news analysis, editorials, surveys, issue analysis, self-reporting, wire-service.Other: human interest stories, related wire service stories, unrelated personal interviews.Note: * articles from Bloomington Herald-Telephone and Indiana Daily Student only.

472

Simmons/Stark: Backyard Protest

A local journalist, Don Jordan, uncovered the story at the end of 1975, andwrote a number of controversial exposes that focused local public attention on theissue. At the same time, Bloomington officials leamed of PCB dangers at an EPAconference in Chicago. Hie extent of contamination was to prove far worse than theEPA, city, county, arid public realized It was soon discovwed that the corporation hadcontaminated the city sewer system and dumped PCB-laden wastes under thecommercial label "inerteen" at several area landfills. At the aid of the year, the EPAidentified Westinghouse as oneof 37 majcff sources of PCBs in theU.S. Subsequently,Westinghouse advised Ihe city of "minimal" PCB dis;harges fix)m its plant. Theimpact of these revelations would quickly spawn massive media coverage of the flurryof political activity by interested parties (see Figure 1).

Investigative rq»rting by the local newspaper and a govaiiment surveywould soon show that pollution had been spread still further by the salvaging ofc^)acitors for copper, the free distribution of municipal sewer sludge for use asfertilizer, and random dumping on the part of independent haulers. The MonroeCounty prosecutor and Board of Health requested state hearings to determine scopeand liability for the contamination. Lxx:al public officials promoted the formation ofCitizens Concemed About PCBs as an umbrella group for local chapters of environ-mental groups, to support public actions against the company. Westinghousemobilized its own workers, worried about losing their jobs, for the public hearings thatfollowed. At the same time, 14 local property owners filed a class-action suit againstthe corporation.

At the onset of the controversy, politicians promised rapid issue resolution.While the state Environmaital Nfanagement Board (EMB) hearings were called toresolve the issue, they were initiated by the county prosecutor and the Board of Health,ralher than the city. Furthermore, no immediate ranedial policies were formulated tocontrol or clean up the contamination. Nevertheless, public interest in and mediaattention to these dramatic events was very high. Crowdsof citizens attended the publichearings, and there was massive growth in membership in the newly-formed CCAPprotest group. The local papers provided daily coverage of the rapidly evolvingscandal, and the national wire services soon picked up the story. Indeed, Bloomington'scontamination problem gained so much coverage in the national media during 1976Ihat the community was on the verge of becoming as notorious for toxic pollutants asTimes Beach and Love Canal were later to become.

Westinghouse completed a year-long phaseout of PCB use in its compacitormanufacturing, but local retirement of existing aâcitors continued. City officialsleamed that PCB contamination was more extensive than was initially assumed. Boththe sewer system and the waste treatment plant were seriously polluted. A large butunknown number of PCB-contaminated sites were known to exist through companydumping and the city's own unwitting distribution of sewer sludge to county residentsfor agricultural, gardening, and ccMnmercial uses. This political crisis was exacerbatedby the Westinghouse threat to relocate its Bloomington plant if public officialsattempted to penalize the firm, and the company's claim th^ the city was itself liablefor the contamination through its own regulatory negligence.

Clearly, the environniCTtal activists, as well as the prosecutor and countyBoard of Health wanted the hearings to continue, in order to determine the extent of

473


and liability for contamination. CCAP, for example, had intended to present theWestinghouse Papers—150 corporate documents attesting to negligent and illegaldisposal jffactices—at the EMB hearings. But this was not to be. Both the companyand city officials were appalled at the potential expenseofaquick and publicresolution.In fact, such an outcome would most likely have meant that either the state Departmentof Natural Resources or the federal Environmental Protection Agency would demandthat both the municipality and the firm pay for the potentially immense cleanup costs.Under these circumstances, both parties decided upon private negotiations to resolvetheir mutual claims and interests.

Westinghouse repeatedly denied responsibility and, at its insistence, theEMB hearings were indefinitely pos^wned. Local officials began to downplay theseriousness of the problem, and the public-private party negotiôns provided little inthe way of material for news coverage. Although city leaders had originallyencouraged and even participated in the formation of the local umbrella PCB pressuregroup, they now argued that this form of activism was no longer needed. Indeed, MayorMcClosky publicly stated that any further environmental protest might undermine thenegotiation process and costthecity several thousand jobs. With few legitimate outletsto express its grievances, CCAP became inactive. Furthermore, in the absence ofcontinuous media coverage, the issue became less salient and the public lost interest.

The issue was extreniely subdued during this period, but this was largely dueto the absenceof salientPCB-related events rather than public indifference. During thisstage, Bloomington was designated as the nation's twelfth highest city in the PCBconcentrations in the blood and tissue samples of residents tested. The EPA allowedelectric utility companies to retain PCB-insulated equipment for their operationallifetimes,under industry fressureregardingreplacementcosts. Forits part, Westinghousecontinued to retire used PCB capacitors from other parts of the country to sites withinthe county through third-party haulers. And, the city fiushed PCBs from its sewerline—^the cheapest available option. However, local officials attempted to downplaythese events so that private negotiations could continue unhindered by public scrutiny.

There was a limited stirge of media coverage in the early 1980s—a periodmarked by the establishment ofthe Superfund national hazardous waste site cleanuplaw, the judicial granting of another one-year delay in hearings upon Westinghouse'srequest, and the city's subsequent hiring of Joe Karaganis, a nationally recognizedenvironmental attorney. Moreover, the controversy became an election issue for thefirst time when the incumbent mayor promised a final solution by summer that wouldinclude citizen participation in the resolution process and an assessment of altemativesbefore final action was taken. Media attention was further constrained by theconservative editor of the Herald-Telephone,who removed the muckraking joumalistresponsible for many ofthe contamination exposes. Bill Schrader editorialized that thedanger of PCBs was both unproven and overblown, and that criticism of Westinghousethreatened area growth.

SubsequenUy,avicioiiscycledeveIoped:thecorporation continually refusedto identify contaminated sites to the EPA, the EPA increasingly designated arealandfills as Superfund sites, and the city repeatedly escalated the damages requests inits pending lawsuit. Throughout, Westinghouse refused responsibility and denied any

474


legal violations, claiming it had followed all proper procedures and had received noindication that these sites posed environmental or public health risks. The statehearings were finally rescheduled, but, due to cost considerations and a suit byWestinghouse, previously-collected evidence, including corporate documents con-firming negligent disposal pactices, would not be permitted. Ultimately, the corpo-ration refused to participate in the hearings, prompting the state attomey general to seekfederal Justice Department intervention. At this point, the city and Westinghouseentered out-of-court negotiations under the threat of a unilateral EPA cleanup thatwould have been billed to both parties at three times the actual cost. This period wasfollowed by another steady decline in the issue's visibility, conditioned by theperception, advanced by the negotiators, that a solution was pending.

Throughout this early period, corporate and local govemm wit officials werepreoccupied with cost considerations and efforts to detennine legal liability for thecleanup of the contamination. The EPA and the state consolidated their suits, sued thecompany, and forced it to perform surface cleanups at two sites. Another site wasdiscovered at a local scrap salvage yard, and the EPA unilaterally did remedial cleanupsat this and at a location near a landfill. Westinghouse admitted its use of PCBs, butdenied responsibility, claiming that Monsanto and the small trucking firms wereresponsible, and charged that PCBs were a "political pollutant" created by publicattention, rather than by scientific evidence. A former independent hauler now suedthe corporation for damages, and the local plant union-affiliate demanded remedies forthe health problems of former company employees.

While the EMB hearings that were created to resolve the problem neverresumed, the settlement process proceeded. The federal, state, and local govemmentsresisted pursuing Superfund enforcement actions against Westinghouse. Instead oftaking the defiant corporation to court, the govemmental entities were willing tobargain down many environmental standards and cost-reimbursement provisions inorder to formulate a pact that all parties would submit to. At this stage, all the majorparties with aformal part in the negotiations seemed to be slowly working out a solutionacceptable to vested inchests. On the other hand, environmental groups played no partin these proceedings and the general public was largely unaware that any majorresolution to the PCB issue was in the works.

As the negotiations dragged on, officials attempted to mollify impatientcritics with the promise that the ultimate remedy to the pollution problem wouldinvolve research and development of an innovative and highly profitable technologythat would ensurea safe cleanup "at no cost to the taxpayers." With the announcementthat a final settlement was near, PCBs came to be a key issue in the 1983 municipalcampaign. Just two months before local voting was to take place, the newly-appointedmayor. Democrat Tomy Allison, announced that the city and Westinghouse hadreachedaconceptualagreement"in principle," which calledfor the company todesign,constmct, and operate a technologically "proven," high-temperature incinerator,wherein municipal-solid-waste-derived fuel would bum PCB-ccHitaminated wastes toproduce steam-generated electricity for county residents and local industries. Subse-quently, the mayor was reelected by a landslide the same month that Westinghousepurchased O'Connor Combustor, a Califomia incinerator firm, and entered the toxic-abatement and municipal waste-to-energy market

475


With the announcement of a PCB cleanup settlement in late 1983, the publicshould have beai relatively satisfied that the problem had been resolved. Indeed, mostlocal observers expected that public interest in the issue would die out from this pointon. Such an outcome seemed highly likely at the time, since most public officials andthe local media generally jKaised the agreemenL The major city papCT, for example,heralded the proposal's incineration remedy as the "ideal solution" for both of thearea's long-term problems of ccmtaminatiCTi reduction and municipal garbage dis-posal. In feet, only Uie local "green" candidates, of the minor Citizens Party, took issuewith the proposed settlement at this stage. Furthermore, this complex proposedsettianent not only seemed to resolve most of the contentions of the official actorsinvolved in the secret negotiations, but it also promised the community-at-largepositive gains in the fomi of new ec(MK)mic development and a creative way to resolvethe county's landfill capacity and leachate problem.

Issue Resolution Efforts and Dissent

In contradiction to the expectations of public authorities, there was a dramaticresurgence of interest and controversy once the proposed resolution to the issue in theform ofthe consent decree was released. From the initial announcement in October1983 until its official release in December 1984, the political rhetoric regarding theConsent Decree and the method for PCB cleanup involved reassuring the concemedcitizenry of the foUowing: the agreement did not "specify" incineration, but wouldinvolveonly "proven" technology that would create "no air pollution." Yet the variousparties to the agreement stated that it also required an innovative apparatus that wouldmake the city the first to remedy two problem s at once—^buming municipal solid wasteto fuel a hazardous waste disposal facility. Thus, the area would not only resolve itsgarbage problems but also save Westinghouse jobs and stimulate economic growth.Furthermore, the agreement was to be a "solution in place" that would eventuallyinclude "any other, as yet, undiscovered sites."

Moreover, the city's mayor, council, and attomeys insisted there would beplenty of qjportunity for the public to assess and modify the document during theratification hearings. This was interpreted by attentive citizens to mean extensiveinvol vementinthesubstanceof the decisions that wouldaffect their community. Theseterms and promises were not lost on some of the local environmental organizations ora number of activists who had been mobilized during the earliest stages of thecontroversy. After seven yeare of inactivity, CCAP reformed and joined with theIndiana Public Interest Research Group and a new anti-Decree Westside Alliance tochaUenge the pending agreement. This newly emergent coalition pointed out that thetwo technologies had never been combined, and that waste-buming incinerators arenotorious for transforming toxic chemicals into hazardous ash and air emissionscontaining lethal pollutants like dioxins, furans, and heavy metals.

Environmentalstatutes provide for citizen participation in the decisionmakingITOcess before an agreement is reached, but the public had been shut out of the PCB

47fi

SimmonslStark: Backyard Protest

resolution negotiations for eight years. Furthemiore, once the legal document wasreleased, only symbolic participation—in the form of controlled hearings and technicalinformaticHi sessions—was officially provided for. TTie proposed agreement wascharacteristic of the trend toward ncmadversarial public-private policy arrangementsthat became so prevalent during the Reagan era. The company would be allowed to{ffofit in the arrangement despite its past behavicff, and the regulatory mechanism in thecleanup process would involve joint oversight by the firm itself and the three levels ofgovenunent. The respective parties did not anticipate the firestoim of protest that thiskind of "cocqjerative partnership" would SOCHI generate. Rqjresentatives of thedissaiting groups who felt that they had been effectively precluded from legitimateinfluence over the process became determined to insist on drastic alterations in thedecree OT, failing that, prevent it altogether.

Public perceptions of the PCB crises did reflect existing social strainsawaiting activation. Serious concems, ranging from fears over public health andthreats against nature to potential loss in jffoperty values, came to dominate publicopinion rather than the legal, financial, and develcpmental issues that were the primaryconsiderations for authorities. Residents of working-class neighboriioods near dumpsites and people with health problems were particularly responsive to the blandish-ments of the challenging groups. Nevertheless, the local media initially tended not tocover such issues despite this public reaction. The city's newspapers and electronicmedia overwhelmingly supported the official position and usually portrayed decreecritics as both irrational and extremist As a consequence, the newly-formed opposi-tion reacted to these mediated political realities with actions ranging from staged eventsand civil disobedience to mainstream electoral and lobbying activity, in an effort tosway public opinion and influence the issue's outcome.

Former Westinghouse employees began filing suit against the corporation,claiming adverse health effects due to corporate negligence. Activists protested theclosed-door meetings held by the negotiators and questioned whether public commentwould have any effect on what ajqjeared a "take-it-or-leave-it" agreement. The city'sattomey reassured the public that incineration was not specifically mentioned and thatthere would be ample time to discuss altematives. Within a few weeks, he accusedopponents of "environmental extremism." The city chemist, Dave Schalk, was firedimmediately after violating a mayoral order not to reveal that the city's water intaketower was contaminated with PCBs. Activists held silent vigils at the mayor's houseand the Municipal Building, demanding the chemist's reinstatement. A Bloomingtonfamily with highly contaminated property and "mysterious" health problems filed suitagainst the corporation. Members of a local commune created a widely publicizedincident by assembling a display of brokai PCB transformers at the county library thatthe DNR claimed was a hazard to patrons and removed.

The Toxic Waste Information Network (TWIN) op«ied as the headquartersfor a disparate coalition. Office woricers began documenting hundreds of previouslyunidentified PCB sites. TWIN members and Veridian magazine documented andcritically analyzed the consentdecree'scontents.assessed the officially chosen as wellas alternative technologies, and disseminated the technical evidmce critical of tfieincineration they gathered through contacts with national environmental groups. This

477


network endorsed candidates fOT the county election and attempted to intervene in theEPA suits against Monsanto. Coalition delegates met with local officials and tried toformukue provisions for broad citizen participation. However, when the city formedccMisent decree oversight and PCB site search committees, they were exclusivelycomprised of maywal ^pointees with leverage over all final decisions. OHX)sitionleaders could act only as informal liaisons providing information at meetings. In orderto better air their concems and gain input from local residents, activists began holdingtheir own public forums, distributing literature, and lobbying state and federalgovemment agencies. FinaUy, strong links were forged with the emerging nationalnetwcrfc of andwaste-incineration groups like Greenpeace and the Citizens Clearing-house for Hazardous Waste that ixomote community-based cleanups.

These events caused a rift within Bloomington's environmental movementThe Sierra Club, the Sassafi-as Audubon Society, and the League of Women Votersformally disassociated themselves frnm CCAP. Hence, in the early stages of theapproval process, these local chapters of the national environmental groups wereperceived as legitimate, supportive ofthe process, and thus on the "correct" (i.e., statusquo) side of the issue. However, the newer network of local environmental groups(CCAP, the Indiana Public Interest Research Group (INPIRG), and the West SideGroup) were portrayed as confrontational, radical, and unreasonable. The mayorclaimed that die welcomed citizen input in the decisionmaking and praised the threeenvironmental affiliates that supported the conceptual agreement, but labeled opposi-tion leaders "instant experts" who neither understoodnor cared to understand the termsof the settlement This effort to stigmatize the dissenters should have been moreeffective than it eventually tumed out to be, since the pressure tactics and much of thefollowing of these groups were in fact outside the political mainstream. However, theconstant entrance, exit, and restructuring of the new "public-interest" groups madethem moving targets. Furthermore, their efforts produced enough doubt about thedecree, as the controversy evolved, that the movement was able to generate new groupswith recruits who were more difficult to caricature or discredit

The splintering of these environmental groups supports the theory that themovement, at least temporarily, wiU suffer "political ambivalence" between die "coreenvironmentalists" and the "appropriate technology" advocates (Morrison, 1980). Inthis view, core environmentalists (composed primarily of white, professional, andaffluent groups) value the respect, infiuence, and institutionalized power they haveachieved through the conventional political process. The soft technology movement,on the other hand, has a "distinctive, counter-culture, anti-establishment, and mildlyleft-leaning flavor which ... favors direct-action tactics in an attempt to transformsociety toward the 'small is beautiful' ethic." Indeed, a range of "soft" technologies,such aspyrolysis, biodegradation, and vaulting, were promoted by opponents as moreecologically sound and less capital-intensive methods of PCB destruction. TypicaUy,these outsiders advocated direct-participatory controls, systematic waste recycling,and localized remedies for pollution victims. In terms of the nature of their values,internal dynamics, and passionate advocacy, these emergent groups had all thecharacteristics of the highly volatile, solidaristic, "Class-D" organizations that havefailed to have much sustained impact on national policy but have had some dramaticsuccesses locally (Nagel, 1987).

478

SimmonslStark: Backyard Protest

This initial phase of the recycle and expansion of the issue can be character-ized as the stage during which identification groups and the attentive public becameinvolved. During this period it became clear to activists that the eventual outeome ofthe negotiation process and the proposed agreement (i.e., the choice of technologies,the limited number of cleanup sites included, the closed nature of the ratificationprocess, and the lack of any community impact assessment) were far worse than theactivist-outsiders realized during the out-of-court bargaining process. As portentotisto these environmentalists as the agreement's particular specifications was the exhor-tation by officials that they be patient and not make any dismpti ve "noise." Once again,tike the cusp of the initial stage in the controversy, which spanned the state hearings,thecity'saltemativepressresumedin-depth coverageof the issue. This time,however,the stories were heavily weighted toward the views ofthe opposition and antagonisticto the decree.

Beyond these similarities, the first stage of the controversy and the secondrepresent a very different form of political conflict Unlike the initial PCB hostilities,the issue's reemergence produced a dramatic surge of public interest and mediacoverage that had staying power. Furthermore, during the mid-1970s, govemmentactivities had dominated the news. With the breakup of the loose alliance betweenpublic officials and PCB activists, foUowing the release of the consent decree, the toneand content of the coverage began to change. The number of media stories aboutofficial actions remained quite high, but the attention given to the activities of theinterest groups rose significanUy, due in large part to the increasingly sophisticated useofthe media by environmental activists. Thus, the opposition began to have significantimpact on the unfolding covoBge of the issue, with its grievances, activities, andevocative symbols increasingly framing events.

Once the consent decree was announced, it became increasingly apparent toenvironmentalists in particular and the public in general that the agreement could notbe altered significantly by outside parties. The subsequent hearing process was amshed effort—over a span of just four months—to give the appearance of a publiccomment period. For all intents and purposes, what transpired were actually con-trolled, public relations, and information sessions designed to impose the pre-ordainedsettlement on the community. While the coiporation and the federal EPA grappledwith explaining the virtues ofthe technology, the city and its attomeys focused on themerits of local control over the process and requested that environmentalists give theagreement a "vote of confidence."

However, among the attentive public trust in the consent decree and incinera-tion technology was clearly minimal from the outset This was primarily attributableto several factors. To begin with, there were not and never has been either anEnvironmental Impact Statement or the Remedial Investigation-Feasibility Studyrequired by the National Environmental PoUcy Act (NEPA) and the SuperfundRemedial Acts, respectively. Furthermore, the public hearing process and informationsessions focused primarily on the merits of the consent decree and incinerationtechnology, to the virtual exclusion of any discussion of altemative technologies andcleanup solutions. Citizens could participate only within the guidelines and under the

479


rules established by the contending jarties. Outside interests and their experts couldnot present altematives.

The critics countered that the technology, combining hazardous and munici-pal solid waste incineration in a new "state of the art" combustor, was not a "proven"method, as had been promised. Furthermore, they insisted that the resulting emissionsand fly ash disposal would create additioial area degradation. They circulated an eight-point petitiOTi, signed by thousands of voters, promoting the idea that the communitywould have local ccmtrol cmly if several key provisions w s e added to the agreement.Among these were planks calling fOT the cleanup of 200 additional dump sites, a localhealth study, compensatOTy damage payments, altematives to thermal waste disposal,and ratification of the decree through a binding referendum by all voting-age MonroeCounty residents. Within minutes of receiving the petition, the city council over-whelmingly approved the consent decree despite a "takeover" ofthe council chambersby militant protesters. The county council approved it a few weeks later by a muchcloser vote after only slightly less contentious public hearings.

Conflict Expansion and Transformation

During the summer of 1985, the EPA granted a 60-day extension of the publichearing paocess, the Center for Survey Research at Indiana University conducted asurvey, the Monroe County Election Board also sponsored a write-in ballot poll, andINPIRG filed two intervention suits. The Indiana University poll of Monroe Countyresidents showed th^ support for the consent decree was shallow at best (see Table 1).Although the small minority who knew ofthe agreement favored it almost two to one,most respondents expressed no opinion due to lack of information. Even thosefavorable, however, said they had strong reservations over provisions for the health andsafety of county residents and frustration with the idea that this agreement was the bestdeal the community could get On the other hand, the 14% who expressed oppositionto the decree were the most highly informed, followed events closely, and were morelikely to have been active in the approval process. One-third were concerned withincinerator safety, and questioned whether it would cause more pollution than it wouldalleviate. Anmher 17%feltthedecreewasnotcomprehensiveenoughinthatitdidnotinclude all of the contaminated sites.

In orckr to broaden their appeal and combine the heterogeneous oppositionin a more effective organizational vehicle, local activists coalesced as the MonroeCounty Environmental Coalition (MCEC). The "respectability" of this new group wasenhanced by its moderately successful efforts to attract members drawn from the legaland medical professions, advertising, business, white-collar occupations, and localsocial clubs and fraternal OTganizations. With the resources brought in by this moreaffluent following, MCEC was now able to publicize and disseminate its concems withthe settlement and the incineration technology in the regional media. One of the moresalioit of this group's efforts was the publication of mail-in ballots in the localnewsp^jers that allowed citizens to vote for or against the agreement. The resultsreceived by the U.S. District Court indicated that only 19 of851 respondents favoredthe consent decree.

480


INPIRG filed two lawsiits. The first was an "open-doOT" lawsuit, asking thatthe city and county approvals of the agreement be voitted and that both aitities berequired to go through a new, mcsre open deliberative process. This litigation claimedthat elected officials had violated the state's Public RecOTxJs Act by meeting privatelywith their crapOTate adversaries during their executive negotiation sessions. In anothwsuit, INPIRG filed to become a party in the city's case against Westinghouse andrenewed its motion to intervene in the consolidated EPA, city and state lawsuit againstthe corporation. The group's director, Mick Harrison, asserted that the agreement wasnot representative of its concems OT the public interest and that citizens had the rightto participate in the decisionmaking process under the guidelines of the federalRescairce Conservation and Recovray Act This last petition was ultimately rejectedby Judge S. Hugh DiUin, as "untimely."

The same day that both INPIRG requests were rejected, the district judgemade the Consent Decree court enforceable. DiUin also mled the former case as "animpermissible collatwal attack on a federal court decree." Furthermore, there was noviolation of law on any of these counts, even if the deUberation process was flawed,because in his view any harm that may have been done was remedied by the two citycouncil meetings and one county council meeting approving the agreement Althoughthe latter case was denied on basis of "timeliness," with the judge ruUng that INPIRGshould have intervened earlier, it in fact could not have done so during the restrictednegotiations process. INPIRG appealed these findings, but the Indiana Supreme Courtrefused to hear the case. These two court decisions are important because of theirpotential for setting precedents in favor of insulated corporate-govemmental, out-of-court agreements and againstcitizen participation or public-interest group interventionin environmental mediations.

During this period, citizens were deluged with an almost continuous anddramatic seriesofeventsthatfocusedtnassattention on the issue. However, the contentof the resulting media stories was a product of two-way manipulation by both theproponaits and opponents of the agreement Although the decree's advocatesexpressed optimism that the technology would quickly and efficiently solve theproblem,surveys showed that most of the public was unsureabouttheagreement Eventhose who favored it, did so out of resignation and with concem over safety issues.Moreover,dissentingopinion was articulate,knowledgeable,highly vocal, and visible.While local politiciais did promise a r ^ i d resolution of all the grievances raised byactive citizens and actually created some public forums to allow limited public access,these overtures were mostly symbolic and, in any case, largely subverted in the effortto force the settlement onto the community quickly.

During the out-of-court negotiation process, environmental interests hadonly minimal, filtered information about the proceedings. With the release of theconsent decree, however, the opposition attempted to alter the technical rules in thecontest Environmentalists, citizens, and scholars with alternative expertise werepitted against govanment experts and corporate officials in the highly publicizeddebates that followed. Each side becameffi;tive in theefforttochannel media coverage,control the official hearings, and shape the public's risk perception. Accordingly, theenvironmental activists began to use a wide array of ecotactics effectively to redefine

481


the public's OTientation toward the issue. TTie relative success of these efforts can beseen in the change in tone and ccmtent of the local media's treatment of the issue.Although govemment activities and official perspectives remained central in mostissue accounts, by the late-1980s attention to the grievances and efforts of theopposition became a regular feature of media coverage.

Westinghouse began filing for incineratOT permits, and the city hired a teamof consultants to review them. While these two entities argued over remedial cleanuptimetables, procedures, and otho- technical issues, the opposition tumed its attentionto Monroe County's shaiply contested 8th District congressional election. MCECrealized that the 1986 "MicRace" could be reoriented locally to tum on the PCB issue.They persuaded the Republican candidate. Rick Maclntyre, to oppose incinerationaltogether. This prompted the incumbent former Mayor McCloskey, to request thatthe congressional Office of Technology Assessment "conduct a comprehensive studyof the proposed incinerator, including a comparison with altemative methods." Thesubsequent OTA memorandum stated that the concept of burning municipal solidwaste and hazardous waste was "novel, but unproven," and emphasized that altema-tives Jârently had not been thoroughly assessed. MCEC also endorsed areferendumcalling for the abolition of the city's Utilities Service Board because of its alleged"sweetheart relationship" with Westinghouse and its inability to address citizenconcems over public health and cleanup safety issues.

Throughout the congressional campaign, controversies raged over Environ-mental Impact Assessments and Remedial Investigations/Feasibility studies, as wellas the legitimacy of the Westinghouse Risk Assessment TheSierraClub, the SassafrasAudubon Society, the Indiana University Student Association, the League of WomenVoters, MCEC, and INPIRG all called for a moratorium on the PCB cleanup projectundl an Environmental Impact Statement was issued. Until this point, the AudubonSociety had been the only remaining environmental group still favoring the Decree.The Justice League VotCT Registration Drive, comprised of activists drawn from abroad coalition of opposition groups, registered more voters than did either majorparty. Radio announcements sponsoredby rock-star musician John Cougar Mellencamp,and endorsements by the League and MCEC, further urged citizens to register theirprotest on election day.

An 8th District election poU of area residents executed by a private firmworking for Congressman McClosky revealed the high salience of PCBs as an electionissue (see Table 1). Respondents were asked to choose which of three PCB-disposaloptions they preferred: incinerating now, waiting for further testing, or storingpermanently. The percentage favoring incineration had remained relatively constantsince 1985, dropping a mere three percentage points. However, three out of fiverespwndents now wanted to wait fOT further testing. Among this group, opposition toincineration was strongest among liberals and Democrats who had at least somecoUege. Another, more diverse, 14% wanted to stOTe the contaminants permanently.Regardless of educational level, political ideology, or party affiliation, the majority ofthose poUed opposed immediate incineration. More importantly, this opinion surveyis significant because it indicates growing levels of public distmst with the PCB-disposal method required by the agreement nearly two years after the decree had beenratified.

482


At this point in the Bloomington controversy, public attentiOTi seems to havebecome focused on the diagnosis andanxieties of critics rather than the priorities oftheconstituted authorities. The opposition issued highly popular demands fOT long-termcleanup controls, preventive health measures, and holding the polluter accountable fordamages. These same envircranentalists lobbied both U.S. senators to get a congres-sional sttidy of the experimental technology and campaigned to put a referendumabolishing the USB on the ballot By this time, even the established environmentalgroup»s, the League of Women Voters, and the Indiana University Student Associationhad joined the movement in calling fOT a moratorium on the cleanup project until theEIS and RI/FS were perfomned. Indeed, the voterregistration drive was anefforttotakethe issue to the polls and send the message that a thorough reworking of thedecisionmaking process was necessary. The majority of those polled were imwiUingto proceed with incineration, as required by the agreement The facts that these studiesstill have not been done and that the process has not been reopened has tended to lendcredibility to the conspiracy claims spread by critics.

The years 1986 and 1987 were markedby the ongoing permitting processes,remedial surface cleanups at Superfund sites, mayoral and city council elections, andmore lawsuits. Westinghouse released its risk assessment which was determineddeficient by analysts on all sides of the issue—including Environ, the city-hiredconsulting firm. The reservations of the city's consultants largely echoed those thatopponents had stated for years. Officials were further disheartened by Judge Dillin'srefusal to hear the city's damage suit against Monsanto, with his assertion that theconsent decree had resolved the issue. While these events were taking place,Westinghouse sued all of its insurers for defense against pending claims at 74hazardous waste sites in 23 states. At the same time, the firm became a major playerin the waste-abatement industry, promoting its "resource recovery" technology incommunities like Bloomington including many that the company had itself polluted.

The corporation refused to agree to city requests to test the Lemon Lane sitefor toxins other than PCBs before excavating and transporting them to its temporaryStorage facility. The EPA finaUy threatened to do an emergency cleanup—and tocharge the city, rather than the corporation, for i t Judge DiUin prevented the countyprosecutor from pursuing criminal actions against Westinghouse for its intention totransport and temporarily store hazardous waste without filing for proper permits. Heargued that under the termsof the consentdecree Ihe officialpaities had agreed that theydid not need to follow these requirements. Moreover, once the Lemon Lane cleanuphad begtin, neither the city, state, nor EPA had inspectors on site until local activistscomplained to the press and to county health officials about the way the contractorWestinghouse had hired was violating the decree's provisions. The city also rejectedcalls for the evacuation of nearby residents, despite dust-laden winds five to eight timesfederal guidelines.

Despite extensive efforts to distance themselves from the agreement they hadratified, public officials suffered a number of setbacks. An anti-incinerator slate ofcandidates polled over 40% of the vote in the 1987 Democratic primary and unseatedtwo councilmanic incumbents who had voted for the decree. The very necessity of thedecree was undermined by the long-delayed report of a study done by the national

483


Table 1Issue Salience, Information, and Attitudes

PCBs: Top Mayoral Campaign Issue*

1979 3.8% 1987 76.0% 1983 24.: 1991 69.8%

Support for the Consent Decree

198?

1986'

1987"

IssuePosition

FavorUnsureOppose

IssuePosition

IncinerateStore PermAwait Tests

IssuePositionFavor decreeNeutralOppose

Percentageof Voters

26.3%59.5%14.2%

Percentageof Voters

23.1%13.9%60.7%

Percentageof Voters21.8%25.6%52.6%

Informed FollowEvents

49.3% 54.8%17.3% 27.9%60.7% 73.8%

Liberal SomeCollege

14.0% 16.3%5.3% 12.8%

80.7% 70.9%

Participant

4.5%1.4%

11.9%

Republicans

29.6%17.3%53.1%

Pay Close Attention to:Television Newspaper

37.3% 38.3%36.8% 22.5%46.2% 45.1%

Consent Decree Alternatives'

Did the city adequately explore the alternatives to incinerate before signing thedecree with Westinghouse?

1987 Yes

27%

Don't Know

30%

No

43%

Sources: 'Bloomington Herald-Telephone October Pre-Election Surveys"Indiana University Center for Survey Research Poll'̂ McClosky 8th District Indiana Congressional PoU''Indiana Daily Student Media Influence PoU'Indiana Daily Student Bloomington Issues Poll

484


CentCTfOTDiseaseControl, which ccaicluded that most people living in theBloomingtonarea were "not generally at risk of PCB exposure." To forestall ca- co-opt furtho-criticism, MayOT Allison became more aggressive with Westinghouse, appointedmembers of the opposition to the city's Environmental Commission, and madeincineration safety the primary theme in her re-election campjaign. Despite theseconciliatory efforts, she barely survived, with a tiny plurality in a four-way race againsta Republican rival and two third-party candidates, all of whom had promised drasticaltematives to the agreement

Several surveys taken between the primary and the general election indicatedthe increasing significance of the aivironmental issue among the mass public (seeTable 1). According to the Indiana Daily Student {IDS) Media Influence PoU, ihe,number of those favoring the consent decree again dropped only slightly, while thoseopposing the agreement rose significandy, to 53%, up firom only 15% a year earlier.As before, those most informed were most likely to be opposed. Indeed, by this time,nearly half the reqx>ndents were following the issue closely on television and in thenewspjpers. This negative opinion content was developing at the same time that themedia's coverage became more pervasive. Local cable television Channel 30, forexample, devoted over 135 programs and 295 hours of air-time to thecontrovOTsy from1986to 1987. At this stage, issue awareness had apparently expanded to include largesegments of the general public that had previously been inattentive.

Anticipating a close election, the Democratic party conducted a pre-electionpoU (see Table 2). This survey indicated that support for the agreement and the officialswho ratified it had seriously eroded. Only sligh tl y more than a third of the respondentssaid that they tmsted the mayor to ensure that a safe incinerator was built. Nearly halfof those polled saidthat the PCB controversy was thecentral issue in the campaign,and,of those most concemed, opponents to the decree outnumbered supporters by over twoto one. Once again, demographic analysis shows an interesting pattem. The pattemof concem showed that the greatest fears were among young and middle-agedrespondents, but significandy less among the elderly. In terms of occupation, civilservants, students, professionals, and university cohorts considered the PCB cleanupagreement a fundamental issue, while retirees, the unemployed, housewives, blue-collar workers, and business executives were significantly less concemed. Althoughissue concem cut across party lines, the major loser over the issue was the incumbentmayor, since opposition was greatest among Democratic party identifiers, with nearly40% against The controversy's primary gainers, however, appear to have been theanti-incinerator Independent and Grass Roots Party candidates, rather than theRepublican challenger.

PubUc opinion polls indicated that PCBs had become the ceniral question inlocal politics. A 1987 IDS poU (see Table 1) indicated that only 27% of the publicthought that the city had done a good job in exploring altematives to incineration orova-sight Surveys by the local daily newspaper show that public concem over theissue during mayoral campaigns had risen from 4% in 1979, to 25% in 1983, and to ahighof76%in 1987, before tapering off slighdy in 1991. These attituctes also werealtering political landscape. In the 1987 general election, fOT example the mayor wonby only 261 votes, down firom over 2,200 in 1983, when she hsd crushed herRepublican challengerby a 60% to40% margin. Allison received only 44% of the vote

485


Table 2Electoral Consequences of the Controversy

Rede ofthe PCB Problem in Respondents' Reasons for Supporting or Rejecting theIncumbent

Percentage of RejectVoters Mayor

Support Other issuesMayor

DemocratsRepublicansSwing

38.2%30.9%28.6%

39.8%7.8%

21.7%

13.6%15.6%17.0%

46.6%76.6%61.3%

Trust Mayor to Insure That a Safe Hazardous Waste Incinerator is Constructed

Yes No Don't Know

Tmst Mayor 34.3% 30.2% 34.1%

Social Demographics: Opinion that PCBsAToxic Waste is the Single Most SeriousIssue

Age

18 to 24 55.4%25 to 34 68.8%35 to 44 66.3%45 to 54 51.1%55 to 64 35.1%65 and over 30.1%

Mean Concern

Total Concem 49.4%

Source: 1987 Democratic

Occupation

Civil ServiceStudentProfessionalUniversityWhite CoUarHousewifeBlue Collar

ExecutiveRetiredUnemployed

68.4%65.2%61.4%61.1%49.2%47.9%45.9%40.2%29.9%13.4%

Party Identification

DemocratRepublicanIndependent

Vote Intention

Allison (D)Ellis (R)Towell (ID)Andrews (GR)

Stirvey, Mayor Allison Reelection Campaign.

58.9%30.3%36.1%

51.6%29.2%58.9%100.0%

486


that year, with a majority of the voters opting fOT either the Republican (42%) or theGrass Roots Party and Independent Democratic candidates (14% combined). Thelatter two candidates campaigned extensively against the city's handling of the PCBissue, and advocated "Greoi" political platforms. These results indicate that percep-tions of the Democratic party's ability to resolve environmental issues had declined.Worse yet, the local maJOTity pjarty was losing a large segment of its strongestadherents—those were highly educated, politically active, and environmentaUy con-scious.

Some analysts had expected a gradual decUne in public interest and mediacoverage by this stage. In fact, quite the contrary occurred. Sup^rtfortheagreementnever materialized, but public into-est soared as opposition to the agreement mountedfrom 1985 on. Indeed, Westinghouse managers had encouraged these developmentsduring the initial stages of the cleanup by modifying standards as they saw fit, ignoringsafety guidelines, refusal OT inability to adhere to even minimal regulations, andproviding spurious evidence in their risk analyses. These events, combined with thecity's continued pattem of neglect of its oversight and standards enforcem^t functionsduring the firm's preUminary decree implementation efforts, have all tended tolegitimize the opposition. The nationwide proliferation of simUar toxic substancesdisputes in communities with Westinghouse capacitor plants prompted the companyto attempt to sell off its profitable electrical utility machinery division. In 1989, thecontaminated properties, including the Bloomington plant site, would become Britishmultinational Asea Brown Boveri's headache.

Shortly after the 1987 election, there was another gradual drop in mediacoverage, but interest picked up once again during the flawed efforts by Westinghouseto transport contaminated soil and the large damage awards resulting from successfullawsuits filed by former employees. The onset ofthe 1991 municipal elections wasequally newsworthy, with the city's chemist, Ron Smith, quitting to run as an anti-decree mayoral candidate. At this stage, there appears to be no end in sight to thecontroversy. Attempts to implement the local-control provisions of the decree havebeen only minimally effective. Westinghouse seemed increasingly unable to guaran-tee its proposed technology. The EPA inspector genera! was called in by Represen-tative Lee Hamilton to investigate the legitimacy of the procedures, processes, andnegotiations that had led to approval of the agreement The county Board of Healthindicated that it would not approve the Westinghouse permit to incinerate solid waste,and the county council withdrew from its role as a formal partner in the decree.

By the late 1980s and early 1990s, opposition to the consent decree hadbecome almost conventional. The local newspaper wasregularly editorializing againstthe incinerator, while state and federal officials were promoting to legislation to hinderthe agreement's implementation, or, at least, rigorously regulate the facility upon itscompletion. An orthodox coalition (COPA) had emerged, in opposition to theproposed incinerator ash-dispwsal landfill that threatened their affluent neighbor-hoods. Two other new miUtant groups, PATI and "I'U Be There," organized to stepup the politics of direct anti-decree agitation. The local state Representative, MarkKruzan, pushed a bill through the legislature mandating strict new st£te standards forthe siting and operation of incinerators. Even the mayor seems to have turned against

487


the agreement, although she stiU argued during her last, successful re-election bid thatthe decree was the best protecticm that the community had against an unsafe andexpensive outcome to the conflict. Only Westinghouse and the EPA have pushedahead with the steps needed for fulfilling the original agreement, thus ensuring that thecontroversy would, in aU likelihood, continue unabated.

The px)litical life ofthe community has been changed by the dispute in manyother ways. Althraigh the mayOT has survived during the past two elections, only oneother elected official voting fOT the agreement remains in office. One mUitant anti-incinerator candidate holds a seat on the city council, and is a nonvoting member onthe Utilities Service Board, while another activist was given a voting position on thecity Environmental Commission. The city has tried to placate concemed citizens byfinaUy implementing a trial curbside recycling program, by issuing statements criticalof the compjany's compliance with the specific terms of the decree, and by firing theenvirOTunental ^tomey who lost its lawsuit against Monsanto. Furthermore, duringrecent elections, the Democrats have attempted to gain votes and counteract commu-nity environmental anxieties through their candidate recruitment and campaignstatements. Each of these resp)ective efforts has tended to place the local govemmentand thecity'smajorpartyintorolescompjarabletotheir earlier adversarial relationshipswith Westinghouse and local developers.

It is difficult to project how the issue wUI evolve from here. However, it seem smore than likely that interest in the controversy will remain high. The consent decreeseems set in stone, and reqtiires a 20-year implementation program once constmctionbegins. Moreover, there is every indication that oppxjsition remains both active andpotent FOT example, in 1989 the anti-incinerator city councilwoman and 13 otherswQ-e arrested during a large demonstration protesting lax EPA-Westinghouse cleanupmeasures at the highly toxic site not included in the agreement—an incident whichreceived national media coverage. More recently, the 1991 RepubUcan and Indepen-dent candidates for mayOT made altematives to the agreement their central campaignissue. CompKiny efforts to place the waste combustor in a site near an affluentneighborhood by South High School, and its purchase of rich farmland in WashingtonTownship fOT an ash landfill have further dissipated any residual community support.Perhaps the best indication of the strength of public opposition is the growing numberof the decree's former ardent supporters who now call for its modification orabandonment

The onset ofthe issue's recycle represented a tuming point during which thechallenging groups began toengage in avariety of ecotactics in order to undermine therules of the game, dismpt implementation, manipulate the media, and tum aroundpublic (pinion (Mitehell & StalUngs, 1970). Although the national media neverregained interest inBloomingtCBi'sproblem, with theexception of themodest two-yearsurge after the consent decree was announced, regional media coverage since 1984 inevery way surpasses the original stage of the drama when the extent of the PCBcontamination was first discovered. In fact the controversy has been the number-onelocal story in every year since the official attempt to resolve the issue. Pending formerWestinghouse anployee lawsuits, conflict over the cleanups at the ABB and Fell ironsites, recent state legislative and regulatory efforts, and renewed threats of civil

488


disobedioice if incineratOT construction begins all indicate that the issue wiU retain itspotency for many years into the future. Indeed, the isstK may evai achieve its highestlevel of intensity if, as seems likely, the firm supported by its federal court mandateinsists on fOTging ahead with its plans.

Summary and Conclusion

Clearly, estabUshed authorities lost control of the agenda in Bioomington.After initiaUy encouraging the formation of new PCB-action groups, officials at-tempted to replace this form of mass confrontational participation with privatenegotiôns by a few representatives of the majOT local institutional stakeholders.When their agreement ultimately was announced, these same authorities were unableto pjrevent the reemergence of the controversy or the resulting conflict that hasessentially stymied efforts to implement this settlement Despite extensive officialefforts to discredit and divert critics, op>position to the consent decree soon expandedwell beyond the university-affiliated activists,remnants of the counterculture, and p>oorwestside residents who originaUy organized against the plan. Mass opinion, most"mainstream" groups, and the local media have ail tumed against the settlement, whilea growing number of public officials now object to its major provisions. Only thefederal district court, EPA, and Westinghouse continue to press implementation.

The ability of a loosely organized grassroots movement to produce thecurrentstalematemay seem surprising. However,therelativesuccessofthisorganizedresistance to the PCB solution favored by exp)erts can be explained partiaUy by theparticular potency of the toxinsissue. Unlike many local policy disputes, controversiesoverissues like public health, jobs,andquality of life seem to havedirectand explosivearousal pwtential (Kasperson, 1986). Such anxieties were effectively mobilized by anoppxjsition that redefined the issue in terms of the loss in property values, hazardouspollution, and negative changes in the character of community life that they predictedan expaimental hazardous waste incinerator would bring in its wake. Evidently, theseprojected fears proved to be more effective in influencing public attitudes than did theadvantages of site cleanup, economic development, and local remedial controlpromised by authorities and their experts. The case for the consent decree also wasweakened by the high level of popular distrust of most local institutions. None oftheadvocates of the proposal could claim much credibility, given that dumping byWestinghouse had created the contamination crisis, while the incompetence of themunicipal govemment had allowed the situation to develop.

The nature of thepolitical process itself must be seen as part of the explanationfor the current policy gridlock favored by anti-incinerator groups. Despite theirexclusion from the initial negotiôns that produced the decree, oppnanents dominatedand prolonged both the ratification and permitting processes. These activities, alongwith staged events outside the formal hearings, allowed critics to publicize theirreservations and call attention to the manipulative character of the official proceedings.The complexity of intergovemmental relations also tended to work against theagreement, as the disputants played off the various levels of govemment through their

489


lobbying, Utigation, and legislative efforts. Regular elections also damaged thepolicy's legitimacy, since local officials were compelled to face contests in whichPCBs came to dominate all other issues. Although only a few of the mUitants wereelected, the negative publicity generated by these campaigns forced most conventionalcandidates to express severe reservations about the planned cleanup or, at least,promise aggressive vigUance should the facility ever be built

Under the circumstances just described, vimlent and lasting opposition canbe mobilized effectively by excluded groups with few resources, even if position andestablished jwocedures favOT local elites. Indeed, efforts to resolve such environmentalcontroversies may well produce frustration and dissent that surpasses the alarmeddiscovery initial phase of the crisis. EstabUshed actors ultimately might be able toimpose their preferences, despite community resistance and the emergence of newcontending social forces, but not without expensive delays and a substantial loss incredibility. Even though the pubUc's perception of an "unholy alUance" betweengovemment and industry will tend to reduce general confidence in all officials whomake local policy, the biggest loser in these "garbage wars" may well be traditionalstructuresof decisionmaking. During theconflict,averagecitizais are confronted withcompeting sources of information and new avenues for popular participation. SuchpossibiUties wiU, of course, depend on therelativeaccessibility of the local mass media,as weU as the value-based beliefs and commitment of activists who seem essential inthe mobilization of this kind of collective action.

James R. Simmons is an assistant professor of political science and publicadministration at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh. Jim is Director of theuniversity's Public Policy and Administration program. He is alsocurrently presidentandprogram-chairof the Wisconsin State PoUtical Science Association. His researchinterests include policy analysis; public opinion and electoral behavior; regulation, andpolitical economy. He has written numerous published articles in each of theseresearch areas.

Nancy Stark is in the political science doctoral program at the University ofWashington. Her research interests include public policy (environmental, women'sreproductive); political parties, interest groups, and social movements; public law(feminist legal theory), and political communications. She has several publicationsthat focus on the issues of environmental policy, the media, public opinion, andpolitical participation.

References

Alpach, M.C., & Sabean, L. (1987). Politics of PCB: A viewpoint. International Journal ofEnvironmental Studies, 30 (1), 13-27.

Aimour, A. (Ed). (1984). -The NIMBY complex: Some psychological considerations. Not-ln-My-Backyard. Charlottesville, VA: Institute for Environmental Negoualion.

Bosso, CJ. (1989). Setting the agenda. In M. Margolis & G.A. Mauser (Eds.), Manipulating PublicOpinion (pp. 153-174). Belmont,CA: Brooks/Cole.

490


Bosso, CJ. (1991). Adaption and change in the environmental movement. In A. Cigler & B. Lo<Mnis(Bdi.), Interest group politics. Orded.) (pp. 151-176). Washington DC: CQ Press.

Cobb, R., & Elder, C. (1972). Participation in American politics. Boston: AUyn & Bacon.Consent Decree. (1984). CivU Acticm No. ff-83-9-C & CiNol Actiai No. IP-448-C.

U.S. District Court, Indianapolis, IN.Costain,W.D. (1992). Interest groupsandtheevolutionoftheenvironmental policy agenda, 1890-1990.

Presented at the Western Political Science Association Conference, San Frandsco, CA.Democratic mayoral re-election poll. (1987, October 3). Bloomington, IN.Downs,A. (1972). Upanddown with ecology—The issue-attention cycle. The Public Interest,28,3i-

50.Dunlap,R. (1989). Public opinion and environmental poUcy. In J.Lester (Ed.), £«vi>onmen/afpo/ifici

andpo/icy. (pp. 87-134) Durham: Duke University Press.Fainstem,N.,&Fainstein,S. (1974). Urban political movements. Hnglewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.Gamson, W. (1990). The strategy of social protest. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.Hinnefeld, S., & Higgs, S. (1987, April 5). PCBs: A special report.//eraWrimei, pp. i-8.Kasperson, R. (1986). Six propositions on public participation and tiieir relevance for

risk communication. Risk Analysis, 6 (3), 275-281.Kingdon, J. (1984). Agendas, alternatives, and public policies. Boston: Little, Brown.Lindblom, C. (1968). The policy-making process. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.Upsky.M. (1970). Protest in city politics. Chicago; Rand-McNally.Mansbridge, J. (19K)). Beyondadversarialdemocracy. New York: Basic Books.Matheny, A., & Williams, B. (1985). Knowledge vs. NIMBY. Policy Studies Journal. 14 {l),10-m.Mazmanian, D.,& Morell, D. (1992). Beyondsuperfailwe. Boulder, CO: Westview Press.Milbrath, L.W. (1984). Environmentalists. Albany: Sute University of New York Press.Mabrath, L., & Goel, M.L. (1977). Political participation. Chicago: RandMcNaJly.Mitchell, J., & SuUings, C (1970). Ecotactics. New Yoik: Pocket Books.Mdiai, P. (1985). Public concem and elite involvement in environmental-conservation issues. Social

Science Quarterly, 66 (4), 820-838.Morrison,D.E. (1980). -Phesoft,cuttingedgeof environmentalism.A'fl/ura/fie.fourcej/o«rna/,20,345-

358.Nagel, J. (1987). Participation. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-HaU.Olson, M. (1965). The logic of collective action. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.PCB consent decree survey: Poll. (July 27-August 1,1985). CenterforSurvey Research, Bloomington:

Indiana University.Peck, D. (Ed.) (1989). Psychosociat effects of hazardous toxic waste disposal on communities.

Springifield, IL: Charles C. Thomas.Portney, K. (1991). Siting hazardous waste treatment facilities. New York: Aubum House.Post,J. (1978). Corporate Ixhavior and social change. Reston, VA: Reston Publishing Company.Preston-Whyte, R. (1987). A case study of public and press reaction to an environmental decision.

International Journal of Environmental Studies, 30 {]), 23-27.Review cfthe consent decree for cleanup of PCBs in Indiana. (1986). Staff memorandum prepared for

OTA Industry, Technology, and Employment Program.Rimmer,T. (1986,November). Sthdistrict election poll—Description of sa/r^le, October 29-November

3. Unpublished paper, Indiana University School of Joumalism.Ryan, C (1991). Prime time activism. Boston: South End Press.Schattschnejder, E.E. (I960). The semisovereign people. New York: Holt, Rinehart, & Winston.Simmons, J.R. (1989). The buming question. The Environmental Professional, 10 {3),22i-2i%Slovic, P., et. al. (1980). Facts versus fears. In R. Schwing, & W.A. Alperts, (Eds.), Societal risk

assessment, (pp. 181-216) New York: Plenum Press.Smelser, N. (1962). Theory of collective behavior. NewYoik: Free Press of Glencoe.Starling, G. (1988). Strategies for policy making. Chicago: Dorsey Press.Staik, N., & Simmons, J. R. (1989). 'Local' control as a model or myth. Environmental Impact

Assessment Review, 9(1), 9-32.Tesdone, P. (1984). The Westinghouse papers. Veridian,4 (3),S-22.U.S. Environmental Protectiwi Agency. (1979). Siting of hazardous waste management facilities and

piAlic opposition. Washington, DC: AuthorU.S. House of Rqjresentatives. (1987) Subcommitee hearings on municipal solid waste incineration.

Washington DC.

491

Documents

Backyard Protest: Emergence, Expansion, and Persistence of a Local Hazardous Waste Controversy