Before tractors plowed fields,
farmers mostly depended on mules. If a
stubborn animal balked, it was apt to get a 2-by-4 whack between the ears. The man behind the plow would say, “I had to
get old Red’s attention.”
Republic Services has been
mule-headed stubborn about its intention to turn Wayne County into perhaps the
largest deposit of toxic coal ash in America.
The Phoenix-based company’s attitude has been: “Relax. We know what we are doing.”
No,
we cannot relax.
Long before this hurricane season,
we knew Coastal Georgia was the worst possible place to take the environmental
risks that the nation’s second-largest waste hauler is proposing for our
community. Why is Republic so
determined? The answer is one word: money.
I understand pressure on Republic
to crank out mountains of bottom-line money while building mountains of trash—including
toxic coal ash—in its landfill. Unfortunately,
too many Wall Street corporations employ these three rules:
1. Make money.
2. Use that money to make more money.
3. Never forget the first two rules.
There’s nothing wrong with profit
motives, unless sheer greed is the driving force. Straight out of Republic’s mouth: “We estimate
$450 million in revenue from coal ash taken to Broadhurst, which will yield $45
million in profits.” So, there you have
it. Republic must value the $45 million
in profits more than the safety of Coastal Georgia’s people and our natural
resources.
My seventh-grade teacher, Mrs.
Nanelle Bacon, teased our children: “Your daddy almost flunked math because he
couldn’t do decimals. Then, I told him
to put a dollar mark in front. He never
missed another problem.” Tim Cockfield
and C.W. Collins didn’t have as much luck explaining algebra or geometry to me.
Still, I can do this decimal-driven
math. If Republic is estimating $28.00
per ton for accepting toxic coal ash—mostly from utility companies—that means
16.071 million additional tons to be stacked, over four years, at the proposed daily
rate of 10,000 tons. Earlier, the Jacksonville
Electric Authority (JEA) had sent 800,000 tons to the Broadhurst Environmental
Landfill. From that JEA waste, dangerous beryllium has already leaked or spilled. Toxic heavy-metal
pollution lasts an eternity.
Mrs. Bacon was right. I wasn’t the sharpest pencil in her math
class. But Saturday night, during the
Class of 1966’s 50th reunion, I visited with plenty of people who are smarter
than me. Hurricane Matthew robbed our electricity, but former Yellow Jacket
teammates Kenny Bryant, Larry Brannen and Marcus Waters hustled to find a way
to light Pine Forest Country Club’s banquet hall.
While gas-fired generators hummed
on the pool deck, Patty Barr Sutker echoed what I’ve been preaching since
before Hurricane Hermine breezed through.
How many warning shots
does Mother Nature have to fire over Coastal Georgia’s bow before Republic gets
the message that our low-lying, high-water-table environment is the wrong place
to dump coal ash or any other toxic wastes?
Patty agrees that all of this makes no sense.
I have been mule-headed about
Republic’s plan, but with good reason—common sense. Millions of tons of toxic coal ash are a
threat to our watery world which drains into the ultra-sensitive coast. Matthew’s blow was sledgehammer-hard, but
what if he had been Hurricane Katrina’s twin?
That threat renews with every future hurricane or tornado.
Republic owns landfills—served by
rail spurs—outside hurricane and prevalent-flooding zones. Broadhurst doesn’t have to be the only place
to boost its Wall Street-reported profits with toxic coal ash. If Hurricane Matthew wasn’t the right 2-by-4
to get Republic’s attention, what will it take for the dump’s owner to use
common sense?
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
