Small minds miss larger meaning of IP's pollution of Escambia County | Andy Marlette
Consider these parallel moments of local environmental stewardship — two snapshots from Perdido Bay in recent days, and you get a fitting symbol for the larger story of a paper mill's polluted legacy in this place we call home.
In one image we see a politician, Escambia County Commissioner Doug Underhill, standing waist-deep in the bay, speaking about baby dolphins and rays and abundant fish and then drinking a glass of the surrounding waters, supposedly to demonstrate the biological health and well-being of a vast and complicated local ecosystem.
In another, we see a citizen, Dr. Jackie Lane, a lifelong marine biologist who lives on the shores of Perdido Bay, testing water samples with a digital pH meter that is returning readings of abnormally high, and potentially unhealthy, alkalinity.
Freeze your mind's eye on these two close-ups, and you get a glimpse of the difference in how seriously our environment is treated by citizens on one hand, and by government officials on the other.
And when the camera zooms out, it's just another brief episode for everyone who is binge-watching the docu-series about Escambia County's iconic, environment-poisoning paper mill and how local citizens continue to be failed by taxpayer-funded officials at almost every level of government.
On the local level you have those kooky commissioners — men like Underhill and Jeff Bergosh who respond to criticism about providing financial help to a multi-billion dollar polluting industry, by providing passionate, pro-bono public relations on behalf of that multi-billion dollar polluting industry.
They voted unanimously to help IP refinance as much as $10 million in bonds, a vote that did nothing for the citizens of Escambia County. It helped a polluter. But it provided no benefit to the people.
And when criticism came, commissioners' first instinct wasn't to stick up for citizens or explain how their vote helped the folks they represent. They still have not explained that.
Instead, their instinct was defensiveness. To make excuses. To point fingers. To whine and complain about the press and political cartoons. To defend the polluter. And of course, to drink a glass of bay water on Facebook.
But not one of them simply stopped and said, "You know, this sort of pollution is not right. It's not healthy. And it's not good for this county. So even if it is legal, it's not moral." Not one of them said anything close.
And of course, the county's lack of moral clarity is matched by the state of Florida.
When it came to environmental protection, Gov. Rick Scott was famous for creating a culture where legitimate scientists were silenced and biologists were banished, and instead, political bureaucrats were put in charge of environmental protection. So it's no wonder state officials have permitted IP's ongoing environmental failures for so long.
For every abuse, there has been a bureaucratic policy to excuse it. For every toxicity failure, there's been a procedural mechanism for allowing it to continue. Top state officials charged with regulating IP have literally left the DEP to take lucrative executive jobs with the polluter they were supposed to be regulating.
More from Andy Marlette:
►Commissioners vote for a polluter over people
►Farewell poor water flea, killed by IP!
►IP gives summertime the smell of formaldehyde!
►DEP, DeSantis dodge questions on IP pollution
►IP's bank ain't worth the stank
►Call DeSantis, DEP protecting a polluter in International Paper
Meanwhile, we have state legislators like Rep. Alex Andrade and Sen. Doug Broxson who have refused to even use the word "pollution" and who haven't done so much as to even publicly acknowledge or condemn the multi-generational destruction.
Again, not one of them has said, "Even if this is legal, it's not moral."
And at the federal level? Well, our courageous young congressman's first official act when he got to D.C. was an attempt to abolish the EPA. So what's that tell you?
All of this, dear readers, is why it's worth sharing the sad saga of a paper mill's ongoing plague upon this place we all call home. It is symbolic. It is the past and the present, but it is something that citizens have an opportunity to change in the future.
And that's what our navel-gazing and narcissistic commissioners totally miss.
Small minds miss the larger story. Blinded by their own selfies, Facebook posts and swiftly-forgotten rants at poorly-attended public meetings, what they fail to see is the most important thing — that it's not about them.
It's about you — and how you've been totally abandoned by the entities and elected officials who are supposed to look out for your best interests.
The story of IP is not that a paper mill pollutes. Of course it does.
The story is that the people who promised to protect the place we live did nothing, or even worse, helped hurt it.
No, that's not an original predicament or something unique to Escambia County. It happens all the time in communities all over this country, sadly.
But it presents an opportunity for clarity. Because if nothing else, stories like this show us how elected officials will slither, squirm and scramble to defend their own lack of leadership and even the gross, scientifically documented damage of a private polluting industry.
Yet they don't lift a finger to defend you.
If nothing else, stories like this reveal the pettiest instincts of poor public leaders.
So in the weeks and months to come, stay tuned. And as you ask yourself who to trust and who sincerely has the best interests of this place we live at heart, keep in mind those dueling images of Escambia County environmental stewardship:
The marine biologist dutifully testing water samples day after day, politely and professionally alerting state officials to the potential of abnormal readings, comparing the data to that collected in other local bodies of water.
And the county commissioner, slurping a glass of bay water — and pretending its science.