According to sterotype, the government whistleblower sits on an empty desk all day, stirring coffee, waiting for reporters to call. He or she may by dynamite on 60 Minutes, exposing dangerous fraud and incompetence, but back in the office the lonely hero is a disgruntled employee, a pariah around the water cooler, a naive moralist who won’t adapt to an imperfect world.
Mother Ocean, how do we pollute thee? Let us count the ways: There’s garbage dumped and fuel that spills and toxic boatbottom paints; bathroom waste, beer cans dumped in haste and tampons on the beach… Indeed, while sailing from California to Hawaii last summer, adventure boater Bill Forrest didn’t need his compass–he just followed the highway of platic bags tossed overboard by other boaters.
One hundred and twenty-two years ago, Ulysses S. Grant was President, Charles Darwin continued work on his evolution theory, George Pullman introduced the "sleeper car," and the General Mining Law of 1872 was enacted. since then, we’ve had 24 new presidents, evolution has become a science and the sleeper car has lost out to air travel. But the mining law remains. Passed by Congress primarily to bring law and order to a 19th centruy "Wild West" shooting itself apart over mining claims, the 1872 Law also sought to lure immigrants and Easterners to settle the vast stretches of public land in the West. In 1993, however, the miners are usually wealthy and the mining companies often foreign-owned, and just about everybody–except mining companies and their powerful lobby– thinks the law has long overstayed its welcome.
For years, environmentalists have urged the federal government to become the jolly green giant among green consumers. After all, the U.S. runs up a $480 billion shopping bill each year, buying eight percent of our gross national product, while the General Services Administration (GSA), the federal landlord and supply store, would rank in the top 50 of the Fortune 500 if it were a private company. Late Christmas, Ralph Nader gave the Clinton administration his wish-list disguised as a present, a recycling bin loaded with 40 items it should buy to build a greener economy. He included brown unbleached paper napkins, a low flow showerhead, an energy efficient "exit" sign good for 10 years and copier paper made with kenaf, a plant fiber substitute for trees. "Not only is the government the largest single consumer in this country, its buying power could leverage new technologies, creat jobs, protect the environment, save taxpayer money and stimulate emerging technologies for a broader civilian marketplace," he said.
On weekends, the Crystal City Marriott on the rim of Washington, DC turns into a hive of conventioneers. This past May, it is asphalt makers and nurses who have come to dine among tropical plants in the balcony restaurants, ride the escalators under the skylights and meet in the beige caverns of the conference halls.
For Norman Maclean, Montana’s Big Blackfoot River was a pristine and spiritual place where any faithful fly fisherman could enjoy a near-religious experience, partaking in the best that nature had to offer. The trout-filled waters of the Blackfoot shaped Maclean’s life and inspired him to write a book, A River Runs Through It, filled with romantic descriptions of the Blackfoot, which inspired Robert Redford to buy the screenplay rights and produce a movie about the beautiful river of Maclean’s youth. Flyfishing, brotherhood, growing up in Montana–the Hollywood production had all the wholesome goodness of homemade bread, except for one thing. By the time Redford was ready to start filming two years ago, some 16 years after the book was published, the Big Blackfoot lacked the asthetics necessary to serve as the setting for the movie.
Can’t sleep? Upset stomach? Need to warm up or cool down? Then do what half of America and 90 percent of the world does each day–have a cup of tea. Who can resist the whimsical packaging and names like Metabolic Frolic, Nighty-Night, Red Zinger, and Grandma’s Tummy Mint? Yet tea, innocuous as it seems, is steeped in controversy, government regulations, lawsuits and battles for the bucks.
A mere 28 pounds of metal and rubber, it’s been called "the most elegantly simple machine ever invented." It’s cheap, clean, quiet and healthy, too. But, next to the fondue pot, the bicycle may be the most underutilized piece of equipment we own, quietly biodegrading in our garage or closet, as we wait for next spring. Spring then turns to summer–and "it’s too hot to ride, takes too long, is too dangerous, rumples my clothes, the air’s too dirty, I’m not in good enough shape…"
Noe that 12 years of Republican neglect of the environment have been consigned to the ash heap of history, some observers have found a new culprit behind the seemingly never-ending stories of our ailing planet: the environmentalists themselves. According to a recent series in The New York Times (the topic of this issue’s Forum), such groups as the Sierra club and Natural Resources Defense Council "are in danger of becoming the green equivalent of the military lobby, more interested in sowing fear and protecting wasteful programs than in devising a new course." In a time of huge budget deficits and a sputtering economy, they say, environmentalists should quit the Chicken Little game and accept that we live in a cost/benefits world where we simply can’t afford a return to the Garden of Eden.
The 25-foot boat darted toward the Exxon tanker under cover of night, stealthily taking water samples of the liquid being discharged. For a half year, the tiny boat had trailed tankers along New York’s Hudson River as they rinsed their tanks clean of sea water tainted with jet fuel–an illegal activity Exxon would live to regret. But back in 1983 few people knew that the Hudson River had recently acquired its very own watchdog: John Cronin, better known as the Riverkeeper.
