The images and personal stories coming out of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico are heartrending. As I watch the oil gush from the underwater well, I am struck by the breadth and the depth of its toll on Gulf Coast communities and ecosystems, and by the impotence of those with the responsibility and resources to do something about it. Even more frustrating is that it’s a story I’ve heard many times before.
For communities in the Amazon and the Niger Delta, this is all depressingly familiar: the deceit and unpreparedness of a transnational oil company; the blundering mismanagement and cronyism in relevant government agencies; and the ravaged environment and resources that local people depend on for survival. I’ve seen the cut-and-paste environmental impact assessments for oil projects in Peru that don’t even bother to change the names of the rivers or affected indigenous tribes. It’s all a formality, especially when the government regulator is part of the same agency responsible for promoting the projects. Companies operating in these parts of the world promise that they are using state of the art technology, but we know they don’t—they avoid reinjection of toxic formation waters; flare—instead of gather—associated gases; build exposed pipelines through unstable terrain; and they drill extra wells rather than take precautionary measures in ecologically sensitive areas. Sadly, these relatively common activities cause long-term oil disasters that leave communities and the environment in ruin.
Prior to the Gulf spill, the 11 million gallons spilled into Alaskan water in 1989 by the Exxon Valdez was our reference point for measuring oil disasters. As I write this, likely 160 million gallons of oil have spilled into the Gulf of Mexico from Deepwater Horizon. In Ecuador, Amazonian communities are suing Chevron/Texaco for dumping 18 billion gallons of toxic formation waters, laden with lead and arsenic, into Amazonian streams and rivers during the period of 1967-1992. These waters contained more than 300 million gallons of crude while an additional 17 million gallons spilled from leaky pipelines. In the Niger Delta, considered one of the most oil-polluted ecosystems in the world, 378 to 546 million gallons of oil have been spilled over the past 50 years, or roughly one Exxon Valdez spill per year.
Grassroots movements have learned from these experiences that you can’t count on government or company assurances of best practices or adequate compensation. Nor can you expect that funds or lawsuits will actually remedy decades of damages, some of which, like the birth defects and 1,400 cancer deaths in the Ecuadorian Amazon, may not appear until far into the future. Effective monitoring and vigilance of the oil industry depends on local leadership and the action of engaged communities on the front lines.
And there are many inspiring actions to learn from: the tireless lawsuit led by the Amazon Defense Coalition in Ecuador; the organizing and vigilance of the Host Communities Network in Nigeria; the innovative alternatives proposed by the Eyak Preservation Council in Alaska; and the international movement-building of Oilwatch.
Building on Experience: Supporting Grassroots Action At Home
We all agree that BP and its associates must be held financially responsible for the environmental and economic losses caused by the Deepwater Horizon disaster. However, having seen Chevron fight the lawsuit in Ecuador for more than a decade, I know it will take tremendous grassroots pressure to ensure they pay. And for adequate restoration of the Gulf’s environment and coastal communities to happen, strong local organizations must lead.
This is the rationale behind the Gulf Coast Fund for Community Renewal and Ecological Health, which began supporting grassroots movements in response to Hurricanes Katrina and Rita. With the goal of connecting people in affected communities with the decision-making of policymakers and relief organizations, the Fund’s creators drew upon Greengrants’ own model of advisory boards and small grants. The Gulf Coast Fund established an advisory group made up of local activists, community organizers, and non-profit leaders from the Gulf States who direct the Fund’s strategy and grantmaking. Since the oil spill, the Gulf Coast Fund has made emergency grants for local monitoring and documentation of impacts as well as for grassroots leaders to get to Washington, where decisions about the Gulf’s future are being made.
According to Executive Director of the Jennifer Altman Fund, Marni Rosen, who was also active in establishing the Gulf Coast Fund, “Communities on the ground that have been living with the petroleum industry for decades have a very comprehensive view of energy policy issues. Funders need to help ensure that local voices are heard in national debates.” The Fund hopes to raise $1 million over the next 6 months to help communities in this region, who are the latest to join communities in Prince William Sound, the Niger Delta, and the Amazon in a global movement of people forced to defend and restore their environment from the ravages of oil.
To learn more about the Gulf Coast Fund for Community Renewal and Ecological Health and how you can promote grassroots movement-building in response to the recent oil spill, click here.