Laying Waste to West Texas
Forrest Wilder | February 18, 2005 | Capitol Offense
Going Nuclear in West Texas
BY FORREST WILDER
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nuclear waste, bad ideas never seem to go away. Long-time Observer
readers will remember the decades-long knock-down drag-out fights over where
to put a radioactive waste dump. The last major episode was in 1998, when an
unusually effective citizen-led campaign succeeded in persuading the Texas Natural
Resources Conservation Commission (now the Texas Commission on Environmental
Quality (TCEQ)) to deny the license for a low-level radioactive waste dump in
Sierra Blanca. Oddly, not just the people of Texas celebrated this victory.
A particularly aggressive and well-connected private outfit, Waste Control Specialists
(WCS), backed by Dallas billionaire Harold Simmons, saw opportunity in the Sierra
Blanca site’s demise. Now, because of WCS’s deep pockets, deeper political
connections, and dogged persistence, Texas could soon find itself the national
dumping ground for state and federal, commercial and governmental nuclear waste.
On
February 1, Sen. Robert Duncan (R-Lubbock), whose district lies near WCS-owned
land in Andrews County in West Texas, organized a hearing for the Senate Committee
on Natural Resources. Chair Sen. Ken Armbrister (D-Victoria), who accepted $2,500
in campaign contributions in 2004 from WCS interests, called it a “fact-finding
mission.” Sen. Duncan was intent on getting to the bottom of just what
WCS was up to. He and several other senators seemed blindsided by WCS’s
multiple (and multiplying) schemes to accept state and federal radioactive waste
streams. Under legislation passed in 2003, WCS has a license to process, store,
and dispose of hazardous and toxic materials at its mammoth site in Andrews
County, near the New Mexico border. Now WCS is back asking for more. As Sen.
Duncan related, the company has several pending applications into the TCEQ and
the Department of State Health Services (DSHS) that, if approved, would vastly
expand WCS’s fledgling radioactive empire in West Texas.
One of the DSHS licenses would allow WCS to begin accepting the leftovers from
a retired bomb plant in Fernald, Ohio, for permanent storage—some 10 million
cubic feet to be brought in on an estimated 800 railcars. This Ohio nuclear
waste is at least four times (and up to 140 times) more radioactive than the
average gram of uranium waste, according to Richard Ratliff, chief of the bureau
of radiation control of DSHS. The TCEQ license would also allow WCS to permanently
dispose of Texas’ (and other states’) commercial radioactive waste
as well as federal low-level radioactive waste. Additionally, WCS has its eyes
on a proposed uranium enrichment facility right across the border in New Mexico
that could conveniently hand over its by-product—depleted uranium—to
WCS for disposal. WCS, a company that consistently reports quarterly losses
to the Securities and Exchange Commission, stands to make billions of dollars
from these deals. The state and the people of Texas, however, won’t receive
a cent on most of this revenue.
In a presentation to the committee, Sen. Duncan reviewed what transpired in
the 2003 legislative session. WCS, after years of failed attempts and millions
of dollars spent on political contributions and high-dollar lobbyists, finally
succeeded in getting a bill passed, House Bill 1567, that catered to its interests.
HB 1567 essentially authorized a private radioactive waste facility in Texas
for this state, Vermont, and possibly others. Although it technically allowed
any private company to apply to establish the dump, WCS was the only company
that was positioned to qualify. Vermont comes into the picture because of a
“compact” agreement that states can enter into that makes one state—Texas,
in this case—a host for other states’ low-level radioactive waste.
But because of a loophole, any other entity—including a foreign government—can
opt into the compact with the majority consent of the compact commissioners,
according to Richard Simpson, a long-time activist who has worked on anti-nuclear
waste dump campaigns in New Mexico and Texas.
Sen. Duncan also reminded the committee that the Legislature had authorized
a private company to process and (temporarily) store federal low-level
radioactive waste in addition to the compact waste. Sen. Mike Jackson (R-La
Porte) seemed to have forgotten this fact. “We formed the compact to avoid
being a dumping ground for the federal government,” he told George Dials,
President of WCS. Dials, who was testifying in front of the committee, gently
corrected Sen. Jackson. In fact, in the lead-up to passage of HB 1567, WCS’s
proxies had convinced lawmakers that compact waste alone wouldn’t generate
enough revenue to keep WCS afloat, the loophole notwithstanding. Obligingly,
legislators passed the bill without any meaningful caps on the amount of federal
waste the company can accept. As a result, WCS potentially has full access to
massive amounts of nuclear waste that the feds have been trying to unload since
the Cold War.
If Dials succeeds in landing a permit from the TCEQ for (permanent) disposal
of “low-level” radioactive waste, Andrews could be the home for vast
amounts of this waste forever. Luckily, TCEQ’s permit process is relatively
stringent and a decision isn’t expected until December 2007. According
to an official with TCEQ, WCS was recently issued its “third notice of
administrative deficiency.” If not corrected, WCS would have to start the
licensing process all over again. TCEQ oversight of the compact and federal
low-level radioactive waste was a concession won by Sen. Duncan in 2003. Perhaps
that’s why he seemed a little miffed at the prospect of DSHS—seen
by many as a regulatory pushover—handling the application for the Fernald
waste. One of Sen. Duncan’s concerns is that the agency will approve WCS’s
applications before the Legislature has time to intervene. The Legislature “has
never considered whether the state of Texas should be a commercial importer
of [Fernald radioactive materials],” Duncan said at the hearing.
The twist is that WCS may not even need to get its disposal permit granted to
become the nation’s repository for aging Cold War waste. A “perfect
storm” may make it one by default. On February 7, President Bush announced
major budget cuts to the environmental cleanup budget of Fernald and two other
similar facilities. According to the Alliance for Nuclear Accountability, a
grassroots network that monitors nuclear issues, that kind of pressure forces
the Department of Energy to find a permanent home for their radioactive waste
soon. Currently, the other states that could feasibly accept Fernald-type and
other low-level radioactive waste—Nevada, Utah, and South Carolina—are
signaling their intention to cut back or get out of the business.
Nevada, which is still fighting to rid itself of the Yucca Mountain high-level
waste site, has said that it will also fight any attempted low-level importation.
In a letter to the DOE, Nevada attorney general helpfully mentioned WCS’s
site as an alternative. Utah, which is home to WCS’s long-time rival Envirocare,
has been moving away from radioactive dumping due to public opposition. Finally,
South Carolina is eliminating the importation of the most radioactive of the
low-level waste despite its generating an estimated $300 million in revenue
for the state. That leaves WCS holding a virtual monopoly. Sen. Duncan argues
that “once we get the [Fernald waste] here we’re going to have to
dispose of it most likely,” even if WCS is only permitted for storage,
not disposal.
The final wild card in WCS’s and Texas’ radioactive future is the
proposed uranium enrichment facility that lies, in the words of Sen. Duncan,
“a nine-iron chip away from the [Texas] border” in New Mexico, next
door to WCS’s facility. An initial agreement has already been inked to
create a private uranium plant that will take dangerous depleted uranium coming
from the proposed National Enrichment Facility (NEF) outside of Eunice, New
Mexico, and try to make it a little more chemically stable.
Sen. Duncan pressed Dials on the matter. “In addition to the waste that
we authorized last session and the compact waste, potentially now there’s
another source of waste that could be disposed of at your site. We could anticipate
that in 2008, you might come back to ask for an amendment to allow you to take
that waste,” said Duncan. After some hesitation, Dials responded. “Yes,”
he said.
And why can’t the depleted uranium just stay in New Mexico? Simple: The
state and its people don’t want it.
WCS is promoting its various radioactive ventures as a popular jobs program
for West Texas and a chance for Texas to seize the market in “an emerging
industry.” On hand at the hearing to drive his point home was Robert Zap,
the mayor of the city of Andrews, and Russell Shannon, Vice President of the
Andrews Industrial Foundation. They recounted the hard times their area fell
on after the oil crash in the ’80s, and plugged the jobs that an expanded
dump would create. What they didn’t mention was their county’s zeal
for high-risk holes in the ground no one else seems to want: the national, high-level
radioactive waste site (now slated for Yucca Mountain), the failed supercolliding
superconductor, and the hazardous and toxic materials dump WSC currently operates
at its facility. Shannon told the committee of a sign outside Andrews that promotes
the area’s values: God, Country, and Free Enterprise. “We hope the
Legislature takes no action to impede our growth,” Dials said.
WCS has spent a lot of time and money to get to this point. They’ve been
helped along the way by lawmakers either too shortsighted or too indebted to
pay attention to WCS’s expanding ambitions. HB 1567 allows for a total
of 162 million cubic feet of federal low-level waste—virtually all of it.
In addition, the Fernald waste is estimated to be 1.3 million cubic feet. The
Sierra Club estimates that WCS could generate $100 billion in profits on the
federal waste it’s already allowed to accept, to say nothing of the waste
from Ohio. That’s a nice return on the millions WCS and its affiliates
have sunk into political contributions to state and federal candidates, parties,
and PACs over the years. (According to Andrew Wheat of Texans for Public Justice,
Harold Simmons, one of the company’s principals, was the state’s number
four political donor in 2004, paying out $548,250. From January 1, 2003, to
late October 2004, WCS-related contributions totaled $843,200. Several members
of the Senate Committee on Natural Resources have received significant contributions
from WCS and its affiliates.)
It will be hard for a Republican senator, even one with a thoughtful take on
the issue, to undercut a company that has dispensed favors so generously to
Republican candidates. “Duncan has to realize that he’s up against
some major donors,” according to Colin Leyden, the Legislative Director
for Rep. Lon Burnham (D-Fort Worth). Nonetheless, the senator from Lubbock finally
seemed to get his colleagues to listen when he broached the topic of fees for
the state. Under HB 1567, Andrews County and the state of Texas will each eventually
receive 5 percent of WCS’s gross receipts from compact and federal waste,
much less than the amount South Carolina generates for similar low-level waste.
However, the Fernald waste stream would generate not a single dime for Texas
under the current fee schedule. According to Cyrus Reed, a registered lobbyist
with the Sierra Club, some lawmakers are considering imposing a 5 percent fee
on the Fernald waste in order to generate revenue for cash-strapped state coffers.
Considering the tremendous pressure the Legislature is under to come up with
billions in new funding for public schools, it’s not unlikely that Texas
may follow South Carolina’s example and use the fee money to fund public
education. The appearance of a quick-and-easy fix may spur lawmakers reluctant
to squeeze WCS’s profits into action, quickly setting up a fee system for
the incoming radioactive waste while putting pressure on TCEQ and DSHS to expedite
WCS’s applications. “Once [the waste] is a state revenue source you’ll
never get rid of it,” says Leyden. Left out of the mix, of course, will
be the short-term and long-term health and environmental consequences of unloading
millions of cubic feet of radioactive junk on future generations.
Forrest Wilder is a freelance writer living in Austin.
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