The
Sierra Club had taken money, gobs of it, from an industry that we in
the grassroots have been in the fight of our lives to oppose. The
largest, most venerable environmental organization in the United
States secretly aligned with the very company that seeks to occupy
our land, turn it inside out, blow it apart, fill it with poison.
Breaking
Up with the Sierra Club
26
March, 2013
No
right way is easy. . . .We must risk our lives to save them.
—John
Muir, Sierra Club’s founder
Dear
Sierra Club,
I’m
through with you.
For
years we had a great relationship based on mutual admiration. You
gave a glowing review of my first book, Living
Downstream—a
review that appeared in the pages of Sierra
magazine and hailed me as “the new Rachel Carson.” Since 1999
that phrase has linked us together in all the press materials that my
publicist sends out. Your name appears with mine on the flaps of my
book jackets, in the biography that introduces me at the speaker’s
podium, and in the press release that announced, last fall, that I
was one of the lucky recipients of a $100,000 Heinz Award for my
research and writing on the environment.
I
was proud to be affiliated with you. I hoped to live up to the
moniker you bestowed upon me.
But
more than a month has past since your executive director, Michael
Brune, admitted
in Time magazine
that the Sierra Club had, between 2007 and 2010, clandestinely
accepted $25 million from the fracking industry, with most of the
donations coming from Chesapeake Energy. Corporate
Crime Reporter
was hot
on the trail
of the story when it broke in Time.
From
the start, Brune’s declaration seemed less an acknowledgement of
wrongdoing than an attempt to minister to a looming public relations
problem. Would someone truly interested in atonement seek credit for
choosing not to take additional millions of gas industry dollars
(“Why
the Sierra Club Turned Down $26 Million in Contributions from Natural
Gas Interests”)?
Here,
on top of the Marcellus Shale, along the border between Pennsylvania
and New York—where we are surrounded by land leased to the gas
industry; where we live in fear that our water will be ruined, our
mortgages called in, our teenage children killed in fiery wrecks with
18-wheelers hauling toxic fracking waste on our rural, icy back
roads; where we cash out our vacation days to board predawn buses to
rallies and public hearings; where we fundraise, donate, testify,
phone bank, lobby, submit public comments, sign up for trainings in
nonviolent civil disobedience; where our children ask if we will be
arrested, if we will have to move, if we will die, and what will
happen to the bats, the honeybees, the black bears, the grapevines,
the apple orchards, the cows’ milk; where we have learned all about
casing failures, blow-outs, gas flares, clear-cuts, legal exemptions,
the benzene content of production fluid, the radioactive content of
drill cuttings; where people suddenly start sobbing in church and no
one needs to ask why—here in the crosshairs of Chesapeake Energy,
Michael Brune’s announcement was met with a kind of stunned
confusion.
The
Sierra Club had taken money, gobs of it, from an industry that we in
the grassroots have been in the fight of our lives to oppose. The
largest, most venerable environmental organization in the United
States secretly aligned with the very company that seeks to occupy
our land, turn it inside out, blow it apart, fill it with poison. All
for the goal of extracting a powerful heat-trapping gas, methane,
that plays a significant role in climate change.
Climate
change: identified by The
Lancet
as the number-one global health problem of the 21st century.
Children, according to the World Health Organization, are among its
primary victims.
It
was as if, on the eve of D-day, the anti-Fascist partisans had
discovered that Churchill was actually in cahoots with the Axis
forces.
So,
I’ve had many weeks now to ponder the whole betrayal and watch for
signs of redemption from Sierra Club’s national leadership. Would
it be “coming clean” (to quote the title of the executive
director’s recent book)?
Freed
from the silence that money bought, would it now lend its voice in
support of environmental groups in New York State that seek a
statewide prohibition on fracking? Would it come to the aid of those
in Pennsylvania calling for a halt to the devastation there?
Would
it, at the very least, endorse the modest proposal of Physicians,
Scientists and Engineers for Healthy Energy, who recommend a national
moratorium on fracking until human health impacts are researched?
And
would Michael Brune humbly ask forgiveness from antifracking activist
Lisa Wright, formerly on the executive committee of the Sierra Club’s
Finger Lakes chapter? As recently as last May, in response to a
direct query from Wright, who had become suspicious, Brune wrote, “I
do want to be clear about one thing: we do not receive any money from
Aubrey McClendon, nor his company Chesapeake. For that matter, we do
not receive any contributions from the natural gas industry.
Hopefully this will alleviate some concerns.”
The
answer to all of the above questions: No.
So,
Sierra Club, call some other writer your new Rachel Carson. I’ll be
erasing your endorsement from my website.
And
take back these words, penned by your own fierce and uncorruptible
founder, John Muir, that have hung for years by my writing desk:
Climb
the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow
into you as sunshine flows into trees. The wind will blow their own
freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will
drop off like autumn leaves.
There
is no peace in the mountains and hills over the Marcellus Shale. No
glad tidings. The forests of Pennsylvania are filled with chainsaws,
flares, drill pads, pipelines, condensers, generators, and the 24/7
roar of compressor stations. The wind that blows east from the gas
fields carries toluene, benzene, and diesel exhaust. Sunshine turns
it all into poisonous ozone. Storms send silt into trout streams from
denuded hillsides and cause good people to lie awake at night,
worried about overflowing impoundment pits full of neurotoxic
chemicals and overturned frack trucks full of carcinogens.
Even
now, plans
are being laid
to transport 88.2 million gallons of liquid propane and butane to
caverns that lie beneath the idyllic New York lakeshore where my
ten-year-old son was born. (“This transaction is yet another
example of the successful execution on our plan to build an
integrated natural gas storage and transportation hub in the
Northeast,” says the company called Inergy.) When you tramp through
the fields and forests where I live—40 percent of the land in my
county is leased to the gas industry—cares don’t drop off like
autumn leaves. They accumulate like convoys of flowback fluid laced
with arsenic, radium, and barium with no place, no place to go.
And,
yes, they are fracking in Rachel Carson’s beloved Allegheny County,
too.
The
hard truth: National Sierra Club served as the political cover for
the gas industry and for the politicians who take their money and do
their bidding. It had a hand in setting in motion the wheels of
environmental destruction and human suffering. It was complicit in
bringing extreme fossil fuel extraction onshore, into our
communities, farmlands, and forests, and in blowing up the bedrock of
our nation. And I can’t get over it.
So,
here are some parting words from the former new Rachel Carson.
The
path to salvation lies in reparations—not in accepting praise for
overcoming the urge to commit the same crime twice. So shutter your
doors. Cash out your assets. Don a backpack and hike through the
gaslands of America. Along the way, bear witness. Apologize. Offer
compensation to the people who have no drinkable water and can’t
sell their homes. Whose farm ponds bubble with methane. Whose kids
have nosebleeds and mysterious rashes. Write big checks to the people
who are putting their bodies on the line in the fight to ban
fracking, and to the grassroots groups that are organizing them.
Finally,
go to Washington and say what the Sierra Club should have said in
2007: Fracking is not a bridge to the future. It is a plank on which
we walk blindfolded at the point of a sword. There is no right way to
do it. And the pirates are not our friends.
Sincerely,
Sandra
Steingraber
Sandra
Steingraber, Ph.D. is an ecologist, author, internationally
recognized authority on the environment links to cancer and human
health, and co-founder of New Yorkers Against Fracking. She is the
author of Living Downstream: An Ecologist’s Personal Investigation
of Cancer and the Environment and, her most recent, Raising Elijah:
Protecting Children in an Age of Environmental Crisis
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