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CODEN, Ala. - When Gulf Coast resident Louise Bosarge heard
President Obama refer to her community as "resilient," her response was
poetic: "We bounce back. We always bounce back. Bouncing hurts."
Along with my daughter Mariah and a team of human rights experts from
the RFK Center for Justice and Human Rights, I spent the last several
days in Mississippi, Louisiana and Alabama speaking with commercial
fishermen, deck hands, restaurateurs, ecologists, farmers, service
providers, marina workers, hoteliers, kids and more whose lives are
directly affected by BP's toxic tsunami swamping the Gulf Coast and
wiping out the fishing and tourism industries which have been the
mainstays of these communities for decades. "Oil will be all that's
left," lamented one long-time resident. "And with the politicians in
the pockets of the oil companies, there will be more pressure than ever
to drill, baby, drill."
Photographs of slime-soaked seabirds distract from the human tragedy
suffocating the region. More concerned about its image than about the
human beings impacted, BP has spent $50 million on an oil-slick ad
campaign. Meanwhile, BP is strangling the livelihoods of the people of
the gulf coast just as surely as its oil is eviscerating the
ecosystems.
Eleven of us motored a small boat eight miles out from shore. Though
far from shore, the water there appeared as though we had pulled up to
a gargantuan gas dock, with a rainbow sheen covering the ocean, horizon
to horizon. Our eyes stung, our throats closed and our heads ached
despite the respirators we wore.
Our little boat came to a bird sanctuary which was surrounded by
buoyant booms floating on the water to hold the oil off the island. But
the oil, aided by dispersants, had slipped beneath the booms and
puddled in a gooey brown ring around the once pristine land. We watched
in horror as a pelican, smothered in molasses-like gunk, struggled
haplessly to get a foothold on the rocky shore -- spreading its wings
and falling back, spreading and falling, spreading and falling. As we
docked the boat, the captain said "I'll be dreaming about that pelican
tonight. I hope I'm not that pelican."
After generations spent mastering their trade, fishermen (already
underwater with loans on boats that now stand idle) fear they will have
to permanently pull up their nets. BP is attempting to buy them off
with promises to pay their lost salaries, but in reality BP has
cynically designed a system that makes it impossible for most fishermen
to successfully make claims. BP forced many of those who came forward
to sign forms releasing BP from future liability. Only through public
pressure has BP agreed to rescind these forced agreements.
BP's public relations machine says it will protect the cleanup
crews. However, workers were not only denied protective equipment but,
after arriving for work wearing respirators, were threatened with the
loss of their jobs if they chose to wear these "unnecessary" safety
devices which serve only to "spread hysteria." Workers complaining of
illnesses such as headaches and breathing difficulty were told by BP
that they have "food poisoning" or "heat stroke." BP warned workers
that if they wanted to be treated, they should see the BP doctors
rather than county health officials.
Fishermen, residents and the American public had no say in the
decision of a private company to conduct a colossal experiment of
pouring billions of gallons of carcinogens into one of the most fertile
fishing grounds on earth.
BP refuses to publicly disclose the litany of chemical agents so
that patients and health care professionals can properly identify and
treat related illnesses already being reported. Because of the virtual
silence about the real health impacts of these chemicals, nothing has
been done to prepare for the potential evacuation on the horizon.
Six weeks out, the economic backlash, with vast swaths of the
fishable waters closed and vacation and convention cancellations
rampant, is already manifesting itself in a worrisome spike in mental
health concerns for persons who have lost virtually everything and fear
for their future. Professionals reported significant increases in
depression, which can be expected to lead to domestic violence, alcohol
and drug use, and suicide.
Residents of the Gulf Coast have a clear sense of what should be done:
It may take decades for BP to make the Gulf "whole." In the
aftermath of this oil tsunami, concrete actions that respect residents'
rights are the next steps.
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CODEN, Ala. - When Gulf Coast resident Louise Bosarge heard
President Obama refer to her community as "resilient," her response was
poetic: "We bounce back. We always bounce back. Bouncing hurts."
Along with my daughter Mariah and a team of human rights experts from
the RFK Center for Justice and Human Rights, I spent the last several
days in Mississippi, Louisiana and Alabama speaking with commercial
fishermen, deck hands, restaurateurs, ecologists, farmers, service
providers, marina workers, hoteliers, kids and more whose lives are
directly affected by BP's toxic tsunami swamping the Gulf Coast and
wiping out the fishing and tourism industries which have been the
mainstays of these communities for decades. "Oil will be all that's
left," lamented one long-time resident. "And with the politicians in
the pockets of the oil companies, there will be more pressure than ever
to drill, baby, drill."
Photographs of slime-soaked seabirds distract from the human tragedy
suffocating the region. More concerned about its image than about the
human beings impacted, BP has spent $50 million on an oil-slick ad
campaign. Meanwhile, BP is strangling the livelihoods of the people of
the gulf coast just as surely as its oil is eviscerating the
ecosystems.
Eleven of us motored a small boat eight miles out from shore. Though
far from shore, the water there appeared as though we had pulled up to
a gargantuan gas dock, with a rainbow sheen covering the ocean, horizon
to horizon. Our eyes stung, our throats closed and our heads ached
despite the respirators we wore.
Our little boat came to a bird sanctuary which was surrounded by
buoyant booms floating on the water to hold the oil off the island. But
the oil, aided by dispersants, had slipped beneath the booms and
puddled in a gooey brown ring around the once pristine land. We watched
in horror as a pelican, smothered in molasses-like gunk, struggled
haplessly to get a foothold on the rocky shore -- spreading its wings
and falling back, spreading and falling, spreading and falling. As we
docked the boat, the captain said "I'll be dreaming about that pelican
tonight. I hope I'm not that pelican."
After generations spent mastering their trade, fishermen (already
underwater with loans on boats that now stand idle) fear they will have
to permanently pull up their nets. BP is attempting to buy them off
with promises to pay their lost salaries, but in reality BP has
cynically designed a system that makes it impossible for most fishermen
to successfully make claims. BP forced many of those who came forward
to sign forms releasing BP from future liability. Only through public
pressure has BP agreed to rescind these forced agreements.
BP's public relations machine says it will protect the cleanup
crews. However, workers were not only denied protective equipment but,
after arriving for work wearing respirators, were threatened with the
loss of their jobs if they chose to wear these "unnecessary" safety
devices which serve only to "spread hysteria." Workers complaining of
illnesses such as headaches and breathing difficulty were told by BP
that they have "food poisoning" or "heat stroke." BP warned workers
that if they wanted to be treated, they should see the BP doctors
rather than county health officials.
Fishermen, residents and the American public had no say in the
decision of a private company to conduct a colossal experiment of
pouring billions of gallons of carcinogens into one of the most fertile
fishing grounds on earth.
BP refuses to publicly disclose the litany of chemical agents so
that patients and health care professionals can properly identify and
treat related illnesses already being reported. Because of the virtual
silence about the real health impacts of these chemicals, nothing has
been done to prepare for the potential evacuation on the horizon.
Six weeks out, the economic backlash, with vast swaths of the
fishable waters closed and vacation and convention cancellations
rampant, is already manifesting itself in a worrisome spike in mental
health concerns for persons who have lost virtually everything and fear
for their future. Professionals reported significant increases in
depression, which can be expected to lead to domestic violence, alcohol
and drug use, and suicide.
Residents of the Gulf Coast have a clear sense of what should be done:
It may take decades for BP to make the Gulf "whole." In the
aftermath of this oil tsunami, concrete actions that respect residents'
rights are the next steps.
CODEN, Ala. - When Gulf Coast resident Louise Bosarge heard
President Obama refer to her community as "resilient," her response was
poetic: "We bounce back. We always bounce back. Bouncing hurts."
Along with my daughter Mariah and a team of human rights experts from
the RFK Center for Justice and Human Rights, I spent the last several
days in Mississippi, Louisiana and Alabama speaking with commercial
fishermen, deck hands, restaurateurs, ecologists, farmers, service
providers, marina workers, hoteliers, kids and more whose lives are
directly affected by BP's toxic tsunami swamping the Gulf Coast and
wiping out the fishing and tourism industries which have been the
mainstays of these communities for decades. "Oil will be all that's
left," lamented one long-time resident. "And with the politicians in
the pockets of the oil companies, there will be more pressure than ever
to drill, baby, drill."
Photographs of slime-soaked seabirds distract from the human tragedy
suffocating the region. More concerned about its image than about the
human beings impacted, BP has spent $50 million on an oil-slick ad
campaign. Meanwhile, BP is strangling the livelihoods of the people of
the gulf coast just as surely as its oil is eviscerating the
ecosystems.
Eleven of us motored a small boat eight miles out from shore. Though
far from shore, the water there appeared as though we had pulled up to
a gargantuan gas dock, with a rainbow sheen covering the ocean, horizon
to horizon. Our eyes stung, our throats closed and our heads ached
despite the respirators we wore.
Our little boat came to a bird sanctuary which was surrounded by
buoyant booms floating on the water to hold the oil off the island. But
the oil, aided by dispersants, had slipped beneath the booms and
puddled in a gooey brown ring around the once pristine land. We watched
in horror as a pelican, smothered in molasses-like gunk, struggled
haplessly to get a foothold on the rocky shore -- spreading its wings
and falling back, spreading and falling, spreading and falling. As we
docked the boat, the captain said "I'll be dreaming about that pelican
tonight. I hope I'm not that pelican."
After generations spent mastering their trade, fishermen (already
underwater with loans on boats that now stand idle) fear they will have
to permanently pull up their nets. BP is attempting to buy them off
with promises to pay their lost salaries, but in reality BP has
cynically designed a system that makes it impossible for most fishermen
to successfully make claims. BP forced many of those who came forward
to sign forms releasing BP from future liability. Only through public
pressure has BP agreed to rescind these forced agreements.
BP's public relations machine says it will protect the cleanup
crews. However, workers were not only denied protective equipment but,
after arriving for work wearing respirators, were threatened with the
loss of their jobs if they chose to wear these "unnecessary" safety
devices which serve only to "spread hysteria." Workers complaining of
illnesses such as headaches and breathing difficulty were told by BP
that they have "food poisoning" or "heat stroke." BP warned workers
that if they wanted to be treated, they should see the BP doctors
rather than county health officials.
Fishermen, residents and the American public had no say in the
decision of a private company to conduct a colossal experiment of
pouring billions of gallons of carcinogens into one of the most fertile
fishing grounds on earth.
BP refuses to publicly disclose the litany of chemical agents so
that patients and health care professionals can properly identify and
treat related illnesses already being reported. Because of the virtual
silence about the real health impacts of these chemicals, nothing has
been done to prepare for the potential evacuation on the horizon.
Six weeks out, the economic backlash, with vast swaths of the
fishable waters closed and vacation and convention cancellations
rampant, is already manifesting itself in a worrisome spike in mental
health concerns for persons who have lost virtually everything and fear
for their future. Professionals reported significant increases in
depression, which can be expected to lead to domestic violence, alcohol
and drug use, and suicide.
Residents of the Gulf Coast have a clear sense of what should be done:
It may take decades for BP to make the Gulf "whole." In the
aftermath of this oil tsunami, concrete actions that respect residents'
rights are the next steps.