This post is part of the Environmental Law Review Syndicate, a multi-school online forum run by student editors from the nation’s leading environmental law reviews.

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By John Bullock, Harvard Law School

Introduction

As the public has become more aware of the intense connection between the practices of electric utilities and greenhouse gas emissions, interested groups have shone a brighter spotlight on the regulation of utilities in the United States. Some have called on the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (“FERC”) to take on a more environmentally conscious role when exercising their authority to set wholesale rates.[1] While FERC still hasn’t explicitly taken environmental considerations into wholesale rate setting, it has taken steps to continue to ensure reliability as the nation’s energy portfolio composition shifts.[2] 

Generally, under the Federal Power Act, FERC has jurisdiction over sales of electricity for resale in interstate commerce (wholesale sales), electricity transmission, and practices “affecting” rates.[3] The Supreme Court recently authorized a construction of FERC’s jurisdiction in FERC v. Electric Power Supply Association (“EPSA”) to include practices that “directly affect” wholesale rates.[4] This decision was seen as good for clean energy, as it removed barriers for demand response resources[5] to compete in the wholesale market in the short-term, while allowing FERC to have more regulatory flexibility in the long-term.[6]

At the state level, legislators and regulatory bodies generally retain the authority to set retail rates, maintain and site local facilities, and to establish resource portfolios.[7] There are a wide range of potential policies that can be used to foster clean energy, including feed-in tariffs,[8] renewable portfolio standards,[9] rebates for renewables,[10] a carbon tax,[11] a ban on carbon imports and new coal plant construction,[12] and net-metering policies.[13] A majority of states in the country have passed some form of a renewable portfolio standard mandating a certain percentage of the state’s electricity come from renewable resources.[14] These policies can originate in the state legislature or can come from the state utility regulator directly.[15] These state policies use several different regulatory tools, from market-based incentives like renewable energy credits to other state law mechanisms such as long-term power purchase agreements or mandated utility-owned renewable generation.

Some of these state clean energy policies have recently been challenged or are currently being challenged in the federal courts on preemption and dormant commerce clause grounds.[16] Challenges to these policies typically allege that the state programs are either preempted by the Federal Power Act, or are an impermissible intrusion into Congress’s exclusive power to regulate interstate commerce.

The Court, by authorizing an expansion of FERC’s jurisdiction in EPSA, and by failing to clarify the preemption analysis under the Federal Power Act in another recent case, Hughes v. Talen Energy Marketing LLC, may have inadvertently created considerable uncertainty about the extent of federal and state authority—or at least failed to remedy existing uncertainty. More thorough discussions on the shifting approach to the division of state and federal authority in energy law can be found elsewhere.[17] This Article will instead offer some speculation about the impacts of EPSA and Hughes on state policymaking.

  1. FERC v. EPSA and Hughes v. Talen Energy Marketing

In Federal Energy Regulatory Commission v. Electric Power Supply Ass’n, the Supreme Court upheld FERC’s assertion of jurisdiction by allowing it to regulate practices that “directly affect” wholesale rates.[18] At issue in EPSA was whether FERC had authority to regulate demand response transactions (where a provider contracts with consumers to reduce energy consumption), or whether those transactions should be classified as “retail sales.”[19] The Federal Power Act grants FERC jurisdiction over practices affecting rates, and in EPSA, the Court adopted a D.C. Circuit test that cabined that authority to practices “directly affecting” rates.[20] After adopting the directly affecting test, the Court found that FERC had jurisdiction over demand response practices, that the rule did not impermissibly tread into authority reserved to the states, and that FERC did not act arbitrarily and capriciously in its decision to compensate electricity users at the same rates as electricity generators.

Whereas EPSA dealt primarily with the extent of FERC’s jurisdiction under the Federal Power Act, Hughes v. Talen Energy tackled the separate but related issue of whether a state program was preempted under the Federal Power Act.[21] The case was on review from the Fourth Circuit, where the appellate court found that a Maryland program was preempted both as a matter of field preemption (because FERC “occupies the field” of setting wholesale rates), and also as a matter of conflict preemption (because rates under Maryland’s program conflicted with FERC approved rates).[22] On review, the Supreme Court affirmed the lower court’s ruling, albeit on narrow grounds, finding that the Maryland program “impermissibly intrude[d] upon the wholesale electricity market, a domain Congress reserved to FERC alone.”[23]

One could argue that the Supreme Court narrowed the scope of the Fourth Circuit holding. For example, the Court distinguished between contracts-for-differences (which was the regulatory mechanism that Maryland deployed to encourage new natural gas plant development) and other more traditional long-term power purchase agreements.[24] However, in other ways, the Court’s opinion is actually more ambiguous—the Court does not clarify whether the correct analytical approach here should be conflict, field, or another form of preemption analysis,[25] and two Justices wrote concurring opinions to advocate for their distinct approaches.[26]

Because the opinion only addressed a narrow set of situations, the court did little if anything to address whether any other state regulatory mechanisms designed to encourage renewable deployment would be preempted under the Federal Power Act, and specifically limited their holding to Maryland’s program.[27] The decision provides no guidance on how to analyze these state law regulatory programs unless they contain contracts-for-differences that are pegged to a FERC-approved wholesale price, as Maryland’s program did. Therefore, the case is unlikely to act as a prophylactic to the litigation that is ongoing in the lower courts.[28] It makes one wonder why the Supreme Court took the case in the first place—there was no circuit split after the Fourth Circuit’s decision, and the Court failed to use the case as an opportunity to instruct the lower courts.

Putting Hughes and EPSA together: Examining Impacts on State Regulatory Authority

Combining the holding from EPSA with Hughes along with some of the more archaic language in previous energy preemption cases provide ample fuel for challenges to state renewable energy policies. Simply, if the Federal Power Act draws a jurisdictional “bright-line,”[29] or if “[i]t is common ground that if FERC has jurisdiction over a subject, then the States cannot have jurisdiction over the same subject,”[30] then any practice that “directly affects” wholesale rates should be exclusively within FERC’s jurisdiction. This could result in effectively shrinking state regulatory authority after EPSA and Hughes.

Still, the extent of practices that come within FERC’s “affecting” jurisdiction is unknown, and it may be that FERC must first exercise this jurisdiction over a particular practice before it has a preemptive effect. However, this doesn’t prevent litigants from making those arguments in the lower courts to invalidate clean energy programs, and Hughes may stand as a missed opportunity to clarify the scope of preemption under the Federal Power Act.

In fact, litigants are already citing Hughes and EPSA to challenge state clean energy programs. On October 2016, the Coalition for Competitive Energy filed a challenge to the New York Public Service Commission’s Clean Energy Standard in the Southern District of New York.[31] The Clean Energy Standard was issued in August,[32] and set a target for New York to obtain fifty percent of their electricity from renewable resources by 2030.[33] In addition to continuing New York’s renewable energy credit program,[34] the Clean Energy Standard included a requirement that load-serving entities purchase Zero-Energy Credits that correlate with electricity generated by nuclear facilities.[35] Coalition for Competitive Energy is challenging this specific program (the zero-emissions credits) in their complaint, alleging that it “operates within the area of FERC’s exclusive jurisdiction” and should therefore be preempted.[36] The petition cites EPSA to argue that “[s]tate actions that ‘directly affect the wholesale rate’” are invalid.[37]

Additionally, the Second Circuit recently granted Allco’s request for an injunction to prevent state officials from conducting a clean energy request for purchase (“RFP”) in Connecticut.[38] The decision did not enjoin state officials in Massachusetts and Rhode Island who are also participating in the RFP.[39] While the Second Circuit did not disclose their reasoning when it granted the injunction,[40] Allco’s petition for injunction pointed to Hughes when arguing that the program was preempted under the Federal Power Act.[41]

While it may seem that uncertainty in the preemption context is a net loss for individuals concerned about an accelerated transition to clean energy, climate advocates may also weaponize Hughes in other contexts to argue that other state polices that prop up coal and natural gas plants are preempted by the Federal Power Act. For example, the Ohio Public Utilities Commission recently attempted to use power-purchase agreements—which can sometimes be a tool to generate procure renewables[42]—to subsidize coal plants in the state.[43] The proposal was blocked by FERC before it could take effect,[44] but the program could have been challenged under Hughes if it remained in place.

Both examples citing to Hughes show challenges to state energy programs that operate outside of FERC-approved markets, unlike the Maryland program at issue in Hughes where the parties adjusted the FERC-approved rate.[45] Perhaps the biggest challenge going forward for clean energy advocates will be how to distinguish state programs that do not advance climate goals (like the Maryland program at issue in Hughes) from those that do (such as the program at issue in Allco), when both often use the exact same regulatory tools.

The Supreme Court may return to the question of the extent of federal and state authority under the Federal Power Act sometime within the next few years. It could reach one of several conclusions. It may reaffirm past language about the “bright-line” between federal and state regulatory authority—confirming that EPSA represented an expansion of FERC’s power and a simultaneous restriction on state authority. It may endorse some form of concurrent jurisdiction, as it did in the Natural Gas Act context in Oneok Inc. v. Learjet, Inc.,[46] and if it does, it may then decide how to restructure the preemption analysis under this concurrent jurisdictional model. It may establish some method of floor preemption,[47] or alternatively, it may leave the preemption decision up to the federal agency,[48] as it does in some other contexts.[49] Also, the Court may simply leave the resolution of these issues up to the lower federal courts.

Conclusion

Regardless of the approach the court takes, the fact that all of these questions remain open and unresolved currently creates considerable legal uncertainty for state regulators that are trying to update and craft effective clean energy laws. States are already testing the boundaries of their authority in many instances,[50] and many may continue to do so despite these new uncertainties. Further, it may be impossible to disaggregate the influence that legal uncertainty is having on state regulators from other influences such as political pressures. I would assume state legislators and regulators—some that are designing state laws to ensure their compliance with the Clean Power Plan—would likely prefer clarity on what regulatory mechanisms they are allowed to use without running afoul of the Supremacy Clause. Hughes thus represents a missed opportunity, and the recent power trio of Oneok, EPSA, and Hughes may shortly turn into a qu

[1] See, e.g., Christopher Bateman and James T.B. Tripp, Towards Greener FERC Regulation of the Power Industry, 38 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 275 (2014) (arguing that consideration of environmental consequences by FERC is permissible under the Federal Power Act); Joel B. Eisen, FERC’s Expansive Authority to Transform the Electricity Grid, 49 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 1783, 1788 (2016) (arguing that under recent case law, FERC may now include environmental considerations into wholesale rates so long as those considerations “directly affect” those rates); Steven Weissman & Romany Webb, Berkeley Center for Law, Energy & the Environment, Addressing Climate Change Without Legislation: Volume 2, How the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission Can Use Its Existing Legal Authority to Reduce Greenhouse Gas Emissions and Increase Clean Energy Use (2014), https://perma.cc/JH8H-FLYT (arguing that FERC can add the cost of carbon when setting the prices in the wholesale market).

[2] Order No. 1000, Transmission Planning and Cost Allocation by Transmission Owning and Operating Public Utilities, 136 FERC ¶ 61,051, 76 Fed. Reg. 49841 (Aug. 11, 2011) (codified at 18 C.F.R. § 35) (requiring regional transmission planning to consider state and local public policy requirements); Order No. 745, Demand Response Compensation in Organized Wholesale Energy Markets, 134 FERC ¶ 61,187, 76 Fed. Reg. 16657 (Mar. 24, 2011) (codified at 18 C.F.R.§ 35.28(g)(1)(v)) (allowing demand response providers to bid into the wholesale market).

[3] New York v. FERC, 535 U.S. 1, 6–7 (1996).

[4] 136 S. Ct. 760, 773 (2016).

[5] FERC defines demand response as “a reduction in the consumption of electric energy by customers from their expected consumption in response to an increase in the price of electric energy or to incentive payments designed to induce lower consumption of electric energy.” 18 C.F.R. § 35.28(b)(4) (2015).

[6] See Joel B. Eisen, FERC v. EPSA and the Path to a Cleaner Energy Sector: Introduction, 40 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. Forum 1, 7–8 (2016) (“In the long run, this concise, broad jurisdictional standard gives FERC considerable flexibility to promote a cleaner, more efficient Smart Grid.”).

[7] See 16 U.S.C. § 824 (a)–(b) (2016); New York, 535 U.S. at 19–25 (“FERC has recognized that the states retain significant control over local matters . . . [including] generation and transmission siting . . . [and] authority over utility generation and resource portfolios”) (citing Order No. 888, Promoting Wholesale Competition Through Open Access Non-discriminatory Transmission Services by Public Utilities, 75 FERC ¶ 61,080, 61 Fed. Reg. 21540, 21,626 n.543, n.544 (May 10, 1996) (codified at 18 C.F.R. § 35 and § 385)).

[8] See generally Toby Couture and Karlynn Cory, National Renewable Energy Laboratory, State Clean Energy Policies Analysis (SCEPA) Project: An Analysis of Renewable Energy Feed-in Tariffs in the United States (2009), https://perma.cc/G2MZ-AY7F.

[9] See generally David Hurlbut, National Renewable Energy Laboratory, State Clean Energy Practices: Renewable Portfolio Standards (2008), https://perma.cc/JWE4-J9BB.

[10] See generally Eric Lantz and Elizabeth Doris, National Renewable Energy Laboratory, State Clean Energy Practices: State Renewable Rebates (2009), https://perma.cc/HWE7-EBZM.

[11] The State of Washington considered a carbon tax in a 2016 ballot initiative. See, Initiative Measure No. 732 (filed March 29, 2016) https://perma.cc/26ZL-Z9D8.

[12] Minn. Stat. § 216H.03, subd. 3(2) and (3) (2007) (“no person shall . . . (2) import or commit to import from outside the state power from a new large energy facility that would contribute to statewide power sector carbon dioxide emissions; or (3) enter into a new long-term power purchase agreement that would increase statewide power sector carbon dioxide emissions.”)

[13] See generally Edison Electric Institute, Solar Energy and Net Metering (2016), https://perma.cc/Z3GU-5LKV.

[14] Jocelyn Durkay, “State Renewable Portfolio Standards and Goals,” National Conference of State Legislatures (July 27th, 2016) (reporting that “Twenty-nine states, Washington, D.C. and three territories have adopted an RPS, while eight [additional] states have set renewable energy goals”). https://perma.cc/DV9L-JRRL.

[15] See Public Service Commission of N.Y., Order Adopting a Clean Energy Standard (Aug. 1 2016). https://perma.cc/3GSF-Q36Z.

[16] See, e.g., North Dakota v. Heydinger, 825 F.3d 912 (8th Cir. 2016) (of three separate opinions, two held that Minnesota statute was preempted by the Federal Power Act); Rocky Mountain Farmers Union, et al., v. Richard W. Corey, 730 F.3d 1070 (9th Cir. 2013); Energy and Environmental Legal Institute v. Epel, 793 F.3d 1169 (10th Cir. 2015); Allco Finance Ltd. v. Klee, 805 F.3d 89, 95–96 (2d Cir. 2015) (rejecting plaintiff’s argument that solar contracts approved by the state regulator were preempted by the Public Utilities Regulatory Policies Act); see also Harvard Environmental Law and Policy Institute, State Power Project: Examining State Authority in Interstate Electricity Markets, https://statepowerproject.org (2016).

[17] Jim Rossi, The Brave New Path of Energy Federalism, 95 Tex. L. Rev. (forthcoming 2016).

[18] EPSA, 136 S.Ct. at 773.

[19] The D.C. Circuit found that FERC’s regulation of demand response transactions impermissibly intruded outside of FERC’s authorized jurisdiction under the Federal Power Act. EPSA v. FERC, 753 F.3d 216, 222 (D.C. Cir. 2014).

[20] EPSA, 136 S.Ct. at 774 (citing Calif. Independent System Operator v. FERC, 372 F.3d 395, 403 (D.C. Cir. 2004)).

[21] Hughes v. Talen Energy Marketing LLC, 136 S. Ct. 1288 (2016).

[22] PPL Energy Plus, LLC v. Nazarian, 753 F.3d 467 (4th Cir. 2014).

[23] Hughes, 136 S. Ct. at 1292.

[24] Id. at 1299 (“But the contract at issue here differs from traditional bilateral contracts in this significant respect: The contract for differences does not transfer ownership of capacity from one party to another outside the auction.”).

[25] Id. at 1297 (“A state law is preempted where Congress has legislated comprehensively to occupy an entire field of regulation, leaving no room for the States to supplement federal law,” as well as “where, under the circumstances of a particular case, the challenged state law stands as an obstacle to the accomplishment and execution of the full purposes and objectives of Congress” (citations omitted).

[26] Id. at 1300 (Sotomayor, J., concurring) (clarifying that the purpose of the Federal Power Act should serve as the “ultimate touchstone” for the preemption analysis and the Court should resist “talismanic” preemption vocabulary); id. at 1301 (Thomas, J., concurring) (stating that he would not rest his holding on principles of implied-preemption).

[27] Id. at 1299 (“Our holding is limited: We reject Maryland’s program only because it disregards an interstate wholesale rate required by FERC. We therefore need not and do not address the permissibility of various other measures States might employ to encourage development of new or clean generation, including tax incentives, land grants, direct subsidies, construction of state-owned generation facilities, or re-regulation of the energy sector. Nothing in this opinion should be read to foreclose Maryland and other States from encouraging production of new or clean generation through measures untethered to a generator’s wholesale market participation.”).

[28] See supra note 16 and accompanying text.

[29] Federal Power Commission v. Southern Cal. Edison Co., 376 U.S. 205, 215–216 (1964) (“Congress meant to draw a bright line easily ascertained, between state and federal jurisdiction. . .”). But see Oneok, Inc. v. Learjet, Inc., 135 S. Ct. 1591, 1601 (2015) (describing the clear division between federal and state authority in the Natural Gas Act context as a “Platonic ideal”); FERC v. EPSA, 136 S.Ct. 760, 780 (2016) (“The [Federal Power Act] makes federal and state authority complementary”); Hughes v. Talen Energy Marketing, LLC., 136 S.Ct. 1288 (2016) (Sotomayor, J., concurring) (“the Federal Power Act, like all collaborative federalism statutes, envisions a federal-state relationship marked by interdependence”).

[30] Mississippi Power & Light Co. v. Mississippi ex. rel. Moore, 487 U.S. 354, 377 (1984) (Scalia, J., concurring). The majority opinion also acknowledges “FERC has exclusive authority to determine the reasonableness of wholesale rates. . .” Id. at 355.

[31] Complaint, Coalition for Competitive Energy v. Zibelman (S.D.N.Y. filed Oct. 19, 2016) (No. 1:16-cv-08164), https://perma.cc/U9Z9-2UR6.

[32] Public Service Commission of New York, Order Adopting a Clean Energy Standard (Aug. 1 2016), https://perma.cc/J82W-XSZP.

[33] Id. at 6.

[34] Id. at 38.

[35] Id. at 45.

[36] Complaint at 5, Coalition for Competitive Energy v. Zibelman, (S.D.N.Y. filed Oct. 19, 2016) (No. 1:16-cv-8164), https://perma.cc/U9Z9-2UR6.

[37] Id. at 11.

[38] Order Granting Preliminary Injunction, Allco Finance Ltd. v. Klee (2d. Cir. 2016) (No. 16-2946).

[39] See id.

[40] See id.

[41] Petition for Injunction at 2, Allco Finance Ltd. v. Klee, No. 16-2946 (2d. Cir. 2016) (No. 16-2946).

[42] Cf. American Council on Renewable Energy, Renewable Energy in Massachusetts (2014), https://perma.cc/V6GF-GEF8 (“In February 2014, the state approved 12 long-term power purchase agreements with four Massachusetts utilities for 409 MW of wind projects in Maine and New Hampshire”).

[43]See In the Matter of the Application of Ohio Electric Company, Case No. 14-1297-EL-SSO (Pub. Util. Comm’n of Ohio 2016), https://perma.cc/T24L-6XCA.

[44] Gavin Bade, FERC Blocks Ohio Power Plant Subsidies for AEP and FirstEnergy, Utility Dive (Apr. 28, 2016), https://perma.cc/4ZCG-SPQT.

[45] Hughes v. Talen Energy Marketing LLC, 136 S. Ct. 1288, 1299 (2016).

[46] 135 S. Ct. 1591, 1599 (instructing that for preemption under the Natural Gas Act, the appropriate inquiry is to examine the target at which state law “aims”).

[47] Jim Rossi and Thomas G. Hutton, Federal Preemption and Clean Energy Floors, 91 N.C. L. Rev. 1283 (2013).

[48] See Rossi, supra note 17 at 65 (stating that whether state programs are preempted may be left to FERC, as opposed to a case-by-case determination by the judiciary).

[49] See generally Brian Galle & Mark Seidenfeld, Administrative Law’s Federalism: Preemption, Delegation and Agencies at the Edge of Federal Power, 57 Duke L. J. 1933 (2008).

[50] See supra note 16 and accompanying text.

This post is part of the Environmental Law Review Syndicate, a multi-school online forum run by student editors from the nation’s leading environmental law reviews.

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By Michael Zielinski William & Mary Law School, Class of 2017

I. Introduction

In 1971, the Peruvian theologian and Dominican priest Gustavo Gutiérrez published his seminal work, A Theology of Liberation, in which he advocated an activist approach to Christianity based on the belief that it is only through living in solidarity with exploited and impoverished populations that all people can ultimately become free from all forms of injustice, oppression, and suffering.1 Recognizing that “the signs of the times,” demanded a theology that synthesized spiritual contemplation and direct action,2 Gutiérrez identified Christ’s description of the Last Judgment as the foundation of this call to solidarity with the poor3:

“I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me drink. I was a stranger and you took me in. I was naked and you clothed me. I was sick and you visited me. I was in prison and you came unto me…insofar as you did this to one of the least of my brethren, you did it to me.”4

More than three decades later, Pope Francis used similar language of liberation when he declared climate change to be the imperative moral issue of our time, asserting “the earth herself, burdened and laid waste, is among the most abandoned and maltreated of our poor.”5 Moreover, both Gutiérrez and Pope Francis identified rampant consumerism and a self-centered notion of economic progress as the greatest contributors to deplorable conditions in the developing world. Just as Gutiérrez descried social and economic poverty as “the fruit of injustice and coercion” sown by wealthy nations and force-fed to poorer ones,6 so too Pope Francis lamented that human beings frequently seem “to see no other meaning in their natural environment than what serves for immediate use and consumption.”7

Liberation theology, although most strongly associated with the Catholic Church in Latin America,8 is not uniquely Catholic, or even uniquely Christian. Rather, the concept of liberation is a facet of all religions that challenge the injustice and poverty that are the byproducts of neoliberal economics.9 Moreover, though the term “liberation” often carries a religious connotation,10 liberationist principles can exist even within secular ethical theories, notably environmental justice,11 that do not expressly use the term “liberation.” Similar to how liberation extends beyond the bounds of religion, steadily growing concerns over climate change and other environmental problems are also not confined to religion,12 let alone any particular religion.13 The twenty-first century is witnessing the emergence of a new ecological conscience, and as the world’s largest economic power, the United States has the opportunity to place itself in the vanguard of a global environmental movement toward greener and more sustainable practices.14

Rising sea levels, unpredictable weather, and dwindling natural resources make it increasingly difficult to maintain the notion that nature is beyond our ability to hurt and its bounty beyond our ability to deplete.15 Americans’ changing attitudes and behaviors regarding sustainability in this Anthropocene era16 indicate a sobering realization that unchecked greenhouse gas emissions have created a tragedy of the atmospheric commons.17 Increasing awareness of the magnitude of climate change and other pressing environmental concerns has begun shifting our collective environmental values toward an ethical posture that acknowledges the continuity and interdependence of all life,18 thus laying bare the logical conclusion that our mistreatment of the natural world translates into mistreatment of the poor, who are especially vulnerable to environmental harms.19 The mutability of environmental ethics, however, strains against the intractability of environmental law, whose overreliance on economic principles and stilted doctrine has locked it into a narrow and anthropocentric outlook that perceives environmentally responsible practices solely as instrumental, rather than intrinsic, goods.20

Changes in climate, both literal and metaphorical, have created a world where environmental rights and human rights are no longer distinct concepts.21 Yet current environmental law fails to adequately serve the public good because an outdated approach to valuing the environment and situating humans in relation to it prevents the law from evolving to conform to contemporary values.22 Though remedying this problem is a gargantuan task with no simple solution,23 this paper argues that the market-based principles and inflexible legal doctrines that have historically governed environmental law should yield to a liberationist ideal already taking root in environmental ethics, an ideal that recognizes “[t]here is no separating human beings from ecological nature,”24 and therefore seeks to protect human interests by protecting the interests of the natural world.

Part II of this paper provides an overview of several strands of environmental ethics that rose to prominence over the last forty years, most notably value theory, which strongly influenced the policies underlying many of the major pieces of environmental legislation passed in the late 1960s and early 1970s. That section also explores the concepts of ecojustice and environmental justice, two approaches to humanity’s ethical duties toward the environment rooted in social justice. It further argues that environmental ethics has taken a backseat to utilitarian, economics-centered policies because of its perennial struggle to find purchase in the realm of environmental law. Part III argues that although lawmakers on the federal and state levels are finally formulating legislative and regulatory plans to address major environmental problems like climate change, efforts to put these plans into action are hindered by two systemic shortcomings of current environmental law: cost-benefit analysis and standing doctrine. Part IV returns to the concept of liberation, first analyzing how it overcomes or avoids many of the problems other theories of environmental ethics have faced. Next, it explains that emergent twenty-first century environmental values indicate a movement toward a liberationist approach to environmental ethics, and concludes by exploring how the truest expressions of this movement—the notions of uncanniness and planetarian identity—can correct the shortcomings of existing environmental law.

[Note: This piece has been modified from its original content for the ELRS submission. A subsequent publication will include this article in its entirety. For those who would like to read further, please see the citation in the following footnote.25]

II. Environmental Ethics and Their Divorce from Environmental Law

Given the vast history of environmental ethics, even just in the United States,26 this paper will limit its focus to several major developments in environmental ethics from the latter-half of the twentieth century and their interaction with environmental law. Of particular interest is the influence of value theory—“what matters and why”—on environmental ethics and law.27 Value theory was at the forefront of environmental ethics from the late 1960s through the 1970s, the “golden age of environmental law” that saw Congress enact the most significant of the country’s environmental legislation,28 including the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA),29 Clean Air Act,30 Clean Water Act,31 and Endangered Species Act (ESA).32

This section is divided into three parts. The first offers a quick overview of value theory as applied to environmental ethics, focusing on the distinction between nature as an intrinsic good and an instrumental good. The second part considers the concepts of “ecojustice,” a Christian strategy of environmental ethics that views nature as an intrinsic good, and “environmental justice,” a (mostly) secular approach to environmental ethics that regards nature as more of an instrumental good. The third part explains the limits of value theory, and why these limits ostensibly make it unworkable from the perspective of environmental law.

A. Value Theory and the Strategy of Nature’s Standing

Willis Jenkins, a professor of environmental theology and ethics at the University of Virginia, has noted that, compared to other fields of “practical ethics,” environmental ethics struggles to reach a consensus on what it is actually trying to achieve and how it should go about achieving it.33 This is because environmental ethics has trouble agreeing on why people should find that nature has value, and thus regard environmental issues as morally important.34 Several different strategies have arisen that attempt to answer this question, and arguably the best known of these is something Jenkins identifies as “the strategy of nature’s standing,” a name that carries obvious legal overtones.35 This strategy attempts to situate moral value within nature itself, but when it emerged during the golden age of environmental law, ethicists quickly realized “that the inherited vocabularies of ethics could not capture the value of nature, focused as they were on human interests (consequentialism) and rights (in deontological and contract theories).”36 Accordingly, a new theory of nature’s value was needed, and the question became whether nature held “intrinsic value” for humanity in addition to mere “instrumental value.”37 In other words, is the natural world just “a means to some other end” (instrumental value), or is it “an end in itself” (intrinsic value)?38

Advocates for nature’s intrinsic value asserted that traditional “anthropocentric” conceptions of the natural world should be replaced with a “biocentric” approach “locating value in life itself (and other aspects of self-organizing nature such as species, ecosystems, and even the planet),” or with an even stronger “ecocentric” or “deep ecology”39 approach “presenting

find that nature has value, and thus regard environmental issues as morally important.34 Several different strategies have arisen that attempt to answer this question, and arguably the best known of these is something Jenkins identifies as “the strategy of nature’s standing,” a name that carries obvious legal overtones.35 This strategy attempts to situate moral value within nature itself, but when it emerged during the golden age of environmental law, ethicists quickly realized “that the inherited vocabularies of ethics could not capture the value of nature, focused as they were on human interests (consequentialism) and rights (in deontological and contract theories).”36 Accordingly, a new theory of nature’s value was needed, and the question became whether nature held “intrinsic value” for humanity in addition to mere “instrumental value.”37 In other words, is the natural world just “a means to some other end” (instrumental value), or is it “an end in itself” (intrinsic value)?38

Advocates for nature’s intrinsic value asserted that traditional “anthropocentric” conceptions of the natural world should be replaced with a “biocentric” approach “locating value in life itself (and other aspects of self-organizing nature such as species, ecosystems, and even the planet),” or with an even stronger “ecocentric” or “deep ecology”39 approach “presenting human interests and rights as just one example of the ethical weight of all self-organizing nature.”40 On the other side of the argument, advocates for an instrumental conception of nature’s value held to an anthropocentric view that “the concept of value makes no sense independent of human beings for whom the value matters.”41 The debate between intrinsic and instrumental was not (nor does it continue to be) black and white. Some environmental ethicists occupied a middle ground, acknowledging that although nature has intrinsic value, “such value does not . . . entail any obligation on the part of human beings,” because that intrinsic value by itself does not necessarily “contribute[] to the well-being of human agents.”42

B. Ecojustice and Environmental Justice

Just as he identifies three major strategies for making environmental problems intelligible to a secular moral experience, Jenkins also identifies three major strategies for explaining the importance of the environment from a Christian moral perspective.43 Of greatest interest to this paper is ecojustice, which mirrors the value theory-focused approach of the strategy of nature’s standing44 and generally reflects the environmental values of Roman Catholicism,45 the soil from which liberation theology grew. According to Jenkins, ecojustice holds that nature has intrinsic moral value for Christians by virtue of being part of God’s creation: “The strategy of ecojustice makes respect for creation a mode of response to God. Right relations with God require right relations with God’s creation, which by virtue of its own relationship with God, calls for moral response.”46

As the name implies, ecojustice takes the concept of justice “as its overarching moral category,”47 meaning it shares more than just a similar developmental timeline with liberation theology.48 Like liberation theology, ecojustice is pastoral, which means it operates largely at the interstitial places between base Christian communities and the Church, bringing the two together to foster a more productive dialogue.49 Moreover, by implicating environmental concerns in questions of economic and social justice, ecojustice expressly links harm to the environment with harm to the poor. For example, in 1989 a Presbyterian committee declared that “nature has become co-victim with the poor, that the vulnerable earth and the vulnerable people are oppressed together.”50

Ecojustice’s arguably secular counterpart “for bringing environmental issues within the purview of justice,” is called (unsurprisingly) environmental justice,51 and is generally defined as “the fair treatment and meaningful involvement of all people regardless of race, color, national origin, or income with respect to the development, implementation and enforcement of environmental laws, regulations and policies.”52 Though often regarded as an offshoot of the civil rights movement,53 environmental justice did not truly begin developing in earnest until roughly a decade after the emergence of ecojustice in the early 1970s.54 In a little over ten years, the movement gained enough momentum that the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) created its own Office of Environmental Justice in 1992.55 Two years later, President Clinton issued Executive Order 12,898, instructing every federal agency to “make achieving environmental justice part of its mission by identifying and addressing . . . disproportionately high and adverse human health or environmental effects of its programs, policies, and activities on minority populations and low-income populations.”56

Possibly due to their intertwining histories, the line separating ecojustice from environmental justice is not clear. Some environmental ethicists appear to regard environmental justice merely as a constitutive part of ecojustice, noting that several principles of environmental justice are basically restatements of ecojustice’s “integrative view” that strives for a “synthesis of justice and ecology, a single mission of religious reform responding to both environmental degradation and human oppression.”57 Others, such as Jenkins, note that although ecojustice and environmental justice both concern themselves with the link between environmental degradations and human dignity, they differ in where they situate the locus of that dignity: “Ecojustice focuses on creation’s integrity; environmental justice on humanity’s ecological integrity.”58

Viewed from this perspective, ecojustice appears to intrinsically value nature because it “evaluate[s] right relations directly in reference to creation’s own dignity,”59 whereas environmental justice seems to instrumentally value nature because it “critique[s] environmental degradations with respect to human dignity.”60 Richard Bohannon and Kevin O’Brien seem to support this proposition,61 but also go a step further, arguing that although environmental justice may have religious elements or be religiously motivated, its ties to religion, unlike ecojustice’s, have “not been prominent or explicit.”62 More specifically, they note that the national survey of every registered toxic waste facility in the U.S. that the United Church of Christ produced in the wake of the Warren County protest included “no discussion of [religious] values, no mention of God or faith, and no emphasis on connecting the fight against injustice to the ministry of the church. This is a practical and political document, seeking to support community organizing and change public policy for the sake of social justice.”63

Ultimately, Bohannon and O’Brien conclude, the differences between ecojustice and environmental justice trace back to “the social location of [their] advocates. While environmental justice is a movement that emerged in inner cities and poor rural areas, eco-justice was developed by scholars, ministers, and academic theologians on university campuses.”64 In other words, ecojustice comes from a place of social and economic privilege that environmental justice does not, and therefore ecojustice, despite all its good intentions, lacks self-awareness when it attempts to synthesize human and nonhuman interests under a single holistic vision.65 This limitation on ecojustice’s ability to fully connect with those suffering the worst instances of injustice thus seems to eliminate it from the running as truly practical Christian environmental ethic.

Similarly, the strategy of nature’s standing, which also seems unable to generate a fully inclusive theory of the natural world’s value, appears to be unworkable as a secular environmental ethic. Indeed, some commentators suggest that environmental justice holds an advantage over the strategy of nature’s standing because whereas that value theory-laden approach struggles to find agreement on the criteria that give nature its moral worth (and therefore struggles to identify social practices adequate to protect that worth), environmental justice’s “ecological anthropology” lends itself to economic approaches that better jibe with the strictures of environmental law.66 As we will see in Part III, however, even though environmental justice should in theory be able to curtail the consequentialist excesses of economic theories of environmental value, in practice cost-benefit principles frequently arrive at notions of “public good” that actually do more harm than good.

C. The Limits of Value Theory

Jedidiah Purdy identifies two limits on value theory’s practical application that, despite the theory’s prominence in both secular and religious environmental ethics in the 1970s, undermined its ability to have a lasting effect on environmental law. The first limit boils down to the fact that because “value” is an ineluctably human construction, any claims about the value of nature necessarily rely on considerations that only humans can regard as values.67 This is most true of anthropocentric conceptions of value, where “[a]ny claim about the value of nature must call on considerations that humans can regard as values, that is, which they can imagine themselves pursuing and respecting.”68 But this limit also applies to biocentric and ecocentric theories that value nature intrinsically, because even if we do not confer value on nature, we still respond to value, and such response is contingent on our ability to recognize something as being “of value” in the first place.69

This limitation on value theory gives rise to the second: an inability to promote action. In other words, regardless of whether we adopt an intrinsic or instrumental approach to valuing nature, neither one tells us anything about how to protect that value.70 Purdy uses the Endangered Species Act to illustrate this point, explaining that neither interpreting the Act from an intrinsic perspective (e.g., spotted owls have intrinsic value because the Act prioritizes their survival over nearly any competing human interest), nor from an anthropocentric perspective (e.g., the Act expresses a human preference for species’ survival) does anything to inform the Act’s operation.71

Purdy also notes a second pair of ethical theories, individualism and holism, which initially appear to be more promising than intrinsic and instrumental valuations of nature, yet also become unworkable as practical environmental ethics.72 Individualism, in an environmental context, essentially operates as a narrower version of the biocentric and ecocentric strands of intrinsic value theory,73 locating value in individual organisms’ “interests, points of view, or, perhaps, the very existence of individual animals and plants,”74 but drawing the line at attributing moral standing to “holistic entities like species or ecosystems.”75 This approach is attractive because valuing individuals creates an obligation to prevent, or at least not deliberately cause, the suffering of any living thing.76 Followed to its logical end, however, this obligation becomes problematic for two reasons. First, because it attributes value to individuals and not larger natural systems, individualism appears to preclude valuing one species more than any other, even if one species is endangered and the other is invasive.77 Second, this approach’s imperative to value the lives of all individual organisms ostensibly produces an absurd result in which environmental ethics stands in opposition to all natural systems: “consistent commitment to avoiding the suffering of sentient beings would seem to imply exterminating predators, even genetically engineering wild species so that the survival of some no longer requires the suffering of others— creating, that is, a world either without foxes and grizzlies, or with herbivorous versions of them.”78

On the other side of the spectrum is holism, which takes a “big picture” view on the environment, and “locates value in self-organizing systems such as ecosystems, species, or ‘nature’ itself.” 79 This means holism runs into the same wall as ecojustice: it fails to account for the values of and differences among individuals.80 Just as ecojustice risks erroneously assuming that everybody, regardless of their personal experiences within their communities, will be fine so long as they share its vision of an integrated and harmonious environmental ethic,81 so too does a holistic approach lead environmentalists to the unpleasant conclusion that the suffering of individual members of a species is morally acceptable so long as a the species as a whole survives.82 Holism also hits a second snag in that it “dissolves the distinction between human and nonhuman,”83 resulting in a perverse syllogism that declares any human activity, no matter how destructive, to be “natural”: “If we are part of nature, then everything we do is part of nature, and is natural in that primary sense.”84

As with intrinsic and instrumental valuations of nature, individualism’s and holism’s uncompromising stances undermine their usefulness as practical environmental ethics. Each of these competing theories stubbornly refuses to acquiesce to any kind of moral pluralism in the belief that “seiz[ing] on one aspect of environmental value and exclud[ing] competing considerations [is] in the service of theoretical consistency.”85 The irony, however, is that environmental law turned away from value theory precisely because its competing variants could not generate a consistent answer to the question of how we should value nature.86

III. Mechanisms Responsible for the Gulf Between Environmental Ethics and Law

[Omitted]

IV. Toward A Liberationist Approach in Environmental Ethics

[Omitted]

Conclusion

The persistence of disputes over how we should morally value the environment and the natural world demonstrates the difficulty of crafting practical yet ethical solutions to vast and abstract problems. But in the classic tradition of making lemonade out of lemons, a burgeoning unity of will among Americans to take action against today’s “crucibles of ethical development”87 can hopefully galvanize ethical development, which in turn can both inform and be made “more palatable” by law.88 A liberationist approach to environmental law, with its integrative view of social and environmental justice, as well as a vision of collaborative engagement among community members on the local, regional, national, and global levels, could smooth the process of adapting our outdated environmental laws to our evolving environmental

values. Even liberation theology has its limits on its practical application, however. Gustavo Gutiérrez admitted that he could not do more than “sketch these considerations [i.e., the Church’s role in process of liberation], or more precisely, outline new questions—without claiming to give conclusive answers.”89

Accordingly, liberation theology, as any other religious tradition with an activist social agenda, struggles to have a lasting impact on law and public policy because it must render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.90 Liberation theology resides simultaneously in separate realms. On one side is the realm of the spirit, where liberation theology dwells in eternity, infinity, and possibility. On the other side is the material world, where temporality, finitude, and necessity hold sway. Fortunately for environmental law, it only has to worry about the here and now. Unfortunately, we live in a time where the nation’s environmental values are swiftly changing in the face of anthropogenic environmental problems of global significance, thereby demanding significant overhaul of environmental law in order for it to adequately safeguard these values.

This post is part of the Environmental Law Review Syndicate, a multi-school online forum run by student editors from the nation’s leading environmental law reviews.

__________________________________________

By Samantha L. Varsalona, Georgetown University Law Center, Class of 2018 Staff Member, Georgetown Environmental Law Review

Abstract

The Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) has become a contentious topic in recent months. The controversy centers around Dakota Access, LLC1, a subsidiary of Energy Transfer Crude Oil Company, LLC, and the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe of North and South Dakota2 (the Tribe or Sioux), a federally-recognized Indian tribe. The Tribe’s reservation, Standing Rock Indian Reservation, is half a mile upstream from where DAPL’s crude oil pipeline would cross the Missouri River underneath Lake Oahe in North Dakota.3 While much of the recent media attention surrounding Dakota Access and the Tribe has focused on the destruction of the Tribe’s ancestral burial grounds, the underlying issue can be traced back to the nationwide permits issued by the Army Corps of Engineers (the Corps) in 2012.4 More specifically, this article will examine Nationwide Permit 12 (NWP 12), which was one of the fifty NWPs issued by the Corps in 20125 and is at the heart of the current legal battle between Dakota Access and the Tribe.

Introduction

The Tribe and environmentalists alike raised concerns about the potential health and environmental consequences of oil spills, being that the Missouri River “provides drinking water for millions of Americans and irrigation water for thousands of acres of farming and ranching lands.”6 Besides the Tribes concern about the proximity of the pipeline to their reservation, they were also concerned about the pipeline disrupting sacred ancestral burial grounds and places of cultural significance to the Sioux people.7 In particular, the Sioux have traditionally placed significance on the convergence of the Missouri and Cannonball Rivers because their ancestors gathered at that location to peacefully trade with other tribes.8 Ironically, this is not the first time the Army Corps of Engineers (the Corps) or the federal government has taken the Tribe’s land in particular location without their consent. In 1958 the Corps dredged the sacred Cannonball river to construct the Oahe Dam, which created the man-made Lake Oahe that now covers the confluence of the two rivers and is the future site of DAPL.9 The Oahe Dam not only destroyed a site of spiritual significance to the Sioux, but also flooded nearly fifty-six thousand acres of Standing Rock Reservation and over one hundred four thousand acres on the Cheyenne River Reservation.10 Overall, the construction of the Oahe Dam destroyed more Indian land than any other public works project in America.11 Nonetheless, the Tribe continues to use the banks of the Missouri River for “spiritual ceremonies, and the River, as well as Lake Oahe, plays an integral role in the life and recreation of those living on the reservation.”12 With that poignant history in mind, it comes as no surprise that the Tribe would fight so vehemently against DAPL which would obviously affect both the Missouri River and Lake Oahe.

Fearing, once again, the possibility of sacred burial grounds being destroyed, the Tribe pursued legal action against the Army Corps of Engineers (Corps), the federal agency that approved DAPL’s permits, in hopes of being granted an injunction that would block DAPL’s construction of the pipeline.13 The outcome of the suit, decided September 9th by the D.C. District Court, held that the Corps had sufficiently followed federal law in approving the pipeline.14 Minutes after the court’s decision came down, the Department of Justice, the Department of the Army and the Department of the Interior issued a joint statement temporarily halting the work.15

The future of DAPL underneath Lake Oahe is still unclear and it will, more than likely, continue to be a political hot potato for months to come. In its simplest form, the conflict comes down to the permitting process and the Corp’s alleged failure to adequately consult the Tribe before issuing the permit.16 The permit granted to DAPL is a type of general permit known as Nationwide Permit 12 (NWP 12) and has caused considerable controversy in the past several years.

Nationwide Permits

Although one might logically assume that a crude oil pipeline traversing thousands of miles across the United States would require an extensive federal appraisal and permitting process, that assumption would be incorrect. Domestic oil pipelines require no general approval from the federal government.17 For example, DAPL needed almost no federal permitting of any kind because “99% of its route traversed private land.”18 However, when construction activity occurs in waters of the United States, meaning in federally regulated waters such as Lake Oahe, the Corps needs to permit the activity under the Clean Water Act (CWA) or the Rivers and Harbors Act or sometimes both.19

Section 404(e) of the CWA has been the provision primarily used by the Corps to issue general permits.20 Nationwide permits (NWP) are a type of general permit that are issued or reissued every five years by the Corps headquarters21, whereas regional permits are issued by an individual Corps District for a specific geographical area.22 NWPs authorize small-scale activities that are “similar in nature and result in no more than minimal individual and cumulative adverse environmental effects.”23 Because NWPs pre-approve categories of activities upfront, there is considerably less federal involvement upon commencement of an individual project. Indeed, in most cases project proponents can commence their activities without ever notifying the Corps.24 Some of the NWPs, including NWP 12, require the project proponent to submit a Pre-Construction Notification (PCN) to the relevant Corps District Engineer who then confirms whether or not the proposed activities qualify for NWP authorization.25 If the District Engineer determines that the proposed activity qualifies, he/she then issues a verification letter to the project proponent. It is important to note that the District Engineer is merely verifying that the activity is one that was already pre-authorized by the Corps when they promulgated the NWP reissuance.26

NWPs are designed to streamline the permitting process and are often considered to be more cost-efficient and cost-effective for both the Corps and the individual or business seeking the permit.27 Although NWPs can have important benefits when used for their intended purpose, some of the NWPs, NWP 12 in particular, are often used by the oil and gas industries as a way to fast-track thepermittingprocess by avoiding project-specific environmental review and by skirting around a more comprehensive public participation process.28 The oil and gas industries

circumvent stricter federal regulations by evading the National Environmental Policy Act’s (NEPA) “hard look” review which requires federal agencies to analyze the environmental consequences of all “major Federal actions significantly affecting the quality of the human environment.”29 If the federal action is one that would significantly affect the environment, the level of federal involvement and regulation is substantially elevated.30Although NEPA review applies only to major federal actions and imposes obligations only on federal agencies, “it is well-settled that ‘federal involvement in a non-federal project may be sufficient to federalize the project for purposes of NEPA.’”31 In other words, it is possible for the Corps to have “sufficient control and responsibility”32 over a project to warrant them having authority to control portions of a project that would normally be out of their jurisdiction. The district engineer makes the determination as to whether the scope of the Corps involvement warrants them to federalize the entire project.33 For example, if a pipeline spans 100 miles and 40 miles of the project fall within federal control, the district engineer can determine the scope of the project gives the Corps sufficient control to warrant federalizing all 100 miles of the project, even if the other 60 miles were done by private action.34

NWP 12

The Corps renewed fifty nationwide permits on February 21, 2012 and they will expire on March 19, 2017.35 The Corps, however, has no intention of letting these NWPs expire and on June 1, 2016 they proposed to reissue the NWPs and published the proposed rules in the Federal Register to solicited public comments.36 The renewal included NWP 12, which covers “construction, maintenance, repair and removal of utility lines . . . provided the activity does not result in the loss of greater than 1/2 acre of waters of the United States for each single and complete project.”37 The Corps defined NWP 12 to include “pipeline[s] for the transportation of gaseous, liquid, liquescent, or slurry substance, and any cable, line, or wire. . . .”38 Accordingly, the construction of a pipeline may qualify for NWP 12 as long as the construction is a single and complete project and does not result in a loss greater than 1/2 acre of jurisdictional waters. At this point NWP 12 seems innocuous enough, however the conflict arises over the Corps defining a single and complete project as,“[the] portion of the total linear project proposed or accomplished by one owner/developer . . . that includes all crossings of a single water of the United States (i.e., a single waterbody) at a specific location.”39

The effect of this definition is that it allows each water crossing to be verified under NWP 12 separately, essentially creating many “single and complete projects” along one proposed route.40 In other words, the Corps allows pipeline proponents to “stack” NWP 12 hundreds, if not, thousands of times along a single pipeline.41 For instance, TransCanada’s Gulf Coast Pipeline, which is the bottom half of the Keystone XL Pipeline, is 485 miles long and crosses United States waters 2,227 times, meaning the it “crosse[d] . . . waters about once every 1150 feet.”42 The Corps verified the Gulf Coast Pipeline under NWP 12, even though NWP 12 was used 2,227 times in the process.43 Another example is the Corps’ verification of Enbridge’s Flanagan South Pipeline under NWP 12 despite the pipeline traversing 27 miles of federal land, and crossing waters of the United States 1,950 separate times.44 The Corps is essentially allowing project proponents to piecemeal the pipeline into separate smaller projects, which is seemingly inconsistent with NEPA.45 What is perhaps more extraordinary is the Corps defines a single and complete non-linear project as requiring the project to have independent utility46, which is defined as the project having the ability to be “constructed absent other projects in the project area.”47 Not only does the definition of single and complete non-linear project require independent utility, it also specifically states “[s]ingle and complete non-linear projects may not be “piecemealed . . . .”48 It is bewildering why Corps distinguishes so drastically between linear and non-linear projects, especially when considering linear projects that cannot function independently are, by their very nature, neither “single” nor “complete.”

The Corps justifies the expansive nature of NWP 12 by requiring the project proponent to submit a PCN to the Corps District Engineer (DE).49 The DE will then review the PCN and determine if the proposed action “will result in more than minimal individual or cumulative adverse environmental effects or may be contrary to the public interest.”50 On its face, requiring the DE to perform an extra layer of review may alleviate concerns about the open-ended nature of NWP 12. However, the review is based solely on the discretion of the DE and whether he/she determines there will be cumulative effects.51 The PCN verification of the Gulf Coast Pipeline is an example of the considerable amount of discretion granted to the Corps. The Gulf Coast Pipeline passes through three Corps’ districts; Galveston, Fort Worth, and Tulsa and even though all three districts issued verification letters, none of the letters “provide a reasoned basis for any cumulative impacts analysis.”52 As District Judge Martinez’s dissent points out, the verification letters issued by the three districts attempted to circumvent the analysis by “simply stat[ing] the legal standard and then recit[ing] that it made a ‘determination’ that such criteria were satisfied.”53 Even though the DE and the Corps provided no specific findings as to why authorizing the use of NWP 12 2,227 times wouldn’t have a cumulative effect, the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals approved the Corps use of discretion in verifying NWP 12.54

As seen above, the Corps definition of “single and complete” essentially allows the project proponent to segment the pipeline into smaller projects, which, in turn, allows the Corps to treat the project as not significant enough to warrant them having “control and responsibility”55 over the entire project.56 The approval of the Gulf Coast Pipeline is an example of how easily NWP 12 can be manipulated. Judge Martinez’s dissent challenges the Corps conclusion that its’ involvement did not warrant them to have sufficient control and responsibility and he asserted that “[c]onsidering the number of permits [2,227] issued by the Corps . . . it is patently ludicrous for Appellees to characterize the Corps’ involvement in the subject project as minimal . . . .”57

NWP 12 and DAPL

The malleability of NWP 12 is seen, once again, in its application permitting the Dakota Access Pipeline.58 DAPL is not similar to the Gulf Coast Pipeline and Flanagan South Pipeline in the sense that the Corps didn’t seemingly abuse its authority by granting the use of NWP 12 thousands of times, rather the application of NWP 12 in DAPL’s context is offensive in the sense that it approved the pipeline even though the Tribe alleged it was not adequately consulted59 as required under Section 106 of the National Historic Preservations Act (NHPA).60

Section 106, also known as the “stop, look, and listen” provision61 requires “[f]ederal agencies takes into account the effects of their undertakings on historic properties and afford the Council a reasonable opportunity to comment on such undertakings.”62 Meaning, the Corps are required to consider, prior to the reissuance of the NWPs, the effects of the permits on properties of cultural and historical significance.63 This would have required the Corps to consult with the Tribe before they reissued the NWPs in 2012. Additionally, the consultation can’t just be a rubber stamping process, it “must recognize the government-to-government relationship between the Federal Government and Indian tribes.”64

The Corps claimed, and District Court Judge Boasberg agreed, that the Corps “made a reasonable effort to discharge its duties under NHPA prior to promulgating NWP 12” and that “the Corps’ effort to speak with those it thought be concerned was sufficient . . . .”65 This “reasonable effort” to consult the Tribe included the Corps sending a notification letters containing information pertaining to its proposed NWPs, as well as the Corps holding listening sessions and workshops with tribes, and eventually the Corps sending letters to the Tribe inviting them to begin consultations.66 The Advisory Council on Historic Preservation (ACHP), the federal agency that promulgates the regulations used to implement Section 10667, wrote five letters68 to the Corps questioning the adequacy of the tribal consultations. The EPA and Department of Interior also wrote letters to the Corps questioning their use of NWP 12 and the adequacy of tribal consultations.69 The ACHP’s final letter states that it believes the “findings made by the Corps are premature, based on an incomplete identification effort, which was not sufficiently informed by the knowledge and perspective of consulting parties . . . .”70 Despite all the objections from the Tribe and three other federal agencies, the Corps and Judge Boasberg emphasize that the Corps’ efforts were reasonable “given the nature of the permit.”71 In other words, because NWP 12 is broad and over inclusive then apparently the Corps’ consultation requirements can be viewed in the same way.

Conclusion

This article has attempted to highlight a fundamental problem with how the United States permits domestic oil pipelines. The controversy surrounding the Dakota Access Pipeline has the potential to have both negative and positive implications. The most obvious potentially negative consequence is that the Sioux Tribe may, once again, lose sites of cultural significance at the hands of the U.S. government. However, a positive outcome that has emerged from this whole fiasco is that it has created a national dialog regarding not only nationwide permits and pipelines, but more importantly, how we, as citizens, view and understand the rights of Native Americans.

1 ENERGY TRANSFER, Overview, http://www.daplpipelinefacts.com/about/overview.html

2 Indian Entities Recognized and Eligible To Receive Services From the United States Bureau of Indian Affairs, 80 Fed. Reg. 1942-02, 1946 (Jan. 14, 2015).

3 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe v. Army Corps of Engineers, No. 16-1534, 2016 WL 4734356, at *6 (D.D.C. Sept. 9, 2016).

4 Reissuance of Nationwide Permits, 77 Fed. Reg. 10,184 (Feb. 21 2012).

5 Id.

6 David Archambault II, Taking a Stand at Standing Rock, N.Y. TIMES (Aug. 24, 2016), http://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/25/opinion/taking-a-stand-at-standing-rock.html?_r=0.

8 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at * 6. Id.

9 Id.

10 MICHAEL L. LAWSON, DAMMED INDIANS: THE PICK-SLOAN PLACE AND THE MISSOURI RIVER SIOUX, 1944-1980, 50-52 (1994).

11 Id. at 50.

12 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at * 6.

13 Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief at 1, Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356 (Jul. 27, 2016) (No. 1:16-cv-01534), 2016 WL 4033936.a

14 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at *26.

15 DEP’T OF JUSTICE, JOINT STATEMENT FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE, THE DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY AND THE DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR REGARDING STANDING ROCK SIOUX TRIBE V. U.S. ARMY CORPS OF ENGINEERS (2016). https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/joint-statement-department-justice-department-army-and-department-interior-regarding-standing.

16 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at *1.

17 Id.

18 Id. at *7.

19 Id. at *1.

20 33 U.S.C. § 1344(e)(1) (2012).

21 Id.

22 U.S. ARMY CORPS OF ENG’RS, About national and regional permits, http://www.nwp.usace.army.mil/Missions/Regulatory/Nationwide.aspx (last visited Oct. 22, 2016).

23 Reissuance of Nationwide Permits, 77 Fed. Reg. at 10,186.

24 33 C.F.R. § 330.1(e)(1) (2013).

25 Reissuance of Nationwide Permits, 77 Fed. Reg. at 10,184.

26 Id. at 10,185.

27 See generally Eric Biber, The Permit Power Revisited: The Theory and Practice ofRegulatory Permits in the Administrative State, 64 Duke L.J. 133 (2014).

28 Industry attorneys and environmental consulting firms have highlighted the strategic benefits of utilizing NWP 12 as a way to construct pipelines with minimal federal regulatory interference. See, Robert E. Holden, E&P Wetlands Compliance Strategy: Nationwide Permits, LAW360 (Oct. 9, 2014) http://www.law360.com/articles/585584/e-p-wetlands-compliance- strategy-nationwide-permits; John Kusnier, What Pipeline Companies Should Consider When Planning Projects, NORTH AMERICAN OIL & GAS PIPELINES, (July 19, 2013) http://napipelines.com/pipeline-companies-planning-projects/; Lowell M. Rothschild, The Importance Of Keystone To NWP 12, LAW360 (Aug. 29, 2012) http://www.law360.com/articles/371356/the-importance-of-keystone-to-nwp-12.

29 Citizens Alert Regarding the Env’t v. EPA, 259 F.Supp.2d 9, 15 (D.D.C. 2003).

30 For a more detailed discussion of NEPA and its statutory goals, see Valley Citizens Council, 490 U.S. 332 (1989).

31 Robertson v. Methow F.2d 13, 18 (D.C. Cir. 1990)).

32 33 C.F.R. Part 325, app. B (7)(b)(2) (2013).

33 Id.

34 Id. § 7(b)(3).

35 Reissuance of Nationwide Permits, 77 Fed. Reg. at 10,184.

36 DEP’T OF DEFENSE, PROPOSAL TO REISSUE AND MODIFY NATIONWIDE PERMITS (2016) http://www.usace.army.mil/Portals/2/docs/civilworks/nwp/2017/nwp2017_proposed_fedreg_01j une2016.PDF?ver=2016-06-02-113806-960.

37 U.S. ARMY CORPS OF ENG’RS, DECISION DOCUMENT: NATIONWIDE PERMIT 12 (2012), http://www.usace.army.mil/Portals/2/docs/civilworks/nwp/2012/NWP_12_2012.pdf [hereinafter

38 Id. at 1.

39 U.S. ARMY CORPS OF ENG’RS, 2012 NATIONWIDE PERMITS, CONDITIONS, AND DEFINITIONS, WITH CORRECTIONS (2012), http://www.usace.army.mil/Portals/2/docs/civilworks/nwp/2012/NWP2012_corrections_21-sep-2012.pdf (emphasis added) [hereinafter 2012 Nationwide Permits, Conditions, and Definitions].

40 Sierra Club, Comments on the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ Proposal to Reissue and Modify Nationwide Permit 12, (2016), https://www.nwf.org/~/media/PDFs/Global-Warming/Tar-Sands/NWP-12-Comments_FINAL_080116.ashx.

41 Id.

42 Sierra Club v. Bostick, 539 Fed. Appx. 887, 898 (10th Cir. 2013) [hereinafter Gulf Coast Pipeline].

43 Id.

44 Sierra Club v. Army Corps of Eng’rs, 803 F.3d 31, 39 (D.C. Cir. 2015).

45 See 40 CFR § 1508.25(a) (2010) (requiring connected and cumulative actions to be analyzed together unless they would have independent utility).

46 2012 Nationwide Permits, Conditions, and Definitions, at 45.

47 Id. at 43.

48 Id. at 45.

49 Nationwide Permit 12, at 2.

50 Reissuance of Nationwide Permits, 77 Fed. Reg. at 10260.

51 33 C.F.R. § 330.1(d).

52 Gulf Coast Pipeline, at 900.

53 Id.

54 Id. at 896.

55 See 33 C.F.R. pt. 325, app. B (7)(b).

56 See generally, Lindsay M. Nelson, The Gulf Coast Pipeline: A Stealthy Step Toward the Completion of the Keystone XL Pipeline Project, 44 Cap. U. L. Rev. 429 (2016).

57 Gulf Coast Pipeline, at 899 (emphasis added).

58 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at *1.

59 Complaint for Declaratory and Injunctive Relief at 36-8, Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356 (Jul. 27, 2016) (No. 1:16-cv-01534), 2016 WL 4033936.

60 See generally, 36 C.F.R. § 800.2 (2016).

61 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at *2.

62 36 C.F.R. § 800.1(a) (2016).

63 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, WL 4734356, at *2.

64 Quechan Tribe of Fort Yuma Indian Reservation v. U.S. Dep’t of the Interior, 755 F.Supp. 2d 1104, 1108-9 (S.D. Cal. 2010).

65 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at *19 (emphasis added).

66 Id. at *18-9.

67 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at *1.

68 THE ADVISORY COUNCIL ON HISTORIC PRESERVATION, DAKOTA ACCESS PIPELINE PROJECT 1 (May 19, 2016).

69 ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION AGENCY, ADDITIONAL COMMENTS ON DAKOTA ACCESS PIPELINE DRAFT ENVIRONMENTAL ASSESSMENT (March 11, 2016); DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR, LETTER TO THE CORPS (March 29, 2016).

70 THE ADVISORY COUNCIL ON HISTORIC PRESERVATION, DAKOTA ACCESS PIPELINE PROJECT at 1.

71 Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, 2016 WL 4734356, at *19.

This post is part of the Environmental Law Review Syndicate, a multi-school online forum run by student editors from the nation’s leading environmental law reviews.

__________________________________________

By Elizabeth Kuhn*

Many recent decisions by the Ninth Circuit[1] have required the court to review agency actions under the Administrative Procedure Act[2] (APA) arbitrary or capricious standard.[3] The Supreme Court has held that the arbitrary or capricious standard is a “highly deferential” standard of review, though the inquiry must nonetheless “be searching and careful.”[4] Furthermore, the agency’s decision is “‘entitled to a presumption of regularity,’ and [the Court] may not substitute [its] judgment for that of the agency.”[5] For purposes of this discussion, it is important to note that “traditional deference to the agency is at its highest where a court is reviewing an agency action that required a high level of technical expertise.”[6]

In cases where a petitioner is challenging an agency action under the Endangered Species Act[7] (ESA) the court will usually be tasked with reviewing whether the action was arbitrary or capricious in light of the ESA’s “best available science” mandate.[8] The ESA requires an agency to insure that its actions will not jeopardize the continued existence of any endangered species,[9] and the best available science mandate requires the agency to utilize the best available scientific data to inform its no jeopardy review.[10] Challenges to an agency action as arbitrary and capricious for failing to utilize the best available science must show that the agency ignored the relevant available science.[11]

Given the heightened level of deference for decisions based on science and the low standard of what constitutes the best available science, the ESA mandate rarely threatens to invalidate an agency’s decision.[12] In fact, none of the Ninth Circuit cases in the last year that have considered the issue have substantively evaluated an agency decision under the best available science mandate.[13] Rather, the agencies were given heightened deference to make their own decisions as to what constituted best available science.[14] This leaves us to wonder whether the ESA’s best available science mandate serves as a purposeful requirement in the Ninth Circuit.

II. The APA and the Arbitrary and Capricious Standard

 

The APA provides the standard for judicial review of an agency decision. Specifically, section 10 addresses judicial review and provides:

To the extent necessary to decision and when presented, the reviewing court shall decide all relevant questions of law, interpret constitutional and statutory provisions, and determine the meaning or applicability of the terms of an agency action.[15]

Section 10 further establishes the arbitrary and capricious standard by stating that the reviewing court shall “hold unlawful and set aside agency action, findings, and conclusions found to be … arbitrary, capricious, an abuse of discretion, or otherwise not in accordance with law.”[16]

The APA’s arbitrary and capricious standard of review, however, is only applied when the governing legislation does not set forth its own standard of review.[17] There are several examples of legislation that utilize the APA as a default,[18] but key to this commentary is the fact that the ESA also relies on the APA as its default standard of review.

A. Meaning of Arbitrary and Capricious

Based on the text of the applicable legislation, it is easy to know when the arbitrary and capricious standard will be applied as the governing standard of review. However, in addition to understanding when the standard of review will be applied, it is helpful for both agencies and courts to have the same understanding of what is meant by “arbitrary and capricious.”

Congress did not define precisely what it meant by “arbitrary and capricious” within the text of the APA.[19] Instead, courts have looked to the terms’ ordinary meaning for a definition.[20] For example, Black’s Law defines arbitrary as a decision “founded on prejudice or preference rather than on reason or fact.”[21] Additionally, capricious is defined as “unpredictable or impulsive behavior” or “contrary to the evidence or established rules of law.”[22]

B. Deference

The arbitrary and capricious standard of review is a very narrow standard of review that requires the reviewing court to assume a deferential posture such that the court may not simply substitute its judgment for that of the agency.[23] Although the court’s deference must be at its highest when reviewing agency decisions relying on technical expertise, the reviewing court still has an affirmative obligation under the APA to ensure the agency exercised sound judgment and made a reasonable decision based on its available information.[24] Thus, in its review the court must walk a fine line between substituting its judgment for that of the agency and simply affirming agency decision making because it was the decision of the agency.

The U.S. Supreme Court has somewhat defined this line by stating that courts are only to determine if the agency considered the “relevant factors” and if the agency made a “clear error of judgment,” rendering its actions arbitrary and capricious.[25] Because terms such as “clear error of judgment” do not provide a clear standard, the Supreme Court articulated four specific scenarios for when agencies’ actions are considered arbitrary and capricious:

  1. The agency “relied on factors which Congress has not intended it to consider.”
  2. The agency “entirely failed to consider an important aspect of the problem.”
  3. The agency “offered an explanation for its decision that runs counter to the evidence before the agency.”
  4. The agency offered an explanation “so implausible that it could not be ascribed to a difference in view or the product of agency expertise.”[26]

These rules provide clarity to both courts and agencies because they set forth a specific standard for determining whether an agency has acted arbitrarily and capriciously.

III. Best Available Science Under the Endangered Species Act
A. History

The Endangered Species Preservation Act of 1966[27] (ESPA) was the first environmental statute to impose a requirement to utilize science in environmental decisions made by an administrative body.[28] The statute required the Secretary of the Interior to make determinations as to which species were at risk of extinction and directed the secretary to consult with relevant scientists in creating the list of endangered species.[29] The ESPA did not require the ultimate listing decisions to rest on the scientific information, but Congress intended the consultations to provide the foundation for the listings.[30]

The “best available science” requirement was later introduced in the Endangered Species Conservation Act of 1969[31] and remained largely unchanged in the current ESA.[32] However, Congress neither defined “best available science” nor provided instruction as to how to apply the requirement in either the 1969 Act or the current 1973 Act.[33] It has been suggested that the term “best available science” was not further defined in either the 1969 or 1973 statutes because Congress simply intended to continue the ESPA requirement to seek input from scientists prior to making listing decisions.[34]

B. What is Required Under the Best Available Science Mandate?

Without an explicit statutory definition or guidelines of how to apply the best available science mandate, we are forced to rely on judicial opinions interpreting the ESA to ascertain what is required by the mandate. Two distinct guidelines emerge from looking at these opinions: (1) an agency cannot ignore relevant available data and (2) an agency does not have an obligation to generate new data, even if only relatively weak data is available.[35]

The Ninth Circuit has repeatedly held that an agency “cannot ignore available biological information.”[36] Put more specifically, the agency “must not disregard available scientific evidence that is in some way better than the evidence it relies on.”[37] Furthermore, the court has held that an agency is not necessarily in noncompliance with the best available science mandate if it disagrees with or discredits the available scientific data.[38] For example, in Kern County Farm Bureau v. Allen[39] (Kern) the court rejected Kern’s argument that the United States Fish & Wildlife Service (FWS) violated the best available science mandate by misinterpreting three studies. In Kern, the fact that the FWS cited the studies and did not ignore them was enough to comply with the best available science mandate.[40] Therefore, a challenger must specifically point to relevant data that was omitted from consideration to sustain a claim that an agency failed to utilize the best available science.[41]

Although the Ninth Circuit has required an agency to utilize the best scientific data available, the court has also held that the mandate “does not… require an agency to conduct new tests or make decisions on data that does not yet exist.”[42] This holding is consistent with other circuits that have addressed this issue.[43] For example, the D.C. Circuit has held that an agency must utilize the best scientific data available, not the best scientific data possible.[44]

This approach has been met with criticism because agencies are allowed to rely on data that is weak or inconclusive when it is the only data available.[45] Because few data are available for many endangered species,[46] there exists the possibility that many decisions regarding endangered species will be made with little to no scientific data in support. If that were the case, the purpose of consulting scientific data prior to making a decision would be entirely undermined.

C. Application of the Best Available Science Mandate Under the Current Endangered Species Act

The best available science mandate is triggered any time an agency contemplates an action that might impact an endangered species. Section 7(a) of the ESA requires the agency to “insure that any action authorized, funded, or carried out by such agency is not likely to jeopardize the continued existence of any endangered or threatened species or result in destruction or adverse modification of the habitat of such species.”[47] Section 7(a) further requires that in fulfilling the requirements under the section the agency “shall use the best available scientific and commercial data.”[48]

D. Deference

The deference afforded to agencies in review of science-based decisions raises doubt as to whether the best available science mandate actually operates as a substantial requirement to an agency proposing an action under section 7. The Ninth Circuit in particular has held that when the analysis of an agency decision requires a high level of technical expertise, the court “must defer to the informed discretion of the responsible federal agencies.”[49] In fact, it is common practice across the circuits to give an “extreme degree” of deference to decisions founded on the scientific or technical expertise of an agency.[50]

IV. Ninth Circuit Deference on Matters of Science
A. A Substantive Mandate in 2005

In 2005 the Ninth Circuit decided Pacific Coast Federation of Fishermen’s Ass’ns v. Bureau of Reclamation[51] (Pacific Coast) and breathed life into the best available science mandate. Prior to this decision, many courts had used deference to avoid upholding the substantive mandate requiring agencies to insure against jeopardy.[52] In Pacific Coast, the Ninth Circuit inserted itself into the Klamath Basin conflict.[53] The conflict stemmed from the National Marine Fisheries Service (NMFS) issuing a biological opinion (BiOp) requiring the Bureau of Reclamation (BOR) to limit diversion of water from the Klamath River for irrigation purposes because this diversion would jeopardize the continued existence of the endangered suckerfish and coho salmon.[54] This closure resulted in significant agricultural losses, as 2001 also saw record drought.[55]

After the drought of 2001, the Departments of the Interior and Commerce commissioned the National Research Council (NRC) to perform a “scientifically rigorous peer review” of whether the BiOp was consistent with available scientific information.[56] The conclusion of the NRC study questioned the validity of the 2001 BiOp.[57] The study found that “the 2001 BiOp’s drastic halting of water diversions was not scientifically supported,” but the study did not offer comment as to the minimum water levels necessary to maintain the endangered fish.[58]

In 2002, BOR prepared a long-range biological assessment and proposed a new flow regime that would vary the river flow by “water year type.”[59] The NMFS concluded that the BOR’s proposed actions would jeopardize the continued existence of coho salmon, and it issued a new BiOp that developed a reasonable and prudent alternative (RPA) to replace the BOR proposal.[60] That RPA was the subject of Pacific Coast.

The Northern District of California found that the short-term measures of the RPA were not arbitrary and capricious.[61] On appeal to the Ninth Circuit, the Court did not grant the customary heightened deference to the agency’s decision.[62] Rather, the Court engaged in a “careful and searching” review of the BiOp, stating that the agency “is obligated to articulate a rational connection between the facts found and the choices made.”[63] Specifically, the court found that

Although . . . the agency believed that the RPA would avoid jeopardy to the coho, this assertion alone is insufficient to sustain the BiOp and the RPA. The agency essentially asks that we take its word that the species will be protected if its plans were followed. If this were sufficient, the NMFS could simply assert that its decisions were protective and so withstand all scrutiny.[64]

Therefore, the Ninth Circuit found the authorized short-term measures of the Bi-Op to be arbitrary and capricious.[65]

This decision marked an important step in making the ESA’s best available science requirement a substantive mandate. Despite the deference due to the agency, the court looked substantively at the BiOp to find that it could not insure against jeopardy. This case sent a message that an agency could not rely on heightened deference to avoid judicial review of its actions.

B. Clarification of the Arbitrary and Capricious Standard in 2008

In 2008, the Ninth Circuit sought to “clarify some of [its] environmental jurisprudence” by hearing en banc Lands Council v. McNair (Lands Council III).[66] The court felt a need for uniformity because Ecology Center, Inc. v. Austin[67] “defied well-established law concerning the deference [the court] owe[s] to agencies and their methodological choices.”[68] Additionally, the court likely wanted to address the fact that “in recent years, [the Ninth Circuit’s] environmental jurisprudence has, at times, shifted away from the appropriate standard of review and could be read to suggest” that judges should sit on the bench and “act as a panel of scientists.”[69]

The en banc review resulted in a reversal of the preliminary injunction initially granted by the Ninth Circuit in The Lands Council v. McNair (Lands Council II)[70] and the overruling of Ecology Center.[71] Lands Council III overruled Ecology Center’s instruction that courts may suggest how an agency is required to validate its scientific methodology.[72] In Ecology Center, the court required the Forest Service to “demonstrate the reliability of its scientific methodology or the hypothesis underlying the Service’s methodology with on the ground analysis,”[73] but the court in Lands Council III concluded that the Forest Service may use a particular analysis “if it deems it appropriate or necessary, but it is not required to do so.”[74] In other words, as long as “there is a reasonable scientific basis to uphold the legitimacy of [the] modeling,” the courts are required to give deference to the agency and uphold its model.[75] Therefore, Lands Council III significantly reigned in the court’s ability to question how agencies justify scientific methodology.

In addition to precluding courts from prescribing the means by which an agency validates its scientific methodologies, Lands Council III also established that courts do not have the authority to choose which scientific studies support agency actions.[76] If the agency considered the scientific evidence available to it, courts must defer to the agency’s interpretations of that scientific evidence.[77]Therefore, because the Forest Service considered many different studies, the court in Lands Council III explicitly deferred to the agency’s interpretation of the scientific evidence.[78]

Finally, Lands Council III overruled Ecology Center’s requirement that an agency must present every scientific uncertainty in the evidence used to inform a decision.[79] Consequently, an agency no longer bears “the burden to anticipate questions that are not necessary to its analysis, or to respond to uncertainties that are not reasonably supported by any scientific authority.”[80] The Ninth Circuit only requires that an agency “acknowledge and respond to comments by outside parties that raise significant scientific uncertainties and reasonably support that such uncertainties exist.”[81]

Thus, the en banc court established three rules to guide Ninth Circuit jurisprudence when using the arbitrary and capricious standard of review for an agency’s use of science:

  1. Courts may not prescribe the specific means by which an agency must validate methodologies.
  2. Courts may no longer choose between which scientific studies support an agency’s action, so long as the agency provides an explanation for its conclusion.
  3. An agency no longer needs to address every scientific uncertainty surrounding the science it uses to support its position. The agency only needs to “acknowledge” and “respond” to the claims by parties raising and supporting that “significant scientific uncertainties” exist.[82]
C. Current Cases

Pacific Coast marked what commentators believed was a change toward a more substantive science requirement.[83] However, a decade later it does not appear as though the Ninth Circuit has continued down the Pacific Coast path of reducing the deference it affords to agencies when reviewing compliance with the best available science mandate. Rather, the Ninth Circuit has stayed consistent with the “rules” issued by the Lands Council III en banc court. However, the three cases decided by the Ninth Circuit in 2015 reviewing the best available science requirement under the ESA[84] show that heightened agency deference is rendering the science mandate utterly meaningless.

In Alliance for the Wild Rockies v. Bradford,[85] the Ninth Circuit issued a memorandum opinion affirming that the United States Forest Service (USFS) did not violate the ESA by concluding that its Grizzly Project would not likely adversely affect the grizzly bear population.[86] The court noted that USFS met the requirements of the ESA by consulting the Wakkinen Study when making its determination.[87] The court also noted that its review of the scientific judgments and technical analyses made within an agency’s field of expertise should be at its most deferential.[88] Therefore, the court concluded that USFS had complied with the ESA’s best available science mandate.[89]

In Center for Biological Diversity v. United States Fish & Wildlife Service,[90] the Center for Biological Diversity (CBD) brought suit against the FWS challenging the FWS’s decision to sign a memorandum of agreement (MOA) for groundwater pumping based on conclusions reached in its biological opinion (BiOp).[91] CBD sued for declaratory and injunctive relief against the FWS alleging, among other things, that the BiOp failed to meet the best available science standard set forth by §7 of the ESA.[92]

Specifically, CBD argued that the foundation of the BiOp’s no jeopardy finding was based on expediency not on science.[93] CBD attempted to support its argument by pointing to the fact that the conservation measures’ flow reduction triggers were negotiated and not biologically based.[94] The Ninth Circuit noted that the ESA does not require FWS to design or plan its projects using the best science possible.[95] Rather, “once action is submitted for formal consultation, the consulting agency must use the best scientific and commercial evidence available in analyzing the potential effects of that action on endangered species in its biological opinion.”[96] Therefore, the court concluded that negotiated terms do not of themselves prove that the BiOp analysis failed to utilize the best available science.[97]

Additionally, CBD argued that the BiOp’s conclusions should not be given deference because the FWS failed to address concerns raised by its own scientists regarding the effectiveness of the MOA’s conservation measures.[98] The Ninth Circuit explained that CBD’s claim failed as there was no evidence supporting a conclusion that FWS scientists’ concerns were supported by better science than the science used in the BiOp, or that FWS disregarded better scientific information than the evidence FWS relied upon.[99] Thus, the Ninth Circuit concluded that CBD was unable to prove that the no jeopardy conclusion in the BiOp was arbitrary or capricious for failing to utilize the best available science.[100]

In Cascadia Wildlands v. Thrailkill,[101] Cascadia Wildlands (Cascadia) brought action seeking to enjoin the Douglas Fire Complex Recovery Project (Recovery Project), which authorized salvage logging of roughly 1,600 acres of fire-damaged forest.[102] In approving the Recovery Project, the Medford District of the Bureau of Land Management relied on a biological opinion issued by the FWS.[103] This biological opinion concluded that the Recovery Project was not likely to result in jeopardy to the Northern Spotted Owl species or in destruction or adverse modification of the critical habitat.[104] Cascadia claimed the FWS biological opinion failed to comply with requirements of the ESA because the FWS did not apply scientific data to the opinion.[105]

As to the no jeopardy conclusion, the court found that the record supported that the FWS relied on several surveys to reach its conclusion and gave the agency deference that the data it used was the best available scientific data.[106] With regard to the effects on the habitat, the court found that the FWS utilized several lengthy scientific reports regarding pre-fire and post-fire habitats to support the conclusion in its biological opinion.[107] Furthermore, the court noted that a reviewing court cannot substitute its judgment for that of the agency when the agency used adequate and reliable data.[108]

Cascadia also argued that the FWS’s 2011 Northern Spotted Owl Recovery Plan constituted the best available science and that the FWS was required to follow it.[109] The court rejected this argument. The court stated that recovery and jeopardy are two distinct concepts.[110] The court noted that a Recovery Project does not necessarily need to promote or bring about a long-term recovery of the species.[111] Rather, the biological opinion should and does focus on the Recovery Project’s ability to conserve the habitat so as not to have a detrimental effect on the species population.[112]

The court ultimately concluded that Cascadia failed to show that the FWS did not utilize the best available scientific information when issuing its biological opinion that the Recovery Project would not jeopardize the Northern Spotted Owl or its critical habitat.[113] Therefore, the Ninth Circuit affirmed the district court’s denial of the preliminary injunction to enjoin the Recovery Project.[114]

These three cases illustrate that the Ninth Circuit is still affording agencies heightened deference in scientific judgments and technical analyses. The court appears to look merely at whether the agency consulted scientific data prior to making decisions without reviewing the adequacy of the scientific data. Therefore, the ESA’s best available science mandate can be easily satisfied and will be subject to little scrutiny in the Ninth Circuit.

V. Conclusion

When reviewing scientific decisions based on agency expertise, the standard practice across the circuits is to afford deference to the agency unless is it shown that the agency ignored relevant scientific data when making its decision.[115] Unfortunately, this practice leaves little recourse for petitioners seeking to hold an agency accountable for substantiating its decision. As it stands now, the best available science requirement is satisfied as long as the agency considers the available data.[116] The agency is free to disagree with the data, discredit the data, or rely on weak or inconclusive data if it is the only data available.[117] As long as the agency articulates the rationale between the data and the decision made, the court will uphold the agency action.[118] This means that as long as an agency communicates a justification for its decision, the justification itself will more than likely not be reviewed by the court.

In 2005, the Ninth Circuit substantively reviewed an agency decision and found the agency relied heavily on unstated assumptions rather than scientific evidence.[119] Had the court simply given deference to the agency’s conclusion because it articulated a justification for its decision, the court would have failed to notice that the agency was not actually basing that decision on science. Pacific Coast exemplifies the need for substantive review of agency decisions, even though the court does not like to assume the role of technical expert.[120]

Although the Ninth Circuit demonstrated in Pacific Coast that it was willing to substantively review agency decisions relating to science, the court has since shifted back to the more customary deferential approach. As the three 2015 cases show, the Ninth Circuit is reluctant to substitute its judgment for that of an agency with regard to science and as a result affords agencies great deference when reviewing decisions based on the agency’s scientific expertise.

It is unclear why the Ninth Circuit has shifted back to the deferential standard of review. Perhaps it is because Congress has remained silent on the science standard for over three decades, or perhaps the court is reluctant to proceed differently than the other circuits. Whatever the reason, it is clear that until courts engage in substantive review of agencies’ scientific decisions or Congress establishes an explicit standard of the type and quality of scientific data required, the best science available mandate will continue to operate as a fiction in the review of agency decisions.

* J.D. Candidate 2017, Lewis & Clark Law School. Please send correspondence to elizabethkuhn@lclark.edu.

[1] E.g., Cascadia Wildlands v. Thrailkill, 806 F.3d 1234 (9th Cir. 2015); Ctr. for Biological Diversity v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., 807 F.3d 1031 (9th Cir. 2015); All. for the Wild Rockies v. Bradford, 601 Fed. App’x 488 (9th Cir. 2015) (mem.).

[2] Administrative Procedure Act, 5 U.S.C. §§ 551–559, 701–706, 1305, 3105, 3344, 4301, 5335, 5372, 7521 (2012).

[3] 5 U.S.C. § 706(2)(A) (requiring a reviewing court to uphold agency action unless it is “arbitrary, capricious, an abuse of discretion, or otherwise not in accordance with law.”).

[4] Marsh v. Or. Nat. Res. Council, 490 U.S. 360, 378 (1989); San Luis & Delta-Mendota Water Auth. v. Jewell, 47 F.3d 581 (9th Cir. 2014).

[5] Jewell, 47 F.3d at 601. (quoting Citizens to Preserve Overton Park, Inc. v. Volpe, 401 U.S. 402, 415–16 (1971)).

[6] Marsh, 490 U.S. at 377.

[7] Endangered Species Act of 1973, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1531–1544 (2012).

[8] See cases cited supra note 2.

[9] 16 U.S.C. § 1536(a)(2) (2012).

[10] Id.

[11] See Bldg. Indus. Ass’n of Superior Cal. v. Norton, 247 F.3d 1241, 1246 (D.C. Cir. 2001).

[12] Katherine Renshaw, Leaving the Fox to Guard the Henhouse: Bringing Accountability to Consultation Under the Endangered Species Act, 32 Colum. J. Envtl. L. 161, 187 (2007).

[13] See cases cited supra note 2.

[14] See cases cited supra note 2.

[15] 5 U.S.C. § 706 (2012).

[16] Id.

[17] E.g., Al-Fayed v. Cent. Intelligence Agency, 254 F.3d 300, 304 (D.C. Cir. 2001) (“The APA, however, ‘provides a default standard of judicial review . . . where a statute does not otherwise provide a standard.’”).

[18] The National Forest Management Act (NFMA), 16 U.S.C. §§1600–1687 (2012), and the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969 (NEPA), 42 U.S.C. §§ 4321–4370h (2012), are other examples of legislation that rely on the APA as a default standard of review.

[19] See 5 U.S.C. §706(2)(A) (2012).

[20] See Fed. Commc’ns Comm’n v. Fox Television Stations, Inc., 556 U.S. 502, 516 (2009) (stating that the arbitrary and capricious standard is satisfied so long as the Commission’s action was not arbitrary or capricious in the ordinary sense); United States v. Locke, 471 U.S. 84, 95 (1985) (deference to the supremacy of the Legislature, as well as recognition that Congressmen typically vote on the language of a bill, generally requires us to assume that the legislative purpose is expressed by the ordinary meaning of the words used).

[21] Black’s Law Dictionary 112 (9th ed. 2009).

[22] Id. at 224.

[23] Marsh v. Or. Nat. Res. Council, 490 U.S. 360, 377–78 (1989); see U.S. Postal Service v. Gregory, 534 U.S. 1, 6–7 (2001).

[24] See Marsh, 490 U.S. at 377–78.

[25] Id.

[26] Motor Vehicle Mfrs. Ass’n of U.S., Inc. v. State Farm Mut. Auto. Ins. Co., 463 U.S. 29, 43 (1983).

[27] Pub. L. No. 89-669, 80 Stat. 926 (1966).

[28] Holly Doremus, Listing Decisions Under the Endangered Species Act, Why Better Science Isn’t Always Better Policy, 75 Wash. U.L.Q. 1029, 1042 (1997).

[29] § 1(c), 80 Stat. at 926.

[30] Doremus, supra note 15, at 1042.

[31] Pub. L. No. 91-135, 83 Stat. 275 (1969).

[32] See 16 U.S.C. § 1536(a)(2) (2012).

[33] See § 3(a), 83 Stat. at 275; 16 U.S.C. § 1532 (2012).

[34] Doremus, supra note 15, at 1043.

[35] Renshaw, supra note 12, at 167.

[36] Conner v. Burford, 848 F.2d 1441, 1454 (9th Cir. 1988); see also San Luis & Delta-Mendota Water Auth. v. Locke, 776 F.3d 971, 995 (9th Cir. 2014).

[37] San Luis & Delta-Mendota Water Auth., 776 F.3d at 995.

[38] See id.

[39] 450 F.3d 1072 (9th Cir. 2006).

[40] Id. at 1081.

[41] See id.

[42] San Luis & Delta-Mendota Water Auth., 776 F.3d at 995.

[43] E.g., Am. Wildlands v. Kempthorne, 530 F.3d 991, 998–99 (D.C. Cir. 2008).

[44] Bldg. Indus. Ass’n of Superior Cal. v. Norton, 247 F.3d 1241, 1246 (D.C. Cir. 2001).

[45] Renshaw, supra note 12, at 169.

[46] Id.

[47] 16 U.S.C. § 1536(a)(2) (2012).

[48] Id.

[49] Selkirk Conservation All. v. Fosgren, 336 F.3d 944, 954 (9th Cir. 2003).

[50] City of Waukesha v. U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, 320 F.3d 228, 247 (D.C. Cir. 2003); see also Maine v. Norton, 257 F. Supp. 2d at 389 (“The court must defer to the agency’s expertise, particularly with respect to decision-making which involves a high level of technical expertise.”); A.M.L. Int’l, Inc. v. Daley, 107 F. Supp. 2d 90, 102 (D. Mass. 2000) (“Indeed, a reviewing court must afford special deference to an agency’s scientific expertise.”).

[51] 426 F.3d 1082 (9th Cir. 2005).

[52] Renshaw, supra note 12, at 187.

[53] See Pacific Coast, 426 F.3d 1082.

[54] See id. at 1087.

[55] See id.

[56] J.B. Ruhl, The Battle Over Endangered Species Act Methodology, 34 Envtl. L. 555, 584–85 (2004).

[57] Pacific Coast, 426 F.3d at 1087.

[58] Renshaw, supra note 12, at 188.

[59] Pacific Coast, 426 F.3d at 1088.

[60] Id.

[61] Id. at 1089.

[62] See id.

[63] Id. at 1091.

[64] Id. at 1092.

[65] Id.

[66] 537 F.3d 981, 984 (9th Cir. 2008).

[67] 430 F.3d 1057 (9th Cir. 2005).

[68] Lands Council III, 537 F.3d at 991.

[69] Id. at 998.

[70] 494 F.3d 771 (9th Cir. 2007), rev’d en banc, 537 F.3d 981 (9th Cir. 2008).

[71] Lands Council III, 537 F.3d 990–94.

[72] Id. at 990.

[73] Ecology Center, 430 F.3d at 1064.

[74] Lands Council III, 537 F.3d 991–92.

[75] Id. at 992.

[76] Id. at 994–95.

[77] Id. at 995.

[78] Id. at 996.

[79] Lands Council III, 537 F.3d at 1001.

[80] Id.

[81] Id.

[82] Id. at 992–94, 1001 ; see also Ryan G. Welding & Michael E. Patterson, Maintaining the Ninth Circuit’s Clarified Arbitrary and Capricious Standard of Review for Agency Science After Lands Council v. McNair, 31 Pub. Land & Resources L. Rev. 55, 79–80 (2010).

[83] See Renshaw, supra note 12.

[84] See cases cited supra note 2.

[85] 601 Fed App’x 488 (9th Cir. 2015).

[86] Id. at 490.

[87] Id. (“The Forest Service relied on the Wakkinen Study, which is the best available science, and the Fish & Wildlife Service concurred in the Forest Service’s determination.”).

[88] Id.

[89] Id.

[90] 807 F.3d 1031 (9th Cir. 2015).

[91] Id. at 1035.

[92] Id.

[93] Id. at 1048.

[94] Id.

[95] Id.

[96] Id.

[97] Id.

[98] Id.

[99] Id. at 1049–50.

[100] Id. at 1049–51.

[101] 806 F.3d 1234 (9th Cir. 2015).

[102] Id. at 1235–36.

[103] Id.

[104] Id. at 1236.

[105] Id. at 1238–41.

[106] Id. at 1241–42.

[107] Id. at 1242.

[108] Id. at 1243.

[109] Id. at 1243–44.

[110] Id.

[111] Id.

[112] Id.

[113] Id. at 1244.

[114] Id.

[115] See cases cited supra note 50.

[116] See Conner v. Burford, 848 F.2d 1441, 1454 (9th Cir.1988); see also San Luis & Delta-Mendota Water Auth. v. Locke, 776 F.3d 971, 995 (9th Cir. 2014).

[117] See, e.g., San Luis & Delta-Mendota Water Auth., 776 F.3d at 995.

[118] Ctr. for Biological Diversity v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., 807 F.3d 1031, 1043 (9th Cir. 2015).

[119] See Pacific Coast, 426 F.3d 1082.

[120] See Marsh v. Or. Nat. Res. Council, 490 U.S. 360, 377 (1989.

 

VJEL Symposium 2016 Poster

Fall 2016 Symposium

The Endangered Species Act: Putting the Bite Back in the Law

Friday, October 21, 2016

Chase Community Center, Vermont Law School, South Royalton, VT

The Vermont Journal of Environmental Law is pleased to announce our Fall 2016 symposium being held on October 21, 2016. The event will be held in person from 8:30am to 5:00pm in the Chase Community Center.

This year’s symposium will feature Zygmunt Plater from the Boston College Law School as the keynote speaker, as well as panels on:

    • The ESA and Climate Change
    • The ESA and Animal Rights Intersection
    • The ESA and New England
    • The ESA and the Obama Administration

For more information, please don’t hesitate to Contact Us.

Free and open to the public and press. CLE credits available.

VJEL Symposium 2016 Poster
This post is part of the Environmental Law Review Syndicate, a multi-school online forum run by student editors from the nation’s leading environmental law reviews.

__________________________________________

By Hume Ross, Staff Member Georgetown Environmental Law Review

Before World War II, Japanese Admiral Yamamoto wrote: “Because I have seen the motor industry in Detroit and the oilfields of Texas, I know Japan has no chance if she goes to war with America, or if she starts to compete in building warships.”[1] As he anticipated, after hostilities broke out the United States government quickly began to mobilize the nation’s considerable natural resources and manufacturing capacity.

The War Production Board (WPB) was established in 1942 in order to “increase, accelerate, and regulate the production and supply of materials, articles and equipment and the provision of emergency plant facilities . . . required for the national defense.”[2] The WPB and similar entities had the ability to determine how various raw materials would be used, set prices, and enter into novel contractual arrangements with defense contractors. Some contracts provided that contractors would operate temporary facilities owned by the government,[3] or be subject to recapture of excess profits.[4] Profit margins were typically low, but in return contractors sometimes received favorable contract terms to insulate them from unexpected costs.[5]

The Contract Settlement Act of 1944 (CSA) recognized that, because of the extent to which American industry had been integrated into the war effort, any issues with the payment of claims when the war ended could imperil the entire economy. The CSA provided procuring agencies with authority “notwithstanding any provisions of law” to “agree to assume, or indemnify the war contractor against, any claims by any person in connection with such termination claims or settlement.”[6]

As was the intent of these legislative and executive acts, American industry roared to life, flooding the operational theaters with ships, planes, tanks, ordnance and fuel, and propelled the Allies to victory. But this overwhelming effort had ill-effects as well. Due in part to both the extraordinary pace of production, and the less stringent environmental regulations of the time, large amounts of toxic chemicals were released at hundreds of sites around the country.

Three-and-a-half decades later, in the face of mounting public concern about environmental pollution, Congress enacted the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act (CERCLA).[7] CERCLA authorizes the Environmental Protection Agency, if it determines a site poses “an imminent and substantial endangerment to the public health,” to sue certain responsible parties for the costs of cleanup.[8] Many of the sites identified by the EPA under CERCLA (commonly called “Superfund” sites) are the product of the extraordinary war-time effort, and the extraordinary defense contracts that enabled it. This set the stage for decades of litigation to allocate financial responsibility for the cleanup between the contractors (and often their corporate successors) and the government.

1. CERCLA LIABILITY GENERALLY

CERCLA liability will attach to any entity that owns or operates a contaminated facility, or owned or operated a facility where hazardous substances were disposed of in the past, as well as a few other categories related to transporting or arranging for the improper release of hazardous materials.[9] CERCLA liability is strict, joint, and several.[10] This means that often one party may be compelled to begin cleanup (or reimburse EPA for beginning cleanup) and then will have to seek contribution from other liable parties.[11] The liability was structured this way to ensure that there would always be a party available to pay for cleanup, and to disincentive companies from engaging in prohibited activities. Even if a corporation sells a polluted facility before the pollution is discovered, they will still be liable as a “past owner” or “operator.” Courts often note that CERCLA should be construed liberally in view of its remedial purpose to achieve its twin goals: “(1) enabling the EPA to respond efficiently and expeditiously to toxic spills, and (2) holding those parties responsible for the releases liable for the costs of the cleanup.”[12]

Under these standards, both defense contractors and the government (which specifically waived sovereign immunity related to CERCLA claims)[13] may be liable for some of the cleanup costs. But the extent of liability for each party is determined by comparing the role that each played in causing the pollution. The characterization of which entity was an “operator” is significant because of the way courts equitably apportion CERCLA contributions among the responsible parties. There is no fixed formula – instead, courts look at various sets of factors. One such set is the “Gore” factors, named after an unsuccessful but nonetheless influential attempt to pass an amendment to CERCLA in 1980 by then-Representative Al Gore.[14] Another similar set of factors are known as the Torres factors.[15] A common theme is that liability will be more heavily apportioned to a party with more “knowledge and/or acquiescence […] in the contaminating activities.”[16] The tests established for the “operator” label tend to track closely with this language, and therefore being designated as an “operator” often leads to a large share of liability.[17] The analysis of which entity was “operating” a facility, or portion thereof, has evolved over time as discussed in the next section.

2. FMC Corp. Suggested Broad Government Liability Even for Regulatory Oversight

In 1994, the Third Circuit decided FMC Corp. v. United States.[18] The case established a framework by which the US government could be held liable as an “operator” for acts it took in a regulatory capacity. Commentators at the time were concerned that, because the government is the ultimate “deep pocket,” this could lead to a massive amount of CERCLA liability looping back onto the government.[19] While not explicitly overruled, FMC Corp. has been limited by subsequent cases. But the decision is still relevant as its fact pattern, while rare, is not unique in the WWII-era contracting context.

FMC Corp. concerned a facility located in Front Royal, VA (then owned by corporate predecessor American Viscose) that produced high tenacity rayon (“HTR”) for plane and vehicle tires. Ordinarily the tires would have used rubber, but 90% of the United States’ rubber supply came from the Pacific, which was cut off after Pearl Harbor.[20] The facility was in fact converted from producing textile rayon to HTR largely at the behest of the government.[21] In 1982, inspections revealed elevated levels of carbon disulfide in the ground water around the plant.[22] Carbon disulfide is a volatile organic compound capable of causing neurological damage with chronic exposure.[23]

After the EPA notified FMC of its potential liability under CERLA, FMC filed suit seeking monetary contribution from the government under section 113(f) of CERCLA.[24] FMC argued that the government was “so pervasively” involved in directing the activities at the facility that it should pay some, if not all, of the cleanup costs.[25] The government admitted that it effectively controlled many aspects of the operation at the American Viscose plant, but argued that it did so only in a regulatory capacity, and that it could not be held to be an “operator” for purposes of CERCLA when it was acting only as a regulator.[26]

The FMC Corp. court looked to cases in the parent-subsidiary liability context, and chose to apply the same “substantial control” and “active involvement” test to governmental actions for purposes of CERCLA liability.[27] The court found it important that, even if the government was primarily “regulating,” it:

“determined what product the facility would manufacture, controlled the supply and price of the facility’s raw materials, in part by building or causing plants to be built near the facility for their production, supplied equipment for use in the manufacturing process, acted to ensure that the facility retained an adequate labor force, participated in the management and supervision of the labor force, had the authority to remove workers who were incompetent or guilty of misconduct, controlled the price of the facility’s product, and controlled who could purchase the product.”[28]

The court ultimately found that the government was an “operator” of the plant.[29] To the extent that this result was not what Congress may have intended when it adopted CERCLA, the court noted that amending the statute was within the power of Congress, not the Courts.[30]

3. Bestfoods Narrowed the Operator Liability Standard

Four years later, the Supreme Court decided United States vs. Bestfoods.[31] Bestfoods dealt with the question of under what circumstances a corporate parent could be held liable as an operator under CERCLA for the actions of a subsidiary corporation. Because FMC Corp. and other earlier defense contract related decisions had examined governmental vicarious liability under CERCLA as being the same as the inquiry for a “non-governmental entity”,[32] Bestfoods would have a direct impact on government CERCLA liability.

Bestfoods found that a subsidiary “so pervasively controlled” by a parent such that it would warrant veil piercing in the corporate law context could be held derivatively liable for the acts of the subsidiary.[33] This is a high standard – even a parent and a subsidiary that share officers and directors will not necessarily meet it.[34] But even if the conduct of a parent would not warrant veil piercing, the court found that “CERCLA prevents individuals from hiding behind the corporate shield when, as ‘operators,’ they themselves actually participate in the wrongful conduct”.[35] Thus, “[u]nder CERCLA, an operator is simply someone who directs the workings of, manages, or conducts the affairs of a facility… specifically related to pollution, that is, operations having to do with the leakage or disposal of hazardous waste, or decisions about compliance with environmental regulations.”[36] This standard has been interpreted to require involvement in environmental decisions on a frequent, often “day-to-day” basis.[37]

It is unclear how FMC Corp. would have been decided under this standard. While it appears that the government did exercise some day-to-day control, it is not clear that this control had the required nexus to the actual pollution. What is clear is that this standard is intensely factual in nature. For all the record developed in FMC Corp., more might have been needed to determine if the government’s day-to-day input over personnel and other issues had the required nexus to the pollution.

4. Recent Cases Exemplify this Narrower Standard

Two recent cases demonstrate how much more difficult it is to assign “operator” liability to the government after Bestfoods. Exxon Mobil Corp. v. United States involved two sites in Louisiana where the production of avgas[38] for the war effort led to contamination of the Mississippi River.[39] Exxon argued that many activities at the site were performed out of fear that the refineries would be seized by the WPB if production quotas were not met.[40] The court rejected this argument, finding that the government acted more like a “very interested consumer,” and did not direct day-to-day activities.[41] The court also found persuasive that fact that some of Exxon’s contracts contained clauses stating that certain specifications and quantities would be “determined by negotiation,” as opposed to simply dictated by the government.[42]

Exxon further argued that government personnel were at the site every day, performing inspections. The court cited in response other post-Bestfoods cases where daily inspections related to contract compliance and worker safety were insufficient.[43] Ultimately, the government was not determined to be an “operator” of the avgas refineries under CERCLA.[44]

A second case, TDY Holdings, reached a similar result.[45] TDY was the corporate successor of several corporations which had operated a facility near San Diego international airport that performed aeronautical fabrication and testing as a contractor to the government between 1939 and 1999.[46] Even though it was undisputed that the government “owned some of the equipment related to the contamination, and observed and knew of TDY’s production processes and maintenance practices that released contaminates into the environment” the government was found to be merely a “past owner” and not an “operator.”[47] TDY argued that adherence to military specifications (mil specs) led inevitably to pollution, but the court found that the mil specs did not dictate how by-product chemicals should be managed, contained, or disposed of.[48] The court also explicitly distinguished FMC Corp. on the grounds that TDY actively sought out defense work, and was never “ordered, coerced, or forced” to operate as a defense plant.[49] TDY was assigned 100% of the cleanup costs as the “operator,” even though the government had been found to be a “past owner” of some facilities.[50]

5. Shell and I. DuPont establish the framework for litigation over indemnification clauses

With the window to assign the government “operator” liability in all but extreme cases closed, litigants have explored other ways to shift cleanup costs to the government. One method that has succeeded has been to rely on special indemnification clauses that were included in some WWII-era contracts. Unlike the in-depth factual analysis required to establish “operator” liability, this analysis involves primarily questions of law. Specifically, application of these clauses depends on whether or not the clauses extend to CERCLA liability (which was unforeseen at the time of their execution). If the clauses do cover CERCLA liability, it then must be examined whether or not the Anti-Deficiency Act prohibits payment of indemnification under the clauses and, if so, whether the ADA was effectively waived by the Contract Settlement Act of 1944.[51]

In 1940, the government contracted with E.I. du Pont to build a plant in Morgantown, WV to produce munitions-related chemicals. E.I. du Pont was to construct and operate the plant, but the facilities would be owned by the government. E.I. du Pont was to be paid a fixed fee for the operation of the plant, but the government affectively owned all of the output – there were no products “sold” to the government.[52] The contract contained an indemnification clause that read:

“the Government shall hold [E.I. du Pont] harmless against any loss, expense (including expense of litigation), or damage (including damage to third persons because of death, bodily injury or property injury or destruction or otherwise) of any kind whatsoever arising out of or in connection with the performance of the work”[53]

The court had no difficulty determining that this clause extended to CERCLA liability based on its broad, non-limited language.[54] The court then turned to the question of whether the Anti-Deficiency Act (ADA) barred payment under the indemnification clause. The trial court had determined that the ADA, which bars payments in excess of the amounts appropriated by Congress for a particular contract,[55] did bar payment of CERCLA indemnification. The Federal Circuit did not question this general conclusion, but instead focused on whether payment was otherwise “authorized by law” as an exception to the ADA.[56]

Specifically, the Federal Circuit considered whether the Contract Settlement Act of 1944 (CSA), designed to ensure rapid settlement of war related claims, could overcome the general prohibition of the ADA. The CSA provided that certain agencies;

“shall have authority, notwithstanding any provisions of law other than contained in this chapter, (1) to make any contract necessary and appropriate to carry out the provisions of this chapter; (2) to amend by agreement any existing contract, either before or after notice of its termination, on such terms and to such extent as it deems necessary and appropriate to carry out the provisions of this chapter; and (3) in settling any termination claim, to agree to assume, or indemnify the war contractor against, any claims by any person in connection with such termination claims or settlement.[57]

The Federal Circuit agreed with E.I. du Pont that this language “grant[ed] the President the authority to delegate to departments and agencies contracting power virtually unfettered by contract law, including the ADA”.[58] The case was remanded for entry of judgment in E.I. du Pont’s favor – the government would be liable for any CERCLA costs that might be imposed on E.I. du Pont.[59]

Subsequent cases have confirmed that if the CSA is applicable to the contract at issue, then the ADA restriction is not effective.[60] The only issue that remains is whether the particular indemnification clause is “(1) specific enough to include CERCLA liability or (2) general enough to include any and all environmental liability which would, naturally, include subsequent CERCLA claims.”[61] Shell Oil Co. v. United States concerned a contract where the relevant agency had agreed to pay “”any now existing taxes, fees, or charges . . . imposed upon [the Oil Companies] by reason of the production, manufacture, storage, sale or delivery of [avgas].”[62] The Federal Circuit held that future CERCLA liability was a “charge” within the meaning of the contract, and the government was therefore liable to reimburse Shell for it.[63]

The courts’ findings that certain WWII-era contractor indemnification clauses cover CERCLA liability makes this an attractive litigation tactic now that that it is more difficult to assign the government “operator” liability. Of course, not all contracts contained a version of either of the provisions discussed above. Those that did are more likely to be contracts of the type at issue in E.I. du Pont and FMC Corp., where the government and the contractor were undertaking a mode of operation that would not normally be undertaken outside of wartime. These extraordinary contracts are more likely to involve fact scenarios on which the government might also still be determined to be an “operator,” even under the narrow Bestfoods test. But even where the government might be deemed an “operator,” the indemnification clause strategy has the advantage of providing a complete bar to contractor liability as opposed to requiring apportionment, and also does not require intense factual investigation.

[1] Correlli Barnett, The Lords of War: Supreme Leadership from Lincoln to Churchill 163 (2012).

[2] FMC Corp. v. United States Dep’t of Commerce, 786 F. Supp. 471, 474 (E.D. Pa. 1992).

[3] E.I. du Pont de Nemours & Co. v. United States, 365 F.3d 1367, 1369-70 (Fed. Cir. 2004).

[4] Sixth Supplemental National Defense Appropriation Act, 1942, Pub. L. No. 77-528, ch. 247, § 403, 56 Stat. 226, 245 (1942).

[5] See, e.g., Shell Oil Co. v. United States, 751 F.3d 1282, 1287 (Fed. Cir. 2014).

[6] E.I. du Pont de Nemours, 365 F.3d at 1357 (Fed. Cir. 2004).

[7] Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act of 1980, Pub. L. No. 96-510, 94 Stat. 2767 (codified as amended at 42 U.S.C. §§ 9601-9675 (1988)).

[8] Id. at § 9604.

[9] See 42 U.S.C.S. § 9607 (listing the categories of “covered persons”).

[10] Tanglewood East Homeowners v. Charles-Thomas, Inc., 849 F.2d 1568, 1572 (5th Cir. 1988); O’Neil v. Picillo, 883 F.2d 176, 178-79 (1st Cir. 1989).

[11] 42 U.S.C.S. § 9607.

[12] B.F. Goodrich Co. v. Murtha, 958 F.2d 1192, 1198 (2d Cir. 1992).

[13] See FMC Corp. v. U.S. Dep’t of Commerce, 29 F.3d 833, 842 (3rd Cir. 1994).

[14] The “Gore” factors include: “(i) the ability of the parties to demonstrate that their contribution to a discharge release or disposal of a hazardous waste can be distinguished; (ii) the amount of the hazardous waste involved;

(iii) the degree of toxicity of the hazardous waste involved; (iv) the degree of involvement by the parties in the generation, transportation, treatment, storage, or disposal of the hazardous waste; (v) the degree of care exercised by the parties with respect to the hazardous waste concerned, taking into account the characteristics of such hazardous waste; and(vi) the degree of cooperation by the parties with Federal, State, or local officials to prevent any harm to the public health or the environment.” United States v. A & F Materials Co., 578 F. Supp. 1249, 1256 (S.D. Ill. 1984).

[15] See Exxon Mobil Corp. v. United States, 108 F. Supp. 3d 486, 534 (S.D. Tex. 2015).

[16] Weyerhaeuser Co. v. Koppers Co., 771 F.Supp. 1420,1426 (D. Md. 1991).

[17] See TDY Holdings, LLC v. United States, 122 F. Supp. 3d 998, 1015 (S.D. Cal. 2015) (“In circumstances where the Government was found to be such an “operator” due to its control or management, in whole or in part, of the disposal practices at a site, courts have found it equitable to burden the Government with a substantial portion of the

remediation expenses.”).

[18] FMC Corp., 29 F.3d at 833.

[19] See Van S. Katzman, The Waste of War: Government CERCLA Liability at World War II Facilities, 79

Va. L. Rev. 1191, 1193, 1232 (1993).

[20] FMC Corp., 29 F.3d at 836.

[21] Id. at 835.

[22] Id.

[23] U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry, Toxicological Profile for Carbon Disulfide (Update) (1996).

[24] 42 U.S.C.§ 9613(f).

[25] FMC Corp., 29 F.3d at 835.

[26] The government also argued that it had not waived sovereign immunity for purposes of CERCLA liability for purely regulatory actions, but the court disagreed with this contention. Id at 836.

[27] Id. at 843.

[28] Id. (emphasis added).

[29] Id. at 845.

[30] Id. at 846.

[31] United States v. Bestfoods, 524 U.S. 51 (1998).

[32] FMC Corp., 29 F.3d at 840.

[33] Bestfoods, 542 U.S. at 64 n. 10.

[34] Id. at n. 12.

[35] Bestfoods, 542 U.S. at 65 (quoting Riverside Market Dev. Corp. v. International Bldg. Prods., Inc., 931 F.2d 327, 330 (5th Cir. 1991)).

[36] Bestfoods, 524 U.S. at 65-66.

[37] Exxon Mobil Corp., 108 F. Supp. 3d at 529-30 (quoting City of Wichita, Kansas v. Trs. Of APCO Oil Corp. Liquidating Trust, 306 F. Supp. 2d 1040, 1055 (D. Kan. 2003)).

[38] Avgas was a revolutionary 100-octane fuel that, when used to replace the 87-octane fuels previously used in combat aircraft, increased their speed without requiring significant modifications to the engine. See Sustainable Technology Forum, Chemists explore WWII ‘miracle’ aviation fuel, available at http://sustainabletechnologyforum.com/chemists-explore-wwii-miracle-aviation-fuel_9396.html (last visited June 26th 2016).

[39] Exxon, 108 F. Supp. 3d at 491.

[40] Id. at 523-24.

[41] Id. at 523.

[42] Id. at 498.

[43] Id. at 525.

[44] The government was determined to be an operator of several discrete facilities related to the litigation, including an ordinance shop. This finding was based on correspondence showing that the government “made specific decisions about waste disposal and environmental compliance,” was aware of the pollution, and decided to continue polluting. The ordinance works was described as “resembl[ing] a United States Army base more than a chemical plant” in terms of who actively managed it and its operational procedures. Id at 530-32.

[45] TDY Holdings, 122 F. Supp. 3d at 1003.

[46] Id. at 1003.

[47] Id. at 1004, 1021-22.

[48] Id. at 1016-17.

[49] Id.

[50] Id. at 1022.

[51] See generally Andrew P. Lawson, Casenote: The End of a War Does not End its Adversarial

Reach: The Federal Government’s Indemnification of World War II Contractors for Toxic Waste Cleanup Resulting from Wartime Manufacturing Efforts in Shell Oil Co. et al. v. United States, 26 Vill. Envtl. L.J. 363 (2015).

[52] E.I. du Pont de Nemours, 365 F.3d at 1369-70.

[53] Id. at 1370.

[54] Id. at 1373.

[55] Id. at 1374.

[56] Id.

[57] Id. at 1375 (emphasis as added in decision).

[58] Id. at 1376 (quoting Johns-Manville Corp. v. United States, 12 Cl. Ct. 1, 33-34 (1987)).

[59] Id. at 1380.

[60] See, e.g., Shell Oil Co., 751 F.3d at 1301.

[61] E.I. du Pont de Nemours, 365 F.3d at 1373 (quoting Elf Atochem N. Am. v. United States, 866 F. Supp. 68, 870 (E.D. Pa. 1994)).

[62] Shell Oil Co., 751 F.3d at 1287.

[63] Id. at 1284. Reyna, J. dissented, primarily on the ground that the provision in question was located in a section of the contract related to taxes and, interpreted in that context, CERCLA liability was not a “charge.” Id at 1303-05.

Summary : Women have emerged as the most influential figures in the UN’s Convention on climate change. Female diplomats from Saudi Arabia and New Zealand have been elected to co-chair the fledgling APA, which develop guidelines pursuant to the recent Paris Agreement.

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By Bonnie Smith

For the first time ever, women dominate the most influential positions for the UN Climate Change negotiations. This significant change in leadership comports with the Preamble of the Paris Agreement, which states, “[p]arties shoul `d when taking action to address climate change, promote and consider their respective obligations…gender equality [and] empowerment of women.”

Significantly, Christiana Figueres, affectionately nicknamed the “Climate Queen” at SB44, stepped down from her six-year tenure as Executive Secretariat of the UNFCCC and  welcomed Patricia Espinosa , Mexican ambassador to Berlin, as her successor. The Parties elected Sarah Baashan, a Saudi Arabian diplomat, and Jo Tyndall, a former climate ambassador from New Zealand, to serve as the first co-chairs of the Ad Hoc Working Group on the Paris Agreement (“APA”) , established to develop rules and guidelines under the Paris Agreement.

UNFCCC leaders, delegates, and civil society groups maintained the dialogue on gender and climate change from the opening of the SB44 Conference  to its conclusion. Jo Tyndall concluded the APA Plenary Session by remarking on the “whirlwind couple of weeks” at SB44, during which time she and Sarah metaphorically got married, birthed the APA baby, and watched the baby take its first breaths. As she concluded the session she vowed that she and Sarah would not drop the newborn APA baby.

For more articles by VLS Observer Delegation Click Here

The post Women Dominate Leadership Positions for UN Climate Change Negotiations appeared first on Vermont Journal of Environmental Law.

Summary : Parties to the UNFCCC gathered over the last two weeks for their mid-year meeting in Bonn, Germany to attempt to translate the recent treaties into substantive government policies.  At center stage, was the recent Paris Agreement and its future effects as the parties begin to merge its elements with the UNFCCC’s Kyoto protocol and other pre-2020 pledges.

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By Tracy Bach

During the last two weeks of May, the parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) gathered in Bonn, Germany for their regular mid-yearmeeting.  This session is called  SB44, which simply means the 44th meeting of the climate change convention’s subbodies , which include two standing groups, the SBI  (Subsidiary Body for Implementation) and SBSTA (Subsidiary Body for Scientific and Technological Advice) and one temporary one, the APA  (Ad Hoc Working Group on the Paris Agreement).  SB44 is the place where the rubber meets the road.  Few world leaders attend and even fewer members of the media.  Instead, career diplomats who focus on international environmental law in general and climate change specifically come to Bonn to work out the technical realities of translating treaty words into governmental actions.

At SB44, the parties continued work on climate change mitigation and adaptation programs initiated under the UNFCCC and its Kyoto Protocol (KP).  But it’s fair to say that this work was perpetually overshadowed by the future impacts of the Paris Agreement  (PA).

What would happen to pre-2020 commitments under the KP’s Second Commitment Period if the Paris Agreement entered into force early? How do the NDCs or nationally determined contributions required under the Paris Agreement relate to the pre-2020 Cancun pledges? How will existing governance mechanisms under the UNFCCC and KP, like the KP’s CDM (Clean Development Mechanism) Executive Board , UNFCCC’s Standing Committee on Finance and Adaptation Committee , and the COP19-created  Executive Committee of the Warsaw International Mechanism on Loss and Damage , serve the Paris Agreement?  Will we simply learn from their track records of what (and what not) to do when creating new governance structures under the PA?

The Paris Agreement seized the center stage for at least a third of SB44’s agenda, given the number of tasks assigned by COP21 for moving into implementation.  While on the surface, this work has the appearance of being technical, in reality it is rooted deeply in international politics.  Hence the first week of the APA’s SB44 work was held up while the Parties disputed their agenda for the mid-year session.  The G77+China — the largest negotiating group in the UNFCCC negotiations — filed a request before the opening plenaries with concrete suggestions for “balancing” the agenda so that it was less mitigation-centric — a hangover from the UNFCCC and KP’s work programme foci.  Through these agenda corrections, the G77 also sought to launch the next phase of work using the precise language that parties forged last December when agreeing by consensus on the COP21 decisions.

Forging North American relations at a biergarten on the Rhein.

The APA agenda dispute (and to a lesser extent, those in SBSTA and SBI) served as the opening salvo of a consistent campaign to address the constructive ambiguity that Parties had built into the Paris Agreement’s provisions  very carefully. The art of compromise on display in Paris does not transition easily to the technical exercise in Bonn of translating those words into action. This difficulty stood out most strikingly for me on two agenda items: Paris Agreement Article 6 (“cooperative approaches”) and its relation to Article 5 (forests and other land use) and transparency and global stocktaking under Articles 13 and 14, including on finance.  More to come soon on these specific topics.

For more articles by VLS Observer Delegation Click Here

The post SB44 – Next Steps After Paris appeared first on Vermont Journal of Environmental Law.

Summary : Conscious consumption is each individual’s responsibility. Understanding what we consume and how we facilitate the commoditization of life is a necessity if we are to promote the modification of social values to include holistic stewardship of our planetary resources.

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By Madhavi Venkatesan, PhD

All life has intrinsic value. Human life may be able to dominate and subordinate other life forms due to nothing more than brute force but does this equate with a fundamental right to forcibly inseminate, isolate, and commoditize other life forms? Arguably, the claim of human status based on a hierarchy of life forms would appear to be more consistent with stewardship, not domination.

To justify the horrific treatment of other life forms through an assertion that provision of quality of life would be too expensive provides a greater insight into the social values of the present period and nothing more. The treatment we provide to the voiceless impacts our sense of humanity and the manner in which we will ultimately treat one another.

Economics does not justify exploitation, it is a discipline founded on moral philosophy. The value and fairness elements that were embedded explicitly and implicitly in the work of Adam Smith and David Ricardo did not survive the overly simplified twentieth century quantification of the behavioral science. The ignorant greed among some in our society has promoted the use of price as a means to perpetuate profit and consumption, but this is not economic theory, this is the oversimplified, myopic perspective of the individual who is succumbing to self-focused benefit without thought of holistic cost.

Price is not an appropriate measure on its own. It is the fairness of price that is important. A fair price captures the cost of raising a healthy animal. A cheap price implicitly captures the low cost of raising an animal, not necessarily healthy and not net necessarily of nutritious value. The animal is produced like a piece of equipment on an assembly line, fattened with hormones, injected with antibiotics, living in and eating its own feces, with limited development physically and mentally; cheaply treated, cheaply priced, it offers minimal consumption benefit. The flesh that composed the animal, the same meager nutrition and development embedded in the animal will be the fuel source for the consumer. The cheapness in its price imposes yet another adversity: that life can be thrown away—trashed—based on market-promoted price elasticity. Further from an ecological perspective, the concentrated living conditions of these voiceless, captive living commodities adversely impacts groundwater and, depending how feces are discarded, can create further human health impacts.

We have inherited frameworks that are based on ideas and beliefs that were and are not consistent with the reality of life. We live in a continuous system; how we treat other animals and how we treat the ecosystem we inhabit has an impact on human life both through human health and in how we develop, maintain, and pass on humanity as a social value.

Madhavi Venkatesan is a faculty member in the Department of Economics at Bridgewater State University, where her present academic interests are specific to the integration of sustainability into the economics curriculum. Prior to re-entering academics, Madhavi held senior level positions in investor relations for three Fortune 250 companies. In this capacity she was a key point of contact for investors and stakeholders and was singularly instrumental in the development of socially responsible investing strategies and corporate social responsibility reporting. Madhavi started her financial services career after completing her post-doctoral fellowship at Washington University in St. Louis. She has a PhD, M.A. and B.A. in Economics from Vanderbilt University and a Masters of Environmental Management from Harvard University. She is presently a Masters of Environmental Law and Policy candidate at Vermont Law School.

The post Stewardship as a Social Value appeared first on Vermont Journal of Environmental Law.


Summary
: This post originally appeared in the Oxford Human Rights Blog on April 18, 2016. The systemic collapse of the U.S. coal extraction industry has scarcely been of benefit to the subordinated Appalachian citizenry. However, tangible socio-legal progress may be achieved in the Appalachian region vis-à-vis a critical human rights approach to environmental justice issues.

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By Nicholas F. Stump

 

The natural resource extraction industry has long wrought environmental, social, and economic devastation in Appalachia—a U.S. region historically defined by a deeply exploitative coal extraction mono-economy. However, in tandem with the (climate change-driven) global pivot towards non-carbon, cleaner energy sources, widely publicized market and legal developments have resulted in a systemic collapse of the once dominant American coal industry.

Progressive environmentalists rightly celebrate these historic energy market transitions towards a more renewables-focused power grid. The historic Paris Climate Agreement is perhaps a first crucial step in averting catastrophic, carbon-driven climate change. But the Appalachian region remains imperiled: Among other persistent issues ( endemic poverty , most notably), the catastrophic after-effects of surface mining—paired with environmental harms stemming inter alia from hydraulic-fracturing externalities and a crumbling infrastructure —pose serious public health concerns for the Appalachian citizenry.

“Appalachia” by Justin Meissen (licensed under CC by SA 2.0)

Poisons continuously leach into Appalachian waterways via, among other multitudinous sources, coal slurry ponds, decades-old acid mine drainage, and endless MTR valley fills (which have obliterated over one thousand miles of Appalachian headwater streams). This coal extraction-produced “environment degradation…will remain despite the reduction in the production of coal.” Concurrently, fracking operations poison Appalachian water and air alike—and incidents stemming from a rapidly deteriorating infrastructure produce environmental disasters on the scale of the Elk River Chemical Spill , a national U.S. scandal that left three hundred thousand Appalachian citizens without potable water. Therefore, vast stretches of Appalachia are marked by insufficient environmental protections.

These dire public health concerns are usefully explored using a human rights approach to environmental justice (“EJ”), which illustrates how disproportionate environmental impacts on subordinated groups are problematic and that structural environmental inequities must be remedied as part and parcel of any comprehensive and just regional socio-legal reconstruction project.

EJ has been a prominent critical discourse for decades. Supported by empirical literature , it teaches that environmental harms tend not to be distributed equitably within modern industrialized liberal democracies; rather, minority, female, and low-income populations suffer disproportionate health and economic-related impacts. Moreover, EJ has continued to evolve. Third and fourth wave critical re-visionings of EJ involve an “integrated particularized approach” that exhibits a “greater complexity based on each community’s cultural, historical, and political experience and its specific needs and goals.”

The Clinton Administration’s Executive Order 12898 institutionalized normative EJ principles in the U.S.; following a period of turbulent policy oscillation, President Obama subsequently reinvigorated the order in 2008. Under E.O. 12898, U.S. federal agencies must consider EJ dictates in applicable regulatory decision-making. To date, widespread implementation of the order has proved largely elusive—and the failure of E.O. 12898 to curtail the long-lasting public health impacts of the radically destructive mountaintop removal mining (“MTR”) practice on low-income Appalachian populations, in particular, is now well-documented.

A human rights approach to EJ strengthens the discourse and is especially applicable to the uniquely situated Appalachian region. Scholarly commentators and legal practitioners have “framed the demands of the environmental justice movements nationally and globally in the language of human rights.” For instance, insufficient environmental protections pertaining to the “substantive right to a healthy environment ” are a prima facie violation of principles articulated in numerous regional treaties ; additionally, tribunals have determined that insufficient environmental protections pertaining to ” life, health, food, [and] water ” implicitly violate other regional human rights treaties.

Such legal trends are heartening. E.O. 12898 has failed Appalachia in part because its dictates are merely one factor to be weighed by an often-captured governmental elite. Re-visioning EJ concerns as not a sole regulatory factor, but rather as enforceable, controlling human rights may indeed yield more transformative EJ outcomes for the region. Moreover, a critically informed human rights approach —wherein the Appalachia demos co-determines the scope and nature of such rights at the grassroots level—is a crucial procedural component for a citizenry so long marginalized by structural democratic deficits.

Profound Appalachian socio-legal reconstructions are indeed required in the region: And a more substantial human rights approach to EJ is perhaps one component of a more comprehensive critical project for radical Appalachian reform. Socio-reconstructions of this nature are necessary ends-in-themselves; however, such reformist efforts may additionally serve as a potentially potent model in broader regional and global work. Diverse reformist outcomes might, therefore, be accomplished through critical explorations of Appalachian human rights.

Nicholas F. Stump is a Library Faculty Member at West Virginia University College of Law, where he administers and teaches in the legal research curriculum. Professor Stump’s scholarship focuses on the intersection of environmental law, Appalachian studies, critical legal theory, and critically informed approaches to legal research and analysis.

The post Appalachia in Crisis: A Human Rights Approach to Environmental Justice in the U.S. appeared first on Vermont Journal of Environmental Law.

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