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by Marie Dolcini
Of all extractive industries, mining is the most unregulated and environmentally
destructive. And its impacts don't stop at the visual blight of waste heaps, abandoned
craters and scarred hillsides. Mining operations are the source of some of the most
hazardous and enduring kinds of pollution worldwide and can significantly endanger the
health of surrounding communities and wildlife.
Today, most mining operators in the United States aren't hardscrabble, pick-wielding,
burrow-befriending loners, but multinational corporations. Nevertheless, the laws that
govern mining for hardrock minerals (gold, silver, copper) on public lands have changed
little since the days of President Ulysses S. Grant. In particular, the 1872 Mining Law
still allows federal land to be purchased for as little as $2.50 per acre by anyone
interested in pursuing a mining claim.
But perpetuating such frontier nostalgia has a higher price. While the 124-year-old law
was originally intended to encourage settlement by the independent 19th century
prospector, today it amounts to millions of dollars in lost royalties and federal
giveaways each year and millions more in taxpayer-borne cleanup costs. The Mineral Policy
Center, a nonprofit advocate of environmental and fiscal mining reforms, calculates that
over the past three years, mining companies have paid taxpayers just over $16,000 for
public land containing over $15.3 billion in minerals, while mining- related public action
committees contributed millions of dollars to congressional campaigns.
"This outdated, outrageous law is the last remnant of the great barbecue of public
lands," said Stan Haye, Sierra Club California/Nevada mining committee chair, of the
1872 Mining Act. "It needs to be scrapped now."
Supporters of mining reform agree, but have consistently failed to kill this major
federal handout. So they're digging in at home and organizing local resistance to the
environmentally scandalous status quo.
Haye exemplifies the Sierra Club's new breed of mining reform activist in that he
recognizes that only part of the answer lies in Washington. Most of his work focuses on
mining's impact in the California and Nevada desert, where large quantities of scarce
underground water are diverted for processing ore. "It hasn't been easy," said
Haye, "but we're setting new standards in desert mining, including compliance with
existing law and revegetation for the long term." And while Haye and a handful of
other activists may be outspent by powerful outside interests, they're bringing oversight
and accountability to local operations.
To the southeast, Sue McIntosh is setting long-overdue mining standards in mineral-rich
New Mexico. As director of the Rio Grande Chapter's Mining Oversight and Control Project,
she and 20 other activists are taking the concept of citizen oversight to new heights.
Under a program known as Operation Guard Dog, activists encourage local residents to
"adopt a mine" as industry monitors. "It's really an 'adopt-a-watershed'
project," said McIntosh, who leads exposé-oriented hikes into mining sites so
citizens can see mining's environmental impacts first-hand. "And when things go
wrong, our team of volunteers will come off the porch and make sure things get done
right."
McIntosh stressed that those interested in becoming "guard dogs" require only
the desire to learn -- and it's already paying dividends. In less than a year, project
volunteers are monitoring most major mines in the state. Now they're focusing on mines
that don't get a lot of attention -- like the Continental copper mine, whose owners are
threatening to add four new pits near the historic Hispanic and Native American community
of Fierro.
"We already know there is water contamination from the enormous amounts of heavy
metals that are in the runoff," said McIntosh. "And if the mine expands, it will
mean more water usage, further degradation and would destroy a historic cemetery, church
and several prehistoric Apache sites."
McIntosh is leading the Club's participation in the Fierro Preservation Association, a
citizens' group committed to protecting the town's cultural resources. "Our alliance
is important because many association members work in the mine and believe there are
potential health hazards," she said.
Mining project volunteers are also producing a citizens' mining manual for distribution
this fall. Intended as a layperson's easy reference guide, it includes an overview of
water problems and current law and lists public resources and guidelines for obtaining
legal assistance. "Huge corporations can be intimidating," said McIntosh,
"and this tool can help turn people into mining activists." In western
Pennsylvania, where coal is king, Wyona Coleman proves her activist mettle by taking on
mining corporations that operate on private lands. She's working to protect the
neighboring town of Washington from being literally undermined by a new and profoundly
dangerous technology.
"Longwall mining" for coal deep below the surface is quickly replacing
surface stripmining as the extraction method of choice. While the technique can produce in
one day what used to take a week, it also causes extensive water loss of springs and
wells, dries up streams and damages overlying structures. At present, there are no
punitive measures to compel mines to minimize or prevent such damage. What's more, the law
that sets standards for longwall mining, the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act of
1977, was written to regulate stripmining and doesn't adequately address deep mining
impacts.
After consulting with numerous citizen groups protesting longwall operation permits
throughout Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia, Coleman helped organize the Tri-State
Citizens Mining Network. Today it works to increase monitoring, review permits and propose
new state regulations. "We're following every angle we can to hold the line,"
said Coleman. "And that includes informing citizens about mining problems, helping
them get involved in the public debate on the necessity for additional controls and taking
it to the courts if we have to."
While Club mining reformers still consider the 1872 Mining Law the fattest turkey to
shoot at, these largely self- taught pioneers are bearing down locally to realize change
-- wherever they live. "Unless regulatory agencies hear from the public," said
McIntosh, "they'll just hear from industry."
For more information: Contact Stan Haye at (619) 878-2244, Sue
McIntosh at (505) 983-4254, Wyona Coleman at (412) 785- 7861, Kathryn Hohmann in the
Club's Washington, D.C., office at (202) 6757916 or Drusha Mayhue, chair of the Mining
Waste Rock Task Force, at (713) 864-6168; e-mail <waste_rock@juno.com>.
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