If I were a teacher, I could tell you all about how Governor Walker’s proposed budget will affect my students’ education and their lives. But as a wise man once said, “Dammit, Jim, I’m a stream scientist, not a teacher,” so instead I can tell you about how the budget will damage Wisconsin’s streams.
In particular, I’d like to illustrate the implications of Walker’s proposals for phosphorus, my area of expertise.
What’s the big deal about phosphorus?
Phosphorus may sound abstract—it doesn’t have much of a personality, doesn’t get into trouble at recess or write touching essays about its younger brother. But it is the main pollutant in Wisconsin surface water, as well as in much of the Great Lakes region. (I confess it was also the subject of my master’s thesis in soil and water conservation, making me a bona fide nerd.)
Phosphorus is a nutrient necessary for crop and lawn growth. It is spread on farm fields, golf courses, urban parks, and lawns, in the form of manure (farms) and synthetic fertilizers. Once on the ground, it binds to soil. The phosphorus that isn’t used by plants tends to be washed away—either attached to soil or dissolved—by the rain.
“Away” means into streams, rivers, and lakes. There, it unfortunately does the same thing it does on the land: it fertilizes. In the water, it fertilizes algae and other plants, resulting in nasty algae blooms. It can also cause fish kills when the decomposing algae uses up too much oxygen in the water.
This destructive chain of events is part of what funded my graduate school research, and there are many other scientists and conservation workers who spend careers largely on this problem.
Farms, the largest source of phosphorus, need to put a certain amount into the soil in order to have bountiful crops. Figuring out how to balance that need with the needs of stream and lake ecosystems is crucial and challenging.
Over the last few years, the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) has been working to create an official state phosphorus rule, spelling out exactly how much phosphorus a stream, lake, or river can contain before being polluted (or technically, “impaired”).
According to the new rule, that threshold is 0.075 mg/L for small streams, and 0.1 mg/L for rivers and lakes. If the phosphorus concentration rises above that value, the waterbody goes onto Wisconsin’s list of impaired waterways. The rule also requires that farmers limit the amount of phosphorus leaving their land to 6 lbs. per acre per year.
The rule went into effect in December 2010. It’s the strongest phosphorus rule yet created for any upper Midwestern state, earning us praise from the federal Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) as well as from conservationists and from agricultural communities.
As you might imagine, the process of making the rule was arduous. It involved numerous public hearings and meetings with farmers, scientists, conservation planners, and city governments.
I wasn’t involved in the process, but being interested in the phosphorus problem, last fall I went to one public hearing after the rule was proposed. I listened as several environmental lobbying groups accused the DNR of being too soft on farmers, even threatening to sue if the rule wasn’t strengthened. And I heard several farmers testify that they don’t trust the DNR to make one-size-fits-all rules, and they were worried about how this rule would affect their ability to stay in business.
I sense that, because neither side was fully satisfied with the phosphorus rule, it was probably a good compromise.
And that brings me to today. Everyone has heard of Governor Walker’s controversial Budget Repair Bill, proposed in early February and sparking massive protests. (Update: that bill is currently being challenged after passing under questionable circumstances.)
What may not have made national attention, though, is that midway through the protest, Walker unveiled his equally controversial state budget bill—his proposal for how the state should run over the next biennium.
The budget bill is over 1300 pages long, so no one has yet been able to read all of it. It’s due to pass, with any necessary changes, sometime around July.
The budget bill is abhorrent to many people (mainly liberals) because Walker proposes to slash virtually all that is (to us) good and holy in Wisconsin. Not only does he cut education and health care, but seemingly every conservation program provided by the state. In some cases, he has cut programs without cutting the funding allocated to those programs, indicating that the cuts aren’t intended to save money but to weaken the state’s conservation programs.
According to a memo by the Wisconsin League of Conservation Voters, the proposed budget:
- Eliminates state recycling requirements and all funding for municipality and county-run recycling programs;
- Eliminates the grant programs that develop new renewable energy projects, encourage energy efficiency for businesses and green products for manufacturers;
- Slashes general revenue funding to the Department of Natural Resources by 56 % and 15.8 % overall;
- Eliminates the program to preserve farmland;
- Slashes support for local transit by 10 % while dramatically increasing funding for roadbuilding; and
- Creates new restrictions for how the Stewardship Fund can be used that will undercut efforts to protect recreational and wildlife habitat from development.
The bill also repeals the phosphorus rule. The pretext is that in order to draw businesses to Wisconsin, we must not have regulations that go beyond those of surrounding states.
Remember that under the DNR rule passed in December, a waterbody is impaired if the phosphorus concentration is over 0.075 mg/L for small streams, and over 0.1 mg/L for large rivers and for lakes. That’s zero point seven-five, and zero point one. Walker’s budget proposes that the new threshold be no more stringent than federal thresholds or those of neighboring states.
From what I’ve heard, this means that if we were to have a threshold at all, it could be no greater than 1 mg/L—one, not zero point one for all water bodies. That is, ten to thirteen times higher than under the present rule. And Walker advocates for no numeric standard at all, replacing the rule with a much weaker “narrative standard.”
What do those numbers mean?
Well, let me tell you. While to most people these may be abstract numbers, as a stream scientist I happen to be in a prime position to know exactly what they mean.
Last summer, Ron and I were on a crew that sampled 70 streams in a watershed near Madison. The streams ran the gamut from disgusting to pristine.
In the pristine streams, the water was deep, cold, and clear. We electroshocked the streams for fish, pulling the stunned fish out of the water to count and measure them. We found abundant trout, an indicator of stream health. (Don’t worry; we always throw the fish back—alive although dazed—after counting them.)
We also found a beautiful array of invertebrates for the trout to feed on: mayfly, stonefly, and caddisfly larvae, which can only live in clean, healthy water. The bottoms of these streams were rocky and the banks were crowded with vegetation, providing lots of places for the fish to hide from predators. It felt wonderful to stand in the cool, fast water of these streams, knowing that around us were healthy ecosystems.
We also saw streams at the other end of the spectrum. These streams were shockingly gross; in some cases, they could hardly pass for streams at all. The banks were a morass of mud, pock-marked with the troughs and ridges of hundreds of hoof prints. There was no vegetation along them in many places, because any plants were regularly trampled by cows. There was no vegetation in the streams, either—their shallow bottoms were pure silt and mud, sucking at my wader boots as I slogged through them. The only invertebrates that could live here were snails and scuds, and virtually no fish were present save a few tiny sticklebacks and mudminnows.
(An excellent farming practice in this area is to fence cattle out of streams, allowing them access only at specially designed cattle crossings that prevent them from doing too much damage. Federal and county agencies work with farmers to install such practices.)
For the last several months, we’ve been compiling the data that came out of the streams we sampled last summer. Along with surveying fish and bugs, we’d collected water samples, shipping the bottles in heavy coolers to laboratories, where they could be analyzed for phosphorus and other chemicals.
The other day, I peered over Ron’s shoulder in his cubicle, squinting at the computer screen as he pointed out the most egregious phosphorus values for streams we’d sampled. The highest concentrations were 0.4, 0.5, and 0.6 mg/L.
“Yikes,” we said. With a threshold of 0.075 mg/L for these streams, several would definitely be labeled “impaired.” This label would direct the DNR and other agencies to follow up with farmers, possibly working with them to improve conditions.
And then I paused. “You know what?” I said, thinking aloud, “None of those numbers even come close to the criteria in Walker’s budget.”
Again, his budget calls for a threshold of no lower than 1 mg/L—twice as high as our highest values.
And so, here is your illustration of what Walker’s proposal will mean: none of the streams we sampled last summer would be considered impaired. Not even the disgusting streams with hardly a fish in sight. Not one.
In effect, Walker’s proposal is no regulation of phosphorus at all.
Is this really what we want?
Walker’s proposal for phosphorus hasn’t gone unnoticed. Todd Ambs, the former Water Division Leader at the DNR, was one of the first to argue vigorously against changing the rule. He pointed out that once it was adopted and endorsed by the EPA, it essentially became federal law. This makes it much harder for anyone to change the rule, even the governor.
Regardless of what happens, to me the phosphorus issue raises some larger questions about conservation and politics. These are questions I mainly have for Walker and his supporters.
Is environmental regulation really bad for business?
If Wisconsin’s streams and lakes are polluted, certain industries will incur direct losses. These industries include recreation, tourism, and fishing. According to Clean Wisconsin, “Wisconsin’s fishing industry alone brings in $2.3 billion of revenue to the state and directly employs more than 25,000 individuals.”
If indeed deregulation will invite businesses here, are they the kind of businesses that we want? Surely, there are many factors by which a company determines its location. Do we really want to invite businesses that choose to locate wherever they’re allowed to pollute the most?
As I mentioned, “green” industries such as recycling and alternative energy are also losing a great deal of support under Walker’s plan. Maybe our new slogan should be: Wisconsin is open for some business!
Or: Wisconsin is open for business—the kind of business that doesn’t care about conservation!
Or: Wisconsin is open; come on in and pollute!
And while we’re at it, why don’t we change our state motto to: Backward!
Does Wisconsin want to continue its progressive conservation legacy?
Walker argues that we shouldn’t have rules that are stricter than those of neighboring states, or those of the federal government. Why not? Doesn’t someone have to take the lead on curbing pollution? Isn’t taking the lead something to be proud of?
Historically, Wisconsin has a proud, bipartisan history of taking the lead on conservation. This state produced conservationist Aldo Leopold and Earth Day founde Gaylord Nelson. The CCC first tested its soil conservation strategies in Coon Valley, Wisconsin in the 1930s. Under Republican Governor Tommy Thompson, in 1990 Wisconsin enacted the first state law mandating recycling. In 2001, Republican Governor Scott McCallum signed a wetland protection bill that has become a national model (and is currently under attack by Walker’s administration).
Wisconsin is known as a pleasant, beautiful state—as Todd Ambs notes, “There is a reason why people in Illinois call Wisconsin their favorite state park.” Quality of life, including natural beauty, wildlife, and clean water, draws people and businesses to this state. Is that really something we want to throw away?
Is it justifiable to neglect conservation during times of economic struggle?
Should we put regulation off until some later date, in the name of quickly improving our fiscal and employment situation? I feel strongly that the answer should be no.
Yes, steps should be taken to improve the economy—I’ll pay more into my health care and pension, and I’ll even entertain the idea of cutting corporate taxes. But we need to draw the line somewhere.
Certain types of environmental destruction are completely irreversible. For instance, by relaxing rules on development in wetlands, Walker’s administration may cause countless wetlands to vanish forever.
Additionally, prevention of environmental damage is often much cheaper than the costs of cleanup—think Wisconsin’s Fox River, where removal of PCBs may cost over $1 billion. It is federal regulation that now protects us from future PCB disasters.
Natural resources are investments in our children’s future, and deregulating is akin to dipping into our kids’ college fund. Phosphorus is Wisconsin’s leading pollutant. To put off regulation of phosphorus is to ignore a known problem, degrading our quality of life and our investment in the future.
What We Should Be Protecting
I’ll end with an image.
It’s summer, and you are standing knee-deep in a stream. The hot sun beats down on your scalp through your hat, but your legs and feet are blessedly cool. Cold, clear water rushes around you, pressing pleasantly against your wader boots so that you brace yourself slightly in the current. You can hear the constant bubbling of the water, that deeply familiar, primordial lullaby.
Looking around, your eyes are level with tall grass along the banks bobbing slightly with a breeze, and the occasional tree shades a bend or a pool in the stream. Beyond the grassy banks, perhaps you see black and white cows grazing on the other side of a fence, or perhaps tall rows of corn set back from the bank, or perhaps a stretch of prairie.
Gazing down into the rippling water, your eyes catch dark shadows darting around your legs, silent and always too quick for you to get a good look. They hide in the plants, or under the banks. Watching them, you sense the mystery of their world, a world we can only glimpse and never visit.
But we can work to understand it. And we can protect it.
Love the blog Katie, thanks for sharing!
So, what’s the possibility of injecting a flat bed of phosphorous binding material under a planting field?