Rosebud Hog WranglePage 2
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In an October 1998 letter to Burr, the EPA listed 40 issues of concern, including "ground water and surface water protection, odor, ... insufficiently defined monitoring and mitigation measures, public participation and environmental justice." The EPA concluded that the facility as planned would "generate substantial quantities of waste that may significantly impact the environment if the potential pollution is not properly controlled and mitigated." And though a purported goal of the project was to bring jobs to Rosebud, the reservation (Todd County) was not even included in the deomographic analysis.
In response to EPA criticism, planners modified some features, such as agreeing to line waste lagoons, which had been designed to leak up to 93,000 gallons per day. The "anaerobic digester" had not beein adequately tested, and the EPA expressed skepticism that millions of gallons of waste water would evaporate from lagoons during South Dakota winters, the premise upon which the project's "non-discharge" promise rested. Furthermore, the Assessment had not considered negative impacts on the 28 smaller hog operations in Mellette County.
Some speculate that reservation trust land was chosen for the hog confinement specifically because it is outside the jurisdition of environmental regulatory agencies. Tim Tollefsrud, administrator of the Surface Water Quality Program for South Dakota Department of Environment and Natural Resources, said the EPA and the DENR were left "out of the loop" at the beginning, and only after the facility was under construction was the DENR consulted as an advisory agency. The DENR had already listed the Little White River as a top priority for pollution clean-up.
Ejected from Grassy Knoll, I followed Pine Creek two miles south to the home of Dan and Phoebe Krogman, ranchers who live with their four children in a modest ranch house beside the creek. With brother-in-law Ron Bouman, the Krogmans own or lease land on three sides of the hogs. Dan and Phoebe's oldest daughter, Kristan, had just graduated from Dakota Wesleyan University and returned to work on the ranch.
When we're downwind the smell is really bad," Phoebe said. "You can't plan anything special, because you may have to be inside with the windows closed."
"Sometimes it really stinks," Bouman said. "And there's also concern over potential water pollution. We've voiced our concerns with the EPA in Denver. We've spent a thousand dollars to test the water in our ponds and wells to establish base line data."
This is Indian land so the DENR has no jurisdiction," Bouman said. "And there's no money set aside for cleanup. We need employment here, but do we have to give up so much for a dozen jobs? If they put in a good neighbor policy, well it failed."
Our family has been here nearly a hundred years," Dan Krogman said. "What kind of hurts me is that these rolling green hills are so beautiful and it was kind of hard seeing the dozers come in and tear the grass off the hills. It seems like the big corporates are coming and and running little guys out of business. I try to put myself in other people's shoes and try to see what they think, but it's kind of hard sometimes. But whatever happens, I plan on dying right here. I couldn't leave."
The concerns expressed by White River ranchers and residents, both Indian and white, extend beyond Mellette County and throughout the Rosebud Reservation. Fremont Falis, who sits on the Lakota Treaty Council, says there should have been a popular vote at the beginning. "Land, water and people issues are all treaty issues," he said. "Treaty and cultural asset issues have not been addressed." He said Bell Farms hired an archaeologist to do a quick survey of the land. "But I don't know what you could find, driving across it at 20 miles an hour." |
Fremont Fallis sits on the
Lakota Treaty Council.
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"But the main issue is water," Fallis said. "When Mini Wiconi is completed, probably in 2003, we may get 60 percent of our water from the Missouri, but now we rely on the Ogalalla aquifer. But whatever the source, we shouldn't be wasting precious water to wash down hog waste. All it takes is a little shift and fracture of the Pierre shale and we've polluted the aquifer."
In the October 1999 tribal election, viewed by many as a referendum on the hog farm, tribal members ousted Norman Wilson, the chairman who had negotiated the contract with Bell Farms, and three-quarters of the council members who had approved the deal. The first action by the new tribal council in January was a resolution calling for a full environmental impact study and examination of terminating the hog contract. Traditional chief Homer Whirlwind then initiated a popular referendum, and on May 25, tribal members voted 55 to 45 percent not to lease any more land to Sun Prairie and to begin legal disengagement from the partnership.
That was a disappointment to Wilson, a rancher who lives beside the Little White River west of St. Francis. "A lot of people on the reservation need jobs," Wilson said. "A chairman's term is just two years, and I knew I needed to focus on economic development. Rich Bell and one of his sons came down to talk. This was economic development where the tribe wouldn't have to invest money. Bell said his company would invest $105 million if the tribe would provide land, water, roads and labor."
Wilson believes that an Environmental Impact Statement wasn't necessary. "Our project was well under way before they got involved." And wWilson avoided testing tribal sentiment on the issue before proceeding, because "my two years would have been gone before I could get the facility built. Does a leader ask for opinions before he makes a business decision? For 25 years I've had a plan, since the Supreme Court diminished our reservation. We own thousands of acres in Mellette County. If we can get into more businesses like Bell Farms we can move more jobs and people up there, and when we own 50 percent of the county, we can petition Congress to return the county to the reservation."
Wilson is convinced that even if all 13 sites are completed, the project is environmentally safe. "There will be no run-off and no contamination of ground water or the Ogalalla acquifer," he said. "These environmentalists are clear out in left field. This operation has been checked and double-checked by the EPA and they say it's safe."
Though Wilson's claim of a blanket endorsement by the EPA is perhaps exaggerated, the EPA is officially more comfortable with the operation following some design modifications. Debbie Thomas, regional administrator of the National Pollutant Discharge Elimination System office in Denver, said Sun Prairie agreed to increase evaporation lagoon surface area. She said if the system is constructed and managed as designed, impact on surface water should be minimal. But the huge solid waste pits could fill up in six to eight years, and Thomas said there is no solid waste management plan in place. Monitoring the waste is up to the tribe.
Wilson knew that inviting the hog farm in might end his political career. "I didn't give a **** about that," he said. "Those people that are negative, they've never worked a day in their lives. I'm 68, and I'm still working every day. I wanted to bring jobs for the common people. You don't need a big education to work in a hog facility."
That leaves the new tribal government in a quandry. The new chairman, William Kindle, lives in White River. He opposes the hogs principally because of concern that the huge waste volume might eventually contaminate the Ogalalla aquifer. On the other other hand, the new council inherited a binding contract, and there could be a legal price to pay if the contract is broken.
Kindle said he is pursuing cleaner economic development on Rosebud, things like bottling pure Ogalalla water for sale instead of contaminating it in hog barns, a possible automotive waring assembly factory, and a juvenile detention center on the reservation as an alternative to state boot camps, a facility where the parents of offending teenagers could be helped along with their errant children. |
Rosebud Sioux Tribal Chairman William Kindle.
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There were two problems with the way the hog farm deal was made, Kindle said. "First, there should have been a vote of the people, and second, there should have been a full environmental study. As chairman, I won't bring in anything that needs an environmental impact study."
Kindle hopes that the hog operation can be stopped at its present level without a lawsuit. "we're a poor tribe, and lawsuits can be very expensive," he said. "We could be paying for many years down the road."
Tribal Utilities Commissioner Ronnie Neiss was among the former council members who supported the agreement. Neiss said he havored building the first phase of the giant project, then reevaluating the impact to see whether Sun Prairie had kept its word. Like other proponents, Neiss was attracted by the promise of 200 jobs, plus spin-off jobs in construction and trucking, and by the possibility that the tribe could develop its own energy utility. The tribal casino generates tourism, motel, and other secondary jobs, and he thought the hog farm would have a similar effect. He hoped increased electrical demand would allow the tribe to develop renewable energy resources, including a wind generator the tribe is seeking a grant to build.
Neiss shares the environemntal concerns of opponents. I've always considered myself an environmentalist and a steward of the earth," he said. "We were assured with would be no problems with seepage or odor." But those concerns are balanced by his desire for economic independence for the tribe. "You're as sovereign as money permits," he said.
The contract between Bell Farms and the Rosebud Tribe could not have been consummated without the approval of Larry Burr, BIA superintendent for Rosebud. It was Burr who decided that an 859,000-hog operation needed no Environmental Impact Statement. It was he who issued the FONSI, the Finding of No Significant Impact, which allowed the project to proceed without the extensive scrutiny that generally precedes a project of this magnitude.
"I saw the plans," Burr said. "I concluded that this was tight environmentally, beyond anything that's ever been built. And the EPA didn't have the jurisdiction to stop it, and they knew it. I'm 100 percent comfortable with the facility and with the contract."
The head of the BIA disagreed. Kevin Gover attempted to void the contract. The former tribal government sued the BIA in federal court and prevailed, and the project went forward. But, on June 29 the council resolved unanimously to join as intervenors in the BIA position that a full environmental impact statement must be done before there can be a valid lease.
"There's a few people making a lot of noise," Burr said, "but it's not a big controversy. This is a done deal. Everybody has found this to be a sound project."
"Everybody" doesn't include Tom Frederick, a tribal member whose family has operated the same farm and ranch on Rosebud since 1886. Frederick is a natural resources planner for the tribe who has long worked with the tribe's buffalo and elk, and now with Sinte Gleska University's buffalo herd. Buffalo have been reestablished at Rosebud for reasons of cultural prosperity, Frederick said. But buffalo are also a source of food and economic development. SGU serves buffalo meat at graduation ceremonies, and they plan to market pemmican, the traditional mixture of dried buffalo meat and choke berries. Rebuilding the buffalo herd is compatible with Sioux traditions, Frederick said, as well as with the natural environment of this ancient buffalo range. Not so the pig. "In our language there's not even a word for 'pig'," he said. "The closest you can come is 'kuchusa,' something that stinks."
"The Rosebud Sioux Tribe just provided a spot," Frederick said. "The corn and other feed are shipped in and the hogs are shipped out. We're a receptacle to raise animals and dispose of their waste." Frederick believes the hog operation will ultimately be harmful to the Earth. "I don't believe in state regulation of Indian land, but the tribe should have had a comprehensive plan to deal with this impending environmental disaster. I'm trying to keep an open mind about how this might enhance life on the reservation, but I haven't seen it yet.
Back in Yankton, I called Bell's North Dakota office again and explained that the story would not be complete without his point of view. We talked briefly, but Bell was upset that I had visited with his employees at Grassy Knoll. "I told you you couldn't go there unless I was present," he said. "We're not going to let everybody and his brother into our facility." He hung up the phone. I called again and invited him, through his secretary, to write his views to accompany our story, which he did. I asked Rosalie Little Thunder to do the same, and both perspectives accompany this story.
Rich Bell's ultimate goal is to produce 6 million pigs each year. But even he now concedes what opponents of his operation insist, that all phases of his mammoth Rosebud plan may never see completion; yet he and supporters in Mellette County and Rosebud Reservation hope more pigs will come. Everybody knows Rosebud needs jobs, but the struggle continues over what kind and at what price. Behind this question lies a clash of cultures, a struggle of wills, a debate over science, and questions of values.
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