An Oct. 29, 2001, medical hazard threat assessment by the Army surgeon general obtained by the Washington Post estimated the possible damage from a chemical-plant attack: In an unspecified but densely populated area, with the total release of all chemicals under ideal weather conditions, the worst-case scenario would result in death or injury to 2.4 million Americans.

On Wednesday, Attorney General John Ashcroft acknowledged the threat of these potential attacks during a visit to the federal courthouse in Charleston, W.Va., after meeting with the state's anti-terrorism task force. "We are trying to harden our infrastructure to terrorist threats," he said, noting that the area's chemical manufacturing plants "have gotten a lot of attention."

A lot of attention isn't, unfortunately, the same thing as a lot of action. After Sept. 11, the government cracked down on a lot of the public information about chemical plants that could be used by terrorists -- stripping down studies from Web sites, locking up vulnerability assessments, limiting right-to-know laws. But there has yet to be any federal action requiring chemical plants to enhance their security. This despite the fact that government knowledge of the threat predates 9/11 -- the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry reported in 1999 that "security at chemical plants ranged from fair to very poor" and that "security around chemical transportation assets ranged from poor to non-existent." (This from a study taken down from the ATSDR Web site.)

Representing the companies that manufacture 90 percent or so of the chemicals made in the U.S., the ACC has successfully lobbied for years against any sort of mandatory security requirement. The organization argues that all plants are different, so one federal standard would be silly; they pleaded that the Corzine bill would impose too harsh an economic cost on an industry that isn't particularly robust.

They say that environmental organizations that hated them pre-9/11 for other reasons are now exploiting the threat of terrorism to accomplish their tree-hugging goals. Moreover, they say, they have been beefing up their security. Kuehne says he now stores less chlorine in South Kearny than the state allows him to. Kuehne says that his firm has undergone "a comprehensive security vulnerability analysis to identify potential security issues" using the safety protocols from the Center for Chemical Process Safety, reviewed by an independent third-party consulting firm.

He lauds the "improved perimeter security, including better fences, enhanced lighting, video monitoring and regular perimeter patrols by armed security personnel" as well as "enhanced security procedures, including more restricted visitor access and background checks of contractors."

Kuehne also seems to disagree with my view that a suicidal zealot in a good-size SUV could easily barrel through these "better fences." The fence adjacent to Hackensack Avenue is "structurally protected by large concrete blocks" that require "heavy equipment" to move before large vehicles can pass through. "They provide a reasonable assurance," Kuehne says, "that a vehicle cannot drive through the fence." A "reasonable assurance."

One might argue, of course, that we're supposed to be anticipating the unreasonable.

The chemical industry lobbying association's McGloon insists that the industry is fully aware of the dangers. "It flies within the face of reason to think that we're not doing everything we can to make our plants as safe and secure as possible," she says, arguing that chemical plant executives have the greatest reason to fear the worst. At a Nov. 14, 2001, hearing at the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee, Bill Stanley, the regulatory manager of Deepwater Chemicals in Woodward, Okla., testifying on behalf of a small chemical plant trade association, made a similar point. Stanley argued that the industry has "incentives to ensure safety and security in all of our processes: We do not want accidents, nor do we want to be the victim of an attack. I work in my facility. My friends work in the facility. My friends and neighbors are important to me. My failure to address these issues would impact me directly."

But Sen. Barbara Boxer, D-Calif., answered Stanley with a compelling question, "Do you think that the airlines want to have accidents, want to have terrorism?"

Some plants where these chemicals are stored have reacted swiftly to the risk they pose; estimates have half of all utilities getting rid of their liquid chlorine altogether. Explaining that a worse-case-scenario liquid chlorine toxic cloud could kill thousands of Washingtonians within a 10-mile radius, the general manager of the D.C. Water and Sewer Authority took decisive action in the days immediately following Sept. 11. Executives of the Blue Plains Wastewater Treatment Plant, located just 4 miles from the Capitol, beefed up their security, moved approximately 900 tons of liquid chlorine and sulfur dioxide to more secure locations, and accelerated plans to convert from liquid chlorine to a safer alternative, sodium hypochlorite bleach.

Reasons for the lack of action in most other plants are not impossible to figure out. Security enhancements and switching to safer alternatives will cost the $450 billion chemical industry a large chunk of its profits. So they make every argument they can against it.

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