When I was thirteen, a lot less hairy, and wetter behind the gills than a freshly caught flat fish, my older brother and I piled into the back of a good friend’s white Nissan Pulsar and we set off together on an adventure that I’ll never forget. Destination: the Lowly Peninsula. Location: 30 kilometres North-East of Whyalla, South Australia. The year was 1994. The petrol tank was full. And with the air-conditioner cranked, fishing rods on the rack and the stereo pumping out more decibels than a Van Halen tribute band, good times felt more certain than day following night following day.
Aside from the great company, a few very bad jokes, a thermos full of awful-tasting instant coffee and a Rodney Rude tape that was played all the way there and all the way back (the main source of all the bad jokes), I will always remember how clean and white the sand was. Soft to the feet, and shimmering in the sun as brightly as a bed sheet hung across a gun-metal grey washing line. A quiet, tranquil kind of place. A postcard kind of place. Just a 19th century lighthouse dividing the sky, a few rickety old tin shacks standing defiantly against the wind for company, and the sound of the sea lapping quietly against the shore.
I remember the perfume of still-warm rocks and sun-baked shells skipping through the air. I remember ripping open a big bag of cockleshells and cracking my fishing line across the blue-green water, in the manner of a lion-tamer brandishing a calf-skin whip. I remember hauling in a pair of King George Whiting, hard-won and sparkling in the moonlight like a fist-full of fifty-cent pieces. And I remember me – wrapped in an old chocolate-brown tasselled blanket, sitting on the dunes and looking up at the stars – an endless canvas of smattered-white speckles melting into pools of black-bird black.
But it wasn’t all beautiful, rose-tinted loveliness however. There was something else. Something that didn’t (and still doesn’t) fit the picture. Nature wasn’t the only force that had shaped this land. The hands of industry had also left their mark. And that mark was deep.
This essay is about that mark – and the marks that some people, who have no feeling or respect for this land, intend to make.
A little background
Once upon a time in the early 80’s, a bunch of business men and politicians came together like a cheese grater and a block of parmesan over a peperoni pizza and decided that it would be a great idea to allow Santos (an Australian gas and oil company), to construct a 650 kilometre pipeline from Moomba’s Cooper and Eromanga Basins to Stony Point on the Point Lowly Peninsula. The proposal also included plans to build a petroleum fractionation plant (which separates raw hydrocarbon into more valuable component gasses) along with a major export facility at Weeroona bay (now known as Port ?Bonython). The project was valued at over $800 million dollars, and must have sounded like a silver bullet for rural South Australia’s problems at the time, especially in a climate of significant socio-economic uncertainty.
As a ‘one company’ town, Whyalla has always been beholden to the mysterious, unpredictable workings of the external market (and, by extension, is heavily influenced by external ideas, external interests and, inevitably, external politics – we have never, for want of a better phrase, been in control of our own destiny, which has arguably contributed to our traditionally high levels of community disengagement and public apathy – but that’s a story for another day). Throughout the 70’s, unemployment levels were in severe flux and took a turn for the worse following the closure of the famous BHP shipyards in 1978 . The early 80’s saw a rapid production downturn at the steelworks (thanks to a nation-wide industry crisis due to rising competition and production efficiencies overseas), culminating in the closure of both the No. 1 blast furnace and the brick works in 1981 and 1982 respectively . The pellet plant was rumoured to be the next domino to fall, and the fear of further closures must have been rife. Whyalla was seemingly against a wall and desperate for options, desperate for identity and desperate for stability. But in desperation, reactive, knee-jerk, decisions are often made – decisions that may well have short term benefits, but almost always at the cost of profound, long-term consequences. As is often the case with such projects, the public interest takes a back seat to private interests – and in a culture of
*now is better*, short term profits take precedence over any notion of long-term sustainability – especially in the context of annual business cycles, shareholders’ meetings, CEO bonuses for rapid (ultimately untenable) growth, and of course, three year state election terms.
Subsequently, the spin machine sprung into action. Boom times were predicted by the government, sold by the papers, and bought up by the public like snags at a sausage sizzle. The shipyards were a thing of the past after all – and men in striped business suits and spotted neck ties tend not to live in the past. The people would soon wipe their arses with twenty dollar bills, or so it was foretold, and all would be well. All struggles forgotten, forgiven – perhaps even celebrated – as inextinguishable proof of our collective grit and determination to survive.
But not everyone bought into ‘the story’ however. Some folks strongly objected to the Santos plant, and fought against the tide of pro-growth fervour in favour of preserving Point Lowly for public use. In short, the protestors liked the way things were. They liked having access to the beach. They liked being able to fish the area unimpeded. They even rightly identified the importance of Point Lowly as a culturally important, convenient and affordable recreational retreat for the Whyalla people and beyond. But most significantly of all, they clearly identified the many potential (and in hindsight, quite obvious) problems with putting a hydrocarbon processing plant smack bang in the middle of such a beautiful and ecologically diverse area.
The long-term jobs and rivers of gold never did materialise – at least not for us. Many of the construction jobs came from outside of Whyalla (something to think about, especially in the context of our current ‘skills shortage’) – and while there is always a trickle-down effect in any capitalist system (and we must assume the falling pennies must have kept some businesses afloat through the construction phase), in my opinion this kind of ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ money has had very little long-term, positive impact on the integrity and longevity of our city.
The balance sheet doesn’t read well in my view. A community of shack owners were swept aside without much consideration, compensation or legal recourse. We, the Whyalla public, have been left with less recreational and culturally significant land to use, which has greatly impacted our ability to effectively market and develop the peninsula as a major tourist attraction (and thus, expand our economy and achieve the width and stability that we always craved, ironically enough) – and the baby boomers have wrapped it all up in a brown paper package tied up with string and gifted the children of tomorrow with a potentially cataclysmic environmental liability with very little to show for their sacrifice.
Back to the future
But let’s get an updated perspective. Step into my time machine and help yourself to a cup of tea and a sticky bun my friend! Set the dials for the year 2011! Errrrroooooah! Errrrrooooah! (insert appropriate time machine noises here)
And…woooosh! Here we are. My, how things have changed. Whyalla has a McDonalds now. (That’s progress for you right there.)
But all is not as it should be! For that very same Santos petrochemical plant, so lovingly described just a moment ago, has since sprung a few leaks…
In May 2008 as part of routine testing, Santos discovered that hydrocarbons, including butane, propane and crude oil, had seeped into the groundwater beneath its holding tanks. To contain the damage and prevent the toxic spill from escaping into the gulf, Santos began constructing a 450 metre underground barrier worth several million dollars. A spokesperson for Santos stated that: “A systematic and thorough investigation into all possible sources is being conducted” and according to the Advertiser, “the company had no way of determining the level of contamination at the
site and would not estimate how much pollution had leaked out.”
Speaking to the ABC in May 2010, exactly two years after the leaks were first discovered, the EPA’s contamination’s manager Greg Hill said: “It’s a significant amount of hydrocarbon in the ground. I would say it will take many years before the issue is concluded” and ‘the source of the leak is yet to be fully identified’
Hmm. Let’s just whip out a chunky red whiteboard marker and underline that point.
SANTOS, a company valued at over eight billion dollars – supremely well capitalised, and one of Australia’s top thirty corporations, apparently can’t prevent, expediently detect the source of, or even properly manage a leak in one of its own plants?
Gee – I don’t know – do you think we should be worried about this?
In September 2010, United Research Services (URS) sent a report to Santos’ environmental advisor which contains a series of revealing environmental sampling results . In the Ballast Pond sampling results, suspended solids, turbidity, benzene, arsenic, zinc, ammonia, total hydrogen, phosphorus (and in one sample, mercury and sulphide) were all observed at concentrations above the environmental protection (water quality) Policy 2003 (“WQP”) for protection of marine ecosystems. In the intertidal zone sampling results, Petroleum hydrocarbons were detected in 12 of the 24 primary samples. BTEX compounds (an acronym that stands for benzene, toluene, ethylbenzene, and xylenes – classified as ‘volatile organic compounds’) were detected in 32 of the 73 samples and 8 of those exceeded the benzene concentration WQP marine criterion. Polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons and dissolved metals were also found above WQP marine criterion in some samples. Clearly these findings should be of some public concern.
At the time of printing this article, and according to the ABC on the 25th of February 2011 , Santos now claims that it is “almost certain it has found all sources of the oil leak” and is blaming the problem on a faulty drain system, while the Environmental Protection Authority continues to investigate reports that the oil leak is bigger than originally thought. But regardless of any speculation or criticism about Santos’ handling of the situation or any long-term impacts that may result, this event usefully highlights a couple of things I think we all need to seriously think about.
Risks
Firstly, it doesn’t matter how much money and resources you have at your disposal – industrial infrastructure (including vehicles like oil tankers), inevitably ages and becomes more susceptible to damage and malfunction over time – and with that increase in unreliability, the probability of a leak, a spill or something worse must also increase. Even in a well run, well funded company with an apparently superb maintenance record, equipment failure is an inevitable consequence of mechanical and technological complexity. The more complicated something is, the more stuff can go wrong with it. And factories, refineries, modern industrial plants, bulk transports and tankers are examples of extremely sophisticated technology.
Secondly, the point must be made that people are fallible and prone to errors of fact and judgement even at the best of times. After all, we are ‘only human’. But when dealing with toxic materials and processes, we must also admit that human error can be and has been damaging to both life and the environment in the past, and doubtless will be again.
Now – put these two things together – industry and human beings – and then add a sensitive, diverse, and unique marine ecosystem into the mix. The presence of the marine eco-system does not increase the probability that the plant equipment will fail, or that the people will make a mistake. But what it does do however, is ensure that if mistakes are made, and if equipment does fail, the cost of that failure will result in significant and (most likely) irreversible damage to not only the environment and one of Australia’s most significant food sources, but also the very basis of our community’s future – an unavoidable non-mining based economy.
We cannot completely manage the risk of either human error or mechanical and technological failure. BUT what we can do is effectively manage the risk to our marine environment simply by not encouraging, funding or supporting further industrial development in ecologically sensitive areas like the Lowly Peninsula, especially when there are so many valid alternatives.
Again, using Santos as a relevant, retro-active example, even companies with ‘good’ reputations have had their share of close-calls and environmental catastrophes. As recently as 2006, Santos was partially responsible as a minor shareholder for the Banjar Panji toxic mud disaster in Indonesia, a gas exploration project which turned into a full-scale disaster when mud flows left 10,000 people homeless on the island of Java . Or, for something closer to home, in 1992, the double-hulled oil tanker “ERA” was punctured by the tug boat “Turmoil”, resulting in a 300 tonne oil spill that just happened to float towards the coastline South of Port Pirie rather than our own, and subsequently damaged kilometers of coastal mangroves. As local vet Andrew Melville Smith said in a well received power-point presentation in January 2010 , we were lucky it didn’t get pushed up the gulf into the shallow end of an inverted shallow estuary. Very, very lucky.
Hold onto these points for a moment and let’s cast an eye over the developments that are being proposed for Point Lowly now in 2011:
1) A major deep-sea port facility designed to export iron ore and possibly even copper concentrate, located right in the middle of the famous Giant Cuttlefish breeding grounds. Think about the construction of the port, pile driving of the sea floor and what that may do to such a unique species and their chosen habitat. Think of the enormous quantities of ore and the hazardous materials that will be trucked through our regional areas. Consider the potential impacts of the inevitable dust pollution and how this may affect our health, housing and heritage. Consider how this will destroy Whyalla’s growing and hard-won reputation as a safe place to live, and Lowly’s potential as an international tourist attraction. Think about the indigenous people being locked out of more their dreaming sites, and what this would mean to an already decimated Indigenous culture. Consider the environmental impact of a cape-sized Super-tanker pulling up to the coast
every few weeks, in such shallow water (plus the narrow margin of error this affords), and the devastating effect of any potential oil spill in the gulf. Think about the foreign micro-bacteria and barnacles clinging onto the hulls of such vessels, and the damage any introduced species may cause to our native marine plants, animals and fishing grounds Oh – and speaking of fishing grounds, how much of the gulf will be enveloped by new industrial exclusion zones? To top all of this off, it is the view of the Alternative Port Working Party that the Point Lowly Flinders port option is inefficient, restrictive, risky, and isn’t the most cost effective, strategic, long term solution! It is an expedient ,suboptimal, convenient, “quick and dirty” answer .
2) Next up, there’s the proposed BHP Billiton desalination plant. Expensive to run, and using non renewable energy, producing non-drinkable water, and located some 350 kilometres away from the open ocean, this project has ‘bad idea’ written all over it. With intakes sucking in micro-organisms, a hyper saline discharge, toxic chemical discharge, and local waters affected by dodge tides, tidal movement (and then, no tidal movement for hours), with poor prospects for adequate dispersion, to claim a desalination plant will have no impact on our environment seems nothing short of delusional. In practical terms, altering the salt content of the sea for a Cuttlefish may be the metaphorical equivalent of altering the chemical composition of air we breathe. There can be no doubt that this project puts our marine species, food security and tourism potential under momentous long-term risk.
3) Finally, the already-approved diesel refinery at Point Lowly seems especially pointless and dangerous, given the problems Santos are having at the moment. Consider too, the long term issue of global warming. Do we really want to cling-to and encourage the development of out-dated, fossil-fuel based technology, despite the existence of cleaner, renewable energy sources like the solar oasis project, wind power, and geo-thermal – and when we are on the verge of establishing a carbon based economy?
For all intensive purposes, the state government appears to be addicted to mining royalties like a drug addict drawn to a crack house. State Labor is hell-bent on being as accommodating to mining giants (and minnows) as possible, even if it’s at the cost of adequate community consultation and participation (re: democracy) and the interests of future South Australian’s. To them, the Eyre Peninsula is just a big birthday cake. We’re in the middle of the biggest carve up in history and all the big boys want a slice – while Jill and Joe average, predictably, are left eating crumbs and sucking on the candles.
We’ve heard about the announcement of deep-water oil exploration at the mouth of the Spencer Gulf and the auctioning of titles in the middle of Port Lincoln’s Tuna Fishing grounds. We’ve heard about Onesteel’s proposed desalination plant but none of the potential impacts. We’ve heard about Uranium SA’s uranium leeching project just to the South of Whyalla, but not the potential risks to the mangroves and the water table. We’ve heard about Arafura Resources’ proposed billion dollar Rare Earth’s processing facility with its sulphuric acid plant and capacity to handle radioactive materials – all located just a hop-skip from a residential area – but again, we’re being baited with the potential upside and little mention risks of any potential environmental, health or social impacts. How about the Cultana
Army range expansion adjacent to the Point Lowly Peninsula? Why here? Why now? What is all this going to do to the cost of living? How about the dream of economic equality? Housing affordability? Lots of people have asked questions but nobody has heard any decent answers.
Perhaps the most important point to make about all of this is that no project exists within a bubble in complete isolation. There is interplay between projects as everything draws on and shares the same set of basic resources. Therefore, it must be said that the potential impact of all this development is, in essence, cumulative. The combination of activity is likely to be much more damaging than the projects are individually, with the risk of disaster rising exponentially like compound interest with each new development. Sadly, the cumulative effect of this industrial activity will decimate the Lowly Peninsula and could likely destroy the Spencer Gulf’s marine environment.
Conclusion
It’s fair to say that even a five year-old understands that actions have consequences. If you keep putting your hand into the cookie jar, you’re going to get a smack sooner or later. But some consequences are less obvious and measurable than others. And although arguments based around such consequences may be emotionally charged, that does not make such arguments automatically invalid.
We all have fireplace stories to tell of school excursions to Lowly on impossibly hot days and nights, and exciting fishing adventures in tin-bottomed boats; of weekend getaways and grand final celebrations, of long afternoon’s snorkelling in the sun, splashing among the dolphins and the cuttlefish. Memories like these swim happily in our collective consciousness. The recollections may differ in the detail, but they are, in essence, shared experiences that define us as an interconnected community – we are a tribe – and not just a meandering group of disassociated individuals. It is important for us all to realise that a connection with place, whether that place is a house, a netball club or the pub down the street, is an essential part of what makes us human beings. Point Lowly is part of our cultural tradition and a part of this community, like a sister or a brother – and by default, like it or not, we are its appointed guardians. Like the Aboriginal people who believe they belong to the land and are its caretakers rather than its owners, we have a very clear responsibility to preserve the integrity of the Point Lowly Peninsula, the surrounding coastal environment and Upper Spencer Gulf for future generations. Our grandchildren must surely be entitled to the same fundamental human rights we have grown accustomed to. The right to fish from the sea (and expect to catch something). The right to breathe clean air (and expect not to catch something). And, as local retired engineer Sid Wilson once said to me – the right to visit heaven without going though hell to get there.
The question then for Point Lowly, our species and every other creature on the planet remains the same – is it really too late to do anything about the industrialisation of the Upper Spencer Gulf? Ultimately, it’s a question only you can answer.
Your continued silence is interpreted by those in power as a form of consent. By remaining passive, disengaged from other people and sticking your head in the sand, the Government can continue to ride rough-shod over the entire Eyre Peninsula and get away with whatever it ikes. However, by speaking up and acting together, we can still put a stop to this appaling farce and hold the government to account for pandering to the prevailing attitude of corporate entitlement and greed that continues to cause so much damage to the world.
On the other hand, if we concede defeat on this very small stage we have been given to protect, it is not unreasonable to surmise that the obituary of the Lowly Peninsula, the Spencer Gulf and humanity has indeed, already been written.
- By Richard Parker
References
(1) Scheiffers, Sue, P.114, A Ribbon of Steel: Whyalla Surges Ahead. Lutheran Publishing House, Adelaide: 1985.
(2) Scheiffers, Sue,.P.118, A Ribbon of Steel: Whyalla Surges Ahead. Lutheran Publishing House, Adelaide: 1985.
(3) Rodrigues, Sam, Adelaide Advertiser. January 15th2010, “Santos still looking for toxic leak” http://tinyurl.com/29em6bh, (accessed October 5th, 2010).
(4) ABC News Online, May 19th 2010, “Santos oil leak to take ‘years’ to fix” http://tinyurl.com/29u6kug, (accessed October 5th, 2010)
(5) UPS letter to Santos Ltd Environmental Advisor, September 3, 2010, “Port Bonython: summary of May/June 2010 Water Sampling Results” pp 2-4 (leaked .pdf document)
(6) ABC News Online, Feb 25 2011, “Drain Blamed for Santos Leak”, http://tiny.cc/w5dve (Accessed March 13, 2011)
(7) Sydney Morning Herald, August 12 2006, “Disaster zone grows in toxic mud spill” http://tinyurl.com/2a7udro (accessed October 5th 2010)
(8) Melville-Smith, Andrew, January 2010 ”Presentation part 1 to Whyalla Council debate oil moratorium”, http://tiny.cc/vt59i (accessed October 5th 2010)