Last Tuesday morning, I was visited by Dr. Singe Saleté, Federal Policy Consultant to the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality. “I’ve been waiting nearly a week for an opening in your schedule,” she complained as she seated herself in the chair immediately in front of my desk. “It appears you are a very difficult person reach. Is it always this hard to see you?”
“The last ten days have been especially tough,” I explained. “Because of the snow storm, everyone with an appointment on Friday the twenty-second wanted to move it to one of the days earlier in the week, and everyone with a Monday appointment this week wanted to move it to today or tomorrow. The inherent chaos created just enough confusion for Gretchen to slip you in.”
“A couple of feet of snow,” she sniffed, “and Washington DC turns into an idiot’s delight. You people ought to see what kind of snow we have to deal with in Michigan – and not just once every ten or fifteen years, either! We have to deal with multiple feet of snow every year!”
“My apologies for Washingtonians’ reactions to snow storms,” I offered. “It’s legendary, going back to the Cold War at the very least, I’ve heard, and these days its apparently worse than ever. But I gather Michigan has encountered bigger problems than snow lately.”
“The water supply in Flint,” she nodded. “Governor Snyder and his staff thought they had it pretty much covered after the state took over the city due to municipal bankruptcy back in 2012.”
“But Flint wasn’t actually bankrupt, was it?” I inquired.
“Well,” she smirked, “that depends on who you ask. Flint was in pretty bad financial shape, anyway, and Governor Snyder had a new law on the books that allowed the state to appoint emergency managers for failing municipalities. It was part of his program to re-invent Michigan.”
“What gave him the notion,” I wondered, “that Michigan needs re-inventing?”
“The idea,” she shrugged, “was to make Michigan more dynamic, more productive, and above all, more business-friendly. It was all done with the best of intentions, you see.”
“And we know which road is paved with the best of intentions,” I observed.
“And where it goes,” she sighed. “That’s all water under the bridge, now. No pun intended.”
“Of course not,” I acknowledged. “So this emergency manager…”
“Ed Kurtz,” she interjected. “He kicked out the mayor and took over Flint in grand Republican Tea Party style, I’m afraid. He instituted cost cutting in every department, all in the name of increased financial efficiency. He went after the usual things Tea Party types consider prime targets – schools, community programs, support for the homeless and the unemployed, the usual. But then, in 2013, Ed got carried away and decided to save money by switching the city water supply. He wanted to dump Detroit water and save money by tapping into a new pipeline that was being built. Then Ed moved on, and in 2014, his replacement, Darnell Early, decided to go Ed one better. He hatched a plan to replace Detroit water with water from the Flint River while the pipeline was still under construction, and start saving money on Flint’s water bills years ahead of schedule.”
“It appears, however,” I noted, “that Mr. Early neglected to take the differing chemistry of the Detroit and Flint River water sources into account when making that momentous decision. Why didn’t anyone warn him of the potential consequences?”
“Actually,” she informed me, “that issue was… brought to his attention… by several scientists.”
“So why did he nevertheless go through with the transition?” I implored. “What possible reason could Mr. Early have had to ignore their warnings?”
“Well,” she revealed with a tone of ironic resignation, “conservative Republicans in general, and Republican Tea Party adherents in particular, don’t believe in science.”
“Interesting,” I observed, “since acceptance of scientific facts is not typically considered optional, nor is the scientific method a subject of belief, for that matter, at least among rational individuals.”
“I think the concept of fact-free science grew out of the Tea Party doctrine of fact-free politics,” she speculated. “I’m sure you’ve heard of fact-free politics, haven’t you?”
“Certainly,” I assured her. “Fact-free politics was invented by Richard Nixon.”
“That long ago?” she exclaimed.
“Yes, although generally,” I acknowledged, “more people associate fact-free politics with Ronald Reagan. And it must be recognized that he was a true master of the craft. Many say he perfected it. But fact-free science is a recent Tea Party innovation, and I thought that its practice was still more or less restricted to a hard core lunatic fringe of climate change deniers, Intelligent Design proponents and barefoot Bible-thumping Baptists who challenge Darwin’s theory of evolution.”
“It’s interesting that you mention Darwin’s theory,” she mused. “Because contemporary fact-free science doctrine objects to all governmental actions taken pursuant to any concept that’s ‘just a theory,’ such as evolution. That was the principal objection to scientific warnings about how differences in water chemistry between Detroit and the Flint River might pose a hazard to human health.”
“How so?” I sought to clarify.
“Well,” she continued, “as I’m sure you are aware, scientists know that several parameters affect the water solubility of the metals used to construct older plumbing systems, such as those in Flint Michigan, especially the concentrations of minerals ions, like calcium and magnesium, as well as the concentration of protons.”
“The hardness and pH,” I agreed. “Lead, for example, is much more soluble in soft water, and nearly all the metals used in plumbing pipes, including lead, iron and copper, dissolve more readily as the acid strength of water increases at lower pH levels. The same thing applies to trace metals found in older plumbing solder, such as cadmium, tin and arsenic.”
“So you, and I,” she lamented, “and millions of chemists and other scientists know. But you see, Mr. Collins, to believers in the principles of fact-free science, all those statements you just made are debatable propositions.”
“Debatable?” I asked, somewhat nonplused.
“Absolutely,” she confirmed. “They are debatable because they are all based on the existence of ions, protons and molecules. And those, Mr. Collins, are the artifacts of atomic theory.”
“And atomic theory,” I surmised, “is ‘just a theory,’ like evolution?”
“Exactly,” she confirmed. “To a mind steeped in the ideology of fact-free science, warnings about potential health hazards arising from a change in the water source for Flint Michigan from Detroit to the Flint River are all just theoretical. As far as a Tea Party true believer is concerned, they amount to nothing more than the hysterical nattering of a bunch of misguided Cassandras in lab coats.”
“And since Flint Michigan is sixty percent minority with forty percent below the poverty line,” I syllogized, “who’s going to stand up to such… extraordinary reasoning as that?”
“Nobody,” she grumbled, “until the situation boils over.”
“Which,” I observed, “it has, apparently.”
“And how,” she huffed. “Whistle blowers are shouting from the roof tops, co-conspirators are spilling their guts, the media are screaming bloody murder, President Obama has declared a state of emergency and called out the National Guard, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army and FEMA have rushed in, the regional EPA administrator has resigned, the CDC is viewing with alarm, the GAO is conducting an inquiry, everybody and his dog is sending bottled water, law suits are flying thick and fast in civil and federal courts, criminal investigations have been launched at municipal, county, state and federal levels, every yahoo in Congress is standing up on the floor of the House and Senate, babbling their heads off, and Michael Moore is sending out legions of people dressed in chicken suits.”
“What’s more,” I reported, “there’s talk that Timbaland is going to give a benefit rap concert.”
“Well then,” she commented, “that’s it – the Flint Michigan Drinking Water Crisis has officially arrived.”
“And here you are,” I said, “in Washington DC talking to me about it. What can I do for you?”
“Tom,” she responded, “have you ever heard of that Chinese proverb, the one that says, ‘Every problem is an opportunity?’”
“No,” I replied, “because there is, in fact, no such Chinese proverb. The whole thing was made up by an American author, Richard Bach, in a famous piece of drivel entitled Johnathan Livingston Seagull, published in 1970. But because motivational speakers, the people most fond of repeating it, generally don’t like to give credit to anyone specific besides themselves, they adopted the convenient fiction that it’s an old Chinese saying.”
“Be that as it may,” she proclaimed with a shrug, “the drinking water problem in Flint has recently turned out to be one huge cornucopia of opportunities for federal money. And that’s why I was sent here. So, Mr. Collins, what’s the best way to use it to leverage big federal taxpayer bucks into Michigan’s state coffers?”
“The Democrats,” I confided, “tell me that they figure this is going to make a fantastic issue for the 2016 elections. On the one hand, naturally, the DNC is working up a huge PR campaign about the many ways the Flint water crisis proves how heartless, greedy and stupid the Republicans are. And on the other, they’re working up a proposal to appropriate four hundred million dollars for Flint water relief. Tell Snyder’s people that the Governor should complain that’s nowhere near enough for a complete fix and demand twice the amount. Furthermore, the Democrats want spend half of the four hundred million for a lead exposure study center. Snyder should rail against that as an example of big federal government at its worst and demand the State of Michigan run it, not the bureaucrats in Washington. Snyder’s organization needs to get on this right away to make sure as much of that four hundred million goes to the State of Michigan instead of to Flint or any charitable or aid organizations. That way, he and his cronies can take their cut before doling out the money to Flint and the do-gooders, thereby allowing Snyder to take political credit for providing help to distressed Michiganders in their time of need. Meanwhile, you and your colleagues should prepare a white paper which argues that Washington should send even more money – make it another half billion or so – so that Michigan can adequately deal with the health consequences of a poisoned water supply in Flint.”
“Okay,” she chirped, now cheerfully typing notes on her tablet, “those sound like excellent first steps. Can you prepare a strategy roadmap with a time line of new and supporting future actions?”
“My pleasure,” I assured her. “I can have it for you by COB tomorrow.”
“Great!” she exclaimed. “Now for the hard part. Shoveling boatloads of federal cash back to Michigan is my job, Mr. Collins, and your advice will enable me to do that very well, no doubt about it. But if fulfilling my mission were all I accomplished, it wouldn’t be all that impressive, now would it? So what I need you to do now, is tell me how to deal with Governor Snyder’s most important problem.”
“Congratulations on thinking big and aiming high,” I told her. “What do you consider Governor Snyder’s most important problem?”
“All the people screaming for his resignation,” she dryly stated. “They claim the Flint water crisis is his fault. How would you suggest he deal with that?”
“Obviously,” I began, “Governor Snyder couldn’t possibly be responsible for this unfortunate imbroglio.”
“Now you’re talking!” she exulted. “Please, go on!”
“It’s clear,” I concluded, “that he was given inaccurate information and bad advice.”
“Yes, yes,” she agree, “abundantly clear. But by whom?”
“Ah yes,” I paused for emphasis, “by whom, indeed? Well, by disloyal RINOs and crypto-liberals, posing as Tea Party members, that’s who!”
“Perfect explanation!” she shrieked with delight. “Blame the phony conservatives for misleading Governor Snyder about the Flint water supply! Excellent! We’ll have a witch hunt, right?”
“Of course,” I agreed.
Her eyes lit up in anticipation. “And a purge?”
“And a purge,” I confirmed.
“Oh, goody!” she yelled, barely able to contain her excitement. “I love hunting down losers and ruining their lives!” Suddenly, a cloud of doubt floated over her. “But how do we go about identifying the victims… I mean, guilty parties?”
“They will be,” I authoritatively announced, “those political appointees in the Snyder administration who did not publicly demonstrate sufficient true Tea Party loyalty. Single out the ones who failed to wear three-cornered hats festooned with tea bags at Snyder rallies. Go back and examine the videos posted on YouTube to find those whose campaign placards merely called Obama incompetent instead of calling him the Devil incarnate or something equivalent. Who showed up in street clothes when the truly faithful were arriving dressed in full Revolutionary colonial era garb? Who never called a talk radio show, clearly identified themselves as a Snyder supporter, and spent at least fifteen minutes telling the world how evil the US federal government is, how dangerous foreigners are, how important it is to rid our country of illegal immigrants who are taking our jobs, how the liberals run the lame-stream media and how the blacks on welfare are sending all the decent white folks to the poor house with unbearable taxes imposed by Washington, how big government regulation is strangling the small businesses which are the backbone of our economy, how unions are forcing moral citizens to pay them dues to further their socialist political agendas, and so forth; before concluding their comments by warning America that the Tea Party is the only true solutions to those problems?”
“I get the idea!” she effused. “Can I have some more stuff like that? You know – tests for checking out who’s a traitor to the Tea Party?”
“I’ll have that for you by COB tomorrow, too,” I promised. “In a separate, encrypted email, for your eyes only.”
“Excellent!” she chortled as she packed up her tablet and made ready to leave. “No skin off my butt, of course, I’m a state employee, not a political appointment.”
“I figured as much,” I affirmed as she made for the door. “Happy hunting.”
“Oh, thanks so much, Mr. Collins!” she chirped back at me. “I just know I’m going to get a huge promotion after I suggest this to Governor Snyder!”