A Sea in Flames

by Carl Safina

  Splotches of crude are still washing up here and there along Louisiana’s coast, but in early August NOAA releases a five-page report called “Deepwater Horizon/BP Oil Budget: What Happened to the Oil?”

  It’s got a nifty pie chart that describes the fate of the estimated 4.9 million gallons of oil, broken into seven categories. Designed to be simple and communicate clearly, it becomes a major public relations mess because: (1) some high-ranking government officials apparently can’t read; (2) that’s partly because there is one major thing in the report that really is pretty confusing; and (3) some reporters also apparently can’t read. And what the confused officials say confuses the media totally.

  Here’s what the report says; you can read it for yourself:

  In summary, it is estimated that burning, skimming and direct recovery from the wellhead removed one quarter (25%) of the oil released from the wellhead. One quarter (25%) of the total oil naturally evaporated or dissolved, and just less than one quarter (24%) was dispersed (either naturally or as a result of operations) as microscopic droplets into Gulf waters. The residual amount—just over one quarter (26%)—is either on or just below the surface as light sheen and weathered tar balls, has washed ashore or been collected from the shore, or is buried in sand and sediments. Oil in the residual and dispersed categories is in the process of being degraded. The report below describes each of these categories and calculations. These estimates will continue to be refined as additional information becomes available.

  The report explains what “dissolved” means with this line: “molecules from the oil separate and dissolve into the water just as sugar can be dissolved in water.” Just as sugar. Isn’t that nice? Facts aside, that reassuring tone makes many people feel they’re being snowed. And that undermines credibility by keeping people on their guard. It’s not that NOAA’s scientists are giving the wrong information; it’s that they’re striking the wrong tone.

  “I think it is fairly safe to say,” remarks White House spokesman Robert Gibbs, “that many of the doomsday scenarios that we talked about and repeated a lot have not and will not come to fruition.”

  That’s easy to say if you’re not living it. Psychologically, his statement is a serious miscalculation. Most people in the Gulf want empathy, not reassurance. They want to know that their government cares. That’s an emotion, not a desire for facts or official opinions. And because the most lingering bad taste that the nation had after Katrina was that the Bush administration seemed not to care enough, the Obama people should have understood that it was more important to show concern than to show pie charts.

  Gibbs should have avoided the temptation to sound an “all’s well” so early, and waited for academic experts to determine what has or hasn’t come to pass after a relief well does its thing, when the blown-out well is officially declared good and dead. The federal government’s most visible officials are misjudging people’s need to grieve.

  Even worse, some of the political folks don’t seem able to read a simple pie chart. High on the list of those needing personal blowout preventers is Carol Browner, director of the White House Office of Energy and Climate Change Policy, who blurts: “The vast majority of oil is gone.”

  Just like that. She’s totally wrong. And many people rightly jump all over her. Browner’s glib comment, which rises to the definition of plain stupid, utterly undermines—yet again—public confidence in what “the government” (defined with a broad brush dipped in crude oil) is telling us.

  So, for the benefit of Ms. Browner, let’s review what NOAA’s report actually says: “burning, skimming and direct recovery from the wellhead removed one quarter (25%) of the oil.” That means, according to this estimate, that human intervention took only a quarter of the oil out of the system. “One quarter (25%) of the total oil naturally evaporated or dissolved …”

  Whoa, wait a minute. Evaporated or dissolved? Those are very different things; evaporated means it went bye-bye in the sky; dissolved means it’s asleep in the deep, still very much in the Gulf. Lumping together two very different categories that collectively account for 25 percent of the oil is another big blunder that helped make this seem very confused.

  “… and just less than one quarter (24%) was dispersed (either naturally or as a result of operations) as microscopic droplets into Gulf waters.” The term “naturally dispersed” refers to oil that shattered into fine microdroplets from the sheer physical forces of being shot from a hot well into cold seawater. Twice as much is estimated to have naturally dispersed—if you call that natural—than was dispersed by chemical dispersants.

  “The residual amount—just over one quarter (26%)—is either on or just below the surface as light sheen and weathered tar balls, has washed ashore or been collected from the shore, or is buried in sand and sediments. Oil in the residual and dispersed categories is in the process of being degraded.” Here again, the report is confusing because oil that’s been collected is no longer in the Gulf system, but at least with this category you know that the amount of residual oil in the Gulf is not more than they’re estimating. You do know that, right?

  So how much oil are they saying is in the Gulf now? Well, let’s see: there’s the 24 percent that’s dispersed, the (up to) 26 percent that’s either on or near the surface or washed ashore or is buried, plus whatever is the “dissolved” part of the 25 percent that’s “evaporated or dissolved.” That means the pie chart is telling us that up to 75 percent of the oil is in the Gulf. And if more of it evaporated and we split the difference, it’s saying that perhaps two-thirds of the oil is still in the Gulf.

  But so annoyed and upset are a lot of people—especially by the White House misstatements—that various independent scientists want a do-over. Louisiana State University oceanography professor Jim Cowan tosses the pie chart into NOAA’s face, saying, “It looks like a nice neat diagram, but I have no confidence in it whatsoever.” The Georgia Sea Grant program, itself part of an NOAA-sponsored university network of ocean and coastal researchers, releases an “alternative report” claiming that most of the oil that leaked into the Gulf is still present and estimating that between 70 percent and 79 percent of the oil remains in the Gulf ecosystem.

  And yet, look: that’s not too far off from what the original pie chart says.

  Some people don’t seem to care how much oil is where. Ronald J. Kendall, who directs Texas Tech University’s Institute of Environmental and Human Health, says, “Even if all the oil were gone tomorrow, the effects of the spill on species such as sea turtles, bluefin tuna and sperm whales may take years to understand.”

  Trying to keep the message on point, the report’s lead author, NOAA chief Dr. Jane Lubchenco, notes, “No one is saying that it’s not a threat anymore. I think the view of most scientists is that the effects of this spill will likely linger for decades.” She observes, “There’s so much noise out there now saying the Gulf is dead or the Gulf will come back easily. The truth is in the middle.”

  Despite her attempts to recenter the discussion, the media reports on this are all over the place. One leading newspaper says, “Roughly one-third of the oil that gushed from the wellhead is out of the system: recovered directly or eliminated by burning, skimming, or chemical dispersion operations.” Nope, wrong; dispersed oil is very much in the system.

  The Associated Press, a stalwart of steady-as-she-goes reporting, publishes an article with this strikingly sarcastic (and inaccurate) headline: “Looking for the Oil? NOAA Says It’s Mostly Gone.”

  The New York Times writes that federal officials are saying that only about 26 percent of the oil is still in the water or onshore. (No, see above.) Britain’s Independent says, “Only about one-quarter of the oil remains as a residue in the environment, according to the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. The other three-quarters no longer poses a significant threat to the environment, the NOAA scientists said.” The writer knows that the NOAA people said no such thing; in the same article he quotes Dr. Lubche
nco as saying, “Dilute and out of sight does not necessarily mean benign, and we remain concerned about the long-time impacts both on the marshes and the wildlife but also beneath the surface.”

  Another British newspaper, the Guardian, says that NOAA scientist Bill Lehr “appeared to contradict the official report that he wrote” by saying, “Most of the oil is still in the environment.” The paper goes on: “His statement is bound to deepen a sense of outrage in the scientific community that the White House is hiding data and spinning the science of the oil spill.” But the report says what he said: that most of the oil is still in the environment. It’s the media that’s getting it wrong and spinning it.

  Independent and academic scientists label the report misleading. “The oil has not left the building,” says Ian MacDonald of Florida State University. He says the federal report gives the impression that most of the oil is no longer in the water because it was dissolved, dispersed, or degraded. “That only means it’s still in the ocean, but in different forms,” he points out. “It’s still in the water.”

  University of Miami marine scientist Jerald Ault points out, “All those toxins that were injected into the Gulf, and remain in the Gulf, can be deadly to eggs and larvae and the young life stages of these species like giant bluefin tuna, yellowfin tuna, the billfishes and marine mammals, and many others. When you inject that volume of oil and dispersants into this life web, changes will echo through the system for a very long time. This is a long way from being over.”

  That’s reasonable speculation. But it’s speculation. Really, nobody knows. The stuff can be toxic, but how toxic at what concentrations, and for how long? It’s continually being diluted and degraded. Its toxicity yesterday isn’t the same tomorrow. And yet there must have been—I speculate—tremendous damage to sheer numbers of those eggs and larvae. We should also bear in mind, however, that the numbers of eggs and larvae are always far in excess of what the system can support. The competition and struggle for existence is so intense that under normal, healthy circumstances, only one fish egg in millions wins the lottery ticket for becoming an adult. That is where a lot of the resiliency comes from. There may be enough survivors to let the Gulf recover quickly.

  So yes, this is a long way from being over. But I think it’s the people and communities that will have the longest and hardest time recovering. Again, that’s my speculation. But I’d bet on it.

  Patches of oil are still washing up in the marshes and coastal areas of Louisiana, tourists remain skeptical and elusive, and waters remain closed to fishing.

  “For technological disasters, unlike natural disasters, we see long-term impacts to communities, families, and individuals,” says University of South Alabama sociologist Steven Picou. He has studied the impacts of both the Exxon Valdez spill and Katrina. In a natural disaster, he says, “People quit blaming God, usually after two weeks; then they come together with purpose and meaning to rebuild, so your social capital in a community grows after a natural disaster.” But, he notes, “What we found in Alaska was that communities tended to lose their social capital. Their trust in local institutions and state and federal institutions, and their social networks, tends to break down. Everyone is angry and people get tired.” The resiliency coast residents showed after Katrina may help them overcome the blowout, too, he says—but this will be a marathon, not a bounce-back.

  And as for misjudging people’s emotions, few can rival BP, which is saying it might someday go back to Plan A and use the well for commercial purposes. Tony Hayward said in June that the reservoir was believed to hold about 2.1 billion gallons of oil. Roughly 200 million gallons have leaked out, leaving about 1.9 billion gallons, over 45 million barrels. At the current per-barrel value of $82, what remains is still worth $3.7 billion. Now BP’s chief operating officer, Doug Suttles, is saying—and you have to wonder why in the world he thinks it necessary to bring this up before the well is even deemed fully secured—“We’re going to have to think about what to do with that at some point.”

  It happens to really bother some people that a company with revenues of $147 billion in the first half of 2010 would commercialize a grave site. A fifty-four-year-old real estate agent from Mississippi, her voice cracking, says, “People died out there on that rig. They can find another place. Leave that one alone.”

  BP still has lease access to a roughly three-by-three-mile block of seafloor there. They’ll be back.

  In another stroke of public relations insight, BP is now hedging about how the relief wells will be used. BP officials had insisted for months that the relief wells were the only surefire way to end the oil leak, but now they’re saying that what they’ve already done might do the trick.

  BP is now refusing to commit to pumping cement down the relief well and into the bottom of the blown-out well. But why? Maybe their reason is a good one. Or maybe they think they’ll use it to produce oil. Or they want to save a little money. Thing is, we don’t know. They’re so inept at PR, they manage to murk up the plan that for months they’ve touted as their best way to finally bring closure to the blown-out well.

  But Thad Allen will have none of BP’s vacillating. He makes it clear that the gusher will have to be plugged from two directions to be sure it’s permanently dead. “I am the national incident commander and I issue the orders,” he insists. “This will not be over until we do the bottom kill.” He adds, with some urgency, “The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can reduce the risk of some type of internal failure.” He assures us that a relief well will inject cement into the well deep below the seafloor. “There should be no ambiguity about that,” Allen says. “I’m the national incident commander and this is how this will be handled.”

  “I wouldn’t put it as ‘government versus BP,’ ” says one of BP’s interchangeable vice presidents. “This is just about some really smart people debating about what’s the best way to do things.”

  When people refer to themselves as really smart, my confidence in them—if I have any—declines.

  Perhaps sensing certain limits, BP’s CEO now (again) confirms that BP plans to use the 18,000-foot relief well to seal the blown-out well with drilling fluid and cement.

  But stay tuned.

  Maybe BP is getting distracted by the 300 lawsuits piling against it like snowdrifts. Transocean, close behind with 250 lawsuits, claims it’s not responsible and has the gall to ask a court to limit its liabilities to a piddling $27 million.

  Central to BP’s legal strategy will be the need to rebuff claims that the company acted with “gross negligence.” The difference between “gross negligence” and regular garden-variety negligence for BP, in this case, could be more than $15 billion in additional civil penalties under the Clean Water Act. Consequently, BP does what any negligent company would do: blames its partners. “Halliburton should have done more extensive testing and signaling to BP,” says BP. To which Halliburton retorts, “The well owner is responsible for designing the well program and any testing.”

  While the principals engage in a foot-eating contest and continue to antagonize one another, the media, and us, we have a bit of luxury in asking the real questions: How much? How long? How bad? A big part of this—maybe all of it now—turns on the questions, How toxic? What will die?

  Easy questions, hard to answer. People are still measuring, analyzing, writing up their findings. A fuller picture hasn’t yet emerged. And so there’s a tug-of-war between those who see the changing Gulf situation as a glass half empty, those who see it as half full, and those who see it as half-assed.

  We can begin with brief comparisons. Oil from the Exxon Valdez remains obvious in the sands of Prince William Sound. Oil spilled four decades ago in a well-studied Cape Cod marsh lingers a few inches below the surface. But the Ixtoc blowout sent more than 3 million barrels into the Gulf of Mexico. That’s a lot; it’s more than half the total of the 2010 blowout. Ixtoc did a lot of damage, yet by most accounts, most things were pretty much back to normal a few years aft
er Ixtoc blew.

  Because an estimated couple thousand barrels of oil enter the Gulf daily from thousands of small natural seeps, the Gulf is well populated with bacteria that can eat oil. (Thank God for evolution.) Like a living inoculation, their existence gives the Gulf some powers of natural recuperation, even from such an enormous shock as this blowout. They’re part of the Gulf’s resilience, its flex. Microbiologist Ronald M. Atlas, formerly a president of the American Society for Microbiology, says, “I believe that most of the oil will not have a significant impact. That’s been the story with spills that stay offshore.” Texas A&M University professor emeritus Roger Sassen says that because the Gulf is “preadapted” to crude oil, “The image of this spill being a complete disaster is not true.”

  One way of seeing if invisible oil-eating microbe populations are active and growing is to measure oxygen, since microbes use up oxygen. So one research team notes that oxygen levels haven’t declined much, implying that the oil down deep is degrading slowly (it’s cold down there—40° Fahrenheit). Until more puzzle pieces start coming in, it’s a bit puzzling.

  Everyone agrees that oil is toxic, but the plain truth is, no one can say how toxic it is out in the Gulf. That’s because the concentrations vary from place to place and continually change. Laboratory tests are usually done by putting organisms such as shrimp or fish larvae in a mixture of water and the chemical they’re testing, and seeing what concentration kills half the organisms in forty-eight hours. Researchers want results, so the concentrations are fairly high. But they want acute results—death. Doing experiments on the effects of very low concentrations means needing more samples and much more time, which translates into money. Too expensive, so seldom done.

  And real ecosystems are so much more complicated that a laboratory experiment doesn’t help us understand the fate of chemicals in the Gulf’s living communities. If a research team finds oil and dispersant chemicals in the Gulf at concentrations a hundred times lower than the concentrations that killed half the larvae during two days in the laboratory, does that mean half the shrimp and fish larvae will die in two hundred days instead of two? No, it doesn’t. But that also doesn’t tell you whether the lower chemical concentrations will hamper the organisms’ ability to continue finding food, grow normally, avoid predators, migrate, fight off infections, and so on. So when a scientist says, “We don’t know how toxic it is,” that’s the truth.