Читать книгу Communicating in Risk, Crisis, and High Stress Situations: Evidence-Based Strategies and Practice - Vincent T. Covello - Страница 40

A government agency hired me to work with them on a mysterious problem. Homeowners in scattered locations were complaining that green, slimy, and foul‐smelling substances were oozing through cracks into the basements of their homes. Their basements served as family rooms, and children played in the contaminated basements.

The community was poor. Many homeowners were unemployed and could not afford to move or pay for toxicity testing. Homeowners asked the government to test the substances for toxicity. When the results revealed that the substances were highly toxic, homeowners asked the government agency for assistance in relocation and in addressing possible health problems.

The government’s environmental detectives were perplexed. They shared this perplexity with me and asked if I could help. What was the source of the toxic green substances? The environmental detectives had applied principles of epidemiology, first identified by John Snow, who is often considered the father of field epidemiology, in his now classic investigations of the sources of cholera outbreaks in London in the nineteenth century.¹ But, the houses in this case study community with contaminated basements were few in number and many miles apart from each other. No industrial facilities were near the contaminated houses. None of the houses were built on top of an old industrial or hazardous waste site. Investigators could not find an explanatory pattern.

Investigators did determine that the toxic substances found in the basements matched toxic substances found at an abandoned industrial site more than 50 miles away. The site was surrounded by a tall, barbed wire fence, and posted every 25 yards were signs with the following messages: “Hazardous Waste Site. Danger from Possible Exposure to Toxic Substances. Absolutely No Trespassing. Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.” The site was also posted with the traditional warning of danger image, particularly regarding poisonous substances – the skull‐and‐crossbones symbol (). No additional information was provided on the signs.

Despite the long distance from the contaminated homes to the abandoned industrial site, the government environmental detectives tested the groundwater under the industrial site for leaks. Numerous monitoring wells were drilled, but no leaks were found. The government tested the groundwater and well water in areas nearby the industrial facility but found no evidence of toxic substances. Interviews with homeowners provided no suspected sources. The abandoned industrial site sat in a lowland area. A leak of toxic waste from the area would need to travel uphill for more than 50 miles – a highly unlikely physical phenomenon. Discussions between the government agency and the homeowners had reached an impasse.

I met with the residents. I listened to their concerns about their health, their children’s health, and their diminished property values. In our chats, the homeowners often talked about their gardens and the happiness their gardens gave them. I had noticed the gardens when first entering the homes. They were typically much nicer than their neighbors. I engaged them by asking them their secrets of gardening, noting that I had a garden and had once written a book on one of my hobbies: a specialized type of Japanese gardening. Oddly, their responses to my questions about gardening were convoluted and confusing.

I revisited the abandoned industrial site where the scientists had found the same toxic substances oozing into the homeowner’s basements. I noticed something unusual. Many of the plants growing at the abandoned industrial site were identical to those in the gardens of the homeowners with contaminated basements. I did research on the plants. To my surprise, I found that some plants grow well in toxic soil, such as soil containing arsenic. A light bulb went on in my head. Since it was exceedingly unlikely that the toxic substances at the abandoned industrial site had moved uphill and underground for more than 50 miles to several isolated homes, I adopted a principle I remembered from the casebooks of Sherlock Holmes: once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, is likely to be true.

I communicated my hypothesis to the homeowners: perhaps the soil at their homes was the same type of soil found at the abandoned industrial site. If my hypothesis was correct, how did the soil get into their backyards? The homeowners grudgingly said I was correct and told me they had taken the soil and plants for their gardens from the abandoned industrial site. They did not believe the signs. How could healthy plants be growing in toxic soil?

In my conversations with the homeowners, I empathized with their reasoning. They agreed to work with me and talk with the government agency. The government agency took responsibility for not engaging the community in discussing what was at the abandoned industrial site and not explaining the dangers it presented. The homeowners acknowledged responsibility for breaking into the site and taking the soil and plants. After considerable negotiation, the homeowners and government agency agreed to a clean‐up plan that was acceptable to all.

This case diary illustrates the complexity of stakeholder engagement and the need to engage in active listening, demonstrate understanding, and pursue constructive dialog. It also illustrates the importance of using risk communication principles and strategies in developing warnings and involving the community in developing education programs about potential dangers.