Safety, Health and Environmental Division (SHED)

Earth Day was founded with the support of former Governor and Senator of Wisconsin, Gaylord Nelson. The first Earth Day in 1970 rallied over 20 million Americans from around the country and on college campuses to get involved in environmental "teach-ins." This event, which was the largest grassroots mobilization in U.S. history, created what has come to be known as the environmental movement. It was out of this event that came the first environmental legislation – the Clean Air and Water Acts.

In 1990, more than 200 million people in 141 countries participated during Earth Day's 20 anniversary. Due in large part to the efforts of hundreds of local organizers, "Earth Day" is now an anticipated annual event. Earth Day observances and celebrations now include all social sectors, nationalities, and cultural groups. Earth Day has become perhaps the most prominent catalyst for ongoing environmental education, action and change. In response to this groundswell of activity in hundreds of U.S. communities, Gaylord Nelson, Bruce Anderson, and Claes Nolel incorporated Earth Day USA to help facilitate the contribution of the Earth Day process. In doing so, they advance the environmental agenda to include year-round activities that would "make every day Earth Day.“ Earth Day celebrations offer an important point of entry to address worldwide environmental concerns as well as the opportunity for communities to focus on their unique environmental problems. Because Earth Day observances and celebrations broaden the base of support for the environmental programs, rekindle public commitment, and enroll participation from every social and business sector, they can be used to implement wide-scale programs that bring people together to act for the common good.

Earth Day USA

The Spirit of the First Earth Day, by Jack Lewis [EPA Journal - January/February 1990] In the waning months of the 1960s, environmental problems were proliferating like a many-headed hydra, a monster no one could understand let alone tame or slay. Rampant air pollution was linked to disease and death in New York, Los Angeles, and elsewhere as noxious fumes, spewed out by cars and factories, made city life less and less bearable. In the wake of Rachel Carson's 1962 best-seller, Silent Spring, there was widespread concern over large-scale use of pesticides, often near densely populated communities. In addition, huge fish kills were reported on the Great Lakes, and the media carried the news that Lake Erie, one of America's largest bodies of fresh water, was in its death throes. Ohio had another jolt when Cleveland's Cuyahoga River, an artery inundated with oil and toxic chemicals, burst into flames by spontaneous combustion. In a response commensurate with the problem, an estimated 20 million Americans gathered together on April 22, 1970, to participate in a spectacularly well-publicized environmental demonstration known as "Earth Day." The rallies, teach-ins, speeches, and publicity gambits almost all went smoothly, amid a heady and triumphant atmosphere that was further enhanced by perfect spring weather. But the months leading up to Earth Day had been frantic, and the success of the event had been unpredictable up to the very last moment. Such uncertainty is endemic when volunteer effort is the driving force behind any activity, let alone one as ambitious as Earth Day 1970. Some of the grassroots activists who coordinated the work of thousands of Earth Day volunteers had come to the environmental cause rather late, after cutting their teeth on other political issues of the 1960s, such as civil rights and the anti-war movement. Others, however, had been intensely involved in environmental causes for many years. Whatever their background, these activists were the driving force not only behind Earth Day, but also behind many smaller and less publicized environmental reforms during the closing months of the 1960s. The term "Breathers' Lobby" was coined by the Wall Street Journal in the late 1960s to denote one of the most prominent components of the grassroots movement: the congeries of anti-air pollution groups that had sprung up over the previous decade in urban areas across the country. GASP in Los Angeles and Pittsburgh, the Metropolitan Washington Coalition on Clean Air, the Delaware Clean Air Coalition, and other similar groups started with sweat equity, then qualified for grants and technical assistance from the federal government. Groups focusing on water quality issues were also making dramatic inroads: most notably, the Lake Michigan Federation, and Get Oil Out in Santa Barbara, California. The anti-pollution stance of these groups, after changing the climate of political opinion at the state and local level, quickly permeated editorials and editorial cartoons featured in the nation's leading newspapers. Even Broadway picked up the environmental theme when the smash-hit musical Hair lampooned air pollution with a hilarious song called "The Air," which ended in a choking chorus of coughs. Readers were sampling a range of provocative books on the environment: The Whole Earth Catalogue, John Sax's The Environmental Bill of Rights, Paul Ehrlich's The Population Bomb, and Charles Reich's The Greening of America. Students tuned into the counterculture were picking up environmental messages from rock lyrics. Media coverage of the massive youth rallies of 1969 - as well as the ghetto riots of 1965 to 1968 - helped to impress on the American public that the United States had become an urban country with complex problems compounded by huge numbers of people. Early in the 1960s, most rhetoric about the state of America's air, water, and other resources had revolved around the word "conservation," with heavy emphasis on the preservation of parks and recreational areas. The word "environment" came into widespread use only at the end of the decade. By then, committed activists understood that urban environments would be the battlefield for years to come, but they wanted the American public and American political leaders to understand that as well. One prominent politician, Gaylord Nelson, then Senator from Wisconsin, had been frustrated throughout the 1960s by the fact that only a "handful" of his Congressional colleagues had any interest in environmental issues. On the other hand, during his travels across the United States, he had been greatly impressed by the dedication and the expertise of the many student and citizen volunteers who were trying to solve pollution problems in their communities. It was on one such trip, in August 1969, that Nelson came up with a strategy for bridging the gap separating grassroots activists from Congress and the general public. While en route to an environmental speech in Berkeley, California, the Senator was leafing through a copy of Ramparts magazine, when an article about anti-war teach-ins caught his eye. It occurred to him that the teach-in concept might work equally well in raising public awareness of environmental issues. In September, in a ground-breaking speech in Seattle, Senator Nelson announced the concept of the teach-in and received coverage in Time and Newsweek and on the front page of the New York Times. Several weeks later, at his office on Capitol Hill, he incorporated a non-profit, non-partisan organization called Environmental Teach-In, Inc. He announced that it was to be headed by a steering committee consisting of himself, Pete McCloskey, a Congressman from California, and Sidney Howe, then the President of The Conservation Foundation. The main purpose of the new organization, he declared, was to lay the groundwork for a major nationwide series of teach-ins on the environment early in 1970. The purpose of the teach-ins was, in Nelson's words, to "force the issue [of the environment] into the political dialogue of the country." Very quickly, Environmental Teach-In received pledges from the Senator himself ($15,000), from the United Auto Workers and the AFL-CIO ($2,000 each), as well as from The Conservation Foundation ($25,000) and other organizations. Early in December, Senator Nelson selected a 25-year old named Denis Hayes, the dynamic former President of the Stanford student body, as national coordinator. Hayes, postponing plans to enter Harvard Law School, immediately set to work making plans for the inaugural Earth Day. Hampered from the start by an extremely limited budget (approximately $190,000), he rented an office in Washington and gathered around him an enthusiastic cadre of volunteers, most of them students. The most promising and the most dedicated of these were named coordinators for various regions of the country. Working in an atmosphere Midwest Coordinator Barbara Reid Alexander recalls as "mass confusion," they were inundated each day by torrents of phone calls and overflowing mailbags. Senator Nelson's Senate staff lent its full support and guidance to the work of Hayes and his assistants, only a few of whom were salaried and those only at meager levels. Nelson and Hayes had already agreed that the teach-ins should, wherever possible, be located not on college campuses, but in public spaces within the community, and furthermore, that active participation should be sought from labor unions, the League of Women Voters, and other organizations. The latter goal was realized, but not the former, at least not to the extent originally intended. One masterstroke was the purchase of a full-page ad that appeared in the New York Times early in February 1970. The advertisement announced that on April 22, 1970, at locations throughout the United States, citizens would demonstrate for a cleaner environment. Immediately contribution started to roll in, and better yet, the curiosity of network broadcasting giants was piqued. April 22, 1970, a Wednesday, was a glorious spring day in most parts of the country. Newspapers such as the New York Times and the Washington Post had given front-page coverage the day before to the roster of scheduled events, and the television networks also had provided enough coverage to give the impending day something of the aura of a national holiday. Perhaps the most impressive observance was in New York City, whose mayor, John V. Lindsay, had thrown the full weight of his influence behind Earth Day. For two hours, Fifth Avenue was closed to traffic between 14th Street and 59th Street, bringing midtown Manhattan to a virtual standstill. One innovative group of demonstrators grabbed attention by dragging a net filled with dead fish down the thoroughfare, shouting to passersby, "This could be you!" Later in the day, a rally filled Union Square to overflowing as Mayor Lindsay, assisted by celebrities Paul Newman and Ali McGraw, spoke from a raised platform looking out over a sea of smiling faces. In New York, as elsewhere, self-policing demonstrators left surprising little litter in their wake. In Washington, the focus of events was the Washington Monument and its adjacent Sylvan Theatre, where thousands of Earth Day demonstrators congregated to hear speeches as well as songs by Pete Seeger and other performers. One of the most noteworthy statements, by Denis Hayes, made it clear that Earth Day was a beginning, not an end in itself: "If the environment is a fad, it's going to be our last fad...We are building a movement, a movement with a broad base, a movement which transcends traditional political boundaries. It is a movement that values people more than technology, people more than political boundaries, people more than profit." There was no point in marching to Capitol Hill, for Congress at the behest of Gaylord Nelson and others had recessed so that members could return to their constituencies and address Earth Day rallies. Interestingly, many of these politicians had to borrow prepared texts from Nelson and Environmental Teach-In, Inc. Philadelphia, Chicago, Los Angeles, and most other major American cities were also scenes of Earth Day rallies; in fact, 80 percent of all observances were urban affairs. To countless participants, Earth Day was a turning point in their lives, which they remember to this day with awe and reverence. "It was something magical and catalytical," remarked Denis Hayes, "touching a huge cross-section of Americans." Byron Kennard, then a grassroots coordinator with The Conservation Foundation, was also impressed by "one of the largest peaceful demonstrations in human history, [an event] sacred in my memory." "A charmed event," "a joyous occasion," "a public-relations masterpiece," "foundation of a national environmental consciousness" were words of praise conjured by other participants. Earth Day was also the foundation of many environmental careers. Denis Hayes and Ed Furia, who are heading the 20th anniversary celebration of Earth Day, are typical of many individuals who built environmental careers on the momentum generated that day. One former participant, Tom Jorling, is today Commissioner of New York's Department of Environmental Conservation; another, John Turner, is Director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The list goes on. Public opinion polls indicate that a permanent change in national priorities followed Earth Day 1970. When polled in May 1971, 25 percent of the U.S. public declared protecting the environment to be an important goal a 2500 percent increase over 1969. That percentage has continued to grow, albeit more slowly, so it is fair to say that the ideals espoused on April 22, 1970, however naive and simplistic they were in many ways, have left an enduring legacy. They are, in the words of Barry Commoner, "permanently imbedded in our culture." Sam Love, who was Southern Coordinator for Environmental Teach-In, fully agrees: "What has surprised me, is the staying power of the environmental movement. A lot of people were saying this was a flash in the pan. History has proven them wrong." With the founding of EPA in December 1970, the history of the environmental movement entered a new phase. The Agency was fused together from 44 organizations scattered in nine departments, and it gave a much stronger profile to the federal effort to curb environmental decay across the nation. Also during the 1970s, in keeping with the stepped-up pace of environmental reform, conservation organizations began to take more active stances on urban environmental issues. These private lobbying groups soon found that they needed lawyers, scientists, and economists to make their voices heard. The whole tenor of environmental activism increasingly took on an aura of "professionalism" that was a far cry from the bold sometimes simplistic generalities debated on Earth Day 1970. Yet today - despite the rise of specialists and experts - grassroots emotions still boil over in the face of clearcut local issues, such as defective landfills or hazardous medical waste, which can quickly galvanize a community of homeowners. The signs are promising that Earth Day 1990 will suffer from no dearth of volunteers or money. Its budget of $3 million is 15 times greater than the budget of the 1970 event, and its scope will be worldwide, rather than strictly confined to the United States and Canada. In fact, there is every reason to expect that Earth Day 1990 will be an appropriate legacy of that April day 20 years ago when, even if only for 24 hours, people really did seem to matter more than profit and more than technology.

Ten years ago this month, the environmental issue came of age in American political life. When April 22, 1970, dawned, literally millions of Americans of all ages and from all walks of life participated in Earth Day celebrations from coast to coast. It was on that day that Americans made it clear that they understood and were deeply concerned over the deterioration of our environment and the mindless dissipation of our resources. That day left a permanent impact on the politics of America. It forcibly thrust the issue of environmental quality and resources conservation into the political dialogue of the Nation. That was the important objective and achievement of Earth Day. It showed the political and opinion leadership of the country that the people cared, that they were ready for political action, that the politicians had better get ready, too. In short, Earth Day launched the Environmental decade with a bang. Now, ten years later, it has become popular in some circles to write the obituary of the environmental movement, to refer to the passing of the "golden era" for environmentalism. It is asserted that public interest has waned, that new worries have captured attention, that inflation, the energy crisis, and international conflict have superseded if not wiped out public concern over environmentalism. Those who write that view are uninformed and far removed from the environmental scene or the politics surrounding it. In fact, the politics of environmentalism are so pervasive, from the grass roots to the national capital, that it is hard to believe even the most casual observer could miss it. To anyone who has paid attention, it is clear that the environmental movement now is far stronger, far better led, far better informed, and far more influential than it was ten years ago. Its strength grows each year because public knowledge and understanding grow each year.

How Did Earth Day 1970 Change the Nation? My primary objective in planning Earth Day was to show the political leadership of the Nation that there was broad and deep support for the environmental movement. While I was confident that a nationwide peaceful demonstration of concern would be impressive, I was not quite prepared for the overwhelming response that occurred on that day. Two thousand colleges and universities, ten thousand high schools and grade schools, and several thousand communities in all, more than twenty million Americans participated in one of the most exciting and significant grassroots efforts in the history of this country. Earth Day 1970 made it clear that we could summon the public support, the energy, and commitment to save our environment. And while the struggle is far from over, we have made substantial progress. In the ten years since 1970 much of the basic legislation needed to protect the environment has been enacted into law: the Clean Air Act, the Water Quality Improvement Act, the Water Pollution and Control Act Amendments, the Resource Recovery Act, the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act, the Toxic Substances Control Act, the Occupational Safety and Health Act, the Federal Environmental Pesticide Control Act, the Endangered Species Act, the Safe Drinking Water Act, the Federal Land Policy and Management Act, and the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act. And, the most important piece of environmental legislation in our history, the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) was signed into law on January 1, 1970. NEPA came about in response to the same public pressure which later produced Earth Day. As the Council on Environmental quality's retrospective introduction to their tenth annual report states:

In some ways, NEPA may turn out to be the most influential of our environmental laws for it not only sets forth our basic national goals for environmental protection, but it also tells us that essential to achieving them is foresight.

The Environmental Revolution has altered our physical surroundings. Beyond that, it has worked remarkable changes in government, law, politics and economics. It has reshaped many people's philosophy of life and scale of values. In very practical terms, the Environmental Revolution is lengthening lives and lessening human misery by reducing the poisons in our air, water, and soil. Perhaps most importantly of all in a way not too many people have noted, the Environmental Revolution has revitalized the democratic process.

When President Nixon and his staff walked into the White House on January 20, 1969, we were totally unprepared for the tidal wave of public opinion in favor of cleaning the nation's environment that was about to engulf us. If Hubert Humphrey had become President, the result would have been the same.

During the 1968 presidential campaign, neither the Nixon nor Humphrey campaign gave more than lip service to environmental issues. Rather, their thoughts focused on such issues as Vietnam, prosperity, the rising crime rate, and inflation. Nixon made one radio speech on natural resources and the quality of the environment, which seemed adequate to cover an issue that stirred little interest among the electorate.

In the Humphrey camp, things were just as quiet. He dedicated a park in San Antonio, Texas, and the John Day Dam in Oregon, using both occasions to discuss the environment and conservation. Otherwise, Humphrey said nothing on the issue.

If the candidates showed little interest in the issue, so did the national press corps. In fact, Nixon staff members do not recall even one question put to him about the environment.

Yet only 17 months after the election, on April 22, 1970, the country celebrated Earth Day, with a national outpouring of concern for cleaning up the environment. Politicians of both parties jumped on the issue. So many politicians were on the stump on Earth Day that Congress was forced to close down. The oratory, one of the wire services observed, was "as thick as smog at rush hour."

A comparison of white House polls (done by Opinion Research of Princeton, New Jersey) taken in May 1969, and just two years later in May 1971, showed that concern for the environment had leaped to the forefront of our national psyche. In May 1971, fully a quarter of the public thought that protecting the environment was important, yet only 1 percent had thought so just two years earlier. In the Gallup polls, public concern over air and water pollution jumped from tenth place in the summer of 1969 to fifth place in the summer of 1970, and was perceived as more important than "race," "crime," and "teenage" problems, but not as important as the perennial poll leaders, "peace" and the "pocketbook" issues.

In the White House, we pondered this sudden surge of public concern about cleaning up America and providing more open spaces for parks, and a heightened awareness of the necessity to dedicate more land for wildlife habitat. Why, we asked, after it was so long delayed, was the environmentalist awakening so much more advanced in the United States than in other countries? What motivated millions to so much activity so long after publication of Rachel Carson's Silent Spring in 1962? Many factors seem to have been involved.

First, the environmental movement probably bloomed at the time it did mainly because of affluence. Americans have long been relatively much better off than people of other nations, but nothing in all history compares even remotely to the prosperity we have enjoyed since the end of World War II, and which became visibly evident by the mid-fifties. An affluent economy yields things like the 40-hour week, three-day weekends, the two-week paid vacation, plus every kind of labor-saving gadget imaginable to shorten the hours that used to be devoted to household chores. The combination of spare money and spare time created an ambiance for the growth of causes that absorb both money and time.

Another product of affluence has been the emergence of an "activist" upper middle class -- college-educated, affluent, concerned, and youthful for its financial circumstances. The nation has never had anything like this "mass elite" before. Sophisticated, resourceful, politically potent, and dedicated to change, to "involvement," it formed the backbone of the environmentalist movement in the United States.

First, the environmental movement probably bloomed at the time it did mainly because of affluence. Americans have long been relatively much better off than people of other nations, but nothing in all history compares even remotely to the prosperity we have enjoyed since the end of World War II, and which became visibly evident by the mid-fifties. An affluent economy yields things like the 40-hour week, three-day weekends, the two-week paid vacation, plus every kind of labor-saving gadget imaginable to shorten the hours that used to be devoted to household chores. The combination of spare money and spare time created an ambiance for the growth of causes that absorb both money and time.

Another product of affluence has been the emergence of an "activist" upper middle class -- college-educated, affluent, concerned, and youthful for its financial circumstances. The nation has never had anything like this "mass elite" before. Sophisticated, resourceful, politically potent, and dedicated to change, to "involvement," it formed the backbone of the environmentalist movement in the United States.

Other factors included the rise of television and the opportunities it provides for advocacy journalism.

Also, science contributed another dimension to the national agitation. To the obvious signs of pollution that people could see, feel, and smell, science added a panoply of invisible threats: radiation, heavy metal poisons, chlorinated hydrocarbons in the water, acidic radicals in the atmosphere, all potentially more insidious, more pervasive, and more dangerous than the familiar nuisances. This could happen only in a country able to support a large, advanced scientific community with an immense laboratory infrastructure, marvelously sensitive instruments, intensive funding, computers, data banks, and vast interchanges of information able to isolate and trace the progress through the ecosystem of elements and compounds at concentrations measured in parts per billion, and to establish their effects upon living organisms in the biosphere.

The press served the pollinating function of a honey bee, transporting the latest scientific findings to the public, which reacted with fear and misgivings. These in turn were relayed by the press back to the scientific community, which was stimulated by public concern to intensify its investigations, leading to more discoveries of new perils, and so on. This in itself provided a climate in which support for environmentally related causes could be elicited .

The feverish pitch of Earth Day 1970 passed, but the environmental movement did not go away. Instead, the drive for a cleaner environment became part of our national ethic. Now it is taken for granted, the best possible testimonial that progress is being made. Our nation's thinking has changed. Endorsing growth without regard to the quality of that growth seems forever behind us. The failure of the economy to take into full account the social costs of environmental pollution is being rectified. Not only are environmental considerations now factored into federal government decision-making but over and over again Americans pay for low-polluting or pollution-free products like low-sulfur heating oil, unleaded gasoline, and coal from fully reclaimed strip mines, for automobile emission controls, for electricity from cleaner fuels, and for more parklands and wildlife refuges. More fundamentally, we are beginning to understand that the environment is an independent whole of which man is only part.

But in the early 1970s it was clear that the executive branch could not respond to public demand to clean up the environment without first creating an organization to do the job. Better coordination of federal environmental programs was needed. There were 44 agencies in nine separate departments with responsibilities in the field of what was then loosely described as "the environment and natural resources." No department had enough expertise to take charge.

At cabinet meetings, HEW Secretary Bob Finch, responsible for air pollution controls, and Transportation Secretary John Volpe, argued over which department should take the lead in developing a research program for unconventional low-polluting automobiles. On pesticides, Walter Hickel at Interior and Finch argued for tighter pesticide controls, while Agriculture Secretary Clifford Hardin emphasized the increased crop productivity resulting from the application of pesticides. And Secretary of State Bill Rogers weighed in expressing concern on whether a ban on DDT in this country might restrict the supply of DDT to the developing countries. Hickel, who at the time handled water pollution control over at Interior, wanted more money for sewage treatment control; Bob Mayo, director of the Bureau of Budget would have none of it. Maurice Stans at Commerce was wary of tighter pollution controls and what effect this might have on corporate profits. Paul McCracken, Chairman of the President's Council of Economic Advisors worried that we would be uncompetitive in international markets if our product prices reflected the costs of pollution abatement standards that were more stringent than those of other countries. There was hardly a Cabinet officer who did not have a stake in the environment issue. Even the Postmaster General joined the debate, offering to use postal cars to test an experimental fleet of low-pollution cars.

The cabinet meeting left President Nixon dissatisfied. There was no overall strategy, too many unanswered questions.. Should enforcement be done by regulation, or by user fees, or a combination of both? What were the overall costs to industry and the consumer in terms of both the increased price products for various pollution abatement schedules under varying standards and regulations? Finally, what would the various clean-up scenarios do to the federal budget? Nixon clearly needed a "pollution czar" and one agency to look for the answers.

First, Nixon discarded the option of a Department of Environment and Natural Resources as well as several other reorganization plans. In July 1970 he submitted to Congress the Environmental Protection Agency plan; the new agency came into being on December 2, 1970. Meanwhile, I had interviewed a number of candidates to run the new agency and recommended Bill Ruckelshaus to the President. I've missed the mark on lots of things in my life, but Ruckelshaus was a "bull's eye."

Now, years later, the accomplishments of the Nixon years are plain to see. New clean air, water, solid waste, and pesticide laws, coastal zone management planning seed money, new national parks, including the great urban parks in New York City and San Francisco harbors. In addition, Nixon ordered federal agencies to shed spare federal acreage that would be converted into parks and recreation areas, especially in urban areas. More than 82,000 acres in all 50 states were converted into 642 parks, the majority of them in or very close to cities, really bringing parks to the people.

More money was dedicated to buying wildlife habitat; congress passed Nixon's controversial proposal to protect endangered species. Nixon's executive orders restricted ocean dumping and tightened environmental standards for off-shore oil drilling. To quell the insatiable development instincts of the Army Corps of Engineers he cancelled construction of the Cross-Florida Barge Canal.

What Nixon -- and subsequent presidents -- couldn't accomplish is to address in a rational way the cost of pollution abatement control: how fast should the national clean up and at what cost? In the early 1970s, our polls clearly showed the public demanded a cleaner environment, but data on the public's willingness to pay was ambivalent. Our initial Opinion Research polls showed that about three-fourths of the public supported more government spending for air and water pollution abatement programs, that support existed in all population groups, and that it was particularly high among the young. But this did not mean that taxpayers had committed themselves to spending their own money to improve the quality of the environment. Spending for government programs never seems to equate in the public's mind with spending their own money. Opinion Research reported that in May 1971, three-fourths of the public would pay small price increases for pollution control, but six out of 10 opposed large increases for that purpose.

A Harris poll in October 1971 indicated that 78 percent of the public would be willing to pay (how much was not specified) to have air and water pollution cleaned up, and 48 percent would accept a 10-percent reduction in jobs for a cleaner environment. Poll editor Hazel Erskine indicated that individuals were not "personally anxious" to foot the bill for correcting pollution damage, although willingness to pay for pollution control was growing.

Congress received even stronger messages. Twenty-two congressmen, in a survey of 300,000 Americans in varying kinds of congressional districts, asked constituents if they were willing to pay more for pollution control. Respondents in all but three districts answered affirmatively. Representative Gerald Ford asked his Michigan constituents, "Should the federal government expand efforts to control air and water pollution even if it costs you more in taxes and prices?" The answer: 68.3 percent yes, 27.5 percent no. Subsequently, Ford voted to overrride President Nixon's veto of the Federal Water Pollution Control Act Amendments of 1972. (Nixon vetoed it largely because of the very heavy federal expenditures, particularly for sewage treatment plants.) Not surprisingly, because the perspective almost always changes inside the oval office, President Ford later tried unsuccessfully to hold own sewage treatment expenditures, as he every president since then.

Nixon knew he would pay a political price by not proposing the "toughest" and costliest pollution control standards, but after looking at the federal budget and the macro-economic impact, he chose a more moderate course. As it turned out, Congress, fanned by the political hurricane of the environmental movement, enacted deadlines that could never be met, like the 1977 deadline for secondary treatment of municipal waste, and an $18 billion appropriation over the three-year life of the law, which couldn't even be dispensed under the law's cumbersome grant system. Similarly, Congress legislated technology that didn't exist by setting emission standards for automobiles that couldn't be met and later had to be postponed. The missed 1987 year-end ozone deadlines is another glaring example of Congress' tendency to legislate non-existent technology.

Early in the process we recognized that Congress and the executive branch mistrusted each other's cost impact figures for various pollution reduction strategies. Even in executive branch meetings, the EPA staff repeatedly seemed to minimize pollution costs, while other agencies weighed in with high costs to meet the identical pollution standard. Often, we halved the difference, relaxing the standard more than EPA wanted, but keeping it much tighter than Commerce, for example, found acceptable.

We might have missed a chance in those early days to help resolve the debate. Russ Train, chairman of the Council on Environmental Quality, and I proposed setting up a national body with think tank funds plus matching federal funds to study cost-benefit analysis for pollution controls. We hoped that if a body removed from Congress and the executive branch did the number crunching, then perhaps the results would be more acceptable to all parties inside the beltway. The idea never reached the President, largely because Chuck Colson opposed our candidate to head this study group, and Colson beat me out in the White House staff warfare that goes on in any Administration.

Today Americans spend $77 billion annually for environmental improvements and that cost could easily reach $100 billion by the end of the century. Rather than ask where the next billion dollars can be spent, we must pause and again ask how clean and how fast? Today we have infinitely more scientific capability and sophisticated cost-benefit analysis to steer a course toward a cleaner environment. The question is, will our elected officials and executive branch regulators be willing to lean into the political winds, as we did, and act on the basis of objective information?

Whitaker was President Nixon's Cabinet
Secretary (1969); associate director of the White House Domestic C