SCIENTIFIC EXPERTISE , UNCERTAINTIES

AND POLITICS

THE PROTRACTED SOCIAL AND POLITICAL CONFLICTS OVER

HAZARDOUS INDUSTRIAL WASTE IN

Helena Mateus Jerónimo

Selwyn College

Dissertation submitted to the Faculty of Social and Political Sciences, University of Cambridge, in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract………………………………………………………………….……………… iv Acknowledgements…………………………………..……………………………….. v Acronyms and abbreviations.………………………………………………………… vi

INTRODUCTION ………………………………………………………………………….. 1 Structure of the dissertation………………………………………………………….. 5

1. WASTE , EXPERTISE AND THE CONCEPTUALISATION OF RISK AND UNCERTAINTY Introduction……………………………………………………………………………. 8 1. Waste as a political and social problem...………………………………...... 10 The Industrial Revolution and the formation of waste as a “problem”………. 10 The revolution in collective sensitivity and consumerism…………………….. 14 2. Waste as a “risk” issue……………………………………………………………. 19 The generalization of the risk language in contemporary society…………… 19 Rendering the notion of risk more complex……………………………………. 26 3. Waste and the need of specialised scientific knowledge…...………………… 32 The role of expertise between knowledge and decision………...……………. 32 The experts faced with limitations, uncertainties and citizens……………….. 36 Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………….. 40

2. HAZARDOUS WASTE IN PORTUGAL : A CASE STUDY

1. Aims and main working hypothesis…...………………..……………………….. 42 2. Methodological orientations.…..…………………………….…………………… 44

3. THE HAZARDOUS WASTES INVOLVED Introduction……………………………………………………………………………. 54 1. The problem of hazardous waste and the European policy response………. 55 2. Environment and waste in Portugal…...………………………………………… 60 The importance of the “push” from outside……………………………………… 60 Waste policy……………………………………………………………………….. 65 3. Controversial solutions, hazardous decisions………………………………….. 67 The failure of the dedicated waste incinerator option.………...……………… 67 The co-incineration option….…………………………………...……………….. 69 The irrelevance of the public enquiry procedures………………………………… 72

i 4. Waste not : the irruption of the popular protest.………...…………..………….. 74 Perceived health, safety and environmental risks……………………...……... 77 Lack of trust in the government, politicians and the cement plants……...….. 80 Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………….. 82

4. THE POLITICAL CRISIS AND EXPERTISE EX MACHINA Introduction……………………………………………………………………………. 84 1. Politicization of the conflict………………………….……………………………. 85 The nullity of the public hearings……….………...…………………………….. 88 Unawareness of waste quantities …….……………...………………………… 89 Financial and electoral interests………………………...………………………. 91 2. The government’s reaction: environmental improvement and the scientific 93 committee……………………………………………………………………………... Organization, membership and operation of the commission……...………... 98 3. The “confiscation” of a monolithic expertise………………………………….… 101 An interdisciplinary committee, ma non troppo …………………………...…… 106 Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………….. 112

5. ASSESSING THE SCIENTIFIC ASSESSMENT : RISK , UNCERTAINTIES AND CONTROVERSY Introduction……………………………………………………………………………. 114 1. The Committee’s report: the technical response to the problem………...…... 115 Expert advice as the imperative for government action………………………. 121 Risk assessment and acceptable risk: safety, certainty and control………... 126 2. The arguments between experts and scientists………...……………………... 132 The numbers controversy: risks and “technical errors”………………………. 135 Controversy beyond numbers: uncertainties and fallibility…………………… 138 The controversy over development values and models……………………… 142 Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………….. 147

6. HEALTH RISK , POLLUTION TRAUMA AND PUBLIC POLICY DECISIONS Introduction……………………………………………………………………………. 150 1. The controversy redefined in terms of public health: the opinion of the medical committee…….……………………………………………………………... 152 2. Epidemiological study and co-incineration tests: between the search for control and the inadequacies of science…………………………………………... 156

ii A “contaminated community” threatened by dioxins………………………….. 162 3. “Civic virtues” and political decision……………………………………………... 166 4. Politics and science in risk scenarios…...………………………………………. 173 5. “Administrative despotism” and the state of “mindless anomie” in Portugal…. 178 Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………….. 183

CONCLUSION 1. The impasse in the treatment of HIW in Portugal……………………………… 187 2. The research in summary and conclusions…………………………………….. 188

BIBLIOGRAPHY ……………………………………………………………………….... 198

ANNEX ………………………………………………………………………………….. 218

iii ABSTRACT

Over the last few decades, the interplay between scientific expertise and political decision-making in contexts of risk and uncertainty has been a key theme of social theory and the analysis of contemporary societies. The management of hazardous industrial waste is a good illustration of this issue. The aim of the research is to study the conflict over the choice of a method for treating such waste in Portugal. This particular case turned out to be one of the most significant, most debated, most participated and most long drawn out political and environmental conflicts of the last two decades. The most critical phase of this conflict so far occurred between 1997 and 2002, when the government decided to implement co-incineration (a method of burning waste in cement plants), without seeking scientific advice beforehand and without having engaged in a considered dialogue with potentially affected local residents. The result was strong protests from residents, scientists and civic and environmental associations. It was only as a result of this response that it resorted to scientific expertise, with two committees being established (one biochemical and the other medical) with the task of assessing the method’s risks to public health and to the environment. These scientific committees concluded that there were no significant risks, but their favourable attitude to co- incineration and the explanations they gave were not enough to meet the crisis of legitimacy which arose in the wake of the challenge to the government. In actual fact they aggravated the crisis, and protests continued until the process was suspended. Both the government and subsequently the scientific experts acted on the assumption that scientific rationality, the probabilistic calculation of environmental and health risks, and technical solutions would be enough to solve the problem of hazardous waste. Even though the problem is of an extensive, lasting and global nature, involving uncertainties and non-reversible choices, government and experts failed to consider alternative models of economic development, ignored the possibility of using technology differently, did not assess alternative modes of resource utilization and disregarded the values, experiences and participation of citizens. This case study offers an instructive example of how a decision on a matter of this nature, which is widely perceived as bearing on the common good, within a framework of a democratic and plural politeia , in order to have a realistic chance to be accepted as legitimate in such a polity may have both to draw on scientific knowledge which will demonstrate, within its field, what the alternatives are, and observe procedures which ensure full accountability and transparency, while remaining open to the mechanisms of democratic participation.

iv ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This dissertation would not have been possible without the assistance of a number of friends, colleagues and institutions. I have benefited enormously over the years from their suggestions and financial support and owe to all a very deep debt of gratitude. I am very grateful to my supervisor, Dr Patrick Baert, who has been a source of advice and constructive criticisms, and to John D. Thompson and Brendan Burchell, who offered invaluable comments on my 2nd year assessment. I am also deeply indebted to Professores Hermínio Martins, Manuel Villaverde Cabral and José Luís Garcia, whose suggestions, valuable guidance and incisive critique have been gratefully received. A special thanks to Richard Wall. I also owe a very special debt of thanks to all of those people who agreed to be interviewed for this study. In Cambridge, I have benefited from an interdisciplinary group in CRASSH, a space of vivid discussion and debate on science and society; in , I have benefited from the conversations with my faculty colleagues at ISEG. That said, the usual disclaimers apply: any weaknesses, inaccuracies and misconceptions of the argument remain mine alone. This thesis was made possible by the generous financial support of two institutions: the Fundação para a Ciência e a Tecnologia (FCT), from which I received a four-year scholarship and which paid College and University fees; and the Instituto Superior de Economia e Gestão da Universidade Técnica de Lisboa (ISEG). On a more personal note I would like to thank Jing Wang, David Finnegan, Philippe Raymond, Margarida Abreu, Marco Chaves, João Cunha and Miguel Goulão. Finally, but not least, I am indebted to my family, especially my mother, Lourdes Jerónimo, for offering unconditional love and encouragement which sustained me throughout, as has my sister, Soraia. This thesis is dedicated to my grandmother Rosa Cabrita Jerónimo.

v ACRONYMS AND ABBREVIATIONS

A Cegonha The Stork – Estarreja Association for the Defence of the Environment ADAS Associação de Defesa do Ambiente de [Souselas Association for the Defence of the Environment] AR Assembleia da República [Parliament] ARSC Administração Regional de Saúde do Centro [ Centre Region Health Service] BATNEEC Best Available Technology Not Entailing Excessive Cost (or BAT) BE Bloco de Esquerda [Left-Wing Bloc] CDS/PP Centro Democrático Social/Partido Popular [Social Democratic Center/Popular Party] CEC Commission of the European Communities CLCCI Comissão de Luta Contra a Co-Incineração [Committee for the Fight Against Co-Incineration] CIRVER Centros Integrados de Recuperação, Valorização e Eliminação de Resíduos Perigosos [Integrated Centres for Recovery, Improvement and Elimination of Hazardous Waste] CNADS Conselho Nacional do Ambiente e do Desenvolvimento Sustentável [National Council on the Environment and Sustainable Development] CNCT Coordenadora Nacional Contra os Tóxicos [National Coordinating Committee Against Toxic Products] CRUP Conselho de Reitores das Universidades Portuguesas [Council of University Vice-Chancellors] EEC European Economic Community EFTA European Free Trade Association EIC Environmental Impact Committee EIS Environmental Impact Study EPA Environmental Protection Agency (USA) EU European Union EWC European Waste Catalogue EWL European Waste List GCA Grupo de Cidadãos pela Arrábida [Citizens’ Group for Arrábida] GDP Gross Domestic Product GEOTA Grupo de Estudos de Ordenamento do Território e Ambiente [Group of

vi Land Use and Environmental Studies] GISAS Grupo de Informação e Sensibilização Ambiental de Setúbal [The Setúbal Environmental Information and Awareness Group] GLOBE Global Legislators Organisation for a Balanced Environment HIW Hazardous Industrial Waste IA Instituto do Ambiente [Environment Institute] INE Instituto Nacional de Estatística [National Institute of Statistics] INR Instituto de Resíduos [Waste Institute] IPAMB Instituto de Promoção Ambiental [Environmental Promotion Institute] ISC Independent Scientific Committee LASA Liga dos Amigos de Setúbal e Azeitão [The friends of Setúbal and Azeitão] LCA Life Cycle Analysis LMC Local Monitoring Committee MARN Ministério do Ambiente e dos Recursos Naturais [Ministry of the Environment and Natural Resources] MAOT Ministério do Ambiente e do Ordenamento do Território [Ministry of the Environment and Land Planning] MCOTA Ministério das Cidades, Ordenamento do Território e Ambiente [Ministry of the Cities, Land Planning and Environment] MAOTDR Ministério do Ambiente, do Ordenamento do Território e Desenvolvimento Regional [Ministry of the Environment, Land Planning and Regional Development] MMS Movimento Maceira Saudável [The Movement for a Healthy Maceira] MSW Municipal Solid Waste MWG Medical Working Group NGO Non-Governmental Organisation NIMBY Not In My Back Yard OECD Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development PCP Partido Comunista Português [Portuguese Communist Party] PESGRI Plano Estratégico de Gestão dos Resíduos Industriais [Strategic Plan for Managing Industrial Waste] PEV Partido Ecologista “Os Verdes” [Green Party] PNAPRI Plano Nacional de Prevenção dos Resíduos Industriais [National Industrial Waste Prevention Plan] ProUrbe Civic Association PS Partido Socialista [Socialist Party]

vii PSD Partido Social Democrata [Social Democratic Party] PTU Pre-Treatment Unit Quercus Associação Nacional de Conservação da Natureza [National Association for Nature Conservation] 3R’s Reduction, Re-use and Recycling SIGRI Sistema Integrado de Gestão de Resíduos Industriais [Integrated Industrial Waste System] UN United Nations UNEP United Nations Environmental Programme T&D Treatment and Disposal WHO World Health Organisation

viii

As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport.

Shakespeare, King Lear

ix INTRODUCTION

Between those who make knowledge their vocation , like the scientist, and those who make decision-making their vocation , like the politician, to use Max Weber’s ideal- type concepts, lies the expert, a specialist in any given field whose knowledge is valuable to decision-makers. While the expert’s position in modern society is not new or exclusive – there are numerous references to the role of the savants as counsellor to political elites in classical antiquity –, the role of the expert has been redrawn today in the light of the new challenges and dilemmas facing industry, technology and the environment. This new range of issues, which also implies new areas of regulation, has certain features which make both the job of the expert and political decision-making difficult. In addition to the unprecedented nature of many of the issues, which therefore go beyond the repertoire of existing knowledge, there is the more or less extreme difficulty of identifying their causes and determining the likelihood of synergistic and undesirable effects. The technical and scientific complexity of the issues leads political and administrative authorities to resort to scientific expertise, encouraged by the idea that the value and social status of science will provide solid grounds and legitimacy for decisions they take. However, this intention – encapsulated in the well-known expression “speaking truth to power” (Price, 1965) – is being called into question today, amongst other reasons because the answers the experts can give are often not those to which governments and citizens aspire, given the uncertainties and the lack of knowledge surrounding many of the applications of technology and environmental phenomena. One of the problem issues which has been subjected to the political planning process and the attention of experts is waste, and the ways it is treated and disposed of. This is because the excessive production of wastes is an inefficient use of resources, and a great deal of unnecessary material is used which needs to be managed and treated. Despite the efforts of national and international bodies (e.g., EU, EPA, OECD, UNEP) and social and ecological movements (e.g. Greenpeace), there is no let-up in the production of wastes, and all forecasts point to this trend continuing. Never before have humans produced and thrown away as much as they do today. In following a model of development and society which encourages limitless consumption and rapid obsolescence, we are living in a world in which artefacts are produced, consumed, and discarded to an historically unprecedented extent. In Portugal, political concern with the topic of waste is of relatively recent origin. It dates back only to 1985, the year Portugal was preparing to join the then Economic European Community and was required to adopt a significant number of Community regulations relating to the environment. Until then, waste was disposed of illegally in open-

1 air waste dumps, or was discharged into rivers and streams. From 1985 onwards, there have been several attempts to deal with the chaotic waste management situation, especially in relation to hazardous industrial waste (HIW) because of its potentially negative effects on health and the environment. Left and right-wing parties came and went in government, each adopting a different type of solution to managing waste of this type. 1 First there was a right-wing government, which in 1990 decided to build facilities from scratch for the sole purpose of burning hazardous waste (i.e. incineration-only plants); in 1997, a left-wing government decided to “take advantage of” the ovens in cement factories to carry out that same burning operation (co-incineration); and more recently, in 2003, a right-wing coalition government decided to build integrated facilities for various types of recovery, improvement and treatment of waste (the so-called CIRVER – the Portuguese acronym which stands for Integrated Centres for Recovery, Improvement and Elimination of Hazardous Waste). 2 None of these methods was implemented. That which had initially seemed an easily resolved issue turned out to be one of the most significant, most debated and most long drawn out political and environmental conflicts of the last two decades. Its outcome is still unknown. The conflict re-emerges periodically, involving scientists, government, political parties, residents and local government, civic organizations, broad sectors of public opinion and environmental associations. This research will focus on the period when attempts were made to implement the so-called co-incineration solution. This technology, which has already been widely tried out in several European countries and in the USA, was formally instigated in 1997 by the left-wing government at the time. It remained the solution to treat hazardous

1 Debate on the management of hazardous industrial waste took place mostly against a backdrop of a difficult political situation, with the debate itself often increasing the political turmoil. Legislatures in Portugal are elected for four years, but between 1995 and 2005 there were five different governments, of which only one stayed in office for the full period of the legislature (1995- 99). The others (1999-2002; 2002-04; 2004-05) saw their Prime Ministers resign or were dismissed when the President of the Republic dissolved the National Assembly. 2 Two parties have governed the country since the end of the process of democratic transition in 1976: the Social Democratic Party ( Partido Social Democrata - PSD), the majority right-wing party, and the Socialist Party ( Partido Socialista - PS), the majority left-wing party. The PSD is a party of a liberal bent, but belongs to the European Popular Party. The PS is a party in the European social- democratic tradition and a member of the European Socialist Group. Two other organizations have also been represented in Parliament: the Portuguese Communist Party ( Partido Comunista Português - PCP) is one of the strongest communist parties in Europe, following an orthodox Stalinist line and the Social Democratic Center/Popular Party (Centro Democrático Social/ Partido Popular - CDS/PP), a right-wing conservative party. A small group called Partido Ecológico Os Verdes (The Greens) was established under the influence of the PCP. It has managed to win some seats in the parliament, mainly because its members are associated with the PCP and not on account of its purported independence. Although this group is part of the European Greens, Portuguese environmental associations see it as a satellite of the PCP. It thus tends to have less political and social influence than associations such as Quercus. A new party came into existence in 1999 – the Left-wing Block (Bloco de Esquerda - BE), made up of a number of extreme left-wing organizations (mainly Maoists and Trotskyites). It has achieved some growth in recent years.

2 waste until the right-wing party, elected at the end of 2002, decided to suspend it. 3 Under the co-incineration scheme, toxic waste would be used to replace part of the fuel required to produce cement. It was seen as a more sustainable strategy for the environment, as being safe in terms of public health, and economically advantageous for the cement industry. The protests which greeted this method were intense. This is why it is considered “the biggest environmental conflict to have occurred in the country, in terms of mass public participation” (Garcia et al., 1999: 83). When, in 1998, the government decided in which areas it would locate the new waste incineration facilities, popular protest reached its highest point. Neither was the government which took the decision spared its own internal divisions. Faced with this strong public, social and political pressure, the government ended up making a U-turn in its political decision, and adopted an approach involving dialogue and negotiation with its opponents. The co-incineration process was suspended and the government decided to appoint two scientific committees, over two different periods of time. The first committee was formed by chemists, engineers and medical experts and aimed to study the effects of the method from an environmental and public health point of view. Because criticisms focused mainly on the problem of dioxins, the second committee only included medical professionals, and it was formed to go deeper the first committee report about the potential effects of the co-incineration to public health. The members of the groups were instructed to produce a scientific report, with the government formally committing itself to implement their conclusions. The two expert committees concluded (but not unanimously) that there was no danger to public health or to the environment because the risks associated with the co-incineration procedure were low. However, the reports were publicly criticized by some scientists, environmentalists, local residents and politicians. The history of this case reveals several significant aspects of the interplay between scientific expertise and political decision-makers – which is the analytical focus of this dissertation. This interplay has attracted a great deal of attention from the social sciences in connection with public infra-structure and environmental problems. The experience of other countries shows, for example, that setting up facilities for the incineration and/or disposal of hazardous or radioactive waste is always a controversial matter, one which gives rise to conflicts between citizens, scientists, industry and governments (e.g. Petts, 1997; Shrader-Frechette, 1993). The experts called upon by political decision-makers are among the most important actors in this type of case. My case study clearly contains elements which are common to other waste management cases but, at the same time, it

3 Although the main period of analysis is between 1997-2004, I will take previous and subsequent events to that period into account.

3 contains a wealth of specific aspects which derive very much from the context in which the conflict developed. The focus and the originality of this research lie in the fact that it deals with three key issues. First, this case is particularly significant in the context of Southern Europe, of which Portugal is a part. The conflict contains elements which are specific to the context of countries which, like Portugal, have recently become democratic, whose political culture is marked by the persistence of an authoritarian model in relations between citizens and government, and where there are new problems typical of advanced capitalism when the process of economic modernization is relatively recent, and which have less of a tradition of resort to technical and scientific opinions to substantiate political decisions. Secondly, and to the extent that the regulation of environmental risk is one of the conflicts which typically occur in the “risk society” (Beck, 1992 [1986]), this research may help to open up discussion of the scope and limitations of this theory, and of its associated notions of risk and uncertainty. In this conception, many of the new risks are associated with political and technical-scientific decisions. Their typical features – the fact that they are invisible, that they cut across sectors, and are global in impact – have revealed the difficulties of the established language of control and conventional techniques of calculation. Even so, experts end up “being formal” (Theys and Kalaora, 1992), given that they are “pressured” to adopt categorical positions, even when their research activities place them in a context which is inherently laden with uncertainty, ignorance and indeterminacy. The prevalent use of the language of risk, and the consequent marginalization of the language of uncertainty, is of a piece with the idea of an intelligible and probabilistic world and with a rhetoric of certainty. Finally, an idea which lies at the heart of this case is the interpretation of what expertise is, and whether it is constituted in the broad or narrow sense. If expertise is narrowly constituted, it may fail to take into account the diversity of views and the contribution of several other disciplines, thus giving rise to “monolithic” language based on a probabilistic concept of risk. The broadly constituted model of expertise, on the other hand, allows for wider discussion of different disciplinary approaches and methodological, ethical and social options. The importance of interdisciplinary expertise lies in the idea that many of the matters it addresses have social and economic consequences and involve community experience, values and culture. For this reason, they cannot be grasped using solely the cognitive areas belonging to the natural science field. By definition, natural science, whatever its limitations and lack of completeness, is fully self-sufficient within its own domain of explanation and prediction of natural phenomena, but the realm of political, ethical and normative possibilities goes beyond the limits of its mission and its cognitive scope (Rescher, 1999).

4 Structure of the dissertation This dissertation has been organised into six chapters and a concluding section. Chapters 1 and 2 define the aims of this research by building up its theoretical and methodological blocks. Chapters 3, 4, 5 and 6 address the Portuguese case study directly and deal with the empirical data. The empirical work has been carried out against the backdrop of the theoretical developments explained in chapter 1. Since the story of HIW management in Portugal and the co-incineration episode take place au ralenti , I describe and analyse the sequence of events as I go along, following the chronological order in which events took place. Each of the empirical chapters is thus designed to build on the preceding chapter and should be read in sequence. Each of them has an introduction (except chapter 2, where I judged it unnecessary) which picks up on points from the previous chapter and sets out the main issues. Chapter 1 aims to offer a synoptic review and analysis of some of the most important literature on the theme of waste, risk and expertise. On the topic of waste, having observed that there was a gap in the field of sociological theory on this topic in modern societies, I develop the conceptual framework for a substantial part of my thesis. I begin by arguing that the new reality of waste is the outcome of a pattern of production and consumption increasingly shaped by industrialization and urbanization. Next I look at the social context of the profound changes in sensibilities, mentalities, normalization and behavioural supervision which have taken place in the urban environment, attempting to place attitudes to waste in a much broader emotional context which includes feelings of repulsion at their presence and their smell. This might help us to understand why citizens tend to reject certain treatment and facilities options, even when scientists and politicians assure them that those facilities are safe and beneficial. The second and third sections of this first chapter deal with the concept of risk, and discuss both its suitability for a macrosociological definition of modern societies, its practical significance for expertise, and the methodological options chosen in analysing it. One of the key aims of my theoretical work is to establish the conceptual distinctions between risk, uncertainty, ignorance and indeterminacy, thereby constructing an analytical grid on which to position the various options involved in the co-incineration case in Portugal. Another relevant aspect is my thinking on scientific expertise. Based on the existing literature on this topic, I set out how the experts’ position is interpreted by reference to the context from which they come, its connection to the political decision and the constraints binding it to that purpose, while not forgetting the implications of the degree to which it is open or closed in disciplinary terms, and the types of methodological choice which experts make. Expertise has varying implications in terms of its eventual political uses, constraints and limitations.

5 Chapter 2 outlines the way I conducted the research. It addresses the main methodological considerations and the grounds for the observation techniques used (documentary sources, such as articles in the press, official documents and scientific committee reports; and semi-standardized interviews), as well as the aims and working hypotheses of this research work. This chapter explains how the case study is to be analysed, in the light of theories on the role of experts and decision-makers in a context where there is technical and scientific conflict having an impact on the environment and public health. The chosen case study is a vehicle for exploring the process of political decision-making and scientific expertise in a public policy area plagued by risk and uncertainties. Analysis of the case study itself begins in chapter 3, which shows what factors and circumstances gave rise to the conflict over co-incineration. Before this, however, I start out by describing what hazardous waste is, the quantities of such waste, and the main technological options for its treatment and disposal. I pay particular attention to placing the topic in the context of environmental policy in Portugal and, in turn, within the framework of European environmental policies. It is only then that I begin to explore in detail the basis for citizens’ resistance to the co-incineration method and the conditions under which scientific expertise was mobilized. Chapter 4 is accordingly devoted to an analysis of the committee of experts convened to give a scientific opinion on the risks of co-incineration. I discuss the implications of the fact that it was convened after the government had committed itself to the decision to implement co-incineration and by way of a reaction to the atmosphere of tension and protest on the part of local residents, scientists and environmental and civic associations. I discuss the consequences of the scientific committee’s technical profile, its monolithic disciplinary origins and the binding nature of its mandate to analyse the problem of hazardous waste and co-incineration, all of which affected the way its possible choices would either be defined as a narrowly technical approach or might open up to take in political, social and ethical considerations. Chapter 5 then goes on to explore the report produced by this scientific committee, examining its assumptions and conclusions, as well as the arguments that gave rise to systematic disagreements with some scientists and environmentalists. My aim was to study the concepts of risk and several types of uncertainty underlying that report, the arguments between experts and some of the most prominent critics, and to assess which criteria were used to deem certain practices sufficiently safe for the public. I also analyse the limitations of risk assessment, based on the assumption that the absorption of the language of uncertainty into the generic category of risk has implications for expert analysis and political decision-making.

6 The conceptual distinction between risk and the several types of uncertainty is continued in chapter 6. In the first section, I explore the circumstances which led to the emergence of another scientific committee, made up exclusively of doctors, to provide greater depth to the ISC report by assessing the risks of co-incineration from the public health point of view. I then analyse that committee’s own risk assessment report. I seek to establish linkages between the definition of the problems of hazardous waste and co- incineration as a matter of public health and the experience of exposure to contamination of communities living near the cement plants where the government wanted to implement co-incineration. In the second section, and because the method was not implemented, even after the medical committee had pronounced in its favour, I examine and describe the performance of the Portuguese government, bearing in mind the specific traditions and current practices involved in the relationship between the state and its citizens. Questions such as equity, cost-benefit distribution, informed consent and compensation, as well as dilemmas such as how to balance environmental protection and economic development, technocratic rationality and demands for democratic participation, are key issues in this chapter. I seek to demonstrate the connection between a mode of political rule which has little propensity to encourage true contractual negotiation with citizens on matters of major social and environmental sensitivity and a final outcome of ineffectiveness in implementing a decision which everyone acknowledged to be urgent – everyone suffered in this situation. This quick survey of the chapters of this dissertation shows how the richness and complexity of this case required me to deal with a broad mosaic of topics, issues and problems, while never losing sight of my favoured analytical approach – the interplay between scientific expertise and political decision-making.

7 1. WASTE , EXPERTISE AND THE CONCEPTUALISATION OF RISK AND UNCERTAINTY

Introduction Wastes, and especially hazardous wastes, are part of a new problem which has emerged in the modern global world. Commonly used to classify them is the notion of risk, and over the last two decades sociology has extended that concept to the whole of society. Science and technology are closely associated with many of those problems, either because they have been among the major factors affecting economic, social and environmental change, or because we expect help from science in order to face up to them. However, the form that help takes is the object of much controversy. To simplify, for the moment, positions which are highly complex, and to which we shall return in greater detail in this, and later, chapters, for those who believe that rational political decisions should be based only on science and technology, it is satisfactory to leave it to the experts to take the necessary measures and to create the required control mechanisms. For those who argue that the new problems, particularly global environmental problems, raise questions which go beyond science’s ability to explain and predict, a change is needed: we must accept the complex social nature of these issues and reorient science and technology to remedy them. The main objective of this first chapter is therefore to outline an approach to wastes as a social and political problem in the context of the risk society, and its relationship to the role of scientific expertise. In the absence of a sufficiently validated body of sociological work on the topic of wastes in modern industrial societies, the first section sets out a hypothesis for an overall understanding of this phenomenon. What is the background to the links between the massive increase in wastes and the ensuing concerns over health and hygiene in the emerging modern world? What are the connections between changes in patterns of production and consumption and changes in the symbolic realm? To answer these questions, I explore some of the key perspectives of writers who have tied the emergence of these new problems to the industrial revolution and the growth of urbanization, and to the formation of new social contexts, new worldviews and new sensitivities. I base my work on a pleiad of contributions in social history and sociology, which provide a broad overview of the mutual influence of changing attitudes and the historical and social make-up of society. This enables me to construct an argument based on the close linkage of increased waste with cleanliness and sanitation in modern life. The second section seeks to locate the subject of waste within the discussion of two inter-related topics: on the one hand, the intricate debate over the concept of risk, and on the other the problems of the environment and public health, which demand the

8 involvement of scientific expertise. Over the last twenty years, the concept of risk, which has established a significant tradition in the social sciences – as I will show – has been used, particularly in the work of Ulrich Beck, to define the current stage of modern society as it faces the ambiguous causes and consequences of its own triumph. At the same time, the concept of risk is also used as a key element in the work of experts, where we find it in the delicate zone wherein environmental impacts are explained and predicted. However, as my case study shows, persistent doubts over the effects of certain substances and materials on the environment lead to constant argument. So, is the concept of risk sufficiently unambiguous to describe today’s societies at the macrosociological level, and an environmental issue such as hazardous waste, which is extensive, lasting and global? Can it be the key element in a new model for assessing and dealing with these new environmental problems? And in looking at an issue such as how to assess and face up to the problem of toxic wastes, should we entrust such tasks to the science and technology experts alone, and to the mechanisms of control which they themselves may suggest? In my answers to these crucial questions, I analyse Beck’s work and the work of those who have subsequently been part of the discussion he started of the risk society. I discuss the ambiguities and the potential of his theory, as well as the basic concepts of risk, uncertainty and danger. The model I use is based mainly on the work of Brian Wynne. It differentiates between risk, uncertainty, ignorance and indeterminacy. In examining these topics I provide evidence in support of the theory that a science and politics which attempt to solve extensive problems having long-lasting implications for environmental systems must acknowledge the inevitable social and epistemological indeterminacy which affects all specialized knowledge. Vital as it is to outline a complex typology of the problems associated with environmental risk, it is equally important to have a precise understanding of expertise. The discussion of this question is at the heart of this final part. Based on the significant number of studies recently conducted in this field, which highlight several types and experiences of expertise, I define it as a singular type of knowledge which mediates between scientific knowledge and political decision-making, with varying implications in terms of its uses and constraints, according to the specific context and mandate under which it operates. In line with the hypotheses I set out in relation to previous topics, I suggest that any authorised knowledge in domains such as that of toxic waste must of necessity be grounded not only in the effectiveness of technical solutions, but also in a diversity of social factors, including the very guidelines for the use of resources and the production of wastes – in other words, the chosen model of economic development itself.

9

1. Waste as a political and social problem

The Industrial Revolution and the formation of waste as a “problem” Among the many new and complex issues which emerged with the modern world, clearly related to industrialization and the establishment of large urban metropolises, was the exponential growth of waste and a concern with hygiene in a broad sense. Despite the fact that it has persisted throughout the history of mankind, it was only in this context that waste production reached staggering proportions and that people began to associate it with serious repercussions on health and the environment. According to the historian Martin V. Melosi (1981), the “waste problem” is produced by the combination of two factors. First, waste is one of the negative and unavoidable by- products of the historic connection between industrialization and urbanization. 1 Waste came to be seen as an “urban blight”, aggravated by limited space, and dense concentration of populations and industries. Agrarian societies, for the opposite reasons, tended to deal with waste in a less complicated way (although there were some exceptions). Second, waste gained public recognition as an environmental issue and a serious danger for human health. Until that time, waste was considered an annoyance that could easily be avoided by removing it from the range of human senses. But, this philosophy of “out of sight, out of mind” became impracticable, due to the huge quantities of industrial and urban garbage that were far beyond the capacities of traditional collection and disposal practices or natural degradation in relatively short periods of time. What to do with waste is a question as old as the sedentary habits of human beings. As man moved from being a hunter-gatherer to becoming a farmer, he could no longer leave waste behind or dispose of it on the ground to enrich it. What we call today re-use and recycling were common practices, as people fed vegetable waste to animals and used manure and green waste as fertiliser. Archaeological remains show that, in ancient times, the cities of Mahenjo-Daro, Harappa, Crete and Jerusalem, and in China, all had excellent sanitation facilities. It is worthwhile recalling that the Indus Valley city

Mahenjo-Daro (founded in about 2500 B.C.) had a drainage system and a scavenger service, and houses were equipped with rubbish chutes and trash bins. The island of

Crete, by 1500 B.C., had areas set aside for the disposal of organic wastes. Records dating from the second century B.C. indicate that China implemented sanitation control

1 The connection Melosi establishes should be seen in a non-linear way. For example, industrialization in Britain began outside the cities, and the growth of the great European cities in the nineteenth century was only partly due to industrialization. For these reasons, urban disease can only partly be blamed on industry, even if it was indirectly responsible in that it made large- scale mass consumption possible and actively encouraged it.

10 forces to supervise street sweeping in the main cities and to remove animal and human carcasses . And in Jerusalem, in 800 B.C., the streets were washed daily and the city had a sewage system and its own water supply. Influenced by religion, Jews had to remove their own waste and buried it far away from the residential area, according to the code of sanitation laws, allegedly written by Moses about 1600 B.C. and expanded through the centuries (Melosi, 1981: 3-5). These achievements were, however, isolated examples. In the classical period, waste affected even the high culture of Athens. The city was confronted with the hazards of untidiness and waste accumulation. But the Greeks made some important contributions to sanitation, because they not only organized the first municipal dumps in the Western world (in about 500 B .C.), but also issued the first known edict against throwing garbage into the streets, enforcing the requirement that it be disposed of at least one mile beyond the city gates. More seriously, due to its size and dense population, Rome was unhealthy and dirty, because waste collection and disposal were clearly insufficient for its needs. In fact, the Romans were not as concerned with the waste problem as much as they were with water (the famous system of aqueducts and public baths) and sewerage systems. Apart from municipal collection, which was restricted to state events (parades and gladiatorial games), the collection of waste was carried out by slaves employed by wealthy people, and independent scavengers, who used or sold garbage as a fertilizer; otherwise, waste accumulated in the streets or was dumped on open land. Until the late nineteenth century, the ways of dealing with waste remained much as they had been in the Middle Ages. That is to say, things had hardly improved in terms of sanitation and the water management advances of the Roman Empire had long been forgotten. The general picture of medieval cities was of uncleanliness, but sparsely populated areas were not as affected by waste pollution as the great cities. Here, in addition to the generally rough living conditions, there is the fact that rural habits were being reintroduced into town life and it was natural, for example, for animals to share living quarters with human beings. Unsanitary practices were common, ignoring municipal laws and ordinances against them. For example, in the 13th century, the English burned their rubbish on open fires in houses or threw it out into the streets. Parisians were allowed to throw garbage out of their windows until the 14th century. Disease and vermin were a great danger and led to recurrent plagues that invaded Europe between 14th and 18th centuries. The most virulent outbreak, the bubonic plague (known as the Black Death) in 1348-49, killed approximately a third of Europe’s inhabitants. However, the fear of the plagues provided some stimulus for better sanitation. Very slowly, the people of medieval Europe were becoming aware of the health dangers posed by waste. From the mid 14th

11 century onwards, “rakers” were employed to cart rubbish to pits outside the big cities, or to the river to be taken away by boat ( ibid. : 5-8). The Industrial Revolution in Europe and in the United States – which took place at different times, and was also different in terms of size and scope – brought large-scale production, pollutants, and an overwhelming volume of garbage. As industrialization grew, so towns expanded to cities and cities to metropolises. Lewis Mumford, one of the authors who has studied the city in the greatest depth and who adopted some of Patrick Geddes’ ideas, 2 characterizes this rapid growth of cities as “a period of vast urban improvisation” (Mumford, 1961: 449). He explains that: “Industrialism, the main creative force of the nineteenth century, produced the most degraded urban environment the world had yet seen; for even the quarters of the ruling classes were befouled and overcrowded” ( ibid. : 447). Inside their houses, which were in general poor and in no way adequate, “a pitch of foulness and filth was reached that the lowest serf’s cottage scarcely achieved in medieval Europe” ( ibid. : 462). Wastes appeared, in this context, as a plague that exposed the poor sanitation of the cities and houses, and the obsolete methods of collection and disposal. Dumping into lakes, rivers, harbours, and even open sea was still the most common procedure. The environment was regarded “as an abstraction”, in so far as air, sunlight, the purity of rivers, “because of their deplorable lack of value in exchange, had no reality at all” (Mumford, 1963 [1934]: 168). Very soon, however, the old adage that “dilution is the solution to pollution” ceased to make any sense. It became an impossibility, given the big cities’ high concentrations of people, industries and trade – and their wastes (Markham, 1994: 12). The inadequacies of that method and the increasing awareness of the relationship between waste and diseases forced local councils to introduce reforms and search for new technical solutions for waste disposal. Sanitation reforms, spearheaded by medical scientists, public health advocates and city officials, were the first steps in the politicisation of waste. This public health movement had followed the miasma theory. It held that disease was associated with poor sanitation and caused by air pollution (“bad air”), by noxious gases from putrefying organic matter. Emphasizing cleanliness and rationality, sanitation reformers demanded that cities undertake the eradication of public nuisances, while they convinced urban inhabitants than an “out of sight, out of mind” mentality was no longer appropriate to the circumstances. Edwin Chadwick, Baron Haussmann, Florence Nightingale, George E. Waring, Jr., Piotr Kropotkin, and Ebenezer Howard were some of those who either carried out or inspired

2 The Scotsman Patrick Geddes was one of the earliest thinkers to reflect on urban planning, the marked discrepancies between the rural and the urban, and the excessive centralisation of technology in the cities. Having started his scientific career as a biologist and then turned to sociology, he viewed the city as the most anti-social product of industrialization, which in itself was already lacking in technical competence and social co-operation (1904; 1968 [1915]).

12 sanitary and city reformer. In Britain, for example, the Public Health Acts marked the beginning of waste regulation and aimed to improve sanitation conditions in urban areas. The first one, dated 1848, regulated household waste, decreeing that it should be removed from houses and stored in “midden heaps” next to them. These were large holes, and when full, the waste and sewage was dug out and taken away for disposal. The second Act was published in 1875, as a result of a cholera outbreak in London. This legal instrument allocated responsibility for the removal and disposal of waste to local authorities. So waste began to be collected regularly, in order to avoid infestations and to create a routine for householders (Hibbert, 1980 [1977]). The driving force behind public health reforms governing sewage and waste disposal, street cleaning, technologies for water filtration, was mainly due to the fear of diseases. Before the discoveries of Louis Pasteur, Joseph Lister, Robert Koch, among many others, the “bad air” and stink were viewed as having a negative effect on health. Plagues remained linked to unpleasant smells until the end of nineteenth century, as people believed that the stink from sewers, cemeteries, cesspools, marshes, and other fetid places were the cause of illness. But, with the dissemination of Pasteur’s research, diseases began to be explained by invisible pathogenic organisms, such as microbes, virus and bacteria. The germ theorists proved their case against the miasmists. The actions taken upon the miasma notion were, however, crucial in terms of cleaning up towns and improving living standards. Hospital hygiene improved greatly, even before the germ theory of disease came to its aid, and even though it did so after sanctioning hygienic practices and justifying them as proof of the validity of the theory. A first notion of “public service” in the areas of sanitation, public health and housing policy emerged before the end of the nineteenth century. City services were established to provide solutions to collective needs, from water supplies to waste collection, in a sort of “municipal socialism” (Melosi, 1981: 12; Mumford, 1961: 476). The implementation of these social rights ruled out totalitarian or authoritarian solutions as well as liberal laissez- faire solutions, justifying increasing state intervention. Mortality rates declined immediately, such was the crying need for better urban living conditions as far as health, housing and transport were concerned. The first steps had been taken to minimize the negative association between technological achievements and social outcomes, as a result of an alliance between scientific rationality and humanistic concern. Planning and order, which were already a latent presence in all modern industrial procedures (in organization charts, rigorous technical not social division of labour, preliminary calculation of costs of production, work timetable), were now transferred to the social order as a whole.

13 The revolution in collective sensitivity and consumerism Reflections based on a historic contextualization of waste as a “problem” and as the driving force behind reforms in the field of sanitation, hygiene and urban planning, cannot be dissociated from the empirical evidence of the emergence of new sensitivities, new mentalities and new forms of sociability. The move to make public spaces more hygienic, which I have already mentioned, was accompanied (or perhaps provoked) by a long drawn-out cultural process of shaping of customs, a raising of the threshold of sensitivity, olfactory revolution, and increased sophistication and normalization of behaviour. These new factors explain, for example, the relationships between local people and waste, which were governed by a feeling of revulsion at waste and by a gradual trend to better hygiene and suppression of bad odours in the home in public places. Thinking about the meaning of the changes that have altered the background of collective life so profoundly allows us to place that industrial development in context, together with the technologies associated with it. This is a process which has affected not just production, but also mentalities, sensibilities, sociability and culture. With this analytical focus in mind, I will review just some of the most significant milestones, and only refer to the important and pioneering works of “social ecology” of the Chicago School 3 and the French historical school of the Annales 4, the studies by Lewis Mumford on the city, Norbert Elias’ work on the “civilizing process”, and closer to our own time, Alain Corbin’s and Le Guérer studies on the importance of odour, and Michel Foucault’s work on the mechanisms of body discipline. These are approaches interpolated not only with new theoretical models, but also deriving from new contexts which, since the nineteenth century, had witnessed an ever-increasing reluctance to tolerate promiscuity or the excessive closeness of “others”, the promotion of a deodorized environment, an increasing need for privacy in housing and for the individual body, and a growing refusal to watch over collective spaces – prison, hospital, orphanages, hospices – or to accept control over the body. The significance accorded to sensibility, world views and mentalities, which helped to shape the modern world, finds its origins in the thoughts of Max Weber, in particular in the relationships, meaningful and causal, he establishes between the economic successes of a certain type of capitalism and the Protestant ethic’s promises of salvation. The contribution worth highlighting here is Weber‘s understanding that man’s attitude to economics may be guided by his system of beliefs, just as the latter may at any given moment be influenced by the economic system. With this argument he illustrated the

3 It was strongly influenced by Georg Simmel’s famous essay on the metropolis. See Simmel (1971 [1903]) and Frisby (2002 [1984]). 4 On the importance of this School, see Clark’s essay (1985) in a book organized by Quentin Skinner.

14 intellectual and existential affinity between a way of viewing the world and specific economic behaviour. In showing that we may on occasion better understand the actions of a social group on the basis of its world view, Weber opened up to sociology a whole constellation of intricate relationships between conceptions of the world and symbolic structures, religious and ethical worlds, the domains of social interaction and the emotions, and meaningful social action, in order to understand historical and social facts. The monumental work Histoire de la Vie Privée by Philippe Ariès and Georges Duby, which follows in the tradition of the Annales , gives an account of this gradual change in sensibilities and mentalities, and the increased value attached to intimacy in gender relations in the family and society, and the architectural changes taking place in housing. Amongst many examples, they point out that it was only in the transition to the twentieth century that the French bourgeoisie changed its attitude to the kitchen and bathroom, which until then had been one of complete indifference and contempt. People began to pay attention to the kitchen when, following Pasteur’s discoveries, hygienists denounced it as the refuge of flies and a dust-laden place where bacilli and microbes hide. By contrast the bathroom with running water only really took off with advances in agriculture. Before then, the idea of wasteful and unnecessary use of water and the considerable losses to agriculture (for which human excrement functioned as manure) meant that it was some time before the majority of Parisians took up the English system of the flushing cistern. In the meantime the work of the latrine-cleaner persisted; these infested the night-time air of the city when they carried the residues away to the fields (Guerrand, 1987: 337). These examples are a part of what Norbert Elias calls “civilizing” changes (2000 [1939]). Using historical evidence, all in the area of the personal and the management of bodily functions (such as blowing one’s nose, spitting, table-manners, etc.), Elias describes at length the interaction between changing behaviour and the historical and social context, showing the slow progress of civilization and cultural sophistication, as well as the importance of aesthetics. Gestures accompany the rising threshold of sensibility and express the human tendency for increased control over everything which shows up the “animal side”, rendering it less visible or confining it to the intimate sphere. People begin to regard so-called “grotesque” behaviour with aversion, and it gradually changes towards a sense of what was called “civilized”. For Elias, the increasingly private nature of the body and of behaviour, as a result of a certain refinement of modesty, repugnance and intimacy, is the substance of civilization. Smells are an important element in this civilizational process, given that they inform philosophical and medical convictions, as well as some of the changes in the social order and in the domestic sphere. It was the bourgeois sophisticated sense of smell that,

15 according to the French historian Alain Corbin (1986 [1982]), gave rise to a new intolerance vis-à-vis body odours and to the aversion to common washing facilities, for example. The new sensitivity to smells not only led to the emergence of new standards of individual and household cleanliness and deodorization, but also to the expansion of these practices to the whole city, in an attempt to maintain the proper balance between the atmosphere and bodily fluids. Corbin speaks accordingly of the “olfactory revolution” and “the great dream of disinfection”. There is nothing too surprising here if we bear in mind that cities in mid-eighteenth century had “the olfactory intensity of an environment of excrement” ( ibid. : 30). Although there was indeed an “olfactory revolution” in the eighteenth century, odorous processes and substances have been used either for the prevention or treatment of plagues and illness since ancient times. The therapeutic function of aromas was based on the traditions of Hippocrates and Galen, for whom sweet odours made it possible to eliminate the plague. Perfumes and aromatic products played an important role in combating miasmas and diseases. Bizarre as it may seem to us today, disinfecting houses, clothing and even persons with aromatic substances was a normal practice, which it was believed would have protective effects. By the end of the eighteenth century, with the implementation of sanitary reforms, the use of aromatic products began to be criticized. Chemical advances and the efforts made by physicians to promulgate the microbe theory helped to discredit their use (Le Guérer, 1993 [1988]). These trends in sensibility were strongly encouraged, in areas such as health, safety and population control, by the nineteenth-century liberal state. The objectives of surveillance, discipline and normalization of the people through health policies started to be based on statistical data and indices, with a view to establish a new way of organizing society. The state became eminently statistical, reinforcing the sciences and methods of human measurement – “anthropometrics”, in the words of the Belgian astronomer and doctor Adolphe Quételet. 5 Calculations of probability started to be applied to the life of the nation and became the basis of control by the state. Michel Foucault’s concept of “political technology” captures this new phenomenon precisely, emphasizing the mechanisms of discipline and “normalization” of the new powers and forms of authority. These mechanisms are practices whereby man is subjugated to a standard of “normality” in the areas of sanitation, health and social customs. The concepts and arguments outlined above can be broadened by analogy to the issue of waste. We can add to the concerns of the hygienists and reformers in the tradition of Kropotkin, Geddes and Mumford, who dealt with the planning of large industrial cities and with trying to find solutions to their negative aspects, the multiplier effects of global

5 The title of Quételet’s last work, published in 1871, was precisely Anthropométrie ou Mesure dês Différentes Facultés de l’Homme.

16 mega-metropolises and their extreme risks, which are latent and irreversible (nor should we of course overlook the development of knowledge and technologies to deal with them). We can extend Elias’ analysis of increasingly “civilized” practices to the sensitivity to waste, the discomfort and disgust at the smell and physical presence of waste, and civic measures to deal with it (the practice of throwing away garbage out of the window became to be seen as “backwardness”). The conception of technology as an instrument of power and of Foucault’s surveillance society merges with today’s whole system of overall control of human life, already normalized in day-to-day hygiene and public health practices. These changes at the cultural level were to come up against the huge growth of waste which took place after the end of the Second World War, in particular with the advent of mass production and consumption. In The Waste Makers , Vance Packard (1960) describes and exemplifies the pressures exerted on the American society during that period to increase their consumption and adopt a throwaway attitude. He refers to this as a “planned obsolescence” strategy, a way to shorten life expectancy of the products and fuel the ever-expanding human needs. The result of this mass consumption was massive waste and the concern of how to deal with it. However, waste and active consumption was and still are an essential condition of capitalism. Without “destruction”, there would be no need for constant “creation”, to use here the terms of the concept of “creative destruction” put forward by Joseph A. Schumpeter (1987 [1942]). As industry expanded into multiplying the number and variety of goods, and particularly into creating incentives for people to desire more of those goods, the avoidance of waste came to be something which would threaten the integrity and foundations of the very system which managed it, thereby provoking its own destruction. The intensity of mass production and of a throwaway culture led to indifference to re-use and recycling practices, as something which was unnecessary and obsolete. “ Everything is inherently trash”, to paraphrase a contrario Susan Strasser’s argument (1999: 5) in relation to epochs prior to this one of unbridled consumption. At that time, recycling was an ecological activity of the counterculture, and not a practice which fell to the municipal councils or waste- management companies ( ibid. : 283). Besides being a part of a capitalist economy, consumption is still today a significant instrument of social differentiation, based on financial status, whereby it is appearance, personal show, the management of impressions and the cult of novelty that count, even if perhaps not as intensely as in the period after World War One, because it is now permeated with environmental concerns, legal provisions and government warnings of the need to recycle and to re-use. The triumph of disposable products, for example, is due “to their ability to make people feel rich: with throwaway products, they could obtain levels of cleanliness and convenience once available only to people with many servants”

17 (Strasser, 1999: 9). There are echoes here of the pioneering arguments of Thorstein Veblen (1973 [1899]) on “conspicuous consumption” and “conspicuous waste”. 6 This theory was revived, almost a century later, by Jean Baudrillard (1981), according to whom the choice and consumption of objects continues to play a distinctive social role in modern society 7, and by Pierre Bourdieu (1982 [1979]) in his studies about the different lifestyles of the classes and strategies for social differentiation. In recent years, due to the impact of mass consumption and the pressure of environmentalists, attention has focused both on the eradication of waste and on profound reflection as to its origins. Inversely, in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, as explained above, the primary concern was to find an immediate and practical solution to waste collection and disposal, and to prevent diseases. At that time, progress was limited to waste elimination and not to controlling its generation. Waste was synonymous with chaos, disorder and contagion, and had to be put away out of sight. The concept of “matter out of place”, used by Mary Douglas (1966) in an anthropological study of dirt and pollution, offers a vision of waste in the broadest sense, applying to all societies as something that intrudes on ordered arrangements where everything could have its rightful place. Today there seems to be a growing consensus that waste is above all the product of a specific model of development: underlying it is a particular conception of time, as far as the human ability to solve problems is concerned. The threat that waste poses to health and to the environment is not just something which affects the current generation, nor can it be solved by the development model which produced it. On the contrary, waste is a problem because natural resources (oceans and rivers, the soil, air, etc.) are scarce and fragile and because it has long-term effects. In addition, we also have to consider its impact on the quality of urban life, aesthetics, affluence, and technology. The concept of

6 Unlike other economists of his day, who tended to explain wealth creation on the basis of factors of production, Veblen finds the engine of economic development in consumption. He highlights the functions of objects of consumption as measures of value and social differentiation as being more important than their practical and functional status. The concept of conspicuous consumption represented the aristocratic style of life, of the so-called “leisure class”, founded on ostentation and wasteful expenditure. Excessive consumption and the waste of time, whether directly or by proxy, was seen as a sign of wealth, social status and prestige, in sum, a symbol of belonging to a privileged group. Veblen does show that consumption by an individual or by a social group is not independent of consumption by others, contrary to what was stated by rational choice theory. 7 Baudrillard argues that objects of consumption are not just “utensils” for satisfying human needs; they “are not limited by the purpose they serve (…). They no longer ‘designate’ the world, but rather the being and social rank of their possessor” (1981: 32). However, this social differentiation role is subject to a very strong social morality of “effort” and “doing” (for men) and “functioning” (for the objects), so that objects become a “functional simulacrum” (make-believe), under the cover of an ethic of practicality and not merely demonstrating prestige. By comparison with the role of the Protestant ethic in the capitalist spirit of production, identified by Weber, Baudrillard believes that “the morality of consumption relays that of production, or is entangled with it in the same logic of salvation” ( ibid .: 33).

18 waste as a policy issue is now part of a wider strategy, either to decrease pollution and protect the environment, or to bring about technological and industrial change and innovation. The gradual changing nature of wastes – synthetics, less organic material, chemical and pharmaceutical products, more paper products, etc. – implies different environmental challenges and more complex methods of collection and disposal. In this connection, the ways of dealing with the problem of waste production depend not only on changes in the model of economic and industrial development, but also on the introduction of cleaner technologies and on scientific expertise.

2. Waste as a “risk” issue

The generalization of the risk language in contemporary society Despite the fact that it has been a constant in human history, and has been seen as a problem since the advent of industrialization, it was only in the 1960s that waste itself became to be regarded as a global environmental problem. This new approach to waste can be seen in the context of emerging ecological movements and environmental ethics, especially Rachel Carson’s pioneering book on the harmful effects on human and animal health of the massive application of synthetic pesticides in agriculture, published in 1962; the alert launched by Club of Rome in 1972 8; and the UN Conference in that same year (“the Stockholm Conference”), which gave birth to the "Declaration on the Human Environment" and to the UNEP. This took place alongside feelings of ambiguity in relation to the unexpected consequences of technological advances, reinforced by man-made environmental accidents in the fields of technology and energy. Times Beach and Love Canal in USA, and the Seveso dioxin-contaminated waste drums in Europe are some examples related with wastes. 9

8 The study, directed by Dennis and Donella Meadows, under the title The Limits to Growth, concluded that the limits to planetary growth would be reached within a short period of time (a maximum of 100 years), if levels of industrialization, pollution, food production and exhaustion of natural resources were maintained. There were many reactions to what was regarded as mere apocalyptical speculation – all the more so because the study called for neo-Malthusianism, or a theory of zero growth in population and industry, as a solution to the imminent “catastrophe” –, but the report did have the merit of placing the environmental issue on the political agenda and of warning of the urgent need for a slowdown. After this first report, the same team has conducted a 20-year update of the original study and published the results in Beyond the Limits , in 1992, in addition to the report entitled Limits to Growth: the 30-Year Update . 9 It is worth recalling the accident at Love Canal (in Niagara Falls, New York) because it was the first hazardous waste disposal case to draw international attention. The canal had originally been built in 1890 by William T. Love (hence its name) to serve as a water channel, but it was never concluded, and ended up being used as a dump for chemical waste from the 1930s to the 1950s. When it became full of waste, it was covered over and sold. Residential houses and a school were built on top of it. It was not long before the inhabitants started to complain of strange smells and health problems. In 1980, the Love Canal area was declared a federal emergency area by President Carter. The fact that this was the first time such a declaration had been made marks the

19 This and other environmental problems (e.g. pollution, ozone layer depletion, dioxins effects on health and environment, climate change, shortage of drinking water) faced by our technological and scientific civilization, as well as those created by advances in biotechnology and genetic engineering, are usually described as “risk”. This usage should be seen in the context of the exponential growth of the concept of risk since the middle of the twentieth century. Over this range of time, it is observable a shift of problem from nuclear power (1950s-60s) through global environmental problems (since late 1960s) to biotechnology (1980s). 10 This change of subject-matter was accompanied by a progressive broadening of the discourse. From a restricted and exclusive domain of experts and regulators (mostly engineers, planners and economists), only concerned with risk calculation and assessment, it shifted to a more open space with the emergence of a full-scale public discourse. The advent of the public meant that new topics began to be raised besides safety research and risk assessment: the social and collective acceptability of risks, the consequences and side-effects of the new technologies, the perception of ambivalence and feelings of uncertainty about technological advancement (Strydom, 2002: 11-35). Despite having taken centre-stage in the second half of the twentieth century, the notion of risk is not recent. Although its origin is relatively unknown and thus controversial, most commentators associate it with the language of maritime trade and insurance (Luhmann, 1993 [1991]: 9 ff.; Lupton, 1999: 5; Strydom, 2002: 75), the meaning ascribed to it is one of voluntary decision based on potential gains and losses and the magnitude of the possible consequences of those decisions. 11 It is precisely this balance sheet of probable costs and benefits, with the aim of maximizing profit, which is at the heart of risk assessment, particular in the way it is formulated in economic game theory of von Neumann e Morgenstern. Methods for explaining risk meant that hazards were no longer ascribed to fate, to God’s will or to nature. Explaining, predicting, controlling and remedying them increasingly came to be seen as tasks which fall within the purview of scientific and technical rationality. This was possible by way of the “calculus of risk”, which begun to be scientized, based on the principles of statistics and probability. The intention

beginning of a time of awareness of the risks associated with hazardous waste disposal (Levine, 1982). 10 This risk discourse’s periodization does not imply that new problems displace older ones. For example, the introduction of global environmental problems has not veiled the nuclear debate, nor the emergence of biotechnology has prevented global warming to be one of the crucial issues at the turn of the millennium. One could also add that recently the terrorist threat has redirected our attention from all of the previous risks (Strydom, 2002: 31). 11 At that time, maritime trade was a risky business. Its inherent level of insecurity began to be seen as “risk” (to the extent that the merchant took a calculated risk: if he were successful, he would grow rich; if he failed, he would be ruined) and gave rise to the practice of insurance, which was based on estimates of possible cargo losses based on earlier records of such losses.

20 was to reject the notion that threats were something inevitable and beyond the control (or at least partial control) and prevention or remediation of man and his technologies. The objective was to create a more predictable world, as a result of an increased measurability. This was possible by way of the “calculus of risk”, which begun to be scientized, based on the principles of statistics and probability. The dominance of the calculus of risk and rational assessment in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries has therefore transformed hazards into risks and reduced uncertainty to calculable risk. The risk-based conception was a new way of viewing and dealing with world indeterminacy. So the most influential pattern of modern thought tended to eliminate “genuine indeterminacy, or ‘uncertainty’, by inventing ‘risk’”, transforming “a radically indeterminate cosmos into a manageable one, through the myth of calculability” (Reddy, 1996: 237). They were able to provide secular explanations to disasters, hazards and calamities, as well as procedures to regulate and avoid them, which implied the necessity to make decisions. If modernity, as seen, rested on the notion that human progress and social order were possible through rational thinking and that social and natural worlds could be calculated and predicted, and to a large extent subject to rational control, the end of the twentieth century has shown the failure of those ideals and has revealed novel conditions of complexity, contingency, uncertainty and ambivalence. In these circumstances, the language of risk has gained a significance that it never enjoyed before. It has supplanted traditionally nuclear concepts such as production, growth and wealth, and has spread to different fields (risk analysis, risk assessment, risk management, risk communication, risk perception, risk acceptance) in such distinct areas as public health, economics and industry. Sociology joined in the debate on risk relatively late in the day, mainly as a result of an appeal by the then Chairman of the American Sociological Association, James Short, to the community of sociologists to pay greater attention to the topic (Short, 1984). 12 That appeal was also directed at trying to get sociology to overcome the limitations of the approach adopted by other social science disciplines such as anthropology which, to its credit, had shifted attention away from probabilistic considerations toward the social and cultural framing of risk. A decisive contribution was Douglas and Wildavsky’s (1982) Risk and Culture , in which they stress the differences in risk preferences and perceptions. For them, far from being merely individual, physical or objective, risks were a social construction, because the way that people perceive and evaluate risks is mediated by values, orientations and goals. Variations in the understandings and perceptions of risk in

12 Up until that date, and regardless of their differences, one should not forget neither the influential contribution of Starr (1969) and Lowrance (1976) in placing the concept of risk at the center of debate about technology, environment and society, nor the direct reference to the relationship between society and risk made by the French sociologist Patrick Lagadec (1981) with the expression “risk civilization”.

21 different societies and within societies demonstrate the cultural relativism involved in judgments of risk . Beck’s was undoubtedly the most incisive theoretical response to Short’s appeal, in that he adopted risk as the key concept for looking at late twentieth-century society. Others major risk theorists, such as Niklas Luhmann (1993 [1991]) and Anthony Giddens (1990; 1991; 1994) have independently transform the field of risk studies. Each in his own way, they all point out that risk uncovers some of the fundamental characteristics of the modern world and see risk as something which has societal significance. Despite their specific theoretical approaches, these writers all assume that societal problems at the end of the twentieth century are qualitatively different from those of earlier historical periods, that they involve hitherto unknown processes and, because they can be imputed to human decision and human action, they invest them with the notion of risk. This realization leads them to rethink modern society, as well as some basic scientific concepts. Summarizing Beck’s arguments, contemporary societies are “risk societies” and are going through an internal crisis which is nothing more or less than the dark side of industrialization’s successes, technical and scientific progress and economic growth. Whereas industrial society was mostly organized around wealth distribution, the emerging risk society is gripped by hazards and potential threats relating to the consequences and side-effects of complex technologies, particularly chemical, genetic and environmental risks. This shift from questions of the production and distribution of wealth to the production and distribution of risks reflects in turn the binary distinction between scarcity and insecurity. Risk avoidance thus supplanted wealth accumulation as society’s organizing principle. Despite the fact that the concept of risk is exclusively applied to late twentieth century societies, it does not mean that risks are an exclusive feature of present times. According to Peter Bernstein (1996), in his well-known Against the Gods , feelings of insecurity about dangers or threats to health and life are no more common now than they were in medieval and early industrial times. However, according to Beck, current risks are qualitatively different from those that existed in the past for several reasons. Firstly, they have global impact or, at least, the consequences are for a large number of people. Socially, they affect all human beings and cross all social classes; spatially, they do not have geographic boundaries; and temporally, they might affect future generations. Secondly, unlike the threats of early industrialization, the risks of “late modernity” are the outcome of anthropogenic forces and are generated by our techno-economical decisions and utility considerations. Thirdly, it is difficult to trace responsibility or to assess compensation for those affected. Fourthly, these newer risks are also virtually undetectable without scientific interpretation, which in turn increases dependence on

22 experts and on the technical means of detecting them. Finally, what really marks a watershed is society’s confrontation with the previously unknown possibility of global self- destruction as a result of the risks generated by certain technologies. These characteristics – considered by Beck, Giddens and others as distinctive traits of the new risks – are not shared by all kinds of risks. Many of the global risks Beck focuses on (such as global warming, ozone depletion, and acid rain) do not have, in fact, defined frontiers or class divisions. To them one can apply Beck’s famous expression: “smog is democratic” (1992 [1986]: 36). Other risks, however, affect people of low or high socioeconomic status differently, such as cases that have been studied by the environmental justice field of studies (e.g., Bullard, 1994; Bryant, 1995; Bullard and Johnson, 2000; Martinez-Alier, 2003). The risk society thesis may be, and has been, criticized for its universalising tendencies based on an Eurocentric look, which understates the influence of the social, material, cultural and political context. It is not applicable elsewhere, particularly in the so-called Third World (see several demonstrative case studies in Caplan, 2000). These distinctive traits of contemporary risks have undermined the optimism of early modernity, as far as faith in man’s ability to control and anticipate secondary effects is concerned. Our collective decisions lead to a new generation of problems and threats which radically contradict the prevailing language of control and conventional techniques of calculation and liability. 13 As risks become more complex and the need for precise calculations increases, there is growing doubt as to science’s ability to control and foresee them. Protection is becoming more and more difficult as the magnitude and global nature of risks increases. This situation has shaken the belief that technological and social progress go hand in hand, and has forced science to acknowledge both its collateral effects and its inherent epistemological limitations. In actual fact the position of science in the risk society thesis is ambiguous. Not only does it give rise to new threats (some potentially catastrophic) it also has the ability and the means to recognize those threats and overcome them. Not just the application of science but our scientific knowledge itself is now the subject of debate. In these circumstances, the future is perceived in terms of risk and no longer in terms of progress, which raises the problem of risk regulation and its safety capacities. It is necessary to act in the present on the basis of future risks. This risk is all the greater to the extent that modern science and technology have transformed society into one gigantic

13 That is why, along with the popularity of the concept of “risk”, we assist to the renewed significance of the issue of “trust” in recent studies. As Sztompka (1999: 13) depicted well, and was anticipated by Luhmann (1979), coping with a growing vulnerability, complexity and uncertainty in the “risk society” requires an enlarged pool of trust. Giddens (1990) has been working on this relationship between risk and trust.

23 experimental “laboratory” (Beck, 1995 [1991]), a “testing ground for risk technologies” (ibid. , 1995 [1988]: 8). Some technologies are implemented and empirically tested under real conditions, or after they are “manufactured”, given that there is no historical experience of using them. In Beck’s words: “Nuclear reactors must be built , artificial biotechnical creatures must be released into the environment, and chemical products must be put into circulation for their properties, safety, and long-term effects to be studied” (ibid. : 104, original emphasis). However, no-one in particular must answer for the negative effects of technological experimentation and for compromising the collective safety of citizens. It is therefore not surprising that Beck analyses critically the contemporary society in terms of “organized irresponsibility” (1995 [1988]: 58-69; 1999: 55), permitted because the responsibility for risk creation and resolution belongs to several systems. Pollution, and its increasingly global impact in the form of climate change, graphically illustrates this paradox. The greater the environmental degradation, the more laws and environmental regulations there are, but at the same time, no institution seems to be specifically responsible. Even so, Beck believes that thinking about risks, and the broader dissemination of scientific skills, may help to devise alternatives and bring about a reorientation of industrial society, setting it on the path to “ecological enlightenment” (1995 [1991 ]). The risk society is thus located at a new stage of the development of modernity: an unintended and unseen phase that is forcing it to confront the premises and limits of its own model. Risk society is presented as a self-critical society, which is constrained to question its foundational principles, including ideas of scientific rationality. Modernization has become “reflexive”. For Beck, Giddens and Lash (1994), reflexivity is the outcome of modernity itself. Their analysis centred on the idea that modernity has undergone “radicalization”, where the dynamics of individualization, globalization, gender revolution, underemployment and global risks undermine the foundations of “classical industrial modernity” and make old concepts obsolete. There is some merit to the debate on the risk society started by Beck and pursued by other social theorists in connection with the issue of reflexive modernization. First, the concept of the risk society cleverly brought into the realm of sociology discussion of the new sorts of problem which have emerged over the last decades and which relate to changes in the way scientific knowledge is produced and interacts with society. It draws attention to the current high-risk technologies and to its qualitatively different danger potential. We do indeed live in a society which is sufficiently different to encourage the search for new interpretative formulas, which draw their inspiration from the fact that the new problems with which it has to deal are different to those which affected earlier historical periods, in particular because of the possibility of annihilation of the human race

24 and because of the way they can be imputed to human action. The concept of the risk society is above all a critique of the technological and scientific industrial complex of the late twentieth century. Secondly, the risk society concept expanded the language of risk in macro-sociological terms. This helped to make it clear that many of modern society’s problems depend on decisions being taken now, and are the outcomes of the scientific and industrial system itself. At the same time the realization dawned that we are powerless in terms of controlling and safeguarding against them. However, even when the threats and problems deriving from the scientific-industrial complex are properly assessed, they are not so similar that they can all be covered by the conceptual umbrella of risk. 14 The concept of risk therefore expanded at the cost of a lack of clear analytical boundaries with closely related ideas, such as uncertainty, ignorance and threat. It is therefore necessary to be more precise in classifying problems which have very different consequences. Beck’s work has the merit of bringing back the idea of uncertainty, but he does it in the name of risk. In light of the emphasis placed on deregulation, uncertainty and contingency, his risk society cannot properly be understood according to the probability model nor is his concept of risk the product of probability of occurrence multiplied with the intensity and scope of potential harm. He therefore goes beyond the meaning of the concept of risk as it was historically understood and settled in social and institutional practice. In introducing the notions of “unintended consequences” and “unawareness” into his theory of reflexive modernity 15 , Beck recognizes that there are areas of unknowability, contingency, unpredictability and ignorance. This is like saying we must take into account that which we do not know and that which we cannot know, thus uncertainty and ignorance. He argues that our society faces “incalculable threats, which are constantly euphemized and trivialized into calculable risks” (Beck, Giddens and Lash, 1994: 182). In designating modern society a risk society, but bearing in mind that the notion of risk would be better rendered by the idea of uncertainty, Beck drapes this concept in ambiguity, which could well have been avoided if he had taken into account the long-standing discussion of the concepts of risk and uncertainty in the field of economics.

14 Beck focuses above all on environmental and health risks (especially genetic technology), but he has extended the concept of risk to many different phenomena: social relations, family structure, political and cultural organization, and even the self. Recently, he has extended the theory to transnational terrorist networks (Beck, 2002). One may think that bringing together such disparate phenomena does enable him to identify relevant trends in modern societies, but has the drawback of implying a less fragmented world than that which Beck himself perceives. 15 Contrary to these notions, Giddens emphasizes the idea of “institutional reflexivity” and Lash the idea of the “reflexive community” (Beck, Giddens and Lash, 1994).

25 Rendering the notion of risk more complex Within the social and human sciences, it is in economics that one may find the most influential debate about the concepts of risk and uncertainty. Whereas risk can be assessed and calculated in terms of its numerical probabilities, uncertainty cannot. Introduced at the beginning of the twentieth century by Frank H. Knight (1957 [1921]) and John Maynard Keynes (1921), this distinction enabled recognition of the ontologically contingent nature of economic behavior and its aggregate outcomes. 16 Briefly, in a way which cannot do justice to the complexity of each of these economists’ thought, the important aspects is that they both agreed that the economic agent cannot avoid wide margins of uncertainty, nor eliminate it by the application of more information or scientific knowledge (Martins, 1998: 43). 17 In both analyses, uncertainty is a central argument, which contradicts the nineteenth century neo-classical notion of deterministic or causal laws governing economic life. For Knight, uncertainty is an “ineradicable” factor in business decisions (1957 [1921]: 347) and the basis of his theory of entrepreneurship and nature of profit. It is a form of indeterminacy, not compatible with the rational assessment of likelihood. Similarly, Keynes also argues that one cannot eliminate indeterminateness from the future and economic life (either the economic policies of governments or the action of economic agents). He argues that investors’ behaviour is driven by “animal spirits” (Keynes, 1961 [1936]: 161), which, due to their inherent instability and indeterminacy, should only be analysed from the perspective of uncertainty, not from the probabilistic analysis of risk. The point is that uncertainty cannot be reduced “to the same calculable status as that of certainty itself”, as Keynes argued (quoted by Shackle, 1967: 131), because it depends, not upon a complete knowledge or information, but on the radical and truly unpredictable indeterminacy of things. Out of Keynes’ and Knight’s work in making the conceptual distinction between risk and uncertainty, that which has quickly spread and which tended to be pursued was the concept of risk, the emphasis these economists placed on uncertainty as one of the key

16 In many books and articles, the priority for the distinction between risk and uncertainty is assigned to Knight’s Risk, Uncertainty and Profit , published in 1921, and this pioneering explorations had been followed by Keynes’s masterwork, The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money , published in 1936. However, this must be corrected. The idea of uncertainty was also set out in Keynes’ A Treatise on Probability , also published in 1921. He used the term “subjective risk”, which covers a kind of non-calculable and non-insurance risk, instead of “uncertainty” (Carabelli, 1988: 47; Martins, 1998: 42; the latter author suggests the reading of the former). There is also some controversy about who is the author of the distinction. Reddy points out that it was first formulated by J.H.von Thunen, at the mid-nineteenth century (see Reddy, 1996: 226-227). 17 In a classic work of economic historical thinking, The Years of High Theory , George Shackle states that the idea of living in an uncertain and unpredictable world “was [by] far the greatest of the achievements of the 1930s in economic theory” (1967: 7). Thus, “until the 1930s, economics was the science of coping with basic scarcity. After the 1930s, it was the account of how men cope with scarcity and uncertainty” ( ibid. ).

26 aspects of life having been left in the shadows. The fascination of the concept of risk no doubt finds its raison d’être in the “magic of numbers”, which translates into the belief that epistemological certainty derives from only one means of knowing – mathematics. Numbers convey the illusion of precision and, therefore, certainty. And precision is appreciated all the more in that it gives us the impression we can overcome situations of uncertainty (Agazzi, 1996 [1992]: 193-196).18 It is therefore no accident that the concept of risk and its mathematical and probabilistic techniques became particularly dominant as technological and environmental risk assessment became institutionalized and widespread. In the abundant literature of risk and risk assessment, there has been a tendency to cluster a large range of issues under the category of “risk”, marginalizing or subsuming the concepts of “danger”, “hazard”, “threat”, or “peril”. Langdon Winner (1986), in a work published years before the English translation of Beck’s Risikogesellschaft and in the light of the fact that risk assessment was widely practised in the US, criticizes in particular the indiscriminate use of the concept of risk and reclaims its probabilistic and decision-making nature. 19 In his opinion, air polluted by automobiles and industries should be called by the old-fashioned name “pollution”, and a toxic waste disposal site would be better defined as “problem of toxic waste” rather than “risk”. While the notion of risk implies voluntary acceptance of the possibility of damage because it contains within it the possibility of gain, “hazard”, “danger”, “threat”, and “peril” are terms which refer to something which we seek merely to avoid. While the language of risk is appropriate in the areas of business, sports, and gambling (realms where the undertakings are voluntary), the other terms are more appropriate when what is at issue is science’s effective ability to control and even predict all the possible effects of a technological innovation. We also find in Niklas Luhmann’s (1993 [1991]) efforts to unravel the notion of risk from other notions such as “danger”. To talk of risks is to see future losses as the consequence of a decision that is taken at the present. While “risk” is viewed as a possible loss arising from a given decision, “danger” is attributed to external causes and corresponds to those involuntarily affected by decisions. This perspective, in which “one man’s risk is another man’s danger” ( ibid. : 109), points out

18 For Agazzi, using the concept of risk also fulfils a function of “moral relief”. His main concern is the problem of eliminating and controlling risk, but that concern is covered by the potentialities of technology, in so far as the problem can apparently be solved using better methods than evaluations based on moral and ethical principles. The role of technology would therefore be to eliminate or control risk, but this is a reductionist approach. On the one hand, it wrongly reduces the analysis of risks which threaten man to those which technology can overcome and control. On the other hand, if one seeks to control risk by applying science and technology, one forgets that risk itself is an anthropological aspect of human life (man is the only being who can take risks and who is inevitably subject to risk) (1996 [1992]: 173-201). 19 Winner’s special awareness of the syncretistic notion of risk is closely related to the scepticism he showed regarding modern technology in a 1977 work entitled Autonomous Technology , heavily influenced by the thinking of Karl Marx, Lewis Mumford and Jacques Ellul.

27 the key issue of acceptance of risk decisions and the distinction between who decides and who is affected, something to which we shall return in subsequent chapters. 20 Others talk of risk, but clearly give it a different meaning. To the anthropologist Mary Douglas, the current meaning of risk is “danger” and “has not got much to do with probabilistic calculations” (1992: 24). What we have today is a virtually undifferentiated mix of all these concepts and their absorption by the generic and institutionalised category of risk. The risk language “is automatically imposed as the natural and universal objective representation” of the citizens concerns, public issues and techno-scientific trajectories (Wynne, 2005: 67). Beyond being the basis for the evaluation methods used by experts, the language of risk corresponds to an “institutional culture of denial of unpredictability and (thus) of lack of control” (Leach, Scoones and Wynne, 2005: 10). In a culture concerned with managing future events and with safety, the probabilistic character of the risk concept gives the image of the supremacy of scientific control over aleatory, contingencies, accidents and chance. However, as Perrow’s book Normal Accidents shows, accidents are inherent in complex systems, but especially in the subtype complex-highly coupled (Perrow, 1984). In this context it makes sense to draw on the concept of “usable ignorance” suggested by the scientific historian and social analyst of contemporary science Jerome Ravetz, to underline the importance of acknowledging the limits of our knowledge and the existence of phenomena for which there are no numerical probabilities to be discovered. Worse than ignorance of the facts is ignorance of one’s own ignorance (Ravetz, 1986). It is as a result of the lack of semantic precision engendered by the concept of risk that we are today reassessing it. In this reassessment, there are those who state that certain problems (currently seen on occasion as risks) are better described using the language of uncertainty. Underlying this argument would be the lack of knowledge of the statistical probability of many of the possible outcomes; public distrust of the estimates produced by experts; potential margins of error; and random unpredictability of nature and human behaviour (Martins, 1998). For example, in many of the new chemical, agribiological and biotechnological technologies, unforeseen interactions, negative synergies, possible transgenerational effects, long latency periods and causal obstacles

20 As is to be expected, Luhmann’s theory of risk (1993 [1991]) follows his theory of autopoietic systems and complexity-reducing purposes. Given systemic subdifferentiation, each subsystem produces an alternative interpretation of risk, but the logic of the system itself prevents the different subsytemic approaches from being reconciled. That is why risk is everywhere and risk-taking has become inevitable. Risk is a challenge to work out an unknown future in the present. The uncertain and unforeseeable nature of the future arises not only from complexity and people’s cognitive limitations, but also from the decision-making process itself. There is a long hiatus between when a decision is made and when its consequences are felt, with random factors affecting them. This makes it impossible to assess damage in advance and to plan preventive measures. The very attempt to prevent risks may become an additional source of risk.

28 make it impossible for us to work out probabilities. Climate change and the storage of highly radioactive nuclear waste are two good examples of how we not only lose the ability to control and predict, but also have to deal with serious uncertainties and even ignorance. 21 I am placing particular emphasis on the analytical distinction between the concepts here because to support a risk-based conception or an uncertainty-based one is not an indifferent option, especially in controversial processes that involve serious dangers, unpredictable outcomes and a technological solution. Risk and uncertainty (in the form of ignorance and indeterminacy, as I will show further) reflect specific interpretations and specific orientations, and therefore have different political implications. Risk is thus associated with prevention, while the different types of uncertainty are associated with precaution (EEA, 2001a: 192; Godard et al. , 2002). In the culture of probabilistic risk, for example, the aim is to verify the impact of a given technology on the environment and/or on human health, to establish whether or not it is socially acceptable. Where there is a very low probability of the risk having an impact, a permissive attitude develops in relation to that particular risk. Risk may thus lead to a process of risk-mitigating negotiation and agreement. On the contrary, uncertainty follows a precautionary strategy and may lead to risk-avoiding prudence. The possibility of rejecting certain techno-economic decisions and actions provokes a lively ongoing debate about the advisability of the “precautionary principle” at a time of rapid technological change.22 Taken as a whole, these arguments are behind the thinking of several writers who, despite their stylistic differences, have reclaimed the distinction between the concepts of risk and uncertainty, and underline the ontological nature of uncertainty, either inherent in the natural and social worlds, through the notions of “ignorance”, “indeterminacy”, “catastrophes” and “accidents” (e.g. Perrow, 1984; Funtowicz e Ravetz, 1990; Wynne, 1992; Ravetz, 1986; Reddy, 1996; Martins, 1998; Adam, 1998; Dupuy, 2002; Martinez- Alier, 2003). This approach differs from another one which “marginalizes” the concepts of uncertainty, ignorance and indeterminacy, favouring the term risk, and stress above all the

21 In connection with nuclear waste, the best known plan is the construction of a nuclear waste dump in Yucca Mountain, Nevada, in the USA, which has been under discussion since the late 1970s. It is estimated that if nuclear waste is dumped there from 2010 onwards, as seems likely, it will remain radioactive for the following ten thousand years. It is hardly surprising that there are serious scientific doubts about the reliability of such predictions and significant uncertainty as to the geological, hydrological, tectonic, volcanic and other conditions which may affect the integrity of the mountain over that extremely long period. Not to mention the various ethical dilemmas raised by the plan, in terms of the rights of future generations, the sharing of risks, and free and informed consent (Shrader-Frechette, 1993; Lemons, 1996). 22 The original formulation of the precautionary principle is located in the Rio Declaration drew out from the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development held in 1992. Available at the UNEP website.

29 social perception of risks and its cultural/symbolic nature (e.g. Douglas and Wildavsky, 1982). Several writers having affinities with the former group have shown that many of today’s environmental and public health problems – fields in which this research project’s topic, hazardous waste, has strong repercussions – go beyond the semantics of probabilistic risk into new realms of uncertainty, necessarily implying a reorientation of science itself and how it operates. Sílvio Funtowicz and Jerome Ravetz (1990, 1992a, 1992b, 1993; Ravetz, 1999) used the label “post-normal science” to describe the style of scientific activity dealing with problems in which “systems uncertainties” and “decision stakes” are high. Here the uncertainties are severe (either epistemological or ethical) and acknowledged, values are made explicit, prediction and control are limited, decisions are urgently needed and problems are markedly politicized. 23 The particular conditions of post- normal science open up a space for citizen participation, for democratizing knowledge and for a variety of approaches, methodologies and axiological compromises. The evaluation of scientific inputs to decision-making requires an “extended peer community”, who deploys “extended facts” and take an active part in the solution of the problem. The reorientation of science, the increased emphasis on uncertainty (and its analytical distinction from the concept of risk), and the need to involve the general public, are ideas shared by Brian Wynne. He believes that there are new types of uncertainty. Whereas risk refers to situations basically well known, in which probabilistic models can quantify the probabilities of different outcomes, uncertainty arises when the probability distributions are not known and are considered the result of incomplete knowledge. In addition to these two categories and canonical definitions, he identifies ignorance, which escapes recognition and concerns a range of uncertainties that remain invisible, especially about the conditions of applicability and validity of the existing knowledge to new situations. He also identifies indeterminacy , which means open networks or an explanatory openness due to the existence of contingent social behaviour. In this situation, the validity and reliability of scientific knowledge depends on how the system

23 Through a number of essays, Funtowicz and Ravetz suggest a system of classification and ordering of the various styles of scientific work, based on two parameters: “systems uncertainties” (defined as the extent of confident knowledge about the way the system functions) and “decision stakes” (defined as the magnitude of costs, benefits and value commitments involved in adopting one view over the other). When both dimensions are low, one enters the domain of “applied science”, where expertise is fully effective. When either is medium, one is in the domain of “professional consultancy”. This includes, for example, the work of doctors and engineers, given that these are fields which demand the skills and judgment of a professional. When they are high, one is the realm of “post-normal science”. These categories corresponds to a scale that begins with “technical uncertainty” (low uncertainty), “methodological uncertainty” (middle-range uncertainty) and “epistemological uncertainty” (high uncertainty).

30 operates (Wynne, 1992: 114-119). 24 Ignorance and indeterminacy are different forms of uncertainty and not mere larger forms of uncertainty. For Wynne, all these categories are overlaid one on the other ( contra Funtowicz e Ravetz, for whom there is a straightforward scale of increasing uncertainty). For example, indeterminacy is embedded within all the others categories. Even in questions that apparently are only technical and though it may be on a minimum level, indeterminacy is always present in scientific knowledge. It is hidden by the commitments and social conventions of the scientific paradigms. Wynne argues that experts tend to leave invisible a range of several uncertainties, studying only those that are tractable or amenable to be studied by scientific methods and models (ibid. : 115). This typology is a good analytical tool for a specific examination of micro-level cases which defy probabilistic risk analysis. In this typology, as in that of Funtowicz and Ravetz, different aspects of uncertainty, non-epistemic (i.e. ethical and social) variables, and lay actors come into play. There was no place for these in the cognitive and methodological parameters of science. The core principle of both is the acknowledgment that in scientifically-based political decisions, and even in science itself, we cannot hope to control or eliminate uncertainty and ignorance. Many so-called risks are, in the final analysis, incalculable and open-ended. Better that we should recognize them as such, otherwise scientific knowledge and political decisions may themselves become part of the problem instead of the solution. However, while the tripartite conception of science put forward by Funtowicz and Ravetz is situated more at the macro level and enables us to place many current problems involving serious uncertainty and significant decision-making in their political and scientific context, Wynne’s typology allows us to differentiate between the various types of uncertainty subsumed within the concept of risk and to bring sociological variables into the equation. To qualify phenomena as mere “uncertainty”, explains Wynne, “enshrines the notion that inadequate control of environment risks is due only to inadequate scientific knowledge ” ( ibid. : 118). This assumption presupposes the need of more accurate knowledge . With his concept of indeterminacy, moreover, Wynne underlines the relationship between physical risk and the contingencies inherent in social and institutional behaviour. Wynne’s approach is a challenge to the rationality of risk assessments which tend to see phenomena as physical entities existing independently of the individuals and institutions who analyze and experience them, and which do not take into account significant factors such as institutional compromises and trustworthiness.

24 This typology is illustrated in a case study, carried out by Wynne, about how scientists and politicians have dealt with radioactive contamination on some farms in England in the wake of the Chernobyl fall-out. I explain this case study further in this chapter.

31 3. Waste and the need of specialized scientific knowledge

The role of expertise between knowledge and decision Interpreting late twentieth-century society as a society that is confronted with the latent side effects and secondary problems of science and technology requires us to adopt a complex view of the forms which that society has found to monitor risks and uncertainties using scientific rationality in the form of expertise. This context in which the nature of scientific knowledge and the role of political institutions are called into question raises immediately the question of how politics should be conducted in the absence of the conventional principles of scientific rationality and the “language of control”. Since many of today’s risks cannot be attributed to God, destiny, or the action of Nature, but rather to human decisions and to human behaviour (including involuntary behaviour), political power has more than ever before been called upon to take responsibility for all kinds of problems. Across a broad range of issues, whether environmental, nutritional or public health, which are both technically complex and politically or morally contentious, politicians need the informed advice of experts to understand the implications of each possible course of action, and even of inaction. Expertise is an interface between the world of science and the world of decision- making. The expert is he who “knows from experience”, in accordance with the Latin etymology of peritus, which casts back to the idea of experiri (“to assay”; “have experience of”). The expert’s identity lies in that intermediate position, constructed in relation to the scientist and the politician. Philippe Roqueplo (1993; 1997), a French sociologist who has carried out some relevant sociological work in this area, posits the hypothesis that it is precisely the fact that the expert is part of the dynamics of the decision-making process which characterizes and defines scientific expertise and experts. In this sense, the expression of scientific knowledge only has value as expertise when it is called upon to clarify, justify or confirm a decision, even if only partially. In the same way, it is only when the scientist abandons the laboratory to become part of a panel of experts on a particular topic, at the behest of decision-makers that he moves onto the level of scientific “expertise” and are no longer just part of the group of scientists engaged in research. Its function is to not purely and simply to supply knowledge, but to supply knowledge aimed at enlightening those who are responsible for taking decisions in matters as complex as health, nutrition, the environment, technological systems, security, etc. It is accordingly a knowledge which assists in the process of decision-making, but it does not constitute the decision itself (Roqueplo, 1997; Roy, 2001; Pestre, 2003). Given its relationship with decision-making and the context in which it is mobilized, the scientific expert’s know-how is different from scientific knowledge stricto sensu . To

32 science used in the policy process one may call, following Sheila Jasanoff (1990), “regulatory science” which distinctive trait is the context in which it is performed and used. One thing is the development of knowledge according to the classical scientific ethos, that is, of universalism, communalism, disinterestedness and organized skepticism (Merton, 1985 [1942]), even when, in new contexts and under new forms of production of knowledge and scientific research, that ethos is more of a guide to action rather than an effective practice . Another, very different thing is to make judgements, based on existing knowledge, bearing in mind the practical need for a decision to be made. There are two major types of reasons underlying this distinction.25 First, he is being asked to elaborate on a topic not of his choosing, whereas, as a scientific researcher, he is able to choose the object of study and constantly reformulate his research questions so as to provide a scientific answer within the framework of available knowledge and resources. Secondly, experts, unlike researchers, are under enormous time pressure, since it is their conclusions which will feed into the political decision. Experts’ response times are therefore defined by the deadlines given to them by the politicians. In addition, the time limits to which experts are subject become even more acute in crisis situations, in which there is enormous media and political pressure (the recent BSE crisis is a case in point). That is why the expert works quickly, using the stock of knowledge available at the time he has to give his opinion. That knowledge may not always contain the data required, so it obliges the expert to call into play a veritable orchestra of disciplines, in a universe which is ever more specialized, in order to analyse the facts or events at hand. So while scientific research makes a contribution to the gradual increase of knowledge, expertise works fast. It is required to express an opinion on the basis of knowledge available at a precise moment in time (Roqueplo, 1997). In these circumstances, experts can only express personal convictions regarding the matter at hand, based on the combination of technical and epistemic skills in their areas of specialization. Naturally, this is not an unfounded judgment, but rather a judgment arrived at in a responsible manner, and based on recognized skill and extensive familiarity with the area of knowledge which relates, in whole or in part, to the issue raised. For this reason, when experts address politicians and public opinion, they do not assert merely that “we know this or that…”. They say that, despite the insufficient nature of available

25 Of course, these two characteristics can only be formulated as ideal-types. Academic scientists are not always free to choose the objects of their study, since the choice depends on the uses and viability of certain lines of research, nor are they free of time and productivity rate pressures. Apart from their personal career ambitions, they are also constrained by assessments of their performance in terms of number of articles published, patents registered, number of citations, participation in conferences, etc. These conditions have been taking shape since the end of the nineteenth century, which witnessed the first signs of change in science’s organization and institutional structure (for example, the setting up of industrial and government laboratories) and in its relationship to technology, the state, society, industry, business and the military.

33 knowledge, “they are convinced that…” or “based on the results obtained, they envisage that…”. Despite the fact that such assertions are opinions or convictions, they are expressed in the language of science which the experts normally use. Experts provide answers to politicians by daring to say what they think and firmly believe, based on what they know about the subject at hand. The legitimacy of their answers derives from their scientific foundation. Its objective is not to speak “truth to power”, but that which can be sustained by means of the scientific arguments available at the moment. 26 The nature of the issues which expertise should address and the context in which it is applied means that the knowledge it produces tends to exceed the boundaries of science (even though it is scientifically based), so as to be able to supply the pertinent knowledge demanded by those who hold political power. The transgression is inherent in the provision of scientific expertise for three reasons (Roqueplo, 1997; Nowotny, 2003). First, experts transgress by going beyond the borders of their own disciplines, thereby effectively joining and bringing together a number of different disciplines, because they do not have an immediate answer to the questions raised by decision-makers. Secondly, experts’ opinions tend to go beyond the limits of objectivity which define their profession, because they are inevitably tainted by subjective bias (in terms of beliefs, convictions, ideologies, solidarities, prejudices, nationalisms, etc.). This subjectivity is all the more noticeable because experts are called upon to explain technically complex matters, but these matters are socially and economically significant, many of them having ethical implications (Roqueplo, 1997). On issues such as nuclear energy and genetic engineering as applied to human beings, it is extremely difficult for experts not to go beyond the imperatives of objectivity which they generally invoke. Finally, experts necessarily transgress the boundaries of their discipline because they address audiences which are made up more than their peers: this requires them to develop arguments which take into account the wide range of anxieties, sensitivities, demands, expectations and experiences found in a mixed public audience (Nowotny, 2003: 152). It is these transgressions which make scientific expertise vulnerable to controversy and which make it contentious. Nor does scientific expertise follow the certification and control procedures of academic science. Opinions and reports are rarely submitted to the ritual of peer review, so expertise in this context can rightly be said to be placed in a position of “professional extra-territoriality” (Trépos, 2001: 36). For this reason, scientific controversies, considered salutary in the academic arena, become clashes in the realm of scientific expertise and have serious implications for the institutionalization of political decisions.

26 Sheila Jasanoff uses the concept of “serviceable truth” to describe the type of “truth” supplied by expertise. The idea “of neutral advisory bodies ‘speaking truth to power’” is naive because there cannot be a “perfect, objectively verifiable truth” (1990: 250).

34 The corollary of these arguments is that scientific expertise cannot comply with the objective criteria of science itself. It is one thing to produce scientific knowledge in an academic research context, but quite another to use it in the framework of decision- making. That is why we should not muddle up the role of the scientist who works exclusively in an academic environment with the scientist who acts as an expert, lest we adversely affect the credibility of both. As mentioned earlier, it is not science per se which is revealed in expertise, but rather the expert’s conviction based on available scientific knowledge. The outcome of scientific expertise may therefore be regarded as “reasonable knowledge based as far as possible on objective grounds” (Roqueplo, 1993; 1997). 27 The “reasonableness” of this knowledge derives from the fact that, to the extent possible, it embodies the available knowledge on any given subject-matter, but above all because it makes us aware of areas of ignorance, uncertainty and possible contradictions between different outcomes. From what has been stated above, we may conclude that expertise has a political purpose, given that it is aimed at the factual underpinning of decisions. That does not mean that the demand for expertise is limited to the sphere of institutional political action. The demand for expertise has extended to other bodies and actors beyond the traditional realm of administrative and political authorities, such as international organizations, businesses, courts, pressure groups, media organizations, environmental associations and civic movements. The style of expertise depends on who has commissioned it. It may be public, or it may be confidential; it may be provided by a group or panel, or by an individual; and, with “official” expertise, it may be drawn from an institutional/administrative context (known as “internal” or “administrative” expertise, because it is drawn from within the state apparatus) or on an ad hoc basis (so-called “outside expertise”, which comes from outside the political context by way of studies commissioned from institutions or university-based scholars with recognized skills). There are also many different reasons why expertise is called for. It may be summoned to give an opinion on the authentication of a product or work, or to make a judgement in a specific case (for example, psychiatric or judicial expertise). But most often specialists are called upon to assess the impact of a particular measure and to make forecasts for the future, such as the development of technological innovations and new fields of research (nanotechnology, biotechnology, etc.). Far from being confined to the academic sphere, expert knowledge and advice have been provided by many different institutions such as think-tanks and, more recently, consulting firms, which thus seek to place particular issues on the political agenda.

27 The precise French terms which Roqueplo uses to define expertise are: “connaissance raisonnable aussi objectivement fondée que possible” (1997: 40).

35 The experts faced with limitations, uncertainties and citizens The existing literature shows that the reality of expertise is not compatible with simple generalizations. Rather, it is complex and diversified. A number of studies show how it has been appropriated and how the legitimacy of scientific knowledge is used as a stratagem. Quite often, expertise is accused of being susceptible to a posteriori legitimation of political decisions which have already been taken or are already planned (Nelkin, 1971; Mazur, 1973; Nowotny, 1982; Collingridge and Reeve, 1986; Barker and Peters, 1993). This is what Roqueplo (1993) calls “confiscated expertise”, which I will analyse in depth in chapter 4. Expertise has been also used with particular effectiveness to ensure a series of benefits for governments: delaying or avoiding a popular protest; covering up a reversal of a decision (without the authorities having to acknowledge their mistake or to admit that they changed their mind); mediating in a conflict (Boehmer- Christiansen, 1995: 197-198); or redefining political and social problems in purely technical terms. In some circumstances, policy makers may manipulate, distort or ignore scientific sources and take decisions that fit their interests, opinions or existing institutional policies and goals (Primack and von Hippel, 1974; Liberatore, 1993; Alam, 2005). This may happen if the politicians in charge fail to mention the conditional nature of certain scientific pronouncements, or select only those conclusions which suit them (Godard et al ., 2002: 60-61). In some cases, the shifting of responsibility to technical advisers constitutes an attempt to achieve immunity in relation to the consequences of difficult and conflicting choices, thus de-politicizing the process of political decision-making (Larson, 1984: 63-64). In others, expertise is an organized mechanism for integrating technological and scientific innovation (Roy, 2001). The various different types of uncertainty mentioned in the preceding paragraph may be a strategic element in achieving some of the stated objectives. The Canadian sociologist Brian Campbell (1985) showed how the exposure and management of uncertainties are manipulated in different ways by experts and opponents, with the former stressing the certainties and the epistemic adequacy of existing studies, while the latter argue for the existence of uncertainty. In a context where there is a search for, and dependence on, scientifically-based solutions, acknowledging uncertainty and ignorance in relation to a given technological innovation may not satisfy the demands and expectations of decision-makers and citizens, but it is undoubtedly closer to the truth, at least as far as complex technological systems and environmental problems are concerned. Not only are there built-in limitations to any scientific undertaking, which cannot be overcome, but the type of issues which come out into the open may be affected by an interlocking series of contingencies, synergies and resistances which it is impossible to predict. But the enormous pressure on experts to come up with quick, black-and-white

36 answers means that they argue in favour of definite conclusions, even when faced with a wide range of uncertainties and indeterminacies. Therefore it is not unusual that behind supposedly well-defined policies and scientific reports we should find significant uncertainties (Nelkin, 1979; Nowotny, 1981; Wynne, 1992; Funtowicz and Ravetz, 1993; Irwin, 1995). At times, these may even be acknowledged but, under great pressure to reach unequivocal conclusions/decisions, they are strategically minimized, filtered or ignored, both by the scientists and by the decision-makers, who try to create an artificial world of certainty, control and security. On many occasions this procedure may have disastrous consequences for the institutionalization of public policy. The case of radioactive contamination occurred in the upland region of Cumbria in the United Kingdom is a good example. After the nuclear accident at Chernobyl in 1986, a radioactive cloud and strong “radiocaesium” rains crossed Cumbria soils. For safety reasons, public officials decided temporarily to suspend the trade in sheep, based on experts’ conclusions that the radioactivity would dissipate over a period of a few weeks. This prediction turned out to be wrong on account of the fact that experts had based their opinion on observations and geological knowledge of types of soil different to those of the upland areas of Cumbria (the predictions applied to alkaline clay soils, while the soils in question were acid peaty soils). 28 Since the radioactivity persisted, the authorities were obliged to decree that sheep had to be slaughtered and a ban on the sale of sheep was extended indefinitely. This had extremely harmful effects on the region, damaging the credibility of the experts and institutions involved. Government experts attributed this contamination to the Chernobyl accident, but local farmers believed that much of the contamination had its origins nearer, in the Sellafield nuclear plant. Later on it emerged that even though the experts had denied the possibility at the time, the contamination was in fact due to the leaks at Chernobyl and at the Sellafield plant (Wynne, 1992; 1996). Though the case can be looked at from several angles (including the experts’ disdain for “lay” and “local” knowledge), the most relevant aspect for my purposes is the fact that the experts reached their conclusions and forecasts in an assertive manner, without reservations, and even failed to take into account the effects of radioactivity on the type of soil found in Cumbria, of which they had no direct knowledge, and failed to consider other epistemic and random uncertainties. This is a good example of the concept

28 Wynne (1992) acknowledges that this error-generating procedure in prediction is, in the final analysis, the standard scientific pattern. In general, scientists forecast the behaviour of a particular agent (in this case, radiocaesium) under new conditions by extrapolating from what they know of its behaviour under specific conditions. When the outcome does not match expectations, they go back to the original model and change the basic assumptions. In this respect, it is relevant to recall Popper’s criterion of demarcation of scientific vs. non-scientific knowledge claims. If one loses sight of the idea that science is a “falsifiable or testable knowledge”, the institutionalisation of public policies begins to be based on a dogmatic conception of science, which may have disastrous effects.

37 of ignorance : the experts were unaware of certain significant parameters of this case, and of indeterminacy, in that these selfsame experts made a series of (technological, social and economic) compromises on the basis of their stock of available knowledge and used certain assumptions regarding their validity and applicability to situations which had not arisen before. It is also a good example of how experts’ predictions, based on the protocols of the universality of scientific knowledge, may turn out to be wrong in specific contexts. In this and similar cases, experts are patently unable to provide a clear-cut and conclusive answer. Moreover, cases such as these cannot be left to experts, because non-technical aspects which are important to citizens get left out. When ordinary citizens become aware of the political value of scientific expertise, of the possible threats posed by certain technological plans, and of their right to greater participation in the making of decisions which affect them, they often end up forcing their way into dialogue (Nowotny, 1982). Some case studies portray the struggle for legitimacy for lay knowledge and show how citizens undertake their own actions, resorting to experts and forcing public debate on certain topics, whenever public institutions fail to respond to their concerns and confidence in institutionalised science diminishes. A good example of this is the study of how the population of the American town of Woburn, Massachusetts, as a result of its own efforts and with the scientific backing of a number of experts, discovered a “childhood leukaemia cluster” caused by an untreated toxic waste dump which had subsequently contaminated the public water supply. The involvement of Woburn residents in the discovery of the causes and incidence of the disease, and in the assessment of risk, unleashed a genuine lay epidemiological approach to toxic wastes and disease – a “popular epidemiology” as the authors describe it – and a struggle against corporations and government (Brown and Mikkelson, 1990). In this kind of situations, it is not unusual for a group of experts, committed to providing technical evidence to a given policy, to be tactically challenged by a rival group of experts who seek to expose the technical uncertainties and other arguments underlying supposedly objective policy decisions. On these occasions, as the distinguished historian Dorothy Nelkin argues, “expertise is reduced to one more weapon in a political arsenal” (1979: 16). 29 In these scientific disputes, experts “highlights their fallibility, demystifies their special expertise and calls attention to non-technical and political assumptions that influence technical advice” (Nelkin, 1975: 54). That is why Collingridge and Reeve (1986) adopt a pessimistic view of the role of expertise in public policy debates. Instead of diminishing or resolving them, expertise helps to exacerbate them.

29 In the literature on expertise, this image of experts as “hired guns” goes hand in hand with another which states that “for every expert there is an equal and opposite expert”.

38 To the extent that a focus on expertise alone may blind us to the relevance of alternative forms of knowledge, over the last few decades there has been an explosion of approaches which appeal to citizens to become involved in political decision-making and to the need for more democratic procedures in technological planning, assessment and implementation. Many writers argue for the public participation in technical decision- making and for the value of lay knowledge as a way to short-circuit several problems: to enhance public trust in the entities involved in decision-making and/or control of technology; to attribute greater worth to citizens’ opinions on decisions which affect their lives; to encourage democratic practice; to subject institutional interests to public scrutiny (e.g. Otway, 1987; Shrader-Frechette, 1993; Wynne, 1982, 1992, 1996, 2005; Irwin, 1995; Petts, 1997; Fischer, 2000; Cerezo e García, 2002; Jasanoff, 2003). 30 In issues of risk, “no one is an expert”, Beck argues. That is why “it is important to open the committees and the circles of experts and evaluators to the pluralism of disciplines, extradisciplinary modes of judgment, and shared decision making” (Beck, 1995 [1991]: 108-109). Technologically- induced risks leads to calls for the “demonopolization of expertise”, its subjection to social scrutiny, and extension of democratic accountability to science, technology, economics and government (Beck, Giddens and Lash, 1994: 29). This goes some way towards heeding the warnings which Jürgen Habermas (1971 [1963]) gave back in the sixties on decisionism and technocracy. He suggests a “pragmatistic model” of decision-making and mutual communication between politicians and experts, extending it to citizens as well. The purpose of this model of regulation, necessarily associated with democracy, is to counteract the submissive attitude of politicians in the “technocratic model”, under which they are the “mere agents of a scientific intelligentsia” and their decisions are merely “fictitious”. In addition, it also counteracts the “decisionistic model”, which emphasizes the primacy of the political decision ( ibid. : 63, 67). While, on the one hand, the decisionist model is increasingly questioned as a result of the growing involvement of science in politics (interpreted as “scientization of politics”), in the technocratic model, on the other hand, politics is replaced by a rational and scientific government. Both models have their limitations. Decisionist policymaking suffers from a lack of rationality, while technocratic decisions lack a legitimizing public consensus (Weingart, 1999). In relation to these considerations, the legitimacy of the political decision derives both from well-founded knowledge and the democratic nature of the whole process, with

30 Several proposals have been suggested: “science court” (so christened by the media on the basis of a proposal by Arthur Kantrowitz), “technology tribunal” (Shrader-Frechette, 1985), “public space of expertise” (Roqueplo, 1997), “citizens’ conferences” (Fixdal, 1997; Boy, Kamel e Roqueplo, 2000) or “extended peer communities” (Funtowicz and Ravetz, 1993). Such proposals are a symptom of the changes taking place in relation to expertise, politics and society.

39 those affected by it taking part in it. The objective is that political decisions affecting the common good should be anchored in a firm epistemology, while at the same time taking democratic legitimacy into account. Expertise is not an unambiguous source of facts, nor is it immune to inconsistencies and differing interpretations, but it is nonetheless a vital resource in decision-making.

Conclusion The arguments presented in this chapter define the parameters for discussion and analysis of the case study which follows. I start from the assumption that the issue of waste embodies many aspects which are typical of the problems of the risk society. But I also argue that only the language of uncertainty, and not that of risk, can capture the complexity of these problems. This is an important conceptual distinction: even though the theory of the risk society does in fact articulate a society of uncertainty, using the concept of risk conveys a false notion that it is possible to control and forecast the problems it generates. Wastes are indeed a side-effect and an unintended consequence of the industrial process; are a threat to human beings (transmitted through the air, water, soil and/or food chains) subjecting them to risks which are invisible (such as dioxins) and which only specialists are able to detect; are “manufactured risks”; have consequences for a large number of people; have complex causal chains and long-term periods of latency. In addition to these characteristics, wastes also have a greater potential negative impact on public perceptions, which in historical terms has been revealed in attitudes of repugnance at their physical presence and smell, and with respect to feared health and environmental hazards. As will be explained in chapter 3, wastes also involve many different materials and human activities, as well as a wide network of collection, transport, storage, treatment, and disposal facilities . The management of complex problems such as waste requires the specialist scientific judgement of experts. They are an invaluable resource in helping to reach political decisions which require a sound technological foundation. Clearly experts, given their specialist skills, tend to emphasize instrumental and technical aspects rather than social and political ones. But in the matter of waste, both of these are vital. Any assessment of the risks surrounding waste cannot be limited to understanding probabilities, the events which produce it or the definition of socially acceptable standards. These variables are significant in explaining the risks, but their effectiveness is only partial, because they tend to exclude from consideration a wide range of topics which are essential for full understanding, such as trust, credibility and the ability to control the risks. It is not possible to assess probabilities for all aspects of these problems. Epistemic and

40 random uncertainties place limits on studies and solutions which take only the strictly technological aspects into account. Many of the so-called risks are incompatible with the formal precision and standardization of risk analysis, because they contain acute uncertainties for which it is not possible to outline probabilities. Taking on board the recognition of different forms of uncertainty, Wynne’s typology, which I adopt for the case study, highlights three significant analytical factors: 1) in examining specific situations, we should not allow the concept of risk to merge with other categories which are close to, but not synonymous with it; 2) there are fundamental social issues involved in the new types of problem; 3) these social issues include science itself, which can therefore no longer be regarded as being value-free and ethically neutral knowledge which is immune to any contingency. As Wynne says, there are no rigid boundaries between risk, uncertainty, ignorance and indeterminacy, but it is important that we keep sight of the conceptual differences between them. This distinction is important because it has an influence on expert analysis and entails different ways of managing political regulation. A rigorous analysis of the problem of waste will undoubtedly find situations for which the probability of something going wrong is well-known ( risk ), situations for which we know what the possible harmful effects will be, but not the likelihood of their occurring ( uncertainty ), situations in which both the negative consequences and the likelihood of occurrence are unknowable ( ignorance ), and situations in which it is impossible to make any quantitative forecast because they depend on human and social decisions, commitments and contingencies ( indeterminacy ). These different forms of uncertainty tend to call for a precautionary, and a rather less numerical, approach. Recognizing the existence of ignorance and indeterminacy involves an acceptance of the fact that there are risks which we do not know, but above all that there are risks which are unknowable. The concept of risk seems, on the contrary, to understate ignorance and the limits of scientific prediction and control. In addition to addressing the technical and risk-probabilistic dimension, the subject of hazardous waste requires us to be sensitive to the indeterminate melange of social, institutional, political and ethical factors. This provides a more accurate reflection of its complex nature, and of its idiosyncrasies and intricacies. It was with this objective in mind that I proceeded to carry out my empirical research.

41 2. HAZARDOUS WASTE IN PORTUGAL : A CASE STUDY

1. Aims and main working hypotheses The aim of the thesis is to study the protracted conflict over the disposal of hazardous industrial waste in Portugal, focusing attention on the interplay between scientific expertise and political decision-making. The richness and complexity of this case would enable one quite easily to adopt any number of analytical approaches, but I chose to limit my investigation to the relationships between these two spheres, examining the ways in which scientific and technical opinions are solicited, whenever there is a need to implement technologies or innovations. 1 The main questions this research project seeks to answer are the following. What form should scientific expertise take in relation to political decision-making, and what are its tasks, given that science, beyond its cognitive and ethical limits, places us right at the heart of controversy when making choices between potential hazards, risks and uncertainties? What are the implications of the probabilistic methods of assessing risks and control of materials in areas where there is widespread ignorance and indeterminacy? What was the framework for mobilizing scientific expertise and what were the relationships between expertise and political decision-makers in this conflict? What was the final outcome of the positions and the interaction of these two entities in terms of solving the problem of hazardous waste? The case study which follows has been conducted using four major working hypotheses, which develop into several other assumptions as the research proceeds. These are set out in the brief introductions to each chapter. The general hypothesis I shall explore is that the way modern societies deal with environmental problems of an extensive, lasting and global nature, like hazardous waste, demands that science see itself as a significant instrument in tackling them, provided that it is used in conjunction with due concern for social and political values, which may in turn help science itself to discover new directions. The corollary of this statement is that the legitimacy of political decisions involving technologically complex fields, in contexts of uncertainty where decisions may be irreversible, cannot be underpinned by scientific knowledge and expertise alone, nor solely by the safety and control measures which science provides.

1 The approach proposed is the first step toward a more comprehensive analysis of this case, in the light of the intricacies of the scientific and political spheres. Earlier Portuguese works on this case, in the field of the social sciences, have dealt with the topic of citizen activism and social movements (Garcia et al., 1999), the perception of risk for local residents (Lima, 2000), the role of the media in the conflict (Camponez, 2002; Schmidt, 2003) and the analysis of institutional politics (Gonçalves, 2002). Research of a local and regional nature has also been conducted, focusing on local residents (Rodrigues, 2000; Nunes and Matias, 2003).

42 Another assumption, which focuses on the relationship between scientific expertise and political decision-makers, holds that the two modalities are different and that the context in which politicians call on expertise is often complex. Within this complexity, I highlight the importance of the status and composition of expertise, in particular the limited disciplinary range of the members of the experts’ committee, and its vulnerability to being appropriated politically, factors which may take the form of mediation and absorption of conflict, and redefine in merely technical terms problems which are political and social in nature. I start out from the assumption that scientific expertise produces a form of knowledge which offers certain scenarios to the decision-makers, but it is no replacement for decision-making itself, and much less an instrument for holding back the necessary process of politicization when decisions are being weighed up and made on matters of the common interest. In the domain of the practice of scientific expertise itself, my starting–point is the need to make conceptual distinctions between the notion of risk and the various types of uncertainty, in order to formulate a further hypothesis. In seeking to estimate the probability and severity of the impact of a given event taking place as a result of exposure to a specific hazard, mathematical risk analyses usually undertaken by experts seek to provide objective information to politicians and the public. But with environmental and public health problems, this methodology, and the management of the attendant risks, may be invalidated, given that it is impossible to calculate the probabilities involved in the long-term and large-scale impact of many of those problems. There are too many epistemic and random uncertainties involved (unforeseen interactions, negative synergies, possible transgenerational effects, periods of latency, causal blockages, etc.), as well as social indeterminacy. Moreover, probabilistic risk analyses, which focus mainly on technical aspects, are too closely associated with an approach which avoids questioning prevailing models of economic development, the role of technology in today’s society, the options with regard to resources, and citizens’ values and experiences, especially their perceptions of risk and their conceptions of distributive justice. To take the political element into account when dealing with environmental problems does not mean that under a democratic regime temporary office-holders have a monopoly on those issues (nor that they should be dealt with according to the criteria of corporate business strategy). This understanding brings me to my last major hypothesis. A political decision on a common good, in a democratic and plural politeia , must observe procedures which ensure accountability and transparency, and take into account the different points of view which the mechanisms of participation produce, if the decisions on risks which affect us all are to be more than just a product of the way the country has been governed.

43 2. Methodological Orientations In the vast literature on research techniques and methods, it is widely held that the choice of research topic is directly dependent on the aims and issues addressed by the study. Thus, qualitative methodology is the methodology best suited to this research project, due to its socio-historical intricacies and the analytically multi-dimensional nature of the case, and in order to draw a rounded picture of the process from the point of view of the main persons involved, revealing their meanings, interpretations and arguments. Because of the project’s characteristics, it is a “case study” which seeks to understand the abundance and depth of the factors at stake, grasping them in their relational complexity and in a nuanced manner. There is no single definition of a case study, but it is usual to see it as an in-depth study of a particular case using a wide range of available research techniques. This ability to employ multiple sources and kinds of evidence in a systematic and organized way is precisely one of the strengths of the case study method. It is often able to find out crucial intricacies that other scientific methods might miss. It also allows a holistic and meaningful picture of a phenomenon. If a variety of definitions exists, it is due to the fact that the case study method is applied in many subject areas by many disciplines, not only in the social sciences such as anthropology, psychology, and sociology, but also in other practice- oriented research fields such as social work, administrative studies, medicine, environmental studies and education. In historical terms, the use of the case study method was fundamentally forged in social work and in anthropology. In the field of sociology, it was closely associated with the Chicago School, the cradle of qualitative methodology in the USA, and with its application to urban society. But, when quantitative sociology became strongly dominant after the Second World War, the case study began to be seen as having little scientific value, as preliminary to more extensive investigation. During that period, only surveys, statistical methods and opinion polls were regarded as being “scientific”. Despite positivist criticism of non-positivist methods, the practice of qualitative research did not disappear from the social science field. Nor did the practice of the case study. As Jennifer Platt (1992) states in her historical inventory of the case study, the story of research practice is not the same as the story of methodological debate. Hence, even with methodological criticisms, the case study has always been extensively practiced. Today no single methodology dominates others. Methods and techniques are combined, with recognition being given to the limitations and potential of each. In any research project, this trade-off between strengths and weaknesses has to be taken into account, and it is more important to reflect on a methodological strategy than to adopt just one specific method. Qualitative methods remain relevant even in the face of refinements in methods of generalization. Even so, one of the criticisms most often directed at the case

44 study is that it is a poor ground for generalization. However some have argued that limiting research to the study of just one case enables us to understand it in its full depth and complexity (Abbott, 1992). The more complex and contextualized the case is, the greater the benefits to be derived from approaching it as a case study. The criticisms outlined above are rooted in the positivist tradition, whereby “scientificity” is dependent on “general laws” which can be “verified”. Robert Yin rightly refutes these criticisms when he states that case studies rely on “analytical generalization” and not on “statistical generalization”. Case studies enable us to generate new concepts and interpretations or to re-examine existing concepts and interpretations. In this sense, “an analyst should try to generalize findings to ‘theory’, analogous to the way a scientist generalizes from experimental results to theory” (Yin, 1994 [1984]: 37). Also against the assumption that case studies provide little basis for scientific generalization, Robert Stake argues that this method allows what he calls by “naturalistic generalization”. The case study should be described in a way to provide information easily assimilated with the readers’ existing knowledge and experience; through this process, they construct the meaning of the case. In this sense, generalizations are embedded in the experience of the reader, who generalize from known cases and applies to the situation under study by means of appropriate comparisons. “Naturalistic generalizations are conclusions arrived at through personal engagement in life’s affairs or by vicarious experience so well constructed that the person feels as if it happened to themselves” (Stake, 1995: 85). Case studies may be used for various purposes, depending on the researcher’s aims. For Yin, they may be “exploratory”, “explanatory” and “descriptive”. In an exploratory case study, the goal is to obtain information about an object of interest, developing hypotheses and propositions for further inquiry. An explanatory case study seeks to outline the issues in the case and to build, develop or compare theoretical frameworks. A descriptive case study aims to describe the case, for which it is necessary a descriptive theory or model to be developed before starting the research. Robert Stake identifies three other types of case studies: “intrinsic”, “instrumental” and “collective”. In what he calls intrinsic case study, the case itself is of primary, not secondary, interest. The study is undertaken due to our intrinsic interest in the case and not because it represents other cases or illustrates a particular problem. By instrumental case study, Stake understands a study where the case is of secondary or external interest; the research on a case is to accomplish an understanding of something else (for example, the case may be seen as typical of other cases). The collective case study is an instrumental study extended to several cases. This collection of cases is chosen to better understand a specific interest (Stake, 1994: 237-238; 1995: 3-4).

45 The conflict surrounding over a treatment method for HIW in Portugal have been deliberately chosen to illustrate, in general terms, the relationship between scientific expertise and political decision-making, in the case of an important issue of public interest. In Yin and Stakes’ typologies, this case plays an “explanatory” and “instrumental” role. Instrumental because the case is a means to an end, and not an end in itself (despite its enormous “intrinsic” value). That is, the case will be used to gain understanding on the relationship between who has to decide complex matters and who scientifically advise them. Explanatory because the analysis of this particular case can be the basis for relevant generalizations not only to other complex governmental decisions, also supported by scientific expertise, but also more broadly to the comprehension of the new types of conflicts emerged in some contexts of Southern Europe. There were several reasons behind the choice of this case in particular. First of all, because it gave rise to one of the most significant environmental conflicts, in a country where environmental questions have only recently become important. Secondly, this case has also generated strong conflict among scientists, policy-makers, citizens and environmental associations. In this climate of tension, the government called on scientific expertise to outline the grounds for its decisions, but the systematic divisions within the scientific community strengthened citizens’ suspicions and demonstrated the epistemic limits of scientific analysis itself. Finally, this conflict raised doubts about the probabilistic model of risk assessment, because it dealt with an issue with several types of uncertainties and with considerable ethical, social and political implications. This conflict has also shown the difficulties to infer ethical and acceptance propositions (e.g. compliance, citizen’s agreement) from scientific and technical reports. As far as the time period covered is concerned, and because this case is still ongoing, I decided to set the temporal and analytical boundaries between 1997 and the end of 2004. The start date is justified by the fact that in 1997 the Portuguese government decided that burning in cement industries (co-incineration) was a more sustainable and efficient strategy for treating hazardous industrial waste. The termination point at the end of 2004 allows the study to trace further developments on the subject, after the abandonment of the policy of co-incineration under the new government, elected in 2002 2, and the choice of a different solution. Although this research is focused on the relationship between experts and politicians during the period wherein the co-incineration process was at stake (1997-2002), it is important to pursue the analysis until 2004 to study the continuity of the intricacies of the process under a new government and a new solution to manage hazardous waste, but the same old lack of implementation. Despite these time

2 In this election, the Socialist Party (which represents the centre-left) was replaced by the Social Democrat Party (centre-right).

46 boundaries, whenever necessary for the purposes of the research, events occurred before 1997 and after 2004 will be taken into account to frame historically the co-incineration policy. By virtue of being an in-depth research project, the case study deploys multiple sources of evidence. For this reason, it may be viewed as a bricolage and the researcher as bricoleur , as in Lévi-Strauss’ model. As a bricoleur , the researcher will perform several tasks, from interviewing those involved to analysing and interpreting official documents. As a bricolage , it combines multiple methods, empirical materials and paradigms in a single study to achieve an in-depth and rigorous understanding of the object under investigation. Sociologists refer to this as triangulation (e.g. Denzin, 1970). 3 In this methodological bricolage, I utilised different sources to gather information. One of those sources was documentary. To prepare the historical reconstruction of the problem in the country and to understand its longitudinal dynamics, I carried out an exhaustive survey of the documentation available. These documents show how significant the issue of hazardous waste has been in Portugal over the last decade. The survey covers official documents of the government and of the various parties involved (including all the legislation on the subject and some transcripts of the most important parliamentary debates, published in Diário da Assembleia da República , DAR) and reports produced by environmental associations. Of particular importance are the reports produced by the scientific committees: two volumes, published in 2000 (Formosinho et al . 2000; Barros et al . 2000). Another vital source of information was the set of articles published on the case in the national newspapers. They are of interest not only for the narrative structure of the case, but also for the opinions of different social sectors. I have collected articles published in the main national newspapers ( Público , Expresso , Jornal de Notícias and Diário de Notícias ), between 1997 and 2006. This type of research involved a significant amount of work in the main archives of some of those newspapers. The publication, in mid-2003, of a book by the scientific committee which examined the case (Pio et al., 2003), and which contained a CD-ROM with information, helped to complement the data- gathering then in progress. 4 In total, after adding a few articles from the regional press which were available on the CD-ROM and which contained information relevant to an understanding of the case (articles mainly based on interviews), I analysed over a little more than 1000 cuttings from newspapers and magazines.

3 The triangulation process is usually known as the use of multiple data sources within a same case study. Besides data sources, triangulation can involve methodologies (when more than one method is used), researchers (when several researchers examine the same case), and theories (when researchers with different viewpoints interpret the same data set) (Denzin, 1970: 301 ff.). 4 The CD-ROM includes just over a thousand news items and articles from the national and regional press, as well as technical data files, reports, explanations, legislation and protocols, amongst others.

47 The choice of restricting analysis to national newspapers arose from the notion that local and regional newspapers would be likely to adopt a point of view committed to regional causes, and would therefore take on a role as direct participants in the conflict. A study of this aspect published in the meantime has shown that regional papers were highly selective in their choice of what news to include, exclude and give priority to, and completely lost sight of the objective and impartial guidelines which they should, supposedly, observe. By way of example I can quote the case of two regional dailies – from the towns which at a given moment were chosen as the sites for incineration of hazardous waste – which were involved in collecting signatures to force the government to suspend its decision (Camponez, 2002). These regional sources may not serve as an objective set of accounts, but those accounts were at least in part constitutive of the reality they were trying to report. It is possible to argue that national newspapers were also aligned with certain social, economic and political forces, and that there were biases deriving from the editorial culture and professional habits of the staff involved which were reflected in the media’s agenda and in the interpretation of events. However, no research to date has established them to having been involved to the same extended as regional newspapers. In any event, it should be emphasized that in this research project, readings of articles published in the newspapers served as a backup for telling the story and for corroborating or ruling out information obtained from other sources, and not to analyse the different coverages of the case by the printed press. The newspaper articles are only one source, among others, to present a picture of what happened. Throughout this research project I have remained fully aware of the notion that news is a narrative structure which does not exist independently of those who capture the events described, and is therefore not an accurate reflection of reality. The journalist may be regarded as a researcher, narrator and writer who explores explanatory hypotheses for current events and performs his work using a certain narrative and stylistic creativity. Even in cases where journalism is pursued under the guise of “objective conduct”, to borrow a concept which Paul Ricoeur applied to historians, the journalist cannot avoid “a certain type of subjectivity”, even if the subjectivity is that which is appropriate to the goal of objectivity which he or she pursues, again borrowing this French writer’s terminology (Ricoeur, 1955: 24-25). For this reason, I took care to compare data published in the newspapers with alternative sources. Along with the aforementioned secondary sources, interviews were the other main data-gathering tool. Interviews provide a profound and rich level of information; they allow the researcher to gain access to the referential framework and the discourse of interviewees. They also enable the interviewer to compare the data obtained from analysis of documentation with the information gathered in the interviews. Moreover, the

48 interviewer is able to ensure that respondents interpret questions properly; to check the validity of information on the basis of respondent’s non-verbal behaviour; to exercise greater control over the setting of the interview; to obtain spontaneous answers; and to apply greater flexibility in the order in which questions are asked. As a special case of social interaction, the interviewer must be aware of certain norms that regulate the interaction between two persons. He must also be aware of some methodological weaknesses, such as time spent and potential lack of accessibility of respondents (Black and Champion, 1976; Bailey, 1978). I carried out the interviews between June 2004 and January 2006, according to interviewees’ availability. Those interviewed, in accordance with the aims of the research project, were key actors who, due to their position, involvement or responsibilities, had a sound understanding of the process. As is customary in the qualitative methodologies, the objective was to achieve “information saturation”, and not to put together a statistical sample of the population affected. Interviews were accordingly held with nearly all members of the scientific committees: four scientists from the Independent Scientific Committee (out of four) and four doctors from the Medical Working Group (out of six). Information saturation was achieved, operationalized by the frequency of the same topics and by interpretation of the different situations and of the case itself. Politicians in office at the time were also interviewed. Because this was a study of a conflict which divided the scientific community and even the very government which tried to implement the process, it was necessary to listen to many parties involved, including actors with divergent interests and values. For this reason, interviews were also held with the scientists who publicly disagreed with those committees; representatives of political forces opposed to the method decided on by the government; and members of the most active environmental association involved in the protests. In total, 15 interviews were held. They averaged two hours each and were all held at the interviewee’s place of work. I had planned to carry out four more interviews, but despite several attempts, this was not possible. One of those potential interviewees (José Socrátes) in the meantime became Prime-Minister of Portugal, in February 2005, while another (Manuel Alegre) was the runner-up in the presidential elections of January 2006. The other two were members of civic associations. I made up for the lack of these interviews by using documentary sources: most of the statements made by these participants in the process were recorded in various forms. The interviews follow a semi-standardized format, meaning that there is a grid of issues and topics which “direct” the interviewee, but only if the interviewee does not raise the issues of his own accord. This specific type of interview makes it possible to obtain detailed and in-depth information and is appropriate for situations where the researcher is

49 somewhere in between being fully cognizant of the case (which would point to the directive interview or questionnaire) and totally ignorant of it (which would point to the non- standardized interview) (Ghiglione and Matalon, 1992 [1978]: 84; 88). At the same time, it has the flexibility to allow freedom to digress and to explore beyond the set of predetermined questions (Berg, 1998 [1989]: 57 ff.). A key factor in this research was the ability to adapt the interview to the particular features of the interviewee’s role in the case 5 and the fact that this type of interview can be opened up to introduce other topics relevant to the study which only emerge as the interview is in progress. Here is a short list of some guidelines for interviews. It was anticipated that interviews with experts (along with analysis of scientific reports) would provide an understanding as to which conception of “risk” and “uncertainty” supported their scientific conclusions and recommendations; if those conclusions were strictly based on scientific data or had been constrained by contextual factors; if ethical values had been taken into account; and if epistemological uncertainties were included in the report and if so what had been its consequences for the analysis and conclusions. In addition, their opinions on the controversy within the scientific community and on the concerns raised by citizens were also explored. Interviews with political leaders were expected to provide an understanding of how they balanced environmental protection and developmental models (sustainability versus economic-industrial growth); what weight was attributed to scientific rationality and to citizens’ values in their decisions; what is the importance and functions attributed to scientific expertise; and what reasons were given for the absence of specialists in ecological and social sciences in scientific committees. Finally, interviews with representatives of the environmental movement yielded information about their position on the co-incineration methodology; their views on the consultancy process adopted by the government and by expert committees; their opinion on the composition and final recommendations of both scientific committees; their perception as to whether the scientific committee had been sensitive to the different technical opinions of the co- incineration process. In the interview situation, to obtain frank and insightful replies from the interviewees is a difficult task, especially when they are elite individuals and/or public figures, as in my research. Respondents are aware that their comments will be published in some form and that they will have little or no control on that process. But, unlike ordinary citizens, elite individuals know that their views and opinions can be of interest to a

5 For the success of the interview, it is necessary to obtain first some background information about each interviewee. This sort of preparation contributes to identifying the role, position and relevance of each particular respondent in the case. It may also help the interviewer to spot potential embarrassing or sensitive questions to the respondent (e.g. asking a non-graduate about his University degree) and to get some familiarity with the terminology, likely style and points of view that he or she might encounter in the interviews (Moyser, 1988: 123).

50 wide audience and that its publication may have repercussions. So, the outcome, as George Moyser points out in his study on elite interviews, might be “either a refusal or a pro forma set of responses devised for public occasions” (1988: 125). In this situation, the appropriate posture continues to be the one advised by Lewis Anthony Dexter in the book Elite and Specialized Interviewing , published in 1970. The interviewer should have “sympathetic neutrality”. This way, he or she “tries to encourage the respondent to be frank through a sense of like-mindedness and mutual empathy combined with the non- threatening image of an academic observer” (Moyser, ibid. ). Although the academic label is not necessarily associated with neutrality, that posture worked out in the interviews that I have carried out. The interviews were done with the help of a tape-recorder, after obtaining interviewees’ permission. 6 None of the interviewees refused this request, probably because, as elite individuals, they are used to having their statements recorded (Moyser, 1988: 127). Before the recording process, I also discussed with them some ethical and political dimensions of qualitative research, such as the informed consent (consent given by the subject after being informed about the research) and the confidentiality of data (Punch, 1994). In this specific case, neither the use of a tape-recorder nor issues concerning the confidentiality of their statements have caused any problems due to the positions of the interviewees, as expressed either in newspapers, scientific reports, public statements or television debates, were well known. The interviews made it possible for me to achieve more focused lines of enquiry and a deeper analysis of the key issues, in accordance with the research project’s aims. The data I have collected, mainly written documents and transcripts of recorded verbal communications, were subjected to a discourse analysis. This technique is essentially a method of dealing with text-based research material. In general, the modus operandi involves codifying the discourse by translating the research assumptions and objectives into analytical categories. The aim of such categorization is to obtain a different, simpler and more condensed representation of the original discourse. In other words, the text is split up into pieces matching each subject category, and is subsequently re- constituted in an interpretative manner. I analysed the data gathered – which is a sizeable, polyvalent and information-rich corpus of knowledge – with the help of the conceptual framework (developed in chapter 1) and the working assumptions of the research (defined on the next subheading). I sought to work on that corpus without examining the formal aspects of the discourse, such as word choice or its frequency, but rather by forming a picture of the conflicting interpretations, arguments and proposals surrounding each topic.

6 The words thus recorded were subjected to several repeated hearings until they had been set down in a transcript which also includes the repetitions, pauses and idiomatic expressions.

51 The analysis therefore followed heuristic and not algorithmic criteria. I also had to adapt to the demands and limitations associated with a sociological research project, hence I have made a clear attempt to avoid an analysis of the chemical, engineering or combustion- related “hard facts” associated with the incineration of hazardous wastes. The main aim was to capture the assessments and interpretations of the actors involved, thereby seeking to establish whether the objective conflict over the facts reflected antagonistic conceptual approaches to the issue itself, “acceptable risk”, the role of ethics, the functions of decision-makers and experts, the value of citizens’ opinions, development models, interests and values at stake. Amongst several perspectives on discourse analysis, I chose one in particular which argues that textual materials should be seen as social practices. Accordingly, they inform us more about the sociological rather than linguistic issues. This position also implies that discourse is contingent and constructed: we can thus investigate potential variations between and within texts. In addition to these features, textual materials may have a rhetorical or argumentative function; they may be so organized as to make argumentative cases, or to undermine alternative cases (Potter and Wetherell, 1994: 48). The underlying assumption of this position is that the uses of language are influenced by the language’s social context. There is ample empirical evidence to show that individuals “adapt” their discourse to circumstances. That was why I foresaw from the outset that one of the obstacles to the validity of this research project is that interviewees might take strategic advantage of the interview to “reconstruct” the story in a way that is convenient for them, as a function of their interests and “framed” by the context where they are located (in politics, science or the environmental movement). It was therefore necessary to interpret their discourses bearing in mind their potentially ideological nature. In discourse analysis, the relevant traits of the interviewees’ social and cultural situation, including their position, role, subjectivity and interests, should be taken into account. This problem was partly reduced because I introduced myself and I explained the aims of the interview and of my research. The fact that the thesis will be submitted in a different country to that of the interviewees may have helped. In addition, the use of documentary sources (or of interviews with other participants) has also been helpful. Qualitative research often raises the problem of potential effects and inferences deriving from the researcher’s subjectivity. This has been a source of criticism because it puts the internal and external validity 7 of certain interpretations in doubt. In order to minimize the impact of these problems, I adopted some of the formulas suggested by Yin,

7 External validity has to do with the ability to generalize results beyond the particular case in question, while internal validity has to do with the “veracity” of different interpretations in relation to the facts under study.

52 such as using multiple sources of evidence, and having a draft case study report reviewed by key informants (Yin, 1994 [1984]: 90-99). In addition to issues of validity, a concern with the reliability 8 of data must also inform any research project, and it is possible to ensure the reliability of this research because interviews, tapes and transcripts are open to further inspection by researchers and readers. This way is also possible to avoid the tendency towards an “anecdotal” approach to the use of data in the explanations and conclusions of the research. This is one of the major obstacles to valid qualitative research. “Anecdotalism” occurs when the conclusive findings depends on a few well-chosen examples, and is not genuinely based on critical investigation of all data. Therefore, those examples are not representative of the data set and the end result is an anecdotal evidence, without any analysis of contradictory data (Bryman, 1988: 77; Silverman, 1993), Because it allows for different ways of looking at the data, I have used the method of data triangulation to ensure that my conclusions are genuinely based on correct research and on a comparison of the data.

8 Interpreted as the ability to replicate the same operations (collection and analysis of data) as in the original study and to reach the same conclusions. Related to the “consistency” of the research project.

53 3. THE HAZARDOUS WASTE INVOLVED

Introduction In line with the stated aims of this research project, in chapter 1 I outlined the ways in which hazardous waste relates to risk, to various different types of uncertainty, and to expert knowledge and political decision-making. I then proceeded to set out my methodological approach to the case study. This chapter is concerned with three main aspects. First, it describes hazardous waste in technical, sociological and institutional terms. Secondly, it outlines the specific situation of this type of waste in Portugal, having duly located the issue in the context of environmental policy and in the wider framework of the significant institutional changes which have taken place in Portugal over the last thirty or so years. Finally, this chapter describes how the Portuguese government develops those early policy guidelines for dealing with the accumulated liability of hazardous waste which gave rise to the crisis I have described. In undertaking this project, I am looking for answers to the following inter-related questions: What are the main criteria for defining certain wastes as hazardous? How do the management and regulation of waste tie in with this categorization? What are the main guidelines on waste in the European Union, which Portugal joined in 1986? In historical and social terms, how did environmental issues develop in Portugal and what are the country’s policies in this domain? How did a decision on a treatment method for hazardous industrial waste (HIW) become a violent conflict? My intention is to start out by revealing the more significant obstacles to a strict definition of hazardous waste, given the many different conceptions, types of risk and regulatory guidelines surrounding them. I pay particular attention to the fact that these analytical problems have repercussions on the management and regulation of those wastes. I also show how the European Union (EU) turned its political attentions to the proven connections between economic growth, unrestricted resource utilization and waste production (in particular through its Sixth Environment Action Programme), with a view to encouraging the balanced and considered use of resources, as well as more sustainable models of consumption, in order to reduce total waste volumes, but especially the volume of hazardous waste. As far as the broader context of environmental policy in Portugal is concerned, I explore the possibility of defining Portugal sociologically as a country whose recent past gave it a “relatively developed” complexion alongside another “relatively undeveloped” side (Martins, 1998 [1971]: 119), and as a country which continues to give evidence of the archaic coexisting with the modern and contemporary. Following the troubled advent of democracy from 1974 onwards, Portugal adopted a strategy which led to its becoming a member of the political and legal institutions which gave rise to the current European

54 Union. I endeavour to show how this was a key event in understanding the development of Portuguese environmental policy, in that it was strongly affected by external forces and commitments, rather than by endogenous pressure from civic associations and national political parties. I also look in closer detail at the way in which the comprehensive legal, institutional and planning framework, which emerged in line with European Union directives, was not matched by practical execution on the ground. As it was putting an end to its earlier policy of subordinating development to the impossible grand design of its former “uneconomic imperialism“ ( ibid. : 50), taking its first steps towards productive growth while opening up its political and economic system, Portugal very rapidly came up against exacting European environmental standards. I offer two key indicators to help us better understand this discrepancy, and to describe what happened to the country in this respect. On the one hand, Portuguese economic growth continues to be associated with high levels of energy consumption, excessive use of raw materials and high volumes of waste. On the other hand, as far as industrial waste is concerned, arguments in favour of prevention, reutilization and recycling have come up against the practical difficulty that the infrastructure for treating, reducing and storing this type of waste is wholly inadequate. I conclude this chapter by outlining the Portuguese government’s various different approaches to dealing with the problem of hazardous wastes, bringing in here the first descriptions and explanations of how the conflict arose. My purpose is to describe and track the process in political terms. To this end I outline the main events which shaped the relationship between the government, the cement plants and local residents, and highlight the origins of the different perceptions of risk and credibility of the institutions involved in the decision to implement co-incineration, and in the implementation itself.

1. The problem of hazardous waste and the European policy response Hazardous waste is but one type of waste. There are various ways of categorizing waste products, according to their physical and chemical properties, their potential risk to human health and the environment, the type of treatment they need and their origin. This diversity is the result of the fact that waste is associated with all forms of human activity. In terms of origin, we have, for example, municipal waste (including household and commercial), industrial waste (including manufacturing, waste from electric and electronic equipment, etc.), clinical waste, agricultural waste, construction and demolition waste, mining waste, end-of-life vehicles and tyres. As far as the nature of waste and its potential risks are concerned, waste may be classified into inert (that which is chemically and biologically inactive), hazardous, non-hazardous and radioactive waste. This chapter (as well as the entire thesis) is focused only on HIW.

55 The designation “hazardous”, as its name implies, is given to waste products which contain something which may be harmful to human health and/or to the environment. Industry is one of its main sources. But there are some industrial waste products which are not hazardous, while some domestic waste products (e.g. certain paints, solvents and batteries) and hospital waste (e.g. syringes) are extremely hazardous. In general, it is possible to identify a particular type of waste as hazardous in three ways: (a) by reason of certain properties, such as flammability (may cause or prolong fire), corrosiveness (may destroy live tissue that comes into contact with it), toxicity (inhaling, swallowing or penetration through the skin may involve serious risk or even death), etc.; (b) by the presence of specific toxic chemical constituents (e.g. mercury) or abnormal concentrations of these; (c) by listings of specific categories of waste identified as being hazardous; there are several types of lists: of generic hazardous waste (from many sources and different industries), of industry-specific wastes and of specific chemical products (Dowling and Linnerooth, 1987: 117-118). Notwithstanding this general characterisation, there are differing definitions and systems of classification in different countries and even between states and regions of the same country. According to Brian Wynne (1987a), who has addressed environmental issues and in particular the problem of waste from the point of view of social sciences, the lack of consensus between countries over hazardous waste is the main difficulty for international regulation. Within the group of environmental problems which are transnational in scope (which includes acid rain, carbon dioxide or marine pollution), hazardous waste may be seen as “the black sheep”: the difficulty of pinning down exactly what it means makes it difficult to find a unifying discourse to overcome the differences between nation-states and different groups in the same system. The main structural properties of hazardous waste have certainly contributed to those difficulties in the fields of analysis, management and regulation. Wynne has identified six characteristics (1987b: 56-78). First of all, hazardous waste is a highly heterogeneous waste stream. There is a significant diversity of hazardous waste producers, brokers, regulatory strategies, treatment and disposal methods, etc. This leads to extreme heterogeneity of problem definitions, risk types, and therefore of appropriate regulatory policies. Secondly, hazardous waste has a multistage life-cycle. This life-cycle is both technical (in which waste changes successively in composition, form, risk level, etc.) and behavioural (waste is subject to the control of various human agents). Human action may vary to such an extent that identical waste may produce different risks, according to how they are packaged, mixed, stored, treated or transported. That is why this aspect needs to be taken into account in regulations. Thirdly, hazardous waste not only has intrinsic, but also situational risks. Whereas intrinsic risks derive from the inherent

56 components of waste, like its toxicity, flammability and corrodibility, situational risks emerge because of the way in which hazardous waste has been handled or treated (e.g. form of containment). Because there are situational risks which affect how hazardous a given waste product is, it is impossible to classify them definitively by simply using a classification based only on intrinsic risks. On the contrary, regulation must provide a response to the variations in risk throughout the waste life-cycle. Since the waste product life-cycle contains various phases, there are multiple points of possible decision-making. This is the fourth characteristic of hazardous waste. It is possible to have regulation at each of those points, but that regulation involves different actors and activities and demands different types of risk analysis. For example, regulations applying to risk in the transportation phase are not the same as those which apply to final disposal; they are based on different criteria and define different materials as hazardous. The carrier is probably not interested in whether the concentration of heavy metals in organic sludge is over the limit, but this may be a serious risk at the incineration stage, on account of atmospheric emissions. Fifthly, there is a lack of a well-developed professional cadre in the field of hazardous waste disposal. Unlike nuclear waste, for example, expertise in hazardous waste is much less well developed and organized. No doubt one of the main reasons for this is the fact that it is a very diverse area involving a fragmented set of technical issues and specialisations. Finally, hazardous wastes are characterised by an inverted exchange relationship for materials and payments when wastes rather than goods are involved. Generally speaking, inputs of the treatment and disposal (T&D) industries are other industries’ waste. Since this is a negative-value resource, the T&D industries do not pay for waste products; instead, they are paid to remove and treat them appropriately (unlike a conventional industry, which pays for its inputs). Those who pay for this service are not concerned with quality control in connection with waste (because it has no value), so changes to its chemical composition, mixture and even physical form are more or less uncontrolled. These changes significantly affect the feasibility of treatment. The situation is different when we are dealing with waste products which may appreciate in value (e.g. silver residues in photographic wastes). In these cases the T&D industries pay for these wastes, instead of being paid to take them away. This conversion of “waste” into “non- waste” produces significant ambiguity in the categorization of materials as “rubbish”, “goods” or “raw materials”, and in the way they are regulated. Many of these problems have been attenuated by efforts at legislative harmonization and by data collection policies undertaken by the EU in recent years. Even so, there are major disparities in waste statistics, arising from countries’ different methods and criteria used to record information on the production, transportation, treatment and

57 final destination of wastes. This is one of the main barriers to obtaining reliable and comparable data needed to define proper regulatory plans and monitoring of waste products. 1 In addition to this considerable ignorance regarding the nature and precise extent of the problem, there is also ignorance of the amounts of waste which are not declared and are just dumped somewhere illegally. By way of example, Europe alone produces around 30 million hazardous waste products, for a total tonnage of 3,000 million tonnes, according to the 2003 report entitled Europe’s Environment (EEA, 2003: 151, 155). 2 Despite the fact that this represents only 1% of annual world production, hazardous waste is, by its very nature, a serious threat to public health and to the environment if it is not properly treated and disposed of. Thus, hazardous waste is one of the priority waste streams in EU policy, the primary objective of which is to reduce the amount produced and to make it less hazardous. Despite all the legislative effort, despite the fact that waste recovery (e.g. recycling and re-use) has grown considerably, and despite the fact that many industries now use cleaner technologies, these developments have not been sufficient to reverse the trend for waste production to increase. This trend is partly the result of unsustainable consumption patterns and rapid product obsolescence (EEA, 1999; 2000). For example, between 1990 and 1995, total waste production in Europe grew by around 10%, while economic growth was only 6.5% (EEA, 1999: 203). 3 For 2020, the OECD estimates that waste production will have grown by 45% compared to 1995. 4 It is because of this connection between economic growth and excessive use of resources and production of waste that one of the priorities of the EU’s Sixth Environment Action Programme is precisely to de-couple them. The “sustainable use of natural resources and management of wastes” is part of the top four list of items in this Programme, together with “climate change”, “nature and biodiversity”, and “environment and health.” With measures to minimize production, prudent and rational use of resources and promotion of more sustainable consumption patterns, Europe now attempts to reduce the total volume of waste going to final disposal by around 20% by 2010 and by 50% in

1 As far as hazardous waste is concerned, production statistics may use national classification systems or the Basel Classification or the Hazardous Waste List (HWL). This makes it difficult to compare wastes across different countries. 2 By way of comparison, the US produces over 40 million tons of hazardous waste per year (http://www.epa.gov/ebtpages/wasthazardouswaste.html). 3 Most types of waste will increase over the next decades. It is estimated that production of paper/cardboard and glass will increase by 40 to 60% up to 2010, and that waste from scrapped vehicles will increase by 21%, compared to 1995 values (EEA, 1999: 214). Another rapid growth area is waste from electronic and electrical equipment, also called e-waste (UNEP, 2002: 46). 4 According to data on the European Union website, http://europa.eu.int/comm/environment/waste/index.htm .

58 2050 (compared to 2000). Plans for hazardous wastes are more ambitious: the aim is to reduce them by around 50% by 2020 (CEC, 2001). These plans are in line with the EU philosophy on waste management, which is based on a tripartite hierarchy. This hierarchy lays down that prevention should be the first priority, with the production and harmfulness of waste being reduced as much as possible. Prevention is closely tied in with developing clean technologies in the production process and with persuading citizens to demand greener products and less packaging. The second priority is re-usage and recycling. EU initiatives in this area include packaging waste, end-of-life vehicles, batteries, electrical and electronic waste. Finally, if it is not possible to take action along the lines of the first two options, the third option is suitable treatment, with depositing waste in landfills being the least desirable option. This “waste hierarchy” has been enshrined in European law since 1975 in the Waste Framework Directive (Council Directive 75/442/EEC, of 15 July 1975). This first major piece of legislation which regulates hazardous and non-hazardous waste was later substantially revised (Council Directive 91/156/EEC, of 18 March 1991), so as to include the definition of a series of key concepts (e.g. waste, management, collection, production, disposal and recovery) and basic principles. Chief among these are the principles of “self- sufficiency” and “proximity” in waste disposal, which demand that each member-state should be self-sufficient in treating its wastes and that waste be disposed of as close as possible to where it is produced, as well as the “polluter pays” principle, according to which the costs of waste disposal should be borne by the holder. 5 The main instrument for regulating hazardous waste is Council Directive 91/689/EEC, of 12 December 1991 (which replaced Council Directive 78/319/EEC and was later amended by the Commission Directive 94/31/EC). The main objective was to establish a common definition of hazardous waste and to harmonize the management of this type of waste. To this end, it contains a list of wastes that can be classified as hazardous, including their constituents and properties. This directive imposed several requirements on member states regarding the identification, registration, handling and disposal, monitoring, storage, facilities and transport of hazardous waste. It was on the basis of this directive that the European Waste List (EWL) was drawn up: it defines some 400 types of

5 European waste management policy envisages two other sets of complementary directives and regulations. One imposes common rules for the separate collection and treatment of certain waste streams (e.g. Packaging Directive and Directives on disposal of spent batteries and accumulators, waste oils, sewage sludge, etc.). The other regulates treatment and disposal facilities, such as landfills and incinerators (e.g. Directives on incineration of municipal solid waste and hazardous waste, and on landfill).

59 hazardous waste such as solvents, spent fuels, chemicals and photographic laboratory materials, and contaminated solutions, amongst many others. 6 The priority given to prevention and minimization shows up something which is often overlooked when talking about waste. Besides the financial and environmental costs of waste to society – it has to be collected, treated and disposed of –, it also represents a significant loss of raw material and energy resources. In general terms, the productivity/waste coefficient is a good indicator of a society’s economic efficiency. The higher the production of waste, the lower the efficiency of the production process, the lower the durability of products and the greater the waste of resources. That is why the “out of sight, out of mind” attitude which prevailed in earlier times, as was explained in chapter 1, has given way to an approach which actively seeks to prevent the production of waste. However, we should not forget that waste management activities are also significant business opportunities. An entirely new industry has developed over the years to deal with the waste problem, and a significant number of waste-related technologies and services, from collection to recycling, are very profitable and can provide new markets. For example, the principles of current international waste management strategy (reduction, recycling and re-use, and improving final disposal and monitoring) require significant investment in technological and scientific innovation. Thus, the ability to recycle is built into some products at the design stage; a less wasteful product design and manufacturing process makes cost savings attainable; and some technological innovations are created specifically to improve the treatment or recovery of waste.

2. Environment and waste in Portugal

The importance of the “push” from outside Constitutional recognition of environmental rights in Portugal took place at the same time as recognition of basic civil, political and social rights in 1976 (for example, universal suffrage, freedom of expression, political freedom and equal access to schooling). This unusual combination, coming late in the day, of the “three generations” of rights (as defined by T.H. Marshall) with those of the environment is the direct result of the country’s political, financial, social and cultural circumstances (Santos, 1994). I will briefly summarize some of the history of that period in order to explain the reasons why, despite the fact that environmental rights were rapidly incorporated into the constitution which

6 The EWL, approved in 2000, replaces the European Waste Catalogue (EWC), established in late 1994. The introduction of the hazardous waste list (HWL) in the EWC was the first attempt to establish a common classification for hazardous waste in EU. The HWL consisted of 236 of the 645 EWC waste types. In 2000, the EWC and HWL were revised; they included 687 waste types of which 290 are considered as hazardous. After the amendment of the EWL and HWL in 2001, it now comprises 849 codes of which 404 are considered hazardous waste (EEA, 2002: 10).

60 legally enshrined democracy, it was only in the mid-1980s that the subject of the environment was institutionalized in the political realm and began to receive public attention, largely driven by European influences. 7 Portugal went through very rapid change after the revolution of 25 April 1974. It was on that day that a military coup put an end to 48 years of dictatorship 8 and started the transition to democracy. At that time Portugal was the oldest of the last three dictatorships in non-Communist Europe and the last overseas colonial empire in the Western world (with colonies in Africa and Asia). Since 1961 it had been conducting a war against independence movements in Angola, Mozambique and Portuguese Guinea (later Guinea- Bissau). 9 At a key moment in European economic development, the dictatorship’s political approach was to stifle economic development in favour of maintaining its strategy of “ultracolonialism”, and to resort to reactionary nationalism (Martins, 1998: 50). The country was faced with a colonial war, which was condemned by the UN and isolated Portugal on the world’s political stage. The war was in fact the main motive for the military coup. There were many other tensions and sources of discontent in the dictatorial policies of the (“New State”) headed by António de Oliveira Salazar. For example, there was no freedom of expression publicly to voice opinions critical of the regime; the dissemination of ideas was restricted; opponents of the regime were persecuted by the political police: the PIDE ( Polícia Internacional de Defesa do Estado ); and there was censorship of the press and other media (radio, television, cinema, theatre). The prisons were full of political prisoners, and opposition movements were either in hiding or in exile. Political, co-operative and union activities were all subject to restrictions and controls. There were no free elections, nor were political parties, political movements or strikes allowed. There was a “terror optimum” in the sense that, although there were no political assassinations or imprisonments on a large scale (except in the colonies), as happened in other dictatorships, the Portuguese regime was highly efficient at repression and fear-mongering, given that there was an active and omnipresent police apparatus backed by a widespread network of informers (Martins, 1998 [1968]). The Salazarist state also sought to preserve a traditional and archaic society, as well as a system of financial privilege for an oligarchic minority. This was done by asphyxiating the weak and

7 The State Secretariat for the Environment ( Secretaria de Estado do Ambiente – SEA) was established after the overthrow of the dictatorship in 1974. From 1979 to 1985 the SEA was part of the Ministry for the Quality of Life. After this, a State Secretariat for the Environment and Natural Resources ( Secretaria de Estado do Ambiente e Recursos Naturais ) was set up. This became part of the Ministry of Land Planning. It was only in 1990 that an Environment Ministry was set up. 8 Researchers are divided as to whether the Salazar regime should be described as having “authoritarian” or “fascist” characteristics. There is also debate as to whether its role in economic policy was “developmental” or “obstructionist” in nature. On this, see Pinto (1992). 9 It was in that same year that the Indian armed forces invaded and occupied Goa, Daman and Diu. This was the beginning of the end of the Portuguese colonial empire.

61 numerically small middle class. Portugal had the highest rates of illiteracy and infant mortality in Europe. It was also the least industrialized of the countries of Europe, and had the lowest health coverage and the lowest life expectancy. The transition to democracy was stormy, and it took some time to achieve a consensus on the rules of democratic competition. A number of provisional governments followed each other in rapid succession, and it was only in 1976 that the Constitution of the Portuguese Republic was approved. Economic and social change, however, has been fairly rapid over the last thirty years. One of the first things to happen after the revolution was the nationalization of vast sectors of the Portuguese economy. This was reversed in the 1980s with a programme of re-privatization and the opening up to private capital of sectors which had previously been reserved for the state. There was a massive tertiarization of the economy, as the agricultural sector shrank and industry stagnated. There was rapid and chaotic urban development, excessively concentrated on the narrow coastal strip. A whole series of measures were introduced to establish the welfare state, such as state pensions for all, a national minimum wage and a national public health system (which drastically cut infant mortality and increased life expectancy). There were changes to the woman’s place in society, which in turn led to changes in the structure of the family, the population and the workforce, and to the legal recognition of divorce. The school system grew significantly, and access to all levels of schooling was made universal (Martins, 1998 [1971]; Barreto, 2003; Cabral, 2004). The social and economic changes which have taken place in Portugal since 1974, encouraged by institutional change at the political level, are linked to the way the country has opened up to the outside world. The dictatorship years had been a long period of being politically closed to that outside world, pursuing economic autarky and maintaining strict bilateralism in international relations. There was strong economic and corporatist nationalism, which was governed by a protectionist approach, colonial trade preference and industrial development based on import substitution and active state intervention. During the 1960s, however, Portugal’s economy received a kind of “European push”: the country joined EFTA, and there were strong inflows of foreign capital as a result of emigrants’ remittances and tourism (Barreto, 2003: 162). Accession to the EU in 1986 produced the “second push”, as it brought the benefits of large-scale Community funding and accelerated convergence with the other countries of Europe, to the extent that Portugal was able to be part of the first group of member-states joining the European single currency ( ibid .). A “push” from outside also affected how environmental matters developed in Portugal. The need to face up to environmental problems derived more from external forces than from endogenous pressure from civic movements and national political forces

62 (Soromenho-Marques, 1998). The first institution to be established in this domain – the National Commission on the Environment ( Comissão Nacional de Ambiente) – was established in 1971 to prepare the Portuguese representation at the Stockholm conference of 1972. 10 And it was thus that the first report on the environment in Portugal came to be drawn up. Even before the 1970s, the international commitments which Portugal signed up to in terms of nature conservation were the result of its being part of the network of European colonial empires. This too shows the significance of outside influence. The external impetus in Portuguese environmental policy became even more pronounced when it joined the Economic European Community (EEC), as it then was. Portugal had to catch up with countries which had a strong environmental tradition, such as Germany, France and Denmark. It was therefore very quick to adopt legislation and to institutionalize government environmental policy, a process which was to a great extent made possible by Community funding (Soromenho-Marques, 1994: 125; 1998: 86-87). The Framework Law on the Environment ( Lei de Bases do Ambiente , Law 11/87, of 7th April) and the Framework Law on Environmental NGOs ( Lei das Associações de Defesa do Ambiente , Law 10/87, of 4th April) came out in 1987, a year after Portugal had joined the EEC and 11 years after environmental rights had been granted institutional recognition. 11 The National Institute for the Environment ( Instituto Nacional do Ambiente ) was also set up in that year. Not unconnected with these legislative events was the fact that 1987 was European Environment Year. It was also the year in which the Brundtland Report, Our Common Future , was published. This report established the concept of “sustainable development”. The Ministry of the Environment and Natural Resources (Ministério do Ambiente e dos Recursos Naturais ) was formed in 1990 and ensured the environment’s place, once and for all, in the organizational structure of Portuguese government. 12 Outside influences were also a strong driving factor as far as waste is concerned. In 1987, an episode involving waste and its harmful effects took place which, by reason of the media attention it received, had the advantage of waking the country up to the need for

10 As mentioned in chapter 1, this was the first world environmental conference. 11 This law helped to consolidate the position of a number of environmental NGOs: GEOTA (which had started operating in 1981 and was early on tied to the PSD) and Quercus (formally established in 1985), which is today the largest environmental association in Portugal. On this subject, see Melo and Pimenta (1993). 12 Following this first designation, under which the minister was Carlos Borrego and then Teresa Gouveia (1991-95), this Ministry has had various names and ministers: Ministry of the Environment (1995-99, Elisa Ferreira); Ministry of the Environment and Land Planning (1999-2002, José Sócrates); Ministry of the Cities, Land Planning and Environment (2002-2005, Isaltino Morais, Amílcar Theias, Arlindo Cunha and Nobre Guedes); and Ministry of the Environment, Land Planning and Regional Development (2005-to date, Francisco Nunes Correia).

63 a solution to the problem of hazardous industrial waste. A Portuguese company imported 43,000 tonnes of aluminium slag from a Swiss incineration plant. Lacking a suitable place in which to bury it, the company dumped it in the open air on its own land on the south bank of the Tagus (in Setúbal), close to a nature reserve (the Sado estuary). The waste was heavily contaminated with heavy metals and dioxins, but it was only 11 years later, after much negotiation, that this waste was sent to Germany for treatment. By then, contamination of both the land and underground watercourses was a fait accompli . This episode is significant because it shed light on facts of which people in Portugal were unaware, at a time when the country had just joined the EEC and had undertaken to adopt Community environmental legislation and standards on waste. The demands of European integration meant that Portuguese environmental legislation today has made considerable progress. In the early stages, the priority was to build basic infrastructure (i.e. water and waste related facilities), financed by Community funds. Later on, environmental institutions were strengthened (e.g. in 1990 the Environment Ministry was set up, together with regional bodies having environmental and land planning responsibilities). Finally, national environmental plans, strategic plans for different areas and physical plans, national in scope, were drawn up (e.g. national coastal area protection plans and the national nature protection plan) (OECD, 2001b). The extensive legislative, institutional and planning moves, carried out to a great extent in order to catch up with other European countries, were not reflected in effective implementation. It is as if there is a distancing effect between the pays réel and the pays légal . Portugal began to converge with Europe in terms of environmental problems and in the challenges of sustainable development: its lesser industrial and economic development gives it no exceptional status (Schmidt, 2003) in this regard. 13 But Portugal lacks the capability, the effectiveness and the speed required to resolve these issues. There is therefore a lack of true environmental convergence. The fact is that Portuguese economic growth has been achieved at a price: the price of a greater waste of energy, excessive consumption of raw materials, and high levels of production of waste. Every million dollars of wealth generated in Portugal has greater environmental costs than a million dollars of wealth produced in other member-states of the EU and the OECD (Soromenho-Marques, 1994: 134; 1998: 93).

13 For many years the Portuguese tended to believe that the nation’s industrial backwardness would “protect” it from environmental damage. This self-image was based on the notion that it was “in foreign countries” that there were serious environmental problems. A contributory factor in this belief was undoubtedly the image of a “clean country”, broadcast for years by state television (the only TV service in existence up to 1992) and clearly out of sync with the true decay of the environment (Schmidt, 2003). However, the image has been fading in recent years, if we look at the data for 1997 and 2000 (see Schmidt, Trüninger and Valente, 2004: 78-81).

64 Waste policy The legal foundations for waste management were laid in 1985, at a time when Portugal was getting ready to join the EEC (as it then was), which it joined in the following year. The Portuguese statute (Decree-Law 488/85, of 25 November) accordingly adopted the Community strategy, the guiding principle of which was the hierarchical triad of waste management. In doing so the government laid down that waste production was to be reduced, recycling was to be encouraged by means of technological development, and suitable improvement and elimination procedures were to be introduced. It decided to carry out an inventory of the quantities and types of waste, to require that they be reported, and to define the duties and responsibilities of waste managers. Over 10 years later, in 1997, another law (Decree-Law 239/97, of 9 September) established the principle of “polluter pays” whereby the producer or holder of waste is responsible for its ultimate disposal. It also laid down the rules for storing, treating, improving and eliminating waste, forbade various measures (e.g. the dumping of waste, injecting it into the ground, throwing it or immersing it in the sea, etc.) and set the fines for those who broke the rules. It also drew up a national plan for waste management backed up by sectoral plans for each type of waste (urban, hospital, industrial and agricultural). Two major plans were drawn up to apply these guidelines: the Strategic Plan for Managing Industrial Waste (PESGRI) in 1999 (revised in 2001) and the National Industrial Waste Prevention Plan (PNAPRI), in 2000. 14 PESGRI is made up of various guidelines and recommendations for collection and treatment of industrial waste in the medium and long term. It includes an inventory of industrial waste produced and stored in the country and sets reduction, re-use and recycling as its prime objectives. The PNAPRI attempts to put into action the strategy defined in the PESGRI, and seeks to reduce the quantities and danger levels of industrial waste by applying preventive measures and technologies to industrial production processes (more environmentally efficient processes), and to bring about behavioural change in consumers and suppliers. It suggests that Portuguese industry should set a target of reducing waste in its production processes by 20% up to 2015. The reason for this is that HIW will have increased by 34.6% in 2015, if nothing is done in terms of prevention, and assuming an annual growth of 2% in industrial production. If preventive measures are taken, the growth of such wastes will be only 14% (PNAPRI, 2001: 116). To the detriment of environment policy in Portugal, the PNAPRI is not yet operational. Sustaining a policy of prevention, re-use and recovery of industrial waste has come up against the practical problem that there is no infrastructure for treating,

14 The task of drawing up these plans fell to the Waste Institute ( Instituto de Resíduos – INR), set up in 1996.

65 eliminating and disposing of this type of waste. There are several possible methods: physical, chemical or biological treatment (e.g. acid-base neutralization; ion-exchange; hydrolysis; enzyme or bacterial degradation) 15 ; recycling and recovery of wastes (e.g. recycling/reclamation of metals and metal compounds; recycling/reclamation of other inorganic materials; solvent reclamation/regeneration; regeneration of acids or bases); incineration (with or without energy recovery) 16 ; disposal at sea (sea dumping) or burial in the sea bed; storage 17 ; and landfills. 18 Disposal comes last in the waste hierarchy, but landfilling is by far the most widely used method for waste disposal in Europe. 19 Although Portugal has some of this infrastructure, namely controlled landfill sites and chemical and biological treatment plants, exporting waste continues to be the most regularly used option. 20 Portugal exports mainly to Spain, but also to France, Germany in Belgium, albeit in much smaller quantities. According to INR data, total waste exports in 2003 amounted to almost 97,000 tonnes per annum. Of this total, around 92% was hazardous industrial waste, sent away to be disposed of (INR, 2003: 5-7). 21 The lack or insufficiency of infrastructure for disposal and elimination of industrial waste which led, at least in part, to the practice of illegal and uncontrolled dumping of waste which accounts for the many contaminated areas scattered throughout the country. On the south bank of the Tagus alone there are 59 places which are significantly contaminated by hazardous waste (blackspot sites), seven of which cover an area greater than 10 square kilometres (PESGRI, 2001: II.40). The country’s environmental liabilities

15 Physical, chemical and biological treatment seeks to alter the characteristics of waste, neutralizing it, reducing its danger level, recovering energy or materials, and taking the more secure waste to be transported elsewhere or disposed of. 16 Incineration is a process where waste is burned. As we will see further, dedicated incineration takes place in purpose-built facilities. Co-incineration may take place in cement kilns, steel ovens and industrial boilers, in which energy-producing waste replaces part of the fuel used in these plants. For a formal definition, see Directive 2000/76/EC, of 4 December 2000. 17 Storage is the holding of waste for a period of time, before it is treated or given a final destination. 18 A landfill site is used for depositing waste onto or into the land. There are landfills for hazardous waste, non-hazardous waste and inert wastes. 19 In the mid-1990s, depositing in landfills accounted for almost twice the amount of waste as was incinerated in the EU-15 (van Beusekom 1999: 3). Recent data show that disposal methods continue to be used more widely for the treatment of hazardous waste than recovery operations (EEA, 2001b). As far as hazardous industrial waste is concerned, there are few European reports and statistics showing the extent to which landfills or incineration are used, in contrast to the relative abundance of data on municipal solid waste. 20 Exports and cross-border movements are governed by Regulation 259/93/EEC, which defines measures for waste shipments within, into and out the EU. If a particular member-state is unable to solve its waste problems, exporting is allowed, provided that it is tightly controlled by the EU and complies with OECD regulations and the Basel Convention. This Convention was adopted in 1989 and entered into force in 1992. Portugal ratified it in 1994. Its object is to control exports of hazardous wastes. It is a response to the various international scandals that occurred in trafficking of this type of waste in the late 1980s. 21 Imports of waste have varied greatly over the last few years. In 2003 they totalled 878 tonnes, but in 2002 they reached over 12,000 tonnes and 2001 almost 74,000 tonnes (INR, 2003: 4).

66 are a cause of great concern, and only recently have steps been taken to resolve these problems. It was only at the end of 2003 that work began on building a structure to seal over 300,000 cubic metres of hazardous waste which for 50 years has been exposed to the open air in the Estarreja industrial complex in central Portugal. No solution has yet been found for the 50,000 cubic metres of mud left over from the treatment of tanning industry effluent and the 2.8 million tonnes of steel wastes in Seixal, on the south bank of the Tagus. 22 The lack of solutions for treating and finally disposing of industrial waste became more pressing following the recent closure and environmental recovery of illegal and unsuitable waste dumps scattered all over the country. 23 With no landfill sites available for industrial waste, it was decided to dump it in solid urban waste landfills or to export it. Both these solutions are temporary, first because urban solid waste landfill sites are managed in a different way and have limited capacity, and much of the waste could have been recycled or regenerated. Secondly, habitually resorting to export neither saves on the high costs for the companies involved (and they are accordingly less competitive), nor does it enable Portugal to comply with the “principle of self-sufficiency” laid down in Community law.

3. Controversial solutions, hazardous decisions

The failure of the dedicated waste incinerator option Decree-Law 488/85 laid down, as we have seen earlier, a thorough system for quantifying existing wastes and for classifying them by nature and final destination. The PSD government of the day commissioned Tecninvest, a consultancy company, to carry out the waste inventory. Their report estimated that Portugal would produce around one million tonnes of hazardous industrial waste in 1986. On the basis of this number, it was decided to implement the so-called Integrated Industrial Waste System (Sistema Integrado de Gestão de Resíduos Industriais, SIGRI), made up of a dedicated incineration plant, a physical and chemical treatment plant, two controlled landfill sites and a transfer facility. The construction, operation and technical design of this integrated system (SIGRI) were adjudicated, after a public tender, to Ecotredi, a Portuguese and French consortium. This firm carried out an environmental impact study (EIS), in accordance with current legislation, based on the numbers contained in the Tecninvest report.

22 Data available on the INR website, http://www.inresiduos.pt/ 23 According to OECD data (2001b), of the 328 uncontrolled dumping sites identified in 1996, 272 had been closed by the end of 2000.

67 In 1990, at the same time as the Environment Ministry was created and the first steps were being taken to try to resolve the waste problem, the PSD government, which was still in office and had an absolute majority in the national parliament, chose the Sines industrial area to build the dedicated incineration plant and the physical and chemical treatment plants, following the location suggested in the EIS. But local people, local government officials, and environmentalists rejected the scheme. The government gave in to the protests and decided to reassess the plan, to commission new studies to quantify industrial waste, and to define alternative locations. Although they did not come to a complete halt, the plans only really moved forward again in 1994, when Tecninvest carried out another study which estimated annual production of industrial waste (both ordinary and hazardous) at 1.4 million tonnes, of which 35,000 tonnes would be hazardous industrial waste which could be incinerated. A new EIS was carried out, but this time it looked at five possible locations for the dedicated incineration plant. Sines was still among them, but others were considered – Estarreja, Palmela (Poceirão) and two locations in Setúbal. In May 1995, the Environment Minister, Teresa Patrício Gouveia, chose Estarreja, in central Portugal, not least because the mayor of the town expressed interest in accommodating the plant in exchange for certain benefits for the district. 24 Public opposition intensified, and the protest was reinforced by European legislation itself, which at the end of 1994 re-defined which wastes were regarded as hazardous and drastically reduced those which it would be permissible to incinerate (European Waste Catalogue 25 ). These changes undermined the rationale for the government’s choice. The costs of the dedicated incineration facility would be too high, which meant that in order to keep it in operation, there was one of two choices. Either some wastes would be burned which could be otherwise treated, thereby failing to provide incentives to recycle and to reduce waste, or the door could be opened to importing waste. Towards the end of 1995, following elections in which it obtained the largest number of seats in the parliament, the PS formed a government, which was led by António Guterres. 26 Initially the new government adopted the integrated system (SIGRI) suggested by the previous government, but finally dropped it two years later in favour of a system for burning hazardous waste in cement industry facilities (the so-called co-incineration system). In 1997 Tecninvest updated the data on waste production in Portugal. The country was by then producing 2.5 million tonnes of industrial waste and 125,000 tonnes 27 of hazardous industrial waste annually. Of the latter, only 16,000 tonnes could be

24 On the conflict over the Estarreja incinerator, see Rodrigues (2000). 25 See footnote 6. 26 Guterres is, since June 2005, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. 27 Despite my efforts to obtain Tecninvest’s two reports from the Environment Ministry, and indeed from Tecninvest itself, I was unable to do so for reasons of confidentiality.

68 incinerated, figures which show there was a drastic reduction in the amount of national waste which could be incinerated.

The co-incineration option In 1997, the Portuguese government opted formally for co-incineration in cement kilns as the preferred method for treating hazardous industrial waste which could not be regenerated or recycled. 28 This choice was based on two criteria: “technological developments in recent years” and the “favourable cost-benefit analysis, both for the nation’s industry and for the environment” (Resolution of the Council of Ministers 98/97, of 25 June). Co-incineration was compatible with lower amounts of hazardous industrial waste and could be implemented quickly, in that only a few changes would be needed to the cement producers’ kilns. In addition, because they operated at extremely high temperatures, the kilns would eliminate hazardous industrial waste more efficiently and use fewer natural resources (fossil fuels and primary raw materials), since the waste would replace part of the coal usually used for fuel in producing cement, up to a maximum of 25%. 29 This plan involved building two complementary facilities: (1) a treatment plant for receiving, pre-treating and temporarily storing the wastes to be burned, to be located in Barreiro (on the south bank of the Tagus near Lisbon); (2) and a transfer plant where waste would be temporarily deposited, reorganized and then moved on, to be located in Estarreja (in central Portugal). 30 The choice of co-incineration to the nation was the culmination of a process which had begun a year earlier. A key factor in the choice was the setting up of Scoreco: Valorização de Resíduos, Lda, in February 1996, a joint venture between Portugal’s two cement producers, Cimpor and Secil (which had jointly formed Ecoresíduos: Centro de Tratamento e Valorização de Resíduos, Lda in July 1994) and the French Teris/Scori consortium which was part of an international group with experience in the field of eliminating waste in cement plants. At the end of 1996, the national cement producers submitted to the government a proposal for the elimination of both ordinary and hazardous industrial waste by means of co-incineration. It was José Sócrates, Assistant Secretary of State to the Environment Minister Elisa Ferreira, who announced to the country in March 1997 that the government had dropped the plans for dedicated incineration and opted for

28 It should be mentioned that before this plan for burning hazardous industrial waste was devised, Portuguese cement producers already made use of some types of waste such as loose ash, ash from pyrites, granulated metal and used tyres (IA, 2000: 253-254). 29 The raw material for cement (limestone, clay, sand and iron) is ground down and placed in the kiln to produce clinker, an intermediate product in the cement manufacturing process. In order to produce clinker the kilns have to be heated to a temperature above 1450 degrees. These kilns use coal as their fuel. 30 The plan also called for the construction of a storage area (cylindrical-conical tanks) for liquid wastes, close to the cement kilns, and another for solid wastes (silos).

69 co-incineration. A “memorandum of understanding” between the Environment Ministry and the Portuguese cement industry was signed two months later. In it, the cement producers undertook to make use of wastes whenever possible, utilizing them as raw material in the manufacture of cement and/or as replacement fuel. If they should be unable to do so, they would sent waste to be physically and chemically treated in specialized facilities (either their own or those belonging to third parties), they would deposit it in controlled landfills or would export those which could not be treated or eliminated in Portugal (Environment Minister and Cimpor/Secil, 1997). It was against this backdrop that the management of industrial waste in Portugal was awarded to Scoreco. Under the law, the company would have to carry out an EIS for this purpose. 31 The cement-manufacturing group indicated that it prefered to carry out to conduct co-incineration operations in the plants at Outão and Alhandra 32 (close to Lisbon), in the light of the kilns’ capacities and their geographical proximity to the future treatment plant to be built in Barreiro. But the Environment Minister, Elisa Ferreira, obliged the company to extend the EIS to two other cement plants. This meant that four cement plants were looked at: Outão, Alhandra, Maceira and Souselas (see locations in the map attached). From the outset, these were difficult locations. The first two are close to nature conservation areas and the last two are within fairly large towns. In addition, the cement plants at Souselas and Alhandra belong to the Cimpor cement group, while Maceira and Outão belong to the Secil group. This aspect is significant because the choice of cement plants was always made in the light of a prior decision – which, it should be emphasized, was a political one – to award one waste incineration facility to each national cement group. 33 Predictably, the EIS argued for the advantages of co-incineration in cement plants, stressing that this was a process which had been used for many years in hundreds of cement kilns in Europe (Belgium, France, Great Britain, Germany, Italy) and in the US.

31 The EIS incorporated the results of the EIA. This is a “preventive environmental policy instrument” which identifies, prevents and minimizes the environmental, physical, health, social and economic impact of any plan, public or private (Decree-Law 69/2000, of 3 May). In procedural terms, the tenderer must submit to the licensing body (the Environment Ministry) the plan, the corresponding EIS, a “non-technical summary” and other details it judges to be relevant. The “non- technical summary” is a compulsory for the Public Enquiry stage, which allows citizens to take part. The Environment Ministry then appoints an Evaluation Board, which is required to give an opinion on the viability of the plan based on its assessment of the documentation and the public enquiry process. For an analysis of EIS commissioned in Portugal from 1990 to 1997, see Garcia et al . (2000a). 32 In an August 1998 letter to the Economic Directorate of the Lisbon and Tagus Valley Region, Scoreco indicated a preference for the cement plants at Alhandra and Outão ( Expresso , 26.09.98). 33 As a matter of curiosity, the Environment Ministry later expressed concern about Secil and Cimpor’s stock price and the potentially unsettling effect that the eventual choice of just one of these firms to burn hazardous industrial waste might have on those prices ( Diário de Notícias , 31.12.1998).

70 The study did recognize that co-incineration, like dedicated incineration, is not without risks and may have a potentially adverse impact (Scoreco, 1998: 8). The process nevertheless has special characteristics which run in its favour: (a) high temperatures in the kilns, which give them significant destructive power; (b) high thermal inertia, which ensures consistency in the effectiveness of destruction (in other words, temperatures inside the kilns are not subject to rapid change in the event of stoppage or of changes to the kiln’s fuel supply); (c) the process produces no solid waste, since many compounds, like the ash from combustion, are incorporated into the structure of the cement itself, and do not affect its quality. In addition to these advantages: (d) the lower cost of destroying a tonne of waste by co-incineration as compared with dedicated incineration, and this was a major incentive for factory owners to deliver waste and for the cement plants to save on non-renewable natural resources, since without the wastes they would have to use them as raw materials. Co-incineration, it was stated, was also compatible with a waste reduction strategy. Since the cement plant’s purpose was to produce cement and not to burn waste (as would be the case in a dedicated incinerator), medium to long-term reduction would not affect the operations of the sector (Scoreco, 1998). Bearing these advantages in mind, the EIS concluded that co-incineration in cement plants was an option which had “a significant positive impact”, provided that it was monitored and controlled in order to prevent and reduce potential environmental and public health risks ( ibid. : 37). The EIS did not recommend any of the proposed locations. It stated that “there was no significant foreseeable adverse impact in any of them on the quality of surface or underground water, on the ground itself, nor in terms of noise, landscape, or heritage, whether built or archaeological” ( ibid.: 28). Even so, as a cautionary measure, it nevertheless suggested that measurements of dioxins, furans and heavy metals should be taken before and after co-incineration operations. In the same cautionary vein, it put forward a programme for environmental monitoring in Alhandra and Outão, in the light of their location in estuary nature reserves, in order to prevent potential damage. Installing bag-filters in the cement plants chosen to incinerate hazardous industrial waste was viewed as a great benefit to the local inhabitants, given that they would greatly reduce gaseous emissions and particles from the incineration process. 34 Nor did the EIS anticipate any adverse impact from the transfer and treatment plants. “Abnormal” or merely “probable” situations, in the study’s own terminology, would be covered by a set of measures aimed at minimizing the risks, and by clear specifications for the construction and fitting out of the plants.

34 Bag-filters were very important for minimising emissions into the atmosphere because the previous mechanism – electrical filters placed in the cement factory kilns – was not able to stop polluting particles from escaping breakdown. So-called “discharges” occur with electrical filters and release more pollution in a few minutes than uninterrupted months of normal operation.

71 The irrelevance of the public enquiry procedures The EIS was submitted for public enquiry, and explanatory hearings were held in each of the possible locations for co-incineration plants. The outcome was 149 opinions, 11 petitions, 57,500 signatures, and hearings involving almost 3,000 participants. The “Environmental Impact Committee” appointed by the Environment Minister (hereinafter EIC), judged that this public enquiry process had involved “the largest number of people ever” (EIC, 1998: 39). The chairman of the Committee was Eduardo Oliveira Fernandes, chair of the Faculty of Engineering at Porto University and former secretary of state for the Environment in the PSD government. Interestingly enough, some years earlier he had been part of the evaluation group for the dedicated incinerator and had given the go- ahead for it to be built at Sines. In its report, published on 21 December 1998, the EIC highlighted three basic criticisms made by citizens, local councils and associations which had taken part in the pubic enquiry: the available documentation was lacking in some respects; the impact evaluation (in particular the sections relating to air quality, the most significant descriptor in this process) was considered to be sketchy; and the plans for co-incineration were regarded as being an “isolated measure”, not part of any coherent strategy or policy, as they should have been. The EIC concluded that opposition to the plans could be explained by the high perception of risk and by “collective bad memories of co-habitation with environmental pollution”, reflected in industry (on account of a long history of environmental pollution) and government’s lack of credibility with the population (on account of the weaknesses of pollution control methods) ( ibid.: 39-40). Despite all the gaps and deficiencies in the EIS in all the aspects regarded as being of fundamental importance in the choice of cement plants, the EIC gave a favourable opinion and suggested Maceira and Souselas for two reasons. On the one hand, because they provided an opportunity for environmental improvements in the areas surrounding the cement plants, and on the other hand, because of their geographical position (see map attached). The fact that the cement plants were in populated areas led the Committee to stress the need for “responsible” and “flawless action” ( ibid.: 43). The EIC likewise accepted that the suggested locations for the transfer and treatment plants were viable. Before taking her final decision, the Environment Minister sought an opinion from the National Council on the Environment and Sustainable Development (CNADS), an independent consultative body which gives opinions on environmental and sustainable development issues. Broadly speaking, this Council judged co-incineration to be a “viable solution” (CNADS, 1998: 103), bearing in mind the country’s serious waste situation and available alternative technologies. It noted two aspects in which there were serious

72 shortcomings. On the one hand it pointed to lack of information and communication from the organizations in charge; on the other, it highlighted the lack of credibility and trust felt by local inhabitants. Both aspects had helped to generate controversy, resistance and lack of trust in the public mind. The lack of information on the country’s real and objective waste situation had helped to create an exaggerated perception of the “controlled” risks inherent in the methods proposed, in contrast to the “uncontrolled risks” of the current situation ( ibid.: 101-102). Given the shortcomings mentioned above, the CNADS concluded that it would be premature to choose locations for the two co-incineration plants. The government should accordingly make no announcement of such a choice for the time being. In a final punch, it explained that the government had sought to “solve the serious problem of industrial waste by overvaluing the technical aspects and undervaluing the social and human aspects” ( ibid.: 99). “Effective and persistent efforts” should therefore be made to explain the plans to the people in technical, industrial and political terms ( ibid.: 103). It also recommended a national information campaign on the current waste situation in the country, and sought assurances that transparent mechanisms would be adopted so as to enlighten the people on these matters. It also suggested that a system should be implemented to provide public information on the atmospheric emissions from co- incineration, together with a plan for epidemiological alert mechanisms in the chosen locations, and it also mentioned the need to set up a framework for compensation and indemnities. In-depth explanation of this nature would make the co-incineration plan understood and accepted, and would be a way of promoting the spirit of national solidarity required to solve the problem of waste. Despite the CNADS recommendation that the decision be delayed for a while in order to make good the shortcomings it had identified, and the significant levels of protest at the time of the public enquiry relating to the EIS, the government announced its decision to go ahead with the plans on the 28 th of December 1998. The Environment Minister, Elisa Ferreira, announced that the cement plants of Maceira and Souselas had been chosen, thereby thwarting the aims of the cement groups themselves, which preferred Outão and Alhandra, but going along with the EIC’s opinion. The need to improve the environment in the areas surrounding the two cement plants and their central location in relation to waste producers were the reasons given for the decision. This meant that the plants which had been chosen were those which were technologically most backward and whose environmental contexts were in a state of severer decline. This helped to spread the idea that acceptance of co-incineration, with its assurance that sleeve filters would be installed, would be a kind of quid-pro-quo. The choice of Barreiro

73 and Estarreja for the treatment and transfer plants respectively was justified on the grounds that these were the sites of industrial estates.

4. Waste not : the irruption of the popular protest It did not take long for protests to break out, mainly in central Portugal, where the chosen cement plants were located. The last days of 1998 and the beginning of 1999 saw a strong wave of protests in various forms and on a daily basis, making headlines in the papers and on the radio and TV news. Public demonstrations, discussions, barricades at the entrances to the cement plants (which prevented lorries from entering or leaving), road and rail blocks, night vigils, the hoisting of black flags as a sign of mourning and a number of petitions were some of the forms these protests took. A clear sign of the unity and strength of opposition was the Declaration of Souselas, which demanded an immediate end to co-incineration: this was signed by a large group of civic associations: CNCT, Quercus, ADAS, MMS and GISAS. 35 The protests were so intense that the Environment Minister argued that a “mentality conversion” was required ( Diário de Notícias , 30.12.98). Souselas was one of the most prominent protest locations. Its closeness to Coimbra (it is less than 10 Km away), a city which is home to one of the oldest universities in Europe, meant that there was a mobilization of the “intellectuals”. In Souselas, where the opposition came primarily from a working-class neighbourhood, there was a significant number of professors and researchers from Coimbra University, who represented an intelligentsia able to produce strong arguments in favour of the town’s protest. Energetic efforts were made to mobilize several sectors of Coimbra city life, ranging from the university to civic movements, and including the regional press. The result of this was a petition with over fifty thousand signatures demanding that the government revoke its decision. This and another petition handed in to the National Parliament, with sixty-three thousand signatures in all, together were the largest local and regional signed petition ever in Portugal ( Diário de Notícias , 19.01.99). 36 These forms of resistance by the local population are often interpreted as NIMBY (not in my backyard ) attitude, defined as intense local opposition to the siting of facilities that residents believe will have an adverse impact on them (Kraft and Clary, 1991). Politicians and businessmen alike have adopted a critical approach to this attitude, seeing

35 This declaration also demanded an inventory of all hazardous industrial wastes in Portugal, and the drawing up of a strategic plan to reduce them. In Declaração de Souselas , 02.01.99 (http://www.ieeta.pt/~mos/cnct/comunicados/1999-01-02.html ) 36 Signatures in Coimbra were collected jointly by ProUrbe, the regional newspaper Diário de Coimbra , with the support of the chancellor of Coimbra University and ADAS, to a total of 52,000 signatures. The other petition was organized by the MMS and garnered some 11,000 signatures. Note that the number of signatures required for a petition to be considered by Parliament is only 4,000.

74 it as a pejorative synonym for narrow selfishness, irrational rejection, lack of sensitivity to national needs, and as a way of boycotting the implementation of essential plans (e.g. Mazmaniand and Morell, 1990). Other approaches, however, see the NIMBY attitude as rational and legitimate. Not only is it a form of struggle which ensures that any decision on matters affecting the common good will be community decisions (rather than the exclusive domain of experts and government agencies), but it is also a form of democratic control over technology (that otherwise would be out-of-control). Those who subscribe to this way of thinking believe that citizens can seek out information and have the democratic right to express their concerns over possible risks to the health and well-being of the community, risks for which the technical and administrative elites may not have provided the appropriate safeguards (e.g. Fielder, 1992; Edelstein, 2004 [1988]; Shrader-Frechette, 1980, 1991). Rather than merely interpreting residents’ protests as a typical NIMBY attitude, it is more appropriate in the Portuguese case to look in greater depth at the reasons why people so vehemently rejected the use of the cement plants for incinerating HIW. Those deeper reasons can be examined in the light of the concept of “cultural trauma”, and my proposed extension of that concept to “polluting trauma”, which is the outcome of a long period of exposure to contamination from cement plants. This model – developed by thinkers as distinguished as Jeffrey Alexander, Neil Smelser or Piotr Sztompka (Alexander et al. , 2004) – sees trauma as a cultural and not a psychological or physical process. As a cultural process, trauma derives from an event which leaves profound marks on the collective memory and identity of any given community. For an event to be classified and accepted as traumatic, there must be mediation and representation. Events in themselves are not inherently traumatic. Events and representations of events are two completely different things. The representation of an event as traumatic is contingent on the construction of a coherent framework of cultural classification of the damage which the event does to collective identity. Alexander (2004) calls the transformation of a collective experience of disruption into a crisis of identity a “trauma process”. In this trauma process, which is like a discursive act, the discoursers or “carrier groups” (a concept which draws on Weber’s sociology of religion) play a key role, in that their objective is to persuade the audience that the grounds for complaint which gave rise to the trauma are valid. In order for the members of a group to become convinced that they have been traumatized by a given experience or event, the carrier group has to be successful in its task of signification. Cultural trauma is therefore the outcome of human action, of the successful imposition of a new system of cultural classification. This cultural process is conditioned by the power structure and the skills of the social actors involved.

75 The protests behind the popular revolt against the locations chosen for co- incineration may be characterized as cultural trauma because they came close to meeting the conditions outlined above . The residents of those places reacted to a plan which they saw as bringing their neighbourhood into disrepute, bringing with it risks for the environment and for public health. Newspaper articles describe how the breaking open of stone quarries 37 forms cracks in houses and how cement powder covers everything in a grey dust (houses, orchards, marble gravestones, etc.). Truck traffic, smells and dust invaded their privacy. Women living there complain that clothes which were drying out have to be washed all over again following a discharge ( Expresso , 31.12.98; Diário de Notícias , 10.01.99). In Maceira specifically, where the community has been “living with” the cement factory since 1923, an additional source of discontent and pollution has been the burning of tyres (a form of hazardous industrial waste) since the late 1980s. In Souselas there were similar complaints, even though the cement plant only started operating in 1971 and did not burn tyres. It is understandable therefore that the local residents should have developed arguments to the effect that that they were already “punished” for living near cement plants and industrial estates, and for that very reason they questioned the legitimacy of the government’s decision to impose an additional burden on an already “victimized” local population and environment. With this we can narrow down the concept of “cultural trauma” and speak of pollution trauma , as it is precisely this aspect which characterizes the sense of collective identity, as well as the common destiny, of those living close to the cement plants. Even though trauma was omnipresent in those communities, the choice of those communities to host what they saw as a feared and undesirable facility, meant that the stigma of pollution could no longer be ignored, and that a new narrative of community identity emerged in its wake. Doctors, scientists, members of civic and environmental associations, nearly all of them university lecturers who had the discursive ability to persuade the public sphere of the legitimacy of residents’ protests, were essential for the construction of this narrative and for giving meaning to the protests. Authoritative voices on the dangers of dioxins and co-incineration, such as those of the Scientific Board of the Faculty of Medicine and Coimbra University Senate, were also crucial, as we shall see below. The media also played a significant part in visibly enabling these opposing voices to be heard. Various different devices were used in the task of signification, in particular, as I shall show in detail in chapter 6, health surveys of Souselas residents, which showed high levels of

37 It should not be forgotten that part of the raw material for producing cement is extracted from stone quarries. In this case they are open-cast quarries, and the stone is extracted with explosives.

76 disease associated with environmental pollution in the area. The traumatized victims – the communities resident in the vicinity of the selected cement plants – were thus identified, as were those responsible for the victimization (the cement plant, which caused the environmental pollution, and the state, which was not strict in controlling the cement plant’s operations).

Perceived health, safety and environmental risks The gravest local concern was the potential harmful effects on public health deriving from the burning off of hazardous waste, namely dioxin/furans 38 and heavy metal emissions. This form of toxic threat to public health was so paramount in popular worries that symbolic anti-pollution masks and skulls featured over and over again in demonstrations. People are afraid of dioxins because they are chemical substances (produced by combustion) with some remarkably hazardous properties. 39 In addition, they are extremely stable and persistent, ubiquitous in the air, water and soil, they resist degradation, and may spread for thousands of miles. According to the World Health Organisation, dioxins can remain in the human body for an average of seven years, and in the environment they tend to accumulate in the food chain. If we exclude occupational and accidental exposures, the main form of contamination is through the food chain (foodstuffs with high fat content such as meat, milk and cheese), which does away with the demarcation lines between the local, the national and the global (WHO, 1999). Numerous health effects have been associated with exposure to dioxins, but there are ambiguities, uncertainties and disagreements among researchers. The commonest effects, which result from intense exposure over a short period of time, are skin lesions (such as chloracne, a chronic and disfiguring skin disease) and liver damage. 40 In the long-term, they might provoke impairment of the immune system, the developing nervous system, the endocrine system and reproductive functions. Testing on animals has also shown that chronic exposure may encourage the growth of cancerous illness. But

38 The joint term “dioxins and furans” derives from the fact that they are chemical component families which are closely related. The common abbreviation for them is PCDD/Fs. 39 Dioxins are mainly by-products formed when thermal industrial processes produce chlorine and other organic substances. They can also result from natural processes, such as volcanic eruptions and forest fires, but the main concern is the dioxin production by waste incinerators (municipal, medical and industrial waste). The concern with the hazardousness of these substances is linked to several well-known cases, such as the health effects provoked by the “Agent Orange” used in the Vietnam War as a defoliant, and the air contamination that has occurred in Seveso, Italy, in 1976, after an accident at a chemical factory. 40 By way of example of these immediate effects of dioxins, we may recall what happened to Viktor Yuschenko, who was poisoned during a meal while campaigning in the Ukrainian presidential elections at the end of 2004. Another example of the concerns raised by dioxin was the food crisis which arose in Belgium in the spring of 1999, when high doses of dioxin were reported to have been found in poultry meat.

77 extrapolation of these results to humans is inconclusive, so it is still an open question as to whether dioxins have the ability to cause cancer or are merely a cancer promoter. Despite the limitations of the data, scientists tend to agree that dioxins are “probably carcinogenic” under certain conditions of exposure and that the exposures should be kept to very low levels. The WHO has thus defined a “Tolerable Daily Intake” (TDI), which is a reference value that identifies the tolerable daily dose of dioxins to which a human can be exposed without harm and a tool for health impact assessment. The TDI recommended today is in the range of 1 to 3 picogrammes/kilogram body weight. Although the main controllable sources of dioxins production are waste incinerators, WHO recognises that incineration is the best available method at present in destroying them, as long as the process is done at very high temperatures. All the environmental associations, without exception, highlighted the issue of dioxins as one of the major dangers of co-incineration. Miguel Oliveira e Silva, professor of Electronic Engineering at the University of Aveiro, and chairman of the Estarreja environmental association “A Cegonha” (The Stork), provides the following formula for dioxin contamination and the chemicals problem: “one gram of dioxin is enough to contaminate one hundred million people” ( Público , 06.01.99) and over half of the “thousands of chemical compounds released by co-incineration” are not known ( Diário de Notícias , 07.01.99). These criticisms were reinforced in particular by the position which the University of Coimbra itself and several of its more eminent professors adopted. The Scientific Board of the Faculty of Medicine, the highest authority in all the faculties, made it publicly known that it regarded co-incineration of hazardous industrial wastes a “threat” to public health, on account of the “high levels of toxicity, their tendency to accumulate over time and the difficulty and/or impossibility of naturally degrading them”. Cancer-inducing illnesses, changes in behaviour and loss of fertility might all result ( Diário de Notícias , 12.01.99). The Coimbra physician Massano Cardoso, a member of this Scientific Board (who would later be part of the medical committee, as we shall see in chapter 6), explained in the newspapers that the effect of dioxins is always very long-term. To corroborate this argument he provided the example, taken from a 1988 article in the American Medical Association journal, of Vietnam war veterans who still had dioxins in their blood and adipose tissue twenty years later. “There is no scientific evidence of an immediate cause and effect, as happens with illnesses of bacterial or viral origin” ( Diário de Notícias , 13.01.99). The University Senate, through its Chancellor Fernando Rebelo, argued that co-incineration in Souselas would make Coimbra “a high-risk city”. As a geographer, he explained that in the event of an accident or breakdown in the system, the prevailing winds would carry the gases to Coimbra, which would thus be in the path of a toxic cloud

78 (Capital , 06.01.99). Jorge Paiva, professor of botany, broadened the scope of the problem, stating that the issue affected not just Coimbra and Souselas, but the whole country, since toxic gases enter the food chain ( Diário de Notícias , 01.02.99). He also drew attention to the fact that half the compounds in dioxins (which contain 70 compounds) are still unknown ( Jornal de Notícias , 07.01.99). The fact that the Chairman of the EIC which had suggested locating the facilities in Maceira and Souselas, Eduardo de Oliveira Fernandes, had admitted that dioxins emissions would inevitably occur, strengthened the voices of the critics still further. In a national newspaper interview he stated that it would be “demagogic to say that we aren’t going to have dioxins, because in fact we are” ( Público , 08.01.99). He argues, however, that the filters to be installed on the sleeves and the monitoring system, would make it possible to clean up the “dustbowl environment” for good ( ibid. ). Adopting a contrary position, Carlos Pimenta, at the time chairman of the European circle of GLOBE and a prestigious former Environment minister in a PSD government, pointed out that what the bag-filters actually do is reduce the “visible pollution” (dust), but not the “invisible pollution” (that which derives from heavy metals, dioxins and other cancer-inducing substances) (Público , 30.12.98). He stated moreover that burning hazardous industrial waste in the cement plants would “disperse toxicity over the whole country, in sacks of cement” ( Jornal de Notícias , 10.01.99). Alongside the dioxins issue, other arguments were advanced against the procedure for co-incineration in cement plants: the possibility of an industrial accident and the dangers arising from heavy lorries carrying toxic waste as they travelled through towns and villages. In this connection, people were reminded that the Barreiro Industrial Estate, where the treatment plant was to be built, had a history of accidents: an ammonium reactor exploded in 1985 and another one caught fire in 1997 ( Diário de Notícias , 15.01.99). And as far as transport was concerned, it should be made clear that, in the government’s plan, wastes produced in the north of the country would be taken to the Estarreja transfer plant and those produced in the south to the Barreiro treatment plant. As the former would be merely a temporary depot, wastes brought together at Estarreja would have to make the journey to Barreiro for treatment and then go back to the cement plants at Maceira and Souselas (see map attached). The intention to set up the co-incineration process in cement plants and to build the relevant infrastructure was interpreted, therefore, as something which would centralise risk in a specific space – a “spatial concentration of risks” (Lidskog, 1994). In cases such as these there is a perception that there is no “distributive justice”, given the imbalance between the spatial concentration of costs and risks in the host community of the facility, in terms of human health, environmental quality, or property values, and the wider

79 distribution of benefits across a whole dispersed population. There is a perception of “cumulative geographical inequity” here. In other words, a situation where local residents are exposed to an accumulation of inequalities, on top of which further inequalities are imposed which act in synergy with the previous ones and are not merely additional to them (Kasperson and Dow, 2005 [1991]: 252).

Lack of trust in the government, politicians and the cement plants These concerns about public health were compounded by the residents’ lack of trust in the cement factories and the state administration in general, after years of having their complaints ignored. One of the reasons behind the choice of Maceira and Souselas had been, as we have seen earlier, the fact that they represented an opportunity for environmental improvement, by putting in bag-filters. While the urgency of that need for improvement is not to be doubted, the way in which it was presented failed to convince associations and local residents who opposed the process. Because it depended on co- incineration being implemented, environmental improvement was seen as a “deal” or as “blackmail”, designed to persuade the residents to accept the proposals. Hence the incisive arguments put forward by Jorge Paiva and Boaventura de Sousa Santos respectively:

If the minister swallows a glass of sulphuric acid in my presence I’ll give her a packet of sweets in return ( Jornal de Notícias , 07.01.99).

To state that setting up co-incineration facilities will improve the environment of the chosen locations is pure hypocrisy. It presupposes that the people living there are ignorant and stupid. In Souselas, the people have been listening to promises about filters and pollution control for 30 years. Only a cynic could regard this as environmental improvement ( Público , 30.12.98).

The assurances given by the cement plants that they were complying with legislation contrasted sharply with local residents’ testimony of dust pollution, health complaints, and noise. Cement plants have a negative connotation, as they have failed to adopt what is called “institutional constancy”. An institution shows constancy when it achieves objectives it set out to achieve for itself in the past. It “refers primarily to faithfulness, unchanging commitment to, and repeated attainment of performance, effects, or outcomes in accord with agreements by agents of an institution made at one time and carried out or experienced in a future time. It includes assuring continued or improved performance in the spirit of the original agreement as new information, technology, or changed conditions develop” (La Porte and Keller, 1996: 538). The greater the constancy which a particular institution has achieved over time in meeting its objectives, even in the face of strong opposition (whether social, political or institutional), the higher the trust

80 placed in that institution by the public. Portuguese cement plants, by contrast, are not “trustworthy” institutions; they have a reputation for failing to fulfil their promises, and of not safeguarding public heath and the environment. These are important factors in creating fear and disbelief in the minds of local residents. In this connection we should not forget that the EIC report acknowledged in particular that the cement firms “do not have an environmental performance record which is to be expected from businesses of their type and size” (EIC, 1998: 15), and for this reason local residents have “bad collective memories of living with industrial pollution” ( ibid. : 39). As is well recognized, credibility, trust and social acceptance cannot be mandated. Credibility is the subjective outcome of the delegating of trust; it is credere, or to trust in an institution because trust is placed in it, because the person placing the trust believes that the institution is deserving of credit. 41 Since this placing of trust is based on opinion, belief and recognition, the institutions which are credited are particularly vulnerable to suspicion and to anything which threatens the trust which has been placed in them. They must therefore know how to preserve their credit and avoid being discredited (disbelieved). It is understandable that the local residents should question how trustworthy the institutions are and if they will act in a consistent way when confronted with changes of circumstances, which alter the terms of the commitments involved (Wynne, 1996: 57). When citizens realize that institutions are not acting competently, predictably, and in a caring and committed manner in line with their mission and their objectives, conditions are ripe for intense conflict and deadlock – the so-called “social trust crises” (Kasperson et al. , 2005 [1992]: 37). Successive governments were also the targets of these “social trust crises”. In connection with the cement plants, residents accused these governments of inadequate prevention, oversight and response to pollution caused by those industries and, consequently, of not protecting wider civil rights. Governments thus failed in what William Freudenburg (1993) calls “recreancy”, in the sense of a failure by institutional actors in carrying out their duties with the full competence and responsibility that their fellow citizens have a right to expect. They fail to maintain the societal trust they enjoy. It may not be possible to reduce social distrust through risk compensation scenarios (e.g. improvements to local roads, provision of health and leisure facilities, etc., or, in the case under study, improvements to the environment in the areas surrounding the two cement plants). Such benefit packages may be a way of dealing with the NIMBY

41 Credibility, in Émile Benveniste’s conception in Le vocabulaire des institutions Indo- Européennes , is credere , to believe or to place our creed , trust, belief, obedience, in an institution which we hope will protect us. Since such an act rests on a subjective act of recognition, like all symbolic power, Pierre Bourdieu interprets political capital in Benveniste’s terms (Bourdieu, 1989: 187ff.).

81 syndrome, or at least that is what their supporters hope. But the very fact that policy makers propose a risk compensation package is likely to be interpreted by the community as a sign that the project entails a real and considerable risk. So risk compensation might be counterproductive.

Conclusion In this chapter I sought to define hazardous waste in greater depth, to put that definition in the context of waste regulation, to draw the big picture of the environmental and hazardous waste situation in Portugal over the period under study, and finally to describe the Portuguese government’s early approaches to this problem, which gave rise to the conflict over co-incineration. On the first topic, my main conclusion is that there is no completely settled social and regulatory definition of waste, nor of safe and hazardous types of waste. To a certain extent this is due to the physical and chemical changes which waste undergoes over its life-cycle, and the fact that it carries both intrinsic and situational risks. In addition, under certain circumstances, waste may be a good. This is what justifies co-incineration for the cement plants, for whom HIW are an alternative source of energy, saving them significant amounts of money, and not something “wasted” in the sense of being of no use. I also showed how the definition of hazardous waste is governed not only by physical and technical criteria, but also by social and cultural notions of what constitutes a hazard. This means that we must question risk analyses and tests for the toxicity of waste, and recommend that any system of regulation should be designed with the right degree of flexibility, paying due attention to the different levels and mechanisms involved (Wynne, 1985, 1987a). This is also the reason why EU intervention in this field needs to be guided by a concern for responsible resource utilization and sustainable patterns of consumption, with a view to reducing the total quantity of waste, especially of the hazardous type. My hypothesis of a discrepancy between Portugal’s legal obligations as a member of the European Union and prevailing social practices in environmental and waste treatment policy has been shown to be correct. Portugal adopted common European environmental legislation after democratization in 1974-75 and subsequent accession to the EU, but this has failed to be translated into civic awareness and state action. The state acknowledges, and even indirectly encourages, this discrepancy, which I have demonstrated clearly in the context of hazardous waste, in so far as its formal adoption of accepted standards is not matched by a corresponding effort in terms of action and strict control on the ground. On the attitudes of Portuguese political leaders to solving the problem of HIW, I concluded that on top of the delay in facing up to this problem came a decision in favour of

82 the co-incineration method, made without recourse to scientific expertise, which was not properly considered in the wider contexts of a 3Rs policy and residents’ trust in the industries involved, and failed to take into account how those residents had suffered from long exposure to pollution from cement plants. From the outset there was a failure to consider the legitimacy aspect. This meant that the state’s actions were largely ineffective.

83 4. THE POLITICAL CRISIS AND EXPERTISE EX MACHINA

Introduction Having set out in the previous chapter the most significant events leading up to the protests against the decision to adopt co-incineration and where to locate it, in this chapter I concentrate on how the conflict developed and how those involved in it adapted and reacted as it progressed. In matters of waste siting it is not unusual for governments to follow a strategy of “decide, announce, and defend”, pursuing a desired technocratic goal rather than involving and convincing the public (Shrader-Frechette, 1991: 198; Quah and Tan, 2002: 19). When they come up against popular protest, they tend to interpret it as an irrational reaction deriving from stubbornness or unfounded obstructionism. Portugal followed this standard pattern fairly closely. But citizens here were able to take advantage of the climate of heightened political tension between government and opposition parties, in the unusual context of a government which did not have the support of the majority of members of parliament and which was suffering from internal divisions over the co-incineration decision. 1 As Michael R. Edelstein argues in an empirical study of local residents’ struggles against toxic contamination, the difference between communities which offer successful resistance at the local level, and those which do not, is precisely the extent to which they are able to marshal political influence to their cause (2004 [1988]): 274). 2 My aim in this chapter is to describe the specific political circumstances which enabled the Souselas and Maceira communities to become politically effective. In so doing I am looking for answers to the main question raised in this part of my dissertation: how was scientific expertise formed and what was its potential? Guided by the hypothesis that the context in which it is generated is essential for understanding expertise, I seek to analyze the set of circumstances which led the government to summon the committee of experts, and then review the membership and legal status of the committee, and the disciplinary and/or institutional background of its members. For society as a whole, how do we interpret the fact that the experts were summoned after the decision had been taken and the conflict had arisen? Did the way in which the committee of experts came on the

1 The government had been formed on the basis that the PS had obtained the largest number of votes in the parliamentary elections by comparison to the other parties, even though it did not have a majority of deputies in the parliament. In Portugal, the situation of having a government without majority support derives from the obligations of the President (who is elected by universal suffrage) to appoint a Prime-Minister in the light of the election results, together with the remaining members of the government as put forward by the Prime-Minister. In these circumstances, the President may appoint a government which does not command an absolute majority of electoral votes cast nor a majority of the deputies. 2 To corroborate this argument, an excellent example of attracting outside support, namely the attention of the national media, is the Love Canal case (Levine, 1982). See chapter 1, footnote 9.

84 political scene give it sufficiently uncontroversial grounds to invest the decision with the required credibility? Did the membership of the committee reflect predominantly technical skills, or did it also encompass substantive and methodological capabilities in economic, social, and behavioural science? What were the foreseeable consequences of one or other option? Obtaining answers to these questions is a necessary preliminary step in extending the idea – already suggested in chapter 3 – that there is a connection between how hazardous waste is regulated and experts’ choices in terms of analyzing risks and categorizing types of hazardous waste. In the answers to the questions I raise, my main focus is on the sequence of forward and backward steps taken by the government in what I regard as its strategy of steering matters in the direction of adopting the method it had recommended. In this process I examine and describe the connection between the type of expertise – which, for reasons I will outline below, I describe as having been “confiscated” – and the choice of a probabilistic method for analyzing the risks involved. This approach allows me subsequently to show the tensions which developed between public perception of the risks and the technical rationality of the experts’ committee. Following on from this, I discuss the extent to which the sensitivities and experiences of citizens were regarded as being relevant (or irrelevant), as well as their effects on the development of the conflict itself. Finally, focusing on the range of implications of the experts’ disciplinary backgrounds, and bringing together information and statements derived from the interviews I carried out, I examine the meaning and limitations of the fact that membership of the committee of experts was restricted to medical, physical and natural science disciplines, not only when it came to weighing up areas of indeterminacy relating to social variables, but also when the committee examined other factors such as the cultural, psychological, social and political angles.

1. Politicization of the conflict The conflict over co-incineration was strongly politicized along party lines, because relatively independent of their specific views about environmental issues, the opposition parties sought to take advantage of popular discontent. The government’s decision was repudiated by the opposition as a whole, with the backing of the environmentalists. The opposition parties joined forces. Everyone, from liberals to conservatives, by way of the communists, sought to capitalize on people’s negative reaction. Thus several debates on the subject took place in parliament. In addition, the media floated the idea that the hostility to the Minister of Environment’s decision within the government itself was due to the fact that she was not a member of the ruling party, and was therefore more vulnerable to attack, because she lacked the support of the party apparatus ( Expresso , 09.01.99).

85 It is safe to say that all the main parties opposed the government’s decision, and that at the regional level there was even stronger opposition from the government’s own party (PS), as was the case with a number of deputies from the Centre region. A few examples of these internal differences can be noted here. The mayor of Coimbra, Manuel Machado, a member of the PS, described the minister’s decision as “a betrayal” because the minister had always assured him that the possibility of siting at Souselas had been ruled out ( Público , 30.12.98). Manuel Alegre, a PS member of Parliament for the Coimbra district, accused the minister of “technocratic arrogance” in having taken a decision which ran “counter to the promise this government made that there would be participatory democracy” ( Diário de Notícias , 07.01.99). In the same vein, there is no shortage of examples of counter-arguments from the opposition parties. Fernando Encarnação, of the CDS-PP, spoke of a “murky decision” ( Público , 30.12.98) and denounced the lack of information and transparency in the whole process. The PSD, in the person of its leader Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, agreed on this point and went further, expressing the opinion that the case had revealed “stupidity” both at a technical (given the fact that co- incineration adds to pollution) and political level (residents had not been given a chance to express their views, and it is nonsense to make the argument that “we might as well pollute those who already breathe polluted air”) ( Público , 30.12.98). The Partido da Terra (Earth Party) movement, which had no seats in parliament, also rebelled against the government’s decision to carry out incineration next to towns and cities and put forward the idea of a mobile incinerator ( Diário de Notícias , 19.01.99). 3 Government and opposition did agree on one point: that there was an urgent need for a hazardous waste management policy. But they differed on how to fill that gap, with the opposition regarding the government’s decision as a “bad option”, a “stop-gap measure” or an “arbitrary experiment imported from other countries of the European Union”, because it was not part of an integrated national strategy for the management of hazardous waste (this was the position of the PSD, the PEV and the CDS-PP, in DAR , 15.01.99, pp. 1275; 1281; 1282). It was against this background of crisis that a struggle took place to define the “political agenda”. Based on John Kingdon’s (1995 [1984]) influential and pioneering work on governmental agendas, this concept is interpreted here as a list of topics or issues which are regarded as crucial, at a given moment in time, by all the political actors able to impose their own agenda. There are two ways in which agenda- setting takes place. One is by focusing on a new topic. The other is by focusing on the same topic but redefining the questions that have to be asked. Normally agenda-setting is used to refer to the former, but in this case it was the latter situation. While the socialist

3 As we shall see below, Delgado Domingos, an Earth Party militant, was to become one of the most vocal critics of the scientific committee.

86 party government wanted to focus public attention on the advantages of co-incineration and its implementation, never questioning the method itself, the social outcry on the part of residents created the circumstances in which the environmental associations and the various opposition parties were able to redefine the agenda-setting process. They redefined it not so much by focusing on the location of the co-incineration facilities, but rather on which direction to take in hazardous waste treatment. This meant that the very method of co-incineration itself and, at the same time, understandings reached between the government and the cement plants regarding the burning of industrial wastes, were brought into question, either in whole or in part. As we shall see below, the way the parliamentary debates proceeded and the way the Independent Scientific Committee was formed (through a difficult and ambiguous legal procedure) are reflections of this struggle over the political agenda. It was in this context that a majority of members of parliament approved a PSD- sponsored decree-law at the end of February 1999 which proposed that co-incineration should be suspended. The outcome was Law n.º 20/99 of 15 April 1999. In addition to suspending plans to implement the method itself, including assessment and choice of locations for incineration and the management of hazardous industrial waste, this law had two other aims. First, it obliged the government to finalize its strategic plans for the reduction of industrial wastes (the so-called PESGRI, which at the time was already in force) before the end of the parliament. This plan would have to include an inventory of wastes produced or existing in the country and the adoption of the 3Rs policy (Reduction, Re-use and Recycling) as a matter of priority. Secondly, it established a scientific committee by decree. Basically the aims of the legislation were to force a government retreat from its “decision agenda” 4 and to place on the “political agenda” an assessment of the advantages and disadvantages of the wide range of technically feasible hazardous waste management options. In the parliamentary debates on co-incineration and hazardous industrial wastes in general (as transcribed in the Diário da Assembleia da República, DAR), there was a constant toing-and-froing between the two parties which have taken turns to govern the country over the last twenty years. 5 The PSD criticised the co-incineration method on the grounds that it did not reduce waste, ignoring that when it had been in power it had itself

4 According to Kingdon (1995 [1984]), we have to make a distinction between the “political agenda” (which covers matters the government must attend to and discuss) and the “decision agenda” (matters on the political agenda for which the government already has a planned solution). This is because topics may be on the “political agenda” which are not seen as “problems” or for which no solution has been devised or decision taken. 5 The PSD and PS were in agreement on the technocratic details of the solution to the problem of waste, because they both favoured the incineration method, even if they differed as to the type of incineration – the PSD favoured dedicated incineration, while the PS preferred co-incineration.

87 opted for dedicated incineration, a system which required the largest possible quantity of waste in order to be financially viable. The PS, for its part, made the same charge against the PSD, demonstrating how contradictory it was being in relation to its past position on these matters and how the application of the “polluter pays” principle could give an incentive to business owners to subscribe to waste reduction programmes, based on the idea that waste production also involves costs (e.g., DAR , 15.10.98, p. 426; 17.12.98, p. 1061; 07.01.99, p. 1142). The arguments also covered two other key factors. The first was the emission of toxic gases under co-incineration. In reply to the PSD’s accusations that these emissions would increase, the PS recalled that it was the PSD itself which had allowed tyres to be burned in the Maceira cement works, which had led to far greater environmental problems in that area. The second issue was each party’s ability to take decisions and to act with political courage. The PS accused the PSD of having formed a government which took no decisions, while at the same time emphasizing that it had the courage to solve a serious and urgent problem which its opponents had always put off (e.g. DAR , 15.01.99, p. 1281). Let us now look at some of the points on which the opposition parties raised the strongest criticisms and which forced the government to go beyond the limits of its chosen political agenda. Although I highlight the role of the parties here, it cannot be ignored that civic movements and environmental associations took part in the debate and were even the original sources for the main arguments. There was a great deal of critical synergy in the attack on the government and on the minister’s decision.

The nullity of the public hearings As we saw in the previous chapter, despite the fact that there was significant participation in the public hearings on co-incineration, with many criticisms and complaints being made and issues raised, the government still decided to go ahead with the project. In doing so, it ignored the large turnout of residents at the public hearings, and the opinions of both the EIC, which had highlighted several gaps in the Environmental Impact Study (EIS), and the CNADS, which had advised the government to delay the decision for a while because not all the necessary conditions had been fulfilled. In the parliamentary debates, the government was accused of being “technocratically autistic”, of having “served up far too much technology as being absolutely infallible” (position of the PSD, in DAR , 07.01.99, p. 1138) and of having made a “farce” of the process of public consultation (position of the PCP and the PEV, in DAR , 07.01.99, p. 1139; 14.01.99, pp. 1279; 1282). These accusations were serious because, as we have seen earlier, the EIS on which the minister had based her decision had been prepared by the tenderer (in this case the cement plants), despite the fact that they were interested parties. For the opposition

88 parties, however, the government, in its duty to safeguard the public interest, should have commissioned another EIS, from an independent team. In their opinion, the problem was that, with the co-incineration strategy, the government was privatising and giving total management responsibility to the cement industry (a private-sector business) and retaining the sole function of implementing the legislation. They argued that, given that the environment and health are areas of public interest, it was wrong to “give them up” to private interests, awarding the monopoly of hazardous waste management to a private company guided only by market forces and the profit motive (e.g. PEV, in DAR , 17.12.98, p.1058; PSD, in DAR , 15.01.99, p. 1276). In addition, according to the opposition parties, the EIS failed to consider alternative methods to co-incineration, a limitation deriving from the fact that it was the tenderer himself who had carried out the study. In not commissioning other studies, the government was thought by its opponents to be seeking the immediate adoption of the co-incineration method without assessing alternatives which the environmental associations and EU policy judged to be preferable. Critics of the whole process commonly expressed the idea that the government was seeking to “start building the house with the roof”. 6

Unawareness of waste quantities The government was harshly criticised for having chosen co-incineration without having obtained precise information on quantities, types and location of hazardous industrial wastes produced in Portugal. Opponents felt that to be in ignorance of these data was to jeopardize the implementation of any possible strategy. By contrast, if a full quantitative and qualitative inventory of hazardous industrial wastes were available, it would be possible to define which methods of disposal were best suited to each type of waste in accordance with its characteristics. In principle it should have been easy to draw up this inventory because business owners are required by law to fill out an annual return of wastes, in which they state the quantities of waste produced and what was done with it. But only a small number of Portuguese firms provide this return, through ignorance of the law, insufficient attention paid to environmental matters, or lack of facilities for dealing with waste. 7 What happens is

6 This means that, as with building a house, putting the roof on is one of the last tasks in a process which must begin with laying the foundations. So too with waste management, “end-of-the-line” methods are the final solution, which comes after a 3Rs policy has been tried. End-of-the-line methods, like co-incineration, treat the wastes created by production, but do not change the process of production itself (see chapter 3). 7 It is important to note that Portuguese industries, mainly of small and medium size, and its managers have a long tradition of being environmentally insensitive, that is further aggravated by their efforts to survive in a competitive market and due to a fragile control and law enforcement by the State. This tradition found its raison d’être in the long period of dictatorship that prevented environmental awareness and mobilisation (Rodrigues, 1995).

89 that business owners who fail to treat wastes properly prefer not to complete the annual return. This option is made easier by the fact that there is a general atmosphere of impunity: fines for breaking the law are very low (IA, 2000: 245). 8 In these circumstances, tonnage estimates for how much waste is to be incinerated are many and contradictory. As we saw in the previous chapter, at the beginning of the 1990s, when it was decided to build the dedicated incinerator at Estarreja, it was estimated that there were at least 35,000 tonnes per annum of incinerable hazardous industrial wastes (of a total of 1.4 million tonnes per annum of industrial wastes). With the reclassification of the European Waste Catalogue and the list of wastes by the EU in 1994 (under which some wastes which had previously been regarded as hazardous were now deemed harmless), the quantities of incinerable hazardous industrial wastes were updated in 1997 to 16,000 tonnes per annum (out of a total of 2.5 million tonnes of industrial wastes).9 Other statistical methods produced different estimates, although these did not relate specifically to incinerable wastes. According to the Status of the Environment Report, based on the returns submitted by industry, in 1998 production of hazardous industrial wastes was around 263,000 tonnes per annum (out of a total of just under 20 million tonnes per annum of industrial wastes) (IA 2000: 248). In 1999, it was estimated that hazardous industrial wastes totalled 153,000 tonnes per annum (out of 17 million tonnes per annum of industrial wastes) (PESGRI, 2001). These numerical variations in waste quantities generated many points of disagreement. The first related to the discrepancy between the 16,000 tonnes per annum of incinerable hazardous wastes on which the government’s decision was based and the 100,000 tonnes per annum of combustible waste (both ordinary and hazardous) which the cement plants stated were needed to make the whole process financially viable. If the opposition parties are to be believed, this numerical disparity was going to be remedied by “encouraging” Portuguese firms to be negligent in terms of waste production or by importing waste from other countries. A second point of criticism related to the recycling and regeneration of spent fuel and organic solvents10 , for which opposition parties had lobbied strongly on the basis of the claims of the environmental association Quercus as

8 According to data from the Ministry of the Environment, in 1998 3,507 returns were received from a total of 273,161 factories. Despite this discrepancy, the amounts declared on the returns represented 85% of Portugal’s production of industrial wastes, given that most of the returns were made by large firms (IA 2000: 245). 9 One further example of the discrepancy in the figures for HIW production in Portugal may be found in INE (1999). 10 This issue was the object of so much argument that the largest opposition party (the PSD) submitted a draft law to the national parliament aimed at regulating and regenerating spent fuels and organic solvents. This draft law was rejected in October 2000, much to the bewilderment of the party which had submitted it and to the chagrin of the environmental associations.

90 well as the CNCT and A Cegonha . These bodies argued that it was completely unnecessary to burn them since there are more environmentally suitable alternatives for both these products. If these two types of hazardous waste were to be diverted away from incineration in cement plants, and handled differently, there would be a drastic reduction in the quantities of incinerable hazardous industrial wastes, and co-incineration would become a marginal activity.

Financial and electoral interests Many of the critics of the government’s decision regarded it as an insult to the Centre region. In terms of the country’s development, the Centre region has been losing ground in the context of the constant fight for investment funds between Lisbon and Porto. The fact that it was chosen to be the site for burning the country’s waste was understood as a sign of total “disdain” for the region and viewed it as having been made in the light of financial and political-electoral concerns In political terms, the choice of Maceira and Souselas was interpreted as an attempt to keep co-incineration as far away from Lisbon as possible (see map attached). The choice of Alhandra or Outão (Setúbal), both of which are close to the capital, would not achieve this aim. According to the critics, this was an “electoral damage limitation exercise”, in so far as Lisbon and its whole Metropolitan Area is the most densely inhabited part of the country (and consequently has the highest number of voters). This idea of political advantage-seeking and “electoral manoeuvring” by the government cropped up frequently in the parliamentary debates (e.g. posição do PEV, in DAR , 07.01.99, p. 1141 e posição do PSD, in DAR , 26.02.99, p. 1931). Many individuals also voiced it, such as Helena Roseta, a member of parliament for the governing party who at the time was on the National Environment Council (Conselho Nacional do Ambiente ), and for whom the government’s decision could be explained in terms of “a controlled risks strategy, not on the environmental level, but on the electoral level” ( Visão , 07.01.99). Or Carlos Pimenta, the former secretary of state for the environment in the PSD government and member of the European Commission in the environment area, who stated: “Setúbal and Alhandra are socialist councils [of the party of the government] and have higher populations than Maceira and Souselas” ( Visão , 07.01.99). There were also those who interpreted the government’s decision as a clear indicator of regional discrimination, whereby the Centre region was being “demoted and systematically used as a guinea-pig” (Paulo Portas, CDS-PP, in Público , 07.01.99). All these critiques at the national level matched critiques at the regional level. For example, Vital Moreira, one of the country’s most respected constitutionalists and professor at the University of Coimbra, justified the theory of least electoral damage as

91 follows: “we elect few members of parliament, we have no ministers in the government, our councillors carry little weight nationally, and our newspapers are not heard in Lisbon” (Diário de Notícias , 07.01.99). In general, these opinions can be understood in the light of a highly critical approach which regards “through site selection, government chooses certain residents to be the victims of any adverse impacts caused by the operation” (Edelstein, 2004 [1988]: 265), since “patterns in hazardous facility siting reflect the general power dynamics of the society” (id., ibid.: 271). Alongside this interpretation of the alleged political and electoral “advantages”, criticisms were also levelled at the government’s decision for prioritizing financial criteria. One of the grounds for these criticisms was the fact that the most important Portuguese business group (Sonae) had announced it was going to invest tens of billions of Portuguese escudos in a tourist development (targeted at clients from the more affluent sectors of society) in Tróia, a location right opposite the Outão cement works (position of the civic movements MMS and ADAS, in Diário Económico , 06.01.99). Also Carlos Pimenta, quoted above, in an interview with a weekly paper, said in this connection that “this government is short-sighted, and seeking immediate gain: this is a handful of private interests being placed ahead of the collective interest” ( Expresso , 09.01.99). Another aspect to these critiques of the economic interest argument for the government’s decision related to the notion that co-incineration would be a great deal for the cement plants, in so far as it would enable them not only to save significantly in terms of energy, but would also give them revenues (from the fees paid by factory-owners to eliminate waste) where previously they had incurred expenditure. This “shady deal” argument was shared by all party lines from left to right, as well as civic and environmental movements. In an opinion editorial the chairman of the Coimbra ProUrbe movement, the sociologist Boaventura de Sousa Santos, condemned the “connivance” between the cement plants and government. While the cement plants saw co-incineration as an additional profit factor (“obtained at the expense of local residents’ well-being”), the government was promoting “crafty public hearings, making assurances that no-one in good faith was in a position to make, and hypocritically converting dangerous pollution into environmental improvement works” ( Visão , 14.01.99). Responding to these accusations of shady dealing, the cement sector drafted a press release in which it was explained that forecast revenues from co-incineration were a marginal factor in total annual turnover ( Diário de Notícias , 13.01.99). The chairman of Scoreco, Gonçalves da Silva, went on to explain in an interview with a national daily newspaper that there was a danger that residents’ protests – which he thought were initially justified, but would calm down later on when they finally realized that “the process was legitimate and would not do any harm” – would go on forever “if the advocates of

92 calamity and the heralds of evil were allowed a free rein, as was indeed happening” (Diário de Notícias , 11.01.99). A number of business (mostly businessmen’s) associations supported the cement sector and the co-incineration plan. For the Portuguese Industry Association (AIP - Associação Industrial Portuguesa ), the chosen method would help businesses to reduce their waste production, because they would start to take the cost of waste treatment into account. The bad thing, as far as the AIP was concerned, was not co-incineration itself, but rather the storage and export of waste, which had high environmental and financial costs ( Público , 13.01.99). Similarly, the Portuguese Metallurgical and Related Industries Association ( Associação dos Industriais Metalúrgicos, Metalomecânicos e Afins de Portugal ) was in favour of co-incineration because it was an “environmentally sensible solution for the country”. It criticised the fact that local residents were being “used a tool” on this issue, and that a climate had been created to “block progress on urgently needed solutions”.

2. The government’s reaction: environmental improvement and the scientific committee Strong popular and party political resistance to the minister’s decision led the government to react and to seek legitimacy. The government was reluctant to reveal its “political agenda” of forcing co-incineration, but the protest movement succeeded in making it channel the debate to discussion of alternative options for handling hazardous industrial wastes and to adopt an approach involving dialogue and negotiation with its opponents. At the beginning of January 1999, Prime-Minister António Guterres became directly involved for the first time. He had meetings with local government and parish council members and with representatives of local associations. Despite not revoking the Environment Ministry’s decision, as the plan’s opponents wanted, he went ahead with a series of measures aimed, on the one hand, at gaining residents’ confidence and, on the other, at mitigating the adverse environmental consequences of cement plant activity over the years (the “environmental liabilities sheet”). 11 As part of the first objective, he announced the setting up of an independent scientific committee to study the co- incineration method, with power to suspend it if it should involve public health risks. A Local Monitoring Committee (LMC) would be set up in each local authority, made up of members of the town councils and parish councils affected, local environmental organizations and other local council bodies having an interest in the problem

11 Presidency of the Council of Ministers, Prime-Minister’s Office, “The Cement Plants and the Co- incineration of Industrial Wastes”, http://www.co-incineracao.online.pt/PM-1999-01-08.pdf .

93 (universities, unions, workers’ committees, business and industry associations, religious organizations, etc.). The job of these committees was to undertake an extensive programme of local information. As far as the second objective is concerned, he stated that bag-filters would be fitted in all cement plants and not just those which were to be used for burning, as had been originally planned. In addition, he arranged for technical teams to be formed to make improvements to Maceira and Souselas. An urban improvement plan was also drawn up. This attempt at negotiation by government, the promises of environmental improvements and bringing in scientific knowledge were a means of damping down the heightened tensions which had emerged with the outbreak of social and party unrest in opposition to the co-incineration decision. Bag-filters can be seen as a measure which mitigates pollution, even though it does not completely eliminate it, but we should nevertheless recognize that they are a significant step forward. The establishment of the scientific committee can be interpreted as ex machina expertise which is brought on to “deal with” a difficult situation of tension between government and the political parties (including elements of the government’s own party), environmental associations, local civic organizations, councils affected by the decision and a part of the scientific community. 12 From the political point view this strategy can be interpreted as a “prolific strategy of regulators”, to adopt Wynne’s terminology:

Rather than attempt once and for all to resolve the conflict, they break it down into sequential negotiations, incremental (and reversible) adjustments, conflict-absorbing procedures (…), and reactive strategies. This is not irrational. Indeed, it may well be a source of resilience in the system because it keeps genuinely conflicting values in continual negotiation with one another, adapting to new circumstances and balances of interest as they arise (Wynne, 1987c: 425).

If this was indeed the case, the opponents understood the government’s intention and interpreted its attitude as a politically opportunistic “minor retreat”, strategically devised to postpone a difficult political decision in an election year (in the literature is known as the NIMTOO attitude, which stands for “Not in my Term of Office” or NIMEY, “Not in my Electoral Yard”). For the civic movements, the government’s “retreat” signalled the potential for suspending co-incineration for good, but was also an attempt to break down the conflict and calm residents down until the elections ( Público , 09.01.99; 10.01.99;

12 My analogy here is with the Latin expression deus ex machina , which literally means “god from the machine” and is related to ancient Greek and Roman theatre, the idea of an artificial or “machine” method which emerges to resolve a difficult situation. According to the Oxford Dictionary, it means “an unexpected power or event that suddenly appears to resolve a situation that seems hopeless. It is often used to talk about a character in a play or story who only appears at the end”.

94 11.01.99). The various opposition movements therefore carried on developing new plans, all the more so as, despite the assurances given and compensation plans announced by Prime-Minister, the heart of the matter was still the co-incineration method itself. Against this backdrop, several declarations were drawn up, such as the Maceira Declaration 13 and the Coimbra Declaration . Both these, like the Souselas Declaration , demanded above all the revoking of the ministerial order. This struggle achieved results a month later, when the Parliament approved a draft PSD law suspending the process of co-incineration and making it subject to the opinion of the scientific committee to be appointed by the government (as we shall see below, this draft produced Law 20/99). It was the commitment to set up a scientific committee to draw up an opinion on the different ways of handling hazardous industrial wastes and their potential impact on public health and the environment, which most attracted the attention of residents and opponents of the scheme. There was hope that the committee would revise the scheme and come up with a solution which would achieve consensus, be environmentally safe and risk-free for local residents. The government sent a positive signal by inviting Vital Moreira, a Coimbra constitutional law expert, to draw up the draft Decree-Law on the future scientific committee. The invitation was seen as “ensuring independence” and as an “effort on the part of the government to move away from a technocratic approach which had failed to inspire trust” (Boaventura de Sousa Santos, in Público , 12.01.99). Although expertise is usually understood as forming the basis on which a decision is taken, it is not entirely unusual for expertise to be called for after a decision has been taken and conflict has arisen over a given aspect, as happened in Portugal. In fact there is ample empirical evidence (outlined in chapter 1) for the manifold appropriations of expertise. As Nelkin points out, science “is widely regarded as a means by which to de- politicize public issues” (1975: 36). Expertise is thus regarded as a “resource” in the political game, a resource which may confer legitimacy and acceptance through the use of scientific objectivity. But calling on expertise is not a panacea, nor are experts’ risk analyses problem- free. First, because probabilistic and “objective” estimates of risk are not as “hard” as sometimes believed. Since they project what is expected to happen in the future under some assumed conditions, it is impossible to avoid bringing in value judgements, inferences, and arbitrary assumptions, given that there are uncertainties and indeterminacies in relation to the possibility of an adverse event occurring (Shrader-

13 Declaration of Maceira , 09.01.1999, http://www.ieeta.pt/~mos/cnct/outros/1999-01-09.html . This declaration sought cancellation of the decision to adopt co-incineration, an end to the burning of tyres, a study of the state of public health of local residents near the cement plants and alternative measures to reduce, re-use and recycle industrial waste generally in non-energy consuming ways.

95 Frechette, 1993).14 There are systematic errors in probabilistic risk assessments and, consequently, in expert judgements. William Freudenburg (1992) mentions over- confidence in experts’ ability to foresee all possible failures; the problems deriving from analyses based on small samples; the improbability that all systemic interactions and interdependencies will be correctly forecast; and the tendency not to acknowledge the statistical frailty of estimates and low probabilities. This means that experts’ methods of calculation are less objective than their public rhetoric implies. The specific nature of the context in which expertise is located (integration in the decision-making process) means that it operates under rules which are different from those used in scientific research and that it has to argue from conclusions even when there are many uncertainties present. Secondly, because experts, in tending to overvalue a probabilistic method, also tend to undervalue the public’s alleged “misperceptions” of the risks and neglect ethical and psychosocial concerns. Therefore, they fail to make the decision process more democratic . This tension between expertise and democratic ideology is an echo of the outlines of an ancient dilemma: the complexity of some decisions demands specialised knowledge, a source of power for those who possess it, but at the same time democracy cannot deny citizens (who do not possess that knowledge) the right to express an opinion on decisions which have a profound effect on their lives. If the decision depends solely on experts, and is therefore of a technocratic nature, it may not be accepted by the public. This is because citizens wish to make their own judgments and do not allow the voice of the expert to be the only voice heard on matters which affect their lives. For the citizen, risk is something greater than the index of probability of potential harm which experts’ conventional analyses put forward. Alongside an apprehensiveness regarding the probability of potential danger to public health and/or the environment, citizens use “intuitive risk judgments” (Slovic, 2000 [1987]: 220) and are aware of a number of other, non-scientific factors. For example, the way monitoring mechanisms operate; the equitable distribution of costs and benefits; the credibility of institutions charged with managing risk; the real estate value of land, quality of life, the visual impact of and the social stigma attaching to a technological facility. Moreover, in the specific case of co-incineration, there is the sensitivity to waste, the discomfort and disgust at its physical presence, and the olfactory element of living with a bad smell, as a result of the historical and civilizational longue durée set out in chapter 1. Even if some of these

14 Although unavoidable, these assumptions are not problematic as such, if one recognises the errors that they may provoke and the uncertainties associated with these errors (Shrader-Frechette, 1993: 42). Policymakers should also be aware of this. Several investigations show how different methodological options affect and support different political decisions. For example, different measurements of automobile accidents (e.g. deaths per mile or amount of deaths per year) have an overwhelming effect on the results obtained, and therefore produce different conclusions (Crouch and Wilson, 1982; Cerezo and Luján, 2001: 146).

96 factors do not make sense in financial terms, or are scientifically incomprehensible, this does not mean that the public’s assessment is irrational, on the grounds that the public does not understand science and therefore develops irrational fears, nor that it is ingenuous, because it wishes for situations of “zero risk”. If these psychological and psychometric studies of the public perception of risk are correct, then aversion to risk is correlated with perceived “newness” (or “unfamiliar”), “dread” of the hazard, its “severity”, “catastrophic potential”, “uncontrollability”, “involuntariness”, “inequitability”, “threat to future generations”, etc. (Slovic, Fischhoff and Lichtenstein, 2000 [1980]; Slovic, 2000 [1987]). There are accordingly many areas in which risk perceptions are not in line with scientific analyses. 15 The classic example is to compare the different levels of ordinary citizens’ concerns, which tend to overestimate the risks of air travel, nuclear energy, toxic waste, pesticides and genetic engineering, and to underestimate those of driving a car, tobacco, sunbathing, diet drinks, contraceptives, use of mobile phones, etc. 16 The fact that there is controversy and a wider public debate is sometimes seen as a deliberate blockage, something which will delay a decision and which can be exploited by pressure groups, or which makes it possible to find alternative solutions to those sought by officialdom (Godard et al ., 2002: 140; Petts, 2004: 127). But it may also have positive aspects in the quality of expertise and decision-making. It is commonly held today that ordinary citizens have relevant knowledge and experience which should be taken into account in planning and implementing technical and scientific decisions (e.g. EEA, 2001a: 169). And their involvement requires the debate to become a forum in which a technological innovation is assessed not only on its technical and scientific aspects, but also its financial, social, ethical, political and perceptual elements. These elements are of greater importance whenever the topic under discussion, and the consequences of action or inaction may be disastrous and where the uncertainties are great. There are at least three types of argument against technocratic decision-making on matters which relate to the common good: the substantive, the normative and the instrumental (Fiorino, 1990). From the substantive point of view, lay knowledge may be an important source of information for the expert and for the decision-maker who have to deal with the uncertainties and indeterminacies of a given problem and anticipate its possible consequences. It may also be a “counterweight” to the abstraction of scientific models by

15 In this connection, some writers are ironic about citizens’ (allegedly excessive) concerns over technological and environmental risks. Mary Douglas and Aaron Wildavsky, for example (1982), co- authors of Risk and Culture , believe the American people have a collective neurosis in relation to environmental risks, and that they are hypochondriacs in relation to public health risks. 16 I am aware that some risks are individual risks , related to life-style, which depend on a personal choice and on personal control (e.g. diet drinks, contraception, mobile phones, driving), while others are socially imposed (e.g. nuclear energy, chemical industry).

97 supplying knowledge based on contextualized experience and information (cultural traditions, local economic practices, etc.). Public debate may be particularly useful for setting and enlarging the range of choice for research topics, identifying the nature of the effects to be taken into account, clarifying which types of disciplinary skills need to be mobilized, and for questioning the assumptions and conclusions of scientific reports. From the normative point of view, civic participation is necessary to ensure democratic legitimacy, for which such involvement should be the rule rather than the exception. To achieve this legitimacy, science and politics need to learn to recognize and negotiate with other forms of rationality. From the instrumental point of view, effective civic participation in decisions involving risk makes them more legitimate and makes it less likely that there will be negative public perceptions, lack of trust, and social resistance as a result. It also avoids the temptation for political manipulation of public opinion. In this way it would be possible to prevent the recurring phenomenon of decision-makers’ over-confidence in and uncritical use of the advice of experts. Because it failed to take into account the differences between “cultural rationality” and “technical rationality”, to adopt the terms used by Krimksy and Plough (1988), 17 the government ended up appointing a scientific committee, as we shall see below, whose membership was narrow in disciplinary terms and, consequently, limited in its analysis of the issue. Once the committee had been defined as a technical and scientific committee only, the experts (and also the government and the cement plants) were unable to deal with other factors which were at least as significant, or even more significant, for giving credibility to the decision through scientific validation. Those other factors were the risks perceived by ordinary citizens, fears, concerns, sensitivities and lack of trust in those specific communities.

Organization, membership and operation of the commission Following the Prime-Minister’s commitment to set up a scientific committee, the government on 19 February 1999 approved Decree-Law 120/99 (which was only published on 16 April) establishing the “Independent Scientific Committee for Environmental Control and Monitoring of Co-incineration”. Six days later, Parliament approved Law 20/99 which, amongst other demands, required the government to set up by decree, an “Independent Scientific Committee” to report and express an opinion on

17 “Technical rationality,” with which experts are endowed, is based on a set of scientific principles and norms, on empirical evidence, on the language of probability and the comparison of various different risk situations. In this approach, risks may be studied out of context. What matters are the objective (depersonalized) inputs and statistical probabilities. “Cultural rationality,” which is typical of ordinary citizens, makes no separation between the content and context of risk and stresses personal and community experience. It attributes special significance to the unanticipated consequences of risk and to subjective (experiential) information.

98 each of the possible methods of hazardous industrial waste treatment. As one can see, there is some confusion and overlap here, both in the naming of the scientific committee, and in defining its functions (the study of co-incineration or the various different methods for treating hazardous industrial wastes). This confusion was later cleared up by another piece of legislation, Decree-Law 121/99 (approved on 18 March, but likewise published on 16 April) with which the government sought to co-ordinate its legislation with that produced by the parliament. This act lays down that the scientific committee’s remit should also cover the requirements of the Parliament’s law and adopt the name given by that legislation. The committee was finally established under Law 149/99, dated 3 September 1999. Despite the fact that it changes some of the provisions of Decree-Law 120/99, the new law in the main restricted the scope of the committee to co-incineration, and this meant that the group of experts came to be called the “Independent Scientific Committee” (henceforth ISC), but the government’s version prevailed, whereby its scope of inquiry was co-incineration and not a general evaluation of the techniques of handling hazardous industrial waste. After all the legislative revisions, it seemed that the government was sticking to its original programme and not giving ground on the “political agenda” of the opposition parties. 18 In its final form, the committee was to have four specialists in the areas of medicine, air quality and chemical engineering. Three would be appointed by the Council of University Vice-Chancellors (CRUP) and one by the Ministry of the Environment. 19 Its membership only became known in December 1999, when the ISC began its work: (1) Sebastião Formosinho Simões, professor of chemical engineering at the University of Coimbra; (2) Casimiro Pio, professor in the Environment and Land Planning department at the University of Aveiro; (3) Henrique de Barros, professor in the Faculty of Medicine at the University of Porto and director of that faculty’s Hygiene and Epidemiology School; (4)

18 This situation caused an uproar in the parliamentary debates, which focused not so much on legal arguments as to whether one of the acts had the effect of derogating the other, nor on whether the publication dates were a coincidence or had been deliberately arranged to coincide, but rather on the political implications of the whole difficult process. The opposition parties believed that the government had acted in bad faith in trying to subvert what the Parliament had willed in drawing up Law 20/99. This was because on 19 February, when Decree-Law 120/99 was approved, the government was already aware of the broad outlines of the PSD’s draft law on which the above-mentioned Parliamentary law of 25 February was based. The PS offered the counter- argument that the Decree-Law had not disregarded the Parliamentary law because it had been approved and had entered into force before it. For the government, the second Decree-Law (121/99), which extended the remit of the already established scientific committee, was merely an amendment to the first Decree-Law (120/99), its object being to bring it into line with the provisions of the Parliamentary law ( DAR , 29.04.99). 19 Despite the speed with which the CRUP put forward the names of scientists for the ISC, the government did not appoint its own representative until November. For the opposition parties, this delay was a clear example of political opportunism timed to fit in with elections ( DAR , 16.06.00). The PS, it should be recalled, was returned to power in the parliamentary elections of October 1999.

99 José Roberto Cavalheiro, associate professor at the Faculty of Engineering of the University of Porto, in the Metallurgical Engineering and Materials department, and senior researcher at the National Biomedical Engineering Institute ( Instituto Nacional de Engenharia Biomédica) . Cavalheiro’s name was put forward by the Environment Ministry. The other members elected Sebastião Formosinho as chairman, based on the fact that he was the senior member of the committee. The literature on expertise shows that the choice of scientists is not a haphazard affair. In her detailed study of several American advisory committees, Jasanoff realized that “advisers are selected with an eye to much more than merely technical qualifications” and that the “selection criteria are tailored to fit the function an expert is expected to perform” (1990: 93). One of those criteria was the deepest understanding of regulatory science and thus familiarity with the regulatory mission of governmental institutions. She points out that the choice of members of advisory committees, falling as it does on scientists with specific disciplinary and institutional affiliations, is clearly the outcome of the government’s objectives, which seek to confine the activities of such committees to certain scientific proceedings and thereby define the way the issues are addressed. Nonetheless, in the Portuguese specific case the membership of the committees was drawn from a narrow range of disciplines, we may also interpret the presence of a Coimbra academic, who became the chairman, as a sign of total impartiality which the government and the other members of the committee wished to convey to the scheme’s opponents. It could be argued that to have chosen an “insider” as chairman might offer an additional assurance that if a local expert was not opposed to the plan, then there would be no grounds for fears and suspicions. As the chairman of the committee himself mentioned in an interview:

In the committee’s hearing in Coimbra, [I was asked] “could the plan affect my son and myself?” and I said: “Look, I live in Coimbra. So you at least know that, let’s say, I’m not suggesting something against myself”. So, from the point of view of conviction, it’s obvious. (…) (Sebastião Formosinho)

The committee had a fixed mandate of three years, extendable for a further three years. The mandate would lapse before its normal term if any decision were taken to suspend or drop co-incineration. But if the option were accepted, membership of the committee would be widened to include a further two members, each representing one of the local council districts chosen for implementation of the scheme. Provision had also been made for the establishment of two LMCs, their membership drawn from representatives of the areas affected and local environmental and civic associations. But these plans were never realized. In legal terms, the ISC was a body which had legal personality, administrative and financial independence, and contractual capability. It therefore had its own budget, and all

100 the members were paid. 20 It was also an independent statutory body, not subject to government supervision. In order that the committee’s independence might be demonstrated without equivocation, strict rules were laid down for conflicts of interest whereby no member of any private interest group could join. According to these rules, the local authorities, the Ministry of Environment, the cement firms or others with interests in the handling of waste, as well as environmental associations, were prevented from being part of the ISC. This latter aspect of the conflict of interest rules was criticised by one of the scheme’s opponents:

(…) there was one thing in the law which was incredible, which was that members were not permitted to have been involved in earlier studies, which shows that from the outset they were going to look at the issue from scratch, or, at least, they had never expressed any opinion on the matter in public (…). This limits things. These were specialists who were going to give an opinion on a highly specialized subject without ever having studied it before. I know that wasn’t the intention, the intention of whoever devised the law was to avoid anyone being on the committee who had been involved in earlier schemes (Delgado Domingos)

The committee’s opinion would be binding. This caused an uproar, as we shall see in the following section. Under the legislation which set it up, the committee had 60 days after taking office, to reach a conclusion and publish its opinion. In terms of work organization, and on the basis of what is in the published report, the committee had frequent meetings (“at least once a week”), assembled a complete bibliography, and listened to specialists on the subject, representatives of environmental protection groups and the Souselas and Maceira committees. At the same time, the committee’s members visited, in Portugal itself, potential co-incineration-operating cement plants, a facility for handling used waste fuel and a solid urban waste incinerator; abroad, they visited a hazardous industrial wastes management unit, a dedicated incineration facility, a large cement plant carrying out co-incineration of industrial wastes (both ordinary and hazardous) and a pre-treatment facility (Formosinho et al., 2000: 17-18).

3. The “confiscation” of a monolithic expertise Since the ISC was convened following a decision and the public protest which it lead to, we may interpret this expertise as having been “confiscated”. This happens when the political decision is upstream of expertise, in other words, when political authorities resort to the experts after they have already committed themselves to a particular strategy or made a decision (Roqueplo, 1993: 68). Since scientific knowledge was not sought ex ante , in order to provide the foundation for a future decision, there was a widespread

20 The committee’s chairman received the equivalent of a director-general’s salary and the remaining members 25% less.

101 perception that the committee had deliberately been “appropriated”. I was told this in interviews of both the members of the committee and opponents of the scheme:

I think Mr. Guterres [the Prime-Minister] found himself, as far as co-incineration is concerned, in a situation which was both political, involving (…) members of his own party, local residents, members of parliament (…), he had to find a way out somewhere, so he found it in science. And for a few months things were calm, quiet. But I think it was a politically artful way out, and not a matter of scientific conviction (…) (Sebastião Formosinho)

(…) the government used the device of a scientific committee, not because it had any merit in itself, but as a way of trying to anaesthetize the opposition (…). (Delgado Domingos)

(...) there’s no doubt in my mind that this committee was set up to validate a decision which had already been taken, and that’s why it provoked the reactions it did (…) and why there were diatribes and all the muddle we saw, involving a large number of people in the scientific community. (José Eduardo Martins)

Expertise, which is usually regarded as a mechanism which is useful and valuable in providing support and grounds for decision-making, itself became, to a great extent, a supplementary conflict factor. The reason for this was that, by the time the committee was convened, the “whole issue had already become tainted”, as one interviewee put it, and, for that reason, the committee came to be seen as a kind of “a posteriori environmental impact study” ( Jornal de Notícias , 10.01.99), to use the words of Carlos Pimenta, one of the critics of the co-incineration method. Christiane Restier-Melleray’s description of the situation of expertise could not be more apt: “the reunion of an awkward set of circumstances with specialized knowledge” (1990: 549). One of the most controversial issues was the legal basis for the scientific committee itself. Four pieces of legislation were involved. The fact that the government’s second Decree-Law (121/99) provided for representatives of the Coimbra and Leiria councils to be members of the scientific committee produced strong criticism from the opposition parties. The reason for this was simple: if co-incineration and the choice of location were it was to be implemented had been suspended (as a result of Decree-Law 273/98, of 2 September 1998), and if discussion of the matter of hazardous industrial waste management now had to go back to first principles, then it made no sense for those representatives to be on the committee, unless the government was trying to define its position regarding the choice of those locations, as if it were a fait accompli ( DAR , 13.05.00). This controversy became even more heated when in the ISC’s report, the committee gave itself the title of “Independent Scientific Committee for Environmental Control and Monitoring of Co-incineration”, a title created by Decree-Law 120/99, but which ceased to be legal with the approval of Law 20/99 and Law 149/99. For the opposition parties, the ISC thereby failed to fulfil the mandate which the parliament had

102 given it. I will return to this topic in my next chapter, but for now, by way of example, here are the words of one member of parliament on this subject, in a clear statement of the notion of confiscation of expertise:

(…) if the committee believes that it has fulfilled the mandate given it by Decree-Law 120/99, of 16 April 1999, then its nature is essentially that of a support committee, providing technical and scientific support for the government’s decisions in this field. (Manuel Queiró, CDS-PP, in DAR , 16.06.2000, p. 3087).

Other points of contention were the fact that the ISC’s role was not merely consultative and that the government’s revised decision was dependent on the committee’s opinion. According to the statute that established the ISC, approval of the co- incineration method was entirely dependent on the experts’ verdict, as well as the definition of the types and quantities of waste to be incinerated; and the authorization for the start of incineration tests. The committee thus became formally responsible for the decision-making process, its pronouncements would be final and sovereign, as if the politicians were submitting to the conclusions of a group of experts. This not only shifted the decision-making process from policy-makers to committee experts, thereby undermining the government’s political power, but also assumed (wrongly, it has to be said) that there was unanimous, consensual scientific knowledge which was immune to its social, cultural and institutional context. In addition, it produced ambivalent attitudes towards the scientific committee. On the one hand, the ISC seemed to be an “ally” of opponents of the scheme, because it allowed for its possible revision. But, on the other hand, it was also an “enemy”, and it is this which accounts for the emergence of a parallel scientific discourse, a counter-expertise, refuting any positive signal on co-incineration by the “official” committee of experts (Camponez, 2002: 237). It was for these reasons that the choice of experts, their image of independence and pluralism, the committee’s disciplinary background, and the openness of the whole process were of the utmost significance. All these principles are fundamental, even if they are more of a guide to action than an effective practical instrument. It is increasingly clear that the procedures for production of knowledge are formalized within scientific committees. See, for example, the Code of Practice for Scientific Advisory Committees, drawn up by Britain’s Office of Science and Technology (OST, 2001) in the aftermath of the BSE crisis, and Commission Decision (2004/210/CE, of 3 March 2004) which states that scientific committees should be guided by the principles of excellence, independence, impartiality, and transparency, and should also respect legitimate requests for commercial confidentiality. In its clause on prevention, the Resolution of the European Council of Nice, in December 2000, also subscribes to the notion that risk assessment

103 should be conducted in a multidisciplinary, independent and transparent way, and with forms of organization which encourage contradiction. The fact that the names of the experts for the scientific committee were put forward by the Council of Vice-Chancellors (CRUP) should have provided sufficient assurances of independence and transparency. They would not be chosen directly by the government. But a criticism emerged, and gathered some support, to the effect that this top body of the Portuguese universities had merely provided a list of names from which the government had been free to choose. Thinking along these lines, the committee was nothing more than “official expertise”, despite the difficulties in setting it up, a form of expertise based on the government’s initiative. It was the government which had chosen the experts, and managed and controlled the committee (Roqueplo, 1993: 85-86). This idea was emphasized by some interviewees:

(…) public opinion got hold of the idea that it was a committee chosen by the CRUP, and that’s not true. (…) It was not the Vice-Chancellors who chose that committee. (…) the government had asked for names of specialists in air quality, medicine and chemical engineering. (…) And all the schools did the same, within the already restricted fields the government had stipulated (…) they provided a list, they did not recommend this or that specialist (…), it was the minister who chose from the list. (…) he chose the three and appointed one other. (Delgado Domingos)

(…) it was the government afterwards which chose from the list provided by the Council of Vice-Chancellors. (…) they were not (…) [the ones] which the Council of Vice-Chancellors had put forward, the Council had put forward several of them. (José Eduardo Martins)

It was but a short step from this type of suspicion to a full-scale questioning of the experts’ independence, impartiality and legitimacy.21 The limitation of the ISC’s scope to the study of co-incineration, excluding other forms of treatment, provided more fuel for the idea that everything had been organized just to ratify the decision the government had already taken. The ISC members tried to refute these charges, and sought transparency by creating an Internet website (which went live in April 2000), where they provided a vast range of information, including reports, explanations, communiqués, published articles, Portuguese and international legislation, general information on waste, etc. Here are some of the ISC member’s statements in reply to the charges:

Well, in terms of independence we continue to have no political role whatsoever (…). In terms of the cement plants, I don’t have any business (…). Of course, people can always say there’s bad faith, that if that particular decision was taken, it was not the decision people wanted, so the only explanation is that these people are corrupt or stupid (…). How could they commission a tainted report from the scientists if this (…)

21 One of the reasons for this questioning was the known fact of José Cavalheiro’s favourable attitude to co-incineration, from his written statements in the press (see D iário de Notícias , 30.12.98), and the fact that he had been chosen for a position on the ISC by the Ministry of the Environment.

104 wasn’t done deliberately? I could also say that the government went looking for the most malleable scientists, in other words, those who would lend themselves to its point of view and its first question would have been: “Are you able to produce a report along the lines of such and such?” and then fix the whole thing. (…) but no, the government asked the CRUP to give it a group of people to carry out the study. It’s a bit difficult, if you follow this zigzag course, to find someone who is willing – and on top of it all [why] were there no differences of opinion here – to produce the report the government might want, isn’t it? (Casimiro Pio)

(…) We all adopted a completely neutral position, and more than this, in the only working meeting I had with the minister at the time, we were very straight about the problem of monitoring, which we demanded be done, and there was no restriction or limitation placed on us. There was never anyone saying to us “shut up, don’t say anything”, on the contrary. (Nuno Grande)

(…) undoubtedly, it is the bad payer’s excuse. Because, first: if there had been a problem, they would examine the people involved and see to what extent any conflict of interest of that sort might or might not have been, let us say, traceable. We all have a past. (…) And if people investigate (…) they would find things, wouldn’t they? (…) Secondly: they would see what had taken place from that moment on. So, I mean, this is just a low punch. (…) (Henrique Barros)

The principles at stake are all the more crucial in that, where expertise in confiscated, says Roqueplo, the experts develop a consensus amongst themselves, with the result that this type of expertise is based more on ideology than on objectivity. This consensus is the expression of an unreal objectivity, given that it is a truncated objectivity: there is no shared discussion within the scientific community in all its diversity. Roqueplo gives the example of the decision on nuclear energy in France, where debate amongst the experts was politically vetoed. In part this was due to the assertion that the French nuclear programme did not carry the risks mentioned by its detractors, an assertion which was more ideological than scientific (1993: 68). Where the expertise is removed from the ideal-type of building a “conflict space”, there is a risk that scientific accuracy will be sacrificed to the will to consolidate a negotiated consensus. In this particular case, the words of one of the politicians opposed to the government’s decision demonstrate this concern:

(…) if what was wanted was a truly many-sided committee, then the membership should from the outset have been drawn from people who were known, by their scientific work, to have different opinions. Nobody ever invited Delgado Domingos, (…), nor a whole series of others. Why not? (José Eduardo Martins)

But, according to the ISC’s chairman, the consensus which was achieved was not due to the lack of a “conflict space” within the committee, but to the fact that “local prejudices” were not brought in:

(…) within the time-scale it had and from the information available to it, I think the committee succeeded in carrying out a task, it achieved a consensus faster than might have been expected. I admit that this was in great part down to my own more objective, more scientific position, based on the data, because, according to my fellow

105 committee-members, they suspected that I might bring in local prejudices, since I was from the University of Coimbra. (Sebastião Formosinho)

Thus the ISC made its public appearance with a single voice, and this was especially visible when the conclusions of its report were announced (this will be analysed in the next chapter). It is possible that the uniformity and consensus might have been helped by an approach to the issue which was limited by the boundaries of the natural sciences, as represented in the ISC’s membership. The analytical models, the empirical knowledge and the rhetoric used in presenting the results were those of the natural sciences. To have broadened the committee’s scope to other disciplines would probably have made it difficult for it to speak with one voice.

An interdisciplinary committee, ma non troppo As we have seen, the membership of the ISC was drawn basically from the medical and physical-natural sciences. One of the working hypothesis of this research project is precisely the idea that the relatively monolithic nature of the scientific committee’s disciplinary background conditioned its conclusions from the outset and made it corroborate a political decision which had already been made. The social, economic (development and environmental economics, etc), psychological, social, political, and ethical implications were not examined. These areas “went beyond” the qualifications of the experts who had been summoned and the limits of their investigation as defined by the government. It can be argued that chemical and environmental engineering and medicine are the “hard core” disciplines for assessing the co-incineration method. But, given its implications in social, economic and value terms, it is something which cannot be explained within the strict logic of a discipline. Other approaches are required, in particular those of the human and social sciences. Comparison and linkage of different areas of knowledge would have made it possible to access broader and deeper layers of assessment of co-incineration, and to examine other possibilities and maybe prevent the explosion of anger on the part of local residents. It is not unusual for there to be failings and disciplinary gaps in the membership of this type of scientific committee. For example, in an research carried out by Stephen Hilgartner to three controversial American National Academy of Sciences reports on diet and health, the committees were criticized for not having included key disciplines (e.g. epidemiologists and cardiologists) and for being unbalanced (lack of different visions about the relationship between diets and diseases) (Hilgartner, 2000: 89ff). In the specific case being examined here, one interviewee noted the absence of specialists in combustion, an area which he regards as relevant to any analysis of co-incineration:

106 (…) the government asked for specialists in air quality, medicine and chemical engineering. Well now, (…) one of the crucial problems in this process is combustion. Who typically deals with combustion in this area is not the chemical, but the mechanical engineers. (…) Why? Because it is they who make the equipment. (…) it is a strictly technical process. The environmentalist was dispensable, but the specialists should have been there (Delgado Domingos).

In this case, as in most, especially those that deal with issues which are “hard” in technical and scientific terms, the most notable absences in scientific committee membership were those of sociologists, accountants, political scientists and others from the human and social sciences. It looks like a remake of the discussion raised by C. P. Snow in mid-twentieth century over how the “two cultures,” the “literary intellectuals” and the “men of science,” fail to communicate and understand each other (1993 [1959]). Going against this trend, William R. Freudenburg and Robert Gramling (2002), in their empirical studies of natural resources management committees, argue emphatically that the social sciences can make two key contributions. The first is to enlighten other scientists on the committee as to the nature, basic principles and findings of social scientific research. They can explain, for example, that even though scientific input may be based on factual and technical matters, any topic in natural resources management also involves values and blind spots; that the public is not “irrational” and that “mere perceptions” and blind spots can have very real consequences; that what is called “management of natural resources” is more the management of human behaviour towards those resources (e.g. rate of human harvest) than management of the resources themselves. The latter, if non-renewable, will remain intact if there is no human management action or will continue to develop (if they are renewable). The second contribution social scientists can make is to help colleagues on the committee to think about their role in the decision-making process and to recognize that there are subtle pressures which may affect the investigation. An example of this is the “asymmetry of scientific challenge,” whereby the results of scientific research are only challenged when they pose a threat to the groups which have an interest in the management of a particular resource. When this occurs, these groups get together to exert systematic pressure on scientific decisions. This does not occur when discoveries and interpretations are in line with their interests. To that extent social scientists have a significant role to play in that they can draw attention to the fact that scientific assessments may be influenced by something other than “the facts” – in other words, how certain interests may shape the questions, influence the answers obtained and, consequently, affect which facts are regarded as relevant. They may also enlighten the biophysical scientists as to how, at times, their appeals to prudence (when they conclude that “more research is needed”) lead to political actions and resource management decisions which are anything but prudent.

107 Even though these writers focused on committees dealing with natural resources management, and co-incineration is a different process, we may apply the same basic conclusion to the Portuguese case: that it would have been beneficial, even crucial, to have had human and social science experts taking part in the work of the ISC. They could have prevented some of the errors which did occur and possibly reached different conclusions. The first error was to define the issue in purely technical and scientific terms, neglecting any assessment of its psychological, social and ethical elements. (It is possible that the government was expecting the LMCs – which in the end were never set up – to take these elements into account.) The second mistake was the failure to involve citizens, and to have minimized the strongly negative impact of the psychological and social burden which residents close to the cement plants had had to bear, in addition to the environmental burden. The third mistake was to make the ISC’s deliberations binding and to give it decision-making powers. Two key points emerge from the interviews as to whether there was recognition of the importance of widening the disciplinary scope of the ISC. Firstly, none of the interviewees saw the committee members’ disciplinary background as restricting the scope of the study or its opinion and conclusions. Nor was there any questioning of the need to “introduce” the subject of co-incineration into other possible areas, apart from the “hard core” of chemical engineering, air quality and medicine. Secondly, if the membership were to be widened, some of its members would have chosen, rather than to add members from other sciences, to choose someone who would provide a bridge to the public, someone who would “translate” the technical arguments and explain things to them. With this argument they seem to stumble towards the notion that the main problem was to educate an unenlightened public, and that once this had been achieved, the public could only agree with the scientific conclusions which had been reached. Interpreted in this way, there seem to be no dilemmas other than the technical and scientific ones.

The ISC couldn’t be too large, could it? There was a hard core, that was the scientists (…). Maybe it would have been a good thing if (…) it had had someone to take care of image and public relations problems. [An] adviser, or even someone on the committee who might have some know-how in this area. Because scientists are bit impatient on these issues, aren’t they? (…) so any broader membership would have been only to protect the committee in its dealings with the public and not so much in terms of other scientific expertise (…). (Sebastião Formosinho)

When one of the members of the ISC was asked about widening the scope of membership to other disciplines, he reiterated the need for the committee to have a “hard core” and stressed the technical nature of the decision. With a touch of irony, he said that extending the disciplinary scope of the committee would make it inefficient.

108 (...) The membership should have been widened to include social science people, marine ecology [ sic ] people, non-marine ecology [ sic ] people, you could even have demographic experts (…) well, I mean, you could bring in lots of different people. Look, what mattered here, and I think this was not sufficiently appreciated, was that the problem was something which had to be dealt with at the academic and intellectual level appropriate, let’s say, to a university professor, with an open mind and with knowledge of the methodological tools. Of course a sociologist… might have been useful, but look (…) what would the fundamental role of a sociologist in all this have been? Why not a psychologist trained in the study of… the masses? Why not a media expert as well? There would have been no end to it. (…) (Henrique Barros)

There is no recognition here of the need for interdisciplinary practice, which was all the more important because essentially, and despite the scientific element, this was a political debate. It involved the civil life of several communities and the discussion of alternative forms of economic development. To this end, other arguments and other disciplines should have been heard and their validity acknowledged. When they are not, there is a pulverization of the scientific field, which having been allowed to achieve many successes, also has the perverse effect of enclosing the scientists within the narrow confines of their specializations and of making them indifferent to the language, the outcomes and the knowledge produced in other disciplines. This is the phenomenon which Ortega y Gasset long ago described as the “barbarism of specialization”, when he harshly criticized the world of science. “The specialist ‘knows’ very well his own tiny corner of the universe; [but] he is radically ignorant of all the rest” (1932 [1930]: 123). He also pinpointed the “petulance” of those he calls “learned ignoramuses” in not admitting the incompleteness of their knowledge, avoiding at all costs acknowledging that they are ignorant beyond the borders of their special subject ( ibid. : 124). Many of the interviews – of which the excerpt quoted above and the one mentioning the lack of experts in combustion on the ISC are prime examples – betray a conception of science which is the direct descendant of positivism. Even if it is to oversimplify it somewhat in its different aspects, this tendency is the manifestation of a certain monism, whereby there is only one type of scientific knowledge and only one valid method for understanding the world. From the epistemological point of view, it subscribes to an empiricist conception, according to which all knowledge of the world comes from experience or observation. From this it follows that the only “valid” and “solid” forms of scientific knowledge are those which are based on empirical data and a formal rationality, and all the human and social sciences (not to mention religion and metaphysics) are of lesser value because they are subjective and based on value judgements. From the ideological point of view, positivism slips towards the idea that scientific knowledge is “salvational”, since it identifies with good, and it is through science that problems are solved. In this line of thinking there is an underlying claim to a unified science in which all human knowledge could be reduced to a set of mathematically formulated laws.

109 There is an epistemic thread here which is tied to the social status of the disciplines, a “hierarchization” of the sciences according to the epistemological principles and methodological rules of positivism. In this case, chemical engineering, air quality and medicine would be at the top of the hierarchy. If one were to exaggerate the positivist argument, and the incommensurability associated with specialization and hence the impossibility of communication, we might well question whether medicine had a place on the ISC, given that, like the social sciences, it is a science of man, and combines scientific domains with know-how and techniques which are not scientific (those associated with caring and not merely curing). These micro manifestations of power revisit the idea of the interlinking of knowledge and power, which Michel Foucault has outlined so well in all his work. Knowledge assumes power relations, because it is situated in the realm of “knowledge” and “truth”. Knowledge discourses are seen as techniques of domination, as a minor power. This hierarchization and the primacy of technology and science are visible in the answer given by the same interviewee when he equates the issue with a decision on whether or not to operate on a patient. Even if this decision, which is also a technical one, has moral elements, 22 it lacks the social and political complexity which is found in the management of hazardous wastes.

[For example] one has to take a decision on an embolism and decide whether or not to operate. There are some things in favour of surgery and some things which make us decide not to do it. And (…) in those circumstances, (…) contrary to appearances, the aspect of scientific indecision is much greater than, for example, in co-incineration. Because there is a lot more ignorance. (…) So, imagine it’s your mother or father (…) and you want to decide whether or not they have to operated on. Are we going to call a sociologist? Please! A psychologist? Please! An anthropologist? Please! A priest? Please. Do you see what I mean? Yes, in fact, in my opinion, the first decision has to be a technical one. (Henrique Barros)

Co-incineration is certainly a scientific and technical problem, as the interviewee mentions, but is also much more than that. As a technologically-based scientific problem, it is not limited in scope by the boundaries of two or three types of science. And when it comes to implementation, it demands knowledge and deliberation which cannot be reduced to scientific argument alone. The fact that the ISC’s disciplinary scope was limited would certainly have made it possible to carry out an in-depth study, but there would have been an overall loss in comprehensiveness. In order to take advantage of the

22 Even in hospitals, for situations which are very sensitive, there are ethics committees which are often consulted. These are multidisciplinary bodies, their membership drawn from doctors, nurses, pharmacists, lawyers, theologians, psychologists, and professionals from other areas of the human and social sciences.

110 restricted scope and avoid this downside, it would have been necessary to supplement it with interdisciplinary practices. The concept of interdisciplinarity 23 is both an expression of nostalgic/utopian yearning for unified knowledge and the emergence of a new epistemological reality which is replacing the intense specialization in the world of knowledge. The analytical programme of specialization, which grew exponentially from the nineteenth century onwards and which sought to divide reality up into small lots and afterwards reconstitute it, is today shown to be inadequate. It is not that this was wrong, because specialization and disciplinary independence are an expression of the analytical demands of the development of scientific knowledge itself, and have achieved remarkable results. But today they are inadequate, because knowledge no longer achieves progress solely as result of growing fragmentation. Science is also beginning to demand a transversal approach. The specialists themselves, in looking at a particular phenomenon, are themselves feeling the need for interdisciplinary mechanisms such as the transferable concepts, convergence, comparison of methods, and cross-fertilization of hypotheses and results. Interdisciplinarity thus fulfils the older plan for a unified science, in a process of integration of different forms of knowledge which leads to a comprehensive widening of the phenomenon and shows that the whole is not the same as the sum of the parts (Pombo, 2004). In studying a single issue, the encouragement of interdisciplinary practices seems to make it possible to take advantage of the in-depth analysis capabilities offered by specialization as well as the linkage of various domains. But interdisciplinarity has to be much more than just joining up different disciplines, otherwise it will just lead to a Tower of Babel-like cacophony. According to Olga Pombo, who in this respect follows Gilbert Durand and Bernard Lepetit, the process is not one of unifying the disciplines by toning down or cancelling their partial and specific approaches, but rather a process of “reciprocal fertilization”, of “harmonizing many fragments”, of “transferring concepts, issues and methods”, the aim being to achieve a rich, in-depth reading of the real world (ibid. : 155-156). With this paean to interdisciplinarity, my approach comes down on the one hand to a reformulation of the working hypothesis that the restricting the committee’s membership to representatives of the medical and natural sciences affected its conclusions from the very beginning, and reduced the problem to its technological and scientific aspects and,

23 There is no single, clear definition of the concept of interdisciplinarity in the literature. But the various different definitions put forward are generally built on a triadic distinction: multidisciplinarity, interdisciplinarity and transdisciplinarity. Without entering into this discussion in detail, I would mention only that in the continuum of interdisciplinary integration which the triadic distinction represents, the concept of interdisciplinarity is in an intermediate position, since it is more than multidisciplinarity and less than transdisciplinarity (Pombo, 2004: 31 ff.).

111 on the other hand, to an argument in support of a pluralist and diversified form of expertise, within which the assessment of technological risks cannot be divorced from how they are perceived by the people involved and how they are embedded in the social, political and economic context. In this case, as well as in others, c’est le ton qui fait la musique .

Conclusion The committee of experts was established against a backdrop of intense public protest and party opposition, in which the government was accused of adopting an “autistic position” when people criticized it for the way the public hearings had been conducted, for not knowing how much hazardous waste was to be incinerated – because there was no accurate inventory of this type of waste –, and for having chosen the locations on the grounds of electoral convenience and “in connivance with” the cement plants. Scientific expertise was put forward as a solution which would end the controversy by providing scientific explanations of the benefits and risks of co-incineration and alternative methods for treating HIW. However, my analysis points to a narrower intention – it was both a device used in an attempt to absorb the conflict and a suitable platform for dealing with the new power relations coming out of popular protest. This interpretation provides a more thorough explanation of the reasons why the committee of experts itself rapidly became a target of that protest. The decision to convene a committee of experts, following the public announcement of the government’s decision to opt for co-incineration and the outbreak of protest, can be understood in the context of a search for legitimacy and public acceptance of the decision. It can also be seen as part of a broader strategy which, beyond seeking technical advice or even the resolution of the conflict once and for all, sought to demobilize the residents and counter the arguments of the opposition. With this step, the government made an apparent effort to withdraw its earlier commitment to the decision it had already taken, albeit at the cost of delegating to others that which was properly its own responsibility. Having reached agreement with the parliament, the government decided to set up a committee whose opinion would be binding, thereby moving the decision out of the realm of the political and into the domain of science. Expertise was thus “confiscated”, with the experts agreeing to be part of a process which had, to a great extent, already been mapped out. The fact that the government arranged for the committee’s expert opinion to be binding showed that it believed decisions on HIW should be merely technical, not political. The technical nature of the solution was reinforced by the fact that the committee was monolithic: none of its members came from the social or environmental sciences, and no citizens were represented. Its membership was entirely drawn from the

112 medical, physical and natural sciences. In this context it is fair to say that it is understandable that politicians, in making decisions which may affect the lives of whole communities, look for support to those branches of science which come closest to the ideal of objectivity, and which are at the same time most removed from the art of politics. However, an eminently technical choice such as this, where the experts’ opinion was allowed to be binding, forces me to conclude that the meaning of expertise as reasonable knowledge was perverted and that the decision was delegated to a body which had no competence in the field which the crisis of legitimacy demanded: the domain of political legitimacy.

113 5. ASSESSING THE SCIENTIFIC ASSESSMENT : RISK , UNCERTAINTIES AND

CONTROVERSY

Introduction In the preceding chapter I analysed the prior events and particular circumstances which led to the convening of the Independent Scientific Committee (ISC). I showed that both the fact the experts were convened after the decision had been taken, and the origins and shape of the committee itself, prevented the government from achieving the legitimacy and acceptance it sought. My aims in this chapter are to analyse first the technical report drawn up by the ISC and secondly the debate it generated between the experts and some scientists and environmentalists. Common to both aspects of my analysis are the concepts of risk (and “acceptable risk”), uncertainty, ignorance and indeterminacy. I am adopting here the meaning assigned to these concepts by Brian Wynne (1992), as set out in chapter 1. Thus, wherever uncertainty is present, but we know the probabilities of different outcomes, as well as the consequences, we may legitimately speak of risk in the narrow sense. In cases where we know the possible consequences, but do not know the probabilities, we are faced with a situation of uncertainty . A situation of unknown consequences and failure to acknowledge the limitations and compromises of scientific knowledge itself can be classified as ignorance . Uncertainties which derive from the existence of contingent social behaviour create a situation of indeterminacy , in which it is acknowledged that scientific assessments are the outcome of a particular definition of the problem and that this definition is influenced by social, political and scientific choices (ibid. : 114-119). The ISC’s report is significant in two ways. On the one hand, because its conclusions were of a binding nature in terms of political decision-making and therefore, in addition to providing the basis for the decision, they operated as an imperative to action . This technocratically-based imperative was much criticized by the opposition parties and some members of the scientific community. On the other hand, because in recommending co-incineration, and thereby going along with the decision which the government had already taken, the report became the main focus for analysis and opposition from those who were against the method. Clearly I cannot look in depth at all the aspects of the ISC’s report, nor at all the technical arguments in the controversy which arose over its content. Given that I do not presume to have the skills required to understand all the technical details of the various methods of treating HIW, dioxin emissions, etc., I will focus only on the topics which emerge out of my defined working hypotheses and those to which a sociological understanding may have something to contribute.

114 I therefore seek to answer the following questions: What guidelines did it put forward? What were its assumptions and core arguments? How did it assess risk? On the basis of what criteria did it regard certain practices as “acceptable”? Did it weigh up the uncertainties of the process or not? As we shall see below, despite the fact that the variety of methods used by the ISC (BAT, LCA, risk assessment) reflected concern with the environment, their basic assumptions were nonetheless probabilistic and economic. In this connection I examine the hypothesis that these probabilistic and economic origins were reflected in the adoption of a numerical and mathematical approach, which in turn translated into an analysis of possible benefits and adopted a logic which reduced social acceptability to factual terms. Secondly, I will analyse the major conflict which arose between members of the ISC and a number of scientists and environmentalists over the report. This conflict developed along two lines. First there was an epistemological and methodological conflict, in which opponents of the scheme attempted to refute the ISC’s conclusions by exposing the report’s errors, contradictions, limitations, lack of technical accuracy, etc. Secondly, there was a clash of values and worldviews, different degrees of trust in science and control mechanisms, and different conceptions of appropriate industrial, economic and social development models. The hypothesis behind this part of my analysis is the following: together with scientific facts and the technical debate, the controversy surrounding the ISC report and the co-incineration method also raised issues concerning approaches to economic growth, the role of technology in modern society, and the psychological and social aspects of a social and technological process of this kind (risk perception, distributive justice, etc.). This leads on to an analysis of the adoption of an exclusively technological option for solving the complex problems involved, which had undeniable social, economic, political and ethical aspects, as contrasted with another approach which, while not rejecting technology or progress, argues the need for combining technology with rational control of growth.

1. The Committee’s report: the technical response to the problem The scientific report drawn up by the ISC is not based on direct experience. It is based on an extensive bibliographical analysis (above all from foreign sources) and visits in loco to different types of HIW treatment facilities both within and outside Portugal, and on interviews with specialists and representatives of civic groups and environmentalists (Formosinho et al ., 2000a: 17). Moreover, this confirms what is stated in the literature on the type of knowledge produced by expertise, as being “much more synthesis, compilation, than creation” (Roy, 2001: 112). In support of this argument, we should remember that strict rules regarding conflicts of interest were applied when the ISC was

115 established. These excluded, amongst others, anyone who had already taken part in studies or opinions on co-incineration. Accordingly, since these were academics who had never looked at this method before and had a time limit of six months within which to give their opinion, it was never to be expected that they would conduct original research. The 300-hundred page report contains six chapters in addition to an introduction and conclusion. In the order laid down in the document itself, the following topics are studied: (1) quantitative data on HIW in Portugal 1; (2) possible treatment methods, from the 3Rs to end-of-line processes such as landfills; (3) a comparison between two specific burning methods (incineration and co-incineration); (4) assessment of risks to human health; (5) environmental certification standards; and finally (6) the choice of the most appropriate method. According to the ISC, the best strategy for managing HIW should be part of an Integrated Pollution Prevention and Control (IPPC) mechanism, a holistic or “integrated” policy which takes into account both financial and environmental risks. In this the ISC is following Council Directive 96/61/EC, of 24 September, an important cornerstone of the EU environmental legislation. That Directive requires emission reduction and environmental improvements on the basis of what is achievable with the best techniques available (BAT) to industrial activities with a high pollution potential (energy, chemical, waste management, etc.). BAT are defined as technologies that minimize environmental impacts (allows to produce the least waste, use less hazardous products, enable the recovery and recycling of substances generated, etc.) and that are available at an acceptable cost. BAT is thus the abbreviation for the BATNEEC (Best Available Technology Not Entailing Excessive Cost) concept. According to the ISC, the choice of BAT should satisfy three criteria: (1) the chosen technology should avoid or render harmless any pollutant (it is accepted that other technologies may achieve similarly effective results); (2) it should have been adequately tested and implemented in the marketplace, with records available for a period of at least six months; (3) it must assume that an overall study has been conducted of the various aspects of the technology including the industrial facility which will operate the technological process, the mode of operation, qualification and training of workers and supervisors, working methods, lay-out, maintenance of plant and equipment. The BAT strategy is dynamic in nature, given that it bears a relation to the financial element of costs and the need to adapt to technological

1 In this connection, one of the difficulties which the ISC admits it encountered was the lack of a proper inventory of HIW production in Portugal, and the consequent disparities in existing estimates. (I described this problem in the previous chapter.) Given these rather imprecise data, the ISC chose to calculate HIW production in line with GDP, as they believed there to be a strong linear correlation between these two indicators in several European countries. According to this method, Portugal produced some 300,000 tonnes of HIW per annum (Formosinho et al ., 2000a: 44-61).

116 advances and progress in the domains of monitoring, control and inspection (Formosinho et al ., 2000a: 23). Within these integrated approaches, the ISC overemphasizes “Life Cycle Analysis” (LCA) methodologies. It is a “cradle to grave” approach, which assesses the environmental impacts of products and services from production through disposal. This type of analysis quantifies the energy and raw materials required, and the waste produced, in devising, producing, distributing and using a given consumer good, including the environmental impact of recycling it or managing it to the end of its useful life ( ibid. : 27). Its objectives are, accordingly, economic and environmental. It makes it possible to compare alternative processes and to conclude which one will have the lowest environmental and energy impact. In terms of applicability, however, this type of analysis has the disadvantage that it is somewhat dependent on the specific characteristics of the geographical context in which it is carried out, and on technological and transport developments. The ISC stated that the overall assessment of this type of study made it possible to reach conclusions opposed to those we might expect. For example, the impact of (polyethylene) plastic bags is allegedly less negative than that of paper bags ( ibid. : 28- 29). In the case of waste, the ISC suggests, LCA methodologies can be complemented by Integrated Waste Management (IWM) studies. These two methodologies together make it possible to mark out the different methods of managing waste using financial criteria (based on cost/benefit analyses measured in terms of impact on social well-being and pubic health) and environmental criteria. In the field of environmental economics, IWM makes it possible to determine the “optimum level” for any given waste management process, which occurs when the total social costs of that process are minimized ( ibid. : 33- 34). Difficulties with this methodology arise, however, in allocating costs to certain types of environmental impact (e.g. visual impact, a location’s loss of character, etc.). According to the ISC, this type of analysis once again produces unexpected results, such as the conclusion that total recycling is not desirable from the environmental point of view, because “it would imply high environmental costs, on account of the need for wider transport networks to collect greater quantities of products which are scattered over a much larger area, and also on account of the collection of lower quality materials, the proper decontamination of which would also imply a severe environmental impact in terms of energy consumption and liquid and gaseous effluent” ( ibid. : 34). The whole ISC report is built on the basis of the understanding its members had of their mission: to express an opinion on the treatment of HIW and on implementing co- incineration ( ibid. : 17). The limits of analysis are extended or reduced throughout the report, although there is a clear tendency to focus on incineration processes. For example,

117 in the introduction, which is generalist in tone, in mentioning the public’s reaction to waste management methods and in acknowledging that incineration methods have a particularly negative image, they limit the discourse to suggesting that they might explain things to concerned citizens and recommend monitoring mechanisms which will “ensure effective control of the operation of recovering and eliminating waste by incineration processes ” (ibid.: 37, my emphasis). Towards the end of the report, the committee itself states that it gave priority to incineration methods, even when they were part of an overall approach to hazardous waste management methods ( ibid.: 229). In terms of its recommended guidelines, the ISC was in favour of the co- incineration method. One of the key justifications for the choice of this method was that the diversity of HIW produced and existing in Portugal demanded a “generalist” method which only incineration methods could fulfil because they have the advantage of being much less dependent on the specific characteristics of the waste to be treated. Among incineration methods 2, all LCAs consulted by the ISC which compare co-incineration and dedicated incineration show the superiority of the former. Despite the strong influence of the geographical context on this type of analysis, as mentioned above, the ISC stated that it could “confidently express” ( ibid. : 230) the opinion which recommended co-incineration, given its advantages in terms of environment, cost, energy, and technological flexibility and malleability in accepting waste:

The Committee recommends the process of co-incineration in cement plant kilns because it involves no foreseeable increase in emissions harmful to health when compared with the use of traditional fuels, it has a lower environmental impact than dedicated incineration facilities, it helps to reduce greenhouse gases, leads to greater recovery of energy, has no additional environmental impact to that of cement production on its own when limits are duly observed, it is better financially in terms of investment and operating costs, and is the most flexible solution for managing HIW, making it possible to accompany technological developments ( ibid. : 2000a: 259).

The choice of co-incineration was based on the ISC’s analysis of the “applications and comparative advantages” of the different possible HIW management methods: the 3Rs; biological, physical and chemical treatments; controlled landfills and depositing waste in bore holes; thermal methods; rendering dangerous elements inert (ash, slag, flying ash); and the destruction of wastes in industrial processes (co-incineration). 3 The criterion governing the choice was “the best level of destruction of HIW with no significant transfer of dangerous products, whether they be parts of the HIW or new products generated in the

2 Even though there are other methods of incineration, such as pyrolysis and gasification (see chapter 3), the ISC asserted that only dedicated incineration and co-incineration have developed sufficiently to be regarded as BAT. 3 These methods have already been explained in chapter 3. The purpose of this section is to set out the ISC’s key ideas on each one.

118 treatment process” ( ibid. : 129). But, as we shall see below, the conclusions the committee reached were unconvincing for many environmentalists. Briefly, on the 3Rs, the ISC held that policies, plans and incentives only existed in one of the Rs: recycling. In terms of reduction and reutilization, “little has been done beyond a vague publicity campaign, which had very little effect” ( ibid. : 69). Both have been passed over in a society of intensive production, which deliberately encourages product obsolescence, consumption, and the creation of new needs, and discourages repairs (given their high cost). As far as recycling is concerned, and while not doubting the benefits deriving from promoting it, the ISC’s opinion was that this “R” was ineffective against the trend towards ever-increasing use of new raw materials, because many of the recycled materials are not suitable replacements for them ( ibid. : 76). In connection with the various biological, physical and chemical treatment methods, the committee concluded that all of them had limitations and/or they were too dependent on the specific characteristics of the wastes to be treated. Physical processes do not destroy products; they merely concentrate them and transfer them into containers. In addition to this limitation they are only applicable to waste of the same type, so that treatment of small quantities of different types of waste is not economically viable. Chemical processes too, are only applicable to well-defined, stable situations, and in many instances they also transfer the products. Biological processes are even more demanding, in that a series of pre-conditions need to be met for the micro-organisms which destroy HIW to be able to develop (type of medium in which HIW is dispersed, availability and supply of oxygen, temperature, etc.). In addition, the ISC warned that current genetic techniques for modifying micro-organisms have to be viewed with caution, because the synergistic and unpredictable effects of disseminating these new strains are not known. Depositing waste in landfills, beyond being the technique of last resort in terms of European legislation, demands that certain conditions be fulfilled and a great effort of watchfulness and maintenance for dozens or hundreds of years, so as to avoid percolation into the ground, unpredictable chemical reactions and leaks due to damage to impermeability mechanisms. The ISC held that this method was a way of delaying the solution to the problem and passing it on to future generations, given that chemically diverse products are sealed in or simply put into containers, without having their most undesirable properties neutralized. Of all the processes outlined, thermal methods are those which, in the committee’s opinion, are almost completely efficient at removing and destroying dangerous substances (according to the Destruction and Removal Efficiency index). In addition, out of the range of technologies examined, they are most generalist as far as HIW containing organic compounds are concerned. In relation to used fuels (which later became a point of

119 disagreement with environmentalist associations), the committee held that it was environmentally preferable to incinerate rather than to regenerate them. The co-incineration method was to be implemented alongside a raft of security and control measures. (1) The ISC recommended that there should be a HIW pre-treatment unit (PTU) to convert it into a homogenous material which could be used as fuel for the cement kilns. (2) It recommended that there should be controlled monitoring of pollutant emissions, in accordance with the limits laid down in the law, as well as of concentrations of metals in cement, so as to ensure that there would be no additional risks to residents and so that operators would also be safe. To this end, the incineration of HIW was to be carried out in the main burner and limits would have to be set not only on the chemical make-up of wastes accepted in the PTU, but also on the chemical elements of chlorine and heavy metals for acceptance of HIW into the cement kilns. (3) It also suggested that each cement plant should provide around the incineration unit a system for measuring the impact of effluent emissions on air and ground. (4) Still in the realm of control mechanisms, it recommended that independent chemical analyses should be carried out on samples of waste, to be approved by an appropriate committee. (5) And a list of HIW for co-incineration should be drawn up, to be reviewed every five years, so as to align the process with developing technologies and practices in the management of waste. (6) In order to encourage trust and confidence in local residents and make the process transparent, the committee suggested that members of the local committee should play an active role in the control systems. (7) Finally, it recommended that residents living near the cement plants operating co-incineration should be actively monitored for epidemiological purposes, thereby ensuring that any health problem would be detected well ahead of time (Formosinho et al., 2000a: 259-261).4 In addition to recommending co-incineration, the ISC also addressed another significant factor: the choice of locations for implementing the chosen method. It suggested the cement plants at Souselas and Outão. This was significant because, on the one hand, it was a task not stipulated in the legal framework governing the committee’s activities and, on the other hand, because one of the locations suggested (Outão) differed from that (Maceira) which had earlier been decided upon by the government and the Minister for the Environment, based on the EIA. While the government had made its choice on the basis of the need to regenerate certain areas, the ISC made its decision on the basis of the technological and environmental efficiency of the cement plants. The plant at Maceira was turned down for two reasons: because it was the least developed

4 This last point caused a major uproar, because it was interpreted as meaning that there was uncertainty over whether the process was harmful to public health or not. This issue will be discussed in the next chapter.

120 technologically and because it was already incinerating used tyres 5; and because it already had the worst environmental indicators compared to the other possible locations. Based on the criteria adopted by the ISC, Souselas and Outão were chosen because they had quality and environmental certification, under the ISO 9000 and ISO 14000 standards respectively. 6 Such certification made them credible facilities for starting co-incineration on an experimental basis and was an additional advantage for the business of monitoring their activities. In effect, certification is important because HIW are characterised by an “inverted exchange relationship between materials and payments”, as I have explained in chapter 3. In other words, industrialists and taxpayers who pay the costs of HIW treatment do not know whether or how those wastes have been treated, and if the quality control procedures provided for have been complied with. ISO standards here operate as an assurance of good industrial practice by the bodies responsible for treating HIW. 7 Confidence in the entities carrying out the process is of fundamental importance because dioxin, furan and heavy metal content cannot be analyzed continuously, on account of the high costs involved in the corresponding chemical analysis.

Expert advice as the imperative for government action The ISC’s recommendation to go ahead with co-incineration validated the government’s chosen option and thereby rekindled the party-political and civic conflict which had been less active in the period of waiting for the report’s conclusions. As we shall see below, conflicting opinion was now joined by strong opposition from some corners of the scientific community: these critics, however, were specialists in significant areas of the debate. With a few exceptions, the government and members of the ISC were completely isolated. One of those exceptions was the mayor of Setúbal, Mata Cáceres, who belonged to the party of the government, and whose jurisdiction extended to the area in which the Outão cement plant is situated. This local government representative stated that he accepted the opinion of the scientific committee and accused some opponents of producing “populist, unrealistic and demagogic” arguments ( Diário de Notícias , 23.05.00).

5 The fact that the cement plant at Maceira was already incinerating tyres meant that, in the event co-incineration was implemented there, it would be difficult to distinguish whether any fault in the kilns derived from burning tyres or burning HIW (Pio, 2003: 83). 6 ISO (International Organization for Standardization) is the world’s largest developer of international standards in the management field. ISO 9000 is concerned with “quality management” (e.g. enhance customer satisfaction, achieve continual improvement of its performance) and ISO 14000 is concerned with “environmental management” (e.g. the organizations aims to minimize harmful effects on the environment caused by its activities) ( http://www.iso.org ). 7 Countering this argument, the EEA later noted that the cement plant at Souselas is in second place, among 665 similar plants in Europe, in the amount of heavy metals it sends into the atmosphere, such as chromium and cadmium ( Público , 30.09.04).

121 The other exception was the industrial confederations (the Confederation of Portuguese Industry [ Confederação da Indústria Portuguesa] and the Portuguese Association of Metallurgy, Metallomechanical and Associated Industries [ Associação dos Industriais Metalúrgicos, Metalomecânicos e Afins de Portugal] ), which likewise supported the political decision and the conclusions of the ISC (Diário de Notícias , 25.05.00). The Environment Minister José Sócrates, who had been sworn in shortly before the public announcement of the scientific report in May 2000, rebutted all the accusations and reaffirmed the government’s intention of “following the committee’s recommendations to the letter”, stating that he expected all the other bodies involved, in particular the parliament, to adopt a similar attitude (A Capital , 20.05.00; Diário de Notícias , 20.05.00). The expert committee’s recommendations, instead of acting as a support mechanism for the political decision, were being put forward as an imperativ e for action by the government itself, which thereby, forced to make a decision in a context of crisis, adopted a clearly technocratic posture. 8 The Environment Minister’s strong position, which many dubbed “obsessive”, was in sharp contrast to the hesitant nature attributed to the then Prime-Minister (António Guterres). But the Minister’s attitude had arisen in response to the renewed opposition to the project and as a response to the leader of the largest opposition party (the PSD), Durão Barroso 9, who used the typical image of experts as “hired guns” to downplay the value of the ISC’s conclusions: “If four scientists have come out in favour of co-incineration, it shouldn’t be so difficult to find another four who will say the opposite” (Público , 20.05.00). The more criticism there was, the more the Minister insisted on the validity and the importance of having a scientific basis for making the political decision:

(…) to have four scientists express a unanimous opinion is definitive. This is the moment when politics, in this domain, must be based on science and objective knowledge and not on prejudice or ignorance, nor on demagogy ( Público , 20.05.00).

This and similar statements by the Minister convey the notion that the four scientists offered assurances of clear and uncontroversial truth regarding the HIW problem and that their conclusions were representative of science as a whole. He insistently repeated that all the decisions concerning the process of co-incineration (the choice of cement plants, control and safety mechanisms, etc.) would be based on the conclusions of the ISC report. Thus, while emphasising science, the Minister interpreted popular protest as “local prejudice”, manifestations of provincial or parochial concerns which failed to take the national interest into account. This type of vision is typical of what the English political scientist Michael Oakeshott (1962) has called “rationalist” politics. Those who subscribe to

8 This hypothesis of conceiving expert advice as an “imperative for action” by governments in situations of crisis was put forward by Alam (2005: 96). 9 José Manuel Durão Barroso has been President of the European Commission since 2004.

122 this view believe it is possible to overcome all political problems by “rational” solutions, by applying “reason” and “technique”, the only criteria accepted for achieving “certainties”. In line with Oakeshott’s remark about problems which involve the use of science to legitimize political decisions, Beck argues appropriately that, in the context of late modernity, science becomes “more and more necessary , but at the same time, less and less sufficient for the socially binding definition of truth” (1992 [1986]: 156, original emphasis). He argues that late twentieth-century society has seen contradictory, but equally correct, processes at work in relation to science. On the one hand science has been demystified as a source of legitimacy and no longer enjoys the special status which is often directly equated with “truth”, but, on the other hand, science is immensely necessary to detect and resolve many of today’s problems. At the same time, there has been a breakdown of the cultural consensus surrounding the idea of “progress” and “rationalization”, as the link between technical development and human well-being has increasingly been brought into question. These ideas alone no longer justify the direction taken by technological and scientific development (ibid. : 184-203). Scientific controversies and the recognition that science had certain negative effects rendered ordinary people and politicians less trusting of the scientific advice they receive. As we saw in the previous chapter, this has led to the creation of mechanisms to include different types of knowledge in the decision-making process and the encouragement of public involvement in debates on matters which concern the common good. In focusing on these issues, I am joining in the classic debate on the relationship between science and politics. When decision-makers summon a committee of independent experts for them to supply factual and impartial advice, they are assuming the validity of certain principles of traditional scientific ideology which have been investigated by modern epistemology and by the philosophy and sociology of science. Today we know for certain that scientific knowledge is not unlimited. On the contrary, it has inherent limits which cannot be overcome, deriving as much from the nature of the object as from the nature of the subject who exercises knowledge. Hence the importance of knowing how to accept other forms of knowledge, such as philosophy and traditional wisdom. We also know for certain that science is not neutral, often taking sides in conflicts of interest between groups, nor is it absolutely rational and objective, given that personal, subjective and emotional factors also come into play. Reports drawn up by committees of experts do not deviate from this general trend. Despite the fact that they are submitted as objective reports, they are influenced by value judgements and subjective factors, from the initial definition of the issues to the final conclusions, and including intermediate decisions

123 on the types of data to be collected, the size of samples, and the choice of which statistical tests to use, etc. 10 Given what has been stated above, we must therefore ask: what image did the government convey of its role in the relationship between the politicians and scientists? The way the whole thing was handled politically conveyed the idea that responsibility for the decision lay with the committee and not entirely with the government. It was as if the politicians had shifted their responsibilities onto a group of experts. However, if problems which demand that a decision be made are looked at from the scientific angle alone, there is a danger that politics will become redundant and meaningless; there is a danger that technocracy or “expertocracy” will deprive democracy of its essence as the expression of the popular will. This was noted from the outset by Delgado Domingos 11 , one of the dominant media personalities in the opposition movement. He wrote in an opinion editorial that the government had “transformed four scientists into supreme judges of a political issue” ( Público , 15.06.00). The ISC itself was uncomfortable with the situation, and announced, through José Cavalheiro – who, oddly enough, was the committee member who had been appointed by the government –, that the ruling politicians could not rightfully hide behind four university professors and use them as “cannon fodder”. He added:

This issue should never have been decided by a committee. That is just eccentric. It’s the politicians who have to take responsibility, and in this matter the Prime-Minister has behaved like a child hiding under his mother’s skirts ( Diário de Notícias , 20.05.00).

Strictly speaking, the “deal” reached between the government and the parliament had been to accept and adopt the scientists’ conclusions. In this respect it was an eminently technocratic deal. It is therefore not surprising that, once the report had been published, the government should have wished to honour its agreement and that it should have protested the parliament’s reluctance to do the same in the light of the criticisms of the ISC and its report. In the emergency debate called by some of the opposition parties, Sócrates recalled that it was the Parliament itself (and not the government) which had not

10 To acknowledge that science is less objective, less neutral and less complete than people generally tend to think – and expertise even less so, given the decision-making context in which it operates –, in no way means that we are downplaying the significance of its role or arguing that in epistemological terms it should be consigned to a place where it is of merely arbitrary, relative or contextual value. Acknowledging the limitations of scientific endeavour allows us to have a vision of science which does not see it as something divorced from the real world, nor deprives it of an objective basis in that world. 11 Delgado Domingos is a mechanical engineer specialising in combustion. He is a professor at the most prestigious faculty of engineering in Lisbon, where he is one of the tutors in charge of the degree course in Environmental Engineering.

124 only summoned the scientific committee, but also defined its membership. It was therefore to be expected that it would accept the conclusions of the resulting report:

(…) the Parliament demanded that a political decision which it regarded as controversial should be validated by science, and thereby brought a new legitimating factor into play. Neither then nor now was it a matter of handing the political decision over to a team of scientists (…) It was a matter, then as now, of ensuring that a political choice was based on the best and most impartial scientific opinion. (…) I have heard it said (…) that there are many scientists. 12 It’s true! But it is also true that it was this Parliament which decided who should be on the Independent Scientific Committee. In so doing, this Parliament stated who it wished to hear on this topic, and it would be strange indeed if some of the honourable members, now that they have the scientists’ opinion in front of them, were to say in the end that these men, who yesterday were good and impartial, are no good today, and that we need to have the opinion of some others and maybe set up another committee. (José Sócrates, in DAR , 26.05.00, p.2749, my emphasis).

Sócrates’ intention to underline the role of politics in this debate was clear, by differentiating it from that of science. Thus he refuted the accusation that he belonged to a “technocratic” government, which was implicit in José Cavalheiro’s statement quoted above, and an opinion shared by critics and opposition parties alike. At the same time, in claiming personal and government responsibility for the decision, his aim was to close off the debate and to say that the time for science, studies and debate was over, and that it was time for politics, decision-making and action.

(…) I am not defending technocracy here . But I do say that controversial political decisions in particular must be sufficiently well grounded in science, which is indispensable for good political decision-making. (ibid. , p. 2749, my emphasis).

It is always possible to carry out one more study, ask for one more design, set up one more committee. Just as it is always possible to arrange one more seminar, organize one more conference or listen to 40 more specialists. Far be it from me to question the value of such academic work, which I hope will take place in the future. As it happens (…) I am not the director of a science department of a university (…). Our job is to take the political responsibility for making a decision . (…) ( ibid. , pp. 2750-2751, my emphasis).

From what I have already outlined, we know that this “political responsibility for making a decision” was to be based entirely on the ISC’s report and, accordingly, on technical and scientific criteria. Nevertheless, we have to acknowledge that in matters as complex and controversial as co-incineration, taking place against a backdrop of intense party-political in-fighting, a lack of popular trust in government, in experts, in the cement plants and in the method, and in the strange circumstances where science had been called upon ex post facto , it was inevitable that an exclusively technocratic approach would be challenged. Therefore, it would have been useful to combine the scientific

12 See Durão Barroso’s statement, quoted earlier.

125 analysis and conclusions with a political assessment of the situation, which in this particular case demanded greater public debate, more communication and explanation, greater transparency, and greater involvement of all those affected and concerned. The issue of how to deal with HIW could have been looked at in the context of several other issues including economic policy, patterns of consumption, the balance between environmentally-friendly and polluting technologies, and residents’ experiences of pollution factors and those responsible for them. Several case studies have shown that local residents’ opposition to the location of hazardous waste disposal facilities is lower if they are involved in the decision (e.g. Kraft, 1988). The ISC itself acknowledged this fact, and suggested that a Local Monitoring Committee be set up (LMC), made up of citizens resident in the areas where the cement plants were located, and that these committees should be provided with all the information needed for their active involvement, control and monitoring of the process (Formosinho et al. , 2000: 251-252). However, no LMC was ever set up, nor were the circumstances right for greater dialogue and participation, given the history of the case.

Risk assessment and acceptable risk: safety, certainty and control In the report, the only direct reference to the issues of risk assessment and acceptable risk is the chapter covering public health. The ISC’s definition of risk assessment 13 follows the “standard” view of this concept (e.g. Starr, 1969; Starr and Whipple, 1980). The most often quoted definition is that of a report by the US National Research Council (1983), where the method’s various stages are identified: hazard identification (process of identifying that a substance may have adverse effects); dose- response assessment (process of determination of the relation between the magnitude of exposure and the probability of adverse effects); and exposure assessment (process of determination of the nature and degree of human exposure to a hazard). The final step is risk characterization, an overall summary of the results from previous steps in order to determine the likelihood and magnitude of adverse consequences. In terms of its relationship to other elements of risk decision-making, the conventional view argues that risk assessment and risk management are separate, sequential activities, the former being allocated to experts and the latter to decision-makers. Risk assessment is scientific and

13 “Risk assessment is a formal procedure for describing and estimating the extent of the damage which may result from exposure to environmentally dangerous substances, both from a human health point of view (environmental risk), and an ecosystemic point of view (ecological risk)” (Formosinho et al. , 2000a: 204).

126 objective, while risk management should take social, institutional and political values into account. 14 Let us examine the ISC’s alignment with this approach:

With risk assessment we expect objective information, of a scientific nature, to back up political decisions. Risk management takes human and economic values into account and determines the extent to which risk assessments are necessary and how they should be used (Formosinho et al. , 2000a: 204).

There is a large volume of critical literature on whether risk assessment should or should not be separate from risk management, but the report fails to mention that debate. Many writers argue that this is an artificial division, given that experts are not value-free, and do not operate in an exclusively factual domain, nor do politicians refrain from pursuing an active role in deciding what can be regarded as fact. In addition to the critique of the positivist view of science, on which the distinction is based, the risk assessment model is regarded as a method which has its limitations: it is inappropriate for assessing issues which involve social, political, and ethical considerations going beyond the technical (Winner, 1986; Schrader-Frechette, 1980; Martins, 1998); it oversimplifies the complexity and multidimensional nature of things, neglecting the influence of context and other social, situational and institutional factors (Wynne, 2002); it creates an “illusion” of safety (Krohn and Weingart, 1987), of calculus and control (Adam, 1998); it reduces qualitatively different risks to mere mathematical probabilities of fatalities (Schrader- Frechette, 1991). These limitations become clear when the risk assessment model is applied to ill-defined problems, such as environmental risks, public health matters, or complex technological systems – topics which are full of deep, random and epistemic uncertainties of all kinds, the impact of which is very long-term and difficult (if not impossible) to predict and translate into quantitative form. In this context the idea of “acceptable risk”, associated with an “acceptable” level of exposure to potentially hazardous substances, becomes particularly significant. The equally voluminous literature on this topic has popularised the idea that since there is no completely risk-free society and it is impossible to do away with or control risk entirely, there must therefore be some “acceptable” level which can be quantified, and above which we will find the “genuinely” hazardous levels. This concept gives the impression that society is willing to accept the risks of certain activities and/or technologies in exchange for some benefits, based on the idea that without risks there can be no benefits, and so a reasonable “price” has to be set for this exchange. This image is however refuted by other writers who state that, since most risks are imposed, society’s response is rather one of

14 In general terms, risk assessment, risk management and risk communication are all covered by the term “risk analysis”.

127 tolerance or acquiescence than voluntary acceptance as such (Kasperson and Kasperson, 2005 [1983]). The acceptability of risk is gauged by summary quantitative measures (e.g. the number of deaths, illness) and probabilities are determined by estimates and simulations. The values obtained are then compared with risks in daily life, such as for example the risk of dying from electrocution at home, or in a road accident. A comparative strategy such as this follows one of the methods created for assessing the acceptability of risks: “revealed preferences”. 15 The method is based on the idea that the risks inherent in a new technology should be acceptable if they do not exceed the risks of technologies which society has already accepted and which produce comparable benefits. In order to explain what is at stake in “revealed preferences” and the concept of acceptable risk, Chauncey Starr, the engineer and risk analyst who was the father of the method, wrote in a famous 1969 article, that it was difficult to understand why nuclear energy stirs up such opposition, given that it is objectively safer than smoking or driving a car. Naturally, the ISC used the concept of “acceptable risk”, and its comparative elements, to justify its recommendation in favour of the co-incineration method and to demonstrate its harmlessness when compared with known risks.

(…) a co-incineration procedure operated under BAT conditions, with good management practice and restrictions on HIW (…), does not present a higher risk than low-probability natural risks or risks which public opinion regards as being acceptable. The risk of carcinogenic pollutants is regarded as lower than that of death from a lightning strike in a thunderstorm (…) (Formosinho et al. , 2000a: 237)

Let us dwell for a moment on the ISC’s suggested definition of “acceptable risk”:

(…) the level of exposure which causes no damage or which makes it possible to forecast damage at a socially tolerable level, because it is undertaken voluntarily , there are no alternatives , it is associated with benefits, or benefits no-one in particular by contrast to the danger experienced by a few. This is a social decision, not a biomedical one. ( ibid. : 204, my emphasis).

In the first place, establishing a certain threshold of risk and of “acceptable” exposure does not mean that the exposure “causes no damage”. Some writers (e.g. Beck, 1992 [1986]: 64-65; Thornton, 2000) point out precisely that acceptable risk is an idea which legitimates a certain level of risk (which may take the form of pollution, contamination, health problems, etc.), below which risks are regarded as “normal”, but not

15 Others methods are: “risk cost-benefit analysis” (based on the idea that a particular project is acceptable, if the benefits outweight the risks and costs); “expressed preferences” (based on the idea that the public preferences on the acceptability of certain risks is expressed via instruments such as surveys); “ de minimis risk” (based on the notion that some risks are so small and “trivial” that there is no need for regulatory concern).

128 “harmless”. In this sense, that which is “acceptable” is not defined in terms of prevention , but rather in terms of permission for the existence of a certain level of risk. Secondly, the ISC judged that it was possible to provide for risk “at a socially tolerable level because it was undertaken voluntarily”. However, the determination of a formal standard of acceptable risk does not guarantee public acceptability. As already indicated at the end of chapter 3, citizens assess risk “intuitively”, using factors which “rational” approaches tend to ignore. It is therefore not at all uncommon for assessments of risk – and benefits – made by homo vulgaris to differ from those made by homo scientificus . The acceptance or rejection of any particular risk is unconnected with the intensity of that risk. Hence the occurrence of “incongruous” behaviour, when the issue is looked at in purely rational terms, whenever society accepts, for example, the automotive risk and produces intense social crises from very low-probability risks, such as the nuclear. It should accordingly be a “social, not a biomedical decision”, as the report states, or a “negotiated risk”, as stated by the ISC’s medical representative in the interview (Henrique Barros interview § 959-960). Nevertheless, the standard definition of acceptable risk can be interpreted as an obstacle to negotiation. For Wynne, who criticizes probabilistic interpretations of risk for failing to take account of social and cultural influences on the definition and acknowledgement of risk, the acceptable risk paradigm is an “institutional neurosis” and “a self-delusory discourse that allowed such institutions to avoid the ambiguities and social risks of negotiating the conditions of acceptability, case by case” (1992: 280). Negotiation and the complexity of social life ends up being reduced to quantitative values of “acceptable risk”, as if these had no need to take heed of their context and as if they were not, in essence, political factors. Thirdly, the association between acceptable risk and benefits (or the fact that “it does not benefit anyone in particular”) can be stated in terms of the perception of risk and “environmental justice”. Studies in this area show that neither risks nor benefits are equitably distributed among rich and poor, black and white, or between rural and urban environments (e.g. Bullard, 1994; Martinez-Alier, 2003). Local residents interpreted the co-incineration issue was more as problem of “the local risks” (and “the national risks” in the case of dioxins), than of “the local benefits”. Even the recognized environmental benefits (e.g. installing bag-filters) were in a way downplayed because, by being coupled to the implementation of co-incineration, they were seen as “compensation” or “deal”. 16 For the ISC, this equation made no sense because, provided that operational and emission control measures were assured, there would be no additional risks, and the benefits would therefore always be an added value.

16 See the explanation of this idea at the end of chapter 3.

129 Deciding what is “acceptable”, “tolerable”, “negligible” or “residual” necessarily draws on criteria other than the scientific. Strictly speaking, the term “acceptable” implies a political judgment (e.g. Otway and Thomas, 1982; MacLean, 1982), and that is why it is often controversial. In other words, deciding whether a probability of “one-in-a-million” is or is not safe clearly depends on a decision which carries certain political, social and cultural assumptions. The study of Baruch Fischhoff et al. (1993 [1981]) on acceptable risk concludes precisely that acceptability is always a political issue. Acceptable risk is a decision-problem like any other because it requires a choice between alternatives. Its distinctive trait, however, is because at least one of its alternatives includes a threat (risks) to life or health among its consequences. It is the decision to admit an option that entails some level of risk that is acceptable, not the risk in itself. They claim that there are no universally acceptable options. Different situations and different temporal horizons may lead to a change in the acceptability of any given option. The acceptance of a risk is therefore never unconditional. Delgado Domingos was the only interviewee who discussed acceptable risk on the basis of its political nature and definition:

(…) there are decisions which are political in nature and decisions which are scientific. (…) when rules define a limit of risk: “The probability is one in a million or one in a thousand” (…) [this] is a political decision. When we do safety for a nuclear plant and say: “The risk is such-and-such” (…). Who decides (…) the number of those who will die? Or the number of those who will be statistically maimed? This is not a technical decision (…). (Delgado Domingos)

The ISC’s objective, in the public health approach it adopted for analyzing risks, was two-fold: on the one hand, to establish whether co-incineration implied any increase in concentrations of toxic substances in the environment which might create additional risks for humans and, on the other, if that increase went beyond acceptable levels. It answered both these questions in the negative, provided that “optimum operating conditions” were assured, “including a programme for monitoring operations and local residents’ health” (Formosinho et al. , 2000a: 206). Let us examine on what this response was based in terms of how the committee viewed the possible occurrence of accidents and the existence of epistemic and random uncertainties:

This negative [response] implies recognizing, on the one hand, that, as has increasingly been shown, accidents do not happen by chance or as a result of random conjunctions of circumstances – they can and should be prevented. On the other hand, if exposure occurs as a result of routine operations in accordance with currently available best practices, there is no reason to fear unexpected effects and professional monitoring of residents’ health will make it possible to detect any occurrences early enough to deal with any problems ( ibid. , my emphasis).

130 The ISC’s confidence in the method’s safety and in those living close to the cement plants was perceived by opponents as being based on false assumptions. As an example of the statements taken from interviewees who opposed the project, I can quote the opinion of medical doctor José Manuel Silva, who rejects the ISC’s optimism and reminds us of the frequent cement plant kiln failures:

(…) if the cement plants always operated under ideal conditions, the risk would be minimal. But everyone knows that the cement plants are always having problems with the kilns, and when they do (…), the burn rate is inadequate, and enormous amounts of waste are pumped into the atmosphere. That’s why they [cement plants] need those 170 hours per year in order to discharge (…) those emissions they cannot avoid. So this type of analysis was never undertaken, because the whole rationale of the ISC was based on ideal operating conditions. (José Manuel Silva) 17

An interesting example here, by reason of its similarities, is the public controversy surrounding the herbicide 2,4,5-T (associated with “agent orange” used in the Vietnam war as a defoliant) which erupted in the UK in the 1970s, between the farm workers’ union and the regulatory authorities (in the form of an expert committee, its consultative body). Going counter to the general opposition to the product, which had led to its being banned or restricted in several countries (such as the US and Canada), the British scientific committee concluded that the herbicide “offers no hazard” to users, general public or to the environment, “provided that the product is used as directed”. These assumptions about human behaviour were decisive in calculating the risks involved: the scientists assumed that good practice would prevail in the use of the product (for example, they assumed that farmers would read and strictly follow the instructions for preparation and use of the product; mix the amounts correctly; use protective equipment, etc.). In other words, the analysis of risk was based on idealized assumptions taken from laboratory conditions, and not those which obtain in the day-to-day existence of those who apply and use pesticides. For the farm labourers, this assumption was highly questionable, and they therefore believed that it was more prudent to ban the product (Wynne, 1989; Irwin, 1995). Thus, in these cases, the operating conditions and accident prevention had been conceived under laboratory conditions. The underlying assumptions depended on 100% correct operation, something which is not to be expected, if one bears in mind the history of the environmental behaviour of the cement plants and the state’s efforts at control, or the complete non-existence of contingencies, trouble, faults and “surprises” in the process.

17 The European Directive on the incineration of wastes (2000/76/CE) allows each production line to exceed the emissions limits without restrictions for 60 hours per year. According to Quercus, as there are three production lines in Souselas, that would mean that the limits could be exceeded for 180 hours a year, the equivalent of a whole week. In 2001, the prevailing Decree-Law was considerably more liberal, in that it allowed 170 hours per line per year. For Souselas that would mean 510 hours (three weeks) (Quercus, 2001b).

131 The assumptions may even be scientifically correct, but they may be false from the social point of view. This is because, as we have seen through the concept of indeterminacy, technological risks relate not simply to the technology itself, but to the whole social system used to implement it. In the report of the Committee Against Co-Incineration (CLCCI in Portuguese), we can find an excerpt which illustrates this:

What if the ISC, in its analysis of risks, had assumed realistic scenarios, considerably less rosy than the “emissions within the normal limits” (…) which were the only ones it did consider in its report? Would there be so much certainty regarding the harmlessness of co-incineration emissions if it had remembered to take worst-case scenarios into account (…)? Is it not legitimate to assume that co-incineration may not operate within normal limits, especially if you remember that the cement plants were not built for burning hazardous industrial waste, that they were built years ago, at a time when environmental concerns were minimal, that for technical reasons pollutants like dioxin can only very rarely be measured on a yearly basis, that the law allows for the relaxation of controls at certain times, that there are often much greater pollution discharges when starting up and closing down, that there may be an accident, and that plants habitually get away with everything in the climate of total lack of control which prevails in our country? (CLCCI, in www.co-incineracao.online.pt )

2. The arguments between experts and scientists The ISC’s report produced a wave of criticism from a number of scientists, who thereby joined the stream of protests by local residents, opposition parties, and environmental and civic associations. The criticisms came from university professors, many of them holding chairs and having academic qualifications which were significant in terms of the debate – mechanical engineer Delgado Domingos, medical doctor José Manuel Silva, biologist Jorge Paiva, sociologist Boaventura de Sousa Santos (as chairman of ProUrbe, a Coimbra civic association) and engineers João Gabriel Silva and Miguel Oliveira e Silva (as ecologists and members of the environmental group Quercus), amongst others. As we shall see below, the fact that the critics came from so many different disciplines made it possible to take a multidimensional approach to the problem of co-incineration. The ISC experts and the scientists who opposed the method became intensely involved in the case, not only because they had specialist knowledge, but as active participants in the debate, as committed supporters or opponents of one side or the other. The end result was a heated and acrimonious debate which failed to produce any significant narrowing of differences. For the ISC, some of the issues raised by opponents were outside the strict scope of their study. In addition, in Sebastião Formosinho’s opinion (ISC’s chairman), some of the peer criticisms were “loaded with emotiveness”, which generated “greater confusion among local residents”. He stated bluntly: “What the opponents of the scheme wanted was not scientific objectivity, but for science to do what they wanted” ( Jornal de Notícias , 26.05.00).

132 Revisiting the case now and analysing the interviews of ISC members and their opponents, we may conclude that there were two aspects to this controversy. On the one hand there was the epistemological and methodological conflict, in which opponents tried to refute the ISC’s conclusions, exposing the errors, the contradictions, the limitations, the lack of technical accuracy, etc. On the other hand, there was a clash of values, worldviews and visions of society, as well as development models. This clash took place against the backdrop of different cognitive agendas and different ways of comprehending the issues, with participants positioning themselves either in favour of or against co-incineration in terms of the environmental and public heath impact, confidence in science and control mechanisms, and economic and industrial development models. Let us examine the arguments in favour of co-incineration (designated by “P”, Pro ), which were represented, generally speaking, by the government, the cement industry and the ISC’s engineering and medical academics:

P1 – Existing knowledge of the co-incineration procedure enables us to state, with confidence, that co-incineration is safe for residents and for the environment. P2 – The benefits of co-incineration are substantial. Environmentally, it helps to reduce usage of fuel derived from non-renewable natural resources. Financially, it reduces the price payable by factory owners to the cement plants, by comparison with dedicated incineration. In terms of time, it is faster to carry out because it does not require construction of new infrastructure. It is a process which is more flexible and compatible with the commitment to the 3Rs. P3 – When BAT technologies and procedures involving best industrial practice are used, co-incineration carries no additional risks for local residents and the environment. This conclusion is based on the lack of studies proving the existence of problems brought about by the burning of HIW in cement plants. Even so, and in order to avoid any failure or exposure to likely hazards from the misuse of the technology, the ISC recommends that tight control and monitoring measures be implemented. The discourse of both the ISC and the government is optimistic, expressing a belief in the capabilities of regulatory and control bodies. P4 – Implementation of co-incineration is a measure which is necessary and urgent in order to solve the problem of HIW, not only that which is being produced now, but also that which has been produced in the past all over the country. Despite an occasional reflection on the need to change the country’s consumption patterns and to direct industrial production towards minimising the production of waste, the urgency of the problem justifies a short-term view of the issue. The ISC compares co-incineration with the status quo (non- treatment and uncontrolled dumping of HIW) rather than with alternative forms of treatment.

133 On the opposite side were those who adopted a position contrary to co-incineration (designated by “C”, Contra ), originating in many different disciplinary fields (engineering, medicine, natural and social sciences, and ecology), and also disputed the conclusions above. Going beyond resistance to co-incineration as a method, these opponents were against the idea that co-incineration should have been viewed as a key element in waste management, and against the whole process as it had been managed, in particular the committee’s alleged lack of independence (and consequently, the reductionist nature of its analysis) and the lack of political transparency.

C1 – Scientific knowledge of co-incineration is incomplete and poorly supported. Available data are insufficient to ensure the safety of the method. These opponents criticise the lack of “what if” scenarios in the ISC’s assessment of risk. C2 – The benefits accrue essentially to the cement plants, in as much as the method not only saves them very significant energy costs, but also brings them additional revenues from factory owners who pay them to eliminate their waste. Co-incineration may actually encourage the production of even more waste, whereas the direction outlined by the EU is in line with sustainable development and a reduction in waste. C3 – The P3 assumption is debatable. They believe that the lack of studies of problems arising from co-incineration cannot be taken to mean that there are no risks; it does not prove the harmlessness of the method. They argue that there are epistemic uncertainties (in particular in relation to discharges of dioxin and furan) and random uncertainties (e.g. accidents). They do not believe that regulation and control mechanisms will operate to perfection and thus they do not accept the conclusion that co-incineration does not carry “increased risks”. C4 – They prefer to look at things in a medium- to long-term perspective, with special emphasis on the 3Rs policy and on the implementation of alternatives to co-incineration, methods which will be socially and environmentally more desirable and sustainable (e.g. regeneration of spent fuels). Moreover, they believe that if a 3Rs policy were encouraged and implemented, waste which could not be handled by methods other than co-incineration would be so small that it could be exported. Co-incineration is therefore viewed as a downstream option (burning processes) which would lead to the persistence of an economic system of limitless production and consumption, and not as an upstream option (hazardous wastes).

A variety of registers cut across this overall pattern of dissension. Each opposing group approached the problem of HIW and the mode of knowledge production in a different way. In general terms, those in favour of co-incineration underlined the certainties and those against stressed the uncertainties. The former emphasized the benefits and the control of “risks”, while the latter highlighted “ignorance” and “indeterminacy”. The types of

134 uncertainty mentioned by the critics were based on of hypothetical events and possible scenarios. Despite the differences, those scenarios had been put together by drawing on the experience of co-incineration in other countries (for example, the problems arising from the practice of co-incineration in wet-process cement plants in the US) or from instances of systems which had been thought to be safe but which subsequently turned out to be hazardous (e.g. Chernobyl, Three Mile Island). The ISC, for its part, tended to view those scenarios as unlikely, provided that the proper operation of regulation and control mechanisms were assured. Let us now examine the detailed content of the dispute, dividing it into technological-scientific (“numbers”) and extra-scientific issues (“beyond numbers”). This division is made for analytical purposes alone, given that, as the vast literature on science-related conflicts shows, the arguments cannot be confined to technical aspects, even though the controversies are nearly always couched in technical and scientific language. As Nelkin rightly notes, they are always “a means of negotiating social relationship and of sustaining certain values, norms, and political boundaries” (1987: 284). With controversial issues, different ideological conceptions of what makes a “good society” are at stake (ibid. ).

The numbers controversy: risks and “technical errors” Scientists started to oppose co-incineration soon after the publication of the ISC report. Scientific opposition to the ISC report focused on two major controversies: the use and interpretation of, and the errors contained in, the technical and scientific data; and the health risks of exposure to dioxins emissions. Opposition to the first aspect was headed up by Delgado Domingos, the holder of the engineering chair and specialist in combustion already quoted above. On the second aspect, opposition was led by doctors at the Coimbra University Hospitals. There were three main strands to the controversy over the use and interpretation of, and the errors contained in, the technical and scientific data in the ISC’s report, according to the critics: HIW treatment methods had been compared using different assumptions; there were errors of thermodynamics and a lack of understanding of the industrial and thermal aspects of incinerators and cement plants; provisional figures in the original studies had been taken as “scientific truth” and, in areas where there was contradictory but equally valid data, values had been arbitrarily fixed. Oddly, the controversy began when a wide-circulation national newspaper published an article entitled “Scientists muddle up tons and kilos in their accounts” ( Público , 25.05.00). There were alleged technical errors regarding the quantities of dioxins discharged under co- incineration and other sources of emissions, the accounting for which was crucial to the

135 ISC report’s main conclusion, namely that the co-incineration method was harmless. The paper’s charge was corroborated a few days later by Delgado Domingos, who raised the tone of the debate by publishing an opinion editorial entitled “Co-incineration and Scientific Fraud” ( Público , 31.05.00). Other articles followed in support. 18 He argued that the ISC had produced certainties and facts from data which in the original studies were merely working hypotheses or inferences subject to later confirmation ( Público , 31.05.00; Diário de Notícias , 02.06.00). He also pointed to several self-contradictory statements throughout the report ( Diário de Notícias , 02.06.00), conclusions which had been “adjusted, with serious omissions” ( Diário de Coimbra , 13.06.00), misprints and errors of thermodynamics ( Público , 15.06.00). The “mistake” which generated the greatest amount of discussion and had the widest public impact became known as “the fireplaces question”. In one of the annexes to the main scientific report, the ISC had carried out a comparative analysis of dioxin and furan emissions from co-incineration and from other sources of these pollutants, such as crematoria and the burning of wood in household fireplaces. With this exercise in comparison – which, as we have seen above, is normal in risk assessments –, the committee claimed to show that a cement plant using co-incineration would emit insignificant amounts of pollution when compared to ordinary everyday activities. It concluded that a mere 513 fireplaces burning 4 tons of wood per year, or the cremation of 8,540 bodies, would be enough to emit the same amounts of dioxin and furan as a cement plant. 19 Thus, dioxin emissions from the burning of HIW were equivalent to those of 170 fireplaces. In order to make this comparison, the ISC had relied entirely on a 1997 working document of the Danish Environmental Protection Agency on dioxin emissions in that country. The ISC had drawn the conclusion from that study that each kilo of wood burned in home fireplaces would emit 200 nanogrammes of dioxins/furans per kilo annually (in other words, 200 ng/kg). 20 However, the measure used in the Danish report is actually 200 nanogrammes per ton (200 ng/ton) and not per kilo, which would make it 1000 times greater. So the correct number of fireplaces would not be 170, but rather 170,000. In addition, the calculations in that report referred not to wood stoves, but to wood furnaces, which are an industrial (and not a household) type of incineration facility. The figure for home fireplaces is mentioned in another section of the Danish report and is 1.9 ng/kg,

18 In January 1999, over a year before the ISC’s report, Delgado Domingos had published two opinion pieces in which he had come down against co-incineration and in favour of dedicated incineration. 19 Some argued that the ISC also made mistakes in its calculations on data for crematoria. In the Danish study, the figure is 4 microgrammes per dead body, whereas the ISC used an average figure of 16 microgrammes. 20 A nanogramme is one millionth of a millionth of a gramme.

136 which is 100 times lower than the figure used by the ISC. Apart from these errors, the ISC had assumed that the burning of 4 tonnes of wood per annum was typical for Portugal, but the critics regarded it as being far too high. The assumption that treated wood would be burned was also criticised, as this type of wood is particularly dangerous, and it is quite rare for it to be used in home fires (Público , 25.05.00; Expresso , 27.05.00). It is worthwhile explaining the fireplaces question – albeit not in great detail or at great length – because the critics used it to draw conclusions about the overall quality and credibility of the ISC’s scientific report. This was all the more significant because the government was relying on its conclusion in order to make a final decision. Not only had the ISC muddled up tons and kilos, it had also made a mistake in using figures for industrial furnaces and not household fireplaces. For the CLCCI 21 – which, in the aftermath of the publication of the damning articles, also investigated the sources for the scientific report –, the comparisons between pollutant emissions from home fires and from co-incineration had been used as the basis for the report’s main conclusions: (1) co- incineration in cement plants is environmentally insignificant at the local, regional and global level; (2) the risks associated with emissions from co-incineration are lower than those from 35 fireplaces and one crematorium. The critics were unanimous in arguing that the ISC had used distorted figures in its comparisons and had thereby given a totally false notion of the harmlessness of co-incineration emissions. In addition to the CLCCI, for whom the ISC’s conclusions had only been made possible by some “highly creative” interpretations of its results, Quercus, ADAS and ProUrbe expressed similar opinions. For the ISC, the fireplaces question was no more significant than the amount of space allocated to it in the report – less than half a page in the annexes to a 300-page report. Its purpose, as already mentioned, was to establish a scale of comparison, and this had not been a decisive factor in the committee’s approval of co-incineration (Cavalheiro, 2003b: 188-189). In response to the critics’ accusations, José Cavalheiro, the only member of the ISC who responded, also published a number of opinion pieces, in which he argued that the Danish report contains no mention of a figure for fireplaces, but rather for the industrial incineration of wood in industrial facilities (stoves). That was why the figure used by the ISC had been an estimate (obtained by calculation) and had not been literally transcribed from the source ( Público , 08.06.00). The 200ng/ kg figure was thus the ISC’s estimated figure, and 200 ng/ ton was the figure appearing in the report in relation to industrial incineration. The confusion had arisen because people believed that the former was an appropriation of the latter. As Cavalheiro mentioned in the interview:

21 This information is to be found on its website: www.co-incineracao.online.pt

137 This was an extremely biased attack (…) and this question of the fireplaces had nothing to do with the sum and substance of the report (…). What the committee decided to do (…) was to try to put across, somewhere in the report, an idea of the scale of the problem we were dealing with. (…) making something described in terms of nanogrammes and pictogrammes accessible to the general public (…). Then [Delgado Domingos] wrote that whole article, and called it scientific fraud, as if… it might even have been a mistake on our part, but it wasn’t. He was the one who made the mistake! He was the one who really thought that the emission figure of 200 something related to fireplaces, which were mentioned on the pages before or after, and which was indeed different from our figure because ours was a weighted figure and so ended up giving a similar number. (José Cavalheiro) 22

According to the opponents of co-incineration, the uncritical manner in which the ISC accepted the conclusions of the LCA studies, failing to put its assumptions into context, was also much discussed. A typical example of this flawed method was the fact that the ISC had taken only one LCA into account (a French one) to reach its conclusions that spent fuels should be co-incinerated. Francisco Ferreira (the chairman of Quercus and a university professor), Rui Berkmeier (Quercus’ specialist in waste) and João Gabriel Silva (also a university professor and Quercus’ member), point out that there are three other LCA (two German and one Norwegian) which show the exact opposite: in other words, that regeneration of fuels is more environmentally friendly than co-incineration. Quercus was critical of the way the ISC made the single LCA report it consulted into a “gospel”, and of the fact that it did not qualify the conclusions reached in this way, given their intrinsic limitations, such as, for example, the fact that they were dependent on a specific context ( Público , 21.07.00).

Controversy beyond numbers: uncertainties and fallibility In addition to the various arguments surrounding the (improper) use and (incorrect) interpretation of the data, this controversy also involved a lively debate on the uncertainties of the method itself, both epistemic (due to the lack of knowledge and of studies of the method and its emissions), and random (which here I interpret as “ignorance” and “indeterminacy”). One of the interview questions was in fact the following: “Do you think it is appropriate to say that there were uncertainties regarding the co- incineration process? How can you tell if there are uncertainties about this method or not?”. If we compare the scientists’ answers in the light of their position for or against the process, we can see that the critics tended to stress the contingent factors and eventual negative consequences, while supporters tended to make certainty claims and to argue in

22 In an article published after this controversy had died down, Cavalheiro felt that the example of fireplaces had been well chosen. A European document published after the ISC’s report, later in 2000, showed that half of the amount of dioxins produced annually in Portugal came from the household burning of wood for heating purposes. Comparatively, cement production of dioxins was irrelevant (Cavalheiro, 2003b: 190).

138 favour of a solid body of knowledge. This is actually a pattern commonly found in disputes among experts (e.g. Campbell, 1985), and the Portuguese case corroborates it. Let us first examine the position adopted by the ISC and its opponents regarding ”uncertainty”, which is here understood as the outcome of incomplete knowledge (Wynne, 1992). As was made clear in P3, the ISC felt that it had a reliable scientific foundation for concluding that co-incineration was a method which had been “tried and tested” and was harmless. Or, to put it in another way, using another of the ISC’s arguments, there were no studies showing that the method harmed human health and the environment.

(…) well, there are always some uncertainties, aren’t there? But I think there’s so much information showing the procedure has been tried and tested, that it is a safe procedure. Of course that doesn’t mean there is no risk at all, naturally, or that its environmental impact is zero, because of course it isn’t, is it? Even when I breathe I have some impact on the environment, I am pumping CO 2 into the atmosphere. (…) There’s neither zero risk, nor zero impact. (Casimiro Pio)

As “there is no such thing as zero risk”, the ISC outlined a wide range of measures aimed at limiting risks and uncertainties to the maximum extent possible. Epistemic uncertainties regarding the process of co-incineration itself could be dispelled by carrying out tests in the cement plants. As we shall see in the next chapter, trying out the burning of HIW in loco would make it possible to determine whether the kilns had the thermal capacity to destroy the wastes, as well as assessing pollution emission levels. The remaining uncertainties as to risks to human health could be overcome by carrying out an epidemiological study of local residents (this never did take place, for reasons which I shall look at in the next chapter). As for any potential random effects, these were “controllable” through the proper operation of the planned system of monitoring and control. All these “solutions” were shrouded in the discourse of belief in the system’s capabilities (P3).

(…) strictly speaking, we do have to say that there is some uncertainty in this. There wouldn’t be that uncertainty if the HIW burning tests had been done , which were planned to take place here. In what was also a first, we had also planned to carry out epidemiological studies. Basically this involved taking a sample of the local residents before co-incineration started and monitoring that sample to see if anything unexpected happened that we hadn’t foreseen. (…) (José Cavalheiro, my emphasis).

For the critics, however, there was general agreement that one has to be careful when interpreting results, given that knowledge is insufficient to assure certainties. According to C1 and C3, the relative scarcity of studies on the method and the need to extrapolate from research on dedicated incineration, and the contingencies involved in the process itself, were valid reasons for adopting an attitude of prudent vigilance, entirely at odds with the optimism and confidence displayed by the ISC.

139 (…) if we look at the international literature, there are very few studies of co- incineration (…) So sometimes we had to use studies on dedicated incineration and try to extrapolate from them to reach conclusions about co-incineration. But it was very difficult to reach any definitive conclusions, and the lack of any major studies makes it difficult to understand how the ISC could be so certain about its conclusions , don’t you think? (…) (José Manuel Silva, my emphasis).

Apart from the lack of studies, the critics also pointed out that there were differing interpretations on the effects of certain aspects such as dioxins. They argued that existing official reports (such as those by the EPA and the WHO, as quoted below) contain numbers of differing orders of magnitude, and definitions often depend on compromise solutions of a political and social nature:

(…) the technological process itself (…) is too new and insufficiently researched to give us an idea of the parameters. I’ll give you an example. If I look at the Americans’ preliminary study on dioxin emissions, I think the report dates from 97, and the other one is from 95, the figure for emissions per ton of cement varies from 1 to 10. (…) [So] final values are the outcome of a negotiation. These are negotiated figures because they look at the financial impact for each level. And what’s happening is that we are importing this type of effect. (…) for example: the World Health Organization carried out a study of dioxins in Europe and concluded that they were too high everywhere. Their recommended level was (…) one microgramme per kilo per day – that may not be the exact figure but it’s something like that – (…) [but] it should actually be a quarter of that. I’ve seen the minutes of the meetings and the conclusion they reached was that if they adopted the right level it would be the end of the chemical industry in Europe. (Delgado Domingos)

The factors quoted in this section include the category of “indeterminacy”. Still emphasizing the potential role of random factors in the incineration of toxic waste, we may legitimately highlight the possibility of accidents. Even when a harmful event is highly unlikely, it could nevertheless happen tomorrow, next year or in 100 years’ time. As Charles Perrow’s book (1999 [1984]) Normal Accidents shows, even in effective security structures that supposedly had forecast everything, including failures, accidents may occur and uncertainties do exist. System complexity and tight coupling makes failures inevitable and their multiple interactions unleash the accident. It is not possible to anticipate all the possible causal combinations of those failures. So, the accident is “normal”, not because it is usual or expected, but because it is an inherent property of the system to occasionally experience this interaction. Here too the ISC and the critics adopted different positions. The critics were particularly concerned with two types of possible accident. First, accidents in the facilities themselves, the consequences of which vary according to whether they are in normal cement-making mode or burning HIW. Secondly, accidents involving storage and transportation of wastes between the treatment facility and the cement plants. They felt that the ISC would not have concluded as it did if it had weighed up these possibilities:

140 (…) in the report (…) they even say it, more or less, in these words: “[risk] is inherent in human activity, there is no human activity which is without risk and where accidents do not happen” (…). But if this is so, then it has to be part of the issue. Why is it that when people work things out they ignore this fact and assume that everything will be all right? I mean , on the one hand it is seen as natural because problems are inherent in human activity, but then on the other, when they start working out the impact of something, they drop the assumption . (…) Things can go well, but they can also go wrong, and we need to know what the impact is going to be when things go wrong. (…) Why don’t they do this for a cement plant? These are complex industrial facilities, and we know from the experiences of local residents that even without co- incineration, (…) these plants often have problems. (João Gabriel Silva, my emphasis)

If we add in the matter of the structural properties of hazardous waste, as was explained in detail at the beginning of chapter 3, and if we recall that the same type of waste carries “intrinsic” risks and “situational” risks, we can see that the ISC failed to take latter into account. In its opinion, it made no sense to believe that transporting and storing HIW was a significant risk. Not only was all the waste to have been treated beforehand (and homogenized so as to be used as replacement fuel), but the Pre- Treatment Unit was to operate under tight and demanding safety rules. The committee also rejected the likelihood of accidents happening in the cement plants themselves, since the incineration procedure was to take place under controlled conditions. Underlying these arguments, we should recall, were the statements made in points P1 and P3 in connection with the lack of scientific studies showing that there were problems with co-incineration. For the committee, the absence of conclusive empirical evidence as to the harmful nature of a particular phenomenon tended to be interpreted in a positive way, and this meant that “ignorance” was equated to absence of risk. Let us examine this assumption in the words of one of the members of the ISC:

(…) based on previous experience, of several decades of operation in over 100 cement plants in Europe using (…) alternative fuels [HIW], there are (…) no reports of accidents related to this... If that is so, then this is a sign that the risk is low . I mean, it’s not a sign, it’s proof that the risk is low . Because there’s nothing like practical experience to prove how a model or a concept works. So, we don’t even need to conceptualize here , all we need to do is to check the facts, the history of what has actually happened. (Casimiro Pio, my emphasis)

It is not unusual to find this type of conclusion, where facts are taken as read and there is no need to conceptualize the issue. In a case-study concerning the siting of a waste incinerator facility in Portsmouth, Hampshire (southern England), analyzed by Judith Petts, one of the experts in thermal combustion and who had knowledge about the incineration process, said “if there was a problem with dioxins we would already know about it” (1997: 371). Here too the method’s supporters assume that it is safe, based on the lack of scientific evidence of any problems. This is what Beck calls the “technocratic

141 fallacy”, in the sense that which has not been studied, or cannot be studied, is assumed to be harmless (1992 [1986]: 66). In this connection, we can merely say the only certainty we have is that we have no certainty regarding the harmlessness or otherwise of any given future technology, but that it cannot be decreed a priori . In reality, it might be perfectly safe and it might not be. We have no way of knowing if it is effectively safe and we know little of the complex interactions which may occur in this type of procedure. As it is pertinently expressed by Barbara Adam, safety of a certain technology “is difficult to establish in a context of time- distantiation and time lags, where damage and harm are being produced out of sight, below the surface, for often unknown periods of time and where the symptoms do not necessarily allow for a backwards reconstruction to originating sources and causes” (Adam, 1998: 155). Thus, we have to bear in mind not only the possibility that unexpected interactions may occur, but also that they are incomprehensible at certain crucial times. 23 This point has been aptly expressed in David Collingridge’s “dilemma of control” (1980). When a technology is born, and all we can do is envisage different scenarios involving its potential effects on the natural and social environment, social control is regarded as unnecessary, given the existing state of ignorance about the impact of the technology. As the technology develops, and in the event that negative externalities arise, it is difficult to exert social control, on account of the powerlessness, the vested interests and the “sedimentation” which the rise of the technology has in the meantime engendered. At this stage, the technology is so well established in society that control, while not impossible, is at the very least time-consuming and expensive.

The controversy over development values and models The debate surrounding the ISC’s report and on where to consign hazardous waste was also part of a wider discussion of models of social, industrial, economic and environmental development. At the heart of the controversy was the type of analysis which the ISC had carried out. For the critics, the ISC’s report was reductionist, partial and biased. According to this point of view, the committee had taken a reductionist view of the management of wastes, by focusing above all on incineration processes instead of investigating all possible methods for treating HIW. The fact that the committee had called itself the “Independent Scientific Committee for Environmental Control and Inspection of Co-incineration ”, and that was the name on the cover of the report 24 , only emphasized its biased and

23 We all know that the environment and the human body suffer from the effects of hundreds of substances which were formerly regarded as being “safe”. See several examples in EEA (2001a). 24 See the controversy over the naming of the Committee on chapter 4.

142 reductionist nature. Scientists and opposition members of parliament were at one in making this criticism, the latter complaining that it meant the ISC was failing to comply with the mandate granted to it by Law 20/99, in other words, the mandate to give an opinion on the various methods of treating HIW, and not just co-incineration (e.g. José Eduardo Martins, PSD, in DAR, 26.05.00, p. 2740). The committee itself admits that it did not study an overall procedure for handling HIW and that it had had to adopt a “pragmatic attitude” for a number of reasons, in particular the urgency of the problem, the tight deadline for submitting the report, and the political and social pressure to reach a decision (Formosinho et al ., 2000a: 229). The same type of concern led the ISC to select the locations for implementing co-incineration, which caused uproar. According to one ISC member, the choice of location was based solely on technical and scientific criteria and, although it was not the ISC’s job, the Committee decided to take on this responsibility in order to speed things up:

Bearing in mind that, if the ISC had not named the industrial facilities in which treatment was to take place, the decision-making process and the start of HIW treatment would have been even further delayed, a firm decision was immediately made that the choice of locations would be made at the same time as the choice of the method, regardless of the negative consequences this might have for committee members (Pio, 2003: 82).

In opting for co-incineration, the ISC and the government, the critics felt, were treating the symptoms and not the underlying causes. In their opinion, the co-incineration was a short-run solution for a long-run problem. They held that it was necessary to adopt other measures which would be more compatible with caring for public health and promoting sustainable development, more in line with a medium- to long-term approach, and which would engage in wider reflection on ways of reducing industrial waste (which are an inefficient outcome of the production system). Strictly speaking, the ISC does mention the need to think about and solve the problem in its wider, overall aspect, showing that the heart of the problem is modern societies’ culture of unlimited consumption and that technological advances in procedures for handling wastes are just “medication” – medication which cannot hide the seriousness of the disease.

In practice, it is a diversionary tactic which harms us all to shift onto wastes (the final products in the consumption chain) the burden of a problem which has to be tackled at its source. To deal with the problem of industrial wastes, by finding a suitable form of treatment, is just a small part of a much more serious problem: the fact that we are blindly following the logic of industrial society, and that we are unable to reverse the process of rapid squandering of the earth’s resources, and at the same time upsetting the whole of its fragile ecosystem (Formosinho et al ., 2000a: 84-85).

143 The idea contained in the passage quoted above, that defining the method of treating HIW is just a partial solution to a more serious overall problem, brought together the members of the ISC and the environmental organizations. So what was it that separated them? What separated them was the way of looking at the problem, based on different time-scales and different judgements about the scientific state-of-the-art vis-à-vis co-incineration (see P1, C1 / P4, C4). The ISC held that it had sufficient scientific information not to delay the decision a moment longer. Implementing co-incineration would be a good starting point for solving the problem of HIW, incomparably better than the existing situation of non-treatment and illegal, uncontrolled dumping of HIW, or than doing nothing at all. The ISC saw co-incineration as a solution which would not mortgage the future and would solve one of the country’s pressing problems. The fact it would take place in cement plants, which are designed to produce cement and not to burn rubbish, meant that the method was flexible and could be deactivated in the medium to long term as the desired reduction of wastes took effect. Unlike the scientists connected to environmental associations, the ISC argued that the choice of an end-of-the-line method like co-incineration would not prevent front-line methods like the 3Rs policy from being implemented (P2).

(…) I would say [that co-incineration] is a lesser evil for destroying HIW. (…) bearing in mind the harm caused when wastes are left untreated (…) (Sebastião Formosinho)

(…) [there are] different ways (…) to solve a problem. One of them is to do nothing. Does the do-nothing option have a better environmental impact, in terms of public health risks, the risk on the negative impact it has on the ecosystem? Does it have a better outcome than using an end-of-the-line method, for example? It doesn’t, for sure (…). And what if we adopt a method which has been tried and tested and which we know to be relatively safe? It doesn’t. (Casimiro Pio)

The plan’s opponents supported the argument that doing nothing or maintaining the status quo was the worst possible scenario, but argued that an effective 3Rs policy should be implemented (this was the position adopted by Quercus and ProUrbe, for example) and that dedicated incineration should be used for wastes not covered by such a policy (this was the position of Delgado Domingos and Carlos Pimenta). The co- incineration was a contentious solution for a number of reasons. First, because scientific knowledge is not reliable enough to ensure that the method is harmless. Secondly, because the government’s aim was to establish co-incineration as the central pillar of waste management policy (a public good) and to grant a monopoly of that management to private sector (cement plants). Thirdly, because it might delay or even discourage the promotion of a 3Rs policy. Finally, because they suspected that, given the lack of transparency which had attended the whole process, the burden of permissiveness previously observed in the cement plants, and their interest in HIW as an energy source,

144 would quickly turn co-incineration into a kind of “black hole” into which would fall wastes which might be better treated in more sustainable ways.

(…) what we’ve seen is that when you open the door to co-incineration it tends to go ahead at high speed. In France, the use of hazardous and non-hazardous wastes took off (…) The fact is that once it is set up it is like a black hole, it has a tremendous force of gravity, and it starts attracting wastes which are not even on the list (…). (Rui Berkmeier)

(…) One of the major criticisms we have of co-incineration is the fact that it can (…) substantially delay or prevent us from following that path of closing cycles and reducing toxicity. And why? Because the cement plants have a strong vested interest, as they would have if they were a dedicated incineration facility, in burning wastes. (…) And when there is a vested interest (…), we’re not looking at this clearly enough (…) how can you reconcile a strategy which relies on living off waste with a strategy of progressive waste reduction? (…). (Miguel Oliveira e Silva)

With more or less conciliatory positions, all the civic and environmental associations brandished arguments on the importance of reducing and recycling wastes. Some were prepared to accept co-incineration, provided that it did not adversely affect the 3Rs policy, nor discourage moves to have residents involved, by taking part and being rewarded (this was the position of the Portuguese Nature Protection League [LPN in Portuguese], in Jornal de Notícias , 26.05.00). Others suggested, if the conclusion were reached that co-incineration was genuinely necessary once the 3Rs policy had been exploited to the full, that it should be carried out in all the cement plants, thus spreading the risk over the whole country (the position adopted by ProUrbe, in Diário de Notícias , 14.02.00). Quercus was the association most in favour of the 3Rs, in particular in connection with certain liquid wastes such as spent fuel and solvents. Since alternative and more sustainable treatment methods existed for these types of waste, Quercus failed to understand why the ISC had kept them on the list of wastes destined for incineration, unless it had played to the cement plants’ energy interests. Such wastes were not only a substantial portion of incinerable wastes, but also the most desirable wastes for the cement plants, on account of their thermal properties. In trying to prevent them from feeding the cement plants’ kilns, Quercus was engaging in a last-ditch attempt to find a more sustainable form of treatment for them, and at the same time trying to ensure that those industries would lose interest in co-incineration. As we have already seen, the ISC maintained that the LCA studies contained contradictory results, and that it was therefore impossible to conclude that recycling fuels and solvents was more environmentally friendly than co-incineration. The ISC acknowledged that there was a need for a 3Rs policy, but was sceptical of the emphasis the environmental associations placed on it. In its opinion, the environmentalists saw it as a “dogma of faith” and as a “universal panacea”:

145

(…) recycling, which is of fundamental importance, should always be taken into account as an option, but it is not the universal solution , as some of our environmentalists claim. They have made recycling a dogma of the faith which must be believed and obeyed, not needing to be proved, nor do they accept anything which opposes it. (Pio, 2003: 62-63, my emphasis)

The emphasis placed on recycling as a universal panacea for the consequences of industrial society conceals the fact that scarce natural resources are being squandered, that there is massive consumption of energy, and brushes over the fact that there is a very low rate of return on the recycling of many products, particularly when they contain high technology (Cavalheiro, 2003a: 91-92, my emphasis).

These passages show that the ISC saw the environmental associations (especially Quercus) as having a certain air of religious zeal about them, despite their strictly secular and scientific discourse. In fact, the environmental associations’ discourse has religious connotations and, in extreme cases, is even irrational. However, this problem can be interpreted differently, in the light of the ambiguity of the phenomenon of religion itself, which may embody rational aspects (provided it does not adopt extremist attitudes). It was Salvador Giner (2003) who made this observation. He offers us the concept of “eco- religious”, which draws its inspiration from environmental problems caused by irresponsible human behaviour and from a certain feeling of guilt at having disobeyed the laws of nature. Despite the fact that it includes scientific discoveries and argument in its discourse, eco-religion holds that the natural world is a numinous and charismatic object to be revered. The Catalan sociologist’s basic theory is that even at an advanced stage of secularisation, man and society retain a religious dimension, which comes out in various ways. One of them may indeed be environmentalism. Even though he distances himself from extreme visions of this type, which border on the irrational, Giner salvages the religious attitude as having the potential for rationality, and says that the need for “cosmic piety”, in order to face up to the degradation of the planet, is not wholly without meaning. It is something akin to a new kind of religious feeling. Thus the ISC’s own critique of the environmentalists can be thrown back at it. Its own discourse also contains religious elements: on one side they come from scientism (a belief that science can disregard political considerations) and on the other from environmentalism. This ultimately affected the committee’s choices. Everything depended on the values at stake. Another example of how the controversy surrounding co-incineration involved profound differences in political notions of development is to be found in the choice of the Outão cement plant, precisely because it is located in a Nature Park. 25 In addition to the fact that activities like co-incineration are forbidden in the Arrábida Nature Park

25 We should recall that the EIA excluded Outão, so the ISC’s suggestions now went beyond that position.

146 Regulations (see chapter 3), and environmental associations therefore regarded the proposal as being against the law (Quercus’ position, in Diário de Notícias , 27.05.00), the choice of Outão was a step backwards in the long-standing commitment to deactivate the cement plant and renovate the area. Criticisms were also made of the reductionist nature of the arguments in favour of Outão, as they were based solely on the technological and environmental efficiency of the cement plant and ignored other key issues such as, for example, the risks involved in transporting wastes through a nature park (Geota’s position, in Diário de Notícias , 27.05.00). Another criticism was that the committee had chosen the cement plants in which co-incineration would be implemented, something which went beyond its remit and could not therefore be binding (Geota’s position, in A Capital , 20.05.00; Diário de Noticias , 20.05.00). The Environment minister remained indifferent to these charges, seeing no conflict between the method of destroying waste and the rules governing the Rede Natura (Nature Network) ( Expresso , 27.05.00). And the members of the ISC made a public announcement stating that the fact one of the possible cement plants was situated in a conservation area was no reason to exclude it (Henrique Barros, in Público , 20.05.00).

Conclusion In this chapter I have demonstrated that, following the publication of the ISC’s report, some scientists joined with the environmentalists in the debate on the co- incineration method. The ISC and its opponents brought different inputs to the case. However, one should not forget that those inputs had already been shaped by earlier definitions of the problem, and by different explanatory interests and values. We have seen how the ISC adopted various probabilistic and holistic techniques (making environmental, energy and financial impact assessments), and submitted quantitative data which enabled it to conclude that co-incineration was harmless and comparatively advantageous when compared to alternative methods for treating HIW. In its interpretation of this data and the conclusions it drew, the ISC assumed that a lack of significant risk derived from the lack of studies proving the opposite or, in other words, that the “absence of conclusive evidence of harm” is the same as “conclusive evidence of absence of harm”. It also assumed that the entire process would operate correctly and could be controlled, if a limited range of complementary measures were complied with. By contrast, scientists opposing the method itself, or the way in which matters were being conducted, stressed the epistemological inadequacy of science in relation to many significant aspects of HIW incineration, particularly its harmful effects on public health, and how wrong it was to assume that there would be “optimum” control over a socially and

147 technically extremely complex process involving a whole network of processing, storage, disposal and transportation facilities. On the basis of my analysis of the experts’ arguments on the one hand, and of those of scientists and environmentalists on the other (the environmentalists also being technicians and scientists), I conclude that trust in science’s ability to deal with the problem of HIW, the adoption of a probabilistic approach to risk and the lack of consideration of social indeterminacy are the main factors enabling us to interpret the ISC’s concurrence with the government’s decision in favour of the co-incineration method. In this chapter, I provide evidence that the experts failed to take into account margins of error and the social indeterminacy inherent in the practical and institutional implementation of co-incineration, even though they strongly emphasised the need for compliance with control measures. The lack of studies and data pointing to opposite conclusions, scientific ignorance of significant epidemiological and toxicological parameters, amongst others mentioned in this chapter, are some of the aspects which I have here classified as “uncertainty”, sometimes as “ignorance”, sometimes as “indeterminacy”. Opponents used these arguments to emphasize their disagreement with the ISC’s conclusions. If a risk analysis is structured on the assumption that the process is fully controlled, it will make optimistic assumptions and operate in accordance with notions of predictability. This may not be in line with the characteristics of the actual threats involved and the fact that every real-world process is an open and indeterminate system. Consideration of potential accidental releases and lack of controllability scenarios, and an assumption that the lack of studies does not equate to the absence of risks, have lead to different conclusions and a more precautionary position. The key argument I will put forward in this discussion is that probabilistic approaches and the concept of risk deceptively reduce a broad aggregate of uncertainties to an illusion of a controllable and quantifiable process, and in so doing cover up the extent of underlying ignorance inherent in the commitment to technology based on a limited body of scientific knowledge. Opponents disputed not just the technical conclusions, nor were the grounds for opposition simply the imprecise nature of the data, lack of information or even the genuine indeterminacy associated with the co-incineration method and its implementation. The ISC not only failed to acknowledge various types of uncertainty: it adopted a position which clearly favoured linking technology and regulation of waste by market mechanisms (the cement companies). It believed that this was a more effective way of solving the HIW problem and maximising the use of available resources. Scientists and environmentalists who were critical of the committee insisted that this was a scenario where the risks associated with co-incineration were unknown and uncontrollable, and argued for clean

148 technologies, a strategic approach based on the 3Rs and waste management schemes in which representatives of local residents could take part. The conflict endured, together with protests from local residents. This brought out other aspects, in particular a concern with the potential harmful effects of dioxin emissions on human health. The Parliament decided then to set up a second committee of experts, within the ISC, whose job it would be to draw up a report on the impact of burning HIW on public health. As it will be analysed in the next chapter, the Medical Working Group was formed to draw up this second report.

149 6. HEALTH RISKS , POLLUTION TRAUMA AND PUBLIC POLICY DECISIONS

Introduction Despite the fact that public questioning and concern with health risks had been a constant since the government announced its decision to go ahead with co-incineration, the topic only started to dominate the political, social and co-operative agenda after the ISC’s report had come out in favour, and in the light of the alleged inadequacies of the study of its impact on public health. The focus of the protests was thus redefined in terms of public health, at a time of continued public discord and scientific debate. In the shadow of the presumed harmful effects of an additional pollution factor, residents’ scepticism focused on the defence of public health and the effort to change a decision which seemed to be a fait accompli . With the aim of lowering citizen anxiety over health and community well-being, a new scientific experts’ group was appointed, this time a committee of doctors, at the request of the Parliament. As with the ISC, the problem was handed over to the scientists because, according to the government, doubts raised by the protests could be resolved by using scientific methods and criteria. In addition to thinking about why residents were so concerned with the potential dangers to their health, in this last chapter I describe how political power was obliged to seek a new authority which could be elevated to the position of providing the highest assurance of legitimacy. I analyse how the new expertise was marshalled in order to give an opinion on the possible impact of the method on public health, and how the committee of experts once again came up against a significant controversy within the scientific profession. In this analysis, I bear in mind that the concern with health risks is one of the more solid conclusions in the literature on communities affected by the implementation of waste facilities (e.g. Levine, 1982; Edelstein, 2004 [1988]; Brown and Mikkelsen, 1990; Hallman and Wandersman, 1995). This conclusion underscores the scientific link between wastes and health problems, the history of which has been examined in chapter 1, which has become increasingly explicit as scientists have enhanced their understanding of the toxic characteristics of many wastes and the potential effects of different types of treatment on public health. It is thus hardly surprising that the population of Souselas 1 should have perceived the possibility of co-incineration emitting dioxins and other toxic pollutants as a threat to its health. This fear is understandable in the light of the risk

1 This section will deal mainly with the population of Souselas because, as we saw earlier, it was one of the ISC’s choices for implementing co-incineration. The cement plant at Outão was another choice, but because it was located in a nature reserve, there were no villages near it. If the ISC had opted for the plant at Maceira or Alhandra, which are heavily populated areas, everything stated here in connection with Souselas would apply to the residents of those areas as well.

150 perception research that has showed that dioxins are amongst the highest-ranking perceived health risks (Gregory et al. , 1996). This chapter has a dual purpose. First, and on the basis that the health issue changed the direction of protest, I begin by looking through the formation of the medical committee and its report. I outline the arguments which led the medical experts to conclude that the method was harmless and involved no increased risks to public health, provided that it was operated in the proper technical manner and with continuous monitoring. I then comment on the controversy generated by this conclusion. Basing themselves also on science, scientists who opposed the process carried out various studies of Souselas residents’ state of health to show how vulnerable this community was, and to refute the arguments which had been put forward. Through the data collected, I wish to demonstrate how the medical committee and part of the scientific community (especially the medical community), as had occurred earlier with the ISC, became entangled in a clash over over-estimation and under-estimation of danger, with differences over forecasts, which nevertheless still failed to bridge the gap between a decision involving public health and putative knowledge which is affected by deep-seated doubts and uncertainties. Secondly, and closely related to the first point above, I analyse the performance of the Portuguese government in connection with the decision to implement the co- incineration method. Having decided on and announced a particular line of action, and having then come up against broadly-based protest, the government looked to scientific knowledge to provide the legitimacy which the decision lacked, and sought to base its decision on that scientific knowledge alone. While it is true there was no certainty that the democratic politicization of the decision would be significant in terms of risk assessment, how are we to interpret the government’s performance in terms of the nation’s democratic culture? In a democratic society, the role of civil society does not allow for the political space ( politeia ) to be occupied by an authority which arrogates unto itself the position of being the only guarantor of valid or rational choice. As we shall see in the case study, this would imply that the technical and political spheres overlapped or, in other words, that the political space had been colonized by technological rationality. On controversial issues like waste facilities, civic culture involves encouraging participation by those affected and a multi-criteria decision-making, recognizing that choices of technology have to consider social, political, economic and environmental aspects as well as questions of technical performance. The Portuguese government overvalued the significance of safety measures and technical risk mitigation factors (e.g. bag-filters, pre-treatment unit, incineration of HIW only in the main burner), and neglected the political and social aspects of the process, those involving the community’s experience of pollution, the perception of risk, prior

151 failures in dealing with local residents, and citizens’ sympathy with the environmental movements’ proposals for a more environmentally-friendly development model. I argue that the co-incineration case combines a retraction of the political element in favour of the technical solution, a crisis of legitimacy in decision-making and social ineffectiveness in the application of that decision, the whole revealing the perceived inadequacy of the process of social regulation over time, and creating a situation of anomia boba (“mindless anomie”) (Nino, cit. in Girola, 2005) which, as I shall outline below, best describes a certain type of law-disregarding political culture in which everyone ends up being worse off.

1. The controversy redefined in terms of public health: the opinion of the medical committee The climate of tension surrounding the ISC’s report, which I analysed in the previous chapter, had repercussions on institutional politics. Following draft legislation drawn up by the Green Party, with the whole opposition and the socialist members of parliament representing Coimbra voting in favour, the Parliament again suspended 2 the co-incineration process in July 2000, and decided that the ISC would have to carry out more in-depth studies. The committee was now asked to assess the impact of co- incineration on public health, bearing in mind that the facilities would be located close to residential areas. 3 To this end, a Medical Working Group (henceforth MWG) would be set up within the ISC, chaired by a member of the ISC (and appointed by it) and constituted by one representative of each medical faculty, chosen by the directive council, and one elected by the Medical Order. This medical group was to give a “conclusive final opinion” on whether the risks outlined in the ISC report were acceptable from the public health point of view, bearing in mind the current state of knowledge of these issues and epidemiological studies conducted in other countries in similar situations (Law 22/2000, of 10 August). The Environment minister, José Sócrates, was of the opinion that the medical report should be the last step taken before the final decision, given that “the country hasn’t got time to be playing at committees, reports, studies. There’s a time to study things, and a time to act” ( Diário de Notícias , 17.08.00).

2 The process had first been suspended by the Parliament, as we saw above, in February 1999, in order to allow time for the ISC to reach its conclusions. 3 In response to the criticism that the ISC had not studied the various possible methods for treating HIW and the controversy over whether spent fuels and solvents should be burned or not, the medical group was also asked to make an inventory of the best methods for treating each type of waste. The ISC warned the Parliament that this was an impossible task, within the short time-scale allotted, and therefore ended up just filling out and bringing up to date the data already set out in the ISC’s first report (Formosinho et al. , 2000a). The MWG’s published report (Barros et al. , 2000) is part of the second volume of the ISC’s opinion (Formosinho et al. , 2000b).

152 The MWG was set up quickly (in August 2000) and was made up of six doctors: Henrique Barros, of the University of Porto; Jorge Torgal, of the New ; Salvador Massano Cardoso, of the University of Coimbra; José Pereira Miguel, of the University of Lisbon; Nuno Grande, of the Institute of Biomedical Sciences Abel Salazar of the University of Porto; and José Germano de Sousa, the head of the Doctors’ Association. All these doctors were specialists in the areas of hygiene and epidemiology, preventive medicine, clinical pathology and public health, and they are all prominent members of the medical profession in Portugal. In the report published in December 2000, the MWG’s opinion came out in favour of implementing co-incineration in cement plant kilns. Starting out from the assumption contained in the ISC’s first report, namely that incineration is the best solution for treating HIW, the doctors concluded that co-incineration does not carry any additional risks to local residents, provided that it is carried out in accordance with technological standards, with emissions being monitored, and provided that there is compliance with certain preventive measures. Potential adverse effects of pollution emissions on local residents’ health would come above all from dioxins and furans, and from the fact of heavy metals 4 being rendered inert in cement. However, the MWG’s opinion gave assurances that there would be no increases in dioxins and furans, and that concentrations of heavy metals in cement produced by co-incineration would be no higher than those in cement produced with primary fuels, provided that the limits for metal content in the wastes admitted for co- incineration were observed (Barros et al. , 2000: 124). The MWG recognized that available epidemiological studies had their limitations. First, most of these studies only analysed short-term effects, so the consequences of long- term exposure to carcinogens were unknown and unpredictable. Secondly, a number of factors undermined the conclusions reached: exposure to other sources of pollution (e.g. road traffic, workplace pollution) or other carcinogens (e.g. tobacco); and the fact that extrapolation from results of studies conducted on animals might be of limited value when applied to humans. In the worst-case scenarios, these studies indicated that incineration might be related to a number of health problems: for those living close to a source of pollution, “a possible small increase in neoplasms in children, as a result of drinking mother’s milk” and “a higher risk for farmers living in areas where pollutants have a greater impact” (ibid.: 120). Despite the limitations of the epidemiological studies and the existence of potential public health issues, the MWG’s opinion was that, in overall terms, “the potential risks are so low” that they are “socially acceptable” (ibid.: 121). The argument in favour of co-incineration from the public health point of view, based on the

4 Amongst the various classes of heavy metals, cadmium, chromium, mercury or lead can be highly toxic.

153 idea of “acceptable risk”, was expressed in the categorical language used to assess existing scientific conclusions. The report read:

Available scientific data today allow us to provide firm and comfortably certain answers to some fundamental questions. Thus, no risks can arise which would justify doing away with co-incineration (…). (ibid.: 121)

In Roqueplo’s line of thinking, which I set out in the first chapter, experts give their firm opinion based on available knowledge. But, bearing in mind the weaknesses of various epidemiological studies and the open nature of science, one might think that the MWG’s opinion would more likely emphasize the uncertainties and lack of knowledge in this field, instead of expressing, “with comfortable certainty”, a high degree of confidence in available scientific information. In the passage quoted, we can also see an underlying expectation that eventual risks can be controlled. Experts assumed that there was a stringent capacity to control exposure and risks. Even so, as a precautionary measure, the MWG recommended that the possibility of increased health risks should be safeguarded against by producing a description of certain features of the population and environment of the locations involved and, subsequently, that there should be active epidemiological monitoring in order to detect any public health problem ahead of time (ibid.: 126). For the doctors, such procedures would be, “instruments to provide for and ensure early detection of any complications, and to minimise or eliminate possible risks” (ibid.). This warning note is appropriate in the context of the recognition that assessing the risks of pollutant emissions from incineration and co-incineration is an exercise which is of a contingent or situational nature:

Changes in geography or weather, which affect different atmospheric and/or soil pollution risks, differences in population density in the communities subject to pollutants, and a qualitative and quantitative description of agricultural and animal farming within the affected area may possibly have an effect on the assessment of whether there is a not inconsiderable risk to health. (ibid.: 125)

It was one of the doctors in the group, Jorge Torgal, who recommended that a study of the population and the environment should be carried out. The recommendation was based on the results of a risk analysis conducted by the EPA of an area where there is a hazardous waste incinerator, which concluded that the risk of cancer increases the closer one is to the incineration facility. Thus, within a radius of one kilometre, which is regarded as the area of “maximum impact”, the cancer risk is one in ten thousand, while the risk for someone living further away is one in a million, which is regarded as insignificant. In my interview with him, Jorge Torgal explained that he recommended the

154 idea in question be included out of a sense of precaution, and having weighed up the risk of possible accidents:

I believe it is better to have co-incineration than not to have it. I believe co-incineration is a reasonably safe method. Much safer than having wastes scattered all over the country... And I think that the cement plants will even operate more efficiently on account of all the equipment they have to install as a result of this controversy and that, under normal circumstances, there won’t be any health problems. But Chernobyl was also a very safe nuclear plant (…). And Three Mile Island was also very safe. So this means that all facilities, however safe they may be, may have accidents. There’s (…) a study by the Americans which said what the risks of an accident were for people within a radius of 500 metres, 5,000 metres, 10,000 metres, and so on. So, (…) it was based on this that I thought an environmental study should be carried out, because I know that in Souselas people’s houses are bang next door to the factory, so if there were an accident the risk to the people next to the factory would be several times higher than the normally acceptable risk. (Jorge Torgal)

It was also on the basis of this study that Jorge Torgal suggested, in a statement to a national newspaper after the MWG opinion came out, that one possible solution was to move the affected families to other locations ( Público , 13.12.00). In reply, the ADAS (the Souselas Defence Association) explained that over three thousand people lived within a kilometre of the cement plant ( Diário de Coimbra , 14.12.00). Nuno Grande, another member of the medical group, made the same argument on the need to relocate people. In an interview with a regional newspaper, he said that “the ideal place [for co-incineration] would be a desert”, but, if there is no uninhabited area, it is necessary to establish “safeguards for the additional risks of, for example, human error”. As these “cannot be predicted, it would be advisable for the residents of that area to leave, not only on account of co-incineration, but because there’s a cement plant there” ( Diário de Coimbra , 14.12.00). For this doctor, living next to a cement plant is an even greater risk than co- incineration and “what is more, a cement plant which operated without bag-filters” (ibid.). Despite these reservations, the doctors quoted above signed on to the conclusions of the MWG’s report. But Massano Cardoso, who belongs to one of the country’s major hospitals (Coimbra University Hospital) and to the district which included Souselas, did not do so. He considered that there was a suspicion of danger and thus insecurity in the co- incineration process. In a disclosure of how he had voted, published in the medical report itself, he stated that the MWG’s conclusions “had been drawn up so as to make co- incineration of hazardous industrial wastes acceptable” (Barros et al ., 2000: 127). In the interview, he explained that, as a doctor, he could not accept the conclusion that co- incineration was harmless to human health, when he knew that a “polluting structure” already existed in that area, and bearing in mind existing studies:

(…) there are no studies on the effect of co-incineration on human health, nor on animal health. (…) The studies that do exist, (…) are limited to the effects of exposure

155 to dedicated incineration facilities, and to plants which incinerate solid urban waste (…). My analysis of all these studies (…) allowed me to draw three conclusions (…) [First] One working group found no connection between people’s health and environmental exposure resulting from dedicated incineration (…). [Second] Some studies pointed to possible connections. [Third] And other studies showed that there was indeed an effect on human health. (…) In the light of this situation [of studies showing that there are risks to health], by analogy and due to the lack of scientific studies of the connection between co-incineration (…) and human health, (…) it would not make sense for me to accept (…) that people might be exposed to possible [problems]. (Massano Cardoso)

For the other members of the MWG, Massano Cardoso’s statement had no basis in technological and scientific fact (ISC, 2001b: annex B). 5 This disagreement among the experts within the MWG itself strengthened the protest movement and increased residents’ concerns. Opponents of co-incineration interpreted Massano Cardoso’s dissenting vote and the statement made by the other two doctors (despite the fact they had signed on to the MWG report) as proof there were still some doubts as to the public health risks of co-incineration. Amongst opponents of co-incineration Massano Cardoso’s vote was appreciated all the more because he was the only specialist who had knowledge of local conditions in Souselas, but for the Environment Ministry it was an “ideological vote”, given the fact that he came from Coimbra, the local authority in which one of the chosen cement plants (Souselas) is located. The ministry stated that anyone who regarded the vote as a warning of the evils of the method, “was influencing opinion in a very bad way” ( Jornal de Notícias , 13.12.00). The fact that the head of the Doctors’ Association was a member of the MWG in his capacity as representative of the Association, and not in his individual capacity, and that he had come out in favour of co- incineration without discussing the matter within the Association, was also criticised by doctors who opposed the group’s position.

Epidemiological study and co-incineration tests: between the search for control and the inadequacies of science The ISC and MWG reports were available for public discussion for two months, up to the end of March 2001. Those who were critical of the process took ample advantage of this window of opportunity for public debate: the Environment Ministry received the significant quantity of almost 12,000 critical comments. However, going against the grain of the critical arguments coming out of this broad participation, the ISC did not give them serious consideration, alleging that they were not scientifically based (ISC, 2001a: 1). In so doing the ISC demonstrated that the only important criterion was science, to the

5 The fact that Massano Cardoso later became a member of parliament for the PSD – a party which was in opposition at the time of his dissenting vote– raised the suspicion that his decision might have been made for political and not scientific reasons.

156 exclusion of all others, thereby adopting the “naturalistic fallacy” which will be explained below. The Environmental Promotion Institute (IPAMB) too, in a summary report on the comments received, mentioned that very few of the comments questioned the content of the reports on technical and scientific grounds: the vast majority of the opinions simply rejected co-incineration as a process, or rejected the proposed sites. The critiques expressed during the discussion period were the same as those circulating widely in the press and public opinion, which had come mainly from environmental and civic associations. Those directed at the MWG report, despite the fact they were specific to the domain of public health, were not far removed from those outlined in the previous chapter as arguments for and against. In the disagreements between the MWG and some of the medical community there was a conflict over values, worldviews and society, different degrees of trust in science and in monitoring mechanisms, and different understandings of the principles to be adopted in a controversial case involving public health. Once again, we can see that those in favour of co-incineration underlined the certainties, the epistemic adequacy of existing studies, the benefits of the method and the ability to keep the risk under control, while its opponents invoked random and epistemic uncertainties, the inconclusive nature of the studies, ignorance of the synergistic effects of pollutants and the inability to ensure absolute control. Let us examine three of the criticisms directed at the MWG which show this. Many criticised the main conclusion of the MWG’s report, that there would be no additional emissions whether the cement plant produced just cement or also burned HIW – an assumption which was also contained in the ISC report. For the experts, this conclusion could only be understood if it was seen as a part of its overall recommendation that co-incineration should be implemented with tight limits, rules and monitoring procedures. They recognize, for example, that if no limits were set on the maximum concentration of mercury and heavy metals entering the kilns, emissions might increase, and the quality of cement might also be affected. For the opponents, by contrast, the fact that the lack of additional risk was dependent on compliance with legally defined limits 6 and on control mechanisms was something absolutely valueless in Portugal, since environmental control is inefficient, and those who fail to comply with the law go unpunished. The MWG was also criticised for having interpreted the lack of information of co- incineration’s effects on health as “an indication that there are no particular problems” (Barros et al. , 2000: 117). Picking up on one of the main arguments in the ISC report, the MWG also interpreted the lack of scientific studies showing that there were problems with co-incineration as an absence of risk. It is not only in Portugal that this conclusion was

6 On the matter of legal limits on pollutant emissions, see footnote 17, chapter 5.

157 reached – it can be found in several other research reports (e.g. Krohn and Weingart, 1987: 53). The explanation seems to be a simple one, as one of the MWG’s members stated:

(…) when there is something which affects the health of a community, there’s immediately someone who studies the issue. And having studied, publishes. If there is co-incineration and if no studies have been published stating that health problems arise as a result, this is a good indicator, because in our society everyone is always looking for disasters (…) [and] not to prove that the thing is harmless (…).(Jorge Torgal)

Opponents, by contrast, demonstrated the weakness of the argument by drawing attention to the invisible nature of the risk, the long time-lag for many adverse chemical effects and the difficulty of establishing a causal relationship between exposure and clinical manifestations of illness. The lack of studies might be due to the fact that no effects had yet been seen, so one could not thereby conclude that the process was entirely benign. What happened with thalidomide, with X-rays and with nuclear energy might happen with co-incineration: when the prospect was raised of applying these things on an industrial or mass scale, prevailing opinion stated that they were safe or that the risks involved were controllable. The arguments of those who oppose co-incineration reflect not only the European Union concerns 7, but also the characteristics of biochemical risks which are extremely hard to identify, assess, manage and control. According to Carl Cranor, these risks: (1) are not evident or tangible, so potential victims are not aware, and do not understand, that they exist and how big they are; (2) they are characterised by long latency periods, which makes it difficult to study them epistemically and to establish causal relationships between exposure to toxic substances and adverse effects; (3) they are neither evident nor voluntary, so citizens are unable to react to exposure, and this creates a need for greater protection; (4) they raise a number of moral issues, which are all the more serious in that exposure contaminates public resources such as the air, underground water and public spaces, which communities have a right to enjoy freely and without risk to health; (5) they are not easily detected, which means it is difficult or even impossible to control exposure; (6) they do not affect everyone in the same way, so different individuals are subject to differing degrees of risk (Cranor, 2004: 105-109). These characteristics of biochemical risks clearly show the discrepancies between experts’ and politicians’ timescales. The long latency periods for biochemical risks are incompatible with the short timescales within which political action must be taken and

7 On this issue, see the recent EU regulatory framework on chemicals – REACH ( Registration, Evaluation, and Authorisation of Chemicals ) –, that aims to improve the protection of human health and the environment from their toxic effects, to hold the chemical industry itself responsible for the negative impacts of their substances and encourage the search of safer and environment-friendly alternatives.

158 urgent decisions made. Political deadlines force the hand of decision-makers. This does not mean that decisions are taken in any way, but rather that politicians feel pressured by the time frameworks of politics, and are conditioned by what is scientifically known and feasible from the technical point of view. The most publicly controversial item in the report was the proposal to conduct active epidemiological surveillance of the residents of Souselas in order to guard against the emergence of possible risks. This was in fact one of the things which had been demanded by the movements opposing co-incineration, particularly ADAS and CLCCI (e.g. Diário de Coimbra , 04.10.00). However, after the MWG had made its recommendation, these movements interpreted it as a sign that there were doubts about the health risks . It was also judged a contradiction: while the MWG on the one hand stated that there were no additional risks to human health, on the other hand it was recommending that primary prevention measures be adopted, such as refraining from consuming foodstuffs which might be contaminated by pollutants from the co-incineration process (Barros et al. , 2000: 121). But for the MWG the suggestion had been made using the precautionary principle, and represented an additional assurance that the monitoring system could operate effectively to prevent any kind of damage to public health (ISC, 2001). Henrique Barros, in an interview, explained the significance of the surveillance system as a prevention mechanism, using the example of dioxins in the food chain.

There was a factory in Brazil, I think it was in the cosmetics business, which contaminated an area of agricultural land producing citrus fruits. (…) The factory used the orange pulp and leftovers as feed for animals, and those feed rations were exported, in this particular case to be eaten by German calves. Now the Germans had a surveillance system. From time to time they would measure the dioxins in the calves’ milk, so they realized, at a given moment, that the dioxin level had risen as a proportion of the organic compounds overall (…) If you have a surveillance system you can activate systems for investigating anomalies, so they realized that if (…) the calves were full of dioxins, the reason lay in something they were eating which was full of them. What were the calves eating? Where did their food come from? They rapidly got to Brazil and identified the problem (…) What is it that we lack in Portugal and everyone is complaining about (…)? (…) a culture of prevention. Basically, that was what had been suggested. (Henrique Barros)

The epidemiological surveillance programme, which included surveys and clinical examinations (e.g. electrocardiogram, blood pressure, lung tests, blood and urine sampling, psychological and social testing), started in May 2001. But the vast majority (98%) of the approximately 5,400 inhabitants of Souselas boycotted the study. This was the method the civic associations like ADAS encouraged the people to use in order to demonstrate their lack of trust in the working group which was organizing the sample – the ISC and the Centre Region Health Service ( Administração Regional de Saúde do Centro - ARSC) – and to demand that a residents’ representative be included in it. People began to

159 think that the residents of Souselas were going to be guinea-pigs in a process which was full of uncertainties as far as its impact on human health was concerned. This interpretation was reinforced by Henrique Barros’ words at the time, perhaps with the opposite intention of guaranteeing that the local residents’ health would be actively monitored:

If within a year, for example, we find that there has been an overall rise in levels of dioxins in the body – and if it is proven that this has to do with co-incineration – the process will be brought to a halt immediately. Now this type of monitoring can only be done if people take part. Anyone who doesn’t do it today won’t be able to complain tomorrow ( Público , 03.05.01).

In reply ProUrbe, in the person of its chairman Boaventura de Sousa Santos, opined that: “residents of Coimbra are going to have to undertake regular tests over several years in order to decide, at the end, whether or not they have been contaminated.” (Visão , 01.06.00). With these arguments, opponents drew attention to the fact that it was the people of Souselas who would carry the cost burden of the uncertainties and lack of knowledge surrounding co-incineration. Citizens would be exposed until there was some clinical manifestation of illness and until the toxicity of that exposure could be assessed. In July 2001, even though the planned-for epidemiological tests had not taken place, the government decided to go ahead with co-incineration tests. It was planned that once the method had been chosen and the cement plants designated, the ISC should test and evaluate on site the capacity of the kilns to incinerate HIW and measure the levels of pollutant emissions. Depending on the results obtained in those tests, the government would decide to adopt – or not to adopt – co-incineration once and for all. The costs of these tests were borne by the cement industry itself. The ISC’s role was to monitor and control them. Given that this type of test had never taken place in Portugal before, the ISC hired an outside consultant, Joachim Lohse, from a specialist German firm (Okopol), to advice it on how to proceed and how to evaluate the operations. 8 When the tests started, the Souselas residents changed their minds about the epidemiological study. They were now ready to take part in it, because the ARSC had in the meantime invited the doctor who had criticised the process (Massano Cardoso) to join the sample organizing group. However, the main tests began before the sample could be tested. Opponents and residents believed the analyses should take place before the main tests, so as to compare their current state of health with how they would be after implementation of co-incineration. But the ISC and its MWG saw things differently:

8 Curiously, Joachim Lohse had previously been at a lecture on HIW treatment methods in Portugal, at the invitation of Quercus. He is an experienced co-incineration professional.

160 Health assessments, being the first stage of the epidemiological surveillance system, are just one of the ten control measures planned under co-incineration, to be conducted over a period of three years. If any possible long-term effect of co- incineration could only produce some statistical evidence after a long period of time, it is obvious that conducting a test for a few days will not produce any measurable effects, and that is why the ISC believes that these tests should not interfere with the base lines of the definition of the epidemiological study. (ISC, 2001b)

If the procedures for testing had been clear, this might have helped to change the residents’ hostile attitudes, but this wasn’t so. In this connection, environmentalists accused the ISC of not having published the timetable for the tests and of failing to provide other important technical information, such as what was to be burned, its chemical composition, how it was to be burned, what measurements would be taken, etc. According to the critics, the lack of transparency was at its highest when the ISC conducted a mini- test without warning residents or environmental and civic associations. At the time, it was known that the ISC was preparing the Souselas cement plant for the tests, having installed the bag-filters and redesigned the kiln which had been chosen for incinerating HIW, but knowledge that the test had already been conducted came out only from the workers at the cement plant themselves. The ISC accepted that it did not announce the starting date for the tests, because of attacks by opponents (Pio, 2003: 87), but believed that it did not hide the preparations for the test, as it was impossible to hide the presence of enormous containers of sawdust, the staff who would assemble the machinery, the members of the ISC and the firms’ foreign consultants (Cavalheiro, 2003b: 205). The tests went ahead, and finished in October 2001. The ISC announced that the results obtained confirmed co-incineration was harmless, since emissions of dioxins, furans and heavy metals were the same whether the cement plant was operating normally or burning HIW. Quercus and CLCCI criticised these results and accused the ISC of having “deliberately” distorted the tests by burning relatively uncontaminated waste “under ideal conditions” ( Público , 06.11.01). 9 Accordingly, the results could not in any way be used as the basis for the final decision on whether or not to adopt co-incineration. For Quercus, the tests should have been conducted under extreme operational conditions, in other words in the most unfavourable circumstances possible, both in terms of using waste contaminated to or near the maximum allowable amounts, and in terms of the operations of the cement plants (including accidents, start-ups and shutdowns). They argued that this had not happened in the Souselas tests and explained their point of view through the use of the following analogy:

9 This newspaper article explains that the ISC incinerated sludge from the oil refinery at Sines. This contains 50% water, and sawdust was added to it. Under normal circumstances the percentage of water in HIW to be incinerated would not exceed 30%. ISC refuted this allegation (see technical explanation in Pio, 2003: 89).

161 You don’t test a car at 10 mph in dry weather on a motorway. A proper test would take place at high speed, in wet weather, on a tight road with bends (Quercus, 2001: 5).

A “contaminated community” threatened by dioxins Much of the controversy surrounding co-incineration revolved around the question of possible emissions of dioxins and furans. People are afraid of dioxins because they are chemical substances with some remarkably hazardous properties, as pointed out in chapter 3. As far as the conflict over co-incineration in Portugal is concerned, questions surround both the scientific data on exposure to dioxins, for which experts and non- experts adopt differing interpretations, and residents’ perceptions of that exposure. Despite the ISC’s confidence in wastes being burned safely and assurance that pollutant emissions would be no different to those of a cement plant operating normally, residents were afraid of the possibility that dioxins would promote cancerous illnesses. That fear was based on various opinion pieces published in the daily newspaper of the town where the conflict occurred, written by doctors belonging to the Coimbra University Medical Hospital 10 :

More children from Coimbra and its surrounding area are going to die as a result of co- incineration, which will increase the amount of dioxins, furans and a hundred other as yet unidentified toxic substances in the air and in the food chain. For some Coimbra children their mother’s milk, with a strong concentration of dioxins, will be a truly fatal poison, in the literal sense of the word (José Manuel Silva, in Diário de Coimbra , 24.04.01)

Co-incineration in Souselas, with the additional quantity of pollutants which it’s going to release into the atmosphere, may bring even more cases of breast cancer to Coimbra (…) (José Manuel Silva, in Diário de Coimbra , 09.05.01).

In the opinion of the ISC, these and other opinion pieces were alarmist, and disturbed residents for no good reason, because incineration of HIW in cement plant kilns, when carried out under the right technical conditions, would not lead to any increase in emissions of dioxins and furans. Against this, medical doctors and environmentalists who opposed the process drew attention to the local circumstances which might amplify the effects of dioxins and to the influence of environmental factors on the emergence and development of cancer.

10 Later on, in 2002, the ISC took legal action against the professors from the Faculty of Medicine at the University of Coimbra, José Manuel Silva and Carlos Ramalheira, for having produced a document “without any valid basis for showing the existence of additional emissions”. For Carlos Ramalheira, the legal action was “a desperate attempt to silence the opposition to co-incineration, through intimidation” ( Diário de Notícias , 18.01.02). In statement made at interview, I was told that, in addition to the legal action, the ISC asked the Vice-Chancellor of Coimbra University to take disciplinary action against these two lecturers. This request was not acted upon and had no consequences, but, according to those targeted, it fulfilled the objective of intimidating them.

162 (…) its effect on public health (…) depends on a number of circumstances which are local. Because, for example, if because of local weather and climate emissions are directed to a particular place and if, by chance, that place is somewhere where cattle graze, we may have here a small quantity of dioxins which will have an absolutely devastating effect in terms of public health. (Miguel Oliveira e Silva)

As we have already seen, it is difficult to know what the biochemical and toxic risks are, because they are neither familiar nor observable, and their causes, consequences and controllability are also unknown. The fact that cancer symptoms, genetic effects and endocrine or immune system disorders only show up years later makes it difficult, if not actually impossible, to know if they are due to the emission of dioxins by one particular technological system. Shrader-Frechette has illustrated this well in an account of American war veterans who are still trying to prove that their cancers are due to having taken part in atomic bomb tests in the 1950s, and their consequent exposure to nuclear radiation (1980: 97-98). A similar and recent case concerns the probable long-term health consequences after the collapse of the World Trade Center, after the 9/11 terrorist attack. The immediate health effect provoked by the exposure to the massive cloud of toxic dust (asbestos, mercury from the fluorescent light bulbs, lead from computers, etc.) has been coughing and eye, nose and throat irritations. Currently, though, many rescue workers, firefighters, volunteers and residents are suffering from persistent respiratory symptoms and lung infections and there is an ongoing debate about whether or not those signs are related with the WTC. 11 In order to rebut the ISC’s main conclusion, that no additional risks were involved, the CLCCI submitted a counter-experts’ study, based on ARSC data for 1999. That study concluded that the incidence of certain pathologies associated with environmental factors, such as respiratory illnesses and breast cancer, was higher in Souselas and neighbouring parishes than in any other council in the Coimbra district. In the CLCCI’s opinion, the parlous state of health of local residents would make it advisable to adopt a more prudent attitude, to rethink the locations and to carry out more studies. Co-incineration, they argued, would be an additional risk factor and would worsen an already “calamitous” situation (CLCCI, 2001). Carlos Ramalheira, a doctor and professor of epidemiology at the University of Coimbra, and opponent of co-incineration, did the work of scientific assessment of this study and described the results as a “significant alarm bell” which should also put a question mark over the very existence of a cement plant in the centre of a residential area ( Jornal de Notícias , 12.01.01). In general terms, the protest movements (e.g. Quercus, ProUrbe) argued that an epidemiological study should be carried out before any final decision was taken, so as to

11 According to the EPA, the risk for the long-term health effects is very low (http://www.epa.gov/wtc/factsheets/wtchealth.html )

163 investigate suspicions that there might be a hazard, as demonstrated in the CLCCI report. Supporting this position, a specialist body like the Sociedade Portuguesa de Alergologia e Imunologia Clínica (Portuguese Society for Clinical Allergology and Immunology) made a public statement to the effect that the “alarm bell” could not be ignored by decision-makers (Jornal de Notícias , 13.01.01). These warnings and requests for more studies failed to convince either the MWG or the government. For the MWG, in the person of Henrique Barros, the purpose of any epidemiological study was merely to act as a reference value for future comparisons and not as a brake on the decision. There was no question of halting the process, regardless of the results ( Público, 12.01.01). Another study, by the ARSC itself, followed the CLCCI’s and concluded that Souselas had one of the lowest death rates in the Coimbra district as a whole ( Público , 21.02.01). The ARSC thus rejected the alarmist concerns which the CLCCI study had conveyed to residents. Earlier, the ARSC had drawn attention to the fact that the information derived from the indicators used in the CLCCI study was insufficient to determine local residents’ state of health. Faced with all this playing about with data, the ADAS did another survey in which, unlike the epidemiological tests done for the MWG, the vast majority (98%) of the population took part. This survey of the state of health of the population of Souselas, organized by Massano Cardoso and Carlos Ramalheira, again reached the conclusion that the town had specific health problems. In methodological terms, the study made comparison with national criteria possible, because it used survey questions from the 1995-96 Portuguese National Health Survey. Compared to the national average, the survey found a higher proportion of pathologies related to environmental pollution: asthma (“more than double” the national average), chronic bronchitis (“three times”), allergies (“almost three times”) and also diabetes and high blood pressure (Cardoso and Ramalheira, 2001). In this sort of scenario, Souselas can be defined as what the literature calls a “contaminated community”. According to Michael Edelstein (2004 [1988]), it is a residential area located within or proximate the boundaries of an exposure source of pollution. Focusing mainly on a case study of groundwater contamination due to a municipal landfill in Legler, a small New Jersey community, Edelstein shows how this incident had various implications in the life of residents and community. Awareness of contamination led them to re-interpret past and present symptoms of illness and to fear for their own and their children’s health; to assess how threatening the surrounding environment was; to understand how little control they had over their own lives; to stop regarding their home as a psychological refuge and a good investment; to mistrust government institutions. In such circumstances, it is not only the lives of individuals, families and community which change,

164 but also that which the writer calls “the lifescape”, that is, a individual and social cognitive framework for understanding the world. In Portugal, there was no sudden or catastrophic incident like the groundwater contamination which took place in Legler (Edelstein, 2004 [1988]), nor even a release of radiation as at Three Mile Island (Perrow, 1984), nor was a leaking waste dump discovered, as at Love Canal (Levine, 1982). However, in the perception of the people of Souselas, there was an explicit link between the pollution from the cement plant and that small residential area. Local residents had always complained of the impact or the aggregate effect of the various “small hazards” of living close to the cement plant: layers of dust inside the house, in flowerbeds, in graves in the cemetery and in vegetable gardens; the intense traffic of lorries; the noise, and the cracks appearing in the walls of houses as a result of dynamiting in the quarries (see final of chapter 3). Based on an “intuitive toxicology”, as some social psychologists call it (Kraus, Malmfors and Slovic, 1992), residents associated their health problems, the defects in their houses and the environment in general with those signs of pollution which their senses made them aware of. Borrowing Edelstein’s terminology, we may see the opposition of Souselas’ residents as being “active”, involving the “discovery” of the small signs of “incubation” which they had always attributed to the cement plants. It is of course true that the cement plant never generated any protests, either from residents (many of whom work or worked there), or from civic and environmental associations. The decision to implement co-incineration there was, however, an “adequate causality” 12 , to invoke Weber’s concept, for the factory to come to be seen as a major contaminating factor, which made it urgent to avoid having an additional source of pollution, co-incineration. The words of José Manuel Silva, a doctor and professor at the University of Coimbra, are a good illustration of this: in a public meeting in Souselas he said: “You people are being poisoned by something” ( Jornal de Notícias , 15.04.01). All the attempts by opposition movements to identify “local” health problems can be interpreted as an indicator of the effective presence of suffering due to certain illnesses. Faced with discrepancies in the scientific information, residents clearly chose to believe the versions which pointed to the worst-case scenarios in terms of health. The studies emerged to legitimise residents’ concerns with the cement plants as the main cause of their health problems. In line with Edelstein’s conclusions in the study I have quoted above, confirmation that they have been exposed to toxic substances makes people

12 According to Weber’s causal methodology, “adequate causality” (or “causal adequacy”) occurs when certain conditions provide better explanations than others for understanding any given situation. Appropriate meanings are in line with empirical proof (Weber, 1992). The hypothesis put forward here is that the protests against the cement plants were adequately caused by the decision in favour of co-incineration.

165 reinterpret past and present symptoms of illness in the light of the pollution factor. In addition, it creates anticipatory fears and anxieties in relation to future illnesses, lower life expectancy and the genetic legacy they are leaving their children. In August 2001 a new argument for the danger of dioxins emerged. A few months earlier Portugal had signed on to the Stockholm Convention on Persistent Organic Pollutants (POP), which include dioxins. POP are toxic substances which do not degrade, and which accumulate in the food chain. 13 The Convention has identified co-incineration as one of the potential sources of such substances and as an activity which should be abolished in the long term. The government and the ISC, on the one hand, and opponents on the other, interpreted the signing of this convention in different ways. For the former, the convention in no way invalidated the option of starting co-incineration in Portugal, as the opponents argued. For the ISC, co-incineration, provide that it was carried out under the restrictive conditions already defined, was in fact a significant method for reducing the dissemination of POP ( Público , 06.09.01). In their view, the convention was merely introducing some restrictions and recommending the use of BAT for any activities which might produce POP. In addition to co-incineration these include paper factories, crematoria, combustion in the home, etc. For the Environment minister, the convention stated that “countries should control the emission of dioxins and furans; it does not say that they should do away with those activities” which produce dioxins ( Expresso , 25.08.01). Opponents of the process saw in this text a condemnation of co-incineration. The convention seemed to them to be “unprecedented international recognition that co-incineration is in no way harmless” (João Gabriel Silva, in Público , 19.08.01). They also believed that if Portugal should apply the Convention in full it could “show the world that it is possible to solve the problem of HIW without incineration” ( Público , 9.09.01). The fact that the convention affirmed the dangers of both co-incineration and dedicated incineration provided opponents with a justification for stating once again that incineration was not inevitable and that, if they were duly examined, alternatives for many types of waste could be found.

2. “Civic virtues” and political decision The health and environmental issues I have been discussing here in connection with the method of co-incineration are clearly of a political nature. First, because solving the problem of HIW is a decision which serves the common good. In effect, the specific

13 The Convention applies to twelve substances which are of special concern – sometimes referred to as the “dirty dozen club” – and which are to be eradicated or drastically reduced. These twelve POP fall into three general categories: pesticides (e.g. DDT, aldrin, dieldrin); industrial chemicals (e.g. PCB); and unintentional by-products of industrial and combustion processes (e.g. dioxins, furans, PCB).

166 nature of politics is to take decisions which are in the collective interest and which are of vital importance for the life of each and every one of us. Secondly, the issues involved in deciding on co-incineration are of a “biopolitical” nature, to use language normally associated with Foucault, because biological life as such and the environment are objects of state policy and negotiations between governments. In the same way that, since the beginning of the modern era, the development of the life sciences encouraged a tendency for explanations for health and illness to become disembedded from religious and metaphysical contexts, so too the political and social were subordinated to a scientistic interpretation of human nature and to attempts to normalize practices. This new way of caring for, administering, disciplining and controlling the lives of individuals, based on the application of science, statistics and probabilities, tended to reshape those issues so that, not having originally been political, they subsequently came to be recast as political matters. For the reasons outlined above, the management of HIW in Portugal and their effects on public health and the environment are illustrations of a reversal of politics and non-politics, which Beck propounds in the following way: “The political becomes non- political and the non-political political” (1992 [1986]: 186). Hence the importance of asking ourselves how the government should act in a case involving a decision with a strong political impact in a context such as that which I have described here. The commonly accepted definition of democracy is associated with a set of formal criteria – universal suffrage, freedom to cast one’s vote in secret, periodic elections, majority power – and with public acceptance of these rules for the exercise of political power. There is no need to paraphrase and repeat these well-known ideas. For the sake of my argument, if democracy may be viewed as a process through which decisions are taken and policies defined, it is assumed that citizens should take part in this process, on the grounds that decisions should be taken in the name of, and in the interest of, society as a whole. One cannot therefore conceive of democracy without public debate on certain issues which will affect policies, laws, organizations or measures for implementing policies which directly or indirectly affect the public. Such public debates should make it possible to discuss what path the polis will follow. Public debate is an integral part of a set of values, virtues, beliefs, contents and cultural requirements which make true cohesion possible and create a political community. In discussing the complexity of the concept of democracy, the Catalan sociologist Salvador Giner argues that this system should not be seen as just a formal regime of freedoms, subject to minimum criteria of economic distribution and redistribution, but also to the requirements of taxation, constitutionality and political representation. It is also, and above all, a culture, a civic path to living together, a peaceful arena for reconciling

167 divergent interests, an invitation to people to take part, by means of which one expresses one’s membership of a moral community of free men. This conception is relevant for understanding democracy in our time, and it is particularly important for an analysis of societies which have only known democracy for a relatively short time, such as those in Southern Europe (like Portugal and Spain, societies which Giner knows well) and in South America. In the three main approaches to the democratic politeia (liberalism, communitarianism and republicanism), Giner sees the republican political tradition as the public philosophy which faces the least unfavourable circumstances in dealing with the challenges of the modern world. 14 The republican view embodies the best postulates of the liberal and communitarian conceptions of democratic politics 15 , in addition to its own postulates, which distinguish it from the other two conceptions. Republicanism can only operate within the procedural and civil rights limits proclaimed by liberalism, and in the context of the mutual recognition and respect between different individuals and groups which are features of communitarian ideas. While retaining individual autonomy and the particular characteristics of each community (albeit acknowledging the possibility of contradictions which are difficult to manage), the republican model gives priority to the exercise of citizenship. Values such as fraternity, civility, autonomy, the sovereignty of law, awareness of the common interest, and patriotic behaviour are core elements of the republican idea. He proposed a civil society of free and responsible persons, and above all of politically engaged citizens taking part in a common praxis . Although there may be basic universal citizenship for all members of a given political community, what truly characterises the republican idea is the practice of that citizenship as a moral duty which depends on each individual exercising his or her will. For this reason, “civic virtues” is the key concept of democratic republicanism (Giner, 2000).

14 Although Giner’s arguments are made within the democratic republican tradition, he explains that he has not adopted some of the assumptions of the historical legacy of this approach, because they are incompatible with modern conditions. He is interested above-all in recouping the theoretical potential of republicanism to maintain and encourage a democracy which, in addition to providing political representation, involves the greatest possible civic participation, and views liberty, social justice and the common interest from the point of view of the res publica (2000: 140-141). 15 According to Giner, liberal democracy is individualistic, procedural and legalist, having a constitutional core which encompasses the whole of citizenship. Communitarian democracy emphasizes the feeling of belonging to a diverse community, and recognizes the legal rights of the cultures and sub-cultures which are found within every political order (ibid.: 138). In oversimplified terms, which do not do justice to the substantial differences between the three conceptions, we might say that liberalism fragments people and conceives of individuals as sovereign and egotistical persons. Communitarianism isolates them and sees them as tribal beings. Republicanism sees the relationships and insists on the interactive nature of all social life. Thus the republican politeia seeks to overcome the excesses of liberal forms and the charismatic closure of communitarian tribalism. It assumes that citizens and government share responsibility for formulating political decisions (ibid.: 171-172).

168 Civic virtues, or civility, demands good public behaviour, compliance with the law and above all a minimum degree of participation in the res publica, or in that which is “of common interest”. Republican virtues are made up of tolerance, a critical mind, and people demanding information on what goes on in the pubic sphere. It also embodies a belief in the ability of citizenship to act upon and change the conditions of the shared life. Such a belief is possible, not because people naively believe that participation in the public sphere is equitably distributed among citizens, but because there is a common sense of their ability, under normal circumstances, to practice a “civil” citizenship. Without responsible citizens both inside and outside the political class, republicanism is impossible. “Civility” is a minimum ethical requirement. It is ethical because, without moral standards, peaceful coexistence and respect for the liberty of others are impossible; and it is a minimum requirement in order that it may be acceptable to all, regardless of religion, origin or ideology. Thus civility (or “civil citizenship”) is not just a set of standards and procedural methods; it also has a moral content, in that it expresses certain moral values and beliefs about human sociability. It is therefore a culture, and not just a set of standards (Giner, 2000; Camps and Giner, 2004 [1988]). The adoption of democratic republicanism and civility as a secular culture for today is not a panacea, although it does have some advantages. First, it achieves, in an agreeable manner, a substantial degree of social and cultural pluralism. It assumes that we do not all perceive the same common interest (there are feminists, syndicalists, pacifists, environmentalists, defenders of civil rights, etc.). This leads to the establishment of different political communities, which talk to each other. It also accepts cultural differences, in the name of constitutionalism. Secondly, it expresses a belief in the constant rehabilitation and decency of the citizenry. Despite its affinities with what has come to be called the “welfare state”, in other words, with policies of social justice, redistribution of resources and moral readjustment, republicanism is not a political agenda, but rather a democratic and rational concept which is more compatible with the challenges of modern Western societies (Giner, 2000). The republican understanding of democracy and civic virtues is not compatible with a decision on a matter affecting the common good which turns its back on the values and concerns of the people. Behind this statement, as explained earlier, lies the idea that democracy is not just a political system of government, but also a civic attitude which calls on citizens to take part in the management of the res publica . The republican idea believes in the citizen as a being who is capable of rational discernment and ethical judgment, and therefore exhorts him to take part in public affairs, to make himself heard, to think about the actions of government, to demand that the common interest be observed. But, as I have already implied, this spirit of responsible citizenship and the sensitivity to public

169 affairs are unequally distributed in society. In Portugal, even more than in other countries, current levels of political participation show a significant deficit in citizenship and of civic and political action (Santos, 1994; Cabral, 1997; Garcia et al. , 2000b). I will return to this problem below, to tie it in with a deeper understanding of the civic culture of the democratic state under the rule of law in Portugal. Democracy as seen from the viewpoint of civic republicanism allows for different positions, for procedural openness, and for the separation of the function of rule from the function of fact. Expertise, as an element of decision-making in a democratic culture, has to meet those three conditions. Technological arguments on issues which affect the people in general should not be limited to the technical aspects of the problem, nor to an elite of experts, nor should they be governed by procedures which exclude all external monitoring and acceptance. Kristin Shrader-Frechette (e.g. 1980, 1991), a leading investigator on the ethical dimensions of technology and environment-related policy and one of those who has criticised quantitative risk methodologies, as we saw in the previous chapter, draws attention to some of the ethical principles which have a certain affinity with Giner’s idea of “civic virtues”. 16 One of those ethical principles is the free and informed consent of those who will be exposed to the risk, with a right to compensation if they should accept it. According to medical ethics, where this principle originates 17 , imposing a risk on someone is only justifiable in ethical terms if the potential victim, having been duly informed of the risk, consents to it. Certain highly coercive contexts do not allow for that consent to be obtained free of any restraints. 18 Negotiation over compensation should take into account the individual perception of risk, and not just the judgment of experts. Compensation is justified by the values of equity and equal protection for all. If certain individuals run greater risks than others, they should be compensated, especially if the risk is associated with benefits for others who are not exposed to it. Not all social and ethical risk-related costs can be compensated for. If they are, compensation (as well as informed and freely- given consent) is pragmatically desirable because it solves problems of equity and can avoid popular hostility. If they aren’t, then society must decide if the risks are avoidable or necessary. If they are avoidable, society may give up the benefits obtained by incurring

16 These are not by any means exhaustive, but are the ones that she quotes recurrently. 17 This principle has been set up by the Nuremberg Code, formulated soon after World War II, in response to the atrocities which had been committed. Since then, it has become an indispensable requisite to the hospital clinical practice. Available, for example, at: http://ohsr.od.nih.gov/guidelines/nuremberg.html 18 In this connection, Shrader-Frechette offers the following example: a context in which there are few jobs, or poverty, may influence workers to grant their consent to taking on jobs which involve risks. This is true even if, for those jobs, salaries are higher in order to compensate the workers for the risks they are taking (1991: 73-74).

170 those risks. If they are necessary, society has to develop an equitable scheme for providing some form of compensation. Another important ethical principle, which is closely related to the matter of compensation, is that which advocates the greatest possible equity in the distribution of costs and benefits of a given technological system. If a technology benefits society, why should only some members of that society bear the costs? The ethical principle of equity demands that the benefit of the majority should not be obtained at the expense of a minority. 19 In applying this principle, we must recognize that problems arise because no standard threshold (such as the notion of “acceptable risk”) provides all citizens with equal protection from harm. A risk may be judged acceptable on average, but is not necessarily acceptable to the individual. The same pollution factor may affect different people in different ways, according to age, gender, chronic diseases, eating habits, information, and so on. Here the dilemma is between average and equal protection. Another major argument made by Shrader-Frechette is that we should not draw ethical conclusions from empirical facts. Those who would reduce problems to their mathematical or factual aspects, as in risk analysis, and define their acceptability on that basis, are guilty of committing the “naturalistic fallacy”. The naturalistic fallacy today is used in a wider sense than that adopted by its originator, G.E. Moore, at the beginning of the twentieth century: it describes the process of deducing and justifying ethical and social conclusions solely on the basis of technical and empirical considerations. This happens, for example, when decision-makers believe that a scientific property (a risk’s low probability) is a sufficient condition for concluding that a given technological or environmental risk is acceptable, ignoring the need to evaluate it from other angles as well, such as distributive justice, rights and duties, etc. As Shrader-Frechette persuasively argued: “If it were possible to produce ethical directives solely on the basis of scientific facts, then it would be moral to do whatever it was scientifically possible to do” (1980: 94). In the light of these principles, let us analyse the performance of politicians in the co-incineration case. As far as the first principle is concerned, the government tried to impose its decision by administrative means. There was no public participation, and there was no ex ante negotiation, and so citizens felt that the risk was being imposed on them. 20 Incentives and forms of compensation, such as the installing of bag-filters and environmental improvement schemes for the surrounding areas, and, at another level, having the risk independently assessed by setting up a scientific committee and sharing information in public hearings, were discredited, because they only emerged in the wake

19 Because of its complexity and because it demands a philosophical discussion, I avoid any reference here to the author’s remarks on the relationship of utilitarian and egalitarian principles. 20 Psychometric literature of the public perception of risk has documented this point, demonstrating that involuntariness to exposure is one of the characteristics that cause more fear (see chapter 4).

171 of strong protests by local residents, environmental and civic associations, and the opposition parties. A genuine climate of contractual negotiation would have made it possible to build consensus and obtain citizens’ consent. If citizens had taken part and information had been shared, the political decision would have followed some democratic procedure rather than solely expert determination. This was all the more important because the decision on co-incineration involved potential risks to health, environment and public safety in a community which had already had prolonged exposure to pollution. The good measure of setting up local monitoring groups, to include local representatives in the monitoring process, was designed to get around this problem, but it was never implemented. As far as the second ethical principle is concerned, in this particular case equal protection for citizens might have been jeopardized, if the ISC had been wrong about the harmless nature of co-incineration. If the policy of the Portuguese government were to place the burden of risk unduly heavily on one particular section of the population, that would be an “ecological distribution conflict” (Martinez-Alier, 2003) which would have a detrimental effect on environmental justice. Despite the ISC’s having concluded there would be no ill-effects on public health and the environment as a result of co-incineration, citizens were indeed always sceptical of those conclusions: they felt they were victims of power-play games, financial interests and social discrimination. It is in this light that we should judge the CLCCI studies. In demonstrating the deficiencies in Souselas residents’ health, and their vulnerability to exposure to pollutants, they sought to draw attention to the fact that environmental justice criteria were not being adopted, as they should take into account if they are dealing with levels of toxicity for the average population or the most vulnerable members of the population. Finally, the Portuguese government incurred in the naturalistic fallacy in two ways. First, as I hope to have sufficiently demonstrated, only a very restricted range of technical skills were brought into play, as we saw in the membership of the ISC and the MWG. Secondly, the government’s commitment to public debate did not extend beyond the technical issues . A good example of this has already been mentioned: when citizens and associations protested against the co-incineration process, with almost 12,000 individual critiques, the ISC and the MWG rejected them because they failed to meet their standards of technical skill (ISC, 2001a: 1). The ISC tried to show that the risks arising from polluting gases were insignificant by comparison to other sources such as household fires and crematoria. Nevertheless, showing that the risks of co-incineration are low, not easily detectable, or less likely than others from different sources, does not justify the conclusion that the risks should be taken on board. Thus the attempt to reduce political considerations to purely scientific arguments ignores a series of relevant parameters:

172 social and ethical aspects such as the acceptance and distribution of risk, trust in the bodies involved, civic participation, etc. Ethical debates are not resolved by scientific results alone.

3. Politics and science in risk scenarios Political action may be seen as the subordination of means to ends, bearing in mind available resources, the ideals of proportion and reason, and the values of equilibrium and the general interest. That which characterises politics, to use Max Weber’s concept here, is precisely that conjunction of the domain of action and the relationship between means and ends with encouraging a democratic culture which is averse to prophesizing, avoiding the irrational temptations of intolerant factionalism and opportunist pragmatism. It is in the context of this complex relationship that experts take on a crucial role, in that they are always called upon when politicians, having defined their objectives, need to know which means are the right means to achieve them. Based on that knowledge, they then take decisions – the true art of politics – for the benefit of the public good, and for the safety and the future of the collectivity. Because they are governed by these aims, politicians bear a full and heavy responsibility. The particular feature of political decisions is that they not only commit the decision-maker, but the whole collectivity, which will suffer or benefit from its consequences, as a good interpreter of Weberian thought sums up (Freund, 1967). In political decision-making, the higher interests of the collectivity should prevail over private interests or dominant forces. Now the Portuguese government’s decision to implement co-incineration in cement plants was interpreted by opponents as a sign that it had abdicated from politics by accepting the dominant logic of money and technology, in particular the cement plant lobby and the arguments in favour of continuing to pursue an unsustainable economic development model. Only in this way could one understand, so the opponents said, why the government had chosen a final treatment method (incineration), when it should have given priority to prevention, re-use and recycling (3Rs). However, to do the politicians justice, it can be argued that co-incineration seemed to them to be compatible with a 3Rs policy, and above all as a means of solving an old and pressing problem: how to treat the huge quantities of HIW which had been waiting to be treated for decades, how to avoid illegal dumping and exports, and how to make the country autonomous and self-sufficient in dealing with its wastes. In addition, co- incineration was believed not to involve increased risks and was regarded as a flexible process which could be implemented quickly and cheaply. With this decision, and with its commitment to activate regulatory and monitoring mechanisms for the whole process, the government believed that it had safeguarded the well-being of both local residents and the

173 environment. The government consistently argued that the co-incineration method was useful and harmless. The basis of this positive assessment was the convincing fact that it was a method which had already been tried in so-called developed countries with greater environmental demands, such as Germany, Austria, Belgium and France, and that it was a regular practice in major cities like Berlin and Vienna. The government’s view was corroborated by the conclusions of the ISC and the MWG. Despite the fact they recommended measures to monitor and mitigate the risks, none of the committees was opposed to the path outlined by the government (except for the choice of Outão instead of Maceira, which had been chosen by the previous government). References contained in the discourse of the government and the committees shows clear evidence of an image of beneficent technology. Rather than looking to the root of the problem or seeking many different solutions, it was decided to opt for a technical means of treating HIW. The commitment to a “technological fix” (Weinberg, 1966) is based precisely on the idea that using a given technology to solve certain complex social problems may be more effective than pursuing the more difficult strategy of trying to change prevailing social attitudes. This approach leads to the optimistic notion that today’s technology, of itself and without any need for a more environmentally-friendly approach and in-depth analysis of their causes, will solve the problems created by earlier technologies. This enables us to understand one of the points on which there were differences between government and its opponents regarding co-incineration. While opponents criticised the government for dealing (badly) with just one symptom and not really attacking the root causes of the problem, political arguments were based on the idea that it was better to deal with one symptom than to do nothing at all. The point here is not to deny the importance of the technological factor, nor to argue that the technical means are unnecessary or do not effectively solve the problem in part . Rather, it is to recognize the insufficiencies of the application of technical criteria in society as a whole, and to the waste problem, in particular. If we show that technology is a contingent factor in a world in which the damage inflicted on the ecosystem is closely tied to our models of economic development, we may then understand that the essence of the dilemmas we face is to a great extent political and social. This political nature of environmental problems extends to the direction given to scientific and technological research. Co-incineration may be part of a viable and balanced strategy for handling HIW, except for the fact that the complexity of the problem of wastes demands much more than the simple implementation of this method on its own and, above all, that it should not be the main or only destination for those wastes. The publicly accepted objective of the minimization of ecological damage and health risks would seem to demand also that the production of wastes be reduced, that those which can be re-used and re-cycled should so be, that industrial production

174 processes be modernised by installing more environmentally-friendly technologies, that there should be supervision and control to ensure compliance with rules, etc. The way we deal with the shortcomings of the science and technology factor is part of a wider approach to how we see the relationship between economic objectives and environmental problems. That relationship need not be one of zero growth, nor of domination of one sector by the other. On the contrary, environment and economic development may work positively together. The very well-known Meadows reports 21 , for example, link technology with social values. If we are serious about the environmental crisis, we will have to opt for certain kinds of technologies, while an approach focused only on economic growth and ignoring environmental concerns will involve different technologies. In those reports, technologies are viewed as crucial factors for overall equilibrium in the world; they should be co-ordinated with political goals, in particular the rational and balanced control of growth, without falling into stagnation. This approach has inclined to move to new forms of development which will be able to balance economic, social and environmental aspects, such as “sustainable development”. 22 Defined by the 1989 World Commission on Environment and Development (known as the Bruntland report), sustainable development is that which can satisfy the needs of the current generation without compromising the ability of future generation to satisfy theirs. The 3Rs policy fits in with this type of development: given that it is necessary to ration the use of non-renewable resources and avoid the production of wastes, its objective is to achieve ecological stability which will prolong their availability for future generations. It is true that included among the questions to be weighed up as part of the co- incineration process are some which are purely scientific and technological, while others are financial, but a significant part are, to a great extent, of a social, ethical and political nature. The technical aspect involves defining the probabilities, multiplied by the harmfulness and severity of a given risk. But knowing whether this should or should not be accepted by citizens involves much more than an assessment of probability, if only because, as the last chapter showed, a probabilistic approach is neither the only nor the most important factor determining risk aversion. As I have argued throughout this dissertation, the government’s decision-making was void of political debate and of the idea of contractual negotiation (which would have demanded civic participation).

21 See footnote 8 in chapter 1. 22 This idea encompasses other topics which are strictly social in nature, such as poverty, positing a continuum from the physical and natural environment to the human and anthropomorphised environment. This approach has been the focus of a vast theoretical discussion, with countless debates and international papers, of which the paramount example is the Earth Summit which took place in Rio de Janeiro in 1992, and Agenda 21. The European Union has helped by approving European and international protocols for solving serious environmental problems (e.g. the Kyoto protocol, the Carbon Economy).

175 In Portugal, what happened was similar to that which Judith Petts has observed in her various studies on public opposition to waste facilities in the UK: “not only are the public excluded from direct involvement in key waste management decisions which concern them, but these decisions are taken by parties which the public fundamentally mistrusts” (1994: 216). In the Portuguese government’s desire to act there were above all two main aims. The first was the intention of not delaying the decision any further by reason of popular protests or doubts about the scientific reports. Several studies had been carried out and, as far as the government was concerned, everything was in place to make a final decision. The second was the assumption that a matter of national interest was at stake, and the idea that the benefits would override the very low risks. The worst decision would be to take no decision at all, and to maintain the status quo by not handling waste and not knowing where much of the HIW produced in Portugal was being dumped. However, we must bear in mind that political authority which is associated merely with the ability to compel and to sanction, and with the legal monopoly of force, loses the ability to be heard, respected, acknowledged and accepted – in a word, it loses legitimacy – if it neglects processes which take place in society. For political authority to be effective and not to be confused with authoritarianism, its decisions must not only be based on solid opinions as far as possible, in an uncertain and precarious world, but must also be anchored in that legitimacy which can only derive from their acceptance by the people to whom they are directed. This was the necessary condition for the political community in Portugal to remain united and for those holding political power not to suffer a crisis of authority. Taking into account not only the demands of a democratic system, but also the realm of citizens’ sensibilities and social experience, is therefore a key requisite of any political decision affecting the common good, such as the one I am analysing here. Political philosopher Michael Oakeshott draws attention to the importance of not confining the exercise of politics to rational elements, and calls the tendency to apply decisions and plans whereby the only acceptable and valid form of knowledge is the technical, and which are completely divorced from “practical experience” and contextual know-how, ignoratio elenchi (“irrelevance”) (Oakeshott, 1962). In the controversy over the herbicide 2,4,5-T in the United Kingdom, explained in chapter 5, we saw that farmers’ empirical knowledge was directly “relevant” to the analysis of the risk, but that it was devalued by the scientists. This is not to imply that lay knowledge is more important than expert knowledge, but rather that there are different rationalities to take into account. While it is true that the expert is better placed than the layman to assess things scientifically and to make predictions about complex problems, matters relating to the public good belong to all, by means of an informed public opinion and democratic institutions.

176 In this respect, science cannot replace politics. Science itself has its own limitations. Recognizing those limitations does not mean that one ignores the fact that, in the cognitive realm, natural science is sovereign, even if it fails to give all the answers and has some limitations and lack of completeness. There is no valid alternative to science if one wants to know how and why the world functions (Rescher, 1984: 206-218). The sovereignty of science at the cognitive level does not extend to social, political and ethical issues. Politicians themselves, who tend to seek legitimacy by recourse to scientific knowledge, come up against the limitations of science’s own legitimacy. Even though they have scientific arguments in their possession, they finally realize that this knowledge, if held in isolation, is not enough to solve the social, ethical and political problems they face. In situations of danger, risk and uncertainty, science, while being a necessary condition for the decision, is not a sufficient one. While one cannot, and should not, prevent science from being part of the decision, one also cannot, in the name of science, obstruct the contribution to be made by other areas and criteria which are not scientific: the social (e.g. sensitivity of a given community to a particular technology), the political (e.g. the impact of development models or previously identified political targets), the ecological (e.g. the precautionary principle), the economic, the legal, etc. Science’s contribution is necessarily partial, as is that of the other criteria, and all the more so to the extent that the context is uncertain. Such a context demands not that we do without science, but that science should converse with other forms of contribution and other criteria. When a system of governance favours what is regarded as the objective knowledge of technical experts and downgrades the social and political aspects of problems, it can be regarded in a broad sense as a technocratic system. I cannot go into a theoretical discussion of technocracy here, and the way it has been redefined in the modern era, so I will adopt the wider concept put forward by Langdon Winner (1977), which derives from two recent processes both related to new technology: the “technological imperative” and “the reverse adaptation” of ends to means. 23 The technological imperative describes the changes constantly being brought about by technological innovation in order that it may gain acceptance. Citizens have no choice in these changes, which may even go counter to human will, on account of the complexity

23 To understand the meaning of technocracy as suggested by Winner and the two processes he names, his understanding of modern technology should be explained. He believes that its main features are: (a) that it consciously promotes some social groups over others; (b) its size, which is due to both functional and economic needs; (c) its complex and interdependent nature, combining highly heterogeneous and diversified domains which nonetheless need each other. The outcome is a complex assembly which is extremely difficult to understand, manage and regulate. We are very far from a technology made up of individual artefacts and tools used to satisfy obvious needs. What we have now is increasingly complex systems generating uncertainty, which in turn imposes a kind of dependency on human beings and makes it practically impossible to exercise control over the technological realm.

177 factors engendered by megatechnical systems. The reverse adaptation of means to ends describes the situation where the social group tends to espouse as its own the standards and rules imposed by technology: its form of production, its demands in terms of efficiency and speed, its purposes, the order which the complexity of a technological system creates, and the persuasion effect of advertising (and by scientific committees) so as to create new needs and to launch new products. The modern phenomenon of technocracy is therefore not control by a group of technicians, but rather a social order which has lost the ability to manage the complexity generated by the technological system. The new concept of technocracy reveals a society which is subject to great megatechnical systems and economic forces of a transnational nature, which are difficult for political and social bodies to overcome and control. Constrained by the speed, inertia and global nature of this context, the posture of the Portuguese government was less in the traditional image of a “government of technicians” and more one of a political class inclined to short-term technical and economic solutions – which contrast with the long-term nature of current major environmental dilemmas – and to relegating social and political aspects of problems to the background.

4. “Administrative despotism” and the state of “mindless anomie” in Portugal The government’s ineffectiveness in applying the decision on co-incineration and the way the topic came to cause divisions along party lines is demonstrated by the connection between a change in the party in power and a proposal for a new HIW treatment method. 24 In December 2001, the socialist government which had been the driving force behind this policy resigned, and this lead to parliamentary elections in March 2002. With the victory of a right-wing coalition (PSD/PP), parties that had been in opposition until then, the co-incineration project has been definitely stopped. The new Ministry of the Environment, Isaltino Morais, decided to suspend all plans for co- incineration, thus fulfilling one of its manifesto pledges. The scientific committees were also disbanded. At the same time, it again drew on scientific knowledge and commissioned from six universities an inventory of the quantities and types of (ordinary and hazardous) waste produced in Portugal. It should be remembered that, until that time, decisions had been taken and scientific reports produced on the basis of estimates which varied widely and were even contradictory (see chapter 4).

24 This linkage had already been observed before, when co-incineration was suggested by the PS government in place of the dedicated incineration plan of the PSD government.

178 Once the studies had been completed, the elected government announced a new method for treating HIW: the CIRVER, which stands for Integrated Centres for Recovery, Improvement and Elimination of Hazardous Wastes. 25 As their name implies, the CIRVER are a set of complementary facilities: they classify, sort and transfer; they render wastes inert and stabilize them; they treat organic wastes; they recover contaminated packaging; they decontaminate the ground; and they include landfills. 26 This method would enable implementation of a system for managing waste by lines (or types) (i.e. treatment of waste according to type). The objective was to make the country self-sufficient in waste management, avoiding illegal dumping, indiscriminate incineration, and exports, but without creating excess capacity which might encourage waste imports. Support for this plan intensified when, in May 2002, the results of the already mentioned HIW inventory study came out. The study, presented by another Minister for the Environment, Amílcar Theias 27 , concluded that the quantities of HIW produced in Portugal did not after all justify the co-incineration option. The country produces some 254,000 tonnes of HIW, which represents approximately 0.9% of all industrial waste (29 million tonnes). In geographical terms, the Lisbon and Tagus Valley region is the largest producer of this type of waste (with almost 120.000 tonnes). As far as the different lines of HIW are concerned, the study concluded that almost half are spent fuels and solvents (122.000 tonnes). It should be recalled that the possibility of regenerating spent fuels and solvents (and not burning them) had been one of the most controversial issues at stake in the conflict between the previous government and the environmental associations. While the previous survey had mentioned 26,000 tonnes of fuel, out of a total of 153,000 tonnes of hazardous waste, this report stated that fuels totalled 122,000 tonnes, out of a total of 254,000 tonnes. In other words, almost half of HIW could be regenerated, thus significantly lowering the proportion of incinerable waste (MCOTA, 2002). The government’s intention to abandon co-incineration and to go ahead with building two CIRVER was described by the disbanded ISC as “obsolete, and dangerous for the environment and for public health” ( Diário de Notícias , 23.05.03). To prove this, the committee members submitted the results of the HIW incineration tests carried out in the

25 In order to minimize the risks of a plan of this type, the government issued a tender for licenses to build these centres, in which only firms which could prove that they had handled 50,000 tonnes of HIW in the last five years could compete. Once the firms had been selected, the centres would undergo an EIA and go through the environmental licensing procedure. Alongside this plan, it was also envisaged that monitoring committees and a national CIRVER observatory would be set up to monitor their operations. Membership of the public and private bodies which would have membership of these committees would include representatives of non-governmental environmental organizations, at the national and/or local level. 26 In this process, the small amounts which could not be treated in any of the facilities, such as halogenated organic solvents and fuel oil contaminated with PCB and pesticides, would have to be exported (as already happens with batteries). 27 Amílcar Theias replaced Isaltino Morais, who resigned after being accused of tax irregularities.

179 Outão cement plant, which show that there is no increase in the level of pollution and, consequently, that co-incineration is harmless. 28 But the CIRVER were neither built nor implemented. The treatment of HIW was further delayed following the political upheavals which took place in Portugal in 2004. The Prime-Minister, Durão Barroso, accepted the presidency of the European Commission, and this eventually led to the fall of the government and the need to form a new one. The President decided not to call early elections and invited the existing ruling party to appoint a new Prime-Minister. The new government, headed by Pedro Santana Lopes, was to end up staying in office for only four months. For a variety of reasons – financial difficulties, political instability, the Prime-Minister’s own lack of credibility – the President decided to dissolve Parliament and call new elections for February 2005. The PS won a parliamentary majority in these elections. Its leader, José Sócrates, was that same former Environment minister who had most favoured co-incineration. Although the PS in its election campaign had restated its desire to implement that method, and recent developments in government point to its being introduced in conjunction with the CIRVER, Portugal is still without any of the various possible methods. The continuing failure to deal with this conflict over a period of more than ten years demonstrates the inability of a society as a whole (the state, private and public companies, political parties, social institutions, civil society) to solve a problem which is adversely affecting them all. We may perhaps argue that this general harm is due to the difficulty of constructing a democratic state under the rule of law which is not limited to complying with formal rules, but actually shapes itself as a democratic culture, to borrow a concept I have explained above. This difficulty has to be seen in the context of a legacy of long-standing authoritarianism, the fact that Portugal has only been a democratic country for thirty years and is attempting to consolidate that democratic state under the rule of law. To some extent, the development of citizenship in relation to government failed to match progress in modernizing society and the economy (see chapter 3). The reason for this lies in a long history of the ideology and practice of “administrative despotism”. This concept, suggested by Villaverde Cabral, owes a debt to Tocqueville’s analysis of the French state before and after the French revolution, and describes “a form of government preventively voided of politics and contractual negotiation” (Cabral, 2006: 168) or, in other words, a model of government which inhibits the liberal and democratic practices of civic participation. The power of the state administration, which endured both in the Portuguese liberal state of the nineteenth century and under the Salazar dictatorship, tends to encourage the continuity of authoritarian ties in relations between the citizen and the state. In this light, it is useful to

28 In the same period, the committee published a book containing various opinion pieces on the co- incineration case, written by members of the ISC (Pio et al ., 2003).

180 interpret the government’s failure to accept residents’ participation, and its adoption of a strictly technological rationale (before and after the convening of expertise) as the practice of an administrative despotism of a technocratic nature. Only in this way can we understand the combination of such apparently disparate factors as, for example, the lack of environmental responsibility evidenced by the fact that until 2002, as we have seen, there was no proper inventory of the types and quantities of HIW produced; the systematic lack of consensus among the two main political parties (PS and PSD) regarding the technology to be adopted for treating HIW; the problems of the lack of procedural transparency (in the EIA, in the setting up of scientific committees, etc.); and the suspicions surrounding the financial and energy interests of the cement plants and the funding of political parties; residents’ feelings of being “far removed from the centres of power”. The performance of the Portuguese state in connection with the problem of how to treat HIW is characterised by the practice of an administrative despotism of a technocratic nature , which is reflected in a high degree of societal ineffectiveness, in other words, a failure to observe legally established rules and standards. Some of the facts recounted in chapter 3 demonstrate this societal ineffectiveness: legislation requiring industry to treat its wastes and to complete forms giving details of how much waste it has produced has been in place since 1985, but none of these things happen; in addition, several studies and institutional measures, such as the PNAPRI and PESGRI, which put forward measures to reduce waste production, were never implemented. These are situations in which current practices fall far short of what the law provides for, either because the existing legal and normative framework is not the most suitable, or because the circumstances are not right for producing effective results. The lack of control, and the fact that environmental transgressions in Portugal go unpunished, is a part of this. The result is that the costs of non-compliance are lower than the benefits to be obtained through that lack of compliance. In the example just quoted, the fine for non-completion of the waste production form is risible, so that the option not to declare the wastes, and to contaminate the country, or even to pay a fine, comes out cheaper than treating them (Vieira, 2003: 200). It is important to stress that I do not believe this situation of societal ineffectiveness in environmental matters to be specific to Portugal alone, or to countries similar to it such as those of Southern Europe. In actual fact, some of the general characteristics outlined here apply to all modern democracies, both as far as effective citizenship and measures to deal with the global environmental crisis are concerned. However, these problems are particularly serious and paralyzing in a country whose “real civil society” is marked by “communicational and political relationships between elites and masses [which generated]

181 a lasting form of authoritarian rule, and not even the liberalization of the party-political system, nor universal education, nor even economic growth and social mobility, have succeeded over the last quarter-century in eradicating in the representations and practices of most Portuguese a general feeling of being ‘far removed from the centres of power” (Cabral, 2006: 177). A climate of non-compliance with rules and standards, even when they are enshrined in legislation, and where everyone comes to worse off, can be interpreted as a type of “mindless anomie”. This is a concept inspired in Durkheimian ideas which has been put forward by a number of sociologists (e.g. Girola, 2005) to describe a law- disregarding political culture, or a state of normative non-compliance and societal ineffectiveness, typical of Latin American countries and which I believe can be extended to apply to Portugal, for the reasons already outlined. In these contexts, non-compliance with rules and standards is associated with illegal activity; it occurs not because there is no legal framework, but because the laws are not applied. The Durkheimian inspiration for the idea of mindless anomie should be seen above all as a resource which allows us to understand certain significant processes, despite the changes in its reach and theoretical content which have taken place in the time since its was originally formulated at the beginning of the twentieth century and today (Girola, 2005). To see certain processes of life in society as expressions of mindless anomie should not blind us to the fact that many of the typical manifestations of Portuguese society do not fit into this concept. A broader analysis is required, one which focuses on the question of power, on the difficulties of inclusionary politics, on levels of discrimination, and on the requirements of a democratic culture. Portugal does have some similarities with those countries. The inability of the more important political (and also economic) entities to perform their duties, and ensure compliance with the law, is mirrored in the behaviour of citizens. This means that in societies such as Portugal, a democratic state under the rule of law is of restricted application. Civil society in Portugal has failed to internalise the explicit rules which, in a fully law-abiding democratic state, would demand regulation of HIW treatment. This is even truer of the mechanisms of the state, which have failed to operate according to legitimate values and principles which would work to ensure effective social regulation. For this to have occurred, it would have been necessary to combine proper laws and standards with democratic discussion of them and clear application of procedures. The co- incineration case meets the first of these conditions, but fails on the second and third, which are precisely those which would constitute elements of the democratic culture. These circumstances led to a whole society being worse off, to a “mindless anomie”, under which societal ineffectiveness produced dysfunctionalities and frustrated

182 the objectives which it had been hoped to achieve. The co-incineration case is a good example of this, and it is visible in the performance of the various actors. In institutional politics, none of the successive governments – and none of the parties which supported them – was able to implement a suitable technical system, nor to impose its political authority, and these facts contributed to their image of ineffectiveness. In the scientific realm, the committees of experts, which were set up after the government had announced its intended decision, were seen as not being independent and correct, and as having failed in their social regulatory role. For society as a whole, the HIW problem remains unsolved after more than two decades of efforts to solve it. At the local level, the communities potentially affected by co-incineration are still afraid that the method will be implemented in their areas, and that they will fall victim to its effects on public health and the environment. The focus of the conflict on the sites chosen for implementation of co- incineration did not help to give the HIW issue, and the need to find a solution to it, national as opposed to just local visibility. In industry, businessmen continue to pay a heavy price for exporting these wastes, while the less scrupulous continue to break the law by dumping them illegally. Even the cement industries came out less well off: without co-incineration of HIW, they lost out on significant energy savings and on the revenues which would have come from other industries paying for their wastes to be eliminated. 29 At the supra-national level, the country reveals to its fellow member-states in the European Union the extent to which it has internal difficulties in solving its environmental problems. Finally, the technology of co-incineration came out largely discredited, as had occurred with dedicated incineration.

Conclusion Bringing in the new medical expertise to assess the impact of co-incineration on public health was a final attempt to find an authority which would provide complete and supplementary assurances to back the decision to implement that particular method of treating hazardous wastes. Despite the fact this committee concluded that co-incineration was not harmful to human health, the decision was not carried out, discussion continued and the conflict persisted. The hidden aspect of public health, which was part of the environmental problem of how to treat HIW, came out into the open when the medical committee was appointed. Even so, it remained a political issue, not only on account of the central position which health occupies in the modern world, but also because of the fact that the potentially

29 Even so, the cement plants benefited from government subsidies for installing bag-filters, which were mandatory. Under different circumstances, their costs would have been borne exclusively by the plants themselves.

183 vulnerable residents had lengthy experience of exposure to contamination. 30 It would be difficult to explain the extent of the protests and why affected residents’ concerns focused on the public health issue if we were not already aware of the existence of what I have earlier called “pollution trauma” (see chapter 3). For these “contaminated communities”, public health and quality of life and the environment had long been threatened by a cumulative exposure to pollution from the cement plant, which gave them reason to fight against what they judged to be an additional pollution factor. Even without co-incineration, they felt they were already being “punished” for living near cement plants and “victims” of its pollution. Neither local residents nor the opposition movement in general were convinced by the MWG’s assertions that the risks were minimal and “socially acceptable”, because they depended directly on the proper operation of the whole sequence of the co- incineration process. Three key points are to be drawn from the controversy surrounding the conclusions of the MWG’s report, which affected even the internal workings of the committee itself. First, there was no scientific consensus on the size of the risk to public health as a result of dioxin and furan emissions. The MWG‘s conclusions were that the risks were quantitatively low, and that a process of controlled combustion was even an efficient way of destroying those pollutants (thus complying with the Stockholm Convention). While the committee felt those conclusions were justified in the light of existing medical knowledge, opponents (doctors, opposition parties, civic and environmental associations) took the exactly opposite view. Secondly, the conclusions revealed the existence of a sizeable conflict over the definition of the ethical and social acceptability of the method. For the MWG, the acceptability of the risks of co-incineration was inferred from the fact that there would be no additional emissions and that it represented a way of dealing once and for all with the problems of uncontrolled incineration and illegal dumping of HIW. Opponents, on the other hand, argued for the precautionary principle and for protecting residents, given that there were scientific doubts over, and a lack of consensus on, many of the effects of exposure to dioxins and other polluting fumes, and broad margins of uncertainty, ignorance and indeterminacy deriving from the long latency periods and the unclear nature of the risks involved. Thirdly, different assessments of the ability to monitor and control risks were involved, as well as differing priorities, conflicting interpretations of how open the process was, and differences in the emphasis given to scientific data. Once again 31 we can see that those in favour of co-incineration stressed the epistemic adequacy of existing

30 As already mentioned, although it is not the object of this research, the impetus of the social movement is a constant underlying feature and a kind of indispensable background for understanding the case. 31 See the conclusions about the conflict between ISC and some scientists described in chapter 5.

184 studies in order to justify the political decision, the benefits of the method and the ability to control risks, while opponents invoked the generally inconclusive nature of the studies, the general ignorance surrounding the synergy effects of pollutants, and the inability to ensure total control. To justify the non-occurrence of risks, supporters put forward solutions which were limited by the logic of science. That is why they recommended that there should be control measures for emission levels, that HIW should go through the pre-treatment unit first before being incinerated, and that there should be active epidemiological surveillance. Opponents stressed the inherent limits of science in a scenario of epistemic uncertainties, the lack of knowledge and indeterminacy, and the need to find environmentally-friendly technological solutions. In seeking to make a decision based only on the conclusions of the experts it had summoned, the government appeared to overlook the widely accepted principle that the general interest cannot be expressed other than in specifically political terms. In this connection, it is important to recall that technological options always have a social and political side, and should therefore be viewed by society as bearing on the public interest, demanding participation. The need to disentangle the scientific aspect from the social and political aspects of environmental problems was shown to be crucial in this case. This became even clearer when discussions of risk scenarios and potential damage became social and political issues. On its own, and lacking a scientific consensus, science was unable to decide between risk horizons and uncertainties. The fact is that the environment, and biomedical and epidemiological effects, which were precisely those at stake with co- incineration, are in the nature of a common good. In the framework of a democratic culture, a political decision on a common good has to take into account the perceptions and concerns of those who benefit and those who suffer from the impact of those goods. The public sphere is, par excellence , the field in which, with due reliance on the contribution to be made by scientific knowledge, it should have been possible to place the data supplied by the experts alongside other criteria which might justify the measure, in particular ecological, social and ethical criteria. It was not only the scientific validity of the chosen option which was at stake in the decision to adopt co-incineration, but the correctness of procedures, the appropriateness of the criteria and the balance and responsibility to be applied when dealing with controversial situations. Hence the fact that the lack of trust in the degree of openness with which the whole process was dealt with, the various episodes of which I have outlined in the course of this chapter, encouraged the notion that there had been machinations in favour of co-incineration and that the experts were acting in line with government interests. The way the issue was managed politically, under an administrative despotism of a technocratic nature, determined the final outcomes. The politicians’ retreat from the

185 technical solution, and the residue of social ineffectiveness which was left from the failure to implement the decision, brought about a situation in which all those involved ended up as net losers – a “mindless anomie” situation as I have elaborated in this chapter. On the one hand, it is clear that the way interested citizens and associations took part in the process did not afford a genuine opportunity for democratic discussion, which might have made the decision more legitimate and acceptable. It thus went against the grain of a republican and civic virtues interpretation of democracy. On the other hand, party-political interests unceasingly sought advantage in the case, for electoral reasons, and this was an obstacle to any attempt at achieving a compromise agreement between the party of government, the opposition parties, and other bodies, in order to solve a problem which they all acknowledged to be urgent. While it is true that there is no zero-risk society, it is also true that a democracy, especially one understood to follow republican principles, as outlined above, can establish institutional partnerships which are governed, not by the idea that we can exercise total control over chance, but by mechanisms of participation and procedures which ensure accountability and transparency, in order to deal with the uncertainties and indeterminacies of modern life and to decide democratically what risks we are willing to take.

186 CONCLUSION

1. The impasse in the treatment of HIW in Portugal As this dissertation reaches the final, the management of hazardous industrial waste and the co-incineration option is still very much in the news and in the political agenda. Almost twenty years after the first plans were drawn up to solve the problem, Portugal still has no treatment method for HIW, and the topic is as controversial as ever in Portuguese society and politics. The last attempt to find a destination for this type of waste – which tied co-incineration to the CIRVER (integrated hazardous waste treatment centres) 1 – achieved consensus among the various stakeholders and produced a period of calm. Indeed, in March 2006, the former scientific commission (the ISC) submitted a new scientific report with a joint analysis of the two treatment methods. Everything finally seemed to be on track. Recently, however, it has come to light that the local authorities affected, supported by environmental and civic associations, have taken out court injunctions to put a stop to the incineration of hazardous waste in the selected cement plants, accusing the government of persisting along a path which seeks merely to speed up the move to co-incineration and not issue licences for the CIRVER, because it has exempted the cement plants from carrying out new Environmental Impact Studies, even though the most recent ones date from 1998 ( Público , 04.08.06; Diário de Notícias , 02.11.06; Público , 14.11.06). This research project is coming to an end with no solution having been found, and with the debate on how to deal with HIW in Portugal still ongoing. This state of affairs represents a serious impasse in environmental policy in Portugal in that, as I have shown at the beginning of this study, the problem of waste is directly connected with the most urgent and important questions of the modern world. European public perceptions already reflect a concern with the continuing increase in waste: for 30% of Europeans, this is one of the most pressing problems, according to data from the 2005 Eurobarometer on Attitudes of European Citizens Towards Environment. A figure as high as this is an acknowledgment that the world is turning into a wasteland, in which wastes have come to symbolize the mass throwaway culture and are the by-product of an industrial economy built on the over-exploitation of resources. Even the problems which figure higher up on the list than “growing waste”, such as “climate change” (45%), “air pollution” (45%) and “water pollution” (46%), are, in part, a consequence of waste. Errors, ignorance and unforeseen events in waste treatment systems, whether of hazardous industrial waste,

1 Since the CIRVER are able to handle some 90% of HIW, the remainder can either be exported or incinerated. Thus co-incineration could be an option for this small portion of wastes.

187 hospital waste or solid waste, can give rise to problems of pollution of water, ground and air, thus contributing to overall damage to the climate. In Portugal, the lack of a hazardous waste treatment method is particularly serious when looked at in the context of the globalization of the environmental crisis. Portugal is one of seven European countries (in the EU-15) that have failed to implement the Kyoto agreement, and one where the spectre of climate change now dominates the political agenda in the light of the complicated scenarios put forward in the a recent report commissioned by the British government (the Stern review on the economics of climate change). 2

2. The research in summary and conclusions The case I have studied is the longest, the most heavily contested and the most widely discussed environmental conflict ever to take place in Portugal, and one of the biggest environmental and public health issues facing the country. To make a long story short, I will recall here that, in broad terms, the decision to go for co-incineration was the work of a government of the left, which signed an agreement with the cement plants to incinerate HIW in their kilns. This decision reversed the previous government’s controversial choice to build a dedicated waste incineration infrastructure from scratch. In line with the recommendations of the EIS, but going against an opinion commissioned by the government itself advising it to delay the decision, two locations were chosen for implementing the method. Protests broke out at once, particularly in the towns which had adverse experience with pollution from cement plants. In response to the protests, which were widely reported in the media, and the doubts and anxieties of local residents, the government decided to call on a committee of experts to give a scientific opinion on the risks of co-incineration. The opinion of this committee, designated by the acronym ISC and formed by chemists, engineers and medical experts, would be binding. In its report, the committee stated that the risks of co-incineration were low and acceptable, thus backing the government’s preference for this method. The protests intensified, however, with one of the strongest concerns being the possible emission of dioxins and their effects on public health. In order to dispel any such doubts, a working group was subsequently established, only formed by medical professionals (the MWG, Medical Working Group), which likewise concluded in favour of co-incineration, but not unanimously. The fact that tests of the co- incineration method, the aim of which was to prove empirically that the method was harmless, were carried out before the health levels of affected residents’ health had been assessed, as they had been promised, exacerbated the existing crisis of legitimacy. The

2 This review, chaired by Sir Nicholas Stern, a former chief economist at the World Bank, states that the world faces catastrophe unless urgent measures are taken to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. The review also states that the cost of inaction could be a permanent loss of 20 per cent of global output ( The Independent , 31.10.06).

188 protests only came to an end in 2002, when a right-wing coalition government, which had promised in its manifesto that it would suspend the co-incineration process, put forward the proposal for CIRVER Integrated Centres, with support from environmentalists. The main aim of this dissertation has been the analysis of the interplay between scientific expertise and political decision-making in the long-running conflicts over the government’s decision to make co-incineration the principal method of treating HIW in Portugal. This particular case enables us to analyze the place of scientific expertise in the political decision-making process in relation to topics which are technically complex and which involve significant health and environmental risks. It is also a good test of how a country like Portugal, which is less developed industrially and where democracy is of relatively recent vintage, is located in terms of its civic culture in debates over matters of common good. It is on these issues that my conclusions are centred, bringing together the theoretical framework and empirical observation. The conflict over co-incineration falls within the field of “manufactured risks” which stem from human decisions and models of economic and industrial development using technologies which are particularly dangerous to health and the environment. The problem at its heart – waste – has certain characteristics which different thinkers, regardless of their differences in other respects, describe as among the risks and uncertainties of modern societies. Wastes are anthropogenic, engender latent risks to human health and to the environment, many of their effects are being irreversible and invisible, they and may have long latency periods and extend widely into time and space. They are also coupled with the difficulties of scientific interpretation and institutional management. Technological, scientific and natural risks give afford experts a primary role to play in advising politicians on what to do. These risks generally often require politicians to take urgent decisions, and expose both the limitations of existing knowledge, as well as the limits in the ability to control and predict them. Their technical complexity, their potential for controversy, and the very short period of time available for making the required forecasts, are major factors affecting the role detracting from the capacity of expertise in providing to provide reliable and acceptable scientific and technological answers. The type of analysis carried out by experts tends also to be limited to technical aspects, and to confine itself to the probabilistic aspects of risk. But waste goes beyond the scope of that concept and it its mathematical origins, because the contingencies of waste cannot normally be captured in numerical terms, and their consequences often remain hidden or latent (and invisible until they eventually appear over the long term) for long periods of time. I will come back to this point when outlining the relevant conclusions below. Waste, as a phenomenon with possible repercussions on the environment and public health, is a new political topic today. This is because it embodies “in itself, in an

189 intrinsic way, a demand for action” (Roqueplo, 1993: 61). In my introductory chapter I outlined the general background to the politicization of the topic, which today implies different levels of regulation: local, national, European and international. Any strategy or policy which Portugal may adopt has therefore European and international implications which require it to implement a 3Rs policy, to promote sustainable development, to implement measures which will achieve, inter alia, self-sufficiency in waste treatment, and restrictions on exports. As we saw in chapter 3, Portugal is a country with an intermediate level of development whose legislation follows that of more advanced societies, but where operational guidelines and the actual practice of politics fall far short of the legal framework. The environmental sphere is a typical example of this phenomenon. Portugal has extensive environmental legislation, in line with EU directives, but the country’s economic and social development has taken place on the back of the acceptance of heavily polluting industries (such as the cement sector, but also cattle-raising and petrochemicals), greater social and political permissiveness in relation to pollution than more developed countries, ineffective anti-pollution controls, and excessive energy and raw material utilization. Any analysis of the contribution of expertise to political decision-making in the conflict over co-incineration in Portugal must start out by stressing the fact that the scientific advice did not come before the decision, as would normally be the case. As evidence produced in chapter 4 confirms, the government decided to implement co- incineration, but, when faced with protests, changed direction, deciding that it should after all allow experts to define the path to be followed, while government would merely make it possible for the method to be implemented in practice. But when the experts were summoned to outline the path, it was already partially mapped out. The whole process of setting up the ISC was thus arguably distorted from the outset. Research on the way the committee acted shows that it did not limit itself to an advisory and scenario-outlining role, but rather became one of the key players in the whole process, and even took it upon itself to be the main advocate of the method, thereby making itself a target for criticism. The government’s intention had been to safeguard against a chorus of opposition voices. It sought legitimacy for the co-incineration method in the authority and prestige of scientific expertise. However, as I have demonstrated throughout this study, not even scientific and technical knowledge can ensure legitimacy, not does it hinder the search for alternative waste treatment methods which may be more in line with a concern to protect the environment and promote sustainable development – as indeed happened when the suggestion of the CIRVER emerged. When the committee of experts came on the scene, the problem of what to do with HIW became a technical matter to be dealt with exclusively by experts. This assertion is

190 based on three inter-related observations. The first is that, in calling on scientific expertise after having announced its decision, and being on the receiving end of strong protests, the government in a moment of severe crisis “confiscated” the expertise (to adopt an idea from the literature on expertise, cf. Roqueplo, 1997), thus demonstrating its need to seek a posteriori legitimacy and justification for a decision it had already taken. The ISC was thus a legitimating scheme for a decision already made by politicians, a kind of an expertise ex machina in which experts were looked upon as the problem-solvers. This placed scientific expertise under great public and political scrutiny and pressure, irredeemably damaging its credibility and independence. The second observation, which derives from this confiscation of expertise, is the negation of politics. In making the committee’s opinion binding on itself (and not merely consultative), the government abdicated its decision-making role. The responsibility for the decision was thus transferred to the scientific arena. This not only represents a delegation of responsibility, but also allows others to situate the problem within the realm of pure technological reasoning. The failure to establish specific functional lines of demarcation for each of its two spheres of activity was heightened even further when the ISC, in addition to assessing the various different HIW treatment methods, went beyond its own area of expertise and pronounced on where to locate the co-incineration facilities, a task it had not been assigned. The third and final observation is that the idea the decision should be merely technical and not political was emphasized still further by the fact that the ISC’s membership was drawn entirely from the fields of medicine, air quality and chemical engineering. There were no representatives from other relevant fields (such as biologists, specialists in ecology and ethics, sociologists and social psychologists) or from the community. This civic and disciplinary limitation may even have helped the committee collectively to achieve a certain homogeneity in adopting a risk assessment framework based on the natural and medical sciences, but it hindered a broader examination of the problem that cut across different scientific disciplines, forms of knowledge, natural and social processes. The fact that the members of the ISC had no experience or specific practical knowledge of co-incineration, as was stipulated in the legislation under which the committee was set up in order to ensure its independence, might have lead one to believe that the committee would submit its conclusions with a view to engaging in a dialogue with other scientists and with citizens, whose knowledge and experience might have been valuable. Taking these points together, the conclusion is that both government and experts shared a technocratic approach which sees the dilemmas of modern society as straightforward technical issues. The technocracy hypothesis (Winner, 1977) is explored in chapter 6, and ties in with my explanation of risk and the different types of uncertainty,

191 seeing the phenomenon of technocracy as a social order which combines three characteristics: citizens have no choice in the constant changes taking place, which are driven by technological innovation; megatechnical systems whose complexity may set in motion irreversible processes; technology’s need for efficiency, speed and productivity tends to be regarded paramount. We may thus come to understand why the technical method for treating HIW (co-incineration) was put forward as being able to solve the problem of waste, and how the need to combine it with social and political reorientations regarding its origins was relegated to a secondary level. This approach to dealing with “symptoms”, rather than with “the underlying disease”, diminishes the significance of other aspects of the problem (in this particular case, the models of development, the residents’ perceptions of risk, the credibility of the institutions involved) and fails because it is unable to see the limits of scientific and technical competence. In this context, if all problems can and should be reduced to technical issues, then technocracy renders public debate pointless, politics loses its essence and groups of experts could be deployed to determine complete and binding solutions to an ever-increasing range of social and political problems. The understanding of expertise itself is distorted, because it becomes a replacement for politics. The interpretation of politics which pervades this thesis can be described as a process of politicization which includes not only decisions taken by political entities as such, but also intense ideological debate and the involvement of the whole political community in the decision. Having once been “confiscated”, the expertise which should have been used to outline various possible scenarios, offered the scenario which the government had already decided on: co-incineration. I have argued, therefore, that the context of crisis in which expertise operated affected the way in which scientific and technological knowledge and the framework for risk analysis were produced. The fact that the ISC’s conclusions and the government’s prior decision coincided in no way means that there was any conspiracy, or some prior strategic alignment; it should rather be interpreted as an elective affinity deriving from a shared technocratic approach. The ISC and MWG experts did indeed come down in favour of co-incineration, not because they lacked independence, as many opponents alleged, but because they based their analyses on a conception of probabilistic risk which disregarded significant political, psychological, social and ethical aspects and different types of uncertainty. This was not unexpected, in as much as, as I mentioned earlier, the committee was strictly technical in nature. By looking at the committee’s reports and opponents’ criticisms through Brian Wynne’s typology, explained in the introductory chapter and elaborated further in chapters 5 and 6, I hope to have demonstrated that, besides the elements of “risk” and “uncertainty”, “ignorance” and “indeterminacy” also play a part in the appraisal of the co-

192 incineration process. In the opinion of the experts, the risks of co-incineration, namely the likelihood of human health and the environment being threatened, were negligible and, therefore, acceptable. The co-incineration was at least as safe as the cement plant activities and its risks were, under a set of precautions, held to be containable. No damage or adverse effects were expected to occur, as long as the process would follow stringent monitoring and regulatory measures. These conclusions were submitted as having been proved beyond doubt, with an apparent sense of certainty and confidence in the data collected. They assumed that absence of evidence of harm meant evidence of absence of harm. For both expert commissions, the existent scientific knowledge was a sufficiently sound basis for action and for enforcing the decision. The ISC and the MWG failed to allow for the complexities and unknowns, the ignorance and the indeterminacy within the field. In this respect, their conclusions ran counter to the approach taken in this thesis according to which the outcome of scientific expertise is a “reasonable knowledge based as far as possible on objective grounds” (Roqueplo, 1993; 1997) or knowledge which explains the limits of what is objectively knowable and sets out the uncertainties, contingencies, and areas of ignorance. To recall the arguments of chapter 3, hazardous waste has a multistage behavioural-technical life- cycle, intrinsic and situational risks, and is characterized by ignorance and indeterminacy in basic parameters. That is why the difficulty of applying rigid systems of monitoring and control is all the greater the larger the number of different social actors involved (e.g. treatment workers involved in handling, incinerating or transporting HIW, inspectors, local regulatory bodies, etc.) and the more indeterminacies there are, deriving from the open and situational nature of the damage caused by human action. Only if we could control society in such a way as to implement the assumptions inherent in the formation of scientific thought could risks be positively defined. But as soon as we consider possible accidents which might occur when waste is being transported or handled by cement plant operatives, or even in the process of homogenization which they undergo at the pre- treatment unit, we are bringing the “human factor” into the discussion, and here uncertainties should more properly be described as indeterminacies (Wynne, 1992). The experts’ conclusions were strongly contested by a diverse group of opponents. Moreover, there was internal division within the MWG, with one of its members refusing to sign its report. Academics who had significant credentials in relevant fields, various pressure and campaigning groups (environmental and civic associations), who had themselves technical expertise to offer, and local residents themselves were all part of the group which criticized the experts’ conclusions, each of them having different skills, motivations and interests. Some believed there was sufficient cause to drop the co- incineration project entirely, and put forward alternative methods such as dedicated

193 incineration. Others were prepared to accept co-incineration if parallel measures were implemented, such as monitoring committees and a 3Rs policy. In general terms, these critiques questioned the assertive and confident tone of the ISC, and made it clear that the evidence emerging from the few available studies was inconclusive and contradictory. The arguments between the expert committees and some members of the scientific community covered the co-incineration method itself, the content of the scientific reports produced, and the formal aspects of the way the committees themselves had been set up and how they operated. The debate was far more than a conflict over scientific opinion on the technical magnitude of the risks in question. It was also a vehicle for discussing the regulation of risks and their social acceptability, models of economic and industrial development, trust in science, the ability of the state and designated officials to control and monitor, and whether those who had been chosen as experts were appropriately neutral and independent. In latent form, the debate contained all the elements of a discussion on how open decision-makers are when they make decisions which involve the common good and which have social and ethical implications. Despite the fact that local residents and cooperative movements took a significant part in public hearings on the ISC and MWG reports, their specific criticisms were not taken into account. The experts regarded them either as being outside the remit of their investigation, tainted by local prejudice and/or technically unsound. It is true that the ISC took part in various public debates and showed willingness to engage in dialogue with opponents of the method (the forum on the ISC’s website is a good example of this), but unfortunately neither the committee nor the government were able to counter the prevailing notion that co-incineration was a random measure and that there was no long- term vision for waste treatment. They also failed to do anything about the fact that, for residents, those arguing in favour of the method were the same bodies which had earlier consistently accepted that their environment could be contaminated, and whose power of persuasion was therefore nil – cement plants were blamed for causing contamination and the government was blamed for inadequate prevention, oversight and response. The only new factor which might have regained residents’ confidence – the expertise – emerged in confiscated form, and therefore lacked genuine credibility. In this general context of lack of trust, a necessary step would have been to involve the residents. The idea of setting up Local Monitoring Committees was a good one, but this measure was never implemented. The decision therefore fell outside the political sphere which is, par excellence, the democratic debate. The summoning of expert knowledge is surely desirable and useful, but the wider debate that is associated to with democratic action seems essential in a democratic polity. Such open debate may, moreover, lead to solutions which differ from those put forward by the experts. As Giovanni Sartori (1987) recalls, under democracy,

194 debate is of a higher order than truth. In addition, in acknowledging the inherent limitations of scientific knowledge, we should not expect technological reasoning (such as risk assessment) to become the only means of defining the criteria for a given technology, nor that it should be able objectively to weigh up the different risks and benefits and, in so doing, replace political authority in taking decisions which, in the final analysis, only political authorities should take. Technical knowledge itself is not wholly removed from tacitly prevailing values and cultural identities, and these may themselves be part of the problem (Wynne, 1992). The Portuguese government’s actions were influenced by the general tendency for political decisions and processes to be affected by short-term considerations and the demands of the electoral cycle. But, however urgently a solution may have been needed for the problem of waste, any strategy should have been part of a medium to long term policy, for two main reasons. First, any decision in this field has social, economic, environmental and political ramifications, including, for example, political decisions over resources and development models, and cultural attitudes to the consumption. Secondly, the risks involved (such as emissions of dioxins and heavy metals) are difficult to detect, have long latency periods, their adverse effects are not obvious (they are often the same as those of illnesses caused by other factors), and do not affect all persons in the same way: some are more vulnerable than others, some are more exposed than others. These factors make the jobs of the experts and political decision-makers extremely difficult. It is hard to obtain conclusive data, and the long latency periods mean that possible long-term adverse effects cannot be known in time to make the urgent decisions in line with politicians’ narrow timescales. Some of the arguments put forward by the civic and environmental movements, assisted by scientists from the universities, stressed precisely the point that, in terms of public health, it was the residents living next to one of the cement plants where co-incineration would have to be implemented who would suffer most. Epidemiological surveillance, as suggested by the ISC to safeguard against possible problems and demonstrate that their conclusions were valid and defensible, ended up being boycotted by the residents themselves, who refused to be exposed to a source of contamination before an assessment of its toxicity had been made. With a similar purpose in mind, the ISC carried out co-incineration tests, in order to assess by means of science’s own method, experimentation, whether the co-incineration method was harmless or not. But the relative lack of openness in its procedures (particularly the fact that it failed to advise residents when the tests were starting, and, according to environmentalists, the fact that the tests were carried out under “ideal” conditions) meant that little value was attributed to the positive results of these tests.

195 The crisis of legitimacy arising out of the decision on co-incineration represents the failure of the government’s political strategy and attitude in this field. One may well ask how opponents (political parties, scientists, members of cooperative movements) were successful in preventing a political decision which had already been taken and publicly announced from being implemented in practice. As my present research shows, this is not because the Portuguese are more environmentally aware than others, or because Portuguese environmental and civic movements are more forceful and have more incisive arguments at their disposal than their international counterparts. The key to deciphering this apparent paradox lies in the way politicians managed the process. Among the many factors affecting this case were the bitter debate between government and opposition, internal divisions within the very government which sought to implement the decision to adopt co-incineration, the binding confiscation of expertise, the conflict between experts and some scientists, and the public’s reaction, pervaded by distrust and built on local experience and memory of a “contaminated community” with all its anticipatory fears in the field of health. These failures, the breakdown of legitimacy, the failure to consider the social effects, and the lack of political vision all allowed the doubts raised by environmentalists and civic groups, and opposition from residents based on years of contamination and lack of trust, to challenge the decision, thus making the government desist from carrying out its original policies. The final outcome was that the problem was not solved. The continuing impasse on implementing co-incineration has to be seen in the context of a country which has only thirty years’ experience of political and institutional democracy and which is still undergoing a difficult adaptation to the democratic culture. There is little civic awareness of environmental responsibilities. As it is clear from the analysis in chapter 6, in the conflict over co-incineration politics gave way to technical expertise, the crisis of legitimacy in decision-making combined with social or political ineffectiveness in applying the decision, and this in turn produced a long-term failure of social regulation, in which society as a whole has suffered. With co-incineration in Portugal, government and experts became part of the problem of the lack of an effective strategy for HIW, instead of being a resource which might have helped to solve that problem. In the actions of both we find the erroneous presumption that scientific rationality, the calculus of probability and technical instrumentality can take the place of political order, sociological understanding and the realm of values. This untenable presumption is all the more serious in that the technological-financial complex today is responsible for a large number of irreversible problems.

196 Scientific expertise is a form of knowledge, situated between science and politics, which leans to the side of knowledge, but the tension between the ethics of those two domains means that we need to arrange them in careful combination. Scientific knowledge may shed light on assist the political decision, clearly demonstrating the various alternatives and their secondary effects, but this should not allow, given the conception of democracy outlined, science to determine exactly what is to be decided or to legitimate what has already been decided extra-scientifically.

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217 ANNEX

Map of Portugal – location of hazardous waste facilities

218