Bigger systems can take multiple measurements at different points in the system every day. Following 9/11, New York City increased the number of daily water samples. These samples still have to be taken to the lab and analyzed, which can take a day or longer. Of great interest are new, sensitive monitors that can detect a whole range of contaminants in real time. These have cool-sounding names such as DNA microchip arrays, immunological techniques, microrobots, flow cytometry, molecular probes, etc. None of these is commercially available yet, but the hope is that they and other emerging monitoring technologies will be placed throughout the water system, providing real-time warning of contaminants early enough to allow quick responses by water authorities.
New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg has stated the challenge clearly: “Our drinking water really is the lifeblood of this city, and that, unfortunately, might make it a target for sabotage. We need to be vigilant in protecting our water systems.” What is left unsaid, though, is the vexing question: Just how much should we spend and where should we spend it?
The Bioterrorism Act requires preparation of Vulnerability Assessments, but it does not mandate that they be implemented. The key to all these hardening and monitoring strategies, not surprisingly, is money. Not only are these emerging technologies expensive, but they and others like them are also unlikely to be developed commercially if the market payoff appears small. As with so many public policy issues, knowing what to do is only half the battle. You also have to pay for it.
Given limited resources, the initial choice concerns whether the focus should be on protecting large- or small-scale systems. Larger systems, of course, serve more people. As the Congressional Research Service suggests, “A fairly small number of large drinking water and wastewater utilities located primarily in urban areas (about 15% of the systems) provide water services to more than 75% of the U.S. population. Arguably, these systems represent the greatest targets of opportunity for terrorist attacks, while the large number of small systems that each serve fewer than 10,000 persons are less likely to be perceived as key targets by terrorists who might seek to disrupt water infrastructure systems.” To date, most grants have gone to big cities, but it’s not clear that’s the best choice. Smaller systems may, in fact be more vulnerable because they do not already have significant protections in place. In general, smaller systems have fewer resources, less well-trained staff, and weaker capabilities. As a result, the same dollar amount invested in small systems may provide greater benefit than the equal investment in a large city’s system.
Congress and the Bush administration provided funds to help water systems get started. The Bioterrorism Act authorized $160 million for preparation of Vulnerability Assessments. Seventy percent of this amount, $113 million, was eventually provided. That seems like a lot of money, but the American Water Works Association, the professional trade organization of water providers, has estimated the total cost for assessments at $500 million. One water system servicing 1.2 million people, the size of Dallas, estimated it needs $90 million to strengthen the security of its operations. AWWA’s overall estimate for basic system hardening measures—improved lighting, locks, fences, etc.—was as much as $1.6 billion.
One, of course, needs to take the million- and billion-dollar cost estimates with a grain of salt, or chlorine. There are many reasons why a water manager and an organization of water managers would argue for greater resource needs. But potential costs go well beyond simply adding fences or more guards to basic capital costs. A utility may decide to build two treatment plants instead of one, intentionally creating system redundancy in case a plant goes down. Distribution pipes may be extended to soften the linearity of the system and increase the capacity to draw water from different sources during an emergency. Pipes may be buried instead of elevated. Virtually every construction choice, in fact, might look different if security became an explicit design priority.
THE FUNDAMENTAL QUESTION OF HOW MUCH TO SPEND GETS BACK to how worried we should be about terrorist threats to our drinking water. How much is improved defense against a terrorist attack worth? To answer that, we might also want to consider how much improved defense against an asteroid is worth. After all, an asteroid could collide with Earth next year. Last time it happened, dinosaurs went extinct. Perhaps we should dedicate immense funds to developing an anti-asteroid laser cannon (some people think we should). Why don’t we?
It turns out that asking whether our drinking water is vulnerable to terrorist attack is an unhelpful question. Of course it is vulnerable. The question is how vulnerable, and how great the risk of harm is compared to other potential threats. There are always tradeoffs over how best to spend taxpayers’ money. The key points are the likelihood of such an attack, the harm that might result, and the costs necessary to prevent such an attack.
There surely are plausible threats to America’s drinking water security. At the same time, though, we need to keep them in perspective. Our water systems are already designed to prevent contaminants from getting into the pipes and coming out of the tap. Getting large quantities of chemical or biological contaminants remains difficult. And dilution makes the challenge of a large-scale attack even more challenging. Thus the likelihood of a successful, far-reaching attack on our drinking water supplies is quite small. Just because a compound or biological agent can be described as a weapon of mass destruction doesn’t make it so in practice. It is very difficult to poison an entire city’s water supply and, given advances in monitoring technology, it will likely become more difficult in the future. Small-scale attacks, though, remain quite possible. Backflow contamination cannot be fully prevented and this gives some cause for concern.
The good news is that small-scale attacks do not threaten large populations. Simply because an attack is not a “worst-case scenario” and does not inflict massive harm, however, does not make it any less horrible. After all, the root of the word “terrorist” includes “terror” for a reason. The fear of being a victim, even if small in number, can impose real psychological harm on the greater population. The loss of confidence in the water coming out of the tap from even a small-scale attack could well impose large-scale fear and loss of confidence in the security of our overall water supplies. As a result, the serious attention devoted to the security of our drinking water supplies remains warranted.
WAS FLUORIDATION A COMMUNIST PLOT?
Scientists have been studying the effects of fluorine on teeth for close to a century. Early research focused on the discoloration and weakening of teeth (known as “Colorado brown stain”) by naturally high concentrations of fluorine in the water. Studies in the 1940s in Grand Rapids, Michigan, established that adding low levels of fluorine to drinking water supplies (fluoridation) did not weaken teeth but, quite the contrary, was effective in strengthening tooth enamel. This, in turn, prevented cavities and painful tooth decay.
Creating fluoridated water, indistinguishable from untreated water in both appearance and taste, became a goal of the U.S. Public Health Service in the 1950s. By 2006, almost 70 percent of Americans were served by water systems that fluoridated their water. Britain, Canada, Australia, and a number of other countries fluoridate their water as well.
A series of studies have demonstrated the effectiveness of this public health intervention, reducing the incidence of children’s cavities by up to 40 percent. The World Health Organization, U.S. Surgeon General, American Dental Association, and a range of other public health organizations have similarly endorsed fluoridation. Indeed, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control included fluoridation of drinking water on their list of the Ten Great Public Health Achievements of the twentieth century. Other achievements on the list included vaccination and control of infectious diseases. Impressive company.
Despite this glowing success, fluoridation of public water supplies has been extraordinarily contentious, with conspiracy theorists asserting nefarious plots. To be sure, fluoridation does pose a clear conflict between individual choice and government coerc
ion. If you want to avoid fluorine in your water, you may need to go to great lengths. Much bottled water contains fluorine, since it starts as tap water, and standard filters won’t remove fluorine. The objections to fluoridation, though, go deeper to an anxiety over mass medication decisions by government officials.
During the height of the Cold War, some groups asserted that fluoridation was a Communist plot to attack the public’s health. The fact that some fluorine compounds were used as rat poison made this at least sound plausible. Stanley Kubrick’s classic film Dr. Strangelove wove this conspiracy into the movie’s plot when General Jack D. Ripper launches a preemptive strike against the Soviet Union to thwart their strategy to contaminate the “precious bodily fluids” of Americans.
In a sensationalist brochure put out by the anti-Communist Keep America Committee in 1955, water fluoridation stood accused with vaccination and mental health services as the “Unholy Three,” part of a nefarious plot against America by world communist powers. If one is deeply distrustful of spies subverting society-wide government programs, vaccines and fluoridation likely would raise genuine cause for concern.
In any case, with the fall of the Soviet Union in the 1990s, it seems clear that even if fluoridation was a Communist plot, it did not achieve its intended purpose.
6
Bigger Than Soft Drinks
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2007, WAS A BANNER DAY FOR THE University of Central Florida and its football team, the Knights. They were playing the University of Texas’ powerhouse squad, ranked fourth in the nation. The Knights had gone to their first bowl game just two years earlier, and a win against Texas would put them on the national stage. The game was the very first in the university’s new $54 million stadium. Excitement couldn’t have been higher. The stadium was packed with fans, hoping for an upset. It was hot and humid, of course, since average temperatures in Orlando can be more than ninety degrees in September.
Security guards at the entrance had prevented people from bringing water into the stadium. When fans went to get a drink of water to cool off, though, they found no drinking fountains. Not one. Anywhere. The only water to be found was in $3 bottles at the concession stands or in cupped hands at bathroom sinks. The concession stands soon sold out, and matters turned serious. The heat and humidity took a heavy toll, sending eighteen people to the hospital for heat-related illnesses. To make matters worse, the Knights lost, 35–32.
The Monday after this debacle, a university spokesman acknowledged they had not had enough bottles of water. Trying to put a positive spin, he played up the fact that the stadium project had been completed on time and within budget. “That is a pretty remarkable thing in this day and age,” he said. “Granted, it did not have water fountains and some people will say you took a short cut. I don’t choose to view it that way. … Part of the stadium, of course, is the concession, and frankly, water is a big chunk of it. … So my sense is that we will not be offering free water.”
This tale is remarkable not merely because of the university’s tone-deaf efforts to spin the story. More troublesome, the stadium designers saw nothing wrong with failing to provide drinking fountains in a place where high temperatures and humidity are commonplace. Indeed, they saw it as a clever way to increase concession revenues. Nor is this unusual. When is the last time you saw a drinking fountain, much less one that worked? They are becoming more rare than pay phones. The common understanding seems to be that if you need water, you buy it in a bottle.
Yet not too long ago, the opposite was true. If you had asked for water at a gas station in the 1970s, you would have been pointed outside to the hose used to fill radiators. Even thirty years ago, bottled water occupied a niche, elite market—a chic symbol for the healthy and wealthy. In a mere matter of decades, though, bottled water has become the drink of choice in the classroom, workplace, conferences, restaurants, health clubs, and, of course, at sporting events. Celebrities ranging from Madonna, Tiger Woods, and the Jonas Brothers to Weird Al Yankovic and Sarah Palin demand the stuff.
As a society, we clearly have deeply conflicting feelings about bottled water. As the story of McCloud in the introduction made clear, there are deep divisions within society over whether our relationship with drinking water should be based on the market or considered a human right. Nowhere is this starker than with bottled water. What explains its remarkable ascent not only to market dominance but to cultural dominance, as well, where bottled water is now taken for granted as the primary way to drink water? Is it really better for us than tap water?
These are current questions, but the answers lie many years back, for the story of bottled water is older than the introduction of Perrier a few decades ago—far older, and much more surprising.
THE NEED FOR BOTTLED WATER GOES BACK TO THE VERY FIRST SOCIETIES. Whether in goatskins, gourds, or clay pots, hunters and groups on the move needed containers to transport water with them, particularly if they were unsure where the next source of safe water might lie. There is no evidence, however, of a true market for bottled water in ancient times, in the sense of containers of water sold for consumption somewhere else. Instead, local water needs were satisfied by water sellers who provided a drink or filled containers brought by customers.
The famous seventeenth-century painting by Velázquez of a water seller in Seville suggests the human precursor of the modern vending machine.
The origins of bottled water markets lie not with water sellers, however, but with an entirely different and unexpected source: the veneration of spring waters thousands of years ago. After all, what could be more mysterious to premodern people than a natural spring? How the water came to the surface, literally flowing out of rock, could not be easily explained, much less the mysterious minerals, carbonation, heat, and smells of the strange waters. How else to explain these but by mystic origins? No surprise that springs and wells were often explained by a divine presence, by local gods who looked after the waters, sometimes for good and sometimes for ill.
From earliest times, natural water sources have been linked with mystical healing and divine powers. The Bible is filled with references to particular wells. Other regions, such as the Scottish Isles, have long boasted their own special waters. As recounted earlier, in Scotland in the Middle Ages, those suffering from insanity were cured by drinking at St. Maelrubha’s Well, while those suffering from toothaches could seek relief by drinking from the healing well on the isle of North Uist.
Similar stories from around the world speak of waters with miraculous healing powers. According to local legend, different wells could cure the sick or restore movement to the lame, eyesight to the blind, and fertility to the barren, not to mention provide relief from rickets, lameness, whooping cough, leprosy, paralysis, etc. These cures may sound ridiculous to modern ears. Spring waters, though, really can have curative powers. Like Coke, some of these waters are the Real Thing.
There is no such thing as pure water in nature. Lots of substances, both organic and inorganic, like to dissolve in water. All spring water starts originally as rain or snow falling to the ground. Water’s particular nature comes from both the downward path it takes as it seeps through the earth and its upward path as it slowly ascends through geologic layers, emerging at a different point. As with all journeys in life, the nature of the passage makes all the difference. Water passing through limestone will be higher in dissolved calcium and magnesium. Water filtering through igneous rocks will pick up dissolved sodium in its slow years-long migration returning to the surface.
While it may sound pretentious to compare water to wine, it’s a fair analogy. Just as wine grapes are flavored by their vines’ soil, so, too, does mineral water gain its chemical composition through the rock strata it has passed. The precise composition of the water—its terroir, if you will—depends on the local geology, and, it turns out, so does the water’s therapeutic value.
Modern medicine has demonstrated that natural salts can soothe the pains of arthritis. Sulfates and bicarbo
nates found in some spring waters are routinely used to treat gastrointestinal ailments. Calcium strengthens bones and teeth. And water containing naturally dissolved lithium, a drug long used to treat depression, may even be useful for those with mental health problems. Thanks to their dissolved minerals, some healing waters really do heal beyond the power of positive suggestion.
In the era before modern medicine, and even today in some regions, these mineral-bearing waters were particularly important to health. Because of their unique natural composition of salts and minerals, many spring waters became widely known for their curative powers. Specific waters were recommended for specific ailments. Julius Caesar favored the hot waters at Vichy in France, known in Roman times as the Hot Town (Vicus Calidus). The great Renaissance artist Michelangelo suffered from kidney stones. His doctor ordered him to take the waters from a nearby town, and Michelangelo reported, “I am much better than I have been. Morning and evening I have been drinking the water from a spring about forty miles from Rome, which breaks up the stone. … I have had to lay in a supply at home and cannot drink or cook with anything else.” The German Romantic author Goethe swore by Fachingen waters near Wiesbaden with their high bicarbonate content. He wrote his daughter-in-law that the “the next four weeks are supposed to work wonders. For this purpose, I hope to be favored with Fachingen water and white wine, the one to liberate the genius, the other to inspire it.”
While we now understand the chemistry behind the curative powers of sacred springs, people at the time obviously looked to different explanations. In a society with no understanding of geology or modern disease, there was a need to attribute some cause to these waters’ origins and medicinal benefits. Attributing divine creation and curative powers to springs made sense from both a physical and metaphysical view. Thus did waters become sacred and imbued with special powers because of their mystic origins. These holy waters married the myth to the real, and their reputations endured over time.
Drinking Water Page 16