It’s hard to grasp the magnitude of the ecological catastrophe unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico as a result of the Deepwater Horizon/BP oil spill. At this point no one is certain how much oil is pouring from the well into the surrounding ocean. BP, adopting an early government estimate, has claimed that it amounts to a mere 5,000 barrels a day, but some scientists say the amount is closer to 60,000 or 70,000 barrels. Taking the lesser of these estimates, that would translate into the equivalent of an Exxon Valdez spill every four days. Given that this has been going on for five weeks at the time of this writing, the gulf has by now absorbed nine such spill equivalents, with more to come. But picturing the 1989 Exxon Valdez spill—until now the largest in US waters—and multiplying by nine does not begin to convey the scale of the disaster. For the first time in history, oil is pouring into the deep currents of a semi-enclosed sea, poisoning the water and depriving it of oxygen so that entire classes of marine species are at risk of annihilation. It is as if an underwater neutron bomb has struck the Gulf of Mexico, causing little apparent damage on the surface but destroying the living creatures below.
Who bears responsibility for this unmitigated catastrophe? What should be done in response?
Beginning with the first question, it is evident that a host of actors bear responsibility, from the drilling managers aboard the Deepwater Horizon rig to the BP officials who oversaw their work to the government regulators who awarded the corporations blanket waivers to ignore required environmental assessments. But, as in all matters that derive from broad strokes of policy, this disaster bears the imprint of the ultimate deciders: presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama.
What can be determined from the information available is that the April 20 explosion occurred because BP managers were in a hurry to seal off the well so they could move the rig (which BP leased from Transocean for $500,000 per day) to another drilling location. To speed up the move, BP’s managers evidently approved the risky exit procedure that led to the lethal explosion. At one level, then, responsibility can be laid at the feet of the managers involved in that decision as well as of Cameron International, the manufacturer of the rig’s blowout preventer, which appears to have been defective. These managers operated in a corporate culture that favored productivity and profit over safety and environmental protection.
BP, which has boasted of its success in boosting oil production in the gulf, has a sordid history when it comes to safety. Last October it was fined $87 million by the Occupational Safety and Health Administration for failing to correct safety problems discovered after a 2005 explosion that killed fifteen workers at BP’s Texas City refinery—the largest such fine ever levied by OSHA. Like other firms operating in the gulf, BP has also sought a blanket exemption from requirements that it conduct an environmental impact assessment for each new offshore well it drills.
But corporate officials and their parent companies did not operate in a political vacuum. BP and its subcontractors were able to drill in this location, some forty miles off the Louisiana shore, because the government, first under Bush and then under Obama, has been keen to increase production in the deep waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Ever since it became clear, in the 1990s, that oil output at Prudhoe Bay in northern Alaska was in irreversible decline and that no other onshore location in the continental United States could provide increased levels of petroleum, the government has sought to boost output from the deepwater gulf to moderate the nation’s growing dependence on imported energy. To that end, the Bush administration proposed to open up new areas for drilling, including the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) and the Outer Continental Shelf, and to facilitate the efforts of giant energy firms to exploit these resources.