IP, business stories of Tupperware bankruptcy minimize female marketing pioneer, dangers of plastics

Brownie Wise on Business Week in 1954
via America Comes Alive; © fair use

The Tupperware bankruptcy has been much in the news, though the coverage has underplayed "the rest of the story" in regard to women in business and product liability.

Headlines about the bankruptcy of Tupperware suggest various takeaways for business and law. Most stories highlight the inevitable expiry of novelty in business, with the corollary imperative to innovate (Atlantic, Sept. 20). Legal angles complement coverage with intellectual property lessons on the limited life of patents (Slate) and the problem of genericization in trademark (N.Y. Times). The history and nostalgia of Tupperware is a consistent theme (Atlantic, Apr. 12).

Less often told is the story of women in business. The CBS Evening News Saturday night credited Tupperware founder Earl Tupper with having come up with the Tupperware party as a sales strategy. That's not accurate, except in a "buck stops here" sense. The role of the remarkable Brownie Wise is less often told (mentioned: Atlantic, N.Y. Times). Rachel's Vintage & Retro has the more nuanced inside story. The National Women's History Museum and Smithsonian have more. Wise, from Buford, Georgia, graced the cover of Business Week in 1954 (pictured, via America Comes Alive). PBS recounted:

While Earl Tupper hated the limelight, Brownie Wise loved it. With Tupper's blessing, the company's public relations staff promoted Wise extensively. Female executives were rare, and the strategy worked. As the company grew, Wise was on talk shows, quoted by newspapers, and pictured on the cover of numerous magazines (she was the first woman to make the cover of Business Week). But when the press suggested Wise was responsible for Tupperware's success, and that she could be equally successful selling any product, Earl Tupper grew jealous. Over time, Wise became increasingly high-handed, and she was less patient with Tupper's micro-management and unpredictable temper. In 1958, Earl Tupper unceremoniously and abruptly fired her, booting her from the multi-million dollar company she had helped build; she held no company stock and was given just one year's salary.

Journalist Bob Kealing published a book about Wise if you want to go all in. Life of the Party (2016) followed up Kealing's Tupperware, Unsealed (2008). The Takeaway at WNYC interviewed Kealing in 2016.

With regard to women in business, by the way, CBS Sunday Morning just featured GM CEO Mary Barra, who appears to be going strong in the role ten years on. I remember when Jon Stewart on The Daily Show made fun of GM's ham-fisted introduction of a first female CEO ("a car gal, an auto dame, a jalopy broad"). It seemed that Barra was practically set up to fail amid GM's embarrassing ignition-switch recall.

Phillip Pessar via Flickr CC BY 2.0

Further in the vein of product liability, another angle on Tupperware that gets little play lies at the intersection of tort law and environmental protection. Stories of Tupperware tend to hail Tupper's inventiveness in converting DuPont's wartime development of polyethylene to post-war market ubiquity. But in the last decade, revelations of risky chemical seepage from microwaved containers did untold damage to a business built on plastic food storage.

BPA is just one chemical contaminant from plastics. Its use in manufactured products has spawned EU regulation and American litigation over baby bottles and activewear, as well as consumer protection litigation over "BPA-free" green-washing. Tupperware stopped using BPA in 2010 and developed a purportedly microwave-safe line of products under the brand name "Tupperwave" (not to be confused with Australian musician Dean Terry). But the safety of any plastic in the microwave remains uncertain. And microwave ovens notwithstanding, there's plenty of justified public concern over microplastic waste in the environment, animals, and people. 

So maybe Tupperware was always destined for only finite fame. Or maybe it will reinvent itself like Teflon, another DuPont invention that seems likely to survive an accountability assault.

Contemporary sculpturist comments on Ukraine war

Lakenen considers the war in Ukraine in this 2022 sculpture.

A couple of weeks ago, I visited artist Tom Lakenen's Lakenenland, a sculpture park in the Marquette area of Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

I'm a sucker for an outdoor art installation, and Lakenen's work does not disappoint. I only had a couple of hours, but I could have spent the day exploring the inviting woodsy trails.

Composed of "junk," Lakenen's art in its very existence speaks to capitalist materialism and environmental sustainability. About and even besides such themes, Lakenen has a lot to say, and much of it resonates with the ordinary American, especially in terms of economic frustrations. I could not help but notice that vehicles in the parking lot boasted bumper stickers of both "red" and "blue" American political extremes. But insofar as any visitors expressed outrage, it was along with the artist, not at him.

Lakenen is always adding new pieces. I was especially moved by his 2022 work on the war in Ukraine. Above and below, I share some images of that piece. I thank Tom Lakenen for sharing his art with visitors. All photos by RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0, with no claim to underlying sculptural works, presumed © Tom Lakenen.

Town asserting 'full-on assault of stink' wins latest round in nuisance feud with hot-mix asphalt maker

Quarry and asphalt manufacturing facility in England.
Richard Law via Wikimedia Commons GNU 1.2

An asphalt plant that residential neighbors blamed for burning eyes and sore throats is a public nuisance, the Massachusetts Appeals Court affirmed Friday.

There's been much hand-wringing over the use, and argued misuse, or even abuse of public nuisance law in recent years, from me included. The sub-subject is addressed in my recent 2 Tortz (2024 rev. ed.) (SSRN), and a recent book by the insightful Prof. Linda Mullenix sits on my desk, patiently awaiting attention.

But Friday's case is a reminder that sometimes, a public nuisance is just a nuisance.

The defendant's property, in Acushnet, Massachusetts, on the commonwealth's south coast and just 10 minutes from my work, was a quarry since the 1890s and an asphalt plant since the 1950s, the court recounted. Then in 2021, owner P.J. Keating (PJK) started operating a newly constructed hot-mix asphalt plant located closer than its predecessor facility to neighboring residential properties. Subsequently, local resident complained to the Acushnet Board of Health of noxious odor and burning eyes, noses, and throats.

The board ultimately sent two investigators, one its own agent and one a hired expert. Both validated the complaints. The board's agent reported, according to the court, that "the odor was 'horrendous,' lasted throughout his fifteen-minute visit, made his eyes water, and left him feeling dizzy for one-half hour after leaving the site.... He testified that at the home of one resident, he rated the odor as level four [of seven], but at another home he rated the odor as a seven for the duration of his visit, a 'full-on assault of ... stink.'"

PJK provided contrary evidence. PJK told the board that it complied with the toughest regulatory standards, and its activity comported with the property's industrial zoning. PJK cast doubt on the credibility of the complainants, showing that a great many complaints came from relatively few neighbors. And some complaints occurred at times when the plant was not operating, PJK submitted. PJK also submitted expert evidence to argue that any odors or fumes posed no risk to public health.

Some of the disconnect might have resulted from the source of odors or fumes being transport trucks rather than the plant itself, the board expert suggested. When the mixing facility was located deeper in the property, the hot-mix asphalt had more time to cool while it was loaded into the trucks. With the new facility, trucks were loaded and hit the road, close to residences, while the asphalt was still hot.

Either way, the problem before the Appeals Court was not really one of merits. After the Board of Health ordered PJK to cease and desist until it could get its emissions under control, PJK sought and obtained relief in the Superior Court. The Superior Court ruled that the board's decision was arbitrary and capricious and not supported by substantial evidence, so annulled the cease and desist.

Hardly so, the Appeals Court ruled: "We think it plain that the record contains substantial evidence supporting the board's conclusion that PJK's plant is a public nuisance." The board might have given witness testimony more credit than PJK cared to, but that's the job of the fact-finder. The board received abundant evidence from both sides, so its conclusion was neither arbitrary nor unsubstantiated.

As a point of interest, the court observed that the board's legal determination must be given some latitude. Quoting the state high court from 1952, "[b]oards of health are likely to be composed of laymen not skilled in drafting legal documents, and their orders should be read with this fact in mind. They should be so construed as to ascertain the real substance intended and without too great attention to niceties of wording and arrangement."

At a deeper level, the simple case is indicative of the challenge at the heart of public nuisance doctrine, a division between the powers of the judiciary, resonating in corrective justice, and the powers of the political branches, resonating in distributive justice.  Public nuisance cases are difficult because they put the courts in the position of enforcing amorphous public policy, here, enjoining the operation of a lawful business.

In this vein, it's telling that PJK relied on its full compliance with zoning laws, industrial regulations, and public health and environment laws. The strategy effectively argues that the question presented already has been decided by the political branches, so the courts should not second guess. If residents don't want an asphalt plant next door, the argument goes, their remedy is with the zoning commission. To burden a business beyond substantial regulation is to invite courts to interfere with the economy: not their job.

In another state, that argument might win the day. Massachusetts courts are less solicitous, or more willing to assert regulatory authority, if there is no plain political mandate to the contrary. The court here agreed with the board that just because asphalt-mixing odors and fumes are not regulated, or are regulated only at extremes—in fact, the EPA deregulated asphalt manufacturing emissions in 2003—does not mean there is no risk to public health, nor even that emissions are not carcinogenic.

One need look no farther than PFAS to show that non-regulation is not necessarily indicative of safety.

The outcome here is bad news for a nasty collateral litigation brought by PJK in 2022 against the Town of Acushnet.

The PJK suit in federal court demands $50 million dollars for losses in stalled productivity at the facility. PJK accused the town of regulatory taking through "a series of deliberate, methodical, concerted, and systematic actions to specifically target Plaintiffs and the Property and to stop the legal, longstanding operations on the Property," WJAR reported in January. According to PJK, "the [board agent] has stated that 'the Town hired him "to make PJK's life a living hell."'" 

Currently in discovery, the federal case is Tilcon, Inc. v. Acushnet, No. 1:22-cv-12046 (D. Mass. filed Dec. 2, 2022).

Friday's case is P.J. Keating Co. v. Acushnet, No. 23-P-629 (Mass. App. Ct. Apr. 12, 2024) (temporary state posting). Justice Peter W. Sacks wrote the unanimous opinion of the panel, which also comprised Justices Meade and Massing.

U.S. District Judge Ann Aiken holds her own

U.S. District Judge Ann Aiken
Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

Today, March 10, is the International Day of Women Judges, and I want to nominate for recognition U.S. Senior District Judge Ann Aiken.

Judge Aiken is the trial judge in the best known American youth climate suit, Juliana v. United States (in Climate Change Litigation Database). She's been a dog with a bone in Juliana, refusing to give short shrift to the complainants despite immense pressure by Obama, Trump, and Biden administrations, and despite increasingly anguished glares of disapproval over the rims of reading glasses at the Ninth Circuit.

Judge Aiken's 2016 district court opinion in Juliana, however many times it's pummeled on appeal, is masterful (which is to take nothing away from the groundwork expertly laid by Magistrate Judge Thomas M. Coffin). Judge Aiken makes the case for climate change litigation upon the seemingly inarguable proposition that the constitutional right to "life, liberty, or property" rather implies a breathable atmosphere as prerequisite.

The wrinkle in Aiken's analysis is the implication of the courts in the policy business of the political branches. That's why Aiken drives everyone from her appellate overseers to American presidents to handwringing paroxysm. But that's what we should want: If judges are to "throw up their hands" and do nothing to avert the extinction of human life, as Ninth Circuit Judge Josephine Staton accused her colleagues on appeal in Juliana in 2020, we should want to be sure that the very best arguments have been tested.

Judge Aiken was appointed to the federal bench by President Bill Clinton in 1998. She previously practiced law in Oregon and served as a state judge. Her willingness to be bold when the situation demands came to national attention in 2007 when she ruled that parts of the USA PATRIOT Act violated the Fourth Amendment for authorizing warrantless surveillance. Also boldly, Aiken has five children.

I've edited Juliana 2016 for the forthcoming chapter 17, on government liability, of my Tortz volume 2, out in revised edition later this year, 2024. That edit emphasizes the tort and civil rights aspects of the opinion. I have prepared a different edit, if any teacher desires, emphasizing points of constitutional law for my Comparative Law class in fall 2024 and a forthcoming curriculum on global law being organized under the auspices of European Legal Practice Integrated Studies, an Erasmus program.

Big Ag plays Goliath in film about GMO-seed litigation

A worthwhile movie you might have missed during the pandemic is Percy vs. Goliath (2020), starring Christopher Walken and Zach Braff, involving Canadian lawsuits over GMO seed contamination.

I caught up with the film last weekend. As the title suggests, it's a David vs. Goliath story about a workaday Canadian farmer, Percy Schmeiser (Walken) sued by agriculture giant Monsanto when Roundup-resistant canola strains turned up in the farmer's fields in Saskatchewan. Schmeiser countersued for libel and trespass.

The real-life case is Monsanto Canada Inc. v. Schmeiser (Can. 2004). The real-life Percy died in 2020 soon after the film was completed. There have been several documentaries about the case, besides this fictionalization.

Spoilers ahead.

Something I liked and had not expected in the film is the depiction of Percy's visit to India. The filmmakers do a good job conveying the fact that GMO seed drift and patent exclusivity is a worldwide problem. The film doesn't directly tackle the unknown risks of GMOs, both to human health and in global monoculture, but they're implicit in Percy's reasons for resisting GMO tech.

The film also doesn't tackle the separate problem of Roundup toxicity, which fueled mass tort litigation in the United States only later, in the 2010s. But the repeated mention of the product can't help but bring the issue to mind with the benefit of hindsight. (Certainly it brings the issue to my mind, remembering my summer work as a landscape laborer, Roundup streaming down my arms. Though that's nothing compared with soaked workers I saw on Central American fruit plantations in the 1990s.) Bayer acquired Monsanto in 2018 and agreed to settlements over Roundup in 2020. 

Percy mostly won in the end, in that Monsanto could not prove deliberate appropriation. But the court did find patent infringement and required Percy to surrender his seeds to Monsanto.

In the United States, the Supreme Court in 2013 ruled in favor of Monsanto in a seed case with different facts, Bowman v. Monsanto Co. An Indiana farmer had replanted seeds that Monsanto clients had sold to a grain elevator in violation of Monsanto's license, which prohibited downstream reuse. The later buyer infringed the patent, the court concluded.

In a U.S. case closer to Schmeiser but with a different procedural history, a broad farming coalition sought to nullify Monsanto patents to head off infringement claims they saw as an inevitable result of genetic drift. The court rejected the suit in Organic Seed Growers and Trade Association v. Monsanto Co. (Fed. Cir. 2013) for lack of controversy. Monsanto thereafter announced that it would not pursue infringement claims against non-client farmers for Roundup-resistant strains as long as they didn't use Roundup.

Informative for comparative law class, the film, Percy, includes a short courtroom scene toward the end in which Percy's solo lawyer Jackson Weaver (Braff) argues against the Big Ag sharks in the Canadian high court. Christina Ricci turned in an enjoyable supporting performance as environmental activist lawyer Rebecca Salcau. I recall that Ricci delightfully played scrappy attorney Liza Bump in the final season of Ally McBeal.

Weaver's and Salcau's resource limitations in facing off against Big Ag brought to mind A Civil Action (1998), and Percy overall is reminiscent of Dark Waters (2019) (on this blog). Percy's quiet tribulation is not the stuff of blockbusters, but it's surely worth the watch for anyone interested in the broad range of issues it raises in environmentalism, agriculture, food supply, civil litigation, product liability, intellectual property, and corporatocracy.

Though it was not a policy point in the film, I found compelling attorney Weaver's warning to Percy that losing the case would mean not only compensation on the merits to Monsanto, but liability to Monsanto for hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees for the very Big Ag attorneys who rendered the litigation playing field so unlevel as might, circularly, precipitate the loss.

Such is the rule for attorney fees in Canada and most of the world, and, alarmingly to me, more and more, by statute, in the United States. Civil rights advocates and the plaintiff bar herald attorney-fee shifting as vital to facilitate access to the courts for injured persons. But when the burn works both ways and a corporate Goliath prevails, the result should give us pause before wholeheartedly chucking out the pay-your-own-way rule of American common law. Writ small, this precisely is one of my objections to anti-SLAPP laws that place genuinely victimized individual plaintiffs at risk of having to pay outrageous fee awards to compensate corporate mass media defense attorneys.

I watched Percy vs. Goliath on the Roku Channel with ads. The film is available for less than $4 on many streaming platforms.

Court rejects 'super tort' theory in suit alleging animal cruelty, though concurrence mentions rights of nature

Kodiak bear at Olympic Game Farm, a private zoo in Washington.
Analise Zocher via Flickr CC BY 2.0

The Animal Legal Defense Fund tried but failed in August to convince the Washington Supreme Court to treat animal cruelty as an actionable "super tort."

The nonprofit Animal Legal Defense Fund (ALDF) sued a private zoo in Washington, alleging animal cruelty under state public nuisance law. In mid-August, the Washington Supreme Court rejected the theory as beyond the scope of the statute.

It is a clever theory. Like environmentalists, animal protection organizations face high hurdles using tort law to advance their work. Animal cruelty laws often are not vigorously enforced by public authorities and provide scant mechanisms for private enforcement. Nonprofits usually have no standing to sue without a statutory authorization.

State and local governments lately have been pushing nuisance law as a potential accountability mechanism for all kinds of social ills. Nuisance is a leading theory in lawsuits against Big Oil for the impact of climate change. And some governments found success with nuisance to leverage settlements with opioid sellers.

But this "super tort," as termed by the defense bar and tort reformers, is problematic for policy reasons. Overusing the tort system to regulate business exceeds the bounds of corrective justice, threatening the free market and the organic social contract. The courts are not equipped to make policy, and it's not their function in the constitutional design of separated powers. Converting, or perverting, social problems into civil litigation thus bypasses the political branches of government, enervating democratic accountability and threatening unintended consequences.

In 2020, I wrote about this issue in the context of the Rhode Island suit (my home state) against Big Oil. I spoke about the problem to a Jagiellonian University audience via Zoom earlier that same year.

Some states, such as Washington, allow the enforcement of public nuisance law with "private attorney general," or "citizen-suit," provisions. The potential for public authorities to expand the scope of public nuisance is thus multiplied by willing and creative advocacy organizations.

ALDF theorized that animal cruelty, which the nonprofit alleged in suing the private zoo in Washington, constituted a public nuisance. That's a reach, but not irrational.

Pollution, or environmental damage, is the classic example of a public nuisance.  A die-off of fish in a public waterway might adversely affect the interests of waterside property owners, but there is no incursion on any one property such as creates a privately enforceable nuisance. Public authorities are obliged to respond to the problem as a matter of policymaking—thus, environmental protection law and regulation. Add citizen suits to the public nuisance mix, and environmentalists acquire enforcement power.

ALDF's wish to enforce animal cruelty law is a short leap through analogy in natural resource protection. Moreover, nuisance law in some states has a "per se" concept, like negligence law, by which the standard of right and wrong can be informed by statute. So ALDF bolstered its public nuisance claim by pointing to anti-cruelty statutes and wildlife conservation laws as public policy properly pronounced by the legislature.

ALDF further analogized to a peculiar but exigent strain of public nuisance law tied to morality.  In my 2020 talk, I made scant reference to this theory, in the interest of succinctness, but probably I should have given it a more respectful nod.

Historically, public nuisance law was used to shut down the likes of brothels and saloons.  Sometimes red-light businesses externalize costs to surrounding property owners that are real but difficult to quantify—consider the long-running feud between a Chicago-area strip club and next-door nuns, by which the convent alleged injury by "secondary effects" (as known in First Amendment law), such as crime and litter.  But many times, too, public nuisance laws have been invoked on the mere basis of moral objection.

In that sense, runaway public nuisance is a problem of the law's own creation.  Common law courts opened the door to nuisance in the moral abstract, untethering the concept from physical property.  ALDF just stepped through the door.  Society's intolerance of animal cruelty is a moral statement no less than condemnation of human trafficking.  As an animal advocate myself—full disclosure, I'm a founding faculty adviser of the student ALDF chapter and a past ALDF supporter—I find this theory appealing.

To be objective, though, the difficulty arises in that not everyone, least of all the legal system, embraces ALDF and my view of unequivocal morality in the area of animal cruelty.  The law permits even purely recreational hunts to kill exotic animals.  For all her worthy work, even Temple Grandin has not succeeded in making humane methods universal in food production.  Despite advancements in the recognition of human grief as a compensable loss in tort claims for injury to pets, the law continues to regard animals, for the most part, as mere chattel.

Such was the tone of the Washington Supreme Court's response to the ALDF claim.  ALDF could not articulate a conventional nuisance theory, in the way of interference with peace and enjoyment of land, and the court refused to engage with ALDF's theory as a matter of policy indicated by the animal cruelty or wildlife conservation laws.

"While ALDF cites to some cases that identify wildlife as a public resource," the court opined, "it cites no cases or statutes indicating that the public has a right to use that resource as it sees fit or has any individual, personal property rights in wildlife."

ALDF pointed to a seeming precedent to no avail. ALDF prevailed in a claim against a Wisconsin private zoo in federal court last year, winning a permanent injunction on a citizen-suit nuisance theory. However, the defendant had given up the fight partway through and allowed a default judgment to be entered. The Washington Supreme Court observed that the federal trial court in the case made no ultimate finding of fact that the private zoo was a nuisance.

In concurrence, Chief Justice Steven C. González left the door open, just a crack, and made a shout out, remarkably, to the theory of the rights of nature (RoN), if not by name.  Though agreeing with the holding, the chief opined (selective citations omitted; links added):

[T]he world has changed much since the days when King Henry II, Kukulkan, and the Great Khan were young. Now, the private use of land has profound potential to harm our ecosystem and the various species we share it with. It may well be time to heed Justice Douglas's call to consider whether those places and things threatened with environmental catastrophe should have standing in court to sue for their own injuries. See Sierra Club v. Morton ... (U.S. 1972) (Douglas, J., dissenting) (citing Christopher D. Stone, Should Trees Have Standing?—Toward Legal Rights for Natural Objects, 45 S. Cal. L. Rev. 450 (1972)). Thus, I am wary of fully endorsing the majority’s sweeping conclusion that "[w]here the statutory framework and case law do not support a claim, none exists."

I'm all for ALDF's objectives, just like I'm gravely concerned about the impact of the opioid crisis. And I value the chief's assessment of common law evolution, an important capacity of American tort law that often is marginalized or forgotten in contemporary practice.  I have hastened to recognize the potential of common law evolution to reflect, not make, social policy in areas such as privacy and data protection.

But I worry, too, about misuse of the courts to make social policy; what the public will to do so tells us about possibly catastrophic dysfunction in the political branches; and what that means for the fabric of our democracy.

The case is Animal Legal Defense Fund v. Olympic Game Farm, Inc., No. 101264-1 (Wash. Aug. 17, 2023) (ALDF commentary).  Associate Chief Justice Charles W. Johnson wrote the opinion of the court.

EPA floats PFAS limits for drinking water

Rawpixel CC0 1.0

PFAS has been much on the lips of regulators, lately and at last. 

As I wrote in 2021, the movie Dark Waters (2019), based on a true story, first brought PFAS to my attention. I'm happy to report that we've since replaced almost all of our PFAS-coated cookware. And just yesterday, I followed the recent custom of removing a burrito from its plastic-coated-paper wrapper before heating it in the microwave.

When John Oliver gave his classic treatment to PFAS in 2021, Europe was moving to regulate it, but the United States was doing very little. Per John Oliver's invitation, I confirmed that my local water authority in Rhode Island was not testing for PFAS in drinking water.

Now, with Biden Administration support announced in March, the U.S. Environmental Protection Authority has a PFAS website and proposed regulations for drinking water. The proposal would drop acceptable levels of six PFAS chemicals from 70 to 4 parts per million (ppt).

That's a start, but not a solution. 

PFAS might now be in the drinking water of as many as 200 million Americans, The Guardian reported in March. Research shows human health risk upon any exposure to PFAS, so no safe level is known. The EPA's own guidelines since last year have called for voluntary limits on two PFAS chemicals at 0.02 and 0.004 ppt, a Harvard expert explained. Meanwhile, it's not clear that scientific testing is accurate enough to detect PFAS levels that low. Thus, the EPA proposal is vulnerable to criticism for not reaching the full range of PFAS chemicals and not setting maximum levels low enough. But the challenge truly to ensure human health might be practically insurmountable.

Spurred by burgeoning state regulation meanwhile, the private sector is ramping up capacity to test for PFAS nationwide. In February, Maine Laboratories became the first commercial lab in that state to offer testing. Maine Labs sells test kits for drinking water, waste water, ground water, and soil, with a two-week turnaround for results. Maine Labs's CEO is Katie Richards, a close friend and former college roommate of one of my sisters.

South African court upholds common law abuse of process as defense in prototypical anti-enviro SLAPP

Petitioners demand EU anti-SLAPP legislation in 2022.
Ekō via Flickr CC BY 2.0

The Constitutional Court of South Africa upheld the use of common law abuse of process in defense of environmental activists against a defamation claim by a mining company.

I wrote about this case in its lower court iteration in 2021. The plaintiff mining company rather boldly sued the environmentalists to chill their activism with the burdens of litigation. Deputy Judge President of the Western Cape High Court Patricia Goliath employed a creative adaptation of common law abuse of process—conventionally a tort, not a defense—to work in the case like an anti-SLAPP law, which South Africa does not have as a matter of statute.

I have written at length on anti-SLAPP cases. I am not a fan of anti-SLAPP laws, but acknowledge that they can function well to protect the freedoms of expression and petition in cases that fit the historical pattern for which anti-SLAPP was conceived. Protecting environmentalists against developers is the very prototype, so I lauded DJP Goliath's decision.

In November 2022, the Constitutional Court upheld the abuse-of-process theory. The court expressly recognized the abuse-of-process defense as an anti-SLAPP measure and an evolution of common law. The court rejected the mining company's objection to the adaptations required to make abuse of process work. The common law test for the tort in South Africa requires that a claim have a near certainty of failure; the court refused to hold the defendant environmentalists to that burden. The common law test also did not allow abuse of process to be determined wholly upon ulterior motive. The court ruled that ulterior motive could support the abuse-of-process defense.

As I wrote in 2021, I prefer the common law approach to the blunt and overbroad device of statutory anti-SLAPP that prevails in the United States. The South African approach takes care to assess the power imbalance between the litigants to ensure conformity with the anti-SLAPP pattern. In the United States, anti-SLAPP is distorted to empower media conglomerates and public figures to extract high-dollar attorney fee awards from genuinely injured claimants who can't meet extraordinary requirements of proof upon mere pleading.

The case is Mineral Sands Resources (Pty) Ltd v Reddell, (CCT 66/21) [2022] ZACC 37; 2023 (2) SA 68 (CC) (14 November 2022). Justice Steven Arnold Majiedt authored the unanimous judgment.

Indigenous people battle extractive industries, government in Constitutional Court of Ecuador

Kichwa representatives appear before the Inter-American Commission on
Human Rights (CIDH) in 2015. (CIDH photo CC BY 2.0.)

A case inching forward in Ecuador's constitutional court pits indigenous people against extractive industries and the government over the fate of the country's vast eastern jungles.

Among the many issues on which President Joe Biden and West Virginia Senator Joe Manchin disagree is the Keystone XL Pipeline Project.

The President blocked Keystone first thing in January 2021. Environmentalists and indigenous peoples' advocates long ardently opposed the project, though as fuel prices rose in recent months, Senator Manchin was among those renewing criticism of the termination.

Meanwhile, an environmental battle implicating extraction and with arguably more precious real estate in contention is playing out in the Constitutional Court of Ecuador.  In mid-November, the court heard the first in a series of oral arguments over a bid by the Kichwa indigenous people in the eastern Sarayaku region to reclaim control of the jungle and repel extractive industries working at the behest of the government.

There are many facets to the Kichwa's struggle.  The government has for decades promoted drilling, mining, and logging in eastern Ecuador, denigrating environment and inflicting injury with the introduction of explosives and toxic run-offs.   Emily Laber-Warren wrote a concise history for Sapiens in April.  The Kichwan spiritual angle is the focus of a short but more recent piece in Ñan. Indigenous people have won cases in the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, as long ago as 2012, and in the the Ecuadorean courts, but not always to any avail with the government.

A compelling aspect of the present dispute in the Ecuadorean courts is that the issues overlap with the environmental disaster left behind at Lago Agrio by Big Oil actor Texaco, later Chevron, memorialized in the 2015 book by Paul Barrett, Law of the Jungle.  The Chevron-Ecuador saga and the related prosecution, critics say persecution, of American attorney Steven Donziger continue to make headlines.  I'm still waiting for the Hollywood retellings.

Lago Agrio is 217 km north of Sarayaku; that distance says something about the scope of the slowly unfolding tragedy.  I've assigned Law of the Jungle yet again for my spring 2022 Comparative Law class.  I keep waiting for the story to take some major turn, ideally an environmentally sound one, that renders the Barrett book intolerably outdated.  Yet most of what Barrett wrote about the long jeopardy of eastern Ecuador, and the failure of rule of law within the country to respond, remains true today.

I've not been able to find a dispassionate assessment of the November hearings, but plaintiff-friendly Amazon Frontline (AF) covered the day's events.  As AF observed, the hearing followed just days after the Glasgow climate change agreement was concluded.

Implicated collaterally in the case is the emerging legal theory, "rights of nature."  My friend and colleague Dr. Piotr Szwedo, lead editor of Law and Development and a member of the law faculty at Jagiellonian University in Poland, visited Ecuador this year and is conducting ongoing research into the legal implications of the rights of nature.

Unregulated, 'Dark Waters' chemicals persist in cookware, clothing, sickening people, environment

Comedian and social critic John Oliver's latest top story on HBO's Last Night concerned PFAS, the artificial chemical substances behind non-stick coatings on cookware and incorporated into food wrappings and textiles, known to be highly dangerous to human health.

The stuff persists, Oliver explained, in new, unregulated, and unlabeled formulations, despite a horrific track record of illness, from obesity to terminal cancer, and environmental damage.  Oliver related recent history by quoting parts of the landmark New York Times Magazine feature by Nathaniel Rich in 2016, "The Lawyer Who Became Dupont's Worst Nightmare."  That piece inspired the unsettling 2019 feature film Dark Waters.  Oliver also excerpted a 2018 documentary, The Devil We Know.

PFAS, a "forever chemical" that persists in the environment for thousands of years, is now in the blood of virtually all Americans.  Food wrappings and clothing are our greatest risk, Oliver explained, and there is no labeling to warn us.

I just caught this on a spot-check. Adiós, sartén.

In my household, since Dark Waters brought the issue to our attention, we've exclusively adopted silicone tools to use with non-stick-coated cookware.  And at the first sign of scratching, out goes the pan or pot: a pricey luxury we are lucky to be able to afford, while we only worsen the environmental problem.  We have lately been investigating non-stick alternatives, and Oliver has ignited the gas burner under us to get moving on that.

PFAS is in the water supply, too, sometimes in alarming doses, 70 parts per trillion (ppt) being the EPA's recommended maximum concentration in drinking water.  Oliver pointed viewers to a "PFAS Contamination" interactive map created by the NGO Environmental Working Group.  The map is intriguing and informative to play around with, as it compiles water quality data from around the country.

But the most frightening takeaway from the map is the data it does not contain.  Data collection is hit or miss.  The closest results to me in East Bay Rhode Island come from a small school serving only 40 persons (4 ppt), a Massachusetts water district serving 13,627 persons (20 ppt), and the Pawtucket (R.I.) water system, serving 99,200 persons and reporting a PFAS excess at 74 ppt.

My local water authority, Bristol County (BCWA), says my water rather comes from Providence, which is not on the EWG data map, and where water quality reports appear to be missing.  It further undermines my confidence in the system that BCWA has been wanting to build a pipeline to Pawtucket, which offers, BCWA says, "another source of excellent quality water."

At last, Europe is moving ahead with regulation; I hope that will spur the United States to follow suit.

[UPDATE, 17 Oct. 2021:  Providence Water sent me a copy of the 2020 Water Quality Report in the mail. As anticipated by Oliver, there is no mention in the report of PFAS.]

Oil, uranium motivated Trump to slash Bears Ears; litigation, land use questions now sit on Biden's desk

President Biden is likely to undo the Trump Administration's dramatic reduction of protected land in southern Utah, including the Bears Ears National Monument.  If he does, the restoration will end litigation over the permissibility of rescission under the Antiquities Act and extinguish ambitions of the natural resource extraction industry.  [Update, Oct. 7.]

Traveling in Utah in recent weeks (drought, torts), I spent time crossing the south of the state from the Navajo Nation in the east to the Dixie National Forest in the west.  In the Escalante region in between, a whopping 1.88 million acres of south-central Utah is set aside as protected land under the Antiquities Act of 1906, an enactment of the Teddy Roosevelt Administration and genesis of the American park system, as the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument (GSENM).

A famous feature of GSENM is Grosvenor Arch, named for Gilbert H. Grosvenor,
the first full-time editor of National Geographic.

GSENM (U.S. BLM)

Immediately east of GSENM, the narrow Glen Canyon National Recreation Area tracks the Colorado River from Canyonlands National Park to Lake Powell.  And just east of there, couched within an L of the north-south Glen Canyon and the east-west Navajo Nation is the 1.35 million acres that President Obama designated, or proclaimed, in December 2016, as Bears Ears National Monument.

You might have heard of Bears Ears, because it was at the heart of the controversy ignited when President Trump attempted to substantially rescind the Obama proclamation and vastly reduce the size of public lands in southern Utah.  By proclamation in December 2017, President Trump shrank the Bears Ears designation from 1.35 million acres to just under 230,000 acres, and he cut GSENM almost in half, from 1.88 million acres to just about one million acres (L.A. Times graphics).

Bears Ears NM (U.S. BLM) (red border)

The power of a President to undo a designation under the Antiquities Act is an open legal question.  In the 1970s, Congress undid a perceived overreach by the Carter Administration in protecting land in Alaska.  But the executive power to roll back designations is untested, and Trump's rollbacks were, like so many things about the Trump Administration, unprecedented.  Lawsuits followed from environmentalists and Native American tribes.

"Bears Ears" refers specifically to two buttes, and they are a universally and immediately recognizable landmark in southern Utah.  On a clear day, they can be seen from both Monument Valley Tribal Park in Arizona and Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado.  Driving the Trail of the Ancients from the Valley of the Gods, up the Moki Dugway from Mexican Hat, Utah, I recognized the Bears Ears right away when they popped up over the scrubby horizon.  They truly do give the unmistakable impression of first sighting a bear in the wilderness, ears poking up over shrubbery.

My first sighting of Bears Ears buttes

Bears Ears buttes in a National Park Service photograph

Bears Ears National Monument embraces the Trail of the Ancients and a vast range of sites that are archaeologically invaluable and culturally precious to multiple tribes, including the Navajo, Ute, Pueblo, Hopi, and Zuni.  Historic cliff dwellings, sacred burial grounds, petroglyphs, and pictographs abound in the region.  Headlong development plans and rampant looting of indigenous artifacts were key motivators of pleas for federal protection.  The buttes are at the center of it all geographically and symbolically, but it's the surrounding land that really matters.

Petroglyphs such as these at Capitol Reef National Park date between 300 and 1300.

So that was the frame in which I understood the controversy over Bears Ears before I went to Utah: a classic problem of conservationism versus economic development, collectivist versus objectivist land use, both sides with fair claims to the greater good.  The heuristic is a cost-benefit analysis, but different decision-makers variably assess intangibles such as environment, culture, and history.  And the whole calculation is awkwardly tinged with the shame of America's imperial legacy vis-à-vis indigenous peoples.

That framing is accurate—but incomplete.

There is an angle that I was missing, and it became apparent on the ground, literally.  My back-country drive was the tip-off.  The Moki Dugway is a spectacular unpaved mountain pass, not for the vertigo-inclined.  The pass was carved out by private enterprise specifically to transport uranium mined in Fry Canyon to a processing facility in Mexican Hat.  Bears Ears is not just about conventional land use.  It's about what lies beneath: coal, oil, natural gas, and uranium.  The Trump reductions to Bears Ears and GSENM were mapped specifically to kowtow to the extractive industries.

Moki Dugway

Panorama from the Moki Dugway, looking south toward Monument Valley

Valley of the Gods from the Moki Dugway

This is a FOIA story.  Extraction is rarely mentioned in news reports about Bears Ears.  But a media lawsuit under the Freedom of Information Act yielded some 5,000 pages of records from the Department of Interior that show, The New York Times headlined in 2018, that "oil was central."

Bears Ears proposed boundary revision,
attached to Hatch office email,
to "resolve all known mineral conflicts"

In March 2017, the office of Senator Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) transmitted to the Trump Interior Department maps of mineral deposits in the Bears Ears National Monument with email messages, such as, "Please see attached for a shapefile and pdf of a map depicting boundary change for the southeast portion of Bears Ears monument." As the Times reported, a map recommending monument reduction "was incorporated almost exactly into the much larger reductions President Trump announced in December, shrinking Bears Ears by 85 percent."

Publicly, Trump Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke downplayed the role of extraction in the decision-making, for example, once declaring, according to the Times, "We also have a pretty good idea of, certainly, the oil and gas potential—not much! .... So Bears Ears isn't really about oil and gas."

Meanwhile, the Times reported, "internal Interior Department emails and memos also show the central role that concerns over gaining access to coal reserves played in the decision by the Trump administration to shrink the size of the [GSENM] by about 47 percent ...."  According to the Times, "Mr. Zinke's staff developed a series of estimates on the value of coal that could potentially be mined from a section of Grand Staircase called the Kaiparowits plateau.  As a result of Mr. Trump's action, major parts of the area are no longer part of the national monument.

"'The Kaiparowits plateau, located within the monument, contains one of the largest coal deposits in the United States,' an Interior Department memo, issued in spring 2017, said.  About 11.36 billion tons are 'technologically recoverable,' it projected."

In contrast, the Times reported, 20,000 pages of Interior records accessed in the FOIA lawsuit "detail the yearslong effort during the Obama administration to create new monuments, including input from environmental groups, Indian tribes, state officials and members of Congress."

Another Hatch office email attachment:
USGS-mapped uranium deposits
in and around Bears Ears

Earlier, in January 2018, Times reporting based on public records obtained from the Utah Bureau of Land Management revealed the centrality of uranium extraction in public policy on Bears Ears.  As controversial uranium mining operations were set to resume near the Grand Canyon, the Times reported, and "even as Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke declared last month that 'there is no mine within Bears Ears,' there were more than 300 uranium mining claims inside the monument.

"The vast majority of those claims fall neatly outside the new boundaries of Bears Ears set by the administration. And ... about a third of the claims are linked to Energy Fuels, a Canadian uranium producer. Energy Fuels also owns the Grand Canyon mine, where groundwater has already flooded the main shaft.

"Energy Fuels, together with other mining groups, lobbied extensively for a reduction of Bears Ears, preparing maps that marked the areas it wanted removed from the monument and distributing them during a visit to the monument by Mr. Zinke in May."

Straight line of uranium "road scar" at Capitol Reef,
visible from upper left to lower right

Not just on the Moki Dugway, the legacy of uranium mining is evident on the landscape in southern Utah.  For example, in the stunning vista of Grand Overlook at Canyonlands National Park, some unusually straight lines in the earth stand out in contrast with the curving tracks along the hilly contours.  The straight lines, a ranger told me, are "road scars" from truck routes, transporting the yield of uranium mines before the national park was established in 1964. 

At Capitol Reef National Park, on the eastern edge of GSENM north of Glen Canyon, one can see the fence-wood-sealed holes of old uranium mines on hillsides and cliff faces, always tracking a pale yellow stratum in the rock.  According to a National Park Service signboard, "[t]he thin band of yellow-gray" is "a layer of ancient, river-deposited sandstone containing trace amounts of uranium....

"Exploration and milling of uranium was encouraged by the US Atomic Energy Commission in the 1950s during the Cold War.  Prospectors flocked to the Colorado Plateau.  Even protected National Park Service lands were opened to mining.  Despite strong opposition from park managers, companies were allowed to build roads, dig mines, and construct camps in previously undisturbed lands."

Fenced uranium mine openings in yellow stratum at Capitol Reef National Park

Part of NPS signboard at Capitol Reef National Park

I do not here want to ignore the public good that flows from natural resource extraction.  I drive a car and heat a home with fossil fuels.  The Hatch memos to the Interior Department said that state taxes and fees on natural resource extraction would be used to fund public schools, libraries, and infrastructure.  Extraction provides jobs and drives economic development, which betters social conditions.  And as the Capitol Reef signboard intimated, domestic uranium yield was, and still is, vital to the national defense and can be supportive, or in other hands disruptive, of global security.

I don't here subscribe mindlessly to collectivist dogma.  My complaint is against opacity and deception.  The electorate can calculate the public good only with a complete and accurate accounting of the variables.

Three federal lawsuits over the Bear Ears/GSENM reductions were consolidated in Hopi Tribe v. Trump, No. 1:17-cv-02590-TSC (D.D.C. filed Dec. 4, 2017) (Court Listener).  By executive order on Inauguration Day in January 2021, President Biden instructed the Interior Department to review the Trump proclamations on Bears Ears and GSENM, as well as a marine national monument off the New England seaboard.  In March, the court granted a stay in Hopi Tribe, waiting to see what the Biden Administration would do.

Earlier this month, the Interior Department delivered its report to the White House.  The report has not been made public, but media outlets, including the Times, reported that Interior Secretary Deb Haaland, member of the Laguna Pueblo and the nation's first Native American cabinet secretary, recommended restoration of the national monuments to their pre-Trump proportions.  In a joint status report filed with the Hopi Tribe court on June 3, the parties asked the court to extend the stay, pending the President's reaction to the report from Interior.

Your humble blogger at Cedar Break National Monument in the Dixie National Forest

 (All photos not otherwise attributed: by RJ Peltz-Steele, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0.)

Transparencia, acceso a información se imponen como normas frágiles en acuerdo ambiental de Escazú

Parque Nacional Marino Ballena, Costa Rica
(2014 foto por RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

(English.) En el Día de la Madre Tierra en abril, entró en vigor un acuerdo internacional clave sobre ambientalismo y sostenibilidad.  El acuerdo es innovador en transparencia, pero enfrenta resistencia en su implementación.

El Acuerdo Regional sobre Acceso a la Información, la Participación Pública y el Acceso a la Justicia en Asuntos Ambientales en América Latina y el Caribe se adoptó en Escazú, Costa Rica, en marzo de 2018.  El acuerdo ha sido firmado por 24 países de América Latina y el Caribe, y ratificado por 12, incluidos México y Argentina en enero.  Pero la vitalidad del acuerdo está en duda ya que algunos principales actores, incluidos Chile y Perú, han dejado en suspenso su apoyo.

El acuerdo tiene dos artículos que tratan específicamente del acceso a la información. El artículo 5 se refiere al acceso de los ciudadanos al gobierno, y el artículo 6 se refiere a la difusión afirmativa de información en manos del gobierno.  Según "el principio de máxima publicidad," el artículo 5 establece un sistema de acceso típico a la información que incluye una neutralidad de motivos, el derecho a respuesta en 30 dias, y apelar, reenvío de solicitudes en busca de información, elección de formato, limitación de costos razonables, acceso parcial a información no exenta, y el derecho a una explicación de la denegación por escrito.

La denegación de acceso debe basarse en razones establecidas en la ley de antemano y debe interpretarse estrictamente con la carga de la prueba en el gobierno. Cuando la ley no dispone lo contrario, se permite la denegación solo por riesgo para la vida o la seguridad, seguridad nacional, protección del medio ambiente o una probable amenaza de daño sustancial a las fuerzas del orden. Los supuestos intereses públicos en la denegación del acceso deben sopesarse con los beneficios públicos en la divulgación "sobre la base de elementos de idoneidad, necesidad y proporcionalidad."  El artículo 5 también demanda la creación de un organismo de supervisión independiente.

Si el artículo 5 detalla una medida bienvenida de transparencia ambiental, ninguno es radical.  El gobierno de México reconoció que las obligaciones de transparencia eran consistentes con la ley nacional de libertad de información. Las obligaciones afirmativas del artículo 6 son más rigurosas.

El artículo 6 requiere que las autoridades públicas "generen, recopilen, pongan a disposición del público y difundan la información ambiental relevante para sus funciones de manera sistemática, proactiva, oportuna, regular, accesible y comprensible, y que actualicen periódicamente esta información y alienten la desagregación y descentralización de la información ambiental a nivel subnacional y local."

Una lista de información requerida para estar disponible públicamente incluye zonas contaminadas, "fuentes relativas a cambio climático," y "residuos por tipo y, cuando sea posible, desagregado por volumen, localización y año."  Además, las autoridades deben establecer "un registro de emisiones y transferencia de contaminantes al aire, agua, suelo y subsuelo," y, "en caso de amenaza inminente a la salud pública o al medio ambiente, ... divulgar[ar] de forma inmediata y por los medios más efectivos toda la información relevante que se encuentre en su poder y que permita al público tomar medidas para prevenir o limitar eventuales daños."

Sin embargo, a pesar de todas esas expectativas, el verdadero escollo político podría encontrarse al final del artículo 6.  El problema surge cuando el estado va a morder la mano que lo alimenta.  El artículo 6 insta a las partes del acuerdo a promover la transparencia ambiental en la contratación pública.  Y los dos últimos párrafos del artículo 6 establecen:

Cada Parte adoptará las medidas necesarias, a través de marcos legales y administrativos, entre otros, para promover el acceso a la información ambiental que esté en manos de entidades privadas, en particular la relativa a sus operaciones y los posibles riesgos y efectos en la salud humana y el medio ambiente.

Cada Parte incentivará, de acuerdo con sus capacidades, la elaboración de informes de sostenibilidad de empresas públicas y privadas, en particular de grandes empresas, que reflejen su desempeño social y ambiental.

Si bien México consideró que el acuerdo es compatible con la ley de transparencia, según un comentario del bufete de abogados internacional Garrigues, con sede en Madrid, Perú se resiste al acuerdo específicamente porque su ley de transparencia ya funciona.  Perú también lamentó "pérdida de soberanía del Estado ... en el manejo de sus recursos naturales," si la ejecución puede ser sometida a la Corte Internacional de Justicia. Además, Garrigues explicó:

[T]ambién se sostuvo que el Acuerdo de Escazú representaría un peligro para los derechos adquiridos a través de concesiones, contratos, convenios o autorizaciones otorgadas, así como a la propiedad privada, en tanto se dispone el acceso a la información ambiental sin expresión de causa, lo cual podría ocasionar la paralización de las inversiones, además de imponer obligaciones que no deberían soportar las entidades privadas.

Laguna Cejas, Salar de Atacama, Chile
(2015 foto por RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Chile, que había sido un actor clave en las negociaciones junto con Costa Rica, como proponente del acuerdo, citó de manera similar, entre sus muchas razones para retirar su apoyo al acuerdo, ambigüedad sobre "el tipo de información ambiental ni otros aspectos de la obligación que se impone a las 'entidades privadas' de generar y divulgar."

La importancia de la transparencia para la responsabilidad ambiental está bien establecida. El acuerdo de Escazú en sí se inició como producto de la Declaración de Río sobre el medio ambiente y el desarrollo, en 1992. El acceso a la información ha sido parte de otras iniciativas ambientales importantes, a saber, la Convención de Aarhus sobre el acceso a la información, la participación pública en la toma de decisiones, y acceso a la justicia en materia ambiental, que entró en vigor en 2001, y el Protocolo de Cartagena sobre bioseguridad del convenio sobre la diversidad biológica, que entró en vigor en 2003.

Incluso en los Estados Unidos, donde el acceso a la información por estatuto ha variado desde la famosa innovación en la década de 1960 hasta la infame torpeza (quiero decir "clunkiness" en inglés) de hoy, el desastre de Bhopal, y una emergencia doméstica, precipitaron leyes de transparencia en 1986 y en 1990 y dieron como resultado un registro público de emisiones tóxicas mantenido por la Agencia de Protección Ambiental.  Los Estados Unidos también requieren una transparencia sectorial limitada en el sector privado con respecto a la salud pública. En una historia reciente, On the Media informó sobre la transparencia de la investigación médica requerida por la ley federal, si bien junto con una alarmante falta de cumplimiento.

En 2018, escribí sobre una doctrina de acceso a la información en Sudáfrica empleada para obtener información suelta de corporaciones privadas sobre riesgos y daños ambientales. Gigantes agroquímicos como Monsanto, ahora parte de Bayer, intervinieron en litigio sudafricano para evitar el acceso a información sobre modificaciones genéticas patentadas.  Ciertamente, América Latina no es ajena a la explotación por parte de los agronegocios, y la transparencia, especialmente en el sector privado, es una herramienta vital para proteger la salud pública ahora en el futuro.

Países latinoamericanos han avanzado en áreas como la protección de datos y la regulación alimentaria que avergüenzan a Estados Unidos. Pero la batalla contra la corrupción es interminable. El destino del Acuerdo de Escazú lo dirá.