Governor, Chippewas battle over mine

ODANAH, WIS. — While laughing children bob in kayaks along the sandy shores of Lake Superior, their somber parents hunch over picnic tables talking about their wild rice, their water, their fish and their way of life. Members of the Bad River Band of Lake Superior Tribe of Chippewa Indians worry about what is to become of their lake, a life source for their people.

Gov. Scott Walker, his fellow Republicans and the governor's onetime enemies, labor unions, are championing a $1.5 billion open-pit mine planned for the Bad River watershed, 6 miles from the reservation.

On Aug. 30, six Chippewa tribes of Lake Superior sent President Obama a letter asking the Department of the Interior to prepare litigation to protect the wetlands, fisheries, waters and wildlife from mining. The mining area is honeycombed with 70 miles of rivers and streams that flow north into Lake Superior, which the tribes say would be threatened.

In March, Walker signed a bill streamlining the approval process and easing environmental regulations for the proposed open pit iron ore mine, in which wide swaths of earth are removed to extract minerals.

The issue playing out in Wisconsin is being repeated elsewhere.

"Policymakers and scholars" in other states -- including Washington, California, Colorado, Montana, Utah, Vermont, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania and New York -- "are looking to see how low environmental standards will go for open-pit mining," said Jenny Kehl, director of the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Center for Water Policy at the School of Freshwater Sciences.

"The precedent will spread to other states and to the mining of other minerals, which will further jeopardize water resources across the country," she said.

Kehl said the proposed mine will be so substantial that despite there being other mines near Lake Superior, this one would cause "environmental devastation."

In a statement to USA TODAY, the governor's office said, "Gov. Walker believes we can continue to protect our clean air, clean land and clean water, while providing Wisconsin workers with great opportunities for family-supporting jobs."

The 4-mile-long mine would produce 8 million tons a year of taconite, a low grade iron ore. The mine would be built by Gogebic Taconite (GTac), creating 700 jobs and indirectly, several thousand more.

Hal Quinn, president and CEO of the National Mining Association, said the move is overdue: "Many states are evaluating their systems for regulatory certainty because we're lagging behind other countries," he said.

Though the governor reminds citizens a miner is on the state flag, Wisconsin has been regarded as an environmentally protective state for decades. "In modern times, this has been an anti-mining state "said Ann Coakley, the state's top mining regulator for the Department of Natural Resources.

Then along came Walker, who promised smaller government and more private sector jobs.

To garner support, he reached out to trade unions and "was absolutely critical in pulling together a meeting with GTac" said Colin Millard, president of the Iron Workers District Council of the Northern Central States, whose members had worked hard to recall Walker.

"Putting people to work is what we do," Millard said. "We found a way we could still work with the governor."

Despite union workers' support, not a single Democrat voted for the bill in 2012 or again in 2013. With Republicans in the majority this year, the bill passed. Only one Republican voted against it.

The new law trims the number of public hearings, adds an aggressive timeline for the state's response to an environmental impact statement and allows the mining company to leave millions of tons of mining waste in the Bad River watershed, stating, "A significant adverse impact on wetlands is presumed to be necessary."

Gogebic Taconite is part of the privately held Cline Group. Founder and principal owner Chris Cline is a coal billionaire.

"It's a David and Goliath story," said state Sen. Bob Jauch, who represents the economically depressed area that may be home to the mine.

Mike Wiggins, chairman of the tribe, sees the fight as "a clash of cultures." Many of the nearly 2,000 tribe members on the reservation that borders Lake Superior hunt deer and bear, fish walleye and gather morels and juneberries.

"You have to see life from the eyes of a sturgeon," Wiggins said. "Rivers and streams are the lifeblood of the Earth."

Tribe members are convinced that sulfuric acid, arsenic, mercury or asbestos will flow downstream from the mine, poisoning the water and the wild rice they eat.

"In all likelihood that is not going to be a problem," said Bob Seitz, director of external affairs for GTac. He envisioned reclaimed land becoming an ATV park or a long shooting range and people and fish swimming in the mine-made-lake.

"We have the ability to create something, which is kind of exciting," he said. "We believe it can be done in an environmentally sound manner."

Lately, the dispute has grown ugly.

In June, protesters affiliated with Earth First! barged onto the mine site screaming expletives and threatening workers. They were not associated with the Bad River Reservation whose members practice non-violence. In July, GTac brought in armed guards from Bulletproof Securities of Arizona.

At a public hearing in August on a bulk sampling permit, 75 people spoke. All but four opposed the mine. The state has yet to rule on the permit.

Recently, Wiggins and his Bad River Tribe have had their own water problems. The Environmental Protection Agency has given them five months to eliminate excessive amounts of pollutants from their own waste treatment plant. "We have had problems," Wiggins said. "We are partnering with the EPA to rectify it."

In the fight against the mine, the Bad River Tribe may rely on an 1837 treaty in which Native Americans ceded much of northern Wisconsin to the United States for the right to hunt, fish and gather. As a sovereign nation, the tribe has received approval from the EPA to set its own water quality standards -- which the mining company will have to meet.

The mine must also win the approval of the Army Corps of Engineers and other federal agencies.

Tribal members say they won't give up.

"For 40 years, we've fought off threats to our environment," said Bad River elder Joe Rose Sr., 78. "I'm not going to let them poison my grandchildren."