Les Skramstad is dead. Whether he and the cause he championed will be quickly forgotten is an open question. We'll have an answer soon enough.
Skramstad was the former mill worker whose successful lawsuit and later actions helped draw national attention to Libby's silent killer - the deadly asbestos from the W.R. Grace vermiculite mine near Libby. Asbestos contaminating workers and the community has killed nearly 300 people and exposed many other men, women and children, possibly thousands, to potential disease. On Jan. 21, at age 70, Skramstad succumbed to the ravages of mesothelioma, a particularly awful and aggressive form of asbestos-caused cancer.
Libby and its people did not achieve such priority quickly or easily.
Full understanding of the dangers of asbestos evolved slowly. Yet as early as 1956, inspectors working for the Montana Division of Disease Control determined that dust from the vermiculite mine was dangerous to workers. The state of Montana stamped their findings “confidential,” and shared them only with owners of the mine - the Zonolite Co., later to be acquired by W.R. Grace.
Neither the company nor the state made those findings public or shared them with workers. Documents introduced as evidence in court cases show W.R. Grace knew about the health dangers from asbestos before it acquired the mine. Over subsequent decades, an array of public health, mine regulation, worker safety, union and environmental agencies and organizations failed to detect, denied and systematically downplayed what, today, appears so obvious - asbestos from the mine is a deadly danger.
W.R. Grace kept the mine in operation until 1990, all the while releasing thousands of pounds of asbestos-laden dust into the air daily. It settled over the town and surrounding area. Workers also carried it into their homes on their clothing, exposing their families. Skramstad's wife and two of his children, for example, also contracted asbestosis, a scarring of the lungs. It doesn't take very many asbestos fibers lodged in the lungs to trigger diseases that generally manifest themselves after 10, 20, perhaps even 40 years. It'll be decades before the death toll from this disaster is final.
Even after the extent of the scourge became obvious and widely accepted in 1999, some politicians and bureaucrats and industry apologists continued downplaying the problem. Our former governor had to be verbally bludgeoned into giving her blessing to supporting the all-out cleanup effort she initially resisted. Her predecessor had never responded to earlier pleas for help from people in his hometown of Libby, taking temporizing steps only once the disaster became national news. (For that matter, it was the Seattle Post-Intelligencer that first broke the story, not the Montana press.)
Libby might be associated with asbestos, but the word that ought to spring to mind first when you hear “Libby” is “betrayal.” The people of Libby were betrayed by uncaring industrialists and incompetent government officials and politicians.
Les Skramstad called them on it. Soft-spoken, credible and effective, Skramstad became the aging poster child of asbestos contamination in Libby. He not only worked tirelessly to secure help for his neighbors and community, but he also put a face on a disaster of mind-numbing magnitude. Somebody ought to erect a bronze statue of Skramstad in Libby. Because of the cleanup, the community will have a future.
But the betrayals may not be over yet. Without Skramstad, it's going to be up to others to continue his fight.
W.R. Grace is in bankruptcy court, seeking to minimize its financial obligations to the community. Meanwhile, company officials have the best lawyers money can buy working to get them off the hook as they face criminal charges stemming from their shocking indifference to workers effectively condemned to death. And the full extent and adequacy of the environmental cleanup may ultimately depend on how effectively the community asserts its rights. These are issues visible on the horizon.
But front and center today is a looming financial crisis that may affect how many other people in Libby follow Skramstad to the grave. It involves funding for the Libby Asbestos Medical Plan.
Known by its acronym, LAMP is a nonprofit program created in 2003 with money W.R. Grace agreed to pay as part of a lawsuit settlement with the Environmental Protection Agency. LAMP's purpose is to cover health care and screening costs for people who've been exposed to asbestos linked to the W.R. Grace mine. LAMP supplements medical benefits provided under the separate W.R. Grace Libby Medical Program administered by the HMO Health Network of America. LAMP pays for screening of people who've been exposed to asbestos but haven't (yet) been diagnosed with one of the diseases it causes. And for people who have been diagnosed with asbestos-related disease, it provides supplemental coverage for certain medical costs denied or not fully covered by the plan administered by Health Network of America.
LAMP began 3 1/2 years ago with $2.75 million from W.R. Grace's settlement with EPA. As of a few weeks ago, the fund balance had fallen well below $1.5 million. The board that governs the program says Health Network of America has been denying claims at an increasing rate, forcing more and more people to rely on supplemental coverage from LAMP. LAMP expenditures took a sudden jump in mid-2005 and have been rising at a startling pace since.
At the current rate, LAMP will be broke before this year ends.
If the money runs out, people victimized by W.R. Grace will be victimized further. Either they'll have to pay out of pocket for the care they need, or they'll forgo needed care. Others will have to use their own money if they want the annual screening tests recommended to ensure the earliest detection of the diseases they have an unsettlingly high likelihood of contracting. The broader community will share the burden as unpaid medical costs are shifted to other paying customers or health-care institutions and providers bear the ill effects of providing uncompensated care.
We're talking more betrayal.
Alternatively, LAMP's board must consider reducing the benefits it provides in order to extend the life of the program.
More betrayal.
Anyone with any sense of justice knows what ought to happen. But W.R. Grace is comfortably sheltered in bankruptcy court. The people of Libby are standing in a long line of other creditors as the money-changers finagle a way to help the company emerge from bankruptcy free of its past obligations - and free to resume its profitable pursuits. Most likely, that's even more betrayal in the making.
LAMP's looming financial crisis won't await any justice involving W.R. Grace and its years-long bankruptcy proceedings. Hundreds of ailing victims and people destined to discover they're victims are disadvantaged by time and money in fighting Health Network of America over coverage of claims. The only practical relief in the short term depends on the Montana Legislature. And, to the extent that the Legislature's actions reflect the public's will, it depends on you.
State Rep. Chas Vincent, R-Libby, is calling on the state to fill the void. His House Bill 407 would add $3 million to the state Department of Public Health and Human Services budget, earmarking the money for grants that could keep LAMP afloat.
It's $3 million out of the projected state surplus of nearly $1 billion that lawmakers are so giddily trying to spend, save and rebate.
It's $3 million, much of which otherwise would be paid by others in the form of uncollected bills for the hospital and asbestos disease clinic in Libby. It's a $3 million line item that scarcely compares to the further victimization of the people involved.
Three million dollars doesn't buy justice. Nor does it begin to atone for the state's complicity in covering up and enabling what the EPA terms “the most horrific environmental disaster in this country's history.”
But providing this $3 million is one thing the state of Montana can do to do right by the people of Libby.
Asbestos from W.R. Grace killed Les Skramstad. It's going to keep killing people. The most fortunate victims face worry, stress and ongoing medical expenses. Others can only hope for early detection and perhaps life-extending treatment of their deadly diseases. Skramstad worked on behalf of all these other people, even after his own fate was sealed and his own expenses were covered.
He's dead now. Is the state's commitment to help the people of Libby, which he worked so hard to secure, in danger of dying too? That's the $3 million question.
Steve Woodruff is opinion page editor of the Missoulian
|
 |
 |
Add your comment now! Write your comment in the form below.
(Email address is for verification only. If you'd like to email a story, look for the link above)