Last April 17, when the West Fertilizer Company's
facility in the Texas town of the same name exploded, killing 15 and laying
waste not only to the plant but to a good chunk of the town as well, it had
been more than 25 years since a federal Occupational Safety and Health (OSHA)
inspector personally appeared at the plant. But that did not stop OSHA from issuing a $118,300 fine
against the company last week, on October 9, for a list of 24 safety
violations. This news came out
despite the federal government's shutdown because Sen. Barbara Boxer's office
found out about it and notified news media. The company has fifteen days to either pay the fine or file
an administrative appeal with OSHA, and company representatives said they were
conferring with lawyers about their next step.
Depending on how
you view the idea of punishment, OSHA's fine either looks pretty silly or seems
like a sound and reasonable step for such an agency to take. Let's examine the case for silly first.
Suppose you run a
small fertilizer company that has gone through bankruptcy in the last few years
and probably has total assets, land and facilities included, of at most a few
million dollars, with a one-million-dollar liability insurance policy on the
property. Due to causes that even
combined federal and state investigations cannot precisely determine, your plant
blows up, killing fifteen of your fellow citizens, causing over a hundred
million dollars' worth of damage to your town, and by the way, completely
demolishing the physical assets of your business. Half a year later, along comes OSHA and lays a fine of over
$100,000 on you for various historical violations based on testimony of how the
fertilizer that exploded was stored and for not having an emergency response
plan. How do you respond?
I am not running
the West Fertilizer Company, but at the moment, hiring lawyers to file an
administrative appeal will be a lot cheaper than paying the fine up front,
which would probably suck up most of any remaining cash and possibly make the
company go out of business altogether.
Not that they haven't had time to do anything more than deal with
lawyers and lawsuits since April anyway.
Obviously, the better time for OSHA to have levied such a fine would
have been before the April explosion, when the changes possibly stimulated by
such a large penalty might have had the positive effect of preventing the
explosion. At this point, the fine brings to mind a scene in the animated film Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. At one point, the brilliant but silent
canine character Gromit, a skilled driver, goes on a wild car chase that winds
up with his vehicle stalled out after a minor collision. Sitting there silently on a dark road,
Gromit seems lost in the depths of despair, thinking that things cannot
possibly get worse. And then they
do: the car's airbag deploys in his
face. OSHA's fine is timed as well
as Gromit's airbag.
Whether the fine
makes any sense depends on one's theory of punishment. In How
to Think About the Great Ideas, philosopher Mortimer Adler points out that
there are two main opposing theories of punishment: retribution and prevention. As retribution, OSHA's fine would be laughable, were it not
for the somber circumstances. It
is hard to imagine a retributive penalty for the West Fertilizer Company, which
after all is a business firm, not an individual. It has already been reduced to smithereens, and unless you
contemplate something primitive like blowing up the houses of the owners in
retribution for the explosion of their plant, it is hard to conceive of a
punishment that would be purely retributive in character.
OSHA fines appear
to be based on the preventive theory of punishment, as are most administrative
fines levied on corporations in general.
While it is clear that it is way too late for this fine to prevent what
happened in West, it is by no means too late for other operators of fertilizer
manufacturing and storage facilities to take note of the fine and the reasons
why it was levied. There are over
a dozen similar fertilizer plants just in Texas alone, and it is a good bet that
many of these are lacking in the same safety features that would have prevented
or mitigated the accident in West.
One hopes that insurance companies will take the initiative to motivate
their fertilizer-plant customers to upgrade their facilities and procedures to
make it less likely that something like the West explosion will happen. And there is always the chance that
enlightened managers and owners will take it upon themselves to make the needed
changes: following existing
federal guidelines about how ammonium nitrate should be stored, putting
emergency procedures in place and even practicing fire drills, and taking other
sensible precautions that are not rocket science but often get neglected when
an organization skids by for years and avoids the very unlikely but disastrous
chance that a normally well-behaved chemical like ammonium nitrate will
explode.
While it's true
that the horse named the West fertilizer explosion has long since left the
barn, there are many other horses of a similar nature who can be kept in place
if fertilizer plants and facilities across the country learn from the sad
experience of the Texas town that got famous for a reason nobody wanted. I hope that OSHA's actions, however tardy,
serve as a warning to prevent another tragedy like the one we saw last spring.
Sources: The OSHA fine was
described in a news article in the Waco Tribune that appeared in the online
edition of Oct. 11 at http://www.wacotrib.com/news/business/west-fertilizer-co-cited-for-safety-violations/article_6d83a0cc-f28f-5763-ba23-f8229c0dfbae.html. Mortimer Adler's How to Think About the Great Ideas (Chicago: Carus Publishing, 2000) describes the
great idea of Punishment on pp. 274-283.
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