Bush and Struhs predicted the agreement will serve a number of good ends: It will save water, make the mill's discharge cleaner than it's been in decades, sustain forest land for timber use and save 1,200 jobs at Georgia-Pacific, Putnam County's largest employer, they say. "It's a remarkable convergence of both economic and environmental interests," Struhs says.
But environmentalists are furious. They say the administration gave away too much and may have even accelerated the demise of the jobs it's trying to save. "It's law-breaking pollution, and they've basically allowed no improvement for another 10 years," says Linda Young, Florida director of the Clean Water Network, which is challenging the permit.
Young fears the company will either "run the mill into the ground" and close it before the upgrades are required or await looser water quality standards under the George W. Bush administration.
The key issues in the negotiation between the state and Georgia-Pacific over the permit were how clean the company can make its wastewater by improving its operations -- and what should happen if the effluent still doesn't meet the standards for Rice Creek.
A 1999 EPA report spelled out how Georgia-Pacific could meet the standards by reducing water use, upgrading its wastewater treatment methods and refining the company's bleaching system. The report concluded that Georgia-Pacific could even save $2 million in annual operating costs in the process.
Georgia-Pacific, which is planning to spend about $102 million to meet new state and federal wastewater rules for the paper industry, was reluctant to spend more on EPA's suggested upgrades, however. The company worried that regulators might raise the bar later with more requirements that would add to its costs.
More specifically, the company took issue with EPA's conclusions. Georgia-Pacific's experience at its other plants convinced it that the changes at the Palatka mill wouldn't be as effective as the EPA believed they would -- and that the wastewater could never meet the water quality standards required for Rice Creek, says Robert Burns, a spokesman for the plant.
The company's preferred solution, since 1994, had been to build a four-mile, $20-million pipeline that would let it pour its dark, salty effluent directly into the St. Johns River, where the concentration of metals and toxins would be diluted but not eliminated.
But Jacksonville Mayor John Delaney was on a crusade to clean and protect the St. Johns. In 1998, he had threatened to sue if the state approved a pipeline. Struhs and the state concluded that the company would win a legal battle if it tried to build a pipeline to the St. Johns. But rather than fight the issue in court, Struhs and his technical team sought to persuade the company to clean up its discharge -- and give Georgia-Pacific an "out" if the EPA's improvements didn't do the trick.
The permit requires the company to spend another $70 million to $80 million by 2008 on manufacturing improvements that will reduce the toxins in its discharge. The company must meet the federal requirements by the April 15, 2001, deadline, but the state will place no additional limits on the wastewater flowing into Rice Creek until 2008. If the investment does not bring water quality up to state standards by 2009, the permit lets the mill build the pipeline to the St. Johns River.
Struhs believes the company also wanted to avoid litigation in the face of a likely public outcry in Jacksonville. Now, he argues, if the pipeline is built, water discharged into the St. Johns will be cleaner than it would have been without the upgrades. And, he says, by modernizing its equipment, GP becomes more competitive in the international marketplace.
But Young and others see holes in all those arguments. Why, they ask, did the state give Georgia-Pacific so long to make the improvements, which the DEP concedes could be achieved in four to five years? And, Young asks, if the upgrades are worth waiting for, why not wait to see how clean they can get Rice Creek before authorizing the pipeline?
Jerry Brooks, a DEP deputy, says those elements were all part of the deal. Georgia-Pacific "didn't want to commit $80 million of infrastructure to find themselves in the same position they are in today of not being in compliance," he says. The paper company also insisted on a clause that prevents the state from imposing additional improvements, even if new technology emerges that could clean its Rice Creek effluent better. "We'll be thrilled if we meet water quality standards with the technology we have," says Burns, the Georgia-Pacific spokesman. But the company needed a guarantee it wouldn't be required to "continuously spend more" to improve the discharge in the creek.
Delaney supported the permit initially, saying he is more concerned about cleaning up the discharge than opposing the pipeline. But he's considering an independent review of the permit.
Young says the episode proves DEP is more interested in avoiding conflict and "creating bureaucratic loopholes to protect big polluters" than using the state's practical and political leverage to thoroughly clean state waterways.
Meanwhile, she believes GP's proposed permit could be the precursor to a more insidious change: A rule proposed recently by DEP would remove Class III water bodies like Rice Creek from the list of "impaired waters" (which must meet daily water quality standards) if the "impairment is caused by a permitted facility."
Young endorsed Bush for governor but now believes he's done "more harm in two years than his predecessor did in eight." The Clean Water Network has raised money to challenge the proposed permit when it comes up for final approval in June, and Jessica Landman, formerly a senior attorney for the National Resources Defense Council, has won a three-year fellowship from the Pew Trust to help.
Is Struhs worried? "Not at all," he says. "If you're right on the facts and right on the law and right on the politics, there's no reason to believe this isn't going to proceed exactly according to plan."