Since the 1970s, the Northwest Incinerator has grown older, air-emissions standards have gotten tougher, and the environmental movement’s attitude toward burning garbage has changed dramatically.
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It used to be that landfills were considered the worst place to put our garbage, because sooner or later they leak toxic pollutants into precious drinking water underground. A decade before the current environmental-justice movement emerged, working-class grandmothers were studying toxicology texts, monitoring garbage trucks, and demonstrating to shut landfills down. Among their lasting victories was Illinois’ “hierarchy” of garbage options, passed into law in 1986: waste reduction is supposed to be first choice, then recycling and reuse, then incineration with energy recovery, then plain old incineration, and last of all burial in landfills. State policy has not always followed this hierarchy, but it remains on the books, a kind of flag for various parties to wrap themselves in as convenient.
“What made us take a closer look was [the proposal for a large garbage-burner] in Robbins. We got more information about air pollution and ash disposal.” Dispersing pollutants in the air seemed at least as bad as dispersing them in the ground and water; some apparently highly toxic pollutants, the dioxins, were created by burning chlorine-containing garbage; and the leftover ash (roughly 30 percent of the original garbage by volume) still had to be buried somewhere anyway.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Mike Tappin.
