If you need a break from national politics, see what happens when a deeply Republican state favors Big Oil over its own citizens' property rights.
The road west to the Sibson farm in Miner County. Look closely, and just below the horizon, you might see a pale green line...
...pipeline.
80-foot sections of oil pipeline, stretching a thousand miles in either
direction, right through the heart of the Sibsons' land.
Mike and Sue Sibson live in western Miner County. They refer to their land, now sliced in half by the
Keystone Pipeline, as their "homestead" of 30-some years.
"Homestead"
is a powerful word. It recalls where our people came from: traveling
across wild land, picking one spot out of a million possibilities,
staking survival--financial and physical--on their best guess that this
patch of land might produce a good crop. Our ancestors came in response
to a simple promise from the government: build a house, grow crops,
tough it out, and the land is yours.
The Sibsons thought the
land they worked for was theirs. They chose a spot twelve miles out of
town, built a home, paid the bills with corn, wheat, and cattle. By
sweat and wits, they earned their farm. They figured it was theirs,
plain and simple...
...until
last year, when a foreign corporation said, "No, actually, we can claim
your land anytime we want," and the government to which the Sibsons pay
their taxes replied, "Yup, sure can."
South Dakota farmer Mike Sibson in front of a section of the pipeline
waiting to be welded and buried on the Sibsons' land."I'm one of the only guys who can say he had a 2000-mile pipeline shoved up his ass," says Mike Sibson.
The Sibsons were one of several South Dakota families to sign on to a lawsuit last year trying to prevent
TransCanada from using eminent domain to seize easements from landowners along the proposed
Keystone pipeline
route. The landowners struggled just to find a lawyer willing to take
the case; Sioux Falls lawyer and legislator Scott Heidepriem signed on
to fight the losing battle. The Sibsons and other litigants ultimately
cut their losses and
settled on confidential terms. It was as good a deal as they could probably get, but, as Sibson says, this taking of his land was still against his will.
Mike
and his wife Sue were willing to give me a tour of the work site across
their land. The Sibson home happens to be where the Keystone pipeline
comes closest to my home, about 25 crow-flying miles east in Lake
County.
Work crews started moving earth on the Sibson farm a few
weeks ago. Crews skimmed off the topsoil first, heaping it in a
miles-long berm on the west side of TransCanada's 150-foot construction
easement. That digging cost the Sibsons a strip of wheat, though Mike
doesn't blame TransCanada on that count: he knew at planting time he
was gambling that the wheat would mature before the workers arrived.
This cool summer didn't help the wheat beat the construction foreman's
clock.
Plank road through wetlands on pipeline route
The
crews have taken some measures to protect the land and water along the
pipeline route. Wetland boundaries are marked with small signs; the
pipeline runs through one such sometimes boggy area on the Sibsons'
land. Crews lay big timbers to make plank roads through the wetlands
for the big machines to drive on. That's good for the land, preventing
the trucks and such from tearing deep ruts into the wet ground. It's
also good for the project schedule, since no one wants to spend all day
towing equipment out of the mud.
The wetlands markers also
prohibit refueling of vehicles and machinery; if any diesel or other
fuel is going to be spilt--and you're going to spill a little when
you're operating machinery--it at least won't splash straight into the
marshes and sloughs along the pipeline route.
No-refueling zone near wetlands on pipeline route.
"Made in India": markings inside one section of Keystone pipeline
Then
comes the pipeline: 80-foot sections of Indian steel, laid out in a
line all across South Dakota as it has been or will be across six other
states and three provinces. As we toured the construction zone on the
Sibsons' land, the welding units were just making their way south from
Pump Station 22, one of four stations in South Dakota that will keep
TransCanada's oil flowing at pressures up to 1,440 psi. As the welders
approach, the insides of each section are scoured. Then workers grind
the ends of each section to make sure the weld can take, joining these
massive sections. The backhoes will follow to dig the trench for the
pipeline. The welding machines then trundle forward in big shacks
around the pipe to shelter the sections during joining.
Pipeline welders heading south.
Once
the pipeline is in, the earth movers return to dig the trench. The
pipeline is then rolled intact into its final resting place. Before the
trench is filled, though, installers take one more precaution to
protect the wetlands. If the pipeline were simply buried and left
empty, awaiting completion of the entire line and the pumping of oil,
that hollow steel might float back up to the surface in the mushy
areas. To keep the pipeline down in the wetlands, crews will ease big
concrete weights down on top of the pipeline before restoring the
earth. Mike referred to them as "saddles," although that term seems to
get things backwards: rather than the pipeline "riding" the saddles,
these saddles ride the pipeline.
Pipeline "saddles" awaiting installation
"Saddle blanket" that will cushion the pipeline from the concrete on top of itThese
saddles come with saddle blankets. The round inside of each concrete
block is lined with a rough, fibrous layer of insulation, an inch
thick, maybe more. That blanket keeps the concrete from damaging the
pipeline when the saddles are lowered atop the pipeline. That blanket
also prevents damage if the pipeline or the saddles shift at all,
whether from the fluid dynamics of the high-pressure oil within or the
shifting land (freezing, thawing, future tractor action) without.
The
pipeline is an impressive engineering feat. Mike says he's heard the
Keystone pipeline may be the biggest single construction project in the
world right now. The total price tag for this line is
$5.2 billion; add in the proposed Keystone XL extension and the total
reaches $12 billion US.
That's a lot of money moving a lot of earth, steel, and eventually oil.
From a pure engineering perspective--and from the
kid-at-heart-seeing-big-machines perspective--watching the pipeline go
in is fascinating, like watching the Pyramids being built.
Mike Sibson takes me four-wheeling through the pipeline construction site on his land.
Mike
Sibson is a bigger aficionado of heavy equipment and good engineering
than I am, but understandably, he has trouble looking on the project
with much enthusiasm. As interesting as the big machines and the
construction process might be, they're still doing something to his
land that he didn't ask for. That gash in the earth and those big green
pipes are a visual reminder, a more vivid proof than any abstract
philosophy or legal document, that his land really isn't his. At any
moment, the pipeline says, folks bigger and stronger and richer can
have their way with the land you've worked for.
Mike says he
made it onto a list, circulated by TransCanada to its contractors,
warning them that he is a "hateful landowner." If there is such a list,
and if that designation has any truth, Mike's interaction with the
workers doesn't show it. He says gotten along reasonably well with the
pipeline construction workers, about as civilly as any of us might with
a few hundred uninvited guests making permanent changes to our
property. He understands that the men (I didn't see any lady hardhats
roving the construction site, but then I only toured a mile or so of
the route) from
Michels Pipeline Construction
and other contractors aren't responsible for the invasion of his land.
These men have come from all over the country to work hard and earn a
living, just as Mike and Sue do on their land.
Are you fellas sure this pipe isn't supposed to go through Minnesota? Mike Sibson (right) listens as a manager from
Michels Pipeline Construction of Brownsville, Wisconsin, explains that the welded pipeline will block a cattle crossing for a couple days.
But
the pipeline builders also need reminders to do things right. Their
trucks used to race along the gravel road right by the house. Sue went
out with a video camera one day to record the fast passages. A truck
roared forward from its stop at the intersection. The driver saw Sue,
saw the camera, and geared down fast. Handmade signs reminding drivers
to "Reduce Speed" appeared shortly afterward.
The Sibsons
noticed that when the workers first started coming through their land,
trash was left here and there on the work site. The Sibsons complained,
and workers started picking up after themselves a little better.
Mike
also hears from fellow farmers and landowners to the north that when
pipeline work started up in Marshall County, the workers prepping the
pipeline sections for welding would leave the metal filings on the
ground. Landowners complained, and now the contractors are careful to
clean up those metal filings.
The Sibsons had to do some
persuading to get the contractors to put up fences along the route. The
pipeline runs roughly down the center of the Sibsons' main square mile,
cleaving in half crops and land where they run cattle. The contractors
thought the big dirt berms would keep the cattle from crossing the work
site and getting into other fields. Mike said no, cows would tromple
down those dirt piles like kids on the playground. The company then
offered to compensate the Sibsons for any cattle that got hurt or
killed stumbling into the pipeline trench. Mike said no, a good farmer
doesn't let his herd suffer for no reason, especially not when that
suffering can be avoided. Farming isn't just about money; it's also
about stewardship. TransCanada o.k.'ed good fence along the pastures.
Worker grinds pipeline section ends for welding
The
men building TransCanada's Keystone pipeline have accommodated many of
the Sibsons' concerns. But they had to be asked. If the Sibsons and
other landowners hadn't complained, TransCanada's contractors would
have kept on doing what they were doing, however they saw fit. And now
landowners along the Keystone pipeline route will have to maintain
similar vigilance... well, forever. If TransCanada had negotiated an
annual leasing system, then simple market forces could have held the
company responsible: if their surveyors or repair crews would fail to
respect the land or landowners, the landowners could decline to renew
their leases the following year, or at least could demand more money in
compensation for their undeserved trouble. But TransCanada would have
none of that: a
one-time payment, plus a little extra for lost crop production over the next couple years, and TransCanada can do as it pleases on that strip of land for the rest of the century.
The South Dakota Public Utilities Commission did offer some relief for landowners in the
57 conditions it imposed on TransCanada in exchange for the go-ahead to dig. There is, however, some question whether, if nuts came to bolts, the PUC
has the legal authority to enforce those conditions.
Pump Station 22,
Miner County, SD. PS-22 was originally sited for the Sibsons' land;
luckily for the Sibsons, TransCanada moved the site to two miles north
of their house.
Even if Pierre has any authority to hold
TransCanada accountable, would Pierre use it? The Sibsons don't think
so, not for the sake of common citizens. They felt the state blew them
and other landowners off during the pipeline approval hearings. They
see the Legislature refusing to put
even a meager tax on the pipeline to provide for environmental clean-up. They note the slight jog east the pipeline takes just up the road near
Twin Lakes,
to avoid, says Mike, the state game land there, and see the state
exerting its will to keep the pipeline off state land but not lifting a
finger to minimize the intrusion on private land. They hear rumors of
other state favors for TransCanada. They see the state's media avoiding
any hint of negative coverage of the pipeline project (did you hear
about the accident near Carthage between a fast pipeline truck and a
young driver who ended up in the hospital? Neither did I). The Sibsons
put all that together, and they see themselves stuck for a lifetime
with a new corporate neighbor whom they'll have to watch like a hawk...
since no one else will.
In the four-wheeler, Mike and I had
talked about how when a bad deal is a done deal, you can laugh about
it, or you can cry about it. We managed to laugh a few times during our
trip out through the pasture and up and down the line. Back in the farm
yard, Sue Sibson started to say something, then checked herself. I
wanted to encourage her, maybe say playfully, "Come on, say it. What do
you have to lose?"
But at that moment, all Sue was concerned
about losing was her composure. She bit back her emotions, and we
finished our conversation with smiles and handshakes.
Sue
finished her thought in an e-mail later that day: "We had to stand up
for the land and ourselves. Even though we have a crude oil pipeline
now, we still had to stand up."
Had to stand up.
For Sue and Mike Sibson, the obligation to stand up for the rights of
landowners and citizens is obvious. Just as disheartening as the
failure of the Sibsons' stand is the failure of our elected officials
to stand with them.
