The improved water lead data, initially reported by the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality, has been independently corroborated by the Environmental Protection Agency, third-, and even fourth-party entities. And, in her 2018 Policy Infrastructure Plan, Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer rightly noted that “more than 70 communities (in Michigan) have drinking water systems with higher lead levels than Flint.”
So, what gives with the “Flint water is still not safe” mantra?
For starters, there is no such thing as completely safe drinking water. Even bottled water has some risks, ranging from bacteria to microplastics.
Meanwhile, Flint still has extremely high water costs, according to a Michigan Radio analysis, and an oversized antiquated water system, which contributed to the initial water crisis in Flint. However, this kind of system also exists and endangers public health in thousands of other American towns and cities. In other words, claiming Flint water is “still not safe” is accurate in a generalized sense, but by that metric other American water systems are also deserving of our financial assistance and concerns about safety.
Sadly, the “still not safe” claim has also been frequently used as a cudgel — by opportunists aiming to take advantage of the fame, fortune and narrative that the Flint water crisis offers. In our newly published research in “Citizen Science: Theory and Practice,” we argue that the trust vacuum created by an initial failure of government at all levels was partly filled by unscientific fearmongering and a victimization narrative that sometimes drowned out reason.
Scientific assessments that the water quality was improving were countered with some falsified data and even harassment by those claiming victimhood (a phenomenon known as “crybullying”). If post-federal emergency Flint illustrates what a scientific dark age might look like in America, it is not a pretty sight.
In 2018, an image of a fire hydrant spewing rust colored water (a result of a lack of corrosion control) during the height of the Flint water crisis in 2015 was shared — along with a false claim the photo was taken “yesterday.” The fire hydrant hoax went viral, supporting the “still unsafe” claim and undermining data indicating Flint water was improving, until other Flint residents exposed the error.
Five days later, the same debunked photo image from 2015 was shared again. It again went viral on social media with a new false title: “Flint, Michigan Water on July 1, 2018. But we are going to get a Space Force.” Still more outrage generated from false information. We even documented a troubling instance, where lead fishing sinkers were put inside plumbing, producing dangerously high water lead levels while the homeowner sought financial assistance for contaminated water via GoFundMe.
Such false messaging can undermine public trust and health. In 2016, amid fears about water safety, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that an estimated nearly 80% of Flint residents had altered their bathing habits in a manner that could adversely affect hygiene — even as an outbreak of shigellosis dysentery occurred.
After health officials released standard advice to prevent the spread of the disease by encouraging hand-washing, some activists claimed the shigellosis was coming from water, and demanded that officials stop “blaming the victims” and implying Flint residents were “dumb and dirty.” An activist later claimed, “We have shigella because we wash our hands” and that the state-supplied filters to protect residents from lead were causing “dysentery.”
This pattern has continued. A tragedy of elevated blood lead levels for some Flint children has been exaggerated by some into a claim of permanent brain damage for nearly all children. We personally met individuals who believed the hyperbole — children who were unduly stigmatized and a few teachers who felt Flint students were so damaged they were not capable of learning. Even if the false claims were successful in generating more empathy and relief funding, is the price justified?
“Still not safe” activists eventually disrupted our presentations at scientific meetings and caused other events to be canceled. A letter accusing us of unethical behavior was written anonymously, then sent to numerous influential scientific and professional organizations; one of us filed a defamation lawsuit to seek redress. Obviously, the entire situation creates a dilemma for those collecting and reporting data showing improvements, which is paradoxically attacked as “bad news” by a few individuals who seek to perpetuate victimization narratives and a sense of crisis.
An unprecedented $600 million in relief funding has been committed to Flint (though not all has been paid out) and the city has had “normal” drinking water since at least early 2017. Yet, as one Flint activist explained to The Guardian, “Who can land on this Earth and tell a Flint resident their water is fine? It’d have to be God.” Clearly, unless more of us are willing to uphold truth over self-interest, and exercise courage rather than manufacturing outrage, Flint’s water will never be safe.