The Dow of Corporate Irresponsibility

Just outside the Dow Chemical Plant in Seadrift Texas, Diane Wilson is sitting in the flatbed of her rusty blue pickup truck, covered by a tarp and a big cowboy hat. She is on the 27th day of a hunger strike, undertaken in solidarity with the victims of the Bhopal, India disaster of 1984, which killed and injured thousands; hundreds continue to die every year.

Diane feels a strong connection with those who suffered the disaster of chemical pollution in Bhopal. A fourth-generation shrimpboater, along with many other fisherwomen and men she has been fighting for her economic survival. Pollution in the Alamo Bay and the Gulf of Mexico from chemical industries and oil refineries has dramatically reduced the shrimp and fish population, making it difficult for many in Seadrift and other communities along the Gulf to make a living. Diane has fought to get polluting companies to sign zero-discharge agreements and after four hunger strikes succeeded with Formosa and Alcoa. But Dow, which bought Union Carbide, has refused to sign.

In July two Indian activists were hospitalized after fasting to get Dow to clean up the mess left by the accident and provide medical care for the injured. When Diane learned this, she decided to take up the fast herself.

Diane is being supported by many organizations and communities, among them a group called UnReasonable Women for the Earth. At the Bioneers Conference last fall, Diane finished her plenary speech with the words: "Reasonable women conform to the world, unreasonable women make the world conform to it. Let us all be unreasonable women!"

With the help of Nina Simons, 34 women created a community of "unreasonable women" a few months ago. Every few days another UnReasonable woman comes to Seadrift to sit and fast with Diane. She has also been joined by Indian activists and gives interviews by cell phone to radio shows and newspapers across the country and sends out reports about the strike by email.

"There are no boundaries," writes Diane in one letter. "How they treat the people in India is how they are treating us -- the accident to expose it just hasn't happened yet."

On Aug. 6, Day 21 of her strike, Diane’s body is weaker; yet her determination is stronger than ever. Her Aunt June comes to take her vitals; her blood pressure is holding well and her pulse only a bit elevated. We are relieved and yet all continue to be concerned. The morning emails are full of love from Italy, India and England, as more than 500 hundred people around the world have joined Diane in her strike.

The day began with the rising of the bright orange-red sun over the aging factory in a ray haze, Diane's truck parked on the grass in front, she at the entrance handing out flyers or with her sandwich board carrying sayings we found in the conference room inside Dow: If you make a mess, please clean it up and No one should be a safety statistic.

Slowly (as the days without food slow you down), the tarp is raised, the banners hung and the signs placed and the daylong wait in the boiling Texas sun begins. At 8:30am sirens and whistles suddenly begin to scream loud and long, a more horrible sound than Diane has ever heard. A train deep inside the plant comes barreling out past the truck to the barge canal followed by 25 safety vehicles of all sizes, including a fire engine with lights flashing.

Diane picks up her cell phone and calls the citizen inquiry number. It is a local number but answers in Dow’s Michigan headquarters; they have no idea what is happening so they forward her call to someone in Seadrift.

"It's me, Diane. I am out front, what is going on?"

"It's a wheel alarm." Click. The operator has hung up on Diane. Now she puts a call into national headquarters: "I am a fisherwoman down here and I want to know what is going on, and why all the sirens?"