SMITHFIELD, N.C. – On the wall of Whitley Stephenson’s hog farm office hangs a clean water award which appears to be an anomaly in the fierce battle between pig farmers and environmentalists in North Carolina.
It illustrates a truth: in the clash between an urban population, environmental standards and the hog industry, problem pollution often is in the eye (and nose) of the beholder.
Stephenson is supposed to be one of the bad guys.
His 4,000-sow operation is set in the middle of a town and his manure lagoons are near a river. Problems over smell and water pollution seem inevitable.
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Yet there on the wall is a certificate, signed by governor James Hunt Jr., which identifies Spruce Meadows Farm as “the 1996 river-friendly farmer of North Carolina.”
Stephenson, 34-year-old president of the state Pork Producers’ Association, smiles at the irony.
“I got that for doing what I’ve always done,” he said. “I didn’t change my way of operation.”
He winces as he recalls a second memory.
Misrepresented industry
When the local television station carried a story of the award, it was accompanied by gruesome footage of a totally unrelated 1995 spill which sent 75 million litres of lagoon sewage from a distant farm into the New River in southeast North Carolina, killing fish and creating a public outcry that has resulted in tighter state controls.
“Why do they always run that film?” he asked. “It is tabloid journalism to prove their point. That footage does not represent the industry. That was a rogue producer.”
It is a common complaint on hog farms in the state: the urban-based media and tourist industries are out to get them.
“We have standards that are tougher than most states and yet the image remains that there are no rules,” complained Walter Cherry, executive director of the hog industry lobby. “People believe what they want to believe.”
Doug Rader, a Raleigh lawyer and environmentalist, begs to differ.
Through the North Carolina Environmental Defence Fund, he has been one of the strongest critics of the industry, claiming that tests show land, water and air pollution are a regular side effect.
Rader concedes in recent years, and especially since the 1995 spill, regulations have been toughened and the industry is being forced to meet higher standards.
“But we have a long way to go before North Carolinians can feel comfortable with the direction the industry has taken.”
Kelly Zering, a Manitoba transplant who has used his position as an associate professor at N.C. State University to become an expert on the state hog industry, says it is a clash of ideologies.
“There have been changes but once an image is established, it is hard to shake,” he said.
Joseph Luter III, the Virginia-based millionaire owner of Smithfield Foods, the largest packer in both Virginia and North Carolina, did not help.
This winter, in a battle with the Virginia state government over pollution violations , Luter said it was politics and threatened to move even more of his operation to North Carolina.
Stephenson was unimpressed.
“If he thinks there is a licence to pollute here, he’s wrong.”
