Ozone Discourses: Science and Politics in Global Environmental Cooperation , by Karen T. Litfin

4. The Employment of Knowledge in the Montreal Protocol Negotiations

Where there was uncertainty, they though we needed more research and I thought we needed to be catious. We just looked at the same science and came to to different conclusions.

-Lee Thomas, former EPA administrator

The Montreal Protocol represents a transition from a regime based on the principle of free access to the upper atmosphere to one based on limited access. This transition articulated the discursive shift toward a precautionary approach to ozone depletion that had begun with the Vienna Convention. That shift was facilitated by the extended time frames embodied in sophisticated computer models, time frames that inevitably clashed with the shorter time frames typical of political decision making. Without a scientific consensus that continued CFC emissions would eventually cause ozone loss, the Montreal Protocol would have been inconceivable. Scientists and, to an even greater extent, knowledge brokers, were powerful political actors simply by virtue of their authority as interpreters of reality. Their power had little to do with control or domination but was instead a function of the perceived legitimacy of their knowledge.

In the most comprehensive history of the international efforts to protect the ozone layer, Richard Benedick, chief negotiator for the USA prior to the Montreal meeting, emphasizes the close collaboration between scientists and policymakers (1990). Superficially, the treaty appears to have been the result of deft diplomacy and a rigorous process of risk analysis; this is essentially Benedick's thesis. It would be a mistake, however, to conclude that science provided a body of objective and value-free facts from which international cooperation emerged. Rather, knowledge was framed in light of specific discourses so that the fact-value distinction on which risk analysis is premised was eroded. Because Benedick is inattentive to the discursive nature of knowledge, he disregards the contextual factors that determined the political salience of various interpretations of the available knowledge - most notably, the Antarctic ozone hole.

Because of the prominence of science and scientists in the ozone negotiations and particularly because there was an actual document that provided an international scientific consensus for policymakers (WMO/NASA 1986), the Montreal Protocol represents a most likely case for confirming the epistemic cooperation hypothesis. Yet while cooperation was achieved, a detailed tracing of the process shows that the treaty was not fundamentally rooted in consensual knowledge. In particular, Peter Haas's claim that the protocol was the work of an ecological epistemic community (1992a) is mistaken on three counts. First, he maintains that the "community" primarily comprised atmospheric scientists. But in actuality these scientists were quite reluctant to commit themselves to concrete policy recommendations before the causes of the Antarctic ozone hole were understood. Almost none of them advocated the virtual ban on CFCs that was promoted by the U.S. delegation. Second, although to a lesser extent than Benedick, Haas downplays the discursive nature of knowledge. The fact is that, although a body of consensual knowledge existed, the wide range of possible interpretations limited its influence. Third, and partly as a consequence of the second factor, Haas underestimates the impact of certain contextual developments, like the Antarctic ozone hole, which conditioned the salience of alternative interpretations. He mentions that the discovery of the ozone hole alarmed the public, and he misleadingly links it to the international scientific assessment (WMO/NASA 1986), but he fails to explain how, despite the negotiators' explicit decision to ignore the hole in their deliberations, it nonetheless contributed to a discursive shift in favor of precautionary action.

The availability of scientific knowledge to the negotiators was a necessary condition for the successful negotiation of the Montreal Protocol, but it was far from being a sufficient one; the persistence of major uncertainties opened the door to contending interpretations. As I argued in chapter 2, an understanding of the interaction of power and knowledge in specific situations cannot be derived through any a priori theoretical exercise but requires contextual analysis of concrete cases. Theoretical inquiry into the mutual embeddedness of power and knowledge, however, does suggest that neither the scientific nor the political context can stand independently. This chapter supports such a judgment, analyzing the events leading up to the Montreal Protocol as a complex interplay between scientific and political contexts, without reducing one to the other. As mentioned earlier, science did not offer a supply of value-free facts from which a policy consensus could be formulated, for knowledge could be framed in light of specific interests so that questions of value were rendered as questions of fact. On the other hand, scientific knowledge was not completely malleable, for it was rooted in an intransitive ontological dimension (Bhaskar 1986).

The acceptability of specific forms and interpretations of knowledge is partly a function of political and economic institutional factors. The domestic structures of the states involved in the Montreal Protocol negotiations influenced the extent to which scientific knowledge was available and appreciated. The nature of relations between industry and government and the structure of the various national CFC industries were also important factors in setting the political context. Another key element was the strength of domestic environmental pressure groups.

One outstanding event that cannot be reasonably classified as either wholly scientific or political, but which had an overriding impact on all aspects of the problem, was the discovery of the Antarctic ozone hole, which not only pervaded the psychological and political milieu by heightening the status of scientific uncertainty but strongly influenced the political acceptability of specific modes of framing and interpreting the consensual knowledge at hand. The hole, I will argue, provided dramatic evidence in favor of precautionary action, evidence that participants could not ignore, despite their conscious decision to ignore it.

The availability of a comprehensive international scientific assessment (WMO/NASA 1986) was another key factor in shaping the context of the debates. The WMO/NASA report was accepted as the most up-to-date and authoritative expression of scientific knowledge on stratospheric ozone and hence as the scientific basis for the negotiations. From a policy perspective, the fact that this document represented an international consensus, rather than the work of scientists from any one country or region, was as significant as its actual scientific content. The process of assembling the study, I will argue, was unmistakably political.

Although the study represented an international scientific consensus with relatively narrow margins of uncertainty, all participants in the policy debates were able to justify their positions according to it - both the United States and the EC found in it support for their diametrically opposed positions. The three-volume assessment also contains a wealth of information, most notably on climate change, that was barely mentioned during the negotiations, largely because the policy debate focused on the effects of increased ultraviolet radiation. This mode of framing the debate had a major impact on the policy process. Thus, while knowledge was indispensable, it was always open to interpretation, and it was never apolitical.

To say that scientific knowledge was critical does not mean that the scientists themselves were the driving force in the policy realm. Of course, they were necessary, for without them there would be no science, but once the knowledge was produced, it became a potential tool for other actors with a stronger policy orientation. In this instance, a group of knowledge brokers was instrumental both in translating the available knowledge into terms understandable to decision makers and in pushing forward specific policy proposals. This group, largely employed in the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), ₁ was more inclined than were the scientists to employ knowledge on behalf of far-reaching policy recommendations. To this end, the manner in which that knowledge was framed and interpreted became a significant factor. Domestically, these EPA research brokers were able to develop close ties with other agencies and departments, most notably the State Department, and, to a lesser extent, with environmental pressure groups. Likewise, they developed transnational alliances with individuals in foreign environmental bureaus, which were helpful at times in swaying those agencies' governments toward the U.S. position.

The existence of a group of ecologically minded knowledge brokers armed with an international scientific consensus under the crisislike conditions provoked by the discovery of the Antarctic ozone hole was not enough to bring about the Montreal Protocol. Another factor was the relatively neutral atmosphere that could only be provided by an organization with no specific national ties. UNEP provided such a forum and, through its Coordinating Committee on the Ozone Layer (CCOL), disseminated up-to-date scientific knowledge to countries that did not have strong research programs of their own.

While all of these elements were necessary, even the whole package of them might not have been sufficient to bring about the Montreal Protocol. Other ingredients included the strength and idiosyncrasies of individual personalities, the actions of nongovernmental organizations, and perhaps just plain luck.

This chapter is organized roughly in a chronological manner so that it tells a story, but the story is not textually separated from analysis and interpretation. In relating the story, I trace the complex interaction and mutual embeddedness of power and knowledge. Thus, theoretical analysis is embedded in the narrative.

The International Scientific Consensus

In July 1986, just over a year after the Vienna Convention was signed, the most comprehensive international report on atmospheric ozone to date was published (WMO/NASA 1986). This document established a common understanding of the fundamental scientific issues among all participating nations. Building upon a 1982 assessment that was cosponsored by three U.S. scientific agencies and one international scientific agency, the 1986 report was cosponsored by the same three U.S. agencies, three international organizations, and a West German scientific agency. ₂ It was generated through a series of thirty focused workshops held in 1984 and 1985, with participation from approximately one hundred fifty scientists from eleven countries. The purpose of the report was "to provide governments around the world with the best scientific information currently available on whether human activities represent a substantial threat to the ozone layer" (WMO/NASA 1986:4). It was an explicit response to the Vienna Convention, which acknowledged the existence of a problem and called for coordinated research and monitoring but had failed to adopt control measures.

Dr. Robert Watson, an atmospheric scientist with NASA and "a master at blending the roles of bureaucrat and scientist," (Roan 1989:159) coordinated the assessment. As a result of his more minor role in the 1982 assessment, Watson, along with a few others, perceived the need for greater international participation. Watson has stated:

Before 1980, there were several assessments being done periodically in different countries. This just meant that the policymakers spent more time looking at the differences between them rather than at the similarities, even when they said basically the same thing. With one document, even if there was a range of views in it, then the international policy community had a constant base. (interview)

In particular, some of the scientists were "getting very tired of what the British government was putting out" (interview with Ralph Cicerone, atmospheric scientist). ₃

The reasons for including broad representation were more political than scientific. Watson and the other scientists who saw the need for a strong international report "wanted to break down the false skepticism that wasn't based on fact, but rather on things like, 'This is only American research' " (interview with Robert Watson). Watson made a special effort to include British scientists in the workshops but feels that he should have made a greater effort to include scientists from the developing countries and the Eastern bloc (interview). He attracted scientists to the workshops by emphasizing their professional value, stating that "the world's best atmospheric scientists would be there" and that "a document would come out of them that we could all be proud of" (interview with Ralph Cicerone). Some scientists from certain countries were invited to the workshops even if they had little to contribute, in the hope that they might stimulate interest at home. Overall, the rationale for the structure of the assessment was inherently political - to mitigate nationalistic biases. The timing of its publication - just before the international negotiations began - could hardly have been more fortuitous. ₄

The assessment, more than previous ones, concluded that "to really understand the processes which control atmospheric ozone and to predict perturbations, we are drawn into a study of the complete Earth system" (WMO/NASA 1986:2). Consequently, it delved more deeply than did past reports into trends that might modify the impact of the halogenated carbons on ozone, including reactions involving other trace gases as well as tropospheric, solar, and dynamic processes. Also more than past assessments, the 1986 volumes emphasized the issue of climate change more than just ozone depletion and increased ultraviolet radiation (UNEP/WG.151/Background 4). It devoted the bulk of its text to analyzing trends of trace gases and aerosols, tropospheric processes, and changes in the vertical distribution of ozone, all of which are climate issues.

Nonetheless, the policy implications of chapter 13, which modeled predictions of ozone changes, received by far the most attention. On the basis of continued release of halocarbons ₅ at 1980 levels, one-dimensional models predicted an eventual global ozone loss by the end of the twenty-first century of between 5 and 8 percent. Two-dimensional models predicted an average 9 percent total ozone loss, with as much as 14 percent loss in the polar regions (WMO/NASA 1986:18). All models predicted that continued release of CFC-11 and -12 at the 1980 rate would reduce ozone by 40 percent or more at an altitude of forty kilometers (18). The report stressed that these predictions were strongly dependent on emission trends for other trace gases, most notably methane, nitrogen oxides, and carbon dioxide, and that these constituted the greatest source of uncertainty for the modeled predictions. The 1986 predictions are a bit gloomier than those in the 1982 and 1984 National Academy of Sciences reports, but not nearly as extreme as the ones made in the late 1970s (NRC 1982, 1984).

Observational data were also reported. Total column ozone measurements using the Dobson network indicated no significant trend between 1970 and 1984, although there was some evidence of losses in the upper stratosphere. These agreed with the modeled predictions. Measurements based on the Umkehr method (see section four of chapter Three) showed negative trends that were consistent with one-dimensional models, but that data was suspect because of interference from aerosol particles (WMO/NASA 1986:21).

Despite the uncertainties, especially with respect to emissions of trace gases, the general tone of the report is one of confidence. No major new chemical reactions had been discovered since the last assessment, many of the reaction rate coefficients had been refined, and the measured observations concurred with the models. In general, the report gives the impression that knowledge about atmospheric ozone had reached a plateau with no new major breakthroughs or controversies on the horizon. The only indication to the contrary is a brief reference to "a considerable decrease in Antarctic total ozone during the spring period since about 1968." Little is said about this phenomenon except that is "presently the subject of further analysis" (WMO/NASA 1986:20).

While the WMO/NASA study was the scientific basis of the negotiations, few if any of the policymakers read the actual document. In hindsight, Robert Watson, coordinator of the assessment, regrets that no executive summary was written (interview). Instead, policymakers had to rely on verbal summaries given by the scientists and knowledge brokers. Many of the technically knowledgeable people involved in the Vienna Convention proceedings continued to participate, including Robert Watson, the EPA's John Hoffman, Ivar Isaksen and Per Bakken from Norway, and Patrick Szell of Britain's Department of Environment, to name a few. UNEP's Coordinating Committee on the Ozone Layer (CCOL) also submitted summaries of the science to the negotiators; these were the most useful to the few negotiators from developing countries who participated in the talks (interview with Guy Brasseur).

Everyone agreed that the 1986 study represented an international consensus that constituted the scientific basis for the ensuing negotiations. From a political perspective, the most interesting thing about the assessment is that it offered something for everybody. Those who did not perceive the problem as serious could argue that the predictions were not dire and would not come about for quite some time, that no total ozone losses had been detected with any certainty, and that the impact of CFCs would be tempered by rising levels of methane and other trace gases. Those who believed that the problem was grave could point to the fact that the models predicted more ozone loss than they had two years ago and that, consistent with the models, ozone losses had already been measured at certain altitudes and were predicted to become very large by the middle of the twenty-first century. They could also point to the potential folly inherent in relying on increased levels of greenhouse gases to mitigate the impact of CFCs. The 1986 assessment also benefited the scientists themselves. The need to clarify the remaining uncertainties led to a growing research budget for atmospheric scientists; by 1987, the NASA budget for ozone research had risen to about $100 million (interview with Robert Watson).

Those who took a pessimistic view of the WMO/NASA study brought to light an issue that would eventually become hotly debated and even shift the context of the negotiations. The atmospheric scientists, for all their sophisticated modeling, were ultimately dependent on economic projections of CFC growth rates for their own predictions of ozone depletion. These scientists, having little knowledge of economic trends, had arbitrarily chosen 1980 as a baseline date from which to draw their conclusions. A few individuals, particularly a group of ecologically minded knowledge brokers at the EPA, realized that projections premised on 1980 emissions were misleading for three reasons. First, the world had been in a recession at the time, and demand for CFCs is strongly correlated with economic growth. Second, in 1980, the United States had recently enacted its aerosol ban, and other countries did not seem likely to emulate its example, so the figures were artificially low. Third, the figures did not consider the burgeoning demand for CFC-113 in the electronics industry. Since predicted ozone depletion varied greatly with the quantity of CFCs emitted, this group of knowledge brokers took up the task of demonstrating the inadequacy of the 1980 baseline date and showing that the modeled predictions were much gloomier if more reliable economic data were applied. ₆

The political reception of the WMO/NASA assessment evinces much of what has been argued in the previous chapters regarding the discursive nature of knowledge and the interaction of science and politics. First, the very existence of such an international assessment was political, as was the method of assembling it. Second, the atmospheric science itself could not stand alone, for it was fundamentally tied to economic projections, and these were in turn intertwined with interests and values. Third, the complexity and uncertainty inherent in the science allowed the contending political factions to interpret the report's conclusions in ways that bolstered their own preconceptions - in spite of the fact that the science was more refined than at any previous time. Fourth, the purpose of the document, which contained no new science, was to inform political leaders. All this suggests that the WMO/NASA assessment was not merely scientific but trans-scientific. The issues addressed, and the manner in which they are addressed, straddle the line between what are ordinarily considered science and politics.

Meetings Preceding the Negotiations

After the international community failed to adopt control measures as part of the Vienna Convention, it was clear that a consensus was needed on critical scientific and economic issues before a political agreement could evolve. UNEP decided that the best vehicle for forging such a consensus would be a two-part workshop focusing on economic issues and a separate conference on health and environmental issues, both of which were held outside the actual negotiating context. The workshops were also part of the settlement of the 1984 lawsuit brought against the EPA by the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC). ₇ In January 1986, the EPA unveiled its Stratospheric Ozone Protection Plan, to be coordinated by John Hoffman, which called for new scientific and policy assessments and for a series of domestic and international workshops.

During the Vienna Convention negotiations, according to Ambassador Benedick, those who had advocated adopting control provisions "may have put the cart before the horse: [they were] trying, in effect, to make a risk management decision before conducting a risk assessment" (quoted in Roan 1989:154). Though I take issue with Benedick's dichotomy between science and politics, there is little doubt that the atmosphere during the prenegotiation events was less political than that at a negotiating session simply because there was no formal bargaining. Moreover, while science did not provide a set of objective, value-free facts from which a political consensus could be forged, the ontological dimension of the facts was undeniably present. For instance, the existence of the 1986 WMO/NASA assessment made it very difficult for anybody to question whether ozone could be destroyed by CFCs.

The first part of the economic workshop, held in Rome during May 1986, was "a grave disappointment, characterised by bad temper and disagreement" (UNEP 1989:8). Indeed, given the utter lack of concordance at this meeting, it is remarkable that the Montreal Protocol was negotiated in just over a year. There was not even agreement on figures for current production, use, emissions, and trade, much less than on future trends. UNEP had sent out 170 requests for data and had received only 18 responses, which led the most skeptical participants, especially the delegate from France, to question whether anything significant could be said about production. Although most participants agreed that data provided by the Chemical Manufacturers Association (CMA) accounted for 85 percent of all production for CFC-11 and -12, the fact that some countries, most significantly China, had not even begun compiling data added fuel to the skeptics' fire (UNEP/WG.151/Background 1). Those who favored stringent controls pointed out that the CMA figures did not include CFC-113, which was the fastest-growing market.

With such a lack of consensus on current production, the level of uncertainty was foreseeably much greater for future projections. Industry argued forcefully that it had no plans to expand. And while the CMA had recorded 7 percent yearly increases in CFC production for 1983 and 1984, those who had an interest in predicting slow growth, and thus low ozone perturbation, pointed out that two years were not enough to establish a trend (annex I, UNEP/WG.148/2:1). Anticipating industry's position, John Hoffman of the EPA contracted with three separate firms to study the same thing: future growth rates for CFCs. The studies each predicted growth rates between 2.5 and 4 percent, making industry's position untenable after the Rome workshop (interview with John Hoffman).

Regarding costs and effects of CFC controls, the discussion focused on aerosol controls. A study done by ICF and commissioned by the EPA had found that switching from CFCs to hydrocarbons in the United States resulted in savings to both industry and consumers (annex II, UNEP/WG.148/2:2). Those findings were strongly attacked by the British and the French, who declared that European consumers preferred the finer mist produced by CFC aerosols (annex III, UNEP/WG.148/2:3). This section of the workshop concluded that "studies provide no comprehensive basis for estimates of the cost and effects of CFC controls" (annex III, UNEP/WG.148/2:4).

What is interesting from an analytical perspective (though it is not surprising) is that accepted knowledge was tightly linked to the political and economic interests of the principal antagonists, the USA and the European Communities (EC). ₈ Representatives from the EPA insisted that trends could be predicted from existing production statistics and that growth would accelerate. As discussed in the previous chapter, the EC's CFC industry was operating at only about 65 percent capacity and was the world's top exporter, while American industry was operating at nearly full capacity and was threatened with further domestic regulation. Thus, the EC opposed strict controls and favored a cap on production capacity. Within the EC was a range of positions, with the British and French protecting ICI and Atochem, respectively, by emphasizing the uncertainties, and the Dutch coming closest to the American position. Because of its dependence on CFCs for its microelectronics industry, Japan tended to side with the EC. China, with its plans to expand its refrigeration industry massively, predictably raised the same kinds of doubts as the British and the French (interview with Michael Gibbs).

Just three weeks after the Rome meeting, UNEP and the EPA cosponsored the International Conference on the Health and Environmental Effects of Ozone Modification and Climate Change. The UNEP/EPA conference, which was attended by scientists and officials from approximately twenty countries, resulted in a four-volume publication (Titus 1986). Dozens of paper were delivered, but, unlike the economics workshop, there was little time for discussion and debate. The topics included atmospheric modeling; the effects of ultraviolet radiation on human health, agriculture, and marine systems; and the impact of global climate change. ₉ Although the conference, like the 1986 WMO/NASA report, the conference introduced no new science, it was nonetheless important for providing the most comprehensive compilation to date on a range of issues related to ozone depletion, especially health and biological effects (interview with Stephen Seidel).

One striking feature of the conference is the extent to which the issue of climate change dominated the agenda; nearly twice as many papers were delivered on this topic as on ozone modification and ultraviolet radiation. According to Lee Thomas:

[Atmospheric] science tells us that ozone depletion and global warming are inexorably interconnected. However, the domestic and international politics surrounding each issue are separate and unique. Combining the two in one conference had the potential to confuse and compound the political controversy surrounding each issue. Separating the issues would fail to address their physical interdependence. In the end the choice was clear: we resolved this issue by recognizing that this conference is first and foremost a scientific meeting, not a political one, and therefore it should be organized around the science. (1986:27)

For some environmentalists at UNEP and the EPA, the ozone issue was nested within the larger and more complex climate issue, and an agreement on the former could be used as a springboard for dealing with the latter (interview with James Losey). Although the issues were linked, during both the scientific conference and the meetings of UNEP's CCOL, they rarely were coupled in the policy debates. Brief mention was often made of the fact that CFCs would account for almost one-quarter of the anticipated rise in global temperature in the twenty-first century (UNEP 1987b:25), so regulating these compounds would be a partial solution to the problem of greenhouse warming. But otherwise, scientific discourse and policy discourse diverged, with the latter framing the problem of ozone depletion strictly in terms of increased ultraviolet radiation. This is particularly remarkable given that the major scientific studies since 1984 had framed the issue substantially in terms of climate (NRC 1984; WMO/NASA 1986). The issue of ozone depletion, defined narrowly, was perceived as politically manageable, whereas the climate issue was a much greater challenge (interviews with Stephen Seidel and Robert Watson).

At the second session of the economic workshop, held in Leesburg, Virginia, near Washington, D.C., in September 1986, "trust was built up, and for the first time an obvious international will to forge a successful protocol emerged" (UNEP 1989:9). The divergent outcomes of the two sessions are surprising, given that the first session addressed production and emission issues, whereas the second took on the more contentious problem of alternative regulation strategies. Because the modeled predictions of the atmospheric scientists were so tightly coupled to economics, a common understanding had to be reached in this domain before a protocol could be adopted. Moreover, if substitutes and alternatives for CFCs were not feasible in the foreseeable future, then adoption of a protocol might be blocked simply for pragmatic reasons. Thus, the workshop addressed current production data, CFC growth projections, the costs and benefits of regulatory scenarios, and technical control options. It examined these issues not simply as a prelude to international regulation but also because good science had to be based on good economic data (UNEP/WG.151/Background 1).

The second session was characterized by a very strong U.S. presence. At least in part because of the meeting's location, the USA had fourteen official participants. Britain, with the next largest number, had four. Thirty-one papers were presented, nearly half of which were from the United States. While some of these were from industry, eleven papers were presented by the EPA and its contractors, Rand and ICF. It is clear from the proceedings that the EPA was extremely well prepared; if it did not dominate the meeting, it was certainly the strongest and most well-organized delegation in attendance.

As in the June UNEP/EPA conference, little new scientific knowledge was presented, and the few strictly scientific papers agreed on their modeled predictions of ozone depletion (papers 8, 9, and 11, UNEP/WG.151/ Background 2). More important than the knowledge communicated, however, was how the various policy proposals were justified through the science. The papers presented by EPA officials and contractors are particularly interesting; many of them are well-crafted interpretations of science designed to advance the cause of a strong regulatory protocol. As a consequence of how they framed the issues, the knowledge brokers from the EPA were able to highlight certain issues and increase the sense of urgency among the participants. Two papers by John Hoffman, chairman of the EPA's Stratospheric Ozone Protection Task Force, are especially noteworthy. In one, he focuses on the long atmospheric lifetimes of CFCs, citing such statistics as that 84 percent of the CFC-11 emitted in 1987 will still be in the atmosphere by 2000, and 56 percent by 2030. He also broaches what he called the "chlorine-loading" issue, stating that, given the presence of past emissions in the atmosphere, stabilizing concentrations at present levels would require an immediate 85 percent cutback in CFC emissions (annex I, UNEP/WG.148/3:5). I will argue later that this mode of framing the scientific information was instrumental in shifting the discourse toward action based on the precautionary principle and that this formulation gained much of its credibility from discovery of the Antarctic ozone hole.

In his second paper, Hoffman applies Ivar Isaksen's two-dimensional model (Stordal and Isaksen 1986) to show that global CFC emissions would need to be lower than 1980 levels in order to limit total depletion to 2 percent and depletion at 50 degrees latitude to 5 percent (paper 13, UNEP/WG.148/3). Without explicitly addressing it, Hoffman's analysis reveals the inadequacy of the EC's proposed production capacity cap, which would have permitted far greater ozone depletion. Another EPA paper by Stephen Seidel directly addresses the EC's proposal for a production capacity cap in terms of its impact on ozone depletion (annex I, UNEP/WG.148/3:31). Seidel shows that, were the proposal to be adopted, 7 percent total ozone depletion would occur by 2050 and 14 percent by 2075, with far worse depletion at the northern latitudes. Never do Seidel and Hoffman argue against the EC position on political grounds, although it was patently unfair to U.S. industry, requiring it to halt at current production levels while EC industry could have expanded by as much as 40 percent. Rather, their papers simply framed scientific information in ways that supported a strong protocol.

In their papers, two EPA contractors focus on the costs of postponing regulation (papers 5 and 12 of annex I, UNEP/WG.148/3). ₁₀ The first, by James Hammitt of Rand, concludes that immediate controls would be the most cost-effective option if the likelihood that further emission reductions would be required exceeded 0.3 to 0.5. Although the Antarctic ozone hole was not discussed, the implication is that a greater than 50 percent chance that it was CFC-induced should entail prompt regulation. A paper by Michael Gibbs of ICF surveys various control strategies and argues that since only a limited chlorine burden is tolerable, the most prudent policy would be to control the worst ozone depleters first. The implication is that the fully halogenated CFCs should be regulated but that eventually compounds like HCFC-22, methyl chloroform, and carbon tetrachloride might have to be considered.

The EC, unlike the USA, presented its position with little analysis in terms of the atmospheric models, despite the fact that two of the four purely scientific papers were from the Commission of the European Communities (CEC). If the CFC-ozone issue was truly science-driven, as I believe it was, ₁₁ and science is a key source of legitimacy in modern society, as I have argued above, then focusing on economic issues with little scientific support was unlikely to advance the EC position.

The EPA papers, on the other hand, did not promote any particular policy position; ₁₂ rather, they sought to demonstrate the inadequacy of weak proposals and move the terms of the dominant discourse toward precautionary action. In his opening remarks at the Leesburg meeting, Fitzhugh Green, the EPA's associate administrator, urged the participants to focus on the concepts of "inevitability and timeliness" (UNEP/WG.148/3:2). In other words, some ozone depletion was inevitable, and the effects of CFCs would occur long after their emission. Indeed, in one way or another, all of the EPA papers shared one underlying objective: to shift the context of debate by extending the relevant time frame well into the next century. To this end, the EPA and its contractors emphasized the long atmospheric lifetimes of CFCs and the long-term modeled predictions.

An overview of the science was presented at the end of the workshop by Robert Watson, coordinator of the WMO/NASA assessment. One of his main points was that ozone responds to the total burden of stratospheric chlorine; it does not matter whether the source is CFC-11 or CFC-113, aerosol sprays or refrigerants. This fact strengthened the case of those who favored a comprehensive approach over controls on specific uses. Watson also advised the participants not to allow their awareness of the "Antarctic ozone phenomenon" to influence their approach to the protocol. He suggested that scientists should first complete an intensive one- to two-year investigation, after which the policymakers should reexamine their regulatory policies in light of the new scientific evidence (UNEP/WG.148/3:15). Watson's counsel was accepted by the workshop participants and later was adopted as a premise of the official negotiations.

By the end of the economic workshop, a consensus had emerged that CFC emissions should be controlled, although the degree and timing of regulation were far from clear. The sense of consensus was so great that Fiona McConnell, leader of the British delegation, indicated that the meeting had laid the basis for a new way of thinking and urged the delegates to adjourn two hours early. Industry seemed to recognize the imminence of precautionary action and was beginning to ask that governments "provide clearer signals to the marketplace" (annex II, UNEP/WG.148/3:3). For the first time, the Soviet Union and some smaller nations divulged their production data, adding to the mood of openness (UNEP/WG.148/3:14). In his concluding remarks as the session's chairman, Ambassador Benedick confidently proclaimed that "the ingenuity, good will, and sense of responsibility" that had characterized the meeting would infuse the upcoming negotiations with "the spirit of Leesburg" (annex II, UNEP/WG.148/3:3).

U.S. Industry Shifts Its Position

Within days of the workshop's conclusion, it was apparent that U.S. industry was not immune to the "spirit of Leesburg." Both Du Pont, the world's number one CFC producer, and the Alliance for a Responsible CFC Policy, the lobbying group representing over five hundred U.S. CFC producers and users, announced their support for an international protocol that would limit global emissions (Alliance for Responsible CFC Policy 1987: I-1). Du Pont also announced that alternatives to CFCs could be available in about five years (Du Pont 1986) Although industry's announcements were cautiously worded and fell far short of endorsing the 50 percent reductions eventually negotiated, they were perceived by many participants as a major breakthrough (interviews with Lee Thomas, Richard Benedick, and Alan Miller). Yet the shift was greeted with skepticism by Europeans and Japanese. They feared that their American competitors were backing controls because they already had CFC substitutes available to fill the market (interviews with James Losey, Guy Brasseur, and Ivar Isaksen).

Du Pont claims that its change of heart was motivated by the 1986 WMO/NASA assessment (interview with Tony Vogelsburg). But since the conclusions there were certainly no more ominous than those in past studies, there is reason to doubt this claim. More important, it seems, was the fact that industry's projections of no future growth had been proven untenable. Once that fact was admitted and the choice appeared to be between domestic and international controls, U.S. industry's shift was not so surprising.

A principal goal of the Alliance, which was formed in 1980 in reaction to the EPA's notice of rule making (see section four of chapter 3), was to ensure that U.S. industry not be placed at a disadvantage relative to the world market. U.S. industry resented the fact that the United States had banned CFCs in aerosol propellants without the rest of the world following its lead. With the threat of further unilateral controls as a result of the NRDC suit and the surge of proregulatory discourse within the EPA, U.S. industry feared that the EPA would "let the U.S. go its own way and commit industrial suicide" (interview with Kevin Fay). Only an international agreement establishing a level playing field could prevent this.

Since U.S. industry supported an international approach and since it had become clear on the heels of the Leesburg meeting that some kind of regulatory protocol would be adopted, the change of heart was neither risky nor drastic. If controls were inevitable, then supporting a limit on worldwide CFC emissions made sense strategically. Although neither Du Pont nor the alliance specified what that limit might be, their position sounds very much like the EC position, the weakest one advanced at the time. Nonetheless, the discursive shift was significant in that it indicated both an acceptance that CFCs posed a potential problem and support for the upcoming negotiations.

Because the absence of alternatives counseled against a strict protocol, Du Pont's announcement that some CFC substitutes would be available within five years was seen as removing one impediment to a regulatory protocol. The controversy surrounding the issue of substitutes provides a good example of how an apparently factual question can actually be a matter of interpretation and politics. As the largest CFC producer and the leading researcher for replacement compounds, Du Pont was a major force in shaping the tone of the policy debates.

As late as March 1986, Du Pont claimed that there were "no foreseeable alternatives available" (interviews with James Hammitt and Stephen Seidel). Rand's report on market trends, published in May 1986, assumes the existence of "no remotely feasible alternatives" (Hammitt et al. 1986:7), and its authors claim to have obtained their data from industry (interview with James Hammitt). Yet within less than six months, Du Pont announced that some alternatives could be available in five years. No new scientific knowledge had been uncovered in the interim; Du Pont's research program for CFC alternatives had lain dormant since 1980. What had changed were perceptions, and these had changed on all sides of the debate.

Dr. Joseph P. Glas, manager of Du Pont's Freon Division, claims that Du Pont never changed its position and never misled EPA. He points out that Du Pont had announced in 1980 the conclusions of its six-year research program: that "seven to ten years may be necessary to reach commercial production for most alternatives, assuming all technical and toxicological programs yield favorable results" (Du Pont 1980:2). Glas also states that "chemistry was never the issue." Du Pont officials had testified before Congress that "without incentives, we couldn't make these chemicals," the implication being that a regulatory decision would spur the development of alternatives (interview with Joseph P. Glas). Put simply, the unavailability of substitutes was simply a function of the absence of a market.

One factor that was linked to Du Pont's apparent shift in policy concerning availability, although whether it was a cause or an effect of that policy remains a puzzle, was the replacement in July 1986 of Dr. Donald Strobach, a thoroughly committed skeptic of the Rowland-Molina hypothesis, by Dr. Joseph Steed as Environmental Manager for Du Pont's Freon Division. Until his departure, Strobach claimed that his company was so confident in the inadequacy of the Rowland-Molina hypothesis that it had abandoned its research on alternatives (Roan 1989:147). Steed was perceived as "more open-minded" by those at the EPA who were working on the ozone problem (interview with Stephen Seidel). When I questioned Steed about Du Pont's policy shift, he said,

There was no shift in the availability, only in the perception of the lengths to which people were willing to go to get [the substitutes]. Only regulation would force people to pay three times as much. By mid-1986 I saw that future regulation was definite. I concluded that there should be a real push for alternatives and that an international agreement was the only way to go. (emphasis added)

Thus, the issue of substitute availability, which appears to be a straightforward matter of fact, actually hinged on perceptions about market trends, and this in turn hinged on the political question of regulatory policy. Again, knowledge and interests, science and politics were closely intertwined.

The issue resembles a chicken-and-egg situation: without regulation, there could be no substitutes but, at least in the minds of many, without the promise of substitutes, there could be no regulation. However, it was obvious at the Leesburg meeting that an influential minority was intent on pursuing a protocol even in the absence of substitutes. Industry's admission that CFCs should be regulated was important in that it helped the negotiators to focus on the issues necessary to gain a consensus (Glas 1989:148; interview with Richard Benedick).

While the debate over substitute availability can easily be recast as a conflict over perceptions, the controversy surrounding predictions of future growth rates seems to be a more manifest case of deception on the part of industry. Many participants from the scientific and policy communities believe that they were intentionally misled by industry (interviews with Robert Watson, Stephen Seidel, James Hammitt, and Michael Gibbs). The modeled predictions for ozone loss were extremely sensitive to CFC growth rates; a freeze at 1980 levels would not have had disastrous consequences, but a 5 percent growth rate would have (WMO/NASA 1986). At an EPA-sponsored domestic workshop with industry in March 1986, industry representatives argued that low growth rates should be assumed. ₁₃ They claimed that the refrigeration and automobile markets were saturated, while Rand analysts for the EPA countered that this was only true in the industrialized countries. Industry also claimed that it was facing a potential shortage of fluorospar, the mineral from which CFCs are derived. Rand and ICF countered with studies showing that "there was so much fluorospar in the mines that we could never figure out what to do with it." ₁₄

Working with data provided by industry and making their own economic predictions, the Rand authors predicted annual growth rates for CFCs averaging 3 percent (Hammitt et al. 1986). Industry claimed that these predictions were "wildly optimistic" (interview with Kevin Fay). In my interview with him, Joseph Glas maintained that the EPA-sponsored reports predicted 5 to 10 percent annual growth, which would have caused enormous ozone depletion. But the EPA's predicted growth rates were actually a little less than 3 percent, and these were later borne out (interview with Stephen Seidel). The Rand figure was in the middle range of those discussed at the Rome workshop, and though there never was an international consensus on future growth rates, Rand's estimates were cited frequently during the negotiations.

Notwithstanding U.S. industry's decision to support the talks, it continued to frame the available scientific knowledge in terms most favorable to a weak protocol. It repeatedly emphasized several key statements throughout the negotiations: there was enormous scientific uncertainty; additional research was essential; fears were based on unproven theory; there was no imminent danger; and no total ozone loss had been measured. While these statements were valid, they also disregarded other important facts. Although a great deal of uncertainty existed, much was known, and uncertainty could cut in both directions; reality could end up being worse than predicted, a possibility highlighted by the discovery of the Antarctic ozone hole. Perhaps the threat was not imminent, but it was nonetheless real and would be felt by future generations. And while no total ozone loss had been conclusively measured, losses were being measured in the upper stratosphere, and these were consistent with the models. In essence, all of industry's arguments reflected a short-term perspective, in contrast to the EPA's more long-term outlook. This is consistent with the analysis in chapter 2, which suggests that scientists, environmentalists, and knowledge brokers may be more likely than businessmen to think in intergenerational terms.

The Antarctic Ozone Hole

In May 1985, just two months after the Vienna Convention was adopted and during the final stages of preparation of the WMO/NASA assessment, a paper was published that would transform both scientific and political discourse on the ozone problem. Dr. Joseph Farman and his colleagues from the British Antarctic Survey reported that, for three consecutive years since October 1982, major losses of stratospheric ozone had occurred over Halley Bay (Farman, Gardiner, and Shanklin 1985). Although Farman did not try to explain the "hole," ₁₅ he stated that "chemical causes must be considered" and included a graph correlating atmospheric concentrations of CFCs, which his group had also been measuring, with ozone losses.

Because the Montreal Protocol negotiators explicitly decided to ignore the Antarctic hole, the causes of which had not been determined, it is difficult to argue that it played a major role in the negotiations. Nonetheless, after many interviews and much analysis, I believe that it did. Despite the fact that the hole had not been predicted by any of the models, it did not undermine the power of the scientists or the knowledge brokers. Instead, it changed the political context in which the negotiations occurred and made certain ways of framing the available knowledge more salient than others. The ozone hole created a sense of crisis that was conducive to the precautionary approach eventually sanctioned in the Montreal Protocol. ₁₆ In the minds of many participants, the ozone losses over Antarctica represented a sudden change in the course of events, a change that indicated a dangerously high probability of ecological disaster. The existence of scientific uncertainty continued to function as a justification for caution, but the meaning of caution shifted dramatically. The hole was the clearest evidence that, not the CFC industry, it was the ozone layer that deserved to be treated as a fragile entity.

Farman initially found large ozone losses of more than 20 percent over Halley Bay in the austral spring of 1982, but, suspicious of the peculiar data, he repeated the measurements in 1983 and 1984 with new equipment. During the summer months, the ozone layer recovered almost completely. Farman's measurements, going back to 1957, when the Dobson station was established through the International Geophysical Year, constituted a good historical record for comparison. After recording ozone losses over 30 percent in 1984, Farman decided to publish his data. ₁₇

The discovery quickly sparked commotion within scientific circles, although it received little immediate attention either in the press or within government or industry (Brodeur 1986:84; UNEP 1989:8). One scientist describes the initial reaction of those who had been immersed in the issue: "It was totally unexpected. We scientists are professional skeptics. We looked at it in an almost perverse sense, filled with joy about something new, something we could learn about. If it was predicted, we wouldn't have learned anything" (interview with Richard Stolarski). Many scientists had reservations about Farman's paper, not so much because of the data, but because they had never heard of Farman and his group. ₁₈ As Ralph Cicerone puts it, "the British Antarctic Survey is not exactly a household word. At the time, most of us had never heard of it [and] had no idea whether these people did good work. You couldn't automatically give credence to the work"(Roan 1989:129).

The first scientists to take Farman's work seriously were those on the NASA team responsible for satellite measurements. It was widely reported that NASA had programmed its computers to reject any anomalous measurements below 180 Dobson units since nothing in that range had ever been recorded. Fortunately, so the report went, the original data had been saved and, when reexamined, confirmed the Farman findings (Stolarski et al.:1986). In actuality, the data had not been rejected but flagged as anomalies and compared to available data from a ground-based Dobson station. The ground station data were later found to be erroneous, but since they were within a normal range, they cast doubt upon the aberrant satellite data (Pukelsheim 1990:542). This anecdote illustrates an important point: by the early 1980s, atmospheric scientists were so confident in their grasp of the ozone issue that they trusted their models implicitly and distrusted any findings that contradicted them (Gribbin 1988:112).

Once the Farman findings were accepted, the race was on to explain them. Although most scientists suspected that chlorine chemistry was involved, ₁₉ "everybody hoped that the solution to such an interesting problem would be right within their field, because then they could explain it and would come out looking very smart" (interview with Richard Stolarski). Three major sets of hypotheses sprang up (Science 1986). ₂₀ Of the three, only the first, based on chlorine chemistry (Solomon et al. 1986; Hamill, Toon, and Turco 1986; McElroy et al. 1986), had significant implications for the international negotiations. The papers by the Solomon and Hamill teams argued that "polar stratospheric clouds," formed in the extreme Antarctic cold, could provide surfaces for heterogenous reactions. ₂₁ They maintained that chlorine could be sequestered on the clouds and then released as the clouds dissipated in the spring. The McElroy team suggested that, in addition to chlorine, the bromine found in fire extinguishers using halons could be a culprit. Other theorists sought a dynamical explanation (Mahlman and Fels 1986). And a third set suggested a link to the eleven-year solar cycle (Callis and Natarajan 1986). The journal Geophysical Research Letters published a special supplement in November 1986 devoted to theoretical accounts of the ozone hole.

Amid the theoretical debates, NASA's Robert Watson organized the first National Ozone Expedition (NOZE I) to study Antarctic ozone between August and October 1986. Balloon and ground-based measurements were taken of ozone, chlorine, and other chemicals. Susan Solomon, leader of NOZE I, broadcast a statement from Antarctica that chlorine chemistry was the culprit, unleashing a storm of controversy among the dynamicists who felt their theories had been overlooked or misunderstood (New York Times 1986). The evidence, however, was against the solar cycle hypothesis. The consensus was that only a second expedition, one that included measurements taken from aircraft, could dispel the uncertainties (interview with Robert Watson). Thus, preparations were being made for the Airborne Antarctic Ozone Experiment during the Montreal Protocol negotiations, but the data from that expedition were not available until after the treaty was signed.

One central fact about the Antarctic phenomenon stood out in stark relief for both scientists and policymakers: it was not predicted by any atmospheric models. Among the scientists, this was translated into a heightened sense of humility and a frantic investigative effort (interviews with Ralph Cicerone and Richard Stolarski). In policy circles, it led to a belief that the problem might be much worse than was previously thought and that stricter regulation could be necessary. In recalling the impact of the ozone hole on the negotiations, most of those I interviewed spoke in terms of fear and alarm, confirming that the hole generated some sense of crisis. Industry predictably emphasized that the causes were unknown, but their softened position soon after the publication of Farman's paper was probably no mere coincidence. ₂₂

Although the hole represented an enormous scientific anomaly, I have found no evidence that it overtly undermined the authority of the scientists. One participant argues that the hole prompted a major change in the scientists' attitudes, and when policymakers saw that the scientists were disturbed, they in turn became more concerned (interview with Alan Miller). The heightened sense of humility among atmospheric scientists helped to shift the policy discourse toward precautionary action. The hole's discovery also increased the prestige of those few scientists who, like F. S. Rowland, had urged strong regulatory measures from the beginning.

However, in a more subtle sense, the Antarctic phenomenon generated suspicion about the validity of the atmospheric models and opened the door to an alternative way of framing the scientific knowledge, one with far more radical policy implications. If it did not undermine the authority of the scientists, it did raise doubts about the science: the models had predicted approximately 2 percent total ozone depletion with constant 1980 CFC emissions (WMO/NASA 1986), and the models were wrong. But there was another way to frame the issue - one that did not rely on any models. As John Hoffman argued at the Leesburg meeting, an 85 percent reduction in CFC emissions would be necessary just to keep atmospheric chlorine levels constant (paper 2, UNEP/WG.148/3). His calculations required no modeling, only knowledge about production data and the compounds' atmospheric lifetimes. If the hole was caused by CFCs, suggesting a radically nonlinear relationship between CFC emissions and ozone depletion, there was good reason to want at least to freeze atmospheric chlorine concentrations.

Hoffman's chlorine-loading argument gained salience from the ozone hole for another reason. Because of the earth's weather patterns, most chemicals penetrate the stratosphere over the tropics. Ozone, however, is much more sensitive to chlorine at the higher latitudes, where at least some of the CFCs decompose because of their long atmospheric lifetimes. Thus, the latitude at which CFCs break apart makes a crucial difference, but there is no clear sense in the models of when CFCs release their chlorine. The extreme losses over Antarctica suggested that much of the chlorine could be released in the polar regions, which would mean that the models' had underestimated the threat. As one modeler explains, "the truth will be between the chlorine-loading perspective and the calculations based on ozone depletion potential, but the ozone hole gave credence to the chlorine-loading scheme" (interview with Guy Brasseur).

Hoffman's simple calculation received a great deal of publicity in congressional hearings and in the press (United States Senate 1987a:61; Palm Beach Post 1987; Science 1986:928). When the issue was framed in these terms, suddenly a phaseout did not seem like a drastic proposal. The decision to shift the debate from ozone depletion to concentrations was "a strategic one," according to Michael Gibbs. He recalls the decision as follows: "There was no new information here, just a different way of framing it. We thought: since the hole may be linked to concentrations, let's shift the debate. This also shifts the focus to the warming issue, and in general to the responsibility to the future. It would not have worked one year before; it only worked because of the Antarctic hole" (interview; emphasis added). In other words, the hole enhanced the status of a particular mode of scientific framing, one with explicitly political purposes: to promote an environmentalist agenda. Groups like the NRDC used the chlorine-loading analysis to promote sweeping controls; "85 percent became the line in the sand for environmentalists" (interview with James Losey). ₂₃

The hole had a more direct impact on one aspect of the protocol that was eventually adopted. Because its causes were not known and because it illustrated clearly how quickly both natural systems and scientific knowledge about them could change, EPA administrator Lee Thomas argued successfully for a provision in the text for a periodic scientific update, followed by additional control measures if necessary.

All the individuals I interviewed believe that some kind of agreement would have been reached even without the Antarctic ozone hole. The combination of the 1986 WMO/NASA assessment and the recognition that CFC production was increasing would probably have been enough, they claim, to have led to an agreement. They also believe, however, that the resulting protocol would have been significantly less stringent than a 50 percent cutback and that certain countries might not have been party to it. For most of them, the large amount of press attention devoted to the issue permeated the political milieu during the negotiations. A colorful time-lapse videotape assembled by NASA from satellite data dramatically depicted the hole emerging over Antarctica. That segment, which was shown on national television and in congressional hearings, had a powerful effect on its audiences (interviews with Michael Gibbs and Stephen Seidel). The environmental movement certainly received more media attention, and possibly greater deference, as a result of the Antarctic hole, particularly in the United States where the ozone issue was politically popular (interviews with Alan Miller and Rafe Pomerance). Those who opposed a strong protocol thought it extremely important "not to let the publicity [about the ozone hole] get dragged into the debates" (interview with David Gibbons).

The timing of the Antarctic discovery could not have been much better for it to have a major political impact. The Farman paper was published just after the Vienna Convention had been signed, before the negotiations had resumed, and too late to contribute meaningfully to the 1986 WMO/NASA report. It also coincided with the growing understanding that, with new economic trends, CFC emissions rates would be increasing. Because the hole was expressly ignored, it is something of a wild card in developing an explanation of political events. However, few people can ignore a hole the size of the continental USA, and very few politicians can ignore massive publicity. Despite the lack of a scientific consensus on its causes or, ironically, maybe partly because of that lack, the hole dramatically altered the political context of the negotiations, and it altered the acceptability of various modes of framing scientific knowledge. The hole contributed to a discursive shift toward precautionary action, lending support to those who believed that the consequences of underreacting were worse than the consequences of overreacting. In the face of widespread scientific uncertainty and enormous risk, this mode of framing the debate was a force to reckoned with.

Evolution of the U.S. Position

In November 1986, the U.S. Department of State sent a draft position paper to its embassies around the world to get feedback from foreign governments. During the previous summer, the EPA and the State Department's Bureau of Oceans and International Environmental and Scientific Affairs (OES), had convened interagency meetings to develop the U.S. position, but there was little interest from other agencies. ₂₄ This essentially gave the EPA and OES free reign to devise the position (interview with Richard Benedick). Their draft paper called for a near-term freeze on the consumption ₂₅ of CFC-11, -12, and -113, as well as Halon-1211 and -1301; a scheduled phaseout of these compounds; and periodic policy reviews based on new scientific knowledge (U.S. Department of State 1986).

The U.S. negotiating position grew out of an interesting set of interrelated political and scientific considerations. The EPA was under some pressure to promote stringent controls because of the pending NRDC suit, but the proposed phaseout went beyond what the NRDC had expected and probably further than would have been legally necessary. ₂₆ According to EPA staff who were deeply involved in working out the position, the NRDC suit was only a secondary consideration (interviews with James Losey and Stephen Seidel). More important was the belief on the part of the EPA and OES that, despite the scientific uncertainties, the risks demanded precautionary intervention. During the debates, both domestic and international, they argued for "a prudent insurance policy," even without the Antarctic ozone hole (Benedick 1987). But the hole clearly and dramatically drew attention to those risks.

The State Department's framework protocol, like most draft positions, did not specify numbers and dates; it simply provided the general authority to negotiate for a scheduled phaseout. The decision to call for reductions of 95 percent by 2000 was initially made by two EPA staff members who "just decided to fill in the blanks and the brackets." They thought that "if [they] asked for the whole ball of wax, [they] would be likely to get more" (interview with James Losey).

But the casual revisions of a couple of EPA staff officers could hardly have become the official U.S. negotiating position without the support of EPA administrator Lee Thomas. From the beginning of his tenure in office, Thomas took a considerable interest in the ozone issue. ₂₇ And, having just implemented a phaseout of asbestos, Thomas may have been more amenable to a CFC phaseout (interview with John Hoffman). One of his first actions was to order a major regulatory impact analysis on the protection of stratosphere ozone by means of reducing CFC, which was released in the fall 1986 (EPA 1986a). The extent of Thomas's concern is evident in the fact that he personally addressed the gathering at the EPA's domestic workshop in March 1986, announcing what to many seemed to be the EPA's new precautionary perspective on ozone depletion:

In the face of all this scientific uncertainty, one might ask why has the EPA embarked on programs to assess the risk and to decide whether additional CFC regulations are necessary? Why not simply adopt a "wait-and-see" attitude and hold off a decision until depletion is actually confirmed? Let me address this question squarely. EPA does not accept, as a precondition for decision, empirical verification that ozone depletion is occurring. . . . We may need to act in the near term to avoid letting today's "risk" become tomorrow's "crisis." (quoted in Brodeur 1986:86; emphasis added)

Thomas's decision to press for a virtual phaseout was based on both scientific and political factors, though he tends to emphasize the former in explaining it. The political impetus behind Thomas's decision is evident in a statement he made to me: "It became clear to me that we had to get rid of these chemicals domestically, that either the NRDC lawsuit was going to drive us in that direction, or Congress was going to, or I was going to." Yet he believes that "the scientists were the driving force behind the U.S. position" and recalls that when he looked at the data, he concluded that CFCs had to be banned. Thomas believed that regulation was required despite the scientific uncertainties and that periodic policy reviews should be held as the uncertainties were resolved, a provision that was eventually included in the final protocol (interview).

Thomas's perception that scientists were the driving force behind the U.S. position is somewhat surprising in light of the fact that very few scientists offered any policy recommendations and that most of those who did thought a 50 percent cut would be enough (interviews with Ralph Cicerone, Nien Dak Sze, and Robert Watson). Watson, for instance, testified before Congress that "the science doesn't justify a 95 percent cut" and expressed concern that the rush could promote unsafe alternatives (United States Congress 1987b:90). Dr. Daniel Albritton of NOAA, the other major U.S. scientist coordinating ozone research, continued to harbor doubts about the CFC-ozone link (interview with Ralph Cicerone). Since Watson and Albritton were the two top scientists advising policymakers on the ozone layer, it is difficult to see how they could have been the "driving force" behind the U.S. position.

Rather than the science itself, it was Thomas's interpretation of the science and his own philosophical orientation to the problem of risk that drove his decision. This is clear from his response to my questions regarding his disagreement with William Graham, President Reagan's science adviser and a staunch opponent of any regulatory measures. Thomas recalls that, "Graham looked at it from a purely scientific perspective, whereas I looked at it from more of a policy perspective. Where there was uncertainty, he thought we needed more research, and I thought we needed to be cautious. We just looked at the same thing and came to two different conclusions" (interview). Thus, there was no clear line between science and politics, and, as I have argued above, all the parties attempted to legitimate their policy positions scientifically.

When representatives from industry learned of the U.S. position, they registered their discontent with the Departments of Commerce and Energy, sparking a series of intense interagency debates that persisted throughout most of the international negotiations. Recognizing the pervasiveness of CFCs in consumer goods, particularly in the import sector, the Department of Commerce feared that hasty regulation could disrupt the U.S. economic infrastructure (interview with Ed Shykind). The Department of Energy was primarily concerned that CFC regulation would endanger the foam insulation industry, which had grown rapidly as a result of the oil crises during the 1970s (interview with David Gibbons). The Pentagon entered into the debates to defend its access to halons, chemicals used to extinguish fires in places where water might damage equipment or pose a health risk (interview with Ed Shykind). The Department of the Interior also became involved in the issue, ostensibly because of its role as the largest manager of U.S. lands, though most participants believe the real reasons stemmed from the antiregulatory ideology of the secretary and his staff (interviews with David Gibbons and Stephen Seidel).

Once the Department of State lost control of the interagency process, having no substantive expertise on ozone, it could not regain it (interview with Eileen Claussen). Under the auspices of the Office of Management and Budget, David Gibbons convened a series of weekly and biweekly interagency meetings that spanned a period of several months. ₂₈ The meetings were designed to educate political appointees and senior career officers on the scientific and economic aspects of the ozone problem in order to develop "a solid, well-informed presidential decision" (interview with David Gibbons). However, because the fractious interagency meetings paralleled the international negotiations and spilled out into the press, the U.S. negotiating position was apparently weakened by them (Doniger 1988:89). ₂₉

Throughout the debates, the risk was framed largely as one of increased rates of skin cancer attributable to ozone depletion. Yet this narrow mode of framing the issue ultimately undermined the policy position of those who adopted it. ₃₀ In her presentations at the interagency meetings, cancer specialist Dr. Margaret Kripke emphasized that although skin cancer receives a great deal of media attention in the United States, it was a mistake both scientifically and politically to focus on it. Instead, she argued that, from a scientific perspective, the three most serious issues were the impact of increased ultraviolet radiation on the human immune system, on the world's food supplies, and on aquatic ecosystems. She also foresaw that since skin cancer only affects Caucasians who spend a lot of time in the sun, international cooperation would depend on framing the issue differently (interview with Margaret Kripke).

The turning point in the interagency wranglings may have come with Interior Secretary Donald Hodel's imprudent statement that the administration should consider a policy of "personal protection" instead of international precautionary action. He suggested that a public relations campaign could be launched to encourage the use of sunglasses and sunscreen, without violating the administration's philosophy of minimal government regulation (Washington Post 1987c). The public outcry was swift and intense. A New York Times editorial lamented that Hodel's "meddling" threatened to undermine the international negotiations and "force the United States from a widely admired position of leadership into humiliating retreat" (1987b). Environmentalists responded to Hodel's proposal by wearing hats and sunglasses at a press conference and calling for his resignation (Los Angeles Times 1987 and Washington Post 1987d). David Doniger's statement that "fish don't wear sunglasses," which was cited throughout the press accounts, exposed the folly inherent in defining the issue narrowly in terms of skin cancer.

Secretary of State George Shultz temporarily resolved the issue by instructing his negotiators to continue working for an international agreement until the issue could be resolved at the cabinet level (Washington Post 1987e:A-13). The original 95 percent position was not revoked, primarily because "it had already been put out on the street" (interview with David Gibbons). But the U.S. delegation received instructions to press only for a 50 percent reduction in CFCs and a freeze on halons (Doniger 1988:90).

Those who opposed stringent controls received one important concession, viewed by environmentalists as undercutting U.S. support for an agreement. At the final meeting in Montreal, the U.S. delegation was instructed to propose that the treaty only take effect when countries representing 90 percent of all consumption had signed it. The purpose of this stipulation was to ensure that the United States would not have to reduce CFCs faster than nonsignatory countries. It was also intended to put public pressure on all countries to sign (interview with Lee Thomas). Environmentalists complained that the concession effectively gave both Japan and the Soviet Union veto power over the treaty's entry into force (Doniger 1988:90).

While the final U.S. position was somewhat weaker than that originally proposed, it was also stronger in one important respect. Because of the contentiousness of the American policy process, the U.S. position was personally approved by President Reagan, whereas no other country's position was approved at the cabinet level. Lee Thomas, who led the U.S. delegation in Montreal, claims that this gave him "the strongest position of anyone going into the final negotiations" (interview).

Despite the interagency squabbles, there was one point on which all sides, including U.S. industry, agreed: a global problem required a global solution. No Americans wanted to repeat the experience of the late 1970s, when the United States banned CFCs in aerosols while most of the rest of the world did nothing. Because further domestic regulation was likely, spurred on by both the NRDC lawsuit and the scientific predictions, there was a consensus that a global treaty was necessary so that U.S. industry would not be put at a disadvantage. Just before the second round of negotiations, Senators Chafee and Baucus sent such a message to the rest of world, introducing legislation that would have cut CFC use domestically by 95 percent and blocked all imports containing or manufactured with the chemicals (S. 570; S. 571). On June 5, 1987, the Senate passed a resolution strongly endorsing the original negotiating position and calling for the virtual elimination of ozone-depleting chemicals (U.S. Senate Resolution 226). The bills and the resolution were intended to support the EPA and the State Department in negotiating a strong protocol; they gave Ambassador Benedick, leader of the U.S. delegation prior to the Montreal meeting, "an important bargaining tool" (interview with Richard Benedick).

Thus, the U.S. bargaining position grew out of a complex set of scientific and political considerations. Predictably, since science was the predominant legitimating force, the negotiators emphasize the former in relating their stories. As with the Antarctic ozone hole, the mode of framing the science had important political implications. Those who defined the issue solely in terms of skin cancer became the objects of political embarrassment when they publicized their views, despite the fact that most of EPA's research on the effects of ozone depletion dealt with skin cancer. Beyond the domestic consensus in favor of a global treaty, the nature of the U.S. national interest was not initially obvious. Rather, it evolved through a process of internal debate that blended both science and politics. As that interest was clarified and formulated into a negotiating position, the United States was able to use its economic leverage as a major importer to sway the international negotiations toward precautionary action.

The Negotiations

As the first round of negotiations opened in December 1986, the two principal adversaries were the European Community and what had been called the Toronto Group prior to the Vienna Convention. The USA was the largest and most outspoken member of the latter group, which included Canada, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Switzerland, and New Zealand. A third group, including Australia and some developing countries, was initially neutral, but later moved closer to the U.S. position (Benedick 1989:48).

The EC's position was strongly influenced by industry; in fact, industry representatives sat on the delegations of some EC countries. Britain, France, and Italy, three of the EC's four major CFC producers, endorsed a cap on production capacity, with Japan and the USSR sympathizing with this position. Japan played a relatively passive role, perhaps assuming that the EC position would prevail. The EC argued that significant ozone depletion would not occur for decades, allowing time for further study before cutting production. This group distrusted the motives behind the U.S. position, suspecting that such a drastic regulatory proposal coming out of the Reagan administration could only mean that U.S. industry had secretly developed CFC substitutes (interviews with Guy Brasseur and Kevin Fay). Within the EC, however, was a diversity of opinion. West Germany, the Netherlands, Denmark, and Belgium favored stricter controls, but only Germany was a major producer. Other EC countries were not active participants.

The internal structure of the EC influenced both the pace of the talks and the content of its negotiating positions. The commission itself cannot make binding decisions; only the Council of Ministers can. The environmental ministers, however, only met twice yearly, whereas the negotiations were proceeding at a much faster pace. With no good common denominator among the various positions of its member states, the EC position was vague; the sole area of consensus was on the need for further research (interview with Guy Brasseur). Complicating the matter was the fact that each country was represented at the meetings, but an internal agreement said that the EC would speak with a single voice. From the U.S. perspective, the EC's requirement of unanimity made it "a difficult and inflexible negotiating partner" (Benedick 1989:48).

At the December meeting in Geneva, there was overall agreement dating from the Leesburg workshop that some precautionary action was necessary, but the EC's proposed production capacity cap was very far from the virtual phaseout proposed by the USA. The EC was willing to discuss a freeze but would not move beyond that (UNEP/WG.151/L.4). Both sides acknowledged the need to develop safe alternatives to CFCs, and both justified their positions in terms of economic "knowledge," arguing that their proposals would "exploit the law of supply and demand" by raising the prices of CFCs and forcing producers to seek safe substitutes (Wall Street Journal 1986). The United States and its supporters argued that a freeze or a production cap would not accomplish this goal quickly enough and that, if drastic reductions turned out to be required in the future, the social cost would be much higher. Most importantly, the USA argued that, because of the long atmospheric lifetimes of CFCs, a delay in reductions would allow unacceptable levels of chlorine to accumulate. Hence, the debate between the United States and the EC was really over the appropriate time frame to employ in formulating an international regulatory policy.

The United States showed some flexibility in its position at the first negotiating session, but this was interpreted by congressional advocates of a strong protocol as a "backing off." During Senate hearings held in January 1987, Senator Chafee chastised Ambassadors John Negroponte, head of the OES, and Richard Benedick, the lead negotiator, for vacillating. He stated that "when we got to Geneva, the Government of the United States had changed its position. It was no longer a near-term freeze, but it was a meaningful near-term first step to reduce significantly. Step two was no longer a long-term strategy and goals for coping with the problem. Frankly, I think that we have to push you folks and, if this fails, go it alone" (United States Senate 1987a:49).

Benedick shrewdly turned the congressional criticism, along with the legislation introduced by Senators Chafee and Baucus that threatened to ban imports made with CFCs, to his advantage at the next meeting. ₃₁ When the delegates convened in Vienna that February, Benedick was very critical of "other nations [that] were more concerned with short-term economic gains instead of the well-being of future generations" (UNEP/WG.167/2:6). He adroitly depicted himself as a victim of domestic pressure, informing the delegates of the pending legislation designed "to protect our industry from imports from countries which continue to ignore the threat to the global environment" (Benedick 1987:17).

Benedick's use of scientific knowledge to support his position is particularly interesting. In addition to mentioning the predictions of computer models, he claimed that "both satellite and land-based measurements suggest that the process of ozone destruction may already be under way" (Benedick 1987:17). Since the group had decided to ignore the Antarctic ozone hole, the reference here must be to Donald Heath's satellite measurements and the data from certain Dobson stations, both of which were considered highly unreliable (see section four of chapter 3). Benedick's allusion to measured ozone loss also contradicted his later assertion that the Montreal Protocol was a preventive action, "based at the time not on measurable evidence of ozone depletion or increased radiation but rather on scientific hypotheses" (1989:43: 1991:2). In his address to the Vienna meeting, Benedick framed the issue in terms of chlorine loading, citing Hoffman's calculation that an immediate 85 percent reduction in CFCs would be necessary to keep atmospheric concentrations stable. As discussed above, this mode of framing, which does not depend upon computer models, became more salient with the discovery of the Antarctic ozone hole and lent support to the U.S. proposal to phase out CFCs. Benedick's statement illustrates the political employment of knowledge: partial truths and skillful framing of the available information can lend persuasive power to one's position.

The strength of the U.S. position at the second session bore fruit as the EC reluctantly began to consider reductions of 20 percent. The EC's new flexibility, however, arose not merely from the persuasiveness of the U.S. position but from growing dissent within its own membership. West Germany in particular was moving in the direction of stringent controls. The German government, to a greater extent than most other European governments, was supportive of and receptive to the atmospheric science (interviews with Robert Watson and Ivar Isaksen). The 1986 WMO/NASA assessment was cosponsored by a German agency, and several major scientific meetings had been held in West Germany. More important, though, was the growing political influence of the West German environmental movement. After the Green Party's impressive electoral showing in 1986, the government succumbed to pressure to back an aerosol ban and a long-term phaseout (Doniger 1988:90). By the second negotiating session, Germany was planning unilateral cuts of 50 percent and urging other EC members to reciprocate (Benedick 1991:96). France and the U.K., however, remained steadfast in their opposition.

At the February meeting, some countries that until then had shown little concern began to move toward the U.S. position. The Australian representative spoke of the high incidence of skin cancer in his country and the consequent interest in protecting the ozone layer. The delegate from Argentina noted that the ozone losses over Antarctica extended near his country's southern borders and registered his support for control measures. Yet, along with representatives from Thailand and Egypt, the Argentine delegate insisted on a protocol based on the principle that "the polluter must pay" (UNEP/WG.167/2:7).

There was unanimous agreement among the participants at the second session that CFC-11 and -12 should be subject to regulation, but little agreement beyond that. Many permutations were suggested from a list that included five CFCs, carbon tetrachloride, methyl chloroform, and Halon-1211 and -1301. The Japanese delegate maintained that CFC-113 should not be regulated because no viable substitutes were available and it would contribute only 10 percent to ozone depletion. While the Japanese information was correct, others pointed out that CFC-113 production was growing faster than that any of the other compounds.

Another contentious issue was whether production or consumption should be controlled. The EC sought to control production on the grounds of simplicity, since there were innumerable points of consumption and only a handful of producers. The United States, Canada, and others countered that production controls would mean that the EC, which exported about one-third of its CFC output and was virtually the only exporter, would have a near monopoly. This arrangement would be especially unfair to developing countries, which would be prohibited from increasing their own production while the EC could reduce exports to compensate for growth in domestic consumption. This would motivate developing countries to circumvent the treaty and build their own CFC plants. The USA devised a compromise based on "adjusted production" that was intended to satisfy the EC's desire for simplicity and yet give all countries an incentive to enter into the agreement. Controls would be placed on production plus imports minus exports to other treaty signatories (UNEP/WG.167/2:11). This would allow producing countries to increase exports to protocol parties without having to cut domestic consumption; moreover, importing countries would not be totally dependent on one source of CFCs (Benedick 1991:81).

Throughout the first two rounds of negotiations, opponents of stringent controls emphasized the scientific uncertainties, focusing on the points of disagreement among the atmospheric models rather than on the areas of agreement. This became a source of increasing frustration for those from the EPA, State Department, UNEP, and the scientific community who saw the need for decisive precautionary action (interview with Robert Watson). Consequently, U.S. knowledge brokers sought to sway other governments through informal conversations with officials, bilateral meetings, scientific exchanges, and satellite conferences. EPA staff worked extensively with their counterparts in other environmental bureaucracies and were quite influential in several European ministries (interview with Ivar Isaksen). Watson and Benedick conferred with journalists, officials, and scientists from dozens of countries via the U.S. Information Agency's Worldnet satellite hookup. A team of scientists and diplomats from the United States traveled throughout the world, visiting Japan, the Soviet Union, India, Egypt, and most European countries. Two U.S. nongovernmental organizations, the Environmental Defense Fund and World Resources Institute, also undertook "missionary missions" to educate and mobilize their European counterparts (interview with David Doniger).

The most important of these meetings were in Japan, the Soviet Union, and Egypt, where there was "a real exchange of ideas" (interview with Robert Watson). The Japanese grew more receptive to including CFC-113 in the protocol, largely because they became convinced that skin cancer was not the only important issue. The Soviets concurred on the U.S. assessment of the science and agreed to joint scientific endeavors with the United States. The head of the Egyptian Environment Directorate met personally with the delegation and used his influence to garner support from other Arab and developing countries. Many of these meetings dealt only with scientific issues, with the goal of establishing a scientific consensus. Yet, in typical fashion, science and politics were intertwined, even if one was not reducible to the other. The U.S. delegates believed that "foreign policymakers would have more confidence in the U.S. position once they realized that their own scientists agreed with us." While nobody believes that these bilateral communications were the primary inspiration for the protocol, everybody I interviewed agrees that they were an important factor in generating a stronger agreement (interviews with Robert Watson, Lee Thomas, and James Losey).

Despite the increasing degree of both scientific and political consensus, the British and the French continued to emphasize the scientific uncertainties and the discrepancies among the various computer models. Mostafa Tolba, executive director of UNEP, was convinced that the differences were largely illusory. In early April, he convened a meeting of five modeling teams from different countries in WŸrzburg, West Germany, asking them to use exactly the same data. As Tolba had anticipated, the models produced roughly similar results. The scientists unanimously agreed on the need to control those compounds with the greatest ozone depletion potential: CFC-11, -12, -113, -114, and -115 and Halon-1301 and -1211 (UNEP/WG.167/INF:1). While the scientists I interviewed barely recalled the meeting because there was "no new science" (interviews with Ralph Cicerone and Ivar Isaksen), for UNEP it represented a turning point in the negotiations. For the first time, "it was no longer possible to oppose action to regulate CFC releases on the grounds of scientific dissent" (UNEP/WG.172/2:2). The WŸrzburg meeting supported the discursive shift in favor of precautionary action.

When the negotiations reconvened in Geneva on April 27, the U.S. position had been both weakened and strengthened: weakened because of domestic interagency dissension and strengthened by the flurry of bilateral interactions, as well as by the WŸrzburg meeting. At this point, UNEP took on a greater leadership role. Dr. Tolba, a respected Egyptian scientist, personally addressed the delegates, recounting the WŸrzburg findings and introducing an ambitious proposal for freezing CFC and halon production at 1986 levels in 1990, followed by a 20 percent cutback in production every two years until they were eliminated by the year 2000 (UNEP/ WG.172/2:2). Tolba met individually with heads of key delegations to press his case (Benedick 1989:49).

The EC announced that it would agree to a freeze followed by a 20 percent reduction in CFC production and imports but maintained that "it would be pointless to go further if the possible benefits of doing so were negated by the refusal of significant CFC producers and consumers to sign the protocol" (UNEP/WG.172/2:6). Japan, which was not invited to the scientific meeting at WŸrzburg, continued to emphasize the scientific uncertainties and to oppose controls on CFC-113, although its opposition had softened somewhat. The United States, while reiterating its original negotiating position, was decidedly less vocal than at previous meetings.

By the third session, it was apparent that the primary issues requiring resolution were not scientific but political. Once the discrepancies in the models could not be used to justify inaction, and once the need for significant reductions was generally recognized, the process came to be dominated by the usual political dynamics of compromise and concession until the treaty was finally signed in September.

During this period, environmental groups again functioned as knowledge brokers. In June 1987, the European Environmental Bureau brought together European and North American nongovernmental organizations at a conference in Brussels on the scientific and political aspects of the ozone problem. That conference was attended by the European Commission's Directorate-General for the Environment. A few days later, the European parliament's Environment Committee called for an 85 percent reduction of CFC production and consumption by 1997 (Jachtenfuchs 1990:266). That figure reflected the conclusion of the chlorine-loading approach; only an 85 percent reduction of CFCs could stabilize atmospheric concentrations of chlorine. Emerging grassroots concern contributed to the EC's eventual decision to back stronger CFC controls.

The EC's shift may have been partly due to the change in the presidency. U.S. negotiators observed that progress in the negotiations was made only after a Belgian replaced a Briton as EC president in January 1987. Britain, however, was in the "troika" (composed of past, present, and future presidents), which held closed meetings with key delegation heads throughout the negotiations. When the presidency rotated again in July, the troika consisted of Belgium, Denmark, and Germany, all of which supported strong control measures (Benedick 1989:48). This fortuitous political event may have helped to erode the EC's opposition to significant reductions.

Other obstacles were surmounted through a process of political bargaining and compromise. Japanese objections to including CFC-113 were finally answered at the Montreal meeting through a concession permitting countries to shift consumption among the various CFCs, so long as their total ozone depletion potential was not exceeded (Montreal Protocol). The conclusions of the WŸrzburg meeting enabled UNEP to persuade countries to include halons in the list of controlled substances. At the last minute, it was learned that the USSR was using a halon that no other country produced. The Soviets agreed to include it on the list of controlled chemicals; in exchange, they were allowed to include two CFC plants already under construction in the 1986 baseline.

The U.S. proposal that entry into force should require ratification by countries representing 90 percent of production, a concession to those who wanted to protect U.S. industry from unfair competition, was widely criticized (Doniger 1988:90). Agreement was reached that the treaty would enter into in force when countries representing two-thirds of 1986 consumption had ratified it.

One last stumbling block, which had lingered since the Vienna Convention, generated a surprising degree of conflict in Montreal. The problem involved how the EC was to be defined and how production was to be rationalized among its member countries. To put the complex legal matter in simple terms, the United States apparently viewed the EC as trying to be treated as one nation with twelve votes, while the EC saw the U.S. as trying to sabotage its movement toward unification. Tolba convened a meeting of the twelve major producer countries to resolve the issue, a meeting that did not adjourn until after midnight. Lee Thomas and Laurens Brinkhorst, the EC representative, met until 3:00 a.m. In the end, it was agreed that the EC would be treated as a single entity, thereby allowing industry to redistribute production among plants in different countries to guarantee maximum efficiency (interview with Lee Thomas).

The final agreement required a freeze at 1986 levels of domestic CFC consumption six months after the treaty entered into force. By July 1993, consumption was to be cut by 20 percent and, by July 1998, by a further 50 percent. Cuts in production, however, were allowed to lag by 10 percent to supply importing countries and to allow EC countries to rationalize production. Developing countries were allowed an exception: if its annual consumption of CFCs were less than 0.3 kilograms per capita (i.e., less than one-fourth the U.S. level), then a country could delay implementation of the phasedown schedule for ten years. In the interim, developing countries were free to build new CFC plants. The treaty's trade provisions prohibited imports of bulk chemicals beginning in 1990 and of products containing them in another three years, thereby removing the incentive for countries not to become party to the agreement. Periodic scientific reviews, which may lead to revision of the treaty's provisions, were to be held every four years.

The treaty, signed on September 16, 1987, by twenty-four of the sixty-two nations at Montreal, was upheld by UNEP as "unprecedented." Tolba called it "the first truly global treaty that offers protection to every single human being on this planet . . . unique because it seeks to anticipate and manage a world problem before it becomes an irreversible crisis" (UNEP 1987c). The Montreal Protocol gave material expression to the discursive shift toward a precautionary approach to the ozone layer that began with the Vienna Convention.

International decision making in the face of scientific uncertainty involves a rich and complex set of interactions among facts and values, knowledge and interests. Uncertainty can be a source of scientific legitimation for a wide array of contending interests, thereby furnishing an obstacle to political consensus. Predictably, then, scientific consensus can facilitate international cooperation, although it does not make it inevitable. In the case of the Montreal Protocol, industry and the EC emphasized the uncertainties and framed what was known in terms most favorable to their own interests in averting strict regulations. The United States, stressing both what was known and the need to mitigate the risks, also framed the science in terms of its own interests. In both cases, interests were not independent variables but were themselves a function of accepted knowledge.

Scientists were important actors in the process, but saying the issue was science-driven does not say that the scientists themselves were the driving force. First, they rarely made policy recommendations. Second, and more importantly, once the science became enmeshed in the policy debates, other contextual factors determined how it would influence policy. Foremost among these was the Antarctic ozone hole, which, although it was only in the background of the policy debates, provided a strong case for those who wished to err on the side of caution. Another major factor was the existence of an international consensus, set out in the 1986 WMO/NASA assessment and fortified by the WŸrzburg meeting, that uncontrolled CFC emissions might lead to devastating consequences. The position of the U.S. delegation, most articulately expressed by EPA officials, was that a long-term perspective was required and that the high stakes mandated strict controls. That position was reinforced somewhat by the predictions of the atmospheric models, and more emphatically by the discovery of the Antarctic ozone hole.

In general, uncertainty increases as the causal chain of events moves further into the future. Not only does this empower experts to advise policymakers but, when combined with the perception of great risk, it can require policymakers to employ a different kind of decision making. John Ruggie (1986:231) describes it as a " 'bias shift' . . . away from a conventional problem-solving mode, wherein doing nothing would be favored on burden-of-proof grounds, toward a risk-averting mode, wherein prudent contingency measures would be undertaken to avoid risks we would rather not face." Many of those I interviewed explicitly refer to such a "bias shift" in their accounts of the negotiations.

The kind of power exercised by the scientists and those who successfully translated their information into viable policy proposals was not a function of control and domination but rather entailed persuading delegates to reevaluate their conceptions of their nations' interests. The ability to persuade was a function both of external contextual factors and skillful employment of knowledge in support of particular positions. Perceptions were key - most importantly, perceptions of the extent of the risks and of the dependability of the scientists' knowledge. These perceptions were heavily influenced by the persuasive power of specific experts and knowledge brokers who were able to expand the time frames of most of the delegates and heighten the sense of urgency.

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Note 1: The group included, but was not limited to, the following: John Hoffman, head of the EPA's Stratospheric Ozone Task Force; Stephen Seidel, policy analyst with the EPA's Air and Radiation Office; James Losey, staff officer with the EPA's International Activities Office; Stephen Anderson, an economist with the EPA; Michael J. Gibbs, policy analyst with ICF Incorporated; James Hammitt, statistical analyst with Rand; and Frank Camm, a Rand economist. Back.

Note 2: The sponsors of the 1986 report were NASA, the World Meteorological Organization (WMO), the Federal Aviation Administration, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), UNEP, the Commission of the European Communities, and the West German Federal Ministry for Research and Technology. Back.

Note 3: A good example are the reports written by the Stratospheric Ozone Review Group for the British government. See U.K. Department of the Environment (1976, 1979). Five years after Rowland and Molina linked CFCs to ozone depletion, the British Meteorological Office speculated that ozone losses could be counterbalanced by carbon dioxide emissions (Allaby 1979:356). Back.

Note 4: The 1986 WMO/NASA report was so important that some participants in the recent international talks on global climate change believe that it was the main inspiration for the Montreal Protocol. They seem to think that "all we need is three blue books for the IPCC" (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change). They invited Robert Watson to head a panel because "he was the one who worked the magic before" (interview with Ralph Cicerone). Back.

Note 5: Halocarbons include not only CFCs but methyl chloroform, carbon tetrachloride, and the bromated compounds called halons. For a classification of the chemicals, see the third section of chapter Three. Only CFCs and halons, however, were at issue during the negotiations leading up to the protocol. The other halocarbons were targeted in the subsequent review process established by the treaty. Back.

Note 6: Rand and ICF both contracted with the EPA to do detailed analyses of market and production trends. These studies were presented and discussed in detail at the second session of the international economic workshop (Hammitt et al. 1986; UNEP/WG.151/Background 2:paper 1). Back.

Note 7: The lawsuit is discussed toward the end of the fourth section of chapter 3. Back.

Note 8: Markus Jachtenfuchs describes the ozone talks as "quasi-bilateral negotiations between the EC and the USA, the EC getting support from Japan and the USA being the leader of a group with Canada, Norway, and Sweden participating" (1990:264). Back.

Note 9: Many of the scientific conclusions from the UNEP/EPA conference were presented in chapter 3 as background information. Back.

Note 10: Many of the EPA's arguments for stringent CFC controls were couched in terms of cost effectiveness. This was not merely a ploy to convince industry but was mandated by President Reagan's Executive Order 12291, signed shortly after he took office. This order, stipulating that all major new regulations must undergo benefit-cost analysis, was part of the administration's overall policy of "regulatory relief." The order specifies that economic efficiency should be the basis for evaluating regulations (Smith 1984:4). As a result, the EPA studied such seemingly peripheral matters as the price of replacing plastics damaged by increased ultraviolet radiation (Titus 1986:7). Back.

Note 11: Every person I interviewed concurs with this assessment, but this evaluation benefits from hindsight. There may have been some who, at the time, viewed the issue primarily in economic and political terms. Back.

Note 12: The U.S. position was still being developed. While there was a mounting consensus to move beyond the aerosol ban proposed by the Toronto Group before the Vienna Convention, the U.S. bargaining stance was not finalized until November 1986. A proposal put on the table by the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) at Leesburg called for a full phaseout of CFCs over ten years (paper 6, UNEP/WG.148/3). This proposal is remarkably similar to the U.S. position that was eventually adopted, but EPA officials involved in developing the U.S. position deny any influence (interviews with Lee Thomas, James Losey, and Stephen Seidel). Back.

Note 13: Given industry's reluctance in 1986 to admit that growth was likely, it is noteworthy that, in an 1989 interview, Joseph Glas asserted on several occasions that it was industry that alerted the negotiators to the likelihood of increased CFC growth rates. Back.

Note 14: According to Joseph Glas, the real issue was fluorospar's potential lack of availability for political reasons. Du Pont had been granted an exception to U.S. trade restrictions in order to import South Africa's substantial fluorospar deposits, but South Africa was a risky trading partner. Glas admits, however, that any fluorospar scarcity would have engendered only "short-term limits to the rate of growth" (interview). If industry's predictions of a de facto freeze in CFC growth were valid, then there should have been no shortage. The suspicion arises, then, that those who deemed the fluorospar issue a red herring were correct (interview with Michael Gibbs). Back.

Note 15: Because the depletion was never total, the term "ozone hole" is metaphorical. Some industry representatives saw the psychological connotations inherent in the term and objected to it, preferring to speak more euphemistically of "temporary ozone losses" (interview with Kevin Fay). Names that include repeated sounds, like the three o's in "ozone hole," have "an advantage in the marketplace of ideas" (Los Angeles Times 1986). Since the term has gained widespread acceptance, even in the scientific journals, I will use it. Back.

Note 16: Crisis here refers to a different sort of phenomenon than is typically considered in the international relations literature. There, crises entail "the perception of a dangerously high probability of war" (Snyder and Diesing 1977:6), and the perceived danger is caused by the actions of nation-states or their agents, rather than by external or natural events. Back.

Note 17: A Japanese team made similar observations, but their 1984 paper was published in an obscure journal (Pukelsheim 1990:540). Back.

Note 18: This reluctance to accept Farman's work supports my argument in chapter 2 about the social construction of knowledge. Science is deeply involved in such matters as reputation and recognition. Back.

Note 19: The initial reaction of all the scientists I interviewed, even those who published papers supporting other explanations, was that the hole was caused by CFCs. Back.

Note 20: Other, more offbeat hypotheses were advanced. Two NASA scientists proposed that meteoric particles could be trapped in the winter polar vortex and break apart later to destroy ozone (Washington Post 1987a). A British biochemist argued that wood-rotting fungi emit even greater quantities of halocarbons than modern industry does and that widespread deforestation was responsible for saving the ozone layer (New Scientist 1987:27). The plethora of theories strengthened the case of those who hoped to block strong CFC controls by emphasizing the uncertainties. Back.

Note 21: Heterogeneous reactions occur between chemicals in different states, e.g., between a liquid and a gas. The models used during the Montreal Protocol negotiations considered only homogeneous reactions among atmospheric gases. F. S. Rowland had already done some laboratory research on heterogeneous reactions. When his data were included in the computer model used for the 1984 National Academy of Sciences report, the predicted total ozone loss skyrocketed from the 2 to 4 percent range to 20 to 30 percent (interview with Ralph Cicerone). This information was available at the time of the 1986 WMO/NASA assessment but received little attention. Back.

Note 22: A team of scientists affiliated with industry published a paper in the special supplement of Geophysical Research Letters that favored a chlorine chemistry explanation (Rodriguez, Ko, and Sze 1986). Robert Watson, a key person in both the scientific and political circles, believes that the ozone hole was responsible for industry's "philosophical reorientation" (interview). Back.

Note 23: Framing the issue in terms of chlorine loading, as Hoffman did, rather than in terms of ozone depletion potential (ODP), as did the atmospheric models, is somewhat misleading because it implies that all forms of chlorine are equally menacing to ozone. But, as the discovery in Antarctica demonstrated, the models were also misleading. As one scientist puts it in 1990: "Chlorine doesn't affect us; ozone does. ODP is more sophisticated, more complicated. Two years ago, I would have said chlorine loading was a good measure; now I think we should use the state-of-the-art models. At the time the models couldn't account for the Antarctic hole, and now they can" (interview with Nien Dak Sze). Back.

Note 24: The issue of whether or not other agencies were allowed sufficient input into the initial process later became hotly debated. Officials from the Commerce, Interior, and Energy Departments claim that they were excluded from the meetings (interviews with Ed Shykind and Michael P. Kelly). EPA and State Department officials contend that these departments simply disregarded the issue because they didn't realize its political and economic significance (interviews with Richard Benedick, Stephen Seidel, and James Losey). The fact that all the above departments signed the original position paper through the Circular 175 Process lends support to the second interpretation. Back.

Note 25: Consumption was defined as production, minus exports, plus imports, minus the amount destroyed (U.S. Department of State 1986). This issue was controversial during the negotiations because the exporting countries, primarily in the EC, objected to having CFC consumption and production equated. Back.

Note 26: No specific numbers were mentioned either in the suit or in the Clean Air Act under which the suit was filed. David Doniger, the NRDC's lead attorney on the ozone issue, was "pleasantly surprised" by the U.S. position (Roan 1989:195), which was much more comprehensive than the proposals of some environmental organizations. World Resources Institute, for instance, backed cuts in specific uses ranging from 25 percent for refrigeration and air conditioning to 90 percent for aerosol uses, averaging roughly 50 percent overall (Miller and Mintzer 1986:19). Back.

Note 27: Some knowledgeable observers believe that Thomas hoped to negotiate a major international accord and, having learned from the failures of his predecessor, William Ruckelshaus, on the acid rain issue, decided to take on the ozone issue (interview with Alan S. Miller). Back.

Note 28: David Gibbons claims that the OMB served as a "neutral moderator" of the meetings and that neither he nor the agency took a policy stand (interview). Others contradict this, saying that every agency, including the OMB, took a position (interviews with Richard Benedick, Michael P. Kelly, and James Losey). Back.

Note 29: Senator Max Baucus, chairman of the Senate Subcommittee on Environment and Public Works, charged that "secret instructions from OMB" caused the U.S. negotiating position to be watered down (Atlanta Constitution 1987). Back.

Note 30: David Gibbons of the OMB suggested at one interagency meeting that skin cancer is "a self-inflicted disease" and that the federal government should not be in the business of regulating what people do to themselves. Dr. Kripke, who oversees a cancer clinic, responded with "a scathing memo." She pointed out that farmers and oil workers have the highest incidence of skin cancers, and that doctors don't ask people how they contracted their cancer before they treat it (interview). This exchange was recalled by many of the participants I interviewed. Back.

Note 31: Although it is difficult to judge the impact of the proposed U.S. legislation, one participant I interviewed was in Japan during the negotiations and observed that the issue received extensive press coverage. He believes that the Ministry of International Trade and Industry (MITI), widely viewed as the most powerful Japanese ministry, feared that its products, especially in the electronics sector, would be rendered incompatible with world trade (interview with Alan S. Miller). Back.

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Ozone Discourses