The Progressive:
Fluoride's Revenge
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Articles / The Progressive 1990
The Progressive
December 1990
FLUORIDE'S REVENGE
Has this cure, too, become a disease?
by Daniel Grossman
Daniel Grossman is a free-lance science writer specializing in environmental
and health issues. Research for this article was supported by a grant
from the Fund for Investigative Journalism.
(See Photocopy of this article)
Terry Rich, a Colorado Spring dentist, recently treated Molly,
a teenage patient, for an ugly brown stain on her front teeth. "She
was dissatisfied with her teeth," he recalls, noting that dark,
brown horizontal lines marred an otherwise straight smile. Though
his acid-etching treatment failed to remove the stain, Rich hopes
to try again with a different formula. Molly is Rich's own child.
Like other people across the nation, she suffers from dental
fluorosis, an ailment caused by excessive levels of the chemical
fluoride in naturally mineral-rich water.
An investigation of the health effects of fluoride, including two
Freedom of Information Act requests that pried loose more than 10,000
pages of documentation, shows that a Government regulation intended
to prevent fluorosis was derailed by a decades-old controversy between
two agencies over a legally unrelated Government policy.
Officials at the Public Health Service, the Federal Government's
all-purpose health agency, stopped the Environmental Protection
Agency from issuing a standard to prevent dental fluorosis because
they feared the rule would disrupt their own plans to protect dental
health. As a result, what might have been an open public debate
became an obscure internecine battle between two bureaucracies,
each with its own idea of what makes good public policy. Though
dental fluorosis is hardly a life-threatening ailment, this story
demonstrates how a powerful agency, intent upon enforcing its own
view of the public good, can suppress anyone who gets in its way.
On October 31, 1985, employees of the EPA were circulating a memo
written by Paul Price, a staff member in the regulatory agency's
drinking water program. It was a spoof of an official press release
issued that day to announce a new regulation.
"The Office of Drinking Water," it began, "proudly presents their
new improved FLUORIDE REGULATION, or 'How We Stopped Worrying and
Learned to Love Funky Teeth."' The takeoff reflected the frustration
felt by staff members who had invested years in developing the protective
regulation only to see it diluted because of pressure from another
agency.
Though fluoride is best known as the chemical added to drinking
water and toothpaste to prevent dental decay, it can also cause
a variety of harmful
ailments, including one that puts brown stains on teeth and
may make them brittle and crumbly. The amount of fluoride added
to drinking water to prevent tooth decay is about the same as the
amount that can cause moderate staining.
Such staining, known as dental fluorosis, was discovered even before
the beneficial effects of fluoride were recognized. The convoluted
history of fluoride -- perhaps one of America's most bizarre encounters
with a chemical contaminant -- holds the secret to why two agencies,
each ostensibly concerned about the effects of fluoride on teeth,
should clash.
Dental fluorosis was first noted in Colorado Springs at the turn
of the century by a young dentist who became obsessed with discovering
the cause of the disease, then known as "Colorado Stain." When minute
amounts of fluoride dissolved in drinking water were identified
as the culprit in 1931, the Public Health Service dispatched H.
Trendly Dean, a talented epidemiologist, to determine the concentration
at which the disease occurs.
"In moderate cases, all enamel surfaces of the teeth are altered,"
Dean wrote. "Brown stain is frequently a disfiguring feature." In
severe cases, he added, "brown stains are widespread and teeth often
present a corroded-like appearance." The disease, researchers later
discovered, is caused in children up to the age of eight during
the formation of their teeth.
Fluoride would probably be treated today with the same degree of
concern as any other contaminant that affects human health, were
it not for the fact that Dean also confirmed an observation that
changed the course of preventative health care. He showed that people
with dental fluorosis had fewer cavities--then considered a public-health
scourge. This discovery was greeted with enthusiasm by activists
in the dental community, especially in Wisconsin, a stronghold of
the Progressive movement, where a small group of energetic dentists
campaigned vigorously to add fluoride to drinking water.
Dean and his agency were more circumspect, as were the American
Dental Association and the American Medical Association, which preferred
to await the results of investigations of the benefits of fluoride.
But by the mid-1940s, a few communities began experimenting with
fluoridation - as the process of adding fluoride came to be known.
By 1950, the Public Health Service, under increasing pressure from
advocates, endorsed the process.
As a full-blown campaign to fluoridate the entire country - nourished
by the once-skeptical Public Health Service - began to build, grass-roots
opposition appeared as well. Some critics questioned the safety
and efficacy of fluoridation, and others raised ethical, moral,
and philosophical objections to the injection of a potent chemical
into a public resource. There were crackpots, too, who countered
advocates of fluoridation with McCarthy-era anticommunist and anti-Semitic
rhetoric. One activist who gained notoriety in California claimed
that fluoridation would produce "moronic atheistic slaves." It would
"weaken the minds of the people," she said, and make them prey to
communists. Another called fluoridation a Jewish attempt to "weaken
the Aryan race mentally and spiritually."
When the strategy of challenging fluoridation in local referendums
began to threaten the nationwide endeavor, proponents responded
by tarring all opponents - indeed the very idea of opposition -
with this "quack" brush. According to fluoridation advocate G.F.
Lull, for example, "We will find in the antifluoridation camp the
antivaccinationists, the antivivisectionists, the cultists and quacks
of all descriptions: In short, everyone who has a grudge against
legitimate scientific progress."
The controversy over fluoridation is no longer as visible as it
was in the 1950s, but it continues. The Public Health Service is
still trying to make fluoridation universally available, and opponents
are still at work with roadblocks and sandbags. Today, proponents
note with alarm that fluoridation was actually rejected in about
100 of the more than 150 referendums on the measure in the past
decade. With only two-thirds of the public water supplies served
by what dentists consider the optimal level of fluoride today, the
longstanding Public Health Service goal of 95 per cent by 1990 was
recently lowered to 75 per cent by the year 2000.
Though many beneficial chemicals are dangerous when consumed at
excessive levels, fluoride is unique because the amount that dentists
recommend to prevent cavities is about the same as the amount that
causes dental fluorosis. The Public Health Service recommends that
about one part of fluoride be added for every million parts of water
to prevent tooth decay -- the amount depends on the climate -- while
the Environmental Protection Agency says water with as little as
0.7 parts per million of fluoride can cause moderate dental fluorosis
in a small percentage of the people who drink it.
Today, according to the EPA, there are 1,300 communities -- mostly
rural towns -- serving nearly two million people with water naturally
enriched with fluoride in concentrations greater than two parts
per million (ppm). And there are 200 communities serving more than
a quarter-million people with water exceeding four ppm. At two ppm,
according to agency studies, 10 per cent of all children will contract
either moderate or severe fluorosis. At four ppm, nearly half the
children will be afflicted. The Public Health Service estimates
that nearly half a million American schoolchildren suffer from mild
or severe dental fluorosis.
The EPA issued a regulation to protect the public from dental fluorosis
in 1977, under authority of the then newly enacted Safe Drinking
Water Act. The rule prohibited public water suppliers from distributing
water with more than two ppm of fluoride, though the deadline for
compliance extended until 1984. As the deadline neared, however,
none of the offending suppliers moved to comply, since defluoridation
equipment costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. Instead, EPA came
under increasing pressure to reexamine the rule. The regulation
was a temporary standard, promulgated hastily with the expectation
that the agency would later issue a permanent rule based on further
deliberations.
EPA staff scientists were convinced of the need to prevent fluorosis.
"This was the only contaminant up to this time that we knew had
a human health effect," recalls David Schnare, an EPA drinking water
analyst. Other drinking-water contaminants, he explains, were recognized
by the results of animal studies only.
Nevertheless, EPA was besieged by petitions from state governors
and dental
officials to weaken the standard or, better yet, replace the
legally binding regulation with a less burdensome, voluntary standard.
But voluntary standards are typically ignored.
Dental and other public-health officials opposed the binding rule
because they feared EPA would encourage the antifluoridation camp
and hinder the ongoing effort to fluoridate
the entire country. EPA's plans to regulate fluoride, said John
Daniel, a dental official in South Carolina, "served only to
stimulate ardent antifluoridationists in their fanatic quest to
associate fluoride with every disease and unpleasantness known to
mankind."
But many members of the medical community are cautiously beginning
to question forty years of doctrinaire advocacy of fluoridation.
Even Public Health Service officials are noting today that fluoride
may not be as effective as they once claimed. "Perhaps we have been
too much the crusaders," says Canadian dental official Alan Gray
in calling on his colleagues to reconsider the benefits of fluoridation.
State governments opposed the binding regulation for another reason:
because defluoridation is expensive and therefore politically unpalatable.
According to EPA estimates, for instance, a typical family in a
community that installed defluoridation equipment could expect an
increase in its water bill of between $20 and $100 annually.
Though the Public Health Service has long been the chief Federal
advocate of fluoridation -- and therefore a less-than-neutral judge
-- EPA in 1981 asked Surgeon General C. Everett Koop, a Public Health
Service leader, to convene a panel to advise the agency on the relationship
between fluoride in drinking water and dental fluorosis. It was
an unusual step; according to Joseph Cotruvo, the EPA official directly
responsible for drinking-water standards, EPA had never before asked
the Surgeon General to conduct such a review of a chemical, nor
has it since.
Koop's office assembled a committee of dental researchers in various
branches of the Service. Completed in 1982, their report
concluded that dental fluorosis, though "cosmetically objectionable,"
is not a health hazard. Summarizing the report, Koop wrote
to EPA: "No sound evidence exists which shows that drinking water...in
the U.S. has an adverse effect on dental health."
Public Health Service documents verify that the wording of Koop's
letter was intended to hinder EPA plans to set a binding fluoride
standard. Unless EPA demonstrates that a contaminant has a "health
effect," the agency cannot legally set a binding standard.
"If we send this letter," Koop explained in a memo to Edward Brandt,
his superior in the Public Health Service, "it means that [EPA]
would not be able to publish [binding] drinking-water regulations."
Then he advised, "I think we should go with this letter, in spite
of the fact that EPA will not like our response."
Still eager to demonstrate the need to regulate fluoride, the EPA
asked the Surgeon General to assemble
another panel in 1983, this time
to consider the nondental effects of fluoride. A transcript
of the panel's two-day meeting shows that, despite its nondental
mandate, the panel was especially disturbed by what it learned about
dental fluorosis. "You would have to have rocks in your head to
allow your child much more than two parts per million," said Stanley
Wallach, then medical-service chief of the Veterans Administration
Medical Center in Albany, New York.
In the final
draft of its report, panel chair Jay Shapiro concluded, "There
was a consensus that... dental fluorosis per se constitutes an adverse
health effect that should be prevented." Shapiro wrote a memo warning
that "because the report deals with sensitive political issues which
may or may not be acceptable to the PHS, it runs the risk of being
modified at a higher level or returned for modification." He attached
the memo to his draft and sent them on to John Small, a Public Health
Service official. Small, in turn, forwarded the draft to Koop.
The final report,
which Koop sent the EPA a month later, included none of the Shapiro
draft's conclusions about dental fluorosis. Instead, it concluded
that it was "inadvisable" for children to drink water containing
high levels of fluoride to prevent the "uncosmetic effect" of dental
fluorosis. Koop had again foiled EPA by repeating his conclusion
that dental fluorosis is not an "adverse health effect."
When contacted recently, members of the panel assembled by the
Public Health Service expressed surprise at their report's conclusions;
they never received copies of the final--altered--version. EPA scientist
Edward Ohanian, who observed the panel's deliberations, recalled
being "baffled" when the agency received its report. But, he added,
"it's what they give us in writing that counts."
But William Ruckelshaus, then the administrator of EPA, wanted
to set a binding standard to prevent dental fluorosis, so EPA tried
one more time. In 1984, Ruckelshaus asked the National
Institute of Mental Health to assemble a panel to examine the
psychological effects of dental
fluorosis. This time the request was submitted directly to NIMH
rather than through the office of the Surgeon General.
Although there was no body of research on the psychological effects
of dental fluorosis per se, the panel was guided by numerous studies
of facial attractiveness and the behavioral impacts of other dental
impairments, such as cleft lip and palate. Panel members were also
impressed by photographs they were shown of the teeth of people
suffering from severe dental fluorosis. They concluded that people
with moderate or severe cases risked "psychological and behavioral
problems or difficulties."
EPA staff members were pleased with the results of this study.
"The staff response was: Here is our silver bullet," says Paul Price,
then an analyst working on the standard. He recalls that the staff
was vacillating between recommending a standard of one ppm or two
ppm, to prevent the psychological effects of dental fluorosis.
Ruckelshaus was shown a set of pictures of dental fluorosis at
a high-level meeting in July 1984, recalls drinking-water analyst
Schnare. Ruckelshaus's comment: "That's an adverse health effect."
But he stepped down as EPA administrator in January 1985 and was
replaced by Lee Thomas, a man less sympathetic to staff concerns
about dental fluorosis.
Recent interviews confirm that the staff was preparing at the time
to recommend that Thomas issue a one-ppm standard. "It is legally
and scientifically indefensible to set the [standard] at a level
other than optimum (e.g., 1 ppm)," reads the draft of a memo prepared
for Thomas's approval.
A handwritten note scribbled on this draft, however, says a higher-level
office, controlled not by staff scientists but by political appointees,
preferred a binding standard of four ppm, justified by the threat
of skeletal fluorosis, another effect of fluoride, but a much less
common one. The note added, "And they have the final say!"
The final draft, completed a few weeks later, concluded that dental
fluorosis is merely a "cosmetic effect" and recommends a binding
standard of four ppm, and a voluntary one of two ppm When issued
six months later, the standard followed this recommendation.
One drinking water official believes Thomas succumbed to pressure.
A native of South Carolina, a state abundantly endowed with fluoride-rich
water, Thomas listened not to his staff but to Republican Senator
Strom Thurmond, a relentless opponent of the fluoride standard.
Edward Groth of the Consumers Union, who wrote a doctoral dissertation
on the fluoridation controversy, surmises that Thomas took "the
path of least resistance" in following the lead of the Surgeon General.
The technical staff was "devastated" at the decision to go with
a standard of four ppm instead of one, according to Paul Price,
who managed the writing of the standard and its official justification
issued by the EPA. But, he says, once the decision was made, "there
were arguments that could be made to justify it."
Price calls the struggle over fluoride regulation "a clash of two
different cultures." The Public Health Service, he says, was guided
by a 1950s-era attitude that health problems are solved with medication
and that doctors know best; anyone questioning this is a crackpot.
The Environmental Protection Agency, in contrast, works on the principle
-- and is staffed with scientists who believe -- that nothing should
be allowed in drinking water unless its safety can be proven. This
conviction dictates stringent regulations justified by conservative
analyses with ample margins of safety. In the case of fluoride,
these two philosophies collide.
In Colorado Springs, where dental fluorosis was first studied almost
a century ago, fluoride levels today reach nearly four ppm Dentist
Terry Rich thinks this level is too high, though he concedes the
city couldn't afford a treatment plant even if regulators required
it.
And he views the high level of fluoride in his city's water as
an opportunity for business. "It could be a money-making thing in
my practice," he says, musing about treatment for people suffering
from dental fluorosis - "if only I could figure out a way to do
it."
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