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Federal health officials view those concerns as exaggerated. Current standards rely on a 1993 review of published studies by the National Academy of Sciences, which found "no credible evidence for an association between fluoride in drinking water and the risk of cancer." The academy has launched a new review to be released in February.
The stakes were raised in July when Harvard University opened an investigation into whether a prominent dentistry professor had suppressed research by one of his doctoral students in a report to the NIH. The 2001 thesis showed a sevenfold increased risk of osteosarcoma in preadolescent boys from fluoridated water. The supervising professor, Chester Douglass, edits a newsletter funded by Colgate--which makes fluoridated toothpaste--creating "the appearance of a conflict of interest," according to the EWG, which filed a charge of "scientific misconduct" with the federal agency. Douglass was unavailable for comment, but a Harvard spokesman said the university takes the allegations "seriously."
Meanwhile, unions representing 7,000 employees at the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) have waded into the debate. The optimal level of fluoride in water, according to the CDC, is between 0.7 and 1.2 parts per million. In 1985 political appointees at the EPA raised the acceptable level of fluoride in drinking water to 4 p.p.m., over objections from agency scientists. The Natural Resources Defense Council sued the agency, charging that the safety margin was inadequate, but in 1987 a U.S. district court ruled that the EPA administrators had the authority to set fluoride levels. EPA union representatives reopened the issue in August, calling on EPA administrator Stephen Johnson to issue a moratorium on fluoridation and to set a goal of zero fluoride in tap water. "The EPA has an ethical duty to send an effective warning immediately about this hazard," they said.
All this makes for a potent mix, especially when filtered through the Internet, where health-safety concerns tend to get amplified. Much of the opposition to the fluoridation initiative in Bellingham comes from people like Lane Weaver, a fire-alarm technician, and his wife Danelle, a housewife and mother of two. When they first heard about the issue this summer, the Weavers Googled the word fluoridation. Nine of the first 10 items that came up were decidedly antifluoride. "I was horrified," says Danelle. "Why would I want to put a toxic industrial chemical in my children's bodies?" She joined Citizens Against Forced Fluoride, and now--with a 6-in.-high stack of scientific studies gleaned from the Web--she staffs an information booth at the local farmers' market.