PITTSBURGH — Environmental justice advocates gathered last week to celebrate progress and chart a path to the future while focusing on healing, self care and mental health.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and the Environmental Justice Summit highlighted the need for self-care and connection among researchers and advocates working to advance justice. Exposure to pollution and anxiety about climate change can negatively impact mental health and people who work to right injustices face the risk of compassion fatigue and burnout.
The summit was conceived and organized by Tina Ndoh, associate professor of environmental and occupational health at Pitt's School of Public Health, and Dani Wilson, executive director of the Cancer & Environment Network of southwestern Pennsylvania.
“Advancing justice is emotionally difficult work,” Wilson told EHN. “Taking care of ourselves and each other is critical to fostering moments of joy and connection that help us stay in the movement.”
Over three days, attendees strategized about how to advance environmental justice in the greater Pittsburgh region and how to foster resilience with tools like meditation, storytelling, community-building, yoga, crafting and cooking. The event also highlighted the importance of humor, connection and optimism.
“This is a social movement,” said Jamil Bey, founder of the nonprofit think tank UrbanKind Institute and newly-appointed director of the Department of City Planning for Pittsburgh. “That means that as part of this work, we’ve gotta have fun with our friends. We’ve gotta stay connected and be able to laugh.”
On Friday, Dr. Sacoby Wilson, an environmental health scientist, professor and director of the Center for Community Engagement, Environmental Justice and Health at the University of Maryland, set the tone for the day by declaring himself a “hardcore Steelers fan” and waving a Terrible Towel above his head while shouting “Go Steelers!”
Dr. Sacoby Wilson, an environmental health scientist, professor and director of the Center for Community Engagement, Environmental Justice and Health at the University of Maryland, waves a terrible towel at the EJ Summit Pittsburgh.
Credit: John Altdorfer, courtesy of the Cancer and Environment Network of SWPA
Wilson peppered an otherwise serious talk about the ravages of environmental racism and his work developing tools to combat it with football jokes, referencing recent quarterback drama (“two quarterbacks are better than one!”), emphasizing the importance of both offense and defense for communities burdened by pollution and quipping that if we want to score a touchdown, the community needs to work as a team.
“Where you live can kill you,” Wilson said, noting that poor, Black and Brown neighborhoods in most places, including southwestern Pennsylvania, face higher levels of exposure to pollution that result in worse health outcomes and lowered life expectancy. These places are also more likely to experience the impacts of climate change and other disproportionate harms.
“We need a holistic framework for environmental justice that also acknowledges the need for housing justice, economic justice, social justice, educational justice, reproductive justice and racial justice,” he said, “because these things are all connected. And you can’t get equity without justice… And on a separate note, we’re going to the Super Bowl this year, right?”
Environmental justice victories
EJ Summit attendees show off their artwork.
Credit: Stephanie Ciranni, Cancer Bridges
Other speakers shared recent victories and progress.
Professor Tiffany Gary-Webb, the associate dean for Diversity, Equity and Inclusion at the University of Pittsburgh School of Public Health, shared the results of her work with the Black Environmental Collective and the Black Equity Coalition. The group formed in April 2020 to ensure an equitable response to the COVID-19 pandemic in Pittsburgh and has evolved to continue advancing racial equity in western Pennsylvania.
“We used data to try and understand where there were higher rates of COVID and sent those to the county and state health departments. We talked to elected officials and put out our own dashboard with the numbers for Black populations, and through those efforts we were able to get critical resources to our communities and see that data change,” Gary-Webb said, pointing to a study that summarized the group’s effectiveness. “Now we’re continuing that work with a focus on other issues in our communities.”
Ash Chan, a farmer and steward at Oasis Farm and Fishery, shared their experience working at a Black-owned garden and market in Pittsburgh’s predominantly Black, working-class Homewood neighborhood, which has a long history of disinvestment and has been without a grocery store since 1994. The organization uses vacant land to grow food and offers classes in urban farming and healthy cooking.
“We see food as a driver of social and economic capital, as well as a way that connects people to their cultural roots and their natural environment,” Chan said. “We’re growing what folks want. For example, last year we noticed that elders in the community would line up for okra before we even opened our farmer’s market …so this year we’re growing six different kinds of okra based on that demand.”
Bearing witness to injustice
Kayien Conner (left) and Melanie Meade (right) at the EJ Summit.
Credit: John Altdorfer, Cancer and Environment Network of SWPA
While the Summit highlighted progress and promoted resilience, it also emphasized “bearing witness” — a process described by event organizers as actively listening, not looking away, and most importantly, responding — to “the slow violence of environmental degradation on our land.”
Participants were invited to attend a “bearing witness ceremony” in Clairton, a small town about 30 miles south of Pittsburgh that regularly sees some of the most polluted air in the country due to emissions from a coal-based U.S. Steel plant.
“The injustices are very thick and very brutal in Clairton,” said Melanie Meade, a clean air activist and resident of Clairton. Meade shared the heartbreak she has experienced learning that Clairton’s rate of childhood asthma is more than double the national rate, watching many loved ones die of cancer and witnessing the impacts of poverty and violence. “The people are tired and they are sick and they are in great need, and we need to stand in the way for them.”
Later in the day, Kayien Conner, a professor at the University of Pittsburgh’s School of Social Work, told Melanie she’d been moved by her words and asked if she could connect her with an organization she’s involved with that offers mental health resources for Black communities to get additional resources to Clairton.
“Yes, please, thank you!” Melanie said.
“See? We’re here making connections, collaborating, getting this work done already!” Wilson shouted to applause and laughter.
Political optimism
Bearing witness ceremony in Clairton, Pennsylvania.
Credit: Dani Wilson
Speakers at the symposium also noted that western Pennsylvania is on the precipice of major political changes that offer many reasons for optimism for environmental advocates, pointing to the election of progressive politicians like Summer Lee and Lindsay Powell and county executive Sara Innamorato, all of whom have pledged to prioritize environmental justice.
“We’re really shaking things up politically right now,” said Bey. “If we don’t do this now, then that’s on us. Now is the time. Let’s keep lifting each other up, let’s do our work and let’s get this done.”
“Because of its purchasing power … the Federal Government has the potential to significantly impact the supply of these products.”
The U.S. government will stop using single-use plastics in all federal operations by 2035, according to a strategy released by the Biden administration on Friday.
The announcement also set a goal for the federal government to stop buying plastic for food service, events and packaging by 2027. While the strategy isn’t enforceable by law and could change under future administrations, it is the first government-wide strategy aimed at reducing plastic pollution and recognizes that the plastic pollution “crisis” encompasses the entire lifecycle: from the fossil fuels used as building blocks in plastic manufacturing to the microplastic bits lining our shorelines.
“With its multitude of environmental impacts across its supply chain, broad global effects, and severe public health consequences, plastic pollution has become one of the most pressing and consequential environmental problems in the U.S. and around the globe,” said Brenda Mallory and Ali Zaidi, two White House environmental and climate officials, in the joint letter accompanying the strategy document.
Changes in federal purchasing can have huge impacts: The U.S. federal government is the largest buyer of consumer goods in the world, with nearly $600 billion in annual spending. “Because of its purchasing power, by reducing the demand of plastic products through procurement changes, the Federal Government has the potential to significantly impact the supply of these products,” the strategy reads.
"Plastic pollution has become one of the most pressing and consequential environmental problems in the U.S. and around the globe." - Brenda Mallory and Ali Zaidi, White House officials
The announcement comes as the plastic crisis continues to grow. The world generates roughly 400 million tons of plastic waste each year, and less than 10% of plastic ever made has been recycled. Plastic waste is set to triple by 2060.
The crisis has garnered international attention as more than 175 countries are negotiating a global plastics treaty. The talks have stalled over issues such as regulating the chemicals in plastic, production caps, and the role of chemical recycling and bioplastics. There is a High Ambition Coalition of countries that want an end to plastic pollution by 2040. There is also a Global Coalition for Plastics Sustainability — made of nations economically reliant on fossil fuels — that is pushing for a larger focus on addressing plastic waste (via chemical and mechanical recycling and other means) rather than plastic bans or production limits. The U.S. — the largest exporter of oil and gas in the world — is not part of either and has been criticized for not taking a stronger stance on limiting production.
The new strategy similarly does not call for any plastic production caps, but many environmental groups said it is a step in the right direction.
“This report is the clearest articulation to date from the White House of the scale and urgency of the plastic pollution crisis and the threat it poses for our ocean and communities,” Jeff Watters, Ocean Conservancy’s vice president of external affairs said in a statement.
Erin Simon, vice president and head of plastic waste and business for the World Wildlife Fund, praised the strategy for focusing on the entire lifecycle.
“We’re heartened to see this report doesn’t shy away from the negative impacts that plastics have on human health and analyzes the problem through the full life cycle of plastic,” Simon said in a statement. “Cleaning up the global plastic mess must start at home. And today under President Biden and Vice President Harris’ leadership, the U.S. government is doing exactly that."
CAMERON PARISH, La. — Late into the night, John Allaire watches the facility next to his home shoot 300-foot flares from stacks.
He lives within eyesight of southwest Louisiana’s salty shores, where, for decades, he’s witnessed nearly 200 feet of land between it and his property line disappear into the sea. Two-thirds of the land was rebuilt to aid the oil and gas industry’s LNG expansion. LNG — shorthand for liquified natural gas – is natural gas that's cooled to liquid form for easier storage or transport; it equates to 1/600th the volume of natural gas in a gaseous state. It’s used to generate electricity, or fuel stove tops and home heaters, and in industrial processes like manufacturing fertilizer.
In the U.S., at least 30 new LNG terminal facilities have been constructed or proposed since 2016, according to the
Oil and Gas Watch project. Louisiana and Texas’ Gulf Coast, where five facilities are already operating, will host roughly two-thirds of the new LNG terminals – meaning at least 22 Gulf Coast LNG facilities are currently under construction, were recently approved to break ground or are under further regulatory review.
Although the U.S. didn’t ship LNG until 2016, when a freight tanker left, a few miles from where Cameron Parish’s LNG plants are today, last year the country became the global leader in LNG production and export volume, leapfrogging exporters like Qatar and Australia. The
EIA’s most recent annual outlook estimated that between the current year and 2050, U.S. LNG exports will increase by 152%.
Allaire, 68, watches how saltwater collects where rainwater once fed the area’s diminishing coastal wetlands. “We still come down here with the kids and set out the fishing rods. It's not as nice as it used to be,” he told
Environmental Health News (EHN).
That intimacy with nature drew Allaire to the area when he purchased 311 acres in 1998. An environmental engineer and 30-year oil and gas industry veteran, he helped lead environmental assessments and manage clean-ups, and although retired, he still works part-time as an environmental consultant with major petroleum companies. With a lifetime of oil and gas industry expertise, he’s watched the industry's footprint spread across Louisiana and the Gulf of Mexico’s fragile shores and beyond. Now that the footprints are at the edge of his backyard, Allaire is among a cohort of organizers, residents and fisher-folk in the region mobilizing to stop LNG facility construction. For him, the industry’s expansion usurps the right-or-wrong ethics he carried across his consulting career. For anglers, oil and gas infrastructure has destroyed fishing grounds and prevented smaller vessels from accessing the seafood-rich waters of the Calcasieu River.
From the view of Allaire’s white pickup truck as he drives across his property to the ocean’s shore, he points to where a new LNG facility will replace marshlands. Commonwealth LNG intends to clear the land of trees and then backfill the remaining low-lying field.
“You see what’s happening with the environment,” Allaire said. “When the facts change, I got to change my mind about what we’re doing.”
Community bands together
John Allaire, left, purchased 311 acres in Cameron Parish in 1998, and has watched the oil and gas industry's footprint spread to his property.
Credit: John Allaire
During an Earth Day rally in April, community members gathered in the urban center of Lake Charles to demand local oil and gas industries help deliver a safer, healthier future for all. In between live acts by artists performing south Louisiana’s quintessential zydeco musical style, speakers like James Hiatt, a Calcasieu Parish native with ties to Cameron Parish and a Healthy Gulf organizer, and RISE St. James organizer Sharon Lavigne, who’s fighting against LNG development in rural Plaquemines Parish near the city of New Orleans, asked the nearly 100 in attendance to imagine a day in which the skyline isn’t dotted by oil and gas infrastructure.
Not long ago, it was hard to imagine an Earth Day rally in southwest Louisiana at all. For decades, the area has been decorated with fossil fuel infrastructure. Sunsets on some days are highlighted by the chemicals in the air; at night, thousands of facilities’ lights dot the dark sky.
“It takes a lot of balls for people to start speaking up,” Shreyas Vasudevan, a campaign researcher with the Louisiana Bucket Brigade, told EHN in the days after the rally. In a region with its history and economy intertwined with oil and gas production, “you can get a lot of social criticism – or ostracization, as well – even threats to your life.”
Many are involved in local, regional and national advocacy groups, including the Louisiana Bucket Brigade, Healthy Gulf, the Sierra Club, the Natural Resources Defense Council, the Turtle Island Restoration Network, the Center for Biological Diversity and the National Audubon Society.
“You see what’s happening with the environment,” Allaire said. “When the facts change, I got to change my mind about what we’re doing.” - John Allaire, environmental engineer and 30-year oil and gas industry veteran
But environmental organizers are fighting a multi-billion-dollar industry with federal and state winds at its back. And LNG’s federal support is coupled with existing state initiatives.
Under outgoing Louisiana Gov. John Bel Edwards — a term-limited Democrat — the state pledged a goal of reaching net-zero greenhouse emissions by 2050. Natural gas, which the LNG industry markets as a cleaner-burning alternative, is cited as one of the state’s solutions. Louisiana is the only state that produces a majority of its carbon emissions through fossil fuels refining industries, like LNG, rather than energy production or transportation. Governor Edwards’ office did not return EHN’s request for comment.
This accommodating attitude towards oil and gas industries has resulted in a workforce that’s trained to work in LNG refining facilities across much of the rural Gulf region, said Steven Miles, a lawyer at Baker Botts LLP and a fellow at the Baker Institute’s Center on Energy Studies. Simultaneously, anti-industrialization pushback is lacking. It’s good news for industries like LNG.
“The bad news,” Miles added. “[LNG facilities] are all being jammed in the same areas.”
One rallying cry for opponents is local health. The Environmental Integrity Project found that LNG export terminals emit chemicals like carbon monoxide –potentially deadly– and sulfur dioxide, of which the American Lung Association says long-term exposure can lead to heart disease, cancer, and damage to internal or female reproductive organs.
An analysis of emissions monitoring reports by the advocacy group the Louisiana Bucket Brigade found that Venture Global’s existing Calcasieu Pass facility had more than 2,000 permit violations.That includes exceeding the permit’s authorized air emissions limit to release nitrogen oxides, carbon monoxide, particulate matter and volatile organic compounds 286 out of its first 343 days of operation.
The Marvel Crane, the first liquid natural gas carrier to transport natural gas from the Southwest Louisiana LNG facility, transits a channel in Hackberry, Louisiana, May 28, 2019.
“This is just one facility,” at a time when three more facilities have been proposed in the region and state, Vasudevan said. Venture Global’s operational LNG facility — also known as Calcasieu Pass — “is much smaller than the other facility they’ve proposed.”
In an area that experienced 18 feet of storm surge during Hurricane Laura in 2020 — and just weeks later, struck by Hurricane Delta — Venture Global is planning to build a second export terminal Known as “CP2,” it’s the largest of the roughly two dozen proposed Gulf LNG export terminals, and a key focal point for the region’s local organizing effort.
Residents “don’t really want LNG as much as they want Cameron [Parish] from 1990 back,” Hiatt told EHN of locals’ nostalgia for a community before storms like Rita in 2005 brought up to 15 feet of storm surge, only for Laura to repeat the damage in 2020. Throughout that time, the parish’s population dipped from roughly 10,000 to 5,000. “But the wolf knocking at the door is LNG. Folks in Cameron think that's going to bring back community, bring back the schools, bring back this time before we had all these storms — when Cameron was pretty prosperous.”
“Clearly,” for the oil and gas industry, “the idea is to transform what was once the center of commercial fishing in Louisiana to gas exports,” Cindy Robertson, an environmental activist in southwest Louisiana, told EHN.
Helping fishers’ impacted by LNG is about “actual survival of this unique culture,” Cooke said.
In a measure of organizers’ success, she pointed to a recent permit hearing for Venture Global’s CP2 proposal. Regionally, it’s the only project that’s received an environmental permit, but not its export permit, which remains under federal review. At the meeting, some spoke on the company’s behalf. As an organizer, it was a moment of clarity, Cooke explained. Venture Global officials “had obviously done a lot of coaching and organizing and getting people together in Cameron to speak out on their behalf,” Cooke said. “So, in a way, that was bad. But in another way, it shows that we really had an impact.”
“It also shows that we have a lot to do,” Cooke added.
Environmental organizers like Alyssa Portaro describe a sense of fortitude among activists — she and her husband to the region’s nearby town of Vinton near the Texas-Louisiana border. Since the families’ relocation to their farm, Portaro has worked with Cameron Parish fisher-folk.
“I’ve not witnessed ‘community’ anywhere like there is in Louisiana,” Portaro told EHN. But a New Jersey native, she understands the toll environmental pollution has on low-income communities. “This environment, it’s so at risk — and it’s currently getting sacrificed to big industries.”
“People don’t know what we’d do without oil and gas. It comes at a big price,” she added.
Southwest Louisiana’s Cameron Parish is one of the state’s most rural localities. Marine economies were the area’s economic drivers until natural disasters and LNG facilities began pushing locals out, commercial fishers claim.
Credit: Xander Peters for Environmental Health News
Residents “don’t really want LNG as much as they want Cameron [Parish] from 1990 back,” James Hiatt , a Healthy Gulf organizer, told EHN. "But the wolf knocking at the door is LNG."
Credit: Xander Peters for Environmental Health News
For the most part, Cameron Parish’s life and economy has historically taken place at sea. As new LNG facilities are operational or in planning locally, locals claim the community they once knew is nearly unrecognizable.
Credit: Xander Peters for Environmental Health News
A disappearing parish
The stakes are seemingly higher for a region like southwest Louisiana, which is the epicenter of climate change impacts.
In nearly a century, the state has lost roughly 2,000 square miles of land to coastal erosion. In part driving the state’s erosion crisis is the compounding impacts of Mississippi River infrastructure and oil and gas industry activity, such as dredging canals for shipping purposes, according to a March study published in the journal Nature Sustainability. Louisiana’s Coastal Protection and Restoration Authority said Cameron Parish could lose more land than other coastal parishes over the next 50 years. A recent Climate Central report says the parish will be underwater within that time frame.
On top of erosion and sea level rise impacts, in August, 2023, marshland across southwest Louisiana’s Cameron Parish burned. The fires were among at least 600 across the Bayou State this year. Statewide, roughly 60,000 acres burned — a more than six-fold increase of the state’s average acres burned per year in the past decade alone.
But while the blaze avoided coastal Louisiana communities like Cameron Parish, the fires represented a warning coming from a growing chorus of locals across the region — one that’s echoes by the local commercial fishing population, who claimed to have experienced unusually low yields during the same time, according to a statement from a local environmental group. At the site of the Cameron Parish fires are locations for two proposed LNG expansion projects.
"The idea is to transform what was once the center of commercial fishing in Louisiana to gas exports.” - Cindy Robertson, an environmental activist in southwest Louisiana
It was an unusual occurrence for an area that’s more often itself underwater this time of year due to a storm surge from powerful storms. For LNG expansion’s local opposition, it was a red flag.
As the Louisiana Bucket Brigade has noted prior, the confluence of climate change’s raising of sea levels and the construction of LNG export terminals — some are proposed at the size of nearly 700 football fields — are wiping away the marshland folks like Allaire watched wither. Among their fears is that the future facilities won’t be able to withstand the power of another storm like Laura and its storm surge, which wiped away entire communities in 2020.
Amidst these regional climate impacts, LNG infrastructure has shown potential to exacerbate the accumulation of greenhouse gasses that cause global warming. For the most part, LNG is made up of methane — a greenhouse gas that’s more than 80 times more potent than carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Among the 22 current LNG facility proposals, the advocacy group Sierra Club described a combined climate pollution output that would roughly equal to that of about 440 coal plants.
The climate impacts prompt some of the LNG industry’s uncertainty going forward. It isn’t clear if Asian countries, key importers of U.S. LNG, will “embrace these energy transition issues,” said David Dismuke, an energy consultant and the former executive director of Louisiana State University’s Center for Energy Studies. Likewise, European nations remain skeptical of embracing LNG as a future staple fuel source.
“They really don't want to have to pull the trigger,” Dismukes added, referring to Europe’s hesitation to commit more resources to exporting LNG from the American market. “They don't want to go down that road.”
While there will be a tapering down of natural gas supply, Miles explained, “we’re going to need natural gas for a long time,” as larger battery storage for renewables is still unavailable.
“I'm not one of these futurists that can tell you where we're going to be, but I just don't see everything being extreme,” Dismukes said. “I don't see what we've already built getting stranded and going away, either.”
For now, LNG seems here to stay. From 2012 to 2022,U.S. natural gas demand — the sum of both domestic consumption and gross exports — rose by a whopping 43%, reported the U.S. Energy Information Administration, or EIA. Meanwhile, in oil and gas hotbeds like Louisiana and Texas, natural gas demand grew by 116%.
Throughout 25 years, Allaire has witnessed southwest Louisiana’s land slowly fade, in part driven by the same industrial spread regionally. Near where the front door of his travel trailer sits underneath the aluminum awning, he points to a chenier ridge located near the end of the property. It’s disappearing, he said.
“See the sand washing over, in here?” Allaire says, as he points towards the stretches of his property. “This pond used to go down for a half mile. This is all that's left of it on this side.”
PITTSBURGH — On July 17, Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro signed into law a carbon capture and storage bill that creates a legal framework for climate-warming carbon emissions captured from burning fossil fuels to be injected underground and stored indefinitely to prevent them from escaping into the atmosphere.
The bill is controversial because carbon capture and storage technology is still new and scientific researchers have unanswered questions about whether it’s a viable climate solution and whether it will pose health and safety risks to communities.
A handful of environmental advocacy groups supported the bill, including the Clean Air Task Force, which said in a statement that carbon capture and storage technologies will “play a role in decarbonizing the industrial and power sectors of the commonwealth’s energy economy.”
However, around 45 environmental advocacy groups wrote letters urging the Pennsylvania state legislature and Gov. Shapiro not to pass the bill. Those groups have spoken out against the new law, saying in a statement that it guarantees “Pennsylvania will not be part of any climate solution.”
“Governor Shapiro should be ashamed of signing a bill that threatens the public and our environment with the dangers of carbon capture and storage, all for the benefit of special interests, namely the fracking industry,” Tracy Carluccio, deputy director of the Delaware Riverkeeper Network, said in a statement. “This is a terrible day for the Commonwealth and we’ll experience the harms far into our future.”
The groups also expressed concern about the unusual way the bill moved through the legislature. In the state House, the bill was never referred to the House Environmental Resources and Energy Committee, but instead went through the Consumer Protection, Technology and Utilities Committee and was advanced without discussion.
As a result, “there were no hearings or discussions,” said Karen Feridun, co-founder of the Better Path Coalition, a Pennsylvania-based environmental advocacy group. “In the end, an unproven, failed technology was deemed to be in the public interest.”
The new law will pave the way for two proposed, federally-funded hydrogen hubs in Pennsylvania that will rely on carbon capture and storage.
The fashion industry is responsible for millions of tonnes of plastic waste, much of which ends up polluting the environment due to improper management.
A study by NC State University revealed that the fashion industry produced over 20 million tonnes of plastic waste in 2019.
Synthetic fabrics like polyester, nylon, and acrylic were the largest contributors, accounting for 89% of this waste.
Much of this plastic pollution occurs in lower-income countries where discarded clothes end up, exacerbating environmental issues.
Key quote:
"Much of the plastic waste that leaks into the environment comes from clothes that are thrown away, especially synthetic apparel. There is also waste from manufacturing, packaging and even from tyre abrasion during transport, as well as microplastics which get pulled into the water when we wash our clothes."
— Richard Venditti, professor of paper science and engineering at NC State
PITTSBURGH — Chemical recycling projects are unlikely to generate local economic benefits or help reduce global plastic pollution, according to a new report.
The report, published by the progressive think tank Ohio River Valley Institute, investigated the technological and economic challenges associated with chemical recycling, with a focus on the Ohio River Valley, which spans western Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia.
“There’s a tendency to co-locate these facilities where there’s already a petrochemical cluster of some sort, which means communities already burdened by petrochemical industries, such as Ohio River Valley, become even more polluted,” Kathy Hipple, one of the report’s authors, told EHN.
Chemical recycling, sometimes referred to as advanced or molecular recycling, refers to processes that use heat, chemicals or both to break down plastic waste into component parts for reuse as plastic feedstocks or as fuel. These processes are different from conventional or mechanical plastic recycling, which breaks down plastic waste physically but not at a molecular level.
Only 5% to 6% of plastic waste gets recycled in the U.S., and the proponents of chemical recycling say the industry could help change that.
“We’re not going to create circularity for plastics with one single solution,” Chris Layton, director of sustainability for specialty plastics at Eastman Chemical Company, told EHN. “We’re going to have to eliminate some plastics we really don't need, figure out ways to reduce and reuse and maximize what we can do for mechanical and advanced recycling.”
But environmental and health advocates say the process is still inefficient, energy intensive and emits hazardous chemicals into the air and water. As much as 80% of plastic waste put into chemical recycling processes is lost as hazardous emissions, according to a report by the International Pollutants Elimination Network (IPEN) and Beyond Plastics.
The Ohio River Valley Institute’s report concluded that chemical recycling only converts 15%-20% of plastic waste into recycled plastic products (the rest become emissions, fuel or hazardous waste), that none of the chemical recycling plants currently operating in the U.S. are commercially successful, that chemical recycling is technically and financially risky and that the chemical recycling process is toxic and poses health and safety risks to workers and communities — particularly those that are already overburdened by pollution from the petrochemical industry.
“Going into writing this report, I thought maybe chemical recycling was a good solution to the global plastic pollution problem,” Hipple said. “Unfortunately, it turns out that chemical recycling is not the solution — it wouldn’t even make a dent in the amount of plastic pollution out there.”
There are 10 functional chemical recycling facilities in the U.S., according to the report, two of which are in the Ohio River Valley (Alterra and Purecycle, both of which are in Ohio). Most are still operating in pilot phases, according to the report, processing only small amounts of plastic, because chemical recycling is expensive and it’s still cheaper to buy virgin plastic and fossil fuels.
“Unfortunately, it turns out that chemical recycling is not the solution — it wouldn’t even make a dent in the amount of plastic pollution out there.” - Kathy Hipple, report author
As an example of the industry’s financial challenges, Hipple noted that Shell, which operates a large petrochemical plant in the Ohio River Valley, recently conceded that it would abandon its pledge to turn more than 1 million tons into oil per year by 2025 because the plan is “unfeasible.”
“If a company like Shell is backing away from its pledge to increase advanced recycling when they have some of the biggest capital expenditure budgets in the world, that really demonstrates that this technology is immature and there’s no business case for doing this at the moment,” Hipple said.
At the national level, 70% of constructed chemical recycling plants are located
in low-income areas and 60% in neighborhoods of color, according to Beyond Plastics, prompting concerns about environmental injustice.
The new report adds to these concerns, as it found that six of the nine chemical recycling facilities proposed in the region would be located in environmental justice communities with a higher percentage of low-income households than the state average. Three would be located in neighborhoods predominantly populated by people of color.
“These communities are already overburdened by pollution and the emissions from chemical recycling facilities are highly polluting and highly toxic,” Hipple said.
A database compiled in March revealed that more than 16,000 chemicals are used in plastics production, with thousands of them being toxic even in very small quantities. Many of these chemicals are released into air or water during the chemical recycling process.
“These industries often promise jobs and economic growth that never materialize for local communities,” Hipple said. “It isn’t fair that these communities wind up bearing the environmental and health costs.”
Project 2025, led by the Heritage Foundation, details how a second Trump term could weaken the EPA and reshape climate regulations.
The plan includes reducing industries required to report greenhouse gas emissions and reviving policies from Trump's first term.
Transparency and cost-benefit analysis are central themes, aiming to limit EPA's regulatory reach.
Key quote:
“The biggest difference is we have a plan from Day One, we’re going to start implementing it, and we won’t be as susceptible to process problems that really sunk a couple of those final regulatory proposals and actions we took at the tail end of the administration.”
— Mandy Gunasekara, former Trump EPA chief of staff
U.S. oil companies, recovering from the pandemic slump, are now seeing significant profits due to market forces and geopolitical events.
Many oil companies have shifted strategies, focusing on financial returns by cutting costs and improving efficiency.
Despite increasing renewable energy adoption, global demand for oil continues to grow, with the U.S. leading in production.
Key quote:
“We’re not going to get out of this business because supply was squeezed, because there’s plenty of it. We’re going to get out of the business because demand went down.”
— Samantha Gross, director at Brookings Institution
Why this matters:
This tug-of-war between old-school energy and the shiny new kids on the block highlights the tough balancing act of transitioning to a cleaner future. For now, Big Oil's got its foot firmly on the gas pedal, leaving us all to wonder how long this joyride can last. Read more: “Code Red” for climate means reducing US oil and gas production.
As mounds of dredged material from the Houston Ship Channel dot their neighborhoods, residents are left without answers as to what dangers could be lurking.
