PITTSBURGH — Waste from the oil and gas industry contains toxic and radioactive substances. Disposal of this waste is supposed to be carefully tracked, but 800,000 tons of oil and gas waste from Pennsylvania oil and gas wells is unaccounted for, according to a recent study.
Researchers at the University of Pittsburgh and Duquesne University initially set out to investigate whether sediment in rivers and streams near landfills accepting higher volumes of oil and gas waste contained higher levels of radioactivity. But they discovered significant problems with the records meant to track this waste.
“We set out to write a different paper,” Daniel Bain, an associate professor at the University of Pittsburgh and one of the authors of the study, told Environmental Health News (EHN), “but once we got into the records, we realized there was no hope of being able to meaningfully do this kind of assessment.”
The study, published in the journal Ecological Indicators, compared records on Pennsylvania’s oil and gas waste from 2010-2020, and uncovered significant gaps between what oil and gas operators reported they’d sent to landfills and what the landfills reported receiving. The records were so different, the researchers couldn’t find a single case where the Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection’s (DEP) Oil & Gas Report figures on this hazardous waste matched reports from the landfills receiving it.
This type of waste often contains toxic chemicals and carcinogens, including high levels of heavy metals like arsenic, polyaromatic hydrocarbons, and radioactive materials. Previous research has shown that radioactive contaminants from fracking waste can linger in local waterways and wildlife for decades.
“You assume the people regulating hazardous waste would be double-checking these records,” Bain said. “We thought they could be off by maybe 10% — we didn’t expect anything like this.”
What’s going on with these records?
The oil and gas waste evaluated in the study originated at wells in Pennsylvania and was sent to landfills in Pennsylvania, Ohio and New York.
The industry self-reports how much waste it sends to landfills, and the DEP collects that data in its annual oil and gas reports. Landfills that receive the waste weigh it and keep their own records. In some cases, the differences between these two sets of records were vast.
For example, the 2019 oil and gas report said that 29,221 tons of waste were sent to the Arden landfill in Washington County, Pennsylvania, but the landfill’s records showed that it received 269,480 tons of waste that year — a difference of 240,259 tons. In total, the study found that around 800,000 tons of hazardous oil and gas waste was unaccounted for in official records.
“Everything is self-reported and the [Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection] is understaffed and doesn’t have the resources to double-check,” John Stolz, coauthor of the study and director of the Center for Environmental Research and Education at Duquesne University, told EHN.
A spokesperson for the Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection told EHN the agency was looking into these discrepancies, but did not respond to numerous follow-up requests for additional information sent over several months.
Carl Spadaro is an environmental manager for MAX Environmental Technologies, Inc., which accepts oil and gas waste at its Yukon facility, about 29 miles southeast of Pittsburgh. Spadaro, who previously worked for the Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection, said accurate records are important, but that differences in reporting formats could explain the gaps.
“We report the volume of waste we receive and also the volume of landfill airspace consumed each year,” Spadaro told EHN. “I don’t think this is cause for any environmental concern. Inconsistency in reporting is more of a regulatory management issue.”
Radioactive hazards in rivers and streams
Despite the hurdles with the landfill records, the authors of the study did detect higher levels of radioactive materials in waterways near municipal wastewater treatment plants that processed liquid runoff from landfills accepting oil and gas waste.
This landfill runoff, called leachate, often goes to municipal sewage treatment plants, but when it comes from landfills accepting oil and gas waste, it can become radioactive. That’s because materials dredged up from deep in the Earth during oil and gas extraction — particularly during fracking, which requires more drilling — contain radium.
Exposure to radioactive radium increases cancer risk, particularly for lung and bone cancers.
“This waste is getting into our surface waters and streams,” Stolz said. “We found evidence that there’s up to four times as much radiation downstream from discharges from the municipal sewage treatment plants as upstream.”
Bain said better record-keeping would allow them to better assess whether the quantity of oil and gas waste accepted at a landfill predicts the level of radioactivity in leachate and nearby waterways, but that better record-keeping isn’t a solution to the larger hazards posed by these practices.
“This type of waste should not be going to municipal landfills or sewage treatment plants,” he said. “If there’s all this wealth being generated by this industry, they should be able to spend a little money to make sure they’re not exposing people to hazardous materials that can cause cancer.”
Despite global talks aiming to tackle plastic pollution, Arctic Indigenous communities return home to worsening plastic impacts without commitments to reduce plastic production.
The recent global treaty talks in Ottawa lacked firm commitments to curb plastic production, leaving Arctic Indigenous communities disheartened.
Plastics and petrochemicals collect in the Arctic, causing health and environmental damage while climate change exacerbates these issues.
Oil industries and some nations emphasize recycling over production cuts, which experts argue won't fully address the problem.
Key quote:
“The Biden administration is moving forward with a massive oil and gas project that is a climate disaster waiting to happen while refusing to listen to the voices of my constituents and community.”
— Rosemary Ahtuangaruak, Iñupiaq scholar and leader from the Native village of Nuiqsut.
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.”
In 2019, Illinois passed a law to regulate coal ash and required plant operators to submit plans to clean up or shut down.
Despite finalized rules, permits for the coal ash pits in Waukegan have yet to be approved, delaying remediation.
Federal rules have intensified scrutiny of coal ash, aiming to reduce its environmental impact and safeguard communities.
Key quote:
“When it comes to the implementation of these rules, it’s 2024 and we don’t have permits yet. And I don’t think anyone was expecting that.”
— Celeste Flores, co-chair of Clean Power Lake County
Why this matters:
Coal ash contains hazardous substances that can leach into groundwater, posing serious health risks. The prolonged delay in issuing permits for cleanup leaves communities exposed to potential pollution, heightening the urgency for regulatory action. Read more: Former coal plant near Pittsburgh is poisoning groundwater.
A growing network of pipelines faces scrutiny as inadequate regulatory oversight leaves safety in the hands of companies, risking both public and environmental safety.
Despite inspectors flagging unstable construction conditions, the Revolution ethane pipeline continued until a landslide caused an explosion in Pennsylvania in 2018.
Federal oversight agencies rely heavily on company-funded private inspectors, whose warnings are often disregarded or downplayed.
Expansion in oil, gas, and carbon dioxide pipelines continues with insufficient regulatory resources to ensure proper safety standards.
Key quote:
"No industry is going to police itself very well. We need an independent regulator to be the one that does that."
— Bill Caram, executive director of the Pipeline Safety Trust
An upcoming international treaty aims to curb plastic pollution, with Rwanda and Peru proposing a 40% global production cut target by 2040.
Plastic production needs to drop by 47% compared to 2016 levels to mitigate its harmful environmental effects, but even this ambitious target leaves significant pollution.
Effective solutions require drastic lifestyle changes, shifting consumption habits and better waste management, particularly in underdeveloped regions.
In an interview with High Country News, Mark Magaña discusses the strides made by the America the Beautiful for All coalition in advancing environmental justice and conservation efforts, while emphasizing the need for continued progress.
Biden's 2021 Executive Order pushed for environmental justice through the 30×30 plan and Justice40 Initiative.
The America the Beautiful for All coalition, representing over 250 organizations, recently shared their policy agenda assessing progress on these initiatives.
Mark Magaña, a founding member, believes funding distribution could still improve, and oil and gas infrastructure decisions hinder environmental justice goals.
Key quote:
"I would grade them high on their work being able to push through with funding. I would grade them low when it comes to their policy decisions to support oil and gas infrastructure at the existential moment that we’re in."
— Mark Magaña, CEO of GreenLatinos
Why this matters:
The coalition's efforts and Magaña's insights reflect the importance of strong environmental policies in tackling climate change and ensuring marginalized communities directly benefit from federal initiatives. Read more: A Rhode Island city gets serious about climate justice.
A recent report led by former U.S. Energy Secretary Ernest Moniz and funded by the natural gas industry, has faced backlash for downplaying the climate impact of natural gas.
The report was funded by the natural gas industry and is said to favor LNG despite climate concerns.
A congressional investigation revealed that oil and gas companies have been downplaying the climate impact of natural gas.
Some scientists argue the climate impact of natural gas is as bad as or worse than coal.
Key quote:
"The facts presented then and subsequent research from RMI and peers have confirmed that leaks of methane, the main ingredient in natural gas, even at small amounts, make it as bad as or worse than coal for the climate and not necessarily the cleaner alternative it was once thought to be."
— Amory Lovins, cofounder and former chief scientist for the Rocky Mountain Institute
