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Companies aim to release more treated oilfield wastewater into rivers and streams

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Monday, April 29, 2024

Sign up for The Brief, The Texas Tribune’s daily newsletter that keeps readers up to speed on the most essential Texas news. This story is published in partnership with Inside Climate News, a nonprofit, independent news organization that covers climate, energy and the environment. Sign up for the ICN newsletter here. These days the Pecos River barely fills its dry, sandy bed where it crosses West Texas, but the river could be poised to flow again — with treated oilfield wastewater. Companies are racing to figure out what to do with the tremendous volume of noxious water that comes up from underground during oil and gas drilling in the Permian Basin, but a growing cohort of companies say they’ve developed a means to purify that fluid and release it in the Pecos and other watersheds. “This is new ground for all of us and we know it's got to be done the right way,” said Robert Crain, executive vice president of Texas Pacific Water Resources, a company seeking to discharge treated water. “We’re not the only folks that are chasing this.” For decades, oil drillers have injected their wastewater, known as “produced water,” back underground for disposal. But an intensifying spate of earthquakes tied to produced water injection wells in recent years has prompted the Railroad Commission of Texas, which regulates drilling and injection, to tighten restrictions on injection disposal, spurring a search for alternatives. After two years of studies, the company is applying for a state permit to discharge up 840,000 gallons per day of treated oilfield wastewater into a tributary of Salt Creek, which feeds into the Pecos River. That volume won’t turn the Pecos into a roaring river but it could open doors for larger projects that could transform the river. The Texas Commission on Environmental Quality issued a permit for a company to discharge produced water in Atascosa County, southeast of San Antonio in the Eagle Ford Shale basin, earlier this year and is reviewing another application near Eagle Pass. A second company has also applied to discharge into the Pecos River watershed. But scientists and environmental advocates have raised questions about the impacts of introducing this new waste stream into rivers. Federal regulations for these discharges are limited, delegating individual states to oversee their environmental and health impacts. Now responsibility lies with TCEQ to set requirements for these new discharges and the myriad pollutants found in produced water. Everything from naturally occurring radioactive material, to dozens of toxic drilling lubricants, to “forever chemicals” known as PFAS have been detected in produced water. Existing water quality standards do not cover many of these constituents, leaving regulators to evaluate the risk of these discharges with limited toxicity data. Texas joins states like Pennsylvania and Wyoming that are among the few that have permitted produced water discharges. Pollution problems related to produced water discharges have been documented in both states. In neighboring New Mexico, regulators have decided to wait for more scientific study before issuing permits for discharges. When it comes to produced water reuse, some companies are putting in serious effort to do it safely, said Ira Yates, founder of Friends of the Pecos and heir to a West Texas oil fortune. But he worries that if the gates are opened on discharges, other startups won’t be as thoughtful. “All people are really trying to do is get rid of their water so they can pump more oil,” said Yates. “Let’s make sure that, as they develop their plans, they keep the best interest of the river in mind and not just some nebulous idea that it's a place to dump water anytime you want to.” A TCEQ spokesperson, Richard Richter, said the agency’s water quality standards “comply with state and federal water quality rules” and are “protective of surface water quality, human health, and the environment.” He said the agency will set limits on specific pollutants in produced water and that these limits could include both pollutants that are currently regulated and those that are not. Texas ramps up discharge permit program Produced water is typically injected underground through thousands of disposal wells around the state. But restrictions have been tightened on disposal wells since they have been linked to earthquakes in West Texas. Chevron CEO Mike Wirth said last year that disposal capacity in the Permian Basin “is becoming an issue.” The company had to reduce deep injection by 75 percent in one of the seismic areas, according to the Permian Basin Petroleum Association magazine. Oil and gas producers recycle a small portion of produced water. Treating the water, which can be ten times saltier than seawater and is often laced with leftover fracking chemicals, has been uneconomical so far, especially compared with the low cost of injection disposal. An oil drilling operation on the banks of the Red Bluff Reservoir on May 27, 2020. Credit: Justin Hamel for Inside Climate News West of the 98th Meridian, a north-south line that roughly divides the arid West from the water-rich East, the Environmental Protection Agency delegates authority to states to permit discharges of produced water into bodies of water. EPA numerical standards for produced water discharges only cover oil and grease, leaving states to determine what other constituents to regulate. These discharges must be beneficial to wildlife or agriculture, according to EPA regulations. Among Western states, Wyoming has authorized such discharges for over two decades. Colorado’s Water Quality Control Division has issued 14 permits to discharge produced water into surface water. California does not permit discharges into rivers but has permitted select discharges into waterways that only flow part of the year, according to the State Water Board’s Division of Water Quality. New Mexico is yet to approve discharges of produced water. In the East, Pennsylvania authorized discharges of treated produced water from central wastewater treatment plants into rivers. However, Pennsylvania State University researchers later found elevated levels of salt and radioactive chemicals likely linked to the Marcellus Shale formation in sediments downstream of the discharges. TCEQ’s Richter said the agency received four permit applications to discharge produced water during 2023 and 2024. Texas Pacific Water Resources and NGL Water Solutions Permian both applied for permits in the Pecos River watershed of the Permian Basin. Another two applications are in the Eagle Ford Shale. In Atascosa County, TCEQ granted Dorchester Operating Company a permit to discharge treated oil and gas wastewater into three unnamed tributaries that feed into the Lower Atascosa River. TCEQ is currently reviewing a permit application from CMR Energy to discharge up to 653,000 gallons per day of treated oil and gas wastewater east of Eagle Pass into Comanche Creek and its tributaries, which flow into the Nueces River. The discharge is expected to contain chloride, petroleum hydrocarbons and naturally occurring radioactive materials, according to TCEQ records. For discharges east of the 98th Meridian, TCEQ first had to obtain authorization from the EPA to create a permit program, as previously reported in Inside Climate News. TCEQ issued the first of these permits to Baywater Operating in Harris County, according to Richter. Baywater’s permit was terminated in March 2024 because the company was no longer discharging. Texas has site-specific water quality standards for segments of different waterways, including the Pecos, Richter said. This means TCEQ permits different levels of pollutants depending on the conditions of that specific river. Amy Hardberger, a professor of water law and policy at Texas Tech University, said more research and review is needed to determine appropriate uses of produced water. “The Clean Water Act never contemplated this water going into rivers and streams,” she said. In a forthcoming paper, Hardberger points out that many of the constituents in produced water are difficult or costly to test for and do not have established EPA toxicity standards. These are numerical values measuring the risk presented by exposure to a chemical or contaminant. She compares the EPA’s list of standards for public water supplies, which includes exposure guidelines for approximately 90 contaminants, with the over 1,100 chemicals that have been found in produced water. And she warned that the science on public safety shouldn’t be rushed to find a quick fix for produced water disposal. “What's driving the train on this is not water shortage and the potential of an additional water supply,” she said. “What is really driving the change is they are running out of disposal opportunities.” The EPA did not respond to questions for this story. Two permits pending in the Pecos watershed The Pecos River runs from the mountains of Northern New Mexico into the arid scrubland of West Texas and eventually joins the Rio Grande. The river passes through areas of intensive oil and gas drilling and has also been plagued by salinity problems. Texas Pacific Water Resources’ permit application states that discharges will be beneficial for aquatic species downstream of the discharges into Salt Creek. The creek is home to the Pecos pupfish, a threatened species in Texas that only lives in a few locations in the watershed. Crain said Texas Pacific Water Resources has developed a process to treat the wastewater up to discharge standards cost-effectively. The technology remains undisclosed while patents are pending, he said, but is already used in the nuclear and commercial food products sectors. He said the company collaborated with research groups in several states to identify contaminants in produced water and develop means to test for their presence. The company ran a greenhouse study growing various grasses with its treated water and has sent them to a lab to check for accumulation of toxins. Crain said the company has “gone beyond what's currently regulated” to test samples for compounds that have been identified in produced water. Those results were included in the company’s application to TCEQ. The testing found constituents including Radium-226 and Radium-228, types of naturally occurring radioactive material, and benzene, ethylbenzene, toluene and xylene, which are elements found in crude oil and gas production. There were also detectable amounts of some PFAS chemicals in the samples. A methane gas flare burns four miles from Red Bluff Reservoir on Feb. 24, 2020. Credit: Justin Hamel for Inside Climate News Adrianne Lopez, the company’s research and development manager, said that the company will reduce constituents including Radium-226 and Radium-228 to the TCEQ-recommended level. They are also working with researchers at New Mexico State University to conduct human health risk assessments and whole effluent toxicity testing to determine safe levels. Now it is TCEQ’s turn, based on this data, to set standards for the quality of the water to be discharged. NGL Water Solutions Permian applied to discharge up to 16.9 million gallons per day of treated produced water near the Red Bluff Reservoir on the Pecos River in Reeves County. The company is a subsidiary of Tulsa-based NGL Energy Partners. Discharged water will include trace amounts of organics, ammonia, volatile organic compounds and total dissolved solids, according to a TCEQ public notice. An NGL representative declined to comment for this story, saying that permitting details were still being determined with TCEQ. The agency administratively approved the permit and is now completing technical review. NGL has an existing discharge program in Wyoming’s Anticline Basin. According to the company website, NGL discharges nearly 11,000 barrels per day or four million barrels per year in Wyoming. Produced water discharges in Wyoming have recently come under scrutiny. The state environmental regulator reported that several sections of streams where produced water is discharged are polluted to the point they no longer support aquatic life. Last year regulators issued a violation to Dallas-based Aethon Energy Operating for exceeding permitted levels of sulfide, barium and radium in its discharges, according to the news outlet WyoFile. Texas Backs Produced Water ReuseOfficials in Texas have identified produced water reuse as a core strategy to address forecasted regional water shortages. A billion-dollar water fund passed last year provides money for projects that bring new water supplies to the state. According to state Sen. Charles Perry, eligible strategies include seawater desalination, groundwater desalination, inter-state agreements and produced water reuse. Money from the new water fund should “be used solely to finance the development and acquisition of new water supply,” Perry wrote in a letter to the Texas Water Development Board. “This means water supply that is truly a new input into the state water cycle.” Texas lawmakers also passed a bill in 2021 creating the Texas Produced Water Consortium, which brings together academic, industry and non-profit representatives to research the issue. A 2023 bill provided additional funding for the consortium to start pilot projects for produced water reuse. The consortium, based at Texas Tech University, is preparing a report for the state legislature in the fall with updates on research into produced water and pilot projects. A representative of the consortium said its Standards Committee is compiling a database of water quality guidelines from multiple states, which includes hundreds of constituents that could be in produced water. While there is still a long way to go, Ira Yates, of Friends of the Pecos, said he’s “very optimistic” that discharges could be beneficial for the Pecos River in the future. “But I’m also very concerned,” he said, “that the people talking about putting the water back in the Pecos do not understand the hydrology and the river issues.” Disclosure: The Permian Basin Petroleum Association and Texas Tech University have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune's journalism. Find a complete list of them here. Tickets are on sale now for the 2024 Texas Tribune Festival, happening in downtown Austin Sept. 5-7. Get your TribFest tickets before May 1 and save big!

Texas regulators are issuing permits to discharge large volumes of treated “produced water” into some waterways. Questions remain about the toxic pollutants found in the wastewater.

Sign up for The Brief, The Texas Tribune’s daily newsletter that keeps readers up to speed on the most essential Texas news.


This story is published in partnership with Inside Climate News, a nonprofit, independent news organization that covers climate, energy and the environment. Sign up for the ICN newsletter here.

These days the Pecos River barely fills its dry, sandy bed where it crosses West Texas, but the river could be poised to flow again — with treated oilfield wastewater.

Companies are racing to figure out what to do with the tremendous volume of noxious water that comes up from underground during oil and gas drilling in the Permian Basin, but a growing cohort of companies say they’ve developed a means to purify that fluid and release it in the Pecos and other watersheds.

“This is new ground for all of us and we know it's got to be done the right way,” said Robert Crain, executive vice president of Texas Pacific Water Resources, a company seeking to discharge treated water. “We’re not the only folks that are chasing this.”

For decades, oil drillers have injected their wastewater, known as “produced water,” back underground for disposal. But an intensifying spate of earthquakes tied to produced water injection wells in recent years has prompted the Railroad Commission of Texas, which regulates drilling and injection, to tighten restrictions on injection disposal, spurring a search for alternatives.

After two years of studies, the company is applying for a state permit to discharge up 840,000 gallons per day of treated oilfield wastewater into a tributary of Salt Creek, which feeds into the Pecos River. That volume won’t turn the Pecos into a roaring river but it could open doors for larger projects that could transform the river.

The Texas Commission on Environmental Quality issued a permit for a company to discharge produced water in Atascosa County, southeast of San Antonio in the Eagle Ford Shale basin, earlier this year and is reviewing another application near Eagle Pass. A second company has also applied to discharge into the Pecos River watershed.

But scientists and environmental advocates have raised questions about the impacts of introducing this new waste stream into rivers. Federal regulations for these discharges are limited, delegating individual states to oversee their environmental and health impacts. Now responsibility lies with TCEQ to set requirements for these new discharges and the myriad pollutants found in produced water.

Everything from naturally occurring radioactive material, to dozens of toxic drilling lubricants, to “forever chemicals” known as PFAS have been detected in produced water. Existing water quality standards do not cover many of these constituents, leaving regulators to evaluate the risk of these discharges with limited toxicity data.

Texas joins states like Pennsylvania and Wyoming that are among the few that have permitted produced water discharges. Pollution problems related to produced water discharges have been documented in both states. In neighboring New Mexico, regulators have decided to wait for more scientific study before issuing permits for discharges.

When it comes to produced water reuse, some companies are putting in serious effort to do it safely, said Ira Yates, founder of Friends of the Pecos and heir to a West Texas oil fortune. But he worries that if the gates are opened on discharges, other startups won’t be as thoughtful.

“All people are really trying to do is get rid of their water so they can pump more oil,” said Yates. “Let’s make sure that, as they develop their plans, they keep the best interest of the river in mind and not just some nebulous idea that it's a place to dump water anytime you want to.”

A TCEQ spokesperson, Richard Richter, said the agency’s water quality standards “comply with state and federal water quality rules” and are “protective of surface water quality, human health, and the environment.” He said the agency will set limits on specific pollutants in produced water and that these limits could include both pollutants that are currently regulated and those that are not.

Texas ramps up discharge permit program

Produced water is typically injected underground through thousands of disposal wells around the state. But restrictions have been tightened on disposal wells since they have been linked to earthquakes in West Texas. Chevron CEO Mike Wirth said last year that disposal capacity in the Permian Basin “is becoming an issue.” The company had to reduce deep injection by 75 percent in one of the seismic areas, according to the Permian Basin Petroleum Association magazine.

Oil and gas producers recycle a small portion of produced water. Treating the water, which can be ten times saltier than seawater and is often laced with leftover fracking chemicals, has been uneconomical so far, especially compared with the low cost of injection disposal.

An oil drilling operation on the banks of the Red Bluff Reservoir on May 27, 2020. Credit: Justin Hamel for Inside Climate News

West of the 98th Meridian, a north-south line that roughly divides the arid West from the water-rich East, the Environmental Protection Agency delegates authority to states to permit discharges of produced water into bodies of water. EPA numerical standards for produced water discharges only cover oil and grease, leaving states to determine what other constituents to regulate.

These discharges must be beneficial to wildlife or agriculture, according to EPA regulations. Among Western states, Wyoming has authorized such discharges for over two decades. Colorado’s Water Quality Control Division has issued 14 permits to discharge produced water into surface water. California does not permit discharges into rivers but has permitted select discharges into waterways that only flow part of the year, according to the State Water Board’s Division of Water Quality. New Mexico is yet to approve discharges of produced water.

In the East, Pennsylvania authorized discharges of treated produced water from central wastewater treatment plants into rivers. However, Pennsylvania State University researchers later found elevated levels of salt and radioactive chemicals likely linked to the Marcellus Shale formation in sediments downstream of the discharges.

TCEQ’s Richter said the agency received four permit applications to discharge produced water during 2023 and 2024. Texas Pacific Water Resources and NGL Water Solutions Permian both applied for permits in the Pecos River watershed of the Permian Basin.

Another two applications are in the Eagle Ford Shale. In Atascosa County, TCEQ granted Dorchester Operating Company a permit to discharge treated oil and gas wastewater into three unnamed tributaries that feed into the Lower Atascosa River. TCEQ is currently reviewing a permit application from CMR Energy to discharge up to 653,000 gallons per day of treated oil and gas wastewater east of Eagle Pass into Comanche Creek and its tributaries, which flow into the Nueces River. The discharge is expected to contain chloride, petroleum hydrocarbons and naturally occurring radioactive materials, according to TCEQ records.

For discharges east of the 98th Meridian, TCEQ first had to obtain authorization from the EPA to create a permit program, as previously reported in Inside Climate News. TCEQ issued the first of these permits to Baywater Operating in Harris County, according to Richter. Baywater’s permit was terminated in March 2024 because the company was no longer discharging.

Texas has site-specific water quality standards for segments of different waterways, including the Pecos, Richter said. This means TCEQ permits different levels of pollutants depending on the conditions of that specific river.

Amy Hardberger, a professor of water law and policy at Texas Tech University, said more research and review is needed to determine appropriate uses of produced water. “The Clean Water Act never contemplated this water going into rivers and streams,” she said.

In a forthcoming paper, Hardberger points out that many of the constituents in produced water are difficult or costly to test for and do not have established EPA toxicity standards. These are numerical values measuring the risk presented by exposure to a chemical or contaminant. She compares the EPA’s list of standards for public water supplies, which includes exposure guidelines for approximately 90 contaminants, with the over 1,100 chemicals that have been found in produced water.

And she warned that the science on public safety shouldn’t be rushed to find a quick fix for produced water disposal.

“What's driving the train on this is not water shortage and the potential of an additional water supply,” she said. “What is really driving the change is they are running out of disposal opportunities.”

The EPA did not respond to questions for this story.

Two permits pending in the Pecos watershed

The Pecos River runs from the mountains of Northern New Mexico into the arid scrubland of West Texas and eventually joins the Rio Grande. The river passes through areas of intensive oil and gas drilling and has also been plagued by salinity problems.

Texas Pacific Water Resources’ permit application states that discharges will be beneficial for aquatic species downstream of the discharges into Salt Creek. The creek is home to the Pecos pupfish, a threatened species in Texas that only lives in a few locations in the watershed.

Crain said Texas Pacific Water Resources has developed a process to treat the wastewater up to discharge standards cost-effectively. The technology remains undisclosed while patents are pending, he said, but is already used in the nuclear and commercial food products sectors.

He said the company collaborated with research groups in several states to identify contaminants in produced water and develop means to test for their presence. The company ran a greenhouse study growing various grasses with its treated water and has sent them to a lab to check for accumulation of toxins.

Crain said the company has “gone beyond what's currently regulated” to test samples for compounds that have been identified in produced water. Those results were included in the company’s application to TCEQ. The testing found constituents including Radium-226 and Radium-228, types of naturally occurring radioactive material, and benzene, ethylbenzene, toluene and xylene, which are elements found in crude oil and gas production. There were also detectable amounts of some PFAS chemicals in the samples.

A methane gas flare burns four miles from Red Bluff Reservoir on Feb. 24, 2020. Credit: Justin Hamel for Inside Climate News

Adrianne Lopez, the company’s research and development manager, said that the company will reduce constituents including Radium-226 and Radium-228 to the TCEQ-recommended level. They are also working with researchers at New Mexico State University to conduct human health risk assessments and whole effluent toxicity testing to determine safe levels.

Now it is TCEQ’s turn, based on this data, to set standards for the quality of the water to be discharged.

NGL Water Solutions Permian applied to discharge up to 16.9 million gallons per day of treated produced water near the Red Bluff Reservoir on the Pecos River in Reeves County. The company is a subsidiary of Tulsa-based NGL Energy Partners.

Discharged water will include trace amounts of organics, ammonia, volatile organic compounds and total dissolved solids, according to a TCEQ public notice. An NGL representative declined to comment for this story, saying that permitting details were still being determined with TCEQ. The agency administratively approved the permit and is now completing technical review.

NGL has an existing discharge program in Wyoming’s Anticline Basin. According to the company website, NGL discharges nearly 11,000 barrels per day or four million barrels per year in Wyoming.

Produced water discharges in Wyoming have recently come under scrutiny. The state environmental regulator reported that several sections of streams where produced water is discharged are polluted to the point they no longer support aquatic life. Last year regulators issued a violation to Dallas-based Aethon Energy Operating for exceeding permitted levels of sulfide, barium and radium in its discharges, according to the news outlet WyoFile.

Texas Backs Produced Water ReuseOfficials in Texas have identified produced water reuse as a core strategy to address forecasted regional water shortages. A billion-dollar water fund passed last year provides money for projects that bring new water supplies to the state.

According to state Sen. Charles Perry, eligible strategies include seawater desalination, groundwater desalination, inter-state agreements and produced water reuse.

Money from the new water fund should “be used solely to finance the development and acquisition of new water supply,” Perry wrote in a letter to the Texas Water Development Board. “This means water supply that is truly a new input into the state water cycle.”

Texas lawmakers also passed a bill in 2021 creating the Texas Produced Water Consortium, which brings together academic, industry and non-profit representatives to research the issue. A 2023 bill provided additional funding for the consortium to start pilot projects for produced water reuse.

The consortium, based at Texas Tech University, is preparing a report for the state legislature in the fall with updates on research into produced water and pilot projects. A representative of the consortium said its Standards Committee is compiling a database of water quality guidelines from multiple states, which includes hundreds of constituents that could be in produced water.

While there is still a long way to go, Ira Yates, of Friends of the Pecos, said he’s “very optimistic” that discharges could be beneficial for the Pecos River in the future.

“But I’m also very concerned,” he said, “that the people talking about putting the water back in the Pecos do not understand the hydrology and the river issues.”

Disclosure: The Permian Basin Petroleum Association and Texas Tech University have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune's journalism. Find a complete list of them here.


Tickets are on sale now for the 2024 Texas Tribune Festival, happening in downtown Austin Sept. 5-7. Get your TribFest tickets before May 1 and save big!

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Nuclear-Waste Arks Are a Bold Experiment in Protecting Future Generations

Designing nuclear-waste repositories is part engineering, part anthropology—and part mythmaking

This article is part of a package in collaboration with Forbes on time capsules, preserving information and communicating with the future. Read more from the report.IGNACE, Ontario, C.E. 51,500—Feloo, a hunter, chews a strip of roasted caribou flank, washing it down with water from a nearby lake. Her boots press into thin soil that, each summer, thaws into a sodden marsh above frozen ground. Caribou herds drift across the tundra, nibbling lichen and calving on the open flats. Hooves sink into moss beds; antlers scrape dwarf shrubs. Overhead, migratory birds wheel and squawk before winging south. Two lakes remain liquid year-round, held open by hidden taliks—oases of water in a frozen land. Beneath it all lies the Canadian Shield: a billion-year-old granite craton, a basement of rock, scarred by ice, that has endured glaciation after glaciation. In 10 or 15 millennia, Feloo’s world will vanish beneath three kilometers of advancing ice.Feloo is unaware that 500 meters below her feet rests an ancestral deposit of copper, steel, clay and radioactive debris. Long ago, this land was called Canada. Here a group known as the Nuclear Waste Management Organization (NWMO) built a deep geological repository to contain spent nuclear fuel—the byproducts of reactors that once powered Ontario, Quebec and New Brunswick. The vault was engineered to isolate long-lived radionuclides such as uranium 235, which has a half-life that exceeds 700 million years—sealing them away from war, disaster, neglect, sabotage and curiosity for as long as human foresight could reach.On supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.NWMO issued reports with titles such as Postclosure Safety Assessment of a Used Fuel Repository in Crystalline Rock. These studies modeled future boreal forests and tundra ecosystems, simulating the waxing and waning of vast glacial ice sheets across successive ice ages. They envisioned the lifeways of self-sufficient hunters, fishers and farmers who might one day inhabit the region—and even the remote possibility of a far-future drill crew inadvertently breaching the buried canisters.Feloo was born into a world that has remembered none of this. Records of the repository were lost in the global drone wars of C.E. 2323. All that endured were the stories of Mishipeshu, the horned water panther said to dwell beneath the lakes—and to punish those who dig too deep. Some of Feloo’s companions dismiss the legend; others whisper that the earth below still burns with poison. Yet every step she takes is haunted by choices made tens of millennia before—when Canada undertook the Promethean task of safeguarding a future it could scarcely imagine.In 2024 NWMO announced that Canada’s deep geological repository for spent nuclear fuel would be built in the granite formations of northwestern Ontario, near the Township of Ignace and the Wabigoon Lake Ojibway Nation. The decision capped off a 14-year siting effort that solicited volunteer host communities and guaranteed them the right to withdraw at any stage of the process. NWMO is now preparing for a comprehensive regulatory review, which will include a licensing process conducted by the Canadian Nuclear Safety Commission. This means the development of impact assessments that will be specific to the Ignace site. NWMO has also pledged an Indigenous-led regulatory process alongside federal oversight, with the Wabigoon Lake Ojibway Nation conducting its own assessments to ensure the project reflects Anishinaabe principles of ecological stewardship. If approvals proceed, construction could begin in the 2030s, and the repository could go into operation in the 2040s.A deep-time repository, like a deep-space probe, must endure without maintenance or intervention, independently carrying human intent into the far future.A deep geological repository can be seen as a reverse ark: a vessel designed not to carry valuables forward in time but to seal dangerous legacies away from historical memory. Or it can be understood as a reverse mine: an effort returning hazardous remnants to the Earth rather than extracting resources from it. Either way it is more than just a feat of engineering. Repository projects weave together scientific reasoning, intergenerational ethics and community preferences in decisions that are meant to endure longer than empires. As messages to future versions of ourselves, they compel their designers to ask: What symbols, stories or institutions might bridge epochs? And what does it mean that we are trying to protect future humans who may exist only in our imaginations?I am a cultural anthropologist. From 2012 to 2014 I spent 32 months living in Finland, conducting fieldwork among the safety assessment teams for Onkalo—an underground complex that is likely to become the world’s first operational deep geological repository for spent nuclear fuel. The teams’ work involved modeling far-future glaciations, earthquakes, floods, erosion, permafrost and even hypothetical human and animal populations tens of millennia ahead. That research became the basis for Deep Time Reckoning, a book exploring how nuclear-waste experts’ long-range planning practices can be retooled as blueprints for safeguarding future worlds in other domains, from climate adaptation to biodiversity preservation.During the Biden administration, I joined the U.S. Department of Energy’s Office of Spent Fuel and High-Level Waste Disposition, where I helped advance participatory siting processes modeled on approaches that had proven successful in Finland and Canada. I served as federal manager of the DOE’s Consent-Based Siting Consortia—a nationwide coalition of 12 project teams from universities, nonprofits and the private sector that were tasked with fostering community engagement with nuclear waste management. Through it all, I came to see repository programs as civilizational experiments in long-term responsibility: collective efforts to extend the time horizons of governance and care so that shared futures may be protected far beyond the scale of any single lifetime or institution.An enduring question for all repository programs is whether—and, if so, how—to mark their sites and archive knowledge about them. There is no guarantee that the languages we speak today will remain intelligible even a few thousand years from now. Beowulf, written in an earlier form of English a millennium or so ago, already reads like a foreign tongue. The meanings of symbols drift just as unpredictably. A skull and crossbones, for instance, may denote poison, death, rebirth—or pirates—depending on culture and context. What, then, might a nuclear waste repository signify to people tens of millennia from now? How long can a warning sign, monument, or archive preserve the meanings we attach to it today? Or should we abandon the illusion of communicating with future humans like Feloo altogether—and instead build repositories that are meant to be forgotten?Nuclear organizations rely on familiar techniques to preserve institutional memory: documentation mandates, digital databases, mentoring pipelines, program redundancy, succession planning. Such mechanisms can sustain continuity for decades, even centuries—but their limits become clear when stretched across millennia. Archives can burn. Technologies can decay into obsolescence. Institutions can falter under political or economic upheaval. And today a new litany of planetary risks crowds the horizon: thermonuclear war, weaponized synthetic biology, climate-driven migrations, institutional collapse, even runaway artificial superintelligence.As NWMO prepares for construction in Ignace in the 2030s, the question of long-term communication must increasingly shift from theory to practice. Canada has participated in the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development’s Nuclear Energy Agency’s Preservation of Records, Knowledge and Memory initiative, which has explored strategies ranging from warning markers to staged transfers of responsibility across generations. In a 2017 safety report, NWMO wisely conceded a limit: “repository records and markers (and passive societal memory) are assumed sufficient to ensure that inadvertent intrusion would not occur for at least 300 ... years.” Beyond that horizon, the premise changes. No monument, land-use restriction, monitoring system or archive can be trusted to endure indefinitely.Different countries have embraced different philosophies of how to safeguard nuclear waste repositories across centuries and millennia—and how and whether to try to send messages to those who, like Feloo, may one day live above them.The U.S. is home to the Waste Isolation Pilot Plant (WIPP), a deep geological repository carved into ancient salt beds in New Mexico. WIPP stores transuranic waste from the nation’s nuclear weapons programs. In the 1980s and 1990s, task forces convened scientists, artists, science-fiction writers and semioticians to design warning systems that were intended to deter drill crews or archaeologists living thousands of years in the future. Their proposals were dramatic: vast fields of concrete thorns bristling from the desert floor; monolithic slabs etched with multilingual warnings (“this place is not a place of honor ... nothing valued is here”); and signage depicting the anguished face of Edvard Munch’s The Scream. Some envisioned a quasi-religious “atomic priesthood” to preserve the warning through ritual. Others suggested bioengineered “ray cats” whose fur would fluoresce near radiation—accompanied by myths, songs and proverbs to ensure that unborn generations would know to flee.Finland’s Onkalo repository embodies a somewhat different a philosophy. Anticipating the future loss of institutional control and memory of the repository, Onkalo was designed to remain secure for millennia in the absence of monumental communication systems. As in Canada, the lack of exploitable resources in the granite bedrock is meant to deter future prospectors. Once its tunnels are packed with copper canisters and bentonite clay, Onkalo will be backfilled and sealed for perpetuity on a small, unassuming islet in the Baltic Sea sometime in the 2120s. The danger is to be buried so completely that there will be nothing left to remember: no attention-grabbing monoliths to tempt curiosity, no symbols to be misread. When I conducted anthropological fieldwork in Finland, some scientists likened the project to launching a probe into interstellar space: years of meticulous planning and testing culminating in a single, irrevocable release. After that, no repair or recall is possible. A deep-time repository, like a deep-space probe, must endure without maintenance or intervention, independently carrying human intent into the far future.Even the mightiest empires have cycled through collapse and renewal, through forgetting and rediscovery.France has charted a third path with its Cigéo repository, planned in the Callovo-Oxfordian clay of its northeastern departments of Meuse and Haute-Marne. A 2016 law requires Cigéo to remain reversible for at least a century after operations begin. In practice, reversibility means retrievability: the inbuilt capacity to recover waste packages from the underground deposition cells. Advocates see this as a balance between long-term containment and intergenerational agency: the idea that future citizens should retain the right to revisit, or even overturn, choices made today. This logic resonates with those who view spent nuclear fuel as a future resource more than a liability. Jenifer Schafer, an associate director for technology at the DOE’s Advanced Research Projects Agency–Energy, has argued that “nuclear treasure” may be a more fitting term than “nuclear waste,” as the fissile materials inside it could someday power future innovations in nuclear reactor design. From this perspective, burying spent nuclear fuel too conclusively risks foreclosing possibilities that future generations might prefer to keep open.Taken together, these examples reveal how differently societies imagine their obligations to the far future. The American strategy reflected a lingering cold-war-era faith—tinged with hubris—in design ingenuity to frighten descendants away. The Finnish plan entrusted geology with the work of erasure, even if humans’ memory were to lapse as the landscape quietly reclaimed the site. The French framework preserved the right of future citizens to reject the decisions of today. Canada still has regulatory milestones and First Nations approvals to meet before NWMO can break ground at Ignace. In the decades ahead, however, it, too, will have to specify how it will stage its approach to intergenerational communication.What is certain, though, is that NWMO’s deep geological disposal efforts will unfold not only as a technical project but also as a cultural statement—a statement about care across generations, the limits of understanding across difference and the moral responsibilities of present-day Canadians to those not yet born. Like all repository efforts, NWMO’s work in Ignace will serve as a mirror: a message not only to the future but also to the present, reflecting what we choose to remember, what we choose to forget and how we hope to be remembered ourselves.As NWMO refines its approach to remembering, forgetting and communicating with societies of the future, it would do well to look beyond the nuclear industry for inspiration.Japan’s Kongō Gumi construction firm, founded in C.E. 578, operated independently for more than 1,400 years before it became part of the Takamatsu Construction Group in 2006. Adapting across vast social and political transformations, the Catholic Church, France’s Hôtel-Dieu hospital (C.E. 651) and Morocco’s University of al-Qarawiyyin (C.E. 859) have each endured for more than a millennium. Bali’s subak irrigation system, established in the ninth century, continues to flourish through a network of water temples that unite ecological engineering with Hindu philosophy and ritual. In New Mexico, three-century-old acequia canals still function under community governance, with elected mayordomos overseeing water sharing through collective labor. In Australia, the Brewarrina fish traps have been maintained across countless generations of Aboriginal peoples. What principles of intergenerational adaptation, renewal or continuity might NWMO glean from such long-lived systems?The Memory of Mankind (MoM) project in Austria could also be instructive. MoM’s mission is to preserve a snapshot of human civilization for the distant future, a cultural time capsule designed to outlast war, decay and digital obsolescence. Deep inside the Hallstatt salt mine, MoM stores ceramic tablets engraved with texts and images engineered to resist heat, radiation, chemicals and water. Its archive includes everything from scholarly works to recipes and personal stories. Led by ceramist Martin Kunze, MoM represents a philosophy of strategic redundancy. To guard against loss, Kunze distributes miniature tablets worldwide, each etched with maps pointing back to the Hallstatt archive—a physical embodiment of a principle articulated by the digital-preservation project LOCKSS: “Lots of Copies Keep Stuff Safe.” What might it mean for Canada to apply that same principle to the challenge of nuclear memory?Indigenous cultures offer another paradigm of long-term message endurance: storytelling as recordkeeping. Aboriginal Australian oral histories recount volcanic eruptions in western Victoria that align with geological evidence dating back nearly 37,000 years. Narratives describing islands drowned by rising seas have likewise been corroborated by climate science. Such traditions demonstrate that oral knowledge of environmental change can persist across timescales that far exceed those of our most advanced digital media, which often decay or become unreadable within decades. What might NWMO learn from cultural systems of memory grounded in ceremony, cosmology and story transmission?If built properly, NWMO’s deep geological repository will outlast governments, economies and the very languages that name it. It will join a global lineage of reverse arks: monuments to societies that dared to think beyond themselves. If the facility is someday uncovered by a far-future archaeologist, its depth, placement and engineered barriers could reveal what our civilization judged to be dangerous, how we calculated risk and how we imagined future humans would think, live and interpret signs. Yet scientific literacy cannot be assumed across deep time. Even the mightiest empires have cycled through collapse and renewal, through forgetting and rediscovery. To posterity, a nuclear waste repository might be read as a sacred monument, an extraterrestrial stronghold, a strange geological formation, a chamber of forgotten gods—or something beyond our present-day imagination altogether.In the end, Canada’s proposed Ignace repository will be an artifact of our own self-understanding: stone and metal fashioned into a signal meant to traverse vast orders of time. Its interpretation will belong solely to the future—to whatever beings, human or otherwise, may one day unearth what we once chose to hide.

‘We feel we’re fighting a losing battle’: the race to remove millions of plastic beads from Camber Sands

A huge cleanup effort has seen volunteers working to remove beads by hand and machine. They can only wait and see the extent of damage to wildlife and dune habitatJust past a scrum of dog walkers, about 40 people are urgently combing through the sand on hands and knees. Their task is to try to remove millions of peppercorn-sized black plastic biobeads from where they have settled in the sand. Beyond them, a seal carcass grins menacingly, teeth protruding from its rotting skull.Last week, an environmental disaster took place on Camber Sands beach, on what could turn out to be an unprecedented scale. Eastbourne Wastewater Treatment Works, owned by Southern Water, experienced a mechanical failure and spewed out millions of biobeads on to the Sussex coastline. Southern Water has since taken responsibility for the spill. Ironically, biobeads are used to clean wastewater – bacteria attach to their rough, crinkly surface and clean the water of contaminants.Camber Sands is one of England’s most popular beaches, with rare dune habitat Continue reading...

Just past a scrum of dog walkers, about 40 people are urgently combing through the sand on hands and knees. Their task is to try to remove millions of peppercorn-sized black plastic biobeads from where they have settled in the sand. Beyond them, a seal carcass grins menacingly, teeth protruding from its rotting skull.Last week, an environmental disaster took place on Camber Sands beach, on what could turn out to be an unprecedented scale. Eastbourne Wastewater Treatment Works, owned by Southern Water, experienced a mechanical failure and spewed out millions of biobeads on to the Sussex coastline. Southern Water has since taken responsibility for the spill. Ironically, biobeads are used to clean wastewater – bacteria attach to their rough, crinkly surface and clean the water of contaminants.In the days since, volunteers have flocked to the beach. On a chilly November morning, beneath a blue sky, they painstakingly pick out the minuscule beads by hand. It is mind-numbingly tedious work.Others – much to the envy of the hand-pickers – have sieves. One volunteer has fashioned a sieve from a mesh onion sack found nearby.“We’re scooping up the sand, then pouring the sand over a bucket into a sieve, and then pouring the water on top, so that we just get the beads,” says Hastings resident Roisin O’Gorman.Andy Dinsdale, the founder of Strandliners, an environmental organisation that runs beach cleanups, says: “They’ve got to get down on their hands and knees, almost into the strandline [the line of seaweed and other debris that lines the high water mark on beaches], to look for very small 5mm black pellets. We can only do our best.”Kneeling on the sand, on your knees, just picking them out, one by one, is futileHe is noticeably exhausted from his days-long effort coordinating the cleanup. He has missed his son’s birthday celebrations, he says, to be here.Despite their valiant efforts, many volunteers feel helpless. Walking tramples the plastic further into the sand and overfilled bin bags of waste can split, putting workers back to square one. “Kneeling on the sand, on your knees, just picking them out, one by one, is futile,” says Nick, a volunteer from Tunbridge Wells, in frustration.To make more of a dent, experts have brought in a special machine. “Do you remember Teletubbies?” says Dinsdale. He points about a mile down the beach, towards what looks like a giant vacuum cleaner – remarkably reminiscent of the character Noo-Noo from the children’s television series – sucking up a carpet of black beads.This microplastic removal machine is the invention of Joshua Beech, an environmental scientist and founder of the cleanup organisation Nurdle. “It works by vacuuming up material, separating it by density, and then sieving and separating in the back [of the machine] so it comes out as nearly pure plastic in the collection trays,” he says.Beech and his colleague Roy Beal have spent five backbreaking days vacuuming the beach from sunrise to sunset. Beech hoists the heavy nozzle on to his shoulders while Beal holds it underarm. “He has a rugby player’s shoulders,” says Beal. “I have kayaker’s shoulders.”They hope that removing as many biobeads as possible can prevent more damage.Tamara Galloway, professor of ecotoxicology at the University of Exeter, says microplastics “overlap with the prey item size of many marine organisms and can enter the food web, with the potential to transfer contaminants into cells and tissues”.They can also break down and leach harmful compounds that affect animals’ hormones and cause reproductive problems. Local people are already concerned by an unusual number of stranded animals – three seals and a porpoise – that recently washed up on the beach. At this stage, the UK Cetacean Strandings Investigation Programme (CSIP), which investigates strandings, doesn’t think these deaths are linked to the spill.Rye Harbour nature reserve, adjacent to Camber Sands, is Sussex Wildlife Trust’s largest reserve. This special area is “a matrix of wetland habitat”, influenced by and linked to the sea, says site manager Paul Tinsley-Marshall. “The vegetated shingle is a globally threatened habitat.” It is home to more than 4,355 species, including common, sandwich and little terns, oystercatchers, plovers and avocets. Biobead pollution has now been confirmed at Rye Harbour, and the reserve’s team is currently assessing the damage and carefully planning their cleanup of this sensitive habitat.According to Strandliners, there have been two previous large-scale biobead incidents reported to the Environment Agency, in 2010 and 2017.“This is the worst microplastic spill we’ve seen this year,” says Beech. Worse even than the spill of nurdles (pre-production plastic pellets) in March, when two ships collided in the North Sea. The plastic beads washed up on Norfolk beaches and the surrounding coastline.The harm caused by the biobeads at Camber may depend on their composition. Beads like these used to be recycled from potentially toxic e-waste until regulatory legislation in 2006. No one knows when these beads were made, Dinsdale says.With the sun due to set at 4.20pm, time on the beach is limited. “We’re fighting against the sunlight,” says volunteer Cate Lamb who has travelled from London with her partner, Khalid Flynn, and eight-year-old Maya Flynn. “We feel like we’re fighting a losing battle, a little, because of the scale of the challenge.”At that moment, her bucket splits.Rother district council says attempts to remove all the pellets have “proven impossible” and that they “expect further large amounts to be deposited in the coming weeks and months”.Beech and the Nurdle team hope to return after the next spring tide brings in more, but this is dependent on them being able to cover the costs of a second clean.The money they make selling recycled sheeting made from the beach plastics to fund future cleanups isn’t enough. “We can’t afford to come back,” says Beech. “But the environment needs us back.”Southern Water has apologised for the spill but Helena Dollimore, the MP for Hastings and Rye, wants it to go further by funding the cleanup and any future nature restoration. She is also calling for an independent investigation. “Southern Water cannot be trusted to mark their own homework,” she says.

London judge rules BHP Group liable for Brazil’s 2015 Samarco dam collapse

About 600,000 people seeking compensation a decade on from disaster that killed 19 and devastated villagesA London judge has ruled that the global mining company BHP Group is liable in Brazil’s worst environmental disaster, when a dam collapse 10 years ago unleashed tons of toxic waste into a major river, killing 19 people and devastating villages downstream.Mrs Justice O’Farrell said at the high court that Australia-based BHP was responsible despite not owning the dam at the time. Continue reading...

A London judge has ruled that global mining company BHP Group is liable in Brazil’s worst environmental disaster, when a dam collapse 10 years ago unleashed tons of toxic waste into a major river, killing 19 people and devastating villages downstream.Mrs Justice O’Farrell said at the high court that Australia-based BHP was responsible despite not owning the dam at the time.Anglo-Australian BHP owns 50% of Samarco, the Brazilian company that operates the iron ore mine where the tailings dam ruptured on 5 November 2015, sending as much as 40m cubic metres of mining into the Doce River in south-eastern Brazil.Sludge from the burst dam destroyed the once-bustling village of Bento Rodrigues in Minas Gerais state and badly damaged other towns.The disaster also killed 14 tonnes of freshwater fish and damaged 370 miles (600 miles) of the Doce River, according to a study by the University of Ulster in the UK. The river, which the Krenak Indigenous people revere as a deity, has yet to recover.About 600,000 Brazilians are seeking £36bn ($47bn) in compensation, although the ruling only addressed liability. A second phase of the trial will determine damages.The case was filed in Britain because one of BHP’s two main legal entities was based in London at the time.The trial began in October 2024, just days before Brazil’s federal government reached a multibillion-dollar settlement with the mining companies.Under the agreement, Samarco, which is also half owned by Brazilian mining company Vale, agreed to pay 132 billion reais ($23bn) over 20 years. The payments were meant to compensate for human, environmental and infrastructure damage.BHP had said the UK legal action was unnecessary because it duplicated matters covered by legal proceedings in Brazil.

MIT senior turns waste from the fishing industry into biodegradable plastic

Jacqueline Prawira’s innovation, featured on CBS’s “The Visioneers,” tackles one of the world’s most pressing environmental challenges.

Sometimes the answers to seemingly intractable environmental problems are found in nature itself. Take the growing challenge of plastic waste. Jacqueline Prawira, an MIT senior in the Department of Materials Science and Engineering (DMSE), has developed biodegradable, plastic-like materials from fish offal, as featured in a recent segment on the CBS show “The Visioneers with Zay Harding.” “We basically made plastics to be too good at their job. That also means the environment doesn’t know what to do with this, because they simply won’t degrade,” Prawira told Harding. “And now we’re literally drowning in plastic. By 2050, plastics are expected to outweigh fish in the ocean.” “The Visioneers” regularly highlights environmental innovators. The episode featuring Prawira premiered during a special screening at Climate Week NYC on Sept. 24.Her inspiration came from the Asian fish market her family visits. Once the fish they buy are butchered, the scales are typically discarded. “But I also started noticing they’re actually fairly strong. They’re thin, somewhat flexible, and pretty lightweight, too, for their strength,” Prawira says. “And that got me thinking: Well, what other material has these properties? Plastics.” She transformed this waste product into a transparent, thin-film material that can be used for disposable products such as grocery bags, packaging, and utensils. Both her fish-scale material and a composite she developed don’t just mimic plastic — they address one of its biggest flaws. “If you put them in composting environments, [they] will degrade on their own naturally without needing much, if any, external help,” Prawira says. This isn’t Prawira’s first environmental innovation. Working in DMSE Professor Yet-Ming Chiang’s lab, she helped develop a low-carbon process for making cement — the world’s most widely used construction material, and a major emitter of carbon dioxide. The process, called silicate subtraction, enables compounds to form at lower temperatures, cutting fossil fuel use. Prawira and her co-inventors in the Chiang lab are also using the method to extract valuable lithium with zero waste. The process is patented and is being commercialized through the startup Rock Zero. For her achievements, Prawira recently received the Barry Goldwater Scholarship, awarded to undergraduates pursuing careers in science, mathematics, or engineering. In her “Visioneers” interview, she shared her hope for more sustainable ways of living. “I’m hoping that we can have daily lives that can be more in sync with the environment,” Prawira said. “So you don’t always have to choose between the convenience of daily life and having to help protect the environment.”

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