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Hydrogen hubs test new federal environmental justice rules

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Tuesday, November 12, 2024

This is part 1 of a 2-part series. Read part 2: What’s hampering federal environmental justice efforts in the hydrogen hub build-out?On a rainy day in September, Veronica Coptis and her two children stood on the shore of the Monongahela River in a park near their home, watching a pair of barges laden with mountainous heaps of coal disappear around the riverbend.“I’m worried they’re not taking into account how much industrial traffic this river already sees, and how much the hydrogen hub is going to add to it,” Coptis told EHN. To read a version of this story in Spanish click here. Haz clic aquí para leer este reportaje en español.Coptis lives with her husband and their children in Carmichaels, Pennsylvania, a former coal town near the West Virginia border with a population of around 434. The local water authority uses the Monongahela as source water. Contaminants associated with industrial activity and linked to cancer, including bromodichloromethane, chloroform and dibromochloromethane, have been detected in the community’s drinking water.Coptis grew up among coal miners, but became an activist focused on coal and fracking after witnessing environmental harms the fossil fuel industry caused. Now, she sees a new fight on the horizon: The Appalachian Regional Hydrogen Hub, a vast network of infrastructure that will use primarily natural gas to create hydrogen for energy. Part of the new Appalachian hydrogen hub is expected to be built in La Belle, which is about a 30 minute drive north along the Monongahela River from her home.“I have a lot of concerns about how large that facility might be and what emissions could be like, and whether it’ll cause increased traffic on the river and the roads,” said Coptis, who works as a senior advisor at the climate advocacy nonprofit Taproot Earth. “I’m also worried that because this will be blue hydrogen it will increase demand for fracking, and I already live surrounded by fracking wells.”The Appalachian Regional Hydrogen Hub is one of seven proposed, federally funded networks of this type of infrastructure announced a year ago — an initiative born from the Biden administration’s 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. The hydrogen created by the hubs using both renewable and fossil fuel energy will be used by industries that are difficult to electrify like steelmaking, construction and petrochemical production.The hubs support the administration's objective of reaching net-zero carbon emissions nationwide by 2050 and achieving a 100% “clean” electrical grid by 2035. All seven hydrogen hubs, which are in various stages of development, but mostly in the planning and site selection phases, are considered clean energy projects by the Biden administration, including those that also use fossil fuels in production.In March and May, Coptis attended listening sessions hosted by the U.S. Department of Energy (DOE), which is overseeing the hubs’ development and distributing $7 billion in federal funding for them, alongside representatives from industrial partners for the project. She hoped the sessions would provide answers — like exactly where the proposed facilities would be and what would happen at them — but she left with even more questions.The initial applications from industrial partners to DOE, which included timelines, estimated costs, proposed location details and estimates of environmental and health impacts, were kept private by the agency despite frequent requests from community members to share those details.“The Department of Energy and the companies involved have not been transparent,” Coptis said. “It’s not possible for communities to give meaningful input on projects when we literally don’t know anything about them.”In 2023, the Biden administration passed historic federal policies directing 80 agencies to prioritize environmental justice in decision-making. The DOE pledged to lead by example with the seven new hydrogen hubs — but so far that isn’t happening, according to more than 30 community members and advocates EHN spoke to. They said details remain hazy, public input is being planned only after industry partners have already received millions of dollars in public funding, and communities don’t have agency in the decision-making.“The promises DOE has made are just not being met, according to their own definitions of what environmental justice looks like,” Batoul Al-Sadi, a senior associate at the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC), a national environmental advocacy group that’s been pushing for increased transparency for the hydrogen hubs, told EHN.Our investigation also found:In initial listening sessions for the hubs, 95 of 113 public comments submitted voiced some opposition to the projects.49 of 113 comments submitted during the listening sessions expressed concern about a lack of transparency or meaningful community engagement.More than 100 regional and national advocacy groups have sent letters to the DOE requesting increased transparency and improvements to community engagement processes.Communities do not have the right to refuse the hydrogen hub projects if the burdens prove greater than the benefits.The DOE is failing to adhere to its own plans for community engagement, according to experts and advocates.“Right now the [federal environmental justice] regulations are in the best place they’ve ever been,” Stephen Schima, an expert on federal environmental regulations and senior legislative counsel at Earthjustice, told EHN. “Agencies have an opportunity to get this right…it’s just a matter of implementation, which is proving challenging so far.”In response to questions about transparency and community engagement, the DOE told EHN, “DOE is focused on getting these projects selected for award negotiation officially ... Once awarded, DOE will release further details on the projects.”Residents of the seven hydrogen hub communities fear that once millions of dollars in federal funding have already been distributed for these projects, their input will no longer be relevant.“The Department of Energy and the companies involved have not been transparent.” - Veronica Coptis, Taproot Earth The Appalachian and California hubs both received $30 million and the Pacific Northwest hub received $27.5 million in initial funding from the federal government in July. Funding for the other four hubs is still being processed. In total, the seven planned hydrogen hub projects are slated to receive $7 billion in federal funding.Jalonne White-Newsome, the federal chief environmental justice officer at The White House Council on Environmental Quality, said she’s aware that communities are frustrated about the hydrogen hubs.“I spend a lot of my time working with our partners at the Department of Energy [and other federal agencies], making sure we support the safe deployment of these different technologies,” White-Newsome told EHN. “I continue to hear in many different forms the concerns that communities have — that there is not transparency, there’s not enough information, there’s fear of the technology.”“I understand all of those concerns,” White-Newsome said, adding that The White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council had established a work group of environmental justice leaders across the country to address carbon capture technologies and hydrogen, and was working with an internal team, including federal agency partners at the DOE, “on how to address all of the issues that have been raised by this body.”Advocates fear these measures won’t do enough.“Even if this was the best, non-polluting, most renewable green energy project to come to Appalachia, this process does not align with environmental justice principles,” Coptis said.Environmental justice and pollution concernsThe hydrogen hubs were pitched as a boon to environmental justice communities that would bring jobs and economic development, cleaner air from reduced fossil fuel use and the promise of being central to America’s clean energy transition.But more than 140 environmental justice organizations have signed public letters highlighting the ways hydrogen energy could prolong the use of fossil fuels, create safety hazards and worsen local air pollution, according to a report by the EFI Foundation.The Mid-Atlantic and Midwest hubs plan to use renewables and nuclear energy in addition to fossil fuels, while the California, Pacific Northwest and Heartland hubs plan to use combinations of renewables, biomass and nuclear energy. The Appalachian and Gulf Coast hubs plan to use primarily fossil fuels.Hydrogen hubs are dense networks of infrastructure that will span large regions. Many hydrogen hub components are being planned in communities that have historically been overburdened by pollution, particularly from fossil fuel extraction, so they can take advantage of that existing infrastructure. For example, Houston’s Ship Channel region, California’s Inland Empire, and northwest Indiana all include environmental justice communities that are tentatively expecting hydrogen hub infrastructure, and all three regions routinely rank among the worst places in the country for air pollution.“I spend a lot of my time working with our partners at the Department of Energy [and other federal agencies], making sure we support the safe deployment of these different technologies.” - Jalonne White-Newsome, the federal chief environmental justice officer at The White House Council on Environmental QualityDOE has said projects will only be awarded if they demonstrate plans to minimize negative impacts and provide benefits for environmental justice communities, but so far communities expecting hydrogen hubs say they haven’t seen information about how project partners plan to do this, though some information has been provided in the California hub's community benefits plan.Communities are worried the hubs will add new industrial pollution sources to already-polluted communities, while data on the cumulative impacts from existing and expanded networks of energy infrastructure remains scarce. Concerns about health risks are especially acute around the Appalachian and Gulf Coast hubs because of their planned reliance on fossil fuels. EHN heard concerns about new emissions from truck and barge traffic, the potential use of eminent domain to seize private property for pipelines, the risk of pipelines exploding or leaking and increased nitrogen oxide emissions from the eventual combustion of hydrogen fuel, which contributes to higher levels of particulate matter pollution and ozone. Exposure to these pollutants are linked to health effects including increased cancer risk, respiratory and heart disease, premature birth and low birth weight.There are also concerns about these hubs’ reliance on carbon capture and storage technology, which is required in order to convert fossil fuels into hydrogen but won’t be required for hubs using non-fossil fuel feedstocks.Carbon capture technology is controversial, as many experts and advocates consider it a way to prolong the use of fossil fuels, and have expressed how the technology could actually worsen climate change due to high energy consumption and leaks. Because captured CO2 contains toxic substances, like volatile organic compounds and mercury, the technique can pose risks to groundwater, soil and air through leaks. Just last month, officials reported that the first commercial carbon sequestration plant in Illinois sprung two leaks this year under Lake Decatur, a drinking water source for Decatur, Illinois. The company that owns the plant, ADM, didn’t tell authorities about the leaks for months. “These are communities with deep roots in extractive processes like coal mining and natural gas, so developers coming in and proposing something is nothing new for them, but when they learn that developers are interested in not extracting but depositing, injecting, their eyes widen,” Ethan Story, advocacy director and attorney at the Center for Coalfield Justice, a community health advocacy group in western Pennsylvania, told EHN. Fossil fuel partners Each hydrogen hub has a corporate, nonprofit or public-private partnership organization that oversees the project. The partnership organization is in charge of putting together the proposal, selecting projects, facilitating engagement, receiving and distributing federal funding and acting as a liaison between the DOE and industrial partners. In addition to the $7 billion federal investment, funding for the hydrogen hubs will include substantial private investments, incentivized by the Inflation Reduction Act.Some of the prime contractors existed prior to the hydrogen hubs launching, like Battelle, which is overseeing the Appalachian hub, and the Energy & Environmental Research Center, which is overseeing the Heartland hub. Others were formed specifically to oversee the hydrogen hub projects, like the Alliance for Renewable Clean Hydrogen Energy Systems (ARCHES), which is overseeing the California hub, and HyVelocity, Inc., which is overseeing the Gulf Coast hub. “These are communities with deep roots in extractive processes like coal mining and natural gas, so developers coming in and proposing something is nothing new for them, but when they learn that developers are interested in not extracting but depositing, injecting, their eyes widen." - Ethan Story, Center for Coalfield JusticeIn addition to these contractors, the hubs have individual project partners that include fossil fuel companies. In the Gulf Coast hub, Chevron, ExxonMobil and Shell are among the fossil fuel companies listed as project partners. The Appalachia hub’s partners include CNX Resources, Enbridge, Empire Diversified Energy and EQT Corporation; and the California hub lists Chevron among its partners. This is creating distrust in some communities.For example, in a DOE document released in August, the agency reported that EQT Corporation, the second-largest natural gas producer in the country, would host community listening sessions and work toward establishing a community advisory committee for its projects in the Appalachian hydrogen hub. EQT has racked up environmental violations at its fracking wells that caused multiple families in West Virginia to move out of their homes. The company has also promoted misinformation about the natural gas industry’s role in worsening climate change. “Choosing EQT to run this part of the project shows the lack of real community engagement, the lack of community trust, the lack of community transparency that surrounds the [Appalachian hydrogen hub] community benefits process,” Matt Mehalik, executive director of the Breathe Project, a coalition of clean air advocacy nonprofits in western Pennsylvania, told EHN. “This choice of manager illustrates the lack of interest in establishing any sort of trust with impacted communities.”Karen Feridun, a cofounder of the Better Path Coalition, a Pennsylvania climate advocacy group, said “If EQT creates a [community advisory committee], it'll be to find out what color ARCH2 [Appalachian hydrogen hub] baseball caps they prefer.”EQT Corporation and Battelle did not respond to multiple requests for interviews, nor to specific questions about the community engagement process and the alleged lack of transparency. The DOE also outsourced community engagement in the Gulf Coast to a local organization — the Houston Advanced Research Center, or HARC. The organization was founded in 1982 by George Mitchell, known as the “father of fracking,” who was credited for the shale boom in Texas. In 2001, HARC updated its mission on its website to reference mitigating climate risk and advancing clean energy, and in 2023 the organization included hydrogen energy in its strategic planning and company vision. “Choosing EQT to run this part of the project shows the lack of real community engagement, the lack of community trust, the lack of community transparency that surrounds the [Appalachian hydrogen hub] community benefits process.” - Matt Mehalik, Breathe ProjectCommunity engagement representative and HARC deputy director of climate equity and resilience, Margaret Cook, told EHN the organization had reached out to a few local advocacy groups to discuss its role in the hub’s community engagement. Cook said they plan to include a community advisory board that will interact with the companies involved and advise on how DOE dollars are spent at the community and regional levels. Additionally, the group will be tasked with organizing community benefits. “We need to understand what their concerns are so that we can address them,” said Cook. “And we need to understand what they would perceive as a benefit that is actually going to help them, so that the project can do that.”Shiv Srivastava, research and policy researcher for Fenceline Watch, a Houston-based environmental justice organization, told EHN, “I think that this is a fundamental problem … you have organizations that are chosen to basically be the community connector, the proxy for the hub with the community. This is something the Department of Energy should be doing directly.”A lack of transparency and meaningful engagementSome describe Houston’s East End as a checkerboard, where the borders of their homes, schools and greenspaces are marked by industrial plants, parking lots, entry docks, smokestacks and refineries.The East End community is in the 99th percentile for exposure to air toxics and home to the state’s largest sources of chemical pollution. Residents of these neighborhoods, like Srivastava and Yvette Arellano, executive director of Fenceline Watch, worry that this enormous industrial presence will only increase with the introduction of hydrogen.“When it comes to things like carbon capture, sequestration, direct air capture, these are almost like supporting tenets for hydrogen,” Srivastava said. “We see hydrogen rapidly being posited as the new feedstock for petrochemical production, to displace fossil fuels, which, for our community, doesn't work, because they're just still continuing to produce these toxics [with hydrogen production].” Arellano told EHN that Fenceline Watch educates the public about industrial projects, but for hydrogen that’s been complicated by “the lack of a formalized community engagement process across all seven hubs.”The DOE’s Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations (OCED) held nine initial listening sessions for the hubs and summarized the feedback received during those meetings on its website. The DOE did not make recordings of these meetings publicly available, but an EHN analysis of the DOE’s transcripts shows that a majority of commenters voiced concerns about issues like employee safety, pipeline siting, carbon capture efficacy, emissions impacts, who will regulate these projects, permitting, site locations, language barriers and environmental injustice. For the Gulf Coast Hub, the community asked for formalized sessions where they could write in questions and get written responses using simple language. “What we have heard is that this is not how this process goes,” Arellano said.” We have heard dead silence.” Of the 113 comments the DOE transcribed from the listening sessions, 95 voiced some opposition to the projects, and calls for greater transparency and better community engagement were issued at least 49 times. EHN also heard calls for transparency beyond the listening sessions, particularly concerning environmental justice and community engagement, for all hubs except the Heartland hub, which would span across North Dakota, South Dakota and Minnesota (the hub lost its key project partners Marathon Petroleum and TC Energy, so it’s unclear if or how that project will move forward). In response to complaints about engagement for the hubs, the DOE published a summary outlining key themes it heard during the listening sessions and how that feedback has been incorporated into the planning process for the hubs. An agency spokesperson said this type of community engagement is new for the DOE and the projects are all in early stages, so the agency is still learning and is working to ensure that community concerns are adequately addressed. They added that the Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations (OCED) has held more than 70 meetings with community members and groups, local elected officials, first responders, labor and other community groups, and has provided informational briefings to more than 4,000 people in the hydrogen hub regions. “I have questions and concerns,” Democratic North Dakota state senator Tim Mathern said. “Thus far I support it as it is presented as a cleaner fuel than fossil fuels and better for our environment. Very little information is provided about the environmental impacts, and I would like to know more.” EHN reached out to other policymakers in the 16 states with proposed hydrogen projects and received five responses, with four coming from states in proposed Pacific Northwest hydrogen hub regions. Most responses from policymakers noted a need for more information, similar to their constituents. “There has been involvement with local officials in my area as well as some state officials,” Republican Montana state representative Denley Loge told EHN. “Most (people) do not fully understand but do not dig deeper on their own. On the local level, when meetings have been held, few attend but rumors go rampant without good information.” Democratic Texas state representative Penny Morales Shaw expressed support for the Gulf Coast hub. “As a state representative, I receive feedback from my constituents every day about poor air quality and environmental conditions impacting their health and quality of life,” Morales Shaw told EHN. “Hydrogen hubs can help bring us to net-zero carbon emissions, and we all want to make sure it’s done in an effective, collaborative way.” “Hydrogen hubs can help bring us to net-zero carbon emissions, and we all want to make sure it’s done in an effective, collaborative way.” - Democratic Texas state representative Penny Morales Shaw The listening sessions are just one way communities have requested improvements to the DOE’s engagement process. EHN also tracked the written requests made to DOE regarding transparency around the hydrogen hubs outside of the listening sessions. We found that: A group of leaders from numerous national advocacy groups, including Clean Air Task Force, the Environmental Defense Fund and the Natural Resources Defense Counsel, also formally asked the DOE for increased transparency and engagement around the hydrogen hubs 54 Appalachian organizations and community groups signed a letter to the DOE calling for the suspension of the Appalachian hub, citing a lack of transparency and engagement 32 groups from the Mid-Atlantic hub region signed a letter to the DOE stating that the first public meeting on the hub was inaccessible to many residents and requesting increased transparency and engagement. 15 advocacy groups sent the DOE a letter expressing frustration over the lack of transparency and engagement for the Midwest hydrogen hub Nine environmental and justice advocacy groups in California made similar requests related to transparency and engagement A coalition of groups from Texas, California, Washington, Pennsylvania, New Mexico and Indiana requested improved transparency and engagement around hydrogen energy in a published report In the absence of meaningful engagement on the projects, a coalition of advocacy groups also recently published their own “Guide to Community Benefits in Southwestern Pennsylvania” with the hopes that the Appalachian hydrogen hub project, and others like it, will use it as a reference. A DOE spokesperson said the agency has responded directly to more than 50 letters, but most of those responses have not been made public. Community advocates who received responses to these letters told EHN they were dissatisfied. The agency declined to answer EHN’s questions about whether it was working to meet the specific requests in these letters. In initial presentations about the hubs, the DOE discussed “go/no-go” stages for the projects, which require community engagement before the projects can move forward. This led many community members to believe this meant the projects could be stopped if communities decided the costs outweigh the benefits. That turned out not to be the case. “Communities will not have a direct right of refusal,” DOE said in an emailed response to questions from community groups about the Mid-Atlantic hub in July. “This is not a requirement of the H2Hubs program.” Some people, including Feridun of the Better Path Coalition in Pennsylvania, felt misled. “We've been fed a line over and over about these go/no-go decisions and how we'll be engaged when each one is being made, but that's simply not what's happening.” Advocates question the ethics of the federal government citing new pollution sources in environmental justice communities whether or not they consent to it. There’s also a widespread perception that the hubs’ industrial partners are forging ahead with planning in closed-door meetings with agency officials, without community input. “Communities will not have a direct right of refusal. This is not a requirement of the H2Hubs program.” - Department of Energy “The DOE appeared on the very first listening session as a co-host of the call with [the industrial partners],” Chris Chyung, executive director of the environmental advocacy group Indiana Conservation Voters, speaking about the Midwest Hydrogen hub. “It creates an ethical dilemma since DOE is supposed to be a mediator, providing oversight of this money and advocating on behalf of the taxpayers who are funding it.” On the East Coast, the prime contractor leading the Mid-Atlantic hub set up monthly networking meetings for corporate partners that cost $25-$50 to join and were not open to the public. It also established a tiered membership program that cost between $2,500 and $10,000 and gave members free access to educational webinars, free registrations for an “annual MACH2 Hydrogen Conference,” and access to members-only events and a members-only online portal with additional information about the projects. In an email to local advocates who asked why these opportunities weren’t open to the public, a DOE spokesperson said the networking meetings were “for businesses, startups and other parties engaged in the clean energy economy” and “are not intended to be a substitute for community events.” “Our biggest concern is that many projects that are already set as key components to [the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub] are being advanced with no community outreach,” Tracy Carluccio, deputy director of the Delaware Riverkeeper Network, told EHN. The nonprofit Carluccio heads filed a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request to gain access to these applications and other materials related to the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub in November 2023. When they received responses in August 2024, they learned that numerous projects were further along in the planning process than they’d realized.Similarly, near the California, communities have heard promises that hydrogen production will only come from renewables, according to Kayla Karimi, a staff attorney for the California-based nonprofit Center on Race, Poverty and the Environment. Her organization has not seen any contracts or documents supporting those promises beyond the initial announcements made prior to funding. “Our biggest concern is that many projects that are already set as key components to [the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub] are being advanced with no community outreach.” - Tracy Carluccio, Delaware Riverkeeper NetworkKarimi said that her organization was asked to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) to obtain information about the California hub beyond what’s on its website. She found the NDA “very punitive” and said those who signed it could face legal ramifications for speaking negatively about the California hub. Karimi’s organization did not sign the NDA, and advocated against community members doing so.EHN also spoke to Steven Lehat, managing director of the investment banking company Colton Alexander, who agreed to sign NDAs to gain access to three otherwise-private planning committees for the California hub. While the NDA provided more information, that information legally could not be shared with community members. Barriers like these raised the question of how equitable the community engagement process is, even for the hubs that are slated to use mainly renewable energy sources.“The community's comments thus far have been really limited because we don't know what we're commenting on,” Karimi told EHN, “but also we wouldn't know if they're being incorporated whatsoever, because we haven't been told anything [and] have not been communicated with.”When asked about the NDAs, a spokesperson for ARCHES, the organization managing California’s hydrogen hub, told EHN that NDAs were not required in order to join workgroups related to community engagement or benefits.“ARCHES stands by our principle of being stakeholder and community engaged and will continue to work to ensure that all stakeholders can participate in our community meetings,” the spokesperson said in an email. “However, NDAs are necessary for becoming an ARCHES member, as member companies must feel confident sharing sensitive or proprietary information.”The Pacific Northwest hub was distinct in having public information available compared to the other six hubs. Keith Curl Dove, an organizer with Washington Conservation Action, told EHN his organization was able to access proposed project locations and tribal outreach history, and said that the Washington Chamber of Commerce attempted to respond to all questions and concerns that his organization had.Policymakers in Washington mirrored Dove’s perspective.“I will say, I feel like there has been a pretty broad stakeholder engagement process, which is different than a community engagement process, early on to figure out which businesses, which industries, etc., were going to be ready to make the investments to match Washington state's and the federal investment in our [Pacific] Northwest hydrogen hub,” Democratic Washington state representative Alex Ramel told EHN.“Two of the state's five refineries are in my district, and two more are in the next district, north of me,” Ramel said. “So about 90% of the state's refining capacity is right next door, and the refineries are going to be a major place where hydrogen is deployed in Washington State, and I think they're an important early customer… because they're already using dirty hydrogen, and this is a chance to replace it with green hydrogen.”In U.S. Environmental Protection Agency documents, the White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council shared concerns about hydrogen hubs and other carbon management technologies, stating, “This investment in ‘experimentation’ of technology that lacks sufficient research of both its safety and efficacy further creates barriers of distrust between impacted communities, particularly those who have been historically and currently disenfranchised, and the respective government agencies.”The Council added that “a humane approach to carbon management would be to prioritize sound research (not influenced by polluters) that includes a robust focus on potential public health and environmental risks.”These concerns mirror those of individuals working on the ground.“Can we really rely on another potential polluter?” asked Arellano of Fenceline Watch.Read Part 2: What’s hampering federal environmental justice efforts in the hydrogen hub build-out?Video production and editing: Jimmy Evans

This is part 1 of a 2-part series. Read part 2: What’s hampering federal environmental justice efforts in the hydrogen hub build-out?On a rainy day in September, Veronica Coptis and her two children stood on the shore of the Monongahela River in a park near their home, watching a pair of barges laden with mountainous heaps of coal disappear around the riverbend.“I’m worried they’re not taking into account how much industrial traffic this river already sees, and how much the hydrogen hub is going to add to it,” Coptis told EHN. To read a version of this story in Spanish click here. Haz clic aquí para leer este reportaje en español.Coptis lives with her husband and their children in Carmichaels, Pennsylvania, a former coal town near the West Virginia border with a population of around 434. The local water authority uses the Monongahela as source water. Contaminants associated with industrial activity and linked to cancer, including bromodichloromethane, chloroform and dibromochloromethane, have been detected in the community’s drinking water.Coptis grew up among coal miners, but became an activist focused on coal and fracking after witnessing environmental harms the fossil fuel industry caused. Now, she sees a new fight on the horizon: The Appalachian Regional Hydrogen Hub, a vast network of infrastructure that will use primarily natural gas to create hydrogen for energy. Part of the new Appalachian hydrogen hub is expected to be built in La Belle, which is about a 30 minute drive north along the Monongahela River from her home.“I have a lot of concerns about how large that facility might be and what emissions could be like, and whether it’ll cause increased traffic on the river and the roads,” said Coptis, who works as a senior advisor at the climate advocacy nonprofit Taproot Earth. “I’m also worried that because this will be blue hydrogen it will increase demand for fracking, and I already live surrounded by fracking wells.”The Appalachian Regional Hydrogen Hub is one of seven proposed, federally funded networks of this type of infrastructure announced a year ago — an initiative born from the Biden administration’s 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. The hydrogen created by the hubs using both renewable and fossil fuel energy will be used by industries that are difficult to electrify like steelmaking, construction and petrochemical production.The hubs support the administration's objective of reaching net-zero carbon emissions nationwide by 2050 and achieving a 100% “clean” electrical grid by 2035. All seven hydrogen hubs, which are in various stages of development, but mostly in the planning and site selection phases, are considered clean energy projects by the Biden administration, including those that also use fossil fuels in production.In March and May, Coptis attended listening sessions hosted by the U.S. Department of Energy (DOE), which is overseeing the hubs’ development and distributing $7 billion in federal funding for them, alongside representatives from industrial partners for the project. She hoped the sessions would provide answers — like exactly where the proposed facilities would be and what would happen at them — but she left with even more questions.The initial applications from industrial partners to DOE, which included timelines, estimated costs, proposed location details and estimates of environmental and health impacts, were kept private by the agency despite frequent requests from community members to share those details.“The Department of Energy and the companies involved have not been transparent,” Coptis said. “It’s not possible for communities to give meaningful input on projects when we literally don’t know anything about them.”In 2023, the Biden administration passed historic federal policies directing 80 agencies to prioritize environmental justice in decision-making. The DOE pledged to lead by example with the seven new hydrogen hubs — but so far that isn’t happening, according to more than 30 community members and advocates EHN spoke to. They said details remain hazy, public input is being planned only after industry partners have already received millions of dollars in public funding, and communities don’t have agency in the decision-making.“The promises DOE has made are just not being met, according to their own definitions of what environmental justice looks like,” Batoul Al-Sadi, a senior associate at the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC), a national environmental advocacy group that’s been pushing for increased transparency for the hydrogen hubs, told EHN.Our investigation also found:In initial listening sessions for the hubs, 95 of 113 public comments submitted voiced some opposition to the projects.49 of 113 comments submitted during the listening sessions expressed concern about a lack of transparency or meaningful community engagement.More than 100 regional and national advocacy groups have sent letters to the DOE requesting increased transparency and improvements to community engagement processes.Communities do not have the right to refuse the hydrogen hub projects if the burdens prove greater than the benefits.The DOE is failing to adhere to its own plans for community engagement, according to experts and advocates.“Right now the [federal environmental justice] regulations are in the best place they’ve ever been,” Stephen Schima, an expert on federal environmental regulations and senior legislative counsel at Earthjustice, told EHN. “Agencies have an opportunity to get this right…it’s just a matter of implementation, which is proving challenging so far.”In response to questions about transparency and community engagement, the DOE told EHN, “DOE is focused on getting these projects selected for award negotiation officially ... Once awarded, DOE will release further details on the projects.”Residents of the seven hydrogen hub communities fear that once millions of dollars in federal funding have already been distributed for these projects, their input will no longer be relevant.“The Department of Energy and the companies involved have not been transparent.” - Veronica Coptis, Taproot Earth The Appalachian and California hubs both received $30 million and the Pacific Northwest hub received $27.5 million in initial funding from the federal government in July. Funding for the other four hubs is still being processed. In total, the seven planned hydrogen hub projects are slated to receive $7 billion in federal funding.Jalonne White-Newsome, the federal chief environmental justice officer at The White House Council on Environmental Quality, said she’s aware that communities are frustrated about the hydrogen hubs.“I spend a lot of my time working with our partners at the Department of Energy [and other federal agencies], making sure we support the safe deployment of these different technologies,” White-Newsome told EHN. “I continue to hear in many different forms the concerns that communities have — that there is not transparency, there’s not enough information, there’s fear of the technology.”“I understand all of those concerns,” White-Newsome said, adding that The White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council had established a work group of environmental justice leaders across the country to address carbon capture technologies and hydrogen, and was working with an internal team, including federal agency partners at the DOE, “on how to address all of the issues that have been raised by this body.”Advocates fear these measures won’t do enough.“Even if this was the best, non-polluting, most renewable green energy project to come to Appalachia, this process does not align with environmental justice principles,” Coptis said.Environmental justice and pollution concernsThe hydrogen hubs were pitched as a boon to environmental justice communities that would bring jobs and economic development, cleaner air from reduced fossil fuel use and the promise of being central to America’s clean energy transition.But more than 140 environmental justice organizations have signed public letters highlighting the ways hydrogen energy could prolong the use of fossil fuels, create safety hazards and worsen local air pollution, according to a report by the EFI Foundation.The Mid-Atlantic and Midwest hubs plan to use renewables and nuclear energy in addition to fossil fuels, while the California, Pacific Northwest and Heartland hubs plan to use combinations of renewables, biomass and nuclear energy. The Appalachian and Gulf Coast hubs plan to use primarily fossil fuels.Hydrogen hubs are dense networks of infrastructure that will span large regions. Many hydrogen hub components are being planned in communities that have historically been overburdened by pollution, particularly from fossil fuel extraction, so they can take advantage of that existing infrastructure. For example, Houston’s Ship Channel region, California’s Inland Empire, and northwest Indiana all include environmental justice communities that are tentatively expecting hydrogen hub infrastructure, and all three regions routinely rank among the worst places in the country for air pollution.“I spend a lot of my time working with our partners at the Department of Energy [and other federal agencies], making sure we support the safe deployment of these different technologies.” - Jalonne White-Newsome, the federal chief environmental justice officer at The White House Council on Environmental QualityDOE has said projects will only be awarded if they demonstrate plans to minimize negative impacts and provide benefits for environmental justice communities, but so far communities expecting hydrogen hubs say they haven’t seen information about how project partners plan to do this, though some information has been provided in the California hub's community benefits plan.Communities are worried the hubs will add new industrial pollution sources to already-polluted communities, while data on the cumulative impacts from existing and expanded networks of energy infrastructure remains scarce. Concerns about health risks are especially acute around the Appalachian and Gulf Coast hubs because of their planned reliance on fossil fuels. EHN heard concerns about new emissions from truck and barge traffic, the potential use of eminent domain to seize private property for pipelines, the risk of pipelines exploding or leaking and increased nitrogen oxide emissions from the eventual combustion of hydrogen fuel, which contributes to higher levels of particulate matter pollution and ozone. Exposure to these pollutants are linked to health effects including increased cancer risk, respiratory and heart disease, premature birth and low birth weight.There are also concerns about these hubs’ reliance on carbon capture and storage technology, which is required in order to convert fossil fuels into hydrogen but won’t be required for hubs using non-fossil fuel feedstocks.Carbon capture technology is controversial, as many experts and advocates consider it a way to prolong the use of fossil fuels, and have expressed how the technology could actually worsen climate change due to high energy consumption and leaks. Because captured CO2 contains toxic substances, like volatile organic compounds and mercury, the technique can pose risks to groundwater, soil and air through leaks. Just last month, officials reported that the first commercial carbon sequestration plant in Illinois sprung two leaks this year under Lake Decatur, a drinking water source for Decatur, Illinois. The company that owns the plant, ADM, didn’t tell authorities about the leaks for months. “These are communities with deep roots in extractive processes like coal mining and natural gas, so developers coming in and proposing something is nothing new for them, but when they learn that developers are interested in not extracting but depositing, injecting, their eyes widen,” Ethan Story, advocacy director and attorney at the Center for Coalfield Justice, a community health advocacy group in western Pennsylvania, told EHN. Fossil fuel partners Each hydrogen hub has a corporate, nonprofit or public-private partnership organization that oversees the project. The partnership organization is in charge of putting together the proposal, selecting projects, facilitating engagement, receiving and distributing federal funding and acting as a liaison between the DOE and industrial partners. In addition to the $7 billion federal investment, funding for the hydrogen hubs will include substantial private investments, incentivized by the Inflation Reduction Act.Some of the prime contractors existed prior to the hydrogen hubs launching, like Battelle, which is overseeing the Appalachian hub, and the Energy & Environmental Research Center, which is overseeing the Heartland hub. Others were formed specifically to oversee the hydrogen hub projects, like the Alliance for Renewable Clean Hydrogen Energy Systems (ARCHES), which is overseeing the California hub, and HyVelocity, Inc., which is overseeing the Gulf Coast hub. “These are communities with deep roots in extractive processes like coal mining and natural gas, so developers coming in and proposing something is nothing new for them, but when they learn that developers are interested in not extracting but depositing, injecting, their eyes widen." - Ethan Story, Center for Coalfield JusticeIn addition to these contractors, the hubs have individual project partners that include fossil fuel companies. In the Gulf Coast hub, Chevron, ExxonMobil and Shell are among the fossil fuel companies listed as project partners. The Appalachia hub’s partners include CNX Resources, Enbridge, Empire Diversified Energy and EQT Corporation; and the California hub lists Chevron among its partners. This is creating distrust in some communities.For example, in a DOE document released in August, the agency reported that EQT Corporation, the second-largest natural gas producer in the country, would host community listening sessions and work toward establishing a community advisory committee for its projects in the Appalachian hydrogen hub. EQT has racked up environmental violations at its fracking wells that caused multiple families in West Virginia to move out of their homes. The company has also promoted misinformation about the natural gas industry’s role in worsening climate change. “Choosing EQT to run this part of the project shows the lack of real community engagement, the lack of community trust, the lack of community transparency that surrounds the [Appalachian hydrogen hub] community benefits process,” Matt Mehalik, executive director of the Breathe Project, a coalition of clean air advocacy nonprofits in western Pennsylvania, told EHN. “This choice of manager illustrates the lack of interest in establishing any sort of trust with impacted communities.”Karen Feridun, a cofounder of the Better Path Coalition, a Pennsylvania climate advocacy group, said “If EQT creates a [community advisory committee], it'll be to find out what color ARCH2 [Appalachian hydrogen hub] baseball caps they prefer.”EQT Corporation and Battelle did not respond to multiple requests for interviews, nor to specific questions about the community engagement process and the alleged lack of transparency. The DOE also outsourced community engagement in the Gulf Coast to a local organization — the Houston Advanced Research Center, or HARC. The organization was founded in 1982 by George Mitchell, known as the “father of fracking,” who was credited for the shale boom in Texas. In 2001, HARC updated its mission on its website to reference mitigating climate risk and advancing clean energy, and in 2023 the organization included hydrogen energy in its strategic planning and company vision. “Choosing EQT to run this part of the project shows the lack of real community engagement, the lack of community trust, the lack of community transparency that surrounds the [Appalachian hydrogen hub] community benefits process.” - Matt Mehalik, Breathe ProjectCommunity engagement representative and HARC deputy director of climate equity and resilience, Margaret Cook, told EHN the organization had reached out to a few local advocacy groups to discuss its role in the hub’s community engagement. Cook said they plan to include a community advisory board that will interact with the companies involved and advise on how DOE dollars are spent at the community and regional levels. Additionally, the group will be tasked with organizing community benefits. “We need to understand what their concerns are so that we can address them,” said Cook. “And we need to understand what they would perceive as a benefit that is actually going to help them, so that the project can do that.”Shiv Srivastava, research and policy researcher for Fenceline Watch, a Houston-based environmental justice organization, told EHN, “I think that this is a fundamental problem … you have organizations that are chosen to basically be the community connector, the proxy for the hub with the community. This is something the Department of Energy should be doing directly.”A lack of transparency and meaningful engagementSome describe Houston’s East End as a checkerboard, where the borders of their homes, schools and greenspaces are marked by industrial plants, parking lots, entry docks, smokestacks and refineries.The East End community is in the 99th percentile for exposure to air toxics and home to the state’s largest sources of chemical pollution. Residents of these neighborhoods, like Srivastava and Yvette Arellano, executive director of Fenceline Watch, worry that this enormous industrial presence will only increase with the introduction of hydrogen.“When it comes to things like carbon capture, sequestration, direct air capture, these are almost like supporting tenets for hydrogen,” Srivastava said. “We see hydrogen rapidly being posited as the new feedstock for petrochemical production, to displace fossil fuels, which, for our community, doesn't work, because they're just still continuing to produce these toxics [with hydrogen production].” Arellano told EHN that Fenceline Watch educates the public about industrial projects, but for hydrogen that’s been complicated by “the lack of a formalized community engagement process across all seven hubs.”The DOE’s Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations (OCED) held nine initial listening sessions for the hubs and summarized the feedback received during those meetings on its website. The DOE did not make recordings of these meetings publicly available, but an EHN analysis of the DOE’s transcripts shows that a majority of commenters voiced concerns about issues like employee safety, pipeline siting, carbon capture efficacy, emissions impacts, who will regulate these projects, permitting, site locations, language barriers and environmental injustice. For the Gulf Coast Hub, the community asked for formalized sessions where they could write in questions and get written responses using simple language. “What we have heard is that this is not how this process goes,” Arellano said.” We have heard dead silence.” Of the 113 comments the DOE transcribed from the listening sessions, 95 voiced some opposition to the projects, and calls for greater transparency and better community engagement were issued at least 49 times. EHN also heard calls for transparency beyond the listening sessions, particularly concerning environmental justice and community engagement, for all hubs except the Heartland hub, which would span across North Dakota, South Dakota and Minnesota (the hub lost its key project partners Marathon Petroleum and TC Energy, so it’s unclear if or how that project will move forward). In response to complaints about engagement for the hubs, the DOE published a summary outlining key themes it heard during the listening sessions and how that feedback has been incorporated into the planning process for the hubs. An agency spokesperson said this type of community engagement is new for the DOE and the projects are all in early stages, so the agency is still learning and is working to ensure that community concerns are adequately addressed. They added that the Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations (OCED) has held more than 70 meetings with community members and groups, local elected officials, first responders, labor and other community groups, and has provided informational briefings to more than 4,000 people in the hydrogen hub regions. “I have questions and concerns,” Democratic North Dakota state senator Tim Mathern said. “Thus far I support it as it is presented as a cleaner fuel than fossil fuels and better for our environment. Very little information is provided about the environmental impacts, and I would like to know more.” EHN reached out to other policymakers in the 16 states with proposed hydrogen projects and received five responses, with four coming from states in proposed Pacific Northwest hydrogen hub regions. Most responses from policymakers noted a need for more information, similar to their constituents. “There has been involvement with local officials in my area as well as some state officials,” Republican Montana state representative Denley Loge told EHN. “Most (people) do not fully understand but do not dig deeper on their own. On the local level, when meetings have been held, few attend but rumors go rampant without good information.” Democratic Texas state representative Penny Morales Shaw expressed support for the Gulf Coast hub. “As a state representative, I receive feedback from my constituents every day about poor air quality and environmental conditions impacting their health and quality of life,” Morales Shaw told EHN. “Hydrogen hubs can help bring us to net-zero carbon emissions, and we all want to make sure it’s done in an effective, collaborative way.” “Hydrogen hubs can help bring us to net-zero carbon emissions, and we all want to make sure it’s done in an effective, collaborative way.” - Democratic Texas state representative Penny Morales Shaw The listening sessions are just one way communities have requested improvements to the DOE’s engagement process. EHN also tracked the written requests made to DOE regarding transparency around the hydrogen hubs outside of the listening sessions. We found that: A group of leaders from numerous national advocacy groups, including Clean Air Task Force, the Environmental Defense Fund and the Natural Resources Defense Counsel, also formally asked the DOE for increased transparency and engagement around the hydrogen hubs 54 Appalachian organizations and community groups signed a letter to the DOE calling for the suspension of the Appalachian hub, citing a lack of transparency and engagement 32 groups from the Mid-Atlantic hub region signed a letter to the DOE stating that the first public meeting on the hub was inaccessible to many residents and requesting increased transparency and engagement. 15 advocacy groups sent the DOE a letter expressing frustration over the lack of transparency and engagement for the Midwest hydrogen hub Nine environmental and justice advocacy groups in California made similar requests related to transparency and engagement A coalition of groups from Texas, California, Washington, Pennsylvania, New Mexico and Indiana requested improved transparency and engagement around hydrogen energy in a published report In the absence of meaningful engagement on the projects, a coalition of advocacy groups also recently published their own “Guide to Community Benefits in Southwestern Pennsylvania” with the hopes that the Appalachian hydrogen hub project, and others like it, will use it as a reference. A DOE spokesperson said the agency has responded directly to more than 50 letters, but most of those responses have not been made public. Community advocates who received responses to these letters told EHN they were dissatisfied. The agency declined to answer EHN’s questions about whether it was working to meet the specific requests in these letters. In initial presentations about the hubs, the DOE discussed “go/no-go” stages for the projects, which require community engagement before the projects can move forward. This led many community members to believe this meant the projects could be stopped if communities decided the costs outweigh the benefits. That turned out not to be the case. “Communities will not have a direct right of refusal,” DOE said in an emailed response to questions from community groups about the Mid-Atlantic hub in July. “This is not a requirement of the H2Hubs program.” Some people, including Feridun of the Better Path Coalition in Pennsylvania, felt misled. “We've been fed a line over and over about these go/no-go decisions and how we'll be engaged when each one is being made, but that's simply not what's happening.” Advocates question the ethics of the federal government citing new pollution sources in environmental justice communities whether or not they consent to it. There’s also a widespread perception that the hubs’ industrial partners are forging ahead with planning in closed-door meetings with agency officials, without community input. “Communities will not have a direct right of refusal. This is not a requirement of the H2Hubs program.” - Department of Energy “The DOE appeared on the very first listening session as a co-host of the call with [the industrial partners],” Chris Chyung, executive director of the environmental advocacy group Indiana Conservation Voters, speaking about the Midwest Hydrogen hub. “It creates an ethical dilemma since DOE is supposed to be a mediator, providing oversight of this money and advocating on behalf of the taxpayers who are funding it.” On the East Coast, the prime contractor leading the Mid-Atlantic hub set up monthly networking meetings for corporate partners that cost $25-$50 to join and were not open to the public. It also established a tiered membership program that cost between $2,500 and $10,000 and gave members free access to educational webinars, free registrations for an “annual MACH2 Hydrogen Conference,” and access to members-only events and a members-only online portal with additional information about the projects. In an email to local advocates who asked why these opportunities weren’t open to the public, a DOE spokesperson said the networking meetings were “for businesses, startups and other parties engaged in the clean energy economy” and “are not intended to be a substitute for community events.” “Our biggest concern is that many projects that are already set as key components to [the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub] are being advanced with no community outreach,” Tracy Carluccio, deputy director of the Delaware Riverkeeper Network, told EHN. The nonprofit Carluccio heads filed a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request to gain access to these applications and other materials related to the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub in November 2023. When they received responses in August 2024, they learned that numerous projects were further along in the planning process than they’d realized.Similarly, near the California, communities have heard promises that hydrogen production will only come from renewables, according to Kayla Karimi, a staff attorney for the California-based nonprofit Center on Race, Poverty and the Environment. Her organization has not seen any contracts or documents supporting those promises beyond the initial announcements made prior to funding. “Our biggest concern is that many projects that are already set as key components to [the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub] are being advanced with no community outreach.” - Tracy Carluccio, Delaware Riverkeeper NetworkKarimi said that her organization was asked to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) to obtain information about the California hub beyond what’s on its website. She found the NDA “very punitive” and said those who signed it could face legal ramifications for speaking negatively about the California hub. Karimi’s organization did not sign the NDA, and advocated against community members doing so.EHN also spoke to Steven Lehat, managing director of the investment banking company Colton Alexander, who agreed to sign NDAs to gain access to three otherwise-private planning committees for the California hub. While the NDA provided more information, that information legally could not be shared with community members. Barriers like these raised the question of how equitable the community engagement process is, even for the hubs that are slated to use mainly renewable energy sources.“The community's comments thus far have been really limited because we don't know what we're commenting on,” Karimi told EHN, “but also we wouldn't know if they're being incorporated whatsoever, because we haven't been told anything [and] have not been communicated with.”When asked about the NDAs, a spokesperson for ARCHES, the organization managing California’s hydrogen hub, told EHN that NDAs were not required in order to join workgroups related to community engagement or benefits.“ARCHES stands by our principle of being stakeholder and community engaged and will continue to work to ensure that all stakeholders can participate in our community meetings,” the spokesperson said in an email. “However, NDAs are necessary for becoming an ARCHES member, as member companies must feel confident sharing sensitive or proprietary information.”The Pacific Northwest hub was distinct in having public information available compared to the other six hubs. Keith Curl Dove, an organizer with Washington Conservation Action, told EHN his organization was able to access proposed project locations and tribal outreach history, and said that the Washington Chamber of Commerce attempted to respond to all questions and concerns that his organization had.Policymakers in Washington mirrored Dove’s perspective.“I will say, I feel like there has been a pretty broad stakeholder engagement process, which is different than a community engagement process, early on to figure out which businesses, which industries, etc., were going to be ready to make the investments to match Washington state's and the federal investment in our [Pacific] Northwest hydrogen hub,” Democratic Washington state representative Alex Ramel told EHN.“Two of the state's five refineries are in my district, and two more are in the next district, north of me,” Ramel said. “So about 90% of the state's refining capacity is right next door, and the refineries are going to be a major place where hydrogen is deployed in Washington State, and I think they're an important early customer… because they're already using dirty hydrogen, and this is a chance to replace it with green hydrogen.”In U.S. Environmental Protection Agency documents, the White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council shared concerns about hydrogen hubs and other carbon management technologies, stating, “This investment in ‘experimentation’ of technology that lacks sufficient research of both its safety and efficacy further creates barriers of distrust between impacted communities, particularly those who have been historically and currently disenfranchised, and the respective government agencies.”The Council added that “a humane approach to carbon management would be to prioritize sound research (not influenced by polluters) that includes a robust focus on potential public health and environmental risks.”These concerns mirror those of individuals working on the ground.“Can we really rely on another potential polluter?” asked Arellano of Fenceline Watch.Read Part 2: What’s hampering federal environmental justice efforts in the hydrogen hub build-out?Video production and editing: Jimmy Evans



This is part 1 of a 2-part series. Read part 2: What’s hampering federal environmental justice efforts in the hydrogen hub build-out?



On a rainy day in September, Veronica Coptis and her two children stood on the shore of the Monongahela River in a park near their home, watching a pair of barges laden with mountainous heaps of coal disappear around the riverbend.

“I’m worried they’re not taking into account how much industrial traffic this river already sees, and how much the hydrogen hub is going to add to it,” Coptis told EHN.

To read a version of this story in Spanish click here. Haz clic aquí para leer este reportaje en español.

Coptis lives with her husband and their children in Carmichaels, Pennsylvania, a former coal town near the West Virginia border with a population of around 434. The local water authority uses the Monongahela as source water. Contaminants associated with industrial activity and linked to cancer, including bromodichloromethane, chloroform and dibromochloromethane, have been detected in the community’s drinking water.

Coptis grew up among coal miners, but became an activist focused on coal and fracking after witnessing environmental harms the fossil fuel industry caused.

Now, she sees a new fight on the horizon: The Appalachian Regional Hydrogen Hub, a vast network of infrastructure that will use primarily natural gas to create hydrogen for energy. Part of the new Appalachian hydrogen hub is expected to be built in La Belle, which is about a 30 minute drive north along the Monongahela River from her home.

“I have a lot of concerns about how large that facility might be and what emissions could be like, and whether it’ll cause increased traffic on the river and the roads,” said Coptis, who works as a senior advisor at the climate advocacy nonprofit Taproot Earth. “I’m also worried that because this will be blue hydrogen it will increase demand for fracking, and I already live surrounded by fracking wells.”


Pennsylvania activist Veronica Coptis with her two children near a river


carmichaels, pennsylvania, hydrogen hub

The Appalachian Regional Hydrogen Hub is one of seven proposed, federally funded networks of this type of infrastructure announced a year ago — an initiative born from the Biden administration’s 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. The hydrogen created by the hubs using both renewable and fossil fuel energy will be used by industries that are difficult to electrify like steelmaking, construction and petrochemical production.

The hubs support the administration's objective of reaching net-zero carbon emissions nationwide by 2050 and achieving a 100% “clean” electrical grid by 2035. All seven hydrogen hubs, which are in various stages of development, but mostly in the planning and site selection phases, are considered clean energy projects by the Biden administration, including those that also use fossil fuels in production.


map of proposed US hydrogen hubs

In March and May, Coptis attended listening sessions hosted by the U.S. Department of Energy (DOE), which is overseeing the hubs’ development and distributing $7 billion in federal funding for them, alongside representatives from industrial partners for the project. She hoped the sessions would provide answers — like exactly where the proposed facilities would be and what would happen at them — but she left with even more questions.

The initial applications from industrial partners to DOE, which included timelines, estimated costs, proposed location details and estimates of environmental and health impacts, were kept private by the agency despite frequent requests from community members to share those details.

“The Department of Energy and the companies involved have not been transparent,” Coptis said. “It’s not possible for communities to give meaningful input on projects when we literally don’t know anything about them.”

In 2023, the Biden administration passed historic federal policies directing 80 agencies to prioritize environmental justice in decision-making. The DOE pledged to lead by example with the seven new hydrogen hubs — but so far that isn’t happening, according to more than 30 community members and advocates EHN spoke to. They said details remain hazy, public input is being planned only after industry partners have already received millions of dollars in public funding, and communities don’t have agency in the decision-making.

“The promises DOE has made are just not being met, according to their own definitions of what environmental justice looks like,” Batoul Al-Sadi, a senior associate at the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC), a national environmental advocacy group that’s been pushing for increased transparency for the hydrogen hubs, told EHN.

Our investigation also found:

  • In initial listening sessions for the hubs, 95 of 113 public comments submitted voiced some opposition to the projects.
  • 49 of 113 comments submitted during the listening sessions expressed concern about a lack of transparency or meaningful community engagement.
  • More than 100 regional and national advocacy groups have sent letters to the DOE requesting increased transparency and improvements to community engagement processes.
  • Communities do not have the right to refuse the hydrogen hub projects if the burdens prove greater than the benefits.
  • The DOE is failing to adhere to its own plans for community engagement, according to experts and advocates.

“Right now the [federal environmental justice] regulations are in the best place they’ve ever been,” Stephen Schima, an expert on federal environmental regulations and senior legislative counsel at Earthjustice, told EHN. “Agencies have an opportunity to get this right…it’s just a matter of implementation, which is proving challenging so far.”


In response to questions about transparency and community engagement, the DOE told EHN, “DOE is focused on getting these projects selected for award negotiation officially ... Once awarded, DOE will release further details on the projects.”

Residents of the seven hydrogen hub communities fear that once millions of dollars in federal funding have already been distributed for these projects, their input will no longer be relevant.

“The Department of Energy and the companies involved have not been transparent.” - Veronica Coptis, Taproot Earth

The Appalachian and California hubs both received $30 million and the Pacific Northwest hub received $27.5 million in initial funding from the federal government in July. Funding for the other four hubs is still being processed. In total, the seven planned hydrogen hub projects are slated to receive $7 billion in federal funding.

Jalonne White-Newsome, the federal chief environmental justice officer at The White House Council on Environmental Quality, said she’s aware that communities are frustrated about the hydrogen hubs.

“I spend a lot of my time working with our partners at the Department of Energy [and other federal agencies], making sure we support the safe deployment of these different technologies,” White-Newsome told EHN. “I continue to hear in many different forms the concerns that communities have — that there is not transparency, there’s not enough information, there’s fear of the technology.”

“I understand all of those concerns,” White-Newsome said, adding that The White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council had established a work group of environmental justice leaders across the country to address carbon capture technologies and hydrogen, and was working with an internal team, including federal agency partners at the DOE, “on how to address all of the issues that have been raised by this body.”

Advocates fear these measures won’t do enough.

“Even if this was the best, non-polluting, most renewable green energy project to come to Appalachia, this process does not align with environmental justice principles,” Coptis said.

Environmental justice and pollution concerns


Two people holding signs against the Mid Atlantic hydrogen hub

The hydrogen hubs were pitched as a boon to environmental justice communities that would bring jobs and economic development, cleaner air from reduced fossil fuel use and the promise of being central to America’s clean energy transition.

But more than 140 environmental justice organizations have signed public letters highlighting the ways hydrogen energy could prolong the use of fossil fuels, create safety hazards and worsen local air pollution, according to a report by the EFI Foundation.

The Mid-Atlantic and Midwest hubs plan to use renewables and nuclear energy in addition to fossil fuels, while the California, Pacific Northwest and Heartland hubs plan to use combinations of renewables, biomass and nuclear energy. The Appalachian and Gulf Coast hubs plan to use primarily fossil fuels.

Hydrogen hubs are dense networks of infrastructure that will span large regions. Many hydrogen hub components are being planned in communities that have historically been overburdened by pollution, particularly from fossil fuel extraction, so they can take advantage of that existing infrastructure.

For example, Houston’s Ship Channel region, California’s Inland Empire, and northwest Indiana all include environmental justice communities that are tentatively expecting hydrogen hub infrastructure, and all three regions routinely rank among the worst places in the country for air pollution.

“I spend a lot of my time working with our partners at the Department of Energy [and other federal agencies], making sure we support the safe deployment of these different technologies.” - Jalonne White-Newsome, the federal chief environmental justice officer at The White House Council on Environmental Quality

DOE has said projects will only be awarded if they demonstrate plans to minimize negative impacts and provide benefits for environmental justice communities, but so far communities expecting hydrogen hubs say they haven’t seen information about how project partners plan to do this, though some information has been provided in the California hub's community benefits plan.

Communities are worried the hubs will add new industrial pollution sources to already-polluted communities, while data on the cumulative impacts from existing and expanded networks of energy infrastructure remains scarce.

Concerns about health risks are especially acute around the Appalachian and Gulf Coast hubs because of their planned reliance on fossil fuels. EHN heard concerns about new emissions from truck and barge traffic, the potential use of eminent domain to seize private property for pipelines, the risk of pipelines exploding or leaking and increased nitrogen oxide emissions from the eventual combustion of hydrogen fuel, which contributes to higher levels of particulate matter pollution and ozone. Exposure to these pollutants are linked to health effects including increased cancer risk, respiratory and heart disease, premature birth and low birth weight.

There are also concerns about these hubs’ reliance on carbon capture and storage technology, which is required in order to convert fossil fuels into hydrogen but won’t be required for hubs using non-fossil fuel feedstocks.


Two men holding signs protesting the BP CO2 pipeline


signs protesting the BP CO2 pipeline


buttons protesting the BP CO2 pipeline


Carbon capture technology is controversial, as many experts and advocates consider it a way to prolong the use of fossil fuels, and have expressed how the technology could actually worsen climate change due to high energy consumption and leaks. Because captured CO2 contains toxic substances, like volatile organic compounds and mercury, the technique can pose risks to groundwater, soil and air through leaks.

Just last month, officials reported that the first commercial carbon sequestration plant in Illinois sprung two leaks this year under Lake Decatur, a drinking water source for Decatur, Illinois. The company that owns the plant, ADM, didn’t tell authorities about the leaks for months.

“These are communities with deep roots in extractive processes like coal mining and natural gas, so developers coming in and proposing something is nothing new for them, but when they learn that developers are interested in not extracting but depositing, injecting, their eyes widen,” Ethan Story, advocacy director and attorney at the Center for Coalfield Justice, a community health advocacy group in western Pennsylvania, told EHN.

Fossil fuel partners 


Each hydrogen hub has a corporate, nonprofit or public-private partnership organization that oversees the project. The partnership organization is in charge of putting together the proposal, selecting projects, facilitating engagement, receiving and distributing federal funding and acting as a liaison between the DOE and industrial partners. In addition to the $7 billion federal investment, funding for the hydrogen hubs will include substantial private investments, incentivized by the Inflation Reduction Act.

Some of the prime contractors existed prior to the hydrogen hubs launching, like Battelle, which is overseeing the Appalachian hub, and the Energy & Environmental Research Center, which is overseeing the Heartland hub. Others were formed specifically to oversee the hydrogen hub projects, like the Alliance for Renewable Clean Hydrogen Energy Systems (ARCHES), which is overseeing the California hub, and HyVelocity, Inc., which is overseeing the Gulf Coast hub.

“These are communities with deep roots in extractive processes like coal mining and natural gas, so developers coming in and proposing something is nothing new for them, but when they learn that developers are interested in not extracting but depositing, injecting, their eyes widen." - Ethan Story, Center for Coalfield Justice

In addition to these contractors, the hubs have individual project partners that include fossil fuel companies. In the Gulf Coast hub, Chevron, ExxonMobil and Shell are among the fossil fuel companies listed as project partners. The Appalachia hub’s partners include CNX Resources, Enbridge, Empire Diversified Energy and EQT Corporation; and the California hub lists Chevron among its partners.

This is creating distrust in some communities.


Community members who are engaged with the MACH 2 Exchange Coalition protesting outside of SEPTA


u200bCommunity member with a STOP MACH2 button outside of the SEPTA (public transit agency) Headquarters in Philadelphia, PA

For example, in a DOE document released in August, the agency reported that EQT Corporation, the second-largest natural gas producer in the country, would host community listening sessions and work toward establishing a community advisory committee for its projects in the Appalachian hydrogen hub. EQT has racked up environmental violations at its fracking wells that caused multiple families in West Virginia to move out of their homes. The company has also promoted misinformation about the natural gas industry’s role in worsening climate change.

“Choosing EQT to run this part of the project shows the lack of real community engagement, the lack of community trust, the lack of community transparency that surrounds the [Appalachian hydrogen hub] community benefits process,” Matt Mehalik, executive director of the Breathe Project, a coalition of clean air advocacy nonprofits in western Pennsylvania, told EHN. “This choice of manager illustrates the lack of interest in establishing any sort of trust with impacted communities.”

Karen Feridun, a cofounder of the Better Path Coalition, a Pennsylvania climate advocacy group, said “If EQT creates a [community advisory committee], it'll be to find out what color ARCH2 [Appalachian hydrogen hub] baseball caps they prefer.”

EQT Corporation and Battelle did not respond to multiple requests for interviews, nor to specific questions about the community engagement process and the alleged lack of transparency.

The DOE also outsourced community engagement in the Gulf Coast to a local organization — the Houston Advanced Research Center, or HARC. The organization was founded in 1982 by George Mitchell, known as the “father of fracking,” who was credited for the shale boom in Texas. In 2001, HARC updated its mission on its website to reference mitigating climate risk and advancing clean energy, and in 2023 the organization included hydrogen energy in its strategic planning and company vision.

“Choosing EQT to run this part of the project shows the lack of real community engagement, the lack of community trust, the lack of community transparency that surrounds the [Appalachian hydrogen hub] community benefits process.” - Matt Mehalik, Breathe Project

Community engagement representative and HARC deputy director of climate equity and resilience, Margaret Cook, told EHN the organization had reached out to a few local advocacy groups to discuss its role in the hub’s community engagement. Cook said they plan to include a community advisory board that will interact with the companies involved and advise on how DOE dollars are spent at the community and regional levels. Additionally, the group will be tasked with organizing community benefits.

“We need to understand what their concerns are so that we can address them,” said Cook. “And we need to understand what they would perceive as a benefit that is actually going to help them, so that the project can do that.”

Shiv Srivastava, research and policy researcher for Fenceline Watch, a Houston-based environmental justice organization, told EHN, “I think that this is a fundamental problem … you have organizations that are chosen to basically be the community connector, the proxy for the hub with the community. This is something the Department of Energy should be doing directly.”

A lack of transparency and meaningful engagement


Some describe Houston’s East End as a checkerboard, where the borders of their homes, schools and greenspaces are marked by industrial plants, parking lots, entry docks, smokestacks and refineries.

The East End community is in the 99th percentile for exposure to air toxics and home to the state’s largest sources of chemical pollution. Residents of these neighborhoods, like Srivastava and Yvette Arellano, executive director of Fenceline Watch, worry that this enormous industrial presence will only increase with the introduction of hydrogen.

“When it comes to things like carbon capture, sequestration, direct air capture, these are almost like supporting tenets for hydrogen,” Srivastava said. “We see hydrogen rapidly being posited as the new feedstock for petrochemical production, to displace fossil fuels, which, for our community, doesn't work, because they're just still continuing to produce these toxics [with hydrogen production].”

Arellano told EHN that Fenceline Watch educates the public about industrial projects, but for hydrogen that’s been complicated by “the lack of a formalized community engagement process across all seven hubs.”

The DOE’s Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations (OCED) held nine initial listening sessions for the hubs and summarized the feedback received during those meetings on its website. The DOE did not make recordings of these meetings publicly available, but an EHN analysis of the DOE’s transcripts shows that a majority of commenters voiced concerns about issues like employee safety, pipeline siting, carbon capture efficacy, emissions impacts, who will regulate these projects, permitting, site locations, language barriers and environmental injustice.

For the Gulf Coast Hub, the community asked for formalized sessions where they could write in questions and get written responses using simple language. “What we have heard is that this is not how this process goes,” Arellano said.” We have heard dead silence.”

Of the 113 comments the DOE transcribed from the listening sessions, 95 voiced some opposition to the projects, and calls for greater transparency and better community engagement were issued at least 49 times.


graphic pie chart showing who participated in the 9 listening sessions for hydrogen hub projects


pie chart showing Appalachia listening sessions concerns over hydrogen hub project


pie chart showing Gulf Coast listening sessions concerns over hydrogen hub project


pie chart showing Mid-Atlantic listening sessions concerns over hydrogen hub project

EHN also heard calls for transparency beyond the listening sessions, particularly concerning environmental justice and community engagement, for all hubs except the Heartland hub, which would span across North Dakota, South Dakota and Minnesota (the hub lost its key project partners Marathon Petroleum and TC Energy, so it’s unclear if or how that project will move forward).

In response to complaints about engagement for the hubs, the DOE published a summary outlining key themes it heard during the listening sessions and how that feedback has been incorporated into the planning process for the hubs. An agency spokesperson said this type of community engagement is new for the DOE and the projects are all in early stages, so the agency is still learning and is working to ensure that community concerns are adequately addressed.

They added that the Office of Clean Energy Demonstrations (OCED) has held more than 70 meetings with community members and groups, local elected officials, first responders, labor and other community groups, and has provided informational briefings to more than 4,000 people in the hydrogen hub regions.

“I have questions and concerns,” Democratic North Dakota state senator Tim Mathern said. “Thus far I support it as it is presented as a cleaner fuel than fossil fuels and better for our environment. Very little information is provided about the environmental impacts, and I would like to know more.”

EHN reached out to other policymakers in the 16 states with proposed hydrogen projects and received five responses, with four coming from states in proposed Pacific Northwest hydrogen hub regions. Most responses from policymakers noted a need for more information, similar to their constituents.

“There has been involvement with local officials in my area as well as some state officials,” Republican Montana state representative Denley Loge told EHN. “Most (people) do not fully understand but do not dig deeper on their own. On the local level, when meetings have been held, few attend but rumors go rampant without good information.”

Democratic Texas state representative Penny Morales Shaw expressed support for the Gulf Coast hub.

“As a state representative, I receive feedback from my constituents every day about poor air quality and environmental conditions impacting their health and quality of life,” Morales Shaw told EHN. “Hydrogen hubs can help bring us to net-zero carbon emissions, and we all want to make sure it’s done in an effective, collaborative way.”

“Hydrogen hubs can help bring us to net-zero carbon emissions, and we all want to make sure it’s done in an effective, collaborative way.” - Democratic Texas state representative Penny Morales Shaw

The listening sessions are just one way communities have requested improvements to the DOE’s engagement process. EHN also tracked the written requests made to DOE regarding transparency around the hydrogen hubs outside of the listening sessions. We found that:

  • A group of leaders from numerous national advocacy groups, including Clean Air Task Force, the Environmental Defense Fund and the Natural Resources Defense Counsel, also formally asked the DOE for increased transparency and engagement around the hydrogen hubs
  • 54 Appalachian organizations and community groups signed a letter to the DOE calling for the suspension of the Appalachian hub, citing a lack of transparency and engagement
  • 32 groups from the Mid-Atlantic hub region signed a letter to the DOE stating that the first public meeting on the hub was inaccessible to many residents and requesting increased transparency and engagement.
  • 15 advocacy groups sent the DOE a letter expressing frustration over the lack of transparency and engagement for the Midwest hydrogen hub
  • Nine environmental and justice advocacy groups in California made similar requests related to transparency and engagement
  • A coalition of groups from Texas, California, Washington, Pennsylvania, New Mexico and Indiana requested improved transparency and engagement around hydrogen energy in a published report
  • In the absence of meaningful engagement on the projects, a coalition of advocacy groups also recently published their own “Guide to Community Benefits in Southwestern Pennsylvania” with the hopes that the Appalachian hydrogen hub project, and others like it, will use it as a reference.

A DOE spokesperson said the agency has responded directly to more than 50 letters, but most of those responses have not been made public. Community advocates who received responses to these letters told EHN they were dissatisfied. The agency declined to answer EHN’s questions about whether it was working to meet the specific requests in these letters.


Resident speaks at an event about the Midwest hydrogen hub organized by Just Transition NWI.


Woman looking at materials at an event about the Midwest hydrogen hub organized by Just Transition NWI in August 2024.


In initial presentations about the hubs, the DOE discussed “go/no-go” stages for the projects, which require community engagement before the projects can move forward. This led many community members to believe this meant the projects could be stopped if communities decided the costs outweigh the benefits. That turned out not to be the case.

“Communities will not have a direct right of refusal,” DOE said in an emailed response to questions from community groups about the Mid-Atlantic hub in July. “This is not a requirement of the H2Hubs program.”

Some people, including Feridun of the Better Path Coalition in Pennsylvania, felt misled. “We've been fed a line over and over about these go/no-go decisions and how we'll be engaged when each one is being made, but that's simply not what's happening.”

Advocates question the ethics of the federal government citing new pollution sources in environmental justice communities whether or not they consent to it. There’s also a widespread perception that the hubs’ industrial partners are forging ahead with planning in closed-door meetings with agency officials, without community input.

“Communities will not have a direct right of refusal. This is not a requirement of the H2Hubs program.” - Department of Energy

“The DOE appeared on the very first listening session as a co-host of the call with [the industrial partners],” Chris Chyung, executive director of the environmental advocacy group Indiana Conservation Voters, speaking about the Midwest Hydrogen hub. “It creates an ethical dilemma since DOE is supposed to be a mediator, providing oversight of this money and advocating on behalf of the taxpayers who are funding it.”

On the East Coast, the prime contractor leading the Mid-Atlantic hub set up monthly networking meetings for corporate partners that cost $25-$50 to join and were not open to the public. It also established a tiered membership program that cost between $2,500 and $10,000 and gave members free access to educational webinars, free registrations for an “annual MACH2 Hydrogen Conference,” and access to members-only events and a members-only online portal with additional information about the projects.

In an email to local advocates who asked why these opportunities weren’t open to the public, a DOE spokesperson said the networking meetings were “for businesses, startups and other parties engaged in the clean energy economy” and “are not intended to be a substitute for community events.”


People holding sign that says NO MACH2

“Our biggest concern is that many projects that are already set as key components to [the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub] are being advanced with no community outreach,” Tracy Carluccio, deputy director of the Delaware Riverkeeper Network, told EHN. The nonprofit Carluccio heads filed a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request to gain access to these applications and other materials related to the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub in November 2023. When they received responses in August 2024, they learned that numerous projects were further along in the planning process than they’d realized.

Similarly, near the California, communities have heard promises that hydrogen production will only come from renewables, according to Kayla Karimi, a staff attorney for the California-based nonprofit Center on Race, Poverty and the Environment. Her organization has not seen any contracts or documents supporting those promises beyond the initial announcements made prior to funding.

“Our biggest concern is that many projects that are already set as key components to [the Mid-Atlantic hydrogen hub] are being advanced with no community outreach.” - Tracy Carluccio, Delaware Riverkeeper Network

Karimi said that her organization was asked to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) to obtain information about the California hub beyond what’s on its website. She found the NDA “very punitive” and said those who signed it could face legal ramifications for speaking negatively about the California hub. Karimi’s organization did not sign the NDA, and advocated against community members doing so.

EHN also spoke to Steven Lehat, managing director of the investment banking company Colton Alexander, who agreed to sign NDAs to gain access to three otherwise-private planning committees for the California hub. While the NDA provided more information, that information legally could not be shared with community members. Barriers like these raised the question of how equitable the community engagement process is, even for the hubs that are slated to use mainly renewable energy sources.

“The community's comments thus far have been really limited because we don't know what we're commenting on,” Karimi told EHN, “but also we wouldn't know if they're being incorporated whatsoever, because we haven't been told anything [and] have not been communicated with.”

When asked about the NDAs, a spokesperson for ARCHES, the organization managing California’s hydrogen hub, told EHN that NDAs were not required in order to join workgroups related to community engagement or benefits.

“ARCHES stands by our principle of being stakeholder and community engaged and will continue to work to ensure that all stakeholders can participate in our community meetings,” the spokesperson said in an email. “However, NDAs are necessary for becoming an ARCHES member, as member companies must feel confident sharing sensitive or proprietary information.”

The Pacific Northwest hub was distinct in having public information available compared to the other six hubs. Keith Curl Dove, an organizer with Washington Conservation Action, told EHN his organization was able to access proposed project locations and tribal outreach history, and said that the Washington Chamber of Commerce attempted to respond to all questions and concerns that his organization had.

Policymakers in Washington mirrored Dove’s perspective.

“I will say, I feel like there has been a pretty broad stakeholder engagement process, which is different than a community engagement process, early on to figure out which businesses, which industries, etc., were going to be ready to make the investments to match Washington state's and the federal investment in our [Pacific] Northwest hydrogen hub,” Democratic Washington state representative Alex Ramel told EHN.

“Two of the state's five refineries are in my district, and two more are in the next district, north of me,” Ramel said. “So about 90% of the state's refining capacity is right next door, and the refineries are going to be a major place where hydrogen is deployed in Washington State, and I think they're an important early customer… because they're already using dirty hydrogen, and this is a chance to replace it with green hydrogen.”

In U.S. Environmental Protection Agency documents, the White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council shared concerns about hydrogen hubs and other carbon management technologies, stating, “This investment in ‘experimentation’ of technology that lacks sufficient research of both its safety and efficacy further creates barriers of distrust between impacted communities, particularly those who have been historically and currently disenfranchised, and the respective government agencies.”

The Council added that “a humane approach to carbon management would be to prioritize sound research (not influenced by polluters) that includes a robust focus on potential public health and environmental risks.”

These concerns mirror those of individuals working on the ground.

“Can we really rely on another potential polluter?” asked Arellano of Fenceline Watch.

Read Part 2: What’s hampering federal environmental justice efforts in the hydrogen hub build-out?

Video production and editing: Jimmy Evans

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Insurers calling for trees to be felled as cheap fix for subsidence, say critics

Campaigners say problem so common that some of the UK’s most irreplaceable ancient trees in danger of being lostWhen Linda Taylor Cantrill finally found her dream family home in Exmouth, Devon, it wasn’t the location, the square footage or the local amenities that finally made up her mind – it was the 200-year-old oak tree in the garden.“The way we felt about just standing in the shade of the tree was: ‘We need this house, because look how beautiful it is,’” she told the Guardian. Continue reading...

When Linda Taylor Cantrill finally found her dream family home in Exmouth, Devon, it wasn’t the location, the square footage or the local amenities that finally made up her mind – it was the 200-year-old oak tree in the garden.“The way we felt about just standing in the shade of the tree was: ‘We need this house, because look how beautiful it is,’” she told the Guardian.Little wonder then, that when an insurance company suggested chopping the tree down in an effort to arrest the subsidence affecting the house, Taylor Cantrill says she turned “into Boudicca”, to stop the chainsaws – launching a years-long battle that, this year, she finally won.Hers might seem like an isolated example of arboreal activism, but the issue of insurers recommending tree-felling as a cheap fix to building issues is one played out daily in Britain.The problem, according to some campaigners, is so common that they fear it could bring about the loss of irreplaceable ancient trees.Data on insurance-related tree-felling is difficult to pin down, but underwriters are braced for a increase in subsidence claims this year. The Association of British Insurers (ABI) said there had been “unusually high spring temperatures” – often a cause of such claims.The tree that the Taylor Cantrills’ insurers blame for subsidence. Photograph: Jim Wileman/The GuardianAs part of the Haringey Tree Protectors group, Gio Iozzi has been heavily involved in efforts to save a 120-year-old plane tree in north London. “I see it as big a problem, on a par with the water pollution scandal,” she said.Like Taylor Cantrill, she chose her home because of the trees nearby and believes insurers prefer to fell trees suspected of causing subsidence rather than pursuing engineering solutions such as underpinning houses.It is a view shared by the Woodland Trust, which said it was a “significant concern”. Caroline Campbell, who leads the trust’s work on bringing the benefits of trees to the urban areas that need them the most, said: “Mature and veteran trees are often removed before causation is proven, and in many cases where alternative engineering or root management solutions could resolve the problem while retaining the tree.“The general approach from many insurers remains risk-averse, defaulting to removal as the quickest or cheapest option.”The ABI said: “It is not the case that insurers default to tree removal as a matter of convenience or cost-cutting. Insurers will assess each claim on a case-by-case basis, and will consult with experts to determine the most appropriate course of action.”In Billingshurst, in West Sussex, another group is still fighting to save two oak trees villagers believe are at least 200 years old, and that insurers say are the cause of damage to nearby homes.After hiring a lawyer, and thousands of people signing a petition in support, the Save Billi Oaks campaigners have fought their local authority to a standstill. The authority had initially granted permission to fell the trees, despite tree preservation orders being in place.Last month, councillors voted unanimously to pause those plans while they took legal advice. It is understood the council will revisit the matter on 5 November.One of those fighting for the trees, Gabi Barrett, said: “If it weren’t for the community stepping up, both trees would have been felled.” .She added: “The trees are stunning, perfectly balanced and over 200 years-old. They are the only trees of that age and status that remain on the estate. They provide shade in summer and mitigate flood risk in the wetter months.”She said that “from the get-go, saving these trees has been a community effort”.But it has not yet secured the future of the trees. They remain vulnerable, partly because the council fears incurring liability if it does not agree to the insurer’s request to cut them down.Campbell said the effect of losing the trees could be devastating for the local environment: “Even a single insurance claim can lead to the felling of multiple street or garden trees, and subsidence is known to be one of the largest claim types facing the insurance sector.“The cumulative impact over time is substantial, contributing to canopy loss in exactly the urban areas where trees are most needed for cooling, air quality and flood mitigation.”And, while mature trees are effective at taking CO2 out of the atmosphere, newly planted ones – often cited as mitigation when an ancient tree is felled – are much less so. Chopping down mature trees can also release the CO2 back into the atmosphere.The ABI said firms “explore alternative solutions” to felling, but these were not always suitable. A spokesperson also said underpinning “itself has an environmental impact through the use of carbon-intensive concrete”. They added: “The insurance industry takes its climate responsibilities seriously.”Taylor Cantrill’s successful defence of her beloved tree will be an inspiration to others with a similar fight on their hands. For those, like Barrett, the battle to preserve their local greenery is personal. She said: “My children were born in Billingshurst – I have fond memories of stopping for a snack in the shade under those trees on the way back from toddler group. I would find their loss devastating.”

A Warning for the Modern Striver

A new biography of Peter Matthiessen chronicles his many paradoxical attempts to escape who the world expected him to be.

Restlessness is deeply rooted in American mythology. We are a country of pilgrims, engaged in a lifelong search for what Ralph Waldo Emerson called an “original relation to the universe”—a unique understanding of the world that doesn’t rely on the traditions or teachings of past generations. Those who internalize this expectation will walk, trek, and seek—anything to shed an inherited skin and find an undiscovered self they can inhabit. If only skin, inherited or not, were so easy to shed. As Emerson wrote, “My giant goes with me wherever I go.”Few have embodied this supposedly American quality with more complexity than the writer Peter Matthiessen. And few have captured it with more clarity than Lance Richardson in his new biography of Matthiessen, True Nature. Richardson portrays the peripatetic life of Matthiessen—a celebrated author, magazine editor, and undercover agent who died in 2014—not as an eclectic series of adventures but as a single, 86-year spiritual quest. As he writes, Matthiessen’s “inner journey determined the choices he made throughout his long life; it is the string on which the various beads of his career were strung.” Matthiessen fled his monied upbringing in a flawed yet fascinating attempt to escape the person the world expected him to be.The central project of Matthiessen’s existence was a relentless, often painful attempt to locate what, quoting Zen Buddhists, he called a “true nature”—an authentic core beneath the layers of identity that he had received or constructed. His life story provides a warning for today’s perpetually dissatisfied strivers: mainly members of the tech or business elite who have made a name for themselves, only to still feel empty and insecure. Many use their considerable resources to set out for other territories in search of something they’re unlikely to find.[Read: You don’t know yourself as well as you think you do]Like many pilgrimages, Matthiessen’s journey began with a foundational trauma. Born in 1927, he had a storybook childhood on New York’s Fishers Island that was ruptured one summer by an incident on his father’s boat. The young Matthiessen had been learning to swim, so his father took him out to the harbor and threw him overboard to see if the lessons had stuck. As Richardson writes, Matthiessen made the mistake of clinging to his father’s shirt as he was thrown and nearly broke his arm on the side of the boat. He would later call this humiliation “the opening skirmish in an absolutely pointless lifelong war” with his family, and his adulthood was a series of escapes from that original wound. He fled to Paris, the classic expatriate move, but did so under bizarre circumstances—co-founding The Paris Review while serving as an agent for the CIA. Thoreau went to Walden Pond to flee a society he saw as corrupt; Matthiessen, for his part, went to the center of the establishment’s undercover operations to fund and facilitate his own existential escape. Jill Krementz The only writer to ever win National Book Awards for both fiction and nonfiction, Matthiessen was an architect of the postwar intellectual world, a contemporary of giants such as Norman Mailer, James Baldwin, and William Styron. His peers often waged their philosophical battles in the public squares of New York and Washington, but Matthiessen grew wary of the ego and performance required of the literary lion. Instead he traveled to the mountains of Nepal in search of snow leopards, and deep into China and Mongolia to catch a glimpse of the rarest cranes on Earth. But what he was really searching for was far more personal.Matthiessen’s pursuits weren’t solely internal; his work was also a very public counterpoint to the materialism and social conformity that he believed defined the second half of 20th-century America. His seminal book, Wildlife in America, published in 1959, was a meticulously researched history of the natural world and the devastating effects of human activity. Richardson rightly calls it “a landmark in nature writing,” which predated Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring. Matthiessen’s search for a preindustrial Eden also drives The Snow Leopard, his best-known work. On its surface, the book is the account of his two-month trek into Nepal’s Himalayas with the naturalist George Schaller, in 1973. But it is also a record of what Matthiessen called “a true pilgrimage, a journey of the heart” as he grieved the recent death of his wife. The hunt for the elusive, almost mythical snow leopard becomes a metaphor for the search for spiritual enlightenment, a release from the travails and humiliations of everyday human life.I first read The Snow Leopard when I was 20. It filled me with the misguided but tantalizing belief that a life of meaning was to be found elsewhere. It inspired my own pilgrimage to the Alps, retracing the trails that Friedrich Nietzsche hiked while writing his greatest work, Thus Spoke Zarathustra; I sought the kind of authenticity that seemed impossible to find in a comfortable American suburb. The journey was enabled by a scholarship to a good school—a form of privilege that was almost entirely lost on me. Matthiessen’s profound and lonely meditations at 17,000 feet were, similarly, made possible by National Geographic funding, a name that opened doors, the very worldly security he was trying to transcend.Perhaps he understood, on some level, the irony. Richardson writes that in the Amazon, many years before his subject traveled to Nepal, Matthiessen had encountered a genuine wanderer, a French Canadian drifter named Johnny Gauvin, and felt a sudden, uncomfortable self-awareness. Displacement and its attendant poverty were Gauvin’s way of life. Matthiessen realized that he was no authentic man of the wilderness, but an affluent visitor. “It’s a disturbing quality, and one that induces a certain self-consciousness about one’s eyeglasses, say, or the gleam of one’s new khaki pants,” he wrote in The New Yorker in 1961. Pilgrimages sometimes cause collateral damage too. In later life, he admitted that it may have been a mistake to leave his 8-year-old son so soon after the death of his wife to embark on the Himalayan expedition.Matthiessen’s example provides a powerful archetype for the modern day. The tech billionaire who flies to space seeking the “overview effect” is in search of something beyond the ken of the material world, which he has already conquered. The annual ritual of Burning Man sees wealthy people enact a temporary shedding of their consumerist skin, even if getting there requires enlarging one’s carbon footprint. The Silicon Valley executive who flies to Peru for an ayahuasca retreat is on a journey Matthiessen would have recognized intimately. Long before embarking on his formal Zen training, Matthiessen was an early psychonaut, experimenting with LSD in the 1960s. In search of mind-altering effects, he sought a chemical shortcut to the dissolution of the ego, a forced glimpse of the “true nature” that his privilege and ambition otherwise obscured. Matthiessen’s path from psychedelics to the rigorous discipline of Zen meditation shows what a genuine spiritual journey looks like: It is extremely difficult, deeply private, and never-ending. There is no shortcut. Jill Krementz [Read: A reality check for tech oligarchs]Did Matthiessen ever find what he was looking for? Richardson’s elegant and rigorous biography wisely leaves the question open. But what it does make clear is that “true nature” is not a stable or permanent destination. It is a process, an experience, a temporary vision, an opening caused by a sudden confrontation with the world beyond us. Later in life, as Richardson writes, Matthiessen compared it to a tiger jumping into a quiet room. Reflecting on his tiger moment—a vision of his dying wife experienced in a sesshin, an intense form of Buddhist meditation—Matthiessen noted that “for the first time since unremembered childhood, I was not alone, there was no separate ‘I.’ Wounds, anger, ragged edges, hollow places were all gone, all had been healed; my heart was the heart of all creation.” But this beautiful instant is, by definition, temporary.Matthiessen, ultimately, refused to fit into any tidy box. He was an environmental activist who hobnobbed with the jet set, a devoted Buddhist who wrestled with a titanic ego, a man who knew that all things ultimately return to nature but fought against death to the very end. Matthiessen embodied many ironies, but one might feel particularly evergreen: The conditions that make possible a search for existential fulfillment are often what make it so very difficult to find.

Oil refinery closures leave workers searching for a job that ‘just doesn’t exist’

For the refinery workers being laid off — most of whom lack a college degree — it’s unlikely they’ll find another job that pays as well, despite recent efforts by the state to help.

In summary For the refinery workers being laid off — most of whom lack a college degree — it’s unlikely they’ll find another job that pays as well, despite recent efforts by the state to help. Wilfredo Cruz went to the doctor in October of last year to have his brain scanned because he was experiencing vertigo — a dangerous condition when you’re a refinery worker like Cruz and your job entails climbing 200-foot towers and fixing heavy machinery.  While he waited at the doctor’s office, he picked up his phone and felt a moment of panic, seeing 100 unread text messages in the last hour.  The Phillips 66 refinery complex in Los Angeles had just said that it was going to close, and Cruz learned in that moment that he would eventually lose his job, along with nearly 1,000 other employees and contractors.  “It was a big shock, a gut punch,” said Cruz, who thinks his last day will be sometime in April. Workers say layoff notices will begin to go out in the next few months.  It’s just one of a handful of refineries that have closed or that intend to close in the coming months. For the workers — most of whom lack a college degree — it’s unlikely they’ll find another job that pays as well, despite recent efforts by the state to help. Though the Trump administration signed legislation creating billions of dollars in tax cuts for oil and gas companies, it’s not going to save these jobs or offer the workers any money to train for new ones.  “You have people earning between $80,000 to $200,000 a year, and almost everyone is a high school graduate and that’s it,” said Cruz. “To go out and look for another job that’s even somewhat comparable, it just doesn’t exist.”  When he isn’t at the refinery, Cruz is wearing a plain black shirt, shorts, and New Balance sneakers — anything that’s easy to clean if his 2-year old son throws food at him, he said. His vertigo is better these days, almost a year after the refinery said it would close, but he now has to find a job so he can support his family and pay his mortgage. The best bet, he said, is to go back to school and start a new career in cybersecurity. Thousands of jobs lost California has about 100,000 workers in the fossil fuel industry, according to an August report by the Public Policy Institute of California. That’s about the population of a small city, such as Merced or Redding. As the state continues its transition to renewable energy, many of those jobs may disappear — and some already have. Refineries have been closing all across the U.S. in recent years, but California has been hit hard, especially in Contra Costa County, Solano County and parts of southern Los Angeles, near Long Beach. First it was the Marathon refinery in Contra Costa County in 2020, which put hundreds of people out of work before the plant converted to renewable fuels with a fraction of the former workforce. Then Phillips 66 began shifting one of its Contra Costa County refineries to renewables and closed an affiliated plant on the Central Coast. A Valero refinery in Solano County is also expected to close in the next few months, leading to more layoffs. Publicly, oil companies have given vague justifications for the closures, though oil industry advocates, such as the Western States Petroleum Association, blame the state’s increased regulation and its renewable energy transition. Environmental groups point to the decrease in oil demand as more Californians turn to electric vehicles.  With thousands of jobs at stake, Gov. Gavin Newsom and the Democratic-led state Legislature this summer tried to strike a deal with Valero to avoid the closure of its Solano County refinery. Those conversations are still “ongoing,” said Daniel Villaseñor, the deputy director of communications for the governor.  What the state has offered so far is a $30 million pot of money, which refinery workers can use to train for new jobs. The money went out to four different workforce organizations last February, and they have until 2027 to distribute it to workers in various ways, such as through scholarships.   First: Workers cross a street as smoke billows from a fire at the Martinez Refinery Company in Martinez in Contra Costa County on Feb. 1, 2025. Last: A worker stands atop a tank car that carries liquefied petroleum gas at the Marathon Martinez Refinery on April 27, 2020. Photos by Jose Carlos Fajardo, Bay Area News Group The United Steelworkers union, which represents many of the Phillips 66 refinery workers, received about a third of the money and recruited Cruz to help find eligible workers at his job. Some of his colleagues are trying to become truck drivers, emergency medical technicians, or radiologists, but the state money rarely covers all the training expenses, he said.  In his spare time, Cruz is enrolled in an online, year-long certificate program in cybersecurity at UC San Diego and is using the state money to cover the $4,000 tuition. He said he wants a remote job, something that would allow him to spend more time with his son.  The steelworkers union has pushed Newsom for much more, ideally “hundreds of millions of dollars per year” to help retrain the refinery workers it represents, said Mike Smith, the national bargaining chair for the union. The governor has yet to make any new promises.  Six-figure salary, no degree required The average work day at a refinery might entail crawling into small spaces, withstanding searing heat, or operating heavy machinery with precision. And it can be dangerous: In 2006, the roof of a storage tank collapsed, killing one person and injuring four others at the Phillips 66 refinery complex in Los Angeles, which was then owned by an earlier iteration of the company.   Twelve-hour shifts are the norm, including many night shifts, and overtime is common. Nearby residents complain that the Phillips 66 facilities have a foul smell and that they pump cancer-causing chemicals into the air, creating health risks for the entire community. Workers are required to wear full-body fire retardant uniforms each day because fires are a constant risk, such as last week, when an explosion rocked a Chevron refinery in El Segundo. There was no major damage. Flames and smoke from a large fire rises from the Chevron refinery in El Segundo on Oct. 2, 2025. Photo by Daniel Cole, Reuters Though the work can be physically demanding, the rewards are plentiful. Union workers at the Phillips 66 refinery complex make about $115,000 a year, plus a pension and an 8% match on 401k contributions, said Smith.  Together, the Phillips 66 refineries in Los Angeles and the Valero refinery in Solano County produce about 17% of the state’s gas. Without these facilities, Californians could see higher prices at the pump, according to an independent analysis by the federal government. Laurie Wallace, a self-described artist, never wanted to work in oil and gas, but the money was a big draw, she said. For years, she was working as many as three different jobs, saving up money for punk and ska concerts while flipping burgers at In-N-Out, helping customers at Ace Hardware, or working shifts at a local cafe. Her husband at the time learned about a training program for refinery workers. He said he was going to apply and when she said she was interested, he told her she would never get in.  “I took the test and got the better score,” Wallace said. “I don’t do well with people telling me not to do something.” In the nearly 18 years since that exam, she’s worked at the Phillips 66 refinery complex in Los Angeles, handling the heavy machinery that transports California’s oil and gas. Wallace often earns over $100,000, especially with overtime, allowing her to achieve what many might consider the American Dream: a four-bedroom house in the Long Beach suburbs with an affordable mortgage and family vacations every year, including cruises to Mexico and trips to Las Vegas.  She’ll likely see a pay cut in any future job. In a 2023 study by the UC Berkeley Labor Center, UC Irvine professor Virginia Parks helped survey those who had been laid off by the Marathon oil refinery in Contra Costa County in 2020. She found that roughly a quarter were unemployed or no longer looking for work over a year after losing their jobs. Some workers found opportunities at other oil refineries, though they made less money because they lacked seniority or a union. Others found jobs at utility companies or chemical treatment plants, and a few started working in health care or retail.  “I don’t think (refinery workers) need long training programs but they do need some sort of reskilling,” said Parks, who wants the state to provide workers more financial help. She’s especially interested in state grants that give workers income support while they search for a skilled job. “Otherwise they’re just going to find whatever (job) they can.” Her study found that workers who did find a job after getting laid off made about $38 an hour — $12 less than before.  Lots of experience but few ways to prove it Since the layoffs at the Phillips 66 refinery complex will happen slowly over the next few months, Wallace still has a job for now. Her department is responsible for receiving and shipping the oil and gas that arrives at the Port of Los Angeles, work that is so essential that she thinks she’ll be one of the last people laid off, potentially in 2027. Over the years, she’s driven the trains that transport tons of oil and gas, operated cranes to carry pieces of pipelines and climbed on top of the massive fuel storage tanks that line the 110 Freeway. Often, she said she worked six or even seven days in a row. Laurie Wallace at the end of her overnight shift in front of the Phillips 66 refinery in Wilmington, Los Angeles, on Oct. 1, 2025. Photo by Stella Kalinina for CalMatters In April, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and got a modified schedule. Now she works night shifts and only two or three days in a row. After finishing her radiation therapy around 2 p.m., she changes out of her usual attire, a punk T-shirt and jeans, and gets into her work uniform. She then has to get through Los Angeles traffic, bypass the plant’s two layers of security, and travel across the refinery, which takes up multiple city blocks, or about 650 acres. Her shift begins at 4:30 p.m., where she spends 12 hours in a room, alone, under fluorescent lights, actively monitoring 16 different computer screens for changes in pressure or chemistry.  After so many years, staying alert during a night shift is second nature, she said with a laugh. “I’m a little high strung. I have no problem staying awake.”  The stakes are high. If she isn’t paying attention and a machine fails or a tank has the wrong pressure, fuel leaks can occur. In 2014, a hole burst in an underground pipeline near the refinery, pouring 1,200 gallons of oil into a residential street. Although Wallace has used many cranes over the years, she doesn’t have a crane operator’s license. In fact, all of the training that she’s done happens on-site, and her employer isn’t required to track it or give her any credential, such as a license or certificate, that could transfer to another job. After the Marathon refinery in Contra Costa County closed, former workers struggled to substantiate their skills when looking for new jobs, the UC Berkeley Labor survey found.  Drawing directly on the study, and with support from the steelworkers union, longtime labor activist and state Sen. María Elena Durazo, a Los Angeles Democrat, proposed a bill this year that would require employers to provide their workers with proof of any on-the-job training or education. The governor has until Oct. 12 to sign or veto the bill. It’s only “a first step” though, said Parks, a co-author of the study. Long-term, she said refinery workers should have the option to acquire independent certificates or credentials, such as a crane operator license, that prove their skills and don’t rely on an employer at all. “It’s not ideal but it’s temporary”  So far, only a fraction of the oil and gas workers who are eligible for state support have actually received it.  “We just started enrolling members,” said Rosi Romo, who coordinates the grant program on behalf of the steelworkers union. Though the steelworkers union received the money last March, only about 100 people have participated so far, said Romo, most of them in Southern California. She said the program can fund 650 scholarships, offering up to $15,000 in tuition for each worker  In Kern County, where the oil industry is a major employer, the local job centers received over $11 million from the state, which they’ve used to help nearly 370 former oil and gas workers retrain in new careers, including trucking and nursing. The job centers have enough money to serve around 750 people, said Danette Williams, who works in marketing for the centers, known as the Employers’ Training Resource. Unlike the steelworkers union, which is only giving out scholarships, Williams said the Employers’ Training Resource is also offering to reimburse 50% of wages during the first 480 hours of the workers’ new jobs. Romo said she wasn’t aware that was possible under the union’s contract with the state, but if it is, she said she’d try to offer the same benefit. The other organizations who received the grant money did not respond to CalMatters’ questions.  The Phillips 66 refinery in Wilmington, on Sept. 30, 2025. Photo by Stella Kalinina for CalMatters Romo, along with other representatives from the steelworkers union, said the work schedule at the Phillips 66 refinery complex is one reason why workers have yet to use most of the money. As of August, about a quarter of union employees have already left the facility for other opportunities, said Smith, the national bargaining chair for the union. The remaining employees are left working overtime.  Once layoffs begin in the coming months, Romo and Smith said they expect an uptick in the number of workers taking advantage of the scholarship money. Phillips 66 did not respond to multiple requests for comment about its overtime policies or other ways it may be supporting workers’ job transitions.  Cruz said he’s working six days a week now, 12 hours each day. To make progress on his cybersecurity course at UC San Diego, he tries to listen to lectures and audiobooks during his commute or while eating lunch or dinner during his two, 30-minute breaks. After he puts his son to sleep around 9 p.m., he has a few hours to study, though he has to wake up at 5 a.m. to make it to his shift on time. “It’s not ideal but it’s temporary,” he said. Wallace has a slight advantage, since she started taking online classes in 2020 to complete her associate degree. She’s still one class short, but she hasn’t had the time to finish it. Between her radiation therapy and the 12-hour night shifts, she said it’s unlikely she’ll be able to study for at least another year while she works with the skeleton crew that’s closing the refinery. If she had time, she said she would finish her associate degree and use the state training grant to help offset the cost of a bachelor’s degree. But because the state tuition grants expire in 2027, it’s quite possible she won’t be able to use the tuition money at all.

Why Concord?

The geological origins of the American Revolution

Photographs by Amani WillettEditor’s Note: This article is part of “The Unfinished Revolution,” a project exploring 250 years of the American experiment. Concord, Massachusetts, 18 miles northwest of Boston, was the starting point for the War of Independence. On April 19, 1775, militia and minutemen from Concord and neighboring towns clashed with British regulars at the Old North Bridge and forced a bloody retreat by the King’s men back to safety in Boston. Some 4,000 provincials from 30 towns answered the call to arms. Concord claimed precedence as the site of THE FIRST FORCIBLE RESISTANCE TO BRITISH AGGRESSION, the words inscribed on the town’s 1836 monument to the battle (to the enduring resentment of nearby Lexington, which actually suffered the first American deaths that day). Concord’s boast took hold thanks to Ralph Waldo Emerson, who in 1837 portrayed the brief skirmish at the bridge as “the shot heard round the world.” That moment has been a key to local identity ever since.Concord is widely known for another aspect of its history: It is intimately associated with the Transcendentalist movement in the quarter century before the Civil War. That distinction, too, it owes to Emerson. Born and raised in Boston, the most prominent public intellectual of Civil War America was the scion of six generations of New England divines, going back to Concord’s founding minister. In 1835, at age 32, Emerson returned to “the quiet fields of my fathers,” and from that ancestral base forged his career as a lecturer in Boston and beyond. He quickly became known as an eloquent voice for a new philosophy—calling on Americans to shed outmoded ways of thinking rooted in the colonial and British past and to put their trust in nature and in themselves. Partaking, as he saw it, of a divinity running through all Creation, Americans had an unprecedented opportunity to build an original culture on the principles of democracy, equality, and individual freedom. Emerson’s project was to unleash this infinite force.In Concord, Emerson attracted a coterie of sympathetic souls who shared his vision, including Henry David Thoreau, who, as the author of Walden and “Civil Disobedience,” would ultimately surpass Emerson in renown. As the town gained literary stature, Concord became a byword for the philosophical movement it hosted. Henry Adams called Transcendentalism “the Concord Church.” Emerson projected his influence by means of books and lectures. He was among the founders of The Atlantic, calling in its pages for the abolition of slavery (and, a few months later, mourning the death of Thoreau). Concord itself emerged, in the words of Henry James, as “the biggest little place in America.”Why Concord? How did a small town of some 2,200 inhabitants in 1860 become a cradle of not one but two revolutions? The best-known explanations distort the town’s history while inflating its self-regard. One view, popularized by Van Wyck Brooks’s Pulitzer Prize–winning The Flowering of New England (1936), emphasizes Concord’s bucolic beauty, agricultural economy, and limited industrial development. It was a place fit for poets and philosophers, where nature and man came together in rare harmony. A second view, advanced by the Yale historian Ralph Henry Gabriel in 1940, holds that the Transcendentalists were the intellectual heirs of the minutemen. By challenging the materialism of business and politics and by insisting on the ideals of a democratic faith, Gabriel argued, Emerson and Thoreau were “carrying on the fight which had been started by farmers at the bridge.”It’s no wonder that locals and tourists alike continue to indulge such explanations. An attractive civic identity can brand a town and bring in business; ironically, Concord’s reputation as a place of principle, carrying the torch of democratic ideals, serves just this purpose. Still, as history, the public image of the Transcendentalists as heirs of the minutemen has little foundation. The minutemen had fought for collective liberty, the communal right to govern themselves and uphold a way of life going back to the Puritan founders. Transcendentalists, by contrast, stressed individual rights in a break with tradition. Forsake inherited institutions and involuntary associations, Emerson urged. “Trust thyself” was his strategy for changing times. A reconstruction of Concord’s Old North Bridge, where militia and minutemen forced British soldiers to retreat on April 19, 1775. (Amani Willett for The Atlantic) The town of Concord was not some sheltered enclave, slumbering through the revolutions of the age. In the Transcendentalist era, the community was economically dynamic, religiously diverse, racially heterogeneous, class-stratified, politically divided, and receptive to social and political reform. It stood in the mainstream of antebellum America. It offered no asylum from change.It’s easy to overstate the uniqueness of Concord in politics as well as culture. Why was the town at the forefront of the Revolution? Not because it was more militant than most. In the opposition to British taxes and “tyranny,” it took its time, reluctant to unsettle authority and break with the Crown. Then again, so did most towns in Massachusetts, until Britain revoked the colony’s provincial charter and assailed local self-government. Moderation made Concord a safe place to store military supplies; its leaders were unlikely to act rashly and precipitate a war. So did its distance from Boston and its pivotal place on the Massachusetts road network. The town was a market center, a seat of courts, and a staging ground for military expeditions—such as the march to Boston in 1689 to overthrow the authoritarian royal governor, Edmund Andros. But other towns, such as Weston and Worcester, could have performed a similar service in 1775.As for Concord’s status as the center of Transcendentalism, the claim is inflated. The movement drew support across the Boston area. Transcendentalists preached from Unitarian pulpits not only in Boston but also in nearby towns such as Watertown, Arlington, and Lexington. So Concord was not alone: Its citizens experienced the same forces unsettling life all over Massachusetts. Its writers just happened to address that social transformation with a vision of nature and the self so compelling that Concord became the symbolic rather than literal center of Transcendentalism.[From the December 2021 issue: Emerson didn’t practice the self-reliance he preached]In one key respect, though, Concord truly was unique. In 1635, when the Massachusetts General Court authorized the founding of the town, it possessed a natural setting with distinct advantages replicated nowhere else in New England. Over millennia, the forces of geology had fashioned a physical landscape that the Native inhabitants had improved to sustain their way of life, and had unwittingly made ready for appropriation by the newcomers from across the sea. These resources drew pioneers into the interior, well beyond the seaboard, for the first time, and enabled the creation of new social and intellectual landscapes. Nature blessed Concord from the start. Emerson rightly invoked the universal currents of being, whose natural laws, as he saw it, were the same in his era as at the beginning of time.The Concord River runs north, rather than southeasterly down the regional slope toward the sea. When the edge of the great ice sheet began to retreat from the area about 17,000 years ago, the Concord River was dammed up by the ice to create a ribbon-shaped glacial lake with a muddy bottom. Eventually the lake drained away, allowing the Concord River to cut an inner valley beneath a moist and fertile lowland.This process set the stage for the creation of what the Indigenous Massachusett, Nipmuc, and Pawtucket peoples called Musketaquid, meaning “grass-ground river,” a marsh about 20 miles long and so flat and so uninterrupted that Thoreau skated the entire round-trip distance one freezing day—January 31, 1855. The languid stream passed through broad meadows to create a northern version of the Everglades (without the alligators). Nathaniel Hawthorne lived along the bank for three weeks before he discerned which way the river flowed.This riparian ecology attracted colonists: Concord became the first English town in North America above tidewater, beyond the sight and scent of the sea. Here the lush growth of freshwater hay would undergird a system of English husbandry dependent on livestock. Here migrating shad, herring, and salmon thrived in the aquatic richness, furnishing plentiful protein sources, vitamins, and minerals. Here the firm, muddy banks made an ideal habitat for the freshwater mussels on which other animals depended: muskrat, otters, turtles, human beings. On July 3, 1852, Thoreau estimated that more than 16,335 freshwater clams lay along 330 feet of the riverbank. Migrating waterfowl followed the meadows. Songbirds nested along their edges.Transplanting Old World methods, the founders of Concord harvested natural hay in its Great Meadow, which was annually enriched with nutrients by flooding. Thoreau gazed at the scene and imagined a river as fertile and ancient as the Nile. “It will be Grass-ground River as long as grass grows and water runs here,” he predicted in the opening lines of his first book, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers (1849). Above the meadow stood the Great Field, an unusually flat, loamy, well-drained terrace that the Native people had long cleared for cultivation, using fish for fertilizer. For the colonists, this was a place to grow cereal grains, including the novel crop of Indian corn, fertilized by manure from cattle fed on hay from the Great Meadow. Above the Great Field was a broad expanse of fairly level habitable land covered by old-growth forest. This extensive lowland gave inhabitants room to spread out on mostly stone-free soils, unlike so much of New England, and create productive farms.Concord lies at the midpoint of Musketaquid, a place where the Assabet River, a typical midsize New England stream, enters from the west to bisect the ribbon of meadowland, creating the Sudbury River to the south and the Concord River to the north. It’s no accident that Concord village was settled in this strategic spot, where three rivers touch—the axis mundi of a most unusual valley.Eighteen miles. That’s the distance from Boston Harbor to Concord village. A regiment of British soldiers walked it on their ill-fated expedition. In October 1833, Thoreau hiked the route to Concord from his Harvard dormitory in Cambridge, blistering his feet in the process. Eighteen miles was far enough from the capital to serve as the primary depot of provincial military stores; it made for a long march in the dead of night through hostile countryside, as the British regulars learned to their sorrow. In times of peace, Concord could take advantage of its favorable location—far enough from more urban coastal settlements to cultivate a rural identity centered on agriculture, but close enough to enjoy proximity to educational institutions, literary culture, markets and wharves, and the statehouse. Concord became a right-size county seat, its central village of shops, taverns, courthouse, and meetinghouse surrounded by farms no more than a few minutes’ walk in any direction.The physical separation between Boston and Concord involves more than the linear distance between two points. The population centers occupy different watersheds—the Charles River watershed to the east and the Concord River watershed to the west. In fact, they lie on different bedrock terranes that originated in different places in different eras. The terrane boundary coincides with the Bloody Bluff fault, named for a rocky notch where British troops were trapped by ferocious provincial fire. Here the land leans toward the security of the sea. To the west, it leans toward a hinterland where pioneering residents looked to one another for community support. Without the Lexington Road and its regular stagecoach traffic, 18th-century Concord would have remained an agricultural village. Instead, it became a prominent node in an expanding trade network. The significance of the watershed divide between country and city diminished only after the Fitchburg Railroad reached Concord in 1844. Top: The woods surrounding Walden Pond. Bottom: Concord’s Great Meadow. The construction of a railroad in 1844 made the town a day-trip destination for middle-class urbanites. (Amani Willett for The Atlantic) Before steam power and the internal combustion engine, the main source of mechanical power in Concord derived from flowing water. Harnessing hydropower required the construction of a dam, behind which a reservoir filled up with streamflow. For much of its history, Concord village was defined by a man-made pond, the filling of which was the counterpart to our putting fuel in a tank or recharging a battery.At Concord’s beginning, in the 1630s, its settlers clustered in a central village to take advantage of the waterpower of Mill Brook. A dam was built on the stream in a constricted space—the site of an abandoned fishing weir put in place by Indigenous occupants to capture the seasonal runs of shad and salmon coming upstream to spawn. The mill dam was sufficient for two centuries to power a diversity of small-scale manufacturing enterprises, including grist- and sawmills and blacksmith shops, but it was not enough to expand and compete even with the small factory cities west of Musketaquid, such as nearby Maynard and Stow, not to mention the industrial behemoths Lowell and Lawrence to the north. The enduring legacy of Mill Brook was to foster the growth of a central village in a colony where dispersed residences became the norm. Together with the Great Field and Great Meadow, the nucleated village of Concord, where people settled thickly under the watchful eyes of neighbors, manifested the Puritan ideal of community on the ground.Above the marshy meadows of Musketaquid, but below the fairly level wooded land over which Concord center sprawled, is a discrete alluvial floodplain dominated by river-transported silt and sand. And where this alluvium is absent, the meadows have low, natural-edging levees, high and dry enough to provide a habitat for a beautiful “gallery” forest fringing all three rivers on both sides. This extensive strip of trees constituted a buffer zone between the deforested open landscape of farms, fields, and pastures and the never-forested wetland of meadows and streams. As Thoreau floated down the rivers and walked along their banks, he delighted in this woodland composed not of tall pine and hickory, but of willow, alder, birch, red maple, and other species. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s home in Concord, and the nature reflected in its window (Amani Willett for The Atlantic) While drafting Nature from his second-floor study in the Old Manse—the house near Old North Bridge later occupied by Nathaniel and Sophia Hawthorne—Emerson would look out over a field and stone walls toward a gallery forest on both sides of the Concord River. Thoreau’s views, when he traveled the river by boat, skates, or snowshoes, were flanked by woods on both sides. Owing to its hydrology, Concord’s gallery forest persisted, even during the peak deforestation of the mid-19th century, when forest cover was reduced to about 10 percent of the town’s land area.Along the southern edge of Concord lies an elevated tract of droughty, infertile, and often bumpy land that remained unfit for development well into the 20th century. The uphill climb to that tract, known as Brister’s Hill for a once-enslaved Black man who made his residence there as a free man, is the north-facing escarpment of a forested plateau known as Walden Woods. Composed mainly of river gravel and sand, this upland is an ancient glacial delta that built outward over buried blocks of stagnant glacial ice. When those blocks later melted underground, the result was a chain of sinkhole lakes and ponds called kettles. The largest and purest of these is Walden Pond, the deepest lake in Massachusetts.For the Transcendentalists of the 1830s and ’40s, Walden Pond served as a source of inspiration within an easy walk of Emerson’s parlor. When Thoreau lived there in the mid-1840s, the lake became the imagined interlocutor for his philosophical musings—“Walden, is it you?”—and a powerful symbol of the unity of nature. Though the still-beautiful Concord River had been greatly changed by this time, Walden Pond, “earth’s eye,” became Thoreau’s exemplar of purity and eternity in a landscape denuded of trees and drained of its wetlands.But the commercialism and superficial mass culture that dismayed Emerson and outraged Thoreau intruded even here. An entrepreneurial agent for the Fitchburg Railroad built an amusement park at “Lake Walden.” In the Gilded Age, it became a day trip by train for middle-class urbanites and poor children from the Boston tenements. Eventually, the Emerson family acquired the bulk of the woodland surrounding the pond and donated it for public use.Concord is not unique in having one or more beautiful lakes within its borders. What makes it singular is that Thoreau’s book of the place made the place of the book world-famous. Walden became the foundational text for the aesthetic strand of the American environmental movement. Its emphasis on nature’s beauty and the spiritual inspiration that could be enjoyed at a humble kettle pond presented a pointed contrast to the utilitarian strand of the movement pioneered by George Perkins Marsh, the author of Man and Nature (1864), who sought to conserve nature for economic purposes. Of course, unwittingly, Thoreau’s classic also enhanced the tourist trade.In the 20th century, Concord, a town whose motto at times could be “Resisting change since 1775,” became a progressive leader on environmental and sustainability issues. Its otherwise inauspicious lake is now a global symbol and a destination for admirers of Thoreau. The more than 160,000 international pilgrims who come to visit every year, together with the attentions of nearby residents, threaten to love the pond and woods to death. It has been an ongoing political struggle to preserve Walden as it was in Thoreau’s day—an admittedly impossible task. Attempting to live up to that responsibility earned Concord acclaim across the world, notwithstanding the town’s decision in 1958 to site the town landfill within 800 feet of the lake—a choice considered temporary at the time and that local activists are now seeking to mitigate.Not everyone has appreciated the distinct landscape created by Concord’s geological history. In 1844, Margaret Fuller accused Emerson of settling for a placid suburban existence. A noble soul like his, she believed, required a sublime setting—dazzling waterfalls and mountain peaks—rather than the “poor cold low life” of Concord. Defensively, the country gentleman counted his blessings. If the town lacked “the thickets of the forest and the fatigues of mountains,” it was easy to reach and traverse. It was close enough to the city to attract big-name lecturers and performers, and yet distant enough to possess “the grand features of nature.” More than 160,000 pilgrims from around the globe visit Walden Pond each year. (Amani Willett for The Atlantic) Thoreau put the matter succinctly: Wildness lies all around us, and in it is “the preservation of the world.” Could not every town, he proposed, create a park “or rather a primitive forest of five hundred or a thousand acres, where a stick should never be cut for fuel,” but be “a common possession forever, for instruction and recreation”? His neighbors took the suggestion to heart. In the 160-plus years since his death, they preserved a sizable portion of the town’s farms, forests, and wetlands from economic development. Of Concord’s nearly 16,200 acres of land, roughly 6,120 acres, or 38 percent, are now “permanently protected open space,” according to a 2015 town plan. Thoreau’s own close studies of natural phenomena, including his phenological notes on seasonal events—when plants leaf, for example, and when birds migrate, and when the river ice breaks up—are now indispensable records with which scientists assess the advance and toll of climate change today.Yet the challenge to care for that environmental heritage is ongoing. Concord is not frozen in time. It is an active, changing community facing unrelenting pressures for economic development—for instance, controversial proposals for a cell tower in Walden Woods and for expanded private-jet flights from nearby Hanscom Field. Thoreau witnessed the same root conflict. With geology emerging as a science in his time, he intuited that nature was as subject to change as human society; it was no fixed backdrop.For all our extraordinary human achievements, we remain earthlings. Rocks and minerals give rise to ecosystems, upon which human cultures are dependent. That’s the direction of human history in deep time: up from the ground. In our unprecedented modern geological epoch, the aptly named Anthropocene, human beings have become the dominant geological agents, thanks to the power of fossil fuels—also up from the ground, but exhaustible and not enduring. That change has its origins in the Industrial Revolution, against whose excesses the Transcendentalists warned.On April 19, 2025, some 70,000 people converged on Concord to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the battle that started it all. Marching in the parade were representatives from some of the 97 communities in the United States that take their name from the birthplace of the Revolution. The celebrations proved to be patriotic as well as inclusive, paying tribute to the heritage of liberty and self-government that is the legacy of the New England town. They were also surprisingly cheerful for our polarized time, though a good many participants did carry signs inspired by the minutemen: NO KING THEN, NO KING NOW.Every place is unique because every place is the contingent outcome of its own inescapable cascade of events—from rock to ecosystem to culture. Concord was lucky in its location, inheriting advantages from natural landscape and history on which its inhabitants could build a sense of place and community. It was a fierce determination to defend that community, with its tradition of town-meeting government, that inspired the resistance to the British regulars. The location of the Old North Bridge at a bedrock-anchored narrows between two large meadows made a logical place for the shot heard round the world. The Battle Road that led to it was flanked by stone walls and trees lining the edges of fields, at times narrowing to pass over streams or curving sharply to follow landforms. The character of the Concord fight owed much to geology. It helps explain the rout of the redcoats—and the ensuing popular confidence in the possibility of a military victory that lay eight years ahead.This article appears in the November 2025 print edition with the headline “Why Concord?”

Exxon delays planned plastics plant on Texas coast

The announcement comes six weeks after a judge struck down the local school district’s decision to give Exxon a tax break for the $10 billion plant in Calhoun County.

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. Exxon Mobil will postpone its plans for a large new plastics production plant on the Gulf coast, according to the company. Construction was initially planned to begin next year on the $10 billion facility in rural Calhoun County. “Based on current market conditions, we are going to slow the pace of our development for the Coastal Plain Venture,” Exxon said in an emailed statement. “We’re confident in our growth strategy, and we remain interested in a potential project along the US Gulf Coast and in other regions around the world.” Six weeks prior, a county district court judge invalidated the local school board’s decision to negotiate a tax break agreement with Exxon, following a lawsuit from Diane Wilson, 77, and her group, San Antonio Bay Estuarine Waterkeeper. On Aug. 19 the judge ordered the school board to redo its public hearing on Exxon’s tax break after Wilson alleged the district provided inadequate notice of the meeting in “a deliberate attempt to avoid public opposition.” Wilson, an internationally known environmental advocate, promised to bring a large audience for the repeat hearing. “I think it definitely played into it,” Wilson said of Exxon’s pause. “I think if everybody had just rolled over for them, if they got exactly what they wanted and there wasn’t a big fight, there would be no delay.” Exxon, which reported nearly $34 billion in profits in 2024, was seeking a 50% reduction in its property taxes to the rural Calhoun County Independent School District for 10 years, beginning in 2031, when the project would come online. The world-scale plastics plant was planned to produce up to 3 million tons per year of polyethylene pellets for export, primarily to Asia, according to Exxon’s December 2024 tax abatement application. John Titas, president of the Victoria Economic Development Corporation in nearby Victoria, said he didn’t think Exxon’s decision was related to the tax break fight. “I think they’ve been very thankful for the support they received in the community,” he said. “It’s economics. To justify an investment of that magnitude, you’ve got to make sure the market will provide a return.” In Exxon’s latest statement, first reported last week by Independent Commodity Intelligence Services, an industry news service, the company maintained the possibility of resuming the project in the future. “We’re maintaining good relationships with community leaders and contractors, so we are ready to reevaluate the project’s status when market conditions improve,” it said. Exxon didn’t specify which market conditions would need to change. Most projections forecast strong growth in plastics demand over coming years. The economic intelligence firm Precedence Research expects markets for polyethylene, which the Exxon plant would produce, to grow 64% between 2024 and 2034, according to a June 2025 assessment. Another firm, Expert Market Research, expects overall plastics markets to grow 51% in that time. According to the Plastics Industry Association, “The global plastics industry continues to accelerate, backed by strong demand.” Wilson said the project’s delay marked the best news she’d heard since 2019, when she found out that her lawsuit against another nearby petrochemical giant, Formosa Plastics, would end with a settlement worth more than $100 million in penalty payouts, facility upgrades and cleanup projects. Credit: Dylan Baddour/Inside Climate News A retired shrimper and mother of five, Wilson learned her tactics of resistance over decades of radical activism in defense of Texas’ coastal bays, where four generations of her family have fished for a living. In 2023 she received the Goldman Environmental Prize, the leading global award for environmental activism. As soon as she heard about the new Exxon project, in December 2024, she said she leaped into action, involving herself in the various public processes she’s come to know about, including the school district tax break agreements. “How a community reacts is extremely important and it’s extremely important that you do it in the beginning,” she said. “Move fast and don’t let up.” Disclosure: The Victoria Economic Development Corporation has been a financial supporter 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. The wait is over! The full TribFest program is here. Join us Nov. 13–15 in downtown Austin and hear from 300+ thinkers, leaders and change-makers shaping Texas’ future. TribFest gives you a front-row seat to what’s next, with 100+ sessions covering education, the economy, policy, culture and more. Explore the program. TribFest 2025 is presented by JPMorganChase.

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