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‘I have to live in a cocoon’: locals in Pennsylvania feel ‘sacrificed’ for Shell plastics plant

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Wednesday, December 11, 2024

Nadine Luci lives on a breezy hill south-western Pennsylvania, but hardly ever opens her windows for fear the air outside is harming her.“I have to live in a cocoon year-round,” she said.Luci, 60, lives just two miles from the Shell Pennsylvania Petrochemicals Complex, a huge plant that “cracks” ethane, a byproduct of fracked gas, to make millions of tons of plastic each year. The plant, which became operational in 2022, sits on 386 acres along the Ohio River in Monaca, Pennsylvania.Initially, Luci was concerned about the project’s pollution in an area long plagued by emissions-heavy industry. But she looked forward to the needed jobs the plant would bring to a region that has seen many factories and mills shutter.In the following years, Luci’s optimism faded. Some days, she noticed dark plumes billowing from the cracker’s stacks. Other nights, the project would shoot flames or dye the sky orange. And every couple of months, a nauseating sweet odor wafted from the plant, like a syrup you would never want to eat.Nadine Luci in her kitchen. Photograph: Dharna NoorOne morning this past summer, Luci and her neighbor were having a coffee outside when they were hit with “a huge and rancid chlorine smell” that burned her eyes and nose.Luci, who grew up in nearby Beaver, has suffered from respiratory illness since childhood and she fears pollution from the plant is exacerbating her symptoms. Since its construction began in 2017, the plant has received 33 violations for illegal levels of air and water pollution.“I don’t even want to drink my tap water,” said Luci, who fished in the Ohio River’s tributaries as a youth.The Ohio River supplies drinking water to more than 5 million people, including Luci’s town of Rochester. It is one of the most contaminated watersheds in the country. John Stolz, a microbiologist at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, said it was “definitely possible” that the Shell project had added to that contamination.Natalie Gunnell, spokesperson for the Shell plastic plant, said “the local water suppliers treat and monitor the drinking water.”Heather Hulton VanTassel, who directs the Three Rivers Waterkeeper organization in Pennsylvania, said Luci’s water should be cleaned by authorities, though bills may increase if they have to increase “pollutant removal”.For her part, Luci said she had noticed a “dead fish” smell occasionally coming from her tap water. Like many of her neighbors, she buys plastic water bottles in bulk. “We bitch about it, but we buy it, plastic, constantly,” she said from her kitchen.Critics say support for the plant was built on the company’s use of manipulative public relations tactics, and on reports that overstated the plant’s expected economic benefits while downplaying its potential environmental harms.“I think some of us went pretty quickly from hearing it’s going to increase jobs and home values and fix the economy … to learning it was going to be an environmental disaster,” said Rachel Meyer, a coordinator for the environmental group Moms Clean Air Force, from her dining room.Shell’s local influence campaign, critics say, came amid a broader, decades-long effort by fossil fuel companies to downplay the dangers of fossil fuels.Gunnell said that Shell had “made it a priority to work closely with communities near our operations to manage the social impacts of our activities and enhance the benefits we are able to bring”.Plastics boom for whom?In 2008, Pennsylvania began to experience a surge in fracking, giving fossil fuel producers access to once inaccessible gas. The boom left the area awash in petrochemicals including ethane, a common raw ingredient in plastics.Four years later, a bipartisan group of state lawmakers, looking to capitalize on this abundance, proposed offering Shell $1.6bn in tax incentives to build a new plastics plant – the largest subsidy package in Pennsylvania history. Citing Shell’s promise to create up to 20,000 jobs, they said the project would revitalize local economies.Two Shell-funded studies would later back up that claim: a 2014 report estimated the plant would contribute up to $4.4bn to the local economy over its 40-year operating lifespan, and a 2021 follow-up report placed that estimate at up to $17bn.But in January, independent analysts with the Ohio River Valley Institute found that the studies were too rosy, due to their failure to consider costs to the public or shifts in the market and regulatory environment.Though nearly 8,600 workers did provide a surge of economic activity to Beaver county during the plant’s construction, many hailed from out of state. Today, the cracker plant only employs about 500 full-time workers, according to Shell.“They say they’re creating hundreds of jobs, but that’s a drop in the damn bucket,” said Luci.Officials said the plant would anchor a vast petrochemical hub, employing tens of thousands, but that hub never materialized.Gunnell said: “We are proud of the jobs, economic benefits and social investment dollars and projects we have brought to the region and will continue to bring to the regional economy for decades to come.”PollutionWhen the new plant began operations in November 2022, Shell touted a “strong and innovative safety focus”. But the Shell plant emits a wide range of pollutants, including volatile organic compounds, nitrogen oxide, carbon monoxide and other toxins that have been linked to illnesses ranging from respiratory disease to cancer.The project has received two dozen violations for air pollution and eight for water contamination, with the first issued just months after construction began in 2017, and the most recent issued in September.“Meeting or exceeding regulatory requirements is part of our operating framework,” Gunnell said. “If we fall short, we aim to understand why and implement new ways of working that are clear and actionable.”Shell reports emissions to regulators and publishes “fenceline monitoring results” from the facility’s property line, Gunnell noted. Advocates say the latter came only after years of pressure.The Shell cracker plant on 6 August 2024 in Monaca, Pennsylvania. Photograph: The Washington Post/Getty ImagesResidents have also accused officials of failing to address locals’ concerns. In April 2023, as neighbors said that the air smelled like kerosene, monitors placed by a local grassroots organization detected levels of benzene that exceeded federal standards. But when the Pennsylvania environment department came out to investigate, they relied only on a human “sniff test” and downplayed concerns, advocates said.“Visiting the Shell plant and merely smelling the air is inadequate to assess whether there are any air permit violations or malfunctions, let alone whether it’s safe to breathe the air,” said Alex Bomstein, legal director of the environmental non-profit the Clean Air Council.Benzene, the main pollutant of concern during the incident, can be smelled in concentrations of 12 parts per million, but federal officials say exposure to concentrations of just 0.01 parts per million require workers to wear protective equipment, he noted.Lauren Camarda, the Pennsylvania environment department spokesperson, said the agency was “committed to ensuring that the Shell facility is operating in accordance with Pennsylvania’s laws and regulations and has held them accountable for violations”, Since fall 2023, the Shell plant’s emissions have been on a “constant downward trend”, she said.The Clean Air Council and other green groups have taken legal action against Shell over this incident and others. Those organizations are also pressuring the state to tighten the plant’s water pollution limits.In May 2023, the company agreed to a $10m settlement with the state for air pollution violations. The plant had then only been operational for about six months, but had already surpassed its 12-month emissions limits on volatile organic compounds, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides and other pollutants. This agreement addressed “previous emissions exceedances”, Gunnell said.Shell was required to report the facility’s emissions to authorities monthly as part of the settlement, Camarda said.A local resident this February also launched litigation claiming the plant is both a private and public nuisance and seeking class-action status. And in a Washington county courthouse in early December, Shell was convicted of criminal charges after pleading no contest to three misdemeanor counts brought by the Pennsylvania attorney general, for violating the state’s clean streams law during the construction of the Falcon pipeline, which feeds gas to the cracker plant.“Shell is aware of two lawsuits pending in the western district of Pennsylvania relating to Shell Polymers Monaca, which remain in active litigation,” Gunnell said, adding that Shell’s positions on and responses to the allegations were public record.At peak capacity, the project will require ethane to be extracted from 1,000 new gas wells every five to 10 years, experts say, creating additional pollution.‘You can’t avoid influence’Before construction on the plant began, Shell’s plastics division began providing equipment to local schools and sponsoring scholarships – public relations tactics that have recently come under increasing scrutiny. It even spent $1m to create a new technology program – which sports the Shell name – at one community college.The company has also donated handsomely to the local Salvation Army, the YMCA, and other non-profits, and has paid for local park benches and a new basketball court at one elementary school.A basketball court sponsored by Shell at Big Beaver elementary school. Photograph: Dharna NoorGunnell, the Shell spokesperson, said: “We have enjoyed the support of the local community and are committed to being a good neighbor.“The bulk of our Shell Polymers employees live, work and play here, so we want to help make our community better whenever we can,” she added.But Vanessa Lynch, a local organizer with Moms Clean Air Force, said many residents find their community contributions confusing.“You have a company that is a huge corporation, and they’re telling you: we want to help the community,” she said. “But then, as a community member, you’re watching the increase in fracking. You’re watching a red sky at night. You’re smelling smells …It’s hard to have those two things in your head at the same time.”Local activists say even the payout from the 2023 lawsuit – half of which has been allocated for air monitoring, environmental projects and other initiatives – has been confused for altruism.“I’ve heard residents and even county employees mention it like it’s a charity,” said Andie Grey, an activist who lives three miles from the plant.Terrie Baumgardner near the Shell plant. Photograph: Dharna NoorShell’s donations may serve to damp down criticism and influence public opinion, said Terrie Baumgardner, a board member of the Beaver County Marcellus Awareness Community. “It seems to me that you can’t avoid influence when money comes into play,” she said.Years before the plant started operating, Baumgardner said she asked an assistant at a local university, where she had worked for 26 years, to use a room for a local environmental group to hold a public meeting.“Well, you know, Terrie, we have partnerships with Shell,” she remembers being told. Her request was rejected.Timmons Roberts, professor of environment and sociology at Brown University, who studies fossil fuel companies’ public relations campaigns, said it was common for polluting sectors to partner with community groups to boost their image.“That’s true on the smaller scale when local people are worried about new industries, and it’s true on the big scale to soothe concerns about climate,” he said. “It seems like a favor … but I think mostly it’s meant to shut people up.”Impacts beyond PennsylvaniaThe Shell plant is expected to reach its full production capacity in 2025 or 2026, when the company says it will produce up to 3.5bn tons of plastic pellets a year. Permits allow the plant to spew out 2.25m tons of planet-heating carbon dioxide annually – the equivalent of putting 523,604 gasoline-powered passenger vehicles on the road.Plastic creation accounts for 5% of all global carbon emissions, and absent decisive policy changes, that figure is expected to rise. In early December, the latest round of negotiations to reach a global treaty on plastic pollution collapsed amid accusations that industry involvement hampered the negotiations.Reports indicate that Shell has been aware since the 1970s of the planet-warming impacts of fossil fuels like the ones used to produce plastic. It has set targets to ramp down its carbon emissions but this year watered them down.Asked for comment, Gunnell said: “The Shell Group did not have unique knowledge about climate change.“The issue of climate change and how to tackle it has long been part of public discussion and ongoing scientific research for many decades,” she said.Asked about the planet-heating impacts of using fossil fuels to make plastics, Gunnell said that Shell “supports the need for improved circularity in the global plastics markets, encouraging the reduction, reuse, and recycling of plastics”.She added that Shell was supporting local recycling efforts, including in Beaver county. But globally less than 10% of plastics are ever recycled.Plastic producers – including Shell – were warned decades ago that recycling is not an economically or technically feasible plastic waste management solution, a February report revealed. In July, Shell also quietly backed away from a pledge to rapidly increase its use of “advanced recycling” – a polluting practice oil and petrochemical producers have promoted as a solution to the plastics pollution crisis, the Guardian reported. Gunnell did not comment on either finding.Meyer, of Moms Clean Air Force, feels that her region was “sacrificed” for the sake of profits.“I don’t like to think of myself as just as expendable [as a] plastic bag,” she said.But it now seems that even Shell’s profit targets are not panning out. The company has already acknowledged that it won’t meet its initial target – making $1bn to $1.5bn in earnings from the plant – until 2025 at the earliest. And in October, the thinktank the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis found that it may not even reach that goal by the end of 2026, thanks to expected increases in the cost of gas and shifting market dynamics.“All this sacrifice has been pretty much for nothing,” said Abhishek Sinha, who led the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis research.As she has continued to see the Shell plastic plant spew pollution into her community, Nadine Luci has thought about moving away. It’s painful to think of leaving her local family members and her childhood memories, but she’s afraid her body can’t handle the pollution.“It feels wrong because all my roots are here,” she said. “I’ve been here all this time, and now I have to be the one to figure out how to escape.”Reporting for this story was made possible through a Climate Disinformation Fellowship from the Heinrich Boell Foundation, Washington

Residents accuse the oil firm of overstating the benefits of its ethane cracker plant – and playing down the harmsNadine Luci lives on a breezy hill south-western Pennsylvania, but hardly ever opens her windows for fear the air outside is harming her.“I have to live in a cocoon year-round,” she said. Continue reading...

Nadine Luci lives on a breezy hill south-western Pennsylvania, but hardly ever opens her windows for fear the air outside is harming her.

“I have to live in a cocoon year-round,” she said.

Luci, 60, lives just two miles from the Shell Pennsylvania Petrochemicals Complex, a huge plant that “cracks” ethane, a byproduct of fracked gas, to make millions of tons of plastic each year. The plant, which became operational in 2022, sits on 386 acres along the Ohio River in Monaca, Pennsylvania.

Initially, Luci was concerned about the project’s pollution in an area long plagued by emissions-heavy industry. But she looked forward to the needed jobs the plant would bring to a region that has seen many factories and mills shutter.

In the following years, Luci’s optimism faded. Some days, she noticed dark plumes billowing from the cracker’s stacks. Other nights, the project would shoot flames or dye the sky orange. And every couple of months, a nauseating sweet odor wafted from the plant, like a syrup you would never want to eat.

Nadine Luci in her kitchen. Photograph: Dharna Noor

One morning this past summer, Luci and her neighbor were having a coffee outside when they were hit with “a huge and rancid chlorine smell” that burned her eyes and nose.

Luci, who grew up in nearby Beaver, has suffered from respiratory illness since childhood and she fears pollution from the plant is exacerbating her symptoms. Since its construction began in 2017, the plant has received 33 violations for illegal levels of air and water pollution.

“I don’t even want to drink my tap water,” said Luci, who fished in the Ohio River’s tributaries as a youth.

The Ohio River supplies drinking water to more than 5 million people, including Luci’s town of Rochester. It is one of the most contaminated watersheds in the country. John Stolz, a microbiologist at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, said it was “definitely possible” that the Shell project had added to that contamination.

Natalie Gunnell, spokesperson for the Shell plastic plant, said “the local water suppliers treat and monitor the drinking water.”

Heather Hulton VanTassel, who directs the Three Rivers Waterkeeper organization in Pennsylvania, said Luci’s water should be cleaned by authorities, though bills may increase if they have to increase “pollutant removal”.

For her part, Luci said she had noticed a “dead fish” smell occasionally coming from her tap water. Like many of her neighbors, she buys plastic water bottles in bulk. “We bitch about it, but we buy it, plastic, constantly,” she said from her kitchen.

Critics say support for the plant was built on the company’s use of manipulative public relations tactics, and on reports that overstated the plant’s expected economic benefits while downplaying its potential environmental harms.

“I think some of us went pretty quickly from hearing it’s going to increase jobs and home values and fix the economy … to learning it was going to be an environmental disaster,” said Rachel Meyer, a coordinator for the environmental group Moms Clean Air Force, from her dining room.

Shell’s local influence campaign, critics say, came amid a broader, decades-long effort by fossil fuel companies to downplay the dangers of fossil fuels.

Gunnell said that Shell had “made it a priority to work closely with communities near our operations to manage the social impacts of our activities and enhance the benefits we are able to bring”.

Plastics boom for whom?

In 2008, Pennsylvania began to experience a surge in fracking, giving fossil fuel producers access to once inaccessible gas. The boom left the area awash in petrochemicals including ethane, a common raw ingredient in plastics.

Four years later, a bipartisan group of state lawmakers, looking to capitalize on this abundance, proposed offering Shell $1.6bn in tax incentives to build a new plastics plant – the largest subsidy package in Pennsylvania history. Citing Shell’s promise to create up to 20,000 jobs, they said the project would revitalize local economies.

Two Shell-funded studies would later back up that claim: a 2014 report estimated the plant would contribute up to $4.4bn to the local economy over its 40-year operating lifespan, and a 2021 follow-up report placed that estimate at up to $17bn.

But in January, independent analysts with the Ohio River Valley Institute found that the studies were too rosy, due to their failure to consider costs to the public or shifts in the market and regulatory environment.

Though nearly 8,600 workers did provide a surge of economic activity to Beaver county during the plant’s construction, many hailed from out of state. Today, the cracker plant only employs about 500 full-time workers, according to Shell.

“They say they’re creating hundreds of jobs, but that’s a drop in the damn bucket,” said Luci.

Officials said the plant would anchor a vast petrochemical hub, employing tens of thousands, but that hub never materialized.

Gunnell said: “We are proud of the jobs, economic benefits and social investment dollars and projects we have brought to the region and will continue to bring to the regional economy for decades to come.”

Pollution

When the new plant began operations in November 2022, Shell touted a “strong and innovative safety focus”. But the Shell plant emits a wide range of pollutants, including volatile organic compounds, nitrogen oxide, carbon monoxide and other toxins that have been linked to illnesses ranging from respiratory disease to cancer.

The project has received two dozen violations for air pollution and eight for water contamination, with the first issued just months after construction began in 2017, and the most recent issued in September.

“Meeting or exceeding regulatory requirements is part of our operating framework,” Gunnell said. “If we fall short, we aim to understand why and implement new ways of working that are clear and actionable.”

Shell reports emissions to regulators and publishes “fenceline monitoring results” from the facility’s property line, Gunnell noted. Advocates say the latter came only after years of pressure.

The Shell cracker plant on 6 August 2024 in Monaca, Pennsylvania. Photograph: The Washington Post/Getty Images

Residents have also accused officials of failing to address locals’ concerns. In April 2023, as neighbors said that the air smelled like kerosene, monitors placed by a local grassroots organization detected levels of benzene that exceeded federal standards. But when the Pennsylvania environment department came out to investigate, they relied only on a human “sniff test” and downplayed concerns, advocates said.

“Visiting the Shell plant and merely smelling the air is inadequate to assess whether there are any air permit violations or malfunctions, let alone whether it’s safe to breathe the air,” said Alex Bomstein, legal director of the environmental non-profit the Clean Air Council.

Benzene, the main pollutant of concern during the incident, can be smelled in concentrations of 12 parts per million, but federal officials say exposure to concentrations of just 0.01 parts per million require workers to wear protective equipment, he noted.

Lauren Camarda, the Pennsylvania environment department spokesperson, said the agency was “committed to ensuring that the Shell facility is operating in accordance with Pennsylvania’s laws and regulations and has held them accountable for violations”, Since fall 2023, the Shell plant’s emissions have been on a “constant downward trend”, she said.

The Clean Air Council and other green groups have taken legal action against Shell over this incident and others. Those organizations are also pressuring the state to tighten the plant’s water pollution limits.

In May 2023, the company agreed to a $10m settlement with the state for air pollution violations. The plant had then only been operational for about six months, but had already surpassed its 12-month emissions limits on volatile organic compounds, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides and other pollutants. This agreement addressed “previous emissions exceedances”, Gunnell said.

Shell was required to report the facility’s emissions to authorities monthly as part of the settlement, Camarda said.

A local resident this February also launched litigation claiming the plant is both a private and public nuisance and seeking class-action status. And in a Washington county courthouse in early December, Shell was convicted of criminal charges after pleading no contest to three misdemeanor counts brought by the Pennsylvania attorney general, for violating the state’s clean streams law during the construction of the Falcon pipeline, which feeds gas to the cracker plant.

Shell is aware of two lawsuits pending in the western district of Pennsylvania relating to Shell Polymers Monaca, which remain in active litigation,” Gunnell said, adding that Shell’s positions on and responses to the allegations were public record.

At peak capacity, the project will require ethane to be extracted from 1,000 new gas wells every five to 10 years, experts say, creating additional pollution.

‘You can’t avoid influence’

Before construction on the plant began, Shell’s plastics division began providing equipment to local schools and sponsoring scholarships – public relations tactics that have recently come under increasing scrutiny. It even spent $1m to create a new technology program – which sports the Shell name – at one community college.

The company has also donated handsomely to the local Salvation Army, the YMCA, and other non-profits, and has paid for local park benches and a new basketball court at one elementary school.

A basketball court sponsored by Shell at Big Beaver elementary school. Photograph: Dharna Noor

Gunnell, the Shell spokesperson, said: “We have enjoyed the support of the local community and are committed to being a good neighbor.

“The bulk of our Shell Polymers employees live, work and play here, so we want to help make our community better whenever we can,” she added.

But Vanessa Lynch, a local organizer with Moms Clean Air Force, said many residents find their community contributions confusing.

“You have a company that is a huge corporation, and they’re telling you: we want to help the community,” she said. “But then, as a community member, you’re watching the increase in fracking. You’re watching a red sky at night. You’re smelling smells …It’s hard to have those two things in your head at the same time.”

Local activists say even the payout from the 2023 lawsuit – half of which has been allocated for air monitoring, environmental projects and other initiatives – has been confused for altruism.

“I’ve heard residents and even county employees mention it like it’s a charity,” said Andie Grey, an activist who lives three miles from the plant.

Terrie Baumgardner near the Shell plant. Photograph: Dharna Noor

Shell’s donations may serve to damp down criticism and influence public opinion, said Terrie Baumgardner, a board member of the Beaver County Marcellus Awareness Community. “It seems to me that you can’t avoid influence when money comes into play,” she said.

Years before the plant started operating, Baumgardner said she asked an assistant at a local university, where she had worked for 26 years, to use a room for a local environmental group to hold a public meeting.

“Well, you know, Terrie, we have partnerships with Shell,” she remembers being told. Her request was rejected.

Timmons Roberts, professor of environment and sociology at Brown University, who studies fossil fuel companies’ public relations campaigns, said it was common for polluting sectors to partner with community groups to boost their image.

“That’s true on the smaller scale when local people are worried about new industries, and it’s true on the big scale to soothe concerns about climate,” he said. “It seems like a favor … but I think mostly it’s meant to shut people up.”

Impacts beyond Pennsylvania

The Shell plant is expected to reach its full production capacity in 2025 or 2026, when the company says it will produce up to 3.5bn tons of plastic pellets a year. Permits allow the plant to spew out 2.25m tons of planet-heating carbon dioxide annually – the equivalent of putting 523,604 gasoline-powered passenger vehicles on the road.

Plastic creation accounts for 5% of all global carbon emissions, and absent decisive policy changes, that figure is expected to rise. In early December, the latest round of negotiations to reach a global treaty on plastic pollution collapsed amid accusations that industry involvement hampered the negotiations.

Reports indicate that Shell has been aware since the 1970s of the planet-warming impacts of fossil fuels like the ones used to produce plastic. It has set targets to ramp down its carbon emissions but this year watered them down.

Asked for comment, Gunnell said: “The Shell Group did not have unique knowledge about climate change.

“The issue of climate change and how to tackle it has long been part of public discussion and ongoing scientific research for many decades,” she said.

Asked about the planet-heating impacts of using fossil fuels to make plastics, Gunnell said that Shell “supports the need for improved circularity in the global plastics markets, encouraging the reduction, reuse, and recycling of plastics”.

She added that Shell was supporting local recycling efforts, including in Beaver county. But globally less than 10% of plastics are ever recycled.

Plastic producers – including Shell – were warned decades ago that recycling is not an economically or technically feasible plastic waste management solution, a February report revealed. In July, Shell also quietly backed away from a pledge to rapidly increase its use of “advanced recycling” – a polluting practice oil and petrochemical producers have promoted as a solution to the plastics pollution crisis, the Guardian reported. Gunnell did not comment on either finding.

Meyer, of Moms Clean Air Force, feels that her region was “sacrificed” for the sake of profits.

“I don’t like to think of myself as just as expendable [as a] plastic bag,” she said.

But it now seems that even Shell’s profit targets are not panning out. The company has already acknowledged that it won’t meet its initial target – making $1bn to $1.5bn in earnings from the plant – until 2025 at the earliest. And in October, the thinktank the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis found that it may not even reach that goal by the end of 2026, thanks to expected increases in the cost of gas and shifting market dynamics.

“All this sacrifice has been pretty much for nothing,” said Abhishek Sinha, who led the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis research.

As she has continued to see the Shell plastic plant spew pollution into her community, Nadine Luci has thought about moving away. It’s painful to think of leaving her local family members and her childhood memories, but she’s afraid her body can’t handle the pollution.

“It feels wrong because all my roots are here,” she said. “I’ve been here all this time, and now I have to be the one to figure out how to escape.”

Reporting for this story was made possible through a Climate Disinformation Fellowship from the Heinrich Boell Foundation, Washington

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India arrests environmental campaigners for ‘activities against the national interest’

Sarat Sampada founders Harjeet Singh and Jyoti Aswati say allegations are ‘baseless, biased and misleading’Police have raided the home of one of India’s leading environmental activists over claims his campaigning for a treaty to cut the use of fossil fuels was undermining the national interest.Investigators from India’s Enforcement Directorate (ED) claim that Harjeet Singh and his wife, Jyoti Awasthi, co-founders of Satat Sampada (Nature Forever), were paid almost £500,000 to advocate for the fossil fuel non-proliferation treaty (FFNPT). Continue reading...

Police have raided the home of one of India’s leading environmental activists over claims his campaigning for a treaty to cut the use of fossil fuels was undermining the national interest.Investigators from India’s Enforcement Directorate (ED) claim that Harjeet Singh and his wife, Jyoti Awasthi, co-founders of Satat Sampada (Nature Forever), were paid almost £500,000 to advocate for the fossil fuel non-proliferation treaty (FFNPT).The ED is a law enforcement agency which operates under India’s ministry of finance and is responsible for enforcing economic laws and investigating financial crimes. In a statement, the agency said it had carried out searches at Singh’s home and Satat Sampada properties “as part of an ongoing investigation into suspicious foreign inward remittances received in the garb of consultancy charges” from climate campaign groups, “which have in-turn received huge funds from prior reference category NGOs like Rockefeller Philanthropy Advisors.“However, cross-verification of filings made by the remitters abroad indicates that the funds were actually intended to promote the agenda of the Fossil Fuel Non-Proliferation Treaty within India,” the agency said.The FFNPT is an international campaign which calls for a treaty to stop exploration for new fossil fuels and to gradually phase out their use. First endorsed by the Pacific Island nations of Vanuatu and Tuvalu, it currently has the support of 17 national governments, the World Health Organization and the European parliament, as well as a constellation of civil society figures.The ED officers stated that: “While presented as a climate initiative, its adoption could expose India to legal challenges in international forums like the International court of justice (ICJ) and severely compromise the nation’s energy security and economic development.”In the course of their search, the ED officers said they had found a “large cache” of whiskey, above legal limits, at Singh’s home in Delhi and had told local police who subsequently arrested and then bailed him on Monday night.The agency said it was also investigating trips Singh made to Pakistan and Bangladesh last year, including how they were funded.Singh and Aswati said in a statement that they were prevented from sharing details of the case for legal reasons, but added: “We categorically state that the allegations being reported are baseless, biased and misleading.”Singh is a familiar figure at Cop climate negotiations, having worked for more than two decades with international NGOs and climate campaigns including ActionAid, the Climate Action Network and the Fossil Fuel Non-Proliferation Treaty Initiative. Under PM Narendra Modi, civil society organisations in India have faced severe pressures. Almost 17,000 licenses to receive foreign funding have been suspended and a large number of civil society organisations have shut down.According to an unnamed ED officer quoted by the Hindustan Times, the investigation into Singh began on the basis of intelligence received from Cop30 in Belem, Brazil, last November. Other activists “whose climate campaigns may be inimical to India’s energy security” were also being investigated, another unnamed officer was quoted as saying.The ED accused Singh of running Satat Sampada as a front, publicly projecting itself as a company marketing organic produce while its “primary activity appears to be channelling foreign funds to run narratives furthering the FF-NPT cause in India, on behalf of foreign influencer groups”.The agency said the company had been running at a loss until 2021 when payments from campaign groups, registered as “consultancy services” and “agro-product sales”, turned its fortunes around.“The ED suspects mis-declaration and misrepresentation of the nature and purpose of the foreign funds received by SSPL. The agency is investigating the full extent of the suspected violations … and whether the activities funded were against the national interest, specifically India’s energy security.”Singh and Aswati said they had started Satat Sampada with their own savings and loans secured on their home in 2016, and that the organisation’s consultancy and management services had grown in 2021 after Singh left his full-time employment to focus more on its work.“His work and contributions are well documented across print, digital, television and social media, as well as public platforms,” they said.

How Urban Gardens Can Bolster American Democracy

But when Kate Brown, an environmental historian at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), looks at urban gardens, she sees a deep-rooted history of activism and sustainability—one that spans centuries, continents, and communities. Brown distilled her research on the subject into her forthcoming book, Tiny Gardens Everywhere: The Past, Present, and Future of the Self-Provisioning […] The post How Urban Gardens Can Bolster American Democracy appeared first on Civil Eats.

When people walk or drive past urban gardens, they often just see what’s on the surface. Raised beds on a small plot. Seedlings poking through the dirt. Perhaps bright pops of colorful produce, like tomatoes or peppers. But when Kate Brown, an environmental historian at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), looks at urban gardens, she sees a deep-rooted history of activism and sustainability—one that spans centuries, continents, and communities. Throughout, Brown reveals a common thread: Unused urban spaces disparaged by the powerful as “wastelands” were, in reality, areas where working-class and poor communities used gardening to build self-sustaining livelihoods. Brown distilled her research on the subject into her forthcoming book, Tiny Gardens Everywhere: The Past, Present, and Future of the Self-Provisioning City. The chapters cover feudal England, 19th-century Berlin, and early 20th-century Washington, D.C., as well as modern-day Chicago; Mansfield, Ohio; and Montgomery, Alabama, traversing time and space to illuminate their connected stories. Throughout, Brown reveals a common thread: Unused urban spaces disparaged by the powerful as “wastelands” were, in reality, areas where working-class and poor communities used gardening to build self-sustaining livelihoods. Civil Eats spoke with Brown about her book, the histories of urban gardens, and why she thinks urban gardeners can transform people and society. You’re known for your writings about nuclear disasters, particularly Chernobyl. This book seems to be a slightly different turn in your work. What made you focus on urban gardens? When I was in the Chernobyl zone, I came across all these people who were picking berries in the radioactive swamps and selling them to people [there]. So that really got me thinking about plants—because plants can be sources of pollution [and toxins]. Or you could think of these plants as our allies, doing what an army of soldiers had not managed to do: They were cleaning up the environment. They were taking radioactive isotopes and bringing them in neat little round purple packages. If we’d taken those berries and deposited them as radioactive waste, it would [have been] a really affordable and fantastic form of cleanup. So then I started to think, “How else do people in tough circumstances use plants as their allies?” I started looking at cities. [In the] 1850s, people were getting pushed out of their peasant villages, where they farmed the land and foraged and raised animals, and they went to big cities for industrial jobs. What I noticed is that they go to the edges of the cities, and they find [underdeveloped] areas they call “wastes.” They can use the wastes around them to procure food, fuel, and shelter. Around Berlin in 1850, these urban gardeners took whatever they could find—garbage, beer mash, pulp from sugar beet factories, kitchen scraps, animal manure, human manure—and they built human-engineered soils and created a green shantytown. They started to build the sinews of the social welfare network that we so rely on today. My sense is they were doing what plants and microbes and fungi do in soils: They’re sharing, creating mutual aid societies, supporting each other. And what comes of that is not a realm of scarcity, but one of abundance. People thrived in these infrastructure-less, green shantytowns, and then wherever I started to look, I found places like this. Your book reveals how urban gardens nurture health, despite a prevailing stereotype of cities as dirty or unclean, particularly during the industrial era. Can you describe a bit about what you found at the intersection of public health and urban gardening? Take Washington, D.C., for example. . . . People know the Potomac River, but very few are aware that there’s a second river called the Anacostia River. If you cross it, there’s a part of town that has been historically Black, where Black people could buy lots of land. What we found east of the Anacostia is that in these communities that got going around 1910 to 1920, people bought not one lot but two to six. And when they did that, they put a tiny house in the middle and then used all the rest of the land around it to garden. Where sanitation comes in is that these neighborhoods were ignored by the congressmen in charge of D.C. at the time. These were mostly Dixie Democrats, they were racist, and they just didn’t put any infrastructure in that part of town. . . . So there’s no sewer systems, there’s no garbage pickup, there’s no paved surfaces. And it’s pretty densely populated. So if you’re following the germ theory, you would expect to have all kinds of outbreaks of disease, especially fecal-borne diseases. But there doesn’t seem to be any sign of this. In fact, people had outdoor privies, and then they would either compost what was in the privy themselves, or nightsoil workers would come and bring [that compost] to the dump, which was run by a company called the Washington Fertilizer company. And the Washington Fertilizer company had hundreds of pigs running around this area. Composted nightsoil, digested by the pigs, would be brought to local farms but also to these gardens, and people would use it with their other household compost. They’d [also] take water that came down from their roofs and kitchen water, run it through gravel, and then have pretty clean water that they could use to water their plants. They were doing all the things that would be considered green architecture today, that they had invented themselves in the 1920s and ’30s. Your book emphasizes that working-class people are often at the forefront of urban gardening. What is it about urban gardening that makes it an effective or necessary tool for marginalized groups? People are drawing from the bounty of their gardens [and] they’re creating these kinds of societies that then start to solve other problems. These are communities that are not getting the benefit of state largesse. They’re often either overtly discriminated against or they’re just simply ignored. So they’re using their spontaneously created mutual aid societies, which includes plants and microbes and animals, to share this bounty as a kind of public wealth. You feature stories of people who have started up urban gardens to feed themselves and their communities, but faced interference from bureaucratic forces. Municipal laws prevented a couple living in the Chicago suburbs from building a hoop house to grow food during the winter, for example. Can or should urban farming be advanced by policymakers, or do you see it as mostly an alternative to our political and food systems? This family had a hoop house safely in the backyard. They grew a lot of food in the summer, and then they were always sad in November when it was starting to get cold. So they put up this hoop house, and they could be in there with T-shirts and grow the cold-weather greens that they really enjoyed all winter long. A neighbor complained, the city told them to take it down, and they kept fighting it. They pursued this for seven years. The city leaders would say things like, “What are you growing there? Why don’t you just go to Whole Foods? We’re a suburb, not an agricultural region.” And so [they] pursued this all the way down to the state legislature and passed the Right to Garden law. Just a couple of states in the country have this right, [that] says no matter the municipality, no matter [the] homeowner association rules, people have the right to grow food on their private property and on other property that’s not being used. That’s one of the motivations for writing this book. We’re facing major environmental and ecological problems that are going to lead to all kinds of other problems, like wars and economic distress. I think a lot of people feel like we can’t do anything about it. We can’t get anything changed at the U.N. level. We certainly can’t get an act of Congress passed. But we can get our municipalities to change code. What if every time you build a new condo, you have to have a garden spot the size of a parking space? Suddenly everything can start to change. There’s more green space, which means there’s more places for rain to fall that prevent flooding. There’s more green space, which means the cities are cooler and people are outside on the streets [more]. In this time, when so many people feel lost and alienated and lonely, this simple change in zoning on a municipal level could change the whole nature of American democracy. You described your book as part manifesto. What do you hope people take away from it? What I’m hoping people take away is that we still have commons that we devote to moving and parking cars, and we should ask for those back. For humans—not machines—and for plants, animals, insects, and microbes. Part of this manifesto is that these commons are not a free-for-all. What the commons provide is common bounty, a common wealth, that is off the market. My hope is that we start with these commons in cities, where by 2050, the majority of people in the world will live, and from there, that understanding of transactions starts to spread. So that’s my manifesto, to think back to common right: the right to food, fuel, and shelter. More useful, I argue, than the right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Nobody can eat those. Very few people can attain those without having access to money and power. But common law rights provided food, fuel, and shelter for everyone. And that’s, I think, where we need to start again. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. The post How Urban Gardens Can Bolster American Democracy appeared first on Civil Eats.

From timber wars to cannabis crash: Scotia's battle to survive as California's last company town

The redwood wars are long over. Pacific Lumber is no more, but the company town it built endures in Humboldt County. Can it find a new life as a hidden real estate gem?

SCOTIA — The last time Mary Bullwinkel and her beloved little town were in the national media spotlight was not a happy period. Bullwinkel was the spokesperson for the logging giant Pacific Lumber in the late 1990s, when reporters flooded into this often forgotten corner of Humboldt County to cover the timber wars and visit a young woman who had staged a dramatic environmental protest in an old growth redwood tree.Julia “Butterfly” Hill — whose ethereal, barefoot portraits high in the redwood canopy became a symbol of the Redwood Summer — spent two years living in a thousand-year-old tree, named Luna, to keep it from being felled. Down on the ground, it was Bullwinkel’s duty to speak not for the trees but for the timber workers, many of them living in the Pacific Lumber town of Scotia, whose livelihoods were at stake. It was a role that brought her death threats and negative publicity. Julia “Butterfly” Hill stands in a centuries-old redwood tree nicknamed “Luna” in April 1998. Hill would spend a little more than two years in the tree, protesting logging in the old-growth forest. (Andrew Lichtenstein / Sygma via Getty Images) The timber wars have receded into the mists of history. Old-growth forests were protected. Pacific Lumber went bankrupt. Thousands of timber jobs were lost. But Bullwinkel, now 68, is still in Scotia. And this time, she has a much less fraught mission — although one that is no less difficult: She and another longtime PALCO employee are fighting to save Scotia itself, by selling it off, house by house. After the 2008 bankruptcy of Pacific Lumber, a New York hedge fund took possession of the town, an asset it did not relish in its portfolio. Bullwinkel and her boss, Steve Deike, came on board to attract would-be homebuyers and remake what many say is the last company town in America into a vibrant new community. “It’s very gratifying for me to be here today,” Bullwinkel said recently, as she strolled the town’s streets, which look as though they could have been teleported in from the 1920s. “To keep Scotia alive, basically.” Mary Bullwinkel, residential real estate sales coordinator for Town of Scotia Company, LLC, stands in front of the company’s offices. The LLC owns many of the houses and some of the commercial buildings in Scotia. Some new residents say they are thrilled.“It’s beautiful. I call it my little Mayberry. It’s like going back in town,” said Morgan Dodson, 40, who bought the fourth house sold in town in 2018 and lives there with her husband and two children, ages 9 and 6.But the transformation has proved more complicated — and taken longer — than anyone ever imagined it would. Nearly two decades after PALCO filed for bankrupcty in 2008, just 170 of the 270 houses have been sold, with 7 more on the market. “No one has ever subdivided a company town before,” Bullwinkel said, noting that many other company towns that dotted the country in the 19th century “just disappeared, as far as I know.” The first big hurdle was figuring out how to legally prepare the homes for sale: as a company town, Scotia was not made up of hundreds of individual parcels, with individual gas meters and water mains. It was one big property. More recently, the flagging real estate market has made people skittish.Many in town say the struggle to transform Scotia mirrors a larger struggle in Humboldt County, which has been rocked, first by the faltering of its logging industry and more recently by the collapse of its cannabis economy. “Scotia is a microcosm of so many things,” said Gage Duran, a Colorado-based architect who bought the century-old hospital and is working to redevelop it into apartments. “It’s a microcosm for what’s happening in Humboldt County. It’s a microcosm for the challenges that California is facing.” The Humboldt Sawmill Company Power Plant still operates in of Scotia. The Pacific Lumber Company was founded in 1863 as the Civil War raged. The company, which eventually became the largest employer in Humboldt County, planted itself along the Eel River south of Eureka and set about harvesting the ancient redwood and Douglas fir forests that extended for miles through the ocean mists. By the late 1800s, the company had begun to build homes for its workers near its sawmill. Originally called “Forestville,” company officials changed the town’s name to Scotia in the 1880s. For more than 100 years, life in Scotia was governed by the company that built it. Workers lived in the town’s redwood cottages and paid rent to their employer. They kept their yards in nice shape, or faced the wrath of their employer. Water and power came from their employer. But the company took care of its workers and created a community that was the envy of many. The neat redwood cottages were well maintained. The hospital in town provided personal care. Neighbors walked to the market or the community center or down to the baseball diamond. When the town’s children grew up, company officials provided them with college scholarships. “I desperately wanted to live in Scotia,” recalled Jeannie Fulton, who is now the head of the Humboldt County Farm Bureau. When she and her husband were younger, she said, her husband worked for Pacific Lumber but the couple did not live in the company town.Fulton recalled that the company had “the best Christmas party ever” each year, and officials handed out a beautiful gift to every single child. “Not cheap little gifts. These were Santa Claus worthy,” Fulton said.But things began to change in the 1980s, when Pacific Lumber was acquired in a hostile takeover by Texas-based Maxxam Inc. The acquisition led to the departure of the longtime owners, who had been committed to sustainably harvesting timber. It also left the company loaded with debt. To pay off the debts, the new company began cutting trees at a furious pace, which infuriated environmental activists. A view of the town of Scotia and timber operations, sometime in the late 1800s or early 1900s. (The Pacific Lumber Company collection) 1 2 1. Redwood logs are processed by the Pacific Lumber Company in 1995 in Scotia, CA. This was the largest redwood lumber mill in the world, resulting in clashes with the environmental community for years. (Gilles Mingasson / Getty Images) 2. Redwood logs are trucked to the Pacific Lumber Company in 1995 in Scotia, CA. (Gilles Mingasson / Getty Images) Among them was Hill, who was 23 years old on a fall day in 1997 when she and other activists hiked onto Pacific Lumber land. “I didn’t know much about the forest activist movement or what we were about to do,” Hill later wrote in her book. “I just knew that we were going to sit in this tree and that it had something to do with protecting the forest.” Once she was cradled in Luna’s limbs, Hill did not come down for more than two years. She became a cause celebre. Movie stars such as Woody Harrelson and musicians including Willie Nelson and Joan Baez came to visit her. With Hill still in the tree, Pacific Lumber agreed to sell 7,400 acres, including the ancient Headwaters Grove, to the government to be preserved. A truck driver carries a load of lumber down Main Street in Scotia. The historic company town is working to attract new residents and businesses, but progress has been slow. Then just before Christmas in 1999, Hill and her compatriots reached a final deal with Pacific Lumber. Luna would be protected. The tree still stands today.Pacific Lumber limped along for seven more years before filing for bankruptcy, which was finalized in 2008. Marathon Asset Management, a New York hedge fund, found itself in possession of the town. Deike, who was born in the Scotia hospital and lived in town for years, and Bullwinkel, came on board as employees of a company called The Town of Scotia to begin selling it off. Deike said he thought it might be a three-year job. That was nearly 20 years ago.He started in the mailroom at Pacific Lumber as a young man and rose to become one of its most prominent local executives. Now he sounds like an urban planner when he describes the process of transforming a company town.His speech is peppered with references to “infrastructure improvements” and “subdivision maps” and also to the peculiar challenges created by Pacific Lumber’s building.“They did whatever they wanted,” he said. “Build this house over the sewer line. There was a manhole cover in a garage. Plus, it wasn’t mapped.” Steven Deike, president of Town of Scotia Company LLC, and Mary Bullwinkel, the company’s residential real estate sales coordinator, examine a room being converted into apartments at the Scotia Hospital. The first houses went up for sale in 2017 and more have followed every year since.Dodson and her family came in 2018. Like some of the new owners, Dodson had some history with Scotia. Although she lived in Sacramento growing up, some of her family worked for Pacific Lumber and lived in Scotia and she had happy memories of visiting the town.“The first house I saw was perfect,” she said. “Hardwood floors, and made out of redwood so you don’t have to worry about termites.”She has loved every minute since. “We walk to school. We walk to pay our water bill. We walk to pick up our mail. There’s lots of kids in the neighborhood.”The transformation, however, has proceeded slowly. And lately, economic forces have begun to buffet the effort as well, including the slowing real estate market.Dodson, who also works as a real estate agent, said she thinks some people may be put off by the town’s cheek-by-jowl houses. Also, she added, “we don’t have garages and the water bill is astronomical.”But she added, “once people get inside them, they see the craftsmanship.”Duran, the Colorado architect trying to fix up the old hospital, is among those who have run into unexpected hurdles on the road to redevelopment. A project that was supposed to take a year is now in its third, delayed by everything from a shortage of electrical equipment to a dearth of workers.“I would guess that a portion of the skilled workforce has left Humboldt County,” Duran said, adding that the collapse of the weed market means that “some people have relocated because they were doing construction but also cannabis.”He added that he and his family and friends have been “doing a hard thing to try to fix up this building and give it new life, and my hope is that other people will make their own investments into the community.”A year ago, an unlikely visitor returned: Hill herself. She came back to speak at a fundraiser for Sanctuary Forest, a nonprofit land conservation group that is now the steward of Luna. The event was held at the 100-year-old Scotia Lodge — which once housed visiting timber executives but now offers boutique hotel rooms and craft cocktails. Many of the new residents had never heard of Hill or known of her connection to the area. Tamara Nichols, 67, who discovered Scotia in late 2023 after moving from Paso Robles, said she knew little of the town’s history. But she loves being so close to the old-growth redwoods and the Eel River, which she swims in. She also loves how intentional so many in town are about building community. What’s more, she added: “All those trees, there’s just a feel to them.”

Surfing Activism Takes Hold Across Latin America

Surfers and local communities in Peru, Chile, and Ecuador have stepped up efforts to safeguard their coastlines, pushing for laws that protect key surf spots from development and environmental threats. This movement highlights a shift where wave riders lead conservation, with potential benefits for tourism economies like Costa Rica’s. In Peru, a law passed in […] The post Surfing Activism Takes Hold Across Latin America appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Surfers and local communities in Peru, Chile, and Ecuador have stepped up efforts to safeguard their coastlines, pushing for laws that protect key surf spots from development and environmental threats. This movement highlights a shift where wave riders lead conservation, with potential benefits for tourism economies like Costa Rica’s. In Peru, a law passed in 2000 set the stage by banning projects that disrupt ocean floors or water flows at surf breaks. Since then, groups have secured protections for nearly 50 sites. One campaign aims to reach 100 protected waves by 2030, driven by partnerships between surfers and experts who map out these areas. These actions respond to risks from ports, mining, and urban growth that could erase prime surfing zones. Chile followed suit when its Congress passed a bill earlier this year to shield surf breaks, backed by the Rompientes Foundation. The measure requires environmental reviews for any coastal work that might harm waves. Supporters argue it preserves natural features while supporting jobs tied to surfing, which draws visitors from around the world. Ecuador’s push remains in early stages, with activists collecting signatures to propose similar legislation. Coastal residents join surfers in these drives, focusing on sites vulnerable to oil spills and erosion. The goal extends beyond recreation: protected waves help maintain marine habitats and buffer against climate shifts. This trend echoes broader environmental work in the region. Global networks like Save the Waves have designated over 145 surf reserves worldwide, including several in Latin America. These zones enforce monitoring and cleanup to keep beaches viable for both locals and travelers. For Costa Rica, where surfing fuels a major part of the economy, these developments offer lessons. Places like Pavones and Tamarindo face similar pressures from tourism booms and infrastructure. Local groups here already advocate for marine parks, and observing neighbors’ progress could strengthen those calls. Sustainable practices ensure spots remain attractive without degrading the environment. Experts point out economic ties. Studies show protected surf areas boost visitor spending on lodging, gear, and guides. In Peru, for instance, conserved waves support small businesses that rely on consistent conditions. Chile’s new law includes provisions for community input, which could model inclusive planning. Challenges persist. Enforcement varies, and some projects slip through despite rules. In Ecuador, gathering enough support tests grassroots strength. Yet successes build momentum, inspiring Mexico and Panama to draft their own bills. As Latin American nations balance growth and preservation, surfing activism shows how sports can drive policy. For travelers, it means more reliable destinations that prioritize long-term health over short gains. Costa Rica, with its established eco-tourism focus, stands to gain by aligning with this regional wave. The post Surfing Activism Takes Hold Across Latin America appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Buddhist Monks Persist in Peace Walk Despite Injuries as Thousands Follow Them on Social Media

A group of Buddhist monks is persevering in their peace walk across much of the U.S. even after two participants were injured when a truck hit their escort vehicle

ATLANTA (AP) — A group of Buddhist monks is persevering in their walking trek across much of the U.S. to promote peace, even after two of its members were injured when a truck hit their escort vehicle.After starting their walk in Fort Worth, Texas, on Oct. 26, the group of about two dozen monks has made it to Georgia as they continue on a path to Washington, D.C., highlighting Buddhism's long tradition of activism for peace.The group planned to walk its latest segment through Georgia on Tuesday from the town of Morrow to Decatur, on the eastern edge of Atlanta. Marking day 66 of the walk, the group invited the public to a Peace Gathering in Decatur Tuesday afternoon.The monks and their loyal dog Aloka are traveling through 10 states en route to Washington, D.C. In coming days, they plan to pass through or very close to Athens, Georgia; the North Carolina cities of Charlotte, Greensboro and Raleigh; and Richmond, Virginia, on their way to the nation’s capital city.The group has amassed a huge audience on social media, with more than 400,000 followers on Facebook. Aloka has its own hashtag, #AlokathePeaceDog.The group's Facebook page is frequently updated with progress reports, inspirational notes and poetry.“We do not walk alone. We walk together with every person whose heart has opened to peace, whose spirit has chosen kindness, whose daily life has become a garden where understanding grows," the group posted recently.The trek has not been without danger. Last month outside Houston, the monks were walking on the side of a highway near Dayton, Texas, when their escort vehicle, which had its hazard lights on, was hit by a truck, Dayton Interim Police Chief Shane Burleigh said.The truck “didn’t notice how slow the vehicle was going, tried to make an evasive maneuver to drive around the vehicle, and didn’t do it in time,” Burleigh said at the time. “It struck the escort vehicle in the rear left, pushed the escort into two of the monks.”One of the monks had “substantial leg injuries” and was flown by helicopter to a hospital in Houston, Burleigh said. The other monk with less serious injuries was taken by ambulance to another hospital in suburban Houston. The monk who sustained the serious leg injuries was expected to have a series of surgeries to heal a broken bone, but his prognosis for recovery was good, a spokeswoman for the group said.Buddhism is a religion and philosophy that evolved from the teachings of Gautama Buddha, a prince turned teacher who is believed to have lived in northern India and attained enlightenment between the 6th and 4th centuries B.C. The religion spread to other parts of Asia after his death and came to the West in the 20th century. The Buddha taught that the path to end suffering and become liberated from the cycle of birth, death and reincarnation, includes the practice of non-violence, mental discipline through meditation and showing compassion for all beings.While Buddhism has branched into a number of sects over the centuries, its rich tradition of peace activism continues. Its social teaching was pioneered by figures like the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh, who have applied core principles of compassion and non-violence to political, environmental and social justice as well as peace-building efforts around the world.Associated Press Writers Jeff Martin in Atlanta and Deepa Bharath in Los Angeles contributed.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – December 2025

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