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Louisiana's air pollution linked to higher risk of preterm, low-weight births

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Monday, March 18, 2024

A recent study finds a significant correlation between Louisiana's toxic air and an increased risk of low-weight and preterm births among its residents.Jessica Kutz reports for The 19th.In short:The study, the first of its kind, analyzed birth outcomes in Louisiana, revealing residents in polluted areas face higher risks of preterm and low-weight births.It utilized birth records and pollution data, showing around a third of low birth weight and half of preterm birth cases annually could be linked to air pollution.The research also highlights disproportionate effects on Black and low-income communities in the most polluted areas.Key quote:"It surprised me what a big proportion of cases was linked to air pollution."— Kimberly Terrell, lead author of the study and research scientist at the Tulane Environmental Law ClinicWhy this matters:Low birth weight, defined as weighing less than 5 pounds, 8 ounces (about 2.5 kilograms) at birth, can lead to health complications for newborns, such as difficulty fighting infections, developmental delays, and even increased risk of chronic diseases later in life. Studies have pinpointed that pregnant individuals exposed to high levels of air pollutants, especially fine particulate matter and nitrogen dioxide, are at a higher risk of giving birth to underweight babies.Scientists estimate millions of preterm births and underweight newborns worldwide can be attributed to long-term exposure to air pollution.

A recent study finds a significant correlation between Louisiana's toxic air and an increased risk of low-weight and preterm births among its residents.Jessica Kutz reports for The 19th.In short:The study, the first of its kind, analyzed birth outcomes in Louisiana, revealing residents in polluted areas face higher risks of preterm and low-weight births.It utilized birth records and pollution data, showing around a third of low birth weight and half of preterm birth cases annually could be linked to air pollution.The research also highlights disproportionate effects on Black and low-income communities in the most polluted areas.Key quote:"It surprised me what a big proportion of cases was linked to air pollution."— Kimberly Terrell, lead author of the study and research scientist at the Tulane Environmental Law ClinicWhy this matters:Low birth weight, defined as weighing less than 5 pounds, 8 ounces (about 2.5 kilograms) at birth, can lead to health complications for newborns, such as difficulty fighting infections, developmental delays, and even increased risk of chronic diseases later in life. Studies have pinpointed that pregnant individuals exposed to high levels of air pollutants, especially fine particulate matter and nitrogen dioxide, are at a higher risk of giving birth to underweight babies.Scientists estimate millions of preterm births and underweight newborns worldwide can be attributed to long-term exposure to air pollution.



A recent study finds a significant correlation between Louisiana's toxic air and an increased risk of low-weight and preterm births among its residents.

Jessica Kutz reports for The 19th.


In short:

  • The study, the first of its kind, analyzed birth outcomes in Louisiana, revealing residents in polluted areas face higher risks of preterm and low-weight births.
  • It utilized birth records and pollution data, showing around a third of low birth weight and half of preterm birth cases annually could be linked to air pollution.
  • The research also highlights disproportionate effects on Black and low-income communities in the most polluted areas.

Key quote:

"It surprised me what a big proportion of cases was linked to air pollution."

— Kimberly Terrell, lead author of the study and research scientist at the Tulane Environmental Law Clinic

Why this matters:

Low birth weight, defined as weighing less than 5 pounds, 8 ounces (about 2.5 kilograms) at birth, can lead to health complications for newborns, such as difficulty fighting infections, developmental delays, and even increased risk of chronic diseases later in life. Studies have pinpointed that pregnant individuals exposed to high levels of air pollutants, especially fine particulate matter and nitrogen dioxide, are at a higher risk of giving birth to underweight babies.

Scientists estimate millions of preterm births and underweight newborns worldwide can be attributed to long-term exposure to air pollution.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Europe Should Focus on Sustainable Chip Production as Sector Emissions Rise, Study Says

By Nathan VifflinAMSTERDAM (Reuters) - With pollution linked to the manufacture of cutting-edge computer chips needed for AI rising rapidly, the...

AMSTERDAM (Reuters) - With pollution linked to the manufacture of cutting-edge computer chips needed for AI rising rapidly, the European Union should focus on developing its existing lower-emission semiconductor production, think-tank interface said on Monday.In a review of pollution trends in the chemical-intensive semiconductor sector published on Monday, interface found the industry's energy use had risen 125% globally over the past eight years both as output rose and as cutting-edge chip production caused more emissions per chip."Mature" or "legacy" chips, such as those used in cars, electric grids and industrial applications, are generally less polluting."Where we could increase our competitiveness is by strengthening EU companies that are already market-leading and manufacturing chips needed for the green transition," Julia Hess, who led the research, told Reuters in an e-mail.European chipmakers such as STMicroelectronics, Infineon and NXP are among the world's top firms at manufacturing those kinds of chips.The EU is considering additional measures to support its semiconductor industry following the 2023 Chips Act, which helped spark investments in new production but failed to meet its primary goal of bringing cutting-edge manufacturing to Europe.Hess said it was not clear if Europe should continue pursuing cutting-edge production."If the EU wants to double down on cutting-edge chip production, this will significantly affect the climate and environment (given these chips have much higher emissions and energy consumption) per wafer," she said.If it does, arguments in favour include Europe's better access to water and renewable energy, she said. Most cutting-edge chips are made in humid subtropical climates in Asia, which adds significant energy costs to manufacturing. Hess said having chips produced with better environmental standards will turn out to be a long-term competitive advantage.(Reporting by Nathan Vifflin and Toby Sterling in Amsterdam; Editing by Jan Harvey)Copyright 2025 Thomson Reuters.Photos You Should See - Feb. 2025

Texans grapple with rising toxic pollution as oil, gas production booms

This story was produced in partnership with the Pulitzer Center. It is part three in a four-part series. Read part one here and part two here. ODESSA, Texas — For retired pastor Columbus Cooper, life can be divided into two periods: the time when he could still drink water out of his tap, and the time after. When...

This story was produced in partnership with the Pulitzer Center. It is part three in a four-part series. Read part one here and part two here. ODESSA, Texas — For retired pastor Columbus Cooper, life can be divided into two periods: the time when he could still drink water out of his tap, and the time after. When Cooper and his wife bought their home in West Odessa in the heart of the Permian Basin, the U.S.'s most productive oil field, they knew they were surrounded by tank batteries holding spent fuel or fracking fluid and injection wells injecting that waste fluid back into the earth.  But as lifelong Odessans, they weren’t worried — until their water started tasting funny and the stench crept in. Until, six years ago, two people died in a pumphouse down the street. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) later confirmed what many already suspected: The very infrastructure that had fueled the region’s economic boom was exposing the people who lived there to dangerous toxins. Without access to city water, West Odessa residents — like rural Texans across oil country — largely depend on water from wells drilled into the aquifer below. Frequently those wells are as little as a few hundred yards from oil and gas wells or other infrastructure linked with toxic pollution — which are just one explosion or spill away from ruining them. Now, Cooper laughs when he thinks about their decision to move to the neighborhood. “I assumed they would be regulated,” Cooper told The Hill, pointing to a tank battery venting invisible, noxious gas. “I assumed somebody would be making sure we were safe.” The oil and gas industry has long been a cornerstone of the Texas economy, and has brought a flood of new jobs and money to the Permian Basin in recent years as production has climbed to new highs. In 2024 alone, the industry paid a record $27 billion in state taxes and royalties and employed nearly half a million people, many earning more than $124,000 a year. The industry and Texas lawmakers argue that beyond the economy, the state's fossil fuel production is important for American energy independence — and the environment. The Permian is the regional wellhead of a vast outpouring of oil and — particularly — gas that both the U.S. government and Western oil industry tout as a means of redirecting global markets away from more-polluting energy sources like coal and foreign producers they say produce dirtier products. Every country is concerned about three things in descending order: national security, energy security and the health of its land and water, ConocoPhillips CEO Ryan Lance said in March at CERAWeek by S&P Global. “Natural gas,” he said, “delivers on all fronts.” But for many Texans on the doorstep of the state’s staggering fossil fuel expansion of the past decade, the boom has come at a cost. Millions of Texans now live within striking distance of oil infrastructure — exposed to airborne chemicals, groundwater contamination and, in extreme cases, sudden, violent failures of aging wells, all of which creates public concern. “You don’t want to live close to any of this development — particularly if you’re surrounded by wells,” Gunnar Schade, a Texas A&M atmospheric chemist, told The Hill.  Fracking, the increasing use of which has driven the past decade's oil and gas boom, has been central to much of the mounting pollution concern. Environmentalists and researchers have warned that the technique, in which cocktails of chemicals are pumped underground to shatter rock and release oil and gas, can contaminate groundwater — accusations the industry has fought for years.  A 2016 EPA study has been cited by both environmentalists and the industry as support for their positions on the issue. The report found that while direct fracking-related water contamination — penetrating from subterranean oil wells to water wells — was possible, it was rare.  Industry groups like the Texas Oil and Gas Association point to the steps operators take to wall off wells from surrounding groundwater behind “layers of steel casing and cement, as well as thousands of feet of rock.” And the Independent Petroleum Association of America points to “no fewer than two dozen scientific reviews,” including the EPA study, that “have concluded that fracking does not pose a major threat to groundwater.” But much of that discourse has centered on the direct impact of the fracking process, which leaves out a great deal of oil and gas operations. The EPA study also identified multiple other ways that the fuels' extraction threatens water supplies — like spills or deliberate dumping. In the Permian, for example, The Hill observed numerous pumpjacks and storage tanks dripping "produced water," or wastewater resulting from the fracking process, on the soil, sometimes in close proximity to farms. This water can resurface tainted with salt, heavy metals, benzene, toxic "forever chemicals" and even radioactive isotopes. The EPA has also pointed to risks that come from the disposal of such wastewater in underground injection wells.  And in Texas, all of these risks have escalated as the amount of water being used to frack ever-deeper wells has risen — leading to new challenges in disposing of the resulting wastewater. Each year, Texas oil and gas wells generate more than 12 billion barrels of wastewater — 4 billion of them in the Permian alone, more than all other U.S. oil fields combined. Texas is one of the only states moving forward with plans to allow this produced water to be disposed of in aboveground creeks and rivers. For example, in south Texas’s Eagle Ford Shale, researchers found 700 million gallons per year of produced water was being dumped legally into rivers and creeks that cattle drank.  Much of the rest goes back into the Earth. Permian drilling companies inject about 6 billion barrels per year into disposal wells, a process meant to keep it away from drinking water. But the subsurface that those wells cut into is riven with underground cracks and fissures and pocked with as many as hundreds of thousands of "zombie wells," oil and gas wells that were improperly sealed or left open to deteriorate. Many have rusted-out casings, making them potential pathways between underground water sources and the wastewater being forced into disposal wells. For decades, geologists have warned that underground injection wells could interact with these abandoned legacy wells and contaminate the underground water sources they are connected to. Deep injection wells also lubricate faults in the earth, sometimes causing earthquakes bad enough to crack home walls and foundations. One quake last July was strong enough to break municipal water pipes.  After a decade of local outcry about fracking earthquakes, companies began injecting more shallowly. But this gave rise to another issue: Fracking fluid began bursting from the state’s old, failing or forgotten wells.  The tendency of fracking fluid to come back to the surface has turned cleanup into a game of "whack-a-mole,” as Kirk Edwards, a local oil and gas executive and former chair of the Permian Basin Petroleum Association, put it. Zombie wells are “a black eye for the industry,” Edwards told The Hill. He warned that oil producers had perhaps a year to solve the issue before they would face local revolt. The area needed, he said, “a Manhattan Project for water” to treat and reuse fracking fluid.  Economics are a large contributor to the problem, Edwards argued. “It’s cheap for an oil company to pay a trucker to dispose of it,” he said, referring to fracking fluid. He defended producers for the instances when fracking fluid they’ve injected underground reappears in unexpected places: Those injections, he noted, are legal. “Nobody knows the Earth can’t hold that water until you have a breakthrough. You can’t blame [an operator for a] business plan that has been working for 25 years.” Some efforts have been made to clean up this pollution. The 2022 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law included $4.7 billion in funding to cap the 100,000-plus “zombie wells” across America, of which Texas has received more than $100 million so far. In 2023, Texas lawmakers approved another $10 million. State Rep. Brooks Landgraf (R), who represents part of the Permian, is seeking $100 million this session to seal area wells. But the future of all this funding is uncertain. The second Trump administration has repeatedly sought to block Biden-era federal grants related to the environment. None of the monies approved by Texas in 2023 have been distributed yet. And in that same session, a previous version of Landgraf’s bill passed the state House but died in the Senate. Meanwhile, the backlog of orphaned wells — abandoned sites with no financially solvent owner to take responsibility — has grown.  And another — potentially greater — danger arising from the expanding oil and gas infrastructure also looms. For sparsely populated regions like the Permian, said Schade, the Texas A&M atmospheric chemist, the risk of water pollution pales in comparison to the risk of air pollution — something he told The Hill that state regulators have “diligently” refused to measure.  Some industry leaders acknowledge their role in air pollution — particularly in regard to the issue of methane that is vented or burned off (“flared”) from wells to relieve pressure. In 2022, the chief executive of Diamondback Energy voiced his support for Biden-era emission-reduction rules that split the oil and gas industry: The rules, he argued, would gain the industry “credit from the general public that we are doing ... right [by the] environment in producing the barrels.” But others argued that the federal oversight was unnecessary, saying the industry is successfully policing itself. The Texas oil and natural gas industry already has been “actively implementing measures to identify and lower emissions,” Todd Staples, president of the Texas Oil and Gas Association, told The Center Square. The oil and gas produced in Texas, he added, is “the cleanest in the world.” Independent studies indicate that airborne chemicals from oil and gas extraction threaten the communities that live around wells and infrastructure. Studies by Schade’s lab have found that the fracking boom has “dramatically increased” the human-caused release of dangerous hydrocarbons — in particular benzene, which is higher in the Permian even than other shale regions like the Eagle Ford. In high enough doses, benzene can break the body’s ability to create red blood cells, raising the risk of developing conditions akin to leukemia. Schade noted that increased fracking has also led to higher levels of nitrogen oxide (NOx), which harms the throat and nose and can worsen asthma. When combined with toxic hydrocarbons, NOx can create the chemical ozone, which can spread far from individual wells and increases the risk of death for those exposed over the long term. People living in the oil patch, Schade said, faced “simultaneous exposure to air, water, noise and light pollution” that was hard for outsiders to fathom.  Only those “actually living in the areas of production, or spending at least a significant time there,” he added, “should be consulted to get an idea what it's like.” Sometimes, those conditions are lethal for residents. In October 2019, a woman named Natalee Dean loaded her two children into the car and went out looking for her husband, Jacob — a contractor with a small local oil company called Aghorn Energy. Jacob had been called out to the site hours before to investigate a malfunctioning pump and stopped answering his cellphone, according to criminal charges later filed against the company by the federal government. Frightened, Natalee loaded the kids into the car and drove to the Aghorn pumphouse. Jacob’s truck was parked outside, empty. Federal investigators later concluded that she found Jacob inside the pumphouse, dead or dying of hydrogen sulfide poisoning — before she died as well. Her last words, according to state records citing family members who were on the phone with her, were “oh, my god,” E&E News reported. Passers-by found her children, safe, in the car the next morning. Cooper, the retired pastor, lived nearby. He and his wife had spent years complaining about the facility to the EPA after reeking water spread out of the facility and onto the road long before the deaths. Around the same time, he and his wife began to notice a growing change in the water from the well they, like most in West Odessa, depended on. It was “discolored,” smelled bad, and left behind stains and residue on their drinking glasses, Cooper said. Then there was the smell, which filled their home at all hours. He described it as “mainly like sewage, rotten eggs, a real pungent smell of ammonia. It burns your eyes and takes your breath away.” Years after the Deans’ deaths, under the Biden administration, the EPA and Justice Department charged Aghorn and its vice president with violating the Clean Air Act and Safe Drinking Water Act by lying about the quality of its pumps — allegedly leading to the deaths of Jacob and Natalee Dean. The Justice Department and the company agreed to settle the case earlier this month. The Hill has reached out to Aghorn for comment. That federal case, for which Cooper was an official witness, also offered an explanation for the changes he and his wife had observed in the water from the family wells. When the EPA told him that Aghorn had been dumping spent fracking fluid “into the soil — there was absolutely no way we were going to be doing anything" with that water, he said. Now he and his wife drink, cook and wash their dishes with bottled or filtered water they buy. Over the last year, Cooper told The Hill, the prices of that water have nearly doubled, from $0.20 per gallon to $0.35, so they make do with about 100 gallons per month — significantly below the United Nations threshold for water poverty, or insufficient access to clean water. Rancher Schuyler Wight is frustrated with the companies. “The industry keeps making excuses instead of stepping up and fixing the problem,” he said. The rights to drill on the land, which Wight’s family sold generations before, are now leased by an oil company, which pumps liquified carbon dioxide underground to force oil and gas back to the surface.  But the wells are old, he said, and if they are not quickly capped when no longer producing, they can develop cracks in the casing that keeps chemicals out of water.  “Mix [carbon dioxide] and water, you get carbonic acid,” Wight said. Carbonic acid corrodes metal and raises the threat of leaks. He pointed to liquid dripping from a valve. Instead of feeding life, as leaks of fresh water would, past spills had salted the soil so nothing would grow, he said. With 240 old wells on his property, Wight has many such leaks. One of his parcels borders Lake Boehmer, a 60-acre spill bubbling from an abandoned oil-turned-water well: powder blue, dead tree stumps poking from its center. The air on the parcel reeked of hydrogen sulfide. Wight's biggest fear, he said, is a world shifting away from oil that leaves no money for cleanup. “If they don’t fix it now, while they’ve got money, then what happens when they don’t?” Lake Boehmer aside, one of the main problems with oil and gas pollution is that, like germs and viruses, “it’s largely invisible," said Sharon Wilson, director of Oilfield Witness, a watchdog group aiming to change that. In a field east of Midland-Odessa, Wilson stopped her car where an unlit flare — meant to burn off excess oil and gas — poked up from the ground. To the naked eye, it was a quiet scene: farmer’s fields, windmills spinning in the distance. But through her camera’s viewfinder, which can see the infrared radiation thrown off by the gases, a black, oily plume of unburned methane vented into the atmosphere, heating the planet and likely carrying a long list of toxins. At a nearby tank battery, where workers deposit oil or fracking fluid, invisible smoke streamed into the air. Those fumes worry many Texas residents, who have fought to keep them away from homes. Anne Epstein, a Lubbock physician, was part of a successful effort to ban oil wells less than 600 feet from peoples’ homes — before the state passed legislation stripping cities of the authority to regulate fracking.  “To see the effects of oil toxins, look at places in the body that are rapidly growing and developing — or small bodies that are rapidly growing and developing,” Epstein said. When it comes to such pollution, she said, “fetuses, babies, children” are especially vulnerable because they breathe faster, exposing themselves to more airborne toxins. Millions may be at risk. A 2022 study found that 17 million people in the U.S. live within half a mile of an oil or gas well — 4 million of them children. At that range, a 2019 Colorado study found a slight uptick in cancer risk and other dangers, significant enough for that state to require new wells be at least that far from homes.  But in Texas, the required distance is just a fraction of that. In February, the city of Arlington, with a population of nearly 400,000, permitted the drilling of 10 new wells less than a quarter mile, or half the Colorado limit, from a day care.  Even the higher limit may not be enough to ensure safety: Schade said that if the winds blow wrong and wells are dense enough, toxins can travel far further than any current setback requirement.&nbsp For Wilson, Oilfield Witness's campaign is personal. In the early 2000s, she was living in Wise County on the outskirts of Dallas-Fort Worth, when the water from her well — which she and her son relied on — turned dark and foul-smelling. After a lifetime believing that if something went wrong, someone would come help, “what I learned when my water turned black is that if it's oil and gas, nobody is coming, and that was a huge paradigm shift for me,” Wilson said. “Because then I realized that, yeah, that America is not like that thing that I believed when I grew up.” She later learned that she had been an unwilling participant in the dawn of a boom. Her home was just miles from where wildcatter George Mitchell was carrying out early fracking experiments. Concerns about the process’s impact on groundwater had surfaced even before fracking’s popularization: In 1996, a local jury found Mitchell guilty of hundreds of millions in punitive damages for wrecking local water supplies.&nbsp At the time, Mitchell denied the allegations. “I have never believed, nor do I believe now, that Mitchell Energy Corp. is the cause of the problems that the plaintiffs are complaining about,” he told the Wise County Messenger in a statement.&nbsp The following year, a local jury overturned&nbspthe verdict on appeal — saving the company from bankruptcy&nbspand clearing the way for the shale revolution. In 1998, two years after the judgment, Mitchell combined horizontal drilling and fracking into what is generally regarded&nbspas the first-ever fracked well. In 2005, Congress further enabled fracking to take off by exempting the technique from the Clean Water Act. But in his last interview before his death in 2013, Mitchell had changed his tune. He&nbsptold Forbes&nbspthat the industry needed more regulation. “They should have very strict controls. The Department of Energy should do it." Why? Because, he said, fracking and horizontal drilling could be done safely — but independent drillers “are wild” and “tough to control.” If allowed to operate freely, he said, they risked ruining the industry.&nbsp In the street in front of his house, Cooper — the homeowner with the tainted water — met Wilson studying a flare through her camera. She invited him to look. “Oh, wow,” he said, watching as a corona of thick black smoke, invisible to the naked eye, surrounded the thin flame. What, she asked him, would he want his elected officials to know if they stood here too? He didn’t hesitate. “I’d want someone to assure that I have clean water, clean air, to know that our investment in our homes is going to be protected,” he said. He wanted, he said, “somewhere safe to live — where they would be willing to live themselves.” Gabriela Meza of KMID contributed reporting.

A River ‘Died' Overnight in Zambia After an Acidic Waste Spill at a Chinese-Owned Mine

Authorities and environmentalists in Zambia fear the long-term impact of an acid spill at a Chinese-owned mine that poisoned a major river and could potentially affect millions of people after signs of pollution were detected at least 100 kilometers downstream

KITWE, Zambia (AP) — Authorities and environmentalists in Zambia fear the long-term impact of an acid spill at a Chinese-owned mine that contaminated a major river and could potentially affect millions of people after signs of pollution were detected at least 100 kilometers (60 miles) downstream.The spill happened on Feb. 18 when a tailings dam that holds acidic waste from a copper mine in the north of the country collapsed, according to investigators from the Engineering Institution of Zambia. The collapse allowed some 50 million liters of waste containing concentrated acid, dissolved solids and heavy metals to flow into a stream that links to the Kafue River, Zambia’s most important waterway, the engineering institution said.“It is an environmental disaster really of catastrophic consequences,” said Chilekwa Mumba, an environmental activist who works in Zambia's Copperbelt Province.China is the dominant player in copper mining in Zambia, a southern African nation which is among the world’s top 10 producers of copper, a key component in smartphones and other technology.Zambian President Hakainde Hichilema called for help from experts and said the leak is a crisis that threatens people and wildlife along the Kafue, which runs for more than 1,500 kilometers (930 miles) through the heart of Zambia. Authorities are still investigating the extent of the environmental damage.An Associated Press reporter visited parts of the Kafue River, where dead fish could be seen washing up on the banks about 100 kilometers (60 miles) downstream from the mine run by Sino-Metals Leach Zambia, which is majority owned by the state-run China Nonferrous Metals Industry Group.The Ministry of Water Development and Sanitation said the "devastating consequences" also included the destruction of crops along the river's banks. Authorities are concerned that ground water will be contaminated as the mining waste seeps into the earth or is carried to other areas.“Prior to the 18th of February this was a vibrant and alive river,” said Sean Cornelius, who lives near the Kafue and said fish died and birdlife near him disappeared almost immediately. “Now everything is dead, it's like a totally dead river. Unbelievable. Overnight, this river died.”About 60% of Zambia's 20 million people live in the Kafue River basin and depend on it in some way as a source of fishing, irrigation for agriculture and water for industry. The river supplies drinking water to about five million people, including in the capital, Lusaka.The acid leak at the mine caused a complete shutdown of the water supply to the nearby city of Kitwe, home to an estimated 700,000 people. Attempts to roll back the damage The Zambian government has deployed the air force to drop hundreds of tons of lime into the river in an attempt to counteract the acid and roll back the damage. Speed boats have also been used to ride up and down the river, applying lime. Government spokesperson Cornelius Mweetwa said the situation was very serious and Sino-Metals Leach Zambia would bear the costs of the cleanup operation.Zhang Peiwen, the chairman of Sino-Metals Leach Zambia, met with government ministers this week and apologized for the acid spill, according to a transcript of his speech at the meeting released by his company. “This disaster has rung a big alarm for Sino-Metals Leach and the mining industry,” he said. He said it “will go all out to restore the affected environment as quickly as possible." Discontent with Chinese presence The environmental impact of China's large mining interests in mineral-rich parts of Africa, which include Zambia's neighbors Congo and Zimbabwe, has often been criticized, even as the minerals are crucial to the countries' economies. Chinese-owned copper mines have been accused of ignoring safety, labor and other regulations in Zambia as they strive to control its supply of the critical mineral, leading to some discontent with their presence. Zambia is also burdened with more than $4 billion in debt to China and had to restructure some of its loans from China and other nations after defaulting on repayments in 2020.A smaller acid waste leak from another Chinese-owned mine in Zambia's copper belt was discovered days after the Sino-Metals accident, and authorities have accused the smaller mine of attempting to hide it.Local police said a mine worker died at that second mine after falling into acid and alleged that the mine continued to operate after being instructed to stop its operations by authorities. Two Chinese mine managers have been arrested, police said.Both mines have now halted their operations after orders from Zambian authorities, while many Zambians are angry.“It really just brings out the negligence that some investors actually have when it comes to environmental protection,” said Mweene Himwinga, an environmental engineer who attended the meeting involving Zhang, government ministers, and others. “They don’t seem to have any concern at all, any regard at all. And I think it’s really worrying because at the end of the day, we as Zambian people, (it's) the only land we have.”Zimba reported from Lusaka, Zambia.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - Feb. 2025

‘This will make our town uninhabitable’: The long-awaited Delta tunnel strikes fear in locals

The governor’s planned $20 billion tunnel to divert more water south and bypass the Delta would bring years of construction noise, pollution and traffic. Residents worry their rural farm towns will never be the same.

In summary The governor’s planned $20 billion tunnel to divert more water south and bypass the Delta would bring years of construction noise, pollution and traffic. Residents worry their rural farm towns will never be the same. Change tends to come at a creeping pace, if at all, in the Sacramento River community of Hood. Families that settled in this Delta outpost generations ago remain today, and pear orchards planted decades ago are still the region’s signature crop. Now Hood, population 271, is facing a formidable transformation that residents fear will shatter their sleepy agricultural community. One of the smallest towns in the region, Hood lies at ground zero of the main construction site for the Newsom administration’s proposed Delta water tunnel project.  “This will make our town uninhabitable,” said longtime resident Dan Whaley, who helps manage his family’s business, the Willow Ballroom, a community landmark across the main street from Hood’s post office. “There will be so much heavy equipment and traffic and people going through town that the locals will be driven out.” The $20 billion water conveyance project will feature a 45-mile, 36-foot-wide tunnel beneath the West Coast’s largest estuary. Its two intake facilities — which will draw river water into the system — will be situated just a river bend north and south of Hood.  Dan Whaley, owner of the Willow Ballroom in Hood, says tunnel construction noise and traffic will ruin his town. Photo by Fred Greaves for CalMatters Various versions of the tunnel concept have been discussed for decades. The goal is to upgrade the massive project that sends water to 27 million people, mostly in Southern California, and vast sprawls of farmland. By diverting river water miles upstream, the tunnel would bypass the ecologically sensitive Delta, where regulations restrict pumping, and allow more water to be sent south. The tunnel project still needs several state and federal permits, and faces multiple legal challenges from environmental and community groups, including the Delta Legacy Communities, a nonprofit representing Hood and other small towns along the lower Sacramento River. In spite of these obstacles, state officials anticipate starting construction as soon as 2029.  Standing north of town beside Highway 160, Mario Moreno pointed upstream, across an old Bosc pear orchard inside of a levee. The entire property, he said, could eventually become a complex of cement and steel, with a holding basin and a chasm that draws water into the tunnel system.  Turning south, he gestured past Hood, toward the downstream intake site. “And my little town is right there,” said Moreno, who grew up in Hood and now lives in nearby Elk Grove but remains chairman of the Hood Community Council.   Mario Moreno describes the potential impacts of the Delta tunnel project in Hood. Photo by Fred Greaves for CalMatters The planned intakes will be massive industrial complexes, lining thousands of feet of riverbank and covering hundreds of acres of farmland with fuel stations, septic systems, sludge-drying fields, access roads, parking and grout-mixing stations. Construction will mean years of noise, air pollution, dust and traffic. Once operational, the intakes will be capable of diverting 6,000 cubic feet per second of water — a fraction of the Sacramento’s flood-stage flows but more than its volume in dry periods.   The water will flow by gravity through protective fish screens, under the highway and into sedimentation basins. As the water clarifies, it will move toward the intake shafts and drop into the tunnel system, which will lead to Bethany Reservoir, near Tracy. Eventually, the water will enter the California Aqueduct, the main artery that transports water south. Major water agencies that could receive its water endorse the Delta Conveyance Project, as it’s officially called.   But opposition runs statewide, with many environmentalists saying the project is a water grab that will destroy what’s left of the Central Valley’s fish populations. Anti-tunnel sentiment is especially fierce in the Delta, where many fear the project will leave them with the dregs of the river.  Carrie Buckman, the tunnel project’s environmental program manager with the California Department of Water Resources, said pumping limits will protect the river, and existing rules that safeguard downstream water quality will remain in place.  But Delta farmer Harvey Correia, who grows chestnuts and figs 25 miles downstream of Hood, said saltwater intrusion from San Francisco Bay is already a recurring problem for him, and he believes the tunnel will make it worse.  “The farther upstream they divert the water, the lower our water quality will be,” Correia said. Dirk Heuvel, of McManis Family Vineyards, said half of the 400-acre vineyard he leases will be lost to the southern intake. The facility will also cut off his access to clean river water, forcing him to draw from nearby Snodgrass Slough. Fed by irrigation runoff, the slough’s water quality is poor, which Heuvel said will reduce the quality of grapes and wine and harm his brand.  “If you asked me today if I wanted to lease that property, I’d walk away,” Heuvel said.  Modernizing the Delta water system In an early iteration in 1965, the Delta tunnel was to be an aqueduct. Billed “the peripheral canal,” it was killed by voters in 1982. It reemerged in the 2000s as a pair of tunnels. In 2019, Gov. Gavin Newsom downsized the plan to a single tunnel and has promoted it since. California’s Natural Resources Secretary Wade Crowfoot said the “whiplash between very dry conditions and very wet conditions” gives the project great urgency. In December, Newsom called the tunnel “the most important climate adaptation project in the United States of America.”  According to state officials, the tunnel will increase annual Delta exports of water by half a million acre-feet, enough to serve almost 5 million people. Buckman said this will offset expected water losses this century due to climate change.  Jay Lund, a UC Davis professor emeritus of civil and environmental engineering and geography, said the upstream tunnel intakes will be much less vulnerable to saltwater intrusion from San Francisco Bay, adding a layer of protection to the state’s water supply. He said the tunnel will provide cleaner water than the supply pumped from the southern Delta, which must undergo costly treatment. The tunnel’s upstream diversion point will avoid the earthquake risk of the levees rupturing and allowing seawater to flood water pumps and other facilities, according to state officials, though they acknowledge this danger is small.   An aerial view of Threemile Slough in the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta near Rio Vista on May 19, 2024. The Delta is formed by the confluence of the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers before their waters flow into San Francisco Bay. Photo by Loren Elliott for CalMatters State officials routinely remind the public of potential water supply benefits of the tunnel with a “what if” recap of recent rainstorms.  “If we had had Delta conveyance in place this year … by the time we got to that big three-day storm in February, we would already have filled San Luis Reservoir,” said Department of Water Resources Director Karla Nemeth during a March 4 presentation, referring to a large storage facility near Interstate 5 in Merced County.  Chasms, cranes and boring machines Such arguments about bolstering California’s water supply do little to gain the support of Hood, Courtland, Locke and other Delta communities south of Sacramento, where the construction will bring traffic, dust, and other daily disturbances. Building the project will be a gargantuan undertaking lasting an estimated 13 years, and the intakes in Hood are just the beginning. Every few miles along the tunnel path, crews will dig vertical access shafts, some more than 100 feet wide. These will serve as entry, exit and servicing sites for tunnel-boring machines.  The excavation will produce 14 million cubic yards of earth. This sludge will be tested for hazardous contaminants and, when necessary, disposed of offsite. Much of the rest will be spread across fields and, to suppress dust emissions, planted with cover crop seeds.  To address the plethora of expected impacts on Delta residents, state officials have proposed a suite of “community benefits.” Outlined in the project’s Final Environmental Impact Report, these benefits include new recreation areas, swimming lessons for all Delta residents, support of local agriculture and various economic development programs.  Gia Moreno, Mario Moreno’s niece and a teacher in Clarksburg, thinks the offerings will be too little, too late.  “We won’t even be here to benefit from any of the things they’re offering,” she said. While the proposed benefits include “marketing of the region for tourism,” restaurant owner Michelle Mota expects through-town traffic will decline. Mota, who runs the Hood Supply Co Bar and Grill with her husband, fears the project will displace residents, deter visitors and make her restaurant unprofitable.  “It’s our only means of livelihood right now,” Mota said. “We’re really unsure about the future.”  Rep. Josh Harder, a Stockton Democrat, described the benefits as “a bribe program to placate outraged communities.” First: A view of the Sacramento River as it passes by the town of Hood. Last: Residents in Hood posted a “No Tunnel” sign. Photos by Fred Greaves for CalMatters Michael Brodsky, an attorney for the town’s community council, believes Hood has been selected as the tunnel intake site not for any technical reason but because the town is small and lacks political power.  “Hood doesn’t have any high-value land uses,” Brodsky said. He believes the state chose to place the intakes away from more prosperous (and much larger) communities, such as southern Sacramento, to “not bother people who can fight back and cause a problem.” But Graham Bradner, executive director of the Delta Conveyance Design and Construction Authority — an assemblage of water districts supplied by the State Water Project — said river flow patterns, adjacent levee integrity and considerations of existing land use make the chosen sites optimal.  Bradner helped oversee a series of 19 stakeholder engagement meetings held between 2019 and 2022. The meetings, including a team of appointed community representatives, aimed to address Delta residents’ concerns about the tunnel project. But they left some participants frustrated. Several residents told CalMatters that moderators tightly restricted discussions and directed conversation away from topics including relocating the intakes farther from Hood.  Osha Meserve, an attorney representing Delta community members in legal challenges against the tunnel, attended the meetings and said discussing project alternatives “wasn’t on the table.” “The reality is this will be a mega-project constructed in a pretty rural area. It’s in everyone’s interest to ensure…that it moves forward in a way that respects the Delta and its uniqueness.”Graham Bradner, Delta Conveyance Design and Construction Authority Doug Hemly, a retired fifth-generation pear farmer who lives just south of Hood, has long challenged the idea of tunneling water from the northern Delta. Like many other locals, he thinks state officials have not given due consideration of alternative routes and different designs — or even a no-project alternative — that would have less impact on the region.  “There were a lot of approaches that were dismissed by (state officials) for reasons that never made a lot of sense other than that’s not what they wanted,” said Hemly, whose house would be just a few rows of pear trees south of the southern intake. For instance, fortifying levees protecting the Delta pumps from saltwater intrusion would be much cheaper, said Emily Pappalardo, a Delta levee engineer.  Retired pear farmer Doug Hemly in front of his home in Hood that has been in his family for 150 years . Photo by Fred Greaves for CalMatters Bradner, representing water districts, said project leaders have altered the plans in a variety of ways to ease environmental and community impacts, but he also recognized that the tunnel could significantly change the Delta.  “The reality is this will be a mega-project constructed in a pretty rural area,” he said. “It’s in everyone’s interest to ensure, if this project moves forward, that it moves forward in a way that respects the Delta and its uniqueness.” ‘Negative outcomes for Bay-Delta fish’ Tunnel opponents also fear for the Delta’s fish, birds and other wildlife. Already strained by the state and federal pumps that can reverse river flows and derail fish migrations, the estuary has collapsed from a once-thriving ecosystem into an aquatic ICU of endangered species and harmful algal blooms.   Officials say the tunnel will help because of the upstream position of the intakes. By skimming off river flows many miles from the heart of the estuary, the tunnel, state officials say, will produce more water for people with fewer environmental impacts.  But Jon Rosenfield, science director at San Francisco Baykeeper, said the environmental analyses “of every iteration” of the tunnel “that’s been proposed since 2008 have pointed to negative outcomes for Bay-Delta fish, wildlife, and water quality.” The project’s final environmental report predicts, among many other impacts, lower survival of young salmon. Rosenfield said chronically depleted river flow is the key driver of Bay-Delta fish declines. While the tunnel’s operating rules aim to keep flows downstream of the intakes at no less than 10,000 cubic feet per second, Rosenfield said this is a feeble protection. He cited 2023 research showing that juvenile Chinook salmon mortality rises rapidly once Delta river flows drop below 35,000 cubic feet per second.   Tunnel opponent State Sen. Jerry McNerney, a Democrat from Stockton, said diversion limits ostensibly safeguarding the estuary would become unreliable if the tunnel is built. He predicts that the cost will be at least twice the estimated $20 billion, and water agencies covering the bill, he said, will push for waivers on environmental rules protecting the Delta to maximize their return on investment.    “If they have a drought in Southern California, they’re just going to try and turn it on,” he said. “I have every reason to believe that if that tunnel gets built, it’s going to get used in a way that’s detrimental to the Delta and the state of California.” Anglers begin a morning of fishing on the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta in Stockton. Photo by Loren Elliott for CalMatters Water agencies poised to benefit from the tunnel have publicly endorsed it. These include the State Water Contractors, the Santa Clara Valley Water District, the Kern County Water Agency, and the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California, which pledged in December to pay $142 million for the project’s environmental planning and pre-construction costs. But tapping deeper into the Delta is not a fair solution to perceived shortages in other regions, said Max Gomberg, a water equity and affordability consultant and a former staff member of the state water board. He said cutting farm deliveries to Kern County, which receives Delta diversions, would free up enough water to solve urban shortages.  “The core ethos of water since Europeans arrived is to take more, and it really hasn’t changed. The fundamental issue with the tunnel is it perpetuates that.”Max Gomberg, water equity expert and former water board member Agriculture consumes four times the water that California’s towns and cities do, and Gomberg thinks the state’s farm production has surpassed sustainability. “The core ethos of water since Europeans arrived is to take more, and it really hasn’t changed,” Gomberg said. “The fundamental issue with the tunnel is it perpetuates that.” The tunnel debate has many water supply experts touting alternative measures for reducing demand for Delta water. These include using less water, capturing urban stormwater, improved groundwater management and recycling more wastewater — all areas being pursued by water districts around Southern California. Per capita potable water use across Southern California has declined by almost 50% since 1990 in spite of a growing population. Bruze Reznik, executive director of Los Angeles Waterkeeper, said focusing on increased Delta imports will divert interest and money away from local initiatives to conserve and recycle water. “We’ll never wean ourselves 100% off imported water, but there’s a lot more we can do,” Reznik said. As planning proceedings go on, Hood, which is unincorporated, and surrounding communities can’t shake the feeling that they are being sacrificed.     “We’re small, we’re an easy target,” said Gia Moreno, who grew up in Hood and now lives in South Sacramento but routinely visits her hometown to see family. Like so many others in the region, she has grown cynical about the state’s treatment of the town that her ancestors helped settle. Over the years, she said she’s noticed several times a conspicuous omission on some project maps: the community of Hood.  To Moreno, it’s more than a mapping error, it’s a sign:   “They don’t intend for Hood to be here,” she said.  More about the delta ‘Dirty Delta’: California’s largest estuary is in crisis. Is the state discriminating against people who fish there? by Rachel Becker October 8, 2024October 9, 2024 $20 billion: The Delta tunnel’s new price tag by Rachel Becker May 16, 2024May 16, 2024

Majority of the World's Population Breathes Dirty Air, Report Says

Most of the world has dirty air, with just 17% of global cities meeting WHO air pollution guidelines, a report Tuesday found

BENGALURU, India (AP) — Most of the world has dirty air, with just 17% of cities globally meeting air pollution guidelines, a report Tuesday found. Switzerland-based air quality monitoring database IQAir analyzed data from 40,000 air quality monitoring stations in 138 countries and found that Chad, Congo, Bangladesh, Pakistan and India had the dirtiest air. India had six of the nine most polluted cities with the industrial town of Byrnihat in northeastern India the worst.Experts said the real amount of air pollution might be far greater as many parts of the world lack the monitoring needed for more accurate data. In Africa, for example, there is only one monitoring station for every 3.7 million people. More air quality monitors are being set up to counter the issue, the report said. This year, report authors were able to incorporate data from 8,954 new locations and around a thousand new monitors as a result of efforts to better monitor air pollution. But last week, data monitoring for air pollution was dealt a blow when the U.S. State Department announced it would no longer make public its data from its embassies and consulates around the world.Breathing in polluted air over a long period of time can cause respiratory illness, Alzheimer’s disease and cancer, said Fatimah Ahamad, chief scientist and air pollution expert at Malaysia-based Sunway Centre for Planetary Health. The World Health Organization estimates that air pollution kills around 7 million people each year. Ahamad said much more needs to be done to cut air pollution levels. The WHO had earlier found that 99% of the world’s population lives in places that do not meet recommended air quality levels.“If you have bad water, no water, you can tell people to wait for half an hour a day, the water will come. But if you have bad air, you cannot tell people to pause breathing,” she said.Several cities like Beijing, Seoul, South Korea, and Rybnik in Poland have successfully improved their air quality through stricter regulations on pollution from vehicles, power plants and industry. They've also promoted cleaner energy and invested in public transportation.Another notable effort to curb severe air pollution was the Association of Southeast Asian Nations agreement on transboundary haze pollution. Even though its had limited success so far, ten countries in the region pledged to work together to monitor and curb pollution from large forest fires, a common occurrence in the region during dry seasons.Shweta Narayan, a campaign lead at the Global Climate and Health Alliance, said many of the regions witnessing the worst air pollution are also places where planet-heating gases are released extensively through the burning of coal, oil and gas. Slashing planet-warming emissions to slow the heating up of the planet can also improve air quality, she said.Air pollution and climate crisis “are two sides of the same coin,” she said. ___The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - Feb. 2025

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