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Majority Latino city endures years of toxic water in health ‘crisis’

News Feed
Thursday, April 18, 2024

SUNLAND PARK, N.M. — Rosana Monge clutched her husband’s death certificate and an envelope of his medical records as she approached the microphone and faced members of the water utility board on a recent Monday in this city in southeast New Mexico.“I have proof here of arsenic tests — positive on him, that were done by the Veterans Administration,” she testified about her husband, whose 2023 records show he had been diagnosed with “exposure to arsenic” before his death in February at age 79. “What I’m asking is for a health assessment of the community.”State and federal records show that in each of the last 16 years, drinking water samples tested in this 17,400-person town near the Texas border have contained illegally high levels of arsenic, including in 2016 when levels reached five times the legal limit.Naturally occurring in the soil in New Mexico, arsenic seeps into the groundwater used for drinking. In water, arsenic has no taste, odor or color — but can be removed with treatment. Over time, it can cause a variety of health problems, including cancer, diabetes and heart disease, endangering the lives of people in this low-income and overwhelmingly Latino community.The Environmental Protection Agency has assessed Sunland Park’s water operator, the Camino Real Regional Utility Authority (CRRUA), with 120 “violation points” over the last five years, a calculation based both on the number of times the utility has violated federal standards and the level of seriousness of the violations. For utilities serving at least 10,000 people that recently had a health-related violation, the tally was second only to the 182 points collected by Jackson, Miss., where problems with the drinking water earned national attention in 2022. Sunland Park has even more issues the EPA considers unresolved than Jackson.Anne Nigra, a professor at Columbia University who focuses on the impacts of arsenic-ladled water on Latino communities and reviewed the utility’s federally mandated water reports, called the situation in the New Mexico town “a public health crisis.”Experts who reviewed Joe Monge’s medical records said his levels were elevated but not extraordinarily so. A single lab test, however, cannot measure long-term effects of arsenic exposure, and Rosana Monge, 65, and others in this town are convinced the elevated arsenic levels are responsible for health problems including skin lesions and fetal development complications. Despite their pleas at public meetings and elsewhere, they believe the utility has not been taking the issue seriously.It is not entirely clear why arsenic has been allowed to seep into the water in Sunland Park year after year, though problems with infrastructure, lax enforcement of regulations and general inattention to the problem appear to be contributing factors.Fifty years after the Safe Drinking Water Act established legal limits for toxins such as arsenic in Americans’ drinking water, some public health experts and former EPA officials say politics and money have played an outsize role in how the agency determines maximum levels of contaminants allowed in drinking water. What’s more, they say some communities across the country repeatedly exceed those levels: More than 7,400 public utilities reported a violation every quarter for the last three years, according to an analysis of the EPA’s enforcement and compliance database.Those most impacted, experts say, are low-income areas and communities of color, such as Sunland Park, which is 94 percent Latino. Studies show Latinos are exposed to arsenic in their drinking water at higher rates than any other racial or ethnic group, even when controlling for socioeconomic factors. Similarly, Black Americans are disproportionately impacted by lead contamination in their water.The resulting picture, experts say, is that the world’s wealthiest nation fails to consistently deliver to all its residents one of the most fundamental necessities for human life: safe drinking water.“Why haven’t we solved these problems? Because we don’t want to,” said Ronnie Levin, a Harvard professor who was a scientist at the EPA for more than 30 years. “It’s shameful.”Udell Vigil, a spokesman for Sunland Park’s utility, said in a statement the system is challenged by aging infrastructure, new development in the area and a statewide shortage of certified utility operators. He declined to answer questions about arsenic due to the potential of a lawsuit over the issue.EPA spokesman Nick Conger said ensuring safe drinking water is a “top priority” for the agency, which is making enforcement of the legal limits a priority, and new federal infrastructure investments will help.In Sunland Park, residents’ complaints mounted in December when caustic soda, used to treat water for arsenic, was dumped into the water at unsafe levels as a result of what officials said was a plant malfunction. CRRUA’s director abruptly retired, and the state’s environmental agency levied a fine.“I think they were mismanaging at a significant level,” said John Rhoderick, director of the New Mexico Environmental Department’s water protection division, adding that the system is now “on notice.”Some residents have now taken the first steps toward filing a lawsuit.“This is a classic example of government at every level failing to protect public health for an inexcusable period of time,” said Erik Olson, a former attorney for the EPA who is now a senior health strategist and advocate at the Natural Resources Defense Council. “It’s outrageous it has been allowed to continue for well over a decade.”Naturally-occurring arsenic exists in pockets throughout the United States and particularly in the southwest, requiring municipalities to set up treatment plants that use varying techniques and chemicals to separate the arsenic from the water and extract it. The utility serving Sunland Park and the nearby Santa Teresa neighborhood has four such plants.Because arsenic is completely soluble and easily absorbed by the body, standard tests for water quality sold in stores do not typically detect it, and its range of damage to the human body is expansive. Chronic exposure can cause cancer of the skin, lung and bladder, among other kinds, as well as heart disease. It’s also associated with cognitive impairment, kidney disease, diabetes and lasting harm to fetal development. Ana Navas-Acien, professor of environmental health sciences at Columbia University, called arsenic “one of the most potent carcinogens” found in the environment.The EPA’s history of regulating arsenic is typical of how the agency has dealt with other water toxins, former EPA officials said. After the Safe Drinking Water Act was first adopted in 1974, the arsenic level was set at 50 parts per billion (ppb) — or 50 micrograms of arsenic per liter of water. Even then, former officials said evidence had emerged from the scientific community demonstrating its detrimental effects on the human body and suggesting public health would be improved by a lower level.The level was lowered once, in 2001, to 10 ppb, but some experts believe it is still too high.While the EPA sets federal toxin levels, nearly all states — including New Mexico — bear the responsibility for monitoring public water utilities and flagging violations, officials said. States can also set their own contaminant standards as long as they are not looser than the EPA’s. New Jersey and New Hampshire have the level at 5 ppb for their states, as do some European countries.“There was a lot of pressure from industry,” said James Elder, who worked at the EPA for 24 years and headed its Office of Groundwater and Drinking Water in the early 1990s, where he advocated for lowering toxin limits. “The history of arsenic is exemplary of how tortuous the process still is in regulating contaminants in drinking water.”Regularly consuming drinking water with just 3 ppb of arsenic creates a 1 in 1,000 increased risk of bladder or lung cancer, according to a 2001 National Academy of Sciences report. “With carcinogens … there is basically no safe limit,” said Sydney Evans, a senior science analyst at the Environmental Working Group, an environmental research and advocacy group.Last week, the EPA set a limit for a new drinking water contaminant, known as PFAS or forever chemicals — the first time the agency has set a water standard for a new contaminant since 1996.A history of water worriesSunland Park was founded in 1984, a decade after the passage of the Safe Drinking Water Act. Bordering Texas and Mexico, the town lies in stark desert terrain among beige mountains dotted with brush. The city is laid out as a collection of neighborhoods that dot McNutt Road like a string of pearls lying alongside the Mexico border. Cargo trains wind through the tall mountains, as does a multimillion-dollar wall along the international border, erected from private funds raised by an organization chaired by former Trump White House strategist Stephen K. Bannon.A limestone cross that glimmers in the near-constant sun here sits atop Mount Cristo Rey, a popular mountain for pilgrims in this Catholic-dominant region. It overlooks a city where many residents say they have been concerned about the water for decades.In the 1980s, the worry was a landfill and its accompanying incinerator that burned medical supply waste from New Mexico and El Paso. The residents said their health suffered from the water and air pollution it created.Monge and her husband were among a group of more than a hundred residents, called the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park, who spoke out against a permit for the landfill.The protesters sold gorditas and other homemade food to pay for trips to the state’s capitol in Santa Fe to protest the permit. They blocked traffic and called for public hearings. Newspapers around this time reported children who were born with brain defects, as well as worms and high lead levels in tap water. Finally, in 1991, the incinerator company’s permit was denied and the state required the landfill to install a new liner to protect groundwater.Today, Sunland Park remains a working-class community where 84 percent speak Spanish at home, with more than double the national poverty and uninsured rates, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. In a place with few professional opportunities for young people, some of the loudest voices about the water quality are the same voices that spoke up more than 30 years ago: what’s left of the Concerned Citizens protesters — retirees who are no longer working full-time and know the city’s history.“Back then the people were stronger. Nowadays, many people are older and we can’t even carry the gallons” of store-bought water, said Elvia Acevedo, 65, in her living room where cases of bottled water are stacked. “I want to fight and get justice. For those who can no longer.”It’s not entirely clear how the problems with arsenic in the water began, but state and federal databases show violations piled up for years, even before several regional utilities were combined to form CRRUA in 2009.At the state level, the New Mexico Environment Department is controlled by Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, a Democrat elected in 2018. Matt Maez, a spokesman for the department, said the state has struggled to fix the city’s water because of budget cuts enacted under Lujan Grisham’s Republican predecessor, Susana Martinez.Several of CRRUA’s seven board members, most of whom are elected officials, declined to comment. One, Alberto Jaramillo, who is also a city councilor, told The Washington Post he only recently learned about the area’s history of elevated arsenic. But he said he drinks the tap water and believes it is safe.“I haven’t read what arsenic does to your body over time, but if somebody says that I got cancer because of this or that, I want to see the proof,” Jaramillo said.Sunland Park residents woke up one morning at the end of November and turned on their sink faucets and shower heads to see a slimy, oily goo emerging from their taps. Residents reported the problem immediately but that day passed, and then the next, and CRRUA said nothing. Finally, on the fourth day, CRRUA and Doña Ana County issued a notice that the water was not safe to drink, and had not been for days.Local officials doled out bottled water. State officials investigated, discovering that the machine in charge of releasing caustic soda, used to treat arsenic, had malfunctioned, causing an unhealthy amount of pH buildup in the water. In all, residents were without potable water for six days.As state officials investigated, they found something else: The water had illegally high levels of arsenic. Three of the four arsenic plants “have been offline and bypassed for over a year,” the state said in a violation notice it sent to CRRUA, which did not account for the arsenic violations occurring in prior years.CRRUA’s executive director, Brent Westmoreland, retired in December. He did not respond to requests for comment.In January, the New Mexico Environmental Department issued a report that found 58 “significant deficiencies” in CRRUA’s water system. The state is now cracking down, levying a $251,580 fine in March. Then, a top environmental official sent a letter to the state’s attorney general and auditor urging an investigation into CRRUA for “potential violations of consumer protection laws and possible waste, fraud, and abuse of state and federal funds.”State investigators also paid an unannounced visit to Sunland Park on March 15 and took 10 water samples, finding one was above legal arsenic limits. The state has now demanded CRRUA turn over records related to its water testing.CRRUA is appealing the state’s administrative order. In a letter to the state, CRRUA board chair Susana Chaparro said the utility was proud of “ongoing improvements” since January. “What we were handed did not occur overnight and cannot be fixed overnight,” she said.The water utility also recently hired its first public information officer to communicate with its customers. Its website is now regularly updated, and notices have begun to go out with Spanish translations. CRRUA recently posted a video demonstrating how its staff samples water to test for arsenic. The utility’s interim executive director Juan Carlos Crosby said in a county board meeting on April 9 that CRRUA was more than halfway through correcting the deficiencies identified by the state and is now testing for arsenic twice a month.Eric Lopez, a consultant who recently began overseeing the arsenic plants, said CRRUA is also adding new technology to be able to monitor the water’s chemical and contaminant levels remotely.But many residents are unconvinced that change will come without more dramatic intervention from state or federal agencies. Resident Lorenzo Villescas, 68, said officials had a playbook for what was happening in Sunland Park.“I compare this to Flint,” he said, referring to the Michigan city where problems with lead in the water sparked national outrage 10 years ago this month. There, “the authorities denied it was bad, too.”Residents have been pleased by the new attention from state and local officials in recent months but have wondered if it’s only come about because newer and wealthier residents in growing developments around the city have also now been affected.“They discovered this now because the water came out bad in the new areas, where the rich people live,” said Isabel Santos, 65, a former interim mayor and city council member who was also once president of the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park and now wants to revive the group.Villescas has lesions on his skin and wonders if it is from drinking the arsenic-laden water. So does Maria Lucero, 66, whose family helped found this town but is now looking to move out because of the water.Irene Rodriguez, 62, is surrounded by cancer: Her husband, her mother and three of her four siblings were diagnosed with it. They only recently started to wonder if their water was to blame. She has stopped even brushing her teeth with it.Ofelia Garcia, 81, said many of her friends and neighbors have died of thyroid cancer. “A lot of people down here die from cancer. But we don’t know if it’s from the water for sure,” she said.At a ranch full of high-end horses that compete at a local racetrack, horses kept dying, said a former employee who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of offending the utility. He said he quit and now only gives the horses he raises bottled drinking water.Acevedo said she drank the tap water here for a long time, including when she was pregnant with her son Mikey. She said he was born with Down syndrome as well as thyroid problems, asthma and diabetes, while her other two children, who were born in California before she moved to Sunland Park, were born healthy.In March, three friends of hers who were born and raised in Sunland Park died of cancer. She blames the water.“People are dying from this,” she said. “We’re paying for something that’s poisoning us.”With residents distrustful of the utility, it is common in Sunland Park to see water bottles piled up in garbage cans and stacked by the dozens in living rooms and kitchens. Some people drive to nearby El Paso for water while others say they boil the water before use, which experts said actually concentrates arsenic rather than removing it.In a door-to-door survey conducted by Empowerment Congress in March, 317 out of 490 people said they were not using the tap water to drink or cook.About 11 years ago, Monge’s husband developed prostate and thyroid cancer. Several years ago, he began to hallucinate and grew weak. She took him from doctor to doctor in hopes of finding out what was wrong. His February death was officially attributed to Parkinson’s disease. A bugler played “Taps” before the decorated Vietnam War veteran was buried on a crisp March morning in Arlington National Cemetery.Monge, who has lived in town for over 40 years, now wonders if other conditions in her family — one of her daughters was born premature at two pounds, another one developed a tumor in her late teens, while Monge herself was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis — could be related to prolonged arsenic exposure.Experts say arsenic can cause many of the conditions cited by residents though such diseases are also rampant in low-income communities of color even without dangerous water conditions. “There’s a lot of parts of injustice in poor, Latino communities. … But how do you just nail down one? How do you just say — look, is this the thing that’s killing you?” asked Israel Chávez, a lawyer representing residents.After Monge spoke at the CRRUA board meeting about her late husband, Vivian Fuller, a field organizer for Empowerment Congress, cast aside her pre-written notes for public comments, and issued a new plea to the board members.“People are dying. Our community is dying,” she said. “There’s nothing that we can do unless you all help us.”

After repeated violations, the state has stepped in -- but the problems are a reminder that safe water is not available to all Americans

SUNLAND PARK, N.M. — Rosana Monge clutched her husband’s death certificate and an envelope of his medical records as she approached the microphone and faced members of the water utility board on a recent Monday in this city in southeast New Mexico.

“I have proof here of arsenic tests — positive on him, that were done by the Veterans Administration,” she testified about her husband, whose 2023 records show he had been diagnosed with “exposure to arsenic” before his death in February at age 79. “What I’m asking is for a health assessment of the community.”

State and federal records show that in each of the last 16 years, drinking water samples tested in this 17,400-person town near the Texas border have contained illegally high levels of arsenic, including in 2016 when levels reached five times the legal limit.

Naturally occurring in the soil in New Mexico, arsenic seeps into the groundwater used for drinking. In water, arsenic has no taste, odor or color — but can be removed with treatment. Over time, it can cause a variety of health problems, including cancer, diabetes and heart disease, endangering the lives of people in this low-income and overwhelmingly Latino community.

The Environmental Protection Agency has assessed Sunland Park’s water operator, the Camino Real Regional Utility Authority (CRRUA), with 120 “violation points” over the last five years, a calculation based both on the number of times the utility has violated federal standards and the level of seriousness of the violations. For utilities serving at least 10,000 people that recently had a health-related violation, the tally was second only to the 182 points collected by Jackson, Miss., where problems with the drinking water earned national attention in 2022. Sunland Park has even more issues the EPA considers unresolved than Jackson.

Anne Nigra, a professor at Columbia University who focuses on the impacts of arsenic-ladled water on Latino communities and reviewed the utility’s federally mandated water reports, called the situation in the New Mexico town “a public health crisis.”

Experts who reviewed Joe Monge’s medical records said his levels were elevated but not extraordinarily so. A single lab test, however, cannot measure long-term effects of arsenic exposure, and Rosana Monge, 65, and others in this town are convinced the elevated arsenic levels are responsible for health problems including skin lesions and fetal development complications. Despite their pleas at public meetings and elsewhere, they believe the utility has not been taking the issue seriously.

It is not entirely clear why arsenic has been allowed to seep into the water in Sunland Park year after year, though problems with infrastructure, lax enforcement of regulations and general inattention to the problem appear to be contributing factors.

Fifty years after the Safe Drinking Water Act established legal limits for toxins such as arsenic in Americans’ drinking water, some public health experts and former EPA officials say politics and money have played an outsize role in how the agency determines maximum levels of contaminants allowed in drinking water. What’s more, they say some communities across the country repeatedly exceed those levels: More than 7,400 public utilities reported a violation every quarter for the last three years, according to an analysis of the EPA’s enforcement and compliance database.

Those most impacted, experts say, are low-income areas and communities of color, such as Sunland Park, which is 94 percent Latino. Studies show Latinos are exposed to arsenic in their drinking water at higher rates than any other racial or ethnic group, even when controlling for socioeconomic factors. Similarly, Black Americans are disproportionately impacted by lead contamination in their water.

The resulting picture, experts say, is that the world’s wealthiest nation fails to consistently deliver to all its residents one of the most fundamental necessities for human life: safe drinking water.

“Why haven’t we solved these problems? Because we don’t want to,” said Ronnie Levin, a Harvard professor who was a scientist at the EPA for more than 30 years. “It’s shameful.”

Udell Vigil, a spokesman for Sunland Park’s utility, said in a statement the system is challenged by aging infrastructure, new development in the area and a statewide shortage of certified utility operators. He declined to answer questions about arsenic due to the potential of a lawsuit over the issue.

EPA spokesman Nick Conger said ensuring safe drinking water is a “top priority” for the agency, which is making enforcement of the legal limits a priority, and new federal infrastructure investments will help.

In Sunland Park, residents’ complaints mounted in December when caustic soda, used to treat water for arsenic, was dumped into the water at unsafe levels as a result of what officials said was a plant malfunction. CRRUA’s director abruptly retired, and the state’s environmental agency levied a fine.

“I think they were mismanaging at a significant level,” said John Rhoderick, director of the New Mexico Environmental Department’s water protection division, adding that the system is now “on notice.”

Some residents have now taken the first steps toward filing a lawsuit.

“This is a classic example of government at every level failing to protect public health for an inexcusable period of time,” said Erik Olson, a former attorney for the EPA who is now a senior health strategist and advocate at the Natural Resources Defense Council. “It’s outrageous it has been allowed to continue for well over a decade.”

Naturally-occurring arsenic exists in pockets throughout the United States and particularly in the southwest, requiring municipalities to set up treatment plants that use varying techniques and chemicals to separate the arsenic from the water and extract it. The utility serving Sunland Park and the nearby Santa Teresa neighborhood has four such plants.

Because arsenic is completely soluble and easily absorbed by the body, standard tests for water quality sold in stores do not typically detect it, and its range of damage to the human body is expansive. Chronic exposure can cause cancer of the skin, lung and bladder, among other kinds, as well as heart disease. It’s also associated with cognitive impairment, kidney disease, diabetes and lasting harm to fetal development. Ana Navas-Acien, professor of environmental health sciences at Columbia University, called arsenic “one of the most potent carcinogens” found in the environment.

The EPA’s history of regulating arsenic is typical of how the agency has dealt with other water toxins, former EPA officials said. After the Safe Drinking Water Act was first adopted in 1974, the arsenic level was set at 50 parts per billion (ppb) — or 50 micrograms of arsenic per liter of water. Even then, former officials said evidence had emerged from the scientific community demonstrating its detrimental effects on the human body and suggesting public health would be improved by a lower level.

The level was lowered once, in 2001, to 10 ppb, but some experts believe it is still too high.

While the EPA sets federal toxin levels, nearly all states — including New Mexico — bear the responsibility for monitoring public water utilities and flagging violations, officials said. States can also set their own contaminant standards as long as they are not looser than the EPA’s. New Jersey and New Hampshire have the level at 5 ppb for their states, as do some European countries.

“There was a lot of pressure from industry,” said James Elder, who worked at the EPA for 24 years and headed its Office of Groundwater and Drinking Water in the early 1990s, where he advocated for lowering toxin limits. “The history of arsenic is exemplary of how tortuous the process still is in regulating contaminants in drinking water.”

Regularly consuming drinking water with just 3 ppb of arsenic creates a 1 in 1,000 increased risk of bladder or lung cancer, according to a 2001 National Academy of Sciences report. “With carcinogens … there is basically no safe limit,” said Sydney Evans, a senior science analyst at the Environmental Working Group, an environmental research and advocacy group.

Last week, the EPA set a limit for a new drinking water contaminant, known as PFAS or forever chemicals — the first time the agency has set a water standard for a new contaminant since 1996.

A history of water worries

Sunland Park was founded in 1984, a decade after the passage of the Safe Drinking Water Act. Bordering Texas and Mexico, the town lies in stark desert terrain among beige mountains dotted with brush. The city is laid out as a collection of neighborhoods that dot McNutt Road like a string of pearls lying alongside the Mexico border. Cargo trains wind through the tall mountains, as does a multimillion-dollar wall along the international border, erected from private funds raised by an organization chaired by former Trump White House strategist Stephen K. Bannon.

A limestone cross that glimmers in the near-constant sun here sits atop Mount Cristo Rey, a popular mountain for pilgrims in this Catholic-dominant region. It overlooks a city where many residents say they have been concerned about the water for decades.

In the 1980s, the worry was a landfill and its accompanying incinerator that burned medical supply waste from New Mexico and El Paso. The residents said their health suffered from the water and air pollution it created.

Monge and her husband were among a group of more than a hundred residents, called the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park, who spoke out against a permit for the landfill.

The protesters sold gorditas and other homemade food to pay for trips to the state’s capitol in Santa Fe to protest the permit. They blocked traffic and called for public hearings. Newspapers around this time reported children who were born with brain defects, as well as worms and high lead levels in tap water. Finally, in 1991, the incinerator company’s permit was denied and the state required the landfill to install a new liner to protect groundwater.

Today, Sunland Park remains a working-class community where 84 percent speak Spanish at home, with more than double the national poverty and uninsured rates, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. In a place with few professional opportunities for young people, some of the loudest voices about the water quality are the same voices that spoke up more than 30 years ago: what’s left of the Concerned Citizens protesters — retirees who are no longer working full-time and know the city’s history.

“Back then the people were stronger. Nowadays, many people are older and we can’t even carry the gallons” of store-bought water, said Elvia Acevedo, 65, in her living room where cases of bottled water are stacked. “I want to fight and get justice. For those who can no longer.”

It’s not entirely clear how the problems with arsenic in the water began, but state and federal databases show violations piled up for years, even before several regional utilities were combined to form CRRUA in 2009.

At the state level, the New Mexico Environment Department is controlled by Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, a Democrat elected in 2018. Matt Maez, a spokesman for the department, said the state has struggled to fix the city’s water because of budget cuts enacted under Lujan Grisham’s Republican predecessor, Susana Martinez.

Several of CRRUA’s seven board members, most of whom are elected officials, declined to comment. One, Alberto Jaramillo, who is also a city councilor, told The Washington Post he only recently learned about the area’s history of elevated arsenic. But he said he drinks the tap water and believes it is safe.

“I haven’t read what arsenic does to your body over time, but if somebody says that I got cancer because of this or that, I want to see the proof,” Jaramillo said.

Sunland Park residents woke up one morning at the end of November and turned on their sink faucets and shower heads to see a slimy, oily goo emerging from their taps. Residents reported the problem immediately but that day passed, and then the next, and CRRUA said nothing. Finally, on the fourth day, CRRUA and Doña Ana County issued a notice that the water was not safe to drink, and had not been for days.

Local officials doled out bottled water. State officials investigated, discovering that the machine in charge of releasing caustic soda, used to treat arsenic, had malfunctioned, causing an unhealthy amount of pH buildup in the water. In all, residents were without potable water for six days.

As state officials investigated, they found something else: The water had illegally high levels of arsenic. Three of the four arsenic plants “have been offline and bypassed for over a year,” the state said in a violation notice it sent to CRRUA, which did not account for the arsenic violations occurring in prior years.

CRRUA’s executive director, Brent Westmoreland, retired in December. He did not respond to requests for comment.

In January, the New Mexico Environmental Department issued a report that found 58 “significant deficiencies” in CRRUA’s water system. The state is now cracking down, levying a $251,580 fine in March. Then, a top environmental official sent a letter to the state’s attorney general and auditor urging an investigation into CRRUA for “potential violations of consumer protection laws and possible waste, fraud, and abuse of state and federal funds.”

State investigators also paid an unannounced visit to Sunland Park on March 15 and took 10 water samples, finding one was above legal arsenic limits. The state has now demanded CRRUA turn over records related to its water testing.

CRRUA is appealing the state’s administrative order. In a letter to the state, CRRUA board chair Susana Chaparro said the utility was proud of “ongoing improvements” since January. “What we were handed did not occur overnight and cannot be fixed overnight,” she said.

The water utility also recently hired its first public information officer to communicate with its customers. Its website is now regularly updated, and notices have begun to go out with Spanish translations. CRRUA recently posted a video demonstrating how its staff samples water to test for arsenic. The utility’s interim executive director Juan Carlos Crosby said in a county board meeting on April 9 that CRRUA was more than halfway through correcting the deficiencies identified by the state and is now testing for arsenic twice a month.

Eric Lopez, a consultant who recently began overseeing the arsenic plants, said CRRUA is also adding new technology to be able to monitor the water’s chemical and contaminant levels remotely.

But many residents are unconvinced that change will come without more dramatic intervention from state or federal agencies. Resident Lorenzo Villescas, 68, said officials had a playbook for what was happening in Sunland Park.

“I compare this to Flint,” he said, referring to the Michigan city where problems with lead in the water sparked national outrage 10 years ago this month. There, “the authorities denied it was bad, too.”

Residents have been pleased by the new attention from state and local officials in recent months but have wondered if it’s only come about because newer and wealthier residents in growing developments around the city have also now been affected.

“They discovered this now because the water came out bad in the new areas, where the rich people live,” said Isabel Santos, 65, a former interim mayor and city council member who was also once president of the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park and now wants to revive the group.

Villescas has lesions on his skin and wonders if it is from drinking the arsenic-laden water. So does Maria Lucero, 66, whose family helped found this town but is now looking to move out because of the water.

Irene Rodriguez, 62, is surrounded by cancer: Her husband, her mother and three of her four siblings were diagnosed with it. They only recently started to wonder if their water was to blame. She has stopped even brushing her teeth with it.

Ofelia Garcia, 81, said many of her friends and neighbors have died of thyroid cancer. “A lot of people down here die from cancer. But we don’t know if it’s from the water for sure,” she said.

At a ranch full of high-end horses that compete at a local racetrack, horses kept dying, said a former employee who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of offending the utility. He said he quit and now only gives the horses he raises bottled drinking water.

Acevedo said she drank the tap water here for a long time, including when she was pregnant with her son Mikey. She said he was born with Down syndrome as well as thyroid problems, asthma and diabetes, while her other two children, who were born in California before she moved to Sunland Park, were born healthy.

In March, three friends of hers who were born and raised in Sunland Park died of cancer. She blames the water.

“People are dying from this,” she said. “We’re paying for something that’s poisoning us.”

With residents distrustful of the utility, it is common in Sunland Park to see water bottles piled up in garbage cans and stacked by the dozens in living rooms and kitchens. Some people drive to nearby El Paso for water while others say they boil the water before use, which experts said actually concentrates arsenic rather than removing it.

In a door-to-door survey conducted by Empowerment Congress in March, 317 out of 490 people said they were not using the tap water to drink or cook.

About 11 years ago, Monge’s husband developed prostate and thyroid cancer. Several years ago, he began to hallucinate and grew weak. She took him from doctor to doctor in hopes of finding out what was wrong. His February death was officially attributed to Parkinson’s disease. A bugler played “Taps” before the decorated Vietnam War veteran was buried on a crisp March morning in Arlington National Cemetery.

Monge, who has lived in town for over 40 years, now wonders if other conditions in her family — one of her daughters was born premature at two pounds, another one developed a tumor in her late teens, while Monge herself was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis — could be related to prolonged arsenic exposure.

Experts say arsenic can cause many of the conditions cited by residents though such diseases are also rampant in low-income communities of color even without dangerous water conditions. “There’s a lot of parts of injustice in poor, Latino communities. … But how do you just nail down one? How do you just say — look, is this the thing that’s killing you?” asked Israel Chávez, a lawyer representing residents.

After Monge spoke at the CRRUA board meeting about her late husband, Vivian Fuller, a field organizer for Empowerment Congress, cast aside her pre-written notes for public comments, and issued a new plea to the board members.

“People are dying. Our community is dying,” she said. “There’s nothing that we can do unless you all help us.”

Read the full story here.
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Scientists Hope Underwater Fiber-Optic Cables Can Help Save Endangered Orcas

Scientists from the University of Washington recently deployed a little over 1 mile of fiber-optic cable in the Salish Sea to test whether internet cables can monitor endangered orcas

SAN JUAN ISLAND, Wash. (AP) — As dawn broke over San Juan Island, a team of scientists stood on the deck of a barge and unspooled over a mile of fiber-optic cable into the frigid waters of the Salish Sea. Working by headlamp, they fed the line from the rocky shore down to the seafloor — home to the region's orcas.The bet is that the same hair-thin strands that carry internet signals can be transformed into a continuous underwater microphone to capture the clicks, calls and whistles of passing whales — information that could reveal how they respond to ship traffic, food scarcity and climate change. If the experiment works, the thousands of miles of fiber-optic cables that already crisscross the ocean floor could be turned into a vast listening network that could inform conservation efforts worldwide.The technology, called Distributed Acoustic Sensing, or DAS, was developed to monitor pipelines and detect infrastructure problems. Now University of Washington scientists are adapting it to listen to the ocean. Unlike traditional hydrophones that listen from a single spot, DAS turns the entire cable into a sensor, allowing it to pinpoint the exact location of an animal and determine the direction it’s heading.“We can imagine that we have thousands of hydrophones along the cable recording data continuously,” said Shima Abadi, professor at the University of Washington Bothell School of STEM and the University of Washington School of Oceanography. “We can know where the animals are and learn about their migration patterns much better than hydrophones.”The researchers have already proven the technology works with large baleen whales. In a test off the Oregon coast, they recorded the low-frequency rumblings of fin whales and blue whales using existing telecommunications cables.But orcas present a bigger challenge: Their clicks and calls operate at high frequencies at which the technology hasn’t yet been tested.The stakes are high. The Southern Resident orcas that frequent the Salish Sea are endangered, with a population hovering around 75. The whales face a triple threat: underwater noise pollution, toxic contaminants and food scarcity.“We have an endangered killer whale trying to eat an endangered salmon species,” said Scott Veirs, president of Beam Reach Marine Science and Sustainability, an organization that develops open-source acoustic systems for whale conservation.The Chinook salmon that orcas depend on have declined dramatically. Since the Pacific Salmon Commission began tracking numbers in 1984, populations have dropped 60% due to habitat loss, overfishing, dams and climate change.Orcas use echolocation – rapid clicks that bounce off objects – to find salmon in murky water. Ship noise can mask those clicks, making it difficult for them to hunt.If DAS works as hoped, it could give conservationists real-time information to protect the whales. For instance, if the system detects orcas heading south toward Seattle and calculates their travel speed, scientists could alert Washington State Ferries to postpone noisy activities or to slow down until the whales pass.“It will for sure help with dynamic management and long-term policy that will have real benefits for the whales,” Veirs said.The technology would also answer basic questions about orca behavior that have eluded scientists, such as determining whether their communication changes when they’re in different behavioral states and how they hunt together. It could even enable researchers to identify which sound is coming from a particular whale — a kind of voice recognition for orcas.The implications extend far beyond the Salish Sea. With some 870,000 miles (1.4 million kilometers) of fiber-optic cables already installed underwater globally, the infrastructure for ocean monitoring largely exists. It just needs to be tapped. “One of the most important challenges for managing wildlife, conserving biodiversity and combating climate change is that there’s just a lack of data overall,” said Yuta Masuda, director of science at Allen Family Philanthropies, which helped fund the project.The timing is critical. The High Seas Treaty enters into force in January, which will allow for new marine protected areas in international waters. But scientists still don’t understand how human activities affect most ocean species or where protections are most needed. A dataset as vast as the one the global web of submarine cables could provide might help determine which areas should be prioritized for protection.“We think this has a lot of promise to fill in those key data gaps,” Masuda said.Back on the barge, the team faced a delicate task: fusing two fibers together above the rolling swell. They struggled to align the strands in a fusion splicer, a device that precisely positions the fiber ends before melting them together with an electric current. The boat rocked. They steadied their hands and tried again, and again. Finally, the weld held. Data soon began flowing to a computer on shore, appearing as waterfall plots — cascading visualizations that show sound frequencies over time. Nearby, cameras trained on the water stood ready so that if a vocalization was detected, researchers could link a behavior with a specific call.All that was left was to sit and wait for orcas.The Associated Press receives support from the Walton Family Foundation for coverage of water and environmental policy. The AP is solely responsible for all content. For all of AP’s environmental coverage, visit https://apnews.com/hub/climate-and-environmentCopyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Oct. 2025

New York to appeal after judge OKs radioactive Indian Point water in the Hudson

Governor Kathy Hochul has confirmed that the Indian Point nuclear plant will not be reopened, despite a federal judge's ruling that the state's Save the Hudson Act, which aimed to prevent the dumping of radioactive wastewater into the Hudson River, was invalid.

ALBANY, N.Y. (NEXSTAR) — A federal judge in New York last month struck down the state's Save the Hudson Act, a law that aimed to prevent Holtec International, the owner of the decommissioned Indian Point nuclear plant, from dumping over a million gallons of radioactive wastewater into the Hudson River. Still, despite the ruling and her openness to expand nuclear power in the state, Gov. Kathy Hochul (D) maintains that the site will not reopen. "Let me say this plainly: No," Hochul wrote in a letter to Westchester County Executive Ken Jenkins on Friday, which can be read at the bottom of this story. Entergy, the previous owners of the Indian Point Energy Center, shut down its final reactor, Unit 3, in April 2021. Holtec bought the three-unit nuclear power plant located in the northwestern corner of Westchester County on the eastern bank of the Hudson River in May 2021. Use it or lose it: Summer EBT food benefits expiring Friday The plant is undergoing a decommissioning process that includes removing equipment and structures, reducing residual radioactivity, and dismantling the facility. Holtec projects that process to finish by 2033. The U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York sided with Holtec in a lawsuit they filed in April 2024, agreeing that state law can't block the discharge of radioactive wastewater from nuclear sites being decommissioned. The court found that only the federal government has that authority, because federal law like the Atomic Energy Act overrules the state under the Supremacy Clause of the U.S. Constitution. Hochul launches $1B clean climate plan as state, federal energy agendas diverge The judge determined that S6893/A7208 wasn't meant to protect the radiological safety of the public or the environment, which falls under federal jurisdiction. Gov. Kathy Hochul and Attorney General Letitia James announced their intent to appeal the decision, arguing that the law represents vital protections for the iconic river and the economic health of the region through tourism and real estate values. Jenkins applauded the decision to appeal, saying, "The Hudson River is the lifeblood of our region—a source of recreation, natural beauty, and economic vitality—and we must do everything in our power to protect it." And in the letter to Jenkins, Hochul directly addressed the concern that the state government may plan to reopen Indian Point or build small modular reactors on the site. NYC storm cancels Columbus Day parade amid Indigenous Peoples Day debate "There have been no discussions or plans," the governor wrote. "I would not support efforts to do so." Riverkeeper, an environmental advocacy group, called the ruling a blow to the progress made in restoring the Hudson River. They worked with local officials to pass the Save the Hudson Act in 2023 after Holtec announced plan to release the wastewater. New York’s 2040 energy grid: Nuclear power, public renewables, and fracked gas pipelines The wastewater in question is contaminated with tritium, a radioactive isotope of hydrogen created during the nuclear fission process. Tritium—whose half-life is 12 years—bonds with oxygen, meaning the wastewater cannot be filtered. S6893/A7208, signed by Hochul in August 2023, lets the attorney general enforce the ban with civil penalties of $37,500 for the first day of violation, $75,000 for the second, and $150,000 per violation thereafter. It came in response to Holtec's initial plan to put between 1.3 and 1.5 million gallons of tritiated water from the spent fuel pools, reactor cavity, and other holding tanks into the Hudson. The company maintained that discharge would be the safest option for the tritiated water, that the planned release represented just 5% of what the plant discharged historically, and that the plan followed federal guidelines. Data challenges tax flight claims in New York The company wanted to start dewatering with three 18,000-gallon batches—45,000 gallons in total—in May 2023. Holtec paused their initial plan so the state could perform independent sampling and analysis of the water. Federal water standards set the maximum contaminant level for tritium at 20,000 picocuries per liter, though California, for example, aims to say below 400 picocuries of tritium per liter. Regulations on radioactive releases from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, the federal body managing decommissions, are based on the dose to the public, regardless of the volume of the discharge. NRC has an internal goal to keep the dose from liquid releases below three millirem per year at the release point, and a legal limit of 25 millirem per year. Power struggle: New York lawmakers, environmentalists clash over electricity The calculated dose to the public from Indian Point in 2021 was about 0.011966 millirem—about one-thousandth of the federal cap. Plus, NRC allows several disposal methods, including transferring the waste, storing it for decay, or releasing it into the environment. Still, critics said the discharge would undermine local economies, erode public trust, and doom the Hudson even as more New Yorkers swim, boat, fish, and work on and in the river. Riverkeeper said there are alternatives, like storing the water for its 12-year half-life. They want the contaminated water to be held at Indian Point for at least 12 years, when its radioactivity will be reduced by half, before exploring any alternative disposal. Gas pipelines eye return to New York But delaying the discharge process could force lay offs of specialized Holtec workers. The company already extended decommissioning timelines at two other sites—Pilgrim and Oyster Creek—from eight to 12 years because of inflated costs and poor market performance. In the letter to Jenkins, Hochul confirmed her support for nuclear as part of the state's energy strategy, but that any new plant would be upstate, and only in communities that want it. Hochul said that downstate New York needs to rely on energy sources like the Champlain Hudson Power Express transmission line, set to bring hydroelectricity from Canada. New York Republican Senators propose scaling back climate laws She characterized the decision to close Indian Point as a hasty failure that caused emissions to rise. It happened before her administration, Hochul argued, and the state "lost 25% of the power that was going to New York City without having a Plan B." Take a look at the letter below: Hochul Indian point letter to JenkinsDownload Arizona AG threatens legal action if Johnson doesn't seat recently elected Democrat FDA expands cinnamon recall to 16 brands with elevated lead levels New York to appeal after judge OKs radioactive Indian Point water in the Hudson Bondi says Facebook has removed page targeting ICE agents after DOJ outreach Live updates: Trump to honor Kirk with Medal of Freedom; Senate to vote as shutdown hits Day 14

Fish Kill at Clear Lake Reveals a Seven-Foot Sturgeon Surprise 

A problem lake was doing pretty well this year. Then came a series of unfortunate water-quality events. The post Fish Kill at Clear Lake Reveals a Seven-Foot Sturgeon Surprise  appeared first on Bay Nature.

Tiny silver fish float up at Clear Lake in August. Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians records indicate this was the biggest fish kill since 2017. (Courtesy of Luis Santana)As Luis Santana motored out onto Clear Lake this August, it seemed at first like a normal summer day out on the water: warm air, cloudy skies, and the wide lake waters full of what seemed like bubbles from the waves.  “Then I stopped, and I was like, Oh my god,” Santana, a fisheries biologist with the Robinson Rancheria tribe, recalls. Those weren’t bubbles; they were millions of dead threadfin shad, and others. “I saw literally every species of fish found in the lake,” except for the Clear Lake tule perch, Santana says. The measurements he took that day revealed what likely killed them: a near-total lack of oxygen in the lake. The fish had, essentially, suffocated. Amid the silver-lined shores, one fish washed up that no one had known to be a resident: a dead seven-foot-long white sturgeon. It was Clear Lake’s first on record. No one knows for sure how it got into the waters, but Santana thinks it died with the shad. White sturgeon (Acipenser transmontanus), the biggest freshwater fish in North America, live in the Bay-Delta. They became a candidate for listing as a threatened species under the California Endangered Species Act after a 2022 harmful algal bloom that killed hundreds of them.  Big ’un: A white sturgeon—in Clear Lake? CDFW says the average sturgeon caught in the Delta these days is about 3.6 feet long, and it is rare to encounter fish larger than 6.5 feet long in California. This one was seven feet. (Courtesy of Luis Santana)This fall’s fish die-off is the lake’s largest since at least 2017, according to records from the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians. And it is yet another environmental black mark for a lake—California’s largest freshwater body—that has been consistently troubled by poor water quality. Now, scientists are uncovering the exact cause of the die-off—and analyzing the sturgeon for more answers. For Angela DePalma-Dow, a lake scientist and executive director of the Lake County Land Trust, the event reminds her: “There’s so much we can learn from Clear Lake.”  As a five-year-old, Santana spent every summer day swimming in Clear Lake. That’s a distant dream now. The summer lake—despite the name—is rarely clear; more often, it’s clouded dirty green as harmful algal blooms take over the waters. Sometimes, Santana thinks the water smells like sewage. “I don’t think my kids have ever swam in Clear Lake,” Santana says.  Fish die-offs and fish kills are a consequence of these impaired conditions, especially the frequent harmful algal blooms (HABs), during which algae decompose and strip the water of oxygen (while also filling the water with cyanotoxins). The Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians has tracked harmful algal blooms in Clear Lake since 2014. The program started after five years of “thick, noxious blooms covering [Clear Lake’s] surface” (as the tribe writes in a history of the program) and no regular monitoring from the state, despite recommendations from the California Office of Environmental Health Hazard Assessment. “We just needed to have more data,” says Sarah Ryan, the environmental director at the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians.  “It seems like they have fish kills every year,” says Ben Ewing, who studies the endemic Clear Lake hitch, a large minnow, at the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. “I lost track with how many.” In 2017, the state Legislature formed a committee to restore the lake, citing high mercury levels, dangerous contaminants in fish, and the regular HABs; to date, it has led to tens of millions in state funding for research, restoration, and education projects on Clear Lake, including helping sustain water quality monitoring cut by the state during the Covid pandemic.  Cyanobacteria bloom at Redbud Park, in Clear Lake’s southeast arm, in July 2020. Big Valley Pomo EPA’s sampling found toxins at a “warning” level. The lake is frequently beset by harmful algal blooms. (Courtesy of Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians)This die-off, Ewing says, caught lake-watchers off guard because 2025 seemed like the year Clear Lake might escape a fish kill. The characteristic pea soup of harmful algal blooms had been noticeably absent. Instead, the cause was likely a perfect storm of other conditions, says Ewing. “Everything had to line up correctly for this to happen,” he says.  Two bountiful water seasons laid the ground for it, DePalma-Dow explains. Fish populations—especially nonnative bait fish like shad—boomed with the increased water, which also meant some fish naturally died. She speculates that as their bodies decomposed, they stripped oxygen from the water column. Then, this fall, heavy winds came and distributed the low-oxygen water throughout the water column. A series of cloudy mornings arrived, during which the lake’s aquatic plants couldn’t respire oxygen back into the water. So more fish likely died, triggering oxygen levels to further plummet. Eventually, conditions became fatal for all species of fish. Santana says he measured “basically zeroes on every level” for dissolved oxygen through the water column. DePalma-Dow says this process is just the lake self-regulating, as fish populations outstrip the oxygen available. “This is totally not surprising for a lake cycle event,” she says. “This is a big, huge, natural system.” Santana blames human disturbance for the die-off. “We took away all the habitat that could potentially negate any of these effects,” he says. Clear Lake has lost up to 90 percent of its wetlands, he says, and creeks that might once have provided an infusion of oxygen-rich water into the lake now run dry in May and June. “There’s just so many things we’re taking and taking and not giving back,” he says.  A satellite image of Clear Lake during a May 2024 algal bloom. The emerald color doesn’t tell you whether toxins are present, though. That requires water sampling, which the Big Valley Band of Pomo Indians EPA has been doing since 2014. (Sentinel-2 satellite, via the Copernicus browser)In lieu of those natural processes, technological solutions are being considered: Researchers from UC Davis are exploring installing oxygenators in Clear Lake that could trap nutrients in the sediment under a thin layer of oxygen, theoretically reducing the number of harmful algal blooms—and, possibly, keeping oxygen levels higher so more fish can breathe. “That would be one of the hopeful outcomes,” says DePalma-Dow. Neither the state nor county put out a press release about the die-off, Ryan notes. “It’s always better if you can anticipate the questions and try to get information out.” For now, those living by the lake watch (and smell) the dead fish decompose. “There’s really no post support,” she says.  The August die-off on Clear Lake silvered the shoreline. It claimed fish of “literally every species,” says Luis Santana, a Robinson Rancheria fisheries biologist. (Larger fish on shore courtesy of Luis Santana; silvery shoreline by Shawna McEwan; closeup by Sophia Zesati) Fish populations will likely recover, scientists say. Many fish probably survived, in nooks and crannies. With good winter rains, they can breed and repopulate the waters by spring. This die-off is just another challenge for a beleaguered lake.  As for the sturgeon? USGS scientists were trying to figure out how old it was, and hoping to answer when it got to the lake, but the government shutdown has since paused their work. And they cannot answer questions about their research until the shutdown ends. Santana’s observations of the sturgeon showed it was a female with eggs. For now, the giant fish is a reminder of the treasures that may hide in Clear Lake’s murky waters. “Every year is a mystery and surprise,” DePalma-Dow says.

Millions of households face jump in water bills after regulator backs more price rises

Competition watchdog agrees requests from Anglian, Northumbrian, Southern, Wessex and South East to raise household billsBusiness live – latest updatesWater bills for millions of households in England will increase by even more than expected after the competition regulator gave the green light for five water suppliers to raise charges to customers – but rejected most of the companies’ demands.An independent group of experts appointed by the Competition and Markets Authority (CMA) decided provisionally to let the companies collectively charge customers an extra £556m over the next five years, it said on Thursday. That was only 21% of the £2.7bn that the firms had requested. Continue reading...

Water bills for millions of households in England will increase by even more than expected after the competition regulator gave the green light for five water suppliers to raise charges to customers – but rejected most of the companies’ demands.An independent group of experts appointed by the Competition and Markets Authority (CMA) decided provisionally to let the companies collectively charge customers an extra £556m over the next five years, it said on Thursday. That was only 21% of the £2.7bn that the firms had requested.The five companies – Anglian, Northumbrian, Southern, Wessex and South East – together serve 14.7 million customers. The changes will add 3% on average to those companies’ bills, on top of the 24% increase previously allowed.The companies appealed to the CMA in February for permission to raise bills by more than allowed previously by the industry regulator, Ofwat. They argued they needed more to meet environmental standards.Water bills have become the subject of significant political controversy in recent years in the UK amid widespread disgust over leaks of harmful sewage into Britain’s rivers and seas.Emma Hardy, the water minister, said: “I understand the public’s anger over bill rises – that’s why I expect every water company to offer proper support to anyone struggling to pay.“We’ve made sure that investment cash goes into infrastructure upgrades, not bonuses, and we’re creating a tough new regulator to clean up our waterways and restore trust in the system.”English and Welsh water companies are mostly privately owned, but the prices the local monopolies can charge customers are regulated by Ofwat over five-year periods. Ofwat in December said average annual household bills could rise by 36% to £597 by 2030 to help pay for investment.Ofwat said the companies could spend £104bn in total, paid by consumers.The allowed bill increases stopped well short of the water companies’ requests. The CMA said the expert panel had largely reject companies’ funding requests for new activities and projects beyond those agreed by Ofwat. However, the panel did allow more money for returns to investors, to reflect sustained high interest rates since the bills increases were approved.Anglian Water, serving the east of England and Hartlepool, asked for the average annual household bill to rise to £649 – a 10% increase – but was granted only £599, or 1%. Northumbrian, mainly in north-east England, asked for £515, or 6%, and was given £495, also 1%.South East Water, which only provides drinking water and not sewage services in several home counties, asked for an 18% increase to £322, but was allowed 4% to £286. Southern Water, on England’s south-east coast, asked for a 15% increase to £710. That would have been the highest bill in England and Wales, but it was allowed only a 3% increase to £638.Wessex Water in south-west England asked for an 8% increase to £642, and was granted the biggest proportional increase on appeal of 5% to £622.The CMA and other regulators have faced pressure from the Labour government to put more focus on economic growth. The chancellor, Rachel Reeves, this year appointed former Amazon boss Doug Gurr to lead the CMA.Kirstin Baker, the chair of the group that decided on the appeals, said: “We’ve found that water companies’ requests for significant bill increases, on top of those allowed by Ofwat, are largely unjustified.skip past newsletter promotionSign up to Business TodayGet set for the working day – we'll point you to all the business news and analysis you need every morningPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain information about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. If you do not have an account, we will create a guest account for you on theguardian.com to send you this newsletter. You can complete full registration at any time. For more information about how we use your data see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotion“We understand the real pressure on household budgets and have worked to keep increases to a minimum, while still ensuring there is funding to deliver essential improvements at reasonable cost.”For affected households, the price increases will add to inflation on the cost of living. Mike Keil, chief executive of the Consumer Council for Water, which represents consumers, said “further increases will be very unwelcome”, and questioned whether the CMA should have allowed higher returns for investors.“There is a danger the customers of these companies will end up paying more, without seeing any additional improvements in return,” he said.Environmental groups have questioned why companies are allowed to return cash to shareholders while continuing to pollute Britain’s rivers and seas. James Wallace, chief executive of River Action, a campaign group, said: “Once again, water bill payers are forced to shoulder the cost of decades of failure.“Millions of households in England face higher bills while rivers continue to suffer from mismanagement by privatised water companies. In 2024 alone, four of these five companies were responsible for at least 1.4m hours of sewage discharges into rivers and seas – a stark illustration of ongoing environmental harm.”The CMA group’s decision will also be carefully considered by Thames Water, Britain’s biggest water company with 16 million customers. Thames also appealed initially but has agreed to pause it while the utility and its creditors negotiate with Ofwat over a restructuring plan to try to cut its debt burden and prevent it collapsing into temporary government control.Thames is still considering a request for a further £4bn. People close to Thames Water had criticised Ofwat’s approach to the price determination, arguing that the utility needed much more cash to turn around its performance on pollution.The best public interest journalism relies on first-hand accounts from people in the know.If you have something to share on this subject you can contact the Business team confidentially using the following methods.Secure Messaging in the Guardian appThe Guardian app has a tool to send tips about stories. Messages are end to end encrypted and concealed within the routine activity that every Guardian mobile app performs. This prevents an observer from knowing that you are communicating with us at all, let alone what is being said.If you don't already have the Guardian app, download it (iOS/Android) and go to the menu. Scroll down and click on Secure Messaging. When asked who you wish to contact please select the Guardian Business team.SecureDrop, instant messengers, email, telephone and postIf you can safely use the tor network without being observed or monitored you can send messages and documents to the Guardian via our SecureDrop platform.Finally, our guide at theguardian.com/tips lists several ways to contact us securely, and discusses the pros and cons of each. Illustration: Guardian Design / Rich Cousins

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