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Ranchers reported abandoned oil wells spewing wastewater. A new study blames fracking.

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Wednesday, August 7, 2024

Sign up for The Brief, The Texas Tribune’s daily newsletter that keeps readers up to speed on the most essential Texas news. Fracking wastewater, injected underground for permanent disposal, traveled 12 miles through geological faults before bursting to the surface through a previously plugged West Texas oil well in 2022, according to a new study from Southern Methodist University. It’s the first study to draw specific links between wastewater injection and recent blowouts in the Permian Basin, the nation’s top producing oil field, where old oil wells have lately begun to spray salty water. It raises concerns about the possibility of widespread groundwater contamination in West Texas and increases the urgency for oil producers to find alternative outlets for the millions of gallons of toxic wastewater that come from Permian Basin oil wells every day. “We established a significant link between wastewater injection and oil well blowouts in the Permian Basin,” wrote the authors of the study, funded in part by NASA and published last month in the journal Geophysical Research Letters. The finding suggests "a potential for more blowouts in the near future,” it said. For years, the Texas agency that regulates the oil and gas extraction industry has refrained from putting forth an explanation for the blowout phenomenon, even as a chorus of local landowners alleged that wastewater injections were driving the flows of gassy brine onto the surface of their properties since about 2022. Injection disposal is currently the primary outlet for the tremendous amount of oilfield wastewater, also known as produced water, that flows from fracked oil wells in West Texas. Thousands of injection wells dot the Permian Basin, each reviewed and permitted by Texas’ oilfield regulator, the Texas Railroad Commission. Oil producers are exploring alternatives — a small portion of produced water is reused in fracking, and Texas is in the process of permitting facilities that will treat produced water and release it into rivers and streams. Still, underground injection remains the cheapest and most popular method by far. A scientific connection has solidified between the practice of injection disposal and the increasing strength and frequency of earthquakes nearby. In the Permian Basin, a steady crescendo of tremors peaked last November with magnitude 5.4 earthquake, the state’s strongest in 30 years, triggering heightened restrictions on injections in the area. The link between injections and surface blowouts, however, has remained unconfirmed, despite widespread suspicions. The latest study marks a big step forward in scientific documentation. “It just validates what we’ve been saying,” Sarah Stogner, an oil and gas attorney who ran an unsuccessful campaign for a seat on the Railroad Commission in 2022, said about the latest study. For the last three years, Stogner has represented the Antina Cattle Ranch, where dozens of abandoned oil wells have been spraying back to life. Stogner persistently alleged that nearby wastewater injection was responsible. But she couldn’t prove it. Now a scientific consensus is beginning to fall in behind her. “Our work independently comes to this same conclusion in different areas [of the Permian Basin],” said Katie Smye, a geologist with the Center for Injection and Seismicity Research at the University of Texas at Austin, citing several upcoming papers she and her colleagues will release at major geoscience conferences in the coming year. “There is a link between injection and surface flows in some cases.” In a study published December 2023, Smye and others reported “linear surface deformation features” in parts of the Permian Basin — the ground was swelling along channels that suggested pressure moving through underground faults. Some of those were ancient geological faults, Smye said; others appeared to be created by recent human activity. Many of them were growing, heaving and bulging, the research showed. When that channel of underground pressure hits an old oil well that is broken or improperly plugged, it can shoot to the surface. “This is reaching a critical point in the Permian Basin,” Smye said. “The scale of injection needs is increasing.” About 15 million barrels, or 630 million gallons, of produced water are injected for disposal in the Permian Basin every day, Smye said. A Railroad Commission spokesperson, Patty Ramon, said in a statement the agency is “talking to operators in the Crane County area regarding geology and other data they maintain, reviewing satellite imagery, and analyzing RRC records such as well plugging information. “We will be continuing this type of analysis in our commitment to ensuring environmental protection,” Ramon said. Blowout in 2022 sparks study The SMU study examined a January 2022 blowout in Crane County that gushed almost 15 million gallons of brine before it was capped, according to the paper. That would fill about 23 Olympic-sized swimming pools. The study traced the cause of the blowout to a cluster of nine injection wells about 12 miles to the northeast. Researchers pulled publicly available data on injection volumes at those wells and found they lined up closely to surface swelling that preceded the blowout. Seven of the wells belong to Goodnight Midstream and two belong to Blackbeard Operating, according to Railroad Commission records. A spokesperson for Blackbeard said the company “is committed to ensuring prudent operations” and “will continue to operate its assets in accordance with all applicable laws and in coordination with all applicable regulatory agencies.” Goodnight did not respond to a query. According to the paper, injection at those nine wells began in 2018 at a rate of about 362,000 gallons per day and doubled to 720,000 gallons per day in late 2019. In late 2020 it doubled again to 1.5 million gallons — two Olympic-sized swimming pools crammed underground everyday — which is when the ground near the blowout site began to inflate. The study found that the volume injected matched the volume of the surface bulge 12 miles away. “These observations suggest that this group of injection wells to the NW of the study area, injecting into the San Andres and Glorieta formations, is responsible for the surface deformation in the region,” the study said. Those wells reached a depth between 4,300 and 3,300 feet. But the SMU study found that the source of the bulge in the earth was much shallower, between 2,300 and 1,600 feet underground. “This suggests the leakage of wastewater from the San Andres or Glorieta formations to the shallow formations,” the study said. The bottom of the Rustler Aquifer, the lowest usable source of groundwater in the Permian, sits between 800 and 1,000 feet underground. The SMU study did not examine the possibility of groundwater contamination. “Our findings highlight the need for stricter regulations on wastewater injection practices and proper management of abandoned wells,” the study said. Todd Staples, president of the Texas Oil and Gas Association, said the Railroad Commission “is taking appropriate action by thoroughly gathering and reviewing data to address the issues experienced in Crane County.” He said the industry cooperates with the Railroad Commission by providing data to help analyze geological formations. “In addition, the industry and academia continue to explore alternatives to wastewater injection through market-based water reuse and recycling as well as innovative pilot programs,” Staples said. Ranchers report damaged land West Texas ranchers who own land where contaminated water is seeping from underground are beginning to worry it will soon become uninhabitable. Last February, saltwater flooded parts of Bill Wight’s ranch, about 50 miles southwest of Odessa. The lifelong rancher purchased the land in 2012, hoping to pass it on to his kids. He told The Texas Tribune he wasn’t sure how much of the ranch would survive the leaking wells. When it was clear the flow of water threatened the property last December, he asked the Railroad Commission to seal the well the water had leaked from. It took the commission months and millions of dollars to plug the well. His brother, Schuyler Wight, faces a similar predicament at his ranch roughly 60 miles to the west in Pecos County. He has asked the Railroad Commission for years to investigate the multiple abandoned leaking wells on his property. The liquid has eroded the equipment on the surface and killed the plants. After the water dried up, the ground was crusted white from salt. “It’s what we’ve known all along,” Schuyler Wight said. “What we’re doing is not sustainable.” Ashley Watt, owner of a ranch 50 miles east of Schuyler Wight’s ranch in Crane County, told the Texas Railroad Commission during a 2022 meeting that she believed excessive injection by nearby oil producers was causing the fluids to spray from abandoned oil wells on her property. A Railroad Commission staff member said the agency asked operators to check for a source of the leak. The operators told the commission they did not find any. The Railroad Commission during the meeting also said they did not find a well in the agency’s database, and that the nearest injection wells were less than two miles away. The agency instructed staff to prevent truckers from accessing those injection sites, telling operators to find others “until further notice.” The wells continue to leak. Laura Briggs, who also owns a ranch in Pecos County less than half a mile east of Schuyler Wight’s place, said she has seen five old wells start leaking water since 2015. The Railroad Commission plugged two of them, she said, but one began to leak through the seal again. Briggs has repeatedly given testimony and submitted documentation to the Railroad Commission asking for help. Based on her experience, she believes the subterranean problems in West Texas are much more than what the Railroad Commission can handle. “If I could do one thing differently, we would have gotten a mobile home so it was easier to get the hell out of here,” Briggs said. “If this [ranch] goes leaking, we just have to leave and nobody will buy the property, no insurance will cover it, you’re just done.” Despite those problems, the Railroad Commission approved 400 new disposal wells in the Permian Basin alone in 2021, according to agency documents, and 480 in 2022. Threats to groundwater The use of injection wells for disposal has expanded immensely with the practice of fracking, according to Dominic DiGiulio, a geoscientist who worked for 30 years at the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. But DiGiulio said these wells are still regulated under rules from the 1970s and ’80s. Increasingly, he said, those rules appear insufficient. “West Texas isn’t the only place where this is happening,” DiGiulio said. “Overpressurization of aquifers due to disposal of produced water is a problem.” In 2022, DiGiulio conducted a review of Ohio’s wastewater injection program for the group Physicians, Scientists, and Engineers for Healthy Energy and found the same two problems there: Injected fluids were leaking from some formations meant to contain them, and excessive injections were causing other formations to become overpressurized. There was one big difference with Texas. In November 2021, DiGiulio’s study said, Ohio had just 228 injection wells for wastewater disposal. Texas, meanwhile, had 13,585 in 2022, according to Railroad Commission documents. The primary threat posed by produced water migrating from injection wells is groundwater contamination. If deep formations fail to contain the toxic waste injected into them, that waste could end up in shallow freshwater aquifers. It could happen two ways, DiGiulio said. If the wastewater enters the inside of an old oil well through corroded holes in the casing, it can travel up the steel pipe to the surface, spilling and seeping into the ground. If the wastewater moves up the outside of an old oil well, through the cement that surrounds the steel pipe, it could already be flowing into the aquifer. That would be bad news for West Texas, which depends almost entirely on groundwater for drinking and crop irrigation. “Once groundwater contamination happens, it’s too expensive to remediate,” DiGiulio said. “So when it occurs, that’s basically it. You’ve ruined that resource.” Disclosure: Southern Methodist University and the University of Texas at Austin have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune's journalism. Find a complete list of them here. The full program is now LIVE for the 2024 Texas Tribune Festival, happening Sept. 5–7 in downtown Austin. Explore the program featuring more than 100 unforgettable conversations on topics covering education, the economy, Texas and national politics, criminal justice, the border, the 2024 elections and so much more. See the full program.

An SMU study is the first scientific proof of a phenomenon local landowners have long warned was occurring.

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


Fracking wastewater, injected underground for permanent disposal, traveled 12 miles through geological faults before bursting to the surface through a previously plugged West Texas oil well in 2022, according to a new study from Southern Methodist University.

It’s the first study to draw specific links between wastewater injection and recent blowouts in the Permian Basin, the nation’s top producing oil field, where old oil wells have lately begun to spray salty water.

It raises concerns about the possibility of widespread groundwater contamination in West Texas and increases the urgency for oil producers to find alternative outlets for the millions of gallons of toxic wastewater that come from Permian Basin oil wells every day.

“We established a significant link between wastewater injection and oil well blowouts in the Permian Basin,” wrote the authors of the study, funded in part by NASA and published last month in the journal Geophysical Research Letters. The finding suggests "a potential for more blowouts in the near future,” it said.

For years, the Texas agency that regulates the oil and gas extraction industry has refrained from putting forth an explanation for the blowout phenomenon, even as a chorus of local landowners alleged that wastewater injections were driving the flows of gassy brine onto the surface of their properties since about 2022.

Injection disposal is currently the primary outlet for the tremendous amount of oilfield wastewater, also known as produced water, that flows from fracked oil wells in West Texas. Thousands of injection wells dot the Permian Basin, each reviewed and permitted by Texas’ oilfield regulator, the Texas Railroad Commission.

Oil producers are exploring alternatives — a small portion of produced water is reused in fracking, and Texas is in the process of permitting facilities that will treat produced water and release it into rivers and streams. Still, underground injection remains the cheapest and most popular method by far.

A scientific connection has solidified between the practice of injection disposal and the increasing strength and frequency of earthquakes nearby. In the Permian Basin, a steady crescendo of tremors peaked last November with magnitude 5.4 earthquake, the state’s strongest in 30 years, triggering heightened restrictions on injections in the area.

The link between injections and surface blowouts, however, has remained unconfirmed, despite widespread suspicions. The latest study marks a big step forward in scientific documentation.

“It just validates what we’ve been saying,” Sarah Stogner, an oil and gas attorney who ran an unsuccessful campaign for a seat on the Railroad Commission in 2022, said about the latest study.

For the last three years, Stogner has represented the Antina Cattle Ranch, where dozens of abandoned oil wells have been spraying back to life. Stogner persistently alleged that nearby wastewater injection was responsible. But she couldn’t prove it.

Now a scientific consensus is beginning to fall in behind her.

“Our work independently comes to this same conclusion in different areas [of the Permian Basin],” said Katie Smye, a geologist with the Center for Injection and Seismicity Research at the University of Texas at Austin, citing several upcoming papers she and her colleagues will release at major geoscience conferences in the coming year. “There is a link between injection and surface flows in some cases.”

In a study published December 2023, Smye and others reported “linear surface deformation features” in parts of the Permian Basin — the ground was swelling along channels that suggested pressure moving through underground faults. Some of those were ancient geological faults, Smye said; others appeared to be created by recent human activity. Many of them were growing, heaving and bulging, the research showed.

When that channel of underground pressure hits an old oil well that is broken or improperly plugged, it can shoot to the surface.

“This is reaching a critical point in the Permian Basin,” Smye said. “The scale of injection needs is increasing.”

About 15 million barrels, or 630 million gallons, of produced water are injected for disposal in the Permian Basin every day, Smye said.

A Railroad Commission spokesperson, Patty Ramon, said in a statement the agency is “talking to operators in the Crane County area regarding geology and other data they maintain, reviewing satellite imagery, and analyzing RRC records such as well plugging information.

“We will be continuing this type of analysis in our commitment to ensuring environmental protection,” Ramon said.

Blowout in 2022 sparks study

The SMU study examined a January 2022 blowout in Crane County that gushed almost 15 million gallons of brine before it was capped, according to the paper. That would fill about 23 Olympic-sized swimming pools.

The study traced the cause of the blowout to a cluster of nine injection wells about 12 miles to the northeast. Researchers pulled publicly available data on injection volumes at those wells and found they lined up closely to surface swelling that preceded the blowout. Seven of the wells belong to Goodnight Midstream and two belong to Blackbeard Operating, according to Railroad Commission records.

A spokesperson for Blackbeard said the company “is committed to ensuring prudent operations” and “will continue to operate its assets in accordance with all applicable laws and in coordination with all applicable regulatory agencies.”

Goodnight did not respond to a query.

According to the paper, injection at those nine wells began in 2018 at a rate of about 362,000 gallons per day and doubled to 720,000 gallons per day in late 2019. In late 2020 it doubled again to 1.5 million gallons — two Olympic-sized swimming pools crammed underground everyday — which is when the ground near the blowout site began to inflate.

The study found that the volume injected matched the volume of the surface bulge 12 miles away.

“These observations suggest that this group of injection wells to the NW of the study area, injecting into the San Andres and Glorieta formations, is responsible for the surface deformation in the region,” the study said.

Those wells reached a depth between 4,300 and 3,300 feet. But the SMU study found that the source of the bulge in the earth was much shallower, between 2,300 and 1,600 feet underground.

“This suggests the leakage of wastewater from the San Andres or Glorieta formations to the shallow formations,” the study said.

The bottom of the Rustler Aquifer, the lowest usable source of groundwater in the Permian, sits between 800 and 1,000 feet underground. The SMU study did not examine the possibility of groundwater contamination.

“Our findings highlight the need for stricter regulations on wastewater injection practices and proper management of abandoned wells,” the study said.

Todd Staples, president of the Texas Oil and Gas Association, said the Railroad Commission “is taking appropriate action by thoroughly gathering and reviewing data to address the issues experienced in Crane County.”

He said the industry cooperates with the Railroad Commission by providing data to help analyze geological formations. “In addition, the industry and academia continue to explore alternatives to wastewater injection through market-based water reuse and recycling as well as innovative pilot programs,” Staples said.

Ranchers report damaged land

West Texas ranchers who own land where contaminated water is seeping from underground are beginning to worry it will soon become uninhabitable.

Last February, saltwater flooded parts of Bill Wight’s ranch, about 50 miles southwest of Odessa. The lifelong rancher purchased the land in 2012, hoping to pass it on to his kids. He told The Texas Tribune he wasn’t sure how much of the ranch would survive the leaking wells.

When it was clear the flow of water threatened the property last December, he asked the Railroad Commission to seal the well the water had leaked from. It took the commission months and millions of dollars to plug the well.

His brother, Schuyler Wight, faces a similar predicament at his ranch roughly 60 miles to the west in Pecos County. He has asked the Railroad Commission for years to investigate the multiple abandoned leaking wells on his property. The liquid has eroded the equipment on the surface and killed the plants. After the water dried up, the ground was crusted white from salt.

“It’s what we’ve known all along,” Schuyler Wight said. “What we’re doing is not sustainable.”

Ashley Watt, owner of a ranch 50 miles east of Schuyler Wight’s ranch in Crane County, told the Texas Railroad Commission during a 2022 meeting that she believed excessive injection by nearby oil producers was causing the fluids to spray from abandoned oil wells on her property.

A Railroad Commission staff member said the agency asked operators to check for a source of the leak. The operators told the commission they did not find any. The Railroad Commission during the meeting also said they did not find a well in the agency’s database, and that the nearest injection wells were less than two miles away.

The agency instructed staff to prevent truckers from accessing those injection sites, telling operators to find others “until further notice.”

The wells continue to leak.

Laura Briggs, who also owns a ranch in Pecos County less than half a mile east of Schuyler Wight’s place, said she has seen five old wells start leaking water since 2015. The Railroad Commission plugged two of them, she said, but one began to leak through the seal again.

Briggs has repeatedly given testimony and submitted documentation to the Railroad Commission asking for help. Based on her experience, she believes the subterranean problems in West Texas are much more than what the Railroad Commission can handle.

“If I could do one thing differently, we would have gotten a mobile home so it was easier to get the hell out of here,” Briggs said. “If this [ranch] goes leaking, we just have to leave and nobody will buy the property, no insurance will cover it, you’re just done.”

Despite those problems, the Railroad Commission approved 400 new disposal wells in the Permian Basin alone in 2021, according to agency documents, and 480 in 2022.

Threats to groundwater

The use of injection wells for disposal has expanded immensely with the practice of fracking, according to Dominic DiGiulio, a geoscientist who worked for 30 years at the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. But DiGiulio said these wells are still regulated under rules from the 1970s and ’80s. Increasingly, he said, those rules appear insufficient.

“West Texas isn’t the only place where this is happening,” DiGiulio said. “Overpressurization of aquifers due to disposal of produced water is a problem.”

In 2022, DiGiulio conducted a review of Ohio’s wastewater injection program for the group Physicians, Scientists, and Engineers for Healthy Energy and found the same two problems there: Injected fluids were leaking from some formations meant to contain them, and excessive injections were causing other formations to become overpressurized.

There was one big difference with Texas. In November 2021, DiGiulio’s study said, Ohio had just 228 injection wells for wastewater disposal. Texas, meanwhile, had 13,585 in 2022, according to Railroad Commission documents.

The primary threat posed by produced water migrating from injection wells is groundwater contamination. If deep formations fail to contain the toxic waste injected into them, that waste could end up in shallow freshwater aquifers.

It could happen two ways, DiGiulio said. If the wastewater enters the inside of an old oil well through corroded holes in the casing, it can travel up the steel pipe to the surface, spilling and seeping into the ground. If the wastewater moves up the outside of an old oil well, through the cement that surrounds the steel pipe, it could already be flowing into the aquifer.

That would be bad news for West Texas, which depends almost entirely on groundwater for drinking and crop irrigation.

“Once groundwater contamination happens, it’s too expensive to remediate,” DiGiulio said. “So when it occurs, that’s basically it. You’ve ruined that resource.”

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


The full program is now LIVE for the 2024 Texas Tribune Festival, happening Sept. 5–7 in downtown Austin. Explore the program featuring more than 100 unforgettable conversations on topics covering education, the economy, Texas and national politics, criminal justice, the border, the 2024 elections and so much more. See the full program.

Read the full story here.
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What your cheap clothes cost the planet

A global supply chain built for speed is leaving behind waste, toxins, and a trail of environmental wreckage.

The Atacama desert in Chile is one of the most beautiful and forbidding places on Earth, so dry that it’s sometimes used by scientists to test run Mars missions. Most years the area sees less than half a centimeter of rain, but this past September unusually heavy precipitation brought forth a desert bloom, blanketing the ground with delicate purple flowers that disappeared as quickly as they’d appeared. It was a rare treat for locals used to grimmer ornamentation: Since 2001, colorful mountains of used clothing have been the main feature growing across the Atacama. By the time the largest mound was set on fire in 2022, it contained some 100,000 tons of discarded fabric, roughly the weight of an aircraft carrier. Today, piles like it continue to grow. This fashion graveyard has become so large that some outlets have dubbed it the “great fashion garbage patch.” It owes its growth to the nearby duty-free port of Iquique, where Chile imports all manner of international goods without customs or taxes — including heaps of used clothing from the United States, Europe, and Asia. While the best items are resold to international markets, overwhelming volumes of cheap fast-fashion pieces don’t make the cut. Instead, they are dumped in the desert — an open secret that the government largely ignores. The burnings, whether they’re intended to destroy the evidence or make more space, fill nearby towns with smoky, unhealthy air. Women sort through used clothes amid the tons that are discarded in the Atacama desert, in 2021 in Alto Hospicio, Iquique, Chile. Martin Bernetti / AFP via Getty Images Activists have been fighting against this desert dumping for years, documenting the burnings and suing both the federal and local governments to stop it. But the real blame for Chile’s mess lies beyond the country’s borders. From the moment these garments are spun from fibers to the time of their undignified disposal, they are part of a vast global pollution machine — one that has grown massively as the world economy has globalized and factories have begun pumping out ever-cheaper, ever-faster styles to customers half a world away.  This new hyper-vast, hyper-fast-fashion system is phenomenally destructive. Today, the clothing trade generates some 170 billion garments a year — roughly half of which wind up being thrown out within that year, and almost all of which despoil the world’s land, air, and seas. In the process, it generates as much as 10 percent of all planet-warming emissions, making it the second-largest industrial polluter, while also holding the distinction of being the world’s second-largest consumer and polluter of water. When all its many offenses are cataloged and counted, fashion is the third-most-polluting industry on the planet, after energy and food.  Things weren’t always this bad. While fashion has long left trails of environmental devastation in its wake — just ask the poor snowy egret, sacrificed by the thousands to decorate a generation of women’s hats — it was kept in relative check, even as globalization ramped up, by a 1974 trade agreement known as the Multi Fibre Arrangement. This agreement allowed nations to regulate the number of textile and clothing imports allowed into their countries, thereby protecting domestic production. But its expiration on January 1, 2005, essentially heralded fashion’s NAFTA moment. Low-cost goods from countries such as China and Bangladesh began flooding the United States and the European Union, which undercut domestic production in developing countries by saturating those markets with used clothing. The loosening of the century-old de minimis loophole in 2016, which allowed packages under $800 to enter the United States without tariffs, allowed Shein and Temu, the notorious Chinese e-commerce giants, to grow exponentially. Some observers of the fashion industry have speculated that it might be on the cusp of a reckoning. The elimination of the de minimis exemption, together with Trump’s “Liberation Day” tariffs, has sent shock waves through the industry, rattling U.S. consumers — and with them, major brands like Shein and Temu. Both have already begun to compensate for the drop in U.S. sales by redirecting their efforts toward Europe and Australia while moving their operations to other countries. Other companies, meanwhile, have simply begun offsetting their losses by trimming their sustainability efforts, raising serious fears of an even faster race to the bottom. All of which raises the questions: How did we get into this situation? And, more important, how do we get out?  The typical fast-fashion jeans are worn only seven times before being tossed, giving the garment a carbon footprint that is more than 10 times higher per wear than traditional denim. Olga Pankova / Getty Images Step 1: A dirty, bloated underbelly To understand how our garments got so noxious, it helps to go back to the beginning: to how our clothes become clothes in the first place. Take any item of attire — from Lululemon athleisure leggings to the summer of 2024’s viral Uniqlo baby tee; from the swankiest gowns to the most nondescript knockoff jeans — and the story is almost always the same: Most clothes start their lives deep in the ground, either as seeds of cotton or in the nearly 342 million barrels of crude oil that go into the making of synthetic fabrics every year. Most of the problems start with one of these two origin stories. Today, synthetic fibers make up nearly 70 percent of all textile production. Polyester has become particularly ubiquitous across styles and brands, whether those brands are fast-fashion behemoths or rarefied luxury houses. Its soft, stretchy nature can mimic traditional textiles or be engineered into modern, high-performance meshes. Its low cost — just half the price of cotton in some instances — makes it an attractive option for brands and suppliers looking to snag profits while offering lower prices to customers.  But beneath its malleable folds lies a nasty business. Commercialized by the chemical giant DuPont in the mid-1900s, the process of making polyester involves superheating two petroleum-based chemicals — ethylene glycol (also used in antifreeze) and terephthalic acid (commonly used in plastic bottles) — and extruding the mixture through tiny holes to form yarn. In 2015, this process was estimated to produce as much annual carbon pollution as 180 coal-fired power plants. As the resulting polyfabrics are woven, washed, treated, and sewn into garments, they continually shed plastic microfibers. Meanwhile, plant-based fibers like linen and cotton, which currently make up a quarter of global textile production, come with their own complications. Compared to other major crops, cotton is considered resource-intensive, earning a reputation among environmental organizations, such as the World Wildlife Fund and the Environmental Justice Foundation, as particularly thirsty, based on the amount of water it consumes, and dirty, based on the quantity of chemical pesticides used to grow it. The cotton fiber needed to manufacture a classic jeans-and-tee outfit requires roughly 500 gallons of irrigation water (and an additional 1,500 gallons of rainwater) to grow. And while cotton takes up a little less than 3 percent of all farmable land, its production accounts for some 5 percent of all pesticide sales and 10 percent of insecticide sales. Other, less common fashion fabrics, such as viscose (made from the pulp of more than 100 million trees per year), come with their own environmental trade-offs — a 2023 report found that nearly a third of those trees came from old-growth or endangered forests. Over the past decade, blended fabrics that mix various types of synthetic fibers and organic ones have become increasingly common, creating an engineering headache for recycling initiatives and spreading plastic’s presence ever further.  The environmental impact of your jacket Higher impact: Quilted jackets stuffed with down — generally goose feathers — have been standard-issue for the last century. But polyester fill has begun to dominate the market, and manufacturers have relied on a toxic group of chemicals known as PFAS to waterproof the jackets. These “forever chemicals” don’t degrade naturally, and they have infiltrated drinking water, farmland, and the human body. Down carries its own baggage: It often involves plucking feathers from birds while they’re still alive. Lower impact: Brands have begun developing alternatives to PFAS in anticipation of bans that went into effect in 2025 in California and New York. Patagonia and Vaude have phased out PFAS use entirely, while Gore-Tex, Fjällräven, and Sympatex all offer PFAS-free options. Patagonia, Houdini, and Cotopaxi have also revamped their process for making synthetic fill to use recycled and plant-based materials and produce less emissions.   The environmental impact of your T-shirt Higher impact: Growing, weaving, dyeing, and manufacturing cotton into a T-shirt can require more than 700 gallons of water — enough for a single person to drink for 900 days. Cotton cultivation also requires heavy chemical use; some estimates indicate the crop accounts for roughly 16 percent of all insecticides sold worldwide. Lower impact: Hemp-jersey blends can significantly reduce the carbon footprint of a T-shirt. Hemp has low water needs, requiring as much as 90 percent less water than cotton. And because the plant sequesters a lot of CO2 as it grows, its overall carbon footprint is significantly lower than that of other fibers. Step 2: Toxic textiles Once the requisite materials have been grown, harvested, or extracted from DuPont’s primordial ooze, they’re turned into fabric, bleached, and dyed. This is an enormously toxic process that’s estimated to be responsible for 20 percent of water pollution worldwide. Pesticides used to grow cotton are flushed into waterways, along with bleach and the heavy metals — such as cadmium, chromium, lead, and arsenic — found in dye. The World Bank has identified at least 72 toxic chemicals involved in the standard industrial dyeing process, and once those chemicals make their way into aquifers, the knock-on effects are dire.  Dark sludge from clothing factories fills nearby lakes and streams, blocking the light needed for photosynthesis and destroying aquatic ecosystems. Even rinsing synthetic fabrics sends microplastics racing down the drain, and experts estimate that about half a million metric tons of microplastics make their way into the oceans each year — equivalent to the weight of 50 Eiffel Towers. Some of this contaminated water is then reused to irrigate local crops, causing health problems for the surrounding community, reducing crop yields, and harming biodiversity.  The Citarum River, in West Java, Indonesia, is a toxic testament to this process — the transformation of raw fabric into the pretty hues and bright patterns that make our wardrobes pop. Once a pristine waterway that flowed past cozy farming villages and bustling cities, it became a dumping site for hundreds of textile mills in the 1980s. As more and more arose along its banks, they spilled their waste directly into the river and its tributaries, staining them blue, red, yellow, and black and saturating them with mercury, lead, chromium, and other chemicals. For years, people who live near the river have reported skin rashes and intestinal problems along with more serious conditions like renal failure and tumors — and while the Indonesian government vowed in 2018 to make the river’s waters clean enough to drink by 2025, that deadline has come and almost gone. The river remains one of the most polluted in the world. Piles of rags sorted by color await recycling in a textile factory in Valencia Province, Spain. Only 1 percent of used clothes are recycled and used to manufacture new clothes. Jose A. Bernat Bacete / Getty Images Step 3: How fast is too fast? Once the clothes have been manufactured and are ready to be shipped, fashion can generally be sorted into several buckets: fast, faster, and ultra-fast. More traditional brands like Levi’s, Gap, and Nike will design a collection of apparel in advance of a season and then commission the production of their garments to factories in other countries, thus starting the clothing’s journey along a lengthy supply chain. According to McKinsey, the lag time between design and sale can be as little as 12 weeks. Fast-fashion brands like Zara, H&M, and Forever 21 move through “microseasons” still more quickly, releasing dozens of collections per year. And ultra-fast-fashion brands like Shein, Temu, and Cider can design, manufacture, and ship a new garment in a matter of days.  All this speed means different kinds of waste, depending on which bucket a garment falls into. To know exactly how much of each garment to make, traditional and fast-fashion retailers try to predict demand. But because each individual blouse, skirt, and jacket requires its own bespoke assembly line, factories incentivize retailers to buy in bulk, which lowers the brand’s cost per item and helps the supplier stay efficient. It’s a tricky balance, but with profits and savings in mind, the default is to order too much. If you’re curious about which brands might be overstocking offenders, keep an eye out for frequent sales or steep discounts. In 2022, the apparel giant Asos was left with over $1 billion of unsold stock after sales dropped from the previous year. It struck a deal with a resale company to sell its remaining stock at a heavy discount. In the same year, Gap Inc. — which owns brands including Gap, Old Navy, Banana Republic, and Athleta — went on a discounting marathon, with multiple sales events in a row to trim down its warehouse bloat. Luxury fashion brands, which are known for destroying their excess merchandise to maintain their products’ exclusivity and value, are also responsible for the largest Black Friday discounts, with up to 46 percent of stock marked down in previous years.   Available statistics suggest that this global surplus could amount to anywhere between 8 billion and 60 billion garments a year, as reported in The Guardian. And that’s not including the textiles that never get turned into clothing. The destiny of all that material varies: Some of it is sold at a discount or recycled, but much of it winds up in landfills or incinerated. A discarded shoe floats in the waters off Okinawa, Japan, in June. The footwear industry accounts for about 1.4 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions — more than half that of the airline industry. D3_plus D.Naruse @ Japan / Getty Images Paradoxically, the new ultra-fast-fashion models embraced by brands like Shein are “more efficient,” according to Valérie Moatti, a former professor of fashion supply-chain management and strategy. Shein, for instance, claims to make only 100 to 200 copies of each garment, with unsold inventory in the single digits — thanks, largely, to its data-forward business model, which leverages predictive AI algorithms to identify “microtrends” in fashion. Yet that efficiency creates its own problems. In 2023, Shein nudged out Zara for the title of biggest polluter in fast fashion. Shein’s e-commerce model, while speedy, relies on small-package air shipment, which is highly carbon-intensive, instead of the bulk ocean shipping typically used by fashion brands. With up to 10,000 new items released for sale on its site every day, Shein has flooded the U.S. postal system with as many as 900,000 packages a day. This air shipping accounts for up to 38 percent of Shein’s emissions, which nearly doubled between 2022 and 2023 to 16 million metric tons of CO2. By contrast, Inditex, which owns Zara and uses primarily sea and road shipping, reported that it released a little over 2 million metric tons of CO2 transporting its products in the same year. The environmental impact of your jeans Higher impact: New denim jeans, traditionally made mostly of cotton, carry many of the same environmental burdens as a cotton T-shirt. In recent years, elastic textures made from synthetic blends have added microplastics to the denim equation. Washing a single pair of jeans can release up to 56,000 microfibers into wastewater systems. They spread from there into the environment. Lower impact: Buying secondhand jeans can cut carbon costs by 90 percent, while cold-washing and and line-drying may reduce the carbon cost by 70 percent compared with machine-washing. Extending the lifespan of your garments by just nine months can reduce their carbon, water, and waste footprints by 20 percent. The environmental impact of your leggings Higher impact: Most exercise leggings are synthetic, generally made up of roughly 85 percent polyester and 15 percent Lycra (commonly known as spandex). This means they’re a fossil fuel product and will shed microplastics when washed or worn. Lower impact: Since 2019, the production of activewear made from recycled polyester has increased by 80 percent. Buying from brands like Puma, Patagonia, and Adidas that use recycled polyester may help curb the carbon cost of your outfit. To prevent your clothes from shedding microfibers, the company Guppyfriend offers an eco-friendly washing bag. Step 4: From closet to landfill Once the spoils of someone’s latest shopping spree have found a home in their closet, they likely won’t remain there for long. In 2024, researchers found that the average fast-fashion pair of jeans is worn only seven times, giving them a carbon footprint 11 times higher per wear than traditional denim pants. A typical pair of jeans is kept, on average, for four years before being tossed. Even when clothes are donated, they often end up burned or in a landfill, where they belch greenhouse gases, like methane, as they decay. Anything made with synthetic fibers, like stretchy “denim,” see-through mesh, and athletic wear, sheds plastic microfibers into soil and waterways. And while California and New York have banned the toxic forever chemicals known as PFAS in apparel and textiles, decades of their use in waterproofing outdoor wear means that our discarded rain jackets are leaching the pollutants too.  “In the United States, we consume the most apparel in the world, and so we are also the largest exporters and waste creators of fashion,” said Rachel Kibbe, who leads American Circular Textiles, a coalition that lobbies for fashion policies that are “sustainable, profitable, and resilient” in the U.S. “It’s a missed opportunity to recapture resources that we’ve already put a lot of time, labor, energy, water, and chemicals into.”  Kibbe’s organization is at the forefront of the emerging movement around “circularity,” a term that refers to a closed-loop supply chain that continually repurposes clothing. Touted by international nonprofits, major brands, and advocates alike, the word has become the de facto slogan for those promoting clothing recycling. For Kibbe, circularity means extending the life of the materials as long as possible. Last year, her coalition provided technical feedback on a California bill that requires manufacturers to manage the recycling and reuse of their textiles. The law, passed in September 2024, mirrors a flurry of similar fast-fashion waste regulations in the European Union. But turning old rags into new garments poses a steep technical challenge. While features like zippers and buttons create their own difficulties for recycling clothes into new fabrics, the bigger issue is the industry’s growing reliance on blended fabrics — an intricate mix of synthetic and natural fibers that are difficult to pull back apart.  Although the technology exists to separate these fibers for reuse, it remains in its early stages and is costly to scale. In 2024, Renewcell, a textile-recycling company that partnered with major brands like H&M and Levi’s, went bankrupt. The environmental impact of your leather boots Higher impact: The leather used in shoes and handbags depends on cattle ranching, which is the primary driver of deforestation in the Amazon. Many vegan-leather options consist of synthesized plastics, which come with a heavy chemical burden. Soles are often made of synthetic rubber, a fossil fuel product that produces three to six tons of CO2 per ton of polymer material. Meanwhile, natural rubber has caused the deforestation of more than 4 million hectares of tropical forests over the past three decades. Lower impact: There’s a limited number of sustainability-minded shoe brands. Experts say that the most sustainable option for buying leather are stores that use local small-scale suppliers or source the hide as a byproduct from fair-trade farmers. In the future, other alternatives may be made from fungi. In 2023, the biotech start up MycoWorks announced the successful production of the world’s first commercial-scale mycelium biomaterial, which has 80 percent lower emissions than cow leather. The environmental impact of your running shoes Higher impact: A single running shoe contains as many as 65 discrete parts that require 360 processing steps to assemble, which is often done using coal-powered machines. On average, making a pair of shoes emits the equivalent of 30 pounds of carbon dioxide, over two-thirds of which come from the manufacturing process. Lower impact: Companies like Allbirds are producing new types of biofoam materials made from sugarcane and a bioplastic made with methane waste. In 2023, Allbirds introduced its MO.Onshot sneaker, a “net-zero carbon shoe.” Other companies, like Saye, are also using alternative biomaterials, such as plant-based leathers made from cactus, corn, and bamboo yarn. The circularity movement isn’t an isolated phenomenon. As the outrage over fashion’s many environmental faux pas has grown, so have the efforts to force the industry to mend its ways — through protests, the rise of a robust secondhand clothing market, and textile recycling regulations in the European Union and California. And the industry, ever image-conscious, has started to listen. Many historic offenders like Shein, H&M, and Burberry have set voluntary sustainability goals, including using recycled fabrics, reducing freshwater use, limiting packaging, and cutting emissions. But these efforts have often been slow and stuttering — more greenwashing than greening. And even at their most rigorous, they have come up against a problem that goes to the very heart of the modern fashion industry: speed. At the same time that brands have begun ramping up their sustainability efforts, many have also begun speeding up their production cycle, churning out ever more clothes at ever faster rates. The result is a fundamental incongruity: an industry hurtling forward at breakneck speed, even as it tries to change course. Or as Kristy Caylor, who has founded several sustainable apparel brands, including the clothing-recycling startup Trashie, observed: “We all know people who are doing a much better job, but overall, we’re still in the speedy cycle. If we’re still consuming at a rapid rate and the materials are better, but we’re still throwing it all out, have we really done a better job?” Lynda Grose, a designer and professor of design and critical studies at California College for the Arts, agrees that it’s too easy right now to produce new clothes. Even ethical fashion brands produce a great deal of waste. “I would say that the entire industry adopts fast-fashion tactics,” Grose said. “I don’t want fast fashion to be used as a scapegoat — the whole industry needs a magnifying glass.” A selection of used clothes hang on racks in a secondhand shop. Each year, roughly 700,000 tons of used clothing from the U.S. ends up in foreign markets in countries such as Ghana, Kenya, Pakistan, and Chile. Triocean / Getty Images The industry, which remains largely unregulated, also can’t really be trusted to police itself. To slow the warp-speed pace of modern fashion requires more than ad hoc efforts by individual brands. Tariffs, waste quotas, and taxes on waste could all cut down on the fashion industry’s seemingly intractable garbage issues. And a handful of places are already trying. In 2024, the European Union introduced rules banning large companies from destroying unsold textiles and footwear, while France recently approved legislation that imposes a mix of taxes, advertising bans, and sustainability standards on fast-fashion giants. And while some brands might bristle, many of these efforts — such as incentivizing clothing repair and recycling — could benefit the companies as well as the consumer.  For Lilah Horwitz, the director of content and marketing at Eileen Fisher Renew, which saves and repurposes old Eileen Fisher clothing, sustainability is about taking responsibility for the full life cycle of the clothes, even after they pass into the consumer’s hands. “We will take them back, no matter the condition, and we’re going to spend years trying to figure out what is the best thing to do with them,” she said. The catch is that “you have to make a good product the first time. You make something that hopefully lasts, and then you build the infrastructure and the systems to keep it lasting.” This story was originally published by Grist with the headline What your cheap clothes cost the planet on Dec 15, 2025.

The Guardian view on waste: the festive season is a good time to think about rubbish | Editorial

Weak regulation is to blame for disastrous failures in relation to pollution. But there are solutions if people get behind themA study suggesting that as many as 168m light-up Christmas ornaments and similar items could be thrown out in a single year, in the UK, is concerning if not surprising in light of longstanding challenges around recycling rates and waste reduction. Even if the actual figure is lower, there is no question that battery-powered and electrical toys, lights and gifts are proliferating as never before. Despite a great deal of commentary aimed at dialling down consumption over the festive season, especially surplus packaging and rubbish, strings of disposable lights and flashing figures have gained in popularity. Homes, front gardens and shopping streets grow sparklier by the year.Batteries and electrical devices present particular difficulties when it comes to disposal, because they cause fires. But they are just one part of a more general problem of excessive waste – and weak regulatory oversight. British plastic waste exports rose by 5% in 2024 to nearly 600,000 tonnes. A new report on plastics from the Pew Charitable Trusts warns that global production is expected to rise by 52% by 2040 – to 680m tonnes – outstripping the capacity of waste management systems around the world. Continue reading...

A study suggesting that as many as 168m light-up Christmas ornaments and similar items could be thrown out in a single year, in the UK, is concerning if not surprising in light of longstanding challenges around recycling rates and waste reduction. Even if the actual figure is lower, there is no question that battery-powered and electrical toys, lights and gifts are proliferating as never before. Despite a great deal of commentary aimed at dialling down consumption over the festive season, especially surplus packaging and rubbish, strings of disposable lights and flashing figures have gained in popularity. Homes, front gardens and shopping streets grow sparklier by the year.Batteries and electrical devices present particular difficulties when it comes to disposal, because they cause fires. But they are just one part of a more general problem of excessive waste – and weak regulatory oversight. British plastic waste exports rose by 5% in 2024 to nearly 600,000 tonnes. A new report on plastics from the Pew Charitable Trusts warns that global production is expected to rise by 52% by 2040 – to 680m tonnes – outstripping the capacity of waste management systems around the world.Some retailers in the UK and elsewhere have cut down on packaging. There is a booming online trade in secondhand clothes. But the biggest recent rows about waste in the UK have been about sewage, not consumer goods. An overhaul of water industry regulation is meant to sort this out, following a review in the summer. There is still a high likelihood that the worst-performing company, Thames Water, could collapse into special administration.But Ofwat is not the only regulator to face criticism for its performance in relation to pollution and waste. The Environment Agency is under growing fire as the problem of illegal rubbish dumping has moved from being a local issue in a handful of locations to a national one.In October, the House of Lords environment committee called for the government to urgently review its approach to this “critically under-prioritised” problem. An illegal dump at Hoad’s Wood in Kent is being cleaned up at a cost of £15m. But six similar sites in England are known to the Environment Agency. Campaigners believe that the situation is in danger of spiralling if enforcement efforts are not rapidly scaled up.Discarded strings of battery-powered fairy lights might seem insignificant in the context of vast heaps of toxic waste, or the 3.6m hours of raw sewage spills for which the water industry in England was responsible last year. But environmental organisations are right to draw attention to the role of consumers as well as industry. The Environment Agency ought to have been empowered in the context of the climate crisis – not undermined and underfunded as it was under the Tories. But individuals can make a difference when it comes to waste, both in their decisions about what to buy, keep and get rid of – and in their political opinions and choices.Another report, published by the consultancy Hybrid Economics last month, said the UK could end its reliance on plastic waste exports, and create 5,400 new jobs, if it invested in up to 15 new recycling facilities. The lights on buildings and trees are cheering in the run-up to holidays, but we shouldn’t ignore what happens when they are turned off.

UK and Europe’s hidden landfills at risk of leaking toxic waste into water supplies

Exclusive: Rising flood risks driven by climate change could release chemicals from ageing sites – posing threats to ecosystems‘I kept smelling a horrible nasty smell’: the risks of England’s old dumping groundsThousands of landfills across the UK and Europe sit in floodplains, posing a potential threat to drinking water and conservation areas if toxic waste is released into rivers, soils and ecosystems, it can be revealed.The findings are the result of the first continent-wide mapping of landfills, conducted by the Guardian, Watershed Investigations and Investigate Europe.Disclaimer: This dataset may contain duplicate records. Duplicates can arise from multiple data sources, repeated entries, or variations in data collection processes. While efforts have been made to identify and reduce duplication, some records may remain. Continue reading...

Thousands of landfills across the UK and Europe sit in floodplains, posing a potential threat to drinking water and conservation areas if toxic waste is released into rivers, soils and ecosystems, it can be revealed.The findings are the result of the first continent-wide mapping of landfills, conducted by the Guardian, Watershed Investigations and Investigate Europe.Patrick Byrne, of Liverpool John Moores University, said: “With increasing frequency and magnitudes of floods and erosion from climate change, there’s a greater risk of these wastes washing into our environment.“This includes physical waste like plastics and building materials, but also toxic metals and chemicals such as Pfas [‘forever chemicals’] and PCBs [polychlorinated biphenyls].”Kate Spencer, professor of environmental geochemistry at Queen Mary University, said: “We’ve identified wide-ranging wastes at an eroding coastal landfill [in Tilbury] including what looked like hospital blood bags, and we are talking about tens of thousands of sites that if they aren’t lined and are at flood risk, then there’s multiple ways for it to get into groundwater, surface water and the food chain.”Across the EU there are estimated to be up to 500,000 landfills. Roughly 90% of them, including 22,000 sites in the UK, predate pollution control regulations such as landfill linings to prevent leaching. Modern landfills which are well managed are likely to pose a low risk.More than 61,000 landfills have been identified across Europe, with 28% located in areas vulnerable to flooding. Modelling indicates the true number of flood‑risk sites could be as high as 140,000. This mapping effort, based on requests for landfill data from 10 countries and supplemented with open-source information, highlights a deeper issue: EU institutions lack centralised landfill records, while data from individual member states remains fragmented, inconsistent and often inaccessible.“We have inadequate records, differences in ways of categorising these sites and that makes it really difficult to deal with,” said Spencer.“It’s the worst possible scenario. Most landfills will be fine, but you only need a small number of sites which contain very toxic chemicals to be a problem. We just don’t know which ones.”More than half of the mapped landfills are in areas where groundwater fails to meet chemical quality standards, suggesting the landfills may in some cases have contributed to the contamination.The EU landfill directive, adopted in 1999, banned unlined landfills and created strict waste acceptance criteria. But before this there were few or no pollution containment measures.Many older sites across the UK and Europe were built before modern protections. Photograph: Ashley Cooper/Global Warming Images/Alamy“There could be many other sources of pollution, such as farming and industry, but one of the main ways chemicals migrate away from landfills is through groundwater,” said Byrne.Byrne found leachate leaking from the historic landfill at Newgate nature reserve in Wilmslow, Cheshire, into a small stream. His tests found toxic Pfas “forever chemicals” at 20 times the acceptable levels for drinking water. In Greece, tests found levels of Pfas many times above drinking water standards, as well as mercury and cadmium leaching into the Nedontas river from the former Maratholaka landfill site in the Taygetos mountains, which are visited by thousands of hikers every year. The local mayor of Kalamata says the site has ceased to operate since June 2023 and that “there is currently no evidence or data to substantiate any environmental impact from the operation of the site”.Some of these waters could be sources of drinking water and analysis found almost 10,000 landfills in drinking water zones in France, the UK, Spain, Germany, the Netherlands and Italy. More than 4,000 of these are historic landfills in England and Wales and are therefore unlikely to have pollution controls. It was not possible to confirm whether landfills in Europe predated regulations or not.“We don’t and won’t know how much risk to human health and our drinking water there is until you can identify where all the landfills are, what is in them, whether they’re leaching and if treatment processes are filtering them out” said Byrne.A spokesperson for the European Commission said that “under the drinking water directive the quality of the water has to be ensured ‘at the tap’ in the whole EU. The directive includes several parameters to be monitored and the corresponding limit values have to be complied with. In case of exceedances of these limit values, member states must ensure that the necessary remedial action is taken.”In the UK, water companies undertake risk assessments and monitoring of their public water abstractions under regulatory guidelines.Landfills that are most visibly at risk of exposure are those along the coast. The analysis found 335 landfills in coastal erosion zones in England, Wales and France, and 258 landfills across Europe within 200 metres of the coast, which could be at risk of erosion or exposure from storm surges.“This is the tip of the iceberg,” said Spencer, who is helping the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) to rank the most high-risk landfills out of 1,200 identified priority sites in England and Wales. She tested two eroding landfills on the coast and found Lynemouth in the north-east released elevated concentrations of arsenic, and Lyme Regis in the south-west discharged high levels of lead, both of which could cause ecological harm.“We now need to understand the potential risks of climate change and associated pollution release at all our historic landfill sites, not just the coastal ones,” she said, adding that money will be needed to tackle these sites.skip past newsletter promotionThe planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essentialPrivacy 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“Essentially we are all living on a garbage dump,” said Spencer, who explained that about 80% of the British population lives within 2km of known landfill sites, and disproportionately in the most deprived parts of the country.A report from the UK’s Health Security Agency last year concluded that living close to a well-managed municipal active or closed landfill site does not pose a significant risk to human health, although the picture for historic sites is less clear due to the lack of data.Wildlife may also be at risk, as more than 2,000 European landfills are in protected conservation areas.“We know plastics are accumulating in wildlife, humans and environments and there’s emerging evidence of negative health impacts,” said Byrne.“A key thing with chemical pollution is where the chemical leachate goes. We have important wetlands around these areas, so if the leachate goes there it could accumulate in wildlife.”Illegal waste dumping is also a significant problem, which Europol has identified as one of Europe’s fastest-growing areas of organised crime. In February, Croatian authorities arrested 13 people suspected of illegally dumping at least 35,000 tonnes of waste from Italy, Slovenia and Germany in Croatia, generating a profit of at least €4m for the criminals.In England, Environment Agency data shows 137 open investigations into illegal dumps, involving more than 1m cubic metres of material.In the Campania region of southern Italy, illegal toxic waste dumping by the mafia has been blamed for the increased death and disease rates in the area.In England and Wales, at the current pace of use our remaining landfill capacity could run out in about 2050. New sites often face environmental concerns and public opposition.An Environment Agency spokesperson said: “Our job is to protect people and the environment, and we are working closely with the landfill industry, water companies and across government to better understand the impacts from Pfas chemicals in landfills.“Environment Agency teams are undertaking a multi-year programme to improve evidence about the sources of Pfas pollution in England. Alongside this, we are also running further studies to investigate the potential contribution of Pfas in landfill leachate to a limited number of sewage works.”A Defra spokesperson said: “We want to prevent waste from occurring in the first place, but where waste occurs, we need to manage it in the most appropriate way.“We are committed to reducing the amount of waste being sent to landfill, supported through our collection and packaging reforms. Alongside this, the forthcoming circular economy growth plan will outline measures to drive greater reuse and recycling, safeguarding the value of our resources and preventing the nation’s waste going to landfill.” Disclaimer: This dataset may contain duplicate records. Duplicates can arise from multiple data sources, repeated entries, or variations in data collection processes. While efforts have been made to identify and reduce duplication, some records may remain.

UK can create 5,400 jobs if it stops plastic waste exports, report finds

Campaigners say closure of loophole making it cheaper to export rather than recycle will boost circular economyThe UK could end its reliance on exporting plastic waste by 2030 to support the creation of 5,400 new jobs and take responsibility for the environmental impact of its waste, according to research.The report said up to 15 new recycling facilities could be built by the end of the decade, attracting more than £800m of private investment. The increase in capacity would help generate almost £900m of economic value every year, providing at least £100m in new tax revenues annually. Continue reading...

The UK could end its reliance on exporting plastic waste by 2030 to support the creation of 5,400 new jobs and take responsibility for the environmental impact of its waste, according to research.The report said up to 15 new recycling facilities could be built by the end of the decade, attracting more than £800m of private investment. The increase in capacity would help generate almost £900m of economic value every year; providing at least £100m of new tax revenues annually.The report by Hybrid Economics comes as Britain’s plastic exports rose by 5% in 2024 to nearly 600,000 tonnes of waste.Exporting plastic creates environmental problems for many countries that receive it, as they do not have the ability to recycle it. It also, the report argues, removes valuable feedstock for a British recycling industry.Campaigners want the loophole that makes it cheaper to export plastic waste rather than recycle it in the UK, closed.Exports have soared in the first part of this year to Indonesia in particular – a country struggling with an environmental crisis from plastic pollution – amounting to more than 24,000 tonnes.The report said that by exporting the unprocessed plastic waste it produces, the UK is evading its responsibility to deal with its own waste and was denying itself an economic opportunity.The Guardian revealed last month that, in the past two years, 21 plastic recycling and processing factories across the UK have shut down owing to the scale of exports, the cheap price of virgin plastic and an influx of cheap products from Asia.Neville Hill, partner at Hybrid Economics, which produced the report, said the UK was only using half of its potential for recycling plastic waste. He said: “Ending exports of unprocessed plastic packaging waste by 2030 would allow the UK to take control of its environmental responsibilities and seize a clear economic opportunity.“Our analysis shows the sector can expand significantly with no call on public funds, provided government sets the right framework.”The way payments are made up at present incentivises the export of plastic waste, rather than encouraging businesses to keep it in the UK to be recycled.James McLeary, the managing director of Biffa Polymers, which commissioned the report, said the company had recycled 10bn plastic HDPE milk bottles in the last 20 years. He described this as a circular economy success story.“The lesson is simple. When the right conditions are in place, UK recycling grows, investment follows and the environmental and economic benefits build year after year. The UK can replicate that success across all plastic packaging and take responsibility for processing its own waste onshore.”The report is calling for an increase in the plastic packaging tax, which is imposed on producers who fail to include at least 30% of recycled plastic in their products, to 50% and a total phasing out of exports of unprocessed plastic packaging waste.

‘We’ve got to find answers’: Corby families affected by cancer searching for truth about toxic waste sites

Alison Gaffney believes her son’s rare leukaemia was caused by dumped toxic waste from the town’s steelworksAlison Gaffney and Andy Hinde received the devastating news that their 17-month-old son, Fraser, had a rare type of leukaemia in 2018.Two years of gruelling treatment followed, including chemotherapy, radiotherapy and immunotherapy, before a stem cell transplant. Fraser, then aged three, made a “miraculous recovery” from the surgery, before doctors declared the cancer in remission. Continue reading...

Alison Gaffney and Andy Hinde received the devastating news that their 17-month-old son, Fraser, had a rare type of leukaemia in 2018.Two years of gruelling treatment followed, including chemotherapy, radiotherapy and immunotherapy, before a stem cell transplant. Fraser, then aged three, made a “miraculous recovery” from the surgery, before doctors declared the cancer in remission.It was at this point, as Fraser started to recover and grow stronger, that Gaffney, 36, began to look for answers. She could not stop thinking about comments made by hospital staff at the time of her son’s diagnosis. “It keeps us up at night wondering how Fraser got his cancer,” a consultant had told her.Fraser started to recover after two years of gruelling treatment and a stem cell transplant. At this point, Gaffney began looking for answers. Photograph: Fabio de Paola/The GuardianThe botched disposal of millions of tonnes of contaminated waste after the closure of Europe’s largest steelworks in Corby, Northamptonshire, in 1979 had “always been a known thing”, said Gaffney. A 2009 civil case linked the council’s negligent clean-up of the site to a string of birth defects in local children in the 1980s and 1990s. It was later dramatised in the 2025 Netflix series Toxic Town.Increasingly, Gaffney started to link the case to her own. “[Fraser’s cancer is] not genetic,” she said. “So what are the reasons? … It’s got to be down to the town. All these kids [with] cancer.“Everybody in this town knows somebody who’s got a child [with] cancer. That’s not normal.”Gaffney and Hinde started to connect with other families in Corby with similar stories to theirs – including some of Gaffney’s former classmates at Brooke Weston Academy – and the group began compiling detailed records on those affected. They now lead a campaign representing about 130 families with cases of childhood cancer dating back to 1988.The group has been calling on the local authority to investigate any links between cases of childhood cancer in Corby and the decommissioning of the plant. At the end of this month, public health officials are set to publish their analysis of whether the town has had a disproportionate number of cases of childhood cancer for its population of 70,000.“All we want is to try and protect future people so they do not have to endure the pain that we’ve been through,” said Gaffney.Fraser, his brother, Archer, and their parents. Gaffney and Hinde started connecting with other families in Corby with similar stories to theirs and the group began compiling detailed records on those affected. Photograph: Fabio de Paola/The GuardianThe judgment in the 2009 civil claim accepted that, between 1983 and 1997, millions of tonnes of contaminated materials from the steel plant were transported “almost invariably” from the south of Corby to Deene Quarry in the north – with “large quantities” of toxic waste carried and dropped on public roads and “substantial quantities” of dust created by the reclamation.However, it also cited reports from the Environment Agency in 1997 that found stockpiles of contaminated material that had been left at Deene Quarry were later removed in “large quantities”.Gaffney believes waste was not only dumped at the Deene Quarry site but in other parts of the town. On Thursday, she welcomed a “major step forward” after North Northamptonshire council said it would test land that could be contaminated and investigate where toxic waste was dumped.Gaffney said council staff admitted in the meeting that they did not know where the sites of contaminated waste could be. “They said: ‘We don’t know where these sites are. We have no documentation, we have nothing on it.’”In a statement to the Guardian, North Northamptonshire council said the information they had seen from that time “says that the waste was disposed of in Deene Quarry, a former landfill site on the outskirts of Corby”, but added: “People have recently raised concerns on potential areas of contaminated land where they believe waste could also have been historically disposed of.“We are thoroughly reviewing historic records to see if there is any information which suggests that disposal could have taken place elsewhere. This work will take time.”A play area in a housing development that was built after the steelworks closed down. Gaffney believes toxic waste from the steelworks was dumped at sites other than Deene Quarry. Photograph: Fabio de Paola/The GuardianGaffney said the transparent nature of the meeting with the council shocked them. “Local authorities don’t normally hold their hands up and take this on but we’re really proud of them for doing so and saying they want to protect their people, like we do.”The council’s announcement was also welcomed by Tonia Shalgosky, a pastoral lead at a primary school, whose nine-year-old daughter, Bella, was diagnosed with blood cancer in June this year.“I had to shave my nine-year-old daughter’s head because her hair was falling out from the drugs she had to take to kill her cancer. So actually it’s in our interest, it’s in Bella’s interest [for the council] to share that information,” she said.“There are so many people in the town that have been diagnosed with childhood cancer and I just feel it’s too much to ignore – it needs looking at it. This can’t be normal.”Meg Lyons, 31, who works in sales and now lives in London, said families deserved “complete and utter truth and transparency” from the council.Lyons’s 11-year-old sister, Eve, died on 24 June 2017 after being diagnosed with a rare bone cancer at the age of nine. Eve, who fundraised for Stand Up To Cancer, was “one of the most lovable, funniest and kindest” people, Lyons said.Her mother remembers the impact of the closure of the steel plant on the town, Lyons said. “She said you couldn’t put your hand in front of your face because [of] the red ash.”Meg Lyons’s sister, Eve, died in June 2017 after being diagnosed with a rare bone cancer at the age of nine. Photograph: Sean Smith/The Guardian“This has been going on since I’ve probably been about three years old. It’s an excessive amount of time and it is negligence toward the people of Corby.”Lyons’s cousin, Maggie Mahon, was one of several families involved in the 2009 claim against the then Corby council after her baby was born with clubfoot. Her husband, Derek, was one of the lorry drivers involved in removing waste from the steelworks. Their story was depicted in the Toxic Town series, and showed Maggie beating the dust from her husband’s jeans.Gaffney said the campaign group has been approached by whistleblowers who were involved in the dumping of waste in the town.One of those involved in the waste removal was Gaffney’s father. “He drove the lorry and dumped [the waste in a] pond,” she said. “At the time, everyone had lost their jobs so everyone took on any job that you could.”“He wasn’t even licensed to drive a lorry. He said: ‘Me and the other guys weren’t licensed but they had us drive these big lorries through the town, just dumping it,’” she said.Gaffney says the campaign group has been approached by whistleblowers who were involved in the dumping of waste in the town. Photograph: Fabio de Paola/The GuardianThe lawyer involved in the 2009 civil claim, Des Collins, is now representing Gaffney and other cancer families. He said only a statutory public inquiry would ensure the full truth is uncovered.“Environmental testing, in order to rule out causation, is a highly complex process requiring stringent parameters and oversight to allow for reliance on its findings,” he said.“No matter how genuine the council’s new approach, I am compelled to point out that, in my experience, only a statutory public inquiry has the capability both to reassure the public that the full truth has been uncovered and to set out the lessons to be learned.”In a statement the leader of the council, Martin Griffiths, said the meeting with Gaffney and Hinde “marked the start of the parties’ commitment to work together in an open, positive and constructive way for the benefit of Corby residents”.The council said it was committed to full transparency and would set up a working group, which will include Gaffney, to examine public health and contamination issues in Corby.Gaffney is hopeful testing on land in Corby will begin once the group has been established. “Now, every family that comes through, I’m listening to their stories and it’s so hard. If anything, it just gives us that further fight,” she said.“Each time it just chips away and then makes your fight stronger, because you’re thinking: ‘We’ve got to find answers for these children.’”

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