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Some in this California beach town insist the Tijuana River is poisoning them. Officials disagree

News Feed
Thursday, September 26, 2024

IMPERIAL BEACH, Calif. —  The Tijuana River should not be flowing this time of year. But throughout the dry season, it has — delivering millions of gallons a day of an unnatural mix of water, neon green sewage and industrial waste from Tijuana through the city of Imperial Beach to the Pacific Ocean. This 4.4-square-mile beach town of 27,000 largely working-class and Latino residents, sitting just south of San Diego, is appealingly affordable. But it also bears the brunt of Tijuana’s population boom.Its beaches just reopened last weekend, after having been closed for more than 1,000 days because of ocean bacteria levels that are a hundred times higher than safe amounts. The stench of rotting eggs after dark is overwhelming for south San Diego residents, keeping some awake all night. A family with a small child sits on the sand next to the Imperial Beach Pier. In the distance a yellow sign warns beachgoers to stay out of the water. (Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times) Pollution in the river has been an entrenched environmental crisis for decades, with all sides pointing fingers at one another. Residents blame politicians for failing to find a solution. Local politicians blame Congress for not funding improvements in the South Bay International Wastewater Treatment Plant, which processes raw sewage from Tijuana. The federal government blames Mexico for lax sewage regulations. The International Boundary and Water Commission says it’s not its job to collect the wastewater from unknown sources that flows into the Tijuana River. Complicating matters further: Researchers and county officials are sharply split on whether the stench is simply a nuisance or a danger to public health. Some help is on the way, potentially. Mexico’s new wastewater treatment plant is set to open this month, and there are plans to double the capacity of the South Bay International Wastewater Treatment Plant, although that project will take five years. Ángel Granados points at the pollution in the Tijuana River under Hollister Street. (Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times) Meanwhile, residents and the mayor of Imperial Beach say they are plagued with unexplained and more acute illnesses. A persistent cough that wouldn’t disappear. Wheezing in the chest. Migraines and headaches. Stuffy sinuses with an acidic burn in the eyes. Nausea. Diarrhea. And they worry about worse effects on their children. Jeffrey Jackson, who’s lived along the ocean in Imperial Beach for 25 years, said the air “is getting me sick ... it’s stuff in my lungs.” He’s had to clear his lungs in the middle of the night constantly, and his daughter caught pneumonia twice this summer. “I have toilet paper underneath my pillow so I can spit.”Drs. Matt and Kimberly Dickson knew something was awry as well. As residents of Imperial Beach, they were used to treating surfers at the South Bay Urgent Care Center sickened by E. coli and other bacteria after defying beach advisories to stay out of the water. But after Hurricane Hillary and the atmospheric rivers of February, they noticed more patients arriving at their doors with similar symptoms — diarrhea, viral infections, vomiting, stomachaches — who hadn’t touched the contaminated water. Ramon Chairez crouches above a pipe channeling fluids from the Tijuana River, which should be dry during this time of year. (Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times) The Dicksons tried to raise alarms to San Diego County’s public health officials, but ultimately the county decided there was no direct correlation between the flood of sewage that poured into the river and the ailments that residents developed.Frustrated, the Dicksons contend that the public health response has been slow because people are just becoming violently ill, not dying. “I feel like the patients down here are being treated like the canary in the coal mine,” Matt Dickson said. County health officials didn’t respond to a request for comment about health concerns in the Tijuana River Valley. Kimberly Prather, the director of the Center for Aerosol Impacts on Chemistry of the Environment at UCSD’s Scripps Institution of Geography, was not so quick to dismiss the doctors’ concerns. Her previous research had shown that bacterial microbes could become airborne pathogens in sea spray. Now she wanted to prove that the polluted water was also polluting the air. David Jarma, a field researcher from the University of Texas at Austin, takes dust samples from a patio in Imperial Beach. (Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times) In August, Prather joined forces with other researchers, including San Diego State University’s Paula Granados, an expert in cross-border pollution, to perform one of the largest studies ever jointly conducted on the Tijuana River Valley. The researchers started pulling samples from the air, river mouth, groundwater, soil and even the green beans grown in a local community garden to check for pollutants after they found concerning levels of hydrogen sulfide — upward of 30 parts per million — and hydrogen cyanide near the Tijuana River. (The Occupational Safety and Health Administration limits exposure for industrial workers to 20 parts per million.)But the San Diego County Air Pollution Control District conducted its own studies, which found less pollution — 0 to 16 parts per million of hydrogen sulfide in Imperial Beach, along with safe levels of hydrogen cyanide. Supervisor Nora Vargas’ office said in an email that “there is no imminent threat to public health from hydrogen cyanide and hydrogen sulfide.” Nevertheless, her office also passed out 400 free air purifiers to community members in the South Bay to help alleviate the smell.The EPA, the California Department of Public Health and Gov. Gavin Newsom’s office have all said that the hydrogen sulfide is a nuisance but doesn’t pose any immediate risk for residents. “It’s not a situation where you’re accumulating a bunch of the toxin into your body and it’s causing damages to your organs,” said Dr. Cyrus Rangan, a medical toxicologist with the California Department of Public Health, though he did concede that even temporary symptoms over long periods of time could degrade a resident’s quality of life. “These problems generally are not permanent problems. They can become persistent problems if you continue to experience the odors.” Eric Biggs walks his horse on Saturn Boulevard where it passes over the Tijuana River, a spot frequently traversed by local residents. “Look, take a deep breath” is written in chalk on the asphalt, with an arrow pointing to the riverbed. (Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times) Prather argued that county and state officials fail to understand the severity of the situation, saying, “Just based on gases alone, this is a toxic pit.”Her research still needs to be peer reviewed, but Prather said she’s confident her work is on the verge of finding proof that bacteria in the water are becoming aerosolized and making people sick. The results should also confirm a direct correlation between the increase in sewage flow in the Tijuana River and higher rates of airborne hydrogen sulfide and health complaints, she said. There have been very few studies on the long-term effects of hydrogen sulfide exposure in human populations because testing on people would be unethical. Rangan said that there aren’t data yet on whether pathogens in the Tijuana River can be aerosolized and affect residents but that the state health department is working with doctors from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to do more research. Imperial Beach Mayor Paloma Aguirre wears a mask while standing on Hollister Street, where the sewage underneath the bridge has turned the water black. Aguirre went to the emergency room fearing she was having a heart attack and was told she had lung inflammation. (Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times) Meanwhile, the Dicksons have been joined by other doctors who are concerned as well. Prather’s work has identified a hot spot around Saturn Boulevard where more than half a dozen schools are located in a 1.5-mile radius around the river. San Diego Pediatricians for Clean Air has called on public officials to take precautionary measures to protect children, who breathe more rapidly, have a larger lung-to-body-mass ratio and would be more vulnerable to hydrogen sulfide poisoning. Hydrogen sulfide exposure has neurological effects as well, including memory loss, fatigue and loss of balance. More than half a dozen schools are within 1.5 miles of a hotspot for noxious odors emanating from the Tijuana River. (Courtesy of Kimberly Prather) Perla Rosales, an Imperial Beach resident who works as an executive assistant for California Quality Drywall Services, has two children, 11 and 4 years old, in the South Bay Union School District. Her younger child, Azariel, has been suffering from a persistent cough at school. “The school called me to ask if he had asthma because he was coughing a lot,” Rosales said. During last week’s heat wave, SBUSD informed parents that all outdoor activities were canceled, physical education classes and recess were moved indoors, and air scrubbers were on all day. “[His] teacher told me she had a lot of students sick in the last weeks,” she added. Rosales lived in Tijuana three years ago with her family but had never smelled the river like this before. Knowing that her son has been exposed to hydrogen sulfide has her worried about his cough “because he usually is a healthy boy.”Over the years, residents have seen the ecosystem change into an unrecognizable landscape — once clear ponds stocked with fish are now gray cesspools filled with white foam that is visible even in Google’s satellite images. Surfers have seen dead birds and occasionally dead dolphins washed ashore. Residents still fish every day off the Imperial Beach pier for food, unaware that heavy metals have been found in the ocean. A satellite image from Google shows white foam next to Saturn Boulevard where it passes over the Tijuana River. (Google) Marvel Harrison, who sits on Imperial Beach’s Tijuana River Pollution Task Force, lives on the beach next to the Imperial Beach Pier with her husband. She has become the reluctant lead plaintiff of a new class-action lawsuit against Veolia Water North America, the private company running the South Bay International Wastewater Treatment Plant. Filed on Jan. 6, the lawsuit claims that Veolia’s failure to address pollution at the beach depreciated the value of residents’ properties and prevented them from enjoying the ocean. The suit seeks $300 million in damages, but Harrison said the goal is to bring attention to the environmental crisis, not to collect a huge check. (Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times) Harrison — who saved up enough money with her husband, a former pediatrician, to build a $3-million home — understands she’s part of a wealthy minority in her town. “The people of privilege are the ones that are using their voice in a respectful way to give voice to people who haven’t had it,” the 67-year-old former counseling psychologist said. “It’s not like anybody can just get up and move to a different part of town or buy a house or buy themselves an AC unit,” Imperial Beach Mayor Paloma Aguirre said. “These are working families. There’s many of them, paycheck to paycheck, so that’s why we need help.”In 2021, thousands of Los Angeles County residents living near the Dominguez Channel received vouchers to relocate after a warehouse fire caused a hydrogen sulfide stink. Assemblymember David Alvarez (D-San Diego) is one of the local representatives who’s written to Newsom twice, asking for a state of emergency. He believe it could help with short-term solutions, like temporarily relocating his constituents.“You never recover if this happens every single day,” Alvarez said of the smell that he said has become progressively worse since his time as a San Diego City Council member. But he said the federal government has its role to play as well in cleaning up the riverbed. “This is going to require a tremendous amount of remediation, and something like a Superfund [site designation], I believe, is appropriate.” Paula Granados tests the groundwater at Gabriel Uribe’s property, where Uribe’s dogs have been throwing up and his horses have been losing weight. (Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times) Sen. Alex Padilla (D-Calif.) and Reps. Juan Vargas (D-San Diego) and Scott Peters (D-San Diego) just announced a renewed effort to pass the Border Water Quality Restoration and Protection Act, which Vargas and the late Sen. Dianne Feinstein also introduced in the last two Congresses. As for the state agencies that continue to say the air is safe for residents to breathe, the Dicksons encourage public officials to stay overnight and experience what the people in Imperial Beach experience.“It’s not just a nuisance smell. It’s not just an odor. Your eyes burn, hurts to breathe, you get a sore throat. You’re vomiting,” Kimberly Dickson said. “If [Newsom] were to come down here and spend one night at the home of one of our residents that lived by the river that’s exposed to hydrogen sulfide for 24 hours, he probably would declare a state of emergency.”

The Tijuana River has been polluted for decades, but in recent years, south San Diego residents say the smell — and their respiratory illnesses — has gotten worse.

IMPERIAL BEACH, Calif. — 

The Tijuana River should not be flowing this time of year. But throughout the dry season, it has — delivering millions of gallons a day of an unnatural mix of water, neon green sewage and industrial waste from Tijuana through the city of Imperial Beach to the Pacific Ocean.

This 4.4-square-mile beach town of 27,000 largely working-class and Latino residents, sitting just south of San Diego, is appealingly affordable. But it also bears the brunt of Tijuana’s population boom.

Its beaches just reopened last weekend, after having been closed for more than 1,000 days because of ocean bacteria levels that are a hundred times higher than safe amounts. The stench of rotting eggs after dark is overwhelming for south San Diego residents, keeping some awake all night.

A family sits on the beach

A family with a small child sits on the sand next to the Imperial Beach Pier. In the distance a yellow sign warns beachgoers to stay out of the water.

(Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times)

Pollution in the river has been an entrenched environmental crisis for decades, with all sides pointing fingers at one another. Residents blame politicians for failing to find a solution. Local politicians blame Congress for not funding improvements in the South Bay International Wastewater Treatment Plant, which processes raw sewage from Tijuana. The federal government blames Mexico for lax sewage regulations. The International Boundary and Water Commission says it’s not its job to collect the wastewater from unknown sources that flows into the Tijuana River.

Complicating matters further: Researchers and county officials are sharply split on whether the stench is simply a nuisance or a danger to public health.

Some help is on the way, potentially. Mexico’s new wastewater treatment plant is set to open this month, and there are plans to double the capacity of the South Bay International Wastewater Treatment Plant, although that project will take five years.

Ángel Granados points at the pollution in the Tijuana River under Hollister Street.

Ángel Granados points at the pollution in the Tijuana River under Hollister Street.

(Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times)

Meanwhile, residents and the mayor of Imperial Beach say they are plagued with unexplained and more acute illnesses. A persistent cough that wouldn’t disappear. Wheezing in the chest. Migraines and headaches. Stuffy sinuses with an acidic burn in the eyes. Nausea. Diarrhea. And they worry about worse effects on their children.

Jeffrey Jackson, who’s lived along the ocean in Imperial Beach for 25 years, said the air “is getting me sick ... it’s stuff in my lungs.” He’s had to clear his lungs in the middle of the night constantly, and his daughter caught pneumonia twice this summer. “I have toilet paper underneath my pillow so I can spit.”

Drs. Matt and Kimberly Dickson knew something was awry as well. As residents of Imperial Beach, they were used to treating surfers at the South Bay Urgent Care Center sickened by E. coli and other bacteria after defying beach advisories to stay out of the water. But after Hurricane Hillary and the atmospheric rivers of February, they noticed more patients arriving at their doors with similar symptoms — diarrhea, viral infections, vomiting, stomachaches — who hadn’t touched the contaminated water.

Ramon Chairez crouches above the opening of a large pipe

Ramon Chairez crouches above a pipe channeling fluids from the Tijuana River, which should be dry during this time of year.

(Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times)

The Dicksons tried to raise alarms to San Diego County’s public health officials, but ultimately the county decided there was no direct correlation between the flood of sewage that poured into the river and the ailments that residents developed.

Frustrated, the Dicksons contend that the public health response has been slow because people are just becoming violently ill, not dying.

“I feel like the patients down here are being treated like the canary in the coal mine,” Matt Dickson said.

County health officials didn’t respond to a request for comment about health concerns in the Tijuana River Valley.

Kimberly Prather, the director of the Center for Aerosol Impacts on Chemistry of the Environment at UCSD’s Scripps Institution of Geography, was not so quick to dismiss the doctors’ concerns. Her previous research had shown that bacterial microbes could become airborne pathogens in sea spray. Now she wanted to prove that the polluted water was also polluting the air.

A researcher vacuums the crevices of a patio to take dust samples.

David Jarma, a field researcher from the University of Texas at Austin, takes dust samples from a patio in Imperial Beach.

(Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times)

In August, Prather joined forces with other researchers, including San Diego State University’s Paula Granados, an expert in cross-border pollution, to perform one of the largest studies ever jointly conducted on the Tijuana River Valley. The researchers started pulling samples from the air, river mouth, groundwater, soil and even the green beans grown in a local community garden to check for pollutants after they found concerning levels of hydrogen sulfide — upward of 30 parts per million — and hydrogen cyanide near the Tijuana River. (The Occupational Safety and Health Administration limits exposure for industrial workers to 20 parts per million.)

But the San Diego County Air Pollution Control District conducted its own studies, which found less pollution — 0 to 16 parts per million of hydrogen sulfide in Imperial Beach, along with safe levels of hydrogen cyanide. Supervisor Nora Vargas’ office said in an email that “there is no imminent threat to public health from hydrogen cyanide and hydrogen sulfide.”

Nevertheless, her office also passed out 400 free air purifiers to community members in the South Bay to help alleviate the smell.

The EPA, the California Department of Public Health and Gov. Gavin Newsom’s office have all said that the hydrogen sulfide is a nuisance but doesn’t pose any immediate risk for residents.

“It’s not a situation where you’re accumulating a bunch of the toxin into your body and it’s causing damages to your organs,” said Dr. Cyrus Rangan, a medical toxicologist with the California Department of Public Health, though he did concede that even temporary symptoms over long periods of time could degrade a resident’s quality of life. “These problems generally are not permanent problems. They can become persistent problems if you continue to experience the odors.”

A rider walks his horse on pavement crossing over the Tijuana River. The asphalt reads, "Look, take a deep breath."

Eric Biggs walks his horse on Saturn Boulevard where it passes over the Tijuana River, a spot frequently traversed by local residents. “Look, take a deep breath” is written in chalk on the asphalt, with an arrow pointing to the riverbed.

(Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times)

Prather argued that county and state officials fail to understand the severity of the situation, saying, “Just based on gases alone, this is a toxic pit.”

Her research still needs to be peer reviewed, but Prather said she’s confident her work is on the verge of finding proof that bacteria in the water are becoming aerosolized and making people sick. The results should also confirm a direct correlation between the increase in sewage flow in the Tijuana River and higher rates of airborne hydrogen sulfide and health complaints, she said.

There have been very few studies on the long-term effects of hydrogen sulfide exposure in human populations because testing on people would be unethical. Rangan said that there aren’t data yet on whether pathogens in the Tijuana River can be aerosolized and affect residents but that the state health department is working with doctors from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to do more research.

Mayor Paloma Aguirre wears a respirator mask

Imperial Beach Mayor Paloma Aguirre wears a mask while standing on Hollister Street, where the sewage underneath the bridge has turned the water black. Aguirre went to the emergency room fearing she was having a heart attack and was told she had lung inflammation.

(Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times)

Meanwhile, the Dicksons have been joined by other doctors who are concerned as well. Prather’s work has identified a hot spot around Saturn Boulevard where more than half a dozen schools are located in a 1.5-mile radius around the river.

San Diego Pediatricians for Clean Air has called on public officials to take precautionary measures to protect children, who breathe more rapidly, have a larger lung-to-body-mass ratio and would be more vulnerable to hydrogen sulfide poisoning. Hydrogen sulfide exposure has neurological effects as well, including memory loss, fatigue and loss of balance.

A map showing the schools within 1.5 miles of the Tijuana River.

More than half a dozen schools are within 1.5 miles of a hotspot for noxious odors emanating from the Tijuana River.

(Courtesy of Kimberly Prather)

Perla Rosales, an Imperial Beach resident who works as an executive assistant for California Quality Drywall Services, has two children, 11 and 4 years old, in the South Bay Union School District. Her younger child, Azariel, has been suffering from a persistent cough at school.

“The school called me to ask if he had asthma because he was coughing a lot,” Rosales said. During last week’s heat wave, SBUSD informed parents that all outdoor activities were canceled, physical education classes and recess were moved indoors, and air scrubbers were on all day.

“[His] teacher told me she had a lot of students sick in the last weeks,” she added. Rosales lived in Tijuana three years ago with her family but had never smelled the river like this before. Knowing that her son has been exposed to hydrogen sulfide has her worried about his cough “because he usually is a healthy boy.”

Over the years, residents have seen the ecosystem change into an unrecognizable landscape — once clear ponds stocked with fish are now gray cesspools filled with white foam that is visible even in Google’s satellite images. Surfers have seen dead birds and occasionally dead dolphins washed ashore. Residents still fish every day off the Imperial Beach pier for food, unaware that heavy metals have been found in the ocean.

A satellite image from Google shows white foam next to Saturn Boulevard

A satellite image from Google shows white foam next to Saturn Boulevard where it passes over the Tijuana River.

(Google)

Marvel Harrison, who sits on Imperial Beach’s Tijuana River Pollution Task Force, lives on the beach next to the Imperial Beach Pier with her husband. She has become the reluctant lead plaintiff of a new class-action lawsuit against Veolia Water North America, the private company running the South Bay International Wastewater Treatment Plant.

Filed on Jan. 6, the lawsuit claims that Veolia’s failure to address pollution at the beach depreciated the value of residents’ properties and prevented them from enjoying the ocean. The suit seeks $300 million in damages, but Harrison said the goal is to bring attention to the environmental crisis, not to collect a huge check.

Marvel Harrison chats on the phone inside her house while beachgoers lounge by the ocean.

(Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times)

Harrison — who saved up enough money with her husband, a former pediatrician, to build a $3-million home — understands she’s part of a wealthy minority in her town. “The people of privilege are the ones that are using their voice in a respectful way to give voice to people who haven’t had it,” the 67-year-old former counseling psychologist said.

“It’s not like anybody can just get up and move to a different part of town or buy a house or buy themselves an AC unit,” Imperial Beach Mayor Paloma Aguirre said. “These are working families. There’s many of them, paycheck to paycheck, so that’s why we need help.”

In 2021, thousands of Los Angeles County residents living near the Dominguez Channel received vouchers to relocate after a warehouse fire caused a hydrogen sulfide stink. Assemblymember David Alvarez (D-San Diego) is one of the local representatives who’s written to Newsom twice, asking for a state of emergency. He believe it could help with short-term solutions, like temporarily relocating his constituents.

“You never recover if this happens every single day,” Alvarez said of the smell that he said has become progressively worse since his time as a San Diego City Council member. But he said the federal government has its role to play as well in cleaning up the riverbed. “This is going to require a tremendous amount of remediation, and something like a Superfund [site designation], I believe, is appropriate.”

Paula Granados tests the groundwater at Gabriel Uribe's property.

Paula Granados tests the groundwater at Gabriel Uribe’s property, where Uribe’s dogs have been throwing up and his horses have been losing weight.

(Jireh Deng / Los Angeles Times)

Sen. Alex Padilla (D-Calif.) and Reps. Juan Vargas (D-San Diego) and Scott Peters (D-San Diego) just announced a renewed effort to pass the Border Water Quality Restoration and Protection Act, which Vargas and the late Sen. Dianne Feinstein also introduced in the last two Congresses.

As for the state agencies that continue to say the air is safe for residents to breathe, the Dicksons encourage public officials to stay overnight and experience what the people in Imperial Beach experience.

“It’s not just a nuisance smell. It’s not just an odor. Your eyes burn, hurts to breathe, you get a sore throat. You’re vomiting,” Kimberly Dickson said. “If [Newsom] were to come down here and spend one night at the home of one of our residents that lived by the river that’s exposed to hydrogen sulfide for 24 hours, he probably would declare a state of emergency.”

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Trump Is Setting the National Parks Up to Fail

Workers say the real crisis is happening behind the scenes.

This summer, many of Americans’ fears about their national parks—that budget cuts and staffing shortages would lead to unsafe, or at least unpleasant, vacations—did not come to pass. Gates and visitor centers were open (with reduced hours) and toilets were usable (mostly). Visitors to the Grand Canyon who developed heat exhaustion were still rescued. To the public, a trip to the national parks must have seemed normal enough, down to tourists getting way too close to bison at Yellowstone.But rangers say the real crisis is happening beyond the trails and campgrounds, where visitors can’t see it. Park employees’ experiences, which several people described to me and dozens more have shared publicly, suggest that the Department of the Interior sacrificed long-term stewardship of American lands to maintain a veneer of normalcy for this summer’s crowds. “We are really pulling out all the stops to make sure that the impacts are being hidden,” an emergency-services ranger in the western United States told me. (She and other park employees I spoke with for this story requested anonymity, out of fear of losing their job.)The National Park Service lost about a quarter of its permanent staff to mass firings, buyouts, early retirements, and resignations this winter and spring. In April, Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum made the department’s priorities for the remaining staff clear: In an order, he declared that parks had to stay “open and accessible” and “provide the best customer service experience for all visitors.” Any facility closures or reduced hours would need to be approved by NPS and Department of Interior leadership in Washington. The order alluded to the general importance of conservation but showed little interest in research, monitoring, or maintenance.This work has always happened at the periphery of the public’s experience of national parks, but it’s what keeps both their natural and human-made features from deteriorating. National Park Service researchers conducted 28,000 studies from 2000 to 2016, working at 412 parks, historical sites, memorials, and battlefields at any given time. The studies help workers protect what’s inside park boundaries by spotting early signs of trouble in time to help, and by contributing to general knowledge about climate change, ecological restoration, and wildfires.All of that research required an army of employees, many of whom are now out of a job. Ryan Valdez, the senior director of conservation science at the nonprofit National Parks Conservation Association (NPCA), told me that the Park Service’s science arm, which once employed hundreds of people in land, water, air, wildlife, and climate-change programs, is “pretty much dismantled.” (The Department of the Interior declined to confirm this account.) The ranger in the West told me that her park lost its only wildlife biologist. According to the NPCA, Olympic National Park no longer has permanent fisheries biologists to help assess damage resulting from a nearby gas-and-diesel spill, and layoffs have left only one employee to oversee archaeology and cultural-resource protection for Alaska’s 23 park sites. NPS staff members from across the country have reported to Resistance Rangers, a group of off-duty and former rangers documenting cuts and policy changes within the NPS, that they were forced to pause their monitoring of tree health, glacier size, and other measures of ecological well-being. North Cascades National Park has no lead wildlife biologist to monitor bear movements (and wrangle human-bear conflicts), according to Save Our Parks, another advocacy group. The scientists still working at the parks haven’t reliably been doing science, either: In April, for instance, biologists in Yosemite were cleaning toilets.Preserving the parks’ ecologies in the face of climate change and heavy visitor traffic requires active work. Without the copious, current data collected through research, parks workers may be caught off guard by environmental and ecological upheavals. Researchers help track and maintain the well-being of imperiled species in the parks: bats in Acadia, grizzly bears in Glacier, numerous native-plant species in Everglades. Stephanie Adams, the conservation-programs director at NPCA, told me that the cuts to science and conservation work threaten such species’ long-term health. Any one species’ loss could trigger collapse up and down an ecosystem’s food chain—a crisis that park workers will be poorly equipped to adapt to if they can’t see it coming.The Department of the Interior disputed its employees’ characterizations of this summer’s staffing levels. “Conservation and access are not mutually exclusive, they are the foundation of the NPS mission, and we are achieving both,” Elizabeth Peace, a spokesperson for the department, told me in an email. She also wrote that “science, monitoring and preservation efforts remain active across the National Park System,” and that staffing levels at the national parks this summer were “on par with previous years.” Independent accounts, though, have documented delays in seasonal hiring for the busy summer months, and a hiring freeze across most of the federal government is still in effect, keeping vacant positions at the National Park Service unfilled.[Read: The national-park tours of Trump’s dreams]Meanwhile, parks across the country are in need of crucial maintenance. Before this year, NPS already had a long-standing and growing maintenance backlog for roads, bridges, historic structures, campgrounds, and trails; last year, the agency estimated that needed repairs would cost nearly $23 billion. And the bill keeps mounting: Take this summer’s Dragon Bravo Fire, which burned more than 145,000 acres, destroying a historic lodge, a visitor center, and other park buildings in the Grand Canyon. Besides emergencies, the parks’ natural landscapes need care too. But NPS’s ability to provide it could be endangered by the rollback of the Inflation Reduction Act, which funded projects such as salt-marsh restoration on the East Coast and a hazardous-landfill cleanup in Yosemite. According to recent reporting by The New York Times, 30 parks reported cuts to maintenance this year.The more that projects pile up without being addressed, the greater the likelihood that NPS simply won’t have the money or workers to keep the parks in a safe condition. The Trump administration’s proposed budget for the 2026 fiscal year—which suggested $1.2 billion in cuts to NPS funding, the largest in the history of the agency—would only worsen the parks’ infrastructure problems. (Congress has yet to approve a final budget; the House Appropriations Committee proposed $176 million in cuts to NPS operations and $37 million in cuts to construction funding.) The parks risk remaining open with neglected landscapes, ragged trails, and disappearing biodiversity.The national parks, perhaps more than any other American project, represent a hopeful commitment to the future. The 1916 Organic Act, which established the NPS, states that parks must “provide for the enjoyment” of the scenery, wildlife, and natural and historic objects within them and also leave them “unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations.” A fully functioning National Park Service doesn’t just serve a given summer’s visitors. It also ensures that the unique flora, fauna, and geologic wonders under its care survive in the decades to come, despite the stresses of climate change, invasive species, and the parks’ own popularity.[Read: A new danger at America’s national parks]But the rangers I spoke with fear that their mission is unraveling. “Part of what we do is making sure that our kids will be able to experience the same thing, that we’re protecting these places responsibly for the next generation,” one ranger, who was fired in February and reinstated in late March, told me. “We are losing the ability to do that.”

Bees, Once Buzzing in Honey-Producing Basra, Hit by Iraq's Water Crisis

By Mohammed AttiBASRA, Iraq (Reuters) -Bees once thrived among the date palms along the Shatt al-Arab, where Iraq's mighty Tigris and Euphrates...

BASRA, Iraq (Reuters) -Bees once thrived among the date palms along the Shatt al-Arab, where Iraq's mighty Tigris and Euphrates rivers meet, but drought has shrivelled the green trees and life in the apiaries that dot the riverbank is under threat.In the historic port city of Basra, beekeepers following centuries-long traditions are struggling to produce honey as the salinity of water in Shatt al-Arab rises, along with extreme heat and persistent droughts that have disturbed the bees' delicate ecosystem."Bees need clean ... water. The lack of this water leads to their death," said Mahmoud Shaker, 61, a professor at Basra University who has his own apiary.BASRA WAS KNOWN FOR ITS HONEYThe banks of the Shatt al-Arab were once a lush jungle where bees would feast, producing high-quality honey that was a good source of income for Iraqi beekeepers in the southern city.But decades of conflict and a changing climate have slowly diminished the greenery, putting the bee population at risk. Less than a quarter of the palm trees on the riverbanks of Shatt al-Arab have survived, with fewer than 3 million trees now, from a peak of nearly 16 million.There were more than 4,000 bee hives in at least 263 apiaries around the city, the assistant director of the Basra office in the agriculture ministry, Dr. Mohammed Mahdi Muzaal Al-Diraoui, told Reuters. But due to conflict and the harsh environmental conditions, around 150 apiaries have been damaged and at least 2,000 hives lost, he said."Environmental conditions and salt water have harmed the bees, causing significant losses. Some beekeepers have completely lost their apiaries," Al-Diraoui said.As a result, honey production in the area is expected to decline by up to 50% this season compared to the previous year, Al-Diraoui said.At its peak, honey production from the Basra region was around 30 tons a year, he said, but has been declining since 2007-2008, falling sharply to 12 tons in the past five years, with production this season expected to reach just six tons.DECADES OF WAR, AND NOW A WATER CRISISIraq has endured decades of warfare - from war with Iran in the 1980s, to the Gulf War of the early 1990s, the 2003 U.S.-led invasion followed by insurgent violence and rise and fall of the Islamic State group. Its latest challenge, however, is a water shortage that is putting its whole ecology at risk.Water security has become a pressing issue in the oil-rich nation as levels in Euphrates and Tigris have declined sharply, worsened by upstream dams, mostly in Turkey. For Shatt al-Arab that meant a surge of seawater from the Arabian Gulf into the waterway, raising salinity to unprecedented levels.Its riverbanks, once lined with groves rich in nectar and flowers, have been devastated as salinity levels soared, while bees also struggle with extreme heat, with summer temperatures in Basra reaching 50 degrees Celsius (122 degrees Fahrenheit), Shaker said.As the salinity of Shatt al-Arab's water rises, the bee population remains at risk, and some areas on the riverbanks of southern Basra have already stopped production, Al-Diraoui said."I expect that if the water crisis continues at this rate over the next year, especially if salt water reaches areas in northern Basra, honey production will come to a complete halt."(Reporting by Mohammed Atti in Basra, Writing by Nayera AbdallahEditing by Ros Russell)Copyright 2025 Thomson Reuters.Photos You Should See – Sept. 2025

The Fight to End Childhood RSV in Indian Country

American Indian and Alaska Native infants experience the highest rates of RSV-related hospitalization in the U.S., but a breakthrough immunization is helping to close the gap

This article is part of “Innovations In: RSV,” an editorially independent special report that was produced with financial support from MSD, Sanofi and AstraZeneca.At first, Ethel Branch thought her two-year-old son, Patro, had a cold or maybe the flu. But on a chilly day in November 2022, a seemingly common childhood ailment took a hairpin turn that nearly sent him into respiratory failure.That day, fever, congestion and lethargy set in to the point that Branch took Patro to an emergency room in Winslow, Ariz., where he was diagnosed with croup, given steroids and released.On supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.But the following day, his temperature climbed and his chest began to cave in with each breath. Frantic, Branch rushed Patro to the larger Flagstaff Medical Center, where he was diagnosed with respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), placed on oxygen and admitted to the pediatric intensive care unit.“My son got COVID, and it was not that bad,” Branch recalls. “In fact, he didn't even really present symptoms. But with RSV, I couldn’t have waited any longer before taking him into the ER because his chest was depressed.”Patro left the hospital after four days, but his recovery was far from over. Three years later, he still goes to the emergency room for oxygen and breathing treatments every winter.For Branch, a Harvard-trained lawyer and former attorney general of the Navajo Nation, her son’s encounter with RSV was eye-opening. She realized that the dangers of RSV were largely unrecognized—not just by her or the health care workers who initially misdiagnosed him but across her tribal community as well.Over time, she also learned that her son’s experience was shockingly common among Native Americans, especially those on reservations, where lack of infrastructure and multigenerational households make them uniquely vulnerable to this and other illnesses. As a result, American Indian and Alaska Native infants bear the tragic distinction of experiencing the highest rates of RSV-related hospitalization in the country.After Patro contracted RSV, he spent four days in the pediatric intensive care unit at Flagstaff Medical Center in Arizona in 2022.But one year after Patro’s RSV scare, scientific breakthroughs emerged that have begun to bend the RSV curve among young children in Native communities: a monoclonal antibody and a maternal vaccine that can dramatically cut RSV-related hospitalizations among infants.Disease and Resilience on Navajo LandsWith a population of more than 400,000, the Navajo Nation (whose people are known as the Diné, pronounced Din-EH, in their language) is the largest federally recognized tribe in the U.S. And its reservation—home to more than 165,000 residents—is the largest in the country, encompassing roughly 27,000 square miles in northeastern Arizona, northwestern New Mexico and southeastern Utah. With a rich heritage, a distinct language and cultural traditions rooted in family and ties to their land, the Diné remain one of the strongest, most vibrant Indigenous communities in the world.Throughout their history, the Diné—like many other tribes—have endured devastating epidemics, including smallpox, mumps and pneumonia in the 17th and 18th centuries, which decimated their population. Their forced removal from their lands in 1864, known as the Long Walk, led to deadly outbreaks of measles, dysentery and pneumonia at the Bosque Redondo internment camp at Fort Sumner, N.M. The 1918 influenza pandemic killed an estimated 3,000 Diné, roughly one quarter of the tribe, according to the Navajo Times.In his seminal history on the pre-Columbian Americas, author Charles C. Mann noted that none of the major infectious diseases—including smallpox, measles, typhoid, leprosy, bubonic plague, tuberculosis, scarlet fever, diphtheria, influenza and cholera—existed in the Western Hemisphere prior to European contact.Recognizing the lethality of these diseases, the Europeans turned to biological warfare to destroy and subjugate Native communities by giving them smallpox-infected blankets, clothing and other “gifts,” deliberately spreading the deadly illness among Indigenous populations, according to medical researchers at the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens in Greece.Because of their lack of exposure and immunity to these pathogens, scientists and geographers estimate that by the beginning of the 1600s, infectious disease brought to the Americas killed more than 56 million Indigenous people, representing roughly 10 percent of the entire global population at the time. This was one of the deadliest demographic collapses in human history. In some cases, entire tribes became extinct, and their languages, histories and cultural ways died with them.When COVID arrived in early 2020, tribal nations across North America immediately understood the threat and implemented strict prevention measures, including lockdowns, checkpoints, temperature checks, masking and other methods to protect their communities.When vaccines became available, tribes became national public health leaders by testing and vaccinating their own members and opening their clinics and hospitals to the general public.Despite these efforts, tribal communities from Alaska to Maine still experienced some of the highest rates of COVID infection and death in the country. As of January 1, 2025, the Navajo Nation has recorded 93,980 confirmed cases and 2,334 deaths, according to the Navajo Epidemiology Center, and at one point it claimed the highest per capita infection rate nationwide.But even as COVID captured global attention, a quieter but relentless virus continued to stalk tribal communities, striking Native American infants and toddlers with unmatched severity: RSV.Battling RSV amid Social ChallengesRSV hospitalization rates among Indigenous infants and toddlers are up to 10 times higher than the rate in the general population.RSV has been a persistent threat among all tribes. Among them, its effect has been devastating in Alaska’s Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta, the Navajo Nation and the White Mountain Apache Reservation in Arizona, where pediatric hospitalization rates are among the highest in the world.RSV spreads rapidly through droplets, which can be transmitted from person to person via coughing or sneezing, direct human contact such as touching or kissing or contact with a contaminated surface. RSV can survive on hard surfaces for hours.The virus’s spread is often accelerated by living conditions and other socioeconomic factors on Native lands, such as overcrowded housing, limited access to health care and clean water, environmental hazards and barriers to transportation.These stark disparities have been driven largely by generations of displacement, broken treaties and systemic neglect. As tribes were forced by the federal government into isolated and under-resourced reservations in the late 1800s, these conditions became the norm.The legacy of those policies continues to shape the health of their communities, resulting in higher rates of infectious diseases such as RSV, according to public health experts and tribal epidemiologists.“Water alone is a huge public health issue for us because roughly 30 percent of the households on our reservation have no running water,” Branch says. “And it’s very expensive for our people to haul their own, and they have to ration, which has had a direct impact on the health of the Navajo Nation.”Access to basic resources and challenging living conditions have created environments where infectious diseases thrive—which highlights how health outcomes are tied to social inequities, says Laura Hammitt, director of Infectious Disease Programs at the Johns Hopkins Center for Indigenous Health.Laura Hammitt, director of Infectious Disease Programs at the Johns Hopkins Center for Indigenous Health, guided the Indigenous research portion of a worldwide nirsevimab study. American Indian and Alaska Native children have some of the highest rates of RSV transmission, hospitalization and mortality in the country.“Social determinants of health are really the root cause of the elevated RSV disease burden among Native American children,” Hammitt says. “This is a disease of poverty.”Even though the disparity has been well documented in medical research over many years, that information has rarely reached Native families themselves. That’s partly because the symptoms of RSV are similar to those of other respiratory illnesses, such as the flu and the common cold. And there haven’t been culturally relevant public health campaigns about RSV on Native lands, according to public health experts.“I was doing a lot of advocacy relating to COVID at the time [of the pandemic], because I was leading the Navajo and Hopi Families COVID-19 Relief Fund, a mutual aid nonprofit,” Branch explains. “So I had a hyperawareness of things like this. But even so, I had no idea what RSV was.”After her son’s hospitalization, Branch began researching RSV and was shocked to learn that high transmission rates on the Navajo Nation reservation had been a serious problem for years.As COVID cases began to decline and lockdowns eased on the reservation, she realized a public health crisis was emerging as people began to gather again, spreading germs. RSV surged among the tribe’s children, so Branch penned a column in the Navajo Times about her son’s experience and began educating other parents and caregivers about the risks and warning signs of RSV.Meanwhile frontline health workers, armed with experience from COVID, were building better systems to track and fight infectious diseases, laying the groundwork that continues to shape the Navajo Nation’s response to RSV and other medical threats.How COVID Shaped the RSV ResponseWhen pediatrician Amanda Burrage arrived at the Tuba City Regional Health Care Corporation on the Navajo Nation reservation in 2018, the facility had no coordinated effort to track and monitor RSV cases and admissions. But the emergence of COVID served as a catalyst for transforming the public health apparatus.Burrage led the efforts at Tuba City’s hospital by organizing a comprehensive response, including data collection, contact tracing, community outreach, disease surveillance, testing, vaccination campaigns and staff training. Once that infrastructure was in place, Burrage and her team could apply these same tools to other infectious diseases such as RSV.“Prior to COVID, we did not have anybody on staff at Tuba City focused on the data or tracking the RSV tests that were positive and cases that were hospitalized,” says Burrage, who serves as the facility’s medical director of public health. She splits her time between her clinical practice and public health efforts aimed at improving disease surveillance, prevention and response across the region.Amanda Burrage, a pediatrician and public health expert, is leading the efforts at Tuba City Regional Health Care Corporation on the Navajo Nation reservation to ensure children receive nirsevimab immunizations against RSV.As COVID cases began to recede, RSV transmission and hospitalizations started to spike at Tuba City, signaling the virus’s aggressive return after people stopped isolating.RSV primarily attacks the respiratory tract, inflaming the small airways and making it difficult for infants and children to breathe. The virus can cause a severe buildup of mucus that blocks airflow, reducing oxygen levels in the blood. For some children, this can quickly spiral into pneumonia or bronchiolitis, requiring hospitalization and sometimes intensive care. Because young children have more fragile immune systems and lungs, RSV can overwhelm their bodies quickly, making it one of the most dangerous respiratory viruses for infants and toddlers, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.“Once RSV is present, there is only supportive care,” Burrage says. “There is really no treatment, and it becomes about management of symptoms and monitoring for complications.”A Breakthrough Years in the MakingIn 2019, before COVID emerged in the U.S., a multidisciplinary team of physicians, epidemiologists, public health professionals and national research institutions joined forces in a monumental global effort to study the efficacy of a new immunization that helps to prevent severe RSV infections in infants and children.Nirsevimab, under the commercial name Beyfortus, is a monoclonal antibody that provides infants passive immunization from RSV. Developed jointly by AstraZeneca and Sanofi, it’s not technically a “vaccine” but an immunization that works by delivering antibodies that target the RSV-F protein, offering the strongest protection in the weeks after it is administered.Native Americans played a small but crucial role in a clinical trial of nirsevimab known as the MELODY study. Hammitt, who served as the lead investigator for the Indigenous portion of the trial, worked closely with the Navajo Nation to recruit participants and monitor the outcomes, ensuring the research was conducted in a culturally respectful and collaborative way.The initial phase of the trial was postponed during the first year of the pandemic but started again in 2021, according to Hammitt. Out of 1,490 global participants in that phase, approximately 83 Navajo infants were enrolled at Fort Defiance, Ariz., and at Shiprock and Gallup in New Mexico.The study’s integration of Indigenous communities provided critical data on the immunization’s efficacy in a high-risk group. The CDC’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices subsequently endorsed nirsevimab for all infants under eight months born during or entering their first RSV season. The committee made a special recommendation that American Indian and Alaska Native children aged eight months to 19 months receive a second dose for their second RSV season.When the trial began, prior to COVID, “we had pretty comprehensive data on what RSV looked like in a prepandemic setting,” Hammitt says. “We found that the Navajo Nation’s rate of serious RSV infection and hospitalization was about five times higher than the general U.S. numbers.”The results from the first phase of the trial were dramatic and immediate and showed that nirsevimab was about 75 percent effective at preventing RSV illness that required medical attention, says Hammitt, who has spent decades partnering with tribes in the U.S. Southwest and Alaska to study the impact of infectious disease on their communities.“We were a small but important part of the MELODY trial because of the need to really demonstrate that immunizations that are licensed and recommended work in the populations that need them the most,” she explains.After nirsevimab’s approval in 2023 by the Food and Drug Administration, public health officials at the Navajo Nation set their new public health apparatus in motion, reaching out to parents with eligible babies. Pfizer’s RSV vaccine for pregnant people, Abrysvo, was also approved that year and offered parents another option to protect their babies. A single dose administered between 32 and 36 weeks of gestation confers protection to the fetus through the placenta and lasts for about six months after birth.“We were very proactive in reaching every family who had a child that was eligible,” says Burrage, whose staff worked overtime on parent outreach at Tuba City. “We sent letters, made phone calls. And whenever a parent is in for a well-child visit or at prenatal checkups, we certainly offer it.”Burrage reports there has been a small increase in the number of parents who are hesitant to accept the shot because of the influence of antivaccine groups and misinformation. But given the risks and high prevalence of RSV among Navajo children, she says, the vast majority are choosing to immunize their children. A second antibody injection, Enflonsia, was approved by the FDA for infant use in June 2025. “We certainly recognize this to be a game-changer for us in our community,” Burrage says. “Many people know somebody who’s had severe illness that was admitted [to a hospital] with RSV—an older sibling, a niece or nephew. People recognize that it can be severe for young children and have almost universally accepted it.”After Patro’s hospital stay, Branch began educating other parents and caregivers about the risks of RSV in the Navajo Nation. She encourages all Indigenous parents to get their children immunized against the virus.Branch, who now serves as deputy county attorney for the Coconino County Attorney’s Office in Flagstaff, Ariz., hopes her son’s story will serve as a wake-up call regarding the dangers of RSV.Patro fell ill before any prevention measures were available. Every winter she has to whisk him to the emergency room if he shows signs of wheezing or labored breathing, a vestige of his serious brush with RSV in 2022.“You don't want your kid to get RSV—ever,” Branch says. “So get that vaccine so you can save yourself and your child the trauma of having it in the first place, which is a horrible experience for everyone. There are long-lasting effects, and you don’t want to have to go into the ER every winter with your child.”

Theater Award Created in Honor of Philip Seymour Hoffman and Adam Schlesinger Turns 10

Playwright David Bar Katz is helping artists facing financial stress through The Relentless Award, the largest annual cash prize in American theater

NEW YORK (AP) — Many times in his life, playwright David Bar Katz didn't know how he was going to pay the bills. These days, he's helping the next generation of artists facing that same dilemma.Katz oversees The Relentless Award, the largest annual cash prize in American theater to a playwright in recognition of a new play. It's celebrating its 10th anniversary this year and, as always, seeking submissions that “exhibit fearlessness.” The award also honors musical theater.“Being able to create under financial stress is so difficult, and so anything we can do to give artists a little breathing room is what we want,” says Katz.The award was inspired by Katz's friend and collaborator Philip Seymour Hoffman, the late actor who was described as relentless in his pursuit of truth in his art. A musical theater honor was added after the 2020 death of another of Katz's friends, Fountains of Wayne co-founder Adam Schlesinger.“To me, a big aspect of the award — the musical and the straight play — is not merely honoring Phil and Adam, but the idea of expanding their artistic legacies,” says Katz. Some of the plays that have been recognized have gone on to great success, like Aleshea Harris’ 2016 winner “Is God Is,” which has been made into a movie starring Janelle Monáe, Vivica A. Fox, Sterling K. Brown and Kara Young.“Alicia typifies the whole point of the award,” says Katz. “I think at a moment in her life where she, like so many of us other artists, had kind of had it, she won the award and that was incredibly meaningful in her career.”Other successes include Sarah DeLappe’s “The Wolves” and Clare Barron’s “Dance Nation” — joint winners in 2015 — who have gone on to become Pulitzer Prize finalists. “The impact, especially of those three plays, has been profound in theater,” Katz says.The musical and the playwriting honors alternate each year. The winner this year is Jack D. Coen, who created the musical comedy “Jo Jenkins Before the Galactic Court of Consciousness.”Cohen will receive $65,000 and his musical — as well as the works of the finalists — will be honored at a ceremony and performance on Oct. 12 at Building for the Arts’ multi-theater complex, Theatre Row. Chris Collingwood, of Fountains of Wayne, will be performing as well. The Relentless Award seeks full-length works by American applicants who haven’t previously been produced. All submissions are judged anonymously. The Relentless Award’s selection committee this year consisted of Katz, “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” co-creator Rachel Bloom, Tony Award-winner Jason Robert Brown, Emmy Award-winner David Javerbaum, songwriter and producer Sam Hollander, composer and arranger Laura Grill Jaye, two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Lynn Nottage, musician and writer Brontez Purnell and Obie-winning playwright Lucy Thurber.The American Playwriting Foundation, which gives out the award, will be able to showcase winners at Theatre Row, a crucial step for budding artists.“The first step was getting this money to artists that need it and giving them a launching place and some notoriety. But the dream was also then to be able to put it up because that is the hardest thing to get done now,” Katz says. “Everybody has readings and no one has a production.” “Jo Jenkins Before the Galactic Court of Consciousness” is described as an inventive, existential sci-fi comedy about a marine-biologist-turned-actuary who must defend humanity to an intergalactic council. Katz says it deals with the environmental crisis in a novel way. “We’ve all heard the polemic, and it’s not really working the way we want it to. But a musical like this, what it does is it appeals to the heart and the soul, and not the intellect,” he says. “That maybe can move the needle.”Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Sept. 2025

California faces a self-created oil and gas crisis. Lawmakers should consider these steps next

Newsom’s long-overdue acknowledgement of a pending gasoline crisis — together with the Legislature’s last-minute actions — are a start, but also a piecemeal approach to addressing a critical problem.

California lawmakers just passed legislation to support the oil and gas industry in an attempt to lower costs for consumers. Below, a business professor says the package is overdue but also a piecemeal approach for such a critical problem. The opposing view: an environmental scholar argues that making it easier to drill oil won’t lower gas prices. Guest Commentary written by Michael Mische Michael Mische is an associate professor at the University of Southern California’s Marshall School of Business. Time matters, and California is running out of it. Lawmakers in Sacramento must act to address the state’s fuel and affordability crises. Since 2001, California gas prices have increased 162%. Today, we pay about 43% more than the national average, and that figure would likely be far higher if not for record-high domestic oil production. That tailwind unfortunately won’t last. While crude oil prices have fallen 19% since January, California costs and taxes have increased, now accounting for approximately 26% of the retail price of gasoline. And with the highest state excise tax per gallon in the nation, California makes several times more than a typical retailer for the same gallon of gas sold. Platitudes and rhetoric aside, the truth is California is staring at a near-term gasoline shortfall, driven largely by the pending closure of two refineries, the highest operating costs in the nation and decades of falling in-state production. What these fuel supply challenges have not resulted in is a gigantic drop in demand. This has and will continue to lead to a greater dependence on foreign fuel, greater emissions, increased exposure to global volatility, and ultimately an increase in the price Californians pay for the fuel that powers the world’s fourth-largest economy. We face a choice: On one side, the status quo assumes California’s economy can run without petroleum any time soon. On the other is a growing recognition that affordable energy is essential to economic stability and national security. After spending years demonizing the oil and gas industry and accusing California’s refiners of ripping off consumers, Gov. Gavin Newsom now admits that “We are all the beneficiaries of oil and gas,” under severe pressure to avert a full-blown energy crisis. At the tail end of the legislative session last week, legislators and the governor reached an agreement to increase in-state crude oil production. If we care about our climate goals, we must also care about where our gasoline comes from. In 1982, California imported around 6% of its oil needs from foreign sources; today, the Golden State imports around 64% from various petrostates. Shipping finished fuel thousands of miles can mean crude sourced from regimes with higher emissions and weaker oversight than California. That’s more pollution, less transparency, less leverage for the U.S. — and yes, higher prices at the pump. None of this is necessary, and most of this is self-created. California has one of the most underused oil reserves in the nation and some the most advanced technologies, best-trained workforces and safest producers in the world. The Newsom administration’s recent moves to ease the bureaucratic red tape and permitting challenges that have forced us to import two-thirds of all our crude quietly admits as much. We should use the resources we have today while we continue to build the clean energy system of tomorrow.  We also need to dial back the regulatory cost stack. On July 1, the state raised the gas excise tax and updated the Low Carbon Fuel Standard, the state’s greenhouse gas reduction program. Layer on infrastructure costs, amortization, new storage mandates, refinery retrofits for changing crude blends and the lagging effects of the LCFS credit. If we care about affordability, let’s price it honestly and show the math. Finally, equity must be both fiscally and morally sound. California’s gas tax — roughly 61 cents per gallon — pays for the roads we all use. Meanwhile, EV drivers don’t pay the tax but still use the same infrastructure. As EV adoption grows, the revenue gap widens. In a state that prides itself on equity, a fair solution is to stop subsidizing EV owners on the shoulders of other drivers and adopt a more equitable mileage-based road fee for EVs that accounts for miles driven and vehicle weight, which better reflects road wear. Newsom’s long-overdue acknowledgement of a pending gasoline and price crisis — together with the Legislature’s last-minute actions — are a start but also a piecemeal approach to addressing a critical problem. As a next step, the Legislature should consider the repeal of regulations limiting production and pipeline use in more counties, assess the powers of agency bureaucrats who force higher prices on the backs of Californians, and a new regulatory strategy that will provide a more hospitable business environment for refiners and producers. That ultimately means greater fuel and price security for California consumers.

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