It was once a thriving lakeshore; now it's toxic and poisoning residents. Mining lithium might offer a solution.

In the Imperial Valley of southeast California, community members are seeking a solution to the harmful effects of the Salton Sea, reports Jill Johnston and Shohreh Farzan for The Conversation. In addition to emitting a foul smell that permeates neighborhoods, chemical blow-off from the drying lake bed is causing lung problems in children.

Formed in the early 1900s when the Colorado River flooded and breached an irrigation canal, the Salton Sea has been kept afloat by contaminated irrigation runoff from the Imperial Valley's agricultural region, which contains fertilizers, pesticides, salt and toxic metals. What was once a thriving tourist and celebrity attraction in the 1950s is now a toxic, shrinking lake.

“As the lake shrinks, wind blowing across the exposed lake bed kicks up toxic dust left by years of agriculture chemicals and metals washing into the lake,” Johnston and Farzan report. “That dust makes its way into the lungs of the children of the Imperial Valley.” 

Findings show the Imperial Valley children's respiratory health symptoms. (Chart via The Conversation CC, data from Jill Johnston 2024 environmental research, Click to enlarge)

They even found the effects on lung function near the Salton Sea are greater than what studies find in urban California areas by busy roadways.

Their study following 700 elementary school-age children across five northern Imperial Valley cities for several years shows higher rates of air pollution were linked to overall poorer respiratory health and children living closer to the sea had poorer lung function. They also report 1 in 5, or 20% of, children in the Imperial Valley have asthma, which is much higher than the national rate of 5.4-7%.

One solution to the deteriorating quality of life in the Imperial Valley is a well-done lithium extraction facility, community members told Soumya Karlamangla at The New York Times. The Salton Sea sits on top of $500 billion worth of lithium, enough to provide the entire nation’s demand for decades, Karlamangla explains. The U.S. currently imports most of its lithium as it only has one active lithium mine in Nevada.

The Imperial Valley region has crumbling infrastructure and a high unemployment rate. “The lithium companies could collectively create 1,000 construction jobs and 700 permanent operations jobs,” Karlamangla reports.

Residents worry that a lithium extraction will cause the air pollution to worsen and require more use of the community’s depleting fresh water source, especially if not done correctly, Karlamangla reports. Currently, three companies are trying to extract the metal, but lawsuits from environmental groups and broken promises from geothermal and solar industries have slowed the process.

One company expects to commercially extract lithium by 2028, and the California State Legislature authorized a tax on each pound of lithium extracted, giving 80% to Imperial County communities and 20% to the state for Salton Sea restoration efforts, reports Karlamangla.

Miners with black lung disease push back against the Trump administration's failure to enforce new silica rule

Silica dust is present in all extracted coal.
(Adobe Stock photo)

Coal miners hoped that President Donald Trump would help secure health care safety protections for miners suffering from black lung disease and usher in an era where new U.S. Mine Safety and Health Administration silica limits would be enforced. But some mining communities in Appalachia and the West have been angery and disappointed because they believe the administration's actions favor mining operator profits over worker safety.

A rule approved last year by the MSHA Administration would "cut the federal limit for allowable respirable crystalline silica dust exposure by half to help protect miners of all types nationwide from the current driving force of black lung and other illnesses," reports Margie Mason of The Associated Press.

Many mining community members who voted for Trump in his 2024 campaign believed he would protect mine workers from mine owners who opposed the silica rule and sued to delay its enforcement. But that is not the stance the Trump administration has taken.

The new rule is now "in jeopardy amid other Trump administration cutbacks and proposals targeting workers’ health and safety guardrails," Mason explains. "Some angry retired miners with black lung are fighting back, demanding that Trump honor promises he made to the people who voted him in."

Even as the Trump administration maintains that the president puts miners' health first, GOP cuts to agencies that oversee mine safety have left far fewer experts to inspect and enforce current rules.

"In addition, the Labor Department has proposed altering some mining regulations to weaken the authority of district mine health and safety managers that could impact ventilation, roof prevention and training programs," Mason adds. "The White House and the Labor Department insisted the administration can maintain miners’ health and safety while rolling back regulations."

Tired of waiting for the Trump administration to enforce silica limits, coal miners protest

Silica dust in coal mines causes black lung disease.
(Adobe Stock photo)

In response to the Trump administration's refusal to enforce federal limits on silica dust, dozens of miners and their families will protest today "arguing the Trump administration has failed to protect them from black lung disease, an incurable illness caused by inhaling coal and silica dust," reports Lisa Friedman of The New York Times.

"Labor unions, Democrats and a growing number of miners accuse the Trump administration of ignoring workers while using hundreds of millions of dollars in federal subsidies to bolster the companies that operate coal plants and mining operations," Friedman writes.

The ceiling on silica exposure was "supposed to take effect in April. But the National Sand Stone and Gravel Association, the National Mining Association and other industry groups asked a federal appeals court to block the rule, citing the cost to mine operators," Friedman reports.

The Trump administration could have moved forward with applying the silica rule, but instead opted to "pause" enforcement while the court case plays out.

Gary Hairston, a retired West Virginia coal miner, who is the president of the National Black Lung Association, told Friedman, "The companies might be getting a handout, but the miners ain’t getting none."

While miners wait, the black lung disease continues to spike, with doctors diagnosing the disease in younger coal workers. Friedman writes, "Once considered a disease of older miners, black lung is now being diagnosed in workers in their 30s and 40s."

Anna Kelly, a White House spokeswoman, said in a statement that "President Trump cares deeply about unleashing America’s energy potential, as well as standing up for those who fuel our country' like coal miners," Friedman reports.

More recently, the Trump administration "petitioned the court to prevent labor unions and a lung health association from intervening in the case," Friedman writes. "This month it asked for another court delay, citing the government shutdown."

Report: Coal dust from active mines is more toxic, but mining inspectors fail to sanction coal mine owners

Healthy lung versus black lung. (CDC graphic)

Despite increasing rates and severity of black lung disease in Appalachia, coal mining operators continue to avoid U.S. Mine Safety and Health Administration harsh consequences meant to protect coal miners from toxic levels of coal dust and its more lethal counterpart, silica, report Michael D. Sallah, Jimmy Cloutier and Mike Wereschagin of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

MSHA inspectors have repeatedly documented "dangerous levels of dust spewing in the mines — conditions that can prompt a temporary shutdown of an underground workplace — but failed to impose any penalties, only to find the companies violating the same thresholds again," the Post-Gazette reports.

When black lung disease began surging in 2009, the MSHA launched a campaign to clamp down on coal operators, but critics say the stricter sanctions on mine owners have not produced safer work conditions for miners.

If anything, mining is more deadly for workers who have to drill deep into silica-producing sandstone and limestone to reach coal beds. The Post-Gazette reports, "Fine particles of silica cut into the lungs, creating deep scars and inflammation, forcing the patients to use oxygen and eventually choking off their ability to breathe."

The impact of silica on today's coal miners is startling. Sallah writes, "In central Appalachia, one in every five people who have worked in the mines for at least 25 years is suffering from black lung disease."

Equally troubling is how many active mines ignore regulations and escape enforcement. "Hundreds of coal dust samples pulled from mines since 2014 were found to be breaking the limits without any disciplinary action taken by MSHA," the Post-Gazette reports.

Coal operators could lessen dust exposure, but those changes to ventilation and processes would cost "roughly $100 million a year," the report explains. 

Mine operators continue to push for their right to choose how they protect workers from coal dust.
Over the past year, one mine in Kentucky "showed a silica level eight times the safety threshold," the Post-Gazette reports. "In West Virginia last year, the level was six times over the limit."

Report: Despite big output, northern Appalachian states with fracking projects reap fewer rewards than expected

Frackalachia residents don't earn 'higher than average incomes'
from regional fracking projects. (Graph by S. O'Malley, ORVI)

Residents in heavily fracked northern Appalachian states haven't seen the job creation gains oil and gas companies promised, according to a new research report from the Ohio River Valley Institute. "The report uses the term ​'Frackalachia' to describe 30 top oil- and gas-producing counties in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia," reports Kathiann M. Kowalski of Canary Media. 

Despite the region's surging output, which "increased their share of the country’s gross domestic product by 6%" over the course of 15 years, Kowalski writes, Appalachia residents living near natural shale-gas fracking sites did not benefit from "higher-than-average incomes. . . . [The area's] income growth was 25% below that of the nation as a whole."

Part of the dilemma for communities with shale deposits is that extraction doesn't require a constant workforce, but it does require financial backing and expensive machinery. Kowalski reports, "Most earnings go to shareholders, investors, and suppliers based far from where fossil fuels are extracted, so only a small share of project income stays in the community to stimulate more economic activity."

Transferring employees into a region with extraction is another reason oil and gas companies don't generate jobs for residents. "From 2012 through 2022, the Ohio Department of Job and Family Services issued annual reports about the economic impact of the state’s oil and gas industry, including data for ​'core' jobs," Kowalski adds. "More than half of the new hires for the core industry jobs in 2021 came from outside Ohio, according to the state data."

When actual employment data from the Ohio Department of Job and Family Services was compared to those predicted by the fossil fuel industry, the number of new jobs the industry created in the region fell short. Kowalski writes, "The agency numbers are also far lower than the 79,000 direct and 375,000 total jobs the American Petroleum Institute cited in a 2021 report based on data from 2019."

The report's author, Sean O’Leary, told Kowalski, "Whatever else it is, the natural-gas boom is not an engine for economic prosperity." Kowalski adds, "He thinks the gas industry is ​'structurally incapable' of delivering lasting growth in jobs and income for the people living in heavily fracked areas."

Northwestern timber industry hopes to revive as Trump administration eyes tariffs, more logging in national forests

Northwestern timber looks for a comeback.
(Photo by Spurwing, Unsplash)

Despite decades of decline, the U.S. northwestern lumber industry is hoping that changes under the Trump administration will revive the industry. "Sawmills have been closing across the Pacific Northwest over the past 30 years," reports Ryan Dezember of The Wall Street Journal. "Owners of the remaining mills have high hopes that President Trump will deliver relief by increasing logging in national forests and raising trade protections against Canadian exports."

Historically, northwestern timber harvesting has been a boom or bust industry for more than a century, with the government stepping in at times to prevent overlogging. In 1994, President Bill Clinton helped pass the Northwest Forest Plan, which "reduced logging on federal lands. In practice, there has been even less logging than the plan prescribed," Dezember explains. "Owners of the remaining mills have high hopes that President Trump will deliver relief by increasing logging in national forests."

Along with harvesting restrictions, cheaper Canadian lumber imports added to the region's timber decline, which has the Trump administration considering timber tariffs. Even if those specific tariffs aren't levied, an ongoing trade dispute is expected to increase Canadian lumber duties to "more than double in the coming weeks to about 34% for most producers," Dezember explains. 

Location of Skamania County in 
Washington. (Wikipedia photo)

While the anticipated duties on Canadian timber or even additional tariffs on its imports can help the area's lumber companies over the next few months, changing federal logging restrictions will take time and planning. "Boosting the federal timber harvest could take years and be impeded by litigation and red tape," Dezember reports. "Regional Forest Service supervisors have been directed to map five-year plans to contribute to a 25% increase in the overall volume of timber harvested from national forests to satisfy Trump’s call for greater wood production."

The slow bleed of logging jobs from the region hasn't just meant lost incomes; it has translated into community budget cuts. Skamania County, Washington, serves as an example. The county is "80% federal forestland and a further 10% or so is controlled by the state," Dezember writes. "That means that the county earns tax revenue on most of its territory from timber receipts, which have slowed to a drip. Recent budget cuts forced the local school district to lay off teachers and close two of its four schools."

A historic first in Alaska may mean drilling in an untouched national refuge; Native Alaskans want a 'seat at the table.'

Map by Sarah Melotte, The Daily Yonder, from Bureau of Land
Management data. Click on map to enlarge.

Alaska’s Arctic National Wildlife Refuge is big, beautiful, and rich in natural resources and biodiversity. It has also been the "focal point of more than six decades of drilling controversy," which will come to a tentative resolution when tracts within the region's 19-million-acre expanse open for oil and gas leases this month, reports Sarah Melotte of The Daily Yonder. Native Alaskan communities want to be among the decision-makers for the coastal land that "is estimated to contain 11.8 billion barrels of recoverable oil."

Drilling in ANWR has never been done before. The region is home to "charismatic species like polar bears, wolves, and the caribou that are sacred to the Gwich’in, a Northwestern Alaska tribe," Melotte writes. "Oil and gas operations elicit mixed responses from Alaskan Natives. . . Some worry that drilling activity will hurt vulnerable wildlife and subsistence living, others say the oil and gas industry funds important infrastructure for their communities."

The coastal region, also known as the North Slope Borough, receives 95% of its total budget from oil and gas development taxation. Reservation members also depend on shareholder income regional corporations generate and pay out to Alaskan Natives. The Artic Slope Regional Corporation serves as an example. The company "has over 13,000 shareholders who receive dividends," Melotte notes. "Since its establishment in 1972, the ASRC has distributed more than $1 billion in dividends."

"Many leaders of the Iñupiat, an indigenous people native to Alaska’s North Slope Borough, say that oil and gas operations can be good for native communities if conducted responsibly," Melotte reports. Nagruk Harcharek, president of the Voice of the Arctic Iñupiat, a nonprofit organization that advocates for Alaska’s Iñupiat people, told Melotte, "Before oil and gas, you couldn't graduate high school and stay in the North Slope. Now there are K-12 schools in every North Slope village."

Harcharek used a past North Slope drilling project to help explain how Native Alaskans want to be included in drilling activity and practices. Melotte writes, "He said they were consulted 'early and often' in the decision-making process. . . . He said they want to be included before decisions are announced publicly."

Despite Alaska's rich natural resources, many Alaskan Natives live in poverty and still hunt for food, and drilling activities could interfere with their reliance on wild game. "Hunting is more than just a hobby in many native villages with high poverty rates," Melotte writes. "Hunting is a method of survival, said Dr. A.L. Lovecraft, professor of Political Science and director of the Center for Arctic Policy Studies at the University of Alaska. '[Drilling] also comes with all of this other baggage... Problems related to health, indoor health, indoor air quality, outdoor air quality.'"

Flora & Fauna: World's oldest whale; all about potatoes; farming extracted land; everlasting lice; why play?

The humpback whale Old Timer in Frederick Sound in southeast Alaska.
(Photo by Adam Pack, NOAA Research Permit 26953 via NYT)

Sometimes seeing an old friend can warm the heart and encourage the spirit. "When Adam A. Pack, a marine mammal researcher, was photographing whales in Alaska’s Frederick Sound this July, he instantly recognized the flukes of an old friend," writes Emily Anthes of The New York Times. "The tail — mostly black, with a wash of white speckles near the edge — belongs to a whale named Old Timer. First spotted in 1972, Old Timer is now a male of at least 53 years, making him “the oldest known humpback whale in the world. . . The last time he had seen the whale, in 2015, was in the middle of a record-breaking, yearslong heat wave. . ."

Where would this country be without potatoes? It's a loaded question. Fluffed, whipped, baked, fried, scalloped, mashed, au gratin. . . Americans do love their taters. But U.S. scientists said, "It's not enough. . . Potatoes deserve more!" Jacob Bunge and Victor Stefanescu of The Wall Street Journal report, "Agriculture companies are applying cutting-edge genetic technology to the dusty brown tubers, aiming to grow bigger piles of spuds that could make for healthier potato chips and french fries. . .while grappling with storage and shelf life."

Ashford Farm has been cultivating lavender for five
years. (Photo by K. Thacker, Ambrook Research)

Not long ago, a coal mine sat on a blown-off mountaintop in West Virginia. The mine extracted that land's wealth and left it barren, but that is not the story's end. "The prospect of putting a farm on a former coal site is highly ambitious and pretty rare — at least in the mountainous Central Appalachian Coal Basin," report Even Andrew and Kristian Thacker of Ambrook Research. "Lavender, however, is a good match for mined terrain because it’s a relatively low-maintenance crop that thrives in dry, rocky soils. . . . But growing something, especially on reclaimed mine land, is a significant challenge."

What's grosser than gross? Lice. "We are in peak lice season, and the lice seem to arrive, always, at the moment when we are least equipped to deal with them. If you’ve endured them even once, odds are you still have at least a touch of lingering paranoia and phantom itching," reports Caitlin Gibson of The Washington Post. "They were there when Hannibal and his army crossed the Alps. They were there when both World Wars were fought. Now it is 2024, and we have Mars rovers and artificial intelligence and, still, lice. We can’t change the reality of them. Should we try to change the way we think about them?"

Like everything Mother Nature imbues, play has purpose.
(Adobe Stock photo)

It's the Puppy Bowl! The Kitten Bowl! The Turtle Bowl. OK. May there's no turtle bowl -- yet. But humans do love to watch animals play. Why? As David Toomey writes for The Conversation, "Play has a role in Darwin’s theory of natural selection. As I explain in my new book, Kingdom of Play: What Ball-bouncing Octopuses, Belly-flopping Monkeys, and Mud-sliding Elephants Reveal about Life Itself, there are many similarities – so many that if you could distill the processes of natural selection into a single behavior, that behavior would be play, Animals forage and hunt in specific ways that don’t typically change. But an animal at play is far more likely to innovate – and some of its innovations may in time be adapted into new ways to forage and hunt."

While the Florida Everglades are home to an abundance of animal diversity, including 360 different species of birds and countless insect species, Burmese pythons are not a welcome addition. The state has battled to control the invasive, nonnative snake's spread with multiple approaches, including capture and kill contests. The state just wrapped up its annual Florida Python Challenge "during which time participants caught and killed the nonvenomous constrictors, which feed on the state's native fauna," reports Joe Hernandez of NPR. Florida offers more opportunities to remove pythons year-round.

Battle over mining in Arizona is about U.S. green energy needs, religious rights and land use

A view of Palabora, a South African copper mine, which was partially developed by Rio Tinto. Palabora's mine crater is roughly 1.24 miles across. Resolution's crater is expected to be 2 miles across. (Adobe Stock photo)

Resolution Copper wants to dig 5,000 to 7,000 feet into Arizona's Oak Flat desert to mine the region's vast copper-molybdenum deposit. The resistance to the project by Native American tribes and religious groups goes just as deep.

The Resolution Project has been under development by mining behemoths Rio Tinto and BHP Group since 2002. The companies and project supporters insist extracting the region's copper deposit is vital to shore up the mineral competition with China and for the U.S. transition to renewable energy. The opposition sees the mine and its expected 2-mile-across crater as exploitation of tribal holy ground.

Overall, the project has powerful backers: "It has generally been supported by the Obama, Trump and Biden administrations, though the latter has asked for more study as it seeks to balance its desire for clean-energy supplies with protections for the environment and the interests of Native Americans. The project can’t advance until that study is completed," report Phred Dvorak and Rhiannon Hoyle of The Wall Street Journal. "Many state and local officials [also] back the project."

Resistance to the project centers on Oak Flat, a stretch of land many Apaches consider sacred ground. The entrance to the mine is on Oak Flat, with the copper thousands of feet below. The main Apache opposition group, known as Apache Stronghold, was formed by the Apache San Carlos tribe and is represented by the Becket Fund, "a high-powered Washington, D.C., law firm known for championing conservative causes," Dvorak and Hoyle write. "Becket said it is planning to take its fight to the Supreme Court, where it has an 8-0 record."

Once Apache Stronghold and Becket joined forces the cause gained "a host of new religious allies. . . . Scores of religious groups have also submitted amicus briefs supporting Apache Stronghold’s suit," the Journal reports, "including organizations representing Mennonites, Seventh Day Adventists, Sikhs and Muslims."

Meanwhile, Resolution developers say "they have invested in an extensive monitoring network for groundwater, springs and other bodies of water that will be checked by regulators and a community working group," Dvorak and Hoyle add. "Resolution’s owners are trying to honor that commitment by consulting and joining with local tribes in good faith for the duration of the project, said Gare Smith, a lawyer who focuses on human rights and advises the project’s owners."

Not all regional tribes oppose the mine. "Other local tribes are attracted by potential economic benefits in a state where the tribal poverty rate is 29%," the Journal reports. "Among the ones with ties to Oak Flat, most have at some time officially opposed the mine."

To read more about U.S. copper needs, click here.
To find out more about the animals and plants that are native to Oak Flat, click here.

Bit by bit, these young adults are working to close methane-leaking orphaned wells

The Youth Climate Initiative is partnering with the Well Done Foundation
to plug orphaned wells. (Donor website photo)

With thousands of orphaned oil and gas wells left unplugged and leaking methane into the air, where does one start to correct the problem? Some teenagers in North Carolina have an answer -- close them down one at a time.

Mateo De La Rocha told his family that he wanted to be a garbage man when he grew up. "In La Paz, Bolivia, his home city at the time, trash piles were everywhere. In De La Rocha's eyes, the local sanitation worker was the only person cleaning up pollution," reports Delger Erdenesanaa of The New York Times. After De La Rocha's family relocated to the U.S., he ended up in an Advance Placement environmental science class. . . . "Where he realized that the methane from these abandoned wells was an issue [where individuals] could potentially make a difference. He invited his classmates Sebastian Ng and Lila Gisondi to join him."

Location of Cuyahoga Valley
National Park in Ohio (Wikipedia)

Being an environmental sanitation worker is a tall order, so the three teens dubbed themselves the "Youth Climate Initiative" and dug into orphaned well problems and possible solutions. "After more research, the trio connected with a nonprofit organization called the Well Done Foundation that plugs orphaned wells," Erdenesanaa writes. "The organization was founded by Curtis Shuck, an oil and gas industry veteran. . . .The students in North Carolina agreed to sponsor the 45th, an orphaned oil well on a horse farm in Ohio, near Cuyahoga Valley National Park."

Once the Youth Climate Initiative had a partner and their site, "They raised money in small increments over the course of about three months," Erdenesanaa explains. "The students also persuaded the Reimer Family Climate Crisis Fund, a small family foundation based in Austin, Texas, to match their donations. The $11,000 the students raised will cover approximately 15 percent of the project's total cost. Well Done will cover the rest of the cost through other donations and sponsors."

While one plugged well isn't going to save the environment, for the Youth Climate Initiative, it's a great start. Erdenesanaa adds, "Now that final exams, sports tournaments and prom are out of the way, De La Rocha, Ng and Gisondi plan to raise money to plug a second orphaned well this summer."

To view photos of the students' project as it unfolded, click here.

Economic downturn and the opioid epidemic hurt this town, but it is growing again on its own terms

New restaurants and food trucks provide gathering
spaces in Hazard, Kentucky. (The Free Press photo)

In Hazard, Kentucky, opioid addictions ravage the town, which had once been part of Appalachia's bustling coal mining region. "After the collapse of coal mining and the rise of the opioid epidemic, Hazard, Kentucky, seemed finished. Then locals started to rescue it," reports Sam Quinones for The Free Press in Los Angeles. "In early 2020, Mandi Fugate Sheffel, 42, opened a tiny bookstore in her hometown of Hazard, in eastern Kentucky. Everyone thought she was crazy."

The Read Spotted Newt is a thriving
small business. (RPN logo)

Despite a complicated personal story and the area's economic stress, Sheffel saw a community worth lifting up. "She loved to read — particularly contemporary Appalachian authors like Silas House, James Still, and Gurney Norman, who told stories that felt real to her," Quinones writes. "She figured others in town were tired, like her, of driving two hours to Lexington to buy books. So, on January 30, she opened Read Spotted Newt in a 250-square-foot space — the size of a small bedroom."

Hazard had once been prosperous, but in the 1990s, coal declined, and as jobs and people left the region, the use of opioids spread in the region. Quinones reports, "About the only new local businesses were 'pill mills'—clinics that prescribed huge quantities of prescription painkillers."

"But then, weirdly and unexpectedly, at the same time that everything was falling apart, things started to get better — and that old world started, very tentatively, to build itself back up," Quinones writes. "In the past few years, some 43 businesses have opened in Hazard, creating 171 new jobs, said Bailey Richards, the town's coordinator of downtown development. . . In Hazard, about a quarter of the new jobs are held by recovering people with an addiction."

Despite the loss of coal, eastern Kentucky is growing in other ways.
(The Free Press photo)

Places like Hazard aren't waiting for big business or industry to save them. "In Prestonsburg, an hour north of Hazard, there are now five locally owned restaurants, all but one of which opened in the last five years," Quinones reports. "Instead of trying to lure massive out-of-state companies with tax incentives, [communities are] thinking about beautification projects and homeowners and places where people could congregate."

While drug problems are still real and regional progress ebbs and flows, "people here have stopped waiting for outsiders — coal companies, big-box retailers, Frankfort, Washington — to save them," Quinones writes. Stephanie Callahan, a former addict and current business owner in Hazard, told him: "When somebody gets clean, they want to change the world. . . . You do something just to prove you can do it."

Work is under way to create a 'significant' mountaintop renewable energy project in KY to power 170k homes

A BrightNight Starfire Renewable Power Simulation. The area is as big as Disney World.
(BrightNight image via YouTube)

As Appalachian coal production continues to decline, the region is looking at renewable energy production to fill the gap. For one mountaintop mining location, Eastern Kentucky's Starfire Mine, carefully repurposing its sprawling 27, 000 miles is already under way "with one of the most significant renewable energy projects in development in the eastern U.S," reports Kim Kobersmith of The Daily Yonder. "The success of the pilot project happening on the Starfire Mine site could change possibilities for these sorts of mines moving forward."

The pilot project offers significant promise in the short and long term. "BrightNight is a global integrated power company that designs, develops, owns, and operates large-scale renewable power projects," Kobersmith explains. "Its ambitious plan to create an 800-megawatt solar energy project, enough to power 170,000 homes annually, on a 7,000-acre brownfield could tip the scales toward future similar projects."

Developing an expanse the size of Disney World with the unique characteristics of mined land takes time, leaving BrightNight with a lot of work to complete before construction begins in 2026. "The challenges are three-fold: the physical characteristics of the site itself, the number of partners involved, and the complexity of the engineering," Kobersmith writes. BrightNight is collaborating with Rivian, a company that "designs, develops and manufactures electric vehicles and is working towards a net zero operation by 2040," and The Nature Conservancy."

Mindful of Eastern Kentuckians' history with extractive mining, BrightNight's leadership is working to connect the project to Star Mine's surrounding community. "The company is hoping to partner with area educational centers like Hazard Community and Technical College to provide training for the 250 construction jobs that will be created by the project," Kobersmith reports. "They hope to support electricity, road construction, and engineering needs for the Olive Branch Community, a state-supported flood recovery housing development slated to be built on the mine, adjacent to the renewable energy project."

Kobersmith writes, "In the case of Starfire Mine, the BrightNight Starfire Renewable Energy Center will create a taxable asset where there would not otherwise be one, generating an estimated $150 million tax revenue over the life of the project."

Adam Wells, Regional Director of Community and Economic Development for Appalachian Voices, told Kobersmith: "The narrative of renewable energy is powerful in an energy-producing region. It sends a positive message to people, not grasping at the past but looking to the future."

Money for clean-energy projects goes to former coal towns

Boston Metal will make clean-energy metals at the old Weirton
Steel location in W.Va. (Photo by Luke Sharrett, The New York Times)

From Weirton, West Virginia to Vernon, Texas, to Vandergrift, Pennsylvania, the Department of Energy is funding projects designed to help medium-sized manufacturers "bring clean-energy jobs to former coal communities," reports Hiroko Tabuchi of The New York Times. The infusion of cash is part of the Biden administration's effort to gain support for its climate agenda in regions that have long depended on the fossil fuel industry. The administration hopes that funding new jobs in energy can help coal workers and regional economies transition.

Hard work for decent pay and good benefits once defined U.S. coal mining jobs, but over the past decade, those jobs have disappeared. "These energy workers haven't been finding clean-energy jobs despite the rapid growth in industries like solar and wind," Tabuchi writes. "Coal workers, in particular, have struggled in the transition, a recent study found. "Less than a quarter of a percent of workers who left a fossil fuel job in West Virginia moved onto a job in renewable energy, said E. Mark Curtis, an economist at Wake Forest University who led the study. Education was another factor: Fossil fuel workers without a college degree were significantly less likely to find clean energy jobs."

Curtis told Tabuchi: "In places like Texas or in the middle of the country where there's a lot of solar and wind, fossil fuel communities are relatively well positioned to take advantage of renewables. Coal communities generally don't have that, especially when you think about Appalachia." Tabuchi reports, "He said it made sense for government funding to target former coal regions and to focus on manufacturing projects because data showed that former fossil fuel workers most frequently sought to switch to manufacturing jobs."

The DOE grant program aims to help the U.S. become more competitive in the clean-energy manufacturing sector while using the $275 million investment to revitalize former coal towns' economies. The companies building the new plants said "they are eager to tap local expertise," Tabuchi reports. Tadeu Carneiro, the chief executive of Boston Metal, told him: "The most valuable asset for the project is a legacy workforce that has played a significant role in the U.S. metals industry." Tabuchi adds, "Its new West Virginia plant expects to hire 200 to 250 people and will manufacture ultra pure chromium metal and high-temperature alloys that are critical materials needed for clean power, fuel cells, and steel. Currently, foreign manufacturers dominate those materials."

Selling solar in coal country begins with local trust and an understanding of the history of those communities

Overcoming solar opposition begins with understanding
coal's history. (Photo by Gabriel Fibz, Unsplash)

Selling solar in coal country might sound like a tall order; however, solar advocates in southwestern Virginia have built a cooperative system of local support for solar. "In 2016, a coalition of businesses, nonprofits, colleges, local governments, and citizens launched the Solar Workgroup of Southwest Virginia, which collaborates with Secure Solar Futures," reports Hannah Wilson-Black for Grist. "It includes experts in every aspect of the green transition, from community organizers who tell neighbors about the benefits of solar to legal experts who propose legislation."

The group's plan began with an understanding of the history and outlook of coal communities and why they might not welcome solar. Emma Kelly, who grew up in eastern Kentucky and now leads the Solar Workgroup's community outreach, told Wilson-Black: "I’m from the coalfields. And you have to understand. Coal mining is not just a job. The coal industry is not just an employer. It’s not like Walmart. [Coal companies] built towns, they built schools, they built churches, they made their own money. You cannot really overestimate the amount of domination they had over these social and economic systems.”

"Because residents of southwest Virginia may see solar as helping accelerate the loss of coal jobs, she and Matt McFadden from Secure Solar Futures consider their being locals an important component of building confidence in, and support for, the technology," Wilson-Black reports. "More important, though, is the fact that local solar advocates and companies like Secure Solar Futures make it clear that their mission goes beyond profit. 'I don’t get anything out of this except a sense of fulfillment,' said Kelly, who became involved in solar advocacy in 2022 after learning, to her surprise, of solar’s potential in the coalfields."

Considering the region’s history, and overall distrust of energy companies, Kelly and other solar advocates in southwestern Virginia "said being local, proving solar’s benefits, and building a coalition have been key to ensuring the technology’s success in the face of cultural and political opposition," Wilson-Black writes. The group has made progess, which is on display in the coalfield community of Whitesburg, Kentucky, where "a solar pavilion and rooftop at the arts education center Appalshop has attracted curious neighbors, said Kathleen Byrne, the center’s development director."

Local focus and trust building continue to help solar succeed in the region. "McFadden said demonstrating the technology’s feasibility through community-focused projects like the 12 school installations his company is handling has changed perceptions in the area," Wilson-Black writes. "Hiring locals to install and maintain the photovoltaic panels is key, too. In 2022, Secure Solar Futures started an annual apprenticeship program that trains local high schoolers to do everything from wiring arrays to the physical heavywork of carrying and arranging panels, and pays them $17 an hour. This tangible example of a solar operation employing community members has been part of 'the proof in the pudding,' McFadden said."

Where will all the coal ash go? Billions of dollars are at stake as Alabama waits for the EPA to make its decision

A coal ash lagoon at one of Alabama Power's electrical
plants. (Alabama Power courtesy photo via AL.com)

Alabama's dynamic waterways support an array of animal life, including a whopping 433 bird species. The state boasts 15 rivers and ranks fifth in the country – and first among states east of the Mississippi – for biodiversity. But alongside its teeming rivers is a giant problem -- approximately 100 million tons of coal ash abandoned by utility companies in "unlined ditches along the rivers across the state," reports Dennis Pillion of AL.com. "The concerns are huge: Will coal ash continue to seep into and contaminate the groundwater? Will the holding areas one day give way and plug the river with the discarded waste of powerplants as once happened in Tennessee?"

The state is in a "showdown" with the Environmental Protection Agency over how the coal ash will be contained, removed or restored. Pillion asks: "Can Alabama leave its coal ash where the utilities dumped it? Or do they have to dig it up and haul it away to be buried in lined landfills, as is happening in many other states? Or maybe dig it out, line the ponds, and dump it all back in?"

The state's cheapest option, "cover in place," is not cheap and does not include "digging out the ash out and putting a liner underneath it," Pillion reports. "Alabama Power estimated [that] would cost $3.3 billion. . . . The estimate also does not include ash ponds managed by the Tennessee Valley Authority and PowerSouth."

"Alabama state officials, utilities, and environmental groups can only wait now as the EPA decides Alabama's fate," Pillion explains. "Utilities were once allowed to choose between covering the ash in place or moving it to a lined landfill. But they could only leave it in place if the federal rules were met. . . .The rules may vary by presidential administration." The Biden administration has a stricter interpretation of the rules and rejected Alabama's cover-in-place plans.

"At a public hearing on EPA's decision on Sept. 20, Alabama Power Vice President of Environmental Affairs Susan Comensky argued that removal of coal ash presents challenges aside from cost." Comensky said that not only would the removal take decades to complete, but "there is not enough available landfill capacity to accept the approximately 100 million cubic yards of ash in our ponds."

"Not everyone buys that argument," Pillion writes. John Kinney, a staff scientist at Black Warrior Riverkeeper, "argued that the power companies could create landfills on-site to hold the ash waste without having to truck it across the state. . . . Utilities in other states have built lined landfills on site."

Doggedly investigating and reporting on coal, this reporter and his team are finally getting results

Howard Berkes' investigations have helped change coal
mining. (Photo by Wanda Gayle, Mt. State Spotlight)

Why and when federal officials pay attention to a problem may hinge on one thing -- who reports on it and how they do their job. In Appalachia, Howard Berkes has been covering coal for 38 years, bringing awareness, attention, and government action to miners' health issues. "The coal-producing regions of central Appalachia are at the center of an epidemic of advanced black lung cases among coal miners," reports Mason Adams of Mountain State Spotlight in West Virginia. "New reporting by a retired NPR reporter [Howard Berkes] has shown how federal officials underestimated the sheer number of cases across West Virginia, eastern Kentucky and southwestern Virginia, and now regulators seem to be responding."

At issue is silica dust produced from coal and quartz mining, causing exposed miners to develop an advanced version of black lung disease known as progressive massive fibrosis. Responding to the increase and severity of black lung cases in Appalachia, Berkes' coal beat has uncovered data and propelled change. "He worked with NPR and the PBS series "Frontline" and spent more than a year investigating fears that federal regulators and mining companies were failing to protect coal miners from toxic dust," May explains. "He and his team obtained documents and data showing federal mine safety officials had evidence of the danger dating back more than 20 years, but never addressed it.

"Lately, the metallurgical coal industry has been ramping up production to meet global demand, and experts predict even more advanced black lung cases will appear. After years of inaction, though, federal officials are addressing the issue," May reports. "Over the summer, the Mine Safety and Health Administration proposed a rule intended to protect coal miners from exposure to silica dust. By the time the comment period closed in September, the draft rule had attracted 157 comments."

Berkes is part of a new investigation into advanced black lung cases co-published by Public Health Watch, Louisville Public Media and Mountain State Spotlight. Click here to read Berkes' Q&A with "Inside Appalachia" host Mason Adams on what that investigation has found.

New silica-dust exposure limits aim to protect coal miners from black lung disease; data may not support that promise

The CDC encourages miners to get screened for black-lung
disease; the severest type is on the rise. (CDC graphic)

A proposed federal solution for preventing black-lung disease in coal miners may overlook thousands of deaths, and its regulation would not be enough to push mine operators to change tactics, report Howard Berkes of Public Health Watch and Justin Hicks of Louisville Public Media. "After decades of delay, the federal Mine Safety and Health Administration is finally getting serious about overexposure to silica in the nation’s mines," they write. "The agency is proposing a silica-dust exposure limit twice as tough as it is now. MSHA would also directly regulate excessive silica exposures, something it hasn’t previously done, making citations and fines possible for putting miners at risk."

Black lung "has been a known threat to coal miners for over a century — it’s taken the lives of tens of thousands of Americans since 1968. While black lung became less common through the 1990s, it’s on the rise again. Now, even middle-aged miners have been diagnosed with advanced stages of the disease," reports Allen Siegler of Mountain State Spotlight. "Severe black lung continues to disproportionately affect central Appalachia; from 2019 to mid-2023, nearly 30% of Americans diagnosed with progressive massive fibrosis at federally-funded black lung clinics were West Virginians, according to the Black Lung Data and Resource Center at the University of Illinois. That trend is widely attributed to more frequent exposures to silica dust. . . . Grinding quartz creates silica dust, which is 20 times more toxic than coal dust alone."

How effective MSHA's proposed measures would be is uncertain. "An investigation by Public Health Watch, Louisville Public Media and Mountain State Spotlight shows that the plan’s purported benefits understate the silica risk to coal miners and the urgent need for immediate action," Berkes and Hicks report. 

Siegler reports, "Independent analyses of MSHA’s own coal-mine dust samples show its previous silica-dust exposure limits failed to adequately protect miners for decades. An investigation by NPR and PBS Frontline in 2018 analyzed MSHA’s data and found 21,000 instances of overexposure to silica dust since 1986. . . . While the proposed rule, in its current form, does require regular dust sampling, much of its effectiveness will depend on mining companies sampling their own mines and reporting it accurately and honestly."

When coal is no longer king in Appalachia, what's next? Symbolic funeral in new film has both pride and remorse

Elaine McMillion Sheldon's film depicts growing up
in the shadow of coal. (Sundance Film Festival Photo)

Not every place has a king, but in Appalachia, one lives, more humbly than ever: Coal. Film-maker Elaine McMillion Sheldon gives the world an enigmatic look at a fossil fuel's kingdom and its people in her movie, "King Coal."

Sheldon grew up "roving around West Virginia. Like many children of Appalachia, her world was shaped by coal – her father worked for a mining company, and the family moved to seven coal fields in 12 years for his job," reports Adrian Horton of The Guardian. "Her brother became a fourth-generation miner." Sheldon told Horton: "Everybody in my community worked in the coal mines. If you were going to stay there and work, if you weren't a doctor or a lawyer, that's what you did." Only when Sheldon left the region to study abroad, did she realize how much coal infiltrated Appalachian life. "Not everywhere has a king," she told Horton. "Not everywhere is completely dominated by this industry that controls everything from our rituals to the ways we live our life."

Sheldon's documentary "blooms in the resource's shadow," Horton writes. "It's a lyrical and visually lush ode to a region of immense richness, to mountains riven by extractive industry, to identity-shaping labor and unions, to the inheritance of coal culture. There are no location markers, no delineation between towns, states, mines, mountains." Sheldon told him, "We just define it as the kingdom," a common culture and economy without strict borders.

Sheldon shot all over the Appalachian coalfield, from Pennsylvania to Tennessee. She told Horton, "I'm very aware of how people perceive Appalachia. . . . . I grew up feeling that the place I was from was somewhere to be embarrassed of, and I don't want people to feel that. . . . I want people to see that it's a beautiful place, that there's actual hope here and resilience here." Sheldon says in the film, "Maybe you've heard a story about us. . . . This story is about what it's like to live under King Coal."

The film follows two Appalachian girls, one white and one black, through their lives under coal's reign. "The girls harken to Sheldon’s bygone youth and also point forward, to a life less molded by coal," Horton writes. "As Sheldon puts it in the film, coal has been leaving Appalachia for as long as she’s been alive – in barges downriver, in profits reaped elsewhere, in flattened mountaintops and contamination, in lost jobs." Sheldon told Horton: “If you just look at the facts and figures of mining employment, none of this makes any sense. . . . People just want to work. They’re happy to do other work if it pays the same and provides the same amount of stability, but the coal industry hasn’t provided that stability for many years. And so the question now is, what’s next?”

"To begin answering the question, Sheldon staged a symbolic funeral for King Coal, which serves as the film’s conclusion," Horton writes. "She invited real people with real connections to mining to send off the resource economy as they saw fit, in song or in prose." Sheldon told Horton: “To some people, King Coal is the greedy industrialists, and to some people, he’s the person that provided their jobs." Horton adds, "To Heather Hannah, a singer from Thomas, W.Va., who offered a gut punch of a coal eulogy, it was 'the paradox of pride and remorse. How my daddy was proud to do what needed to be done, to work the mines and provide for our family. I learned that you can be proud of your life, and want better for them that come after you.'”

World's largest hard-rock lithium deposit lies unmined in Maine; geologists think New England may have many more

Mary Freeman holds a spodumene crystal, which contains lithium.
(Photo by Garrick Hoffman, The Maine Monitor)

Gem hunters Mary and Gary Freeman found the world's largest lithium deposit in Newry, Maine, "at a time when the material is desperately needed for the clean energy transition," but it will remain unmined for now because of state law, report Alana Semuels of Time magazine and Kate Cough of The Maine Monitor. The deposit sits in the Plumbago North reserves; it is spodumene, crystals rich in lithium. "This is one of the few lithium deposits in the U.S. currently found in hard rock, which means it is higher-quality and faster to process than lithium mined from brine. . . . Geologists say there's also likely a lot more lithium in spodumene deposits across New England. Communities that haven't had working mines in years may soon find themselves a key source for lithium and other minerals needed for car batteries, solar panels, and many of the objects people will need more of to transition themselves off fossil fuels."

In Silver Peak, Nev., lithium is extracted with brine evaporation
pools. (Photo by David Calvert, The Nevada Independent)

For the U.S. to exit a fossil-fuel economy, massive amounts of lithium are needed, and yet, "There is only one operational lithium mine in the U.S., in Nevada, and one operational rare-0earth element mine, in Mountain Pass, Calif., meaning that the U.S. is dependent on other countries for the materials essential for clean energy technologies like batteries, wind turbines, and solar panels," Semuels and Cough write. "Even after they're mined, those materials currently have to be shipped to China for processing since the U.S. does not have any processing facilities." Corby Anderson, a professor at the Colorado School of Mines, told Time: "If we're talking about critical metals and materials, we're so far behind that it's crazy. . . . The only one we mine and refine in this country is copper."

Newry (Wikipedia map)

The Freemans would like to mine their lithium. "Though it is five miles from the nearest town, Maine is going through an extensive review process to decide whether to let the couple keep digging," Semuels and Cough report. "Many geologists agree that the Freemans’ proposal would not be as disruptive as other proposed mines across the country. Other metals (like nickel, silver, and zinc) typically occur in bands of rock deep below the surface that contain iron sulfides, which create sulfuric acid when exposed to air and water, polluting waterways for decades, a phenomenon known as acid mine drainage. . . . But like just about everywhere in the U.S. where new mines have been proposed, there is strong opposition. Maine has some of the strictest mining and water quality standards in the country and prohibits digging for metals in open pits larger than three acres. There have not been any active metal mines in the state for decades, and no company has applied for a permit since a particularly strict law passed in 2017. As more companies begin prospecting in Maine and searching for sizable nickel, copper, and silver deposits, towns are beginning to pass their own bans on industrial mining."

Professor: Rural America's assets have been stripped away

Mark Edelman

A 2021 paper called "Hollowed out Heartland, USA" details how financial and political elites have bought assets of rural America, from banks and newspapers to hospitals and homes. That has contributed heavily to rural decline, held rural America back from meaningful advancement, and helped usher in the increasing popularity of authoritarian populist politicians, says the paper's author, Hunter College anthropology professor Marc Edelman. For The Daily Yonder, he sat down with Olivia Weeks to discuss his case.

The siphoning of rural wealth and assets to urban shareholders has "intensified long standing American ideas about self-reliance and hard work," Edelman told Weeks. "It fueled resentment of cosmopolitan urbanites, who don’t work with their hands, don’t have 'real' skills, and somehow seem to make money, nonetheless. It also vitiated any working-class consciousness that might have been there when people worked in factories and belonged to unions."

Edelman refers to many rural communities (and low-income neighborhoods in large cities) as "sacrifice zones," which he says means places "where capital came in, extracted wealth, and then left people worse off than they were before. The more dramatic examples include communities where uranium tailings or other toxic waste surround abandoned mines, where fracking for gas contaminated drinking water, the 'cancer alley' around the refineries and chemical plants of Louisiana’s Gulf Coast, or the CAFOs — concentrated animal feeding operations – where ponds of hog or cattle manure cause horrendous rural air-ollution and health problems."

The consequences of such asset siphoning can trigger massive problems in small towns, Edelman says: "When communities go into decline, their tax bases suffer. Since public schools and so many services depend on local tax revenues, it becomes difficult to provide education, healthcare, elder care, recreation, and so on. The downward spiral affects people economically, emotionally, and politically. All the social and medical pathologies that people associate with inner cities – drugs, gun violence, domestic violence, diabetes, hypertension, obesity, depression, and suicide — are rampant in rural communities. Well-off urbanites rarely have any idea of how difficult things are in some rural areas and small towns." Read their in-depth interview here.