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A Plan to Extract Gold From Mining Waste Splits a Colorado Town With a Legacy of Pollution

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Thursday, September 12, 2024

LEADVILLE, Colo. (AP) — Rust-colored piles of mine waste and sun-bleached wooden derricks loom above the historic Colorado mountain town of Leadville — a legacy of gold and silver mines polluting the Arkansas River basin more than a century after the city's boom days.Enter a fledgling company called CJK Milling that wants to “remine” some of the waste piles to squeeze more gold from ore discarded decades ago when it was less valuable. The waste would be trucked to a nearby mill, crushed to powder and bathed in cyanide to extract trace amounts of precious metals.The proposal comes amid surging global interest in re-processing waste containing discarded minerals that have grown more valuable over time and can now be more readily removed. These include precious metals and minerals used for renewable energy that many countries including the U.S. are scrambling to secure.Backers say the Leadville proposal would speed cleanup work that’s languished for decades under federal oversight with no foreseeable end. They speak in aspirational tones of a “circular economy” for mining where leftovers get repurposed.Yet for some residents and officials, reviving the city's depressed mining industry and stirring up waste piles harkens to a polluted past, when the Arkansas was harmful to fish and at times ran red with waste from Leadville’s mines.“We're sitting in a river that 20 years ago fish couldn't survive," Brice Karsh, who owns a fishing ranch downstream of the proposed mill, said as he threw fish pellets into a pool teeming with rainbow trout. “Why go backward? Why risk it?” Leadville – home to about 2,600 people and the National Mining Museum -- bills itself as America's highest city at 10,119 feet (3,0084 meters) above sea level. That distinction helped the city forge a new identity as a mecca for extreme athletes. Endurance race courses loop through nearby hillsides where millions of tons of discarded mine waste leached lead, arsenic, zinc and other toxic metals into waterways.The driving force behind CJK Milling is Nick Michael, a 38-year mining veteran who characterizes the project as a way to give back to society. Standing atop a heap of mining waste with Colorado’s highest summit, Mount Elbert, in the distance, Michael says the rubble has a higher concentration of gold than many large mines now operating across the U.S.“In the old days, that wasn’t the case,” he said, “but the tables have turned and that’s what makes this economic … We’re just cleaning up these small piles and moving on to the next one.”City Council member Christian Luna-Leal grew up in Leadville — in a trailer park with poor water quality — after his parents immigrated from Mexico.Disadvantaged communities have always borne the brunt of the industry’s problems, he said, dating to Leadville’s early days when mine owners poorly treated Irish immigrants who did much of the work. Almost 1,300 immigrants, most Irish, are buried in paupers graves in a local cemetery.Stirring up old mine waste could reverse decades of cleanup, Luna-Leal said, again fouling water and threatening the welfare of residents including Latinos, many living in mobile homes on the town's outskirts. “There is a genuine fear ... by a lot of our community that this is not properly being addressed and our concerns are not being taken as seriously as they should be,” Luna-Leal said.The company’s process doesn’t get rid of the mine waste. For every ton of ore milled, a ton of waste would remain – minus a few ounces of gold. At 400 tons a day, waste will stack up quickly.CJK originally planned to use a giant open pit to store the material in a wet slurry. After that was rejected, the company will instead dry waste to putty-like consistency and pile it on a hill behind the mill, Michael said. The open pit downslope would act as an emergency catchment if the pile collapsed. The magnitude of mining waste globally is staggering, with tens of thousands of tailings piles containing 245 billon tons (223 billion metric tons), researchers say. And waste generation is increasing as companies build larger mines with lower grades of ore, resulting in a greater ratio of waste to product, according to the nonprofit World Mine Tailings Failures.This month, gold prices reached record highs, and demand has grown sharply for critical minerals such as lithium used in batteries.Economically favorable conditions mean remining “has caught on like wildfire,” said geochemist Ann Maest, who consults for environmental organizations including EarthWorks. The advocacy group is a mining industry critic but has cautiously embraced remining as a potential means of hastening cleanups through private investment.CJK Milling could help do that in Leadville, Maest said, but only if done right. “The rub is they want to use cyanide, and whenever a community hears there’s cyanide or mercury they understandably get very concerned,” she said.Overseeing Leadville’s water supply is Parkville Water District Manager Greg Teter, who views CJK Milling as potential solution to water quality problems.Many waste piles sit over the district’s water supply, and Teter recalls a blowout of the Resurrection Mine compelled residents to boil their water because the district's treatment plant couldn't handle the dirt and debris.More constant is the polluted runoff during spring and summer, when snowmelt from the Mosquito mountains washes through mine dumps and drains from abandoned mines.Every minute, 694 gallons (2,627 liters) on average of contaminated mine water flows from Leadville’s Superfund site, according to federal records. Most is stored or funneled to treatment facilities, including one run by the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation.Up to 10% of the water is not treated — tens of millions of gallons annually carrying an estimated six tons of toxic metals, U.S. Environmental Protection Agency records show. By comparison, during Colorado’s 2015 Gold King Mine disaster that fouled rivers in three states, an EPA cleanup crew inadvertently triggered release of 3 million gallons (11.4 million liters) of mustard-colored mine waste.As long as Leadville's piles remain, their potential to pollute continues.“There are literally thousands of mine claims that overlay each other," Teter said. “We don’t want that going into our water supply. As it stands now, all the mine dumps are ... in my watershed, upstream of my watershed, and if they remove them, and take them to the mill, that’s going to be below my watershed.”EPA lacks authority over CJKs proposed work, but a spokesperson said it had “potential to improve site conditions” by supplementing cleanup work already being done. Moving the mine waste would eliminate sources of runoff and could reduce the amount of polluted water to treat, said EPA spokesperson Richard Mylott.Other examples of remining in the Rockies are in East Helena and Anaconda, Montana and in Midvale, Utah, Mylott said. Projects are proposed in Gilt Edge, South Dakota and Creede, Colorado, he said.Despite the mess from Leadville's historic mining, Teter spoke proudly of his industry ties, including working in two now-closed mines. His son in law works in a nearby mine.“If it were not for mining, Leadville would not be here. I would not be here,” the water manager said.“There are no active mines in our watershed, but I’m confident in what CJK has planned,” he said. “And I’ll be able to keep an eye on whatever they do.”Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - July 2024

Piles of mine waste that loom above the historic Colorado mountain town of Leadville are a reminder of the city’s boom days

LEADVILLE, Colo. (AP) — Rust-colored piles of mine waste and sun-bleached wooden derricks loom above the historic Colorado mountain town of Leadville — a legacy of gold and silver mines polluting the Arkansas River basin more than a century after the city's boom days.

Enter a fledgling company called CJK Milling that wants to “remine” some of the waste piles to squeeze more gold from ore discarded decades ago when it was less valuable. The waste would be trucked to a nearby mill, crushed to powder and bathed in cyanide to extract trace amounts of precious metals.

The proposal comes amid surging global interest in re-processing waste containing discarded minerals that have grown more valuable over time and can now be more readily removed. These include precious metals and minerals used for renewable energy that many countries including the U.S. are scrambling to secure.

Backers say the Leadville proposal would speed cleanup work that’s languished for decades under federal oversight with no foreseeable end. They speak in aspirational tones of a “circular economy” for mining where leftovers get repurposed.

Yet for some residents and officials, reviving the city's depressed mining industry and stirring up waste piles harkens to a polluted past, when the Arkansas was harmful to fish and at times ran red with waste from Leadville’s mines.

“We're sitting in a river that 20 years ago fish couldn't survive," Brice Karsh, who owns a fishing ranch downstream of the proposed mill, said as he threw fish pellets into a pool teeming with rainbow trout. “Why go backward? Why risk it?”

Leadville – home to about 2,600 people and the National Mining Museum -- bills itself as America's highest city at 10,119 feet (3,0084 meters) above sea level. That distinction helped the city forge a new identity as a mecca for extreme athletes. Endurance race courses loop through nearby hillsides where millions of tons of discarded mine waste leached lead, arsenic, zinc and other toxic metals into waterways.

The driving force behind CJK Milling is Nick Michael, a 38-year mining veteran who characterizes the project as a way to give back to society. Standing atop a heap of mining waste with Colorado’s highest summit, Mount Elbert, in the distance, Michael says the rubble has a higher concentration of gold than many large mines now operating across the U.S.

“In the old days, that wasn’t the case,” he said, “but the tables have turned and that’s what makes this economic … We’re just cleaning up these small piles and moving on to the next one.”

City Council member Christian Luna-Leal grew up in Leadville — in a trailer park with poor water quality — after his parents immigrated from Mexico.

Disadvantaged communities have always borne the brunt of the industry’s problems, he said, dating to Leadville’s early days when mine owners poorly treated Irish immigrants who did much of the work. Almost 1,300 immigrants, most Irish, are buried in paupers graves in a local cemetery.

Stirring up old mine waste could reverse decades of cleanup, Luna-Leal said, again fouling water and threatening the welfare of residents including Latinos, many living in mobile homes on the town's outskirts.

“There is a genuine fear ... by a lot of our community that this is not properly being addressed and our concerns are not being taken as seriously as they should be,” Luna-Leal said.

The company’s process doesn’t get rid of the mine waste. For every ton of ore milled, a ton of waste would remain – minus a few ounces of gold. At 400 tons a day, waste will stack up quickly.

CJK originally planned to use a giant open pit to store the material in a wet slurry. After that was rejected, the company will instead dry waste to putty-like consistency and pile it on a hill behind the mill, Michael said. The open pit downslope would act as an emergency catchment if the pile collapsed.

The magnitude of mining waste globally is staggering, with tens of thousands of tailings piles containing 245 billon tons (223 billion metric tons), researchers say. And waste generation is increasing as companies build larger mines with lower grades of ore, resulting in a greater ratio of waste to product, according to the nonprofit World Mine Tailings Failures.

This month, gold prices reached record highs, and demand has grown sharply for critical minerals such as lithium used in batteries.

Economically favorable conditions mean remining “has caught on like wildfire,” said geochemist Ann Maest, who consults for environmental organizations including EarthWorks. The advocacy group is a mining industry critic but has cautiously embraced remining as a potential means of hastening cleanups through private investment.

CJK Milling could help do that in Leadville, Maest said, but only if done right. “The rub is they want to use cyanide, and whenever a community hears there’s cyanide or mercury they understandably get very concerned,” she said.

Overseeing Leadville’s water supply is Parkville Water District Manager Greg Teter, who views CJK Milling as potential solution to water quality problems.

Many waste piles sit over the district’s water supply, and Teter recalls a blowout of the Resurrection Mine compelled residents to boil their water because the district's treatment plant couldn't handle the dirt and debris.

More constant is the polluted runoff during spring and summer, when snowmelt from the Mosquito mountains washes through mine dumps and drains from abandoned mines.

Every minute, 694 gallons (2,627 liters) on average of contaminated mine water flows from Leadville’s Superfund site, according to federal records. Most is stored or funneled to treatment facilities, including one run by the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation.

Up to 10% of the water is not treated — tens of millions of gallons annually carrying an estimated six tons of toxic metals, U.S. Environmental Protection Agency records show. By comparison, during Colorado’s 2015 Gold King Mine disaster that fouled rivers in three states, an EPA cleanup crew inadvertently triggered release of 3 million gallons (11.4 million liters) of mustard-colored mine waste.

As long as Leadville's piles remain, their potential to pollute continues.

“There are literally thousands of mine claims that overlay each other," Teter said. “We don’t want that going into our water supply. As it stands now, all the mine dumps are ... in my watershed, upstream of my watershed, and if they remove them, and take them to the mill, that’s going to be below my watershed.”

EPA lacks authority over CJKs proposed work, but a spokesperson said it had “potential to improve site conditions” by supplementing cleanup work already being done. Moving the mine waste would eliminate sources of runoff and could reduce the amount of polluted water to treat, said EPA spokesperson Richard Mylott.

Other examples of remining in the Rockies are in East Helena and Anaconda, Montana and in Midvale, Utah, Mylott said. Projects are proposed in Gilt Edge, South Dakota and Creede, Colorado, he said.

Despite the mess from Leadville's historic mining, Teter spoke proudly of his industry ties, including working in two now-closed mines. His son in law works in a nearby mine.

“If it were not for mining, Leadville would not be here. I would not be here,” the water manager said.

“There are no active mines in our watershed, but I’m confident in what CJK has planned,” he said. “And I’ll be able to keep an eye on whatever they do.”

Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Photos You Should See - July 2024

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My sewing group makes reusable produce bags - cutting back on plastic and textile waste

Read more from My DIY climate hack, a series on everyday people’s creative solutions to the climate crisisSingle-use plastic bags are not only wasteful, they cause serious damage to the environment and our health. Anne-Marie Bonneau, 56, is on a mission to put more reusable produce bags into the world. With the help of her sewing bee group, who make them from upcycled fabric, they’ve given more than 4,000 bags away.As more cities and states implement plastic bag bans, Bonneau, who is known online as the Zero-Waste Chef, is helping people in California’s Silicon Valley make the move away from single-use plastic bags and spreading joy in the process. Continue reading...

Single-use plastic bags are not only wasteful, they cause serious damage to the environment and our health. Anne-Marie Bonneau, 56, is on a mission to put more reusable produce bags into the world. With the help of her sewing bee group, who make them from upcycled fabric, they’ve given more than 4,000 bags away.As more cities and states implement plastic bag bans, Bonneau, who is known online as the Zero-Waste Chef, is helping people in California’s Silicon Valley make the move away from single-use plastic bags and spreading joy in the process.My interest in environmental causes began when I was a kid growing up in Eastern Ontario, Canada. When I was a teenager in the 1980s, I helped my dad, who was freaked out about the oil crisis, build a solar heater for our pool. It was so simple and worked so well and saved us around $1,000 each summer. Some of our neighbors thought we were nuts and others thought my dad was brilliant. That made a big impression on me. I also remember going to Florida with my parents when I was about nine where we toured solar-powered homes.In 2011, my older daughter and I decided to break up with plastic. One of the first things we did was to make our own really simple reusable produce bags and we’ve been using them ever since. In 2018, I organized a produce bag sewing bee to get more bags out into the world. Since then, my friends and I have met every month or two to sew the bags out of donated fabric and we give them out at a local farmers’ market in Sunnyvale, California. Covid slowed down sewing and distributing, but we’re back up to speed now.A member of the sewing club cuts recycled fabric into rectangles, which are then sewn together to construct reusable bags. Photograph: Jenna Garrett/The GuardianBecause we use unwanted fabric, we’re merely upcycling existing fabric, not buying virgin fabric to make these bags. The fabric was on its way to the landfill or thrift shop, which may simply be one stop away from the landfill. According to the Environmental Protection Agency, Americans tossed 1.5m tons of towels, sheets and pillowcases in 2018, with only a 15.8% recycling rate.I ask people for natural fibers because synthetics shed microplastics in the wash. Occasionally we’ll get a nice linen sheet. My last big batch of fabric came from my Buy Nothing group. I couldn’t pick up all the fabric people offered. Sometimes my friends and I will have a swap, and at the last sewing bee, one of them brought five big bins of stuff she had cleaned out of her mother’s house. We each took what we could use.Everyone needs a job at our sewing bee so like a little factory we figured out it’s best to have a bunch of bags cut ahead of time before we meet. Once they’re cut, they just take three minutes to make. We have a couple of people sewing and there’s always somebody with a seam ripper to rip apart old pillowcases or fitted sheets. There’s quality control to make sure the bags don’t have holes. And one or two people cut out additional bags.Members of the sewing club rip seams out of recycled fabric, then cut it into rectangles for sewing. Photograph: Jenna Garrett/The GuardianI’m usually busy plying people with tea and treats and threading the machines. I get the music on, usually 1980s or 1990s alternative, and we sew, socialize and snack. We usually have six to eight people and can crank out 100 to 200 bags in an afternoon. Even if no one wanted these bags (but they do!), the sewing bee is time well spent. It’s a social thing and we get together and catch up on what everyone’s doing.When we give out the bags for free, people are so excited. You’d think we were giving away winning lottery tickets. People mob our table at the farmers’ market. Some look at us suspiciously and ask: “What’s the catch?” I tell them: “The catch is you have to use it.” People are really generous and they’ve donated money for thread and equipment, like a secondhand serger machine to speed up the line.Bonneau demonstrates how to sew a reusable bag. Photograph: Jenna Garrett/The GuardianWe’ve given away over 4,000 bags and I think we’ve spent about $8 of our own money. I’ve sewn the bags in person twice now at Rainbow Grocery in San Francisco for Zero Waste Month. The giveaways start conversations on plastic pollution. At the farmers’ market, people will say things like: “I don’t like all of this plastic, but I don’t know what else to do.” I’ve had people say they’re going to make their own bags at home. People ask: “Can we steal this idea?” and I say: “Please do!”When we started, my daughter and I would go to the farmers’ market and see a couple of people with reusable produce bags. Now I see more people with them or with containers for delicate produce like berries so they don’t get smushed.California passed a plastic bag ban 10 years ago that led to the use of thicker plastic bags thanks to a loophole. A new law will ban all single-use plastic shopping bags as of 2026, and I’m so glad because those thick plastic bags make me cringe. But even if we bring our own shopping bags, most of us are still stuffing them full of plastic.And the new textile recycling bill California passed is going to take a lot of time to implement, but it’s great – something has to be done. The amount of textile waste is crazy. Putting the onus on the producers will move the needle much more than my little group. We’re not going to run out of upcycled fabric even with that law. My DIY climate hack is a series about everyday people across the US using their own ingenuity to tackle the climate crisis in their neighborhoods, homes and backyards. If you would like to share your story, email us at diyclimate@theguardian.com

Group Says New Jersey Toxic Waste Dumping Caused $1B in Harm, Calls Settlement Inadequate

A Jersey Shore environmental group says damage from decades of toxic waste dumping at one of America's most notorious pollution sites caused $1 billion worth of damages

TOMS RIVER, N.J. (AP) — Years of toxic waste dumping in a Jersey Shore community where childhood cancer rates rose caused at least $1 billion in damage to natural resources, according to an environmental group trying to overturn a settlement between New Jersey and the corporate successor to the firm that did the polluting.Save Barnegat Bay and the township of Toms River are suing to overturn a deal between the state and German chemical company BASF under which the firm will pay $500,000 and carry out nine environmental remediation projects at the site of the former Ciba-Geigy Chemical Corporation plant.That site became one of America's worst toxic waste dumps and led to widespread concern over the prevalence of childhood cancer cases in and around Toms River.Save Barnegat Bay says the settlement is woefully inadequate and does not take into account the scope and full nature of the pollution.The state Department of Environmental Protection defended the deal, saying it is not supposed to be primarily about monetary compensation; restoring damaged areas is a priority, it says.“Ciba-Geigy’s discharges devastated the natural resources of the Toms River and Barnegat Bay,” said Michele Donato, an attorney for the environmental group. “The DEP failed to evaluate decades of evidence, including reports of dead fish, discolored waters, and toxic effluent, that exist in its own archived files.”Those materials include documents dating back to 1958 detailing fish kills and severe oxygen depletion caused by the company's dumping of chemicals into the Toms River and directly onto the ground. It also includes a study by a consultant for Ciba-Geigy showing that a plume of contaminated underground water is three-dimensional and thus could not be adequately assessed by the manner used by New Jersey to calculate damage to natural resources, the group said.An accurate calculation of damages to the site and the surrounding area would exceed $1 billion, Save Barnegat Bay said in court papers."This deal does not come close to compensating our community for what we’ve suffered,” former Toms River Mayor Maurice Hill said in a January public hearing on the settlement.The state declined to comment. In court papers, it defended its handling of the damage assessment.BASF, which is the corporate successor to Ciba-Geigy, declined comment on the litigation but said it is committed to carrying out the settlement it reached with New Jersey in 2022.That calls for it to maintain nine projects for 20 years, including restoring wetlands and grassy areas; creating walking trails, boardwalks and an elevated viewing platform; and building an environmental education center.Starting in the 1950s, Ciba-Geigy — which had been the town’s largest employer — flushed chemicals into the Toms River and the Atlantic Ocean, and buried 47,000 drums of toxic waste in the ground. This created a plume of polluted water that has spread beyond the site into residential neighborhoods and is still being cleaned up.The state health department found that 87 children in Toms River, which was then known as Dover Township, had been diagnosed with cancer from 1979 through 1995. A study determined the rates of childhood cancers and leukemia in girls in Toms River “were significantly elevated when compared to state rates.” No similar rates were found for boys.The study did not explicitly blame the increase on Ciba-Geigy’s dumping, but the company and two others paid $13.2 million to 69 families whose children were diagnosed with cancer. Ciba-Geigy settled criminal charges by paying millions of dollars in fines and penalties on top of the $300 million it and its successors have paid so far to clean up the site.Follow Wayne Parry on X at www.twitter.com/WayneParryAC Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - Sept. 2024

Who’s responsible for waste? A Q&A about the ‘conspiracy’ of overconsumption.

The director of Netflix’s “Buy Now!” says companies should be accountable for the trash they generate.

The last few weeks of the year are always a special time — for shopping.  According to the National Retail Federation, a United States trade group, Americans will spend nearly $1 trillion on clothes, electronics, trinkets, and other goods during the 2024 holiday season, which it defines as November 1 through December 31. That’s about a fifth of the whole year’s retail sales in just two months. Will all that shopping make people happier? Probably not — more than half of Americans say they regret their previous Black Friday purchases, according to one national survey. Polling suggests the high people get from buying stuff is ephemeral; it fades quickly, only fueling the desire to buy more. Perhaps the biggest loser in the cycle of overconsumption, however, is the planet. Obscured by the low prices featured in online flash sales are externalized costs to climate and the environment — in the form of raw material extraction, climate pollution from manufacturing and transport, and the waste that results when products and their packaging are eventually thrown away. By some estimates, the retail industry accounts for a quarter of global greenhouse gas emissions. The internet is littered with blogs and opinion articles claiming consumers are to blamed — that “our need to shop is ruining our planet.” But Flora Bagenal, the producer of a new Netflix documentary called Buy Now! The Shopping Conspiracy sees an injustice in that framing. Why should everyday people feel guilty, the film asks, when manufacturers and retail companies are doing everything within their power to drive up the pace of consumption? These corporations have designed products to break down quickly, promised that recycling would keep the planet clean, and precision-engineered their advertisements and marketplaces to make the shopping impulse all but irresistible — all while passing the environmental toll onto the public. “I’ve always felt that we don’t hold our companies to account,” Bagenal told Grist. “I wanted to explore that from the perspective of somebody who feels caught up in the system as much as everyone else.” Bagenal lives in the United Kingdom and has produced several other documentaries on topics including the anti-vaccine movement and mental health care. Without explicitly using the term, Buy Now! makes the case for an alternative paradigm called the “polluter pays principle,” which holds that companies — not the public — should be held financially responsible for dealing with the waste they generate. In wonkier terms, the idea manifests as “extended producer responsibility,” or EPR, policies that typically require large companies to pay into a central fund for waste management and prevention. In the U.S., five states have passed EPR laws for packaging. Through interviews with former executives at Adidas, Amazon, and Apple, Buy Now! argues that consumer goods companies have knowingly abdicated their responsibility to the public good. Grist sat down with Bagenal to discuss the film and how she and her team of executive producers went about conveying the polluter pays principle to a general audience. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. Courtesy of Netflix Q. What was your motivation for producing a film about overconsumption, and the role of big consumer goods companies in turning it into a crisis? A. We knew the waste problem was a really big problem, but we were worried about making something depressing that people turn away from. And so gradually, we evolved our thinking into shifting away from piles of rubbish and landfills and things like that — instead, we thought: Well, where’s it all coming from? And as you start peeling back the layers and going another step back, you realize that any film about waste is really going to have to be about who’s making the stuff that becomes waste. That was really a revelation for us — we realized that we could tell the story a bit differently and target companies that hadn’t been held accountable. Q. The film’s subtitle is “The Shopping Conspiracy,” hinting at the strategies companies use to get people to buy more while still denying responsibility for the resulting trash. But one could argue that this is exactly what we’d expect from companies incentivized to maximize their profits. Why do you think their behavior warrants being called out as a conspiracy? A. We had a lot of conversations about this — in the back of the taxi, in the back of the studio, in the edit suite. There’s no table where these imaginary execs sat around and decided to do this and then laid it on the world. But the conspiracy comes from the fact that you can’t work for one of these companies and not know the truth: that, while we’re all here trying to do our best, feeling guilty and wondering what we can do, these big companies are well aware of the impact they have on the planet and are still not doing enough. If I go down to the shop and decide to not buy a pot of yogurt because it might not be recyclable, nothing will change. But if a company like Adidas or Amazon or Apple actually decided to sell less stuff or make a product that would last three times as long, then something would change. Q. The philosophy you’re describing — that polluters should pay for their pollution — has been popularized among policy wonks as “extended producer responsibility.” What strategies did you use to make that idea more accessible? A. EPR is really popular in NGO [nongovernmental organization] and business circles, but we felt it was going to be really hard to communicate in a film and to get people to care. So we spent a lot of time trying to crystallize it into something that feels so obvious, that is hard to fight against. And actually, it was Erik Liedtke, the former Adidas exec, who hit the nail on the head at the end of the film. He said, “Stop putting it on us [the public], stop telling us it’s our responsibility. You produce this stuff, you need to account for its life after it gets thrown away.”  We also called the film “Buy Now!” to get at that moment when you press the button and you decide to give your money to a company. That transaction is the bit that makes money, that’s the bit that the industry is interested in. But once you press “buy now,” you’re making a contract that you don’t know about — you’re now a caretaker of this thing, and it’s your responsibility until you dispose of it, and then it becomes the whole world’s responsibility. The only one who’s not really responsible anymore is the company. Shoppers line up at a store with loaded carts. Courtesy of Netflix Q. Several countries and U.S. states have passed EPR laws, and environmental groups have put forward some ambitious proposals for new ones. But what’s the bigger-picture solution that those policies should be paired with? A. There is a lot of good stuff now that companies are doing. The fashion industry in particular has embraced the idea of EPR, and some of the consumer goods companies like Coca-Cola have talked about it. I think it’s really, really important as a tool for governments to hold companies to account and to share the costs of environmental impacts. But it doesn’t solve the problem entirely. I think all of us still need to buy less stuff, and companies need to make less stuff. It’s fine to tax [companies] for the end-of-life stuff, but it doesn’t get away from the fact that reduction is the ultimate goal. Q. Despite everything you describe about corporate responsibility for climate and environmental pollution, it can still be hard for people to imagine how to resist beyond individual actions — like by shopping less. How do you hope viewers will take action? A. Well, not shopping doesn’t have to be just forgoing something. It feels quite satisfying as an act of resistance to be like, “You know what? I’m not going to spend my precious time and money on this company. I don’t need another coat.”  But the people that I really think about are the people who are working inside companies and have been feeling guilty for a long time. The people who feel like there’s something wrong and they’ve tried to change it and no one’s listened, or that they’re not in the right job and they could be using their time and the energy to do something that is more constructive. It’s those people I would love to watch this and have a change of heart. We’ve already seen some reactions to the trailer from people who work in advertising who basically have said, “You know, we sell this shit to you, that’s what we do all day long. And we all feel really bad about it.” I would love it if there were a few people who saw this and took it as an opportunity to say, “You know what? I can do better than this.” This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Who’s responsible for waste? A Q&A about the ‘conspiracy’ of overconsumption. on Nov 27, 2024.

As Fast Fashion's Waste Pollutes Africa's Environment, Designers in Ghana Are Finding a Solution

In a sprawling secondhand clothing market in Ghana’s capital, early morning shoppers jostle as they search through piles of garments, eager to pluck a bargain or a designer find from the stalls selling used apparel from the West

ACCRA, Ghana (AP) — In a sprawling secondhand clothing market in Ghana’s capital, early morning shoppers jostle as they search through piles of garments, eager to pluck a bargain or a designer find from the stalls selling used and low-quality apparel imported from the West. At the other end of the street, an upcycled fashion and thrifting festival unfolds with glamour and glitz. Models parade along a makeshift runway in outfits that designers created out of discarded materials from the Kantamanto market, ranging from floral blouses and denim jeans to leather bags, caps and socks.The festival is called Obroni Wawu October, using a phrase that in the local Akan language means “dead white man’s clothes.” Organizers see the event as a small way to disrupt a destructive cycle that has made Western overconsumption into an environmental problem in Africa, where some of the worn-out clothes end up in waterways and garbage dumps. “Instead of allowing (textile waste) to choke our gutters or beaches or landfills, I decided to use it to create something ... for us to use again,” said Richard Asante Palmer, one of the designers at the annual festival organized by the Or Foundation, a nonprofit that works at the intersection of environmental justice and fashion development.Ghana is one of Africa's leading importers of used clothing. It also ships some of what it gets from the United Kingdom, Canada, China and elsewhere to other West African nations, the United States and the U.K., according to the Ghana Used Clothing Dealers Association. Some of the imported clothes arrive in such poor shape, however, that vendors dispose of them to make room for the next shipments. On average, 40% of the millions of garments exported weekly to Ghana end up as waste, according to Neesha-Ann Longdon, the business manager for the Or Foundation’s executive director. The clothing dealers association, in a report published earlier this year on the socioeconomic and environmental impact of the nation’s secondhand clothing trade, cited a much lower estimate, saying only 5% of the items that reach Ghana in bulk are thrown out because they cannot be sold or reused. In many African countries, citizens typically buy preowned clothes — as well as used cars, phones and other necessities — because they cost less than new ones. Secondhand shopping also gives them a chance to score designer goods that most people in the region can only dream of.But neither Ghana's fast-growing population of 34 million people nor its overtaxed infrastructure is equipped to absorb the amount of cast-off attire entering the country. Mounds of textile waste litter beaches across the capital, Accra, and the lagoon which serves as the main outlet through which the city’s major drainage channels empty into the Gulf of Guinea.“Fast fashion has taken over as the dominant mode of production, which is characterized here as higher volumes of lower-quality goods,” Longdon said.Jonathan Abbey, a fisherman in the area, said his nets often capture textile waste from the sea. Unsold used clothes “aren’t even burned but are thrown into the Korle Lagoon, which then goes into the sea,” Abbey said.The ease of online shopping has sped up this waste cycle, according to Andrew Brooks, a King’s College London researcher and the author of “Clothing Poverty: The Hidden World of Fast Fashion and Second-hand Clothes.” In countries like the U.K., unwanted purchases often end up as charity donations, but clothes are sometimes stolen from street donation bins and exported to places where the consumer demand is perceived to be higher, Brooks said. Authorities rarely investigate such theft because the clothes are "seen as low-value items,” he said.Donors, meanwhile, think their castoffs are “going to be recycled rather than reused, or given away rather than sold, or sold in the U.K. rather than exported overseas,” Brooks said.The volume of secondhand clothing sent to Africa has led to complaints of the continent being used as a dumping ground. In 2018, Rwanda raised tariffs on such imports in defiance of U.S. pressure, citing concerns the West's refuse undermined efforts to strengthen the domestic textile industry. Last year, Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni said he would ban imports of clothing “from dead people.”Trade restrictions might not go far in either reducing textile pollution or encouraging clothing production in Africa, where profits are low and incentives for designers are few, experts say.In the absence of adequate measures to stop the pollution, organizations like the Or Foundation are trying to make a difference by rallying young people and fashion creators to find a good use for scrapped materials.Ghana's beaches had hardly any discarded clothes on them before the country's waste management problems worsened in recent years, foundation co-founder Allison Bartella said. “Fast forward to today, 2024, there are mountains of textile waste on the beaches,” she said.Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - Sept. 2024

What Bird Flu in Wastewater Means for California and Beyond

Wastewater in several Californian cities, including San Francisco and Los Angeles, recently tested positive for bird flu. But understanding disease risk and exposure to humans isn’t so straightforward

Since the first avian influenza outbreaks hit the U.S. early this year, health and agriculture experts have struggled to track the virus’s spotty path as it spreads in dairy cow herds and an unknown number of humans. Infection risk still seems low for most people, but dairy workers and others directly exposed to cows have been getting sick. Canada’s first human case was just reported, in a teenager who is in critical condition. To get a better handle on the unsettling situation, scientists are picking up a pathogen-hunting tool that’s been powerful in the past: wastewater surveillance.In the past couple of weeks, wastewater samples in several locations mostly scattered around California—including the cities of Los Angeles, San Francisco, Sacramento and San Jose—tested positive for genetic material from the bird flu virus, H5N1. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s National Wastewater Surveillance System reported detections at 14 sites in California during a collection period that ended on November 2. As of November 13, across the U.S., 15 sites monitored by WastewaterSCAN, a project run by Stanford University and Emory University researchers, reported positive samples this month. But finding H5N1 material in wastewater doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a risk to human health, says WastewaterSCAN’s co-director Alexandria Boehm, a civil and environmental engineer at Stanford University.Analyzing trace amounts of viral genetic material, often shed by fecal matter in sewers, can alert scientists and public health experts to a possible increase in community infections. Wastewater sampling became instrumental in forecasting COVID cases across the U.S., for instance. But the way H5N1 affects both animal and human populations complicates identifying sources and understanding disease risk. H5N1 can be deadly in poultry. Cattle usually recover from symptoms—such as fever, dehydration and reduced milk production—but veterinarians and farmers are reporting that cows have been dying at higher rates in California than in other affected states. Cats that drink raw milk from infected cows can develop deadly neurological symptoms. The current cases in humans haven’t caused any known deaths (most people have flulike symptoms, although some develop eye infections), but past major outbreaks outside of the U.S. have resulted in fatalities.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.Scientific American spoke with Boehm about the latest bird flu detections in wastewater and the ways that scientists are using these data to better track and understand disease prevalence and exposure—among animals and humans both.[An edited transcript of the interview follows.]When did WastewaterSCAN start tracking H5N1?We noticed something very unusual in Amarillo, Tex. [In the spring of 2024,] after flu season, we saw really high levels of influenza A [one of the four flu virus types that infect humans] RNA nucleic acids in their wastewater. This was surprising because we know influenza A in wastewater tracks with cases in the community—but there were not very many cases in the community, and it was after flu season. We also then heard on the news that they had discovered cattle infected with avian influenza in the same area in Texas. So we worked in collaboration with the local wastewater treatment plants and public health officers to test the wastewater. And we found that, indeed, it was H5 [a subtype of avian influenza A virus] in their waste stream. We determined that most of that H5 was coming from legal discharges into the sanitary sewer from milk processing plants.Then when we scaled the H5 assay across the country, we were finding it in locations where, shortly thereafter, cattle were being identified as being infected [with the virus]. In June the CDC actually sent memos to the states asking them to try to measure H5 in wastewater, recognizing that the measurements can help to understand the extent and duration of the outbreak in the U.S.Has wastewater analysis been able to trace cases to any sources?We can’t always rule out that it’s wild birds or poultry or humans, but overall the preponderance of evidence suggests most of the inputs are likely from cow milk. That cow milk is getting into consumer homes, where people are disposing of it down the drain. I’m sure you have poured out milk down your sink—I know I have. It’s also coming from permitted operations where people are making cheese or yogurt or ice cream, and they might be starting with a milk product that has the avian influenza nucleic acids in it.I want to stress that the milk in people’s homes that might have the avian influenza RNA is not infectious or a threat to human health. It’s just a marker that some milk got into the food chain that originally had the virus in it. It’s killed because milk products are pasteurized—and that’s, by the way, why drinking raw milk or eating raw cheeses right now is not really recommended. The RNA that makes up the genome of these viruses is extremely stable in wastewater. It’s even stable after pasteurization. So you pasteurize the raw milk, and the RNA is still present at about the same concentrations.Detecting it in the wastewater does not mean there’s a risk to human health. What it does mean is that there are still infected cattle that are around the vicinity, and work still needs to be done to identify those cattle and remove their products from the food chain, which is the goal of the officials that are in charge of that aspect of the outbreak.How might we be able to better determine where the viral genetic material is coming from and assess human infection rates?It is very difficult because genetically the virus is not different [between sources]. It’s not like we can say, “Oh, the one in humans is going to be like this, and so let’s look for that.” We’re working really closely with public health departments that are really proactive in sequencing positive influenza cases. If we do start seeing it in [more] people, we will likely know it because we’ll see differences in the wastewater.I don’t want to be alarmist because right now the risk of getting H5N1 is very minimal, and the symptoms are really mild. But I think one of the concerns is that the virus could mutate during this influenza season coming up. Somebody who’s infected with [seasonal influenza] could also get infected with H5N1, and then it could maybe create a new strain that could be more severe. We’re hoping that the wastewater data, along with all the other data that people and agencies are collecting, will together help figure out what’s going on and protect public health better.What are trends are you seeing in your surveillance right now?Most recently, California is just lighting up. A lot of the wastewater samples in California are coming back as positive, even in locations that are very urban—such as the Bay Area and in Los Angeles. The question is: Why? In some of these locations, there actually are small operations where people are making dairy products with milk. But another explanation, like I mentioned earlier, is just the wasting of milk products.How do H5N1 levels in wastewater correlate to infections in animals?We’re sort of seeing it as an early indicator, or concurrent indicator, of cattle in the vicinity being infected with avian influenza. The first detections were in Texas, and we saw a lot of detections in Michigan for a while, and now the hot spot is California. As scientists, we’re going to analyze all this in the future. But anecdotally, the H5 detections in wastewater are following along with when herds are identified, and then once it’s sort of under control, we stop seeing it.Public health officials are using the data to say, “Okay, we got a positive in this location. What are the different sources that could account for it? Have we tested all the cattle that are contributing milk products to industries in this sewer shed? Have we gotten rid of all the infected herds in our state, because now we’re not getting any positives in the wastewater?”How else are scientists and officials staying on top of cases and spread?The [U.S. Department of Agriculture] and different entities around the country are pursuing it from an animal health perspective and a food safety perspective. So there is testing of cattle herds and milk products. There’s also testing of poultry, and then there’s testing of workers that are in contact with infected herds and infected poultry. On the clinical side, there is a push to get influenza-positive samples sequenced to understand what kind of influenza it is, as sort of a safety net to see if there might be some avian influenza circulating in people. So far, cases have been in people who are actually exposed to infected animals, who are working on farms, and perhaps in some of their family members.How has tracking H5N1 been different from or similar to COVID or other pathogens?All the other pathogens that we track have been conceptually similar to COVID, where humans are the source [of pathogenic material in wastewater]. We know that the occurrence of the viral or fungal material in wastewater match the cases. Bird flu is the first example where we’re using wastewater to track something that is primarily not, at least right now, from a human source but has potential human health implications for different reasons. It’s been a really great case study of how wastewater can be used not only for tracking human illness but also zoonotic pathogens—pathogens that affect animals. So now we’re thinking about what else wastewater could be used for. What other kinds of animal byproducts end up in the waste stream that might contain biomarkers of infectious disease? H5 is our first example, and I’m sure there will be more.

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