Cookies help us run our site more efficiently.

By clicking “Accept”, you agree to the storing of cookies on your device to enhance site navigation, analyze site usage, and assist in our marketing efforts. View our Privacy Policy for more information or to customize your cookie preferences.

‘I have to live in a cocoon’: locals in Pennsylvania feel ‘sacrificed’ for Shell plastics plant

News Feed
Wednesday, December 11, 2024

Nadine Luci lives on a breezy hill south-western Pennsylvania, but hardly ever opens her windows for fear the air outside is harming her.“I have to live in a cocoon year-round,” she said.Luci, 60, lives just two miles from the Shell Pennsylvania Petrochemicals Complex, a huge plant that “cracks” ethane, a byproduct of fracked gas, to make millions of tons of plastic each year. The plant, which became operational in 2022, sits on 386 acres along the Ohio River in Monaca, Pennsylvania.Initially, Luci was concerned about the project’s pollution in an area long plagued by emissions-heavy industry. But she looked forward to the needed jobs the plant would bring to a region that has seen many factories and mills shutter.In the following years, Luci’s optimism faded. Some days, she noticed dark plumes billowing from the cracker’s stacks. Other nights, the project would shoot flames or dye the sky orange. And every couple of months, a nauseating sweet odor wafted from the plant, like a syrup you would never want to eat.Nadine Luci in her kitchen. Photograph: Dharna NoorOne morning this past summer, Luci and her neighbor were having a coffee outside when they were hit with “a huge and rancid chlorine smell” that burned her eyes and nose.Luci, who grew up in nearby Beaver, has suffered from respiratory illness since childhood and she fears pollution from the plant is exacerbating her symptoms. Since its construction began in 2017, the plant has received 33 violations for illegal levels of air and water pollution.“I don’t even want to drink my tap water,” said Luci, who fished in the Ohio River’s tributaries as a youth.The Ohio River supplies drinking water to more than 5 million people, including Luci’s town of Rochester. It is one of the most contaminated watersheds in the country. John Stolz, a microbiologist at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, said it was “definitely possible” that the Shell project had added to that contamination.Natalie Gunnell, spokesperson for the Shell plastic plant, said “the local water suppliers treat and monitor the drinking water.”Heather Hulton VanTassel, who directs the Three Rivers Waterkeeper organization in Pennsylvania, said Luci’s water should be cleaned by authorities, though bills may increase if they have to increase “pollutant removal”.For her part, Luci said she had noticed a “dead fish” smell occasionally coming from her tap water. Like many of her neighbors, she buys plastic water bottles in bulk. “We bitch about it, but we buy it, plastic, constantly,” she said from her kitchen.Critics say support for the plant was built on the company’s use of manipulative public relations tactics, and on reports that overstated the plant’s expected economic benefits while downplaying its potential environmental harms.“I think some of us went pretty quickly from hearing it’s going to increase jobs and home values and fix the economy … to learning it was going to be an environmental disaster,” said Rachel Meyer, a coordinator for the environmental group Moms Clean Air Force, from her dining room.Shell’s local influence campaign, critics say, came amid a broader, decades-long effort by fossil fuel companies to downplay the dangers of fossil fuels.Gunnell said that Shell had “made it a priority to work closely with communities near our operations to manage the social impacts of our activities and enhance the benefits we are able to bring”.Plastics boom for whom?In 2008, Pennsylvania began to experience a surge in fracking, giving fossil fuel producers access to once inaccessible gas. The boom left the area awash in petrochemicals including ethane, a common raw ingredient in plastics.Four years later, a bipartisan group of state lawmakers, looking to capitalize on this abundance, proposed offering Shell $1.6bn in tax incentives to build a new plastics plant – the largest subsidy package in Pennsylvania history. Citing Shell’s promise to create up to 20,000 jobs, they said the project would revitalize local economies.Two Shell-funded studies would later back up that claim: a 2014 report estimated the plant would contribute up to $4.4bn to the local economy over its 40-year operating lifespan, and a 2021 follow-up report placed that estimate at up to $17bn.But in January, independent analysts with the Ohio River Valley Institute found that the studies were too rosy, due to their failure to consider costs to the public or shifts in the market and regulatory environment.Though nearly 8,600 workers did provide a surge of economic activity to Beaver county during the plant’s construction, many hailed from out of state. Today, the cracker plant only employs about 500 full-time workers, according to Shell.“They say they’re creating hundreds of jobs, but that’s a drop in the damn bucket,” said Luci.Officials said the plant would anchor a vast petrochemical hub, employing tens of thousands, but that hub never materialized.Gunnell said: “We are proud of the jobs, economic benefits and social investment dollars and projects we have brought to the region and will continue to bring to the regional economy for decades to come.”PollutionWhen the new plant began operations in November 2022, Shell touted a “strong and innovative safety focus”. But the Shell plant emits a wide range of pollutants, including volatile organic compounds, nitrogen oxide, carbon monoxide and other toxins that have been linked to illnesses ranging from respiratory disease to cancer.The project has received two dozen violations for air pollution and eight for water contamination, with the first issued just months after construction began in 2017, and the most recent issued in September.“Meeting or exceeding regulatory requirements is part of our operating framework,” Gunnell said. “If we fall short, we aim to understand why and implement new ways of working that are clear and actionable.”Shell reports emissions to regulators and publishes “fenceline monitoring results” from the facility’s property line, Gunnell noted. Advocates say the latter came only after years of pressure.The Shell cracker plant on 6 August 2024 in Monaca, Pennsylvania. Photograph: The Washington Post/Getty ImagesResidents have also accused officials of failing to address locals’ concerns. In April 2023, as neighbors said that the air smelled like kerosene, monitors placed by a local grassroots organization detected levels of benzene that exceeded federal standards. But when the Pennsylvania environment department came out to investigate, they relied only on a human “sniff test” and downplayed concerns, advocates said.“Visiting the Shell plant and merely smelling the air is inadequate to assess whether there are any air permit violations or malfunctions, let alone whether it’s safe to breathe the air,” said Alex Bomstein, legal director of the environmental non-profit the Clean Air Council.Benzene, the main pollutant of concern during the incident, can be smelled in concentrations of 12 parts per million, but federal officials say exposure to concentrations of just 0.01 parts per million require workers to wear protective equipment, he noted.Lauren Camarda, the Pennsylvania environment department spokesperson, said the agency was “committed to ensuring that the Shell facility is operating in accordance with Pennsylvania’s laws and regulations and has held them accountable for violations”, Since fall 2023, the Shell plant’s emissions have been on a “constant downward trend”, she said.The Clean Air Council and other green groups have taken legal action against Shell over this incident and others. Those organizations are also pressuring the state to tighten the plant’s water pollution limits.In May 2023, the company agreed to a $10m settlement with the state for air pollution violations. The plant had then only been operational for about six months, but had already surpassed its 12-month emissions limits on volatile organic compounds, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides and other pollutants. This agreement addressed “previous emissions exceedances”, Gunnell said.Shell was required to report the facility’s emissions to authorities monthly as part of the settlement, Camarda said.A local resident this February also launched litigation claiming the plant is both a private and public nuisance and seeking class-action status. And in a Washington county courthouse in early December, Shell was convicted of criminal charges after pleading no contest to three misdemeanor counts brought by the Pennsylvania attorney general, for violating the state’s clean streams law during the construction of the Falcon pipeline, which feeds gas to the cracker plant.“Shell is aware of two lawsuits pending in the western district of Pennsylvania relating to Shell Polymers Monaca, which remain in active litigation,” Gunnell said, adding that Shell’s positions on and responses to the allegations were public record.At peak capacity, the project will require ethane to be extracted from 1,000 new gas wells every five to 10 years, experts say, creating additional pollution.‘You can’t avoid influence’Before construction on the plant began, Shell’s plastics division began providing equipment to local schools and sponsoring scholarships – public relations tactics that have recently come under increasing scrutiny. It even spent $1m to create a new technology program – which sports the Shell name – at one community college.The company has also donated handsomely to the local Salvation Army, the YMCA, and other non-profits, and has paid for local park benches and a new basketball court at one elementary school.A basketball court sponsored by Shell at Big Beaver elementary school. Photograph: Dharna NoorGunnell, the Shell spokesperson, said: “We have enjoyed the support of the local community and are committed to being a good neighbor.“The bulk of our Shell Polymers employees live, work and play here, so we want to help make our community better whenever we can,” she added.But Vanessa Lynch, a local organizer with Moms Clean Air Force, said many residents find their community contributions confusing.“You have a company that is a huge corporation, and they’re telling you: we want to help the community,” she said. “But then, as a community member, you’re watching the increase in fracking. You’re watching a red sky at night. You’re smelling smells …It’s hard to have those two things in your head at the same time.”Local activists say even the payout from the 2023 lawsuit – half of which has been allocated for air monitoring, environmental projects and other initiatives – has been confused for altruism.“I’ve heard residents and even county employees mention it like it’s a charity,” said Andie Grey, an activist who lives three miles from the plant.Terrie Baumgardner near the Shell plant. Photograph: Dharna NoorShell’s donations may serve to damp down criticism and influence public opinion, said Terrie Baumgardner, a board member of the Beaver County Marcellus Awareness Community. “It seems to me that you can’t avoid influence when money comes into play,” she said.Years before the plant started operating, Baumgardner said she asked an assistant at a local university, where she had worked for 26 years, to use a room for a local environmental group to hold a public meeting.“Well, you know, Terrie, we have partnerships with Shell,” she remembers being told. Her request was rejected.Timmons Roberts, professor of environment and sociology at Brown University, who studies fossil fuel companies’ public relations campaigns, said it was common for polluting sectors to partner with community groups to boost their image.“That’s true on the smaller scale when local people are worried about new industries, and it’s true on the big scale to soothe concerns about climate,” he said. “It seems like a favor … but I think mostly it’s meant to shut people up.”Impacts beyond PennsylvaniaThe Shell plant is expected to reach its full production capacity in 2025 or 2026, when the company says it will produce up to 3.5bn tons of plastic pellets a year. Permits allow the plant to spew out 2.25m tons of planet-heating carbon dioxide annually – the equivalent of putting 523,604 gasoline-powered passenger vehicles on the road.Plastic creation accounts for 5% of all global carbon emissions, and absent decisive policy changes, that figure is expected to rise. In early December, the latest round of negotiations to reach a global treaty on plastic pollution collapsed amid accusations that industry involvement hampered the negotiations.Reports indicate that Shell has been aware since the 1970s of the planet-warming impacts of fossil fuels like the ones used to produce plastic. It has set targets to ramp down its carbon emissions but this year watered them down.Asked for comment, Gunnell said: “The Shell Group did not have unique knowledge about climate change.“The issue of climate change and how to tackle it has long been part of public discussion and ongoing scientific research for many decades,” she said.Asked about the planet-heating impacts of using fossil fuels to make plastics, Gunnell said that Shell “supports the need for improved circularity in the global plastics markets, encouraging the reduction, reuse, and recycling of plastics”.She added that Shell was supporting local recycling efforts, including in Beaver county. But globally less than 10% of plastics are ever recycled.Plastic producers – including Shell – were warned decades ago that recycling is not an economically or technically feasible plastic waste management solution, a February report revealed. In July, Shell also quietly backed away from a pledge to rapidly increase its use of “advanced recycling” – a polluting practice oil and petrochemical producers have promoted as a solution to the plastics pollution crisis, the Guardian reported. Gunnell did not comment on either finding.Meyer, of Moms Clean Air Force, feels that her region was “sacrificed” for the sake of profits.“I don’t like to think of myself as just as expendable [as a] plastic bag,” she said.But it now seems that even Shell’s profit targets are not panning out. The company has already acknowledged that it won’t meet its initial target – making $1bn to $1.5bn in earnings from the plant – until 2025 at the earliest. And in October, the thinktank the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis found that it may not even reach that goal by the end of 2026, thanks to expected increases in the cost of gas and shifting market dynamics.“All this sacrifice has been pretty much for nothing,” said Abhishek Sinha, who led the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis research.As she has continued to see the Shell plastic plant spew pollution into her community, Nadine Luci has thought about moving away. It’s painful to think of leaving her local family members and her childhood memories, but she’s afraid her body can’t handle the pollution.“It feels wrong because all my roots are here,” she said. “I’ve been here all this time, and now I have to be the one to figure out how to escape.”Reporting for this story was made possible through a Climate Disinformation Fellowship from the Heinrich Boell Foundation, Washington

Residents accuse the oil firm of overstating the benefits of its ethane cracker plant – and playing down the harmsNadine Luci lives on a breezy hill south-western Pennsylvania, but hardly ever opens her windows for fear the air outside is harming her.“I have to live in a cocoon year-round,” she said. Continue reading...

Nadine Luci lives on a breezy hill south-western Pennsylvania, but hardly ever opens her windows for fear the air outside is harming her.

“I have to live in a cocoon year-round,” she said.

Luci, 60, lives just two miles from the Shell Pennsylvania Petrochemicals Complex, a huge plant that “cracks” ethane, a byproduct of fracked gas, to make millions of tons of plastic each year. The plant, which became operational in 2022, sits on 386 acres along the Ohio River in Monaca, Pennsylvania.

Initially, Luci was concerned about the project’s pollution in an area long plagued by emissions-heavy industry. But she looked forward to the needed jobs the plant would bring to a region that has seen many factories and mills shutter.

In the following years, Luci’s optimism faded. Some days, she noticed dark plumes billowing from the cracker’s stacks. Other nights, the project would shoot flames or dye the sky orange. And every couple of months, a nauseating sweet odor wafted from the plant, like a syrup you would never want to eat.

Nadine Luci in her kitchen. Photograph: Dharna Noor

One morning this past summer, Luci and her neighbor were having a coffee outside when they were hit with “a huge and rancid chlorine smell” that burned her eyes and nose.

Luci, who grew up in nearby Beaver, has suffered from respiratory illness since childhood and she fears pollution from the plant is exacerbating her symptoms. Since its construction began in 2017, the plant has received 33 violations for illegal levels of air and water pollution.

“I don’t even want to drink my tap water,” said Luci, who fished in the Ohio River’s tributaries as a youth.

The Ohio River supplies drinking water to more than 5 million people, including Luci’s town of Rochester. It is one of the most contaminated watersheds in the country. John Stolz, a microbiologist at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, said it was “definitely possible” that the Shell project had added to that contamination.

Natalie Gunnell, spokesperson for the Shell plastic plant, said “the local water suppliers treat and monitor the drinking water.”

Heather Hulton VanTassel, who directs the Three Rivers Waterkeeper organization in Pennsylvania, said Luci’s water should be cleaned by authorities, though bills may increase if they have to increase “pollutant removal”.

For her part, Luci said she had noticed a “dead fish” smell occasionally coming from her tap water. Like many of her neighbors, she buys plastic water bottles in bulk. “We bitch about it, but we buy it, plastic, constantly,” she said from her kitchen.

Critics say support for the plant was built on the company’s use of manipulative public relations tactics, and on reports that overstated the plant’s expected economic benefits while downplaying its potential environmental harms.

“I think some of us went pretty quickly from hearing it’s going to increase jobs and home values and fix the economy … to learning it was going to be an environmental disaster,” said Rachel Meyer, a coordinator for the environmental group Moms Clean Air Force, from her dining room.

Shell’s local influence campaign, critics say, came amid a broader, decades-long effort by fossil fuel companies to downplay the dangers of fossil fuels.

Gunnell said that Shell had “made it a priority to work closely with communities near our operations to manage the social impacts of our activities and enhance the benefits we are able to bring”.

Plastics boom for whom?

In 2008, Pennsylvania began to experience a surge in fracking, giving fossil fuel producers access to once inaccessible gas. The boom left the area awash in petrochemicals including ethane, a common raw ingredient in plastics.

Four years later, a bipartisan group of state lawmakers, looking to capitalize on this abundance, proposed offering Shell $1.6bn in tax incentives to build a new plastics plant – the largest subsidy package in Pennsylvania history. Citing Shell’s promise to create up to 20,000 jobs, they said the project would revitalize local economies.

Two Shell-funded studies would later back up that claim: a 2014 report estimated the plant would contribute up to $4.4bn to the local economy over its 40-year operating lifespan, and a 2021 follow-up report placed that estimate at up to $17bn.

But in January, independent analysts with the Ohio River Valley Institute found that the studies were too rosy, due to their failure to consider costs to the public or shifts in the market and regulatory environment.

Though nearly 8,600 workers did provide a surge of economic activity to Beaver county during the plant’s construction, many hailed from out of state. Today, the cracker plant only employs about 500 full-time workers, according to Shell.

“They say they’re creating hundreds of jobs, but that’s a drop in the damn bucket,” said Luci.

Officials said the plant would anchor a vast petrochemical hub, employing tens of thousands, but that hub never materialized.

Gunnell said: “We are proud of the jobs, economic benefits and social investment dollars and projects we have brought to the region and will continue to bring to the regional economy for decades to come.”

Pollution

When the new plant began operations in November 2022, Shell touted a “strong and innovative safety focus”. But the Shell plant emits a wide range of pollutants, including volatile organic compounds, nitrogen oxide, carbon monoxide and other toxins that have been linked to illnesses ranging from respiratory disease to cancer.

The project has received two dozen violations for air pollution and eight for water contamination, with the first issued just months after construction began in 2017, and the most recent issued in September.

“Meeting or exceeding regulatory requirements is part of our operating framework,” Gunnell said. “If we fall short, we aim to understand why and implement new ways of working that are clear and actionable.”

Shell reports emissions to regulators and publishes “fenceline monitoring results” from the facility’s property line, Gunnell noted. Advocates say the latter came only after years of pressure.

The Shell cracker plant on 6 August 2024 in Monaca, Pennsylvania. Photograph: The Washington Post/Getty Images

Residents have also accused officials of failing to address locals’ concerns. In April 2023, as neighbors said that the air smelled like kerosene, monitors placed by a local grassroots organization detected levels of benzene that exceeded federal standards. But when the Pennsylvania environment department came out to investigate, they relied only on a human “sniff test” and downplayed concerns, advocates said.

“Visiting the Shell plant and merely smelling the air is inadequate to assess whether there are any air permit violations or malfunctions, let alone whether it’s safe to breathe the air,” said Alex Bomstein, legal director of the environmental non-profit the Clean Air Council.

Benzene, the main pollutant of concern during the incident, can be smelled in concentrations of 12 parts per million, but federal officials say exposure to concentrations of just 0.01 parts per million require workers to wear protective equipment, he noted.

Lauren Camarda, the Pennsylvania environment department spokesperson, said the agency was “committed to ensuring that the Shell facility is operating in accordance with Pennsylvania’s laws and regulations and has held them accountable for violations”, Since fall 2023, the Shell plant’s emissions have been on a “constant downward trend”, she said.

The Clean Air Council and other green groups have taken legal action against Shell over this incident and others. Those organizations are also pressuring the state to tighten the plant’s water pollution limits.

In May 2023, the company agreed to a $10m settlement with the state for air pollution violations. The plant had then only been operational for about six months, but had already surpassed its 12-month emissions limits on volatile organic compounds, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides and other pollutants. This agreement addressed “previous emissions exceedances”, Gunnell said.

Shell was required to report the facility’s emissions to authorities monthly as part of the settlement, Camarda said.

A local resident this February also launched litigation claiming the plant is both a private and public nuisance and seeking class-action status. And in a Washington county courthouse in early December, Shell was convicted of criminal charges after pleading no contest to three misdemeanor counts brought by the Pennsylvania attorney general, for violating the state’s clean streams law during the construction of the Falcon pipeline, which feeds gas to the cracker plant.

Shell is aware of two lawsuits pending in the western district of Pennsylvania relating to Shell Polymers Monaca, which remain in active litigation,” Gunnell said, adding that Shell’s positions on and responses to the allegations were public record.

At peak capacity, the project will require ethane to be extracted from 1,000 new gas wells every five to 10 years, experts say, creating additional pollution.

‘You can’t avoid influence’

Before construction on the plant began, Shell’s plastics division began providing equipment to local schools and sponsoring scholarships – public relations tactics that have recently come under increasing scrutiny. It even spent $1m to create a new technology program – which sports the Shell name – at one community college.

The company has also donated handsomely to the local Salvation Army, the YMCA, and other non-profits, and has paid for local park benches and a new basketball court at one elementary school.

A basketball court sponsored by Shell at Big Beaver elementary school. Photograph: Dharna Noor

Gunnell, the Shell spokesperson, said: “We have enjoyed the support of the local community and are committed to being a good neighbor.

“The bulk of our Shell Polymers employees live, work and play here, so we want to help make our community better whenever we can,” she added.

But Vanessa Lynch, a local organizer with Moms Clean Air Force, said many residents find their community contributions confusing.

“You have a company that is a huge corporation, and they’re telling you: we want to help the community,” she said. “But then, as a community member, you’re watching the increase in fracking. You’re watching a red sky at night. You’re smelling smells …It’s hard to have those two things in your head at the same time.”

Local activists say even the payout from the 2023 lawsuit – half of which has been allocated for air monitoring, environmental projects and other initiatives – has been confused for altruism.

“I’ve heard residents and even county employees mention it like it’s a charity,” said Andie Grey, an activist who lives three miles from the plant.

Terrie Baumgardner near the Shell plant. Photograph: Dharna Noor

Shell’s donations may serve to damp down criticism and influence public opinion, said Terrie Baumgardner, a board member of the Beaver County Marcellus Awareness Community. “It seems to me that you can’t avoid influence when money comes into play,” she said.

Years before the plant started operating, Baumgardner said she asked an assistant at a local university, where she had worked for 26 years, to use a room for a local environmental group to hold a public meeting.

“Well, you know, Terrie, we have partnerships with Shell,” she remembers being told. Her request was rejected.

Timmons Roberts, professor of environment and sociology at Brown University, who studies fossil fuel companies’ public relations campaigns, said it was common for polluting sectors to partner with community groups to boost their image.

“That’s true on the smaller scale when local people are worried about new industries, and it’s true on the big scale to soothe concerns about climate,” he said. “It seems like a favor … but I think mostly it’s meant to shut people up.”

Impacts beyond Pennsylvania

The Shell plant is expected to reach its full production capacity in 2025 or 2026, when the company says it will produce up to 3.5bn tons of plastic pellets a year. Permits allow the plant to spew out 2.25m tons of planet-heating carbon dioxide annually – the equivalent of putting 523,604 gasoline-powered passenger vehicles on the road.

Plastic creation accounts for 5% of all global carbon emissions, and absent decisive policy changes, that figure is expected to rise. In early December, the latest round of negotiations to reach a global treaty on plastic pollution collapsed amid accusations that industry involvement hampered the negotiations.

Reports indicate that Shell has been aware since the 1970s of the planet-warming impacts of fossil fuels like the ones used to produce plastic. It has set targets to ramp down its carbon emissions but this year watered them down.

Asked for comment, Gunnell said: “The Shell Group did not have unique knowledge about climate change.

“The issue of climate change and how to tackle it has long been part of public discussion and ongoing scientific research for many decades,” she said.

Asked about the planet-heating impacts of using fossil fuels to make plastics, Gunnell said that Shell “supports the need for improved circularity in the global plastics markets, encouraging the reduction, reuse, and recycling of plastics”.

She added that Shell was supporting local recycling efforts, including in Beaver county. But globally less than 10% of plastics are ever recycled.

Plastic producers – including Shell – were warned decades ago that recycling is not an economically or technically feasible plastic waste management solution, a February report revealed. In July, Shell also quietly backed away from a pledge to rapidly increase its use of “advanced recycling” – a polluting practice oil and petrochemical producers have promoted as a solution to the plastics pollution crisis, the Guardian reported. Gunnell did not comment on either finding.

Meyer, of Moms Clean Air Force, feels that her region was “sacrificed” for the sake of profits.

“I don’t like to think of myself as just as expendable [as a] plastic bag,” she said.

But it now seems that even Shell’s profit targets are not panning out. The company has already acknowledged that it won’t meet its initial target – making $1bn to $1.5bn in earnings from the plant – until 2025 at the earliest. And in October, the thinktank the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis found that it may not even reach that goal by the end of 2026, thanks to expected increases in the cost of gas and shifting market dynamics.

“All this sacrifice has been pretty much for nothing,” said Abhishek Sinha, who led the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis research.

As she has continued to see the Shell plastic plant spew pollution into her community, Nadine Luci has thought about moving away. It’s painful to think of leaving her local family members and her childhood memories, but she’s afraid her body can’t handle the pollution.

“It feels wrong because all my roots are here,” she said. “I’ve been here all this time, and now I have to be the one to figure out how to escape.”

Reporting for this story was made possible through a Climate Disinformation Fellowship from the Heinrich Boell Foundation, Washington

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Measles Misinformation Is on the Rise – and Americans Are Hearing It, Survey Finds

Republicans are far more skeptical of vaccines and twice as likely as Democrats to believe the measles shot is worse than the disease.

By Arthur Allen | KFF Health NewsWhile the most serious measles epidemic in a decade has led to the deaths of two children and spread to nearly 30 states with no signs of letting up, beliefs about the safety of the measles vaccine and the threat of the disease are sharply polarized, fed by the anti-vaccine views of the country’s seniormost health official.About two-thirds of Republican-leaning parents are unaware of an uptick in measles cases this year while about two-thirds of Democratic ones knew about it, according to a KFF survey released Wednesday.Republicans are far more skeptical of vaccines and twice as likely (1 in 5) as Democrats (1 in 10) to believe the measles shot is worse than the disease, according to the survey of 1,380 U.S. adults.Some 35% of Republicans answering the survey, which was conducted April 8-15 online and by telephone, said the discredited theory linking the measles, mumps and rubella vaccine to autism was definitely or probably true – compared with just 10% of Democrats.Get Midday Must-Reads in Your InboxFive essential stories, expertly curated, to keep you informed on your lunch break.Sign up to receive the latest updates from U.S. News & World Report and our trusted partners and sponsors. By clicking submit, you are agreeing to our Terms and Conditions & Privacy Policy.The trends are roughly the same as KFF reported in a June 2023 survey. But in the new poll, 3 in 10 parents erroneously believed that vitamin A can prevent measles infections, a theory Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has brought into play since taking office during the measles outbreak.“The most alarming thing about the survey is that we’re seeing an uptick in the share of people who have heard these claims,” said co-author Ashley Kirzinger, associate director of KFF’s Public Opinion and Survey Research Program. KFF is a health information nonprofit that includes KFF Health News.“It’s not that more people are believing the autism theory, but more and more people are hearing about it,” Kirzinger said. Since doubts about vaccine safety directly reduce parents’ vaccination of their children, “that shows how important it is for actual information to be part of the media landscape,” she said.“This is what one would expect when people are confused by conflicting messages coming from people in positions of authority,” said Kelly Moore, president and CEO of Immunize.org, a vaccination advocacy group.Numerous scientific studies have established no link between any vaccine and autism. But Kennedy has ordered HHS to undertake an investigation of possible environmental contributors to autism, promising to have “some of the answers” behind an increase in the incidence of the condition by September.The deepening Republican skepticism toward vaccines makes it hard for accurate information to break through in many parts of the nation, said Rekha Lakshmanan, chief strategy officer at The Immunization Partnership, in Houston.Lakshmanan on April 23 was to present a paper on countering anti-vaccine activism to the World Vaccine Congress in Washington. It was based on a survey that found that in the Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas and Oklahoma state assemblies, lawmakers with medical professions were among those least likely to support public health measures.“There is a political layer that influences these lawmakers,” she said. When lawmakers invite vaccine opponents to testify at legislative hearings, for example, it feeds a deluge of misinformation that is difficult to counter, she said.Eric Ball, a pediatrician in Ladera Ranch, California, which was hit by a 2014-15 measles outbreak that started in Disneyland, said fear of measles and tighter California state restrictions on vaccine exemptions had staved off new infections in his Orange County community.“The biggest downside of measles vaccines is that they work really well. Everyone gets vaccinated, no one gets measles, everyone forgets about measles,” he said. “But when it comes back, they realize there are kids getting really sick and potentially dying in my community, and everyone says, ‘Holy crap; we better vaccinate!’”Ball treated three very sick children with measles in 2015. Afterward his practice stopped seeing unvaccinated patients. “We had had babies exposed in our waiting room,” he said. “We had disease spreading in our office, which was not cool.”Although two otherwise healthy young girls died of measles during the Texas outbreak, “people still aren’t scared of the disease,” said Paul Offit, director of the Vaccine Education Center at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, which has seen a few cases.But the deaths “have created more angst, based on the number of calls I’m getting from parents trying to vaccinate their 4-month-old and 6-month-old babies,” Offit said. Children generally get their first measles shot at age 1, because it tends not to produce full immunity if given at a younger age.KFF Health News’ Jackie Fortiér contributed to this report.This article was produced by KFF Health News, a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF. It was originally published on April 23, 2025, and has been republished with permission.

Evangelical churches in Indiana turn to solar and sustainability as an expression of faith

A growing number of evangelical churches and universities in Indiana are embracing renewable energy and environmental stewardship as a religious duty, reframing climate action through a spiritual lens.Catrin Einhorn reports for The New York TimesIn short:Churches across Indiana, including Christ’s Community Church and Grace Church, are installing solar panels, planting native gardens, and hosting events like Indy Creation Fest to promote environmental stewardship.Evangelical leaders say their work aligns with a biblical call to care for creation, distancing it from politicized language around climate change to appeal to more conservative congregations.Christian universities such as Indiana Wesleyan and Taylor are integrating environmental science into academics and campus life, fostering student-led sustainability efforts rooted in faith.Key quote:“It’s a quiet movement.”— Rev. Jeremy Summers, director of church and community engagement for the Evangelical Environmental NetworkWhy this matters:The intersection of faith and environmental action challenges longstanding cultural divides in the climate conversation. Evangelical communities — historically less engaged on climate issues — hold substantial political and social influence, particularly across the Midwest and South. Framing sustainability as a religious obligation sidesteps partisan divides and invites wider participation. These faith-led movements can help shift attitudes in rural and suburban America, where skepticism of climate science and federal intervention runs high. And as the environmental impacts of fossil fuel dependence grow — heatwaves, water scarcity, air pollution— the health and well-being of families in these communities are increasingly at stake. Read more: Christian climate activists aim to bridge faith and environmental actionPope Francis, who used faith and science to call out the climate crisis, dies at 88

A growing number of evangelical churches and universities in Indiana are embracing renewable energy and environmental stewardship as a religious duty, reframing climate action through a spiritual lens.Catrin Einhorn reports for The New York TimesIn short:Churches across Indiana, including Christ’s Community Church and Grace Church, are installing solar panels, planting native gardens, and hosting events like Indy Creation Fest to promote environmental stewardship.Evangelical leaders say their work aligns with a biblical call to care for creation, distancing it from politicized language around climate change to appeal to more conservative congregations.Christian universities such as Indiana Wesleyan and Taylor are integrating environmental science into academics and campus life, fostering student-led sustainability efforts rooted in faith.Key quote:“It’s a quiet movement.”— Rev. Jeremy Summers, director of church and community engagement for the Evangelical Environmental NetworkWhy this matters:The intersection of faith and environmental action challenges longstanding cultural divides in the climate conversation. Evangelical communities — historically less engaged on climate issues — hold substantial political and social influence, particularly across the Midwest and South. Framing sustainability as a religious obligation sidesteps partisan divides and invites wider participation. These faith-led movements can help shift attitudes in rural and suburban America, where skepticism of climate science and federal intervention runs high. And as the environmental impacts of fossil fuel dependence grow — heatwaves, water scarcity, air pollution— the health and well-being of families in these communities are increasingly at stake. Read more: Christian climate activists aim to bridge faith and environmental actionPope Francis, who used faith and science to call out the climate crisis, dies at 88

Will the next pope be liberal or conservative? Neither.

If there’s one succinct way to describe Pope Francis’s stewardship of the Catholic Church over the last 12 years, it might best be  done with three of his own words: “todos, todos, todos” — “everyone, everyone, everyone.” Francis, who died Monday morning in Vatican City, was both a reformer and a traditionalist. He didn’t change […]

Pope Francis meets students at Portugal’s Catholic University on August 3, 2023, in Lisbon for World Youth Day, an international Catholic rally inaugurated by St. John Paul II to invigorate young people in their faith. | Vatican Media via Vatican Pool/Getty Images If there’s one succinct way to describe Pope Francis’s stewardship of the Catholic Church over the last 12 years, it might best be  done with three of his own words: “todos, todos, todos” — “everyone, everyone, everyone.” Francis, who died Monday morning in Vatican City, was both a reformer and a traditionalist. He didn’t change church doctrine, didn’t dramatically alter the Church’s teachings, and didn’t fundamentally disrupt the bedrock of Catholic belief. Catholics still believe there is one God who exists as three divine persons, that Jesus died and was resurrected, and that sin is still a thing. Only men can serve in the priesthood, life still begins at conception, and faith is lived through both prayer and good works. And yet it still feels like Pope Francis transformed the Church — breathing life into a 2,000-year-old institution by making it a player in current events, updating some of its bureaucracy to better respond to earthly affairs, and recentering the Church’s focus on the principle that it is open to all, but especially concerned with the least well off and marginalized in society. With Francis gone, how should we think of his legacy? Was he really the radical progressive revolutionary some on the American political right cast him as? And will his successor follow in his footsteps?   To try to neatly place Francis on the US political spectrum is a bit of a fool’s errand. It’s precisely because Francis and his potential successors defy our ability to categorize their legacies within our worldly, partisan, and tribalistic categories that it’s not very useful to use labels like “liberal” and “conservative.” Those things mean very different things within the Church versus outside of it. Instead, it’s more helpful to realize just how much Francis changed the Church’s tone and posturing toward openness and care for the least well off — and how he set up to Church to continue in that direction after he’s gone. He was neither liberal nor conservative: He was a bridge to the future who made the Church more relevant, without betraying its core teachings. That starting point will be critical for reading and understanding the next few weeks of papal news and speculation — especially as poorly sourced viral charts and infographics that lack context spread on social media in an attempt to explain what comes next. Revisiting Francis’s papacy Francis’s papacy is a prime example of how unhelpful it is to try to think of popes, and the Church, along the right-left political spectrum we’re used to thinking of in Western democracies.  When he was elected in 2013, Francis was a bit of an enigma. Progressives cautioned each other not to get too hopeful, while conservatives were wary about how open he would be to changing the Church’s public presence and social teachings. Before being elected pope, he was described as more traditional — not as activist as some of his Latin American peers who embraced progressive, socialist-adjacent liberation theology and intervened in political developments in Argentina, for example. He was orthodox and “uncompromising” on issues related to the right to life (euthanasia, the death penalty, and abortion) and on the role of women in the church, and advocated for clergy to embrace austerity and humility. And yet he was known to take unorthodox approaches to his ministry: advocating for the poor and the oppressed, and expressing openness to other religions in Argentina. He would bring that mix of views to his papacy. The following decade would see the Church undergo few changes in theological or doctrinal teachings, and yet it still appeared as though it was dramatically breaking with the past. That duality was in part because Francis was essentially both a conservative and a liberal, by American standards, at the same time, as Catholic writer James T. Keane argued in 2021. Francis was anti-abortion, critical of gender theory, opposed to ordaining women, and opposed to marriage for same-sex couples, while also welcoming the LGBTQ community, fiercely criticizing capitalism, unabashedly defending immigrants, opposing the death penalty, and advocating for environmentalism and care for the planet. That was how Francis functioned as a bridge between the traditionalism of his predecessors and a Church able to embrace modernity. And that’s also why he had so many critics: He was both too liberal and radical, and not progressive or bold enough. Francis used the Church’s unchanging foundational teachings and beliefs to respond to the crises of the 21st century and to consistently push for a “both-and” approach to social issues, endorsing “conservative”-coded teachings while adding on more focus to social justice issues that hadn’t been the traditionally associated with the church. That’s the approach he took when critiquing consumerism, modern capitalism, and “throwaway culture,” for example, employing the Church’s teachings on the sanctity of life to attack abortion rights, promote environmentalism, and criticize neo-liberal economics. None of those issues required dramatic changes to the Church’s religious or theological teachings. But they did involve moving the church beyond older debates — such as abortion, contraception, and marriage — and into other moral quandaries: economics, immigration, war, and climate change. And he spoke plainly about these debates in public, as when he responded, “Who am I to judge?” when asked about LGBTQ Catholics or said he wishes that hell is “empty.” Still, he reinforced that softer, more inquisitive and humble church tone with restructuring and reforms within the church bureaucracy — essentially setting the church up for a continued march along this path. Nearly 80 percent of the cardinals who are eligible to vote in a papal conclave were appointed by Francis — some 108 of 135 members of the College of Cardinals who can vote, per the Vatican itself. Most don’t align on any consistent ideological spectrum, having vastly different beliefs about the role of the Church, how the Church’s internal workings should operate, and what the Church’s social stances should be — that’s partially why it’s risky to read into and interpret projections about “wings” or ideological “factions” among the cardinal-electors as if they are a parliament or house of Congress. There will naturally be speculation, given who Francis appointed as cardinals, that his successor will be non-European and less traditional. But as Francis himself showed through his papacy, the church has the benefit of time and taking the long view on social issues. He reminded Catholics that concern for the poor and oppressed must be just as central to the Church’s presence in the world as any age-old culture war issue. And to try to apply to popes and the Church the political labels and sets of beliefs we use in America is pointless.

Grassroots activists who took on corruption and corporate power share 2025 Goldman prize

Seven winners of environmental prize include Amazonian river campaigner and Tunisian who fought against organised waste traffickingIndigenous river campaigner from Peru honouredGrassroots activists who helped jail corrupt officials and obtain personhood rights for a sacred Amazonian river are among this year’s winners of the world’s most prestigious environmental prize.The community campaigns led by the seven 2025 Goldman prize winners underscore the courage and tenacity of local activists willing to confront the toxic mix of corporate power, regulatory failures and political corruption that is fuelling biodiversity collapse, water shortages, deadly air pollution and the climate emergency. Continue reading...

Grassroots activists who helped jail corrupt officials and obtain personhood rights for a sacred Amazonian river are among this year’s winners of the world’s most prestigious environmental prize.The community campaigns led by the seven 2025 Goldman prize winners underscore the courage and tenacity of local activists willing to confront the toxic mix of corporate power, regulatory failures and political corruption that is fuelling biodiversity collapse, water shortages, deadly air pollution and the climate emergency.This year’s recipients include Semia Gharbi, a scientist and environmental educator from Tunisia, who took on an organised waste trafficking network that led to more than 40 arrests, including 26 Tunisian officials and 16 Italians with ties to the illegal trade.Semia Gharbi campaigning in Tunisia. Photograph: Goldman environmental prizeGharbi, 57, headed a public campaign demanding accountability after an Italian company was found to have shipped hundreds of containers of household garbage to Tunisia to dump in its overfilled landfill sites, rather than the recyclable plastic it had declared it was shipping.Gharbi lobbied lawmakers, compiled dossiers for UN experts and helped organise media coverage in both countries. Eventually, 6,000 tonnes of illegally exported household waste was shipped back to Italy in February 2022, and the scandal spurred the EU to close some loopholes governing international waste shipping.Not far away in the Canary Islands, Carlos Mallo Molina helped lead another sophisticated effort to prevent the construction of a large recreational boat and ferry terminal on the island of Tenerife that threatened to damage Spain’s most important marine reserve.Carlos Mallo Molina. Photograph: Goldman environmental prizeThe tourism gravy train can seem impossible to derail, but in 2018 Mallo swapped his career as a civil engineer to stop the sprawling Fonsalía port, which threatened the 170,000-acre biodiverse protected area that provides vital habitat for endangered sea turtles, whales, giant squid and blue sharks.As with Gharbi in Tunisia, education played a big role in the campaign’s success and included developing a virtual scuba dive into the threatened marine areas and a children’s book about a sea turtle searching for seagrass in the Canary Islands. After three years of pressure backed by international environmental groups, divers and residents, the government cancelled construction of the port, safeguarding the only whale heritage site in European territorial waters.“It’s been a tough year for both people and the planet,” said Jennifer Goldman Wallis, vice-president of the Goldman Environmental Foundation. “There’s so much that worries us, stresses us, outrages us, and keeps us divided … these environmental leaders and teachers – and the global environmental community that supports them – are the antidote.”For the past 36 years, the Goldman prize has honoured environmental defenders from each of the world’s six inhabited continental regions, recognising their commitment and achievements in the face of seemingly insurmountable hurdles. To date, 233 winners from 98 nations have been awarded the prize. Many have gone on to hold positions in governments, as heads of state, nonprofit leaders, and as Nobel prize laureates.Three Goldman recipients have been killed, including the 2015 winner from Honduras, the Indigenous Lenca leader Berta Cáceres, whose death in 2016 was orchestrated by executives of an internationally financed dam company whose project she helped stall.Environmental and land rights defenders often persist in drawn-out efforts to secure clean water and air for their communities and future generations – despite facing threats including online harassment, bogus criminal charges, and sometimes physical violence. More than 2,100 land and environmental defenders were killed globally between 2012 and 2023, according to an observatory run by the charity Global Witness.Latin America remains the most dangerous place to defend the environment but a range of repressive tactics are increasingly being used to silence activists across Asia, the US, the UK and the EU.In the US, Laurene Allen was recognised for her extraordinary leadership, which culminated in a plastics plant being closed in 2024 after two decades of leaking toxic forever chemicals into the air, soil and water supplies in the small town of Merrimack, New Hampshire. The 62-year-old social worker turned water protector developed the town’s local campaign into a statewide and national network to address Pfas contamination, helping persuade the Biden administration to establish the first federal drinking water standard for forever chemicals.skip past newsletter promotionThe planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essentialPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionLaurene Allen. Photograph: Goldman environmental prizeThree of this year’s Goldman recipients were involved in battles to save two rivers thousands of miles apart – in Peru and Albania – which both led to landmark victories.Besjana Guri and Olsi Nika not only helped stop construction of a hydroelectric dam on the 167-mile Vjosa River, but their decade-long campaign led to the Albanian government declaring it a wild river national park.Guri, 37, a social worker, and Nika, 39, a biologist and ecologist, garnered support from scientists, lawyers, EU parliamentarians and celebrities, including Leonardo DiCaprio, for the new national park – the first in Europe to protect a wild river. This historic designation protects the Vjosa and its three tributaries, which are among the last remaining free-flowing undammed rivers in Europe.In Peru, Mari Luz Canaquiri Murayari, 56, led the Indigenous Kukama women’s association to a landmark court victory that granted the 1,000-mile Marañón River legal personhood, with the right to be free-flowing and free of contamination.Mari Luz Canaquiri Murayari. Photograph: Goldman environmental prizeThe Marañón River and its tributaries are the life veins of Peru’s tropical rainforests and support 75% of its tropical wetlands – but also flow through lands containing some of the South American country’s biggest oil and gas fields. The court ordered the Peruvian government to stop violating the rivers’ rights, and take immediate action to prevent future oil spills.The Kukama people, who believe their ancestors reside on the riverbed, were recognised by the court as stewards of the great Marañón.This year’s oldest winner was Batmunkh Luvsandash from Mongolia, an 81-year-old former electrical engineer whose anti-mining activism has led to 200,000 acres of the East Gobi desert being protected from the world’s insatiable appetite for metal minerals.

Suggested Viewing

Join us to forge
a sustainable future

Our team is always growing.
Become a partner, volunteer, sponsor, or intern today.
Let us know how you would like to get involved!

CONTACT US

sign up for our mailing list to stay informed on the latest films and environmental headlines.

Subscribers receive a free day pass for streaming Cinema Verde.
Thank you! Your submission has been received!
Oops! Something went wrong while submitting the form.