Public wasn’t warned about lingering chemicals after ITC fire near Houston

This story is the second of a two-part series by The Texas Tribune and Public Health Watch. Read part 1 here.

DEER PARK — A week after the massive chemical fire that spewed toxic smoke over this Houston suburb had been extinguished in March 2019, Mario Ochoa cradled his 4-year-old son and prayed the child’s cough would ease so they could both sleep. Castiel kept waking Ochoa up with “horrible and terrifying” snoring.

“It was like watching your son drown right in front of you,” Ochoa said. “[He was] gasping for air in his sleep.”

A group of massive tanks, some containing millions of gallons of highly flammable chemicals used to make plastic and gasoline, had caught fire at a chemical storage facility owned by Intercontinental Terminals Company, a Texas-based company owned by Japanese conglomerate Mitsui Group. The fire began after a tank’s pump failed and began to leak naphtha, a highly flammable liquid.

As the fire at ITC spread from tank to tank, an ominous black plume of smoke spiraled over the Houston skyline. Ten of the tanks — each big enough to hold more than 3 million gallons of chemicals — collapsed, sending chemicals gushing into the nearby ship channel and killing birds and fish. Ash rained down on nearby neighborhoods.

Twice, city officials advised residents of Deer Park, the city closest to the fire, to shelter indoors. The first lasted 18 hours immediately after the fire broke out, and the second came three days later when air monitoring detected extremely high levels of benzene — an invisible, sweet-smelling hydrocarbon often found in crude oil and cigarettes. It’s known to cause cancer after repeated exposure and can irritate the throat and eyes. When inhaled in large quantities over a short period, benzene can affect the central nervous system and cause symptoms including dizziness, a rapid heart rate and headaches.

But what Ochoa and other residents weren’t told by federal, state and local officials at the time was that long after the fire was extinguished and life seemed to go back to normal, an invisible danger remained.

Benzene emissions spiked to abnormally high and potentially dangerous levels for more than two weeks after nearby residents were told it was safe to return to school and work, according to a Texas Tribune analysis of U.S. Environmental Protection Agency air-monitoring data. The data was collected by a mobile laboratory that roamed the area for two months after the fire erupted — one of many air quality devices deployed to monitor pollution at the time.

Almost 1,000 people swarmed to temporary mobile health clinics in Deer Park that operated for three days after the fire started, and Texas Poison Center Network records show its hotline received almost 200 calls reporting chemical exposure from the ITC fire over a more than two-week period. The most frequent symptoms were headache, throat irritation, nausea, coughing, dizziness and vomiting.

The fire had been out for days when Ochoa, a 39-year-old pipe fitter at an industrial construction company, sat awake late into the night worrying about his son, who complained that his head hurt. Ochoa grabbed a few pillows and tucked himself in a corner, hugging his son tight. He felt helpless. “I was watching him and knowing, he doesn’t even realize he’s suffocating,” he said.

He took his son to the hospital the next morning.

VIDEO: On March 17, 2019, a group of massive chemical tanks caught fire at Intercontinental Terminals Company in Harris County, releasing large amounts of benzene, a known human carcinogen, into the air. The Texas Tribune’s investigation shows that benzene levels rose to potentially dangerous levels for weeks after the fire was extinguished

Credit:
Credit: Anita Shiva and Todd Wiseman / The Texas Tribune

A few days into the crisis, officials from the EPA, the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality and Deer Park had to make a crucial decision: How much benzene in the air is too much for people to breathe? They decided they would issue public warnings only when benzene levels reached 1,000 parts per billion in the air over one minute — a level that scientists who study benzene now say was too high.

The federal, state and local officials who formed a “Unified Command” near the ITC facility after the fire erupted had to choose a threshold on the spot because there’s no accepted national standard for how much benzene in the air should be considered dangerous. They adapted it from the federal workplace standard, which allows worker exposure up to 1,000 parts per billion over an 8-hour work day.

Anita Desikan, one of the authors of a December 2022 study of the ITC fire and a senior analyst for the Center for Science and Democracy at the Union of Concerned Scientists, said the action level used during the ITC incident was “out of line with basically every other measure I’ve seen [for] benzene.”

“It’s concerning that would be the case for an emergency situation,” she said, adding that “you will see people hurt and harmed if it’s your only number for taking action.”

At a March 26 press conference — nine days after the fire started — an EPA official said the agency would “get it out to the community to take action” if it detected benzene levels above that level. “So you can trust that if it’s 1,000 parts per billion … we will let you know.”

But those warnings didn’t always come. Or, they came too late for residents to take action.

The EPA data that the Tribune used for its analysis, which was originally obtained by the nonprofit Environmental Defense Fund, shows that benzene spiked above 1,000 parts per billion on at least seven different days after the second and last shelter-in-place advisory expired — although it’s unclear from the data whether those spikes lasted for an average of 1 minute.

On six of those days, the spikes occurred in industrial areas near the ITC facility, but on March 31 — a full two weeks after the fire began — benzene spikes above 1,000 parts per billion were recorded in a residential area of Deer Park. Data from TCEQ’s stationary and handheld monitors also indicated elevated benzene concentrations near the same times and locations as the EPA’s mobile lab.

The benzene drifting through Deer Park “was a health threat to the community that went basically unshared,” said Elena Craft, a senior scientist at the Environmental Defense Fund.

“I don’t think anyone really understood the magnitude,” Craft said. “Or, they still don’t.”

When a reporter asked Deer Park Mayor Jerry Mouton about the strong smells that continued to waft through the city almost a week after the fire was extinguished, the mayor said those smells were “normal.”

“There are random times when we have smells,” said Mouton, who declined repeated requests for an interview. “We are monitoring the air continuously, and there’s nothing that’s even come close to registering any kind of action item.”

ITC said in a statement to the Tribune that there were “no longer-term public health impacts to the community” from the incident, pointing to an analysis by the Texas Department of State Health Services. The report found that health effects from benzene “were not expected to have occurred” due to the “short” amount of time high levels were detected.

Mario Ochoa and his son Castiel Winchester sit on a rock in Houston’s Hermann Park on Feb. 25. Ochoa said he took his son to a park near his southeast Houston home days after the ITC fire in 2019. “At the time, I didn’t even think about what the contamination would be if he was rolling around playing in the grass,” Ochoa said.

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

The analysis did not take into account the fact that hundreds of people actually sought medical care during the incident.

Jennah Durant, a spokesperson for the EPA, said both the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the federal Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry — a division of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services — reviewed the action level “and had no objections.”

The city of Deer Park and ITC contracted with a company called CTEH to conduct hand-held air monitoring. In a written statement, Pablo Sanchez-Soria, a senior toxicologist at CTEH, said that using short time frames to measure benzene levels — in this case one minute in the community — help officials “take early action” to reduce human exposure.

“Based on our experience, the [1,000 parts per billion] action level for 1 minute for benzene across community areas was highly conservative,” Sanchez-Soria said. “Sufficiently protective values must be balanced against the inherent risk associated with actions such as evacuation.”

But Seth Shonkoff, an associate researcher of environmental health sciences at the University of California-Berkeley, said it’s “inappropriate to use occupational standards in a community setting” because they are designed for workers who are typically healthy adults trained to prevent chemical exposure with equipment such as respirators. Those workplace standards, he added, were a compromise between now-outdated benzene science and the economic impact on businesses.

Texas has guidelines that define what level of exposure to various chemicals could affect people’s health; for benzene, it’s 180 parts per billion in an hour. The state health agency used that number when it analyzed the potential for health problems from the ITC fire, but TCEQ spokesperson Victoria Cann said the number “does not constitute a bright line” for health impacts and is “precautionary in nature.” Emissions above that level don’t trigger any regulatory action by the agency.

A group of mostly Houston-area scientists using the most recent science on benzene exposure said that officials should have used a much more conservative threshold — 27 parts per billion in two consecutive hourly readings — and issued seven more shelter-in-place orders and 17 air quality alerts after the fire broke out. Their study, commissioned by the Houston Health Department, is awaiting peer review.

Adrian Garcia, a Harris County commissioner who represents Deer Park, said the county was “scrambling” to get current air quality data from the company or from federal and state agencies to inform their decisions.

“One of the things that I think the government tries hard to do is to be fair to everyone without being too quick to overly react,” Garcia said. “We were really trying to get to a place where we were being fair to the industry, but also transparent to the public about … whether there was still harm.”

“I’m not sure whether we really got there,” he said.

Four years later, Deer Park residents who fell ill — some of them children, elderly or otherwise at higher risk — said they sensed at the time that they were more exposed to chemicals than they were told. Many, like Ochoa, say they are still scarred by the experience.

“That kind of turmoil is haunting,” said Ochoa, who is now 43. “My soul remembers.”

Fire rages as residents fall ill — March 17-19, 2019

Deer Park resident Eddie Guevara, 19, was working a Sunday shift at a chemical plant in La Porte, a town just east of Deer Park, the day the ITC fire broke out. He was checking the windsocks mounted around the plant and jotting down the direction of the wind to help the plant workers plan the best evacuation route — just in case.

That’s when he first saw the smoke coming from the ITC tank farm.

“Anytime you see any kind of black smoke out there, it’s not good,” he said.

Eddie Guevara said his eyes burned and he experienced a rapid heartbeat and chest pains after returning from work the evening after the ITC fire broke out in 2019.

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

He glanced again at the fluttering orange windsocks. The wind was blowing the smoke toward his own home.

Guevara, who has worked in industrial plants since he was a teenager, called his dad and his brother, Anthony, to warn his family of the smoke approaching their orange brick, two-story house located just four miles from ITC.

Soon, the smoke blanketed their home. Then, their city.

Deer Park is one of a string of suburbs hugging the Houston Ship Channel, which is lined by chemical plants, refineries, smokestacks and flare towers that burn like enormous candles over a massive industrial skyline. Shell Oil Company built the first refinery in the area in 1928, and since then, generations of Deer Park residents have crossed state Highway 225 to work in the petrochemical industry.

Locals say they love their community — where block after block of single-family homes are surrounded by lush yards — because it’s quiet, safe and has great schools. And the refineries and chemical plants are a boon to their economy: The city of more than 34,000 people has a median household income of about $81,500 — higher than nearby Houston, where the median household earns $55,500.

But the risk of explosions and chemical fires always hangs over them. A 1997 explosion at Shell Oil Co. injured several workers and sent residents scurrying to shelter in their homes. A massive 2005 explosion at a BP refinery in Texas City, about 35 miles to the south next to Galveston Bay, killed 15 workers and injured nearly 200 others.

In Deer Park, the sirens that warn the public of industrial accidents are tested every week, and schoolchildren are drilled on how to shelter in place twice a year, with the assistance of “Wally Wise Guy,” a cartoon turtle who “knows it’s wise to go inside his shell” when there’s danger.

Fewer than 10 miles from where Guevara stood, firefighters rushed to the ITC facility and put their lives on the line in a war against the fire — fueled by 12.3 million gallons of highly flammable chemicals — that would burn for 64 hours straight. According to a preliminary report from the U.S. Chemical Safety and Hazard Investigation Board, the fire began in tank 80-8 and then spread to other nearby tanks. Since at least 2002, EPA and TCEQ inspectors had reported high emissions of benzene and other chemicals from that same area.

Bob Royall, then-assistant chief for the Harris County Fire Marshal’s Office, said it was one of the longest fires that he had battled in his almost five-decade career.

“It was a very challenging, very dangerous situation,” Royall, who is now retired, recalled. “With possible catastrophic consequences if we failed.”

Firefighters and other first responders were ordered to wear respirators if the benzene level hit 500 parts per billion over 5 minutes, according to records obtained by the Tribune.

The fire prompted Deer Park officials to advise residents to shelter in place that Sunday. But Deer Park City Manager James Stokes said air monitoring readings looked “favorable” as the fire burned off the dangerous chemicals. Meanwhile, residents, news reports and meteorologists anxiously tracked the black smoke plume that snaked over the Houston area.

Throughout the response, a plane brought in by the EPA flew above the fire and the plume, monitoring the air and providing eyes from above, while TCEQ and Harris County employees on the ground recorded benzene levels on hand-held air monitors, in addition to CTEH’s monitoring efforts for the city and company.

One Harris County official estimated that all together, more than 400 personnel took air samples throughout the response.

Despite the large monitoring effort primarily led by the feds and the state, the results were “limited,” often delayed, and not always immediately provided to local officials, according to a Harris County report. Some devices, including the EPA’s air monitoring bus, were not deployed until days after the fire broke out.

Garcia, the Harris County commissioner, said it felt like “pulling teeth” to get information about air quality. He said county officials didn’t feel they were being told everything they needed to know.

Meanwhile, an untold number of people were breathing benzene fumes without protection. In Deer Park, Guevara said his eyes burned and his heart fluttered that first evening after he went home — he said he wasn’t aware of the shelter-in-place advisory. When he stepped out to the backyard, a sanctuary where his family usually grills and gathers around a table to gossip, he said he experienced chest pains.

Elvia Guevara holds her grandson Xavier during his Spider-Man-themed first birthday party on Feb. 11 in Pasadena. Guevara said the 2019 ITC disaster “was not just a little fire. You heard of people having symptoms. … What do we do as parents to make sure that our children are OK?”

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

First: Eddie Guevara laughs with friends during his son Xavier’s birthday party on Feb. 11 in Pasadena. Days after the ITC fire began, Guevara and his brother Anthony sat in the backyard singing and playing huapangos, an upbeat Mexican style of music. Guevara remembers playing his accordion as a black cloud from the chemical fire could be seen from their home. Second: Eddie Guevara holds Xavier during his birthday party. The Guevara family has lived in Deer Park for 15 years.

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

“I’d be out here looking at the fire and start to feel my heart going crazy,” he said.

By the next morning, the fire had spread to five additional tanks at the ITC facility, according to TCEQ and city of Deer Park records. Seven were now burning; the tanks contained naphtha, xylene, gas blendstock and pygas, a blend of chemicals that’s rich in benzene.

Deer Park city officials lifted the shelter-in-place advisory at 5:30 a.m., stating no air quality readings had exceeded “action levels.” They reopened state Highway 225, which borders the cluster of petrochemical plants and is residents’ main route to drive into Houston for work.

Despite the all-clear from city officials, Deer Park School District remained closed that Monday.

“There have been multiple reports of community members experiencing a range of symptoms from discomfort to difficulty breathing,” an email message from the school district to parents said that morning.

Ochoa, the single father, left home at the usual time Monday morning and worked a 12-hour shift outdoors in the Houston Ship Channel installing pipes. He smelled smoke and began to experience pounding headaches.

That day, his managers called him and his work team of about 10 people into the lunch room. They said the fire was nothing to worry about because the wind was blowing the danger away, but employees could go home if they were personally concerned.

Ochoa said he and his fellow workers were indeed concerned. They could smell the chemicals in the air.

But they kept working. He said they needed the money.

“I’m a single father, I had to work,” Ochoa said. “Even if I didn’t want to, I had to.”

As he installed pipes, he said his lungs ached when he took deep breaths. After two days of vomiting and “a piercing headache, behind your eyes,” he said, he drove himself to a nearby hospital Tuesday morning.

The staff checked him out and took his temperature, then told him to take ibuprofen or Tylenol for the headaches and over-the-counter nausea medication. Ochoa said he asked whether his symptoms were related to the chemical fire. The doctors said they didn’t know.

He went back to work.

With fire out, officials declare victory — March 20, 2019 

By Wednesday afternoon, four days after the ITC plant ignited, federal, state and local officials hosted a press conference to announce the fire was finally out.

Mouton thanked first responders for their service.

“I’m very proud to stand here as mayor and recognize all of the officials and volunteers who waited in line to take their turn to fight for our community,” Mouton said. “Today, we are Deer Park strong.”

In a press release that day, the city assured the public that the air quality in Deer Park was not a concern. The TCEQ, meanwhile, advised “sensitive populations” — including elderly residents, pregnant people and children — to limit outdoor physical activity and told everyone to avoid any black smoke still drifting through the area.

As officials declared victory, Mario Ochoa’s mother could hardly breathe.

Mary Ann Conteras, a 58-year-old assistant director at Rosewood Funeral Home, noticed the black dust accumulating on her van’s windshield as she drove flowers to a Pasadena cemetery seven miles from the ITC facility. She then watched as the smoke plume settled above the mourning family during the funeral service. She could taste the smoke; she had the distinct sense that the smell would stick to her all-black attire and linger in her firmly pressed curly hair.

Leaving the cemetery, Contreras said she began to get headaches and feel nauseous as she drove to visit a friend in the Heights, a quiet Houston neighborhood known for its Victorian-style homes.

“I thought to myself, ‘This is not a migraine — this is totally different,’ ” she said. “I was gasping for air.”

She stopped along a highway median, opened her car door and threw up. Cars zoomed past her. She drove herself to an emergency room, not knowing yet that her son had gone to the hospital a day earlier for the same symptoms.

Contreras, now 62, said the doctor who saw her said her symptoms were caused by “high exposure to chemicals.” He advised her to drink lots of water and stay indoors.

First: The Houston Ship Channel winds past the ITC facility in Harris County. Second: Mary Ann Contreras, an assistant funeral director at Rosewood Funeral Home, at a Pasadena cemetery on Feb. 9. Contreras became so ill after attending an outdoor funeral service the week of the ITC fire that she sought care at an emergency room. “I am traumatized now every time I see smoke,” she said.

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

An analysis of air quality data from a TCEQ’s stationary Deer Park monitor southwest of City Hall shows that benzene emissions had risen early that morning to 61 parts per billion in an hour. That was below the 1,000 parts per billion threshold set by Unified Command, but it was 12 times above the highest concentration of benzene typically found in the area. In Deer Park, benzene concentrations usually top out around 5 parts per billion in March, according to an analysis of TCEQ data by Ebrahim Eslami, an air quality research scientist at Houston Advanced Research Center.

ITC said in a statement that morning that air monitoring readings were “well below hazardous levels.” Deer Park said in a statement later that day that the city was obtaining “normal levels” of air pollutants. Harris County Judge Lina Hidalgo assured the public during a press conference that afternoon that the county was using “very conservative estimates to determine the threshold of dangerous levels of air quality.”

Yet throughout the area that day, residents from Deer Park and surrounding cities swarmed the pop-up county health clinics complaining of eye, ear, nose and throat irritation, severe headaches and trouble breathing. County health providers screened more than 900 people and referred the worst cases to local hospitals.

“We didn’t realize the amount of people that were going to actually show up,” said Michael McClendon, the director of the Office of Public Health Preparedness and Response at Harris County Public Health.

At one area hospital, a pair of medics who were helping respond to the fire were evaluated for benzene exposure that day, records show.

A second shelter-in-place when benzene “rears its ugly head” — March 21-22, 2019

At the ITC tank farm, the fire was out, but a new danger emerged. The remaining chemicals in the collapsing tanks were venting into the open air.

First responders transitioned from firefighting to frantically spraying the ruptured tanks with enormous amounts of industrial firefighting foam, hoping to create a blanket to tamp down emissions. But the foam ripped apart with each big gust of wind and quickly dissolved on the hot chemicals like whipped cream melting on hot coffee.

And benzene escaped.

“After the fire fight was over, that’s when the benzene issues began to rear their ugly head,” said Royall, the former assistant chief of Harris County Fire Marshal’s Office.

Rodney Reed, an assistant chief at the Harris County Fire Marshal’s Office who worked in the county’s emergency operations center at the time, said when officials spotted spikes in benzene emissions, they called Unified Command, “and they’d [say] they had a break of the foam blanket.”

When more foam was applied, he added, the benzene levels would drop. The operation turned to tamping down benzene emissions and emptying the chemicals from the ruptured tanks.

By 4 a.m. Thursday, TCEQ inspectors found benzene emissions exceeding 1,200 parts per billion had wafted across Highway 225 and into Deer Park.

In a statement to the Tribune, the EPA said that when benzene readings topped the 1,000 parts per billion threshold in neighborhoods for at least a minute, Unified Command directed air quality inspectors to the area to take more measurements and confirm whether the concentrations were expected to linger in the area. Then, Unified Command notified local authorities.

The emissions prompted the city of Deer Park to issue a second shelter-in-place advisory. Schools canceled classes again, this time for one day.

The EPA warned in a press release that exposure could cause headaches and nausea, and then Harris County Public Health Executive Director Dr. Umair Shah encouraged residents to call the “Ask a Nurse” hotline if they experienced symptoms.

ITC spokesperson Alice Richardson choked up during a press conference after the second shelter-in-place advisory, outlining how the company and first responders were attempting to reduce the emissions.

“ITC cares,” she said, as her eyes filled with tears. “We care a lot. This is personal.”

Before noon Thursday — after a little under eight hours — the city of Deer Park lifted the shelter-in-place advisory. Robert Hemminger, Deer Park’s emergency services director at the time, told the public that benzene emissions had “significantly reduced” since that morning.

TCEQ’s stationary air monitor indicates that benzene concentrations in Deer Park had reduced to more typical levels by the late afternoon.

A Deer Park neighborhood next to Highway 225, which borders the refineries, petrochemical plants and industrial storage tanks that line the Houston Ship Channel. In 2019, air quality inspectors found that high levels of benzene emissions had wafted across the highway and into residential areas of Deer Park in the weeks after the ITC chemical fire was extinguished.

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

That day — four days after the ITC fire began — the EPA finally deployed its air monitoring bus, the rolling lab that could sample the air while it drove. The bus recorded several spikes of benzene above 1,000 parts per billion on Friday afternoon outside of the San Jacinto Battleground State Historic Site, a popular tourist destination just down the road from ITC (it was closed to the public during the fire).

While benzene levels continued to spike near the ITC facility, neighboring chemical plants were warned to shelter in place Friday afternoon — the nearby community was not.

Durant, the EPA spokesperson, characterized such spikes as “instantaneous” measurements in industrial areas that would not have prompted notification to local officials.

Meanwhile, a portion of a dike wall surrounding the tank farm collapsed, sending petrochemicals, firefighting foam and contaminated water gushing into Tucker Bayou. Fire flared up again briefly in one of the tanks, which were melting from the heat. Then another tank collapsed.

“That almost killed some firefighters,” Royall said. “It just imploded on itself and went down in a matter of seconds.”

Benzene pollution lingers as life returns to normal — March 25-29, 2019

As fire crews fought the last remnants of the fire, life in Deer Park returned to normal. By Monday — eight days after the disaster began — students returned to school, to gym class and sports activities. Kids played kickball outside on the high school football field.

“I can stand here today and tell you with assurance, that safety to the public is priority No. 1,” Mayor Mouton said that day at another press conference. “We feel safe at this time.”

In the same press conference, Adam Adams, the federal on-scene commander for the EPA, said that air monitoring results, “have been consistent — no detections [of benzene].”

In a statement, EPA spokesperson Joe Robledo clarified that benzene readings below the 1,000 parts per billion action level did not prompt notifications to the public.

But the EPA’s air monitoring bus continued detecting elevated levels of benzene as it drove through the industrial areas lining the Houston Ship Channel early that week, the Tribune’s analysis shows. That Monday afternoon, the same day as the press conference, the bus recorded three benzene spikes well above 1,000 parts per billion across the street from the ITC facility between 4 and 4:30 p.m.

On Tuesday, EPA and TCEQ officials held another press conference and said that they had “no notifications of air monitoring results” above 1,000 parts per billion. If any readings crossed that threshold, Adams said the agencies would notify local officials and the public.

Hemminger, the former Deer Park official, said in an interview that the city only warned residents if emissions exceeded the “action level” within the city’s boundaries and were expected to linger, based on weather forecasts and subsequent readings. The high readings along the highway likely wouldn’t have prompted a response, he said, because the benzene levels quickly dropped again.

“We didn’t want to alarm the public needlessly,” Hemminger said. He added that the city verified high benzene readings with multiple sources before deciding whether to tell residents to go inside.

In the Wynfield Estates neighborhood, where many of the homes are two-story red brick and shaded by big oak trees, Anthony Guevara, Eddie’s 14-year-old brother, didn’t go to school that Monday because his eyes were burning and his throat stung.

“You don’t know what you are inhaling or putting in your body,” Anthony Guevara said. “It was scary.”

The benzene continued wafting from the broken tanks: On Friday, March 29, the EPA’s air monitoring bus again recorded benzene spikes above 1,000 parts per billion, this time across the ship channel in an industrial area near Channelview — about three miles northwest of the ITC facility. No shelter-in-place advisory was issued for Channelview residents.

Luoping Zhang, a researcher and adjunct professor of toxicology at the University of California, Berkeley, said after reviewing some of the EPA’s data that she was shocked the samples were collected outdoors in the middle of the day because benzene typically breaks down quickly in the sunlight and open air. The EPA bus typically only took measurements from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.

“Oh my god,” Zhang said after seeing the benzene readings the EPA gathered near Channelview on March 29. “That spike, to me, is really pretty high.”

Benzene drifts into Deer Park, but residents aren’t warned — March 31, 2019 

On March 31, two weeks after the ITC fire erupted into flames, the EPA mobile lab was still driving around Deer Park, testing the air. Motoring down East 13th Street, the van passed brick houses, a United Methodist Church and an elementary school with a playground nestled in the shade of tall, skinny pine trees.

That Sunday morning, it drove through an invisible cloud of benzene — logging a reading above 1,000 parts per billion near San Jacinto Elementary School.

It wasn’t the first sign of trouble: Around 11:30 p.m. the night before, a neighboring industrial facility near ITC reported “high benzene detections” and said one of its workers was vomiting and being sent to a hospital, Unified Command records show. A few hours later, around 1:30 a.m. Sunday, two people working on cleanup operations at the ITC plant became ill and went home.

Climbing benzene concentrations near the facility led the EPA and TCEQ to send inspectors into Deer Park, where they found benzene was drifting through neighborhoods near where Eddie Guevara and his family of five live. TCEQ inspectors recorded three benzene spikes on handheld air monitoring devices above 1,000 parts per billion on East Boulevard the morning of March 31. One of the readings occurred two blocks south of the elementary school, in a neighborhood near the intersection of East San Augustine Street and East Boulevard.

Later that morning, EPA inspectors with handheld devices also recorded elevated benzene concentrations in the same area — including one reading above 1,000 parts per billion.

Benzene drifted for miles through the community. One of TCEQ’s stationary air monitors near Spencerview Athletic Complex, about four miles south of San Jacinto Elementary School, was recording an average hourly concentration of about 40 parts per billion at 9 a.m. — about eight times higher than the highest concentrations usually recorded at that location.

The public was not warned the entire day.

Shonkoff, the environmental health sciences researcher at UC Berkeley, called the levels of benzene recorded by the EPA’s air monitoring that day “crazy” and “very high.”

“They are striking concentrations of benzene,” Shonkoff said. “Absolutely striking.”

The Tribune’s analysis shows that benzene levels continued to spike close to, but not surpassing, 1,000 parts per billion for the rest of that Sunday morning in residential areas of Deer Park.

The air monitoring “seems like a waste” if the public wasn’t immediately told about the danger, said Craft, one of the authors of the study that concluded that more shelter-in-place advisories and air quality warnings should have been issued during the ITC disaster.

“It seemed like [the EPA] was going out and doing this monitoring between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m., and it wasn’t clear what their intention or purpose was,” Craft said. “It was a missed opportunity because [the data from the EPA’s mobile lab] could’ve been used to inform some of the public health decisions, but it doesn’t seem like it was.”

A playground at San Jacinto Elementary School, located in Deer Park a few miles from the highly industrialized Houston Ship Channel. On March 31, 2019, air quality inspectors from the Environmental Protection Agency recorded extremely high levels of benzene in the air as they drove past the elementary school. Residents were not warned about the pollution present in the community that day.

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

Several school administrators who worked for the district in 2019 did not recall being informed about high levels of benzene near the elementary school on March 31, Matt Lucas, director of communications for Deer Park ISD, said in an email.

More than 800 students returned for classes at the elementary school the next morning.

Residents didn’t learn of the high benzene levels until a 10 a.m. press conference on Monday, when Adams, the federal on-scene coordinator for the EPA, said there was a benzene spike that weekend above the action level “in the community” — he didn’t say where — and added that the agency notified local officials.

But Adams said the EPA concluded that the high levels did not last long enough in the area to prompt action.

“If we get something sustained above [1,000 parts per billion], we notify the local governments to evacuate or shelter-in-place, whichever is more appropriate for the community,” Adams said.

Brent Weber, who was ITC’s “incident commander” during the fire and is now the company’s president and CEO, said during the same press conference that the company had encountered issues pumping the chemicals out of the damaged tanks over the weekend that caused an increase in benzene emissions.

Deer Park officials appeared to rely more on air monitoring readings from its hired contractor than the EPA’s. The city also released a statement that day to its residents: “We did not receive any readings above actionable levels over the weekend,” it said, citing data from CTEH, the company the city and ITC had contracted to conduct air monitoring.

CTEH is known as an industry-friendly environmental consulting firm and is frequently hired by companies during chemical emergencies.

An air quality report provided by CTEH shows that it did not not detect any concentrations of benzene above 1,000 parts per billion in Deer Park, Pasadena, Galena Park or Channelview on March 31, however, the report does not indicate at what time the readings were taken.

Stokes, the Deer Park city manager, declined to answer questions about the high levels of benzene recorded on March 31 by the EPA and TCEQ.

Eddie Guevara, who’s now 22, said officials should have been more honest with the public.

“You want to be able to trust officials and ITC representatives telling people you will be OK,” Guevara said. But, “of course they are going to downplay it.”

Uncertainty looms over benzene exposure

Guevara worries that his family won’t know the full impact of their benzene exposure for years.

“To me, it’s no joke,” he said, adding that he worries about whether the fumes he breathed could increase his risk of cancer.

While scientists have found that years of repeated exposure to benzene causes cancer, the long-term impact of being exposed to brief but high levels of benzene is less certain.

It’s notoriously challenging to determine whether cancer was caused by exposure to a specific chemical or pollutant. Some experts who study benzene said the spikes that wafted through Deer Park and the surrounding areas over that two and a half week period could increase residents’ risk of cancer, but others said it was unlikely.

“I would definitely say that [people nearby] have an increased risk,” said Zhang. But she added that it would be difficult to determine for sure.

Stephen Rappaport, a leading environmental health sciences researcher who studies chemical exposures and professor emeritus at UC Berkeley’s School of Public Health, said there is “no safe level for a carcinogen,” but added, “the evidence shows it tends to be people who have a fairly high exposure for fairly long periods of time [who develop cancer].” Studies have typically focused on workers who are exposed to the chemical over years.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reviewed air monitoring data from the incident and found that the concentrations of benzene exceeded what the agency considers safe — but did not believe they were high enough to cause widespread cases of cancer.

“These concentrations are higher than we would normally consider protective,” Richard Nickle, an environmental health scientist at the CDC’s Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry, said in an April 2019 email to Harris County officials.

Xavier Guevara, 1, tries to walk from his mom Citlali Cabrera to his dad, Eddie Guevara, in his grandparents’ front yard on Feb. 21 in Deer Park. Eddie said protecting his son’s future is his priority. Before leaving work, he strips off his uniform and gear, wraps his shoes in a towel and takes a shower to avoid smelling like chemicals when he gets home. “The last thing I want to do is bring it to [Citlali] and my son,” he said.

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

The CDC did not recommend further health monitoring in the community. Texas’ health agency similarly concluded that although benzene is a carcinogen, exposure during the incident “is not expected to increase people’s risk of cancer.”

“Benzene is associated with cancer usually after long durations (decades) of exposure,” DSHS spokesperson Lara Anton said in a statement. “The duration of exposure related [to the ITC fire] was much shorter. … Therefore, no evaluation of cancer risk posed by exposure to benzene from this event was carried out.”

Four years later

Four years after Ochoa, his 62-year-old mother, his son and countless others were sickened by the ITC fire, federal regulators are still investigating. A final report is expected this year.

Ochoa and Contreras are two of more than 300 Houston-area residents who are suing ITC, claiming they suffered severe health impacts, including headaches, coughing up blood, respiratory infections and emotional stress during the 2019 fire — which Ochoa is fighting to forget.

“I try not to think about it, because when I do think about it, my heart feels it,” Ochoa said. There are still moments — often late into the night, when he remembers that week of the fire — when those same feelings of panic come flooding back through his mind.

“I can still feel that sorrow,” he said.

The lawsuit also asks that the company pay for residents’ future doctor visits and tests for cancer.

Some local officials now say more should’ve been done to communicate with the public when air quality worsened — and they’re working on changing their protocols.

Loren Hopkins, Chief Environmental Science Officer of Houston’s health department, said she realized that when officials issue shelter-in-place advisories and nothing else, the message to the public is confusing: “It’s all fine, up until all of the sudden it’s terrible,” she said.

“People need to be able to make their own decisions,” Hopkins said. “The data needs to be available to the public with some kind of interpretation.”

Harris County Pollution Control Executive Director Latrice Babin said in an interview that telling citizens to shelter in place is “a really hard call to make,” noting that even when high levels of chemicals are recorded, interpreting air quality testing also depends on weather conditions and location. For example, sunshine can cause chemical reactions that transform the pollution into smog, strong winds can quickly dissipate the pollutants and samples taken near highways could also detect pollution from vehicles.

In 2020, the city created its own benzene guidelines that are far lower than what was used during the ITC incident: The guidelines say officials should consider a shelter-in-place advisory if benzene levels exceed 72 parts per billion over one hour and evacuations if the level hits 200 parts per billion for an hour.

Harris County produced an analysis of what went wrong during the response. For example, the report said Harris County Pollution Control, which has a special team to respond to fires involving hazardous materials and other chemical incidents, had meager staffing and “antiquated” or out-of-service equipment during the 2019 fire. Harris County commissioners invested more than $11 million to implement the report’s recommendations. The county has created a community air response monitoring program, expanded staffing and purchased more disaster response equipment, said Dimetra Hamilton, a Harris County Pollution Control spokesperson.

Harris County is also using a $1 million grant from the American Chemistry Council to create a new guide for emergency response to chemical disasters. But a draft shared with the Tribune shows that while it identifies 22 chemicals, including benzene, that could threaten residents’ health, it does not set a specific threshold for issuing a shelter-in-place advisory.

The city of Deer Park didn’t respond to questions about whether it has changed its policies for responding to community benzene exposure.

The disaster also exposed confusion over who should be responsible for telling residents to shelter in place during a chemical release.

Mario Ochoa and his son Castiel Winchester sit in the car after a day of walking through Hermann Park in Houston on Feb. 25. Four years after the 2019 chemical fire, Ochoa’s now 8-year-old son struggles with sinus infections and is more wary than he once was of playing outdoors.

Credit:
Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune/Public Health Watch

Rodney Reed, an assistant chief at Harris County Fire Marshal’s Office, said that each city, as well as multiple county agencies, have the authority to issue shelter-in-place advisories. But when an incident occurs at a facility like ITC that’s located in an unincorporated area of the county, deciding who has jurisdiction can be complicated. In the end, officials decided that Deer Park and ITC would lead response efforts.

The TCEQ, for its part, has beefed up its ability to test for airborne chemicals, adding new air monitors in the ship channel area since 2019 and purchasing three new air monitoring vehicles.

Still, the state renewed the chemical permit for ITC’s Deer Park facility less than a year after the fire. ITC’s operational permit is up for renewal this year and some residents have raised safety concerns about the facility ahead of the permit renewal; a public hearing will be held in May.

In 2021, TCEQ approved a rule that allows the agency to consider major explosions or fires when it decides whether to issue permits to a company — a change that agency staff pushed because of the ITC fire.

The TCEQ referred the ITC case to Attorney General Ken Paxton, whose office typically handles major industrial accidents. Paxton’s office sued the company in 2019, but the case hasn’t moved forward since 2021, according to Travis County District Court records. The attorney general’s office did not respond to requests for an interview.

ITC said in a written statement that it continues to implement “enhancements to safety, environmental integrity and emergency response capabilities” at its Deer Park location. The company said it has installed additional gas detectors and emergency shutdown valves in multiple areas of its facility.

Some residents still blame the incident for lingering health problems. Castiel, Ochoa’s now 8-year-old son, struggles with sinus infections. The chatty little boy — who told a doctor that his breathing problems felt like “bugs getting in my nose, like little tiny worms” clogging his nostrils and lungs — is now wary of playing outside at playgrounds, his father says. Instead, they spend more time indoors playing video games.

Ochoa quit his job as a pipe-fitter and found a job that doesn’t expose him to chemicals.

“People were telling me these horror stories from other refineries that were happening, people getting sick,” Ochoa said. “It’s horrifying, scary. And because I’m a single dad with a kid, I gotta find a different way.”

Now, Contreras is alert to strange odors in the air and watches for anything unusual at the nearby chemical plants — especially smoke. She has a grandson with respiratory issues and feels like it’s her duty.

“Do you have anything that you can cover up with?” she asks family and coworkers whenever she spots what might be dangerous.

“You know, to protect yourself?”

About the data

The Texas Tribune used air quality data collected by the Environmental Protection Agency’s Trace Atmospheric Gas Analyzer (TAGA) Unit that sampled air quality in both industrial and community areas surrounding Intercontinental Terminals Company’s Deer Park facility between March 21 and May 20, 2019. The data was originally obtained by the Environmental Defense Fund through a public information request, and shared with the Tribune. The data provided by the agency included both “field” data and post-processed data, and included measurements of benzene, toluene, and xylenes — all volatile organic compounds that could be harmful to human health, according to the EPA. The Tribune used the post-processed data to analyze benzene measurements, and excluded days for which only field benzene data was available — that included March 24, April 9, April 16, May 3-6, May 11-12, and May 15, 2019. The Tribune compared the measurements from the TAGA unit with those in the EPA’s Final Analytical TAGA Report, obtained through a public information request. As a result, the Tribune also excluded March 21, 2019 because its location data did not match the EPA’s.

The Tribune also compared the TAGA data to the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality’s hourly stationary air monitoring data to inform our analysis. An air quality expert at the Houston Advanced Research Center, who was contacted by the Tribune, used the TAGA data to calculate average hourly benzene measurements using a standard methodology. The Tribune compared these hourly average values to those measured by the nearest TCEQ stationary air monitor that measures benzene to see whether the TAGA data correlated with the TCEQ’s data. The Tribune and HARC used data from TCEQ’s Houston Deer Park #2 stationary monitor to calculate the average maximum level of benzene in the air in Deer Park in March between 2014 and 2018. The Tribune compared the average maximum level of benzene in March to the benzene levels recorded by the same TCEQ stationary monitor during and shortly after the fire.

Public Health Watch reporters Savanna Strott and David Leffler contributed reporting. Jade Khatib contributed data analysis.

Disclosure: Environmental Defense Fund and Houston Advanced Research Center have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune’s journalism. Find a complete list of them here.

We can’t wait to welcome you Sept. 21-23 to the 2023 Texas Tribune Festival, our multiday celebration of big, bold ideas about politics, public policy and the day’s news — all taking place just steps away from the Texas Capitol. When tickets go on sale in May, Tribune members will save big. Donate to join or renew today.

Glass or plastic: which is better for the environment?

For centuries we have used glass to store food, beverages, chemicals and cosmetics. But is it time to find a more sustainable alternative?Dating back to between 325 and 350 AD, the Speyer wine bottle is thought to be the world’s oldest bottle of wine. Now held in the Wine Museum in the German city of Speyer, where it was rediscovered in 1867, an analysis of its contents revealed that it holds an ethanol-based liquid. But the glass bottle remains unopened and the vintage unknown. Any prospective wine tasters should be wary – preserved historic beverages can be pungent, to say the least.
The widespread use of glass as a storage vessel throughout history highlights the material’s resilience and functionality. Glass is a useful material for everything from preserving food to carrying the signals that power the internet. So essential is glass to human development that the United Nations named 2022 the International Year of Glass to celebrate its contribution to cultural and scientific development.
Glass has sometimes been referred to as a material which can infinitely be recycled without it impacting its quality, purity or durability. Recycled glass can be crushed into glass cullets, which can be melted down and used to produce more glass. Glass used for packaging has a high recycling rate compared to other packaging materials. In Europe, the average glass recycling rate is 76%, compared to 41% for plastic packaging and 31% for wooden packaging.
When glass is left in the natural environment, it is less likely to cause pollution than plastic. Unlike plastics, which break down into microplastics that can leach into our soils and water, glass is non-toxic. “Glass is mainly made of silica, which is a natural substance,” says Franziska Trautmann, the co-founder of Glass Half Full, a New Orleans-based company that recycles glass into sand that can be used for coastal restoration and disaster relief. Silica, also known as silica dioxide, makes up 59% of the Earth’s crust. Since it is a natural compound, there is no concern about leaching or environmental degradation.Glass production requires huge amounts of sand – a rapidly shrinking natural resource (Credit: Edwin Remsburg / Getty Images)Because of this, glass is often touted as a more sustainable alternative to plastic.
However, glass bottles have a higher environmental footprint than plastic and other bottled container materials including drinks cartons and aluminum cans. The mining of silica sand can cause significant environmental damage, ranging from land deterioration to the loss of biodiversity. Violations of basic workers’ rights have also been found in Shankargarh, India, which is the biggest supplier of silica sand to the country’s glass industry. Some studies have also shown that extended exposure to silica dust can pose a public health risk, as it can lead to acute silicosis, an irreversible, long-term lung disease caused by the inhalation of silica dust over an extended period of time. Silicosis may first appear as a persistent cough or shortness of breath, and may result in respiratory failure.
Extracting sand for glass production may also have contributed to the current global sand shortage. Sand is the second most-used resource in the world after water – people use some 50 billion tonnes of “aggregate”, the industry term for sand and gravel, each year.
Its uses range from land regeneration to microchips. According to the UN, sand is now used faster than it can be replenished.
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Glass requires higher temperatures than plastic and aluminum to melt and form, says Alice Brock, a PhD researcher at University of Southampton in the UK. Raw materials for making virgin glass also release greenhouse gases during the melting process, adding to its environmental footprint. According to the International Energy Agency, the container and flat-glass industries emit over 60 megatonnes of CO2 per year. It may seem surprising, but Brock’s study found that plastic bottles are less environmentally damaging than glass bottles. Although plastic cannot be endlessly recycled, the manufacturing process is less energy-intensive, as there is a lower melting point for plastics compared with glass.
The raw materials for glass are melted together in a furnace at 1500C (2732F). The molten glass is then removed from the furnace, shaped and moulded. Glass production facilities often add a portion of recycled glass cullets into the raw material mix. Generally, a 10% increase in glass cullet into the container glass melting mixture can decrease energy consumption by 2-3%. This is because it requires a lower melting point to melt glass cullet compared to the virgin materials used to produce glass. In turn, this slightly reduces the CO2 emissions produced during manufacturing.
A key problem with glass recycling is that it does not eradicate the remelting process, which is the most energy intensive part of glass production. It accounts for 75% of the energy consumption during production. Even though glass containers can be reused an average of 12-20 times, glass is often treated as single-use. Single-use glass disposed of at landfills can take up to one million years to decompose. Glass recycling rates vary significantly across the globe. The EU and the UK have an average recycling rate of 74% and 76%, while the US figure was 31.3% in 2018. Glass can be recycled endlessly without loss in quality and durability (Credit: Remko de Waal / Getty Images)One reason for the US’ poorer figures is that recycled material is usually collected in a “single stream”, meaning all materials are mixed together. Single-stream recycling often complicates the sorting process, since glass must be separated from other recyclables and sorted by colour, before it can be remelted. Often, it is too time-consuming, and therefore expensive, to separate mixed coloured glass at a recycling facility. Instead of being converted to new bottles, the broken pieces of mixed glass are turned into glass fibre products that can be used for insulation. Glass cullet is the highest quality when it is separated from other recyclables from the beginning – this is known as multi-stream recycling.
The colour of glass affects how pure the stream needs to be. While green glass can use 95% of recycled glass; white or colourless glass, also known as “flint glass”, has higher quality specifications and only permits up to 60% recycled glass because any contamination affects the quality.
Recycled glass must be melted down twice, once into cullets and then again into a new product – which is why recycled glass might only be fractionally less energy-intensive than virgin glass.
There is no doubt that glass still plays an important role in many industries. Its durability and non-toxic properties make it ideal for foods and materials which require preserving. However, the assumption that glass is sustainable merely because it is infinitely recyclable is misconstrued. Considering its entire lifecycle, glass production may be equally as detrimental to the environment as plastic.
The next time you want to discard a glass bottle, perhaps consider reusing it first. Glass is a resilient, long-lasting material that is not made to be thrown away after only being used once.

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Microplastics in Lake Erie highlight growing concern over potential health effects

It’s been over a decade since researchers began looking into microplastics in the Great Lakes.Now, the issue is getting renewed attention amid broader concerns about the potential effects of microplastics on the human body and a possible future link to the hydro-fracking boom currently happening in the region.Microplastics form as plastic pieces in the environment erode into smaller and smaller pieces, eventually becoming so small that they can’t be seen with the naked eye, according to Sherri Mason, director of sustainability at Penn State University’s Barr Campus on Lake Erie, who’s spent years researching microplastics in waterways.Unlike other types of litter, the plastic bits will take far longer to disappear.Lake Erie is shown on a sunny day.ABC News”If you were to see a paper bag on the side of the road, it’s unsightly, but within weeks it has completely, what we call, mineralized. There are organisms in the soil that can use it as a food source,” Mason told ABC News’ Start Here podcast host Brad Mielke.Mason’s research has focused on Lake Erie, which has a concentration of microplastic that rivals the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, a floating landfill that’s twice the size of Texas, according to multiple studies.But the majority of plastic in Lake Erie is less than 5 millimeters in diameter, much of it approaching microscopic size “about the width of a human hair,” Mason said. She describes it as a “smog” of particles drifting around, which also makes it impossible to meaningfully clean up.Mason and her students spent a year collecting samples of trash from Lake Erie and sorted them into different categories.”Thousands of bottles is the No. 1 thing. Bottles and cups, and then a lot of chip bags. It’s mostly a lot of food packaging,” Mason said.Before plastic gets pressed into a shape like a water bottle or bag, it starts off as plastic pellets that get fed into big machines.The pellets, about the size of a grain of rice, are transported by millions on freight trains before being siphoned out onto trucks that take them to factories. Not far from the banks of Lake Erie, small piles of pellets litter the tracks where they’ve spilled out during this process, Mason said. When it rains, the pellets start making their way into nearby Mill Creek and later into lakes and oceans.And it’s just one of the ways that plastic can end up in bodies of water, according to Mason.What’s more, one study suggests that the average person may be ingesting about 5 grams of plastic per week, or the equivalent to the mass of a credit card, according to a study commissioned by the World Wildlife Fund. Microplastics have even been found in the lungs of living people, according to recent research. Mason said that microplastics are getting so small that in some cases they are able to find their way beyond the digestive tract.Penn State University researcher Sherri Mason is shown holding up plastic pellets that fell onto the train tracks in Erie, Pa.ABC News”When you get a piece that’s smaller than a hundred microns or the width of a human hair, they can migrate across the gastrointestinal tract. They get carried in the blood. We have found them in the blood, and they can make their way into certain organs. They can make their way across the placental boundary,” Mason said.The World Health Organization says that although more research is needed, so far it has found no direct evidence that microplastics make people sick. The Plastic Industry Association, which represents plastic makers, said in a statement that claims about microplastics “lack sound data,” and that plastic is overwhelmingly safe. In fact, the association said, plastics are essential to hygiene, which is why it is in so many medical products.But Mason is concerned that the use of plastics shows no signs of slowing down.The Midwest is currently in the midst of a hydro-fracking boom, and half of the fracking wells in Pennsylvania produce ethane. Ethane can be turned into polyethylene, which is the most common type of plastic.”So now there is a connection between basically hydro-fracking and the plastics industry,” Mason said.Last year, a new plant opened just north of Pittsburgh that converts this material into plastic, and two more facilities are being proposed in Ohio.According to the Center for International Environmental Law, the health of the fossil fuel industry is deeply reliant on plastics, and these investments could cause plastic production to spike.Mason believes that the ultimate responsibility to curb plastic usage lies with the companies that make and use them.”You’ve given your money to that corporation. You end up with their container, which you don’t want, but then you also have to pay to get rid of it. You have to pay to clean it out of the water,” Mason said.

FTC takes a microscope to sustainability claims

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THE BIG IDEA

Does this count as recycling? | Seth Wenig/AP Photo

GUIDING LIGHT — Companies are talking the talk on sustainability. The Federal Trade Commission is gearing up to make sure they’re walking the walk, Jordan reports.As demand for sustainable products has skyrocketed, so have concerns about greenwashing. Public comments were due yesterday on the FTC’s first update in 11 years of its “Green Guides,” which are essentially advice for how companies can make environmental marketing claims.The nearly 60,000 comments shed light on what companies, industry trade groups and environmentalists are fighting over:— Recycling claims. Current FTC guidelines say companies should qualify claims of “recyclability” when products aren’t recyclable in at least 60 percent of their market. The EPA wrote that the bar “should be much higher,” while environmental groups want to clarify that at least 60 percent of products need to actually be recycled — not just collected. That coalition also wants to set a higher bar of 75 percent for store drop-off programs.The Plastics Industry Association wants the standards to stay as-is: The FTC “should not further complicate the issue by adding hurdles,” the group wrote. It also wants take-back or drop-off programs to be equally eligible to make unqualified recycling claims.— Corporate net-zero claims. Ceres, a nonprofit focused on corporate sustainability, wants the FTC to give guidance on how companies can use carbon offsets to make claims about their climate commitments and achievements. Sierra Club and a half-dozen other groups want disclosure of specific offsets’ climate benefits.— Chemical recycling. The American Chemistry Council and the Plastics Industry Association want to make it easier to claim that chemical recycling — a set of technologies that involve melting hard-to-recycle plastic down into its components — counts toward companies’ recycled content and recyclability standards. The ACC submitted a new poll showing that nearly 90 percent of consumers believe chemical recycling qualifies as “recycling.” Green groups are pushing back.— Enforcement. Environmental groups want the FTC to initiate a formal rulemaking process to codify the Green Guides (currently, the agency can bring enforcement action via violations of the FTC Act), with an eye toward California’s “truth in labeling” law. EPA seems to be on board, too, but the Plastics Industry Association opposes rulemaking.How much does this all matter? The FTC doesn’t do a ton of enforcement of green marketing claims: It’s taken enforcement action under the Green Guides 36 times since 2013. It hasn’t taken enforcement action based on recycling claims since 2014 — although it does send warning letters, which can nudge companies into compliance.The agency tends to pick big cases that send a signal — like its $5.5 million penalty last year against Walmart and Kohl’s over claims that they marketed rayon textiles as made from eco-friendly bamboo, when in fact converting bamboo into rayon involves toxic chemicals.But officials are signaling willingness to wade into the details on new technologies such as chemical recycling.“Our job is to not say what’s good or bad for society, it is to make sure that people aren’t lying,” James Kohm, associate director of enforcement in the FTC’s Bureau of Consumer Protection, said in an interview. “We wouldn’t necessarily hesitate to get involved in a situation. What we don’t want to do is contradict the EPA, and we’ve been careful in a number of areas to not do that. There are a bunch of trade offs — that you have less trash, but you might have more air pollution, for example. If we had enough information, and we weren’t contradicting the EPA, we would probably give advice.”We could be in this for the long haul: The last time the Green Guides were updated, the process started in 2007 and didn’t end until 2012. There’s an initial public workshop on recycling scheduled next month. A message from American Beverage Association:
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At America’s beverage companies, we are committed to reducing our plastic footprint. That’s why we’re carefully designing our plastic bottles to be 100% recyclable, including the caps. Our goal is for every bottle to become a new one, so they don’t end up in nature. Learn more at EveryBottleBack.org.

Sustainable Finance

VENTURING OUT — Venture capital firms are coming together to set net-zero standards for themselves and their investments.The Venture Climate Alliance launching today has 23 member firms, including Prelude Ventures, Galvanize Climate Solutions, Union Square Ventures and World Fund. They’re committing to reaching net zero emissions within their own operations by 2030 and to align their investment strategies with reaching net zero by 2050.They’ve been working on it for more than a year and have gotten the blessing of the Glasgow Financial Alliance for Net Zero, the UN-affiliated umbrella group aiming to decarbonize the financial sector.VCs say they need their own sector-specific alliance partly because they’re focused on building up companies, which comes with unavoidable short-term emissions.“The question to ask that’s interesting is not, ‘Will your emissions go down from where they are today to tomorrow along a pathway to net zero to 2050?’” said Daniel Firger, managing director of Great Circle Capital Advisors and co-founder/lead adviser of the VCA. “We don’t exist today, and we will hopefully exist tomorrow and sell things to companies and have office space, so the question just philosophically begins from a different premise when you’re coming in thinking about venture investing as a category under net zero.”The group isn’t envisioning excluding firms based on their investment strategies. “There are some oil and gas companies that have made these commitments, and so it really is for every industry, for every company to think about this,” said Alexandra Harbour, a principal at Prelude Ventures and founder and chair of the VCA. “Every industry has the potential to achieve or contribute to impact, and that’s kind of the goal.”

WORKPLACE

New Window

Illinois corporate boards are lagging in diversity. | Courtesy University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

SLOW GOING — An Illinois law designed to diversify corporate boards is having mixed results, Shia Kapos reports.The numbers are meh: While women’s representation on corporate boards has reached more than 20 percent on average, they are underrepresented in most companies compared with their workforce, according to numbers compiled as part of compliance with the 2019 law, which requires companies based in the state to list their corporate board makeup based on sexual orientation, race and ethnicity.The state found that Illinois firms are more likely to have zero, one, or two female directors, as compared with S&P 500 firms, which are more likely to have three or more female directors.Non-white minorities are even more underrepresented than women relative to the state’s population. Of the firms reporting, 32 had no Black board members. Fifty-nine reported having zero Asian directors, while 72 reported zero Latino directors.The sponsor of the law, House Speaker Emanuel “Chris” Welch, said he’s optimistic representation will get better. “Corporations want to make improvements,” he said. “We got their attention. I think it will only continue to improve.” A message from American Beverage Association:

YOU TELL US

GAME ON — Welcome to the Long Game, where we tell you about the latest on efforts to shape our future. We deliver data-driven storytelling, compelling interviews with industry and political leaders, and news Tuesday through Friday to keep you in the loop on sustainability.Team Sustainability is editor Greg Mott, deputy editor Debra Kahn and reporters Jordan Wolman and Allison Prang. Reach us all at [email protected], [email protected], [email protected] and [email protected].Want more? Don’t we all. Sign up for the Long Game. Four days a week and still free!

WHAT WE’RE CLICKING

— A U.S. startup is working with a Danish concrete manufacturing giant to develop a new form of cement mix that could dramatically reduce energy use and carbon emissions, according to Bloomberg.— Near-shoring has been viewed as a way to ease supply chain problems, but it comes with its own set of problems, the Wall Street Journal reports.– A Democratic senator is planning to introduce legislation that would protect mining companies’ rights to dump waste on adjoining federal lands. The Associated Press has that story.CORRECTION: An earlier version of this newsletter included an inaccurate list of firms joining the Venture Climate Alliance. A message from American Beverage Association:
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America’s leading beverage companies – The Coca-Cola Company, Keurig Dr Pepper and PepsiCo – are working together to reduce our industry’s plastic footprint through our Every Bottle Back initiative. We’re investing in efforts to get our bottles back so we can remake them into new bottles and use less new plastic.  Together, we’re:  Designing 100% recyclable plastic bottles – we’re making our bottles from PET that’s strong, lightweight and easy to recycle.   Investing in community recycling – we’re marshalling the equivalent of nearly a half-billion dollars with The Recycling Partnership and Closed Loop Partners to support community recycling programs where we can have the greatest impact. Raising awareness – we’re adding on-pack reminders to encourage consumers to recycle our plastic bottles and caps.     Our bottles are made to be remade. Please help us get Every Bottle Back.

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Life beneath the Arctic ice Is chock-Full of microplastics

Picture a raft of sea ice in the Arctic Ocean, and you’re probably imagining a pristine marriage of white and blue. But during summertime, below the surface, something much greener and goopier lurks. A type of algae, Melosira arctica, grows in large, dangling masses and curtains that cling to the underside of Arctic sea ice, mostly obscured from a bird’s eye view.The algae, made up of long strings and clumps of single-celled organisms called diatoms, is an essential player in the polar ecosystem. It’s food for zooplankton, which in turn nourish everything from fish to birds to seals to whales — either directly or through an indirect, upwards cascade along the Pac-Man-esque chain of life. In the deep ocean, benthic critters also rely on making meals out of blobs of sunken algae. By one assessment, M. arctica accounted for about 45% of Arctic primary production in 2012. In short: the algae supports the entire food web.But in the hidden, slimy world of under-ice scum, something else is abundant: microplastics. Researchers have documented alarmingly high concentrations of teeny tiny plastic particles inside samples of M. arctica, according to a new study published Friday in the journal Environmental Science & Technology. The work adds to the growing body of evidence that microplastics are truly everywhere: in freshly fallen Antarctic snow, the air, baby poop, our blood — everywhere.

All 12 samples of algae the scientists collected from ice floes contained microplastics. In total, they counted about 400 individual plastic bits in the algae they examined. Extrapolating that to a concentration by volume, the researchers estimate that every cubic metre of M. arctica contains 31,000 microplastic particles — greater that 10 times the concentration they detected in the surrounding sea water. It could be bad news for the algae, the organisms that rely on it, and even the climate.Though microplastics are seemingly ubiquitous, the findings were still doubly surprising to Melanie Bergmann, the lead study author and a biologist at the Alfred Wegener Institute in Bremerhaven, Germany. In an email, she told Gizmodo she hadn’t expected to document such high levels of microplastics in M. arctica, nor for those concentrations to be so much higher than what was in the water. But in retrospect, the gummy nature of the algae probably explains it.Sea ice itself contains a lot of microplasitcs (up to millions of particles per cubic metre, depending on location, according to earlier research Bergmann worked on). Sea ice both sequesters plastic from the ocean through its freeze/melt cycle and collects the pollution from above as it is deposited by wind currents. In turn, that sea ice contamination likely trickles down to the algae. “When the sea ice melts in spring, microplastic probably becomes trapped [by] their sticky surface,” Bergmann hypothesizes. And both ice floes and their attached algal masses move around, scooping up plastic particles as they follow ocean currents.

Within the Arctic marine ecosystem, previous research has found the highest levels of microplastics in seafloor sediments, the biologist further explained. The algae cycle may explain a large part of those plastic deposits. By getting trapped in a gunky web of M. arctica filaments, the minuscule bits of manmade trash are actually hitching an express ride to the bottom of the ocean. Large chunks of algae sink much faster than tiny bits of debris on their own, which are more likely to remain suspended in the water column. So, on the bright side, the new study solves something of a mystery. But the benefit of novel knowledge may be the only silver lining here.Because the algae is the scaffolding of an Arctic food web, everything that eats it (or eats something that eats it) is almost certainly ingesting all of the plastic bits contained within. The health impacts of microplastics aren’t yet well established, but some early studies suggest they’re probably not good for people or wildlife. In this way, M. arctica’s sticky affinity for plastic could be slowly poisoning the entire ecosystem.

Then, there’s the way the pollution could be hurting the algae itself. Laboratory experiments of other algal species have shown that microplastics can hinder an organism’s ability to photosynthesize and damage algal cells. “We don’t yet know how widely this occurs amongst different algae and if this also affects ice algae,” said Bergmann; the impact of microplastics seems to vary a lot by species, she added.But in the era of climate change, any additional stress on already rapidly changing Arctic systems is unwelcome. And, if algae is indeed less able to photosynthesize when it’s stuffed with plastic, then it’s also less able to sequester carbon and less able to mitigate climate change — a small but potentially significant Arctic feedback loop, she explained.For now, all of this is still a question mark. More research is needed to understand how microplastics travel through the food web and what they do to the organisms that ingest them (Bergmann is hoping to conduct future studies specifically on the deep-sea creatures living among the plastic-inundated sediments). But if scientific experiments don’t soon reveal the consequences of our plastic dependence, time probably will. “As microplastic concentrations are increasing, we will see an increase in its effects. In certain areas or species, we may cross critical thresholds,” Bergmann said. “Some scientists think that we have already.”

Fishing and plastic pollution are changing Antarctica: Biologist

Antarctica is being changed rapidly by plastic pollution, climate change and krill fishing, according to marine biologist Emily Cunningham. (Emily Cunningham)Antarctica is beautiful but is being changed rapidly by plastic pollution, climate change and krill fishing, a marine biologist has warned.Demand for products such as Omega-3 supplements, farmed salmon and nylon clothes is changing the once-pristine continent, said Emily Cunningham.Cunningham, 33, hails from Staffordshire and has just spent a season in Antarctica on a scientific vessel, using submarines to explore beneath the surface.Speaking to Yahoo News, Cunningham said that as her trip to Antarctica unfolded, she began to understand the scale of the environmental challenges facing the continent.Read more: Antarctic records hottest temperature ever”At first, the impact it had on me was a feeling of, ‘Wow, how lucky am I to get to go to this incredible place,'” she said. “Then as I started to understand the scale of what is happening, my feelings turned to angst and grief about what we are losing.”Antarctica is the world’s least-visited continent, and was only discovered in 1820. Cunningham posted a viral Twitter thread about her experiences to call attention to how human activity is now changing Antarctica.Emily Cunningham’s visit to Antarctica inspired her to speak out. (Emily Cunningham)Cunningham said she remains haunted by the continent’s beauty, but hopes to raise awareness of the threats to life in Antarctica from krill fishing, which is used to feed farmed fish and for Omega-3 supplements, as well as climate change and plastic pollution.”I knew I was going to see lots of wildlife – that’s what drove me to take on the job, the opportunity to get to go to Antarctica and see the penguins and the whales. But the landscapes and the ice I hadn’t expected to be quite so mesmerising,” she said.”I had the opportunity to get down in the submarine and see the undersea environment. It was just like nothing else on Earth. It’s just like a living carpet, everywhere you look is life, it’s just spectacular.”Cunningham said that her season in the Antarctic – and speaking to veteran scientists who have spent 30 years on the continent – led her to realise just how much global warming is already impacting Antarctica.Penguins are among the species living on Antarctica. (Emily Cunningham)Read more: A 1988 warning about climate change was mostly right”Global warming is happening five times faster there than the global average,” she says.”It’s getting stormier, the weather patterns are changing and it’s already impacting the penguin colonies –we saw colonies that are 70% smaller than they used to be.”Krill fishery – where ships harvest tiny crustaceans for use in Omega-3 supplements and food for farmed fish, among other things – is also posing a threat to the region.Emily Cunningham spent a season in Antarctica. (Emily Cunningham)Krill has already been impacted by climate change, thanks to the loss of sea ice – and the tiny creatures are at the heart of the Antarctic ecosystem and act as food for penguins, whales and seals.Read more: Melting snow in Himalayas drives growth of green sea slime visible from space”The krill fishery is becoming concentrated around the Antarctic Peninsula, where the warming is so fast, a lot of changes are happening,” she explained.Plus, the impact of the lack of krill is being seen in animals such as chinstrap penguins and whales, where a dearth of krill leads to years where pregnancies plunge, threatening populations, Cunningham added.The scientific community hopes to see regulated areas where vessels can’t fish for krill. (Emily Cunningham)But the demand for fish meal made from krill is growing by 10% each year, according to the marine biologist.As such, scientists hope to see regulated areas where vessels can’t fish for krill. At present, the only rules are around how much krill each vessel can catch.One of the projects Cunningham was involved in monitoring microplastics in the water – and she found plastic fibres that could have come from clothing in every sample.Indeed, there is now a theory that Antarctica is a ‘sink’ for plastics from all over the world.Read more: Why economists worry that reversing climate change is hopeless”Other researchers have found microplastics that are present in the air or snow, seawater and the sediment in Antarctica. They’ve even found microplastics in freshly fallen snow. It’s likely that they come by wind or by oceanic currents,” she said.Microplastics are also found in crustaceans like krill and that could mean they end up on plates around the world.”If you think krill are being fished at an industrial scale to be turned into fishmeal that goes into a salmon and it’s not a long way for the salmon to being eaten by people around the world,” Cunningham warned.Global warming has also seen invasive species such as king crabs flourish in Antarctica’s seas, putting the underwater communities at risk of irrevocable change.”They are finding that animals are hitchhiking on the nooks and crannies on the hole or the outflows of ships – what we call biofouling.”Antarctica is the least invaded habitat at the moment, but we need to make sure that it stays like that.”Cunningham added that she shared her Twitter thread to change people’s minds that Antarctica is a pristine wilderness – because it no longer is.”It’s an incredible place that is already being shaped by human activity, but we’re pulling up to a point of no return where we can no longer do anything about it.”I hope that I can raise awareness for people that wherever they live in the world, what they do has an impact on Antarctica – and they can make things better.”She said that the response to her Twitter thread was ‘amazing’, adding: “It was really heartening, because this fight can feel incredibly lonely.”Finally, Cunningham advised that the best thing people can do is to work to raise awareness of the threats to Antarctica – so that governments and businesses will take action before it is too late.She can be found on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

Opinion: There is plastic in our flesh

There is plastic in our bodies; it’s in our lungs and our bowels and in the blood that pulses through us. We can’t see it, and we can’t feel it, but it is there. It is there in the water we drink and the food we eat, and even in the air that we breathe. We don’t know, yet, what it’s doing to us, because we have only quite recently become aware of its presence; but since we have learned of it, it has become a source of profound and multifarious cultural anxiety.Maybe it’s nothing; maybe it’s fine. Maybe this jumble of fragments — bits of water bottles, tires, polystyrene packaging, microbeads from cosmetics — is washing through us and causing no particular harm. But even if that were true, there would still remain the psychological impact of the knowledge that there is plastic in our flesh. This knowledge registers, in some vague way, as apocalyptic; it has the feel of a backhanded divine vengeance, sly and poetically appropriate. Maybe this has been our fate all along, to achieve final communion with our own garbage.The word we use, when we speak about this unsettling presence within us, is microplastics. It’s a broad category, accommodating any piece of plastic less than five millimeters, about a fifth of an inch, in length. Much of this stuff, tiny though it is, is readily visible to the naked eye. You may have seen it in the photographs used to illustrate articles on the topic: a multitude of tiny, many-colored shards displayed on the tip of a finger, or a lurid little heap on a teaspoon. But there is also, more worryingly still, the stuff you can’t see: so-called nano-plastics, which are a tiny fraction of the size of microplastics. These are capable of crossing the membranes between cells and have been observed to accumulate in the brains of fish.We have known for a while now that they are causing harm to fish. In a study published in 2018, fish exposed to microplastics were shown to have lower levels of growth and reproduction; their offspring, even when they were not themselves exposed, were observed as also having fewer young, suggesting that the contamination lingers through the generations. In 2020, another study, at James Cook University in Australia, demonstrated that microplastics alter the behavior of fish, with higher levels of exposure resulting in fish taking more risks and, as a consequence, dying younger.Last month, the Journal of Hazardous Materials published a study examining the effects of plastic consumption on seabirds. The researchers put forward evidence of a new plastic-induced fibrotic disease they call plasticosis. Scarring on the intestinal tract caused by ingestion of plastics, they found, caused the birds to become more vulnerable to infection and parasites; it also damaged their capacity to digest food and to absorb certain vitamins.It’s not, of course, the welfare of fish or seabirds that makes this information most worrying. If we — by which I mean human civilization — cared about fish and seabirds, we would not, in the first place, be dumping some 11 million metric tons of plastic into the oceans every year. What’s truly unsettling is the prospect that similar processes may turn out to be at work in our own bodies, that microplastics might be shortening our lives, and making us stupider and less fertile while they’re at it. As the authors of the report on plasticosis put it, their research “raises concerns for other species impacted by plastic ingestion” — a category which very much includes our own species.Because just as fish must swim through the blizzard of trash we have made of the seas, we ourselves cannot avoid the stuff. One of the more unsettling elements of the whole microplastics situation — we can’t really call it a “crisis” at this point, because we just don’t know how bad it might be — is its strangely democratic pervasiveness. Unlike, say, the effects of climate change, no matter who you are, or where you live, you are exposed. You could live in a secure compound in the most remote of locations — safe from forest fires and rising sea levels — and you would be exposed to microplastics in a shower of rain. Scientists have found microplastics near the summit of Everest, and in the Mariana Trench, 36,000 feet below the surface of the Pacific.In this context, most of the changes we make to try to protect ourselves from microplastic ingestion come to seem basically cosmetic. You can, for instance, stop giving your toddler water in a plastic cup, and it might make you feel like you’re doing something about her level of exposure, but only until you start thinking about all those PVC pipes the water had to pass through to get to her in the first place.In a study conducted last year, in which researchers in Italy analyzed the breast milk of 34 healthy new mothers, microplastics were present in 75 percent of the samples. A particularly cruel irony, this, given the association of breast milk with purity and naturalness, and given new parents’ anxieties about heating formula in plastic bottles. This research itself came in the wake of the revelation, in 2020, that microplastics had been found in human placentas. It seems to have become something close to definitional: To be human is to contain plastic.To consider this reality is to glimpse a broader truth that our civilization, our way of life, is poisoning us. There is a strange psychic logic at work here; in filling the oceans with the plastic detritus of our purchases, in carelessly disposing of the evidence of our own inexhaustible consumer desires, we have been engaging in something like a process of repression. And, as Freud insisted, the elements of experience that we repress — memories, impressions, fantasies — remain “virtually immortal; after the passage of decades they behave as though they had just occurred.” This psychic material, “unalterable by time,” was fated to return, and to work its poison on our lives.Is this not what is going on with microplastics? The whole point of plastic, after all, is that it’s virtually immortal. From the moment it became a feature of mass-produced consumer products, between First and Second World Wars, its success as a material has always been inextricable from the ease with which it can be created, and from its extreme durability. What’s most useful about it is precisely what makes it such a problem. And we keep making more of the stuff, year after year, decade after decade. Consider this fact: of all the plastic created, since mass production began, more than half of it has been produced since 2000. We can throw it away, we can fool ourselves into thinking we’re “recycling” it, but it will not absent itself. It will show up again, in the food we eat and the water we drink. It will haunt the milk that infants suckle from their mothers’ breasts. Like a repressed memory, it remains, unalterable by time.Writing in the 1950s, as mass-produced plastic was coming to define material culture in the West, the French philosopher Roland Barthes saw the advent of this “magical” stuff effecting a shift in our relationship to nature. “The hierarchy of substances,” he wrote, “is abolished: a single one replaces them all: the whole world can be plasticized, and even life itself since, we are told, they are beginning to make plastic aortas.”To pay attention to our surroundings is to become aware of how right Barthes was. As I type these words, my fingertips are pressing down on the plastic keys of my laptop; the seat I’m sitting on is cushioned with some kind of faux-leather-effect polymer; even the gentle ambient music I’m listening to as I write is being pumped directly to my cochleas by way of plastic Bluetooth earphones. These things may not be a particularly serious immediate source of microplastics. But some time after they reach the end of their usefulness, you and I may wind up consuming them as tiny fragments in the water supply. In the ocean, polymers contained in paint are the largest source of these particles, while on land, dust from tires, and tiny plastic fibers from things like carpets and clothing, are among the main contributors.In 2019, a study commissioned by the World Wide Fund for Nature found that the average person may be consuming as much as five grams of plastic every week — the equivalent, as the report’s authors put it, of an entire credit card. The wording was somewhat vague; if we may be consuming the equivalent of a credit card, we can assume that we may equally be consuming much less. But the report was widely circulated in the media, and its startling claims captured an anxious public imagination. The choice of the credit card as an image had some role to play here; the idea that we are eating our own purchasing power, that we might be poisoning ourselves with our insistent consumerism, burrows into the unconscious like a surrealist conceit. When I think of it, I can’t help picturing myself putting my Visa card in a blender and adding it to a smoothie.David Cronenberg’s recent film “Crimes of the Future” opens with a startling scene of a small boy crouching in a bathroom and eating a plastic wastepaper basket like an Easter egg. The film’s premise, or part of it, is that certain humans have evolved the capacity to eat and take nutrition from plastic, and from other toxic substances. “It’s time for human evolution to sync with human technology,” as one such character puts it. “We’ve got to start feeding on our own industrial waste, it’s our destiny.”As grotesque as the plot device is, it’s also a perversely optimistic one: Our best hope might be an evolutionary leap that allows us to live in the mess we’ve made. (Although arguably it’s only optimistic in the way that Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal” is optimistic.) In interviews around the time of the film’s release, Mr. Cronenberg revealed a preoccupation with the recent news about the presence of microplastics in human bloodstreams: “Maybe 80 percent of the human population has microplastics in their flesh,” he said in one interview. “So our bodies are different than human bodies have ever been before in history. This is not going away.”As a parent, I am suspended between the desire to shield my children from microplastics — along with all the other things I want to shield them from — and the suspicion that the effort might be largely futile. A quick Google search revealed that these anxieties are increasingly common among parents, and the subject of a growing abundance of online content. In one article about protecting kids from microplastics, I read that the snuggling of soft toys in bed is to be avoided, and that such unexpectedly menacing beasts, rather than being left lying around the room or in the child’s bed, should be kept safely in a toy chest. (Later in the same article, the environmental scientist who makes this recommendation also counsels against instilling fear in our children.) As much as I would like to minimize ambient threats to my children’s health, I also don’t especially want to be the kind of parent who insists on their soft toys being stored safely in a chest when not in use — because of all the ambient threats to my children, the one I am most keen to offset is my own neurosis.And although concern about microplastics is obviously compatible with the larger discourses of environmentalism and anti-consumerism, it’s not exclusively of interest to lefty, liberal types like myself. Joe Rogan, perhaps our culture’s foremost vector of meathead masculinity, has been talking about the topic for several years. In an episode of his podcast last year, Mr. Rogan expressed concern about an alarming effect of phthalates, a chemical used to increase the durability of plastics, in human bloodstreams: Babies, he said, were being born with smaller “taints.” (The taint, he clarified, was the distance between one’s penis and one’s anus.)Not only were the taints of infants shrinking at an alarming rate; so, too, were penises and testicles themselves. “This is wild,” he said, “because it’s literally changing the hormonal profile and the reproductive systems of human beings, and making us weaker, making us less masculine.” A guest pointed out that there was something of a trade-off at play, in that while living in the modern world meant unprecedented exposure to such chemicals, it also meant living much longer. “Sort of,” said Mr. Rogan, “but you live like a bitch.” Just as climate change and pollution are the traditional concerns of the left, the demographic effects of falling birthrates are a source of anxiety to conservatives. Whatever your preferred apocalyptic scenario, in other words, microplastics have it covered.Microplastics have established themselves in the cultural bloodstream, and their prevalence in the zeitgeist can partly be accounted for by our uncertainty as to what it means, from the point of view of pathology, that we are increasingly filled with plastic. This ambiguity allows us to ascribe all manner of malaises, both cultural and personal, to this new information about ourselves. The whole thing has a strangely allegorical resonance. We feel ourselves to be psychically disfigured, corrupted in our souls, by a steady diet of techno-capitalism’s figurative trash — by the abysmal scroll of inane TikToks and brainless takes, by Instagram influencers pointing at text boxes while doing little dances, by the endless proliferation of A.I.-generated junk content. We feel our faith in the very concept of the future liquefying at broadly the same rate as the polar ice caps. The idea of microscopic bits of trash crossing the blood-brain barrier feels like an apt and timely entry into the annals of the apocalyptic imaginary.And the aura of scientific indeterminacy that surrounds the subject — maybe this stuff is causing unimaginable damage to our bodies and minds; then again maybe it’s fine — lends it a slightly hysterical cast. We don’t know what these plastics are doing to us, and so there is no end to the maladies we might plausibly ascribe to them. Maybe it’s microplastics that are making you depressed. Maybe it’s because of microplastics that you have had a head cold constantly since Christmas. Maybe it’s microplastics that are stopping you and your partner from conceiving, or making you lazy and lethargic, or forgetful beyond your years. Maybe it’s microplastics that caused the cancer in your stomach, or your brain.I myself am susceptible to this tendency. A few years back, I was diagnosed with I.B.D., a chronic autoimmune condition. As is typically the way of such ailments, it came out of nowhere, with no known cause. It’s not life-threatening, but there have been periods when it has made me ill enough to be unable to work for a week or two at a stretch, and when I have been so tired I could barely haul myself off the couch to go to bed at night. Every eight weeks, I present myself at a hospital infusion suite, where I am hooked up to a bag containing a liquid solution of a monoclonal antibody. (These bags are, of course, made from some kind of polyethylene, a fact which you must imagine me relating with an elaborate shrug, indicating great reserves of stoic irony.)In 2021, a study published in the journal Environmental Science and Technology found significantly higher levels of microplastics in the stool samples of people who were diagnosed with I.B.D., but who were otherwise healthy, than those without I.B.D. No direct causation was established, but given that earlier studies conducted on laboratory animals established microplastic ingestion as a cause of intestinal inflammation, it seems not unreasonable to assume that there might be some link.The more time I spent researching this essay, the more I found myself wondering whether microplastics might be at the root of my condition. My point here is not to make a factual claim either way, because I just don’t know enough to do so. My point, in fact, is precisely that the not knowing generates its own peculiar energy. I think it’s at least plausible that my illness might be caused by microplastics, but that it’s also equally plausible that it might not. And I am aware that this ambiguity is itself strangely seductive, that it is on such epistemological wasteland that great, rickety edifices of conspiracy and conjecture are raised.Until we know a good deal more than we currently do, at least, talking about microplastics can feel weirdly like holding forth on the harmful effects of cellphone radiation. (If you liked chemtrails, you’ll love microplastics!) The time will come, sooner or later, when we know what microplastics are doing to us, but until then the subject remains an ambiguous, and therefore a richly suggestive one.But isn’t there something obviously absurd in the claim that we don’t know whether we are being harmed by the plastic in our blood? What standards of harm are these, that we must await the test results before deciding how concerned to be about the thousands of little fragments of trash pulsing through our veins? Surely the fact of their presence is alarming enough in itself; and surely this presence, in any case, registers at least as strongly on a psychic as on a physiological level.Among the most indelibly distressing images of the damage done to nature by our heedless, relentless consumption of plastic is a series of photographs by the artist Chris Jordan, entitled “Midway: Message from the Gyre.” Each of these photographs depicts the body of an albatross in some or other state of advanced decomposition. At the center of each splayed and desiccated carcass is the clustered miscellany of plastic objects the bird had consumed before dying. The horror of these images is in the surreal juxtaposition of organic and inorganic elements, the sheer bewildering volume of plastic contained in their digestive tracts. The bodies of these once beautiful creatures are returning slowly to the earth, but the human trash that sickened them remains inviolable, unalterable by time: toothpaste lids, bottle caps, entire cigarette lighters that look like they would still work perfectly well, tiny little children’s dolls and a thousand other unidentifiable traces of our deranged productivity and heedless hunger.The whole subject of microplastics is possessed of a nightmarish lucidity, because we understand it to be a symptom of a deeper disease. The unthinkable harm we have done to the planet — that is done to the planet on our behalf, as consumers — is being visited, in this surreal and lurid manner, on our own bodies. When we look at the decomposing bodies of those trash-filled birds, we know that we are looking not just at what we are doing to the world, but at what our damaged world is doing to us.Mark O’Connell (@mrkocnnll) is the author, most recently, of “Notes From an Apocalypse: A Personal Journey to the End of the World and Back.” His next book, “A Thread of Violence: A Story of Truth, Invention and Murder,” will be published in June.The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram.

How long you can use your vintage Tupperware and other plastic food storage products

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Since Tupperware, the iconic kitchen brand that’s been a household name for decades, signaled recently that it might be going out of business, you might be wondering how long your stash of its food storage containers is safe to use — especially if it’s vintage.

Figuring out the answer to that question for any type of reusable plastic food storage products — not just Tupperware — often comes down to understanding what they’re made of. Bisphenol A, more commonly known as BPA, is a chemical that, according to the United States Institute of Environmental Health Sciences, has been used for years in the production of certain plastics to make them more durable and shatter-resistant. Unfortunately, it can also make them potential health hazards.

circa 1950: A woman holds three Tupperware containers while standing in front of a group of women seated in a living room during a Tupperware party. Some of the women wear hats made from the plastic containers. A table in the foreground displays a range of the company’s products.

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So this is how the Tupperware party ends

In human studies, BPA exposure has been associated with a higher risk of a wide range of health conditions or issues, such as infertility, altered fetal growth of the fetus, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder and aggression among children, polycystic ovarian syndrome, endometriosis and heart disease, said Laura Vandenberg, a professor of environmental health sciences at the University of Massachusetts Amherst.

Australia recycles just 18% of plastic packaging and will not reach 2025 target, review finds

Australia recycles just 18% of plastic packaging, according to the latest annual figures, and will only get two-thirds of the way to its national target of 70% by 2025, an official review has said. Plastics campaigners said the review by the Australian Packaging Covenant Organisation (APCO) – the not-for-profit group charged with coordinating the national …

Over 2,000 companies buy and sell recycled plastic at this online marketplace

After establishing the world’s biggest online platform for long-distance carpooling, BlaBlaCar, in Germany, Christian Schiller took a year off to travel around the world. He was sailing between Colombia and Panama when the boat hit a garbage patch several hundred meters long. “When the rudder got stuck in the plastic trash in the Caribbean, I thought back to my time in Houston, Texas, where I had done an internship as a Fulbright Scholar with one of the biggest international construction companies,” he says via Zoom from his Hamburg office, shaking his head. “In Texas, I had seen the crazy effort we need to extract oil from under the earth. Then we use it once and it ends up in the ocean. I can hardly imagine a bigger waste of value.”
When he got back to Germany in the summer of 2018, he didn’t have a job lined up and started reflecting: What am I really passionate about? Where can I make the biggest difference with my background as a digital platform builder?
At an innovator conference in Berlin, he met software engineer Volkan Bilici who had worked as a software developer for plastic manufacturers. Together, they started Cirplus in the final months of 2018, an online platform designed to solve one of the most vexing problems this planet currently has: the plastic crisis. The company name for the world’s first global recycling platform for plastic is a wordplay, meant to indicate both the need to move to a circular economy and the outsized value of plastic. “This motivates me to this day,” Schiller says, “how wasteful humankind treats this incredibly valuable substance.” 

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Schiller’s idea seems simple: connect recycling companies with manufacturers and distributors to close the loop. Currently, the low level of digitalization and the opaque market for different kinds of plastics make it difficult to even get an overview of the available material. Cirplus uses its own software to follow the material across the globe and create transparency for buyers and sellers of recyclates — think post-consumer shampoo bottles, caps and more. Once broken down, they can be used to make new products. The platform — which Schiller hopes will one day be the Amazon for recycled plastic — currently has 2,500 users, including packaging giants that handle big labels.
But speaking with Schiller makes it obvious that Cirplus is only one piece of the puzzle in the complex process of handling our trash crisis. Despite recent advances in local and national laws, with entire countries such as India and the EU banning single-use plastics, plastics production continues to grow. “By 2050, plastic production is estimated to hit more than one billion tons per year,” Schiller says. With the amount of plastic grows the amount of plastic trash — currently 240 million metric tons per year, according to the World Bank. Barely five percent gets recycled, and the US tops the world at 287 pounds of plastic waste per person per year, according to a 2020 estimate.
The Cirplus platform lists recycled plastic for sale. Credit: Cirplus
Plastic is one of the most difficult materials to recycle because of its various components, but reducing and recycling the material is also one of the most urgent. The recent train disaster in East Palestine, Ohio, raised public awareness about the often highly toxic additives involved in plastic manufacturing. Schiller was perplexed after starting Cirplus when plastic manufacturers openly admitted to him that they didn’t know where their plastic trash ended up. 
“They told me, ‘To be honest, we weren’t forced to bother with that,’” he says. “It’s actually pretty shocking: In Europe, we don’t know what happens to eight to 15 million tons of plastic trash.” But we do know that at least 14 million tons of plastic end up in the oceans every year. 
New legislation aims to change that: Starting in 2030, the EU will force companies to use a percentage of recycled plastic in their manufacturing, not just virgin plastic. “It is really unfair that the industry was allowed to keep the profits while passing on the environmental costs to everybody else,” Schiller comments. (Exxon, the world’s largest producer of virgin polymer derived from petrochemicals, just announced a record $56 billion in earnings for last year.)
Schiller once studied law and international relations with the goal of becoming a career diplomat, but an internship in the German embassy in Washington, DC made it clear to him that bureaucracy was not his strong suit. In a way, he’s now becoming a global diplomat for plastic recycling. 
Recycling plastic is fiendishly complex. Many people think the plastic we put in the recycling bins will be recycled. The EU officially claims a recycling rate of 13 to 15 percent for plastic but recent reporting unmasked the truth. “When you take out the PET bottles that have a higher recycling rate because of the deposit system, you end up with less than five percent of plastic recycling,” Schiller acknowledges.
Volkan Bilici (left) and Christian Schiller. Credit: Cirplus
One issue is the web of local recycling options that might differ from one city or community to the next. The EU alone has 27 different recycling laws. Another are the often toxic additives plus contaminants in post-consumer plastic. And even after this is dealt with, melting down plastic components creates a stink that is hard to mask. 
“Which problem are we actually solving?” Schiller therefore asks. “The lack of transparency of trash and recycling streams is one of the biggest.” Without a global platform, a manufacturer in, let’s say, Belgium, doesn’t know where he can buy a ton of plastic recyclates while a plastic waste collector in East Europe is sitting on a ton of recyclates. “The buyers at the big labels such as Procter & Gamble, Henkel or Beiersdorf need to reliably secure recycled plastic in a consistent quality before they seriously transition from virgin plastic to recycled plastic,” Schiller says. 
Currently, virgin plastic is 20 to 30 percent cheaper than recycled plastic, and he says that he hears from manufacturers: “‘We don’t have the buy-in from our CEO to buy the material for 20 percent more. Talk to me again in a year.’” Others want to include recyclates, “but reliability in quality and quantity is essential. It is simply more difficult to achieve the exact color blue a brand might be known for from recyclates.” Second, he says, nobody wants to deal with 300 different recyclers. “The big producers have three to five big suppliers where they order a million tons of plastic for the next year.” Also, he notes, “This is an industry that still relies on fax machines and phone calls. It needs a major investment in digitalization.” As long as recycling is more expensive than virgin plastics, few invest in innovative recycling methods. “If you really want to move to a circular economy, you have to look at the recycling market like we currently view the energy market,” Schiller says.
Cirplus is still a small startup with only 12 employees, based in Hamburg. However, the platform has offered up to 1.3 million tons of available plastic. Cirplus and its competitors such as Plastship are emulating Metalshub, a rapidly expanding digital platform to trade metals, started in Düsseldorf, Germany, in 2016 that has moved $3 billion worth of material. How much material was actually traded through Cirplus is unknown to Schiller because until recently, companies could look up suppliers and then cut a deal outside the platform. A relaunch this April will change the business model of Cirplus and prompt clients to trade on the platform itself. Schiller expects that the platform will truly take off when the 2030 legislation approaches. “Manufacturers still tell us, they are opting for the cheapest, easiest option, which is virgin plastic, and they will only pivot to recyclates when they are forced to by either the laws or consumer pressure.”

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To really solve the plastics crisis, Schiller pushes for bold and big moves. In 2022, he was instrumental in establishing a new standard for plastic recyclates, DIN SPEC 91446, to streamline recycling. He points to Sweden, where a plastic recycler is currently building the world’s largest plastic recycling facility, Site Zero, with the ability to handle 200,000 tons of plastic packaging every year once completed later this year. Norway is recycling 97 percent of its plastic bottles and is leading the negotiations to hammer out an international UN treaty to reduce plastic pollution, similar to the 2015 Paris climate accord. 
Until then, Schiller advocates for the classic “3 Rs” mantra for the move to a truly circular economy: reduce, reuse, recycle.
He sees himself as an “activist-entrepreneur,” meaning his platform is as much about solving the problem as raising awareness about the multifold aspects of the crisis.
Last summer, he visited the world’s largest landfill in Jakarta, Indonesia, which absorbs more than 7,000 tons of waste daily. Hundreds of waste pickers sort through the stinking trash, searching for valuable metals. For years, they overlooked plastic, but the Plastic Bank with its “social plastic” program has created new incentives for locals to collect and process ocean-bound plastic. The program claims to have diverted more than 1.5 billion plastic bottles from the ocean. 
Every recycled pound is a pound less of plastic in landfills or oceans.