#FRACKQUAKES
'The time is now': New Mexico taking action on oil and gas-induced earthquakes


Adrian Hedden, Carlsbad Current-Argus
Fri, November 26, 2021

A growing threat of earthquakes in southeast New Mexico prompted the State to take action by upping its seismic monitoring and calling for oil and gas operators to curb the amount of produced water disposed of underground.

The byproduct water, known as produced water in industry terms, is a combination of flowback water created during hydraulic fracturing operations and water brought up from underground shale formations along with oil and natural gas.

Traditionally this water, briny and contaminated with toxic chemicals, is pumped back into the shale for disposal, but such a process was recently linked to increased seismic events in the Permian Basin shared by southeast New Mexico and West Texas.

More: Eddy County oil and gas revenue collections rise in September

Earlier this year, the Texas Railroad Commission announced it was establishing two seismic response areas (SRAs) in the Midland area and along the Texas-New Mexico border in Culberson and Reeves counties. It called for reductions in produced water injection volumes and advocated blocking any new permits for saltwater disposal wells (SWDs).

And on Tuesday, New Mexico’s Oil Conservation Division (OCD) announced similar actions as a string of earthquakes were reported in New Mexico throughout November.

Permits under review for SWDs in the area south of Malaga, near the Texas State Line, will require additional review, the department said.

More: Oil and gas 'the future' of Carlsbad and New Mexico

Meanwhile, a “statewide response protocol” was put in place by the OCD that will increase reporting and monitoring measures while also reducing the volume of water injected based on further observed seismic activity.

“Category 1” of the protocol would go into effect when two quakes of magnitude (M) 2.5 or higher occur within 30 days and within a 10-mile radius of each other.

An M 2.5 earthquake is the first level where it could be lightly felt, according to the Richter Scale. Serious damage can occur at a M 3 or greater.

More: New Mexico environmentalists, industry debate impact of EPA oil and gas methane rule

With 10 miles of the epicenter of such an event, operators would be required to provide to the state weekly reporting of daily injection volumes and average daily surface pressure, while digitally measuring injections volumes and pressure and providing analysis and data to the OCD when requested.

At “Category 2,” which goes into effect if one M 3 event occurs, all of Category 1 requirements would be imposed, along with requirements that operators within 3 miles reduce injection rates by 50 percent.

Within 3-6 miles, operators would be required to cut injection by 25 percent.

More: New Mexico, Permian Basin oil and gas environmental concerns heard at UN's COP26 summit

If a M 3.5 or higher quake is reported, operators with 3 miles must shut in their wells, and cut injection by 50 percent at 3-6 miles, and 25 percent at 6-10 miles.

OCD Director Adrienne Sandoval said most of the recent significant seismicity was reported on the Texas side of the basin, but the State was taking action to prevent the threat to New Mexico.

Adrienne Sandoval was hired in April as the director of New Mexico's Oil Conservation Division.

“The Oil Conservation Division is taking a proactive approach to managing seismic activity tied to oil and gas activity in New Mexico,” she said. “While some of the biggest events have occurred over the state line in Texas, the time is now to ensure larger events do not occur in our part of the oil field.

“Using solid data and working with our stakeholders and state partners, the plan laid out today takes a pragmatic approach to addressing this issue.”

More: New Mexico's oil and gas water research studies economics, toxicity

A map of magnitude 2.5 earthquakes reported along the Texas-New Mexico border in 2021, per the U.S. Geological Survey.
Data shows earthquakes increased while oil boomed in the Permian Basin

Data from the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) showed that along the Texas-New Mexico border in the Permian Basin, 422 earthquakes of M 2.5 or higher were reported in 2021, with 22 reported in November alone.

Last year, the USGS reported just 209 such quakes in that same area and only 51 in 2019.

In 2018, the USGS database showed 16 M 2.5 or greater quakes in the area and four in 2017 – the year commonly associated with the most recent boom in oil and gas credited to expanded use of hydraulic fracturing.

More: Xcel Energy completes southeast New Mexico power loop to account for oil and gas demand

Most recently, on Nov. 23 a M 2.7 quake was reported about 35 miles south of Whites City, per USGS data, just over the border in Texas, along with an M 2.6 the day before in the same location.

Several more were reported throughout the month close to that area, just south of the state line.

An M 3.2 was reported Nov. 13 about 23 miles southwest of Monument, a ranching community just outside Hobbs.

More: Risk of earthquakes caused by oil and gas operations in New Mexico rising

About 50 M 2.5 or higher quakes were reported on the Texas side in October, per the USGS, with none in New Mexico. An M 3.3 occurred in an area about 19 miles southeast of Malaga almost directly on the border.

The previous month saw three M 2.5 or higher quakes near Jal on Sept. 1, 9 and 20. The next day, an M 3.2 quake was reported near Malaga.
How do injection wells cause earthquakes?

The injection of oil and gas wastewater was found to induce seismicity through a process called poroelasticity, the result of the interaction between fluid and solid but porous rock formations, per a May study from Virginia Tech published in the journal Science Daily.

More: Pioneer Resources exits Delaware Basin, New Mexico in $3.25B sale of oil and gas assets

This interaction can stress the rock and active deep or “basement” faults, the report read.

"It is quite interesting that injection above the thick, overall low-permeability shale reservoir can induce an earthquake within the deep basement, despite a minimal hydraulic connection," said Guang Zhai, a postdoctoral research scientist in the Department of Geosciences, part of the Virginia Tech College of Science.

“What we have found is that the so-called poroelastic stresses can activate basement faults, which is originated from the fluid injection causing rock deformation."

More: Lujan Grisham's pledge to cut carbon emissions attacked by New Mexico oil and gas supporters

The study reported seismicity in the Permian Basin was observed to increase “significantly” since 2010 in shallow wastewater injection which led to deep seismicity.

Most of the quakes were small and largely unfelt but could point to a trend of increased magnitudes and potentially larger events, the study read.

Zhai said the problem could get worse as energy needs increase around the world, and shallow disposal injection remains the cheapest method of wastewater management.

More: Feds move forward with sale of southeast New Mexico public land to oil and gas industry

People should use the research, Zhai said to rethink the human role in induced seismicity resulting from fossil fuel development.

"As the future energy demands increase globally, dealing with the enormous amount of coproduced wastewater remains challenging, and safe shallow injection for disposal is more cost-efficient than deep injection or water treatment," Zhai said.

"We hope the mechanism we find in this study can help people rethink the ways induced earthquakes are caused, eventually helping with better understanding them and mitigating their hazards."

Adrian Hedden  @AdrianHedden on Twitter.

This article originally appeared on Carlsbad Current-Argus: New Mexico taking action on oil and gas-induced earthquakes

California denies most fracking permits ahead of 2024 ban


In this Feb. 6, 2015, file photo, protesters prepare to take down a makeshift oil derrick that was set up in front of the California State Office Building to protest fracking in San Francisco. California regulators are citing climate change for the first time as they deny new permits for hydraulic fracturing, a process used to extract oil and gas from the ground. In denying 50 fracking permits this year, the state's oil and gas supervisor said he was using his discretion to protect public health, safety and environmental quality and to mitigate greenhouse gas emissions. (AP Photo/Jeff Chiu, File)More

Wed, November 24, 2021

SACRAMENTO, Calif. (AP) — California regulators haven't approved permits for the controversial oil and gas extraction process known as fracking since February, effectively phasing out the process ahead of Gov. Gavin Newsom's 2024 deadline to end it.

The state's Geologic Energy Management Division, known as CalGEM, has rejected an unprecedented 109 fracking permits in 2021, the San Francisco Chronicle reported. That's the most denials the division has issued in a single year since California began permitting fracking in 2015. Fifty of the permits, mostly from Bakersfield-based Aera Energy, were denied based solely on climate change concerns.

State oil and gas supervisor Uduak-Joe Ntuk wrote in a September letter to Aera that he could “not in good conscience" grant the permits “given the increasingly urgent climate effects of fossil-fuel production” and “the continuing impacts of climate change and hydraulic fracturing on public health and natural resources.”


Newsom, a Democrat, called in 2020 for state lawmakers to ban the practice by 2024. But a proposal before lawmakers failed, leading Newsom to direct CalGEM to proceed with the timeline on its own. It’s only one piece of Newsom’s climate change agenda, which includes a complete end to oil and gas production in the state by 2045, long after he’s left office.

Kern County, where most fracking in the state occurs, and the Western States Petroleum Association have sued the state over the denials. WSPA's lawsuit, filed in October, argues state law requires CalGEM to permit fracking if it meets technical requirements and that the denials amount to a de facto ban on the process that hasn't been approved by the Legislature.

A hearing in the Kern case is scheduled for Monday and the state must respond to WSPA's lawsuit by Dec. 2.

Fracking is the process of injecting a high-pressure mix of mostly water with some sand and chemical additives into rock to create or expand fractures that allow for the extraction of oil and gas. Permitted fracking operations account for just 2% of oil production in California. But the practice is controversial due to concerns about the chemicals used in the fracking fluid contaminating groundwater.

Environmental justice organizations representing low-income communities and people of color have protested fracking for its potential water contamination and the methane released by the process. Methane is a highly potent greenhouse gas.

Juan Flores, a community organizer based in Kern County with the Center on Race, Poverty & the Environment, said by denying the permits Newsom and his administration are living up to expectations set by voters.

“This is a type of action that we expected," he said.

WSPA said in its lawsuit that the state's permitting process includes stringent requirements designed to protect public health and safety.

These actions “don’t really deliver the positive benefits for a fight against climate change, but what they do is impose big impacts on Californians — to their finances, to their freedoms and, essentially, how they live and work every single day,” WSPA President Catherine Reheis-Boyd told the Chronicle.

CalGEM has approved just 12 fracking permits this year, down from 83 in 2020 and 220 in 2019.

In his letter to Aera explaining why the state denied permit applications, Ntuk cited extreme heat, drought and wildfires as examples of the dangers caused by climate change. He argued that CalGEM must ensure the activities it regulates match the state's environmental, public health and climate change goals. He said a 2014 law that gave the agency permitting power over fracking does not require the state to approve permits even if applications are complete.

Kathy Miller, an Aera spokeswoman, did not respond to an email seeking comment.

What the archaeological record reveals about epidemics throughout history – and the human response to them

Michael Westaway, Australian Research Council Future Fellow, Archaeology, School of Social Science, The University of Queensland, Charlotte Roberts, Professor of Archaeology, Durham University, and Gabriel D. Wrobel, Associate Professor of Anthropology, Michigan State University

Fri, November 26, 2021, 

Dead men do tell tales through their physical remains. AP Photo/Francesco Bellini

The previous pandemics to which people often compare COVID-19 – the influenza pandemic of 1918, the Black Death bubonic plague (1342-1353), the Justinian plague (541-542) – don’t seem that long ago to archaeologists. We’re used to thinking about people who lived many centuries or even millennia ago. Evidence found directly on skeletons shows that infectious diseases have been with us since our beginnings as a species.

Bioarchaeologists like us analyze skeletons to reveal more about how infectious diseases originated and spread in ancient times.

How did aspects of early people’s social behavior allow diseases to flourish? How did people try to care for the sick? How did individuals and entire societies modify behaviors to protect themselves and others?

Knowing these things might help scientists understand why COVID-19 has wreaked such global devastation and what needs to be put in place before the next pandemic.

Clues about illnesses long ago

How can bioarchaeologists possibly know these things, especially for early cultures that left no written record? Even in literate societies, poorer and marginalized segments were rarely written about.

In most archaeological settings, all that remains of our ancestors is the skeleton.


For some infectious diseases, like syphilis, tuberculosis and leprosy, the location, characteristics and distribution of marks on a skeleton’s bones can serve as distinctive “pathognomonic” indicators of the infection.

Most skeletal signs of disease are non-specific, though, meaning bioarchaeologists today can tell an individual was sick, but not with what disease. Some diseases never affect the skeleton at all, including plague and viral infections like HIV and COVID-19. And diseases that kill quickly don’t have enough time to leave a mark on victims’ bones.

To uncover evidence of specific diseases beyond obvious bone changes, bioarchaeologists use a variety of methods, often with the help of other specialists, like geneticists or parasitologists. For instance, analyzing soil collected in a grave from around a person’s pelvis can reveal the remains of intestinal parasites, such as tapeworms and round worms. Genetic analyses can also identify the DNA of infectious pathogens still clinging to ancient bones and teeth.

Bioarchaeologists can also estimate age at death based on how developed a youngster’s teeth and bones are, or how much an adult’s skeleton has degenerated over its lifespan. Then demographers help us draw age profiles for populations that died in epidemics. Most infectious diseases disproportionately affect those with the weakest immune systems, usually the very young and very old.

For instance, the Black Death was indiscriminate; 14th-century burial pits contain the typical age distributions found in cemeteries we know were not for Black Death victims. In contrast, the 1918 flu pandemic was unusual in that it hit hardest those with the most robust immune systems, that is, healthy young adults. COVID-19 today is also leaving a recognizable profile of those most likely to die from the disease, targeting older and vulnerable people and particular ethnic groups.


We can find out what infections were around in the past through our ancestors’ remains, but what does this tell us about the bigger picture of the origin and evolution of infections? Archaeological clues can help researchers reconstruct aspects of socioeconomic organization, environment and technology. And we can study how variations in these risk factors caused diseases to vary across time, in different areas of the world and even among people living in the same societies.
How infectious disease got its first foothold

Human biology affects culture in complex ways. Culture influences biology, too, although it can be hard for our bodies to keep up with rapid cultural changes. For example, in the 20th century, highly processed fast food replaced a more balanced and healthy diet for many. Because the human body evolved and was designed for a different world, this dietary switch resulted in a rise in diseases like diabetes, heart disease and obesity.

From a paleoepidemiological perspective, the most significant event in our species’ history was the adoption of farming. Agriculture arose independently in several places around the world beginning around 12,000 years ago.

Prior to this change, people lived as hunter-gatherers, with dogs as their only animal companions. They were very active and had a well balanced, varied diet that was high in protein and fiber and low in calories and fat. These small groups experienced parasites, bacterial infections and injuries while hunting wild animals and occasionally fighting with one another. They also had to deal with dental problems, including extreme wear, plaque and periodontal disease.

One thing hunter-gatherers didn’t need to worry much about, however, was virulent infectious diseases that could move quickly from person to person throughout a large geographic region. Pathogens like the influenza virus were not able to effectively spread or even be maintained by small, mobile, and socially isolated populations.

The advent of agriculture resulted in larger, sedentary populations of people living in close proximity. New diseases could flourish in this new environment. The transition to agriculture was characterized by high childhood mortality, in which approximately 30% or more of children died before the age of 5.

And for the first time in an evolutionary history spanning millions of years, different species of mammals and birds became intimate neighbors. Once people began to live with newly domesticated animals, they were brought into the life cycle of a new group of diseases – called zoonoses – that previously had been limited to wild animals but could now jump into human beings.

Add to all this the stresses of poor sanitation and a deficient diet, as well as increased connections between distant communities through migration and trade especially between urban communities, and epidemics of infectious disease were able to take hold for the first time.
Globalization of disease

Later events in human history also resulted in major epidemiological transitions related to disease.

For more than 10,000 years, the people of Europe, the Middle East and Asia evolved along with particular zoonoses in their local environments. The animals people were in contact with varied from place to place. As people lived alongside particular animal species over long periods of time, a symbiosis could develop – as well as immune resistance to local zoonoses.

At the beginning of modern history, people from European empires also began traveling across the globe, taking with them a suite of “Old World” diseases that were devastating for groups who hadn’t evolved alongside them. Indigenous populations in Australia, the Pacific and the Americas had no biological familiarity with these new pathogens. Without immunity, one epidemic after another ravaged these groups. Mortality estimates range between 60-90%.


The study of disease in skeletons, mummies and other remains of past people has played a critical role in reconstructing the origin and evolution of pandemics, but this work also provides evidence of compassion and care, including medical interventions such as trepanation, dentistry, amputation and prostheses, herbal remedies and surgical instruments.

Other evidence shows that people have often done their best to protect others, as well as themselves, from disease. Perhaps one of the most famous examples is the English village of Eyam, which made a self-sacrificing decision to isolate itself to prevent further spread of a plague from London in 1665.


In other eras, people with tuberculosis were placed in sanatoria, people with leprosy were admitted to specialized hospitals or segregated on islands or into remote areas, and urban dwellers fled cities when plagues came.

As the world faces yet another pandemic, the archaeological and historical record are reminders that people have lived with infectious disease for millennia. Pathogens have helped shape civilization, and humans have been resilient in the face of such crises.

This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit news site dedicated to sharing ideas from academic experts. It was written by: Charlotte Roberts, Durham University; Gabriel D. Wrobel, Michigan State University, and Michael Westaway, The University of Queensland.

Ancient DNA is a powerful tool for studying the past – when archaeologists and geneticists work together

Plague was around for millennia before epidemics took hold – and the way people lived might be what protected them

How Yersinia pestis evolved its ability to kill millions via pneumonic plague

Michael Westaway receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

Charlotte Roberts and Gabriel D. Wrobel do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

WATER IS LIFE 
The Canadian town of Tiny has the world’s purest water. A gravel mining operation could ruin it


Leyland Cecco in Elmvale, Ontario
Thu, November 25, 2021

Some of cleanest water in the world fell to the ground about 70 years ago, passing through smoggy skies that stuffed the droplets full of ash, soot, vehicle exhaust, chemicals and heavy metals.map of Tiny on Georgian Bay

It percolated through gravel, glacial silt and permeable rock and eventually gushed from a hose and into a pitcher held by Bonnie Pauzé.

The water shimmers in the morning sunlight as she pours a glass. “This is some of the best stuff on the planet,” she says, taking a gulp.

Moments later, she holds up a jar of turbid water. “And this is what it looks like when the companies start washing gravel.”

After years of careful analysis, scientists believe the Ontario townships of Tiny and Tay – just an hour and a half north of Toronto – have some of the purest water on the planet.

But the quirk of geology believed to have produced this water is also coveted by gravel mining companies, which have announced plans to expand operations. In recent months, the region has found itself at the centre of a mounting conflict, pitting the preservation of the water supply against the growing power of resource extraction companies.

Gravel quarries have operated in the area for more than a decade, but residents fear a planned expansion could prove disastrous to the region’s groundwater. The new 13.5-hectare Teedon Pit quarry atop French’s Hill – the towering mass of silt, gravel, alluvial soil and trees that scientist believe is the secret to the area’s pristine water – would see the soil and gravel layer stripped away by heavy machinery and trucked off to feed the construction boom in large cities.

Since 2009, Pauzé has collected samples in mason jars, documenting changes to the water that she and other residents say dovetails with the expansion of mining in the area. Some samples contain tiny flakes of silt suspended in water; others turn inky black when shaken.

A hydrogeologist commissioned by Pauzé and her husband, Jake, shares their belief the water-intensive process of washing gravel is responsible for intermittently tainting the groundwater with silt. That claim is disputed by the province’s ministry of environment, which suggests she has problems with her well.

In a statement to the Guardian, Dufferin Aggregates, part of Dublin-based CHG, said all operations “are conducted in line with all legal and environmental compliance requirements, including minimising water use through reduction, reuse, and recycling measures wherever possible”.

But such certainty is misplaced, said William Shotyk, a geochemist at the University of Alberta, whose family farm sits in the shadow of French’s Hill.

“The world’s leading authorities don’t fully understand the water,” said Shotyk, the first scientist to quantify the purity of the water. “And yet, we have aggregate companies saying they won’t affect the quality of the water.”

Until recently, the purest water in the world was believed to be that trapped thousands of years ago in Arctic ice. But in 2006, Shotyk and colleagues discovered water from his farm had a lead concentration five times lower than Arctic core samples – a result he still finds mind-boggling. At the time, there were only a handful of facilities in the world that could measure a lead concentration so low.

“This is not great water. This is not excellent water. This water is absolutely unique. This is a miracle of nature,” he said. “But we don’t understand how much water is there, where it’s coming from, how quickly it’s moving, where it’s going to and how Mother Nature created it.”

Today, Shotyk has a carefully designed facility to better understand the water. Researchers from all over have travelled to his small cabin to take samples. The team washes the equipment in acid, uses polypropylene plastics and have enclosed the spigots in glass cases to ensure ambient air doesn’t contaminate the samples. Subsequent testing has found the water has incredibly low concentrations of chloride and is devoid of any organic contaminants from nearby farms.

John Cherry, a leading expert on hydrogeology and founder of the Groundwater Project, speculates it could be a mixture of Pleistocene-era water trapped in clay deposits, as well as rainwater filtered down from French’s Hill and trapped in a handful of artesian aquifers, like on Pauzé’s farm. But he fears the ecosystem could be altered before scientists can fully understand the phenomenon.

“The last place that a civilized society should be doing aggregate mining is an area where the most pristine waters are found,” he said. “A lot of what we do that’s stupid – and aggregate mining on top of pristine water is quite stupid – is because groundwater suffers from more ignorance than any other of the water resources – [because] we don’t see it.”

With so many unknowns surrounding the groundwater of Tiny and Tay, scientists are pleading for five years to study the water and surrounding ecosystem before quarry expansion begins.

“We’re told that Canada has more freshwater per capita than any other country in the world and that we live in this wonderful freshwater haven. Water is cheap and so it’s very rare that we actually do anything as a society to protect our water resources for the future,” said Cherry.

Residents in the area have won previous fights. In 2009, the 50-acre (20-hectare) Site 41 landfill was scrapped after widespread public opposition, a victory made possible only with help from neighbouring First Nations.

Those Indigenous communities are now closely watching the fight against gravel quarries – and preparing for another battle.

“I do this for my grandchildren,” said Beth Elson of the nearby Beausoleil First Nation. “Knowing they’ll need clear water is plenty of motivation. Water is just part of us. And it’s to be looked after.”

Elson was a central figure in the fight over the failed landfill project, and travels often from her home on the pristine shores of Georgian Bay to perform water ceremonies in the area.

“You lift the water, you say prayers and sing songs and honour the water. We give some to Mother Earth, some to the fire and then we pass the water around. Everyone has a little taste to help us all connect.”

But she worries that this battle feels different from Site 41.

“I don’t know when [Indigenous peoples] will get to play our part in here … As neighbours, we’re just watching, but we’re often called on at the 11th hour,” she said. “We should have been blocking roads right off the bat. Not waiting until they’ve dug the holes. We should have gone in right when the first tree was cut.”

Pauzé says the faltering momentum of the fight, worsened by public health restrictions, has demoralized the community.

On a fall afternoon, walking beneath the maple, beech and hemlock stands that blanket the top of French’s Hill, Pauzé and local resident Kate Harries listen to the chatter of grackles swarming overhead – and the distant hum of the aggregate operations in the distance.

“We just want a pause on all this to really know what’s at stake,” said Pauzé. “We want to know why this water is so special.”

Harries agrees.

“If only for the history books.”

Quarry landfills started as a good idea a century ago, but are now a problem

Lauren Abbate, Bangor Daily News, Maine
Thu, November 25, 2021, 

Nov. 25—ROCKLAND, Maine — A century ago, it seemed like a good idea. Quarries that dotted the landscape were being retired and there was a need for more landfills for waste. But decades later, the problematic nature of the rocky areas would become clear.

In the midcoast region for more than a century, a limestone deposit between Thomaston and Rockport was quarried for the stone's use in cement and other products. The industry was an economic driver for the region, but it largely fizzled out by the early to mid-20th century as the deposit depleted.

Left behind were the empty quarries that were beginning to fill with water.

"Trash disposal has been a problem since humans have urbanized themselves. The old solution has been 'let's bury it, find a hole in the ground and bury it.' So those quarries were dug as deep as they were going to get and they were there," said John Peckenham, an associate research scientist at the University of Maine's Senator George J. Mitchell Center for Sustainability Solutions.

Quarry landfills opened in Rockland, Rockport and at least one other Maine town. It's unclear exactly how many were once in operation in the state, but today just two remain.

In Rockland, a quarry landfill owned by the city is nearly at capacity and will be capped soon. In neighboring Rockport, a quarry landfill operated by Mid-Coast Solid Waste Corporation remains and is years away from closure. Both have been in use since at least the 1930s.

However, with these quarries containing both trash and water, what once seemed like a good solution has become a challenging operational and environmental problem.

"You can say the Rockland landfill to anyone, at any level of the [Maine Department of Environmental Protection], and they immediately know everything about it. It's the Jessie James of landfills. Everybody knows about it," said Chris Donlin, the interim director of public works for the city of Rockland.

Since quarries over time fill with water, the disposal of waste into them has been prohibited in Maine for decades. But the Rockland and Rockport facilities were grandfathered in and can continue to operate as long as the facilities comply with operational rules by the DEP that are aimed at mitigating environmental risks, such as the contamination of groundwater.

Very few quarry landfills are known to have existed in Maine, according to DEP spokesperson David Madore. Rockland had a second one, for instance, but that's been long closed. And a quarry landfill was also operated in Monson.

But in the century since their creation, the understanding of waste management practices and their impacts on the environment have improved.

Environmental experts now know that the presence of water in quarries ― or any landfill ― is problematic for trash disposal. It creates leachate, which is water that has come in contact with waste, and also makes compaction difficult and leads to problems with settling.

"Everything that's in there is a really thick soup. There is a lot of water in there and the stuff is almost quite literally floating," Peckenham said.

Modern landfills that collect municipal solid waste are built with liner systems, according to Peckenham, to prevent leachate from leaking out and contaminating groundwater. Those liners didn't exist in the quarry landfills. Peckenham said the bedrock walls of the quarries might actually cause the leachate to leak more slowly than it would other types of old, unlined landfills.

In recent decades, only construction and demolition debris have been collected in the Rockport and Rockland landfills. This type of debris is relatively inert ― meaning it breaks down slowly or not at all ― and can be collected in an unlined landfill under state rules, according to Madore.

To mitigate the risk of groundwater contamination, the DEP requires Rockland and the Mid-Coast Solid Waste Corp. to pump out enough leachate on a daily basis to keep the water level in the quarries below surrounding groundwater levels. The contaminated water is sent to a wastewater facility for treatment. The facilities also have to monitor groundwater near the quarries for signs of contamination.

Even when Rockland closes its quarry landfill, this pumping and monitoring will likely continue, according to the DEP.

These types of landfills will also continue to settle after they are capped so the cover system could settle and require maintenance. Unlike other more stable landfills, it is unlikely the quarries can ever be repurposed for a different land use in the future, according to Peckenham.

Rockland will stop accepting demolition debris at the end of the year and is working with state officials on a plan for final closure of the landfill by 2024.

In Rockport, current estimates predict that the landfill will be full in six years, according to Mid-Coast Solid Waste Corp. Facility Manager Michael Martunas. The facility's original agreement with the DEP included dates for closure, Martunas said. But he is currently working with the department to come up with a new document that will "define the life of the landfill" based on how full it is, in accordance with DEP requirements, rather than a specific date.

But even after the landfills are closed, the legacy of what once seemed like a good idea will remain.

"We were the 'Lime City' in the 1880s and now we have the proof of it," Donlin said.

The politics of carbon taxes versus clean energy subsidies



Thu, November 25, 2021

Economists on both the left and the right tend to favor carbon taxes as the most efficient way of addressing global warming. In contrast, politicians on both the left and the right are reluctant to embrace this approach, due to a perception that carbon taxes are highly unpopular. Instead, politicians often implement something less effective: clean energy subsidies.

But why are carbon taxes unpopular? When economists say a policy is "more efficient," they usually mean it results in a higher level of real income for society. What if a carbon tax passes this test, and is a superior approach to policies that are already in place? Here, I'll argue that an appropriately constructed set of carbon taxes would not have to be politically unpopular.

To understand the politics of carbon taxes, we need to begin by recalling that economists view terms such as "taxes" and "subsidies" differently than the general public does. Economists know the concepts to be quite similar - two sides of the same coin. Both move money from one group to another, and both raise the relative price of some goods and reduce the relative price of other goods.

Many non-economists see taxes and subsidies as being quite distinct: taxes as money taken from the people by the government, and subsidies as money provided from the government. In one case, the money seems to just disappear, and in the other, it magically appears almost as if from nowhere. Of course, neither perception is accurate, but this means that subsidies are the easier sell.

One reason economists prefer carbon taxes is that they don't cause an increase in the national debt; indeed they can reduce it. But carbon taxes would be more efficient than clean energy subsidies even if they increased the public debt by the same amount. As a result, it should be possible to construct a carbon tax program that has the same fiscal impact as clean energy subsidies but is far more popular.

Assume the adult population of the United States is 250 million. If we (hypothetically) say the government is spending $200 per adult on clean energy subsidies, then the total cost of the program would be $50 billion each year. Let's also make the assumption that the full $50 billion is financed by the budget deficit, to match the mistaken perception that subsidies are free money.

Now, consider an alternative idea: a carbon tax that instead raises $50 billion each year. By itself, this would reduce the deficit by that amount. Thus, to have an equal fiscal impact to the clean energy subsidies, the government would need to rebate twice as much ($100 billion) back to the public.

Thus, Americans would on average pay an additional $200 in carbon taxes each year - but everyone would receive a fixed carbon tax rebate of $400, regardless of how much carbon tax one pays. For the same $50 billion price tag as the clean energy subsidies, we'd have a carbon tax program that looks more appealing to the public.

How does this reduce carbon emissions? While the rebate is constant, the amount paid in carbon taxes is proportional to one's energy use. Consumers would have a powerful incentive to move away from fossil fuel usage.

Only a very modest percentage would be paying out more than the $400 they'd be receiving - and those would be mostly affluent Americans. The net direct effect would be to put money in the pockets of the vast majority of Americans. That, plus the potential environmental benefits, should make it politically popular.

Of course, there are also indirect effects, as this program would continue boosting the budget deficit, just as with subsidies. But from a political standpoint, standalone carbon taxes are less popular than clean energy subsidies because people don't care about (or don't understand) budget deficits in the first place.

Carbon taxes are not unpopular due to the "carbon" part of the phrase - it's more about the "tax." But if economists are correct that at a fundamental level taxes and subsidies are the same thing, then it should be possible to construct a carbon tax-and-rebate regime that's just as enticing to the public as a subsidy, and more efficient.

Scott Sumner is the Ralph G. Hawtrey Chair of Monetary Policy with the Mercatus Center at George Mason University and a professor emeritus at Bentley University

Experts, activists say health equity needs more emphasis in fight against climate change



Nada Hassanein
Fri, November 26, 2021

Nearly three decades after the world first came together to address climate change, its impact on human health was a focus of talks this month in Glasgow, Scotland.

The 26th meeting of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, or COP26, featured a pavilion that held dozens of events discussing the health threats of climate change. More than 400 health organizations from more than 100 countries signed a letter urging stronger climate change action to protect human health.

But while the new agreement stemming from COP26 pledges to shift away from coal, halt deforestation and cut methane emissions, along with other goals to reduce warming, analysts say it fails to spell out specific adverse health impacts and efforts needed to address them.

The importance of doing so isn't limited to small islands and developing nations – the issue is urgent in the U.S., with communities of color disproportionately at risk.

When it comes to addressing health and climate, experts like Dr. Renee Salas, a Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health emergency medicine physician specializing in the link between the two, said equity must be central.

More: People of color face disproportionate harm from climate change, EPA says

“Climate justice is environmental justice, and it’s fundamental for us to take a holistic approach across all sectors, whether it be urban planning or transportation, that their policies have clear health impacts and can either advance equity or hinder it." Salas said.

She said an emergency "triage" approach is needed to provide health protections and resources for America’s communities on the frontlines of climate change.

 
Related video: Greta Thunberg blasts world leaders for climate change response



"We need to make sure that those who have the most emergent problems are taken care of first," she said. "We have to ensure that health and equity drive our response, in addition to serving as our motivation to act."

Report: Climate change is 'first and foremost' a health crisis

Natasha DeJarnett, an expert on environmental health and professor at the University of Louisville School of Medicine, was glad COP26 finally featured a health program but said policies and regulations need to catch up to the science.

“We have known that climate is a threat to health for quite some time,” she said, citing reports that found race a primary predictor of the location of hazardous facilities emitting toxins. “We’ve known for several decades that the places that have dirtier air, have more deaths. But we’ve also known that even small decreases in air pollution correspond with significant increases in life expectancy.”

Air pollution and excessive heat are linked to numerous health concerns, including cardiovascular health problems.

More: Climate change, heat waves affect heart health, experts say. Here's why that puts people of color at higher risk.

Environmental activist Lisa Deville, a member of the Mandan, Hidatsa and Arikara tribes on the Fort Berthold Reservation in North Dakota, said she was happy to see agreements to reduce methane come out of the global conference, but wants stricter methane emission policies at state and local levels that prioritize health.

Funding is needed, she said, for local research efforts to collect baseline pollution levels to guide such policy. Deville said she and her husband have had respiratory issues from the gas flares of oil wells connected to pipelines.

The Dakota Access Pipeline carries oil from Fort Berthold. The reservation is located on the oil-rich Bakken Formation, where a boom in oil and gas brought tribes new wealth – and concerns.

"We’ve been heavily extracted here," said Deville, who is president of the Fort Berthold Protectors of Water and Earth Rights and the EPA’s National Environmental Justice Advisory Council. "We live right next to flares surrounding our community."

More: COP26 climate deal boosts global emissions pledges but falls short on 1.5 degrees Celsius target

A scholar on climate change and health, Kristie Ebi is a professor at the University of Washington’s Center for Health and the Global Environment. She noted the irony that the most vulnerable communities in the U.S. have contributed the least to climate change in terms of emitting greenhouse gases and suffer the most.

She said a “better culture of preparedness” is key to health equity in the face of climate change. For example, climate assessments have sounded alarms on the vulnerability of coastal hospitals to flooding.

“You’ve got hotspots of particularly vulnerable populations in particularly vulnerable places... It is the people, and it is the infrastructure," Ebi said. “We can’t necessarily stop the flooding. We can’t stop the heat waves but almost all deaths from flooding and heat waves are preventable."

Dr. John Balbus, interim director of the Biden administration's new Office of Climate Change and Health Equity, said he was "energized" by the global summit's focus on climate change as a public health crisis.

"We see ourselves as being a catalyst for action," Balbus said of the new office, tasked with collaborating with federal agencies and divisions to advance equity concerns. "I came away from COP26 really energized to be that connection with communities as much as possible, to make sure their voices are heard and their concerns are met."

Reach Nada Hassanein at nhassanein@usatoday.com or on Twitter @nhassanein_.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: COP26: Experts say health equity needs focus in climate change fight

Opinion: We all must rise to the challenge of climate change


Fernanda Leite
Fri, November 26, 2021

We’re feeling the impacts of climate change all around us. Rising temperatures are changing our landscapes and livelihoods. The Great Barrier Reef is suffering from thermal stress that contributes to coral bleaching — more than half of the reef's coral cover was lost between 1995 and 2017. In July, several European countries were severely affected by floods. Globally, eight of the world's 10 largest cities are near a coast. And in the United States, almost 40% of the population lives in coastal areas, where sea level plays a role in flooding and land erosion.

Nowhere are climate stressors more obvious than in Texas. Our population is expected to nearly double by 2050, and most of the state has warmed between 0.5 and 1.0 degree Fahrenheit during the past century. We are seeing new diseases spread from tropical areas, and we’re experiencing more extreme weather events such as the winter storm that left two-thirds of Texans without power and almost half without water for an average of more than two days in February.

We need to urgently decrease emissions. And Texas needs a statewide climate adaptation plan.

Rising temperatures are caused primarily by an increase of carbon dioxide (CO2) and other greenhouse gases. CO2 levels have been rising steadily for more than 100 years due mainly to the burning of fossil fuels, trapping more heat in our atmosphere and contributing to climate change.

A special report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, which includes climate scientists from around the world, has said that human activities are estimated to have caused approximately 1.0 degree Celsius (1.8 degrees Fahrenheit) of global warming above preindustrial levels. And global warming is likely to reach 1.5 degrees C (2.7 degrees F) between 2030 and 2052 if it continues to increase at the current rate.

This is precisely one of the goals of the United Nations Climate Change conference, or COP26, which brought world leaders together to tackle climate change. Countries are being asked to set ambitious 2030 emission reduction targets that align with reaching net zero by the middle of the century.

We all need to do our part like a true phase-out of coal, accelerating the switch to electric vehicles and investing in renewable energy. There are positive examples around the world of countries that are heading toward a low-carbon future by embracing solar, wind, geothermal and other renewable energy sources. Texas produces the most wind energy of any state in the United States. The U.S. as a whole has the second-highest installed wind energy capacity in the world after China. A clean energy revolution must continue to happen across America, underscored by the steady expansion of the U.S. renewable energy sector.

Not only will setting ambitious emission reduction targets help with climate change, it will also lead to cleaner and more resilient cities and infrastructure systems. Energy systems with high percentages of renewables — or even ​​decarbonized power grids — are better able to resist shocks than those heavily dependent on fossil fuels such as natural gas and coal.

Extreme weather events such as this year’s winter storm are expected, and we need to adapt our infrastructure to withstand such stressors. And we especially need to take into consideration vulnerable communities, those that already suffer from chronic stressors related to toxic pollution, poverty, food insecurity, mixed immigration status and gentrification. States and communities around the country have begun to prepare for climate change by developing their own climate adaptation plans; we have many examples to follow.

Our world leaders need to leave COP26 with actionable goals and with concrete, meaningful and realistic deadlines. And policymakers and leaders in Texas must do their part and adopt and accelerate measures to combat climate change, addressing energy infrastructure and equitable resilience. Only then will we rise to the challenge of climate change.

Leite is an associate professor and the John A. Focht Centennial Teaching Fellow in Civil Engineering in the Cockrell School of Engineering at the University of Texas. She serves on the leadership of a universitywide grand challenges initiative, Planet Texas 2050.

This article originally appeared on Austin American-Statesman: Opinion: We all must rise to the challenge of climate change

U.N. 'concerned' Mexico hasn't complied with recommendations to prevent disappearances


National Flag Day event in Iguala

Lizbeth Diaz
Fri, November 26, 2021

MEXICO CITY (Reuters) - The United Nations' committee against enforced disappearances expressed concern on Friday that the Mexican government has not adopted its recommendations aimed at preventing disappearances in the Latin American country.

"We note with concern that several of the recommendations made by the Committee to Mexico in 2015 and 2018 are still pending implementation," Carmen Villa, a member of the U.N. committee, told reporters.


She added that, during the coronavirus pandemic, there was a "notable" increase in the disappearances of children, adolescents and women in Mexico.

Among the recommendations not yet implemented, Villa said, were measures to increase the power of search commissions, combat impunity, and address the root causes of Mexico's disappearance crisis.

According to official data, there are currently 95,121 missing persons in Mexico. It is not clear how many of these cases constitute enforced disappearances, which means they were perpetrated by state authorities or groups acting with official support.

In response, the government of Mexico said there are "significant challenges" in combating enforced disappearances, and pledged to work with the committee to advance efforts to investigate cases and search for missing people.

Currently, Mexico is in second place, after Iraq, as the country with the highest number of urgent actions presented to the United Nations, a protection mechanism for cases of enforced disappearance.

Australia introduces contentious religious anti-discrimination legislation

RIGHT WING LAWS ARE  THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT

THEY ARE CALLED

Australia's PM Morrison speaks with the media in Washington

Wed, November 24, 2021,
By Renju Jose and Colin Packham

SYDNEY (Reuters) - Australia on Thursday introduced contentious religious anti-discrimination legislation to parliament that if approved would allow faith-based organisations to prioritise the hiring and enrolment of people from their faith.

Religious freedom has been in the spotlight in Australia since same-sex marriage was legalised in 2017.

In a move seen as targeting religious voters with an election just months away, Prime Minister Scott Morrison said the legislation would protect people who express their religious faith outside of the workplace as long as it did not cause financial damage to their employer.

"People should not be cancelled or persecuted or vilified because their beliefs are different from someone else's," said Morrison, a devout Pentecostal Christian, while introducing the bill in the parliament's lower house.

Morrison said the legislation would also protect Australians who make "statements of belief" from discrimination laws, but only if those statements do not "threaten, intimidate, harass or vilify a person or group".

Australia's existing Sex Discrimination Act allows schools to expel students or sack teachers for being gay. Morrison pledged in 2018 to reform the legislation.

LGBT groups support reforming the Act but have criticised the new bill saying it would enable discrimination against gay students and teachers as it permits prioritising the hiring and enrolment of people based on faith.

"It will wind back hard-fought protections for women, people with disability, LGBTIQ+ people, and even people of faith," said Anna Brown, Chief Executive of the representative body, Equality Australia.

The bill has also divided the parliament, with some conservatives government lawmakers threatening to vote against the legislation until Morrison moves to abolish state mandates requiring COVID-19 vaccines.

The legislation is expected to be put to a vote next week in the lower house, but it is far from guaranteed to pass into law. The bill is expected to be reviewed before being voted on in the upper house Senate sometime in 2022-23.

Australia's parliament is in its last sitting fortnight for the year and Morrison could call an election before it resumes in 2022. Morrison must return to the polls by May 2022.

(Reporting by Renju Jose; Editing by Michael Perry)

This tiny minority of Iraqis follows an ancient Gnostic religion – and there's a chance they could be your neighbors too

James F. McGrath, Professor of New Testament Language and Literature, Butler University, Butler University
Fri, November 26, 2021,

Like their ancient ancestors, contemporary Mandaeans revere John the Baptist and consider baptism the most important of their religious rituals. Hadi Mizban/AP

In March 2021 Pope Francis became the first leader of the Roman Catholic Church to visit Iraq. The number of Christians in Iraq has fallen sharply in the past two decades amid mass violence at the hands of the Islamic State group. Iraq stands today in the region of the ancient Babylonian Empire, generally understood as the homeland of the patriarch Abraham, the foundational figure shared by Judaism, Christianity and Islam – commonly called the “Abrahamic” religions.

As the pope met with local Christian and Muslim leaders, the names of other, smaller religious groups found in Iraq also made the news. One of these was likely unfamiliar to the majority of those in the English-speaking world: the Mandaeans. Also called Sabians, they are followers of the last Gnostic religion to survive continuously from ancient times down to the present day.

Gnostic religions view the material world as the product of a mistake in the heavenly realm, the creation of one or more inferior divine beings rather than the supreme God. Gnosticism also emphasizes that human beings can become aware of this and prepare their souls to escape from under the influence of the malevolent spiritual forces that created and rule this realm, so that when they die they can ascend to the good realm that lies beyond them.

As a scholar of religion, I’ve been involved in translating into English one of the Mandaeans’ sacred texts, known as the Mandaean Book of John. Working in this area has also connected me with the living tradition and persuaded me that more people need to know about Mandaeans.

The ancient roots of Gnosticism

Mandaeism, like other forms of Gnosticism, is an esoteric religion whose literature remains mostly in the hands of priestly families. Their sacred texts are written in a distinctive alphabet used only for that purpose. The contents and meaning of these works are largely unknown even to most Mandaeans, never mind others.

But the Mandeans’ alternative view has periodically attracted popular interest. In the 19th century, their most important sacred text, the Great Treasure or Ginza Rba, was translated into Latin. That is believed to have contributed to the heightened interest in esoteric mysticism and spirituality in that era. However, this was largely among people who had no contact with or real awareness of the Mandaeans in the present day.

Baptism: The core of Mandaean religion

A follower being baptised during a Mandaean baptism ceremony in the Nepean river at Emu Plains on October 26, 2014 in Sydney, Australia.

The Mandaeans’ central ritual is baptism: immersion in flowing water, which is referred to in Mandaic as “living water,” a phrase that appears in the Bible’s New Testament as well. Baptism in Mandaean faith is not a one-time action denoting conversion as in Christianity. Instead it is a repeated rite of seeking forgiveness and cleansing from wrongdoing, in preparation for the afterlife.

“Baptist” today usually denotes a form of Christianity, but Mandaeans aren’t Christians. They have a special place, however, for the individual who is said to have baptized Jesus, namely John the Baptist. The Mandaean Book of John, which I was involved in translating, tells stories about John the Baptist and attributes speeches to him containing various ethical teachings.

In the first half of the 20th century, the Mandaeans received significant attention from New Testament scholars who thought that their high view of John the Baptist might mean they were the descendants of his disciples. Many historians think that Jesus of Nazareth was a disciple of John the Baptist before breaking away to form his own movement, and I am inclined to agree.

Whatever tensions and competition there may have been among Mandaeans, Jews and Christians in Iraq in the past, today they seek to coexist amicably, finding themselves in a context in which all minority groups face much the same struggle to survive and maintain their identity.

A number of Mandaean scrolls contain fascinating artwork and illustrations depicting varied images including the celestial figures mentioned in their texts, scenes from the afterlife, trees and animals. All are drawn in a style that isn’t quite like what one finds in the artwork or illustrated manuscripts of other religions. One of my favorite scenes in the scroll known as Diwan Abatur depicts people being tormented with trumpets and cymbals in purgatories through which souls are liable to pass. The point is most likely the loud noise such instruments can make, and not a negative statement about music in general.

James F. McGrath holds a copy of the Mandean work known as the Diwan Abatur, created and owned by the Mubaraki, an Australian family of Mandeans. Courtesy of the author, CC BY

Mandaeism today

Estimates vary as to how many Mandaeans there are today. Some can still be found in their historic homelands in Iraq and Iran. However, persecution in those places has led to the creation of small but significant Mandaean diaspora communities in such places as Australia, Sweden and the U.S.

This scattering, combined with Mandaeans’ dwindling numbers, has made it much harder for them to preserve their identity and pass their traditions along to the next generation. Mandaeans do not accept converts or consider children of marriages with non-Mandaeans to be part of their religious community, which has also contributed to their dwindling population.

There is a reasonable chance that Mandaeans may be among your neighbors, whether you live in San Diego, San Antonio or Sydney. Look for them, and you may get a chance to do more than catch a glimpse of living history.

This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit news site dedicated to sharing ideas from academic experts. It was written by: James F. McGrath, Butler University.

Read more:

What s the religious exemption to Title IX and what’s at stake in LGBTQ students’ legal challenge


Armenians displaced from Nagorno-Karabakh fear their medieval churches will be destroyed


Ancient texts encouraged hope and endurance when they spoke of end times

James F. McGrath received funding from the National Endowment for the Humanities to support his work on the critical edition, translation, and commentary of the Mandaean Book of John referred to in this article.