FRANKFORT, Ky. – Democratic lawmakers are probing the reasons why a National Academy of Sciences study on the health effects of surface coal mining in Central Appalachia was cancelled.
The U.S. Interior Department halted the study in 2017, calling it a cost saving measure.
But Reps. Raúl Grijalva from Arizona and Alan Lowenthal from California have asked the department to turn over all documents related to the cancellation, including any conversations between Interior officials and coal companies or industry groups.
Erin Haynes, an epidemiology professor at the University of Kentucky, says it's still not clear what the health risks are for people living in communities near surface mines.
"This area has lacked, I think, scientific attention, and it's highly warranted and overdue," she states.
The House Committee on Natural Resources wants acting Interior Secretary David Bernhardt to release all documents and communications related to the surface mining study to the committee by March 15.
According to Haynes, even the process of restoring land after it has been mined can lead to situations that potentially can put local residents at risk.
"The reclamation process involves moving large rocks that were once underground to above ground and now, into valleys,” she explains. “All of those elements and metals and minerals are then into the water. They weren't supposed to be there. These are natural elements, but they're supposed to be underground."
Ronald Whitmore, a retired pharmacist who spent many years working in Eastern Kentucky, recalls filling prescriptions for a variety of health conditions that he believes were the result of living near mining areas.
"They always say,'Well you know, coal is the cheapest source of energy, you know – we're getting it so cheap, and why don't we burn more coal?'” he relates. “But nobody considers the huge cost to the health care system and what it does to our health."
Last summer, surface mines in Kentucky produced more than 2 million tons of coal, a nearly 15 percent decrease from 2017.
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By Rebecca Randall for Earthbeat.
Broadcast version by Trimmel Gomes for Florida News Connection for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration.
Nuestra Señora del Carmen Parish in Cataño, a town bordering the San Juan Bay in Puerto Rico, installed solar in March to prepare for the threat of coming storms and serve as a centerpiece for a climate resilience hub.
Dominican Sr. Lissette Avilés-Ríos, a member of the Parish Pastoral Council, explained that the parish wants to help the community organize and respond in future disasters. Cataño's coastal location makes it vulnerable to the effects of climate change, such as hurricanes like María in 2017. Rather than rely on the electric grid in Puerto Rico, which is unstable and frequently experiences power outages, the church opted for the independence offered by solar — a move supported by many Catholics.
In 2017, the one-two punch of Hurricane Irma and Hurricane María left 100% of the island without electricity, limited access to food and clean water, and caused 4,600 deaths. When María hit, Avilés-Ríos chose to stay in her convent on Calle Ocean Drive, right in front of the bay, in order to help neighbors who were older or living alone.
"The level of the bay rose with the storm surge and reached the convent hall," she said. "The second floor flooded when water entered through the balcony doors."
Eventually the power went out that September and didn't come back until November. "Thank God we did not have major damage to the structure; it is made of cement," she added.
David Ortiz, the Puerto Rico director of Solar United Neighbors (SUN), said the experience of Hurricane María and Hurricane Irma left lessons to apply in becoming more resilient for future storms.
Since then, Archbishop Roberto González Nieves has encouraged all 142 parishes to switch to solar by 2030 in a pastoral letter on implementing the teachings of Pope Francis' 2015 encyclical Laudato Si' in the Archdiocese of San Juan de Puerto Rico.
For SUN, that letter signaled the commitment they wanted to see before awarding funds earmarked for frontline communities to create resilience hubs in Puerto Rico. Both Nuestra Señora del Carmen and Centro Buen Pastor, a Catholic nonprofit eco-spirituality center in Guaynabo, received enough funds to cover the cost of equipment and installation.
What is a resilience hub?
The term "resilience hub," coined by the Urban Sustainability Network, includes coordinating community networks of care that provide a safety net in case of an emergency. A resilience hub often begins with identifying a stable source of renewable energy.
Ortiz said this is because access to electricity affects communication — if people can't charge their phones or connect to Wi-Fi, they can't contact their loved ones. It also impacts vulnerable community members, such as those needing medical devices or refrigeration for medicine, or a simple fan to keep an infant cool on a hot day. Clean water fails, too, because pumps need electricity to run.
Avilés-Ríos explained that the church wants to amplify the impact of its solar to be available to the community. "This gives us the security of being able to provide help for those people, parishioners or not, who can charge their cellphones, refrigerate medications or receive respiratory therapies," she said.
To Ortiz, it's a logical choice to provide solar to entities like churches that have proven they are poised to leverage resources to disadvantaged community members. During past hurricane response, "the churches and community groups in many cases were the first ones there to help, because government still couldn't get there or couldn't reach that mountain, but outreach organizations, community organizations, and churches were able to throw stuff on their back and make it up the hill," he said.
Understanding the energy system
Resilience hubs need durability and stability amid an emergency situation to keep power running to meet neighborhood needs.
Ortiz said the solar panels installed at Nuestra Señora del Carmen are made to sustain winds for a Category 3 hurricane. "They tend to hold on," he said.
The panels in the church's system each have micro-inverters, which take direct energy from the sun and turn it into electricity. This means the whole system will keep running even if one panel blows down. In contrast, if damage occurs on a system with a central inverter for all the panels, the power may go down for the whole system.
Either way, getting a panel back up isn't too complex. Ortiz remembers how those with solar fared after María. "I saw it firsthand in my neighborhood," he said. One neighbor's panels stayed intact, and the other had two fly off, but both had electricity.
Additionally, if the grid is down, the local internet company might go down as well. Since most systems rely on a Wi-Fi connection to keep users informed about the amount of storage left on their battery, Ortiz recommends satellite internet.
Another key is having enough storage, said Ortiz. Most solar systems in Puerto Rico are connected to the public electrical grid via net metering, which feeds surplus solar energy back to the grid in exchange for customer credit. But U.S. electric code requires the panels to shut down when there is a power outage to protect workers who are trying to restore the lines in the electric grid. With an inverter, the panels can send electricity to your battery instead.
Nuestra Señora del Carmen already knows that its system works. The system stayed up and running during a recent six-hour power outage.
But the key is still knowing how much storage you will need or how to conserve energy when you're relying only on your solar system. "Sometimes people overconsume when they know a hurricane is coming," said Ortiz. "They wash all these clothes ... and only have half a battery left."
Plus, cloudy days — which are likely during a storm — will generate less electricity. So, a resilience hub might want to decide ahead of time what usage to prioritize, said Ortiz.
Building a community plan
Avilés-Ríos, who is appointed by the bishop to advise on ecological pastoral matters, said the community is in the meeting phase of deciding what resources the resilience hub can offer and how it will operate.
"We still lack details of the plan, but there is a lot of enthusiasm in the community," she said. "We must establish a protocol for when there is a lack of electricity in Cataño."
The hub plans to identify other families in the parish who have solar and create a community map, so everything is not dependent on the church. It will also decide how they might offer other resources beyond electricity, such as food and water.
Avilés-Ríos sees the parish in Cataño as a model for others. "We will guide and motivate the parish communities of the entire archdiocese to establish their ecological action plan," she said.
Of course, while two parishes received full funding through grants, other parishes have not yet accessed funds for solar. Ortiz and Avilés-Ríos said opportunities for federal funding, such as Inflation Reduction Act tax credits, are more limited for churches in Puerto Rico. Unlike churches in the states, the parishes in Puerto Rico cannot directly receive the tax credit.
"We know that there are funds allocated," she said, but "the structure does not make it easy for us to access those funds."
Once the panels and installation are paid for, Ortiz said, net metering could help pay for other aspects of a resilience hub. However, there's been a hiccup. Nuestra Señora del Carmen is still waiting for the meter to be switched to net metering, so that it can earn energy credits. If it saves money on electricity, the church could invest it back into the resilience hub.
Ortiz further pointed out that officials in Puerto Rico have made moves to remove net metering despite its recent extension of the policy. As more electric customers go solar, utility companies worry about lost revenue.
"Although there are economic challenges to establishing photovoltaic systems with backup batteries, we cannot lose hope of achieving it," said Avilés-Ríos. "It is not a merely economic matter but a Christian matter to make good use of the resources of creation and to be a place of help for everyone who needs it."
Rebecca Randall wrote this article for Earthbeat.
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By Caroline Preston for The Hechinger Report.
Broadcast version by Edwin J. Viera for New York News Connection reporting for The Hechinger Report-Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration
At the end of a semester that presaged one of the hottest summers on record, the students in Associate Professor Michael Sheridan’s business class were pitching proposals to cut waste and emissions on their campus and help turn it into a vehicle for fighting climate change.
Flanking a giant whiteboard at the front of the classroom, members of the team campaigning to build a solar canopy on a SUNY New Paltz parking lot delivered their pitch. The sunbaked lot near the athletic center was an ideal spot for a shaded solar panel structure, they said, a conduit for solar energy that could curb the campus’s reliance on natural gas.
The project would require $43,613 in startup money. It would be profitable within roughly five years, the students said. And over 50 years, it would save the university $787,130 in energy costs.
“Solar canopies have worked for other universities, including other SUNY schools,” said Ian Lominski, a graduating senior who said he hopes to one day work for the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. “It’s well within the realm of possibility for SUNY New Paltz.”
Sheridan’s course is an example of an approach known as “campus as a living lab,” which seeks to simultaneously educate students and reduce the carbon footprint of college campuses. Over the past decade, a growing number of professors in fields as diverse as business, English and the performing arts have integrated their teaching with efforts to minimize their campuses’ waste and emissions, at a time when human-created climate change is fueling dangerous weather and making life on Earth increasingly unstable.
Engineering students have helped retrofit buildings. Theater students have produced no-waste productions. Ecology students have restored campus wetlands. Architecture students have modeled campus buildings’ airflow and worked to improve their energy efficiency. The efforts are so diverse that it’s difficult to get a complete count of them, but they’ve popped up on hundreds of campuses around the country.
“I think it’s a very, very positive step,” said Bryan Alexander, a senior scholar at Georgetown University and author of the book “Universities on Fire: Higher Education in the Climate Crisis.” “You’ve got the campus materials, you’ve got the integration of teaching and research, which we claim to value, and it’s also really good for students in a few ways,” including by helping them take action on climate in ways that can improve mental health.
That said, the work faces difficulties, among them that courses typically last only a semester, making it hard to maintain projects. But academics and experts see promising results: Students learn practical skills in a real-world context, and their projects provide vivid examples to help educate entire campuses and communities about solutions to alleviate climate change.
From the food waste students and staff produce, to emissions from commuting to campus and flying to conferences, to the energy needed to power campus buildings, higher education has a significant climate footprint. In New York, buildings are among the single largest sources of carbon emissions — and the State University of New York system owns a whopping 40 percent of the state’s public buildings.
About 15 years ago, college leaders began adding “sustainability officers” to their payrolls and signing commitments to achieve carbon neutrality. But only a dozen of the 400 institutions that signed on have achieved net-zero emissions to date, according to Bridget Flynn, senior manager of climate programs with the nonprofit Second Nature, which runs the network of universities committed to decarbonizing. (The SUNY system has a goal of achieving net-zero emissions by 2045, per its chancellor, John B. King Jr.)
Campus sustainability efforts have faced hurdles including politics and declining enrollment and revenue, say experts. “Higher ed is in crisis and institutions are so concerned about keeping their doors open, and sustainability is seen as nice to have instead of essential,” said Meghan Fay Zahniser, who leads the Association for the Advancement of Sustainability in Higher Education.
But there’s change happening on some campuses, she and others noted. At Dickinson College, in Pennsylvania, a net-zero campus since 2020, students in statistics classes have run data analyses to assess why certain buildings are less efficient than others. Psychology students studying behavior change helped the campus dining hall adopt a practice of offering half, full and double portions to cut down on food waste. Physics students designed solar thermal boxes to boost renewable biogas production on an organic farm owned by the college.
Neil Leary, associate provost and director of the college’s Center for Sustainability Education, teaches classes in sustainability. Last fall’s students analyzed climate risks and resilience strategies for the campus and its surrounding county and then ran a workshop for community members. Among the recommendations emerging from the class: that athletic coaches and facilities staff receive training on heat-related health risks.
Similarly, at SUNY Binghamton, Pamela Mischen, chief sustainability officer and an environmental studies professor, teaches a course called Planning the Sustainable University. Her students, who come from majors including environmental studies, engineering and pre-law, have helped develop campus green purchasing systems, started a student-run community garden and improved reuse rates for classroom furniture.
And across the country, at Weber State University in Utah, students have joined the campus’s push toward renewable energy. Engineering students, for example, helped build a solar-powered charging station on a picnic table. A professor in the school’s construction and building sciences program led students in designing and building a net-zero house.
On the leafy SUNY New Paltz campus about 80 miles north of Manhattan, campus sustainability coordinator Lisa Mitten has spent more than a decade working to reduce the university’s environmental toll. Among the projects she runs is a sustainability faculty fellows program that helps professors incorporate climate action into their instruction.
One day this May, Andrea Varga, an associate professor of theatre design and a sustainability fellow, listened as the students in her honors Ethical Fashion class presented their final projects. Varga’s class covers the environmental harms of the global fashion industry (research suggests it is responsible for at least 4 percent of greenhouse emissions worldwide, or roughly the total emissions of Germany, France and the United Kingdom combined). For their presentations, her students had developed ideas for reducing fashion’s toll, on the campus and beyond, by promoting thrifting, starting “clothes repair cafes” and more.
Jazmyne Daily-Simpson, a student from Long Island scheduled to graduate in 2025, discussed expanding a project started a few years earlier by a former student, Roy Ludwig, to add microplastic filters to more campus washing machines. In a basement laundry room in Daily-Simpson’s dorm, two washers are rigged with the contraptions, which gradually accumulate a goopy film as they trap the microplastic particles and keep them from entering the water supply.
Ludwig, a 2022 graduate who now teaches Earth Science at Arlington High School about 20 miles from New Paltz, took Varga’s class and worked with her on an honors project to research and install the filters. A geology major, he’d been shocked that it took a fashion class to introduce him to the harms of microplastics, which are found in seafood, breast milk, semen and much more. “It’s an invisible problem that not everyone is thinking about,” he said. “You can notice a water bottle floating in a river. You can’t notice microplastics.”
Around campus, there are other signs of the living lab model. Students in an economics class filled the entryway of a library with posters on topics such as the lack of public walking paths and bike lanes in the surrounding county and inadequate waste disposal in New York State. A garden started by sculpture and printmaking professors serves as a space for students to learn about plants used to make natural dyes that don’t pollute the environment.
In the business school classroom, Sheridan, the associate professor, had kicked off the student presentations by explaining to an audience that included campus facilities managers and local green business leaders how the course, called Introduction to Managing Sustainability, originated when grad students pitched the idea in 2015. The projects are powered by a “green revolving fund,” which accumulates money from cost savings created by past projects, such as reusable to-go containers and LED lightbulbs in campus buildings. Currently the fund has about $30,000.
“This class has two overarching goals,” said Sheridan, who studied anthropology and sustainable development as an undergraduate before pursuing a doctorate in business. The first is to localize the United Nations global goals for advancing sustainability, he said, and the second is “to prove that sustainability initiatives can be a driver for economic growth.”
In addition to the solar canopy project, students presented proposals for developing a reusable water bottle program, creating a composter and garden, digitizing dining hall receipts and organizing a bikeshare. They gamely fielded questions from the audience, many of whom had served as mentors on their projects.
Jonathan Garcia, a third-year business management major on the composting team, said later that he’d learned an unexpected skill: how to deal with uncooperative colleagues. “We had an issue with one of our teammates who just never showed up, so I had to manage that, and then people elected me leader of the group,” he said later. “I learned a lot of team-management skills.”
The solar panel team had less drama. Its members interviewed representatives from the New York State Energy Research and Development Authority, Central Hudson Gas & Electric and a local company, Lighthouse Solar, along with Mitten and other campus officials. Often, they met three times a week to research and discuss their proposal, participants said.
Lominski, the senior, plans to enroll this fall in a graduate program at the SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry, in Syracuse. Before Sheridan’s class, he said, he had little specific knowledge of how solar panels worked. The course also helped him refine his project management and communication skills, he said.
His solar panel teammate Madeleine Biles, a senior majoring in management, transferred to New Paltz from SUNY Binghamton before her sophomore year because she wanted a school that felt more aligned with her desire to work for a smaller, environmentally minded business.
An avid rock climber whose parents were outdoor educators, she’d developed some financial skills in past business classes, she said, but the exercises had always felt theoretical. This class made those lessons about return on investment and internal rate of return feel concrete. “Before it was just a bunch of formulas where I didn’t know when or why I would ever use them,” she said.
This summer, Biles is interning with the Lake George Land Conservancy, and hopes to eventually carve out a career protecting the environment. While she said she feels fortunate that her hometown of Lake George, in New York’s Adirondack region, isn’t as vulnerable as some places to climate change, the crisis weighs on her.
“I think if I have a career in sustainability, that will be my way of channeling that frustration and sadness and turning it into a positive thing,” she said.
She recently got a taste of what that might feel like: In an email from Sheridan, she learned that her team’s canopy project was chosen to receive the startup funding. The school’s outgoing campus facilities chief signed off on it, and, pending approval from the department’s new leader, the university will begin the process of constructing it.
“It’s cool to know that something I worked on as a school project is actually going to happen,” said Biles. “A lot of students can’t really say that. A lot of projects are kind of like simulations. This one was real life.”
Caroline Preston wrote this article for The Hechinger Report.
Support for this reporting was provided by Lumina Foundation.
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