CLARIFICATION: Neonicotinoids may contain PFAS chemicals, but PFAS chemicals are not neonicotinoids. (12:30 p.m. MDT, Aug. 11, 2024)


A class of potentially toxic chemicals known as PFAS can be found in many common pesticides that, in Connecticut, are as close as your local retail store.

Also called "forever chemicals," PFAS chemicals raise concerns in Connecticut and around the globe because of adverse impacts on human health, wildlife and the ecosystem. Groups in the United States are asking the Environmental Protection Agency for tougher regulations on pesticides and other toxic substances.

Nathan Donley, environmental health science director for the Center for Biological Diversity, said most pesticides are too easy to obtain and use.

"These are just regular products that you would buy in your local hardware store," he said. "They're also products that you could use in agriculture, that many farmers use. These ingredients are in a lot of different products that many people can buy."

The Connecticut General Assembly is considering a bill that would limit the use of "neonic" products on trees and shrubs except in environmental emergencies. Nationally, a coalition of chemical trade groups recently challenged the EPA's Safe Water Drinking Act, calling it "arbitrary and capricious" and an overreach.

Donley said the exposure pathways for PFAS are very similar between people and wildlife, pointing out that animals are drinking from water sources where the exposure is greatest. He said institutions such as the EPA are in place to make sure that shortsighted actions by a few don't have long-term consequences for everyone.

"This really isn't the failing of individuals, it's the failing of our institutions," he said. "And we need to put pressure on representatives that have been elected to really put in place the protections that most of the public thinks should be in place."

Donley called PFAS a multi-generational threat, saying the true harm may not be realized in current lifetimes, but in future generations. He said environmental groups have been fighting the use of persistent pollutants for a half-century, but the nation is still dealing with many of them.


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By Hannah Norman for KFF Health News.
Broadcast version by Suzanne Potter for California News Service reporting for the KFF Health News-Public News Service Collaboration

Juana Valle never imagined she'd be scared to drink water from her tap or eat fresh eggs and walnuts when she bought her 5-acre farm in San Juan Bautista, California, three years ago. Escaping city life and growing her own food was a dream come true for the 52-year-old.

Then Valle began to suspect water from her well was making her sick.

"Even if everything is organic, it doesn't matter, if the water underground is not clean," Valle said.

This year, researchers found worrisome levels of chemicals called PFAS in her well water. Exposure to PFAS, a group of thousands of compounds, has been linked to health problems including cancer, decreased response to vaccines, and low birth weight, according to a federally funded report by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine. Valle worries that eating food from her farm and drinking the water, found also to contain arsenic, are to blame for health issues she's experienced recently.

The researchers suspect the toxic chemicals could have made their way into Valle's water through nearby agricultural operations, which may have used PFAS-laced fertilizers made from dried sludge from wastewater treatment plants, or pesticides found to contain the compounds.

The chemicals have unexpectedly turned up in well water in rural farmland far from known contamination sites, like industrial areas, airports, and military bases. Agricultural communities already face the dangers of heavy metals and nitrates contaminating their tap water. Now researchers worry that PFAS could further harm farmworkers and communities of color disproportionately. They have called for more testing.

"It seems like it's an even more widespread problem than we realized," said Clare Pace, a researcher at the University of California-Berkeley who is examining possible exposure from PFAS-contaminated pesticides.

Stubborn Sludge

Concerns are mounting nationwide about PFAS contamination transferred through the common practice of spreading solid waste from sewage treatment across farm fields. Officials in Maine outlawed spreading "biosolids," as some sewage byproducts are called, on farms and other land in 2022. A study published in August found higher levels of PFAS in the blood of people in Maine who drank water from wells next to farms where biosolids were spread.

Contamination in sewage mostly comes from industrial discharges. But household sludge also contains PFAS because the chemicals are prevalent in personal care products and other commonly used items, said Sarah Alexander, executive director of the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association.

"We found that farms that were spread with sludge in the '80s are still contaminated today," Alexander said.

The first PFAS, or perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, were invented in the 1940s to prevent stains and sticking in household products. Today, PFAS chemicals are used in anything from cookware to cosmetics to some types of firefighting foam - ending up in landfills and wastewater treatment plants. Known as "forever chemicals" because they don't break down in the environment, PFAS are so toxic that in water they are measured in parts per trillion, equivalent to one drop in 20 Olympic-size swimming pools. The chemicals accumulate in the human body.

On Valle's farm, her well water has PFAS concentrations eight times as high as the safety threshold the Environmental Protection Agency set this year for the PFAS chemical referred to as PFOS, or perfluorooctane sulfonate. It's unclear whether the new drinking water standards, which are in a five-year implementation phase, will be enforced by the incoming Trump administration.

Valle's well is one of 20 sites tested in California's San Joaquin Valley and Central Coast regions - 10 private domestic wells and 10 public water systems - in the first round of preliminary sampling by UC-Berkeley researchers and the Community Water Center, a clean-water nonprofit. They're planning community meetings to discuss the findings with residents when the results are finalized. Valle's results showed 96 parts per trillion of total PFAS in her water, including 32 ppt of PFOS - both considered potentially hazardous amounts.

Hailey Shingler, who was part of the team that conducted the water sampling, said the sites' proximity to farmland suggests agricultural operations could be a contamination source, or that the chemicals have become ubiquitous in the environment.

The EPA requires public water systems serving at least 3,300 people to test for 29 types of PFAS. But private wells are unregulated and particularly vulnerable to contamination from groundwater because they tend to be shallower and construction quality varies, Shingler said.

A Strain on the Water Supply

California already faces a drinking water crisis that disproportionately hits farmworkers and communities of color. More than 825,000 people spanning almost 400 water systems across the state don't have access to clean or reliable drinking water because of contamination from nitrates, heavy metals, and pesticides.

California's Central Valley is one of the nation's biggest agricultural producers. State data shows the EPA found PFAS contamination above the new safety threshold in public drinking water supplies in some cities there: Fresno, Lathrop, Manteca, and others.

Not long after she moved, Valle started feeling sick. Joints in her legs hurt, and there was a burning sensation. Medical tests revealed her blood had high levels of heavy metals, especially arsenic, she said. She plans to get herself tested for PFAS soon, too.

"So I stopped eating [or drinking] anything from the farm," Valle said, "and a week later my numbers went down."

After that, she got a water filter installed for her house, but the system doesn't remove PFAS, so she and her family continue to drink bottled water, she said.

In recent years, the pesticide industry has increased its use of PFAS for both active and "inert" ingredients, said David Andrews, a senior scientist of the Environmental Working Group, who analyzed pesticide ingredient registrations submitted to the EPA over the past decade as part of a recently published study.

"PFAS not only endanger agricultural workers and communities," Andrews said, "but also jeopardize downstream water sources, where pesticide runoff can contaminate drinking supplies."

California's most concentrated pesticide use is along the Central Coast, where Valle lives, and in the Central Valley, said Pace, whose research found that possible PFAS contamination from pesticides disproportionately affects communities of color.

"Our results indicate racial and ethnic disparities in potential PFAS threats to community water systems, thus raising environmental justice concerns," the paper states.

Spotty Solutions

Some treatment plants and public water systems have installed filtration systems to catch PFAS, but that can cost millions or even billions of dollars. California Gov. Gavin Newsom, a Democrat, signed laws restricting PFAS in textiles, food packaging, and cosmetics, a move the wastewater treatment industry hopes will address the problem at the source.

Yet the state, like the EPA, does not regulate PFAS in the solid waste generated by sewage treatment plants, though it does require monitoring.

In the past, biosolids were routinely sent to landfills alongside being spread on land. But in 2016, California lawmakers passed a regulation that requested operators to lower their organic waste disposal by 75% by 2025 to reduce methane emissions. That squeeze pushed facilities to repurpose more of their wastewater treatment byproducts as fertilizer, compost, and soil topper on farm fields, forests, and other sites.

Greg Kester, director of renewable resource programs at the California Association of Sanitation Agencies, said there are benefits to using biosolids as fertilizer, including improved soil health, increased crop yields, reduced irrigation needs, and carbon sequestration. "We have to look at the risk of not applying [it on farmland] as well," he said.

Almost two-thirds of the 776,000 dry metric tons of biosolids California used or disposed of last year was spread this way, most of it hauled from wealthy, populated regions like Los Angeles County and the Bay Area to the Central Valley or out of state.

When asked if California would consider banning biosolids from agricultural use, Wendy Linck, a senior engineering geologist at California's State Water Resources Control Board, said: "I don't think that is in the future."

Average PFAS concentrations found in California's sampling of biosolids for PFAS collected by wastewater treatment plants are relatively low compared with more industrialized states like Maine, said Rashi Gupta, wastewater practice director at consulting firm Carollo Engineers.

Still, according to monitoring done in 2020 and 2022, San Francisco's two wastewater treatment facilities produced biosolid samples with total PFAS levels of more than 150 parts per billion.

Starting in 2019, the water board began testing wells - and finding high levels of PFAS - near known sites of contamination, like airports, landfills, and industry.

The agency is now testing roughly 4,000 wells statewide, including those far from known contamination sources - free of charge in disadvantaged communities, according to Dan Newton, assistant deputy director at the state water board's division of drinking water. The effort will take about two years.

Solano County - home to large pastures about an hour northeast of San Francisco - tested soil where biosolids had been applied to its fields, most of which came from the Bay Area. In preliminary results, consultants found PFAS at every location, including places where biosolids had historically not been applied. In recent years, landowners expressed reservations about the county's biosolids program, and in 2024 no farms participated in the practice, said Trey Strickland, manager of the environmental health services division.

"It was probably a 'not in my backyard' kind of thing," Strickland said. "Spread the poop somewhere else, away from us."

Los Angeles County, meanwhile, hauls much of its biosolids to Kern County or out of state. Green Acres, a farm near Bakersfield and owned by the city of Los Angeles, has applied as much as 80,000 dry tons of biosolids annually, fertilizing crops for animal feed like corn and wheat. Concerned about the environmental and health implications, for more than a decade Kern County fought the practice until the legal battle ended in 2017. At the time, Dean Florez, a former state senator, told the Los Angeles Times that "it's been a David and Goliath battle from Day One."

"We probably won't know the effects of this for many years," he added. "We do know one thing: If it was healthy and OK, L.A. would do it in L.A. County."


Hannah Norman wrote this story for KFF Health News.


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By Hannah Norman and Patricia Kime for KFF Health News.
Broadcast version by Suzanne Potter for California News Service reporting for the KFF Health News-Public News Service Collaboration

As a young GI at Fort Ord in Monterey County, California, Dean Osborn spent much of his time in the oceanside woodlands, training on soil and guzzling water from streams and aquifers now known to be contaminated with cancer-causing pollutants.

"They were marching the snot out of us," he said, recalling his year and a half stationed on the base, from 1979 to 1980. He also remembers, not so fondly, the poison oak pervasive across the 28,000-acre installation that closed in 1994. He went on sick call at least three times because of the overwhelmingly itchy rash.

Mounting evidence shows that as far back as the 1950s, in an effort to kill the ubiquitous poison oak and other weeds at the Army base, the military experimented with and sprayed the powerful herbicide combination known colloquially as Agent Orange.

While the U.S. military used the herbicide to defoliate the dense jungles of Vietnam and adjoining countries, it was contaminating the land and waters of coastal California with the same chemicals, according to documents.

The Defense Department has publicly acknowledged that during the Vietnam War era it stored Agent Orange at the Naval Construction Battalion Center in Gulfport, Mississippi, and the former Kelly Air Force Base in Texas, and tested it at Florida's Eglin Air Force Base.

According to the Government Accountability Office, however, the Pentagon's list of sites where herbicides were tested went more than a decade without being updated and lacked specificity. GAO analysts described the list in 2018 as "inaccurate and incomplete."

Fort Ord was not included. It is among about four dozen bases that the government has excluded but where Pat Elder, an environmental activist, said he has documented the use or storage of Agent Orange.

According to a 1956 article in the journal The Military Engineer, the use of Agent Orange herbicides at Fort Ord led to a "drastic reduction in trainee dermatitis casualties."

"In training areas, such as Fort Ord, where poison oak has been extremely troublesome to military personnel, a well-organized chemical war has been waged against this woody plant pest," the article noted.

Other documents, including a report by an Army agronomist as well as documents related to hazardous material cleanups, point to the use of Agent Orange at the sprawling base that 1.5 million service members cycled through from 1917 to 1994.

'The Most Toxic Chemical'

Agent Orange is a 50-50 mixture of two ingredients, known as 2,4-D and 2,4,5-T. Herbicides with the same chemical structure slightly modified were available off the shelf, sold commercially in massive amounts, and used at practically every base in the U.S., said Gerson Smoger, a lawyer who argued before the Supreme Court for Vietnam veterans to have the right to sue Agent Orange manufacturers. The combo was also used by farmers, forest workers, and other civilians across the country.

The chemical 2,4,5-T contains the dioxin 2,3,7,8-tetrachlorodibenzo-p-dioxin or TCDD, a known carcinogen linked to several cancers, chronic conditions, and birth defects. A recent Brown University study tied Agent Orange exposure to brain tissue damage similar to that caused by Alzheimer's. Acknowledging its harm to human health, the Environmental Protection Agency banned the use of 2,4,5-T in the U.S. in 1979. Still, the other weed killer, 2,4-D is sold off-the-shelf today.

"The bottom line is TCDD is the most toxic chemical that man has ever made," Smoger said.

For years, the Department of Veteran Affairs has provided vets who served in Vietnam disability compensation for diseases considered to be connected to exposure to Agent Orange for military use from 1962 to 1975.

Decades after Osborn's military service, the 68-year-old veteran, who never served in Vietnam, has battled one health crisis after another: a spot on his left lung and kidney, hypothyroidism, and prostate cancer, an illness that has been tied to Agent Orange exposure.

He says many of his old buddies from Fort Ord are sick as well.

"Now we have cancers that we didn't deserve," Osborn said.

The VA considers prostate cancer a "presumptive condition" for Agent Orange disability compensation, acknowledging that those who served in specific locations were likely exposed and that their illnesses are tied to their military service. The designation expedites affected veterans' claims.

But when Osborn requested his benefits, he was denied. The letter said the cancer was "more likely due to your age," not military service.

"This didn't happen because of my age. This is happening because we were stationed in the places that were being sprayed and contaminated," he said.

Studies show that diseases caused by environmental factors can take years to emerge. And to make things more perplexing for veterans stationed at Fort Ord, contamination from other harmful chemicals, like the industrial cleaner trichloroethylene, have been well documented on the former base, landing it on the EPA's Superfund site list in 1990.

"We typically expect to see the effect years down the line," said Lawrence Liu, a doctor at City of Hope Comprehensive Cancer Center who has studied Agent Orange. "Carcinogens have additive effects."

In February, the VA proposed a rule that for the first time would allow compensation to veterans for Agent Orange exposure at 17 U.S. bases in a dozen states where the herbicide was tested, used, or stored.

Fort Ord is not on that list either, because the VA's list is based on the Defense Department's 2019 update.

"It's a very tricky question," Smoger said, emphasizing how widely the herbicides were used both at military bases and by civilians for similar purposes. "On one hand, we were service. We were exposed. On the other hand, why are you different from the people across the road that are privately using it?"

The VA says that it based its proposed rule on information provided by the Defense Department.

"DoD's review found no documentation of herbicide use, testing or storage at Fort Ord. Therefore, VA does not have sufficient evidence to extend a presumption of exposure to herbicides based on service at Fort Ord at this time," VA press secretary Terrence Hayes said in an email.

The Documentation

Yet environmental activist Elder, with help from toxic and remediation specialist Denise Trabbic-Pointer and former VA physician Kyle Horton, compiled seven documents showing otherwise. They include a journal article, the agronomist report, and cleanup-related documents as recent as 1995 - all pointing to widespread herbicide use and experimentation as well as lasting contamination at the base.

Though the documents do not call the herbicide by its colorful nickname, they routinely cite the combination of 2,4-D and 2,4,5-T. A "hazardous waste minimization assessment" dated 1991 reported 80,000 pounds of herbicides used annually at Fort Ord. It separately lists 2,4,5-T as a product for which "substitutions are necessary to minimize the environmental impacts."

The poison oak "control program" started in 1951, according to a report by Army agronomist Floyd Otter, four years before the U.S. deepened its involvement in Vietnam. Otter detailed the use of these chemicals alone and in combination with diesel oil or other compounds, at rates generally between "one to two gallons of liquid herbicide" per acre.

"In conclusion, we are fairly well satisfied with the methods," Otter wrote, noting he was interested in "any way in which costs can be lowered or quicker kill obtained."

An article published in California Agriculture more than a decade later includes before and after photos showing the effectiveness of chemical brush control used in a live-oak woodland at Fort Ord, again citing both chemicals in Agent Orange. The Defense Department did not respond to questions sent April 10 about the contamination or say when the Army stopped using 2,4,5-T at Fort Ord.

"What's most compelling about Fort Ord is it was actually used for the same purpose it was used for in Vietnam - to kill plants - not just storing it," said Julie Akey, a former Army linguist who worked at the base in the 1990s and later developed the rare blood cancer multiple myeloma.

Akey, who also worked with Elder, runs a Facebook group and keeps a list of people stationed on the base who later were diagnosed with cancer and other illnesses. So far, she has tallied more than 1,400 former Fort Ord residents who became sick.

Elder's findings have galvanized the group to speak up during a public comment period for the VA's proposed rule. Of 546 comments, 67 are from veterans and others urging the inclusion of Fort Ord. Hundreds of others have written in regarding the use of Agent Orange and other chemicals at their bases.

While the herbicide itself sticks around for only a short time, the contaminant TCDD can linger in sediment for decades, said Kenneth Olson, a professor emeritus of soil science at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

A 1995 report from the Army's Sacramento Corps of Engineers, which documented chemicals detected in the soil at Fort Ord, found levels of TCDD at 3.5 parts per trillion, more than double the remediation goal at the time of 1.2 ppt. Olson calls the evidence convincing.

"It clearly supports the fact that 2,4,5-T with unknown amounts of dioxin TCDD was applied on the Fort Ord grounds and border fences," Olson said. "Some military and civilian personnel would have been exposed."

The Department of Defense has described the Agent Orange used in Vietnam as a "tactical herbicide," more concentrated than what was commercially available in the U.S. But Olson said his research suggests that even if the grounds maintenance crew used commercial versions of 2,4,5-T, which was available in the federal supply catalog, the soldiers would have been exposed to the dioxin TCDD.

The half dozen veterans who spoke with KFF Health News said they want the military to take responsibility.

The Pentagon did not respond to questions regarding the upkeep of the list or the process for adding locations.

In the meantime, the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry is studying potential chemical exposure among people who worked and lived on Fort Ord between 1985 and 1994. However, the agency is evaluating drinking water for contaminants such as trichloroethylene and not contamination or pollution from other chemicals such as Agent Orange or those found in firefighting foams.

Other veterans are frustrated by the VA's long process to recognize their illnesses and believe they were sickened by exposure at Fort Ord.

"Until Fort Ord is recognized by the VA as a presumptive site, it's probably going to be a long, difficult struggle to get some kind of compensation," said Mike Duris, a 72-year-old veteran diagnosed with prostate cancer four years ago who ultimately underwent surgery.

Like so many others, he wonders about the connection to his training at Fort Ord in the early '70s - drinking the contaminated water and marching, crawling, and digging holes in the dirt.

"Often, where there is smoke, there's fire," Duris said.


Hannah Norman and Patricia Kime wrote this story for KFF Health News.


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Missouri may, at one time, have had a reputation as the "meth-lab capital of the country" - but a five-part podcast uncovers its true history.

"Home Cooked: A Fifty-Year History of Meth in America" delves into the relationship of methamphetamine use with broader drug policies and social and cultural ramifications.

Reporter Olivia Weeks with The Daily Yonder, who produced and hosts the podcast, said meth use was once associated with rural areas, but that assumption is inaccurate. Weeks said Missouri fought back against its meth-lab reputation.

"They policed their meth-lab problem really strongly, and had really high lab bust numbers and then those have basically disappeared," she said. "But now, the rest of the country is dealing with this problem that was associated with Missouri."

In the podcast, she explains that most of the methamphetamine entering the United States comes through commercial points of entry, hidden in legal shipping containers, rather than being smuggled across the border by individuals.

Weeks said the real dangers of meth result in part from it being outlawed. She explained that even when it was a prescription drug in the 1950s and '60s, there was illegal use - but at least it was made by pharmaceutical companies. Once methamphetamine became illegal, she said, the lack of control over its production has led to environmental damage and dangerous chemical processes being attempted in home labs.

"The main problem, main danger of using methamphetamine is that you don't know what's in it," she said, "and you don't know what dose you're taking."

She acknowledged the pharmaceutical industry's history of exploiting addictive drugs, and cautioned against a simple solution such as decriminalizing or legalizing meth use. Instead, she said, her research has prompted her to support harm-reduction strategies that keep users safe.

This story was produced with original reporting by Olivia Weeks for The Daily Yonder.