Advocates mount a regional push for environmental justice
GREEN ISSUE California is often viewed as being among the brightest shades of green. The Golden State's landmark climate-change legislation has proven magnetic for green-tech startups, while Northern California is defined in part by its longstanding love affair with natural foods and solar power. San Francisco boasts a well-used network of bike routes, a ban on plastic bags, mandated composting of kitchen scraps, and a host of urban agriculture projects.
While much of the Bay Area's environmental reputation is well-deserved, things look different from poor neighborhoods where homes are clustered beside hulking industrial facilities and public health suffers. For years, grassroots organizations working in Richmond, Oakland, and Bayview-Hunters Point have sought to improve air quality and promote environmental justice in neighborhoods plagued by higher-than-average rates of respiratory disease, cancer, and other preventable illnesses.
The Rev. Daniel Buford of Oakland's Allen Temple Baptist Church told the Guardian that he began talking about the polluted areas of Richmond, Oakland, and San Francisco as a "toxic triangle" two decades ago. It was an analogy, he explained, that plays off the mysterious deaths that the Bermuda Triangle is famous for. Yet the label also served a purpose — to unite three communities of color that were fighting separate yet similar battles against health hazards associated with their surroundings.
"There were a lot of things that weren't in place with public consciousness that are in place now," Buford said.
Today, he isn't the only one uttering the catch phrase. A host of community organizations banded together as the Toxic Triangle Coalition last year to organize three forums on environmental justice in the three cities. Advocates cast the neighborhood-specific problems as three parts of a regionwide phenomenon, highlighting how pollution from shipping, crude oil processing, freeway transportation, abandoned manufacturing sites, hazardous waste handlers, and other industrial facilities disproportionately affect communities of color, where poverty and unemployment rates are already high.
Buford views the Toxic Triangle Coalition as a strategy to mount pressure for stronger enforcement of environmental laws in disproportionately affected areas. "We live in the whole Bay Area — we don't live in one little part of the Bay Area," he noted. "Our coalition strongly urges our state representatives in each of the counties to call for a hearing at the state level."
In Richmond, California's top greenhouse-gas emitter looms as an expansive backdrop of the city, a tangled network of smokestacks and machinery near a hillside cluster of large, cylindrical oil storage containers. Chevron Corporation's Richmond Refinery was built more than a century ago. A few years ago, the oil company began making noise about how it was in need of an upgrade.
Weaving through a blue-collar residential area of Richmond in her sedan, Jessica Guadalupe Tovar recounted how Communities for a Better Environment (CBE), the nonprofit she works for, revealed that Chevron hadn't told the whole story when it was petitioning for a permit to expand the refinery. The oil company's long-term goals, CBE learned from a financial report, included gaining capability to process thicker crude that tends to be sourced from places like Canada's Alberta tar sands.
"We call it dirty crude," she said. "But it's really dirtier crude."
Converting thicker crude to fuel requires higher temperatures and pressures — and that translates to higher greenhouse-gas emissions and a heightened risk of flaring and fires.