Well, this is garbage
A look at LA's cleanup + who gets impacted by hazardous waste
Somehow, we’re already halfway done with February, and fire debris cleanup is well underway in Los Angeles. Don’t get too eager though—while cleanup efforts have commenced, and some neighborhoods have reopened, experts say it could take years to fully clear the contamination and debris left from the fires.
So far, we’ve been made aware of two phases of cleanup: Phase 1 and Phase 2. In Phase 1, Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) crews entered homes to remove hazardous material, including lithium-ion batteries, propane tanks, solvents, and pesticides. Once properties have been through Phase 1, they’ll be cleared for Phase 2. At this point, property owners can opt in to a free cleanup by the Army Corps of Engineers, or hire a private, government-approved contractor. As for renters, the situation has been messy AF.
Phase 2 of cleanup commenced this week near the Eaton and Palisades burn areas, beginning with two Pasadena Unified schools. This phase consists of removing damaged structures, trees, and ash. LAist reports that 4.5 million tons of debris may be processed during this cleanup operation, and that there will be increased truck traffic around the affected areas, as debris is removed. Based on past similar events, I’d imagine we might see a dip in air quality in and around these routes, as well.
What is the timeline for cleanup?
The EPA says it has completed Phase 1 across 3,000 sites, but has not released a timeline for when this phase will be complete. The Los Angeles Times has reported that while the process was initially projected to last three months, President Trump signed a federal directive to shorten it to 30 days. Phase 2 was projected to take 18 months, but estimates have also been shortened, following Trump’s recent visit to LA. Army Corps are now saying this phase can be completed in a year.
It’s also important to note that cleanup crews have had to contend with neighborhoods being reopened before disaster personnel could fully sweep these communities. This has further contributed to a cleanup strategy that prioritizes speed, but has left some residents worried that lasting contamination will be missed. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers recently announced that instead of testing soil in cleanup locations—which is a standard health and safety measure outlined in California’s wildfire cleanup plan—they’ll just be removing six inches of topsoil.
I personally feel skeptical when I’m told a huge public health initiative can suddenly be accomplished in less time than was originally budgeted—all while the president threatens to abolish the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA).
Where is hazardous waste being dumped?
According to FEMA administrators, more than 20 acres of staging areas will be needed to sort through waste from each of the fire zones. This waste includes lithium-ion batteries, which can unexpectedly explode or release toxic gases, so it’s crucial that care is taken throughout the removal process—and after. One EPA official told the LA Times that it would probably be the biggest lithium-iron battery removal operation to have taken place in this country’s history.
So far, materials from the Eaton and Palisades fires have been being sorted at Lario Park, north of Irwindale, and a California State Park property near Malibu. After they’ve been sorted, wood, metal, and concrete will be sent to recycling facilities, and ash and other potentially hazardous materials will be transported to landfills.
Typically, we’d utilize hazardous waste landfills for these materials—which have specific environmental protections, and are usually located outside of residential areas. In fact, the LA Times reports that state environmental regulators have previously said this type of waste can pose a risk to groundwater, if disposed of at non-designated facilities. However, in the aftermath of the fires, Governor Newsom suspended certain waste regulations, so that ash can be treated at landfills that typically only handle trash and construction debris.
This means that millions of tons of hazardous waste and debris will be sent to landfills in and out of state that were never meant to house such materials.
Tension between government officials & residents
The public response to this plan has been, understandably, one of alarm. It hasn’t helped that EPA officials and other government reps have been cagey about communicating their plans. They recently released the names of two landfills they’ll be utilizing, but the full list below came from LA Times and LA Public Press investigations. The landfills include:
Simi Valley Landfill in Ventura County
Azusa Land Reclamation in Los Angeles County
Badlands Sanitary Landfill in Moreno Valley
Calabasas Landfill in Agoura
El Sobrante Landfill in Corona
Lamb Canyon Landfill in Beaumont
Sunshine Canyon Landfill in Sylmar. Note: this landfill is near a mountain pass with strong winds that tend to blow odors and dust into the communities nearby. It was cited for over 60 air pollution violations last year, alone.
Unidentified / undisclosed landfills in Arizona and Nevada
According to Kevin Phillips, former town manager for Paradise, California—the town that burned in 2018—communication from authorities becomes crucial during a contamination disaster. “As soon as you lose trust with your constituents, it’s really hard to come back from that,” he says. “Without that transparency, the public will make up their own story…that may not be correct.”
The public has certainly been reacting. The EPA had originally hoped to open a processing site for fire debris near Malibu City Hall, but was met with backlash from residents with children who attend school near the proposed site. There have been heated protests at Lario Park and another property at the intersection of Topanga Canyon Boulevard and Pacific Coast Highway. Four cities adjacent to Lario Park have lodged official complaints. Many say they weren’t adequately warned. The EPA has pledged to take precautions—like sealing waste in plastic, using protective flooring, and conducting soil testing—but elected officials and residents are concerned about impacts on air quality and water.
At the same time, FEMA officials say the longer they have to wait to determine sites, the longer the cleanup process will take. Some residents in burn zones have worried this will mean more hazardous material will remain near their homes and neighborhoods for longer, which provides a useful framing for this discussion:
In the absence of a clear governmental plan for a climate event of this scale, who should bear the brunt of the environmental risk? Spoiler alert: I don’t think the answer is simply “not in my backyard.”
How has toxic waste been handled in the past?
Let’s start with some basics—remember when I said that hazardous waste is usually processed at facilities located away from residential areas? Well, that’s not always the case. In reality, hazardous waste facilities are disproportionately located in poor communities of color. A University of Michigan study confirms that these communities don’t just pop up around hazardous waste sites as a result of low property values; the facilities move to these locations once communities are already living there.
So, even when hazardous waste is processed at the proper facilities, marginalized populations are often put in danger. The health impacts are clear. An 2017 study found a causal link between residential exposure to hazardous waste sites and 95 different diseases and disorders, including cancers, asthma, and pre-term birth. Health journalist Linda Villarosa has made the compelling argument that environmental hazards like this contribute to racial disparities beyond the more obvious health issues mentioned in that study. Her 2020 New York Times feature on Covid-19 in New Orleans suggests that Black men living in “Cancer Alley” died from the virus at disproportionate rates, largely due to their previous long-term exposure to air pollution.
The United States is expert at outsourcing waste to lower income countries, like Malaysia, but our country also excels at ghettoizing our garbage right here at home. According to the U.S. PIRG Education Fund & Environmental America Research and Policy Center, one in six people in the U.S. live within three miles of a toxic waste site, and Black Americans are 75 percent more likely to live near or in these areas.
Climate change exacerbates all of these disparities and risks. Fires and other climate disasters create more hazardous waste to be housed, but climate disasters also threaten waste sites, themselves. This is what happened in Houston, when Hurricane Harvey caused flooding near current and former toxic waste sites in 2017. The result was an increased risk of infectious diseases, like cholera and typhoid. LA’s major rain storm this week makes clear that even fire-prone and drought-affected areas like ours have to contend with flood-related contamination risks.
How communities fight back: Hawaii and North Carolina
Over the past few weeks, I’ve often looked to the Hawaii fires of 2023 to try to understand what’s going on in LA. These fires caused a similar level of devastation—burning 2,170 acres of grassland, thousands of buildings, killing 102 people, and displacing more. In their aftermath, the people of Lahaina also engaged in debates about where hazardous waste should be stored. Local residents voiced concerns about a supposedly short-term landfill in Olowalu, citing impacts on water, coral reef, local produce, and sacred Hawaiian religious sites.
After listening to community concerns, officials in Hawaii now plan to transfer debris from the Olowalu landfill—where it has been since early 2024—to a permanent disposal site that was already slated for future landfill expansion in Central Maui. They’re holding a community meeting about it this Saturday. While there are some health concerns about the six-mile route trucks will have to traverse to transport hazardous materials from Olowalu to this site, the landfill seems to have been chosen precisely for its public health advantages. Compared with other options, it is further away from residential communities, oceans, and source water.
The Maui story feels like a relative, rare win in the sordid history of toxic waste disposal, but it also hasn’t concluded yet. Still, there are insights to be gained here. Residents were loud about their demands, and worked to advocate for solutions that wouldn’t directly imperil another community. They’re not the only community to have left a mark by speaking up.
While perusing the research on residential exposure to hazardous waste and health impacts, I was reminded of the first paper on the subject: a groundbreaking report called “Toxic Wastes and Race in the United States,” published by the United Church of Christ Commission for Racial Justice. The group behind the paper was led by Benjamin Chavis, a civil rights activist, whose community in Warren County, North Carolina had faced the threat of a toxic waste dump in 1972. This predominantly Black, low-income community had fought back, staging protests for six weeks—but in the end, the landfill was built.
Fifteen years later, Chavis and his group published their report, which had implications far beyond their community. They demonstrated that racial demographics were “the most significant…variable” connecting the locations of hazardous waste facilities in the U.S., and introduced the term, “environmental racism.” Chavis’ report laid the groundwork for subsequent research, like the University of Michigan paper I cited above, and it’s also been credited with sparking an environmental justice movement grounded in racial equity.
In 2003, the Warren County landfill finally closed, and in 2012, the local public health department established new water and sewer lines. By 2014, a community center was being built there.
Safety Pin
While LA’s recent fires have been unprecedented in many ways, the government’s approach to hazardous waste removal isn’t: communication from agency officials has been poor, waste is being outsourced to multi-class communities of color, and a political need for speed may threaten the deliberate cleanup process we deserve.
Garbage is gross, but it can also be dangerous—especially when we don’t plan for it, in advance (and end up suspending environmental regulations to dispose of it more quickly). Climate disasters create hazardous waste, and they also threaten the facilities where it’s housed. As these threats increase, our collective efforts to address them must as well. I know most of us know this, but I think it bears repeating: Looking to past community organizing—from Lahaina to Warren County—can help us remember to make demands together, rather than acting defensively as individuals or self-interested groups.
Wondering where to start? Consider chatting to your neighbors about water safety, volunteering with your local mask bloc, or gathering with disabled folks and allies in Sycamore Grove Park this Saturday. As always, stay safe out there.
PS- Need tips for today’s storm? This LA Times article isn’t bad.