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Is sewage sludge laced with ‘forever chemicals’ contaminating Va. farmland?

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It’s out of sight and out of mind, and it might just be killing people.

For decades, American factories have been sending their wastewater to municipal sewage treatment plants across the country, which handle it along with the effluent from other industries, homes and businesses. At the other end of the process, the separated and dried-out solids are often delivered to farmers as free fertilizer. The land application of this “sewage sludge” has long been encouraged by environmental regulators as a way to deal with what would otherwise be a vexing waste disposal problem. 

Yet not all of that wastewater, or the sludge that becomes fertilizer, is benign. An increasing number of industries discharge effluent laced with toxic per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS), which most treatment plants aren’t equipped to remove. PFAS are notoriously long-lasting, so much so that they are nicknamed “forever chemicals.” And now some states are finding that PFAS-laced sewage sludge is contaminating farmland and poisoning consumers. 

PFAS are a relatively new class of synthetic chemical, emerging commercially in the 1950s to find their way into a wide range of useful products, including non-stick pans (most notoriouslyTeflon), waterproof clothing, stain-resistant fabrics and firefighting chemicals. Unfortunately, exposure to PFAS has been shown to cause an almost equally-wide range of environmental and human health harms, including cancer, kidney disease, thyroid disease, reproductive problems and obesity. 

After years of foot-dragging, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency finally took action against two early types of PFAS that had already fallen out of use, setting drinking water standards for those and a few others. At the same time, however, chemical companies have been turning out literally thousands of new iterations that have been little studied and remain largely unregulated. PFAS have become so ubiquitous in the environment that scientists estimate 98% of Americans — and even some newborns — have detectable levels in their blood.  

In recent years, public health advocates have started to worry that PFAS may also be entering our food supply via the sewage sludge applied to farmland. According to the New York Times, five states – Texas, Michigan, New York, Maine and Tennessee – have detected PFAS on farmland treated with sewage sludge, sometimes in high levels. Crops grown in contaminated soil absorb the chemicals and pass them up the food chain. 

In Maine and Michigan, officials shut down farms after finding high concentrations of PFAS in the soil and in the meat of grazing animals. Maine officials found contamination on 56 farms and in 23% of more than 1,500 groundwater samples taken from farms and residences. 

In 2022, Maine banned the use of sewage sludge on agricultural land and prohibited most uses of PFAS in consumer products starting in 2030. The state is now working with affected farmers to compensate them or find alternative uses for contaminated land. Officials note that the testing programs are just beginning and fear that they may be seeing only the tip of the iceberg. 

The New York Times did not include Virginia among the states known to have PFAS-contaminated farmland. That’s not because we don’t have a problem. Rather, it’s because the Virginia Department of Environmental Quality (DEQ), which issues permits to municipal wastewater treatment plants, doesn’t require sludge to be tested.  

What little we do know is cause for concern. The conservation group Wild Virginia analyzed data submitted to DEQ in 2022 by a small number of drinking water and wastewater treatment plants that voluntarily tested their effluent. Limited and incomplete as it was, the information revealed that 20 of the 21 wastewater treatment plants that tested for PFAS found significant concentrations in their effluent. Only 8 of the plants also tested their sludge, but all 8 reported significant concentrations of PFAS. 

I talked by phone with David Sligh, Wild Virginia’s conservation director and a former DEQ employee, who told me the group plans to publish a report on this problem in the coming week. DEQ, he said, has the authority to regulate PFAS in treatment plants’ effluent and sludge and should be doing so to protect the public. His group has joined other members of the Virginia Conservation Network in calling on DEQ “to place the responsibility and cost of cleaning up PFAS on the industries that use and manufacture PFAS by requiring PFAS disclosure, monitoring, and limits in pollution discharge permits.”

DEQ, however, seems to be in no hurry. Neil Zahradka, manager of the land applications program at DEQ, wrote in an email to Tyla Matteson, a Sierra Club volunteer who works on sewage sludge issues, “To date, DEQ has relied upon the EPA biennial reviews to determine if additional regulation of biosolids is necessary beyond that contained in current permits, and no additional limits or criteria for PFAS have been set. … [A]ccording to the EPA PFAS Strategic Roadmap, they plan to complete the risk assessment for PFAS in biosolids this year.  We do plan to update the DEQ biosolids fact sheet once we have additional substantive information to offer landowners.”

Waiting for EPA to act first is convenient, but it does a grave disservice to Virginians. EPA itself has stalled for so long that Potomac Riverkeeper, Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility (PEER) and other groups finally sued the agency this year for its failure to regulate PFAS in sewage sludge used as fertilizer. According to PEER, EPA identified 10 different types of PFAS among some 250 pollutants contaminating sewage sludge, yet insists it is only obligated to identify the toxics in sewage sludge, not do anything about it.  

I suspect EPA and DEQ’s hesitance is due to the fear of what they would find in any extensive testing program. If testing confirmed widespread contamination in sewage sludge, DEQ would – one hopes – feel obligated to stop the practice of spreading it across the farms that produce our food. After all, if you identify a poison in your product, the answer is probably not to spread it among as many people as possible. 

Annoying as it would be for DEQ, industry and even farmers to learn the truth, though, the alternative is worse. PFAS can be removed, either in the wastewater treatment process or, ideally, before it leaves its industrial source. Not testing and treating means needlessly exposing farmers, their families and their animals – and ultimately all the rest of us – to chemicals that have no safe level of exposure. 

Given what we know about the harms PFAS causes, DEQ’s inaction is inexcusable. If Maine can tackle this threat to its land and people, surely Virginia can do it as well. We should expect no less.

This article was originally published in the Virginia Mercury on September 26, 2024.

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A bright spot at the intersection of farming, electric vehicles and solar energy

by
Peggy Greb, USDA

The energy transition is in full swing across the U.S. and the world, but the changes now underway are not simple or linear. In an economy as complex and connected as ours, progress in one area will often affect other parts of the economy, creating winners and losers. 

And then there are the changes that work together synergistically and leave everyone better off. This is what we will see as renewable energy overtakes fossil fuels and electric vehicles go mainstream. These transformations will deliver another enormous benefit, this time to farmland, as they pull the rug out from under the expensive and wasteful ethanol industry. 

Counting Corn

Across the United States, more than 30 million acres of farmland is currently devoted to growing corn for a purpose other than feeding humans and animals. The corn – over 5 billion bushels every year — is processed into ethanol and then added to gasoline to comply with a federal mandate.

The U.S. Renewable Fuel Standard (RFS), enacted in 2005, requires the nation’s oil refiners to mix 15 billion gallons of corn-based ethanol into the nation’s gasoline supply annually; this is the reason why most gasoline sold in the U.S. includes 10% ethanol. The mandate was intended to cut U.S. dependence on energy imports, support farmers and reduce emissions. 

As it turned out, the RFS was primarily successful in increasing the acreage devoted to growing corn. Because of the ethanol mandate, an additional 6.9 million acres of corn were planted between 2008 and 2016. Corn is now the nation’s number one crop and, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, ethanol production accounts for 45% of the U.S. corn crop. Most of the rest goes to animal feed, with only 15% destined for human consumption. (A mere half of one percent of the total corn crop is sweet corn, a different plant entirely.) 

As a way to reduce emissions, however, the mandate proved a failure. A study funded by the U.S. Department of Energy and the National Wildlife Federation concluded that ethanol is at least 24% more carbon-intensive than gasoline, once land use impacts are factored in. 

It’s a bad deal for taxpayers, too. In addition to the ethanol mandate, the U.S. government subsidizes corn farmers through the federal crop insurance program, with taxpayers covering an average of 62% of the cost of insurance premiums. More than a quarter of the insurance subsidy goes to corn, and very little goes to small farms. Add to this the many concerns about water use, fertilizer, pesticides and land degradation, and it is hard to find much good in the corn ethanol program.

EVs threaten King Corn

The world is a different place now than it was in 2005, with the U.S. having become the largest oil producer in the world and a net exporter. Yet the ethanol subsidy is fiercely guarded by the corn lobby and, in spite of occasional bipartisan efforts at repeal, it seems to be untouchable politically. Indeed, last year’s Inflation Reduction Act, passed by Democrats, actually contains new credits for biofuel production that corn-state Republicans are keen on keeping even as they continue to seek rollbacks of other clean energy incentives. 

The biggest threat to the corn lobby, though, isn’t a repeal of the mandate, it’s electric vehicles. When people no longer need gasoline, they can no longer be forced to buy corn ethanol. 

Electric vehicle sales reached 5% of the U.S. new car market in 2022, and already this year they’ve hit 8.6%. JD Power projects 70% of new vehicles will be electric by 2035, with California leading the way at 94% by then. 

Many agricultural communities are in denial about EVs, preferring to believe they will never catch on in numbers enough to threaten the importance of the corn crop. And indeed, it will take decades before the last gasoline-powered cars drive off to the junkyard. But most of us can see the writing on the wall. As more vehicles become electric, more land that is now devoted to corn ethanol will become available for other purposes. 

While the ethanol industry looks to jet fuel and other possible new uses for its product, a far more promising “crop” is renewable energy. Planting wind turbines and solar panels, either alone or combined with actual crops that feed people, provides higher returns with less risk and is better for the planet. 

“Planting” more solar energy instead of corn

Wind turbines already coexist with farmland across the Great Plains, but let’s focus on solar, since that is the form of renewable energy best suited to Virginia’s landscape. Solar energy is somewhat land-intensive, but not compared to corn. A decade ago, the National Renewable Energy Laboratory calculated that we could power the country’s entire electricity demand with 10 million acres of solar panels. That’s only one-third of the land now devoted to corn ethanol. 

Since that study, solar efficiency has increased, while electricity demand has risen only modestly. With the electrification of vehicles, buildings, and everything else that can be electrified, however, electricity demand is likely to double. But even if we had no wind energy, hydropower or nuclear, and we needed 20 million acres of solar to meet the demand, that would represent only two-thirds of the land currently devoted to corn ethanol, leaving millions of acres more freed up for food crops, land conservation and rewilding.

A comparison of the energy yield of corn vs. solar shows why displacing ethanol with solar energy would be a welcome change.  An acre of corn yields 328 gallons of ethanol, which is one-third less efficient than gasoline. If you could run an internal combustion automobile entirely on ethanol (you can’t), a car averaging 40 miles per gallon could go 8,738 miles on an acre of corn. 

But that same acre “planted” in solar panels would yield 394-447 MWh per year of electricity. Even at the low end, that’s enough to power a Tesla Model 3 for over 100,000 miles.

Much of the corn crop is grown in places like Iowa and Nebraska, but even here in Virginia, 540,000 acres were planted in corn last year, second only to soybeans. Assuming 45% of Virginia’s crop goes to corn ethanol (I could not find an actual breakdown by state), that amounts to 243,000 acres that could be put to better use. That’s worth keeping in mind for the next time someone frets about farmland being “lost” to solar development.

Solar is also a more reliable crop, and a better one for small farmers. The profitability of corn growing varies by state and by year, but it is never exactly a lucrative business for any but the largest farm operations. In a good year, such as 2022, corn might return a profit of $450 per acre, minus land rents (or taxes). In a down year, such as the current one, returns can be negative once land costs are accounted for. (Rents vary considerably, averaging about $325 per acre.)

Meanwhile, solar lease rates range from $250 to $2000 per acre, depending on location and suitability. A guaranteed payment for 20 or 30 years with no work involved is a pretty attractive deal. Even putting just a portion of a farm into solar provides a form of insurance, guaranteeing a steady income flow regardless of weather and commodity price swings.

Solar is also a better deal than corn for the community, since it provides tax revenue, diversifies the local economy and conserves water. If the developer plants pollinator-friendly species around the solar panels or uses sheep instead of machinery to control grass, the benefits to the local economy increase further. 

The ethanol industry is already looking for new uses for their product, but if they don’t find takers, it is one fuel we don’t need to mourn losing.

This article first appeared in the Virginia Mercury on September 19,2023.