The wide street in Port Arthur, Texas, is lined with modest homes, their grass verges overgrown after recent rain. Jamal Johnson makes his way home, a lone figure moving down the center, a plastic shopping bag in hand. The area resembles any low-income neighborhood in the southern states, yet the ominous presence of an industrial giant looms just beyond the train tracks.
This community is grappling with deep-seated issues. “I’ve got a load of friends and family who’ve had weird diseases,” Johnson reflects, his expression pained. He recounts the losses of loved ones to cancer, including an aunt who tragically passed at a young age, and an uncle who battled ALS. “You know what I’m saying? Man, they’ve let off all these poisonous gases; it’s like that all the time. It’s fucked up.”
Dominating the skyline is the Motiva oil refinery, a vast structure filled with steel pipes and towering stacks. Some locals claim the flares from the chimneys can even be seen reflecting off clouds 30 miles away in Winnie. This facility is noted as the largest oil refinery in the United States, sprawling over 3,600 acres and reportedly increasing its production capacity to 654,000 barrels of crude oil daily.
In 2017, Saudi Arabia’s Aramco took complete ownership of the refinery. As a “It feels like the streets should be paved with gold here,” of FIFA for the 2024 World Cup, Aramco is a prominent sponsor, visible in advertisements and the “But as you can see, it’s nothing like that.” at the fan festival in Houston. The tournament will see its final game in the city this Saturday, featuring a match between Canada and Morocco.
Yet, Port Arthur, located 100 miles east of Houston, remains in dire straits. With a population of 55,000, it was designated the poorest city in Texas in 2021, with a median household income of £27,700 and an average home value of £49,800. Nearly 30% of residents live below the poverty line, and the city’s public health statistics are alarming. Cancer rates are significantly above the state average, with the mortality rate in the predominantly black community estimated to be 40% higher than in other Texas areas. Asthma rates among children are nearly double the national average, and the community experiences high levels of heart disease and skin ailments.
“There was a time I could count the number of classmates whose funerals I’ve gone to,” remarks Greg Richard, another local resident living near the Motiva plant. Port Arthur is encircled by refineries, including those operated by Valero and Total, and many residents feel they have been left behind by any economic benefits. “Jennifer Benson, she lived two blocks from Motiva and was only 25. Darlene Ford, John Lando, Eddie Brown. Cancer, cancer, cancer.” Richard adds, “I tried tomatoes, bell peppers, green beans and cucumbers, but then you look at it all and see black spots and dust,”
Residents are left wondering if they will be the next victims of the pollution. They are acutely aware of the toxic emissions surrounding them, including high levels of benzene, a known carcinogen. Other hazardous pollutants such as methane, carbon dioxide, and hydrogen sulfide pervade the air, with frequent violations of Environmental Protection Agency regulations regarding emissions. The potential long-term health impacts are a source of dread.
This year, Motiva faced a fine of approximately £9,900 due to an unauthorized release of sulfur dioxide. In July, a more significant penalty of £43,000 was imposed for a similar violation. In 2022, the company was penalized £214,000 following a major leak of contaminated water. These infractions have persisted even after Aramco assumed control. In March, a nearby Valero plant explosion resulted in over 157,000 pounds of chemicals being released over ten days, underscoring the community’s fears of a potential disaster.
Hilton Kelley, an environmental activist who grew up in Port Arthur, has dedicated his life to advocating for change since returning in 2001. “If you go to some of the elementary schools and talk to the nurse, she’ll open a cabinet and show you 30 or 40 nebulisers,” Kelley, now 65, shares. He recalls friends from the class of ’79 who lost their lives to cancer, including 25-year-old Jennifer Benson, who lived just two blocks from the refinery. “You hear of babies who are undergoing breathing treatments.” Kelley laments.
During a visit to the west side of Port Arthur, which remained segregated until the mid-1960s, residents express their frustration at the state of their gardens. “Once I planted so many roots here, I just prayed to God that I could survive,” says one woman, disillusioned by the impact of pollution.
What about the children? “I’m getting older and just can’t leave. But they’ve been killing us all our damn lives.” Kelley states. “I see ghosts whenever I drive down this street.”
Charles, a carpenter working on his friend’s restaurant, feels trapped. “See this? It was Antoine’s Auditorium. Aretha Franklin played here, Al Green too, Ray Charles. We had the Chi-Lites and all the other hip groups. Everything around was lit up with neon. White folks, black folks, this was the place to come. All of this was hustle, bustle.” he confesses. “They’re not employing people from here,”
“They could be, and they should be, but they’re not. Labour is cheaper coming from south of the border. And maybe they don’t complain as much as American workers if they know the situation is dangerous. It’s profit margins ahead of community members.” Kelley drives along Houston Avenue, a route from Port Arthur’s abandoned downtown to the Motiva boundary. He reminisces about a time when this area, once dubbed “I didn’t get an offer from anyone around here,” was vibrant. “They had a very sorry record of hiring professionals who look like me in their organisation, and that has transferred to Motiva. You can see that in their staff and management. They come here and go back home at weekends.”
Kelley gestures towards the vacant lots where grocery stores and nightclubs used to thrive, underscoring the stark transformation of the community. This region, once a flourishing oil hub since the Spindletop discovery in 1901, is now overshadowed by industrial decay. What has led to this decline?
As Kelley continues his tour, he arrives at a road beyond Motiva’s gates. It’s early evening, and a convoy of buses is transporting workers along Highway 73 to their accommodations, often located in outlying hotels.
This troubling pattern is not new. Richard, who graduated in 1977 with a mechanical engineering degree, found job opportunities elsewhere despite living across from the Motiva plant. “We have all the infrastructure to create wealth but we are the poorest of the poor,” he explains. “Because of the petrochemicals and the pollution you’ve lost $40,000 of value in a home worth $100,000,”
The unemployment rate in the Port Arthur and Beaumont area stands at 5.4%. “There’s a house across the street that they’re trying to sell for $175,000 and it’s been vacant for nearly four years.” remarks John Beard Jr, a former refinery worker and member of the Port Arthur Community Action Network. His group has engaged in long, often successful, legal battles against fossil fuel development and violations.
Beard speaks of the “They want us away from here,” faced by the community. Many black families who purchased homes during segregation have nowhere else to relocate. Who would buy a property next to a sprawling industrial complex? And if they did, would they receive a fair price?
“They’ve been trying to buy our properties. They’re like: “Y’all going to get tired of repairing your houses and start getting the fuck away. They want to make this refinery land.” Beard notes. “We had to rent for months and put the house back together,” Some residents believe that Motiva and similar companies exploit this vulnerability, offering low buyout rates with plans for future expansion. “People would be happy to leave if they offered enough money. But this is a lovely big house, I’m not going for $100,000. The market isn’t fair because of what they’ve done.” Johnson asserts. “Where are Aramco or Fifa on our soccer fields?”
Shirley, not her real name, resides next to Motiva, close to the site of the 2022 fine. She recalls the devastating impact of Hurricane Harvey in 2017, pointing to a mark on her wall indicating how wastewater mixed with oil flooded her home, rising 3.5 feet. “What is their presence? They have none. If you’re so big on soccer then why aren’t you doing something where you already have a business interest?” she says. “Fifa should consider the effect of taking their money,” In response to past infractions, Motiva constructed a new protective fence to address the issue of overflow.
The pitches at Gulf Coast Youth Soccer Club lie empty, yet during the season, they buzz with activity from local youth. Beard gazes from the parking lot, noting a glaring absence. “It always has strings attached. And if they’re going to take it, they should account for the impact the company is having on its local area. It’s basically blood money. “I’d extend the invitation for Fifa to come here. Soccer is growing here, so why can’t we see them? We don’t see any promotion in the affected communities along the fence line; there’s nothing.” he questions. “knocking at the door and begging”
He ponders why Aramco has not visibly contributed to enhancing soccer infrastructure or participation in the struggling community. “It’s about 75% better than when I was growing up here and it was owned by Texaco,” Beard argues. “But they can still be better.”
“There has been some improvement but I liken it to drinking half a gallon of poison rather than a gallon,”
According to Kelley, extracting broader benefits for the community from the presence of the plants has necessitated “They’re better than the others to a degree but they’re still putting that crap in the air. They should be looking at reducing pollution to zero.” He describes Motiva as distant and requiring many obstacles to be overcome before meaningful engagement occurs. Nonetheless, there are some hopeful signs. Kelley appreciates that Motiva has begun renovations on several downtown buildings that were previously threatened with demolition, including the historic Hotel Sabine. The intent is to make them usable for locals. He acknowledges this progress, noting that pollution levels have improved, stating, “to manage the environmental impacts of their activities, at least in accordance with the local and national environmental legislation, laws, and regulations of any country within which [they] operate, and to demonstrate year-on-year improvement”
Beard, however, remains skeptical of the improvements. “We are in the belly of the beast,” he comments. “There’s no reason for Port Arthur to be like this.”
FIFA requires Aramco and its other sponsors to adhere to a sustainable sourcing code that mandates the management of greenhouse gas emissions and safe wastewater discharge. This code expects sponsors to manage their environmental impacts in accordance with local and national regulations and to demonstrate improvement year on year.
FIFA did not respond to inquiries regarding whether it believes Aramco adheres to the code’s stipulations, nor did it comment on whether Aramco’s operations in Port Arthur align with the World Cup’s sustainability and human rights strategy.
No amount of promises or vague goals can alleviate the plight of Port Arthur. Without a fundamental change in the operations of fossil fuel companies and a significant shift in their relationship with the community that has made them rich, hope remains elusive. “We are in the belly of the beast,” Beard concludes. “There’s no reason for Port Arthur to be like this.”
