The broad street, flanked by unkempt grass verges after recent rain, is a still environment as Jamal Johnson makes his way home, clutching a plastic shopping bag. He walks along the center of the road, surrounded by modest, well-maintained wooden houses that have been passed down through generations. Although the area is deserted, the tranquility is broken by the sound of a freight train rumbling along the nearby tracks. The west side of Port Arthur, Texas, resembles any low-income neighborhood across the southern states, except for the ominous presence looming across the tracks.
This community is a stark reminder of distress. “I’ve got a load of friends and family who’ve had weird diseases,” Johnson shares, his expression twisted with discomfort. He recounts the loss of a grandfather and an aunt to cancer, the latter passing away young after moving here to support relatives. An uncle succumbed to complications from 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.”
Behind him towers the sprawling Motiva oil refinery, a surreal structure of pipes, stacks, and domes, dwarfing everything in sight. Locals claim that when the smokestacks flare, the glow can be seen in the clouds as far as 30 miles away in Winnie. The Motiva refinery, reportedly the largest in the United States, spans 1,457 hectares (3,600 acres) and increased its production capacity to 654,000 barrels of crude oil daily last year.
In 2017, the Saudi Arabia-based Aramco took sole ownership of the facility. Recently, Aramco was designated a “It feels like the streets should be paved with gold here,” of FIFA in 2024 and serves as the exclusive energy sponsor for the World Cup, prominently displayed on screens and pitchside advertisements amid a heatwave sweeping Europe. In Houston, the host city, the “But as you can see, it’s nothing like that.” at the official fan festival showcases its significant involvement as the tournament progresses towards its seventh match on Saturday, featuring Canada against Morocco.
However, such gleaming images are absent from Port Arthur, located 100 miles east of Houston. This city of 55,000 residents is grappling with severe challenges. A 2021 study identified it as the poorest town in Texas, with a median household income of £27,700 and average home values at £49,800. Almost 30% of the population lives below the poverty threshold, facing a grim public health scenario. Cancer rates here consistently surpass state averages; reports suggest that the cancer mortality rate among Port Arthur’s predominantly black residents is 40% higher than in other Texas areas. Childhood asthma rates are nearly double the national average, and the community ranks in the 90th percentile for heart disease, alongside widespread skin issues.
“There was a time I could count the number of classmates whose funerals I’ve gone to,” states Greg Richard, another resident of the fence-line community next to the Motiva plant. Port Arthur is encircled by major refiners like Valero and Total, yet locals feel they have been bypassed by any oil boom. “Jennifer Benson, she lived two blocks from Motiva and was only 25. Darlene Ford, John Lando, Eddie Brown. Cancer, cancer, cancer.” Richard remarks. “I tried tomatoes, bell peppers, green beans and cucumbers, but then you look at it all and see black spots and dust,”
Residents of Port Arthur often ponder if, or when, they will be the next victims of pollution. They are acutely aware of the harmful substances released into their environment, with benzene emissions, a potent carcinogen, ranking among the highest in the United States. Other pollutants, including methane, carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, and sulfur dioxide, also permeate the air with little protection. Although emissions are monitored under EPA regulations, violations are frequent, raising fears about the potential long-term health impacts of such exposure.
Earlier this year, Motiva faced a fine of approximately £9,900 from state regulators due to an unauthorized sulfur dioxide emission. In July of the previous year, they incurred a £43,000 penalty for a similar, more serious infraction. In 2022, Motiva was fined £214,000 for a significant leak of contaminated water after a weir overflowed on its property, with part of that fine offset by corrective actions. These infractions occurred both before and after Aramco’s acquisition. In March, an explosion at the nearby Valero plant reportedly released over 157,000 pounds of chemicals into the atmosphere over ten days. It’s no surprise that locals feel they are living next to a ticking time bomb.
Hilton Kelley, an environmental advocate who spent his childhood in Port Arthur, returned permanently in 2001, dedicating himself to activism after witnessing the city’s decline. He is a Goldman Prize recipient for his environmental efforts. “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 recalls, listing friends from the class of 1979 who succumbed to cancer far too early. “You hear of babies who are undergoing breathing treatments.”
The Guardian encountered west side residents—who experienced segregation until the mid-1960s under Jim Crow laws—who have abandoned attempts to cultivate vegetables due to the coating of grime on their produce. “Once I planted so many roots here, I just prayed to God that I could survive,” lamented one woman.
What about the impact on children in this community? “I’m getting older and just can’t leave. But they’ve been killing us all our damn lives.” Kelley explains. “I see ghosts whenever I drive down this street.”
Charles, a carpenter repairing his friend’s dilapidated restaurant, feels trapped in his situation. “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 shares. “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 reflects as he drives along Houston Avenue, a mile-long stretch connecting Port Arthur’s deserted downtown to the Motiva plant’s boundary. Once bustling with life, this area was known as “I didn’t get an offer from anyone around here,” He passes empty lots, some overgrown and others littered with remnants of what once existed. “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 at where grocery stores, nightclubs, and a 7UP bottling company once thrived before being demolished. The desolation is evident, as this oil-centric town, since the Spindletop discovery in 1901, has deteriorated into a shadow of its former self. What has transpired in this once-thriving area?
During Kelley’s informal tour, he highlights a road beyond Motiva’s entrance. The evening sky is overcast, with a dim sun peering through the clouds. A convoy of buses transports workers along Highway 73 to their accommodations, typically at hotels on the outskirts.
This lack of local employment is not a new issue. Richard, who graduated in 1977 with a mechanical engineering degree, found himself taking a job in Florida’s aerospace industry despite living across the street from what is now the Motiva plant, which was previously operated by Texaco.
“We have all the infrastructure to create wealth but we are the poorest of the poor,” Richard explains. “Because of the petrochemicals and the pollution you’ve lost $40,000 (£30,000) of value in a home worth $100,000,”
The unemployment rate in the Port Arthur and Beaumont area, which borders to the northwest, 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 leader of the Port Arthur Community Action Network (Pacan), which has engaged in ongoing legal battles against fossil fuel development and regulatory breaches.
Beard characterizes Port Arthur as a victim of “They want us away from here,” Black families who purchased homes on the west side during the city’s segregation have nowhere else to go. Who would want to buy a house next to a sprawling industrial complex that poses health risks? And if they did, would they be offered 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 states. “We had to rent for months and put the house back together,”
Residents allege that Motiva and other companies exploit their vulnerability, offering buyouts at low rates to facilitate 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—an alias for anonymity—resides next to Motiva, near the weir that led to Motiva’s fine in 2022. She recalls the catastrophic effects of Hurricane Harvey in 2017, showing the water level on her wall, which indicated how wastewater mixed with oil inundated 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 explains. “Fifa should consider the effect of taking their money,” To address overflowing water issues, Motiva has constructed a new protective fence as part of a commitment to corrective measures.
The pitches at Gulf Coast Youth Soccer Club might be vacant now, but during the season, they are alive with children from Port Arthur and neighboring towns. Beard looks over from the parking lot and notes 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 is perplexed by Aramco’s lack of visible efforts to enhance sports infrastructure or foster participation in its struggling community. “It’s about 75% better than when I was growing up here and it was owned by Texaco,” he insists. “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 these plants has involved “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 remote, requiring numerous obstacles to be overcome before any substantive engagement occurs. However, there are a few positive developments. Kelley is encouraged that Motiva has initiated renovations on several endangered downtown buildings, including the imposing Hotel Sabine, aiming to make them usable for locals. He acknowledges progress, noting that pollution levels are “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” Still, he believes there is room for improvement.
Beard remains skeptical about the benefits. “We are in the belly of the beast,” he argues. “There’s no reason for Port Arthur to be like this.”
FIFA requires Aramco and other sponsors to adhere to its sustainable sourcing code, mandating control and improvement of greenhouse gas emissions and the safe discharge of wastewater. The code stipulates that sponsors “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.”
FIFA did not respond to inquiries regarding Aramco’s compliance with the key points of the code. Neither did it provide clarification on whether Aramco’s operations in Port Arthur align with the sustainability and human rights framework of the World Cup.
The challenges facing Port Arthur cannot be alleviated by mere promises, vague targets, or well-crafted strategy documents. Hope seems elusive without a fundamental shift in the practices of fossil fuel companies and their relationship with the area that generates their immense wealth. “We are in the belly of the beast,” Beard concludes. “There’s no reason for Port Arthur to be like this.”
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- Aramco
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