The wide street in Port Arthur, Texas, is lined with modest wood-paneled houses, each reflecting the care of generations. Jamal Johnson walks home, plastic shopping bag in hand, cutting through the eerie stillness of the neighborhood. The freight train that passes by breaks this silence, yet the tranquility is overshadowed by the looming presence of an oil refinery just beyond the train tracks.
This community is fraught with sorrow. “I’ve got a load of friends and family who’ve had weird diseases,” Johnson recalls, his expression pained. He lists family members who succumbed to cancer, including an aunt who died young after moving here to care for relatives. “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 massive Motiva oil refinery, which some claim is the largest in the United States. Spanning 3,600 acres, it reportedly expanded its production capacity to 654,000 barrels of crude oil per day last year.
In 2017, the Saudi Arabia-based company Aramco became the sole owner of the facility. Fast forward to 2024, and Aramco was named a significant global partner of FIFA, serving as the exclusive energy sponsor for the World Cup. Viewers across the globe see its branding in stadiums and fan zones, including the bustling Aramco Arena in Houston, which will host its seventh and final match on Saturday, featuring Canada against Morocco.
However, the bright lights and celebrations are absent in Port Arthur, located 100 miles from Houston. This city, home to 55,000 residents, has been labeled the poorest in Texas, with a median household income of $27,700 and property values averaging $49,800. Nearly 30% of its inhabitants live below the poverty line, and the health statistics paint a grim picture: cancer rates here are significantly higher than the state average, particularly in the predominantly Black community, where mortality rates from cancer are 40% above the Texas norm. Asthma rates among children are estimated to be nearly double the national average.
Greg Richard, another resident living near the Motiva plant, bluntly states, “It feels like the streets should be paved with gold here,” Surrounded by additional refineries, residents feel they have been left behind by any economic benefits from the oil industry. “But as you can see, it’s nothing like that.” he observes, yet the reality is starkly different.
Residents live under the constant threat of industrial emissions. Benzene, a known carcinogen, is released at alarming rates here, alongside methane, carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, and sulfur dioxide. While the Environmental Protection Agency monitors emissions, violations occur frequently, leaving residents fearful of the long-term health impacts.
This year, Motiva faced a fine of approximately £9,900 from state regulators due to an unauthorized sulfur dioxide release. In July, a more significant violation led to a £43,000 penalty. In 2022, they were fined £214,000 for a major leak of contaminated water, with part of the fine offset by corrective measures. These infractions have occurred both before and after Aramco took over. A recent explosion at the Valero plant next door released over 157,000 pounds of chemicals into the atmosphere over ten days, intensifying local concerns.
Hilton Kelley, a lifelong resident and environmental activist, returned to Port Arthur in 2001, dedicating himself to addressing the city’s decline. “There was a time I could count the number of classmates whose funerals I’ve gone to,” Kelley, aged 65, reflects, naming several friends from his youth who died prematurely from cancer. “Jennifer Benson, she lived two blocks from Motiva and was only 25. Darlene Ford, John Lando, Eddie Brown. Cancer, cancer, cancer.”
Residents on the west side, which remained segregated until the mid-1960s, have abandoned attempts to grow vegetables outdoors due to the hazardous conditions. “I tried tomatoes, bell peppers, green beans and cucumbers, but then you look at it all and see black spots and dust,” one woman laments.
What about the children? Kelley notes, “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,”
Charles, a local carpenter helping to renovate a friend’s restaurant, feels trapped. “You hear of babies who are undergoing breathing treatments.” he shares. “Once I planted so many roots here, I just prayed to God that I could survive,”
Driving down Houston Avenue, once known as “I’m getting older and just can’t leave. But they’ve been killing us all our damn lives.” Kelley sees the remnants of a vibrant past. “I see ghosts whenever I drive down this street.”
Kelley gestures to where grocery stores, nightclubs, and a 7UP bottling company once thrived. The memories starkly contrast the current desolation in this oil-rich region, which has been a hub since the Spindletop discovery in 1901.
Later, during Kelley’s tour, he observes a convoy of buses transporting workers to their accommodations, often located in hotels on the town’s outskirts. “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 asserts. “They’re not employing people from here,”
Richard, who graduated in 1977 with a mechanical engineering degree, recalls, “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.”
The unemployment rate in Port Arthur and neighboring Beaumont stands at 5.4%. John Beard Jr., a former refinery worker and leader of the Port Arthur Community Action Network, emphasizes, “I didn’t get an offer from anyone around here,”
Beard characterizes the situation as one of “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.” Black families who purchased homes on the west side during segregation have no viable options for relocation. The looming presence of the refinery diminishes property values, making it unattractive for potential buyers. “We have all the infrastructure to create wealth but we are the poorest of the poor,” he explains, pointing out a nearby house that has been vacant for nearly four years despite attempts to sell it for $175,000.
Some residents believe that Motiva and other companies take advantage of their vulnerability, offering low buyouts with plans for future expansions. “Because of the petrochemicals and the pollution you’ve lost $40,000 of value in a home worth $100,000,” Johnson states. “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.”
Shirley, a resident near Motiva, recalls the devastation caused by Hurricane Harvey in 2017. “They want us away from here,” she recounts, indicating the mark on her wall that shows how wastewater mixed with oil flooded her home to a height of 3.5 feet. “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.” As part of a commitment to improve, Motiva has erected a new protective fence to address overflow issues.
The pitches at Gulf Coast Youth Soccer Club remain empty, though they are usually filled with children from Port Arthur and surrounding areas during the season. Beard looks over from the parking lot and notes the absence of Aramco or FIFA’s presence. “We had to rent for months and put the house back together,” he questions. “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.”
He is puzzled over why Aramco has not made efforts to bolster local soccer infrastructure or increase participation. “Where are Aramco or Fifa on our soccer fields?” he asserts. “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?”
“Fifa should consider the effect of taking their money,”
According to Kelley, extracting broader benefits for the community from the plants’ existence has meant “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 describes Motiva as distant, making meaningful engagement a challenge. Yet, there are some positive developments; Kelley has noted that Motiva has started refurbishing several downtown buildings at risk of demolition, including the iconic Hotel Sabine. He believes this is a step toward making these spaces usable for locals. “knocking at the door and begging” he acknowledges. “It’s about 75% better than when I was growing up here and it was owned by Texaco,”
Beard remains skeptical about the improvements. “But they can still be better.” he critiques. “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.”
Aramco and other FIFA sponsors are obliged to adhere to the football governing body’s sustainable sourcing code, which requires them to manage and improve greenhouse gas emissions and ensure the safe discharge of wastewater. The code mandates sponsors to manage their environmental impact in accordance with local and national regulations and to demonstrate yearly advancements.
FIFA did not respond to inquiries regarding whether it believes Aramco complies with the code’s essential requirements. It also did not clarify if Aramco’s operations in Port Arthur align with the World Cup’s sustainability and human rights strategy.
Despite any pledges or carefully crafted strategy documents, hope seems elusive for Port Arthur. A fundamental transformation in the operations of fossil fuel companies and a significant shift in their relationship with this community, which has become an unwitting backdrop to their wealth, are essential. “There has been some improvement but I liken it to drinking half a gallon of poison rather than a gallon,” Beard concludes. “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.”
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