The wide street, lined with grass verges that have become thick and unruly after recent rain, sets the scene for Jamal Johnson’s solitary walk home. He meanders down the center, clutching a plastic shopping bag, a small movement in the otherwise still air. The modest wooden houses that dot this neighborhood have been well cared for, often passed down through generations. Yet, the tranquility is pierced by the sound of a freight train rumbling past, underscoring the stark reality of living in Port Arthur, Texas, where the oppressive presence of the Motiva oil refinery looms just beyond the tracks.
This community carries an unsettling weight. “I’ve got a load of friends and family who’ve had weird diseases,” Johnson reveals, his expression a mix of resignation and pain. He recounts the losses of a grandfather and an aunt to cancer, the latter succumbing at a young age after moving to the area. An uncle also passed away due 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.”
Dominating the landscape is the Motiva oil refinery, an enormous and surreal structure of pipes, stacks, and domes. Locals claim that when the chimneys flare up, it casts a reflection in the clouds as far as Winnie, 30 miles away. As the largest refinery in the United States by some measures, it occupies 1,457 hectares (3,600 acres) and reportedly boosted its production capacity to an impressive 654,000 barrels of crude oil per day last year.
Since 2017, the Saudi Arabia-based company Aramco has held sole ownership of the facility. In 2024, Aramco was designated a “It feels like the streets should be paved with gold here,” of FIFA and serves as the exclusive energy sponsor for the World Cup, its branding prominently displayed across television broadcasts during a heatwave affecting Europe. The company’s influence is visible at the tournament through pitchside advertisements and screens in stadiums, including the bustling “But as you can see, it’s nothing like that.” at the official fan festival in Houston, which will host its seventh and final match on Saturday featuring Canada against Morocco.
However, Port Arthur, located 100 miles east of Houston, bears no resemblance to such spectacle. This town of 55,000 residents is in dire straits. A 2021 study characterized it as the poorest city in Texas, with a median household income of £27,700 and an average home value of £49,800. Nearly 30% of its population lives below the poverty line, compounded by alarming public health issues. Cancer rates here consistently surpass state averages, with mortality rates for the predominantly black community estimated to be 40% higher than elsewhere in Texas. Childhood asthma rates are nearly double the national average, while heart disease and skin ailments are prevalent.
“There was a time I could count the number of classmates whose funerals I’ve gone to,” asserts Greg Richard, a fellow resident of this fence-line community adjacent to the Motiva facility. Port Arthur is encircled by major refineries, including Valero and Total, leading residents to feel that any oil boom has bypassed them entirely. “Jennifer Benson, she lived two blocks from Motiva and was only 25. Darlene Ford, John Lando, Eddie Brown. Cancer, cancer, cancer.” Richard argues. “I tried tomatoes, bell peppers, green beans and cucumbers, but then you look at it all and see black spots and dust,”
Residents grapple with the uncertainty of their health as they are acutely aware of the pollutants that surround them. Benzene emissions, known for their carcinogenic properties, are among the highest in the nation. Other harmful pollutants, including methane, carbon dioxide, and hydrogen sulfide, permeate the air. Although the Environmental Protection Agency imposes emissions caps and monitoring, violations occur frequently, leaving residents anxious about the long-term health implications.
In 2023, Motiva faced a fine of approximately £9,900 from state regulators for an unauthorized release of sulfur dioxide. This followed a £43,000 penalty issued the previous July for a more significant violation. In 2022, the refinery was fined £214,000 for a major leak of contaminated water after a weir overflowed, with part of the penalty being waived when corrective actions were taken. These infractions occurred both before and after Aramco took control, and a recent explosion at the Valero plant released over 157,000 pounds of chemicals into the atmosphere over ten days, intensifying local fears of living next to a potential disaster.
Hilton Kelley, an environmental activist who grew up in Port Arthur, returned in 2001 and dedicated himself to activism after witnessing the city’s decline. His efforts earned him the prestigious Goldman Prize. “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, reflecting on friends from his class of 1979 who died from cancer too soon. “You hear of babies who are undergoing breathing treatments.”
During a visit to the west side of Port Arthur, which remained segregated until the mid-1960s under Jim Crow laws, residents express frustration over their inability to grow vegetables outdoors due to the soot that coats their crops. “Once I planted so many roots here, I just prayed to God that I could survive,” one woman shares.
Kelley raises concerns about the impact on children in the community. “I’m getting older and just can’t leave. But they’ve been killing us all our damn lives.” he states. “I see ghosts whenever I drive down this street.”
Charles, a carpenter renovating a friend’s dilapidated 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 admits. “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 travels along Houston Avenue, which stretches a mile from the abandoned downtown to the Motiva plant’s boundary. This stretch was once known as “I didn’t get an offer from anyone around here,” filled with life and vibrancy. Now, he passes empty lots that were once thriving areas. “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 toward where vibrant establishments once stood, now reduced to memories. The area, which has been an oil hub since the discovery of Spindletop in 1901, was once a draw for both locals and transient workers. The transformation raises the question: what has happened to this once-thriving community?
During Kelley’s impromptu tour, he points out a road just beyond Motiva’s entrance, where a convoy of buses carries workers to their accommodations in hotels on the outskirts of town. “We have all the infrastructure to create wealth but we are the poorest of the poor,” he notes. “Because of the petrochemicals and the pollution you’ve lost $40,000 (£30,000) of value in a home worth $100,000,”
Richard, a mechanical engineering graduate of 1977, shares his own frustrations. Living across from the Motiva plant, which was then owned by Texaco, he ended up taking a job in Florida instead of finding work locally. “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.” he recounts. “They want us away from here,”
The unemployment rate in the Port Arthur and Beaumont area is currently 5.4%. “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.” asserts John Beard Jr., a former refinery worker and advocate with the Port Arthur Community Action Network (Pacan), which has engaged in numerous legal battles against fossil fuel projects and violations.
Beard describes the situation in Port Arthur as one of “We had to rent for months and put the house back together,” Families that purchased homes on the west side during the era of segregation find themselves trapped. The idea of selling a property adjacent to a sprawling industrial landscape raises questions about desirability and value. “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 explains. “Where are Aramco or Fifa on our soccer fields?”
Some residents allege that Motiva and other companies exploit this vulnerability, offering low buyouts with the goal of future expansion. “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?” Johnson claims. “Fifa should consider the effect of taking their money,”
Shirley, who lives near Motiva and close to the weir that caused the company’s fine in 2022, recalls the devastation during Hurricane Harvey in 2017. She shows the water level on her wall, which marks how mixed wastewater and oil flooded her home to a height of 3.5 feet. “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.” she says. “knocking at the door and begging” In response to previous incidents, Motiva constructed a new protective fence to address the issue of overflowing water.
The pitches at Gulf Coast Youth Soccer Club are currently empty, but when in season, they are filled with children from Port Arthur and neighboring towns. Beard observes from the parking lot and questions the absence of corporate support. “It’s about 75% better than when I was growing up here and it was owned by Texaco,” he asks. “But they can still be better.”
He critiques Aramco’s lack of visible efforts to enhance local football infrastructure. “There has been some improvement but I liken it to drinking half a gallon of poison rather than a gallon,” he states. “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.”
“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”
According to Kelley, obtaining any tangible benefits from the industrial presence has meant “We are in the belly of the beast,” He describes Motiva as distant and difficult to engage with. Nevertheless, there are some positive developments. Kelley acknowledges that Motiva has started renovations on several downtown buildings that were at risk of demolition, including the imposing and eerie Hotel Sabine, aiming to make them suitable for local use. He recognizes improvements in pollution control, saying, “There’s no reason for Port Arthur to be like this.”
Beard remains skeptical regarding the improvements. “There has been some improvement but I liken it to drinking half a gallon of poison rather than a gallon,” he remarks. “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.”
FIFA mandates that Aramco and other sponsors subscribe to its sustainable sourcing code, which requires them to manage and improve greenhouse gas emissions, among other stipulations. The code calls for sponsors “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.”
FIFA did not respond to inquiries regarding whether it believes Aramco—alongside Motiva—complies with the key elements of this code. The organization also did not clarify whether Aramco’s operations in Port Arthur align with the environmental goals and human rights strategy of the World Cup.
Ultimately, no amount of promises, vague targets, or carefully crafted strategy documents can assist Port Arthur. The community’s prospects seem grim without a fundamental reevaluation of the actions of fossil fuel companies and a significant transformation in their relationship with the area that has made them extraordinarily wealthy. “We are in the belly of the beast,” Beard concludes. “There’s no reason for Port Arthur to be like this.”
