20 September 2023
By
AMAL AHMED
As federal money flows to carbon capture and storage,
Texas bets on an undersea bonanza
The state is awarding offshore leases to oil and gas
companies that hope to bury heat-trapping carbon dioxide deep beneath
the seafloor. But critics worry about leakage and the lackluster
record of carbon capture facilities onshore.
Unused oil rigs sit in the Gulf of Mexico near
Port Fourchon, Louisiana in 2010.
Texas has begun to award leases allowing companies to store carbon beneath
the Gulf. Credit: REUTERS/Lee Celano
Over the last century, the state of Texas has reaped billions of
dollars by allowing companies to burrow into the floor of the Gulf of
Mexico to extract oil and gas. Now, the General Land Office — the
state agency tasked with protecting the vulnerable Texas shoreline and
other natural resources — is eyeing carbon sequestration as the next
industry to develop in the Gulf.
Angling for a share of $12 billion in federal funding for such
projects under the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act,
companies are competing to build carbon capture plants next to onshore
oil wells, gas wells and other polluting facilities along the coast.
At the same time, they are applying for offshore leases that will
allow them to store that heat-trapping carbon dioxide deep beneath the
seafloor.
Crucial to the effort are a stream of U.S. government grants, followed
by generous tax credits for every ton of carbon stored.
In September 2021, the General Land Office, or GLO, awarded its first
lease for carbon sequestration on 40,000 acres of state-owned land
near Port Arthur to Talos
Energy, a Houston-based oil and gas company. The oil giant Chevron
has a 50% stake in the project,
known as Bayou Bend, which if completed could be the nation’s first offshore
carbon storage site.
Last month the GLO announced that it had awarded six more leases for
offshore carbon storage that would generate $130
million in bonus payments for the state’s school fund. And in
February, the Port of Corpus Christi, the nation’s top port for oil
exports and an economic engine for Texas, said it
had received $16.4 million in federal funding to conduct a feasibility
study for both onshore and offshore carbon storage projects. The
research will be conducted with Texas A&M University, the University
of Texas, Talos and Howard Energy Partners, a San Antonio gas company.
The GLO declined to provide details about the six offshore leases
granted last month, from the location or size of the storage sites to
the identities of the companies involved. Despite its August
announcement that the projects had been greenlighted, the agency said
the leases had not yet been formally “executed.”
The oil and gas industry maintains that
carbon capture and storage technology, or CCS, can significantly
reduce greenhouse gas emissions and hasten the nation’s progress
toward net-zero status — the point at which the volume of
heat-trapping gases released by power plants, oil refineries,
factories and other major emitters would be equal to what is removed.
But environmentalists and scientists argue that CCS does not live up
to those claims. So far, the technology has yet to be widely deployed
and the results have been mixed, meaning that emissions continue to
increase even as billion-dollar plants for carbon capture and
sequestration are built out.
Relying on the oil and gas industry’s data, the nonprofit Institute
for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis reported last
September that 10 of 13 major CCS projects around the globe had failed
or underperformed by wide margins. “It doesn’t work for as long as
people claim it does, and there are significant uncertainties about
how long it can be stored underground,” said Dennis Wamsted, an energy
analyst at the institute.
Carbon capture technology essentially
acts as a giant filter. When natural gas is burned at a power plant,
most of the emissions typically flow directly into the atmosphere. But
when a capture facility is attached to the power plant’s smokestacks,
gases fed through the facility separate the carbon molecules from
other pollutants through a series of chemical reactions.
The isolated carbon molecules can then be pressurized and compressed
into a liquid that in theory is transported through a pipeline to a
sequestration well, more or less modeled after an oil and gas drilling
well. At this stage, the CO2 is sent back underground and trapped
under layers of rock and sediment.
The threat of leaks and explosions
Leakage is a major concern. In another study casting doubt on the
viability of CCS, Italian researchers estimated that if storage wells
leaked at a rate of 0.1 percent — a likely scenario, based on what
scientists have observed so far — an additional 25
gigatons of carbon would be added to the atmosphere by 2100.
Scientists, environmentalists and frontline communities also worry
that the pipelines that transport pressurized carbon dioxide to
storage wells could explode, putting nearby communities at risk: Three
years ago in Satartia,
Miss., dozens of people were hospitalized and hundreds evacuated
after a CO2 pipeline ruptured. Emergency responders were impeded when
the heavy concentration of carbon dioxide in the air prevented their
vehicles from working.
Offshore injection projects like those proposed in the Gulf present
other challenges. Sequestered carbon dioxide can move through geologic
layers, particularly when older oil and gas wells already provide
pathways. At an early CCS project in Norway, for example, researchers found
that carbon stored beneath the seafloor began to migrate upward toward
shallower rock layers, posing the possibility of leaks. Those
injection wells were originally drilled in the late 1990s and have
since been under constant monitoring and study.Globally, there are no
uniform guidelines for how long CCS wells need to be monitored, even
though their reliability remains uncertain, Wamsted said.
Nonetheless, Texas has enthusiastically entered the fray. For the
state, which has long channeled royalties from oil and gas leases into
funding for public schools — some $3.7 billion has flowed into state
coffers since the state began leasing
offshore land for drilling in the 1960s — the potential dividends of
undersea carbon storage are clear.
Onshore, CCS projects are proliferating as well, mainly around the petrochemical
refineries on the Gulf Coast and the massive oil and gas drilling
fields in the Permian Basin in West Texas. Oil executives say the
existing pipeline infrastructure in the basin, coupled with the
federal incentives, makes it a prime
location for CCS, with tax credits flowing for every ton of carbon
captured and injected underground.
Even the King
Ranch in South Texas, one of the largest cattle ranching
operations in the country, may soon have
a carbon capture and storage plant, in this case pulling the emissions
from belching cows and manure out of the ambient air.
Inevitably, the CCS projects announced to date raise questions about
whether they will prop up the oil and gas industry for years to come
rather than speed the effort to phase out fossil fuel production and
consumption. Add in the persistent doubts about the capture technology
and the potential leakage from storage wells, and critics ask whether
the federal incentives will do more harm than good.
“What we are witnessing is a tremendous industry-led push to promote
carbon capture and storage as its lifeline,” said Nikki Reisch, the
director of the climate and energy program at the Center for
International Environmental Law. “It is their get out of jail free
card — it mainstreams the notion that we can continue using fossil
fuels into the future.”
Wamsted points to the first and only CCS facility to operate so far at
a U.S. power plant: the Petra
Nova facility, which was tacked onto a 1970s-era coal plant at the
W.A. Parish Generating Station outside Houston. The capture and
storage operation received $190
million in funding from the federal Department of Energy and went
online in late 2016.
“It claimed it was capturing 90% of the carbon, but our research showed
that it was likely capturing 70 to 75% of the carbon coming through
the project,” Wamsted said. “What you get down to is the fact that
carbon capture equipment that has been run, tested and operated so far
does not operate nearly as well as proponents say.”
And the CCS facility required its own natural gas generator to operate
— emitting methane, an even more potent heat-absorbing gas that was
not captured at all.
In another environmental paradox, Petra Nova’s captured carbon was
used for “enhanced
oil recovery,” a technique in which pressurized CO2 is pumped into
an existing oil or gas well to squeeze out the last of the fuel
deposits. After the CCS facility was mothballed in
2020, a spokesperson for NRG Energy, which backed the project, was
quoted as attributing the decision to a nosedive in oil prices. The
carbon capture facility reopened on Sept. 5.
Locally, community advocates pushed
for the Parish coal plant to be shut down altogether because of
concerns about climate change and air quality. Instead, after the infusion of
$1 billion in investment by private companies and the federal
government, the coal plant is likely to remain open for years.
Area residents are suffering the consequences. A 2018 study by Rice
University researchers linked air pollution from the coal plant,
including sulfur dioxide and ozone emissions, to
hundreds of excess deaths and cases of asthma and other
respiratory illnesses in the region.
“These are communities that are already putting up with chronic and
neglected air pollution problems,” said Alexander Spike, a climate
justice advocate for the group Air Alliance Houston. “Industry is not
completely up front about what carbon capture means for communities,
so these communities are getting the short end of the stick at the
profit of industry.”
Advocates of the technology counter that CCS is simply one way forward
in the complex and daunting task of reducing greenhouse gas emissions
to save the planet. “This absolutely helps solve the problem, as a
tool in the kit,” said Susan Hovorka, a research scientist at the
Bureau of Economic Geology at the University of Texas and the
principal investigator for the university’s Gulf Coast Carbon Center.
“Now is not the time to say we throw out the tool.”
A bid for state “primacy’’
That Texas came to own the oil-rich land beneath the seafloor is, in
some ways, a quirk of history. In 1836, when Sam Houston is
said to have drawn the boundaries of the independent Republic of
Texas, he extended its coastal border 10.3 miles outward, following
Spanish colonial precedent. Texas entered the Union nine years later,
and for nearly a century afterward, the U.S. government paid no mind
to the boundary, allowing the state to do what it pleased.
But when oil began flowing from those state-owned lands, federal
officials began to take an interest. States like Louisiana and
Mississippi only
claimed land rights 3.5 miles from the shore, and any royalties
from oil and gas recovered past that boundary were collected by the
federal government.
From the 1940s until 1953, the states and the federal government
battled for ownership of submerged lands: Three separate lawsuits
wound their way to the U.S. Supreme Court, and the issue was debated
in Congress.
Today, although Texas still owns all of the land within 10.3 miles of
its coast, it does not have sole authority to greenlight carbon
sequestration wells in the Gulf of Mexico. Classified as “Class
VI wells,” all such sites are currently regulated by the federal
Environmental Protection Agency.
But Texas and Louisiana,
another state that is ramping up CCS projects, have asked the EPA for
“primacy” in regard to the wells, which would allow state agencies to
grant permits for and oversee them.
Critics say that if the EPA were to grant states primacy, removing the
federal hurdles, sequestration wells would acquire permits for
underwater carbon storage at a quicker pace. States already permit and
regulate other types of injection wells on land, known as Class
II wells, which are used for enhanced oil recovery, said Paige
Powell, a policy expert at Commission Shift, a watchdog group that
seeks reforms in oil and gas oversight in Texas.
In Texas, securing primacy would mean that the EPA handed over
authority to the state Railroad Commission, which has a spotty track
record on enforcing existing oil and gas regulations. “When you look
at Class II injection wells, we see induced seismicity and
sinkholes,” Powell said. “We’re seeing blowouts that
are like geysers.”
“We’ve been trying to make the case that the Railroad Commission is
mismanaging its Class II program, and the EPA should not give them any
more authority,” she added.
The commission is currently responsible for cleaning up and
maintaining thousands
of abandoned oil and gas wells that bankrupt companies have left
behind all over the state. In the future, the state may also be on the
hook for abandoned CCS projects: Its lease agreement for the Bayou
Bend project, for example, says the GLO will take over management of
carbon storage wells if the investors decide to walk away from the
venture.
“Our lessees are required to follow all state and federal laws. The
permitting process … from the Environmental Protection Agency includes
evaluation and planned mitigation of potential environmental risks and
continuous monitoring during the injection phase of the project,” the
agency said in a written statement.
At the same time, Texas lawmakers have sought to deflect corporate
responsibility for any problems arising at sequestration wells from
the oil and gas industry. House
Bill 4557, introduced last spring in the hope of encouraging
investment in CCS projects, would have limited the types of civil
suits residents could bring against companies in the event of a
disaster. The bill died in committee, but Powell says it is likely
that discussions will be revived in two years when the Legislature
next meets; it convenes for five months every other year.
Given the momentum gathering for CCS projects in Texas, environmental
advocates fear the consequences of ceding regulatory control to the
state.
“The world standard for carbon sequestration is 99%
of the CO2 stored for a thousand years,” Powell said. “That means
we need to monitor it for a thousand years. But there are major
concerns that companies are going to be able to hand over their
liability for carbon injection wells to the state after 10 or 50
years.”
Disclosure: Air Alliance Houston,
NRG Energy, Rice University and Texas A&M University have been
financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan
news organization that is funded in part by donations from members,
foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role
in the Tribune's journalism. Find a complete list
of them here.
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