Toxic Tides: The Intersection of Climate Change and Industrial Legacy in Glynn County

This coverage is made possible through a partnership between Grist and WABE, Atlanta’s NPR station.

In the coastal city of Brunswick, Georgia, the rhythms of daily life are dictated by the shifting tides. For Semona Holmes, a longtime resident, her home is a tranquil sanctuary of fruit trees, potted flowers, and a backyard fish pond. However, that tranquility is frequently shattered. When the tide surges or heavy rains lash the Georgia coast, the water does not simply recede; it encroaches.

“If you can imagine this entire area here completely flooded,” Holmes says, gesturing from her front porch toward the street. “We would have, like, a river on our street.”

For residents in this part of Brunswick, flooding is more than a mere inconvenience. It is a recurring, visceral threat. Water has been known to reach knee-depth, and in the wake of major hurricanes, neighbors have been forced to navigate the streets by canoe. But for Holmes, the anxiety is not just about water damage to her home; it is about what that water carries. Located just half a mile from a former pesticide plant—a site now designated as a toxic Superfund site by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA)—Holmes fears that the floodwaters are acting as a vector, transporting industrial pollutants directly into her yard, her community, and her life.

“Everything from that chemical plant has flowed into our community,” she says.

A New Frontier in Environmental Research

The concerns voiced by Holmes and her neighbors are now the focal point of a significant scientific endeavor. Researchers from six major institutions are poised to launch Georgia’s first Superfund research center, backed by a $15 million grant from the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences (NIEHS).

The coalition—comprising Emory University, the University of Georgia, Georgia Tech, Morehouse School of Medicine, Spelman College, and Texas Tech University—will spend the next five years conducting an exhaustive analysis of Glynn County’s four toxic Superfund sites. The mission is twofold: to quantify the health legacy of decades of chemical exposure and to develop strategies to prevent future contamination as the climate crisis intensifies.

Noah Scovronick, an assistant professor at Emory University’s Rollins School of Public Health, emphasizes the urgency of the study. “One goal is to understand the health effects of past chemical exposures, and the other is to try and reduce people’s future exposures,” Scovronick explains. By marrying rigorous environmental sampling with epidemiological study, the team hopes to map exactly how these legacy chemicals interact with the residents of Glynn County.

The Chronology of a Contaminated Landscape

To understand the current crisis, one must look at the industrial history of Glynn County. For much of the 20th century, Brunswick was a hub of intensive industrial activity. Chemical plants, pesticide manufacturers, and paper mills formed the backbone of the local economy. While these facilities provided jobs, they also left behind a heavy chemical footprint.

• The Mid-20th Century: The height of industrial operations in Brunswick, during which chemical runoff and waste disposal practices were largely unregulated by modern environmental standards.
• The Superfund Era: Following the passage of the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act (CERCLA) in 1980, the EPA began identifying sites of extreme contamination. Glynn County eventually saw four such sites designated for federal cleanup.
• The Recent Past: As sea levels have risen and extreme weather events have become more frequent, the integrity of the “caps” and containment structures meant to sequester these toxins has been called into question.
• The Present Day: The launch of the new multi-institutional research center marks a shift from reactive site cleanup to proactive community health monitoring.

The Climate Multiplier Effect

A critical component of the new study is the integration of climate modeling. The researchers are not merely studying the chemicals in the soil; they are studying how those chemicals behave in a warming world.

As sea levels rise along the Georgia coast, the water table shifts, and the frequency of “sunny day” flooding increases. Many of the containment measures used at Superfund sites—such as soil caps or buried barriers—were designed for a climate that no longer exists. They were built on the assumption of stable, predictable weather patterns.

“We want to be sure that the remediation that is ongoing at those sites is resilient to extreme weather moving forward,” Scovronick notes. If a major storm breaches these containment zones, the risk of spreading toxic materials into residential neighborhoods, schools, and local waterways increases exponentially. The research team will use advanced hydrological modeling to simulate how floodwaters move across the landscape, identifying potential “exposure pathways” that have previously been overlooked.

Data and Community Concerns

The project is distinctive for its commitment to community-engaged research. Before the first soil sample was taken, the scientists met with residents like Holmes to understand their lived experiences. The study aims to bridge the gap between abstract toxicological data and the daily reality of those living in the shadow of the plants.

The data points being collected include:

• Soil Sampling: Testing residential yards and playgrounds for heavy metals and pesticide residues.
• Water Quality Assessment: Analyzing local waterways to determine if fish and shellfish remain safe for consumption.
• Air Quality Monitoring: Evaluating whether wind-borne dust from disturbed Superfund sites poses a respiratory risk.
• Epidemiological Surveys: Establishing links between specific chemical markers in the environment and health outcomes reported by residents.

For many in the community, the science is a confirmation of what they have long suspected. Holmes and her family have already adopted a lifestyle of avoidance—they do not drink tap water and they refuse to eat seafood harvested from local waters. However, she remains deeply worried about her six grandchildren, some of whom attend an elementary school situated mere blocks from a toxic site.

“We want them to be healthy,” Holmes says. “And you don’t want to worry that they’re playing on a playground that has contaminated soil.”

Implications: The Quest for Accountability

The implications of this research extend far beyond the scientific community. If the study reveals that current containment strategies are failing, it could force the EPA and the corporations responsible for the sites to engage in more extensive, costly remediation.

Moreover, the project brings to the fore the issue of environmental justice. Often, industrial sites are located near marginalized communities that lack the political capital to demand rigorous oversight. By bringing together institutions like Morehouse School of Medicine and Spelman College, the research center intends to ensure that the voices of these communities are central to the scientific process.

For residents like Holmes, the research is also a matter of moral recognition. There is a deep-seated need for the companies that operated these plants to acknowledge the long-term impacts of their actions.

“It shows that you care about humanity,” Holmes says of the research. “And that you are able to acknowledge that, ‘Yeah, by our actions, we have possibly contaminated an entire county.’”

However, acknowledgment is only the first step. For the people of Brunswick, documentation is not an end in itself. As the climate continues to change, the threat posed by the toxic legacy of the past will only grow more complex.

“There has to be continued action,” Holmes insists.

As the five-year study begins, the residents of Glynn County are watching closely. They are looking for more than just scientific papers or government reports; they are looking for a future where they can enjoy their homes, walk their streets, and let their children play in the dirt without the lingering fear of an invisible, toxic tide.

The partnership between the scientists and the community marks a new chapter in the fight for environmental health. It is a recognition that the past is never truly behind us, especially when it is buried in the soil of our own backyards. As the researchers embark on their work, they carry the heavy responsibility of not just uncovering the truth, but of helping to build a safer, more resilient path forward for a community that has lived in the shadow of industrial neglect for far too long.