We dive into the effects of large-scale solar projects on the delicate ecosystem of the Mojave desert and the controversies that surround them.
In an ambitious green energy bid, the ecological balance of the Mojave desert and its rich cultural heritage face unprecedented threats from none other than the rise of solar panels.
From the I-10 highway stretching between Los Angeles and Phoenix, amid the harsh Mojave desert landscape, a reflective blue surface resembling a vast lake forms creates the illusion of an oasis. However, it's a gigantic solar farm, not a body of water.
As Oliver Wainwright writes for The Guardian, this once barren expanse has undergone a significant transformation, morphing into one of the world's largest solar power concentrations over recent years. The Riverside East Solar Energy Zone, a massive 150,000-acre site, is home to this grand-scale solar power infrastructure. To give some perspective, it's about 10x the size of Manhattan.
The Mojave Desert, with its high solar exposure and seemingly barren landscape, has become a favored location for solar power plants. However, the desert ecosystem, which appears empty and lifeless to the untrained eye, actually supports a variety of life forms and unique ecological processes.
The original article features the perspectives of various stakeholders, such as ecologists, indigenous leaders, local residents, and renewable energy experts.
Chris Clarke of the National Parks Conservation Association and Robin Kobaly, a botanist, who highlight the cumulative ecological impact of solar plants on wildlife corridors and the underground "forest" that's crucial to the desert ecosystem and serves as a significant carbon sink. They claim that by developing these solar plants, the habitats of endangered species are blocked and a considerable amount of stored carbon is released back into the atmosphere. They argue that the solar panels, which have a lifespan of about 25 years, cannot match the thousands of years of carbon sequestration these desert plants and their root networks provide.
The report also highlights the impact on Indigenous heritage sites. Alfredo Acosta Figueroa, a descendant of the Chemehuevi and Yaqui nations, alleges that several sacred Indigenous sites have been bulldozed to make way for solar plants, erasing priceless cultural heritage and connections to the past.
The article then transitions to questioning why these vast projects are located in the desert when there are many unused rooftops in urban areas across California. Vincent Battaglia, founder of Renova Energy, criticizes large-scale desert solar farms for destroying pristine land and promoting the monopoly of big energy companies.
Towards the end of the piece, the article mentions that California has recently reduced the incentive for homeowners to install rooftop solar panels by slashing the amount they can earn from feeding power back into the grid, potentially causing a decline in the market for residential solar installations.
Despite these challenges, Battaglia remains optimistic, suggesting that home energy storage in the form of batteries, combined with rooftop solar panels, could ultimately free homeowners from the need for large utility companies.
Finally, the article shares the defiant perspective of local residents in Lake Tamarisk, who are preparing to fight against the disruption caused by large-scale solar power plants in their community. They express a strong determination to prevent their town from being "mowed over" like the desert ecosystem.
The United States perceives this endeavor as an integral part of its green energy revolution. Currently, solar energy constitutes approximately 3.4% of the U.S.'s electricity supply, but the Biden administration has ambitious plans to increase that to 45% by 2050. The strategy? Develop more of these massive solar plants across the nation's open, flat plains.
However, the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), the federal agency overseeing these projects on public land, might have overlooked an essential detail. This section of the Mojave, while appearing desolate, is a diverse habitat for endangered species, ancient Indigenous cultural sites, and carbon-capturing woodland that has existed for over a thousand years. Additionally, hundreds of people call this place home.
Local residents have witnessed the gradual invasion of their desert refuge by the burgeoning solar plants, bringing noise and pollution that have begun to erode their peaceful way of life. "We feel like we've been sacrificed," laments Mark Carrington, a resident of the senior community Lake Tamarisk resort, located near Desert Center. Complaints of respiratory problems and a decline in the quality of life have become common among these residents, as the desert transforms from a tranquil oasis to a dusty sea of solar panels.
Their anxieties have heightened further with news of a new project named Easley that could place solar panels a mere 200 meters away from their backyards. Residents argue that excessive water consumption by the solar plants has led to the drying of two local wells. Moreover, plummeting property values have left many struggling to sell their homes.
Elizabeth Knowles, the Director of Community Engagement for Intersect Power, the company behind the Easley project, stated that they were cognizant of the residents' concerns. The company has been in regular contact with the community to listen to their apprehensions and incorporate their feedback into the project's planning stages.
Under the Obama administration, this flat expanse southeast of Joshua Tree National Park was identified as an ideal location for industrial-scale solar power. The first project, Desert Sunlight, was fast-tracked in 2011. At the time of its completion in 2015, it was the largest solar plant globally, spanning almost 4,000 acres. Since then, 15 projects have either been completed or are currently under construction. If built to full capacity, this giant solar jigsaw could generate 24 gigawatts, sufficient to power 7 million homes.
But as construction accelerates, so do the concerns about the collective impact on the desert’s ecosystem and its inhabitants. Kevin Emmerich, a former National Park Service employee and founder of Basin & Range Watch, a non-profit that seeks to conserve desert life, highlights the adverse environmental consequences of such solar developments. He argues that they result in habitat destruction and pose significant threats to wildlife, including birds and endangered desert tortoises. "We're trying to solve one environmental problem by creating so many others," Emmerich says.
In theory, the Desert Renewable Energy Conservation Plan (DRECP) approved in 2016 after years of consultation should prevent such negative impacts. However, critics argue the plan has loopholes allowing fast-tracked environmental reviews and continual amendments that overlook conservationists’ concerns."
Large-scale solar plants are encroaching upon wildlife corridors, endangering species' migration patterns, according to Chris Clarke, a representative from the National Parks Conservation Association.
The primary habitats under siege are dry wash woodlands, composed of "microphyll" trees and shrubs such as palo verde, ironwood, catclaw, and honey mesquite. Despite their seeming insignificance, these plants make up a crucial ecosystem for desert wildlife.
Robin Kobaly, a former BLM wildlife biologist and founder of the Summertree Institute, an environmental education non-profit, emphasizes the importance of the desert's hidden subterranean network. The Desert Underground, her publication, depicts the immense root structures extending up to 150 feet below the ground. These networks function as carbon sinks, drawing in carbon dioxide and storing it as caliche, a sedimentary rock, for millennia if undisturbed.
The longevity of desert plants is also a testament to their carbon sequestration capabilities. Mojave yuccas live up to 2,500 years, while creosote bushes can reach over 10,000 years. These plants sequester carbon in the form of glomalin, a protein secreted by fungal threads connected to the plant roots. Kobaly noted that excavating these plants not only removes efficient carbon sequesters but also releases centuries of stored carbon back into the atmosphere, raising concerns about the sustainability of these solar projects with a lifespan of roughly 25 years.
The indigenous community also views the solar expansion as an existential crisis. Alfredo Acosta Figueroa, a descendant of the Chemehuevi and Yaqui nations, has seen countless sacred sites bulldozed in the name of progress. His organization, La Cuna de Aztlan, protects over 300 locations in the Lower Colorado River Basin, many of which he claims are beyond repair due to solar plant development. A 2010 report by the California Energy Commission indicates that potentially over 17,000 sites within the Southern California Desert Region could face destruction.
The Bureau of Land Management, when reached for a comment, stated that the agency adheres to all relevant laws and regulations, highlighting the DRECP collaboration with various environmental groups and stakeholders for renewable energy project planning and implementation.
The question arises, why focus on desert regions when solar panels could be installed in urban areas across California? Critics argue that the current large-scale, centralized power generation model is outdated and inefficient. They suggest alternatives such as home installations, warehouses, parking lots, and industrial zones for solar panel placements.
Despite a recent decrease in incentives for residential solar installations, some remain hopeful about the role of home energy storage. Vincent Battaglia, founder of Renova Energy, sees a future with solar panels on rooftops and batteries in homes, reducing dependency on large utility companies.
Residents of affected areas, such as Lake Tamarisk, are gearing up for a drawn-out fight. As solar energy development surges forward, they strive to ensure that the preservation of the desert's ecosystem and cultural heritage is not overlooked.
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