Coal ash gets far less attention than toxic and greenhouse gas

In the words of Tatiana Schlossberg: “Coal ash gets far less attention than toxic and greenhouse gas emissions from power plants, but it has created environmental and health problems—every major river in the Southeast has at least one coal ash pond—and continuing legal troubles and large cleanup costs for the authority and other utilities.” These words shine like a beacon, exposing a danger that hides in the shadows, less visible than smoke in the sky yet no less destructive. They remind us that the world is often wounded not by what is loud and obvious, but by what is quiet and overlooked.

The ancients taught that when a city ignored the rot beneath its foundations, collapse was certain. Coal ash, the residue of burning, is such a rot: a silent poison stored in ponds along rivers, leaching into water, soil, and life. It does not rise like smoke to the heavens where all may see, but it seeps silently, entering the veins of the earth, the waters of the people, the lungs of children. And because it is not as dramatic as blackened skies or raging storms, it escapes the outcry it deserves. Schlossberg’s words awaken us to this truth: that hidden dangers can be more insidious than those which meet the eye.

History itself testifies to this danger. In 2008, in Kingston, Tennessee, a coal ash pond burst, releasing over a billion gallons of sludge that smothered rivers and homes. The land was scarred, the people sickened, and the cost of cleansing soared into the billions. Yet even this catastrophe, though immense, did not burn itself into public memory as deeply as the cries against oil spills or climate change. Why? Because coal ash is quiet, dull, gray—lacking the fiery drama of explosions or the spectacle of burning oil. But quiet poisons are the most dangerous, for they lull us into complacency while they destroy.

The quote also points to the burden of legal troubles and cleanup costs. When men ignore the balance of nature, when they heap their waste upon the land and the waters, the day always comes when the debt must be paid. The ancients knew this as the law of divine justice: that hubris is always followed by nemesis. Utilities may hide their coal ash ponds today, but tomorrow they face the judgment of courts, the outcry of communities, and the crushing weight of expenses that could have been avoided through foresight and care.

At its core, Schlossberg’s words carry a deeper lesson: that the measure of a civilization is not in how it reaps its power, but in how it handles its waste. Fire, coal, oil—these give strength to nations, but the ashes and the remnants test their wisdom. To ignore them is to betray both the people and the earth. Just as a household that piles its refuse in the courtyard will one day choke upon its stench, so too does a society that hides coal ash in rivers condemn itself to sickness and ruin.

Yet there is hope in these words as well, for the very act of naming the danger is the first step toward healing. When attention is drawn to what was ignored, the people may awaken, leaders may act, and rivers may yet be cleansed. The ancient farmers knew that if weeds were not pulled, they would choke the harvest—but once uprooted, the soil could flourish again. So too with coal ash: if we act with courage, invest in cleanup, and change our ways of producing power, the rivers and the people may yet heal.

So let the teaching be this: do not ignore the dangers that are quiet, for they are no less deadly than those that roar. Look not only to the skies for signs of trouble, but also to the rivers, the soil, the hidden places where harm festers. In daily life, support clean energy, speak for the health of your communities, and hold accountable those who treat the earth as a dumping ground. For to protect the land and water is to protect the soul of the people. And remember: what is hidden today will one day rise to the surface, demanding justice. Better to face it now, with wisdom, than later, with regret.