Echoes of Appalachia

The Monongahela National Forest remains one of the few untouched stretches of the central hardwood region, home to black bears, endangered bat species, and some of the cleanest headwaters in the eastern United States. But in the final days of Donald Trump’s presidency, a controversial permit was granted to a bankrupt coal company to expand operations up to and now into the boundary of this fragile preserve. Today, conservationists and local residents are reckoning with what they see as a decision made in haste with little transparency and long-term consequences.

At the center of the conflict is Midland Energy LLC, a coal operator based in southern West Virginia. Once a rising name in thermal coal production, Midland filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in late 2020, burdened by mounting debt, falling demand, and a long list of environmental cleanup obligations. Despite its deteriorating financial condition, Midland’s application to expand surface mining near Cheat Mountain in the Monongahela National Forest was approved by the Office of Surface Mining Reclamation and Enforcement, a federal agency within the Department of the Interior.

The permit was issued just six days before President Trump left office. Internal documents obtained by watchdog groups show the permit was fast tracked over the objections of U.S. Forest Service scientists, who warned that the expansion could impact native brook trout streams and destroy habitat used by the endangered Indiana bat. “It was a rubber stamp in the truest sense,” says Maria Douglas, a former analyst with the Office of Surface Mining who resigned in protest the following year. “Midland did not have the financial stability or environmental protections in place, but the permit sailed through anyway.”

The expansion site sits just south of Elkins West Virginia, a town that has worked for years to shift its economy from timber and coal to outdoor tourism and recreation. “We’ve spent a decade trying to bring hikers anglers and families to this area,” says Tony Sanders, a city councilman and owner of an outfitting business. “Letting a bankrupt company start blasting ridgelines again threatens all of that.”

The Trump administration prioritized energy dominance and a revival of the coal industry through aggressive deregulation. In 2017, Trump revoked the Stream Protection Rule which would have required coal companies to monitor water quality and restore damaged ecosystems. Environmental advocates say the approval of Midland’s permit fits into that broader trend.

When asked for comment, Midland Energy said in a statement that the company is “committed to responsible development” and is “working with state and federal regulators to ensure all laws are followed.” But critics argue that no amount of compliance can justify the risks posed by mining near protected land. “We’ve already documented sediment and heavy metal runoff from the site,” says Laurel James of the Appalachian Lands and Waters Alliance. “They are polluting the tributaries that feed the Shavers Fork, one of the most pristine trout streams in the region.”

In 2021, a coalition of conservation groups filed a federal lawsuit seeking to overturn the permit. They argue the government violated the National Environmental Policy Act by failing to conduct a full environmental impact statement. While the Biden administration has pledged to revisit controversial permits issued in the Trump era, officials have not taken action on the Midland case. Legal experts say that kind of silence is not unusual. “Just changing the administration doesn’t automatically reverse these decisions,” says Jim Haley, an environmental lawyer representing the plaintiffs. “But it should.”

Meanwhile the impact on the ground is growing. Satellite images from the last two years show clear cutting and blasting spreading across the expansion area. The sound of heavy equipment and controlled detonations can now be heard as far as Red Creek Campground, a popular destination for backpackers. Residents in Dry Fork have reported an increase in dust, noise, and health complaints. “The air feels different,” says Cheryl Underwood, a retired teacher who has lived in the area for forty years. “There’s a grit that wasn’t there before. You see it on your windows and in your lungs.”

Beyond the physical impacts, the Monongahela holds deep cultural value for many in the region. The forest is part of the ancestral homelands of the Shawnee and Cherokee, and has long been a place of refuge and tradition. “This land holds memory,” says Thomas Standing Deer, a cultural educator and descendant of the Eastern Band of Cherokee. “What’s being done here for short term profit erases generations of connection.”

Scientists are also raising concerns about long term consequences. Forest loss can accelerate climate change by reducing carbon storage and increasing flood risk downstream. “Forests like Monongahela act as carbon sinks and natural buffers during extreme weather,” says Dr. Nina Patel, a forest ecologist at the University of Virginia. “Destroying that cover creates a ripple effect that lasts decades.”

There are growing calls for the Department of the Interior to revoke the permit and conduct a full review. In June, Senator Ed Markey and Representative Raúl Grijalva sent a letter urging Secretary Deb Haaland to halt Midland’s operations until an environmental assessment is completed. They cited both ecological risks and financial concerns, warning that taxpayers could be stuck with cleanup costs if Midland defaults again.

Meanwhile protests continue near the site. In May, students from Davis and Elkins College staged a demonstration that blocked the mining access road for several hours. “This is not just about one company,” says Lily Romero, a student leader. “It’s about a pattern of sacrificing our communities for short term energy politics. Appalachia deserves better.”

The outcome remains uncertain. With litigation ongoing and federal agencies slow to act, many fear the damage may be done before any resolution arrives. The scars on the mountain are growing deeper each month, shaped by machines working under the protection of a rushed political decision.

In a region that has endured generations of extraction, the Monongahela was a rare example of what preservation could look like. Now, for many in Appalachia, it is becoming another reminder of how easily protection can be lost when power shifts and no one is watching.

-Tim Carmichael