The EarthSayers podcast, which elevates voices in sustainability, recently featured filmmaker Trevor Tejeda-Gervais to discuss his documentary The True Cost of Burning Coal: Iowa’s Dirty Secret. The episode reveals how Iowa, celebrated as a wind-energy leader, still relies heavily on coal—and how that reality endangers communities and the environment. Many assume Iowa runs on clean power. MidAmerican Energy, the state’s largest utility, has promoted that belief by branding itself around wind energy. Yet the company continues to operate five coal plants. Trujillo’s film exposes this contradiction, focusing on the health and economic toll of coal while showing that renewables are already viable. The project began when Tejeda-Gervais collaborated with groups like the Iowa Environmental Council, Sierra Club, and Great Plains Action Society. What shaped it into a film were residents’ voices: families coping with cancers, children with asthma, and communities hit by extreme weather. These accounts turned data into lived experience. Economics are central. Coal is no longer cost-effective, but utilities keep plants open by billing repairs to customers. Berkshire Hathaway Energy, MidAmerican’s parent company, profits while Iowans shoulder both financial and health burdens. Coal ash ponds, often near rivers supplying drinking water, add to the danger. Mercury and arsenic threaten agriculture, ecosystems, and public health. Politically, little has changed. Lawmakers and regulators have shown little appetite for reform, while utilities exaggerate the cost of pollution controls. MidAmerican reinforces public confusion by claiming “100 percent renewable” status—measured only by capacity, not actual generation. Many Iowans don’t realize coal plants still operate. Trujillo argues that awareness and pressure are key. Unlike other utilities, MidAmerican could retire coal now because of Iowa’s strong wind resources. Instead, it plans to keep burning coal until 2049—far too late given health and climate impacts. The film aims to challenge corporate narratives and mobilize communities. The issue extends beyond Iowa. Berkshire Hathaway runs some of the nation’s dirtiest coal plants across Nebraska, Wyoming, and Utah. Pollution crosses borders, and vulnerable communities bear the greatest harm. Indigenous nations like the Winnebago Tribe and Black neighborhoods in Omaha face disproportionate exposure, making environmental justice central to the story. The rollout of Iowa’s Dirty Secret reflects its activist intent. The premiere in Des Moines sold out, and screenings in Sioux City and at festivals drew strong turnout. Each event pairs the film with local organizers offering concrete actions—contacting utilities, joining campaigns, or hosting community screenings—ensuring audiences channel frustration into action. The podcast also highlights renewable success stories. Iowa leads the nation in wind generation, and small towns are already benefiting. Farmers leasing land for turbines keep their farms, while communities in Michigan and Texas have revived economies and funded schools with renewable tax revenues. These examples show that the transition is both environmentally and economically sound. Trujillo stresses that obstacles are less about technology or cost than entrenched corporate interests. Utilities cling to coal because profits are guaranteed, while residents pay the price. By exposing this imbalance and fostering awareness, the film seeks to accelerate Iowa’s transition to a cleaner, fairer energy system. The episode ends with optimism. Grassroots pressure, public knowledge, and community organizing can drive change where politics lag. As Trujillo notes, films like Iowa’s Dirty Secret are not just informative—they are catalysts, sparking conversations that lead to real action. 3OvLVzjHEAUkttPXaRSu
