I wasn’t born in Maryland. I’m from Fairfield, Connecticut, where the beaches are rocky and the seafood is still pretty great, but the Chesapeake Bay has always fascinated me. When I moved down here for college, I realized just how central the Bay is to the culture, economy, and identity of Maryland and the Mid-Atlantic region. People don’t just talk about the Bay like it’s a body of water. They talk about it like it’s part of the family—something sacred, something worth protecting.
Which makes what’s happening right now all the more frustrating.
After years of effort, environmental policy, and plain-old hard work, the Chesapeake Bay is cleaner than it’s been in decades. And yet, all of Maryland’s progress is being slowly undermined—not by inaction at home, but by a neighbor upstream: Pennsylvania. And specifically, the ticking time bomb that is the Conowingo Dam.
Before we get into the problem, let’s acknowledge the good news: the Bay is bouncing back.
This isn’t just feel-good environmental PR. It’s backed by real data. The Chesapeake Bay Program’s 2023 report showed significant improvements in key indicators. Underwater grasses, which are a critical habitat for fish and crabs, have increased over 300% since 19841. The Bay’s water clarity has improved, and oxygen-depleted “dead zones” have been shrinking. Blue crab populations, while always subject to fluctuation, have shown promising signs of recovery.
A major reason for this rebound? Smart, serious, sustained investment—largely thanks to Governor Bob Ehrlich.
Now, let’s be honest. Ehrlich is a Republican. And I go to Georgetown, where saying something nice about a Republican can earn you side-eyes in your policy seminar. But credit where credit is due. Ehrlich didn’t just protect the Bay—he modernized how we think about conservation.
In 2004, Ehrlich created the Bay Restoration Fund, which established a small fee on households and businesses—famously dubbed the “flush tax.” This money was used to fund enhanced nutrient removal technologies at wastewater treatment plants across Maryland2. Critics at the time mocked it. But it worked. Big time.
By 2020, more than 70 major plants had been upgraded. According to the Maryland Department of the Environment, these upgrades eliminated over 3 million pounds of nitrogen annually from entering the Bay3. That’s not a rounding error. That’s transformative. Ehrlich also secured major funding for cover crop programs and stormwater infrastructure—again, real-world solutions that moved the needle.
Maryland has done its job. Virginia too, for the most part. But then there’s Pennsylvania.
Let’s talk about the Susquehanna River, which supplies roughly 50% of the Bay’s fresh water—and, unfortunately, a lot of its pollution4. Much of that pollution comes from agricultural runoff: manure, fertilizer, sediment, and nitrogen. And for years, it’s been collecting behind the Conowingo Dam, located just a few miles from where the Susquehanna empties into the Bay.
Built in 1928, the Conowingo Dam was never meant to be an environmental defense system. But for decades, it unintentionally acted as one. Sediment and pollutants from upstream Pennsylvania would settle behind the dam, reducing how much reached the Bay.
But here’s the problem: that trap is full.
A 2014 U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) study confirmed that the reservoir behind the Conowingo Dam has reached its storage limit for sediment5. When storms hit—and we’ve had no shortage of them lately—millions of pounds of nutrient-rich sludge get flushed into the Bay. It’s like someone’s holding a fire hose full of pollutants and pointing it straight at Maryland’s shoreline.
The impact is staggering. During Tropical Storm Lee in 2011, the dam released over 22 million tons of sediment, carrying with it nitrogen, phosphorus, and a host of other ecological nightmares6. That one event set back years of progress. And it wasn’t some freak occurrence. Every heavy rainstorm now triggers similar flushes.
This isn’t hypothetical. We’ve seen the fallout: algae blooms, oxygen-deprived water, and disruptions to fisheries. One week the Bay looks pristine. The next, it’s a soup of sludge and scum—thanks, in large part, to upstream pollution from Pennsylvania.
Let’s be clear: Maryland didn’t sign up for this.
The state has spent billions on restoration. Farmers have adapted their practices. Municipalities have retrofitted stormwater systems. Individual citizens have changed their behavior. And yet the benefits of all this effort are being undone by Pennsylvania’s refusal to meet its obligations.
According to the Chesapeake Bay Foundation’s 2022 “State of the Blueprint” report, Pennsylvania remains over 30% behind in meeting its nitrogen reduction targets7. That’s not a small miss. That’s failure. Maryland and Virginia, meanwhile, are largely on track.
The solution isn’t complicated. Pennsylvania needs to step up. That means stronger regulations on agricultural runoff. It means incentives and mandates to modernize farming practices. It means funding stormwater retrofits. And yes, it means finally holding the owners of the Conowingo Dam—Exelon Corporation—accountable.
Exelon profits from the dam through hydroelectric power. But for too long, they’ve treated the Bay like an externality. The dam’s negative environmental impacts have been offloaded onto Maryland taxpayers and the Bay’s fragile ecosystem. During the 2019 relicensing negotiations, Maryland officials tried to impose nutrient and sediment mitigation requirements on Exelon—but the process was bogged down in litigation and federal red tape8.
Enough is enough.
This is a national issue. The Chesapeake Bay is the largest estuary in the United States. It supports thousands of jobs, from crabbers and fishermen to hospitality workers and conservation scientists. It’s a historic and economic engine. And it deserves more than half-measures and finger-pointing.
It also deserves honesty. Some of the loudest voices calling for climate action and environmental justice are oddly quiet when it comes to actual accountability. It’s easy to demand electric school buses and ban plastic straws. It’s harder to call out a neighboring state for polluting your waterway. But one makes headlines. The other makes a difference.
Let’s stop pretending that flashy Instagram activism will save the Bay. It won’t. Real results come from policy, pressure, and partnerships that hold everyone equally accountable.
I’m a political science student. I love the theory, the nuance, the process. But sometimes, the solution is simple. You break it, you fix it. You pollute it, you clean it.
Governor Bob Ehrlich showed what real environmental leadership looks like. He made unpopular choices. He spent money wisely. He invested in infrastructure, not just talking points.
Now it’s time for Pennsylvania to follow suit.
Because if we let the Bay slip back into decline after coming so far, it won’t just be an ecological tragedy. It’ll be a political one. And this time, the blame will be squarely upstream.
Sources / Footnotes
Aaron Ackerman is a sophomore political science major at Georgetown University, originally from Fairfield, Connecticut. He enjoys boating, policy debates, and explaining to his friends why real environmentalism requires more than TikToks and reusable water bottles.
Footnotes
Chesapeake Bay Program, “2023 Bay Health Indicators Report.” ↩
Maryland Department of the Environment, “Bay Restoration Fund Annual Report,” 2022. ↩
Maryland General Assembly, “Status of Enhanced Nutrient Removal Upgrades,” 2020. ↩
Chesapeake Bay Foundation, “The Susquehanna’s Impact on the Bay,” 2021. ↩
U.S. Geological Survey, “Sediment and Nutrient Trends at Conowingo Reservoir,” 2014. ↩
Chesapeake Bay Science and Analysis Team, “Post-Tropical Storm Lee Analysis,” 2012. ↩
Chesapeake Bay Foundation, “State of the Blueprint: Pennsylvania,” 2022. ↩
Maryland Public Service Commission, “Conowingo Dam Relicensing Agreement Documents,” 2019. ↩
