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Local Candidates on the Environment

Trish Riley
News Feed
Sunday, August 21, 2022

Cinema Verde invited local candidates to share their positions on environmental concerns.

Alachua County and Gainesville, Florida Candidates on the Environment

With an unprecedented number of candidates to choose from on election day in Alachua County August 23, it’s been a surprisingly contentious election cycle in a typically friendly community. Candidates have been caught lying to the public, anti-semitic fliers have been floating around town, and one candidate even had the lack of courtesy and integrity to show up at a political event after a positive Covid diagnosis, shaking hands and pontificating without even the protection of a mask. Above all, nearly every political conversation seemed to focus on single-family zoning and whether it should be abolished to accommodate urban development in the face of low housing quantity and the anticipated influx of climate refugees. 

Some members of the community had other concerns and questions for the candidates, so Cinema Verde, with the help of the new Let’s Talk Climate group, organized a candidates’ forum to discuss environmental issues. More than 19 candidates responded to the invitation to the open-air event on the grounds of the Cypress and Grove Brewery downtown, but the crowd was forced indoors by the threat of thunderstorms and lightning. 

Trish Riley, Director of Cinema Verde, kicked off the event with thanks to sponsors and volunteers, then posed a single question to all of the candidates: Would they support development of a new community environmental education center? Ed Kellerman, Professor of marketing and debate team instructor at the University of Florida, led the discussion as moderator, breaking the group into sections by the offices at stake in the election. 

First to take the stage were candidates for Alachua County School Board. Tina Certain recalled her days as a Scout and learning to be a good steward of our natural resources. She said she applied that skill to her job as former school board chair when it came to consumption of utilities and she looks forward to continuing that progress and protection of the environment.  

“I want to see our children become climate change agents in the school, said Diyonne McGraw, another candidate for school board. “That's how they learn. I want to see them become renewable energy ambassadors.”   

Prescott Cowles was a camp counselor and program director at his school. He said he sees how the school board has failed and has a need for responsibility. “Our generation inherited this problem.” he said. “I think it is a moral obligation for the school district to empower our students with education and the tools that they need to improve on those mistakes of the past.”

Next up were contenders for Gainesville City Commission. Jo Lee Beatty opened discussion by recalling the city climate charter established in 2019. “We've got an urgent environmental and financial situation and I don't think we're moving fast enough. The City of Gainesville continues to cut down trees, increasing the pervious surface and creating heat, and then don't finish the exterior, replenishing the air. You know that that proportionately affects the most vulnerable among us.”

Christian Newman said he is a wildlife biologist, conducting research around the world on energy and wildlife. His environmental positions include decarbonization and going solar and renewable, building out infrastructure to plug in electric vehicles. “The other big issue for me is  to actually think about nature-based solutions to address some of the extreme events, whether it’s trees, whether it’s wetlands, there’s so much we can do in our communities and we’re in a great position to do it. And in terms of having an environmental education center, we absolutely do need that.”

Bryan Eastman addressed how critical our zero waste initiative is, pointing out that his wife started Zero Waste Gainesville back in 2017. He wants to start residential composting to reduce methane emissions from landfills and food diversion programs to divert unused food from grocery stores to the poor. “My focus is really on how do we make a more sustainable and brighter future for my daughter and for future generations, not just looking at what's happening tomorrow in Gainesville, but looking 20, 30, 40 years down the line.”

City Commission candidate Mike Raburn was up next. “If you live in southeast Gainesville, and you work on Archer Road, you can't take the bus to work - it takes you two hours plus to get there. I would like to see us improve our transit system so folks can get to work at home and back, which would decrease the amount of cars on the road to decrease traffic and carbon emissions as well.

“And I want to work on ending the transfer here. The way things are structured now, the city is disincentivized from becoming green in its energy because the greener it would become the less money GRU makes, the less money it has for the city."

Raburn continued on renewable energy:  “Biomass is green in places like Ohio, where you have soy and corn byproduct at the end of the season, but here our biomass is dependent on cutting down trees to run the biomass plant. So the biomass plant here depends on overdevelopment, and I am against overdevelopment.”

Alachua County Commission candidates were next onstage. Anthony Johnson discussed the need to limit and remove nitrates from the springs and rivers that flow through north central Florida counties, advocating for a mutual effort that would produce the greatest results in reducing the pollution running off agricultural lands leaching fertilizers and waste into the waterways. “My main concern is to push for leadership in the county to protect our water. We need to focus on the Floridan Aquifer.”

Marihelen Wheeler, current Chair of the County Commission, expressed support for an environmental education center and said she had been involved in protecting our water resources throughout her adult life and cited many examples of problems that she had worked to correct from water issues to drilling and fracking all across the state. "My concern is sustainability, global warming and climate change - that’s going to affect the way that people are actually moving inland into our area and to Alachua County. So we need to work better with our developers. They've got to understand what's happening to the environment and they've got to address those issues. We've got to make sure that our trees stay in place. 

"To answer the earlier question, yes, I support the education initiative that you asked about. Yes, I believe as a former teacher, we need the environmental education center, to protect our water and our environment and focus on our core services like roads and public safety."

County Commissioner Ken Cornell cited the extensive measures Alachua County has already taken toward protecting the local environment. "It's important that we continue to invest in our kids and our neighborhoods, protect our environment and to focus on our core services like roads and public safety. And yes, I support the environmental education initiative - this county commission has demonstrated a real dedication to protecting the environment and planning for the future. I believe I am the only candidate in my district who is a strong supporter of Wild Spaces and Public Places."

Charlie Jackson referenced his role with the Alachua County Energy Reduction and Water Conservation Program in saving 17 million gallons of water at the jail and in saving $221,000 a year in a county-wide electricity retrofit for lighting. “We are an agricultural state, but we may not be able to grow crops if we don’t control climate change in Florida.” 

Mayoral Candidate Adam Rosenthal said he is focused on making sure all our decisions are based on love and not just the bottom line. “How can we spend a little bit more money to make sure that we are maximizing love in our community?”

Current City Commissioner David Arreola said he believes climate change is the greatest threat facing this generation and his future children. He advocates ceasing to burn fossil fuels, bringing back carbon science-based targets for carbon emission reduction by 2030. He is in favor of an electric vehicle infrastructure throughout the city and has worked to support zero waste and to pass energy efficiency standards for rental properties. “I’m glad the environment is getting the spotlight here at the end of this contentious campaign.”

Ansaun Fisher said that as a single father he has great concern about the climate and future, citing a report that temperatures downtown are six degrees hotter than outside the city at the airport. “I’m happy to be here and I appreciate that you’re bringing awareness to these important issues, and that’s one of the reasons that I’m running for mayor.”

Harvey Ward, who is also a city commissioner, says one of his top goals is to establish utility-scale solar in the next year. “And yes, of course I support the work of an environmental education center which really might bring together a lot of existing environmental education opportunities under one umbrella.”

July Thomas talked a bit about environmental racism and the importance of protecting lower-income families from taking the brunt of the problems, as has happened historically. “The climate crisis is here and it is the challenge of my generation. It is not just a philosophical academic discussion, it is a realistic thing that we need to plan for.”

Gary Gordon, who served as mayor-commissioner in the 1980s, says he helped create a citizen’s advisory committee to review hazardous materials and led the effort to develop a recycling program and that he suggested the idea of developing a green belt around the city to protect outlying wilderness. “What is the impact of growth and development, population growth on the aquifer? Then there are studies that indicate that increased density creates more greenhouse gasses. We’ve got to watch out for the notion that everybody can move here and then everything will be okay. It’s just not going to work.” 

Congressional candidate Tom Wells advocated replacing the Supreme Court to better address environmental issues and Brandon Peters said he wants to defund the proposed turnpike extension through north central Florida and to develop a statewide comprehensive energy policy. 

Danielle Hawk said it up to us to solve the climate crisis. “You know, I'm running in a district that is a very, very red district. And it can be really difficult for me to talk to voters outside of Alachua County about the climate crisis because they are skeptical about the validity of the climate crisis. And that's why I have chosen to talk about protecting our water as the perfect example of how they can relate to how the climate crisis is affecting our rivers, our lakes or streams. And the water problem in Florida is a perfect example of how for decades environmental legislation at all levels of government has gotten it wrong by putting big business profits and corporations first.”

Will Bullen represented State Representative Yvonne Hinson who is up for reelection in November. “She sponsored legislation to test and inform Floridians of unsafe swimming places across the state and she wants to invest in solar energy and make Florida a leader in renewable energy. Third, she wants to make sure we are no longer committed to single use plastics. She prides herself on being a climate activist.”

We wish everyone good luck and thank you for working to make Alachua County and Gainesville the best place to live!

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of
Trish Riley

Trish is founding director of Cinema Verde, an environmental film and arts festival held in Gainesville, Florida, since 2010. She has been dedicated to helping the world understand environmental issues and sustainable solutions since childhood, when she had the good fortune to grow up playing in the forest, then watching it torn down to make way for houses and pavement.

Trish is a national award-winning investigative and environmental journalist and author, with work published in major newspapers and national and international magazines. Her books include The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Greening Your Business (with Heather Gadonniex, Penguin 2009); The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Green Living (2007); Palm Beach, Miami, and The Florida Keys: A Great Destination (Norton 2009); and The Explorer’s Guide to South Florida (with Sandra Friend, Norton 2009).

She is a past board member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors, a member of the Society of Environmental Journalists, and an honorary member of the Golden Key International Honour Society.

She is the founder of GoGreenNation.org, a website designed to promote green jobs, resources, and businesses; and GoGreenGift.com, an eco-starter kit. She also founded Green Drinks Gainesville, a local chapter of an international networking group open to anyone interested in sustainability issues.  

Monitoring truck traffic in Chicago uncovers environmental concerns

Activists in Chicago have recorded more than 5,000 trucks in a single day passing through a local neighborhood, revealing significant environmental and health challenges.Juanpablo Ramirez-Franco reports for Grist.In short:The Center for Neighborhood Technology and Little Village Environmental Justice Organization conducted a traffic study, finding that Archer Heights has the highest truck count in the city.The study utilized 35 sensors to track truck movements, highlighting concerns over air pollution and its health impacts.Local efforts are increasing to gather detailed air quality data, helping residents make informed decisions about their daily activities and health.Key quote: “I’m seeing a sea of trucks.”— Paulina Vaca, Center for Neighborhood TechnologyWhy this matters:Trucks often emit higher levels of pollutants, including particulate matter and nitrogen oxides, which can deteriorate air quality. This is particularly concerning for communities with children, elderly people, or individuals with respiratory conditions. Monitoring truck traffic can help identify and mitigate these environmental health risks.

Activists in Chicago have recorded more than 5,000 trucks in a single day passing through a local neighborhood, revealing significant environmental and health challenges.Juanpablo Ramirez-Franco reports for Grist.In short:The Center for Neighborhood Technology and Little Village Environmental Justice Organization conducted a traffic study, finding that Archer Heights has the highest truck count in the city.The study utilized 35 sensors to track truck movements, highlighting concerns over air pollution and its health impacts.Local efforts are increasing to gather detailed air quality data, helping residents make informed decisions about their daily activities and health.Key quote: “I’m seeing a sea of trucks.”— Paulina Vaca, Center for Neighborhood TechnologyWhy this matters:Trucks often emit higher levels of pollutants, including particulate matter and nitrogen oxides, which can deteriorate air quality. This is particularly concerning for communities with children, elderly people, or individuals with respiratory conditions. Monitoring truck traffic can help identify and mitigate these environmental health risks.

The Mission to Save the World Through Regenerative Farming

Josh Tickell and Rebecca Harrell Tickell believe their film Common Ground could drive a global movement. The post The Mission to Save the World Through Regenerative Farming appeared first on .

Filmmakers Josh Tickell and Rebecca Harrell Tickell are trying to build a global movement from the ground up. Which is fitting because for them, it’s all about the soil. In 1997, Rebecca was a 17-year-old actress (the holiday film Prancer) when she first caught a glimpse of her future husband on The Today Show. Josh was an environmental activist capturing global attention for driving his French fry oil-fueled Veggie Van across the country. A decade or so later, it was “love at first sight” when the two formally met at a self-help workshop. They eventually decided to get married, co-produce and co-direct films, and try to change the world in the process. The couple’s latest film, Common Ground, is a follow-up to 2020’s Kiss the Ground and is the second in a planned trilogy of documentaries that feature regenerative farming, a method they believe is crucial for saving the planet by replenishing topsoil and mitigating climate change through carbon sequestration. Common Ground, narrated by Laura Dern, Jason Momoa, Woody Harrelson and Donald Glover, among others, won the Human/Nature Award at the Tribeca Festival in 2023 and, for the first time, will be screened nationwide on Monday, April 22 — Earth Day. For the past 12 years, the Tickells have been practicing what they preach. Operating from their 5-acre regenerative avocado ranch in Ojai, California, which also serves as a film studio, Rebecca focuses on the narratives and finances while Josh handles the crews and tries to infuse the films with as much “sciencey” material as necessary. The couple recently spoke with Capital & Main from their ranch, where they have made a dozen films, raised two children and continue to wage their campaign against the climate crisis. This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. Capital & Main: So, how did you first learn about regenerative farming? Rebecca Harrell Tickell: Well, we made a bunch of movies about oil, and we figured the only thing harder and duller to make films about would be soil. Josh Tickell: And we both also have our own individual stories with farming. I volunteered on a Rudolf Steiner farm in former East Germany where I saw them using techniques to sustainably grow fuel and use that fuel in their tractor. They increased soil matter over time, and their vegetables, cheese and meats were amazing. This was the ’90s. We didn’t even have the words “regenerative agriculture.” People didn’t even get sustainability. This is before [former Vice President] Al Gore screwed in an LED light bulb. And I was like, “Hello, this is big — this is a breakthrough. We can sustain our species.” And so, that began a multiyear journey looking at agriculture and soil in an inclusive model, not an exclusive model where we go, “Oh, we’ve got to cut out humans; that’s the problem.” Or “We’ve got to cut out animals; that’s the problem.” Rebecca: I come from a legacy farming family, and I’ve witnessed firsthand the real-life impacts of chronic chemical exposure. Like others, everybody in my family thought they were doing the right thing when they stopped tilling and picked up DDT and [the herbicide] 2,4-D, not realizing the health connection to that type of exposure for a prolonged period. And then, we’ve got the clock ticking, and everybody is talking about emissions, and there’s no agreement or solution in sight, and you have the world basically going into a state of paralysis. And the most simple, elegant biological answer is literally right beneath our feet.  But what makes regenerative agriculture the answer in solving the climate crisis? Josh: So, if we look at where the climate conversation has gone post [Gore’s 2006 documentary] An Inconvenient Truth, it’s almost entirely focused on emissions mitigation. We were at a very high-level, sophisticated event recently in L.A. with scientists and entertainers, and there was a speech in which the person said, “Carbon is public enemy No. 1.” That sentiment is the foundation for a misunderstanding of climate. Carbon is the basis of all life. Humans are carbon-based life-forms. So, no carbon, no life. So, if carbon is public enemy No. 1, this is somebody who is anti-life and literally mangling a fundamental understanding of biology and chemistry. Carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is a problem because the concentration is too high. So, if you back off the rhetoric and look more at the fundamental science, the International Energy Agency predicts that we will be burning almost as much essentially carbon-based fuel in 2050 as we burn today. The mix of fuels will change. We will use far less coal as a planet. We will use far less oil as a planet, but we will burn more natural gas, and we will use a lot of resources to build batteries and solar and wind. The misunderstanding of the movement is that within the next 20 to 25 years, solar and wind and all these things will get us to net zero. Using the best predictive models, we have to say no. We’ll be adding 1 to 2 billion human beings into a Western lifestyle. So, we’re going to radically increase the energy footprint of humanity. So, in a way, this is so incredibly depressing — we’re going to miss the target. And so, that then begs the question of what do we do? There’s three simple places you can put carbon: the oceans, the atmosphere or the land. We’ve put as much in the atmosphere as is plausible or safe. The oceans are at max capacity. So, just by process of elimination, we’re down to one location where we can put it: the land. So, the fastest, most scalable, most replicable, cheapest tech we have for removing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere has existed for over a million years, and it’s the microbial photosynthetic relationship of the carbon cycle of the soil. There is no technology that we have that can scale to 10 billion acres other than regenerative agriculture. It’s not that it’s the best solution. It’s the only solution Rebecca: Simultaneously, we’re degenerating the planet. We’ve lost two-thirds of the topsoil through our conventional agriculture, and a good portion of that carbon was released through those agricultural practices.   Corporations are currently making huge profits through mainstream farming practices, so they will battle any attempts to change the status quo. How do you overcome that? Josh: Well, here’s the difficult thing about a true climate-crisis mitigation strategy. It involves virtually all sectors of the economy and government, including the people we don’t like, meaning liberals on the coasts are going to need to work with people who are in red states in the center of the country and vice versa. There is going to be greenwashing. There are going to be companies that attempt to use this toward their own advantage with abandon. And then, there’s going to be carbon credit trading, which the environmental movement will detest. Because to make the system work, the heroes of sequestration are going to be farmers and ranchers, the vast majority of whom are small landowners in developing countries. And for them to have an extra $10 to $20 to a hundred dollars a month in income is the difference between poverty and not poverty. And so, as the markets develop, they’re going to pay farmers to put carbon into the soil, and inevitably, because humans always trade stuff — they trade seashells, money, Bitcoin — they’re going to trade carbon. What it’s going to mean is that polluting companies can buy carbon credits.  And that is an unfortunate hard reality of the system because if we don’t incentivize the close to a billion people who are subsistence farming on the planet, we’re not going to sequester this carbon in time. So, there’s going to be unintended consequences in terms of polluters getting away with polluting. We have to know that the system is going to be imperfect.  Author and professor Scott Galloway says the No. 1 existential crisis that we’re facing isn’t climate change, but it’s division because unless you get people to work together, you can’t solve the climate crisis. So, what gives you hope that any approach, including yours, is feasible in a world ravaged by divisions? Josh: That is the power of a decentralized movement like this. This is not a charismatic movement. This is not a cult. You do not have an elected official as a leader. It doesn’t rely on a science body. It doesn’t rely on somebody signing a piece of legislation. It relies on real people who have their hands in the earth every day, and we can count on them to want to produce food in better ways. When we premiered Kiss the Ground in 2020, there were approximately 250,000 acres of regenerative agriculture in the United States. We’re now in the third year of distribution of that film, and it remains the main catalyst for putting 35 million acres of land into certified regenerative agriculture. The commitment for this film is to transform 100 million acres through regenerative agriculture. That’s 10% of U.S. agriculture, which means 10% of farmers are actually making money producing healthy food and producing, overall, more calories per acre. According to social scientists, 10% is a tipping point. Once you’ve got that 10% beachhead, it’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when. The goal with the third film, Groundswell, is a billion acres globally. That’s 10% of global agriculture. If we achieve it, it will be the largest single climate effort ever achieved. Rebecca: We have to look at what we have in common versus what our differences are so that we can continue to move forward in this very short period of time that we have to course-correct as a movement, as a whole. And I think we’re going to look back on this time as the critical moment where we either decided to band together and find that common ground or that this was the moment where we just accepted that we had 50 harvests left. You’ve been criticized by some people who say that your focus on holistic grazing in your films is not scientifically backed and that it is a flawed strategy. Josh: The way we raise cattle today is a huge carbon and methane problem, and the way we deal with forests, especially in the developing world, is a massive carbon problem. One does not cause the other. So, it’s conflating problems and causality. The regenerative model of holistic-managed grazing is to restore what the ecosystem used to do. The only way to sequester the amount of carbon that we need to sequester is to create deep roots. You can’t grow crops on three-quarters of the world’s landmass, so the only way to sequester that carbon on what is essentially deserted land is to grow tall grasses. And the only way to get tall grasses to grow across those lands is to use grazing animals. You pack them together, and you move them all the time. That way, they don’t eat the grass down to the roots, which is what almost all grazing does today. That’s lazy, and it’s destroying the soil. If they’re not packed together and they’re not moving, they’re not regenerating the soil. So yeah, we get criticized, for sure. I mean, it’s like even having to address this, I understand it, but it is the movement itself that tears itself down. Copyright 2024 Capital & Main

Buffoonery abounds in Imago Theatre’s deep-thinking ‘Mission Gibbons’

The tragicomedy by Carol Triffle, Imago co-founder, mixes eco-activism with absurdity as modern backpackers encounter a clan of cavemen.

Literally and hallucinogenically, “Mission Gibbons” is a trip. Specifically, a time-trip. After a trio of stoned backpackers cross paths with a clan of cavemen, the present daytrippers must forge an anachronistic alliance with the burly Stone Agers to stave off the apocalypse. Carol Triffle, co-founder of Imago Theatre, wrote and directs this absurdly enjoyable play, comically couching very real environmental concerns.“Mission Gibbons” runs through April 27 in the Southeast Portland performance space.The show:The minds behind the anthropomorphic-movement shows “ZooZoo” and “Frogz” have been on a creative roll throughout and despite the COVID pandemic. Imago co-founder Jerry Mouawad has produced an opera-theater piece, a comedy set in a roomful of rhinos, and a dreamy dive into insomnia (last fall’s “My Bedroom Is an Installation”).Triffle’s metaphysical musical, “Where’s Bruno?” opened about a year ago.“Mission Gibbons” isn’t as abstract as many of Imago’s past works. Still, Triffle said, “It’s hard to categorize. It’s definitely a play, but there are a lot of songs in it so you could almost call it a musical, but there’s more talking than singing.”Tragicomedy might be the best descriptor, she said — leaning harder into the humor.“It’s funny, but it’s also very deep at some points, when the cavemen actually talk about what’s going to happen to the world if they don’t find a plan to help it. And all the plans are sung,” Triffle said. “It’s really sad when you think about it, but then the sadness comes through as absurd or funny.”The post-Jurassic-World Triffle creates is kinetic. However, don’t expect the animal-inspired pantomime and dance maneuvers of “ZooZoo” and “Frogz,” though several actors in “Mission Gibbons” have appeared in those shows, and are trained in the Jacques Lecoq technique of theater movement.“There is an underlying basis of physical theater in it, but it’s not anthropomorphic in this play,” said Triffle.Buffoonery abounds. From the rough-and-(almost)-tumble way the hikers attempt to scale the mountain (a massive set-piece by Alex Meyer) to some Stone Age slapstick from Caveman Ueh (Kyle Delamarter), it’s go-time from curtain up.Carol Triffle is a playwright, director and co-founder of Imago Theatre in Portland. April 9, 2024.Beth NakamuraWho’s who:The six actors in “Mission Gibbons” have all worked with Imago before — and it shows. Throughout the opening night performance, cast members fiercely maintained their commitment to Triffle’s journey, and the exaggerated quirks of their characters.Anne Sorce, playing hiker Anna, seemed to be channeling Molly Shannon’s “Saturday Night Live” goofball Mary Katherine Gallagher by creepily, hilariously never breaking eye contact with the audience as she delivered every line.Anna even leaned in to sniff Caveman Ueh’s armpits.“Mmm. You smell like dirt. Fresh dirt.”What’s the Big Idea?“All of my plays have an underlying theme of ‘We gotta fix something,’” said Triffle. “Whenever I write, I start writing and then if something pops out at me and it starts feeling like I shouldn’t go there, then I go there. I don’t know why, but that’s been my life, for writing and for watching theater.”Lately, buried under the avalanche of bad news — “everything is a catastrophe, global warming or some other catastrophe is in every newscast” — Triffle felt helpless. Things were “getting to the point of ‘I want to do something, but I don’t know what to do,’” she said.She penned this play to give people ideas to consider how to change the future now. Absurdism is Triffle’s imaginative avenue into environmentalism. That mountain? It’s named Mount Plastic. We and the hikers learn it’s not a landform; it’s a landfill, made mostly of garbage.“I never realized how much plastic I used until I started doing this play,” Triffle said. “I do recycle but I don’t recycle all the plastic. (The play) hopefully just makes you think about that.”Triffle said that her mountain of pollution is meant to mirror the mass of plastic debris known as the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, floating between the coast of California and Hawaii.The messaging here is unabashedly unsubtle. But absurdism isn’t a wink and a nudge; it’s a slap and a tickle. Triffle generously swirls eco-activism with song, sci-fi twists and cheeky references to the opening scene from “2001: A Space Odyssey” and the goriest scenes from “Cocaine Bear.”Listen for:Music is a big element of this story. The tagline for the show is, “The time has come to listen to the cavemen sing.”“Anytime there is a ‘message’ they’re singing about it,” Triffle said. “I wrote the play and lyrics. Kyle did all the music composition.”Delamarter’s Cro-Magnon crooner Ueh belts out a couple of pop ballads that would shuffle nicely into a “Songs to Sing in the Shower” Spotify playlist.In the final number, as the cavemen mix harmonies with in-sync choreography, audiences may be witnessing Earth’s first boyband.Because they pre-date The Monkees.Line of the night:“You don’t have to be sad. It’s not opera!” shouts hiker Tina (Amy Katrina Bryan) near the optimism-fueled end of “Mission Gibbons.”What should audiences take away from the play?“You can walk away thinking and you can walk away laughing,” Triffle said. “We’re trying to maybe just help a little, and if everybody helps a little, maybe it will be a lot.”“Mission Gibbons”When: Continues 7:30 p.m. Friday-Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday through April 27.Where: Imago Theatre, 17 S.E. Eighth Ave.Tickets: $23; www.imagotheatre.com.— Lee Williams, for The Oregonian/OregonLive

What if whales took us to court? A move to grant them legal personhood would include the right to sue

If a new declaration based on customary concepts of tikanga and mana is recognised by the courts, it could potentially give interest groups the legal standing to sue on behalf of whales.

Shutterstock/Konrad MostertIn a groundbreaking declaration earlier this month, Indigenous leaders of New Zealand and the Cook Islands signed a treaty, He Whakaputanga Moana, to recognise whales as legal persons. Aotearoa New Zealand has already granted legal personhood to a river (Te Awa Tupua Whanganui River), land (Te Urewera) and a mountain (Taranaki maunga), but He Whakaputanga Moana differs from these earlier processes. It is based in customary law, or tikanga Māori, rather than Crown law. The declaration seeks to protect the rights of whales (tohorā) to migrate freely and to use mātauranga Māori alongside science for better protections. It also aims to set up a dedicated fund for whale conservation. But a core concept of legal personhood is the idea that the “person” (in this case, whales) can sue to protect their rights. The declaration was signed by King Tuuheitia Pootatau Te Wherowhero VII of the Kiingitanga movement, Lisa Tumahai who chairs the Hinemoana Halo Ocean initiative, and the Cook Islands leader Kaumaiti Nui Travel Tou Ariki. It recognises traditional Māori and Pasifika ideas about the importance of whales as ancestral beings. King Tuuheitia described it as “a woven cloak of protection for our taonga”, noting the presence of whales “reflects the strength of our own mana”. While He Whakaputanga Moana is not a pan-Māori declaration, mana is a shared core concept of tikanga Māori, representing authority and power. The declaration seeks to protect the rights of whales and give them better protection. Getty Images/Francois Gohier What is legal personhood? Over the past few hundred years, legal personhood has been developed for companies as a way for individual shareholders to avoid liability. This means a company can go to court, rather than its shareholders. In the past decade, Aotearoa New Zealand has led the way in developing legal personhood for things in nature into a tool used as part of settlements under Te Tiriti o Waitangi/Treaty of Waitangi. It is important to note that these ideas have been recognised and implemented by the Crown in partnership with Māori. As part of the signing of the Tūhoe settlement in 2014, the former national park Te Urewera was granted legal personhood. In 2017, legal personhood for the Whanganui river was also part of a settlement. And last year, this idea was extended to Mount Taranaki. The Taranaki Maunga Collective Redress Bill passed its first reading in parliament last week. These natural features are now not owned by people or the Crown, but by themselves. Legal personhood has been praised in New Zealand and overseas by people interested in using it to protect the environment. Read more: What if nature, like corporations, had the rights and protections of a person? Tikanga key to unlocking legal power There is currently a shift in the legal system to recognise tikanga as a key source of law alongside statute and common law (the kind of customary law New Zealand inherited from England). In the recent case of Ellis v R, the Supreme Court recognised and applied ideas about mana. In deciding to overturn the conviction of Peter Ellis posthumously, the court held that Mr Ellis’ mana was affected by the convictions, even after his death. He Whakaputanga Moana is based on customary concepts like mana rather than being a Crown-drafted piece of law. It is likely it could be recognised by the courts as part of the growing wave of tikanga jurisprudence. Marine mammals in New Zealand’s territorial waters are protected absolutely by the Marine Mammals Protection Act 1978 (as has recently been highlighted when the Sail GP regatta was held in a marine sanctuary and races were delayed because dolphins were present). But He Whakaputanga Moana recognises legal personhood above and beyond that legislation. Read more: Trees, rivers and mountains are gaining legal status – but it's not been a quick fix for environmental problems Whales in court So what if whales went to court? What if whales sued for plastic pollution in their habitat, the dumping of waste in the oceans or climate change causing warmer waters and depleting their food stocks? In this case, He Whakaputanga Moana could potentially give a human interest group, perhaps the Kiingitanga, the legal standing to sue on behalf of whales. In addition to recognising tikanga as a source of law, the Supreme Court has also opened the door to climate change focused litigation, such as the case of Smith v Fonterra. Here, activist Mike Smith has sued seven major New Zealand polluters for their greenhouse gas emissions. The defendants said the claim could not succeed and applied for a “strike out”, but the Supreme Court has allowed it go to trial. Among other findings, the court found the litigation should proceed, as it might involve ideas of tikanga and tikanga-based loss that should be tested at trial. This suggests that if the courts were to recognise the validity of He Whakaputanga Moana in customary law, this case might allow those representing whales to run a claim against ocean polluters. A ruling in favour of whales could have significant ramifications for the health and wellbeing of our oceans, and perhaps the very existence of their species. Rachael Evans previously worked for Te Kura Taka Pini Ltd, of which the co-chair was Lisa Tumahai, the former Chair of Ngāi Tahu, mentioned in the article.

They’re fighting polluters destroying historically Black towns – starting with their own

When Joy and Jo Banner founded the Descendants Project in 2020, they didn’t expect to be defending their hometown firstWhen twin sisters Joy and Jo Banner founded their non-profit, the Descendants Project, in 2020, their goal was to protect the Black-founded “freetowns” in Louisiana’s river parishes. Like the Banners’ hometown of Wallace, many of the Black communities that abut the lower Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans were founded after emancipation by people who’d once been enslaved.Today, decades of disinvestment have left freetowns vulnerable to predatory development, land theft and industrialization. The Banners hoped to reverse those trends. Yet within weeks of creating their organization, their purpose shifted dramatically. Instead of supporting other Black communities, the twins found themselves fighting for their own hometown’s survival. Wallace, population 1,240, was facing an existential threat in the form of the proposed construction of a gargantuan grain-export terminal, the latest in an onslaught of industrial growth along the lower Mississippi River. The terminal would “drain us of all of our resources and all of our quality of life”, Joy said. “The overall goal is to run all of us out.” Continue reading...

When twin sisters Joy and Jo Banner founded their non-profit, the Descendants Project, in 2020, their goal was to protect the Black-founded “freetowns” in Louisiana’s river parishes. Like the Banners’ hometown of Wallace, many of the Black communities that abut the lower Mississippi River between Baton Rouge and New Orleans were founded after emancipation by people who’d once been enslaved.Today, decades of disinvestment have left freetowns vulnerable to predatory development, land theft and industrialization. The Banners hoped to reverse those trends. Yet within weeks of creating their organization, their purpose shifted dramatically. Instead of supporting other Black communities, the twins found themselves fighting for their own hometown’s survival. Wallace, population 1,240, was facing an existential threat in the form of the proposed construction of a gargantuan grain-export terminal, the latest in an onslaught of industrial growth along the lower Mississippi River. The terminal would “drain us of all of our resources and all of our quality of life”, Joy said. “The overall goal is to run all of us out.”The overall goal is to run all of us outAcross the South, freetowns – also called Black-founded towns or freedom colonies – are fighting similar kinds of encroachment. Helmed by Black men and women looking to escape slavery and white supremacy, freetowns functioned as autonomous communities, producing their own food and governance and even providing relative safety during the Jim Crow era. Now, many are in the untenable position of having to advocate for their right to have a future. Often, this means uncovering lost histories and genealogies, seeking protection through historic registries and battling local governments, developers and corporations in court. For advocates like the Banners, the effort to maintain a stable status quo can be exhausting.‘A Black community being literally overshadowed’Halfway between New Orleans and Baton Rouge, Wallace is a quiet community. Small houses line gravel streets that start at the Mississippi River and recede into the abundant farmland. Mammoth live oaks stretch across verdant lawns. The Whitney plantation – now a museum dedicated to educating the public about the institution and legacies of slavery – sits on one side and just upriver is Laura plantation, a tourist destination that bills itself as a “Creole heritage site”. The Banners’ ancestors were enslaved at both.Since 2021, Greenfield Louisiana LLC has been pushing to construct a 250-acre grain terminal directly beside Wallace’s Black neighborhoods, with some buildings located well within the 2,000ft buffer zone meant to separate residential areas from industry. The facility, which would include a mammoth grain elevator and 54 storage silos as tall as the Statue of Liberty, would transfer and store grain from river barges and load it onto ocean tankers. According to an impact study the Banners commissioned, the proposed buildings are so tall that the neighborhood wouldn’t get morning sunlight until 11am at the earliest and, depending on the season, sometimes as late as 1pm. “[We are] a Black community being literally overshadowed,” said Joy.Already, the region has the densest concentration of petrochemical plants in the nation, earning it the grim moniker “Cancer Alley”. St John the Baptist parish, where Wallace is located, has the most carcinogenic air in the nation. Just across the Mississippi River, in Revere (another historic freetown), the only neoprene plant in the nation emits known carcinogens: chloroprene and ethylene oxide. In some areas, the cancer risk is 50 times higher than the national average. While a grain terminal might sound benign in comparison, silos and grain elevators release dust, mold, bacteria, rodent feces, shredded metal and silica, all of which pose a significant risk to a community overburdened with respiratory illnesses and cancer.Over the past three years, the Banner sisters have initiated numerous lawsuits as part of their sustained effort to stop Greenfield Louisiana from building. Their efforts have brought the company under significant public scrutiny. One proposed arrangement has Greenfield transferring ownership of its $479m grain elevator to the Port of South Louisiana and then leasing it back from the publicly owned port, effectively granting the company a $200m tax break. A whistleblower from Gulf South Research Corporation accused Greenfield of pressuring the cultural resource management firm to withhold the results of her survey, which found that proposed facilities would damage cultural resources and potentially disrupt unmarked graves of enslaved people.The land Greenfield owns was zoned as industrial 33 years ago in a backroom deal that sent the parish president, Lester Millet, who brokered the deal, to prison. Last year, a judge struck down that zoning ordinance, but the parish council is already trying to reinstate it. “They just will not let up no matter what we do,” said Jo. “We went into court. We have lawsuit after lawsuit after lawsuit … They’re just coming here despite buffer zone requirements, despite ordinances that would protect us.”They just will not let up. We went into court. We have lawsuit after lawsuit after lawsuitAs the sisters continue to litigate to stop the grain terminal, they’ve faced increasingly personal threats both inside and outside of the courtroom. One parish council member told Joy she could be arrested for speaking up at a public meeting, intimidation that Joy believes violates her right to free speech (she’s suing). And this past August, a week after the state judge Nghana Lewis issued a restraining order preventing the parish council from rezoning Wallace as industrial, a 350-year-old oak tree in front of the Banner sisters’ Fee-Fo-Lay cafe caught fire.“Either lightning hit the tree or it’s been really dry [and] someone threw a cigarette butt,” Joy said. “We were trying to convince ourselves … it’s just [the] drought.” But a fire investigator found evidence of an accelerant. The blaze had been started at the base of the tree with a protest sign the sisters displayed in front of their business. “That was a punch to the gut.”Still, the Banner sisters aren’t letting up. Wallace isn’t just the place where they live. It’s where their ancestors – a group of Union soldiers and newly emancipated people – built a community in the wake of grave violence. And it’s where they and many of their neighbors hope their families will thrive for generations to come. If the grain terminal is built, Joy said: “We are obliterated. We’re gone. We can’t survive.”‘Far away from whites’Look for freetowns on most maps and you won’t have much luck, though researchers believe they were once abundant. “[Black] people wanted to come together as clusters of landowners for safety purposes,” said Andrea Roberts, a professor of urban and environmental planning at the University of Virginia who studies freetowns. “If they could find a somewhat secluded place, far away from whites, then they could be perceived as less of a threat, an economic threat.”Black people wanted to come together as clusters of landowners for safety purposesAndrea Roberts, University of VirginiaWith a few exceptions, freetowns kept their populations small, settling on less desirable, and more affordable, land. This effectively pushed Black-founded communities into wetlands and floodplains, creating a racialized topography that exists to this day. Yet, location and size wasn’t always enough to protect communities from white violence. “We talk a lot about Tulsa, the 1921 massacre and Black Wall Street, but that kind of thing happened to Black places all across the country,” asid Danielle Purifoy, a geography professor at the University of North Carolina who studies environmental justice in the US South. “They were just burned to the ground.”With local politicians often overlooking, and in some cases supporting, white supremacist violence, freetowns rarely pursued formal relationships with municipal governments. “They knew the state wouldn’t recognize them,” Purifoy said. “To recognize them would be to give them a particular status and political power in the state.” Instead, Black communities turned inward, creating their own businesses and systems of governance, often centered on the church. Inhabitants grew their own food, built their own schools and created safety-net programs like benevolent societies to provide various kinds of mutual aid. In the mid-20th century, many freetowns thrived.Yet today, freetowns such as Wallace are once again in negotiation for their survival, as generations-old communities are shrinking. Africatown, Alabama, saw its population drop from 12,000 people in the 1970s to less than 2,000 today. Boley, Oklahoma, which was once the largest Black town in the nation, went from having 4,000 residents in 1911 to just over a thousand currently. The seclusion that once provided a level of safety no longer does.In the South, more than a third of Black-owned land is considered heirs property, passed down through generations without a will or by going through probate court, making it jointly owned by all the descendents of the original landowner. In many states, if a single heir agrees to sell, the entire property can be forced into a sale without the consent of the other owners. Developers take advantage.Vultures go into the county courthouse so they can buy land and property cheapAndrea Roberts, University of Virginia“Vultures … go into the county courthouse … and scout out these instances, so they can buy land and property cheap,” Roberts said. Surrounded by sprawl, some freetowns get annexed into larger cities, fading into the social and political fabric of a larger place, while others get rezoned as industrial and, in a few cases, bought out by polluting corporations. Those built on or near wetlands are increasingly vulnerable to catastrophic storms and a few have been purposefully flooded to construct recreational lakes. “Even if they’re not being burned to the ground, they’re being bulldozed over,” Purifoy said, “essentially erased, as though they didn’t exist.”‘Snake infested, mosquito infested, and not on high ground’On Google Earth, Turkey Creek, Mississippi, is easy to miss: two splashes of green squished inside North Gulfport’s beige city grid. With US Route 49 to the west, Gulfport-Biloxi international airport to the south, and an international shipping channel to the east, the historic Black community is hemmed in. Airport storage, apartment complexes, warehouses and industrial sites – including a toxic Superfund site – have taken hefty bites out of the formerly rural community. But the land in and around Turkey Creek hasn’t always been coveted.“Snake infested, mosquito infested, and not on high ground” is how Derrick Evans, the great-great-grandson of Sam Evans, one of Turkey Creek’s founders, imagines the land in 1866, when four newly emancipated couples purchased eight 40-acre plots of swampland from the Arkansas Lumber Company. “It was a wilderness with nothing there, but wetlands and swamps and Black people. And because it was the least desirable land, it was the most affordable.”Because it was the least desirable land, it was the most affordableDerrick Evans, great-great-grandson of a Turkey Creek founderSoon, additional Black settlers followed, founding neighboring freetowns: Carlton, Sidecamp, Hansboro, Happy Hollow and Magnolia Grove. “Turkey Creek was sort of the nexus community between them all,” Evans said. Black families from across north Harrison county worshiped at Mount Pleasant United Baptist church in Turkey Creek, sent their kids to Turkey Creek’s two-room consolidated school and worked at or adjacent to the freetown’s creosote and turpentine plant, the Phoenix naval yards. Turkey Creek was also a destination for recreation: banned from the white-only beaches, Black families swam in the Turkey Creek’s namesake waterway.Today, Carlton is long gone. Taken over by eminent domain during the second world war, the land is now home to Bayou View, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Gulfport. As for the other nearby Black towns, Evans said: “They’re there, but [they’re] hard to discern.”This past October, the Guardian talked to Evans’s childhood friend Patrick White on the porch of Turkey Creek’s newly restored naval stores paymaster’s office. The building is all that remains after the factory, which made turpentine and tar from longleaf pines and employed much of the community, shut down in 1958. Recently added to the National Register of Historic Places, it’s slated to become a museum and community center, a place to hold memories and memorabilia of the quickly shrinking town.“This whole place was woods,” White said, looking out from the porch. “We were able to walk for miles and miles and miles and miles.” At age 60, White was soft-spoken, clad in wire-rim glasses, Timberland boots and a Negro Leagues baseball T-shirt. These days, the forest of his childhood is home to an auto parts store, storage facility, trampoline park, Dollar General, Walmart and the Ford dealership where White worked for 15 years. The white man who owned the dealership bought the land from White’s grandfather.Farther down the road, the Gulfport-Biloxi international airport juts like an arrow through the remains of the community. In 1943, the military commandeered land using eminent domain. “They gave like $10 an acre and said the government needs this,” White said of the area, which used to be hopping with Black-owned nightclubs, bars, stores, laundromats and ice-cream parlors. “Every time a plane takes off, you got stuff falling on your head.”Finally, White brought up Ashton Place, a brick apartment complex with a community pool. “It’s about four or 500 people buried back here,” he said. Beyond a chain-link fence, the forest was scraggly and thick. Between blades of saw palmettos and fringes of pine, a single gray headstone was visible. “How was y’all able to come here and acquire all this land and live like nothing else mattered?” White said. “It’s mind-boggling.”‘We’re gonna keep enduring’Underutilized. Depressed. Blighted. Overgrown. Empty. In planning documents, those words appear often describing Black-owned land. That language, said Purifoy, “makes it easy for folks, especially white folks … to characterize space as underdeveloped and out of use.” The Banners know this well. Not long ago, they had their house appraised. Their land, they learned, had very little monetary value, though nearby property had been sold to corporations for millions of dollars. “This land has been weaponized against us for centuries,” Joy told me. With valuations like that, she added, “it’s really easy for them strategically to come in and offer you a couple of dollars for your land. And take it and then turn it over for millions.”They come in and offer you a couple of dollars for your land, then turn it over for millionsFor freetown residents, land is more than its monetary value. It’s a through-line connecting generations across time, a place for home-goings and centennial birthdays and, at times, even a refuge. “We’re gonna keep enduring,” White said. “I want to do a festival out here next year, like, a turkey leg festival. You know, Turkey Creek? Turkey legs?” This fall, he ran for local office, campaigning on the premise that their multinational, corporate neighbors needed to do more for the community. “Coca Cola? Home Depot? Lowe’s? They making millions out of this area. Airport makes billions. But they don’t give nothing back,” he said. He lost by 41 votes and plans to run again.White and Evans, the descendant of one of Turkey Creek’s founders, are part of a multigenerational effort that goes back decades, to the founding of the community’s Mount Pleasant United Baptist church. Set back from the road, the church, which has long been a hub for community organizing, is nearly hidden by a grove of giant oak trees. White mentioned activists from the previous generation – Rev Calvin Jackson Sr and Merlon Hines – who fought against an airport expansion.Local advocacy has scored major victories in recent years. Besides reopening the naval stores paymaster office as a museum, Turkey Creek locals have stopped the development of a 753-acre office park; rebuilt after Hurricane Katrina flooded numerous houses; put Turkey Creek on the National Register of Historic Places in 2007; and partnered with the Audubon Society to place more than 200 upstream acres into permanent conservation.Yet those victories do little to alter the imbalance of power. Despite the vocal objections of residents, Turkey Creek was annexed in 1994 by the city of Gulfport. Instead of being its own place, it became a small portion of a bigger place. The residents who once constituted a majority found their ability to self-determine diminished. These days, Gulfport wants to build a thruway to connect the shipping port with the highway, slicing Turkey Creek in half again and increasing flooding risk for the already vulnerable creekside community.We’ve come a long way, but it’s a constant fightEvelyn Caldwell, step-sister of Derrick EvansThere’s also the matter of a proposed military storage facility that would house explosive ammunition. Residents of Turkey Creek have joined other Black neighborhoods across North Gulfport to oppose both projects. “We’ve come a long way, but it’s a constant fight,” Evans’ step-sister, Evelyn Caldwell, said. “You have to stay on top of things. You can close the front door, but they may try to come in the back door. So you have to close the back door, and then you have to check the front door again.”‘I am here in the now, not just a placeholder’Historians debate how many Black settlements once dotted the American landscape, which makes it impossible to know how many have been lost. The Historic Black Towns and Settlements Alliance posits that there were at least 1,200 Black towns in the United States. Andrea Roberts suspects there were many, many more. Through interviews and crowdsourced family histories, Roberts has mapped more than 500 freedom colonies in Texas alone. As co-director of the University of Virginia’s Center for Cultural Landscapes, she plans to move on to other states. She’s eyeing Canada, too, having recently visited Nova Scotia where “52 plus” freedom colonies were founded by Black loyalists who fought in the war of 1812. Their descendents, she said, are in the midst of “incredible revitalization.Proactive visibility is a relatively new survival strategy for places that once found safety in seclusion. “Black towns are supposed to be relics of the past,” Purifoy said. “That’s something that these forms of extractive development really play into.” But for residents, digging into the past and sharing what they find can be incredibly empowering, especially as they fight for a future. Growing up, the Banners weren’t aware they lived in a freetown. They didn’t know their ancestors had been enslaved at the very plantations they drove past nearly every day on their way to school. They certainly didn’t know that their ancestors founded their town to ensure a future for their family. Learning that history has given them fuel.Black towns are supposed to be relics of the pastDanielle Purifoy, University of North Carolina“If I say ‘descendant’,” Joy said, in their Wallace office, “it means I’m a person that descends from ancestors that I love. I’m acknowledged in that rootedness. It also means that I am here, I am here in the now. I’m not just a placeholder.”The Banner sisters can speak in litigious detail about backroom deals, corrupt zoning, negligent environmental reviews, industrial pollution and stolen land, but when they talk about Wallace, they light up. This past fall, Joy ran for parish council. Like Turkey Creek’s White, she lost the election, but her participation forced local politicians to finally acknowledge heavy industry’s disastrous impacts on local public health. The sisters’ efforts have paid off in other ways, too.Last year, the Descendants Project won a Mellon grant to turn Many Waters, a Creole plantation house, into an interpretative public history museum with an African American genealogy center and a research station for ancestral archeology and burial grounds. And they just purchased the Woodlawn plantation, where the 1811 slave revolt, the largest insurgency of enslaved people in the US, began. They plan to open it as a tourist destination later this year.Though their wins have been significant, the Banners still don’t have what they most want: to enjoy their land and community without fear of losing it. “Our ancestors said, give us the land, give us the land that we’ve been working for centuries,” Joy said. “And that’s what we’re saying: give us the land that our ancestors worked and died for, and we will show you how successful we can be.”

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