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Carrefour's Cold Shoulder for South American Beef Sparks a Backlash From Brazil

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Monday, November 25, 2024

BRASILIA, Brazil (AP) — Supermarket giant Carrefour’s support for French farmers’ protests against a trade agreement between the European Union and the South American bloc Mercosur has sparked a strong reaction in Brazil, including a refusal to supply beef to Carrefour stores in Brazil.Carrefour CEO Alexandre Bompard announced in social media posts last week that the French company would stop buying beef from all Mercosur countries, which also include Argentina, Paraguay and Uruguay. Bompard wrote that he agrees with French producers' arguments that Mercosur beef is an unfair competitor due to lower production costs resulting from fewer environmental and sanitary requirements. The executive encouraged other retailers to follow suit.Brazil's Ministry of Agriculture called Bompard's move protectionist, saying it was made “without any technical criteria.”The decision also angered Brazil's meatpackers. Though France makes up just a tiny sliver of Brazil’s beef exports, meatpackers worried that Carrefour’s decision would hurt its reputation in other markets.Beef giants JBS and Marfrig halted supplies last Friday to Carrefour's extensive supermarket chain in Brazil, including the food warehouse giant Atacadao. Both companies refused to comment on the boycott to The Associated Press, but Minister of Agriculture Carlos Fávaro confirmed it.“We support the reaction of the meatpackers. If Brazil´s beef isn’t good enough for Carrefour’s shelves in France, it isn’t good enough for Carrefour’s shelves in Brazil either,” Faváro told Folha de S.Paulo newspaper on Monday.Carrefour Group in Brazil acknowledged the boycott in a statement, though it said there's not yet a shortage of beef in stores. It said it has “esteem and confidence in the Brazilian agricultural sector, with which it maintains a solid relationship and partnership.” “Unfortunately, the decision to suspend the meat supply has an impact on customers, especially those who rely on the company to supply their homes with quality and responsible products,” the statement said. “It is in constant dialogue in search of solutions that will make it possible to resume the supply of meat to its stores as quickly as possible, respecting the commitments it has to its more than 130,000 Brazilian employees and millions of Brazilian customers countrywide.”The backdrop for the conflict is the EU-Mercosur trade deal, which would increase agricultural imports to EU countries from South America. French farmers fear it will affect their livelihoods. An initial agreement was reached in 2019, but negotiations have faltered since then due to opposition that also includes some European governments.Brazil’s agribusiness sector also fears that the pending European Union Deforestation Regulation will outlaw the sale of forest-derived products within the EU’s 27-nation bloc if companies can’t prove their goods are not linked to deforestation. Its scope includes soy and cattle, Brazil’s top agricultural exports. Almost half of the country’s cattle is raised in the Amazon region, where 90% of deforested land since 1985 has turned into pasture, according to MapBiomas, a nonprofit network. The date of its implementation remains uncertain.The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - Sept. 2024

Supermarket giant Carrefour’s support for French farmers’ protests against a trade agreement between the European Union and the South American bloc Mercosur has sparked a strong reaction in Brazil

BRASILIA, Brazil (AP) — Supermarket giant Carrefour’s support for French farmers’ protests against a trade agreement between the European Union and the South American bloc Mercosur has sparked a strong reaction in Brazil, including a refusal to supply beef to Carrefour stores in Brazil.

Carrefour CEO Alexandre Bompard announced in social media posts last week that the French company would stop buying beef from all Mercosur countries, which also include Argentina, Paraguay and Uruguay. Bompard wrote that he agrees with French producers' arguments that Mercosur beef is an unfair competitor due to lower production costs resulting from fewer environmental and sanitary requirements.

The executive encouraged other retailers to follow suit.

Brazil's Ministry of Agriculture called Bompard's move protectionist, saying it was made “without any technical criteria.”

The decision also angered Brazil's meatpackers. Though France makes up just a tiny sliver of Brazil’s beef exports, meatpackers worried that Carrefour’s decision would hurt its reputation in other markets.

Beef giants JBS and Marfrig halted supplies last Friday to Carrefour's extensive supermarket chain in Brazil, including the food warehouse giant Atacadao. Both companies refused to comment on the boycott to The Associated Press, but Minister of Agriculture Carlos Fávaro confirmed it.

“We support the reaction of the meatpackers. If Brazil´s beef isn’t good enough for Carrefour’s shelves in France, it isn’t good enough for Carrefour’s shelves in Brazil either,” Faváro told Folha de S.Paulo newspaper on Monday.

Carrefour Group in Brazil acknowledged the boycott in a statement, though it said there's not yet a shortage of beef in stores. It said it has “esteem and confidence in the Brazilian agricultural sector, with which it maintains a solid relationship and partnership.”

“Unfortunately, the decision to suspend the meat supply has an impact on customers, especially those who rely on the company to supply their homes with quality and responsible products,” the statement said. “It is in constant dialogue in search of solutions that will make it possible to resume the supply of meat to its stores as quickly as possible, respecting the commitments it has to its more than 130,000 Brazilian employees and millions of Brazilian customers countrywide.”

The backdrop for the conflict is the EU-Mercosur trade deal, which would increase agricultural imports to EU countries from South America. French farmers fear it will affect their livelihoods. An initial agreement was reached in 2019, but negotiations have faltered since then due to opposition that also includes some European governments.

Brazil’s agribusiness sector also fears that the pending European Union Deforestation Regulation will outlaw the sale of forest-derived products within the EU’s 27-nation bloc if companies can’t prove their goods are not linked to deforestation. Its scope includes soy and cattle, Brazil’s top agricultural exports. Almost half of the country’s cattle is raised in the Amazon region, where 90% of deforested land since 1985 has turned into pasture, according to MapBiomas, a nonprofit network. The date of its implementation remains uncertain.

The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.

Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Photos You Should See - Sept. 2024

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America is richer than ever. Why is it so unhappy?

Ordinary Americans today enjoy a living standard that would have awed kings for most of human history.  We live in homes conditioned to our ideal temperature in any season; drive vehicles that pack the power of 250 horses into a 100-square-foot metal frame; carry six-ounce rectangles that offer instant access to virtually any loved one, […]

Ordinary Americans today enjoy a living standard that would have awed kings for most of human history.  We live in homes conditioned to our ideal temperature in any season; drive vehicles that pack the power of 250 horses into a 100-square-foot metal frame; carry six-ounce rectangles that offer instant access to virtually any loved one, book, song, fact, or pornography; inhale gases that take the pain out of any surgery; replace our worn-out hips with titanium; glide 40,000 feet above the Earth in pressurized aluminum tubes; and eat ground beef wrapped in tacos made of Doritos.  But we don’t seem that jazzed about it. Key takeaways • Wealthy nations have been getting richer — without getting happier — for decades, according to some studies. • Consumerism often functions like a zero-sum status competition, in which people must buy more stuff just to retain their social rank (aka “keep up with the Joneses”). • Given this, some environmentalists argue that we can shrink wealthy economies without sacrificing human well-being. But this is mistaken. Since 1996, America’s median household income (adjusted for inflation) has risen by 26 percent, enabling us to afford more flights, smartphones, and Gordita Supremes than ever before. And yet, over that same period, the share of Americans who described themselves as “not too happy” in the General Social Survey rose by 9 percentage points, while the segment calling themselves “very happy” shrank by more than 9.4 points. Meanwhile, measures of Americans’ economic confidence and consumer sentiment both declined. And in 2025, the percentage of Americans who were “very satisfied” with their personal lives hit an all-time low in Gallup’s polling. This disconnect between America’s rising prosperity and sagging spirits has grown more conspicuous in recent years. Since the middle of 2023 — when inflation returned to normal levels following the post-pandemic price spike — Americans’ real wages and net worths have ticked up. But the public’s mood has scarcely improved.   Pundits dubbed this development “the vibecession” and proffered myriad plausible explanations for its emergence (people still haven’t adjusted psychologically to the new price level; housing remains unaffordable; living through a mass death event is a real bummer; Covid-19 turned too many of us into hermits; the kids need to get off their dang phones, and so on).  Yet to some economists and social theorists, the “vibecession” is less a new phenomenon than the wealthy world’s default condition. In their account, people in developed countries have been getting richer — without getting happier — for more than half a century.  That might seem bleak. For anti-growth environmentalists, however, it is actually a source of hope.  The “degrowth” movement believes that humanity is rapidly exhausting the Earth’s resources. Thus, to prevent ecological collapse — without condemning the global poor to permanent penury — the movement has called on rich countries to throttle their use of energy and material resources.  If economic growth had been making wealthy nations happier over the past 50 years, this would be a tall order. In that scenario, there would be a tragic conflict between the near-term well-being of the “first world” and the sustainability of the planet’s ecosystems. But this conflict is illusory, according to degrowth proponents like the philosopher Tim Jackson and the anthropologist Jason Hickel. In their view, the wealthy world has been burning vast resources on a zero-sum status competition — in which workers must perpetually increase their consumption just to “keep up with the Joneses.” By abandoning such spiritually corrosive consumerism — and embracing more egalitarian and communal ways of life — rich countries can downsize their economies and uplift their people simultaneously. Some aspects of this narrative are plausible. Growth may yield diminishing returns to well-being, and status concerns do loom larger in rich societies. But it does not follow that wealthy nations can dramatically reduce economic production without harming their residents’ welfare. Optimizing the American economy for human happiness will require changing what we produce — but it almost certainly won’t entail producing less. Can money buy happiness — or only rent it? At first brush, the research on money and happiness can look puzzling. On the one hand, within countries, income and well-being are highly correlated: The larger a person’s paycheck, the happier they tend to be. And this same relationship holds between countries as well — nations with higher incomes report greater well-being than those with lower ones. When one looks at happiness trends in rich countries over time, however, the correlation between income and happiness weakens — or, in some studies, disappears.  There is a popular explanation for these paradoxical findings: Once people are already affluent, their sense of material well-being is determined less by their absolute living standard than by their relative position in a country’s economic hierarchy.  After all, status is a zero-sum game: One person can’t be in the “upper” middle-class unless someone else is in the lower one. In this account, there are some things that humans strongly desire for their own sake, such as food, shelter, clothing, water, medical care, sanitation, and a little entertainment. When a person ceases to be too poor to afford these goods, she tends to become happier as a direct result of her higher living standard: A well-fed person is typically more content than a malnourished one, irrespective of their society’s prevailing norms or their own degree of social status.  By contrast, the desire to upgrade from a 55-inch TV to a 75-inch one, or from a Toyota to a Lexus, or from an iPhone 16 to an iPhone 17 isn’t etched that deeply into the human heart. An affluent American’s longing for the latter objects is socially contingent. His current TV would not seem small if he had not seen his brother-in-law’s 75-inch, 8K smart TV at Thanksgiving.  When this hypothetical American — let’s call him Tim — gets a raise and buys a new home theater, car, and smartphone, his sense of well-being might increase. But this gain in happiness will have less to do with the intrinsic qualities of his new consumer items than with the shrinking gap between his living standard and that of his wealthier peers. It’s the alleviation of relative deprivation — rather than the absolute variety — that accounts for the bulk of his newfound contentment. That’s the theory, anyway. And some studies lend it credence. For example, in a 2023 paper, researchers at the University of California Riverside examined surveys that asked the same Americans about their incomes and self-reported well-being at multiple points in time. They found that respondents tended to report greater happiness when their relative income increased — which is to say, when they ascended to a higher percentile of the income distribution — even if their absolute income had barely changed.  By contrast, when a respondent saw their earnings rise while their position in the socioeconomic hierarchy stagnated or fell, they typically became no happier. If money can buy Americans happiness — but only by purchasing them higher status — then the data on growth and well-being makes sense: In a rich society, we’d expect people with higher incomes to be happier than those with low ones, since the former enjoy greater relative status. But as that nation gets wealthier over time, we wouldn’t expect its average happiness to budge.  After all, status is a zero-sum game: One person can’t be in the “upper” middle-class unless someone else is in the lower one. Tim’s new TV might make him feel better about his social rank. But when his cousin Rick comes over to watch the Super Bowl, that giant Samsung could make him feel worse about his economic position, as now his own 42-inch Roku TV may seem pathetically small.  The case for degrowth It isn’t hard to see why this theory appeals to many environmentalists. If Americans are consuming more and more resources — just to keep up in a zero-sum status game — then the human costs of degrowth are negligible.  From this vantage point, the rich world’s middle classes are effectively locked in a fruitless arms race: Tim works a little harder to buy nicer things than his cousin Rick, in order to improve his relative status and sense of well-being. Then Rick works a little harder so that he can buy the same things as Tim. Now, both are back to the same status position they started with — but had to perform more labor just to get there. Degrowthers see this basic process playing out at a national scale. And they insist that it isn’t inevitable; humans aren’t innately programmed to jockey endlessly for position. Rather, degrowthers contend that corporate and political elites perpetuate this culture of competitive consumption. In Jackson’s telling, it requires the combined propagandizing of “politicians and policy-makers and bankers and financiers and advertisers” just to sustain the public’s appetite for more stuff. If we embraced a less materialistic politics and more egalitarian economic system, the thinking goes, then we could end this lose-lose cycle of competitive consumption. In such a world, people could enjoy more leisure time without worrying about falling behind “the Joneses.” And rich countries could produce more of the things that actually improve well-being — such as health care, education, and clean energy — while consuming fewer material resources overall, thereby remaining within ecological limits.  In a well-planned, post-capitalist economy, in other words, less could truly be more.  This might be all wrong It’s possible, however, that the foundational assumption of this entire narrative — and, to an extent, this article — is wrong: Some studies suggest that higher economic growth is associated with greater happiness over time, even when looking at rich countries.  Meanwhile, many analysts question whether well-being surveys are a reliable gauge of national happiness. An American in 1980 — and an equally happy American in 2025 — may answer poll questions differently, simply as a result of shifting cultural norms. (We have arguably seen this phenomenon in survey research about mental illness, where destigmatization and broadening conceptions of “anxiety” and “depression” may have boosted rates of self-reported psychological distress in recent years).  If these were the only problems with degrowthers’ argument, it might be salvageable. Some studies cut against their interpretation of well-being trends. But some support it. One can therefore reasonably believe that rich countries haven’t been getting happier as their economies have grown.  But it does not follow that wealthy nations can dramatically shrink their economies, at no cost to their people’s well-being. When it comes to growth, size matters For one thing, this conclusion requires wildly overreading what the well-being data actually tell us. America is plausibly no happier today than it was in 1996, despite significant economic growth. But a lot of bad things have happened in the United States over the past 30 years, many of which aren’t obviously a function of rising GDP — including the opioid epidemic, 9/11, deepening political polarization, a world-historic pandemic, and rising rates of social isolation, among many other things.  It’s possible then that economic growth increased Americans’ well-being over the past three decades — but that this benefit was simply outweighed by other, adverse social trends.  Indeed, one interpretation of the data on national happiness is that the magnitude of growth matters. The typical American household earns about 26 percent more today than it did in 1996. By contrast, that modern US household earns over 2,000 percent more than a typical family in Bangladesh. And while today’s median American isn’t much happier than her slightly poorer predecessor was in the 1990s, the former has much higher life satisfaction than her dramatically poorer Bangladeshi counterpart, according to the World Values Survey. Perhaps, modest GDP gains don’t reliably increase well-being in rich countries. But it doesn’t follow that no amount of economic growth can make an already-rich country happier.  A dollar lost is a dollar mourned For the sake of argument, however, let’s stipulate that increasing a wealthy nation’s income doesn’t improve its well-being. That still would not mean that you can shrink a rich country’s income without diminishing its happiness.  As decades of behavioral research has shown, people are “loss-averse” — which means they react more strongly to losses than to equivalent gains. For this reason, even if Americans derived little well-being from recent economic growth, they might still become unhappier were their incomes to abruptly drop. And, in fact, this is exactly what happened amid the post-Covid surge in inflation. During that period, Americans suddenly found themselves unable to afford as many goods and services as they used to, since their real wages declined. At the same time, income inequality actually fell. Thus, by one metric, the median US worker’s relative position actually improved. Yet Americans’ economic confidence and life satisfaction plunged, anyway. This suggests that losing absolute income makes Americans unhappier, even if they don’t simultaneously fall down the economic ladder.  Further, the public’s discontent on this front can scarcely be attributed to political elites’ consumerist propaganda. To the contrary, the Biden administration tried to persuade Americans that the inflationary economy was fine. Three years later, when Americans remained dissatisfied with how much stuff they could afford to buy, the Trump White House actually implored them to care less about consumption. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent declared in March that “access to cheap goods is not the essence of the American dream,” while Trump has told Americans, “You don’t need 37 dolls for your daughter. Two or three is nice, but you don’t need 37 dolls.”  Nevertheless, Americans’ desire for cheaper goods persisted. To be sure, this does not prove that Americans wouldn’t be happier under degrowth socialism. Hickel and Jackson never argued that people could enjoy greater well-being on lower incomes in the existing economic system, only that this would be true in an egalitarian, post-growth economic order.  My point is that this argument rests on pure speculation; data on happiness and growth in non-imaginary nations doesn’t actually validate degrowthers’ intuition. It’s impossible to know with certainty how people would think and feel in economic circumstances that humanity has never witnessed. But we do know that, to date, no country has ever grown happier while enduring a large and sustained decline in material consumption. There are no MRIs without mineral mines The most fundamental problem with the degrowth narrative, however, is that it does not work on its own terms. An economy tailored to Americans’ true needs would produce more things that extend life, reduce suffering, and mitigate loneliness — and fewer that induce addiction and status anxiety. Hickel and Jackson recognize that increasing some forms of production improves well-being, even in rich societies. No one thinks that Americans purchase cancer screenings or defibrillators or dialysis merely to “keep up with the Joneses.” As long as illness exists, boosting medical output and innovation is likely to make people better off. And much the same can be said of other goods and services that save lives or alleviate physical suffering, such as clean energy technologies that curb air pollution or self-driving cars that reduce traffic deaths. This undercuts the notion that rich countries can abandon growth without sacrificing well-being. Perhaps, America’s specific approach to expanding GDP hasn’t been making people happier. But if we produced fewer things that plausibly reduce welfare (such as social media platforms and sports betting apps) and more that increase it (such as solar panels or Ozempic), surely we could make ourselves better off than we would be in a drastically smaller economy. Hickel tries to preempt this objection. In his book, Less Is More, he suggests that degrowth really just means deciding “what kinds of things we want to grow (sectors like clean energy, public health care, essential services, regenerative agriculture — you name it), and what sectors need to radically degrow (things like fossil fuels, private jets, arms and SUVs).”  This proposal raises some obvious political challenges (by all appearances, the American public wants the SUV sector to grow). But bracketing the whole “how do we get everyone on-board with eco-communism?” question, the more basic issue is that Hickel’s vision almost certainly cannot work, purely as a technical matter. In his view, the United States must reduce its use of material resources — metals, minerals, land, fossil fuels, timber, crops, cement, and the like — by 75 percent.  This is plainly incompatible with maximizing Americans’ welfare, even if one went further than Hickel — and stipulated that only the health care sector enhances well-being.  Degrowthers often refer to the medical industry as though it were a resource-light, service sector composed mostly of people, buildings, and a few machines. And this is how doctors’ offices can sometimes appear. Yet every encounter with a clinician is the tip of a vast industrial iceberg.  A single MRI machine requires superconducting magnets made of niobium-titanium alloys, liquid helium produced through natural gas extraction, high-purity copper wiring, cryogenic refrigeration systems, rare earth elements, and massive amounts of electricity, among other inputs.  Drug production, meanwhile, frequently demands starter molecules extracted from oil or natural gas, large volumes of chemical solvents, climate-controlled reactors, drying ovens, and myriad other energy-intensive spaces and components. Dialysis consumes hundreds of liters of ultrapure water per session and myriad single-use plastics. Thus, the idea that we can grow the health care sector — while slashing our economy’s resource use by 50 percent — is far-fetched on its face. And it becomes all the more implausible when one considers the basic mechanics of industrial innovation and supply chains. In his book, Hickel suggests that gutting frivolous consumer industries will free up enough resources to simultaneously grow the healthcare sector and shrink America’s material footprint.  But this ignores medical technology’s dependence on ordinary consumer markets. To appreciate that dependence, consider chipmaking. Developing advanced semiconductors entailed the construction of hundreds of fabrication facilities worldwide, each costing up to $20 billion; the formation of dense networks of suppliers for tools, chemicals, and ultrapure materials; and many years of learning by doing.  Hospitals need chips to power various devices. But the medical sector still accounts for a tiny fraction of semiconductor sales. It was demand for smartphones, personal computers, and other consumer electronics that enabled the chip industry to absorb the exorbitant costs of its growth and innovation. And absent that innovation, modern medical imaging would be less accurate and more people would perish from undetected infirmities.  One can tell a similar story about lithium-ion batteries, which corporate labs perfected to power camcorders and cellphones — but which are now indispensable to both modern medicine and the green energy transition.  In other words, without large and diverse markets for consumer novelties, the supply chains and technical know-how required for more essential products would not exist.  It’s therefore implausible that rich countries could radically contract consumer markets — to the point that resource use falls by 75 percent — and still sustain the health care and energy technologies that Hickel admires, much less, improve upon them.  More is more Of course, none of this would matter much if degrowthers’ apocalyptic environmental assumptions were correct. If economic growth is physically unsustainable — and humanity must choose between gradually degrowing the global economy or having it chaotically contract amid ecological collapse — then the former is clearly preferable. I think degrowthers’ catastrophism is unfounded (although the perils of climate change are quite real). But even if we are indeed racing toward oblivion, that still would not make Hickel and Jackson’s claims about growth and happiness correct. Perhaps, rich countries need to slash their production and consumption. But there is no good reason to believe that they can do this without undermining their people’s well-being. The degrowth vision is therefore much bleaker than its proponents wish to acknowledge.  This isn’t to say that critics of consumerism are wrong on all counts. There’s little question that increasing GDP doesn’t automatically enhance well-being. And competitive consumption is surely a real phenomenon, which can be collectively self-defeating. Many Americans would be happier if they traded a bit of purchasing power for more time with their friends and family. And policymakers could help workers avail themselves of more leisure time — without worrying about falling behind — by mandating paid vacation days, as many European nations do.  It’s clear that money isn’t buying the United States as much happiness as it should. An economy tailored to Americans’ true needs would produce more things that extend life, reduce suffering, and mitigate loneliness — and fewer that induce addiction and status anxiety. But such an economy would not be smaller than our current one. So long disease and drudgery exist, less will always be less.  This series was supported by a grant from Arnold Ventures. Vox had full discretion over the content of this reporting.

Thousands of U.S. farmers have Parkinson’s. They blame a deadly pesticide.

Paraquat is banned in more than 70 countries, but still legal in the United States. Now, a growing number of U.S. farmers are blaming the toxic pesticide for their Parkinson's disease in a large lawsuit.

Paul Friday remembers when his hand started flopping in the cold weather – the first sign nerve cells in his brain were dying.He was eventually diagnosed with Parkinson’s, a brain disease that gets worse over time. His limbs got stiffer. He struggled to walk. He couldn’t keep living on his family farm. Shortly afterward, Friday came to believe that decades of spraying a pesticide called paraquat at his peach orchard in southwestern Michigan may be the culprit.“It explained to me why I have Parkinson’s disease,” said Friday, who is now 83, and makes that claim in a pending lawsuit.The pesticide, a weed killer, is extremely toxic.With evidence of its harms stacking up, it’s already been banned in dozens of countries all over the world, including the United Kingdom and China, where it’s made. Yet last year, its manufacturer Syngenta, a subsidiary of a company owned by the Chinese government, continued selling paraquat in the United States and other nations that haven’t banned it. Health statistics are limited. Critics point to research linking paraquat exposure to Parkinson’s, while the manufacturer pushes back, saying none of it is peer-reviewed. But the lawsuits are mounting across the United States, as farmers confront Parkinson’s after a lifetime of use, and much of the globe is turning away from paraquat. It has many critics wrestling with the question: What will it take to ban paraquat in the United States? “What we’ve seen over the course of decades is a systemic failure to protect farmworkers and the agricultural community from pesticides,” said Jonathan Kalmuss-Katz, a senior attorney at Earthjustice, an environmental law organization that advocates against paraquat.Paul Friday was a lifelong peach farmer in Coloma, Michigan until he developed Parkinson's Disease in 2017. Photo provided by Luiba FridayThousands of lawsuits pile upIt was hard for Ruth Anne Krause to watch her husband of 58 years struggle to move his hands. He was an avid woodcarver, shaving intricate details into his creations, before it became too difficult for him to hold the tools.Jim Krause was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2019, after he spent decades operating a 20-acre stone fruit farm in central California. His wife says he often donned a mask and yellow rubber boots to spray paraquat on the fields.Krause, who had no family history of neurological disease as is typical, died in 2024.“I want people to know what happened,” said Ruth Anne Krause, who is worried that paraquat is still being sold to American farmers. Krause is one of thousands of people who have sued Syngenta, a manufacturer, and Chevron USA, a seller, over paraquat exposure. They’re alleging the chemical companies failed to warn of the dangers of paraquat despite knowing it could damage human nerve cells and studies showing it’s linked to Parkinson’s disease. Between 11 million and 17 million pounds of paraquat are sprayed annually on American farms, according to the latest data from the U.S. Geological Survey. The pesticide is used as a burn down, meaning farmers spray it to quickly clear a field or kill weeds. It's effective, but highly toxic. (Julie Bennett | preps@al.com) Julie Bennett | preps@al.comChevron, which never manufactured paraquat and hasn’t sold it since 1986, has “long maintained that it should not be liable in any paraquat litigation.”“And despite hundreds of studies conducted over the past 60 years, the scientific consensus is that paraquat has not been shown to be a cause of Parkinson’s disease,” the company said in a statement.Syngenta has emphasized there is no evidence that paraquat causes Parkinson’s disease.“We have great sympathy for those suffering from the debilitating effects of Parkinson’s disease,” a Syngenta spokesperson said in a statement. “However, it is important to note that the scientific evidence simply does not support a causal link between paraquat and Parkinson’s disease, and that paraquat is safe when used as directed.”More than 6,400 lawsuits against Syngenta and Chevron that allege a link between paraquat and Parkinson’s are pending in the U.S. District Court of Southern Illinois. Another 1,300 cases have been brought in Pennsylvania, 450 in California and more are scattered throughout state courts.“I do think it’s important to be clear that number is probably not even close to representative of how many people have been impacted by this,” said Christian Simmons, a legal expert for Drugwatch. Syngenta told its shareholders in March that an additional 1,600 cases have been voluntarily dismissed or resolved. In 2021, the company settled an unspecified number in California and Illinois for $187.5 million, according to a company financial report. Some others have been dismissed for missing court deadlines. None have gone to trial yet. Behind these thousands of lawsuits, a list growing nearly every day, is a person suffering from Parkinson’s disease.In Ohio, there’s Dave Jilbert a winemaker who sprayed the pesticide on his vineyard south of Cleveland. He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2020 and now he is suing and working to get paraquat banned. Terri McGrath believes years of exposure to paraquat at her family farm in rural Southwest Michigan likely contributed to her Parkinson’s. Six other family members also have the disease. And in south Alabama, Mac Barlow is suing after receiving a similar diagnosis following years of relying on paraquat.“For about 40 years off and on, I’ve been using that stuff,” Barlow said. “I’ll be honest with you, if I knew it was going to be that bad, I would have tried to figure out something else.”In Alabama, farmer Mac Barlow was diagnosed with Parkinson's after years of spraying paraquat. Teri McGrath believes years of exposure to paraquat at her family farm in rural Southwest Michigan contributed to her Parkinson’s. In Ohio, there’s Dave Jilbert a winemaker who sprayed the pesticide on his vineyard. He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2020. Like Barlow, Jilbert is now suing. Photos by Julie Bennett, Isaac Ritchey and David PetkiewiczParaquat in the United StatesSince hitting the market in the 1960s, paraquat has been used in farming to quickly “burn” weeds before planting crops. The pesticide, originally developed by Syngenta and sold by Chevron, rips tissue apart, destroying plants on a molecular level within hours.“It’s used because it’s effective at what it does. It’s highly toxic. It’s very good at killing things,” said Geoff Horsfield, policy director at the Environmental Working Group. “And unfortunately, when a pesticide like this is so effective that also means there’s usually human health impacts as well.”By the 1970s, it became a tool in the war on drugs, sprayed to kill Mexican marijuana plants. In 1998, that history landed it in Hollywood when the Dude in “The Big Lebowski” calls someone a “human paraquat,” a buzzkill.Today, between 11 million and 17 million pounds of paraquat are sprayed annually to help grow cotton, soybean and corn fields, among other crops, throughout the country, the U.S. Geological Survey, USGS, reports. And despite the alleged known risks, its use is increasing, according to the most current federal data, more than doubling from 2012 to 2018. The USGS says on its website new pesticide use data will be released in 2025. It hasn’t been published yet. Because paraquat kills any growth it touches, it’s typically used to clear a field before any crops are planted. Low levels of paraquat residue can linger on food crops, but the foremost threat is direct exposure. Pesticides are among the most common means of suicide worldwide, according to the World Health Organization, and paraquat is frequently used because of its lethality. After some nations, like South Korea and Sri Lanka, banned it, they saw a significant drop in suicides, research shows.The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency already restricts paraquat, labeling it as “registered use,” with a skull and crossbones, meaning it can only be used by people who have a license. Because of its toxicity, the federal government requires it to have blue dye, a sharp smell and a vomiting agent, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control, CDC. Sprayers are also told to wear protective gear. Despite those safety measures, U.S. poison centers have gotten hundreds of paraquat-related calls in the past decade, their annual reports show.Swallowing is the most likely way to be poisoned by paraquat, according to the CDC, but skin exposure can also be deadly. In fact, if it spills on someone, health officials say they should wash it off immediately and quickly cut off their clothes. That way they don’t risk spreading more deadly pesticide on their body as they pull their shirt over their head. In one 2023 case documented by America’s Poison Centers, a 50-year-old man accidentally sipped blue liquid from a Gatorade bottle that turned out to be paraquat. After trying to throw it up, he went to the emergency room, struggling to breathe, nauseous and vomiting.Doctors rushed to treat the man, but he turned blue from a lack of oxygen and his organs failed. He died within three days.In another poison center report, a 65-year-old man spilled paraquat on his clothes and kept working. Ten days later, he went to the emergency room with second-degree burns on his stomach. Dizzy and nauseous, he was admitted for two days before going home.A week later, he went back to the ICU as his kidney, lungs and heart stopped working. He died 34 days after the spill.These annual poison center case summaries provide insight into paraquat’s toxicity, but it’s unclear exactly how many people in the U.S. have been injured or killed by the weed killer, because there’s only a patchwork of data creating an uneven and incomplete picture.The latest annual National Poison Data System report logged 114 reports and one death caused by paraquat in 2023. Over a decade, from 2014 to 2023, this system documented 1,151 paraquat calls. And a separate database shows the EPA has investigated 82 human exposure cases since 2014.Even secondary exposure can be dangerous. One case published in the Rhode Island Medical Journal described an instance where a 50-year-old man accidentally ingested paraquat, and the nurse treating him was burned by his urine that splashed onto her forearms. Within a day, her skin blistered and sloughed off.And a former Michigan State horticulture student is suing the university for $100 million, claiming that she developed thyroid cancer from her exposure to pesticides including paraquat, glyphosate and oxyfluorfen.Meanwhile, a much more widespread threat looms large in the background: long-term, low-level exposure.Parkinson’s on the riseParkinson’s disease is the fastest growing neurological disorder in the world, with cases projected to double by 2050, partly due to an aging population, according to a study published in The BMJ, a peer-reviewed medical journal. It occurs when the brain cells that make dopamine, a chemical that controls movement, stop working or die.The exact cause is unknown, likely a mix of genetic and, largely, environmental factors. A Parkinson’s Foundation study found that 87% of those with the disease do not have any genetic risk factors. That means, “for the vast majority of Americans, the cause of Parkinson’s disease lies not within us, but outside of us, in our environment,” said neurologist and researcher Ray Dorsey.That’s why Dorsey, who literally wrote the book on Parkinson’s, calls the disease “largely preventable.”There’s a long list of environmental factors linked to Parkinson’s, but pesticides are one of the biggest threats, according to Dorsey.“If we clean up our environment, we get rid of Parkinson’s disease,” he said. Paul Friday dedicated his life to growing peaches on his 50-acre farm in Coloma, Michigan. After buying 50 acres of land in 1962, he started experimenting with crossbreeding to develop the perfect peach. He is now one of thousands of farmers who have filed lawsuits claiming a toxic pesticide called paraquat is to blame for their Parkinson's, a neurological disease. Photo courtesy of Paul FridayResearch, dating back decades, has explored this link.An early 1987 case report published in Neurology discusses the case of a 32-year-old citrus farmer who started experiencing tremors, stiffness and clumsiness after 15 years of spraying paraquat. But “a cause-and-effect relationship is difficult to establish,” a doctor wrote at the time.A decade later, an animal study from Parkinson’s researcher Deborah Cory-Slechta found that paraquat absorbed by mice destroys the specific type of dopamine neuron that dies in Parkinson’s disease. More recently, her research has found paraquat that’s inhaled can also bypass the blood-brain barrier, threatening neurons. “It’s quite clear that it gets into the brain from inhalation models,” Cory-Slechta said. Critics point to other epidemiological studies being more definitive.In 2011, researchers studied farmworkers exposed to two pesticides, rotenone and paraquat, and determined those exposures increased the risk of developing Parkinson’s by 150%. Another study, published last year, looked at 829 Parkinson’s patients in central California. It found people who live or work near farmland where paraquat is used have a higher risk of developing the disease. “It’s kind of like secondhand smoke,” Dorsey said. “You can just live or work near where it’s sprayed and be at risk.”This is a growing concern in American suburbs where new houses press up against well-maintained golf courses. A study published in JAMA this year found that living within a mile of a golf course increased the risk of Parkinson’s disease by 126%. It didn’t name specific chemicals but did point to pesticides.The EPA in 2021 banned paraquat from golf courses “to prevent severe injury and/or death” from ingestion.Despite all that, it’s difficult to prove whether paraquat directly causes Parkinson’s because it develops years after exposure.“The disease unfolds over decades, and the seeds of Parkinson’s disease are planted early,” Dorsey said.Where do the lawsuits stand? The legal case over paraquat inched toward a settlement earlier this year.Most of the lawsuits have been brought in Illinois under what’s known as multi-district litigation. Unlike a class-action lawsuit, this puts individual cases in front of one federal judge. A few bellwether cases are then chosen to represent the masses and streamline the legal process.Syngenta, Chevron and the plaintiffs agreed to settle in April, which would wrap up thousands of cases, but an agreement is still being hammered out, court records show. If details can’t be finalized, it will go to trial.“It’s kind of like secondhand smoke. You can just live or work near where it’s sprayed and be at risk.”Ray Dorsey, a Parkinson's disease researchSyngenta has adamantly denied the lawsuits’ allegations, saying it backs paraquat as “safe and effective” when it’s used correctly and emphasizing there has been no peer-reviewed scientific analysis that shows paraquat causes Parkinson’s disease.“Syngenta believes there is no merit to the claims, but litigation can be distracting and costly,” a spokesperson said. “Entering in the agreement in no way implies that paraquat causes Parkinson’s disease or that Syngenta has done anything wrong. We stand by the safety of paraquat.”Chevron has also denied the claims saying the “scientific consensus is that paraquat has not been shown to be a cause of Parkinson’s disease.” What company files showA trove of internal documents released during litigation, as reported by The Guardian and the New Lede, appeared to show that the manufacturers were aware of evidence that paraquat could collect in the brain.But the New Lede acknowledged the documents do not show company scientists believed that paraquat causes Parkinson’s, Syngenta officials pointed out. The trail of bread crumbs started as early as 1958 when a company scientist wrote about a study of 2.2 dipyridyl, a chemical in paraquat, saying it appears to have moderate toxicity “mainly by affecting the central nervous system, and it can be absorbed through the skin,” the internal documents said. Imperial Chemical Industries, which later became Syngenta, started selling paraquat under the brand name Gramoxone in 1962, according to research. Gramoxone contains nearly 44% paraquat. Syngenta sells paraquat under the brand name Gramaxone, as a resgistered-use pesticide. It's labeled with a skull and cross bones and the warning "one sip can kill." The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency also puts the regulations and rules for use on the label. It's dyed blue and has a strong odor as safety mechanisms. (Photo by Rose White | MLive) Rose White | rwhite@MLive.comThe internal documents show by 1974, the company updated safety precautions, recommending that anyone spraying the pesticide wear a mask, as there were the first reports of human poisoning and concerns about the effects of paraquat started to grow.A year later, Ken Fletcher from Imperial Chemical wrote a letter to Chevron scientist Dr. Richard Cavelli, saying the chemical company knew of “sporadic reports of CNS (central nervous system) effects in paraquat poisoning” that he believed to be coincidental.Within months, Fletcher also indicated “possible chronic effects” of paraquat exposure, calling it “quite a terrible problem” that should be studied more, the documents say.“Due possibly to good publicity on our part, very few people here believe that paraquat causes any sort of problem in the field,” he wrote in the mid 1970s. “Consequently, any allegation of illness due to spraying never reaches serious proportions.”By the 1980s, outside research started to pick at the question of paraquat and Parkinson’s.“As more researchers dug into it, it’s only been more firmly established,” said Horsfield with the Environmental Working Group. Syngenta pushes back on this, though, saying two recent reports cast doubt on these claims. A 2024 scientific report from California pesticide regulators found recent evidence was “insufficient to demonstrate a direct causal association with exposure to paraquat and the increased risk of developing Parkinson’s disease.” And a September analysis from Douglas Weed, an epidemiologist and independent consultant, reached a similar conclusion.Syngenta also claims on its website to be a target of a “mass tort machine” that hovers behind multi-district litigation. Why hasn’t the EPA banned it?In 1981, Norway became the first country to outlaw paraquat due to the risk of poisoning. One by one, more countries followed suit. In 2007, the European Union approved a blanket ban for all 27 member countries, according to media reports. Yet Syngenta is still allowed to manufacture paraquat in countries that have banned its use. It’s been prohibited in the United Kingdom for 18 years and China banned paraquat to “safeguard people’s life, safety and health,” in 2012, according to a government announcement. Yet about two-thirds of the paraquat imported to the U.S. between 2022 and 2024 came from companies owned by the Chinese government, SinoChem and Red Sun Group, according to a joint report published by three advocacy organizations in October.It found most of the 40 million and 156 million pounds imported annually over the past eight years comes from Chinese manufacturing facilities, in either China or Syngenta’s big factory in northern England. Although hundreds of companies sell paraquat, Syngenta says it accounts for a quarter of global sales.According to previous media reports, SinoChem, a Chinese state-owned conglomerate, acquired Syngenta in a 2020 merger. SinoChem posted $3.4 billion in profits last year, but it’s unclear how much came from paraquat sales because the company doesn’t make earnings reports public. Syngenta reported $803 million in sales of its “non-selective herbicides,” the class that includes paraquat-containing Gramoxone, according to its 2024 financial report. While Chinese companies supply paraquat to American farmers, the report points out China is also a big purchaser of crops, like soybeans, that are grown with help from the pesticide.“In these two ways, China economically benefits from the application of paraquat in the U.S., where it outsources many of its associated health hazards,” the report said.Paraquat, now prohibited in more than 70 countries, according to the Environmental Working Group, was reauthorized by the EPA in 2021 when it passed a regularly scheduled 15-year review — a move challenged by critics. “EPA has the same information that those countries have,” said Kalmuss-Katz, the attorney with EarthJustice. “EPA has just reached a fundamentally different, and what we believe is a legally and scientifically unsupported position, which is: massive amounts of paraquat can continue to be sprayed without unreasonable risk.”The federal agency determined paraquat remains “an effective, inexpensive, versatile, and widely used method of weed control,” and any risks to workers are “outweighed by the benefits” of farms using the weed killer.“It is one of the mostly highly regulated pesticides available in the United States,” the agency said in a statement.This decision allowed it to be used with “new stronger safety measures to reduce exposure,” like requiring buffer zones where pesticides can’t be sprayed. For plants like cotton, alfalfa, soybeans and peanuts, the EPA wrote in its decision “growers may need to switch to alternative (weed-killers), which could have financial impacts.” Unlike other pesticides, paraquat works well in low temperatures and early in the season, according to the agency.“What we’ve seen over the course of decades is a systemic failure to protect farmworkers and the agricultural community from pesticides.”Jonathan Kalmuss-Katz from EarthJusticeMore than 200,000 public comments have been submitted to the EPA’s docket on paraquat over the years. Industry groups, farmers, advocacy organizations and others have all chimed in, arguing for or against the weed killer.One submitted by a North Dakota farmer, Trey Fischbach, urged the EPA to continue allowing paraquat to fight resistant weeds like kochia, writing it’s the “last tool in the toolbox.” The EPA also noted there weren’t many other options. “The chemical characteristics of paraquat are also beneficial as a resistance management tool, where few alternatives are available.” But farmers can get trapped on what critics call the “pesticide treadmill,” in which broad pesticide use leads to “superweeds” that require stronger and stronger pesticides to be knocked down.A comment submitted by Kay O’Laughlin, from Massachusetts, urged instead: “Do your job and ban paraquat because it is killing people. I speak as someone who lost a brother to Parkinson’s. People should not be disposable so that big agro can make ever greater profits!”The EPA’s 2021 decision was challenged within two months by environmental and farmworker groups who sued the EPA. Kalmuss-Katz said the groups challenged the EPA over reapproving paraquat without “truly grappling” with the connection to Parkinson’s.“The EPA here failed to adequately protect farmworkers,” he said.After that, the environmental agency shifted under President Joe Biden. The EPA decided to consider the issues raised in the lawsuits and started seeking additional information last year. In early 2025, it asked the courts for more time to assess the human health risks of paraquat.But the EPA wasn’t focused on Parkinson’s, saying in its decision the “weight of evidence was insufficient” to link paraquat exposure to the neurological disease. Rather, the federal question was over how the weed killer turns into a vapor that could harm people when inhaled or touched. “Parkinson’s Disease is not an expected health outcome of pesticidal use of paraquat,” the EPA said in its review. The study could take up to four years, according to the EPA, saying it’s “complex, large scale and is conducted under real world conditions,” while paraquat remains on the market. The agency in October updated the review, saying it’s now seeking additional information from Syngenta. Meanwhile, the EPA has shifted again. The Trump administration this year put four former industry lobbyists or executives, from the agricultural, chemical and cleaning industries, in charge of regulating pesticides at the EPA. And while it’s not clear where the agency stands on paraquat, there has been an early sign of backing away from opposition to controversial pesticides. Shortly after Kyle Kunkler, a recent American Soybean Association lobbyist, was tapped to lead pesticide policy, the EPA moved to reapprove the use of a different, controversial weed killer that had previously been banned by federal courts.Growing pressure to ban itBut grassroots pressure to ban paraquat continues to mount.“This is a pivotal time for whether paraquat is going to remain active in the United States,” said Simmons, a legal expert for Drugwatch.Last year, more than 50 Democratic lawmakers, expressing “grave concern” in letters, urged the EPA to ban paraquat.“Due to their heightened exposure to paraquat, farmworkers and rural residents are hardest hit by the harmful health effects of paraquat like Parkinson’s,” said an Oct. 7, 2024, letter signed by U.S. representatives. A separate letter was signed by a small group of senators. California, a heavy user of paraquat as the top agricultural state, became the first to move toward banning paraquat last year. But the bill ended up getting pared back with Gov. Gavin Newsom signing a law to fast-track reevaluating paraquat’s safety, reporting shows. Pennsylvania lawmakers are also considering banning it under state bills introduced this year. “There are better, healthier alternatives,” said state Rep. Natalie Mihalek, a Republican who introduced the Pennsylvania legislation.On a federal level, outside the EPA, pesticides appear to be in the crosshairs. Health and Human Services secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., has criticized chemicals being used in farming. But a new Make America Healthy Again report shows Kennedy has backed away from restricting pesticides after agricultural groups pushed back on the “inaccurate story about American agriculture and our food system.”At the same time, there’s been a reported industry effort to pass state laws that would protect pesticide manufacturers from liability. Two states, North Dakota and Georgia, already passed these laws, according to the National Agricultural Law Firm. But a federal bill introduced this year would ensure the manufacturers can’t be held responsible for harming farmers in any state.“This is a pivotal time for whether paraquat is going to remain active in the United States.”Christian Simmons, legal expert for DrugWatchAs this tug of war continues, paraquat continues to be sprayed on agricultural fields throughout the United States. The EPA is still assessing its risks. And nearly 90,000 Americans are getting diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease every year. Meanwhile for critics, the evidence seems clear: it’s too dangerous. “The easiest thing to do is we should ban paraquat,” Dorsey said.AL.com reporter Margaret Kates contributed to this story.

‘I Didn’t Vote for This’: A Revolt Against DOGE Cuts, Deep in Trump Country

Cassidy Randall is a freelance writer based in Montana.

The road to the tiny hamlet of Marion in northwest Montana is lined with the thick trees of the Flathead National Forest, with modern homesteads of trailers and modest homes dotting clearings here and there. Outside a timber frame café called the Hilltop Hitching Post, one of the only gathering spots for Marion’s population of less than 1,200, hunter Terry Zink pulled up in a dusty, well-used F-150 pickup and got out wearing a camo jacket against the early September chill, and a ball cap atop wire-rimmed glasses.Zink, 57, is a third-generation houndsman who hunts big game, including mountain lions and bears. He also owns an archery target business. He’s a rural Montanan whose way of life and livelihood depend on public lands.He led me into the Hilltop, where half the people inside knew his name, to a corner where we sat drinking diner coffee. “You won’t meet anyone more conservative than me, and I didn’t vote for this,” Zink said.“This” is the Trump administration’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) deep cuts earlier this year to federal public lands agencies’ funding, and to the staff at those agencies who administer that funding and steward public lands and wildlife.Zink voted for Trump but said he doesn’t agree with everything the president does. Zink clarifies he calls himself a “conservative” over calling himself a “Republican.” He doesn’t like Trump’s inflammatory rhetoric. “I prefer common sense in the middle,” he said.He believes wolves need to be hunted to manage their numbers; abortion should only be legal in cases of rape, incest and to protect the mother’s life; and he’s an ardent Second Amendment supporter. He’s also a passionate advocate for public lands and wildlife. And the cuts have, frankly, ticked him off.He is vocal not just about protecting public lands, but also about protecting the staff at those agencies. “We have to listen to our wildlife biologists. We have to be strong advocates for those people,” Zink said.Hunting season had yet to open when we spoke, but Zink was already hearing from fellow hunters who had to cut their own way into trails to hunting camps after Forest Service trail crews were laid off en masse. He worries about wildlife management with agency scientists also terminated.Zink’s story is just one example of how the DOGE cuts to public lands agencies are hitting rural, conservative communities — one of this administration’s strongest voting bases — the hardest. Starting in February, an estimated 5,200 people have been terminated from the agencies that manage the 640 million acres of federal public lands in the U.S. That number doesn’t include the many who took the administration’s buyout or early retirement offers also meant to cut staff. Further, Trump’s 2026 budget proposes more budget cuts and a reduction of nearly 18,500 more public lands employees.Much of the national spotlight has fallen on the impacts of these cuts to national parks, as that is the public lands model the majority of Americans are most familiar with: Yosemite, Yellowstone, Glacier, the Grand Canyon, to name just a few of the most iconic. In the rural West, though, federal public lands are more than just a scenic spot to take a family vacation once a year. These agencies are often the primary employers in the communities adjacent to public lands.Steve Ellis, chair of the National Association of Forest Service Retirees who was stationed in small towns in Oregon, Idaho, Nevada and Alaska, said that “the federal payroll from the BLM, the Forest Service and the Fish and Wildlife Service in these small rural communities is huge. It helps pay taxes. It helps keep the little hospital open. Federal employees have kids in the schools where the funding from the state depends on the number of students.” Hollow out the agencies, he said, and the communities themselves are hollowed out.In addition to the employees and their families who’ve been impacted, those staffing cuts are also affecting the ways of life and livelihoods that are major economic drivers out here for almost everyone else, too. Ranchers and farmers use public lands for agriculture; outfitters and guides take guests into them; hunters access them regularly to put food in the family freezer; and forestry, timber and sawmill workers fulfill contracts on them for wildfire mitigation and lumber.Trump won Montana by nearly 20 points in the 2024 election. Voters also ousted three-term Democratic Senator Jon Tester, a third-generation farmer from rural eastern Montana and the last legislator in the Senate who maintained a full-time job outside his political career, in favor of novice MAGA Republican Tim Sheehy. That race shattered spending records as Republicans went all in to flip the seat to win the Senate. For the first time in nearly a century, Montana — a famously purple state — went all red.But here, support for public lands is not a partisan issue. A 2024 poll of Montanans showed 95 percent of respondents had visited public lands in the last year, nearly half of them at least 10 times. The same poll showed 98 percent of Democrats, 84 percent of independents and 71 percent of Republicans said conservation issues are important to their voting decisions.Yet many national Republicans, including Trump, don’t seem to understand what a nonstarter cuts to public lands are for voters in Montana, and much of the rest of the rural West — even though, when Utah Republican Senator Mike Lee wrote a provision into Trump’s Big Beautiful Bill to sell off public lands to pay for tax cuts, Montana’s two Republican senators, followed by Idaho’s, led the outcry that got the proposal pulled. Out of all the controversial pieces of that bill, the public lands sale proposal was one of the few that made MAGA senators break from the party line. And public land sales are just the tip of the iceberg here.I spoke to people across Montana, from different professions and down the political range from independent to staunchly conservative, and they all agreed on a few things: They support adequately staffed public lands and continued public access to them; and with further cuts and rollbacks proposed at the same time people are beginning to personally feel the impacts of public lands attacks, policymakers are waking a political sleeping giant.“You cannot fire our firefighters. You cannot fire our trail crews. You have to have selective logging, and water restoration, and healthy forests,” Zink said. “People in Washington D.C., on the West Coast, East Coast — they don't understand what that means to us out here.”Dust billowed behind Denny Iverson’s pickup as he drove past the irrigation pivot on his ranchland in Montana’s Blackfoot River valley. He was only irrigating a small strip of grass for his cattle to graze later in the season. Montana was experiencing its worst drought in 50 years, and the river was as low as Iverson, 67, had ever seen it.He stopped the truck and gazed out at his fields from under the brim of a ball cap as worn as his jeans. The landscape here is beautiful, cupped as it is in federal public lands. The surrounding mountains are national forest, managed by the U.S. Forest Service. Much of the Blackfoot River is managed by the Bureau of Land Management.Iverson explained that most ranches in Montana have a base ranch with significant acreage, and then rely on nearby federal land or state land for summer pasture in what are called grazing allotments. His allotment is on BLM land in the mountains near the old mining town of Garnet, land he treats like his own, taking care not to overgraze it. A ranch this size, 700 private acres, could still operate without a public land allotment by leasing other private land, but that’s much more expensive — prohibitively so, for most ranchers. Down in the Southwest, he said, many ranches are a whopping 90 percent federal land allotments; it’s often much less than that in western Montana.“We’re trying to keep enough water in the river to keep the fish alive,” Iverson said. He’s part of the Blackfoot Challenge, a community group made up of landowners, public land agency partners and organizations that coordinate efforts to conserve the rural way of life and natural resources in the valley and administers federal funding to do so. “My hay production was at 60 percent this year. We’re in a terrible drought and getting assistance with that will be slow to come.”From January to May, the Blackfoot Challenge saw $4.6 million in already appropriated multi-year funds from federal public land agencies — including USFS, BLM and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service — frozen. Those funds, which the Challenge receives directly and then uses to work on collaborative projects, went to “implement good water and irrigation practices, good weed management, good grazing practices,” and myriad other projects, Iverson said. Those included drought resilience and wildfire mitigation, which ranchers rely on to keep their lands healthy and their operations viable.Funding was also frozen for conservation easements, voluntary legal agreements between land owners and land trusts or public lands agencies that permanently protect the land for its working and conservation values while limiting development and subdivision. Those easements are a solution for ranchers and farmers who might otherwise struggle to keep their working land as its value soars in a rapidly gentrifying West. They also stitch together large landscapes for wildlife to travel as development pressure fragments old family ranches and farms. The frozen funds left many families in unintended debt.Montana’s congressional delegation does seem to be listening to voters somewhat; the Blackfoot Challenge has seen much of its funding unfrozen after calls, letters and congressional visits from landowners and other advocates.But in other ways, Republicans’ attacks on public lands seem to only be ramping up. In his 2026 budget, Trump proposed cutting a program called WaterSMART, which is administered through the Bureau of Reclamation and has historically provided millions for rural communities in Montana to address water security in a region where it is often scarce. And the U.S. House recently voted to throw out three huge public lands management plans, including one in eastern Montana. These plans had been developed over years with input from ranchers, farmers, tribes, agencies, energy companies and conservationists on how to use parcels of land and balance economic activities like oil and gas extraction and grazing with wildlife conservation and outdoor recreation. Instead, individual land use decisions would reroute through Congress — "people who don’t know the particulars of managing that land,” reported Montana Public Radio. Both Montana Republican Representatives, Troy Downing and Ryan Zinke, voted in favor, claiming it would unlock coal leasing in the Powder River basin.None of Montana’s congressional delegation — Senators Sheehy and Steve Daines, and Zinke and Downing — responded to multiple requests for comment for this story.“When programs get cut, when you lose staff ... ” Iverson trails off. “I’m worried about what this means in the long term, what it’s going to look like in the future.”Iverson is representative of Montana politics up until 2024, when the population was still small enough that it was possible to know national elected officials on a first-name basis — in fact, Iverson went to college with Zinke — and people often voted for the person rather than the party. “I’m pretty darn moderate, but I tend to lean conservative, vote Republican,” said Iverson. “But I never vote a straight-party ticket.”He voted for Trump — although he’s not a fan of Trump’s plan to lower beef prices and import Argentine meat, or Trump’s tariffs that are affecting fertilizer and fuel. He also voted for Tester, because “we worked with him a lot on conservation issues and other farm bill issues, and he was always responsive to folks in Montana.” Sheehy has to earn his trust, he says.When I asked Iverson if these cuts are affecting how he’ll vote, he said, “For me, it’s about, what are they doing for Montana? Are they advocating for conservation and farmers and ranchers, and the things I really care about?” He’s waiting for things on the ground to shake out.One of the other major sectors in rural Montana reeling from the cuts is forestry: a big umbrella that includes wildfire mitigation specialists, sawmill workers and other timber workers. I spoke to a forester in western Montana who owns a forestry business and employs a hand crew that does wildfire mitigation, thinning projects, service work on timber sales and tree planting. He was granted anonymity due to concerns for his business if he appeared in an article about politics.Like most people here who work on public land, he told me he doesn’t do it for the money; there’s not much money in it, anyway, belying the DOGE claims of significant cost saving to taxpayers as a whole. The four major public lands agencies — USFS, BLM, National Park Service, and FWS — had a combined total of $15.7 billion in government-appropriated funds in 2024. (For comparison, ICE’s newly expanded 2025 budget is $170 billion.) “I started in 1985 and I’m 57 now. I realized pretty early on, you're not going to get rich,” he said. “I just love to be in the woods. It gets into your blood.”When the cuts came down, they hit him hard. “Fifty percent of my income comes from federal dollars,” he said, some administered by groups like the Blackfoot Challenge, and some direct from public lands agencies that work with private contractors. He was out of work for a month in the spring due to the cuts. And it wasn’t just him losing out on income; he couldn’t pay his employees, either.“I wrote the senators and called, but I got no response, ever. I don’t want to have to go through this every year.” While some funds were unthawed and he was able to get to work, he says the uncertainty about the administration enacting more cuts is “nerve-wracking.” “The unknown of if I’m going to have contracts next year — it's very stressful. And then you’ve got to tell your employees what's going on, and they might be thinking about finding another job. I can't think of anything more stressful than not having a job that you're counting on.”Juanita Vero, Missoula County commissioner and fourth-generation owner of the E Bar L Guest Ranch, which is also part of the Blackfoot Challenge, confirms that as commissioner, she heard from a lot of people who were similarly affected. “These are folks who are skilled at working in the woods. … A lot of these guys were on a payment plan for buying equipment, ready to do this contracted work, and funds are frozen, and they can't do their work. They don't have a cushion. That was really scary and frustrating.”In March, Trump signed an executive order to increase logging on public lands. But DOGE cut many of the agency employees needed to administer the timber sales for logging, and for thinning and fire mitigation. If there’s no one to administer the sales, then private forestry contractors like the forester I spoke to can’t execute those projects. In addition, the U.S. no longer has the infrastructure to process the increased timber mandated by the executive order, and the government doesn’t appear to be investing in resurrecting it.When it comes to wildfire, the cuts represent a threat for entire rural counties. Ravalli County, which Trump won by 60 points (and is home to the famous ranch in the show Yellowstone), is surrounded by public lands. It’s frequently listed as one of the most at-risk counties in Montana, if not the entire West, for wildfires that consume properties and homes. In response to the cuts, the Ravalli County Collaborative, a group appointed by the county commissioners to promote the wise use of natural resources, pleaded with Montana’s congressional delegation to stand up to DOGE and re-staff the Bitterroot National Forest to mitigate wildfire — to no avail.Most people in Montana believe it’s only luck that the state didn’t see its usual major fire this year, or a big windstorm that decimates trails. Either of those would have exposed the new fragility of the agencies to respond to disaster, and even everyday maintenance needs — a fragility that many suspect may be intentional. Some worry that this administration’s cuts to public lands are a deliberate attempt to sabotage the system as an excuse to sell those lands for profit.“Hollowing out staffing, cutting budgets, changing priorities — all of that very much lends itself to the idea of essentially causing those agencies to fail at meeting their mandates, and that will lead to the call for privatization,” Sarah Lundstrum, Glacier program manager with the National Parks Conservation Association, told me for a story I reported for The Guardian on cuts that affected Glacier National Park. “Because if the government can't manage that land, then obviously somebody else should, right? In documents like Project 2025, there are calls for the privatization of land, or the sell-off of land.”In response, a representative from the Department of the Interior said that the DOI “is committed to stewarding America’s public lands and any suggestion that this Administration is seeking to sell them off is simply false ... Our mission remains to protect public lands, support rural livelihoods and ensure communities are more resilient in the face of increasing wildfire risk.”Many Montanans spoke sweepingly and passionately about the way of life here that has been created and sustained by public lands, and it’s clear those lands engender a value system around conservation and environmental stewardship that is unique to these regions. It’s indicative of a larger concern at play here: that this way of life itself, which is both rural and conservationist, is under threat because of continued attacks on public lands.Hunters, who rely on public lands, are some of the greatest conservationists in the state. They often help inform agency biologists of wildlife numbers on the ground. The group, including Zink, is responsible for rebounding mountain lions in the state by advocating for improved lion management. Nationally, hunters and anglers fund wildlife restoration, habitat improvement and land acquisition for conservation through a tax on hunting and angling equipment and licenses that sportsmen themselves lobbied for and helped pass. Zink regularly donates goods and dollars from his business to hunting organizations dedicated to protecting public lands and wildlife.To Zink, any political agenda that attacks public lands is a non-starter. He’s already watching wealthy people buy up land in Montana and close off access to adjacent public lands — or buying up a whole mountain range, in one case. “Both the rich and the poor get to use public lands. I believe every piece of public land in the West should be able to be accessed by public land hunters. The wildlife belongs to we the people.”That’s true even though 80 percent of the U.S. population lives east of the Mississippi River, while about 90 percent of all public land lies in Western states. But just because many Americans may not spend as much time in them, that doesn’t mean they should have less value to people in the East, says outfitter Jack Rich.Rich is one of more than 100 outfitters and guides who make up a major economic engine in the state; in 2024, outfitting and guiding brought in nearly $314 million to Montana. He owns the Rich Ranch, an outfitting and guest ranch outside Seeley on the edge of the Bob Marshall Wilderness, one of the largest wildernesses in the Lower 48. Rich — whose ancestors came to Montana before it was even named a territory — hosts guests at the ranch and takes people hiking, horseback riding, hunting, fishing and on pack trips. He speaks in the soaring oratorial style of famous outdoorsmen like John Muir and Bradford Washburn and sometimes falls into reciting poetry.“Outfitters play an incredible, vital role, which is sometimes underappreciated, in making sure that those people who don't have the skills and equipment can still enjoy America’s great outdoors — and in the process, become advocates for it in their own right,” he said. “We have a partner in that: the government. And the partnership only works if both partners work together for the same end goal, which is to care for the resources and serve the people.”Outfitters and guides have permits to operate on public lands and rely on agency staff to administer the permits, in addition to maintaining those lands, from wildlife habitat to trail clearing. As the DOGE cuts came down and trail crews were laid off, outfitters across the state, including Rich, have been obligated to clear more trails on their own, many without compensation for the labor. Rich also said that high-level USFS employees that he’d had longtime working relationships with — the regional forester, forest supervisor, and district ranger — all took the early retirement package the administration offered, gutting the institutional knowledge on the Flathead National Forest.Many Montanans I spoke to were all for more government efficiency and agreed that some “fat” needed to be trimmed, but that fat, they said, was most often in the middle management ranks. While hard numbers have been difficult to pin down, and the employees remaining at agencies often aren’t authorized to speak to media, the general sense from ex-employees and people working adjacent to the agencies is that the DOGE approach instead wiped out the upper ranks with institutional knowledge through buyout offers and early retirement packages — which means taxpayers are now paying for those ex-employees to do nothing rather saving the money DOGE touted. At the same time, the terminations targeting probationary and seasonal employees eliminated the next generation of public lands stewards. “It’s a pretty dismal way to do business,” Rich said.Most voters seem to be waiting to see how this administration’s cuts and policies, and the response to them from Montana’s congressional delegation, play out on the ground after court stays; essentially, they’re waiting to see what will stick. Daines is up for re-election in 2026. Although no Democrat has galvanized enough support to represent a real challenge and take advantage of this unrest around public lands, there is still time — especially since most agree that the ripple effects from the cuts, while people are already feeling them, have yet to fully hit.And it's only very recently that Montana shifted from a purple state to red. If national Republicans continue to make public lands a target of budget cuts, without understanding the unique politics of them in Western states like Montana, some suggest the party will likely have to face the wrath of these voters.“If we get poked too hard on this, they’re going to get primaried and voted out,” Zink said.A mostly Republican group of voters who are highly motivated by public lands has organized and caused an upset before. In 2018, midway through Trump’s first administration, which slashed national monuments and opened increased amounts of public land to resource extraction, hunters and anglers in Idaho and Wyoming voted down Republican gubernatorial candidates who attacked public lands in the Trump vein. Something similar could easily happen here. Montana is home to more hunters than Idaho or Wyoming — or any other Western state, for that matter — with more than three in five voters considering themselves a hunter or an angler.Rich, who’s registered Independent, recently took a retired senator and congressman, both of whom represented Eastern states, out into the Bob on horseback.“We were standing at a high mountain lake and I said, ‘Remember, the coolest thing is that this belongs to every American equally, whether you’re in New York City or Montana. We have the money and the technology to tame every single landscape. The reason we have wild places in their natural state is because we as a society have chosen that. If we no longer choose that, it will go away.’”“I think that if there is a place that can galvanize across the geopolitical spectrum, it's the treasure of our public lands, waters, wildlife and fisheries,” Rich said, “the things that we have that are uniquely American.”

‘Soil is more important than oil’: inside the perennial grain revolution

Scientists in Kansas believe Kernza could cut emissions, restore degraded soils and reshape the future of agricultureOn the concrete floor of a greenhouse in rural Kansas stands a neat grid of 100 plastic plant pots, each holding a straggly crown of strappy, grass-like leaves. These plants are perennials – they keep growing, year after year. That single characteristic separates them from soya beans, wheat, maize, rice and every other major grain crop, all of which are annuals: plants that live and die within a single growing season.“These plants are the winners, the ones that get to pass their genes on [to future generations],” says Lee DeHaan of the Land Institute, an agricultural non-profit based in Salina, Kansas. If DeHaan’s breeding programme maintains its current progress, the descendant of these young perennial crop plants could one day usher in a wholesale revolution in agriculture. Continue reading...

On the concrete floor of a greenhouse in rural Kansas stands a neat grid of 100 plastic plant pots, each holding a straggly crown of strappy, grass-like leaves. These plants are perennials – they keep growing, year after year. That single characteristic separates them from soya beans, wheat, maize, rice and every other major grain crop, all of which are annuals: plants that live and die within a single growing season.“These plants are the winners, the ones that get to pass their genes on [to future generations],” says Lee DeHaan of the Land Institute, an agricultural non-profit based in Salina, Kansas. If DeHaan’s breeding programme maintains its current progress, the descendant of these young perennial crop plants could one day usher in a wholesale revolution in agriculture.The plants are intermediate wheatgrass. Since 2010, DeHaan has been transforming this small-seeded, wild species into a high-yielding, domesticated grain crop called Kernza. He believes it will eventually be a viable – and far more sustainable – alternative to annual wheat, the world’s most widely grown crop and the source of one in five of all calories consumed by humanity.Elite Kernza plants selected from 4,000 seedlings in the Land Institute’s perennial grain breeding programme. Photograph: Ben MartynogaAnnual plants thrive in bare ground. Growing them requires fields to be prepared, usually by ploughing or intensive herbicide treatment, and new seeds planted each year. For this reason, Tim Crews, chief scientist at the Land Institute, describes existing agricultural systems as “the greatest disturbance on the planet”. “There’s nothing like it,” he says.The damage inflicted by today’s food system is clear: one-third of global greenhouse gas emissions; ocean dead zones covering thousands of square miles; and 25bn-40bn tonnes of fertile topsoil lost each year.Replacing annual plants with perennial varieties would massively reduce agriculture’s environmental impact. Soil erosion would drop; perennials would instead build soil health, limiting runoff of nutrients and toxic farm chemicals, cutting fertiliser and pesticide use, and storing climate-heating carbon within farm soils.There is just one problem. Reliable, high-yielding perennial grain crops barely exist.The inspiration for the Land Institute’s push to develop perennial grains came from its founder, Wes Jackson, 89. For Jackson, the health of soils that generate 95% of human calories should be a primary concern for all civilisations. “Soil is more important than oil,” he says in a recent documentary. “Soil is as much of a non-renewable resource as oil. Start there, and ask: ‘What does that require of us?’”Lee DeHaan at the Land Institute in Salina, Kansas. Photograph: Ben MartynogaJackson hit upon an answer during a visit to a native prairie reserve in Kansas in the late 1970s. Prairies are highly productive and biodiverse perennial grassland ecosystems. They don’t erode soils; they build them. Indeed, the rich soils that make much of the US midwest and Great Plains such prime agricultural lands were formed, over thousands of years, by prairie plants working with underground microbes.Why is it that we cannot have perennial grains that grow like prairie plants, Jackson wondered. “That was the epiphany that set me off,” he said in a recent interview.DeHaan, 52, learned about Jackson’s mission while he was a teenager in the early 1990s. Having grown up on a Minnesota farm, he was immediately inspired. “I would love to try to create the first perennial grain crop,” he resolved. “That became my dream.”Though still under development, Kernza is already a viable crop, grown at modest scale in 15 US states. Kernza seeds and flour are used in a range of products, from beers to breakfast cereals.The key challenge is yields. In Kansas, the best Kernza yields are about one-quarter those of annual wheat. But DeHaan says this is changing rapidly. “My best current extrapolation is that some Kernza plants could have wheat-like yields within about 15 years.”“We have to go fast,” he says. To hit this target, his breeding scheme deploys DNA profiling, computer modelling and far-red LED lighting to push the experimental plants through two full breeding cycles each year.But yields are just one metric of success. Whereas annual wheat roots are about half a metre long and temporary, Kernza’s roots are permanent and can plunge 3 metres deep. Such roots unlock a whole suite of environmental and agricultural benefits: stabilising and enriching soils, gathering nutrients and providing water, even during droughts.A comparison of wheatgrass (left) and wheat roots at the Land Institute. Photograph: Ben Martynoga/The Land InstitutePerennial plants also tend to have far stronger in-built resistance to pests, diseases and weeds than annual plants, especially when grown in mixed plant polycultures.The Land Institute is working with collaborators across 30 countries to develop many new perennial crops: oil seeds, wheat, pulses, quinoa and several other grains.The potential applications are diverse. In Uganda, researchers are developing perennial sorghum for drought tolerance. In war-torn Ukraine, where supply chains are disrupted and rich soils are degrading, Kernza is being tested as a low-input crop. As DeHaan, Crews and colleagues write in a recent scientific paper, perennial grains represent “a farmer’s dream … a cultivar that is planted once and then harvested every season for several years with a minimum of land management.”Success is far from guaranteed. But perennial rice, grown in China since 2018, provides crucial proof of concept. Led by Yunnan University with Land Institute support, the work took just 20 years. Perennial rice now matches the yields of elite annual varieties, with research demonstrating significant greenhouse gas reductions.Perennial rice grown in a research trial in Yunnan. Photograph: Ben Martynoga/The Land InstituteDeHaan believes perennial grains are uniquely capable of rebalancing what he calls the “three-legged stool” of agricultural sustainability, whereby productivity, farm economics and environmental impact must be in balance.This metaphor is not abstract for DeHaan – he has lived it. During the 1980s, his family’s Minnesota farm produced plenty of grain but the economics failed. Spiking interest rates forced them to sell, along with thousands of other midwest farms. The environmental costs – eroding soil, contaminated water – did not appear on any ledger, but they were visible in the landscape.Current agriculture, DeHaan argues, is supported by $600bn in annual subsidies worldwide, which too often prop up production, while farming communities struggle and ecological damage mounts.Perennial grains could eventually deliver on all three fronts simultaneously. But formidable challenges must still be solved to achieve that.Kernza growing on the Land Institute’s research fields. Lee DeHaan estimates the crop’s yields could match wheat within 15 years. Photograph: Ben MartynogaYields must improve substantially. The problem of harvests tapering off, year-by-year, must also be solved. Farmers will have to develop new methods for growing and harvesting these crops. Markets present another hurdle. Current supply chains are optimised for a narrow range of staple crops, grown in monoculture, making processing costs prohibitive for new crops with different properties.Kernza grain – smaller than wheat – ready for milling. Photograph: The Land InstituteFor all these reasons, DeHaan firmly rejects the idea that perennials are a “silver bullet”. “The reason is that it’s difficult,” he says. “The trade-off is time and investment. That’s why they don’t exist yet. It’s going to take decades of work and millions of dollars.”Remarkably, DeHaan does not paint the current agricultural-industrial complex as the enemy. “Every disruptive technology is always opposed by those being disrupted,” he says. “But if the companies [that make up] the current system can adjust to the disruption, they can play in that new world just the same.”The Land Institute’s strategy is redirection rather than replacement. “Our trajectory is to eventually get the resources that are currently dedicated to annual grain crops directed to developing varieties of perennials,” says DeHaan. “That’s our [route to] success.”There are signs that this is already working, with the food firm General Mills now incorporating Kernza into its breakfast cereals.Back in the Kansas greenhouse, DeHaan strikes a reflective note. “When I started working here in 2001, these ideas were regarded as very radical. It was embarrassing to even bring up the ideas we were working on. It was laughable.”That, he says, is no longer true. Major research institutions, businesses and an expanding network of global partners are now engaging with perennial grain development.DeHaan points to his “winners” – the 100 young Kernza plants before us. Within a human generation, their descendants could be feeding millions while repairing soils that took millennia to form. “We don’t just have our head in the clouds,” he says. “We’re not just dreaming of this impossible future.”

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