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Coos Bay port embroiled in controversy over racism allegations against contractor

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Thursday, December 12, 2024

The citizen board that oversees the Port of Coos Bay this week said it will review its policies for leasing port property in response to allegations of racism and other hate speech involving one of its contractors.A coalition of human rights groups, environmental organizations, a labor union and other nonprofits have called on the port to reject business dealings with a local business owner identified by Oregon anti-fascist activists as a neo-Nazi and an avowed white supremacist.The controversy comes as the Port of Coos Bay, the largest coastal deep water shipping port between Seattle and San Francisco, is poised for a significant transformation. It recently landed $54 million in federal funding toward a possible $2.3 billion expansion and what might someday be a large rail and shipping hub, paving the way for thousands of jobs in southwest Oregon.Port officials have scrambled to respond to the campaign targeting a contractor who holds relatively small contracts with the agency. The contractor, Michael Whitworth Gantenbein, characterized the allegations as “a smear campaign.” He denied the allegations in two phone interviews with The Oregonian/OregonLive.“I don’t do that kind of stuff,” he said. “I’m not a racist or any of that.”Already, a former state lawmaker who is an investor with the development group that has signed on to build and operate a new terminal has informed the port that his group won’t contract with Whit Industries, a Coos Bay hydraulics company owned by Gantenbein.“He will not get one dime of our money, ever,” said Brian Clem, who served in the Oregon House from 2007 to 2021, in an interview with The Oregonian/OregonLive. Clem, who is from Coos Bay, said the developers plan to spend at least $800 million on the terminal project.The coalition behind the effort against Gantenbein forwarded allegations to port officials that were compiled by Left Coast Right Watch, which describes itself as an investigative journalism outlet, and CVAntifa, which says it is an antifascist collective based in Corvallis.They allege Gantenbein is a former leader in a defunct chapter of White Lives Matter, which has been designated as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center.The letter to the port refers to archived audio recordings from a White Lives Matter chat group on Telegram. A man whom activists say is Gantenbein provides his home address in the audio; the address is the same one linked to Gantenbein in public records, according to public records reviewed by The Oregonian/OregonLive.The letter to the port is signed by the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers Local Union 932, Oregon’s Bay Area, Oregon Shores Conservation Coalition, Oregon Just Transition Alliance, Rogue Climate, Sierra Club Oregon Chapter, South Coast Health Equity Coalition, Unite Oregon and Western States Center.The groups urged port officials to reject leasing to businesses owned by Gantenbein; port representatives, however, say they are unaware of any pending transactions that would require the board’s signoff.“There are no imminent plans for lease transfers involving the Shipyard,” Kyle Stevens, president of the Port of Coos Bay Commission, told the group in a written response.“We are reviewing our policies for leasing property to ensure they comply with Title VI and will share any policy revisions publicly,” he wrote. Title VI prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, color and national origin in programs that receive federal dollars.“We are committed to making this a transparent process,” Stevens wrote. “Any future lease transfers would fall under the new policy being developed.”Gantenbein declined to respond to each allegation of racist activity and said he had “never been the leader” of any racist group.He acknowledged the authenticity of an image the groups are circulating showing him sitting down eating lunch with a man activists identified as a White Lives Matter leader.“I met with this guy and when I found out what this was about, I walked away immediately,” he said.He called the allegations “a bunch of propaganda.”“I’m not a bad person or an evil person,” he said. “I have people of color that work for me. I mean, this is just ridiculous. The people that know me know this, so it boggles the mind.”Gantenbein is a longtime hydraulics contractor with port contracts, Stevens confirmed in an email to The Oregonian/OregonLive.As of Nov. 5, the port had paid Gantenbein’s company, Whit Industries, nearly $290,000 since 2015.Stevens said contracts with Whit Industries on three projects remain ongoing; he said the board is reviewing those agreements, which involve repairs to port equipment.Stevens said port staff contacted Gantenbein when the allegations of racism first surfaced to discuss various public information requests the port received regarding business dealings with Whit Industries.Stevens said Gantenbein “cut them off and informed them he did not want to hear it and that he keeps his personal life separate from his professional life.”Stevens said the board recently adopted a non-discrimination policy and is developing an official complaint process for potential violations.“There is no place for discrimination in our community and we remain committed to ensuring any and all employees and contractors uphold that same commitment as part of our public mission,” he said.— Noelle Crombie is an enterprise reporter with a focus on criminal justice. Reach her at 503-276-7184; ncrombie@oregonian.comOur journalism needs your support. Subscribe today to OregonLive.com.

A coalition of human rights groups, environmental organizations, a labor union and other nonprofits have called on the port to reject business dealings with a local business owner identified by Oregon anti-fascist activists as a neo-Nazi and an avowed white supremacist.

The citizen board that oversees the Port of Coos Bay this week said it will review its policies for leasing port property in response to allegations of racism and other hate speech involving one of its contractors.

A coalition of human rights groups, environmental organizations, a labor union and other nonprofits have called on the port to reject business dealings with a local business owner identified by Oregon anti-fascist activists as a neo-Nazi and an avowed white supremacist.

The controversy comes as the Port of Coos Bay, the largest coastal deep water shipping port between Seattle and San Francisco, is poised for a significant transformation. It recently landed $54 million in federal funding toward a possible $2.3 billion expansion and what might someday be a large rail and shipping hub, paving the way for thousands of jobs in southwest Oregon.

Port officials have scrambled to respond to the campaign targeting a contractor who holds relatively small contracts with the agency. The contractor, Michael Whitworth Gantenbein, characterized the allegations as “a smear campaign.” He denied the allegations in two phone interviews with The Oregonian/OregonLive.

“I don’t do that kind of stuff,” he said. “I’m not a racist or any of that.”

Already, a former state lawmaker who is an investor with the development group that has signed on to build and operate a new terminal has informed the port that his group won’t contract with Whit Industries, a Coos Bay hydraulics company owned by Gantenbein.

“He will not get one dime of our money, ever,” said Brian Clem, who served in the Oregon House from 2007 to 2021, in an interview with The Oregonian/OregonLive. Clem, who is from Coos Bay, said the developers plan to spend at least $800 million on the terminal project.

The coalition behind the effort against Gantenbein forwarded allegations to port officials that were compiled by Left Coast Right Watch, which describes itself as an investigative journalism outlet, and CVAntifa, which says it is an antifascist collective based in Corvallis.

They allege Gantenbein is a former leader in a defunct chapter of White Lives Matter, which has been designated as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center.

The letter to the port refers to archived audio recordings from a White Lives Matter chat group on Telegram. A man whom activists say is Gantenbein provides his home address in the audio; the address is the same one linked to Gantenbein in public records, according to public records reviewed by The Oregonian/OregonLive.

The letter to the port is signed by the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers Local Union 932, Oregon’s Bay Area, Oregon Shores Conservation Coalition, Oregon Just Transition Alliance, Rogue Climate, Sierra Club Oregon Chapter, South Coast Health Equity Coalition, Unite Oregon and Western States Center.

The groups urged port officials to reject leasing to businesses owned by Gantenbein; port representatives, however, say they are unaware of any pending transactions that would require the board’s signoff.

“There are no imminent plans for lease transfers involving the Shipyard,” Kyle Stevens, president of the Port of Coos Bay Commission, told the group in a written response.

“We are reviewing our policies for leasing property to ensure they comply with Title VI and will share any policy revisions publicly,” he wrote. Title VI prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, color and national origin in programs that receive federal dollars.

“We are committed to making this a transparent process,” Stevens wrote. “Any future lease transfers would fall under the new policy being developed.”

Gantenbein declined to respond to each allegation of racist activity and said he had “never been the leader” of any racist group.

He acknowledged the authenticity of an image the groups are circulating showing him sitting down eating lunch with a man activists identified as a White Lives Matter leader.

“I met with this guy and when I found out what this was about, I walked away immediately,” he said.

He called the allegations “a bunch of propaganda.”

“I’m not a bad person or an evil person,” he said. “I have people of color that work for me. I mean, this is just ridiculous. The people that know me know this, so it boggles the mind.”

Gantenbein is a longtime hydraulics contractor with port contracts, Stevens confirmed in an email to The Oregonian/OregonLive.

As of Nov. 5, the port had paid Gantenbein’s company, Whit Industries, nearly $290,000 since 2015.

Stevens said contracts with Whit Industries on three projects remain ongoing; he said the board is reviewing those agreements, which involve repairs to port equipment.

Stevens said port staff contacted Gantenbein when the allegations of racism first surfaced to discuss various public information requests the port received regarding business dealings with Whit Industries.

Stevens said Gantenbein “cut them off and informed them he did not want to hear it and that he keeps his personal life separate from his professional life.”

Stevens said the board recently adopted a non-discrimination policy and is developing an official complaint process for potential violations.

“There is no place for discrimination in our community and we remain committed to ensuring any and all employees and contractors uphold that same commitment as part of our public mission,” he said.

— Noelle Crombie is an enterprise reporter with a focus on criminal justice. Reach her at 503-276-7184; ncrombie@oregonian.com

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Is AI being shoved down your throat at work? Here’s how to fight back.

Your Mileage May Vary is an advice column offering you a unique framework for thinking through your moral dilemmas. It’s based on value pluralism, the idea that each of us has multiple values that are equally valid but that often conflict with each other. To submit a question, fill out this anonymous form. Here’s this week’s question from a […]

Is it possible to fight against the integration of AI in the workplace? Your Mileage May Vary is an advice column offering you a unique framework for thinking through your moral dilemmas. It’s based on value pluralism, the idea that each of us has multiple values that are equally valid but that often conflict with each other. To submit a question, fill out this anonymous form. Here’s this week’s question from a reader, condensed and edited for clarity. I’m an AI engineer working at a medium-sized ad agency, mostly on non-generative machine learning models (think ad performance prediction, not ad creation). Lately, it feels like people, specifically senior and mid-level managers who do not have engineering experience, are pushing the adoption and development of various AI tools. Honestly, it feels like an unthinking melee. I consider myself a conscientious objector to the use of AI, especially generative AI; I’m not fully opposed to it, but I constantly ask who actually benefits from the application of AI and what its financial, human, and environmental costs are beyond what is right in front of our noses. Yet, as a rank-and-file employee, I find myself with no real avenue to relay those concerns to people who have actual power to decide. Worse, I feel that even voicing such concerns, admittedly running against the almost blind optimism that I assume affects most marketing companies, is turning me into a pariah in my own workplace. So my question is this: Considering the difficulty of finding good jobs in AI, is it “worth it” trying to encourage critical AI use in my company, or should I tone it down if only to keep paying the bills? Dear Conscientious Objector, You’re definitely not alone in hating the uncritical rollout of generative AI. Lots of people hate it, from artists, to coders, to students. I bet there are people in your own company who hate it, too. But they’re not speaking up — and, of course, there’s a reason for that: They’re afraid to lose their jobs. Honestly, it’s a fair concern. And it’s the reason why I’m not going to advise you to stick your neck out and fight this crusade alone. If you as an individual object to your company’s AI use, you become legible to the company as a “problem” employee. There could be consequences to that, and I don’t want to see you lose your paycheck.  But I also don’t want to see you lose your moral integrity. You’re absolutely right to constantly ask who actually benefits from the unthinking application of AI and whether the benefits outweigh the costs.  So, I think you should fight for what you believe in — but fight as part of a collective. The real question here is not, “Should you voice your concerns about AI or stay quiet?” It’s, “How can you build solidarity with others who want to be part of a resistance movement with you?” Teaming up is both safer for you as an employee and more likely to have an impact. “The most important thing an individual can do is be somewhat less of an individual,” the environmentalist Bill McKibben once said. “Join together with others in movements large enough to have some chance at changing those political and economic ground rules that keep us locked on this current path.” Now, you know what word I’m about to say next, right? Unionize. If your workplace can be organized, that’ll be a key strategy for allowing you to fight AI policies you disagree with. If you need a bit of inspiration, look at what some labor unions have already achieved — from the Writers Guild of America, which won important protections around AI for Hollywood writers, to the Service Employees International Union, which negotiated with Pennsylvania’s governor to create a worker board overseeing the implementation of generative AI in government services. Meanwhile, this year saw thousands of nurses marching in the streets as National Nurses United pushed for the right to determine how AI does and doesn’t get used in patient interactions. “There’s a whole range of different examples where unions have been able to really be on the front foot in setting the terms for how AI gets used — and whether it gets used at all,” Sarah Myers West, co-executive director of the AI Now Institute, told me recently. If it’s too hard to get a union off the ground at your workplace, there are plenty of organizations you can join forces with. Check out the Algorithmic Justice League or Fight for the Future, which push for equitable and accountable tech. There are also grassroots groups like Stop Gen AI, which aims to organize both a resistance movement and a mutual aid program to help those who’ve lost work due to the AI rollout. You can also consider hyperlocal efforts, which have the benefit of creating community. One of the big ways those are showing up right now is in the fight against the massive buildout of energy-hungry data centers meant to power the AI boom.  “It’s where we have seen many people fighting back in their communities — and winning,” Myers West told me. “They’re fighting on behalf of their own communities, and working collectively and strategically to say, ‘We’re being handed a really raw deal here. And if you [the companies] are going to accrue all the benefits from this technology, you need to be accountable to the people on whom it’s being used.’” Already, local activists have blocked or delayed $64 billion worth of data center projects across the US, according to a study by Data Center Watch, a project run by AI research firm 10a Labs. Yes, some of those data centers may eventually get built anyway. Yes, fighting the uncritical adoption of AI can sometimes feel like you’re up against an undefeatable behemoth. But it helps to preempt discouragement if you take a step back to think about what it really looks like when social change is happening. In a new book, Somebody Should Do Something, three philosophers — Michael Brownstein, Alex Madva, and Daniel Kelly — show how anyone can help create social change. The key, they argue, is to realize that when we join forces with others, our actions can lead to butterfly effects:  Minor actions can set off cascades that lead, in a surprisingly short time, to major structural outcomes. This reflects a general feature of complex systems. Causal effects in such systems don’t always build on each other in a smooth or continuous way. Sometimes they build nonlinearly, allowing seemingly small events to produce disproportionately large changes.  The authors explain that, because society is a complex system, your actions aren’t a meaningless “drop in the bucket.” Adding water to a bucket is linear; each drop has equal impact. Complex systems behave more like heating water: Not every degree has the same effect, and the shift from 99°C to 100°C crosses a tipping point that triggers a phase change.  We all know the boiling point of water, but we don’t know the tipping point for changes in the social world. That means it’s going to be hard for you to tell, at any given moment, how close you are to creating a cascade of change. But that doesn’t mean change is not happening.  According to Harvard political scientist Erica Chenoweth’s research, if you want to achieve systemic social change, you need to mobilize 3.5 percent of the population around your cause. Though we have not yet seen AI-related protests on that scale, we do have data indicating the potential for a broad base. A full 50 percent of Americans are more concerned than excited about the rise of AI in daily life, according to a recent survey from the Pew Research Center. And 73 percent support robust regulation of AI, according to the Future of Life Institute.  So, even though you might feel alone in your workplace, there are people out there who share your concerns. Find your teammates. Come up with a positive vision for the future of tech. Then, fight for the future you want. Bonus: What I’m reading Microsoft’s announcement that it wants to build “humanist superintelligence” caught my eye. Whether you think that’s an oxymoron or not, I take it as a sign that at least some of the powerful players hear us when we say we want AI that solves real concrete problems for real flesh-and-blood people — not some fanciful AI god.  The Economist article “Meet the real screen addicts: the elderly” is so spot-on. When it comes to digital media, everyone is always worrying about The Youth, but I think not enough research has been devoted to the elderly, who are often positively glued to their devices.  Hallelujah, some AI researchers are finally adopting a pragmatic approach to the whole, “Can AI be conscious?” debate! I’ve long suspected that “conscious” is a pragmatic tool we use as a way of saying, “This thing should be in our moral circle,” so whether AI is conscious isn’t something we’ll discover — it’s something we’ll decide. 

Yurok tribal attorney chronicles family’s fight to save the Klamath River and a way of life

"Treat the earth, not as a resource, but as a relative," said Ashland resident Amy Bowers Cordalis, who has written a memoir about her family's generations-long efforts for the river that now flows freely.

As a University of Oregon student focused on politics and the environment, Amy Bowers Cordalis had every right to feel defeated in 2002 when she returned home and saw evidence of the largest salmon kill in the Klamath River.The lifelong fisherwoman and member of the Yurok Tribe learned the cause was avoidable: A federal order diverted water just as salmon were spawning. For generations, destructive dams, logging, mining and development had already impacted the ecosystem of the Klamath River, which once had the third largest salmon runs in all of the lower continental United States. Cordalis, then 22, decided to change course while she was in her boat, surveying the depth of the salmon die off.Now 45, the Ashland attorney, activist and environmental defender serves on the front lines of conservation. As lead lawyer for the Yurok Tribe, she was present at the signing of the agreement that in 2024 resulted in the Klamath River flowing freely from southern Oregon to Northern California for the first time in a century.The dismantling of four hydroelectric dams that had impacted ancestral lands, altered the ecology, degraded the water quality and disrupted once-prolific salmon runs is considered the world’s largest dam removal project.A month after the last dam was demolished, thousands of salmon, a cornerstone species for overall ecological health, began repopulating. “The salmon have come home,” Cordalis said. “We are starting to move back into balance.”In her just-released memoir, “The Water Remembers: My Indigenous Family’s Fight to Save a River and a Way of Life,” Cordalis tells the story of her family’s multigenerational struggle to protect the Klamath River and their legal successes to preserve the Yurok people’s sustainable relationship with nature. In 1973, her great-uncle Aawok Raymond Mattz forced the landmark Supreme Court case reaffirming the Yurok Tribe’s rights to land, water, fish and sovereignty. Cordalis devotes a chapter of her memoir to her great-grandmother Geneva’s protests in the 1970s, inspired by the Civil Rights movement, to end the Salmon Wars, the government’s crackdowns on tribal fishing rights.In 2019, Cordalis led the effort for the Yurok people to declare personhood rights for the Klamath River. For the first time, a North American river has legal right to flourish, free from human-caused climate change impacts and contamination.She also worked for the Yurok people to recover 73 square miles along the eastern side of the lower Klamath River, now known as Blue Creek Salmon Sanctuary and Yurok Tribal Community Forest.The area, logged for a century, was acquired over time by the environmental nonprofit Western Rivers Conservancy for $56 million. The transfer to the Yurok people in June is the largest single “land back” deal in California history.Cordalis continues to litigate to protect the rights of Indigenous people and the natural and cultural resources that are part of their identity and sovereignty. That includes salmon. She still works to save coho salmon, a listed Endangered Species Act species on the Klamath River. Through her former work as Yurok general counsel and an attorney at the Native American Rights Fund, and since 2020 as the executive director of the Ridges to Riffles Indigenous Conservation Group, Cordalis’ message is clear: Respect the earth. Listen to the rivers, protect the land.Treat the earth, Cordalis said, not as a resource, but as a relative. Changing courseAmy Bowers Cordalis and her siblings gillnet fishing at Brooks Riffle, Klamath River, 2023Little, Brown and CompanyIn 2002, Cordalis spent her summer break from college interning for Yurok Fisheries Department near her family’s ancestral home in the Northern California village of Rek-Woi.That September, she witnessed the salmon kill. Water diverted upstream to farmers and ranchers by federal orders had lowered the river flows, increased the water temperature and allowed diseases to spread to spawning salmon.Cordalis saw the salmon kill as ecocide, the end of a way of life for the Yurok people and destruction of their principles of respect, responsibility and reciprocity with all of creation. She vowed to fight through the courts, as her family had in the past. She earned a law degree at the University of Denver’s Sturm College of Law and became the Yurok Tribe’s general counsel.In 2020, she and other representatives of Native American communities with historic ties to the Klamath River faced the owner of the four hydroelectric dams: Berkshire Hathaway, one of the biggest and best known U.S. conglomerates.Its subsidiary, Berkshire Hathaway Energy, owns PacifiCorp, which operated the four Klamath River dams.The Indigenous-led coalition told the energy holding company’s executives they would never stop fighting for the river’s restoration. The meeting took place at Blue Creek, one of the most important tributaries on the Lower Klamath River and a salmon sanctuary with spiritual significance, recently returned to the Yurok Tribe.The coalition handed the executives a document that outlined the key terms and conditions of their proposed agreement. They talked about their proposal and then let the river speak for itself, according to Cordalis.The next business day, both parties were in discussion. In the end, the $550 million agreement to dismantle the aging dams cost less than it would to upgrade them to meet modern environmental standards.Cordalis said that the dam removal, one of the largest nature-based solution projects in the world thus far, can be replicated for environmental and economic gain.“When we choose to work together toward sustainability, we can create different outcomes that are better for the planet, better for people,” Cordalis said. “We don’t have to accept that the only path to prosperity is industrializing nature,” she said. “We can adjust our practices, find nature-based solutions” and continue to enjoy a modern lifestyle, while working to heal nature.This is a historic time, she said.“We are at a tipping point and what we do matters,” she said. Clean air and water, and natural, nutritious food are needed for life to survive.Ripple effects Cordalis’ work and motivations are captured in the 2024 Patagonia Films documentary, “Undammed: Amy Bowers Cordalis and the fight to free the Klamath,” which plays on a screen inside the Yurok Country Visitor Center in downtown Klamath, a small coastal city in California.Cordalis has been recognized by various groups for her involvement with the largest river restoration project in history. She received the United Nation’s highest environmental honor, UN Champion of the Earth, and was named 2024 Time magazine’s 100 most influential climate leaders. In October, she was announced as one of 10 change makers in the 20th L’Oreal Paris Women of Worth philanthropic program.The $25,000 award, given for her climate action work that fuses law, policy and Indigenous knowledge, will help Ridges to Riffles Indigenous Conservation Group, the nonprofit she co-founded in 2022 with Karuk Tribal member Molli Myers, continue to work on life-changing restoration projects. “The L’Oreal Paris Woman of Worth award is a tremendous opportunity because it will uplift our work and expand our partnerships,” Cordalis said. “The power of being in partnership, collaborating and combining resources and efforts, expands and strengthens the scope of all of our work.”She said one of her greatest joys is hearing about people restoring nature in their community and the worldwide “ripple effects” of those efforts.Cordalis titled her book “The Water Remembers” because the river and people remember the salmon. “We have ancestral knowledge about what it was like to live on a healthy planet,” she said. When the Klamath River’s ecosystem started collapsing, “that put us into this culture of scarcity,” she said. “Rebuilding ecosystem resiliency lets us recover from the colonial period and move toward a culture of abundance.”Today, tribal members are restoring the Klamath River’s almost 400 miles of historic salmon spawning habitat. Revegetation efforts include hand planting native seeds, trees, shrubs and grasses. “When we rebuild salmon runs, we help the ocean, the river, humans and all the creatures who are dependent upon the salmon,” Cordalis said.She writes in her book that the Yurok people are observing the river healing by spending time on it, listening to it.“And when we start using nature-based solutions to restore ecosystems those solutions work their magic,” she said, “and the salmon come home in a blink of an eye.”If you purchase a product or register for an account through a link on our site, we may receive compensation. 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COP30 has big plans to save the rainforest. Indigenous activists say it’s not enough

“We need the government to recognize our climate authority and our role as guardians of biodiversity.”

On Friday, at least 100 Indigenous protestors blocked the entrance to the 30th Annual United Nations Climate Change Conference, or COP30, in Belém, Brazil. The action comes on the heels of an action earlier this week when hundreds of Indigenous peoples marched into the conference, clashing with security, and pushing their way through metal detectors while calling on negotiators to protect their lands. These actions brought Indigenous voices to the front steps of this year’s global climate summit — where discussions now, and historically, have generally excluded Indigenous peoples and perspectives. World leaders have attempted to acknowledge this omission: Brazil’s president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva said Indigenous voices should “inspire” COP30, and the host country announced two new plans to protect tropical forests and enshrine Indigenous people’s land rights. But demonstrations like this week’s show even these measures are designed with little input from those affected, garnering criticism. Preserving the Amazon rainforest is critical to mitigating climate change and protecting biodiversity. How this is done is one of the key issues being raised at COP30. Upon the kickoff of the conference, Brazil announced the Tropical Forests Forever Facility, or TFFF, part of a plan to create new financial incentives to protect tropical forest lands in as many as 74 countries, including its own.  The Tropical Forests Forever Facility has been touted as one of Brazil’s new marquee policies for combating the climate crisis. It also potentially represents an opportunity for Brazil to position itself as a leader on environmental conservation and Indigenous rights. The country has had a historically poor track record on rainforest conservation: By some estimates, 13 percent of the original Amazon forest has been lost to deforestation. In Brazil, much of that happens because of industrial agriculture — specifically, cattle ranching and soy production. Research has shown 70 percent of Amazon land cleared is used for cattle pastures. Brazil is the world’s lead exporter of beef and soy, with China as its top consumer for both products.  The TFFF marks an attempt to flip the economics of extractive industry — by paying governments every year their deforestation rate is 0.5 percent or lower. It also attempts to highlight the role Indigenous communities already play in stewarding these lands, although critics say it does not go far enough on either goal.  Under the TFFF, which will be hosted by the World Bank, Brazil seeks to raise $25 billion in investments from other countries as well as philanthropic organizations — and then take that money and grow it four-fold in the bond market. The goal is to create a $125 billion investment fund to be used to reward governments for preserving their standing tropical forest lands. One condition of receiving this funding is that governments must then pass on 20 percent to Indigenous people and local communities. Security personnel clash with Indigenous people and students as they storm the venue during COP30 in Belem, Para State, Brazil, on November 11, 2025. Olga Leiria / AFP via Getty Images The idea underlying the fund is that the TFFF could make leaving tropical forests alone more financially lucrative than tearing them down. In the global climate finance market, there aren’t currently any mechanisms that value “tropical forests and rainforests as the global public good that they are,” said Toerris Jaeger, director of the Rainforest Foundation Norway. These ecosystems “need to be maintained and maintained standing and that is what TFFF does,” he added. But critics say that TFFF merely represents another attempt to tie the value of these critical ecosystems to financial markets. “You cannot put a price on a conserved forest because life cannot be measured, and the Amazon is life for the thousands of beings who inhabit it and depend on it to exist,” said Toya Manchineri, an Indigenous leader from the Manchineri people of Brazil. Manchineri is also the general coordinator of the Coordination of Indigenous Organizations of the Brazilian Amazon. He added that setting aside 20 percent of TFFF funds for Indigenous communities is a good start, but that figure could be much higher.  Other COP30 attendees have criticized the plan for trying to fight the profit-driven industries that lead to deforestation with a profit motive. “The TFFF isn’t a climate proposal, but it’s another false solution to the planetary crises of biodiversity loss, forest loss, and climate collapse,” said Mary Lou Malig, policy director of the Global Forest Coalition. “It’s another way to profit off the problems that these same actors like the big banks and powerful governments and corporations actually created.”  But the performance of the TFFF is contingent on market fluctuations, risk, and the global economy’s health each year. How much governments — and Indigenous peoples — receive each year depends on how well the market does that year.  Manchineri added that the global climate policy to protect tropical forests should do more to recognize the role that Indigenous peoples play in defending it from illegal land grabs that drive deforestation. These communities “will continue to protect” the rainforest, said Manchineri, “with or without a fund. But we need the government to recognize our climate authority and our role as guardians of biodiversity.”  Prior to COP30, Brazil and nine other tropical countries joined the Intergovernmental Land Tenure Commitment, or ILTC, a global initiative to recognize Indigenous land tenure and rights to defend against deforestation and provide a potential backstop on the ground to support efforts like the TFFF. According to Juan Carlos Jintiach, the executive secretary of the Global Alliance of Territorial Communities, this commitment and the accompanying $1.8 billion Forest and Land Tenure Pledge that will support these land recognition efforts are “most welcome.” However, meaningful progress among participating countries entails establishing monitoring instruments that account for and ensure Indigenous peoples see the funds and see their rights recognized.  “We cannot have climate adaptation, climate mitigation, or climate justice without territorial land rights and the recognition and demarcation of indigenous territory,” said Zimyl Adler, a senior policy advocate on forests, land, and climate finance at Friends of the Earth U.S.  But evidence of that recognition is scarce. Under the Paris Agreement, signatory states are required to submit climate action plans called Nationally Determined Contributions, or NDCs. A recent report from global experts that reviewed NDCs from 85 countries found that only 20 of those countries referenced the rights of Indigenous peoples and that only five mentioned Free, Prior, and Informed Consent — an international consultation principle that allows Indigenous Peoples to provide, withhold, or withdraw their consent at any time in projects that impact their communities or territories.  “It was a real missed opportunity to strengthen those commitments to land rights and tenure,” said Kate Dooley, a researcher at the University of Melbourne and an author of the Land Gap report.  As the conference will continue for another week, the protests have raised questions about the distinction between climate talks and action, and whether this year’s COP will translate into the latter for Indigenous communities who see deforestation and weak land tenure rights as immediate threats to their lives and homes.  “We don’t eat money. We want our territory free,” said Cacique Gilson, a Tupinmbá leader who participated in one protest. “But the business of oil exploration, mineral exploitation, and logging continues.”  This story was originally published by Grist with the headline COP30 has big plans to save the rainforest. Indigenous activists say it’s not enough on Nov 14, 2025.

This massive power line was supposed to help Oregon residents. Now it'll likely serve a data center

The 300-mile B2H transmission project was approved to benefit hundreds of thousands of Oregon residents but will now will likely serve a data center

The Oregon Public Utility Commission has reaffirmed its approval of a nearly 300-mile electrical transmission line that’s set to run from Idaho and carry power across five Oregon counties – despite concerns it will primarily serve a private data center rather than the public.The commission on Thursday declined to rescind a certificate that authorizes Idaho Power, the developer and co-owner of the Boardman-to-Hemingway project – B2H for short – to seize private land via eminent domain. Regulators maintained the line remains in the public interest. The decision came in response to a petition filed this summer by the nonprofit Stop B2H Coalition and its co-chair, Irene Gilbert, a retired government employee who has challenged the project for years over its impact on Oregon’s rural landscapes.The petition said the certificate should be revoked because PacifiCorp, the transmission line’s co-owner, suddenly switched plans and told regulators this spring it no longer intends to sell power from the line to Oregon customers but rather to a private industrial user. The utility has declined to confirm the customer is a data center. But the power-hungry facilities have been expanding rapidly in Eastern Oregon, and few other businesses demand the amount of energy the new transmission line would carry. Gilbert and her coalition argued on Thursday that the change in plans constitutes “the abuse of eminent domain” and that “fundamental public purpose has been abandoned for private gain.” The commission had issued the certificate in 2023 because PacifiCorp – which owns 55% of the Boardman-to-Hemingway transmission line – had demonstrated the line would serve its 805,000 customers – including the 620,000 customers in Oregon, most of them on the west side of the state. It would also boost the utility’s transmission capacity between its eastern and western service regions, which encompass six states.The utility had previously told regulators that the line would decrease customer costs by about $1.7 billion through 2042 by allowing it to move more power with greater efficiency.This spring, however, the utility suddenly announced it had changed course. It told regulators it would not be able to send the power west to its Oregon customers because it was unable to procure firm transmission rights from the Bonneville Power Administration due to delays in that agency’s transmission development process. Instead, it said it would sell the power to an industrial customer. “Allowing a project justified for broad public benefit to proceed primarily for the private commercial gain of a single corporation fundamentally undermines Oregon’s constitutional requirements for eminent domain,” said Jim Kreider, an environmental activist from La Grande who co-chairs the coalition with Gilbert. “This is an unjustified taking of public property under private pretenses.” What’s more, Kreider and Gilbert said, PacifiCorp knew it would not be able to serve Oregon customers with power from the line months before it applied for the certificate from state regulators. They said BPA had notified PacifiCorp in October 2022 about the delays, yet the company failed to disclose that information to regulators and applied for the certificate claiming the line would benefit hundreds of thousands of residents. Other advocacy groups – including the Sierra Club, Mobilizing Climate Action Together, Renewable Northwest and the Northwest Energy Coalition – that support grid expansion in the region to advance the state’s climate goals told regulators they were also frustrated that the B2H line may not be used as it was intended and justified by the state-issued certificate. The line, ​​now under construction after two decades of reviews and lawsuits, will be among the largest and one of the few transmission projects built in the Pacific Northwest in recent years – despite a severe shortage of transmission capacity in the region and a growing backlog of renewable energy projects waiting to connect to the grid. The groups maintain that the certificate was premised upon the transmission line’s “broad public benefits, not the needs of a single private entity.” Allowing PacifiCorp to change course would “violate the spirit and legal framework under which the line was approved by this commission,” Alex Houston, an attorney with the Green Energy Institute who represents the groups, told commissioners. It would also “harm Oregon customers and set a dangerous precedent wherein the justifications supporting issuance of a certificate may summarily be disregarded once the utility gets approval,” he said. Instead of revoking the certificate, Houston asked the commission to enforce it, including by issuing financial penalties of up to $10,000 for each day PacifiCorp fails to comply. The commission did not take up the suggestion. Commissioners said the line was still needed, that the shift in use was part of the planning process, and that the line might still serve more Oregon customers in the future. “A transmission line is built with one vision in mind, and as the world evolves, it gets used in a multitude of ways across the timeframe that it’s on the landscape,” said commission chair Letha Tawney. Kim Herb, the agency’s utility strategy and planning manager, admitted that staff were concerned with PacifiCorp’s lack of transparency, but said that didn’t justify revoking the certificate. The company’s change of plans isn’t conclusive, she added, and “serving even one large customer may still meet the statutory standard for public use.”In addition, Herb said, Idaho Power had shown the need for additional transmission capacity to serve its electricity load and maintain grid reliability, which satisfied the line’s public use criteria. Idaho Power serves only about 20,000 Oregon customers. Those customers live in a part of the state that has seen neither growth in the number of residents nor an increase in their energy demand, aside from the data centers moving in. Gilbert argued the utilities have inflated the energy need and that data center operators might opt for local or on-site energy solutions—such as microgrids capable of operating independently from the traditional grid—rather than relying on costly transmission lines and enduring long interconnection delays. Data centers have already adopted or proposed similar strategies in other states, including battery storage, natural gas turbines and even small modular nuclear reactors.If that were to happen, residential customers would be stuck paying for the cost of B2H, she said. “It’s basically setting up a situation where it’s questionable whether the projections regarding the number of large users are actually going to occur. So who will end up paying for these are the residents” Gilbert said. Idaho Power launched construction on the B2H line this summer, cutting several access roads and laying foundations for 100 of the 1,200-plus transmission towers planned in Morrow and Malheur counties. The plan to finish the line in 2027 is still on track. Jocelyn Pease, an attorney who represents Idaho Power, told commissioners the utility has obtained 95% of the access rights to begin construction. PacifiCorp attorney Zach Rogala said the utility might still serve Oregon customers “if we’re successful in securing transmission rights in the future.”If you purchase a product or register for an account through a link on our site, we may receive compensation. By using this site, you consent to our User Agreement and agree that your clicks, interactions, and personal information may be collected, recorded, and/or stored by us and social media and other third-party partners in accordance with our Privacy Policy.

A Flotilla Kicks off the People's Summit for Activists at UN Climate Talks

As United Nation climate talks get underway in Belem, a different kind of conference is kicking off: the People’s Summit, a gathering of activists, organizers, environmentalists and Indigenous groups from around the world

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — As United Nations climate talks rolled on Wednesday at the elaborate new venues built for the summit, many of the activists eager to shape the talks took to the water.Carried by scores of boats large and small, a vast group whooped and laughed, smiled and wept. Some splashed canoe paddles through the bay where a northern section of the Amazon rainforest meets the Atlantic Ocean. Others hugged old friends. They pressed their foreheads together or held hands or stood solemnly in moments of prayer and reflection.They were there to celebrate a community from around the world at a gathering of activists, organizers, environmentalists and Indigenous groups, outside the halls where world leaders are discussing climate change for the next two weeks. Their joy came after a brief but tense moment the night before when protesters broke through security barricades at the main conference venue, slightly injuring two security guards, according to the U.N.Many emphasized the importance of making the voice of the people heard after years of these talks being held in countries where civil society is not free to demonstrate.“The Amazon for us is the space of life,” said Jhajayra Machoa, an A'l Kofan First Nation of Ecuador member of A Wisdom Keepers Delegation, who helped paddle one of the canoes. “We carry the feeling and emotions of everything lived in this place, and what we want is to remember. Remember where we are from and where we’re going and what we want." Pressing world leaders to keep those who suffer most in mind The people who are attending the Conference of the Parties, or COP30, have a wide range of hopes for the outcome. This year is different than in past years, because leaders aren't expected to sign one big agreement at the end of it; instead, organizers and analysts have said it's about getting specifics to execute on past promises to act on climate change. “When we’re bridging what’s happening in the mind, when we talk about policy, we need to bridge to the heart, and touch our spirit when we do the work,” said Whaia, another member of A Wisdom Keepers Delegation, a Ngāti Kahungunu woman from New Zealand. “It takes both arms, both branches of the tree to really be strong, to be able to find our resilience in this space.” Activists welcome greater freedom to speak out The ability to express thoughts and feelings freely is a welcome respite for many arriving in Brazil after several years of these talks being held in countries where governments imposed limitations on free speech and demonstrations. The evolution that needs to happen for the world to take action is "not in the halls of the U.N. COP, but it’s in the streets and it is with our people,” said Jacob Johns, an Akimel O'Otham and Hopi member of A Wisdom Keepers Delegation who witnessed the security breach. Now is the time to come together, respect each other and reevaluate the systems that govern the planet, said Pooven Moodley of the Earthrise Collective, which brings together activists from different traditions. For him, the canoes seen in Wednesday's gathering are a metaphor for the situation the world is in with climate change.“The current canoe we’re in is falling apart, it’s leaking, people are being pushed over, and ultimately we’re heading for a massive waterfall. So the question is, what do we do, because we’re in that reality,” Moodley said. “We have to continue to defend the territories and the ecosystems that we can, but while we do that, we launch a new canoe.”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 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Oct. 2025

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