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This word was rejected by geologists. But it’s already taken over the world.

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Monday, June 10, 2024

What do you call the current time period — when we humans are warming the atmosphere, acidifying the oceans, altering the land and leaving a literal mark on the planet? Not the Anthropocene, according to geologists who rejected the idea of adding a new epoch to Earth’s official geological timeline.Yet for many activists, artists and academics outside of geology, the Anthropocene, or “Age of Humans,” is here to stay, regardless of what rock specialists have to say.Earlier this year, a panel of geologists rejected a proposal to officially designate the past seven decades, during which humans profoundly impacted the environment, as the new chapter in the planet’s history.But as these scientists spent years debating, the term became widely adopted outside geology to encapsulate the angst around environmental degradation — popping up in book titles, music albums and art exhibitions.For the term’s proponents, the idea that humanity has pushed the Earth into a new geological epoch should serve as a wake-up call. “It’s only been 70 years,” said Francine McCarthy, a professor of earth science at Brock University in Ontario, referring to the start of the new proposed epoch. “We don’t have another 70 years to wait.”The name’s persistence speaks to a need for a cultural shorthand for referring to the big, complex ecological changes that are defining the present era, advocates say — something akin to terms like the Cold War or the Internet Age that came before it. Even if geologists say they cannot pinpoint its exact start, it is obvious to many who continue to use the term that the Anthropocene has begun.“I always thought that this geological discussion was perhaps too soon,” said ecologist Inês Martins, whose employer — the Leverhulme Center for Anthropocene Biodiversity at the University of York — has embraced the term. “But the reality is it is a very useful concept to use to identify an era where humans have increased their impacts.”The term burst into public consciousness in 2000, when the Nobel Prize-winning chemist Paul Crutzen suggested the global effect of human activities was so profound that Earth was no longer in the Holocene, the current geological epoch.“I was at a conference where someone said something about the Holocene, the long period of relatively stable climate since the end of the last ice age,” Crutzen recalled years later to the author Fred Pearce. “I suddenly thought that this was wrong. The world has changed too much. So I said: ‘No, we are in the Anthropocene.’ I just made up the word on the spur of the moment. Everyone was shocked.”The coinage is a combination of the prefix “anthropo-,” which comes from the Greek word for human, and suffix “-cene,” derived from the Greek for “new” or “recent.”The five most recent epochs all deploy “-cene” but lack the specificity of Crutzen’s new name, according to Merriam-Webster, with names simply referring to how far in the past each is.Crutzen, who died in 2021, knew a thing or two about humans degrading the atmosphere, having won his Nobel for his work explaining how pollution was stripping Earth’s protective ozone layer.Earthbound geologists took his idea seriously. In 2009, a scientific body called the International Commission on Stratigraphy appointed a working group to search for a so-called “golden spike” for the new epoch — a literal place on Earth where the rock record shows a clear transition from one ancient time to the next. For example, the Jurassic period, famous for its dinosaurs, is named after the Jura Mountains in Europe.Scientists have put forward plenty of possible start dates. Crutzen himself suggested the second half of the 18th century, as greenhouse gases accumulated in glacial ice. The official Anthropocene Working Group proposed a spike in plutonium found in the mud of Crawford Lake in Canada, the result of nuclear weapons testing in the 1950s.McCarthy, who studies the lake and argues that a plutonium-laced layer of sediment built up on its bottom should serve as a new “golden spike,” said the fact that the Anthropocene began so recently should send a sobering message to society to act fast to slow climate change. “That’s the scary part, is how quickly we have come to this point.”But in a contested vote in March, a subpanel of the International Commission on Stratigraphy, the group charged with dividing the planet’s history into units that correspond with the geologic record, rejected that proposal, with some members arguing that such a recent feature should not define an epoch. Under its rules, geologists cannot submit another Anthropocene proposal for at least 10 years.“Sediment deposited within my lifetime is not a new epoch, by any standards,” said Philip Gibbard, a University of Cambridge geologist who voted against the official Anthropocene proposal.‘The cat’s out of the bag’Golden spike or no golden spike, the Anthropocene isn’t going anywhere.In a statement after the vote, the International Commission on Stratigraphy acknowledged the term will “continue to be used not only by Earth and environmental scientists, but also by social scientists, politicians and economists, as well as by the public at large.”“It will remain an invaluable descriptor of human impact on the Earth system,” the commission added.Even the term’s critics admit it has staying power. “The term Anthropocene is unfortunately here to stay,” Gibbard said. “The cat’s out of the bag. The horse has bolted. We can’t stop it.”If anything, all the headlines on the rejection have only heightened the public’s awareness of the term. “It is definitely drawing more attention” to it, said McCarthy. “Even those people who are against — the no vote people — most of them would probably agree that we are in the Anthropocene,” she added.The term is being searched for online about as much in the months since the March decision as it was during the months prior, according to Google Trends, and is still popping up in scientific studies, including in the prestigious journal Nature.“It’s a good term that explains what we do to the planet,” said climatologist Jan Esper, who wrote a recent Nature paper that found that the summer of 2023 was the hottest in the Northern Hemisphere in 2,000 years.The evolution of the concept is still underway. Norman Wirzba, a professor of theology at Duke Divinity School, said the name Anthropocene may imply that all of humanity is responsible for climate change, even though a handful of countries are responsible for the majority of greenhouse gas emissions.“The question is, why are we calling this the Anthropocene when it’s very clear that what really made this happen was capitalism?” said Wirzba, who noted an alternative name for the current epoch: the “Capitalocene.”“To lump all of humanity together,” he added, “is not discriminating enough.”Gibbard, the geologist, has another idea. He wishes for the Anthropocene to be regarded as an ongoing “event,” a term used in geology to describe ancient episodes that leave a mark in the rocks.Geological events can be something as simple as a footprint left in the mud or as cataclysmic as a volcanic eruption and the dinosaur-killing asteroid that led to mass extinction. For science to work, Gibbard said, researchers need to agree on what words mean.“It would be most unsatisfactory if we had a term that could not be used, or is being used, in different ways in different disciplines,” he said. But he added that no geologist is in a position to stop people from using words how they wish. “We are not policemen. It is not our job to police the language.”But for others, the term’s vagueness is exactly what gives it strength.“We all as a community of citizens of planet Earth decided that this was a word to refer to the age of humanity, and the flexibility that different groups brought to that term really gave it a lot of power,” said Jacquelyn Gill, a paleoecologist at the University of Maine. “The fact that the Anthropocene has eluded definition is a feature and not a bug.”“Geologists and stratigraphers don’t own the concept,” she added. “People can just walk outside, and they recognize we’re in the Anthropocene.”

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What do you call the current time period — when we humans are warming the atmosphere, acidifying the oceans, altering the land and leaving a literal mark on the planet? Not the Anthropocene, according to geologists who rejected the idea of adding a new epoch to Earth’s official geological timeline.

Yet for many activists, artists and academics outside of geology, the Anthropocene, or “Age of Humans,” is here to stay, regardless of what rock specialists have to say.

Earlier this year, a panel of geologists rejected a proposal to officially designate the past seven decades, during which humans profoundly impacted the environment, as the new chapter in the planet’s history.

But as these scientists spent years debating, the term became widely adopted outside geology to encapsulate the angst around environmental degradation — popping up in book titles, music albums and art exhibitions.

For the term’s proponents, the idea that humanity has pushed the Earth into a new geological epoch should serve as a wake-up call. “It’s only been 70 years,” said Francine McCarthy, a professor of earth science at Brock University in Ontario, referring to the start of the new proposed epoch. “We don’t have another 70 years to wait.”

The name’s persistence speaks to a need for a cultural shorthand for referring to the big, complex ecological changes that are defining the present era, advocates say — something akin to terms like the Cold War or the Internet Age that came before it. Even if geologists say they cannot pinpoint its exact start, it is obvious to many who continue to use the term that the Anthropocene has begun.

“I always thought that this geological discussion was perhaps too soon,” said ecologist Inês Martins, whose employer — the Leverhulme Center for Anthropocene Biodiversity at the University of York — has embraced the term. “But the reality is it is a very useful concept to use to identify an era where humans have increased their impacts.”

The term burst into public consciousness in 2000, when the Nobel Prize-winning chemist Paul Crutzen suggested the global effect of human activities was so profound that Earth was no longer in the Holocene, the current geological epoch.

“I was at a conference where someone said something about the Holocene, the long period of relatively stable climate since the end of the last ice age,” Crutzen recalled years later to the author Fred Pearce. “I suddenly thought that this was wrong. The world has changed too much. So I said: ‘No, we are in the Anthropocene.’ I just made up the word on the spur of the moment. Everyone was shocked.”

The coinage is a combination of the prefix “anthropo-,” which comes from the Greek word for human, and suffix “-cene,” derived from the Greek for “new” or “recent.”

The five most recent epochs all deploy “-cene” but lack the specificity of Crutzen’s new name, according to Merriam-Webster, with names simply referring to how far in the past each is.

Crutzen, who died in 2021, knew a thing or two about humans degrading the atmosphere, having won his Nobel for his work explaining how pollution was stripping Earth’s protective ozone layer.

Earthbound geologists took his idea seriously. In 2009, a scientific body called the International Commission on Stratigraphy appointed a working group to search for a so-called “golden spike” for the new epoch — a literal place on Earth where the rock record shows a clear transition from one ancient time to the next. For example, the Jurassic period, famous for its dinosaurs, is named after the Jura Mountains in Europe.

Scientists have put forward plenty of possible start dates. Crutzen himself suggested the second half of the 18th century, as greenhouse gases accumulated in glacial ice. The official Anthropocene Working Group proposed a spike in plutonium found in the mud of Crawford Lake in Canada, the result of nuclear weapons testing in the 1950s.

McCarthy, who studies the lake and argues that a plutonium-laced layer of sediment built up on its bottom should serve as a new “golden spike,” said the fact that the Anthropocene began so recently should send a sobering message to society to act fast to slow climate change. “That’s the scary part, is how quickly we have come to this point.”

But in a contested vote in March, a subpanel of the International Commission on Stratigraphy, the group charged with dividing the planet’s history into units that correspond with the geologic record, rejected that proposal, with some members arguing that such a recent feature should not define an epoch. Under its rules, geologists cannot submit another Anthropocene proposal for at least 10 years.

“Sediment deposited within my lifetime is not a new epoch, by any standards,” said Philip Gibbard, a University of Cambridge geologist who voted against the official Anthropocene proposal.

‘The cat’s out of the bag’

Golden spike or no golden spike, the Anthropocene isn’t going anywhere.

In a statement after the vote, the International Commission on Stratigraphy acknowledged the term will “continue to be used not only by Earth and environmental scientists, but also by social scientists, politicians and economists, as well as by the public at large.”

“It will remain an invaluable descriptor of human impact on the Earth system,” the commission added.

Even the term’s critics admit it has staying power. “The term Anthropocene is unfortunately here to stay,” Gibbard said. “The cat’s out of the bag. The horse has bolted. We can’t stop it.”

If anything, all the headlines on the rejection have only heightened the public’s awareness of the term. “It is definitely drawing more attention” to it, said McCarthy. “Even those people who are against — the no vote people — most of them would probably agree that we are in the Anthropocene,” she added.

The term is being searched for online about as much in the months since the March decision as it was during the months prior, according to Google Trends, and is still popping up in scientific studies, including in the prestigious journal Nature.

“It’s a good term that explains what we do to the planet,” said climatologist Jan Esper, who wrote a recent Nature paper that found that the summer of 2023 was the hottest in the Northern Hemisphere in 2,000 years.

The evolution of the concept is still underway. Norman Wirzba, a professor of theology at Duke Divinity School, said the name Anthropocene may imply that all of humanity is responsible for climate change, even though a handful of countries are responsible for the majority of greenhouse gas emissions.

“The question is, why are we calling this the Anthropocene when it’s very clear that what really made this happen was capitalism?” said Wirzba, who noted an alternative name for the current epoch: the “Capitalocene.”

“To lump all of humanity together,” he added, “is not discriminating enough.”

Gibbard, the geologist, has another idea. He wishes for the Anthropocene to be regarded as an ongoing “event,” a term used in geology to describe ancient episodes that leave a mark in the rocks.

Geological events can be something as simple as a footprint left in the mud or as cataclysmic as a volcanic eruption and the dinosaur-killing asteroid that led to mass extinction. For science to work, Gibbard said, researchers need to agree on what words mean.

“It would be most unsatisfactory if we had a term that could not be used, or is being used, in different ways in different disciplines,” he said. But he added that no geologist is in a position to stop people from using words how they wish. “We are not policemen. It is not our job to police the language.”

But for others, the term’s vagueness is exactly what gives it strength.

“We all as a community of citizens of planet Earth decided that this was a word to refer to the age of humanity, and the flexibility that different groups brought to that term really gave it a lot of power,” said Jacquelyn Gill, a paleoecologist at the University of Maine. “The fact that the Anthropocene has eluded definition is a feature and not a bug.”

“Geologists and stratigraphers don’t own the concept,” she added. “People can just walk outside, and they recognize we’re in the Anthropocene.”

Read the full story here.
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K-Pop Fans' Environmental Activism Comes to UN Climate Talks

K-pop is turning up in force at the United Nations climate talks in Brazil, with fans-turned-activists hosting protest and events to mobilize their millions-strong online community to back concrete climate actions

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — Fans of K-pop have an intensity that's turned the music into a global phenomenon. Some are determined to channel that energy into action on climate change.Meanwhile, panels attended by high-ranking South Korean officials during the talks, known as COP30, strategized on how to mobilize the K-pop fanbase.“It’s the first time K-pop fans have been introduced on a COP stage — not bands or artists — but fans,” said Cheulhong Kim, director of the Korean Cultural Center in Brazil, a branch of South Korea's Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism. “K-pop fans are the real protagonists behind this culture that has the power to shape social and political issues."While attending a K-pop event at COP30, South Korea's Minister of Climate, Energy and Environment Kim Seong-hwan told The Associated Press that his ministry “will support K-pop fans and their artists so that K-pop can contribute to tackling the climate crisis.” K-pop on the climate front Banners reading “Export K-pop, not fossil fuels” filled part of the main hall at COP30 on Monday, as activists demanded South Korea cut its funding for foreign fossil fuel development.Seokhwan Jeong, who organized the protest with the Seoul-based advocacy group, Solutions for Our Climate, alluded to a storyline from the demon hunters movie with a character leading a double life, hiding a secret.“South Korea must overcome its dual stance — championing coal phase-out on the global stage while supporting fossil-fuel finance behind the scenes,” Jeong said. “It is time for the country to stop hiding and become a genuine climate champion.”When organized, the fan base is a force to be reckoned with because of its size and intense loyalty, said Gyu Tag Lee, a professor at George Mason University Korea who studies the cultural impact of K-pop.Dayeon Lee, a campaigner with KPOP4PLANET, believes “cultural power is driving real climate action.”“Our love extends beyond artists," Lee said. “We care for each other across fandoms and borders. We are young people facing the same future, fluent in social media, keen to respond to injustice.”The K-pop activism aligns with the Brazilian Portuguese concept of “mutirão” — a spirit of collective effort — that the COP30 Presidency is using as a rallying cry on the problem of climate change, according to Vinicius Gurtler, general coordinator for international affairs in Brazil’s Ministry of Culture.More than 80 countries have voiced support for the “mutirão” call in what environmentalists have said “could be the turning point of COP30.”“One of the best ways for us to do this is through music and through the youth," Gurtler said. "I don’t think that we will create a better planet if we cannot sing and if we cannot imagine a better world."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.This story was produced as part of the 2025 Climate Change Media Partnership, a journalism fellowship organized by Internews’ Earth Journalism Network and the Stanley Center for Peace and Security.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Nov. 2025

Costa Rica Environmentalists Face Rising Threats and Harassment

Environmental activists in Costa Rica continue to face escalating threats, harassment, and legal intimidation as they challenge projects that harm ecosystems. Groups report a systematic pattern of repression, including public stigmatization, digital attacks, and abusive lawsuits meant to exhaust resources and silence opposition. In Puntarenas, billboards have appeared labeling local defenders as “persona non grata,” […] The post Costa Rica Environmentalists Face Rising Threats and Harassment appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Environmental activists in Costa Rica continue to face escalating threats, harassment, and legal intimidation as they challenge projects that harm ecosystems. Groups report a systematic pattern of repression, including public stigmatization, digital attacks, and abusive lawsuits meant to exhaust resources and silence opposition. In Puntarenas, billboards have appeared labeling local defenders as “persona non grata,” a form of symbolic violence that isolates activists in their communities. Similar tactics include online campaigns spreading disinformation and gendered threats, particularly against women who speak out against coastal developments or illegal logging. Legal actions add another layer of pressure. Developers have sued content creators for posting videos that question the environmental impact of tourism projects, claiming defamation or false information. Organizations identify these as SLAPP suits—strategic lawsuits against public participation—designed to drain time and money through lengthy court processes rather than seek genuine redress. In recent cases, bank accounts have been frozen, forcing individuals to halt their work. The Federation for Environmental Conservation (FECON), Bloque Verde, and other groups link these incidents to broader institutional changes. The State of the Nation Report released this month documents sustained weakening of environmental bodies. Budget cuts and staff reductions at the Ministry of Environment and Energy (MINAE) and the National System of Conservation Areas (SINAC) have left larger protected areas with fewer resources. Policy shifts concentrate decision-making power while reducing scientific and community input. Activists argue this dismantling exposes water sources, forests, and biodiversity to greater risks. They point to rapid coastal development in areas like Guanacaste, where unplanned tourism strains wetlands and mangroves. Indigenous communities and rural defenders face added vulnerabilities, with reports of death threats tied to land recovery efforts. These pressures coincide with debates over resource extraction and regulatory rollbacks. Environmental organizations stress that protecting nature supports public health, jobs in sustainable tourism, and democratic rights. They maintain that freedom of expression and participation remain essential for holding projects accountable. Without stronger safeguards for defenders and reversal of institutional decline, groups warn that Costa Rica risks undermining its conservation achievements. They call for protocols to address threats, anti-SLAPP measures, and renewed commitment to environmental governance. Defending ecosystems, they say, equals defending the country’s future stability and justice. The post Costa Rica Environmentalists Face Rising Threats and Harassment appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

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.

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