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Two visions of the US will compete at the World Cup
This article Two visions of the US will compete at the World Cup was originally published by Waging Nonviolence.
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As the United States prepares to co-host the 2026 World Cup with Mexico and Canada, the world’s biggest sporting event will unfold in a volatile domestic and international context. Eleven U.S. cities are hosting “the beautiful game” against a backdrop of militarized law enforcement — including over 167,000 Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) arrests in and around the host cities since last January — war with Iran, labor strife, and attacks on civil and political rights. With millions traveling to the region and billions more tuning in, the tournament — coinciding with the U.S.’s 250th anniversary — offers a rare opportunity for diverse sectors to elevate democratic values, expose the Trump administration’s propaganda and make its repression backfire.
Civic leaders in the United States are already capitalizing on this opportunity. A big tent coalition, backed by the Horizons Project that I co-lead — bringing together artists, labor, faith organizations, small businesses, veterans’ groups, legal advocates and youth activists — has launched a No ICE in the Cup campaign to build cross-sector, cross-ideological support for a tournament where all can participate without fear of violence or repression. Other community groups have joined forces on the “Our Copa” campaign, which includes a pledge to stop ICE raids during the World Cup, lift travel bans on Haiti, Iran, Cote d’Ivoire and Senegal, and let fans celebrate safely.
How autocrats use the World CupGovernments have long used mega-sporting events to bolster legitimacy, nationalist pride and power. Through “sportswashing,” authoritarian regimes in particular exploit the global spectacle to distract from repression and corruption while presenting an image of competence and national greatness.
FIFA, which has an extensive record of corruption and human rights controversies, has often enabled these dynamics.In 1978, Argentina’s military dictatorship used the World Cup to present the country as united and orderly while a “Dirty War” saw tens of thousands disappeared, tortured and killed. The regime invested heavily in propaganda while temporarily pausing repression around stadiums and hotels to avoid international scrutiny. A clandestine torture center operated less than a mile from the national stadium, at the Escuela Superior de Mecánica de la Armada (ESMA), where political prisoners could hear cheering crowds during the final match.
Vladimir Putin similarly used the 2014 Winter Olympics and the 2018 World Cup to generate nationalist fervor and bolster domestic support for the annexation of Crimea while obscuring repression at home. Ahead of the 2022 World Cup, Qatar spent over $220 billion on infrastructure to polish its image amid blatant human rights abuses, including migrant worker deaths, labor exploitation and restrictions on LGBTQ+ expression.
#newsletter-block_b54bfb04f7e82e4592b06965f70069a7 { background: #ECECEC; color: #000000; } #newsletter-block_b54bfb04f7e82e4592b06965f70069a7 #mc_embed_signup_front input#mce-EMAIL { border-color:#000000 !important; color: #000000 !important; } Sign Up for our NewsletterThe Trump administration has also turned to sportswashing. Unlike Qatar’s monarchy or the defunct Argentine junta, however, it is much less concerned with its international reputation. Instead, the World Cup offers a way to distract from the economic impact of the Iran War and build support for the administration’s domestic agenda, including restrictions on voting rights. Its coincidence with Trump’s Christian nationalist “Freedom 250” program advances this agenda, even if the tournament’s global, pluralistic character sits uneasily with MAGA’s more xenophobic elements.
Mega-sporting events thus create a paradox for authoritarian and wannabe authoritarian leaders. On the one hand, they offer an extraordinary opportunity for spectacle, nationalism and financial enrichment. On the other hand, they intensify media scrutiny and pressure from civil society. This creates opportunities for dissent and for movements to mobilize in order to make state propaganda backfire, raising the costs of repression and strengthening democratic forces.
Pro-democracy mobilization at the World CupBecause the World Cup creates a global media spectacle and often becomes all-consuming for host countries, it creates ideal conditions for public dissent. When Brazil hosted the 2014 World Cup, the tournament became a focal point for mass mobilization amid concerns over corruption, inequality and authoritarian policing. Organizers effectively linked lavish stadium spending to failing public services and condemned police violence under President Dilma Rousseff, helping reshape public debate around democratic accountability.
In Argentina, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo mobilized to expose forced disappearances and state terror to domestic and international audiences. They deliberately marched during the tournament near areas frequented by foreign reporters, while human rights groups distributed lists of the disappeared and launched the “Football yes, torture no” campaign.
Recent U.S. football activism has been deeply connected with the politics of authoritarian immigration enforcement. In LA, the Angel City Football Club and Los Angeles Football Club spoke out against ICE during the height of the mass deportations in 2025.
Stadiums and fan spaces as sites of civic powerFootball culture — with its chanting, parody, songs, costumes and memes — has been key to building civic power and undermining authoritarian narratives. While autocrats use the World Cup to fuse patriotism with regime loyalty, football fans, described as the “largest international social movement,” have used joy, humor and spectacle to expose abuses and build forms of civic pride outside of state control. Matches gather entire communities in stadiums — emotionally charged spaces where even small acts of dissent, such as coordinated chants, banners and silence during national anthems — can have cascading effects.
Protesters flood the Seoul Plaza in South Korea during the 2002 World Cup. (Wikimedia)Under martial law in Poland, stadiums became centers of anti-communist resistance during the 1982 World Cup. Fans chanted anti-regime slogans and displayed banners for the banned Solidarność trade union, defying threats that their “hooliganism” would be punished by military courts. Football culture helped sustain the Polish opposition’s morale in the face of repression and contributed to the broader civic infrastructure that supported Poland’s 1989 democratic transition. Similar dynamics were visible in Chile under Augusto Pinochet. In South Korea, which co-hosted the 2002 World Cup, millions of red-clad “Red Devils” took part in street cheering, helping normalize large-scale public assembly after decades of authoritarian rule. Their efforts informed later mobilizations, including the candlelight protests that removed President Park Geun-hye.
American activists have also used humor to mock authoritarian absurdities, such as when President Trump was being awarded the inaugural FIFA peace prize last December in Washington, D.C. In response, residents kicked footballs at a “wall of ICE” while dancers performed nearby.
Although athletes are technically banned from engaging in political speech at the Olympics and World Cup, they have often used their platform to advance social and political causes. Many are familiar with the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, when U.S. sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised black-gloved fists on the podium to protest racial injustice.
During the Qatar World Cup, European teams attempted to wear “OneLove” armbands supporting LGBTQ+ rights; FIFA’s threats only amplified criticism of the federation and Qatar. Iranian players also remained silent during their national anthem in solidarity with protesters after Mahsa Amini’s killing. Both before and during the 2026 Winter Olympics, multiple Team USA athletes spoke out against ICE policies, including cross-country skiing star and Minnesotan Jessie Diggins, who expressed solidarity with protesters after the killings of Reneé Good and Alex Pretti.
Activating broad coalitionsMega-events depend on vast infrastructure, from construction and transit to hospitality and security. This creates leverage for key “pillars of support,” especially labor and business, whose cooperation is essential for the games to run smoothly. This dependence helps explain why labor and human rights issues have been so central to democratic organizing around the World Cup in Qatar, Russia and South Africa.
No Ice in the Cup organized a soccer tournament on May 31. (Kisha Bari)More generally, mega-events enable the formation of large, diverse coalitions composed of otherwise unlikely allies. Returning to the example of Brazil, in 2014 activists mobilized a big tent of public transit activists, labor unions, students, favela groups, Indigenous activists and anti-police violence organizations. These disparate groups united around their shared opposition to corruption and “crony capitalism.”
Today, the global Dignity 2026 Coalition — comprising over 120 civil society organizations, including the AFL-CIO, the ACLU, Human Rights Watch and the NAACP — is pressuring FIFA and the Trump administration to uphold democratic freedoms during the World Cup. AFL-CIO President Liz Shuler called on FIFA leadership to keep DHS and ICE agents out of host cities, while other major unions, such as UNITE Here Local 11 in Los Angeles, have threatened strikes along similar lines. Meanwhile, in partnership with the No ICE in the Cup campaign, local businesses in U.S. host cities have organized a “Welcome Standard” pledge to create safe and welcoming environments for the millions of fans, community members, visitors and workers taking part in the tournament. The active sign-on campaign, which includes legal training and support for local businesses, will channel patrons to participating businesses. Faith groups have also joined the action, with Interfaith Alliance offering “Preach and Teach” resources for pastors, imams, rabbis and other faith leaders to use during the period of the World Cup.
Two visions of the US clashThe Trump administration is using the 2026 World Cup to stage a patriotic spectacle that glorifies the president, promotes his policy agenda and showcases America’s 250th anniversary — even as it demonizes those who love football. Indeed, most host cities are home to large immigrant communities who live in fear of racial profiling, inhumane detention and summary deportation. The present moment thus reflects a clash between two visions of the United States: a narrow, exclusionary vision based on white, Christian identity politics, and an inclusive vision reflected in the World Cup itself, one of a pluralistic society shaped by immigration and diversity.
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DonateThe World Cup has created a major opening for pro-democracy groups across sectors, geographies and ideologies to unite and ensure that it is not weaponized to advance the administration’s propaganda or anti-democratic agenda. In the United States, where football is gaining in popularity and many fans root for both the U.S. team and their countries of origin, the tournament is a time of sportsmanship and camaraderie. It offers an opportunity to remind fans at home and abroad of the power of ordinary people coming together in joyful competition, the central theme of a recent community youth soccer tournament in New York City.
Finally, the World Cup provides an opportunity to connect the dots between militarized law enforcement and efforts to restrict voting rights. These efforts are especially urgent ahead of the midterm elections; the same coalitions mobilizing around the World Cup can help defend states and localities in the face of federal attacks on free and fair elections. More than ever, ordinary people must insist that “fair play” also applies to how Americans choose their leaders. They can harness the energy and enthusiasm surrounding the World Cup and America’s 250th anniversary to imagine and build a more free and democratic United States.
This article Two visions of the US will compete at the World Cup was originally published by Waging Nonviolence.
Trump and Burgum divert park fees to D.C. ahead of July 4
The Trump administration is redirecting at least $90 million in National Park Service fee revenue toward projects in Washington, D.C., tied to the nation’s 250th anniversary on July 4. According to the Washington Post, the spending includes a $1.6 million fireworks display, more than five times the typical Fourth of July fireworks budget, and roughly $76 million for repairs and “beautification” projects such as work on the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool.
The money is coming from a portion of park entrance fees that federal law allows the National Park Service to spend outside the parks where the fees were collected. Trump administration officials, including Interior Secretary Doug Burgum, have defended the spending as legal and part of broader efforts to prepare the nation’s capital for President Donald Trump’s America 250 celebrations. But diverting dollars to D.C. will have negative impacts on the rest of the national park system, which faces a maintenance backlog estimated at about $24 billion.
Several park officials told the Post that they had recently been informed there was little or no funding available for projects at their own parks. A letter sent by senior agency officials to staff in April said that parks should not expect any money from a contingency fund to cover unforeseen costs, because that money is being diverted to pay for the nation’s 250th anniversary and projects in D.C.
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Picture This @COParksWildlifeTFW someone says they want to skip work and go fishing
THIS WEEKEND IS FREE FISHING WEEKEND. On June 6-7, 2026, anyone can fish for free, and the fishing license and Habitat Stamp requirements are waived: https://cpw.info/4u6rbdn
Feature image: Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool; Source: Doug Burgum via X
The post Trump and Burgum divert park fees to D.C. ahead of July 4 appeared first on Center for Western Priorities.
From remunicipalisation to the democracy of the commons
By Vanessa Mascia Turri
Naples became one of Europe’s most ambitious experiments in democratic water governance after Italy’s 2011 referendum against water privatisation. Yet bringing water back into public hands did not necessarily redistribute power over how water itself would be governed.
In 2011, after the Italian referendum against water privatisation, Naples became one of the most ambitious experiments in remunicipalised water governance in Europe. The city transformed its water utility into ABC Napoli (Acqua Bene Comune Napoli), a publicly owned entity presented not simply as a return to public management, but as an attempt to implement the “democracy of the commons” theorised by the Italian Forum of Water Movements.
Within this perspective, water was understood not only as a public service, but as a common good whose governance should involve the direct participation of citizens and social movements.
Over the following decade, Naples became a testing ground for a broader political question that has emerged across many remunicipalisation struggles: what happens when the language and practices of the commons enter public institutions? The Neapolitan experience shows that bringing water back into public hands does not automatically democratise its governance. Instead, participation became continuously negotiated and reshaped through political conflict, financial pressures and struggles over who should control public resources.
From water struggles to the democracy of the commonsSince the early 2000s, struggles against water privatisation have connected local mobilisations to broader debates around the commons. Struggles against water privatisation in Europe have often gone beyond opposition to market reforms and increasingly connected demands for public ownership with broader claims around the commons and direct democracy, as explored throughout the Reimagining, remembering and reclaiming water series. In many countries, water movements have challenged not only privatisation, but also the idea that essential services should be governed through technocratic and top-down forms of management, increasingly linking water struggles to broader claims around the commons and direct democracy, as discussed in Transforming capitalism? The role of the commons and direct democracy in struggles against water privatisation in Europe.
In Italy, these debates converged in the Italian Forum of Water Movements, one of the broadest water movements in Europe. As broader discussions around the commons in Italy have shown, these debates extended well beyond water itself and raised wider questions about collective resources, democracy and institutional change. Under the slogan “si scrive acqua, si legge democrazia” (“it is written water, it is read democracy”), the movement argued that remunicipalisation should involve not only public ownership, but also direct civic participation in water governance.
Naples became the most ambitious attempt to translate this political vision into institutional practice.
Poster from the 2011 Italian referendum campaign against water privatization reading “Water is not for sale.” Image courtesy of the Forum Italiano dei Movimenti per l’Acqua.
Naples became the most ambitious attempt to translate this political vision into institutional practice.
Yet public and academic debates on remunicipalisation have often focused on privatisation conflicts and legal transitions, paying far less attention to what happens afterwards. How are participatory mechanisms actually organised inside remunicipalised utilities? How much power are institutions willing to share with social movements and citizens once remunicipalisation has taken place?
My article From theory to practice: evaluating civic participation in Naples’ remunicipalised water service examines these questions through the case of ABC Napoli, reconstructing how participation was progressively organised, contested and reshaped during the decade following remunicipalisation.
Participation and the limits of the commonsAt the moment of remunicipalisation, Naples faced deteriorated infrastructures, chronic underinvestment and a massive municipal public debt. For many activists of the Neapolitan water movement, remunicipalisation was therefore not only about public ownership, but also about transforming the priorities of water governance through ecological restoration, infrastructural investment and more equitable access to water.
Over the following decade, ABC Napoli experimented with different forms of civic participation. Initially, the municipal government opened the board of directors to representatives linked to the Italian Forum of Water Movements and to environmental associations. Yet local activists who had led the mobilisation against privatisation were largely excluded from these arrangements, generating immediate tensions over who had the legitimacy to participate in the governance of the utility.
The most ambitious participatory experiment emerged with the creation of the Civic Council, a public assembly open to citizens, activists and ABC workers. Meetings were held directly inside the company and addressed issues such as tariffs, infrastructure maintenance, hiring policies and investment priorities. Delegates from the assemblies also participated in discussions with the board of directors, creating one of the most advanced attempts in Europe to institutionalise direct civic participation inside a remunicipalised water utility.
However, participation became far more conflictual once these assemblies started intervening in concrete political and economic questions. Members of the Civic Council promoted long-term infrastructural investments and the recruitment of specialised personnel while defending the financial stability of the utility. According to several interviewees, these priorities increasingly clashed with those of the municipal government, which was more focused on short-term employment policies and the management of public-sector jobs within a broader context marked by debt, unemployment and political pressures surrounding public employment.
These tensions ultimately led to the removal of the board of directors and to the progressive weakening of participatory governance. In the following years, participation increasingly shifted towards weak consultative mechanisms with limited influence over decision-making processes. Many activists gradually distanced themselves from the experiment, while severe financial constraints continued to limit investments in infrastructures and ecological renewal.
Rather than evolving towards deeper forms of democratic governance, the Neapolitan experience progressively revealed the difficulties of institutionalising the “democracy of the commons” within existing municipal structures and political priorities.
Remunicipalisation without democratisation?Poster from the Italian public water movement following the 2011 referendum campaign, emphasising water as a public right rather than a source of profit. Image courtesy of the Forum Italiano dei Movimenti per l’Acqua.
The experience of ABC Napoli complicates many celebratory narratives surrounding remunicipalisation. Bringing water back into public hands did not automatically redistribute power inside public governance. On the contrary, the Neapolitan case shows how quickly the language of the commons can become absorbed into existing institutional structures once participation starts challenging concrete political and economic interests.
The weakening of participatory governance inside ABC Napoli did not result from a lack of civic mobilisation or technical expertise. Quite the opposite: activists involved in the water movement developed increasingly detailed proposals on tariffs, infrastructures and long-term investments, becoming capable of intervening directly in the governance of the utility. Participation became problematic precisely when it stopped being symbolic and started questioning how public resources, infrastructures and employment should be managed.
In Naples, these tensions unfolded within a broader context marked by public debt, deteriorated infrastructures, unemployment and long-standing systems of political mediation surrounding public-sector employment. Under these conditions, the “democracy of the commons” increasingly collided with the political and administrative logics shaping municipal governance.
More broadly, the Neapolitan experience suggests that remunicipalisation alone cannot democratise essential services without a real willingness from public institutions to share decision-making power. Commons become politically difficult when they move beyond participation as consultation and start demanding participation as co-governance.
Rather than offering a linear model of democratic transformation, Naples reveals the unresolved tensions that emerge when social movements attempt to institutionalise the commons inside existing state structures. The question, then, is not simply whether remunicipalisation is possible, but whether public institutions are truly willing to democratise the power through which public resources are governed.
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Featured image: Protest sign reading “Public water, public management. Clear?” during a demonstration of the Italian water movement. Photo courtesy of the Forum Italiano dei Movimenti per l’Acqua (acquabenecomune.org).
The post From remunicipalisation to the democracy of the commons appeared first on Undisciplined Environments.
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70-foot wastewater geyser erupts in New Mexico oilfield
A 70-foot geyser of toxic oilfield wastewater erupted near Loving, New Mexico, after a pipe component failed at a disposal site operated by NGL Energy Partners. Loving is located in the Permian region, which produces roughly 6.6 million barrels of crude oil per day. About 40 barrels of wastewater were released, highlighting the growing problem caused by enormous volumes of “produced water” generated during oil and gas extraction.
Produced water is highly saline and can contain petroleum chemicals and radioactive materials. The state recently banned the discharge of treated produced water to ground and surface waters. Most of it is disposed of by injecting it deep underground. However, New Mexico’s oil boom has led to rapidly increasing wastewater volumes—more than 2.7 billion barrels in 2025 alone—putting pressure on disposal systems. The state is running out of suitable injection sites, and wastewater injection has been linked to earthquakes, brine leaks, and similar blowouts. In 2024, over 4 million gallons of produced water were spilled by oil and gas companies.
The geyser incident has intensified debate over whether treated produced water should be reused outside the petroleum industry. Industry advocates say that advanced treatment could turn it into a valuable water source and reduce disposal pressures, but the water’s composition is not fully understood, large-scale treatment remains unproven, and reuse could create new health and environmental risks.
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Feature image: Permian Basin oil and gas development; Source; SkyTruth/Flickr
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Does Ontario Need New Nuclear to Keep its Lights on in 2050?
This factsheet shows that Ontario can easily accommodate enough solar and wind installations to meet the projected provincial demand for electricity in 2050. These options will be lower cost and faster to deploy than new nuclear. Read the factsheet
The post Does Ontario Need New Nuclear to Keep its Lights on in 2050? appeared first on Ontario Clean Air Alliance.
The Politics of Process: B.C.’s Mineral Claims Regime and the Threat of an FPIC Freeze
FEDERAL AND PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENTS’ legal obligation to consult and accommodate Indigenous nations has been confirmed by the Supreme Court of Canada for over 20 years. The duty to consult is triggered when a government’s action may affect Indigenous Nations’ rights. An action that could severely impair Indigenous Nations’ exercise of their rights entails accommodation measures to mitigate negative effects. Additionally, British Columbia in 2019 passed legislation committing the government to align its laws with the United Nations’ Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). UNDRIP affirms Indigenous Nations’ right to self-determination, including the right to free, prior and informed consent (FPIC) to make decisions that affect Indigenous lands. Prior to 2023, British Columbia’s mineral claims regime violated both the imperative to consult Indigenous Nations and the principles of UNDRIP. In the previous system, individuals or companies with a Free Miner Certificate could pay a nominal fee to register a mineral or placer claim through B.C’s Mineral Titles Online. These claims confer a priority right to subsurface minerals and the exclusive ability to pursue further permits to conduct significant exploration work. First Nations had no role in the claims registration process and were only consulted during the later permitting stage. This “free entry” system would have likely remained in place if not for litigation that challenged its constitutionality.
Gitxaała vs. British Columbia (2023)The Gitxaała Nation and Ehattesaht First Nation first successfully challenged the “free entry” system in 2023, with the British Columbia Supreme Court confirming that it violated the duty to consult. The B.C. government was ordered to reform the regime to implement consultation processes, which was rolled out in March 2025. However, it took an appeal to produce an additional ruling from the B.C. Court of Appeal in 2025 that confirmed the previous mineral claims regime was also inconsistent with FPIC, as incorporated by the B.C. government’s legislation. This judicial acknowledgement that the Mineral Tenure Act is inconsistent with Indigenous nations’ rights under UNDRIP must thus be addressed in subsequent consultative forums and reforms, which could be subject to future litigation. The B.C. Court of Appeal’s decision is being appealed by the B.C. government on the grounds that it is creating “confusion” over the legal status of UNDRIP in Canada (Depner 2026).
It is worth pausing here to further examine the B.C. government’s position. The B.C. government accepted the need for reforms aimed at incorporating Indigenous consultation to meet both their duty to consult under Canadian common law and the standards of UNDRIP as affirmed in B.C. legislation. However, the B.C. government is challenging the position that inconsistencies between the Mineral Tenure Act and other B.C. laws and UNDRIP are justiciable. The B.C. government is arguing against judicial forms of accountability over how UNDRIP is implemented.
The rejection of judicial intervention over UNDRIP implementation would mean that only the duty to consult creates a justiciable standard of honourable state conduct towards Indigenous Nations, leaving UNDRIP and legislation affirming it to be treated as an aspirational framework.A similar challenge by the Canadian Nuclear Laboratories is being made to the Federal Court of Appeal after the Federal Court in early 2025 ruled that UNDRIP serves as an interpretative lens that changes the standards of Indigenous consultation.
Legitimacy DeficitsExcluding the judiciary as a venue to challenge the state’s implementation of UNDRIP is the latest demonstration of the state’s preference for controlling processes of decision-making, particularly over land and waters. The evolution of the duty to consult is illustrative of what happens when the judiciary permits the state to use existing decision-making processes that simply integrate additional steps to include Indigenous consultation. In Process as Power, I analyze how the duty to consult’s obligations as outlined in Canadian common law permits Canadian governments to consult Indigenous Nations without adapting to Indigenous standards of good governance. The judiciary did not compel Canadian governments to restructure the process of decision-making, only that Indigenous Nations must be formally included in pre-existing models with the final decision-making power residing with a minister.
The consequences of perfunctory consultation are enduring legitimacy deficits throughout state decision-making, contributing to continuing Indigenous-state conflict and litigation.Such legitimacy deficits arose when B.C.’s mineral claims regime was reformed to conform to the duty to consult standard. In a six-month review of those reforms, a majority of First Nations survey responses revealed that they perceived the decision-making process to lack transparency and produce only weak accommodation measures. Despite formally meeting the duty to consult, these consultative processes overburden Indigenous communities to review numerous applications because no additional supports are provided (Ministry of Mining and Critical Minerals 2025, 16); they do not clearly demonstrate how Indigenous feedback was considered and were even perceived to ignore First Nations (Ibid, 17); and they produce unresponsive accommodation measures (Ibid, 18). These results are striking because they closely mirror issues present in other decision-making processes related to reviewing industrial activities. Process as Power includes an examination of B.C.’s Environmental Assessment process and the same state-driven unilateralism permeates that forum as well. I trace how these deficiencies are tied to the ways in which the duty to consult case law over time permitted state-led decision-making designs while narrowly defining what Indigenous Nations can raise in consultative forums.
Implementing UNDRIP?UNDRIP fundamentally departs from the duty to consult standard because it presents an Indigenous-driven framework through FPIC that respects Indigenous self-determination. The fact that governments like B.C., Canada, and the Northwest Territories have passed UNDRIP-affirming legislation showed promising signs that reconciliation politics was backed by some action. But UNDRIP’s implementation was always going to be the real test of these governments’ commitments. In the context of the B.C. Environmental Assessment process, I find that reforms starting in 2018 have made some progress to improve the capacity of Indigenous Nations to review applications and to consistently respect the rights-holding status of Indigenous Nations. Other developments are more concerning, like how decision-making power continues to reside with a minister who is not bound by any party, including a new dispute resolution facilitator. Crucially, in this particular policy area, ongoing nation-to-nation negotiations are being pursued to advance additional reforms to uphold UNDRIP (Environmental Assessment Office 2025).
Combatting the state’s asymmetrical hold over decision-making in matters that affect Indigenous Nations would be completely undermined if governments could unilaterally decide how to implement UNDRIP. The Eby government’s attempted volte-face to suspend parts of their UNDRIP-affirming legislation in response to the mining litigation is not only a political betrayal to the Indigenous Nations in that province working to advance UNDRIP but also conflicts with the direction established in recent appellate decisions. Canadian appellate courts have explained that legislative commitments, like those aimed at implementing UNDRIP, engage the Crown’s honour, which compels these governments to act upon their declarations. The Crown being bound to fulfill legislative promises related to the goal of reconciliation has been affirmed in other Indigenous rights contexts like the C-92 Reference decision (2024) concerning Indigenous child welfare. As explained in Gitxaała v. British Columbia (2025), the B.C. government’s legislative “affirmation…amounts to a binding Crown promise, namely, that the Crown will act as though the existing legal rights, obligations, principles, minimum standards and goals expressed in UNDRIP in specific relation to Indigenous peoples apply to British Columbia laws, including the common law” (at para. 161).
Thus, the appeal of the Gitxaała v. British Columbia decision shows that legal uncertainty stems more from the state’s intransigence to maintain its decision-making processes than UNDRIP’s status in Canadian law. Unfortunately, the lack of cooperation on UNDRIP’s implementation may also produce a chilling effect that prevents the passage of UNDRIP-affirming legislation in other jurisdictions.The conflict over process rights is just beginning and will continue to entwine both legal and political developments.
EndnotesDepner, W. (2026, February 7). B.C. seeks to challenge landmark court ruling over mineral rights and DRIPA. CBC News. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/eby-dripa-gitxaala-ruling-challenge-mineral-rights-9.7078151
British Columbia Environmental Assessment Office. (2025, September). Review of the 2018 Environmental Assessment Act [Backgrounder]. Government of British Columbia. https://www2.gov.bc.ca/assets/gov/environment/natural-resource-stewardship/environmental-assessments/act-review/eao_act_review_backgrounder.pdf
British Columbia Ministry of Mining and Critical Minerals. (2025, December). Mineral Claims Consultation Framework—6 month review. Government of British Columbia. https://www2.gov.bc.ca/assets/gov/environment/natural-resource-stewardship/environmental-assessments/act-review/mineral_claims_consultation_framework__6_month_review.pdf
Gitxaała v. British Columbia (Chief Gold Commissioner), 2025 BCCA 430.
Citation:
Do, Minh. “The Politics of Process: B.C.’s Mineral Claims Regime and the Threat of an FPIC Freeze,” Yellowhead Institute. June 02, 2026. https://yellowheadinstitute.org/2026/the-politics-of-process-b-c-s-mineral-claims-regime-and-the-threat-of-an-fpic-freeze
The post The Politics of Process: B.C.’s Mineral Claims Regime and the Threat of an FPIC Freeze appeared first on Yellowhead Institute.
Rutas basura cero: una iniciativa regional para visibilizar experiencias de reúso y gestión sostenible de residuos
Con el objetivo de fortalecer y dar visibilidad a experiencias locales que promueven la prevención y gestión responsable de residuos, la iniciativa Rutas basura cero seleccionó una serie de recorridos presenciales ejecutados por organizaciones locales en distintos países de América Latina.
La propuesta surge en un contexto de creciente preocupación por la crisis de los residuos y los impactos ambientales, sociales y económicos asociados al actual modelo de producción y consumo. Frente a este escenario, las estrategias de basura cero han demostrado ser una alternativa efectiva para reducir la generación de residuos mediante prácticas de reducción, reúso, reciclaje y compostaje, al tiempo que promueven la justicia ambiental y el fortalecimiento de las economías locales.
En particular, los sistemas de reúso y rellenado están cobrando cada vez más relevancia como soluciones replicables y escalables para avanzar hacia comunidades más saludables y sostenibles. Sin embargo, muchas de estas experiencias continúan siendo poco conocidas fuera de sus zonas, lo que limita su potencial de incidencia y réplica.
Para revertir esta situación, el proyecto Rutas basura cero impulsa recorridos presenciales coordinados por organizaciones locales, que permiten a tomadores de decisiones, representantes de gobiernos, académicos, líderes sociales y otros actores clave conocer de primera mano iniciativas exitosas en funcionamiento.
Las rutas incluyen visitas a proyectos con al menos un año de trayectoria y resultados comprobables, vinculados a prácticas como el rellenado de envases, el lavado y reutilización de utensilios, el compostaje descentralizado y el cooperativismo. Además, cada experiencia es documentada mediante registros audiovisuales que pasan a integrar una base regional de casos de éxito.
La iniciativa busca generar espacios de intercambio entre experiencias consolidadas y actores estratégicos, así como producir materiales que contribuyan a la difusión y sistematización de aprendizajes sobre modelos basura cero en la región.
A continuación, compartimos las organizaciones e iniciativas seleccionadas que forman parte de esta primera edición de Rutas basura cero:
Quito, Ecuador: https://youtu.be/zAfFljwO-uU
Entrejardines nos lleva a la compostera y huerta comunitaria del barrio La Floresta en Quito, luego pasamos por Pure!, una empresa de turismo que comparte cómo ha adoptado prácticas de reúso y segregación en origen dentro de su oficina, y terminamos en el restaurante Pim’s donde conocemos cómo gestionan sus residuos sólidos y orgánicos.
Zona de los Santos, Costa Rica: https://youtu.be/VTS_io9FWok
La Asociación Defensores Monumento Zona de los Santos, nos muestra cómo están trabajando para preservar una zona de alta biodiversidad a través del manejo de residuos de subproductos de procesos de cultivo de café como el que hacen en Coope Tarrazu y Coopedota. Luego terminamos con una parada en el Centro de acopio Preserve Planet (CAPP) para saber más sobre segregación de residuos y recuperación de tapas de refrescos.
Magallanes, Chile: https://youtu.be/fOl7LHwXlEg
Fundación Lenga nos traslada a la zona más austral del Chile donde iniciamos el recorrido en Compost Coiron y su proyecto de gestión de residuos orgánicos, donde además nos cuentan cómo el turismo influye en el colapso del vertedero municipal de Puerto Natales. En Punta Arenas, conocemos el laboratorio textil Puro Viento, una iniciativa de reuso que utiliza residuos textiles y gigantografías publicitarias para hacer artículos como mochilas, estuches, entre otros. Finalmente, llegamos a Puerto Williams para saber más sobre la iniciativa municipal de gestión de residuos.
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Check out “Censored News” coverage of May 16
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“CENSORED NEWS: Shut Down Energy Fuels — Uranium Mining and Radioactive Dumping on Native People”
Resistance is only half the equation
This article Resistance is only half the equation was originally published by Waging Nonviolence.
We no longer live in a world where courts reliably enforce limits on executive power; where media calls out abuse as abuse or where politicians depend on legitimacy to hold power. These conditions are eroding, and power is becoming more and more centralized.
In the U.S., the Supreme Court’s decision in Trump v. United States in 2024 significantly expanded presidential immunity for official acts, raising concerns about accountability. Globally, ruling parties in Hungary and Poland have reshaped judicial systems through court-packing and disciplinary regimes that weaken independent checks on executive authority. And in countries such as India, new laws restrict freedom of the press.
In response, we see a grinding pattern of reaction from pundits and resisters, but the power of centralized authority remains. Trump has retained power despite his involvement in the Jan. 6 Capitol attack, as well as his name being all over the Epstein files. Leaders in Turkey and Egypt have been accused repeatedly of inciting democratic backsliding, yet they maintain power. At the same time, ecological, economic, cultural and political crises expand.
This moment demands more than opposition. What is needed is not just resistance against corrupt centralized systems, but to create new, local systems that restructure power so it is dispersed throughout society. Because the problem is not only that those in power abuse it. The problem is that power is concentrated in the first place.
#newsletter-block_63d9dbab8221236ed68f8cf749bded55 { background: #ECECEC; color: #000000; } #newsletter-block_63d9dbab8221236ed68f8cf749bded55 #mc_embed_signup_front input#mce-EMAIL { border-color:#000000 !important; color: #000000 !important; } Sign Up for our NewsletterThe work of Gene Sharp stands apart in the field of nonviolent theory for one central reason: his understanding of power. For Sharp, justice, equality, freedom and any meaningful form of democracy do not exist simply as ideals or constitutional rights. They exist only when power is actually dispersed throughout society — embedded in the daily practices, institutions and relationships of ordinary people. Without that dispersion, democracy is little more than a substanceless claim.
Many nonviolent activists and scholars have embraced part of Sharp’s insight. They recognize that governments do not rule by force alone, but by the cooperation and support of institutions, organizations and individuals. From this perspective, power is contingent. If people withdraw their cooperation strategically and nonviolently, regimes can be forced to concede, reform or even collapse. This understanding has shaped movements across the world, from civil resistance campaigns to election protection efforts.
And yet, there is an equally important part of Sharp’s insight they are missing.
The problem of concentrated powerWe are seeing how deeply dependent we have become on centralized systems that do not have our best interests in mind. The COVID-19 pandemic exposed how centralized healthcare and supply chains have become, leaving many without timely access to care and essential goods. And recurring, large-scale electrical outages, such as the 2021 Texas power crisis, show how dependent millions are on centralized grids that can fail.
When power is concentrated — whether in governments, corporations or some fusion of the two — corruption is not an accident. It is a structural inevitability. Systems organized around concentrated power will, over time, bend toward the interests of those who hold it. Policies, resources and decision-making processes become oriented toward preserving and expanding that power, often at the expense of the broader population.
Previous CoverageEven the most well-intentioned leaders operate within structures that reward consolidation, control and self-preservation. For example, in an effort to make the U.S. government more efficient and effective, President Barack Obama reinstated presidential authority, ushering in an era of consolidated executive power. The result is an unfortunate recurring pattern: Inequality deepens, accountability weakens and public institutions drift away from the people they are meant to serve.
When decision-making is centralized, the distance between those who hold power and those affected by it widens, often to the point where meaningful feedback becomes filtered, delayed or ignored altogether. Over time, this creates an environment where leaders are not only insulated from consequences, but are also operating with an increasingly distorted understanding of reality. Citizens, in turn, become disengaged or disempowered, sensing that their voices carry little weight within systems designed to concentrate authority rather than distribute it. The result is not just corruption in the traditional sense, but a deeper erosion of responsiveness, adaptability and trust — conditions without which meaningful reform from within is exceedingly difficult.
Activism as external correctionIn response to the erosion of democracy and the increasing inaccessibility of necessities like food, healthcare and housing, activists organize. They build networks to monitor elections, serve as watchdogs on corporate behavior, defend civil rights and provide essential services where governments fail. These efforts are vital. They protect people from immediate harm and at times, win meaningful reforms.
But rather than transforming how power is organized within society, these efforts often function as external correctives. They attempt to restrain abuse, mitigate harm and fill gaps left by failing institutions. In doing so, they implicitly accept the continued existence of centralized power structures, even as they resist their consequences.
This creates a paradox. Activists devote enormous energy to building parallel systems. Yet the underlying structures that concentrate that power remain largely intact.
The burden of endless resistanceOver time, this dynamic places an unsustainable burden on civil society. Activists become responsible for preventing abuse by those in power, holding institutions accountable and providing services that those institutions fail to deliver.
This is, in effect, a permanent state of resistance. It is also a reactive posture. Each new harm requires a new response, a new organization, a new campaign. The work expands endlessly, while the root cause — the concentration of power — remains unaddressed.
One example of this is the environmental justice movement, particularly the coordinated pushback against federal rollbacks. Coalitions such as We Are Still In and the U.S. Climate Alliance mobilize states, municipalities, businesses and civil society to uphold the commitments of the Paris Agreement. Additionally, environmental groups repeatedly challenge deregulation, while states advance their own regulations. This created a multi-level infrastructure of resistance. Yet, even these efforts are forced into a constant defensive posture, expending vast energy to block or mitigate harms rather than dismantling underlying structures that enable federally sanctioned reversals of policy.
While it’s true that it matters who holds office — we know that Trump’s policies are far more harmful to the environment than were Biden’s — this distinction does not resolve the deeper problem. The structure of centralized power remains unchanged, meaning that environmental policy can be rapidly advanced or dismantled with each shift in administration. As a result, even hard-won gains remain fragile. This volatility prevents the kind of long-term, consistent action required to address the climate crisis at scale.
The question that follows is both simple and profound: Why do we accept a system in which people must constantly organize to defend themselves against the very structures meant to serve them?
Reimagining the mainstream structureIf we take Sharp’s theory of power seriously, the answer cannot lie solely in resistance.
Withdrawing cooperation from unjust systems is a vital tool. But it is only half of the equation. The other half is construction: building a society in which power is distributed from the outset, rather than concentrated and then contested.
Previous CoverageThis requires a shift in orientation. Instead of asking how to better monitor and constrain centralized power, we must ask how to redesign the structures that produce it. What would it mean to organize political, economic and social systems so that decision-making authority is broadly shared? So that communities have direct control over the conditions of their lives? So that power is not something granted from above, but something exercised collectively?
In such a system, the need for vast external networks of resistance would diminish. Not because injustice would disappear, but because the mechanisms for addressing it would be built into the fabric of society itself.
And this is key. When power is disbursed throughout society into local communities — for example, when food is grown locally, housing is owned by cooperatives, health care is operated by neighborhood clinics, and so on — then community members can withdraw from or reduce their dependence on centralized, mainstream agribusinesses or real estate corporations or medical institutions. Empowering communities to take care of more and more of their own essential needs is a grassroots process that restructures how power is distributed in society. And the more communities that are empowered by these local initiatives, the more dispersed and decentralized power becomes.
Addressing concerns of centralized powerThe task ahead then is not only to resist concentrated power, but to replace it with distributed forms of governance and organization. To shift from a model of external oversight to one of internal design. In other words, the goal is not merely to challenge power, but to reconfigure it.
Around the world, communities are already doing this. They are realizing Sharp’s theory of decentralized power. By developing community gardens, housing coops and health centers, people can opt out of mainstream institutions and systems, greatly weakening the power those systems have over them. This is not merely an effort to fill in gaps. Instead, it deliberately shifts how power is distributed in society. Because, as dependency decreases, so does the ability of centralized authorities to command compliance. What emerges is not a parallel safety net, but a reconfiguration of power itself, one in which legitimacy flows from local and collective production and governance rather than from those who live far away.
In the examples below, we see communities around the world building local control over essential needs such as housing, food, health care, energy, technology and safety. Each project that enables people to meet these needs locally — rather than through international corporations or federally controlled institutions — is a step toward local empowerment. As more communities adopt this approach, power becomes increasingly distributed across society.
Housing: Community control over land and shelter A Zapatista slogan on a mural in the autonomous town of Marinaleda, Spain, translates “the land belongs to those who work it.” (Turismo de la Provincia de Sevilla)In southern Spain, the town of Marinaleda has created a radically different housing model. Following the election of Mayor Manuel Sánchez Gordillo — a labor leader pivotal to the town’s fight for self-governance — Marinaleda expropriated a significant amount of land from the state and launched a de-commodified housing system. Residents build their homes on collectively owned land; the town supplies construction materials and labor while occupants pay minimal mortgage payments tied to maintenance rather than profit. While operating within a broader national system, the town has effectively removed housing from market forces, placing control in the hands of the community itself.
In Jackson, Mississippi, Cooperation Jackson is working to build a solidarity economy rooted in worker ownership and community land control. Based on the model of Mondragon, Spain, residents are reducing dependence on both state and corporate systems.
Food: Feeding communities without external controlFew examples demonstrate community power more clearly than the Zapatista Autonomous Communities in Chiapas, Mexico. There, Indigenous communities have built autonomous systems of governance and agriculture, producing food collectively on communal land. In food forests, families and collectives farm milpa plots (corn, beans and squash) alongside cooperative coffee production. These systems operate independently of state programs and corporate supply chains, ensuring that communities can feed themselves on their own terms.
Community control goes beyond food. Volunteer medical professionals provide training for locals and help operate small community clinics that provide basic care, vaccinations and maternal support. Local community-run schools provide education that includes Indigenous languages, history and agroecology. And security as well as justice issues are brought before community assemblies.
Power is dispersed by rooting it in the community itself and sustaining it through ongoing practice rather than reliance on institutions organized and controlled far from the people they are meant to serve. This reduces residents’ vulnerability to political shifts, market fluctuations and external control. Participation is embedded into daily life, making autonomy a lived reality rather than an abstract ideal.
Likewise, in India, Navdanya, a woman- and Earth-centered movement to protect biodiversity, supports networks of farmers who preserve and share native seeds, rejecting dependence on corporate-controlled agriculture. Though funded in part by donations from corporate partners, they maintain seed sovereignty, which allows them to retain control over the very foundation of food production.
Health care: Care as a collective practiceAcross many Indigenous communities, healers and midwives operate within community structures where knowledge is passed through generations. Care is often relational, land-based and spiritually integrated. For example, within the Navajo Nation, Diné traditional healing is an active, community-embedded system. And in Maya Ixil regions, comadronas (traditional midwives) guide pregnancy, birth and postpartum care using herbal remedies and spiritual practices. While outside funding supports this work, it nevertheless provides examples of how traditional and alternative healing can replace total dependence on mainstream health care systems.
These health care practices are examples of mutual aid networks — many of which have expanded rapidly in recent years — in which communities can organize care without institutional backing. Funded through direct contributions and relationships of trust, these networks provide medical support, caregiving and essential supplies outside formal systems.
Energy and technology: Infrastructure in community handsEnergy and technology are often treated as inherently centralized, but communities are challenging that assumption. For example, Barefoot College trains local residents in the Global South — often women — to build and maintain solar infrastructure themselves, placing both knowledge and power in community hands.
Digital infrastructure is also being reclaimed. Community-built mesh networks, such as Guifi.net, provide locally owned internet systems governed by its users rather than corporate providers. These networks demonstrate that even complex technological systems can be decentralized and collectively managed.
Safety: Community-based security and governanceIn the Indigenous Mexican town of Cherán, residents expelled external political authorities and established their own system of governance and security. Community patrols replaced state police, and decision-making shifted to local assemblies.
Similarly, within Zapatista communities, systems of justice and conflict resolution are handled collectively, without reliance on external courts or enforcement structures. Safety, in these contexts, emerges from shared responsibility rather than imposed authority.
From meeting needs to redistributing powerIt’s worth noting that not all community-based efforts are entirely self-sufficient. Some, like community land trusts, rely heavily on ongoing government funding. And Germany’s energy democracy movement makes use of public grants and corporate support. Additionally, community safety groups provide programs that interrupt violence and reduce harm, but still depend on local police. Yet, they are models for systems and structures that can and sometimes do transition to total independence.
What unites these examples is not perfection but a desire to reduce their dependence on centralized institutions. They demonstrate that communities can meet essential needs through systems they control. That reduction matters because dependence is the mechanism through which power is maintained.
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DonateA fair critique of decentralizing power is that it can fragment capacity and deepen inequality between communities. Not all localities begin with the same resources, skills or cohesion, and without coordination, decentralization can produce uneven outcomes, duplication of effort or gaps in essential services, especially in moments that require large-scale response. It can also risk exclusion or local capture if decision making is dominated by a few voices.
These are real concerns. But they point to the need for networking, not isolation. They reveal the importance of shared standards, mutual aid across communities and federated structures that allow coordination without recentralizing authority. In this model, power is distributed, but not disconnected. Communities retain control over their systems while participating in broader networks that pool knowledge, redistribute resources and maintain accountability.
When communities no longer rely on governments or corporations for housing, food, energy or care, their participation in those systems diminishes. And their withdrawal is not merely tactical. Rather, it becomes a condition of life that rebuilds societal power structures from the ground up.
And when this is multiplied across communities, something larger begins to emerge: a society in which power is not concentrated and contested, but dispersed and practiced. This is what it means to take Gene Sharp seriously — not only to withdraw cooperation from unjust systems, but to build the capacity to live without them.
This article Resistance is only half the equation was originally published by Waging Nonviolence.
Trump repeals rules governing off-roading on public lands
President Donald Trump rescinded two executive orders on Friday evening that aimed to balance off-road vehicle (OHV) use on public lands. The 1972 and 1977 orders, signed by Presidents Richard Nixon and Jimmy Carter, required federal agencies to minimize ecological damage, harassment of wildlife, and recreational conflicts due to OHV use on public lands. Repealing the orders prioritizes motorized recreation and resource extraction over conservation, increasing the risk of widespread environmental degradation.
The White House called the rescinded orders “outdated and burdensome” hurdles to energy and timber production. Without this guidance, fragile ecosystems—including those inside national parks—are at risk of unmitigated OHV use, which can degrade streams, displace wildlife, and significantly damage soil and vegetation. Beyond ecological damage, allowing more OHV use in the backcountry will increase dust and noise pollution and lead to conflicts between off-roaders and other user groups, like hikers and rafters.
“Rescinding guidance meant to reduce conflicts in the backcountry and protect wildlife habitat isn’t popular; that’s why Trump tried to bury it by putting this order out on a Friday evening,” Center for Western Priorities Communications Director Kate Groetzinger told the New York Times.
Wildfire experts warn of dire fire season to comeHistoric drought conditions and an exceptionally light mountain snowpack have left much of the West vulnerable to wildfire this year. Simultaneously, fire experts are deeply concerned about federal management shifts and significant personnel losses within agencies like the Forest Service and Interior department. “I think this is going to be the year,” warned Timothy Ingalsbee, co-founder and executive director of Firefighters United for Safety, Ethics and Ecology. “The conditions are just ripe for some really bad outcomes.”
Quick hits USGS rolls out national map of public lands and waters Trump Interior Secretary Doug Burgum says says MAGA rally for America’s 250th will be ‘nonpartisan’ Here’s where the Trump administration plans to allow hunting, fishing on refuge and park service lands Park Service officials raised alarms over Trump administration’s tennis center plan Forest Service delays public rollout of its proposed repeal of Roadless RuleLookout Eugene-Springfield | Bloomberg
How to define ‘access’? Bitterroot property swap sparks public land debate Column: Make grazing great again? UFC White House fight and race cars take over National Park Service land Quote of the dayEssentially, this is a hijacking of one of America’s oldest and most well-respected conservation organizations… There are so many very good people at the foundation, with so many years doing real work on behalf of America’s national parks, it’s heartbreaking to watch.”
—Aaron Weiss, executive director of the Center for Western Priorities, Los Angeles Times
Picture ThisHey parents! Did you know your fourth-grade student is eligible for an annual pass to America’s public lands? With school almost out for the summer, it’s the perfect time to get the pass.
The Every Kid Outdoors pass allows fourth graders and their families to receive free entrance to federal public lands and waters during their fourth grade school year (September-August).
To do this, log on to everykidoutdoors.gov with your student, complete an activity and then download and print your pass voucher. Redeem the printed voucher for the pass at thousands of federal public land sites throughout the country.
Feature image: Radar Hill OHV Area, Oregon; BLM/Flickr
The post Trump repeals rules governing off-roading on public lands appeared first on Center for Western Priorities.
NEW We the People Story Map
Backbone Intern Giacomo Moody's Story Map for We the People is now LIVE!.
The Story Map traces the journey of this Iconic image, from its 2007 debut at Seattle Center to its current deployments in pro-democracy protests around the country. Check out Giacomo's great work and the amazing fruits of our collective labors.
Learn more about joining us in DC or pitching in to support our team going to Washington, DC to mark the 250th Birthday of this country. We'll once again take the streets in a defiant and beautiful expression of common cause and our shared commitment to fulfilling mission of creating a more just, sustainable, and democratic nation, and a future we can be proud to hand our children.
Check out the We the People Story Map at BackboneCampaign.org/WeThePeople.
We the People on display at Folklife 2026!
We the People featured at NW Folklife Festival this weekend!
Two copies will be at Seattle Center this weekend at the NW Folklife Festival, one at the Mural Amphitheater Stage, near the Space Needle and another in the International Fountain Pavilion, with pens for signing. Use this chance to add your signature in time for it to be taken to DC this July 4th!
Over the last 19 years, Backbone's giant We the People banner has served as an icon of people power and our aspirations to fulfill the shared mission of creating a more perfect union. Adding two more Preamble sections has allowed it to appear in even more cities in the past year, collecting signatures and grabbing the attention of the press and public as a symbol of resistance and resilience.
Higher fees could make visiting Colorado’s Maroon Bells unaffordable
A proposed management change for the Maroon Bells Scenic Area, located in the White River National Forest outside Aspen, Colorado, is putting public access to the popular hiking destination in jeopardy, particularly for less affluent visitors.
Earlier this month, after the U.S. Forest Service stated that it can no longer afford to manage the area, Pitkin County applied for a special use permit to take over operations beginning in the 2027 season. Managing heavy visitation has always been a challenge at the Maroon Bells, and the area currently relies on shuttles, timed-entry, and limited parking reservations to keep crowds from overwhelming the landscape. The Pitkin County Open Space and Trails director told county commissioners the county’s general fund will not subsidize Maroon Bells operations, and that it will increase fees to cover costs.
The Forest Service currently oversees these operations at a nearly $300,000 annual deficit, though as Center for Western Priorities Creative Content and Policy Manager Lilly Bock-Brownstein writes in a new Westwise blog post about the issue, “Accepting the premise that national public lands must operate in the black is accepting an argument that would justify privatizing nearly every park, forest, and wilderness area in the country.”
The Maroon Bells situation is in part a result of underfunding by Congress, a problem that has been building for years and has accelerated under the Trump administration. Both the Trump administration and Interior Secretary Doug Burgum have made it clear they intend to manage public lands like assets on a balance sheet, and offloading management costs to local governments is a consequence of that approach. The result is a pay-to-play system where access to public lands becomes more expensive. Hiking the Maroon Bells is already a costly endeavor that requires visitors to pay for parking in Aspen and for the shuttle ride to the trailhead.
Quick hits The hollow man in the arena Comments from national park ‘snitch signs’ have been released. They’re wild The Maroon Bells belong to everyone. Why are we treating them like a business? The Trump administration is spending $5 million to coat D.C. horse statues in gold Grazing away wildfire risk? Congress considers cattle grazing for wildfire suppression California is getting three new state parks, and they’re not where you’d think Wildlife advocates sue to stop killing of predators inside designated wilderness areas Research suggests being in nature improves body image Quote of the dayThis is part of a Trump administration strategy to defund land management agencies in order to increase dysfunction, and then to present privatization as the solution. The Maroon Bells are well known and visible enough to draw scrutiny and generate outrage, but lesser-known areas won’t be so lucky.”
—CWP Creative Content and Policy Manager Lilly Bock-Brownstein, Westwise
Picture ThisA brilliant red sunset paints the landscape on the Tongass National Forest, Alaska. Plan your adventure today!
(Forest Service photo by Adam DiPietro.)
Featured image: Maroon Bells Shuttle at the Maroon Lake parking area. Source: Pitkin County.
The post Higher fees could make visiting Colorado’s Maroon Bells unaffordable appeared first on Center for Western Priorities.
How the Gutting of the Voting Rights Act Deepens Environmental Injustice
In April 2026, the Supreme Court’s 6-3 ruling in Louisiana v. Callais gutted a core protection of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 — the provision barring racial gerrymandering designed to dilutes the voting power of Black communities. The Trump administration called it a victory. For communities on the frontlines of pollution, climate change, and environmental injustice, it is one most deliberate act of erasure and as Dr. Beverly Wright of Deep South Center for Environmental Justice (DSCEJ) says, it is a “theft of our movement’s inheritance”.
This ruling did not arrive alone. It is part of a coordinated, multi-front strategy to remove impacted communities — particularly Black communities — from the rooms where decisions get made. Through the courts, through Executive Orders seizing control of elections, through the SAVE Act’s documentation barriers that would block more than 21 million Americans from voting, through a Department of Justice that has sued all 50 states to build a national voter surveillance database, and through the threat of criminal prosecution against election officials and civic organizations.
This administration’s goal is not election integrity. The goal is the permanent political marginalization of Black communities, Indigenous communities and communities of color.
The pattern is unmistakable when you see it whole. The Supreme Court’s ruling applies not just to Congressional districts, but also to state legislative districts and maps for county and municipal elections — determining who gets to serve on a school board, a city council, or in the judiciary.
Meanwhile, the administration has turned the Civil Rights Division of the Justice Department into an agency that violates the very definition of civil rights, redirecting it toward suppressing voting rather than protecting voting rights.
At the same time, another assault on voting rights is being advanced through Congress. If signed into law, the SAVE Act would require every American to produce a passport or certified birth certificate, in person, at an election office just to register to vote, eliminating online registration, mail registration, and most voter registration drives. For Black communities, this lands on a foundation of deliberate historical denial: many older Black Americans were never issued birth certificates by governments that refused to recognize their full humanity.
For Indigenous communities, the SAVE Act’s promise that Tribal IDs will suffice is a fiction, ignoring the fact that virtually no Tribal ID includes place of birth, another barrier buried in the bill’s text. And even with documents in hand, the nearest election office can be a hundred miles away across reservation land, or in Alaska, accessible only by plane.
These are not bureaucratic inconveniences; they are systemic barriers deeply rooted in this country’s history of racial segregation. They reflect the architecture of laws written around people who were never meant to be politically represented and applied to communities still fighting to be counted.
The same communities facing barriers to their rights to vote are bearing the greatest burden of air pollution, toxic contamination, extreme heat, and climate disasters. And the fact that these communities are overwhelmingly Black, Brown, Indigenous, and low-income, and this is not a coincidence. It is the predictable result of political exclusion and the enduring legacy of segregation.
When communities cannot elect representatives who share their priorities, when their votes are diluted through racial gerrymandering, the outcome is a petrochemical plant permitted next to an elementary school, a neighborhood left without clean water, or a community absorbing the full cost of an energy system it had no power to refuse.
A political system that makes voting harder perpetuates the very conditions that make environmental justice necessary.
This is also why the assault extends beyond the ballot. The same administration that is dismantling voting rights protections is also terrorizing immigrant communities — deportation threats, surveillance, and the weaponization of documentation status as a tool of political control.
What this administration is attacking, in every instance, is the fundamental democratic principle that the people most affected have a rightful voice in decision-making.
That principle does not begin and end at the voting booth. It lives in every planning meeting, every regulatory comment period, every public hearing, every coalition room where communities are fighting for their lives and their land. Undocumented neighbors, visa holders, green card holders, people who live and work and raise children in the same fenceline communities, who breathe the same air and drink the same water, carry knowledge and moral authority that no policy process can afford to exclude.
Voting is an essential mechanism through which communities exercise the most direct form of political power available to our communities, and its protection is non-negotiable. The fight for voting rights and the fight for full community participation are intrinsically linked because they are being waged against us by the same forces, for the same purpose: to ensure that the communities with the most at stake in our climate and environmental future have the least say in shaping it.
Our communities continue to show up, no matter the barriers put in our way: voters and non-voters, citizens and non-citizens, people who cast ballots, people who testify, and people who organize. No matter the injustices we face, environmental justice leaders know that our solidarity is unstoppable and our resolve to fight for true representation will never be broken by any court or politician.
Byron Ramos Gudiel is Executive Director of the Center for Earth, Energy & Democracy (CEED).
Sources:
https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/save-act-and-election-power-grab
https://www.vote.org/save-act/
https://narf.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/narf-save-act-native-voters.pdf
https://www.aclu.org/trump-on-voting-rights
https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/research-reports/how-gerrymandering-tilts-2024-race-house
LCV – https://www.lcv.org/media-center/lcv-statement-on-scotus-decision-in-louisiana-v-callais/
Not NRDC Action Fund: https://www.nrdcactionfund.org/news/scotus-voting-rights-act-decision-hurts-our-democracy-and-the-court-itself/
Sierra Club: https://www.sierraclub.org/press-releases/2026/04/sierra-club-statement-supreme-court-ruling-gut-voting-rights-act
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Food Justice from the Local to the Global: A Conversation with Raj Patel and Leah Penniman
At our recent annual Conference, Bioneers brought together two ground breaking figures in the struggle for an equitable and healthy food system. One working on the global architectures of that system and the other a hands on farmer and educator exemplifying how solidarity can empower dispossessed communities to reclaim their food sovereignty. Raj Patel is one of the world’s experts on sustainable food system, and a tireless activist against neocolonial and extractive agriculture, Leah Penniman is the visionary founder of Soul Fire Farms and the author of Farming While Black. The conversation was moderated by Naomi Starkman founder and former Editor-in-chief of Civil Eats, the award winning nonprofit newsroom focused on the US food system. The following is an edited excerpt of that conversation.
NAOMI: We are living in a time of multiple crises. How do we understand what the polycrisis means for us?
RAJ: The idea of polycrisis is that it appears that there’s a whole bunch of very bad things happening at the same time: the climate crisis, the rise of authoritarianism, the pandemic disease, catastrophic weather events, and a range of things that are a series of unfortunate events. That is, I think, a misunderstanding of the structural forces that are driving all of these events.
Capitalism has always managed to patch up problems by extracting in new places, and finding new frontiers to open up. You see this process even happening now, where Elon Musk, for example, has a new frontier in low Earth orbit. He’s created a new space that’s monetized and is now his zone to be able to extract wealth from. He’s the king of low Earth orbit [with his company Space X], and he will be for a while. But there’s only so much deferring and fixing that can happen.
Now, what we’re seeing is what happens when there’s no more cheapening of the world that can be done, and the climate crisis is not just bad, but getting worse. There was a terrifying paper in the Reviews of Geophysics two weeks ago that shows that the rate of climate change is going up; the world is not just heating, it’s heating up faster than we thought it was.
On top of that, of course, we are seeing rising authoritarianism. The far right capturing our media, our means of attention. All of this is not an accident but precisely an outcome of a series of crises in capitalism that have been brewing for a while.
When you hear polycrisis, sometimes you will hear a narrative that it’s just a really bad time, but it’s going to get better. But unfortunately you need a clear-eyed structural analysis to understand that, in fact, movements on the frontlines that are taking on the crisis understand this to be the outcome of decades, even centuries of capitalist accumulation. If you understand that, then you can understand why the imagination of what needs to come next is so radical, and in which lots of post-capitalist experiments are happening.
One of the things that you need if you’re going to imagine a better world is a rocket fuel of joy. That’s why protests like the No Kings marches matter, even though at times they get criticized for not having a focused political agenda, while white supremacist organizations are undermining the state.
But a protest, when it’s done right, is how we meet and intersect and listen to one another by meeting people who are not necessarily in our normal circle. I have to declare a preference here. I met my wife on a protest.
NAOMI: This might be the moment for Leah to talk about strategic optimism.
LEAH: I would like to bring Wendell Berry into the conversation. One of my favorite poems is the “Mad Farmer Liberation Front Manifesto.” Please read it if you have not, there are many quotable lines. The one that is relevant to this conversation is “Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.”
At Soul Fire Farm, the way we situate our work as Afro-Indigenous regenerative agriculturalists is by feeding the community and training farmers. We’re builders. We’re building these institutions that inhabit the values we wish to see in the new world. But that can’t be the only strategy.
I like the image of butterfly with each of its four wings representing aspects of transformative social justice: build, resist, reform, and heal with kinship at its center. Resist includes protests and civil disobedience. Reform is getting involved in the electoral politics and public education, and then heal. So we build, resist, reform, and heal with kincentricity at its center which fuels of our love, our connection, our Ubuntu, “I am because you are.” That helps us to envision a post-capitalist society.
I agree with Raj about the insanity of the growth imperative of a three percent compound growth on a finite planet is literally insane, and it is colonial, it is white supremacist, it is dualist, and the only way that we’re going to survive on this planet is in reciprocity with all the other beings that live here.
NAOMI: My daughter is now 23, but when she was 19 or so, we had the talk, and it’s not the talk you’re thinking. It was the climate catastrophe talk. If any parents have had to try to convince their child it’s worth going on with their hopes and dreams in this catastrophe, it’s a really hard. It’s much harder than the birds and the bees talk.
My daughter, bless her heart, was challenging me about optimism. What we decided together is something that we call strategic optimism.
If you decide to be a pessimist, then the rational behavior would be some sort of hedonistic nihilism. You would be like let me accumulate as much as I can in the near term, bump everybody else; I’m just going to get mine because everything’s about to go up in flames. No long-term planning, no altruism, no generosity, no compassion. That’s sort of the logical extreme of this pessimistic, nihilistic viewpoint.
If on the other hand you choose optimism as a practice – not as a feeling but as a practice – then your attitude is I’m going to get up today and I’m going to plant this crop, I’m going to feed my community, I’m going to sequester carbon in the soil, I’m going to look out for my neighbor. Maybe there is only an infinitesimal chance we will win. But in the meantime, today I can alleviate suffering for some beings in my immediate community, and tomorrow I can alleviate some more. And maybe, just maybe we can alleviate enough suffering that we’ll all survive together.
But if we don’t do that, there’s absolutely no hope. So we’ve decided in our family that this strategic optimism is our practice. It’s our discipline. The way that you get up and you take your vitamins, or you go on a run, or you brush your teeth. You get up and you decide to do whatever step it is on whatever wing of the butterfly you have access to help build that world that we want to see.
We talk about food justice. We talk about equity. We talk about sovereignty. We talk about accessibility. A lot of the practices at Soul Fire Farm are not only about those three, but are also about weaving in Black and Indigenous wisdom, and ancestral wisdom into the land, and teaching people to become their own sacred farmers on other lands.
LEAH: I love the term sacred farmer. I would like to bring the ancestors into the room. Fannie Lou Hamer organized the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired. She was radicalized as a sharecropper. She was only 6 years old when she noticed that the landowner was setting the scales incorrectly to undervalue the cotton harvest and not pay the Black laborers their fair due. That kept them indebted and in extreme poverty so they couldn’t leave the plantation. As a child her first act of civil disobedience was to fix the scales.
Later in her life, when she was an organizer during the Civil Rights movement, she learned that many sharecroppers were being kicked off their land for registering to vote, for joining a protest, signing a petition, or joining the NAACP. She would have organizing meetings in her house, and as a farmer, she canned food that she grew. Radical youth would ask, “Mama Hamer, why you wasting your time canning these peaches and stuff?” Her answer was, “Child, if you have 400 quarts of greens and gumbo soup canned for the winter, no one can push you around or tell you what to say or do.”
So she organized the Freedom Farm Cooperative, where 500 sharecroppers who had lost their land co-owned the land. They were doing all kinds of beautiful mutual aid.
So Fannie Lou Hamer is our inspiration at Soul Fire Farm. To realize the idea that to free ourselves we must feed ourselves, we have to make sure that our agriculture is locally rooted, it’s regenerative, it’s tied to our heritage, and it’s in our hands.
There were 16 million Black farmers in the early 1900s. Most of them were kicked off their land by white supremacists, literally pushed off their land and lynched. The U.S. Department of Agriculture selectively gave loans to white farmers, causing bankruptcy among Black farmers. TIAA – Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association – and other investment firms unscrupulously grab up Black owned land, which is vulnerable because a lot of Black farmers don’t have access to lawyers and don’t leave wills.
So the rising generation of Black and Brown farmers is landless, they have no capital, and are just a few generations away from the red clays of Georgia – with its traumatic association with the forced removal of Cherokee people and the slave labor of African descended people. We say the land was the scene of the crime, but the land was never the criminal. Now a beautiful rising generation of people who are the color of soil are ready to reclaim that right to belong to the earth, to have agency in the food system, and are recognizing that regenerative agriculture was invented by Indigenous and Black people.
Dr. George Washington Carver is literally the godfather of regenerative agriculture. He worked with farmers when he was at Tuskegee University from 1890 to 1940 promoting cover crops, compost and crop rotation. Dr. Carver made sure that the soil health was the foundation of farming practices. He had a whole generation of Black farmers doing regenerative agriculture before Rodale came onto the scene in the 1940s.
We can look back to the Ovambo people of Namibia with their raised beds and the people of Liberia with their African dark earth, and the polycultures of Nigeria. That’s the kind of agriculture that we’re doing. We feed our community, no cost, door-step delivery. We train thousands of Black and Brown farmers in person on the farm through a 50-hour course, and then they go off and they do their sacred farming all across Turtle Island and, beyond.
The theory of change involves practices like sewing of seeds, of being trans-local, and locally adapted. Providing land-based mutual aid, in which the farm becomes a hub for feeding folks, for gathering, for organizing, a safe haven, a kind of aboveground railroad. The land becomes the scene of the revolution, just as it was in the Civil Rights movement. Black farmers were the ones who housed, fed and clothed and protected the freedom riders. If there were no Black farmers, there wouldn’t have been a Civil Rights movement. You think the Freedom Riders stayed at the Hyatt? No, they went to a Black farmer’s house. That’s where they hid. That’s how they stayed alive. As Malcolm X said, “Land is the basis of all revolution, all freedom, all justice.”
NAOMI: Thank you for all of your work. I just have to ask, how your work has been impacted by the current administration.
LEAH: It sucks. But we’re not stopping, I would say one of the more heartbreaking things, is that we had a major legislative victory with the Inflation Reduction Act under the Biden administration. They actually folded in a provision for Black farmers that we had fought for for over a decade. Historically, the USDA had discriminated against Black farmers. There was a landmark Civil Rights settlement called Pigford v. Glickman in 1999 that offered a very small amount to each of the farmers who had lost their land, but it wasn’t nearly enough. We needed full debt forgiveness for these farmers.
So we helped, along with farmers across the country, to introduce legislation, the Justice for Black Farmers Act, which was led by Senator Cory Booker. It was debated and I got to speak to Congress. It was crazy. They were actually listening to Black people. I could hardly believe what was happening.
A 5 billion dollar provision for the debt relief went into the Inflation Reduction Act, and was passed; payments were going out. And now they stopped.
The Disadvantaged Farmers and Ranchers Training grant is gone. All of the socially disadvantaged farmers programs are gone. People bought things based on contracts that were made, now the contracted money has evaporated. So it’s a shit show. It’s really, really rough.
We’re doing our best to piece together mutual aid networks. Susu is a Caribbean lending society. We’re trying to put together a national susu to try to stop the bleeding, so we don’t lose any more land. But now all the funders are skittish. Their attitude is, Black people were cool in 2020, but they’re not cool anymore. Don’t you do any programs for white farmers? I’m like, are you kidding me? The white farmers receive over 90% of the USDA funds. We absolutely need to support Indigenous and Black folks in getting through these times, and to continue the work.
NAOMI: Raj, when the government starts to clamp down, what are the models that you’ve seen that have been successful? Where can we look for inspiration in places perhaps in this country, historically, as Leah has been sharing with us, but also around the world?
RAJ: One of the places I have been very inspired by is Arkansas. I was just traveling through Arkansas for a book that I just finished that weaves together the history of all the things that have happened in Arkansas, ranging from Indigenous dispossession to the Elaine Race massacre [1919 massacre in which as many as several hundred Black tenant farmers, who were organizing against abuses were murdered], the site of the largest race massacre in U.S. history, to the rise of Walmart also in Arkansas.
One of the movements that I particularly was taken by is the Southern Tenants Farmers Union. The origins of this are germane to us now because in 1928, the Mississippi flooded and grew to 60 to 100 miles wide, depending on where you were. It was a catastrophe. The cleanup was a billion dollars back then. It was a huge expense, but of course, Black farmers saw none of that money. In fact, it was that event that flipped Black farmers’ voting allegiance from Republican to Democrat.
It was the failure of the federal response to a catastrophe that politicized people. It wasn’t the event, it wasn’t the flood. It was the government’s failure afterwards. This is important for our mobilizing in this moment, because in that moment, there was socialist organizing happening throughout the South, and the Southern Tenants Farmers Union was a site of social organizing where white and Black tenant farmers together organized despite the attempts of white supremacists to sew racial division. It turned out that white and Black tenant farmers had much more in common with each other than they did with the white bourgeoisie.
That is a moment that we can learn from particularly as we see the betrayals of the white working class and the absence of any dividend of white supremacy for white working class people. This is a moment to be able to split what appears to be a fairly firm hegemonic block into its constituent parts and to recruit. It is something to think about because this is a moment in which government failure writ large is a recruiting ground for a genuine grounded working class transformation.
But it depends on us using the language of recognition, mutuality, solidarity and socialism. It doesn’t happen because we’re just all going to get along and kumbaya our way out of this. You need a materialist analysis, otherwise people don’t see one another and recognize that we have much more in common than the white supremacists would have us believe.
Elsewhere in the world, there are movements that have managed to lay foundations that are paying off right now. One of my favorites is in India in the state of Andhra Pradesh. There are descendants of organizations that started off as women’s literacy groups, and that have survived the scourge of Hindu supremacy. It’s not an accident that Narendra Modi and Donald Trump were best buds in his first term I’m thinking of an event in Texas called Howdy, Modi, which was the only event that Trump came to where he was not the star. Trump opened for Modi in a stadium in Houston, and then Trump buggered off and everyone cheered for Modi because there’s a whole phalanx of rightwing desis [Indian Americans], who are part of the South Asian diaspora who believe in Hindu supremacy.
In India, Hindu supremacy is nasty and vile, and there have been people who have fought back against that, particularly in Andhra Pradesh where there is a system of farming that was originally coded as Hindu natural farming, but has been reclaimed as the world’s largest agroecological transition. More agroecological farmers have been spawned in Andhra Pradesh than anywhere else, where over two million farmers are currently agroecological farmers. And by 2035, six million farmers will be agroecological farmers.
India is hostage to fossil fuels, particularly through the Gulf of Hormuz, and hostage to fossil fuel based fertilizers which are scarce and expensive due to the US/Iran war. One of the ways to avoid using fertilizer is to farm agroecologically. They’ve set up systems so that farmers wean themselves off fertilizer, so they don’t pay the high cost of fertilizer and can start making money.
It’s predominantly women and Adivasi [people indigenous to an area], and low-cost farmers. That has happened despite the scourge of Hindu supremacy because these movements have been robust and understood how to experiment and how to protect oneself against divisive racial rhetorics.
NAOMI: Raj, you’ve written about the difference between food security and food sovereignty Would you explain that.
RAJ: The idea of food security is a way of depoliticizing the word hunger, because it renders hunger into something that’s tractable for the state. Food security is when you have sufficient access to foods to be able to lead a healthy life. But you can be food secure in prison. The idea of food security says nothing about power.
The term food sovereignty was coined by La Via Campesina in the early ‘90s, and launched in 1995 at the World Food Summit in Rome. The idea of food sovereignty is about reclaiming power from the World Trade Organization and the World Bank. Food sovereignty is about a community’s right to be able to end hunger and define its own food policy.
What that means is that communities have to decide what food sovereignty is by studying and discussing it. La Via Campesina decided that food sovereignty was dependent on an end to all forms of violence against women. The idea being that if this is about communities’ right to decide what food policy is, then everyone has to be equal, and the biggest obstacle to that, as identified by La Via Campesina, was patriarchy and that needs to be fought against.
Particularly now, given the revelations about Cesar Chavez, that dialectic is sharp and vital to remember: food sovereignty is about a radical naming of inequality of power and a redressing of it.
NAOMI: Leah, the matriarchy is a big part of your practice. Would you talk about your work on farms in Haiti and Dominican Republic, and how that may relate to the matriarchy and the patriarchy.
We don’t really have an agroecological movement in this country. We don’t have a politicized agricultural alternative community. It’s happening in smaller ways in which people are being trained how be farmers, as well as how to be the next generation of political leaders.
LEAH: When we talk about deconstructing the patriarchy, our model is not one of franchising; the other farms I work on are not our farms. We intentionally have a de-growth framework. We are aiming towards our own irrelevance. We have no interest in pushing our survival on anybody. We are part of mycelial network.
The farms in our network are all women-led, as is our farm. We only have two men on our staff of 22 (those poor guys). Altair Rodriguez runs an organic family farm in the Dominican Republic called La Finca Tierra Negra in the area that was the training ground for the militia against the Trujillo regime. Trujillo burned down the farm of Altair’s great grandfather and killed many family members. She revived the farm out of the ashes. It’s an agroecological farm growing coffee and 22 other crops. They are constantly producing fruits and medicines and work with Haitian migrants and Dominican women.
We have a sister farm amongst my homeland of Ayiti (Haiti) on the Western side of the island, outside of Léogâne, where one-third of the community was killed in an earthquake in 2010. We did so much grief work there. Out of the ashes of that earthquake, we planted thousands of fruit trees, moringa trees, and had woman-led seed exchanges. We helped reforest the hillsides that were denuded by the French as part of their extortion and punishment of our beautiful revolutionary island.
On the Caribbean island of Vieques is the Maroon Farm. In an effort led by women, they cleaned the soil that the U.S. military destroyed. They are providing food security by feeding the entire island. We also work with farmers in Sierra Norte in Oaxaca, Mexico.
All of these farms are incredible. We spend our winters doing solidarity brigades. We raise money, we bring resources, we bring skilled people to do projects that they want to do, not ones that we pretend we know that they should do. We do consciousness raising. We do political education. We’re all members of La Via Campesina. We study together and we plan and strategize together.
Something that I’ve noticed in the past ten years especially in the Caribbean, is people used to identify with colonial borders that have been imposed by the French, English and Spanish, but there has been a revival of Taíno and Arawak identity. At food sovereignty conferences by and for Taíno and Arawak Black women, the perspective has changed to “we’re one people; what is this BS they’ve been trying to convince us of? We have enough food. We have the best soil. There’s food all year round; let’s feed our people.”
NAOMI: Raj, in this very strange post-neoliberal world that we are entering into, there might be some hope that there could be some transformation. Do you think in this time of seemingly endless uncertainty and confounding ways that there might be some potential for optimism?
RAJ: There’s nothing guaranteed. Often at this stage of the conversation, it turns to “if only we do this, this and this, everything’s going to be fine.” No, because that’s an unreasonable way of understanding the world. In Brazil, for instance, under the first Lula administration, there were some victories. For example, in the food system, there were certain laws about being able to get food, one example was the Popular restaurant initiative, supported by the government that offered very cheap healthy meals. Here in the U.S. now most food is eaten outside the home, and to have public restaurants is a way to have dignity for the working class.
Then under the Bolsonaro administration, that was ground into dirt. And most of the public restaurants now are roach motels. But now under the second Lula administration, they have a program for cozinhas solidárias, or solidarity kitchens. The government will pay people to open a licensed kitchen and make local food available to the public. There are still some public restaurants, but the zones in which organizing happens have moved into these spaces of social gathering in the solidarity kitchens.
What does that have to do with hope? Well, this is precisely the dialectical process. We won something under the first Lula administration, then the fascists came and then destroyed it. Now we rebuild with something else. The engine for hope is always the social movements. One of the engines for getting rid of Bolsonaro was his abject failure in dealing with the massive floods that Brazil had experienced a couple of years back. Again, the failure of a government to be able to respond to the climate crisis is an engine for the kinds of radical care that our movements are in the business of providing.
What I see that as the fulcrum of hope is the recognition that movements are already providing care. And, there’s nothing inherently leftwing about that. If you followed what happened after the hurricane Helene that tore through North Carolina, there were neo-Nazis on horseback, providing aid and media and solidarity. The far right are doing it as well, and that’s the terrain on which we struggle, we need to recognize it. They get a move in this world as well. They get to redefine the terms of climate change. They get to have a say about how climate change needs to be met with yet more racist exclusion. Our recruiting has to be stronger. We have to organize better, and there’s no guarantee we’ll win, but there’s everything to fight for.
NAOMI: The examples that Raj gave of the Popular restaurants and solidarity kitchens in Brazil makes me think of the concept of food commons. Leah, how do food commons come into your work?
LEAH: What unifies nonviolent strategies is the idea of ubuntu – “I am because you are” – of kinship. It’s an indigenous concept of animism or non-duality, this idea that I am the mountain, the mountain is me; I’m not a defender of the river, I am the river. The pre-enclosure concept that you could own a person or the land, is absolute insanity. You mean to say we’re going to take Mother Earth and put some lines on her and this part is going to be mine, and I have the right to exclude everyone, even if they starve? Insanity.
The idea of the commons is a reclamation of our sanity to humble ourselves below our big siblings who are the hawks, and the rivers, and the sequoias. They were on the scene before us; we came later, and are younger and less wise. So we need to defer to those who have figured out how to live in relationship and harmony. They understand that if there’s some sugar, some photosynthate coming into the forest ecosystem, that it will be shared amongst kin and non-kin. If there is a pest coming in and there’s a warning that needs to be distributed, everyone’s going to get the warning, not just the people I like or the cute ones, but everybody’s going to get it. The air is to be shared, the water is to be shared. When we signed papers for our farm we immediately got to work figuring out how to put it in a cooperative, which is a Western legal approximation of an indigenous commons.
The land has veto power over the people in our cooperative. We gave our pro bono student lawyers the challenge of giving the legal right for the land to have veto power. The local indigenous Mohican people need to have it too. We became the first cooperative in New York state to do a culture respect easement with Indigenous people, and also the first in New York state to do the Rights of Nature with our co-op.
So our little 80 acres is somewhat of a commons, but we want to spread this idea. Food is for everybody. Water’s for everybody. The land is for everybody.
The post Food Justice from the Local to the Global: A Conversation with Raj Patel and Leah Penniman appeared first on Bioneers.
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