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Ballot battles, lawsuits and a ticked off millionaire: What’s behind Eureka’s parking lot war?

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Thursday, July 25, 2024

In summary City officials in Eureka the plan to turn public parking lots into affordable housing would be easy. Now they’re facing a ballot measure campaign funded by one of the city’s richest men. Long before irate local business owners began descending on public meetings, before opponents filed four environmental lawsuits warning of snarled traffic and rampant crime, and before a local finance tycoon with a penchant for political controversy decided to fund a ballot measure campaign that would upend everything, city officials in Eureka thought their proposal was a real no-brainer: Turn some city-owned parking lots into affordable housing.  Hugging Humboldt County’s Lost Coast some 280 miles north of San Francisco and 150 miles west of Redding, Eureka is strapped for places to live. The county has more homeless people per capita than anywhere else in the state, with a disproportionate share living on the street — a problem that’s especially conspicuous in downtown Eureka. Like every California city and county, Eureka is also on the hook under state law to scrounge up space for new housing. The downtown economy could use a little goosing too.  The parking lot-to-affordable-housing plan was supposed to tackle all those problems at once. More housing. More foot traffic downtown. A satisfied California Housing and Community Development Department. Yes, the planned developments would leave the area with more people, more cars and fewer spaces to park, but that, city officials have said, is a worthwhile trade-off. “Truth be told, I would rather deal with a parking shortage than a housing shortage,” said current City Council member G. Mario Fernandez. Not everyone sees it that way. A group of ticked off locals with concerns that ranged from traffic congestion to business viability to public safety to state overreach launched “Citizens for a Better Eureka.” They did so with the financial backing of magnate Robin P. Arkley II, whose company, Security National, manages property and trades in real estate debt and is one of the city’s largest employers. Shortly thereafter, many of the same activists qualified a local measure for the November ballot to scrap the city’s plan and replace it with one that would require any new housing to preserve all existing parking. Developers and the city say such a costly requirement is tantamount to a development ban. The initiative would also backfill any lost city center housing by rezoning a dilapidated former middle school on the other side of town. The parking lot wars on California’s Lost Coast are part of a statewide trend of voters taking their gripes with state housing mandates to the ballot. Over the last half decade, state lawmakers have passed dozens of new laws requiring local elected officials to plan for more housing, whether they want to or not.  When these conflicts wind up in court — and they often do — courts have generally sided with state agencies.  But in Eureka, the political stars are aligned a bit differently. This is not a wealthy suburb in which elected officials are vowing to resist what they see as overreaching state bureaucrats. Eureka city officials are on the same page as the state housing department in wanting to see more dense housing downtown, parking be damned. It’s the voters, this November, who will have the opportunity to slam on the brakes.  Whether the ballot initiative, called Measure F, would actually put the city at odds with state law is an unsettled debate, one that’s now playing out as dueling political soundbites as the election approaches.  That makes the local ballot fight more than a mere turf battle over a few lots. In a spat between business and property owners, current and former elected officials, environmentalists, state regulators and a human lightning rod in the form of a local loan mogul, it’s also a story about who has the ultimate say over what a town looks like. “I think that a lot of this is maybe not about parking lots,” said Tom Wheeler, who runs the Environmental Protection Information Center in nearby Arcata and who supports the city’s housing plan. “Parking lots are a proxy for a larger kind of identity politics issue for what Eureka is.” Eureka’s big idea The fate of Eureka’s parking lots hinges on a promise that the city made to the State of California in 2019.  Once every decade, cities and counties are required to lay out plans for new housing to accommodate local population growth. In the case of Eureka, a city with some 26,000 people, officials were tasked with laying the ground for 952 new units, 378 of which have to be affordable for people earning less than $46,200. To boost the chances of actually meeting those goals, officials opted to lease or sell city-owned land to developers. They went all in on the idea, putting nearly 90% of their state affordable unit quota on 14 public parking lots. Supporters viewed such lots as abundant and dispensable. The Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities, a local environmental nonprofit, estimated that 34% of the “developable land” in Eureka’s downtown is set aside for off-street parking. Initially, City Manager Miles Slattery said his office didn’t hear much pushback. In 2019, staff held a series of public meetings to find out what locals want future development in the city to look like. Most participants favored the dense, high-rise, pedestrian-centric layout common to the city’s Old Town neighborhood along the waterfront. “It was very clear that people wanted Eureka to look like what you see in Old Town,” said Slattery. “When that happened, I didn’t see any potential for anything to be a problem.” The parking lot on 3rd Street between G and H Streets in Eureka on June 17, 2024. The lot is the site of a proposed Humboldt Transit Authority Hub that would include housing. Photo by Mark McKenna for CalMatters The old Jacobs School site in Eureka on June 17, 2024. Eureka City Schools recently sold the school site. Photos by Mark McKenna for CalMatters Slattery was wrong. The backlash began as soon as the city started taking solicitations for development and downtown business owners were suddenly facing the prospect of losing parking at specific sites. The city invited property owners and tenants surrounding the lots to attend a series of initial public meetings. They were, in Slattery’s words, “a shitshow.” The loss of parking would mean the eradication of local businesses that cater to a car-driving clientele, some said. Eurekans accessing downtown services, employees who work in adjacent Old Town and people with physical disabilities would be inconvenienced.  Some said the idea of the “15-minute city” —  the urban planning concept that housing, necessary businesses and services should all be reachable by foot within a quarter of an hour — was a poor fit for Humboldt County. Others claimed affordable housing would lead to more crime, a common complaint that lacks evidence.  Some locals also felt caught off guard. In April 2021, the planning commissioner offered his surprise resignation in the middle of a Zoom hearing, saying that he could not abide the city’s “minimized” public outreach efforts which amounted to “tyranny.”   “I think that a lot of this is maybe not just about parking lots”Tom Wheeler, Environmental Protection Information Center A spokesperson for Linc Housing, the affordable developer that stepped up to develop the first round of lots, said it held two community meetings in 2021, conducted a survey and has since held 19 small group information sessions.   “Many, many, many, many meetings happened for this,” said Slattery. “A lot of them were commandeered by a local business owner to get their employees to come and express their concerns.” That local business owner is Rob Arkley. Arkley initially agreed to be interviewed for this story, but then bowed out, offering no explanation. He did not respond to further questions. But in both public comments and private conversation with elected officials and developers, Arkley expressed particular concern about the development of one lot that, he has said, more than two dozen of his Security National employees use. When Citizens for a Better Eureka popped up to push back against the city parking lot plan, it did so with “startup funding” from Security National, according to the group’s website. Describing itself as a coalition of roughly 50 downtown businesses and property owners, the group filed four lawsuits challenging various aspects of the parking lot plan. (A fifth suit challenging a city decision to put the measure up for a vote in the November election rather than on the earlier March ballot was dismissed and the group has appealed). Each suit alleged violations of California’s signature environmental protection law, the California Environmental Quality Act.  In its case challenging the city’s overall general plan, the group, through its lawyer Bradley Johnson, argued that Eureka failed to analyze both “the traffic and transportation impacts associated with eliminating off-street public parking.” But, mirroring Arkley’s public comments, the group also raised safety concerns.  Eliminating the lots used by downtown workers will expose people “to unsafe conditions, including risk of violent crime, associated with traveling longer distances to and from parked vehicles,” the suit claimed. With the lawsuits still pending in Humboldt County Superior Court or pending appeal, many of the same activists behind Citizens for a Better Eureka went out and gathered nearly 2,000 verified signatures to qualify a measure for the ballot. As of the most recent campaign finance report filed at the end of last year, the committee raised $290,000. All but $500 came from Security National.  A new filing is due at the end of July. Gail Rymer, who works as a spokesperson for the ballot measure campaign, Citizens for a Better Eureka and Security National, said “it’s still the case” that Security National is providing the vast majority of the funding for the Yes on Measure F campaign. “We don’t actively solicit other donations,” she said. ‘Our local Scrooge McDuck’ If you have a conversation with anyone in Eureka about the years-long parking lot kerfuffle, it’s only a matter of time before Arkley’s name pops up. Arkley is regularly described as Eureka’s “local billionaire.” It’s difficult to verify his exact net worth and Arkley now lives part time in Louisiana. No matter, he still remains keenly interested in the local affairs of his hometown. Rob Arkley speaks during a meeting of the Rotary Club of Eureka in 2011. Photo via the Rotary Club of Eureka Blogspot His wife, Cherie Arkley is a former City Council member. The two funded a center for the performing arts that towers over downtown and which bears the Arkley name. Arkley money has also funded improvements at the zoo, at Cal Poly Humboldt and along the Eureka waterfront. For a time, he ran his own newspaper to compete with the local Times-Standard. A wealthy benefactor in a post-industrial town where patrons are in short supply,  he is, in the words of the Environmental Protection Information Center’s Wheeler, “our local Scrooge McDuck.”  Critics of the ballot measure campaign are quick to dismiss the entire effort as an Arkley front-group. “I do think that none of this would have gotten as out of control as it has if it weren’t for basically a guy with a huge amount of money throwing a massive temper tantrum,” said Colin Fiske, director of Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities.  Supporters of the ballot measure say their coalition is made up of a broad array of downtown business owners. But there’s also nothing unseemly, they argue, about a civically-minded businessman taking an interest in a matter of critical local importance. “If the Arkleys wouldn’t have come in here and pumped the money into the community like they did, I don’t know what it would look like, but it wouldn’t look as good as it does now,” said Mike Munson, co-chair of the November ballot measure campaign, speaking of Arkley’s financial footprint in the area. “A lot of people don’t like it. I don’t know why.” The answer is, mostly, politics. “None of this would have gotten as out of control as it has if it weren’t for basically a guy with a huge amount of money throwing a massive temper tantrum.”Colin Fiske, director, Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities A GOP donor of some national importance who has hobnobbed with Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito, Arkley is a poor fit for Eureka’s current political scene. “Everybody’s a Democrat in Humboldt County,” said Slattery, the city manager. “It’s just a matter of how far granola you lean.” Arkley’s past interventions in local land use policy haven’t always endeared him to the left-leaning public, either. After Arkley purchased a defunct, overgrown railyard at the edge of downtown, Security National convinced the City Council in 2010 to put a zoning change necessary for its redevelopment on the ballot . Voters signed off on the change. A decade-and-a-half later the 43-acre “balloon track” remains a defunct, overgrown railyard. In 2015, Eureka’s City Council passed a resolution to cede Tuluwat Island, the site of one of the most infamous massacres of native people by white Californians in state history, back to the Wiyot Tribe. Arkley publicly protested giving the public land back “to the natives” and vowed to buy it from the city first. The city went through with the land transfer to the tribe. Finally, when the city said it planned to repurpose the downtown parking lots, including one where Security National employees regularly park, Arkley was irate. The local press reported on a profanity-laced meeting with city officials.  The Arkley Center for the Performing Arts in Eureka on June 17, 2024. Photo by Mark McKenna for CalMatters More than two years before proponents began circulating the initiative petition, Arkley was publicly considering the idea of floating a ballot measure to stop the city’s lot-to-housing conversion plans and to relocate housing to an old school site. “Low-income housing brings crime, period, end of discussion,” he told local talk radio host Brian Papstein in 2021. “Why don’t we pick an area of one of the schools that’s been closed? They’d have better services, they’d have shopping, the land is there.” Researchers who have looked into the question have consistently found no evidence that affordable housing development leads to more local crime and in some cases have found the opposite. When the city began moving forward with the plan over Arkley’s objections, Security National purchased a lot right next to city hall where city employees regularly park. He then offered to swap that lot in exchange for the one closer to Security National headquarters. The city refused. The lot now sits empty, closed to any would-be parkers by concrete barriers. Humboldt County Supervisor Natalie Arroyo, who sat on the City Council when the parking plan was approved, said she took a meeting with a mad-as-hell Arkley in the months after the vote. “He just wanted to let me know that I’m going to buy the parking lot next to city hall and so and so at the city is going to be sorry,” she said. “I got the sense it was more of an emotional argument and about resistance to change.” The counter proposal November’s ballot initiative wouldn’t ban housing on the parking lots outright. Instead, it would require any developments at any of 21 city-owned lots to preserve whatever parking is already on site and then provide additional parking for incoming residents.  For some proponents of the city’s plan, requiring so much additional parking and banning the proposed housing is a distinction without a difference. Adding a structured parking lot can add an additional $44,865 per unit to a project (in inflation-adjusted terms), according to a UC Berkeley Terner Center study from 2020. California’s Housing and Community Development Department signed off on Eureka’s housing plan in the fall of 2022. If voters ultimately approve the ballot measure, they would be rewriting that contract.  That would require state approval. If the city doesn’t get it, Eureka would lose state funding, open itself up to litigation from the attorney general’s office and lose the ability to apply its own zoning restrictions through a legal quirk known as the “builder’s remedy.” The city would also likely lose the “prohousing” designation it received from the state earlier this year, which gives it first dibs on some state funding.  Measure F supporters say such warnings amount to scare tactics, not only because the initiative doesn’t prohibit downtown development, but because it would also rezone an abandoned middle school for possible housing development. City officials counter that striking the downtown parcels from the city’s new housing plan would still leave Eureka short of the number of designated affordable units required under state law. “If I just submitted this as written I don’t think (the California Housing and Community Development Department) would certify it,” said Cristin Kenyon, Eureka’s Director of Development Services. State housing regulators have so far refused to say how they would react should the measure pass. Competing visions Susan Seaman, Eureka’s former mayor, said she remembers Old Town 30 years ago: “That place was scary.” There are still the old, scruffy dive bars and vacant lots around Old Town. There are still a proliferation of “For Lease” signs and a glut of under-trafficked cannabis stores. There are still plenty of people living in tents, under closed shop awnings and in dinged up RVs. These are the visual reminders of how Eureka has long played the role of economic also-ran to its upmarket northern neighbor, Arcata.   But things have changed in the last decade or two. Boutiques and cafes have sprouted up beside the old Victorian hotels barnacled in historic designation plaques. Expanding businesses consider Eureka in a way they just wouldn’t in years past, said Seaman, who now works as program director with the Arcata Economic Development Corporation. Local politics have changed too. She describes an early “good old boy” culture that pervaded city hall in decades past, back when Eureka was “governed by nostalgia” for an early time when timber and fishing were enough to sustain the proudly out-of-the-way working class town.  A project at the corner of 3rd and G Streets in Eureka on June 17, 2024. The project is slated for mixed commercial and residential use. Photo by Mark McKenna for CalMatters So, no, Seaman wasn’t especially surprised when the city’s plan to turn parking lots into affordable housing sparked a backlash. This was, in her view, more of the same old local divide. Last decade, Eureka pushed through plans to replace car lanes with those reserved for bikes and to build bulbed-out sidewalks at certain intersections to keep cars from quickly cutting around corners. “The same people who are behind this initiative hate the bike lanes, hate the bulb-outs, hate anything that slows down traffic,” she said. They hate it because it makes driving more inconvenient, she said, but also because they represent unwelcome imports of ideas common in California’s bigger cities.  “Everybody wants things to be different, but nobody wants things to change,” she said. “People don’t live in Humboldt County to live in an urban area.”Mike Munson, co-chair, Measure F campaign Just a few blocks away from Seaman’s office near city hall, Munson, co-chair of the ballot measure campaign, works out of a glass-walled office overlooking the harbor in Old Town. A wealth manager who moonlights as a local restaurateur, Munson has been a Eurekan since his mom moved to town when he was a teenager. That, he said, still makes him a newcomer by the standards of some third- or fourth-generation locals. Munson came to the politics of local land use by way of those early fights about bike lanes, which he opposed. The parking lot battle has been a continuation of a theme. “I wouldn’t say the main thing is the parking,” he said of the current ballot battle. “I think it’s more about the whole vitality and the vision of ‘what is Eureka going to be 10 years, 20 years, 30 years from now?’” One version of that vision — Munson’s — is to treat Old Town as an area that prioritizes local businesses and tourists. He has a fantasy about the waterfront. A plaza facing the harbor for farmer’s markets and live music. Mooring for cruise ships that channel into a phalanx of fancy shops. A development to welcome the outside world into Eureka. Old Town already has as much housing as the neighborhood can comfortably accommodate. New housing ought to be built, he said, but in the same places and in the same way that housing has been built in Eureka for the last 80 years: away from the city center. “I can tell you that people don’t live in Humboldt County to live in an urban area,” he said.

City officials in Eureka the plan to turn public parking lots into affordable housing would be easy. Now they’re facing a ballot measure campaign funded by one of the city’s richest men.

A mostly full parking lot at the corner of 5th and D Streets in Eureka on June 17, 2024. The lot is one proposed site for housing for the Wiyot Tribe. Photo by Mark McKenna for CalMatters

In summary

City officials in Eureka the plan to turn public parking lots into affordable housing would be easy. Now they’re facing a ballot measure campaign funded by one of the city’s richest men.

Long before irate local business owners began descending on public meetings, before opponents filed four environmental lawsuits warning of snarled traffic and rampant crime, and before a local finance tycoon with a penchant for political controversy decided to fund a ballot measure campaign that would upend everything, city officials in Eureka thought their proposal was a real no-brainer: Turn some city-owned parking lots into affordable housing. 

Hugging Humboldt County’s Lost Coast some 280 miles north of San Francisco and 150 miles west of Redding, Eureka is strapped for places to live. The county has more homeless people per capita than anywhere else in the state, with a disproportionate share living on the street — a problem that’s especially conspicuous in downtown Eureka. Like every California city and county, Eureka is also on the hook under state law to scrounge up space for new housing. The downtown economy could use a little goosing too. 

The parking lot-to-affordable-housing plan was supposed to tackle all those problems at once. More housing. More foot traffic downtown. A satisfied California Housing and Community Development Department. Yes, the planned developments would leave the area with more people, more cars and fewer spaces to park, but that, city officials have said, is a worthwhile trade-off.

“Truth be told, I would rather deal with a parking shortage than a housing shortage,” said current City Council member G. Mario Fernandez.

Not everyone sees it that way. A group of ticked off locals with concerns that ranged from traffic congestion to business viability to public safety to state overreach launched “Citizens for a Better Eureka.” They did so with the financial backing of magnate Robin P. Arkley II, whose company, Security National, manages property and trades in real estate debt and is one of the city’s largest employers. Shortly thereafter, many of the same activists qualified a local measure for the November ballot to scrap the city’s plan and replace it with one that would require any new housing to preserve all existing parking. Developers and the city say such a costly requirement is tantamount to a development ban. The initiative would also backfill any lost city center housing by rezoning a dilapidated former middle school on the other side of town.

The parking lot wars on California’s Lost Coast are part of a statewide trend of voters taking their gripes with state housing mandates to the ballot. Over the last half decade, state lawmakers have passed dozens of new laws requiring local elected officials to plan for more housing, whether they want to or not. 

When these conflicts wind up in court — and they often do — courts have generally sided with state agencies. 

But in Eureka, the political stars are aligned a bit differently. This is not a wealthy suburb in which elected officials are vowing to resist what they see as overreaching state bureaucrats. Eureka city officials are on the same page as the state housing department in wanting to see more dense housing downtown, parking be damned. It’s the voters, this November, who will have the opportunity to slam on the brakes. 

Whether the ballot initiative, called Measure F, would actually put the city at odds with state law is an unsettled debate, one that’s now playing out as dueling political soundbites as the election approaches. 

That makes the local ballot fight more than a mere turf battle over a few lots. In a spat between business and property owners, current and former elected officials, environmentalists, state regulators and a human lightning rod in the form of a local loan mogul, it’s also a story about who has the ultimate say over what a town looks like.

“I think that a lot of this is maybe not about parking lots,” said Tom Wheeler, who runs the Environmental Protection Information Center in nearby Arcata and who supports the city’s housing plan. “Parking lots are a proxy for a larger kind of identity politics issue for what Eureka is.”

Eureka’s big idea

The fate of Eureka’s parking lots hinges on a promise that the city made to the State of California in 2019. 

Once every decade, cities and counties are required to lay out plans for new housing to accommodate local population growth. In the case of Eureka, a city with some 26,000 people, officials were tasked with laying the ground for 952 new units, 378 of which have to be affordable for people earning less than $46,200.

To boost the chances of actually meeting those goals, officials opted to lease or sell city-owned land to developers. They went all in on the idea, putting nearly 90% of their state affordable unit quota on 14 public parking lots. Supporters viewed such lots as abundant and dispensable. The Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities, a local environmental nonprofit, estimated that 34% of the “developable land” in Eureka’s downtown is set aside for off-street parking.

Initially, City Manager Miles Slattery said his office didn’t hear much pushback. In 2019, staff held a series of public meetings to find out what locals want future development in the city to look like. Most participants favored the dense, high-rise, pedestrian-centric layout common to the city’s Old Town neighborhood along the waterfront.

“It was very clear that people wanted Eureka to look like what you see in Old Town,” said Slattery. “When that happened, I didn’t see any potential for anything to be a problem.”

A mostly empty parking lot on 3rd Street between G and H Streets in Eureka on June 17, 2024. The lot is the site of a proposed Humboldt Transit Authority Hub that would include housing. Photo by Mark McKenna for CalMatters
The parking lot on 3rd Street between G and H Streets in Eureka on June 17, 2024. The lot is the site of a proposed Humboldt Transit Authority Hub that would include housing. Photo by Mark McKenna for CalMatters

Slattery was wrong. The backlash began as soon as the city started taking solicitations for development and downtown business owners were suddenly facing the prospect of losing parking at specific sites.

The city invited property owners and tenants surrounding the lots to attend a series of initial public meetings. They were, in Slattery’s words, “a shitshow.”

The loss of parking would mean the eradication of local businesses that cater to a car-driving clientele, some said. Eurekans accessing downtown services, employees who work in adjacent Old Town and people with physical disabilities would be inconvenienced.  Some said the idea of the “15-minute city” —  the urban planning concept that housing, necessary businesses and services should all be reachable by foot within a quarter of an hour — was a poor fit for Humboldt County. Others claimed affordable housing would lead to more crime, a common complaint that lacks evidence. 

Some locals also felt caught off guard. In April 2021, the planning commissioner offered his surprise resignation in the middle of a Zoom hearing, saying that he could not abide the city’s “minimized” public outreach efforts which amounted to “tyranny.”  

“I think that a lot of this is maybe not just about parking lots”

Tom Wheeler, Environmental Protection Information Center

A spokesperson for Linc Housing, the affordable developer that stepped up to develop the first round of lots, said it held two community meetings in 2021, conducted a survey and has since held 19 small group information sessions.  

“Many, many, many, many meetings happened for this,” said Slattery. “A lot of them were commandeered by a local business owner to get their employees to come and express their concerns.”

That local business owner is Rob Arkley.

Arkley initially agreed to be interviewed for this story, but then bowed out, offering no explanation. He did not respond to further questions. But in both public comments and private conversation with elected officials and developers, Arkley expressed particular concern about the development of one lot that, he has said, more than two dozen of his Security National employees use.

When Citizens for a Better Eureka popped up to push back against the city parking lot plan, it did so with “startup funding” from Security National, according to the group’s website. Describing itself as a coalition of roughly 50 downtown businesses and property owners, the group filed four lawsuits challenging various aspects of the parking lot plan. (A fifth suit challenging a city decision to put the measure up for a vote in the November election rather than on the earlier March ballot was dismissed and the group has appealed). Each suit alleged violations of California’s signature environmental protection law, the California Environmental Quality Act. 

In its case challenging the city’s overall general plan, the group, through its lawyer Bradley Johnson, argued that Eureka failed to analyze both “the traffic and transportation impacts associated with eliminating off-street public parking.” But, mirroring Arkley’s public comments, the group also raised safety concerns. 

Eliminating the lots used by downtown workers will expose people “to unsafe conditions, including risk of violent crime, associated with traveling longer distances to and from parked vehicles,” the suit claimed.

With the lawsuits still pending in Humboldt County Superior Court or pending appeal, many of the same activists behind Citizens for a Better Eureka went out and gathered nearly 2,000 verified signatures to qualify a measure for the ballot. As of the most recent campaign finance report filed at the end of last year, the committee raised $290,000. All but $500 came from Security National. 

A new filing is due at the end of July. Gail Rymer, who works as a spokesperson for the ballot measure campaign, Citizens for a Better Eureka and Security National, said “it’s still the case” that Security National is providing the vast majority of the funding for the Yes on Measure F campaign. “We don’t actively solicit other donations,” she said.

‘Our local Scrooge McDuck’

If you have a conversation with anyone in Eureka about the years-long parking lot kerfuffle, it’s only a matter of time before Arkley’s name pops up.

Arkley is regularly described as Eureka’s “local billionaire.” It’s difficult to verify his exact net worth and Arkley now lives part time in Louisiana. No matter, he still remains keenly interested in the local affairs of his hometown.

Rob Arkley speaks at a podium during a meeting of the Rotary Club in Eureka.
Rob Arkley speaks during a meeting of the Rotary Club of Eureka in 2011. Photo via the Rotary Club of Eureka Blogspot

His wife, Cherie Arkley is a former City Council member. The two funded a center for the performing arts that towers over downtown and which bears the Arkley name. Arkley money has also funded improvements at the zoo, at Cal Poly Humboldt and along the Eureka waterfront. For a time, he ran his own newspaper to compete with the local Times-Standard. A wealthy benefactor in a post-industrial town where patrons are in short supply,  he is, in the words of the Environmental Protection Information Center’s Wheeler, “our local Scrooge McDuck.” 

Critics of the ballot measure campaign are quick to dismiss the entire effort as an Arkley front-group.

“I do think that none of this would have gotten as out of control as it has if it weren’t for basically a guy with a huge amount of money throwing a massive temper tantrum,” said Colin Fiske, director of Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities. 

Supporters of the ballot measure say their coalition is made up of a broad array of downtown business owners. But there’s also nothing unseemly, they argue, about a civically-minded businessman taking an interest in a matter of critical local importance.

“If the Arkleys wouldn’t have come in here and pumped the money into the community like they did, I don’t know what it would look like, but it wouldn’t look as good as it does now,” said Mike Munson, co-chair of the November ballot measure campaign, speaking of Arkley’s financial footprint in the area. “A lot of people don’t like it. I don’t know why.”

The answer is, mostly, politics.

“None of this would have gotten as out of control as it has if it weren’t for basically a guy with a huge amount of money throwing a massive temper tantrum.”

Colin Fiske, director, Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities

A GOP donor of some national importance who has hobnobbed with Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito, Arkley is a poor fit for Eureka’s current political scene. “Everybody’s a Democrat in Humboldt County,” said Slattery, the city manager. “It’s just a matter of how far granola you lean.”

Arkley’s past interventions in local land use policy haven’t always endeared him to the left-leaning public, either. After Arkley purchased a defunct, overgrown railyard at the edge of downtown, Security National convinced the City Council in 2010 to put a zoning change necessary for its redevelopment on the ballot . Voters signed off on the change. A decade-and-a-half later the 43-acre “balloon track” remains a defunct, overgrown railyard.

In 2015, Eureka’s City Council passed a resolution to cede Tuluwat Island, the site of one of the most infamous massacres of native people by white Californians in state history, back to the Wiyot Tribe. Arkley publicly protested giving the public land back “to the natives” and vowed to buy it from the city first. The city went through with the land transfer to the tribe.

Finally, when the city said it planned to repurpose the downtown parking lots, including one where Security National employees regularly park, Arkley was irate. The local press reported on a profanity-laced meeting with city officials

A mural is painted on the side of a building with a person in a red dress dancing as a musicians play music.
The Arkley Center for the Performing Arts in Eureka on June 17, 2024. Photo by Mark McKenna for CalMatters

More than two years before proponents began circulating the initiative petition, Arkley was publicly considering the idea of floating a ballot measure to stop the city’s lot-to-housing conversion plans and to relocate housing to an old school site.

“Low-income housing brings crime, period, end of discussion,” he told local talk radio host Brian Papstein in 2021. “Why don’t we pick an area of one of the schools that’s been closed? They’d have better services, they’d have shopping, the land is there.”

Researchers who have looked into the question have consistently found no evidence that affordable housing development leads to more local crime and in some cases have found the opposite.

When the city began moving forward with the plan over Arkley’s objections, Security National purchased a lot right next to city hall where city employees regularly park. He then offered to swap that lot in exchange for the one closer to Security National headquarters. The city refused. The lot now sits empty, closed to any would-be parkers by concrete barriers.

Humboldt County Supervisor Natalie Arroyo, who sat on the City Council when the parking plan was approved, said she took a meeting with a mad-as-hell Arkley in the months after the vote.

“He just wanted to let me know that I’m going to buy the parking lot next to city hall and so and so at the city is going to be sorry,” she said. “I got the sense it was more of an emotional argument and about resistance to change.”

The counter proposal

November’s ballot initiative wouldn’t ban housing on the parking lots outright. Instead, it would require any developments at any of 21 city-owned lots to preserve whatever parking is already on site and then provide additional parking for incoming residents. 

For some proponents of the city’s plan, requiring so much additional parking and banning the proposed housing is a distinction without a difference. Adding a structured parking lot can add an additional $44,865 per unit to a project (in inflation-adjusted terms), according to a UC Berkeley Terner Center study from 2020.

California’s Housing and Community Development Department signed off on Eureka’s housing plan in the fall of 2022. If voters ultimately approve the ballot measure, they would be rewriting that contract. 

That would require state approval. If the city doesn’t get it, Eureka would lose state funding, open itself up to litigation from the attorney general’s office and lose the ability to apply its own zoning restrictions through a legal quirk known as the “builder’s remedy.” The city would also likely lose the “prohousing” designation it received from the state earlier this year, which gives it first dibs on some state funding. 

Measure F supporters say such warnings amount to scare tactics, not only because the initiative doesn’t prohibit downtown development, but because it would also rezone an abandoned middle school for possible housing development. City officials counter that striking the downtown parcels from the city’s new housing plan would still leave Eureka short of the number of designated affordable units required under state law.

“If I just submitted this as written I don’t think (the California Housing and Community Development Department) would certify it,” said Cristin Kenyon, Eureka’s Director of Development Services.

State housing regulators have so far refused to say how they would react should the measure pass.

Competing visions

Susan Seaman, Eureka’s former mayor, said she remembers Old Town 30 years ago: “That place was scary.”

There are still the old, scruffy dive bars and vacant lots around Old Town. There are still a proliferation of “For Lease” signs and a glut of under-trafficked cannabis stores. There are still plenty of people living in tents, under closed shop awnings and in dinged up RVs. These are the visual reminders of how Eureka has long played the role of economic also-ran to its upmarket northern neighbor, Arcata.  

But things have changed in the last decade or two. Boutiques and cafes have sprouted up beside the old Victorian hotels barnacled in historic designation plaques. Expanding businesses consider Eureka in a way they just wouldn’t in years past, said Seaman, who now works as program director with the Arcata Economic Development Corporation.

Local politics have changed too. She describes an early “good old boy” culture that pervaded city hall in decades past, back when Eureka was “governed by nostalgia” for an early time when timber and fishing were enough to sustain the proudly out-of-the-way working class town. 

A pink and blue paint splattered building sit behind a fenced lot.
A project at the corner of 3rd and G Streets in Eureka on June 17, 2024. The project is slated for mixed commercial and residential use. Photo by Mark McKenna for CalMatters

So, no, Seaman wasn’t especially surprised when the city’s plan to turn parking lots into affordable housing sparked a backlash. This was, in her view, more of the same old local divide. Last decade, Eureka pushed through plans to replace car lanes with those reserved for bikes and to build bulbed-out sidewalks at certain intersections to keep cars from quickly cutting around corners.

“The same people who are behind this initiative hate the bike lanes, hate the bulb-outs, hate anything that slows down traffic,” she said. They hate it because it makes driving more inconvenient, she said, but also because they represent unwelcome imports of ideas common in California’s bigger cities. 

“Everybody wants things to be different, but nobody wants things to change,” she said.

“People don’t live in Humboldt County to live in an urban area.”

Mike Munson, co-chair, Measure F campaign

Just a few blocks away from Seaman’s office near city hall, Munson, co-chair of the ballot measure campaign, works out of a glass-walled office overlooking the harbor in Old Town. A wealth manager who moonlights as a local restaurateur, Munson has been a Eurekan since his mom moved to town when he was a teenager. That, he said, still makes him a newcomer by the standards of some third- or fourth-generation locals.

Munson came to the politics of local land use by way of those early fights about bike lanes, which he opposed. The parking lot battle has been a continuation of a theme.

“I wouldn’t say the main thing is the parking,” he said of the current ballot battle. “I think it’s more about the whole vitality and the vision of ‘what is Eureka going to be 10 years, 20 years, 30 years from now?’”

One version of that vision — Munson’s — is to treat Old Town as an area that prioritizes local businesses and tourists. He has a fantasy about the waterfront. A plaza facing the harbor for farmer’s markets and live music. Mooring for cruise ships that channel into a phalanx of fancy shops. A development to welcome the outside world into Eureka. Old Town already has as much housing as the neighborhood can comfortably accommodate. New housing ought to be built, he said, but in the same places and in the same way that housing has been built in Eureka for the last 80 years: away from the city center.

“I can tell you that people don’t live in Humboldt County to live in an urban area,” he said.

Read the full story here.
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Is AI being shoved down your throat at work? Here’s how to fight back.

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

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

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

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

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

COP30 has big plans to save the rainforest. Indigenous activists say it’s not enough

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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