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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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NYC Comptroller Push to Drop BlackRock Creates Test for Mamdani

By Ross Kerber(Reuters) -New York City Comptroller Brad Lander is urging city pension fund officials to rebid $42.3 billion managed by BlackRock...

(Reuters) -New York City Comptroller Brad Lander is urging city pension fund officials to rebid $42.3 billion managed by BlackRock over climate concerns, the first major move by a Democrat to counter pressure on financial companies from Republican allies of the fossil-fuel industry.Lander's term in office ends on December 31, but his recommendation, to be unveiled on Wednesday, will put Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani in the hot seat when he takes office in about five weeks. Mamdani's appointees will take key positions that hold some sway over the pension boards that decide where to invest retirement funds for some 800,000 current and former city employees.In a November 25 memo to other pension fund trustees, seen by Reuters, Lander urged the funds to re-evaluate contracts with New York-based BlackRock, which is both the world's largest asset manager and the city's largest manager of retirement assets.Lander cited what he called "BlackRock's restrictive approach to engagement" with about 2,800 U.S. companies in which it owns more than 5% of shares.'ABDICATION OF FINANCIAL DUTY'Under pressure from the Trump administration, BlackRock in February said it would not use its discussions with executives to try to control companies. That ran contrary to the hopes of Lander and other environmentally minded investors, who wanted the investors to press executives on priorities like disclosing emissions.In an interview, Lander said the change was "an abdication of financial duty and renders them unable to meet our expectations for responsible investing."His recommendation must still be approved by pension boards that traditionally take cues from the comptroller's office. Representatives for Mamdani and for New York's incoming Comptroller, Mark Levine, did not respond to questions on Tuesday.Lander, a rival-turned-ally of Mamdani during the mayoral campaign, recommended that the pension plans keep BlackRock to manage non-U.S. equity index mandates and other products. Lander also recommended the three systems continue using State Street to manage $8 billion in equity index assets, and that they drop deals with Fidelity Investments and PanAgora, which he said also do not press companies sufficiently on environmental matters like decarbonization.A number of Republicans, some from fossil-fuel-producing states, have withdrawn money from BlackRock and other money managers, accusing them of basing investment decisions on social or environmental issues. New York City funds would be the first large Democratic or liberal-leaning asset owner to respond in kind.Environmental activists also want Lander and other public officials to take a harder line by backing more shareholder resolutions that push corporate boards to embrace policies that combat climate change. Speaking before Lander's decision was announced, Richard Brooks, climate finance program director for the advocacy group Stand.earth, said dropping major asset managers "will be one of the first tests of the climate credentials of the incoming mayor and comptroller. I hope they will recognize the importance and lead on getting these recommendations passed."(Reporting by Ross Kerber; Editing by Dawn Kopecki and Thomas Derpinghaus)Copyright 2025 Thomson Reuters.

What’s for Dinner, Mom?

The women who want to change the way America eats

Illustrations by Lucas BurtinSometimes I think I became a mother not in a hospital room but in a Trader Joe’s in New York City. It was May 2020. A masked but smizing employee took one look at my stomach and handed me a packet of dark-chocolate peanut-butter cups. “Happy Mother’s Day!” she said. I was pregnant, with twins, during the early months of the pandemic, and all I could think about was food—what to eat and how to acquire it. Once a week I dashed clumsily through the store’s aisles, grabbing cans of beans and bags of apples while trying not to breathe, like a contestant on a postapocalyptic episode of Supermarket Sweep.Food then was interlaced with a sense of danger, the coronavirus potentially spreading (we worried, absurdly it turned out) even by way of reusable totes. Meanwhile, I knew from my relentless pregnancy apps that what I ate could have monumental implications for my future children’s eating habits. I was scared, and I felt powerless, and food seemed like one of the few things I could control, or at least try to.[Read: Becoming a parent during the pandemic was the hardest thing I’ve ever done]What I didn’t yet know was that I was tapping into a deep-rooted tradition—or that, even as I panic-shopped, it was evolving. Mothers are our first food influencers, and for most of history, they have been our primary ones. The process starts even before we’re born, we now know: The tastes we’re exposed to in utero inform the preferences we’ll have much later in life. Culture, “at least when it comes to food, is really just a fancy word for your mother,” Michael Pollan wrote in his best-selling 2008 book, In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto. Up until the mid-20th century or so, we humans ate much as our parents did, and their parents before them, and so on: food cooked at home, from fresh ingredients, made predominantly by women.But a flurry of destabilizing changes followed the Second World War, which had accustomed Americans to mass-produced boxed meals via rations issued to the military. Technological developments on multiple fronts brought prepackaged meals, frozen food, industrialized agriculture, the microwave oven. Marketers were learning how to subliminally manipulate shoppers. Perhaps most significant of all was a shift taking place at home: Women were joining the workforce, happily ceding the task of dinner to Big Food.[Read: Avoiding ultra-processed foods is completely unrealistic]By the 2000s, the consequences of all these changes were becoming calamitous. In the 1960s, 13 percent of American adults and about 5 percent of children were obese; by 2005, the number had risen to 35 percent of adults and more than 15 percent of children. Food companies had long since mastered the art of engineering products to encourage mindless overconsumption with every lab-perfected crunch, crisp, and snap. They’d also figured out how to maximize their sway over U.S. food policy, donating to politicians and directly funding scientists. And they did so while decrying as intrusive any efforts to rein in the ruthless lobbying tactics laid bare by the nutritionist and advocate Marion Nestle in her 2002 book, Food Politics: How the Food Industry Influences Nutrition and Health.Nestle, whom The New York Times has called “one of the most influential framers of the modern food movement,” has spent the two decades since then trying to help Americans understand the extent to which the systems that feed them are implicated in sickening them for profit. Big Food, she was among the first to highlight, often bypasses parents to target kids directly using cartoon mascots and promotional collaborations with toy companies. (One of the prized possessions in her archive is an Oreo-themed Barbie doll.) Until recently, Nestle’s war against the Pillsbury Doughboy and Tony the Tiger looked unwinnable, as she observes in her new book, What to Eat Now: The Indispensable Guide to Good Food, How to Find It, and Why It Matters. An update of her 2006 field guide for supermarket shoppers, it demonstrates how lamentably little progress has been made since then.Supermarkets and supply chains are even more consolidated than they were 20 years ago, and corporations are more empowered, as Nestle writes, “to sell food products no matter what they do to or for your health.” Nearly three-quarters of American adults are now overweight or obese. An array of new products since 2006—oat milk and gluten-free pasta, more global ingredients (gochujang, sumac), plant-based “meats,” CBD-infused everything—has added variety, but also confusion. What counts as healthy? The influx certainly hasn’t halted a rise in consumption of ultra-processed foods (those heavily reliant on industrial ingredients and methods far removed from anything you’d cook at home). They now make up more than half of the average American adult’s diet and two-thirds of what children eat. The food system in America, Nestle explains, produces twice the amount of calories we actually need, while ravaging the environment we can’t survive without. (Industrialized farming results in water and air pollution, soil degradation, deforestation, and a loss of biodiversity.)But something perplexing has also been happening for half a decade or so now: Once again, patterns of influence over what we eat are being upended. Enabled by social media, certain mothers have been mobilizing, intent on reasserting their authority over mealtime. I wasn’t the only one obsessed with food during the pandemic; something about the confluence of fear, frustration, and way too much time online ignited an impassioned, women-led, influencer-stoked, food-centered movement. A lot of the focus on fresh, homemade meals that this missionary crew has been advocating for has felt familiar—and sensible—to parents like me, dealing with uneaten strips of bell pepper and endless requests for snacks heavy in high-fructose corn syrup. Much has also felt wholly reactionary, rooted not just in the dietary and agricultural traditions of bygone days, but also in old-style gender politics.The past few years have seen a glut of wellness content about the dangers of seed oils and chemicals, as well as nostalgic imagery disseminated over social media by women labeled “tradwives”: freshly baked bread emerging from a weathered Dutch oven in a lovely country kitchen, cows being milked in bucolic bliss, chubby-cheeked toddlers waddling through vegetable patches. And then “Make America Healthy Again,” a slogan that began life as a winking provocation in a 2016 Sweetgreen ad, morphed into a more politicized mantra among an improbable coalition of personalities who also want milk unpasteurized, food dyes banned, vaccines eliminated—and who also seem to want women re-enshrined in their rightful place in the kitchen.“Who isn’t a food person these days?” the chef Ruby Tandoh asks in her new essay collection, All Consuming: Why We Eat the Way We Eat Now, surveying a culture in which everybody seems to be “talking about almost nothing else.” What’s striking is that these days, most of us recognize that America’s diet needs an intervention that goes beyond talk—and medication: GLP-1 drugs, however remarkable their effects may be, can’t feed kids. Yet the dramatic showdown between profit-greedy Big Food and proselytizing Big Family is eclipsing a middle ground of parenting pragmatists. Contradictory nutrition advice online drowns out a basic consensus: Experts overwhelmingly agree that a healthy diet still aligns with the same boring guidelines we grew up hearing—eat your fruits and vegetables, avoid ultra-processed (formerly “junk”) foods, limit sugar. How has the discussion become so polarized? And what might it take to actually fix dinner?We’ve seen politicized food fights before. In the mid-2000s, a harried mother in Chicago, navigating a fast-track, dual-career schedule with her partner, began to rely on quick fixes when feeding her kids: takeout, ready meals, prepackaged snacks. One day, at a routine doctor appointment, she learned that both of her daughters were on the path to becoming overweight, a warning that spurred her to overhaul the way her family was eating. “I was grateful for the time and the effort that I saved with these kinds of products,” Michelle Obama told a gathering of food-business executives in 2010, after she became first lady of the United States. “But I was also completely unaware that all that extra convenience sometimes made it just a little too easy for me to eat too much, for my kids to eat too much, and to eat too often.” She was unprepared, too, for the partisan ruckus that was about to begin.The chef, advocate, and policy adviser Sam Kass recounts this story in his wide-ranging and pragmatic new book about America’s food failings, The Last Supper: How to Overcome the Coming Food Crisis. Kass was just a few years out of college when he was hired by Obama in 2007 to help improve what and how her family ate at home. He then moved to Washington to work with the first lady on expanding her healthy-eating revolution from a personal goal into a political project. At the time, Kass notes, he’d been radicalized by Pollan and Nestle, who were giving shape to an intellectual, leftish, Berkeley-centric movement advocating for sustainable food production and more health-oriented food policies: “I shopped at farmers markets. I ate organic. My beef was grass fed. I thought that everyone should eat that way.” He arrived in the capital, he writes, “ready to decisively take on Big Ag—until reality reared its ugly head.”In February 2010, Obama announced her first major initiative as first lady: Let’s Move, a public-health campaign aimed at lowering childhood-obesity rates in the U.S. Improving the nutritional quality of school meals nationwide was a centerpiece; for children living in poverty, those breakfasts and lunches could be their main source of sustenance. Conservatives instantly caught the scent of a culture war. Figures such as Sarah Palin and Fox News’s Glenn Beck regularly fulminated against nanny statism and accused the Obamas of trying to overrule the sacred rights of American parents.Some of the backlash was bipartisan. When Kass tried to eliminate a policy that offered White House employees free Coke—after all, the administration was trying to get the nation to drink less of it—Michelle Obama’s deputy chief of staff responded, “Over my dead body.” And when Kass and the first lady spearheaded a national campaign to get people to drink more water, they were criticized by some of their public-health allies—Nestle among them—for not considering the environmental impact of plastic bottles.The uproar, in retrospect, is illuminating. Food is deeply personal. Our natural response to being told what to eat is defensive: We tend to be attached to the foods we associate with family, comfort, and care. Obama had presumed that the straightforward changes that had worked for her family might benefit the wider public—and to her credit, she aimed to provide healthier meals for all American children, through broad institutional reform. Kass cites a study showing that the odds of poor children developing obesity would have been about 50 percent higher without the school-meal interventions. Crucially, though, childhood obesity was soon rising again. And Let’s Move, rather than surging in popularity, was cast as elitist coercion, and Obama as the mean mommy forcing America to finish its vegetables.[Read: RFK Jr. is repeating Michelle Obama’s mistakes]In hindsight, Kass concludes, almost nothing Let’s Move could have suggested would have pleased conservatives at the time. But he also infers that the biggest failure of Let’s Move was one of communication. If you come across as instructing people on what to eat or, especially, what not to eat, you’re more likely to prompt a raised middle finger than compliance. Slide gracefully into people’s subconscious by enlisting the power of suggestion—visually presenting healthier products in a way that elicits an emotional response, say, or evokes a sense of home or prosperity—and you can help an idea take hold. There’s a reason the MAHA movement caught fire as social-media use escalated. “Marketers will tell you this,” Kass writes: “When you are trying to shift culture, seek out the influencers.” Illustration by Lucas Burtin One thing that Big Food, and now MAHA moms, understands is that what we see fundamentally affects our attitudes about what we eat. In 2010, the same year that the Obamas were hustling to pass the Healthy, Hunger-Free Kids Act, two software engineers debuted a photo-sharing app that they named Instagram, unwittingly ushering in a new hyper-visual food era of “serial virality,” as Tandoh puts it. Three years later, when the French pastry chef Dominique Ansel debuted the cronut (a hybrid of French patisserie and American deep fat frying), Instagram had 100 million users, many of whom responded to photos of his concoction with ravenous abandon. “People just shared the cronut, a platonic torus of golden dough with a sugar-salt-fat ratio to please the gods,” Tandoh writes. “Instead of spreading person to person through word of mouth, it spread exponentially, like a contagion.”The cronut wasn’t remotely healthy, but it was totemic of food trends in the 2010s, as community bonding through photo sharing took off. While the Affordable Care Act fueled attacks on Democrats as the party of Big Health Care, an alternative subculture was gaining momentum. In September 2008, the Oscar-winning actor Gwyneth Paltrow launched Goop, a newsletter of recipes and recommendations intended to foster—and eventually monetize—a more intimate relationship with her fans.Paltrow, who had lost her father to cancer, was now the mother of two young children, and believed passionately in the connection between food and health. “I am convinced that by eating biological foods it is possible to avoid the growth of tumors,” she told an Italian newspaper, drawing fierce pushback from doctors and dieticians—but not from her audience. Paltrow seemed to intuit the mood of many women in the aftermath of the Great Recession: their concerns, their exhaustion, their eagerness for an escape from their own cramped kitchens offered by images of delightfully wholesome domesticity. Goop gave an air of both glamour and accessibility to the kind of alternative lifestyle that had previously existed only on the crunchy fringes.[Read: The baffling rise of Goop]Since Goop’s debut, the wellness market has ballooned and is now worth more than $6 trillion, with the U.S. making up about a third of that figure. Paltrow’s association of food with health helped instill in people’s minds a connection between what they ate and how they felt. “I would rather smoke crack than eat cheese from a can,” she told an interviewer in 2011. And mothers were especially vulnerable to this messaging. We worry endlessly; we (traditionally) manage doctor appointments and household budgets, to the tune of an estimated $2 trillion a year in America.Over the course of the 2010s, even as the Alice Waters–inspired farm-to-table cause of the 1980s was enjoying a boost from Pollan and company, a different cottage industry of food and wellness advocates gained influence online. It tapped into valid concerns about health in America, while also hyping fearful ideas about a contaminated state of modernity (ridden with parasites, carcinogens, and GMOs, as well as vaccines and prescription drugs). Zen Honeycutt, a pro-organic-farming and anti-vaccine activist—now one of many mom acolytes of Robert F. Kennedy Jr.—founded the pressure group Moms Across America in 2012. “We, the mothers who buy 85% of the food and we women who make 90% of household purchasing decisions, have the power to shift the marketplace and protect our people and the planet,” the group’s website proclaims.In 2020, amid the anxiety and embattled politics of the pandemic, the 21st century’s wellness fads, paranoid tendencies, and regressive gender dynamics consolidated. The horseshoe gap between leftist naturopaths and libertarian farmsteaders began to close, enabled by health influencers, podcasters, and the cheap thrill of algorithmic engagement. Today, the people most likely to be advocating online for slow food are homesteaders and tradwives, canny content creators who post reels of themselves churning butter and pulling dirt-dusted produce out of the soil.Yet you don’t have to be a homesteader to be anxious about the food systems and environments that your children grow up in. Many of us parents have been buying organic and baking from scratch and trying to get creamed spinach off upholstery since our kids were born. We give them whisks and make cooking time part of family time, and do our best to serve them fresh, colorful meals. Though we may rarely live up to Waters’s edict about lovely food preparation and presentation—“Beauty is a language of care,” as she writes in her new book, A School Lunch Revolution—there’s always the joy of messy participation.What few of us have is the tradwife’s luxury of retreating to the Instagrammed home, of opting out of an external reality where food conglomerates go unchecked and food deserts unchanged. “Don’t overcomplicate it,” the homesteader known online as Greenview Farms posted this summer, in text overlaying a video of a sunset. “Just marry your best friend, have his babies, spend your days on the land, plant a garden, get a few chickens and a cow, and live a simple life.” (This surfaced in my feed, shared approvingly by a distant relative, a woman who—for the record—works in finance.)[Read: The wellness women are on the march]If you overlook the very real public-health ramifications of vaccine hesitancy and raw milk, the rise of the MAHA movement might offer some promise. Trump “sounds just like me when he talks!” Marion Nestle exclaimed back in February, laughing at the absurdity of a hard-core McDonald’s eater railing against “the industrial food complex.” RFK Jr. and his merry band of mothers have, if nothing else, made the importance of good food in encouraging good health more prominent in our culture, and more bipartisan.But unlike, say, Michelle Obama, MAHA proselytizers simply want moms to take on more responsibility, turning what should be a multifaceted effort into an atomized, individualistic one. The onus isn’t on the administration to regulate food companies or restrict marketing to children. It is on mothers to obsess over what their families are eating.[Olga Khazan: Doomed to be a tradwife]The irony is that plenty of parents who don’t dream of returning to the land are already on board for back-to-basics meals, made as manageable as possible. The Instagram account for Feeding Littles, which gives guidance on how to raise “adventurous, intuitive eaters,” has 1.9 million followers. The most popular Substack newsletter under the category of food and drink is titled “What to Cook When You Don’t Feel Like Cooking”; it dishes out quick, practical recipes oriented toward exhausted parents and has more than half a million subscribers. We care not just because we’re fixated on health, or on our own homes. We’re also reminding ourselves, and showing our kids, that eating is more than a solo need; it’s a communal enterprise, one that thrives on dealing as carefully and fairly with food resources as we can. “You eat. Willingly or not you participate in the environment of food choice,” Nestle writes toward the end of her new book. “The choices you make about food are as much about the kind of world you want to live in as they are about what to have for lunch.”This article appears in the January 2026 print edition with the headline “What’s for Dinner, Mom?”

Tunisians Escalate Protests Against Saied, Demanding Return of Democracy

By Tarek AmaraTUNIS (Reuters) -Thousands of Tunisians marched in the capital on Saturday in a protest against “injustice and repression”, accusing...

TUNIS (Reuters) -Thousands of Tunisians marched in the capital on Saturday in a protest against “injustice and repression”, accusing President Kais Saied of cementing one-man rule by using the judiciary and police.The protest was the latest in a wave that has swept Tunisia involving journalists, doctors, banks and public transport systems. Thousands have also demanded the closure of a chemical plant on environmental grounds.The protesters dressed in black to express anger and grief over what they called Tunisia’s transformation into an "open-air prison". They raised banners reading "Enough repression", "No fear, no terror, the streets belong to the people".The rally brought together activists, NGOs and fragmented parties from across the spectrum in a rare display of unity in opposition to Saied.It underscores Tunisia’s severe political and economic crisis and poses a major challenge to Saied, who seized power in 2021 and started ruling by decree.The protesters chanted slogans saying "We are suffocating!", "Enough of tyranny!" and "The people want the fall of the regime!"."Saied has turned the country into an open prison, we will never give up," Ezzedine Hazgui, father of jailed politician Jawhar Ben Mbark, told Reuters.Opposition parties, civil society groups and journalists all accuse Saied of using the judiciary and police to stifle criticism.Last month, three prominent civil rights groups announced that the authorities had suspended their activities over alleged foreign funding.Amnesty International has said the crackdown on rights groups has reached critical levels with arbitrary arrests, detentions, asset freezes, banking restrictions and suspensions targeting 14 NGOs.Opponents say Saied has destroyed the independence of the judiciary. In 2022 he dissolved the Supreme Judicial Council and sacked dozens of judges — moves that opposition groups and rights advocates condemned as a coup.Most opposition leaders and dozens of critics are in prison.Saied denies having become a dictator or using the judiciary against opponents, saying he is cleansing Tunisia of “traitors”.(Reporting by Tarek Amara; Editing by Kevin Liffey)Copyright 2025 Thomson Reuters.Photos You Should See – Nov. 2025

At UN Climate Conference, Some Activists and Scientists Want More Talk on Reforming Agriculture

Many of the activists, scientists and government leaders at United Nations climate talks underway in Brazil have a beef: They want more to be done to transform the world’s food system

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — With a spotlight on the Brazilian Amazon, where agriculture drives a significant chunk of deforestation and planet-warming emissions, many of the activists, scientists and government leaders at United Nations climate talks have a beef. They want more to be done to transform the world's food system.Protesters gathered outside a new space at the talks, the industry-sponsored “Agrizone,” to call for a transition toward a more grassroots food system, even as hundreds of lobbyists for big agriculture companies are attending the talks.Though agriculture contributes about a third of Earth-warming emissions worldwide, most of the money dedicated to fighting climate change goes to causes other than agriculture, according to the U.N.'s Food and Agriculture Organization.The FAO didn't offer any single answer as to how that spending should be shifted, or on what foods people should be eating.“All the countries are coming together. I don’t think we can impose on them one specific worldview,” said Kaveh Zahedi, director of the organization's Office of Climate Change, Biodiversity and Environment."We have to be very, very aware and conscious of those nuances, those differences that exist,” Zahedi said. An alternative universe at COP for agriculture When world leaders gather every year to try to address climate change, they spend much of their time in a giant, artificial world that typically gets built up just for the conference.One corner of COP30, as this year's conference is known, featured the alternative universe of AgriZone, where visitors could step into a world of immersive videos and exhibits with live plants and food products. Those included a research farm that Brazilian national agricultural research corporation Embrapa built to showcase what they call low-carbon farming methods for raising cattle, and growing crops like corn and soy as well as ways to integrate cover crops like legumes or trees like teak and eucalyptus. Ana Euler, executive director of innovation, business and technology transfer at Embrapa, said her industry can offer solutions needed especially in the Global South where climate change is hitting hardest."We need to be part of the discussions in terms of climate funds," Euler said. "We researchers, we speak loud, but nobody listens.”AgriZone was averaging about 2,000 visitors a day during COP30's two-week run, said Gabriel Faria, an Embrapa spokesman. That included tours for Queen Mary of Denmark, COP President André Corrêa do Lago and other Brazilian state and local officials.But while the AgriZone seeks to spread a message of lower-carbon agriculture possibilities, industrial agriculture retains a big influence at the climate talks. The climate-focused news site DeSmog reported that more than 300 industrial agriculture lobbyists are attending COP30. In the face of big industry, some call for a voice for smallholder farmers On a humid evening at COP30's opening, a group of activists gathered on the grassy center of a busy roundabout in front of the AgriZone to call for food systems that prioritize good working conditions and sustainability and for industry lobbyists to not be allowed at the talks.Those with the most sway are "not the smallholder food producers, ... not the peasants, and ... definitely not all these people in the Global South that are experiencing the brunt of the crisis," said Pang Delgra, an activist with the Asian People’s Movement on Debt and Development who was among the protesters. “It’s this industrial agriculture and corporate lobbyists that are shifting the narrative inside COPs.”“We have to decolonize our thoughts. It’s not just about changing to a different food,” said Sara Omi, from the Embera people of Panama and president of the Coordination of Territorial Leaders of the Mesoamerican Alliance of Peoples and Forests.“The agro-industrial systems are not the solution," she added. "The solution is our own ancestral systems that we maintain as Indigenous peoples."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 – Nov. 2025

How U.S. Universities Used Counterterror Fusion Centers to Surveil Student Protests for Palestine

Internal university communications reveal how a network established for post-9/11 intelligence sharing was turned on students protesting genocide.  The post How U.S. Universities Used Counterterror Fusion Centers to Surveil Student Protests for Palestine appeared first on The Intercept.

From a statewide counterterrorism surveillance and intelligence-sharing hub in Ohio, a warning went out to administrators at the Ohio State University: “Currently, we are aware of a demonstration that is planned to take place at Ohio State University this evening (4/25/2024) at 1700 hours. Please see the attached flyers. It is possible that similar events will occur on campuses across Ohio in the coming days.” Founded in the wake of 9/11 to facilitate information sharing between federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies, fusion centers like Ohio’s Statewide Terrorism Analysis and Crime Center, or STACC, have become yet another way for law enforcement agencies to surveil legally protected First Amendment activities. The 80 fusion centers across the U.S. work with the military, private sector, and other stakeholders to collect vast amounts of information on American citizens in a stated effort to prevent future terror attacks. In Ohio, it seemed that the counterterrorism surveillance hub was also keeping close tabs on campus events. It wasn’t just at Ohio State: An investigative series by The Intercept has found that fusion centers were actively involved in monitoring pro-Palestine demonstrations on at least five campuses across the country, as shown in more than 20,000 pages of documents obtained via public records requests exposing U.S. universities’ playbooks for cracking down on pro-Palestine student activism. Related How California Spent Natural Disaster Funds to Quell Student Protests for Palestine As the documents make clear, not only did universities view the peaceful, student-led demonstrations as a security issue — warranting the outside police and technological surveillance interventions detailed in the rest of this series — but the network of law enforcement bodies responsible for counterterror surveillance operations framed the demonstrations in the same way. After the Ohio fusion center’s tip-off to the upcoming demonstration, officials in the Ohio State University Police Department worked quickly to assemble an operations plan and shut down the demonstration. “The preferred course of action for disorderly conduct and criminal trespass and other building violations will be arrest and removal from the event space,” wrote then-campus chief of police Kimberly Spears-McNatt in an email to her officers just two hours after the initial warning from Ohio’s primary fusion center. OSUPD and the Ohio State Highway Patrol would go on to clear the encampment that same night, arresting 36 demonstrators. Fusion centers were designed to facilitate the sharing of already collected intelligence between local, state, and federal agencies, but they have been used to target communities of color and to ever-widen the gray area of allowable surveillance. The American Civil Liberties Union, for example, has long advocated against the country’s fusion center network, on the grounds that they conducted overreaching surveillance of activists from the Black Lives Matter movement to environmental activism in Oregon. “Ohio State has an unwavering commitment to freedom of speech and expression. We do not discuss our security protocols in detail,” a spokesperson for Ohio State said in a statement to The Intercept. Officials at STACC didn’t respond to multiple requests for comment. The proliferation of fusion centers has contributed to a scope creep that allows broader and more intricate mass surveillance, said Rory Mir, associate director of community organizing at the Electronic Frontier Foundation. “Between AI assessments of online speech, the swirl of reckless data sharing from fusion centers, and often opaque campus policies, it’s a recipe for disaster,” Mir said. While the Trump administration has publicized its weaponization of federal law enforcement agencies against pro-Palestine protesters — with high-profile attacks including attempts to illegally deport student activists — the documents obtained by The Intercept display its precedent under the Biden administration, when surveillance and repression were coordinated behind the scenes. “ All of that was happening under Biden,” said Dylan Saba, a staff attorney at Palestine Legal, “and what we’ve seen with the Trump administration’s implementation of Project 2025 and Project Esther is really just an acceleration of all of these tools of repression that were in place from before.” Not only was the groundwork for the Trump administration’s descent into increasingly repressive and illegal tactics laid under Biden, but the investigation revealed that the framework for cracking down on student free speech was also in place before the pro-Palestine encampments. Among other documentation, The Intercept obtained a copy of Clemson University Police Department’s 2023 Risk Analysis Report, which states: “CUPD participates in regular information and intelligence sharing and assessment with both federal and state partners and receives briefings and updates throughout the year and for specific events/incidents form [sic] the South Carolina Information and Intelligence Center (SCIIC)” — another fusion center. The normalization of intelligence sharing between campus police departments and federal law enforcement agencies is widespread across U.S. universities, and as pro-Palestine demonstrations escalated across the country in 2024, U.S. universities would lean on their relationships with outside agencies and on intelligence sharing arrangements with not only other universities, but also the state and federal surveillance apparatus. Read our complete coverage Chilling Dissent OSU was not the only university where fusion centers facilitated briefings, intelligence sharing, and, in some cases, directly involved federal law enforcement agencies. At California State Polytechnic University, Humboldt, where the state tapped funds set aside for natural disasters and major emergencies to pay outside law enforcement officers to clear an occupied building, the university president noted that the partnership would allow them “to gather support from the local Fusion Center to assist with investigative measures.” Cal Poly Humboldt had already made students’ devices a target for their surveillance, as then-President Tom Jackson confirmed in an email. The university’s IT department had “tracked the IP and account user information for all individuals connecting to WiFi in Siemens Hall,” a university building that students occupied for eight days, Jackson wrote. With the help of the FBI – and warrants for the search and seizure of devices – the university could go a step further in punishing the involved students. The university’s IT department had “tracked the IP and account user information for all individuals connecting to WiFi in Siemens Hall.” In one email exchange, Kyle Winn, a special agent at the FBI’s San Francisco Division, wrote to a sergeant at the university’s police department: “Per our conversation, attached are several different warrants sworn out containing language pertaining to electronic devices. Please utilize them as needed. See you guys next week.” Cal Poly Humboldt said in a statement to The Intercept that it “remains firmly committed to upholding the rights guaranteed under the First Amendment, ensuring that all members of our community can speak, assemble, and express their views.” “The pro-Palestine movement really does face a crisis of repression,” said Tariq Kenney-Shawa, Al-Shabaka’s U.S. policy fellow. “We are up against repressive forces that have always been there, but have never been this advanced. So it’s really important that we don’t underestimate them — the repressive forces that are arrayed against us.” Related How Northern California’s Police Intelligence Center Tracked Protests In Mir’s view, university administrators should have been wary about unleashing federal surveillance at their schools due to fusion centers’ reputation for infringing on civil rights. “Fusion centers have also come under fire for sharing dubious intelligence and escalating local police responses to BLM,” Mir said, referring to the Black Lives Matter protests. “For universities to knowingly coordinate and feed more information into these systems to target students puts them in harm’s way and is a threat to their civil rights.” Research support provided by the nonprofit newsroom Type Investigations. The post How U.S. Universities Used Counterterror Fusion Centers to Surveil Student Protests for Palestine appeared first on The Intercept.

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