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Environmental Delegates Gather in Colombia for a Conference on Dwindling Global Biodiversity

News Feed
Monday, October 21, 2024

BOGOTA, Colombia (AP) — Global environmental leaders gather Monday in Cali, Colombia to assess the world’s plummeting biodiversity levels and commitments by countries to protect plants, animals and critical habitats. The two-week United Nations Biodiversity Conference, or COP16, is a follow-up to the 2022 Montreal meetings where 196 countries signed a historic global treaty to protect biodiversity.The accord includes 23 measures to halt and reverse nature loss, including putting 30% of the planet and 30% of degraded ecosystems under protection by 2030. “We hope that (COP16) will be an opportunity for countries to get to work and focus on implementation, monitoring and compliance mechanisms that then have to be developed in their countries and in their national plans,” said Laura Rico, campaign director at Avaaz, a global activism nonprofit. A real threat to biodiversity loss All evidence shows dramatic decline in species abundance and distribution, said Linda Krueger, director of biodiversity at The Nature Conservancy.“A lot of wild species have less room to live, and they’re declining in numbers,” Krueger said. “And we also see rising extinction rates. Things that we haven’t even discovered yet are blinking out.” The world is experiencing its largest loss of life since the dinosaurs, with around 1 million plant and animal species now threatened with extinction, according to the United Nations Environment Programme.In the Amazon rainforest, threats to biodiversity include the expansion of the agricultural frontier and road networks, deforestation, forest fires and drought, says Andrew Miller, advocacy director at Amazon Watch, an organization that protects the rainforest.“You put all of that together and it’s a real threat to biodiversity,” Miller said. Global wildlife populations have plunged on average by 73% in 50 years, according to the WWF and the Zoological Society of London biennial Living Planet report this month. The report said Latin America and the Caribbean saw 95% average declines in recorded wildlife populations. Indigenous communities key to biodiversity protection Indigenous people are on the front lines of protecting biodiversity and fighting against climate change, putting their lives at great risk, said Miller of Amazon Watch. “A lot of discourse has been given about the voices of local communities … Indigenous peoples really playing a key role,” he said. “So that’s one of the things that we’ll be looking for at COP16.”Indigenous peoples hold the solutions to combat the climate change and biodiversity crises, Rico said. “They're who have been taking care of the land, healing the land through their governance systems, their care systems and their ways of life,” she said. “So ... it's fundamental that the COP recognizes, promotes and encourages the legalization of their territories.”In Colombia’s capital, Bogota, the head of an Amazon Indigenous organization said the region's Indigenous people have been preparing for months for COP16.“This is a great opportunity to make the impact that we need to demonstrate to all the actors that come from other countries the importance of Indigenous peoples for the world,” said José Mendez, secretary of the National Organization of the Indigenous Peoples of the Amazon. “It's no secret to anyone that we ... are at risk right now,” he said. “The effects that we are currently experiencing due to climate change, the droughts that the country is experiencing, the Amazon River has never gone through a drought like the current one. … This is causing many species to become extinct.”Colombia’s environment minister Susana Muhamad, who is presiding over COP16, told local media this month that one of the conference's main objectives is to deliver the message that “biodiversity is as important, complementary and indispensable as the energy transition and decarbonization.”Part of Colombia's first ever leftist government, Muhamad cautioned last year's World Economic Forum about the risks of continuing an extractive economy that ignores the social and environmental consequences of natural resource exploitation.Since the 2022 Montreal conference, “progress has been too slow”, says Eva Zabey, executive director of the coalition Business for Nature. “There's been some progress," she said. “But the headline message is the implementation of the global biodiversity framework is too slow and we need to scale and speed up.” “COP16 comes at an absolutely critical moment for us to move from targets setting to real actions on the ground,” Zabey said. Although biodiversity declines are grim, some environmentalists believe a reversal is possible. “We’ve had some very successful species reintroductions and we’ve saved species when we really focus on what is causing their decline,” said The Nature Conservancy's Krueger.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 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - Sept. 2024

As the world grapples with plummeting levels of biodiversity, Colombia is hosting two weeks of meetings for the United Nations Biodiversity Conference

BOGOTA, Colombia (AP) — Global environmental leaders gather Monday in Cali, Colombia to assess the world’s plummeting biodiversity levels and commitments by countries to protect plants, animals and critical habitats.

The two-week United Nations Biodiversity Conference, or COP16, is a follow-up to the 2022 Montreal meetings where 196 countries signed a historic global treaty to protect biodiversity.

The accord includes 23 measures to halt and reverse nature loss, including putting 30% of the planet and 30% of degraded ecosystems under protection by 2030.

“We hope that (COP16) will be an opportunity for countries to get to work and focus on implementation, monitoring and compliance mechanisms that then have to be developed in their countries and in their national plans,” said Laura Rico, campaign director at Avaaz, a global activism nonprofit.

A real threat to biodiversity loss

All evidence shows dramatic decline in species abundance and distribution, said Linda Krueger, director of biodiversity at The Nature Conservancy.

“A lot of wild species have less room to live, and they’re declining in numbers,” Krueger said. “And we also see rising extinction rates. Things that we haven’t even discovered yet are blinking out.”

The world is experiencing its largest loss of life since the dinosaurs, with around 1 million plant and animal species now threatened with extinction, according to the United Nations Environment Programme.

In the Amazon rainforest, threats to biodiversity include the expansion of the agricultural frontier and road networks, deforestation, forest fires and drought, says Andrew Miller, advocacy director at Amazon Watch, an organization that protects the rainforest.

“You put all of that together and it’s a real threat to biodiversity,” Miller said.

Global wildlife populations have plunged on average by 73% in 50 years, according to the WWF and the Zoological Society of London biennial Living Planet report this month.

The report said Latin America and the Caribbean saw 95% average declines in recorded wildlife populations.

Indigenous communities key to biodiversity protection

Indigenous people are on the front lines of protecting biodiversity and fighting against climate change, putting their lives at great risk, said Miller of Amazon Watch.

“A lot of discourse has been given about the voices of local communities … Indigenous peoples really playing a key role,” he said. “So that’s one of the things that we’ll be looking for at COP16.”

Indigenous peoples hold the solutions to combat the climate change and biodiversity crises, Rico said.

“They're who have been taking care of the land, healing the land through their governance systems, their care systems and their ways of life,” she said. “So ... it's fundamental that the COP recognizes, promotes and encourages the legalization of their territories.”

In Colombia’s capital, Bogota, the head of an Amazon Indigenous organization said the region's Indigenous people have been preparing for months for COP16.

“This is a great opportunity to make the impact that we need to demonstrate to all the actors that come from other countries the importance of Indigenous peoples for the world,” said José Mendez, secretary of the National Organization of the Indigenous Peoples of the Amazon.

“It's no secret to anyone that we ... are at risk right now,” he said. “The effects that we are currently experiencing due to climate change, the droughts that the country is experiencing, the Amazon River has never gone through a drought like the current one. … This is causing many species to become extinct.”

Colombia’s environment minister Susana Muhamad, who is presiding over COP16, told local media this month that one of the conference's main objectives is to deliver the message that “biodiversity is as important, complementary and indispensable as the energy transition and decarbonization.”

Part of Colombia's first ever leftist government, Muhamad cautioned last year's World Economic Forum about the risks of continuing an extractive economy that ignores the social and environmental consequences of natural resource exploitation.

Since the 2022 Montreal conference, “progress has been too slow”, says Eva Zabey, executive director of the coalition Business for Nature.

“There's been some progress," she said. “But the headline message is the implementation of the global biodiversity framework is too slow and we need to scale and speed up.”

“COP16 comes at an absolutely critical moment for us to move from targets setting to real actions on the ground,” Zabey said.

Although biodiversity declines are grim, some environmentalists believe a reversal is possible. “We’ve had some very successful species reintroductions and we’ve saved species when we really focus on what is causing their decline,” said The Nature Conservancy's Krueger.

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 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Photos You Should See - Sept. 2024

Read the full story here.
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Iowa Republicans Want to Shield Pesticide Firms From Cancer Lawsuits

Growing up on a cattle ranch in Clarinda, Iowa, Tatum Watkins wanted nothing more than to be outside, help out on the farm, and run freely through the fields like other kids in the farming community. Instead, she spent much of her childhood driving to medical appointments out of state. Watkins was born with a birth defect known as gastroschisis, in which her abdominal organs were outside of her body. Angry and confused as she sat on the sidelines, Watkins often wondered why she was different. By the time she was 10, she had a hypothesis. Every summer, Watkins’s father would plant grapes on the ranch around the same time her neighbors sprayed pesticides on their crops. Every summer, the grapes would die. When a young Watkins made the connection, she began to wonder if the pesticides—a simple “fact of life” in Iowa—could also have caused her gastroschisis. Her best friend, who suffered from a similar abdominal wall defect, also grew up on a working farm. Years later, research found that excess exposure to Atrazine, a herbicide created by the pesticide giant Syngenta, is indeed associated with an increased risk of gastroschisis. Watkins will never know for sure if that’s what caused her condition, but she wishes she and her family had access to this research a decade ago. “Had people had the data to go forward with a lawsuit back then, I think that would have been a brilliant thing,” Watkins said. Iowa has the second-highest rate of cancer cases and the fastest-growing cancer rate in the country. It’s also one of the top states for pesticide use. Thousands have sought and won legal battles against the handful of pesticide companies that dominate the market, and litigation has been a crucial tool to help Iowans pay for the health care they need. But now, facing billions in legal fees, pesticide companies are lobbying to block litigation against them with the introduction of Senate File 394.The bill, which recently passed 26–21 in the Iowa State Senate and will be voted on in the House this month, would prevent Iowans from bringing lawsuits against a pesticide manufacturer for failing to warn them of health risks, as long as the product includes a label approved by the Environmental Protection Agency. The votes to pass the bill came exclusively from Senate Republicans, although six Republicans also joined Democratic colleagues in opposing the measure.“This bill would essentially make the federal labeling requirements sufficient legally, as far as whether they are adequate to warn consumers about potential harms from using that pesticide,” said Dani Replogle, a staff attorney at Food and Water Watch who has been following the bill closely. So if a person is diagnosed with cancer, and they suspect their illness is linked to pesticide exposure (as a growing body of research suggests), the person could not sue the company for so-called “failure to warn” if their label follows EPA guidelines. “I think the groups who are most at risk are farmers, and particularly migrant farm workers, who are already in a very hazardous line of work,” Replogle said, adding that children, pregnant people, and the elderly are also at risk. Eighty-nine percent of Iowans oppose S.F. 394, according to polling from the Iowa Association for Justice.Dubbed the “Cancer Gag Act” by critics, the bill is part of a larger nationwide push from the pesticide manufacturer Bayer to reduce its litigation costs. Similar laws have been introduced in eight states, as well as at the federal level. Over the last decade, Bayer has faced more than 167,000 lawsuits related to the use of its herbicide Roundup, a weedkiller originally developed by Monsanto and a product that forever changed the productivity of American farming; its use is practically synonymous with the country’s industrial food system. When Bayer acquired Monsanto in 2018, it also acquired billions in litigation and settlement fees. The company has set aside more than $16 billion to deal with Roundup-related lawsuits, and has already paid out more than $10 billion in settlements. Just last week, the company was ordered to pay one of its largest payouts yet: a whopping $2.1 billion to a Georgia man who claimed that excess exposure to Roundup caused his cancer and that the company failed to warn of this possibility. Bayer did not respond to a request for comment.Roundup contains glyphosate, a synthetic herbicide that’s been classified as a “probable human carcinogen” by the International Agency for Research on Cancer, a research arm of the World Health Organization. Its use is banned in Belgium, France, the Netherlands, and other countries. The EPA however, has found that glyphosate is “not likely to be carcinogenic to humans,” a finding that pesticide companies argue exempts them from having to warn of Roundup’s health risks.The Modern Agriculture Alliance, a coalition of agriculture stakeholders founded by Bayer as part of its lobbying efforts, argues that glyphosate is an essential tool for crop yields in Iowa to ensure the state has “a robust and affordable domestic food supply,” and that the bill to shield pesticide companies from lawsuits is crucial in ensuring farmers’ long-term access to Roundup. The Modern Ag Alliance declined to comment on the record for this story, but pointed to a statement after the bill passed in the Iowa State Senate. “If farmers lose access to key crop protection inputs due to meritless litigation,” said Modern Ag Alliance executive director Elizabeth Burns-Thompson in the statement, “it will cripple their ability to compete and cause food prices to go even higher. That’s why the overwhelming majority of Iowans support legislation that protects farmers’ tools, and not the trial lawyers and radical, anti-ag activist groups that want to ‘end capitalism’ and put our farms at risk.” That’s inconsistent with polling showing that a majority of Iowans oppose the bill. Those who do support the bill, physician and Iowa State Representative Megan Srivinas said, may also be under a mistaken impression of how it would work in practice. “There are a lot of half-truths to try to scare people into passing this,” Srivinas said. For example, though much of the bill’s debate focuses on the effects of glyphosate, Srivinas pointed out that the legislation includes lawsuits related to “any pesticide, herbicide or fungicide, whether it exists today or ever in the future.”A number of other harmful chemicals would therefore be exempt from failure to warn lawsuits should the bill pass. Exposure to paraquat, a weed-killing chemical manufactured by Syngenta (parent company ChemChina), has been linked to Parkinson’s disease. A 2022 report from The Guardian revealed that Syngenta “insiders feared they could face legal liability for long-term, chronic effects of paraquat as long ago as 1975.” Syngenta also invented Atrazine, the herbicide linked to gastroschisis. The company did not respond to request for comment.“There are so many carcinogens out there, and we need to understand all the different impacts so we can actually combat this cancer epidemic in our state,” Srivinas said. Both Srinivas’s mother-in-law and father-in-law, who are farmers, have been diagnosed with cancer at some point in their lives. “We need to give people the ability to get treatment, to understand what’s going on, and to be able to make the choices for themselves, right?”But fighting pesticide use in an agricultural state like Iowa isn’t easy. If you’re urban or rural, whether you use pesticides on your crops or not, you’ve likely been exposed to pesticides in some form or another, said Rob Faux, an organic farmer in northeast Iowa. He’s been farming for more than 20 years, and though he doesn’t use pesticides on his vegetables, his property is surrounded by soy and corn row crops that are regularly sprayed. Like many Iowans, Faux is a cancer survivor, and he relentlessly ponders whether he got sick just because of his profession.“It’s a common acceptance in rural Iowa that we’re probably being poisoned, but we don’t want to know about it because we’re not sure we can do anything about it,” Faux said. Over the last year, Faux has opposed S.F. 394 through his work at the Pesticide Action and Agroecology Network, a coalition that seeks to end the country’s reliance on pesticides. PAN, along with a number of other advocacy groups, including Food and Water Watch, has led opposition efforts across the state. In February, more than 150 people rallied in the Capitol against the legislation.It’s important but exhausting work, Faux said. “This is not what I do by nature. I prefer to grow things, or I prefer to educate people, which are the two things that I’ve done more of my life,” he said. Still, he thinks advocacy is needed nationwide. In addition to similar legislation being close to passing in Georgia and North Dakota, the attorneys general of Nebraska, Iowa, Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Indiana, Louisiana, Montana, North Dakota, South Carolina, and South Dakota have also filed a petition to amend a federal law that would make it harder to sue pesticide companies.In Iowa, the bill has until April 4 to pass at least one committee in the House, but its lifetime could be extended through an appropriations process. Advocates are hopeful that representatives will prioritize the health and well-being of Iowans over corporate profit.“I know people often get tired and frustrated, and they don’t feel like they’re making a difference,” Faux said. “But I need to remind everybody that, believe it or not, you do make a difference if you come with integrity, if you come with the right intention.”

Growing up on a cattle ranch in Clarinda, Iowa, Tatum Watkins wanted nothing more than to be outside, help out on the farm, and run freely through the fields like other kids in the farming community. Instead, she spent much of her childhood driving to medical appointments out of state. Watkins was born with a birth defect known as gastroschisis, in which her abdominal organs were outside of her body. Angry and confused as she sat on the sidelines, Watkins often wondered why she was different. By the time she was 10, she had a hypothesis. Every summer, Watkins’s father would plant grapes on the ranch around the same time her neighbors sprayed pesticides on their crops. Every summer, the grapes would die. When a young Watkins made the connection, she began to wonder if the pesticides—a simple “fact of life” in Iowa—could also have caused her gastroschisis. Her best friend, who suffered from a similar abdominal wall defect, also grew up on a working farm. Years later, research found that excess exposure to Atrazine, a herbicide created by the pesticide giant Syngenta, is indeed associated with an increased risk of gastroschisis. Watkins will never know for sure if that’s what caused her condition, but she wishes she and her family had access to this research a decade ago. “Had people had the data to go forward with a lawsuit back then, I think that would have been a brilliant thing,” Watkins said. Iowa has the second-highest rate of cancer cases and the fastest-growing cancer rate in the country. It’s also one of the top states for pesticide use. Thousands have sought and won legal battles against the handful of pesticide companies that dominate the market, and litigation has been a crucial tool to help Iowans pay for the health care they need. But now, facing billions in legal fees, pesticide companies are lobbying to block litigation against them with the introduction of Senate File 394.The bill, which recently passed 26–21 in the Iowa State Senate and will be voted on in the House this month, would prevent Iowans from bringing lawsuits against a pesticide manufacturer for failing to warn them of health risks, as long as the product includes a label approved by the Environmental Protection Agency. The votes to pass the bill came exclusively from Senate Republicans, although six Republicans also joined Democratic colleagues in opposing the measure.“This bill would essentially make the federal labeling requirements sufficient legally, as far as whether they are adequate to warn consumers about potential harms from using that pesticide,” said Dani Replogle, a staff attorney at Food and Water Watch who has been following the bill closely. So if a person is diagnosed with cancer, and they suspect their illness is linked to pesticide exposure (as a growing body of research suggests), the person could not sue the company for so-called “failure to warn” if their label follows EPA guidelines. “I think the groups who are most at risk are farmers, and particularly migrant farm workers, who are already in a very hazardous line of work,” Replogle said, adding that children, pregnant people, and the elderly are also at risk. Eighty-nine percent of Iowans oppose S.F. 394, according to polling from the Iowa Association for Justice.Dubbed the “Cancer Gag Act” by critics, the bill is part of a larger nationwide push from the pesticide manufacturer Bayer to reduce its litigation costs. Similar laws have been introduced in eight states, as well as at the federal level. Over the last decade, Bayer has faced more than 167,000 lawsuits related to the use of its herbicide Roundup, a weedkiller originally developed by Monsanto and a product that forever changed the productivity of American farming; its use is practically synonymous with the country’s industrial food system. When Bayer acquired Monsanto in 2018, it also acquired billions in litigation and settlement fees. The company has set aside more than $16 billion to deal with Roundup-related lawsuits, and has already paid out more than $10 billion in settlements. Just last week, the company was ordered to pay one of its largest payouts yet: a whopping $2.1 billion to a Georgia man who claimed that excess exposure to Roundup caused his cancer and that the company failed to warn of this possibility. Bayer did not respond to a request for comment.Roundup contains glyphosate, a synthetic herbicide that’s been classified as a “probable human carcinogen” by the International Agency for Research on Cancer, a research arm of the World Health Organization. Its use is banned in Belgium, France, the Netherlands, and other countries. The EPA however, has found that glyphosate is “not likely to be carcinogenic to humans,” a finding that pesticide companies argue exempts them from having to warn of Roundup’s health risks.The Modern Agriculture Alliance, a coalition of agriculture stakeholders founded by Bayer as part of its lobbying efforts, argues that glyphosate is an essential tool for crop yields in Iowa to ensure the state has “a robust and affordable domestic food supply,” and that the bill to shield pesticide companies from lawsuits is crucial in ensuring farmers’ long-term access to Roundup. The Modern Ag Alliance declined to comment on the record for this story, but pointed to a statement after the bill passed in the Iowa State Senate. “If farmers lose access to key crop protection inputs due to meritless litigation,” said Modern Ag Alliance executive director Elizabeth Burns-Thompson in the statement, “it will cripple their ability to compete and cause food prices to go even higher. That’s why the overwhelming majority of Iowans support legislation that protects farmers’ tools, and not the trial lawyers and radical, anti-ag activist groups that want to ‘end capitalism’ and put our farms at risk.” That’s inconsistent with polling showing that a majority of Iowans oppose the bill. Those who do support the bill, physician and Iowa State Representative Megan Srivinas said, may also be under a mistaken impression of how it would work in practice. “There are a lot of half-truths to try to scare people into passing this,” Srivinas said. For example, though much of the bill’s debate focuses on the effects of glyphosate, Srivinas pointed out that the legislation includes lawsuits related to “any pesticide, herbicide or fungicide, whether it exists today or ever in the future.”A number of other harmful chemicals would therefore be exempt from failure to warn lawsuits should the bill pass. Exposure to paraquat, a weed-killing chemical manufactured by Syngenta (parent company ChemChina), has been linked to Parkinson’s disease. A 2022 report from The Guardian revealed that Syngenta “insiders feared they could face legal liability for long-term, chronic effects of paraquat as long ago as 1975.” Syngenta also invented Atrazine, the herbicide linked to gastroschisis. The company did not respond to request for comment.“There are so many carcinogens out there, and we need to understand all the different impacts so we can actually combat this cancer epidemic in our state,” Srivinas said. Both Srinivas’s mother-in-law and father-in-law, who are farmers, have been diagnosed with cancer at some point in their lives. “We need to give people the ability to get treatment, to understand what’s going on, and to be able to make the choices for themselves, right?”But fighting pesticide use in an agricultural state like Iowa isn’t easy. If you’re urban or rural, whether you use pesticides on your crops or not, you’ve likely been exposed to pesticides in some form or another, said Rob Faux, an organic farmer in northeast Iowa. He’s been farming for more than 20 years, and though he doesn’t use pesticides on his vegetables, his property is surrounded by soy and corn row crops that are regularly sprayed. Like many Iowans, Faux is a cancer survivor, and he relentlessly ponders whether he got sick just because of his profession.“It’s a common acceptance in rural Iowa that we’re probably being poisoned, but we don’t want to know about it because we’re not sure we can do anything about it,” Faux said. Over the last year, Faux has opposed S.F. 394 through his work at the Pesticide Action and Agroecology Network, a coalition that seeks to end the country’s reliance on pesticides. PAN, along with a number of other advocacy groups, including Food and Water Watch, has led opposition efforts across the state. In February, more than 150 people rallied in the Capitol against the legislation.It’s important but exhausting work, Faux said. “This is not what I do by nature. I prefer to grow things, or I prefer to educate people, which are the two things that I’ve done more of my life,” he said. Still, he thinks advocacy is needed nationwide. In addition to similar legislation being close to passing in Georgia and North Dakota, the attorneys general of Nebraska, Iowa, Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Indiana, Louisiana, Montana, North Dakota, South Carolina, and South Dakota have also filed a petition to amend a federal law that would make it harder to sue pesticide companies.In Iowa, the bill has until April 4 to pass at least one committee in the House, but its lifetime could be extended through an appropriations process. Advocates are hopeful that representatives will prioritize the health and well-being of Iowans over corporate profit.“I know people often get tired and frustrated, and they don’t feel like they’re making a difference,” Faux said. “But I need to remind everybody that, believe it or not, you do make a difference if you come with integrity, if you come with the right intention.”

Opinion: I live in Flint, Michigan. Shuttering environmental justice at EPA hurts communities like mine.

Eleven years ago Flint, Michigan, fatefully switched its drinking water supply to the Flint River. The consequences are well-documented: significant damage to pipes, a historic outbreak of Legionnaires’ disease, system-wide lead contamination. My then-three-year-old son was one of the children who drank that lead-tainted water. Because lead is only detectable in the blood for two months’ time, we, like many other Flint families, will never know exactly how much lead may have entered our child’s body, or what effects it might have had on his development. That uncertainty is just one of the many ways in which the Flint water crisis continues to reverberate throughout our community.Another notable, and much-remarked reverberation is the effect the crisis had on trust in governmental institutions. Flint parents will not soon forget the many months our children drank tainted water while officials insisted everything was fine. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), for its part, was shamefully slow to act in the face of evidence that the water posed an imminent threat. In some ways, the agency is still on the wrong side of the crisis, as it continues to fight a lawsuit brought by residents. But EPA has given itself a means of addressing its blind spots, course correcting, and hopefully, minimizing mistakes like the ones we saw in Flint.The EPA’s National Environmental Justice Advisory Council (NEJAC) was created in 1993 to provide recommendations to the EPA administrator for addressing pollution and other environmental burdens in our hardest-hit communities. NEJAC’s members are unpaid, performing their work for the council as a public service. And they hail from a wide range of backgrounds: community-based organizations, state and local government, academia, tribal government, and the business and industry sector. Credit: SHTTEFAN on Unsplash NEJAC’s open meetings offer the public inlets of influence over the federal government, giving communities the opportunity to lift up their concerns and ensure that they are taken seriously and followed up on. After the revelations about Flint’s water, NEJAC invited one of the city’s leading water activists to speak to the council and, inspired by her testimony and reports from other community advocates, authored a letter calling for prompt EPA action to address “enduring problems” in Flint. (The agency’s follow-up actions are detailed here.) Subsequently, Flint helped to inspire NEJAC’s national recommendations around water infrastructure.In 2020, the last year of the first Trump administration, I began my own service on NEJAC. That year, former EPA Administrator Andrew Wheeler conducted a review of all advisory committees to EPA and, in his words, “reaffirmed the importance” of NEJAC’s “critical role” in helping the agency “make measurable progress improving the health and welfare of overburdened communities.”The difference between then and now is striking. Current EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin has suggested that environmental justice work amounts to discrimination and has been purging EPA of all traces of its environmental justice commitments. Notably, NEJAC has been removed from EPA’s official list of advisory committees, and the fate of the council is unclear. As (presumptive) NEJAC vice-chair, I and other members of the NEJAC leadership team sent a letter to Administrator Zeldin on February 28 asking him to meet with us, as is customary for a new administrator. He has not responded.Meanwhile, like other marginalized communities, Flint waits to see whether our plight will be taken seriously by this administration. Flint remains under the EPA emergency order issued in January 2016, a reflection of our water system’s lingering issues. While significant strides have been made in getting lead out of our water, residents are awaiting the completion of lead pipe removal, and we still face many challenges in rebuilding the relationship between residents and our water utility. Under the last presidential administration, EPA employees in the environmental justice program offered resources to help facilitate the Flint Water System Advisory Council, which serves as an interface between Flint residents and the city’s water managers. Whether this support will continue, given that some of these agency allies have been placed on administrative leave and are facing termination, is very much an open question. On February 20 of this year, Administrator Zeldin made a point of visiting Flint. He toured the Flint Water Treatment Plant and pledged that EPA would remain “fully engaged” with the city’s recovery effort. What the administrator did not do, however, is take the time to hear directly from impacted community members about their needs, concerns, and recommendations.It is a contradiction to claim full engagement and to simultaneously neglect or cut off opportunities for members of our most marginalized communities to lift up their voices to EPA and other federal agencies. With the closing of EPA’s national and regional environmental justice offices, there has never been more need for the spotlight that NEJAC can shine on the environmental struggles of communities like Flint. For over 30 years, across Democratic and Republican administrations, NEJAC has provided EPA decision-makers with invaluable perspective at negligible cost to the American taxpayer. Administrator Zeldin should, like his predecessors, reaffirm its important role.

Eleven years ago Flint, Michigan, fatefully switched its drinking water supply to the Flint River. The consequences are well-documented: significant damage to pipes, a historic outbreak of Legionnaires’ disease, system-wide lead contamination. My then-three-year-old son was one of the children who drank that lead-tainted water. Because lead is only detectable in the blood for two months’ time, we, like many other Flint families, will never know exactly how much lead may have entered our child’s body, or what effects it might have had on his development. That uncertainty is just one of the many ways in which the Flint water crisis continues to reverberate throughout our community.Another notable, and much-remarked reverberation is the effect the crisis had on trust in governmental institutions. Flint parents will not soon forget the many months our children drank tainted water while officials insisted everything was fine. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), for its part, was shamefully slow to act in the face of evidence that the water posed an imminent threat. In some ways, the agency is still on the wrong side of the crisis, as it continues to fight a lawsuit brought by residents. But EPA has given itself a means of addressing its blind spots, course correcting, and hopefully, minimizing mistakes like the ones we saw in Flint.The EPA’s National Environmental Justice Advisory Council (NEJAC) was created in 1993 to provide recommendations to the EPA administrator for addressing pollution and other environmental burdens in our hardest-hit communities. NEJAC’s members are unpaid, performing their work for the council as a public service. And they hail from a wide range of backgrounds: community-based organizations, state and local government, academia, tribal government, and the business and industry sector. Credit: SHTTEFAN on Unsplash NEJAC’s open meetings offer the public inlets of influence over the federal government, giving communities the opportunity to lift up their concerns and ensure that they are taken seriously and followed up on. After the revelations about Flint’s water, NEJAC invited one of the city’s leading water activists to speak to the council and, inspired by her testimony and reports from other community advocates, authored a letter calling for prompt EPA action to address “enduring problems” in Flint. (The agency’s follow-up actions are detailed here.) Subsequently, Flint helped to inspire NEJAC’s national recommendations around water infrastructure.In 2020, the last year of the first Trump administration, I began my own service on NEJAC. That year, former EPA Administrator Andrew Wheeler conducted a review of all advisory committees to EPA and, in his words, “reaffirmed the importance” of NEJAC’s “critical role” in helping the agency “make measurable progress improving the health and welfare of overburdened communities.”The difference between then and now is striking. Current EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin has suggested that environmental justice work amounts to discrimination and has been purging EPA of all traces of its environmental justice commitments. Notably, NEJAC has been removed from EPA’s official list of advisory committees, and the fate of the council is unclear. As (presumptive) NEJAC vice-chair, I and other members of the NEJAC leadership team sent a letter to Administrator Zeldin on February 28 asking him to meet with us, as is customary for a new administrator. He has not responded.Meanwhile, like other marginalized communities, Flint waits to see whether our plight will be taken seriously by this administration. Flint remains under the EPA emergency order issued in January 2016, a reflection of our water system’s lingering issues. While significant strides have been made in getting lead out of our water, residents are awaiting the completion of lead pipe removal, and we still face many challenges in rebuilding the relationship between residents and our water utility. Under the last presidential administration, EPA employees in the environmental justice program offered resources to help facilitate the Flint Water System Advisory Council, which serves as an interface between Flint residents and the city’s water managers. Whether this support will continue, given that some of these agency allies have been placed on administrative leave and are facing termination, is very much an open question. On February 20 of this year, Administrator Zeldin made a point of visiting Flint. He toured the Flint Water Treatment Plant and pledged that EPA would remain “fully engaged” with the city’s recovery effort. What the administrator did not do, however, is take the time to hear directly from impacted community members about their needs, concerns, and recommendations.It is a contradiction to claim full engagement and to simultaneously neglect or cut off opportunities for members of our most marginalized communities to lift up their voices to EPA and other federal agencies. With the closing of EPA’s national and regional environmental justice offices, there has never been more need for the spotlight that NEJAC can shine on the environmental struggles of communities like Flint. For over 30 years, across Democratic and Republican administrations, NEJAC has provided EPA decision-makers with invaluable perspective at negligible cost to the American taxpayer. Administrator Zeldin should, like his predecessors, reaffirm its important role.

The Flawed Ideology That Unites Grass-Fed Beef Fans and Anti-Vaxxers

Few environmental documentaries boast the star power of Common Ground, a forthcoming sequel to Netflix’s award-winning 2020 documentary Kiss the Ground, which presented regenerative agriculture as the “first viable solution to the climate crisis.” Executive produced by Demi Moore with narration from Jason Momoa, Donald Glover, Rosario Dawson, Laura Dern, and other celebs, the new film is set to be released on Amazon Prime Video this Earth Day. It features a diverse mix of food and farming activists, wellness influencers, and even two U.S. senators (Democrat Cory Booker and Republican Mike Braun), all linked by a common narrative that farming should work with nature rather than against it to save our food system. The film is just one example of the increasing popularity of this thesis among everyone from Hollywood A-listers to lefty food sovereignty activists to right-leaning podcasters and the Make America Healthy Again, or MAHA, movement. Nowhere are regenerative ag’s claims bolder than when it comes to “regenerative” beef, whose evangelists insist that by capturing carbon in the soil, natural cattle grazing can completely eliminate the climate impact of raising ruminants, which currently contributes somewhere between 11 and 17 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions. Unfortunately for the planet, these claims don’t pan out. Earlier this month, the prestigious Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences published a new study that found grass-fed beef has no climate benefits over industrial beef and likely doesn’t help much with arable soil carbon sequestration, either. For those who follow the peer-reviewed literature on agriculture and climate, this is no surprise. Proponents of regenerative agriculture have several useful ideas worth pursuing, but at the end of the day, cows are still cows and they still belch lots of methane, so beef is not and never will be a “solution” to the climate crisis.And yet, no matter how many studies get published, the hype around this and other “natural” fixes for environmental and health problems shows few signs of slowing down, winning adherents from across the social and political spectrum, and now finding its way into the executive branch. New Health and Human Services head Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has spoken about regenerative farming in near-magical terms, claiming that “the best thing that you can do for climate is to restore the soils.” He has also boosted the supposed health benefits of fries cooked in beef tallow (as opposed to seed oils), championed raw milk, called for a “let it rip” bird flu strategy, in the hopes of promoting “natural immunity” among chickens, and proselytized about remedies like cod liver oil to stop the measles outbreaks spreading among primarily unvaccinated people in Texas and New Mexico.The proponents of these approaches tend to get one thing right: There are countless problems with the U.S. food and health systems. Industrialized animal agriculture harms the environment, workers, and animals; chronic diet-related disease has reached epidemic proportions; and powerful corporate interests are blocking change. But where they go wrong is believing that there is a simple, “natural” solution that will solve all of these issues in one swoop. The problem is not just the way that natural is equated with good—a dynamic that has a long and storied history. The bigger issue—and one that goes beyond regenerative beef—is an emerging ideology of nature-based solutionism, where all things “natural” are proposed as a sure fix for complex problems. Be it Common Ground or MAHA, the adherents of this ideology assume that a better world will emerge from letting “nature” run its course, no matter what the experts or regulators say.Troubled by the ambitious and even outlandish promises emerging from the tech sector in the Obama era, writer Evgeny Morozov popularized the term solutionism to describe the shared belief across government and industry that Silicon Valley capital and know-how could revolutionize the modern world—that blood tests could be instantly performed from a single drop, that predictive policing algorithms would end crime as we know it, and that if only billions of people logged onto Facebook then digital connection would lead to mutual understanding. It’s not that these pitches were overly optimistic. Optimism suggests some recognition that things might not go as planned, which wasn’t what prospective investors and TED audiences wanted to hear. No, the tech industry’s disruptors had to be sure that their technology was world-changing—or at least sound like they were sure.These solutions rarely if ever lived up to the hype, and some were outright failures. Most stumbled over the all-too-common mistake of not taking the time to understand the problems they were trying to solve; assuming that a technological solution was always needed, largely because that’s what they had on hand. They depended too much on the technocratic application of science, forgetting that the social sciences matter too, eschewing policy reform and cultural change as too messy, only to realize later that the success of any technology depends on policy and culture. Several books and countless articles have now been written about technological solutionism’s failures in food and agriculture, energy and the environment, and as part of the Covid-19 pandemic response. Today’s ubiquitous progressive refrain that “tech won’t save us” (to quote the name of a popular podcast) speaks to an emerging recognition of technology’s limited ability, absent a broader political strategy, to effect positive social change.But while the critics may be louder, those solutionists persist, perhaps most visibly today in the pursuit of artificial intelligence that, we are told, will solve pretty much everything, including the federal government’s alleged inefficiencies.While tech solutionism was booming, a different sort of solutionism was brewing in the background, rooted in the idea that it was modern technology that was at the root of many of our problems. But instead of scaling back tech solutionism’s delusions, this parallel revolution kept the delusions and swapped the solution: a return to our preindustrial roots could help us fix the world’s most intractable problems. On the topic of agriculture, this perspective appeared in bestselling food books like Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma, especially in the form of its protagonist Joel Salatin, a libertarian small-scale farmer who championed free-grazing animals and opposition to federal regulations as the solution to the ills of the modern food system. It also found its way onto the TED stage, where “Rhodesian” farmer Allan Savory—also featured in Kiss the Ground—made the now-omnipresent claim in regenerative agricultural circles that so-called “holistic grazing” could reverse desertification and climate change. That TED talk has been viewed over nine million times, attracting big money support in the process. Oprah Winfrey meanwhile gave a platform to wellness gurus who touted the benefits of natural cures, including Dr. Oz, who claimed that saffron was a “miracle appetite suppressant.” And all of that was before the food and wellness influencers of the social media era took over Instagram and TikTok.Supercharged by the skepticism of the Covid-19 pandemic era, the line between legitimate critique of our public health and food infrastructures and pseudoscience grifting got increasingly blurry. Figures often celebrated as heroes within the alternative food and regenerative agriculture movements—from Joel Salatin to food sovereignty activist Vandana Shiva to functional medicine doctor Mark Hyman (the latter a cast member of Common Ground)—built common cause with some of the internet’s biggest sources of health misinformation and helped lay the groundwork for the rise of MAHA, often hawking natural health products in the process. Amplified to huge audiences by the likes of Joe Rogan and Russell Brand, their claims reverberated around the internet without a fact-check in sight.The appeal of many “natural” claims is obvious. The world is complicated, confusing, and often corrupt, and those things that seem unsullied by industrial modernity can feel pure and healthful. There’s an attractive truthiness to claims that raw milk must be better than milk that was pasteurized and skimmed of fat in an industrial centrifuge, butter better than seed oil, cows grazing in the field better than those crammed into feedlots. Moreover, nature-based solutionism tantalizingly offers the prospect of a purer world without significant changes in consumption: Regenerative beef and beef tallow mean you can have natural and guilt-free burgers and fries. Each of these assumptions is rooted in a logical fallacy: the appeal to nature, or the view that a thing must be good if it is natural. This claim, of course, stands on shaky epistemological ground. Nature is far from benign, deadly pathogens being just as natural as soil-sequestering carbon. This is compounded by the fact that many appeals to nature are also appeals to an idealized past, like RFK Jr.’s desire to “reverse 80 years of farming policy,” before the advent of much modern agricultural technology. The British journalist George Monbiot calls this “storybook farming,” or a romanticization of the preindustrial past.Such claims are not only inaccurate but potentially dangerous. Where the appeal to nature really falls apart is when it is scrutinized using the scientific method, which has a decidedly unromantic way of cutting through just-so stories. Studies like the one mentioned at the beginning of this essay have shown that free-ranging cows emit just as much methane as those fattened on industrial feedlots; others have suggested that they might even emit more. Research consistently shows that raw milk is not more nutritious than pasteurized milk, will not cure asthma, and has no impact on gut health, but it is certainly less safe to drink. Recent publications suggest it’s the seed oils and not the butter that are more associated with lower cancer and cardiovascular disease risk. And letting a disease spread to develop natural immunity is a far more risky way to do exactly what vaccines are meant to do: expose people to small amounts of a disease so that they can develop immunity to it. Furthermore, in the case of diseases like avian flu, letting the virus run wild in hopes of finding the few birds who have natural immunity risks allowing the disease to mutate further, potentially increasing the risk for both animals and humans. As RFK Jr. promotes the benefits of “pox parties” as a natural way to boost immunity to measles, doctors scramble to convince parents otherwise. For some who follow his suggestion to dose their kids with vitamin A instead of a vaccine, the liver damage has already been done.The problem with techno-solutionism was never the technology itself. The benefits of many technologies are all around us, making food abundant and keeping us safer from disease than we would otherwise be. Pasteurization and vaccines alone have saved hundreds of millions of lives. The problem, rather, was the way technology was assumed to be a cure-all and a one-size-fits-all fix.Like its technological parallel, a defining characteristic of the ideology of nature-based solutionism is that its solutions are already decided upon before the fact, their success considered inevitable—natural, as it were—if only they can be implemented, which often means rejecting most technology altogether. Changing from conventional to regenerative agriculture, for instance, is believed to solve desertification, climate change, soil health, our ailing rural economies, our woeful eating habits, and whatever other problems confront its advocates. There is a presumed lack of friction in implementing such solutions, with legitimate critiques of technical, environmental, or economic feasibility, or of trade-offs and costs, hand-waved away. Solutionisms, as articles of faith, cleave society into believers and nonbelievers: techno-zealots versus Luddites or nature’s children versus those in thrall to Big Food, Big Ag, Big Pharma, and Big Government. But this sort of simplification doesn’t just fail to solve problems, it fails to properly identify them. The food system’s many problems are varied and have distinct causes. Greenhouse gas emissions from livestock come from too much demand for meat; the overuse of petrochemical fertilizers and pesticides comes partly from market and government incentives to grow more commodity crops destined for animal feed and ethanol; and chronic disease has many causes, only some of which are related to diet. Correctly identifying and addressing each of these problems takes research, time, and often a range of different solutions.But solutionists either underappreciate or openly fight the very things that help us understand problems in all their nuance and craft realistic solutions: research institutions and the regulatory state. Both of these operate on the belief that large claims require large bodies of proof. In the course of reviewing evidence, for instance, they might note that real-world examples show that the financial and labor costs of transitions to low-tech agriculture can be hefty, the benefits uncertain, and the potential for corporate co-optation and greenwashing very real. But in the world of the solutionists, expertise is treated as suspect, corrupt, or altogether illegitimate, with anecdotes and mantras replacing verifiable data.Ironically, this can lead the solutionists to overlook the real nature-based solutions demonstrably effective at improving health and food system sustainability. Eating lower on the food chain, reducing food waste, protecting ecosystems, and promoting conservation agriculture are some of the best climate solutions out there. They are not flashy, they won’t solve all of our problems, they likely don’t make for the most views on streaming platforms or the most memorable stump speeches, but at least they’re backed by science. Being wary of solutionisms is ever more crucial as solutionists permeate our media and increasingly hold political power. The embrace of AI exists side by side with the embrace of regenerative ranching. One side wants to move fast and break things, giving little consideration to what gets broken. The other side wants to eat grass-fed burgers, hoping that good vibes can capture carbon. Neither approach is going to save us.

Few environmental documentaries boast the star power of Common Ground, a forthcoming sequel to Netflix’s award-winning 2020 documentary Kiss the Ground, which presented regenerative agriculture as the “first viable solution to the climate crisis.” Executive produced by Demi Moore with narration from Jason Momoa, Donald Glover, Rosario Dawson, Laura Dern, and other celebs, the new film is set to be released on Amazon Prime Video this Earth Day. It features a diverse mix of food and farming activists, wellness influencers, and even two U.S. senators (Democrat Cory Booker and Republican Mike Braun), all linked by a common narrative that farming should work with nature rather than against it to save our food system. The film is just one example of the increasing popularity of this thesis among everyone from Hollywood A-listers to lefty food sovereignty activists to right-leaning podcasters and the Make America Healthy Again, or MAHA, movement. Nowhere are regenerative ag’s claims bolder than when it comes to “regenerative” beef, whose evangelists insist that by capturing carbon in the soil, natural cattle grazing can completely eliminate the climate impact of raising ruminants, which currently contributes somewhere between 11 and 17 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions. Unfortunately for the planet, these claims don’t pan out. Earlier this month, the prestigious Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences published a new study that found grass-fed beef has no climate benefits over industrial beef and likely doesn’t help much with arable soil carbon sequestration, either. For those who follow the peer-reviewed literature on agriculture and climate, this is no surprise. Proponents of regenerative agriculture have several useful ideas worth pursuing, but at the end of the day, cows are still cows and they still belch lots of methane, so beef is not and never will be a “solution” to the climate crisis.And yet, no matter how many studies get published, the hype around this and other “natural” fixes for environmental and health problems shows few signs of slowing down, winning adherents from across the social and political spectrum, and now finding its way into the executive branch. New Health and Human Services head Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has spoken about regenerative farming in near-magical terms, claiming that “the best thing that you can do for climate is to restore the soils.” He has also boosted the supposed health benefits of fries cooked in beef tallow (as opposed to seed oils), championed raw milk, called for a “let it rip” bird flu strategy, in the hopes of promoting “natural immunity” among chickens, and proselytized about remedies like cod liver oil to stop the measles outbreaks spreading among primarily unvaccinated people in Texas and New Mexico.The proponents of these approaches tend to get one thing right: There are countless problems with the U.S. food and health systems. Industrialized animal agriculture harms the environment, workers, and animals; chronic diet-related disease has reached epidemic proportions; and powerful corporate interests are blocking change. But where they go wrong is believing that there is a simple, “natural” solution that will solve all of these issues in one swoop. The problem is not just the way that natural is equated with good—a dynamic that has a long and storied history. The bigger issue—and one that goes beyond regenerative beef—is an emerging ideology of nature-based solutionism, where all things “natural” are proposed as a sure fix for complex problems. Be it Common Ground or MAHA, the adherents of this ideology assume that a better world will emerge from letting “nature” run its course, no matter what the experts or regulators say.Troubled by the ambitious and even outlandish promises emerging from the tech sector in the Obama era, writer Evgeny Morozov popularized the term solutionism to describe the shared belief across government and industry that Silicon Valley capital and know-how could revolutionize the modern world—that blood tests could be instantly performed from a single drop, that predictive policing algorithms would end crime as we know it, and that if only billions of people logged onto Facebook then digital connection would lead to mutual understanding. It’s not that these pitches were overly optimistic. Optimism suggests some recognition that things might not go as planned, which wasn’t what prospective investors and TED audiences wanted to hear. No, the tech industry’s disruptors had to be sure that their technology was world-changing—or at least sound like they were sure.These solutions rarely if ever lived up to the hype, and some were outright failures. Most stumbled over the all-too-common mistake of not taking the time to understand the problems they were trying to solve; assuming that a technological solution was always needed, largely because that’s what they had on hand. They depended too much on the technocratic application of science, forgetting that the social sciences matter too, eschewing policy reform and cultural change as too messy, only to realize later that the success of any technology depends on policy and culture. Several books and countless articles have now been written about technological solutionism’s failures in food and agriculture, energy and the environment, and as part of the Covid-19 pandemic response. Today’s ubiquitous progressive refrain that “tech won’t save us” (to quote the name of a popular podcast) speaks to an emerging recognition of technology’s limited ability, absent a broader political strategy, to effect positive social change.But while the critics may be louder, those solutionists persist, perhaps most visibly today in the pursuit of artificial intelligence that, we are told, will solve pretty much everything, including the federal government’s alleged inefficiencies.While tech solutionism was booming, a different sort of solutionism was brewing in the background, rooted in the idea that it was modern technology that was at the root of many of our problems. But instead of scaling back tech solutionism’s delusions, this parallel revolution kept the delusions and swapped the solution: a return to our preindustrial roots could help us fix the world’s most intractable problems. On the topic of agriculture, this perspective appeared in bestselling food books like Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma, especially in the form of its protagonist Joel Salatin, a libertarian small-scale farmer who championed free-grazing animals and opposition to federal regulations as the solution to the ills of the modern food system. It also found its way onto the TED stage, where “Rhodesian” farmer Allan Savory—also featured in Kiss the Ground—made the now-omnipresent claim in regenerative agricultural circles that so-called “holistic grazing” could reverse desertification and climate change. That TED talk has been viewed over nine million times, attracting big money support in the process. Oprah Winfrey meanwhile gave a platform to wellness gurus who touted the benefits of natural cures, including Dr. Oz, who claimed that saffron was a “miracle appetite suppressant.” And all of that was before the food and wellness influencers of the social media era took over Instagram and TikTok.Supercharged by the skepticism of the Covid-19 pandemic era, the line between legitimate critique of our public health and food infrastructures and pseudoscience grifting got increasingly blurry. Figures often celebrated as heroes within the alternative food and regenerative agriculture movements—from Joel Salatin to food sovereignty activist Vandana Shiva to functional medicine doctor Mark Hyman (the latter a cast member of Common Ground)—built common cause with some of the internet’s biggest sources of health misinformation and helped lay the groundwork for the rise of MAHA, often hawking natural health products in the process. Amplified to huge audiences by the likes of Joe Rogan and Russell Brand, their claims reverberated around the internet without a fact-check in sight.The appeal of many “natural” claims is obvious. The world is complicated, confusing, and often corrupt, and those things that seem unsullied by industrial modernity can feel pure and healthful. There’s an attractive truthiness to claims that raw milk must be better than milk that was pasteurized and skimmed of fat in an industrial centrifuge, butter better than seed oil, cows grazing in the field better than those crammed into feedlots. Moreover, nature-based solutionism tantalizingly offers the prospect of a purer world without significant changes in consumption: Regenerative beef and beef tallow mean you can have natural and guilt-free burgers and fries. Each of these assumptions is rooted in a logical fallacy: the appeal to nature, or the view that a thing must be good if it is natural. This claim, of course, stands on shaky epistemological ground. Nature is far from benign, deadly pathogens being just as natural as soil-sequestering carbon. This is compounded by the fact that many appeals to nature are also appeals to an idealized past, like RFK Jr.’s desire to “reverse 80 years of farming policy,” before the advent of much modern agricultural technology. The British journalist George Monbiot calls this “storybook farming,” or a romanticization of the preindustrial past.Such claims are not only inaccurate but potentially dangerous. Where the appeal to nature really falls apart is when it is scrutinized using the scientific method, which has a decidedly unromantic way of cutting through just-so stories. Studies like the one mentioned at the beginning of this essay have shown that free-ranging cows emit just as much methane as those fattened on industrial feedlots; others have suggested that they might even emit more. Research consistently shows that raw milk is not more nutritious than pasteurized milk, will not cure asthma, and has no impact on gut health, but it is certainly less safe to drink. Recent publications suggest it’s the seed oils and not the butter that are more associated with lower cancer and cardiovascular disease risk. And letting a disease spread to develop natural immunity is a far more risky way to do exactly what vaccines are meant to do: expose people to small amounts of a disease so that they can develop immunity to it. Furthermore, in the case of diseases like avian flu, letting the virus run wild in hopes of finding the few birds who have natural immunity risks allowing the disease to mutate further, potentially increasing the risk for both animals and humans. As RFK Jr. promotes the benefits of “pox parties” as a natural way to boost immunity to measles, doctors scramble to convince parents otherwise. For some who follow his suggestion to dose their kids with vitamin A instead of a vaccine, the liver damage has already been done.The problem with techno-solutionism was never the technology itself. The benefits of many technologies are all around us, making food abundant and keeping us safer from disease than we would otherwise be. Pasteurization and vaccines alone have saved hundreds of millions of lives. The problem, rather, was the way technology was assumed to be a cure-all and a one-size-fits-all fix.Like its technological parallel, a defining characteristic of the ideology of nature-based solutionism is that its solutions are already decided upon before the fact, their success considered inevitable—natural, as it were—if only they can be implemented, which often means rejecting most technology altogether. Changing from conventional to regenerative agriculture, for instance, is believed to solve desertification, climate change, soil health, our ailing rural economies, our woeful eating habits, and whatever other problems confront its advocates. There is a presumed lack of friction in implementing such solutions, with legitimate critiques of technical, environmental, or economic feasibility, or of trade-offs and costs, hand-waved away. Solutionisms, as articles of faith, cleave society into believers and nonbelievers: techno-zealots versus Luddites or nature’s children versus those in thrall to Big Food, Big Ag, Big Pharma, and Big Government. But this sort of simplification doesn’t just fail to solve problems, it fails to properly identify them. The food system’s many problems are varied and have distinct causes. Greenhouse gas emissions from livestock come from too much demand for meat; the overuse of petrochemical fertilizers and pesticides comes partly from market and government incentives to grow more commodity crops destined for animal feed and ethanol; and chronic disease has many causes, only some of which are related to diet. Correctly identifying and addressing each of these problems takes research, time, and often a range of different solutions.But solutionists either underappreciate or openly fight the very things that help us understand problems in all their nuance and craft realistic solutions: research institutions and the regulatory state. Both of these operate on the belief that large claims require large bodies of proof. In the course of reviewing evidence, for instance, they might note that real-world examples show that the financial and labor costs of transitions to low-tech agriculture can be hefty, the benefits uncertain, and the potential for corporate co-optation and greenwashing very real. But in the world of the solutionists, expertise is treated as suspect, corrupt, or altogether illegitimate, with anecdotes and mantras replacing verifiable data.Ironically, this can lead the solutionists to overlook the real nature-based solutions demonstrably effective at improving health and food system sustainability. Eating lower on the food chain, reducing food waste, protecting ecosystems, and promoting conservation agriculture are some of the best climate solutions out there. They are not flashy, they won’t solve all of our problems, they likely don’t make for the most views on streaming platforms or the most memorable stump speeches, but at least they’re backed by science. Being wary of solutionisms is ever more crucial as solutionists permeate our media and increasingly hold political power. The embrace of AI exists side by side with the embrace of regenerative ranching. One side wants to move fast and break things, giving little consideration to what gets broken. The other side wants to eat grass-fed burgers, hoping that good vibes can capture carbon. Neither approach is going to save us.

Egg prices hit record highs. Are you ready to try a vegan egg?

Bird flu has apparently done what environmentalists have long dreamed of: made Americans curious about egg alternatives.

Sometimes, Josh Tetrick will quiz strangers in the dairy aisle. He’ll strike up a conversation with a fellow grocery store patron and ask if they’ve heard about “this egg that’s made from plants?” He might point out the golden-yellow boxes shaped like milk cartons sitting on refrigerated shelves, not too far from the egg cartons. Generally, he finds that people don’t know what he’s talking about. “Most people will be like, ‘What?’” The product Tetrick is referring to — which, not coincidentally, he manufactures — is called Just Egg. It’s a liquid vegan egg substitute made from mung beans, a member of the legume family, and it’s designed to scramble just like a real chicken egg when cooked over heat. (The company also sells frozen omelette-style patties that can be heated up in a toaster oven and frozen breakfast burritos.) Along with his best friend Josh Balk, Tetrick cofounded the company Eat Just, formerly known as Hampton Creek, which developed Just Egg over years of testing. On a recent call with Grist, Tetrick described the products — which are meant to look, taste, and cook like real eggs — as “definitely, definitely weird.” But lately, Tetrick says the team at Eat Just has been hearing from restaurant owners and chefs overcoming the weirdness to inquire about becoming new customers — in part because avian influenza has sent egg prices soaring in January and February in the United States. Nationally, the average cost of a dozen large eggs rose to about $5.90 last month, up almost 100 percent from a year before, according to data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics. In expensive cities like New York and San Francisco, a dozen eggs could cost $10 or more. The pressure has raised prices at some bakeries, brunch spots, and bodegas slinging bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches — and has made some buyers and consumers more open to alternatives.  Tetrick has said that Just Egg’s sales are now five times higher than at this time last year, and that a majority of its customers are omnivores. The latest outbreak of avian flu has apparently done what environmentalists and animal rights activists have long dreamed of: made Americans curious about vegan eggs. It’s a development that could indicate how consumers may learn to gradually embrace more environmentally sustainable options. The environmental benefits of not eating meat or dairy have long been documented. A quarter of global greenhouse gas emissions come from the way we grow and produce food; within that, livestock — which includes raising animals for eggs and dairy — is responsible for about a third.  But brands that have tried to capitalize on the climate case for eating plant-based protein have failed to win over customers. Beyond Meat has struggled to reach profitability, while the CEO of Impossible Foods says the industry has done a “lousy job” of appealing to consumers.  Producing eggs has a lower environmental impact than raising beef and other forms of animal protein — but growing feed for laying hens still requires a significant amount of land and resources. Eat Just claims that making its mung bean-based alt-egg uses significantly less land and water than the conventional chicken egg. But Tetrick said its most effective marketing strategy is highlighting the benefits of eating a “healthier protein” for breakfast. For instance, Just Egg contains zero milligrams of cholesterol per serving, while one large chicken egg contains about 180 milligrams.  Josh Tetrick, CEO of the food tech company Eat Just, said sales of its vegan egg substitute are five times higher than last year. Eat Just Over the years, Tetrick’s company, which also houses the cultivated meat subsidiary Good Meat, has received criticism for allegedly exaggerating its environmental claims and sales figures. In 2016, Bloomberg Businessweek reported that the company — then called Hampton Creek — removed the climate benefits of its vegan mayonnaise product, Just Mayo, from its website after an external audit found they were inaccurate. Previously, Bloomberg reported that Hampton Creek had instructed contractors to buy back its vegan mayo from stores. Tetrick said that the buybacks were for quality assurance purposes only, but in 2016 both the Department of Justice and the Securities and Exchange Commission launched inquiries into the company for potentially inflating its sales numbers. The following year, both investigations were dropped.     Those in the plant-based industry say that once vegan alternatives taste as good as real meat and cost the same or less, then sales will go up. Entrepreneurs and advocates have focused on developing the technology, supply chains, and economies of scale needed to lower the price of animal-free protein products. But the current situation with vegan eggs suggests that change can also happen when the animal-based option becomes much more expensive. Prices vary from store to store and region to region, but on the online store for the Manhattan West location of Whole Foods, one 16-ounce carton of Just Egg, the equivalent of about 10 small eggs, costs $7.89. Meanwhile, a dozen eggs, depending on the brand, run from about $7 to up to $13.  Tetrick said that the newly interested potential customers currently talking to Eat Just aren’t motivated by climate change or animal welfare. Their point of view, in his words, is that they’re tired of the unpredictability of egg prices going up and down. That exasperation, he added, “is probably the most effective lens for change.” Earlier this month, Eat Just launched a campaign in New York City advertising its vegan breakfast sandwiches, sold at bodegas, as a “Bird Flu Bailout.” The company’s website cheekily boasts, “We’re in stock.” Founders of vegan egg companies argue that the root cause of price volatility for meat, eggs, and dairy is not any one disease or policy, but the way the United States raises animals. “When you cram animals together in really tight spaces, they’re gonna get sick,” said Tetrick. “It’s not Trump’s fault. It’s not MAGA’s fault. It’s just biology.”  A 2023 report by the United Nations Environmental Programme cited alternative proteins — meaning plant-based foods, as well as cultivated meat and fermentation-derived products — as a way to reduce the risk of zoonotic disease outbreaks. Raising animals for human consumption requires a lot of antibiotics, which raises the risk of creating antibiotic-resistant pathogens. It also creates ideal conditions for viruses to spread, evolve, and cross over to new species. Lowering the global demand for animal protein could greatly reduce those risks. Or as Tetrick put it, “You can pack mung beans into tiny little spaces all you want. They’re not getting the flu.” Hema Reddy, who developed the vegan hard-boiled egg brand WunderEggs during the COVID-19 pandemic, offered a similar critique of industrial animal agriculture. “If the chickens are crowded together, then disease will follow,” she said. “The only solution,” she posited, “is to change the way we farm. And that’s a big step. It’s like moving the Titanic.” WunderEggs are made from almonds, cashews, and coconut milk and are currently sold in stores and online. Like Tetrick, Reddy says she has heard from plenty of newly interested restaurants in the last few months. But she is reluctant to draw long-term conclusions from it, arguing that consumer behavior doesn’t change that quickly. Many people, she argued, “probably want to eat eggs, they’re missing eggs,” and “they’re going to wait for things to get better.” Nationally, the average cost of a dozen large eggs rose to about $5.90 in February, up almost 100 percent from a year before. Zeng Hui / Xinhua via Getty Images But for some adoptees of vegan egg substitutes, the upsides of ditching chicken eggs is obvious. Chef Jason Hull, director of food services at Marin Country Day School in the Bay Area, has been using Just Egg for years. “They have nailed the delicious flavor of egg,” said Hull. He swaps out regular eggs for the plant-based version in baked goods like cookies, muffins, and quick breads, as well as in dishes like fried rice. There’s virtually no difference, he said. While he’s a longtime fan of the brand, the uptick in egg prices has validated his decision. “Especially with egg prices right now, I’m not going to use chicken eggs for baking or fried rice or things like that any time soon,” he said. Hull said some of his peers, especially those in other parts of the country, are potentially less open-minded about vegan egg substitutes. But rising costs may have them reconsidering. Other chefs are “warming up to it, absolutely,” he said. “And the high egg prices are kind of forcing that warm-up.” Wholesale egg prices are trending downward as of March, according to U.S. Department of Agriculture data, so this momentum could be short-lived. But it may only be a matter of time before the next price hike happens. “Because the virus is so ubiquitous in so many different environments … it’s hard to imagine the virus ever completely going away at this point,” said Maurice Pitesky, an associate professor in cooperative extension at University of California, Davis School of Veterinary Medicine. Reddy insisted that taking advantage of a cost-of-living crisis to promote her product does not sit right with her, and she prefers to let consumers come to their own conclusions about what’s right for them. But if avian influenza continues to upend egg production in the U.S., that might mean the economic case for going dairy-free could become more and more evident with time. Regardless of what happens in the future, Reddy said, “I really think that now is the time for egg alternatives to shine.” This story was originally published by Grist with the headline Egg prices hit record highs. Are you ready to try a vegan egg? on Mar 31, 2025.

California suspends environmental laws to speed rebuilding of utilities after L.A. fires

Gov. Newsom waived CEQA and the California Coastal Act for utilities working to rebuild, and move infrastructure underground, in the Palisades and Eaton fire areas.

In a continued effort to expedite rebuilding after Los Angeles’ devastating firestorms, Gov. Gavin Newsom this week suspended California environmental laws for utility providers working to reinstall key infrastructure. His latest executive order eliminates requirements to comply with the California Environmental Quality Act, commonly known as CEQA, and the California Coastal Act for utilities working to rebuild “electric, gas, water, sewer and telecommunication infrastructure” in the Palisades and Eaton fire burn zones. Newsom also continued to encourage the “undergrounding” of utility equipment when feasible, which he said will help minimize the future fire risk in these communities. “We are determined to rebuild Altadena, Malibu and Pacific Palisades stronger and more resilient than before,” Newsom said in a statement. “Speeding up the pace that we rebuild our utility systems will help get survivors back home faster and prevent future fires.” The move builds on Newsom’s prior executive orders that exempted work rebuilding homes and businesses destroyed or damaged by the fires as well as wildfire prevention efforts from the two environmental laws. CEQA requires local and state agencies to identify and mitigate environmental impacts of their work. The California Coastal Act, which made permanent the California Coastal Commission, lays out regulations for coastal development and protection. While the laws have been heralded by environmentalists, their processes have long been considered onerous by developers, and residents and officials have urged their requirements be lessened or waived to expedite fire recovery. The Trump administration has also taken issue with the California Coastal Commission — which typically regulates any coastal development as enumerated by the state’s Coastal Act — and has indicated further federal aid could have stipulations that target the commission’s work. “The key now is to make sure that we move quickly to address the needs to underground not just traditional utilities for electricity but also water and sewer lines, and do it concurrently,” Newsom said in a video posted on social media this week. Joshua Smith, a spokesperson for the Coastal Commission, declined to comment on the latest executive order.Previously, the commission’s executive director had clarified that coastal development permits are typically waived after disasters like the L.A. fires, as long as new construction won’t be 10% larger than the destroyed structure it is replacing. That statement, however, has since been removed from the commission’s website. In a letter sent last month, Newsom urged Southern California Edison, the area’s largest electricity provider, to do all it can to rebuild lines underground in these areas.“SCE has the opportunity to build back a more modern, reliable and resilient electric distribution system that can meet the community’s immediate and future needs,” Newsom wrote, adding that he welcomed information and suggestions that would ease such efforts and keep costs down. Installing utilities underground is much more expensive than typical above-ground construction, which has limited the practice. David Eisenhauer, an Edison spokesperson, said waiving CEQA and the Coastal Act will help the utility’s ongoing efforts to rebuild and move lines underground.“We appreciate Gov. Newsom’s action to help expedite permitting,” Eisenhauer said. “This will help us continue this process of undergrounding and help the communities rebuild stronger.”Eisenhauer said SoCal Edison is already in the process of reestablishing and moving some of its electrical wires underground in the areas affected by the fires. Some of this work had been planned — and permitted — beforehand, including moving 40 miles of line underground in Altadena and doing likewise with 80 miles in the Palisades area, he said. However, this executive order will help ease the permitting process for future work. It wasn’t immediately clear how other utilities might benefit from the executive order, if at all. Representatives for Southern California Gas Co. and the L.A. Department of Water and Power didn’t immediately respond to requests for comment. Newsom has previously said his executive orders waiving these environmental laws do not signal a shift in California’s support of such efforts, though many environmental activists worry such broad exemptions could have serious consequences down the road. Bruce Reznik, executive director of Los Angeles Waterkeeper, a nonprofit that advocates for clean waterways, said he understands the urgency to rebuild but those efforts need a balance that considers important environmental protections — not blanket waivers and exceptions.“We all want to see the rebuilding happen as quickly as we can … but we also have to be smart about it,” Reznik said. “We have to build recognizing the reality of today’s climate change.”He said the natural space in Altadena and Pacific Palisades was a big part of why people loved living there, and it’s important to protect those areas — as CEQA and the California Coastal Act do. “These laws play a really critical role in making sure as we rebuild we’re doing it with an eye toward climate resilience, protecting against further natural disasters … [and] the health of our waterways and ecosystems,” he said. “Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the way the governor has operated, and you have to worry about what that will mean.”Susan Jordan, executive director of the California Coastal Protection Network, said Newsom’s continued exemptions build on concerning environmental practices she’s seen in the fires’ aftermath, including the decision not to test soil in affected areas.“I hope that the governor will one day recognize that the Coastal Commission is a willing partner and one of the best tools he has in his toolbox to ensure a quick, informed and coordinated response to establish future long-term resiliency along the coast,” Jordan said in a statement.

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