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Seattle’s Sustainability Director on Successes, Failures, and Lessons for Other Cities

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Monday, August 12, 2024

Jessyn Farrell is late meeting me at the Seattle Green Festival in early July — not because she’s late entering the conference, but because it seems she can’t walk through a crowd of sustainability and environmental experts without being stopped. As the director of the Office of Sustainability & Environment for the city of Seattle, Farrell holds a position that, in other cities, might not be particularly high profile. But in the Emerald City, which regularly ranks as one of the most sustainable cities worldwide, it garners its own type of fame. That position — along with Farrell’s tenure on the Washington House of Representatives from 2013 to 2017, her decades of environmental and transit activism in the region, and her two (unsuccessful) runs for mayor — makes her a known figure. We hadn’t met before, but once we began our interview, we found that our personal and professional experiences overlap in several key areas. We share a passion for sustainable buildings: She helped pass legislation to decarbonize residential buildings, and I’m a U.S. Green Building Council LEED Green Associate. We’re both dedicated to food security and creative solutions for urban gardening and farming. And we’ve also both spent most of our careers living in and working toward sustainable cities — she in Seattle, and me in San Francisco and Washington, D.C. (This interview has been edited for clarity and length.) Jessyn Farrell at the Green Festival. Photo by Molly McCluskey How did you get your start in environmental activism? A lot of my environmental consciousness and love of this place started because it’s such a beautiful, amazing place to live in. When I was a child, my uncle was a researcher for orcas at the Ken Balcombe Center on San Juan Island, and we’d go out in his little boat and, like, hang out with orcas. That was magical and incredible. And the thing that stuns me about living here is you still see whales. Even 40 years later, when my kids and I are on the ferry, we’re always scanning for whales, and they’re there. I would say that I am literally a Save the Whales environmentalist. That’s where I got my start — as, you know, an ’80s bumper sticker. An orca dorsal fin seen from Discovery Park with West Point lighthouse in background. Photo via Seattle Parks, Discovery Park Staff (CC BY 2.0) How has that love of the environment translated into your urban activism? Over time, I really came to appreciate how important it is to make cities wonderful places to live as a way of preserving our wild places. Growing up in Seattle — which, like San Francisco, is a place of really rapid change — I could really see the forests and the fields turn into suburbia over the past decade. As a result, over my career, I’ve asked myself, how do we make these cities places where everyone can live? That’s where you get into the intersection of environmental justice and affordability and human health and social capital — by asking, how do you get people to live in a dense urban environment? You do that by making it really wonderful. So that’s been the guiding principle for my career. Why has transportation been such a core piece of your professional life, given the Save the Whales environmentalism that you come from? I think one thing that all big, wonderful cities have in common is an amazing transit system. And Seattle didn’t. In the 1970s, voters [rejected] what was called Forward Thrust. Federal funding had been approved to build a system here. The voters voted against the local match, and so it never got built. After law school, I went into transit policy and ran a small nonprofit called Transportation Choices Coalition. I had an amazing team of five. Our budget the first year I was there was $250,000. We didn’t get paid very much. But we fought the highway guys and the mall guys and the oil industry on their own turf in Bellevue and got the city council to support light rail, which it had voted down for decades. It was just a lot of fun, and it was a purpose. What I love about [transportation] is that it helps address all these different issues — economic, race, and social justice, climate, livability, safety — just by building trains and having great bus service. Whether you’re old or young or middle aged, transit is literally what connects us. Why venture into politics? I was voted “most likely to be a politician” in high school. I always dreamed of going into politics, but I think, like a lot of women, I felt I needed to be credentialed. I felt like I needed to have a lot of experience. It wasn’t until I was working in a transit agency and lobbying these legislators who were five years younger than I was that I thought, if these guys can do it, I certainly can too. [That was] in 2012, [when] I had a two-year-old and a four-year-old. It was not easy by any means, but I jumped in and ran as an environmentalist and transit advocate. We are very, very polarized right now. Climate is the unifying issue. We’ve passed this building emissions performance standard. We got the climate activists and the building owners to get — maybe if not on exactly the same page, [then] to a willingness to create space to do a heavy lift on a policy. What’s your vision for Seattle? My basic take is we actually know exactly what to do around climate change. This is not a mystery. It’s not a big research and science experiment. We have the solutions. The big challenge is: How do we scale and go big, fast? And how do we do that in a way that is community-centered and people-centered? Those two things have an inherent tension, because scaling requires speed, efficiency, and cookie-cutter approaches. What we do at the Office of Sustainability & Environment is a lot of piloting and a lot of iterating, and then we package up our little fledglings and pass them on to capital departments that can really scale them. One good example of that is the Green Seattle Partnership, which started at OSC, which connects nonprofits to help steward our wild parts of our parks. We started small and learned how to run that well and then passed it on to the parks department. Not everything can be a success right out of the gate. What are some initiatives that had some greater challenges or just haven’t worked out? Well, one we’re really dogged about and not willing to give up yet is dredge truck electrification. Those are the diesel trucks that run between the port and logistic facilities. Often environmental justice-impacted neighborhoods are right next to the port, and they have massive particulate impacts. There’s all of this [Inflation Reduction Act] funding, and there’s state funding, which is awesome for electrification. It offers tremendous potential, but getting there is challenging. We’re not so worried about the really big entities. They’re going to figure out how to buy or finance $500,000 trucks. It’s the small, 20-trucks-and-under, immigrant refugee-owned small businesses that can’t float loans, may not even have traditional banking. The price of these trucks is just really high. Then where do they charge? Electrification has been a city priority now for several years. Our signature environmental justice program is in the Duwamish Valley, which is a port-adjacent neighborhood. In 2016 the Duwamish Valley Action Plan, which lays out the vision for that neighborhood, identified the need to electrify these trucks because this is really impacting people’s health. So we’ve been working on this for a long time, and we’re not ready to give up. That’s one of those examples where we’re not there yet, but we’re learning a lot. Climate Pledge arena in Seattle. Photo by Molly McCluskey Seattle is implementing a multi-tiered approach for sustainability. Most cities have so many similar problems and solutions. What advice would you have for city officials in Fargo or Tempe, or smaller cities that maybe don’t have massive budgets but still want to do something to advance sustainability in their city and maybe feel overwhelmed? Where would you recommend they start? We have the Buildings Accelerator Program. We passed the regulation, and that’s the stick. It says you have to decarbonize by 2050, and you have to meet benchmarks over the next 25 years. But one of the things that we really took very seriously is how we then partner and provide resources from the technical engineering side to meet the actual funding needs of under-resourced buildings to help them meet those targets. We’re partnering first this year with affordable housing, just because there aren’t a lot of air-conditioned homes or air-conditioned multifamily homes, especially the older ones that tend to be more affordable. So that’s a really fun project born out of many, many years of working with the building community and paying really deep attention to what they need and how we can show up best as government. Because at the end of the day, we want decarbonization to happen. We have an amazing staff that has expertise, but we’re also really reliant on community expertise to understand what the barriers are. Washington shows up regularly on the top 10 states of U.S. Green Building Council LEED-certified buildings. But on that list, it’s ninth for number of credentialed LEED professionals. As Seattle moves to decarbonize its buildings, how are you fostering expertise in green buildings? We passed legislation a decade ago that was our foundation for getting to emission performance standards and building benchmarking and tune-ups. We built in a certification program where we would help support people getting their credentials. We partner with South Community College to do that, which is really cool. The feedback we received from building owners was to give them a long lead time. We’re in a downtown crisis, a commercial real estate crisis. We need time to make these big investments. And we’re willing to do it because we see the reason behind it. But they need time. That was one of the compromises, because the climate science obviously tells us we need to do this yesterday. The activists wanted a 2030 deadline. But our role as the Office of Sustainability in negotiating this was, we don’t want a goal that’s impossible to meet. We need you guys to actually decarbonize. And if that means having some flexibility around how we do it, [or] the deadlines, you have to do it. We built in a lot of flexibility because we want to have the end result. In a year from now, what do you want the Office of Sustainability & Environment to be able to say it accomplished? I would love within the next year or two to really have that sense of how we’re going to go the distance on decarbonizing our residential homes. Then there are a lot of other really exciting projects that we’re doing. One of them is creating a resilience hub strategy. Resilience hubs are trusted community facilities where people can go if there’s a heat event, but also throughout the year to build social capital. I would love to be in a place where the plan is launched, which we expect to do, and we have the political cohesion to start putting together the funding and the will to make sure that every single neighborhood in our city has these kinds of places where people can hang out when it’s too hot  — or even in floods, [or if] your refrigerator goes out [and you need] a safe place to store your food. With regards to climate, Seattle does have this ethos that’s still alive and well. I think it’s that issue that brings people together in a way that other issues don’t right now. The post Seattle’s Sustainability Director on Successes, Failures, and Lessons for Other Cities appeared first on The Revelator.

Former politician turned city official Jessyn Farrell, who still calls herself a “Save the Whales environmentalist,” tackles sustainability from all angles. The post Seattle’s Sustainability Director on Successes, Failures, and Lessons for Other Cities appeared first on The Revelator.

Jessyn Farrell is late meeting me at the Seattle Green Festival in early July — not because she’s late entering the conference, but because it seems she can’t walk through a crowd of sustainability and environmental experts without being stopped.

As the director of the Office of Sustainability & Environment for the city of Seattle, Farrell holds a position that, in other cities, might not be particularly high profile. But in the Emerald City, which regularly ranks as one of the most sustainable cities worldwide, it garners its own type of fame. That position — along with Farrell’s tenure on the Washington House of Representatives from 2013 to 2017, her decades of environmental and transit activism in the region, and her two (unsuccessful) runs for mayor — makes her a known figure.

We hadn’t met before, but once we began our interview, we found that our personal and professional experiences overlap in several key areas. We share a passion for sustainable buildings: She helped pass legislation to decarbonize residential buildings, and I’m a U.S. Green Building Council LEED Green Associate. We’re both dedicated to food security and creative solutions for urban gardening and farming. And we’ve also both spent most of our careers living in and working toward sustainable cities — she in Seattle, and me in San Francisco and Washington, D.C. (This interview has been edited for clarity and length.)

Jessyn Farrell at the Green Festival. Photo by Molly McCluskey

How did you get your start in environmental activism?

A lot of my environmental consciousness and love of this place started because it’s such a beautiful, amazing place to live in. When I was a child, my uncle was a researcher for orcas at the Ken Balcombe Center on San Juan Island, and we’d go out in his little boat and, like, hang out with orcas. That was magical and incredible.

And the thing that stuns me about living here is you still see whales. Even 40 years later, when my kids and I are on the ferry, we’re always scanning for whales, and they’re there.

I would say that I am literally a Save the Whales environmentalist. That’s where I got my start — as, you know, an ’80s bumper sticker.

Orca
An orca dorsal fin seen from Discovery Park with West Point lighthouse in background. Photo via Seattle Parks, Discovery Park Staff (CC BY 2.0)

How has that love of the environment translated into your urban activism?

Over time, I really came to appreciate how important it is to make cities wonderful places to live as a way of preserving our wild places. Growing up in Seattle — which, like San Francisco, is a place of really rapid change — I could really see the forests and the fields turn into suburbia over the past decade.

As a result, over my career, I’ve asked myself, how do we make these cities places where everyone can live? That’s where you get into the intersection of environmental justice and affordability and human health and social capital — by asking, how do you get people to live in a dense urban environment?

You do that by making it really wonderful. So that’s been the guiding principle for my career.

Why has transportation been such a core piece of your professional life, given the Save the Whales environmentalism that you come from?

I think one thing that all big, wonderful cities have in common is an amazing transit system. And Seattle didn’t. In the 1970s, voters [rejected] what was called Forward Thrust. Federal funding had been approved to build a system here. The voters voted against the local match, and so it never got built.

After law school, I went into transit policy and ran a small nonprofit called Transportation Choices Coalition. I had an amazing team of five. Our budget the first year I was there was $250,000. We didn’t get paid very much. But we fought the highway guys and the mall guys and the oil industry on their own turf in Bellevue and got the city council to support light rail, which it had voted down for decades. It was just a lot of fun, and it was a purpose.

What I love about [transportation] is that it helps address all these different issues — economic, race, and social justice, climate, livability, safety — just by building trains and having great bus service.

Whether you’re old or young or middle aged, transit is literally what connects us.

Why venture into politics?

I was voted “most likely to be a politician” in high school. I always dreamed of going into politics, but I think, like a lot of women, I felt I needed to be credentialed. I felt like I needed to have a lot of experience.

It wasn’t until I was working in a transit agency and lobbying these legislators who were five years younger than I was that I thought, if these guys can do it, I certainly can too. [That was] in 2012, [when] I had a two-year-old and a four-year-old. It was not easy by any means, but I jumped in and ran as an environmentalist and transit advocate.

We are very, very polarized right now. Climate is the unifying issue. We’ve passed this building emissions performance standard. We got the climate activists and the building owners to get — maybe if not on exactly the same page, [then] to a willingness to create space to do a heavy lift on a policy.

What’s your vision for Seattle?

My basic take is we actually know exactly what to do around climate change. This is not a mystery. It’s not a big research and science experiment. We have the solutions. The big challenge is: How do we scale and go big, fast? And how do we do that in a way that is community-centered and people-centered? Those two things have an inherent tension, because scaling requires speed, efficiency, and cookie-cutter approaches.

What we do at the Office of Sustainability & Environment is a lot of piloting and a lot of iterating, and then we package up our little fledglings and pass them on to capital departments that can really scale them. One good example of that is the Green Seattle Partnership, which started at OSC, which connects nonprofits to help steward our wild parts of our parks. We started small and learned how to run that well and then passed it on to the parks department.

Not everything can be a success right out of the gate. What are some initiatives that had some greater challenges or just haven’t worked out?

Well, one we’re really dogged about and not willing to give up yet is dredge truck electrification. Those are the diesel trucks that run between the port and logistic facilities.

Often environmental justice-impacted neighborhoods are right next to the port, and they have massive particulate impacts. There’s all of this [Inflation Reduction Act] funding, and there’s state funding, which is awesome for electrification. It offers tremendous potential, but getting there is challenging.

We’re not so worried about the really big entities. They’re going to figure out how to buy or finance $500,000 trucks.

It’s the small, 20-trucks-and-under, immigrant refugee-owned small businesses that can’t float loans, may not even have traditional banking. The price of these trucks is just really high. Then where do they charge?

Electrification has been a city priority now for several years. Our signature environmental justice program is in the Duwamish Valley, which is a port-adjacent neighborhood. In 2016 the Duwamish Valley Action Plan, which lays out the vision for that neighborhood, identified the need to electrify these trucks because this is really impacting people’s health. So we’ve been working on this for a long time, and we’re not ready to give up.

That’s one of those examples where we’re not there yet, but we’re learning a lot.

Climate Pledge arena with Space Needle in the background.
Climate Pledge arena in Seattle. Photo by Molly McCluskey

Seattle is implementing a multi-tiered approach for sustainability. Most cities have so many similar problems and solutions. What advice would you have for city officials in Fargo or Tempe, or smaller cities that maybe don’t have massive budgets but still want to do something to advance sustainability in their city and maybe feel overwhelmed? Where would you recommend they start?

We have the Buildings Accelerator Program. We passed the regulation, and that’s the stick. It says you have to decarbonize by 2050, and you have to meet benchmarks over the next 25 years. But one of the things that we really took very seriously is how we then partner and provide resources from the technical engineering side to meet the actual funding needs of under-resourced buildings to help them meet those targets.

We’re partnering first this year with affordable housing, just because there aren’t a lot of air-conditioned homes or air-conditioned multifamily homes, especially the older ones that tend to be more affordable.

So that’s a really fun project born out of many, many years of working with the building community and paying really deep attention to what they need and how we can show up best as government. Because at the end of the day, we want decarbonization to happen. We have an amazing staff that has expertise, but we’re also really reliant on community expertise to understand what the barriers are.

Washington shows up regularly on the top 10 states of U.S. Green Building Council LEED-certified buildings. But on that list, it’s ninth for number of credentialed LEED professionals. As Seattle moves to decarbonize its buildings, how are you fostering expertise in green buildings?

We passed legislation a decade ago that was our foundation for getting to emission performance standards and building benchmarking and tune-ups. We built in a certification program where we would help support people getting their credentials. We partner with South Community College to do that, which is really cool.

The feedback we received from building owners was to give them a long lead time. We’re in a downtown crisis, a commercial real estate crisis. We need time to make these big investments. And we’re willing to do it because we see the reason behind it. But they need time. That was one of the compromises, because the climate science obviously tells us we need to do this yesterday.

The activists wanted a 2030 deadline. But our role as the Office of Sustainability in negotiating this was, we don’t want a goal that’s impossible to meet.

We need you guys to actually decarbonize. And if that means having some flexibility around how we do it, [or] the deadlines, you have to do it. We built in a lot of flexibility because we want to have the end result.

In a year from now, what do you want the Office of Sustainability & Environment to be able to say it accomplished?

I would love within the next year or two to really have that sense of how we’re going to go the distance on decarbonizing our residential homes.

Then there are a lot of other really exciting projects that we’re doing.

One of them is creating a resilience hub strategy. Resilience hubs are trusted community facilities where people can go if there’s a heat event, but also throughout the year to build social capital. I would love to be in a place where the plan is launched, which we expect to do, and we have the political cohesion to start putting together the funding and the will to make sure that every single neighborhood in our city has these kinds of places where people can hang out when it’s too hot  — or even in floods, [or if] your refrigerator goes out [and you need] a safe place to store your food.

With regards to climate, Seattle does have this ethos that’s still alive and well. I think it’s that issue that brings people together in a way that other issues don’t right now.

The post Seattle’s Sustainability Director on Successes, Failures, and Lessons for Other Cities appeared first on The Revelator.

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Robert Redford Remembered for His Deep Legacy in Environmental Activism and Native American Advocacy

Robert Redford, who died Tuesday at 89, was known for his deep commitment to activism, especially for Native American rights and the environment

NEW YORK (AP) — Lorie Lee Sekayumptewa, a former administrator with the Navajo Nation Film Office, remembers seeing Robert Redford at traditional cultural dances at the Hopi village of Hotevilla in New Mexico. It was more than 30 years ago and he was serving as executive producer of the 1991 release “The Dark Wind," a drama about Navajo life.Redford stood out for his Hollywood looks and for his un-Hollywood behavior, from his earnest desire to learn more about the tribe’s spiritual knowledge to his visits to the Navajo Nation, where Sekayumptewa’s father served as the dean of students at the tribal college and would show Redford’s movies at the student union building.“Even at home, he would bring that camera and film home to us, put up a sheet and we would invite our neighbors and the kids and we would all be there in our living room, watching these movies,” the 54-year-old Sekayumptewa, who is Navajo, Hopi and Sac and Fox Nation, said of Redford.Redford, who died Tuesday at age 89, was hardly the only liberal activist to emerge out of Hollywood, but few matched his knowledge and focus, his humility and dedication. Fellow actors and leaders of the causes he fought for spoke of his unusually deep legacy, his fight for Native Americans and the environment that began at the height of his stardom.In the mid-1970s, around the same time he was appearing in such blockbusters as “The Sting” and “The Way We Were," he immersed himself in the emerging environmental movement. He successfully opposed a power plant being built in his adopted state, Utah, and lobbied for the landmark bills the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act. He also joined the board of the non-profit Natural Resources Defense Council, where he remained a guiding force up to his death.“His legacy was extraordinary,” says NRDC CEO and President Manish Bapna. “One of the things that was most extraordinary about him was that he understood the power of storytelling. He could talk about climate change and the toll it was inflicting on people and communities — the fisherman coping with rising seas, a family fleeing for their lives from a raging wildfire. He would record messages, give talks or speak in front of Congress."Bapna last saw Redford a few months ago, when they dined in New York City.“He chose his words carefully, and every word he said was profound. He said we must continue to find ways to tell stories that reach people,” Bapna said.Redford had a longtime affinity for the environment. After growing up in Southern California in the 1930s and '40s, he was disheartened to see Los Angeles transform after World War II into a mecca of pollution and traffic jams. In the early 1960s, when he came upon Provo Canyon, Utah, during a cross-country motorcycle trip, he was so awed and invigorated by the landscape that he eventually settled in the area.Entertainers over time have come to identify and, be identified with, a given cause: Harry Belafonte and civil rights, Paul Newman and nuclear disarmament, Jane Fonda and the Vietnam War. Redford, as much as anyone, helped make the environment an issue for the Hollywood elite, whether for Fonda or Julia Louis-Dreyfus or Leonardo DiCaprio, a fellow NRDC board member who called Redford's death “a huge loss to our community” and cited his legacy an actor and activist.“More so than anything, he was a staunch environmental leader,” DiCaprio said Monday.In 2013, Redford joined with then-Gov. Bill Richardson to create the Foundation to Protect New Mexico Wildlife to fight efforts by a Roswell, New Mexico, company and others to slaughter horses. The following year, the foundation reached an agreement with the Navajo Nation to manage thousands of wild horses on the reservation and keep the animals from being sent to slaughter houses.For Redford, the wild horse was representative of the American West. His advocacy also was channeled through the nonprofit group Return to Freedom, Wild Horse Conservation. The group posted on social media Tuesday that they were heartbroken.“We have all lost an irreplaceable artist, activist and environmentalist,” said Neda DeMayo, founder of RTF. “Robert Redford was and is an iconic and inspiring human being forever interwoven with the beauty and majesty of the West. I feel very grateful to have known him and to have had his support.”Redford's activism extended to some of his film projects, whether the probes of the political system in “All the President's Men” and “The Candidate” or the drama “The Milagro Beanfield War,” in which a local resident fights a real estate mogul for control of his land. His final work was “Dark Winds,” an AMC show that premiered in 2022 and is based, like “The Dark Wind,” on the fiction of Tony Hillerman.John Wirth, the series showrunner, said that “Dark Winds” wouldn’t exist without Redford, who served as an executive producer and appeared in a short cameo that aired earlier this year. The show, Wirth said, gives audiences a look into the Navajo community, with actors and writers largely holding Native identities.Redford “endeavored to give people a shot at making art, you know, where they maybe hadn’t had the ability to have access to mainstream media.”Susan Montoya Bryan in Albuquerque, New Mexico; Itzel Luna in Los Angeles; and Sian Watson in London contributed to this report.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Sept. 2025

Robert Redford Embodied an American Ideal, and Often Lived the Part, Too

Born during the Great Depression with sun-kissed California looks, Robert Redford never failed to epitomize something quintessential and hopeful about the American character

NEW YORK (AP) — Born during the Great Depression with sun-kissed California looks, Robert Redford never failed to epitomize something quintessential and hopeful about the American character.Redford, who died Tuesday at the age of 89, left a movie trail etched into land. He seemed to reside as much across the American landscape as he did on movie screens. He was in the Rocky Mountains of “Jeremiah Johnson,” the Wyoming grasslands of “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” the Washington, D.C., alleyways of “All the President’s Men” and the Montana streams of “A River Runs Through It.”Redford, a movie-star paragon, was surely savvy with how he played with and used his all-American image. No one who starred in the baseball drama “The Natural” (1984) and gave Bernard Malamud’s novel a storybook ending couldn't have some sense of self-mythology. But it was one of Redford’s greatest feats that, despite his fame, he remained innately connected to some aspirational American ideal. Redford, an open-air actor of easy, rugged charm, evoked the kind of regular guy decency that stars like Jimmy Stewart did before him — only Redford did it through an era of distrust and disillusionment. “He was to me a throwback to the actors that I was nuts about when I was growing up and going to movies: real, classical, traditional, old-fashioned movie stars who were very, very redolent of some kind of American essence,” said Sydney Pollack, who directed Redford in “Jeremiah Johnson,” “The Way We Were” and “Three Days of the Condor,” in 1993. “They were very much a part of the American landscape and they were heroic in a kind of understated way.” Underscoring ‘independence’ That was most true, perhaps, in Utah. Wanting to escape paved-over Los Angeles, Redford first began buying land there early in his career. In Utah, he would fight to protect both untrampled wilderness and a spirit of moviemaking that had grown increasingly difficult in Hollywood. As a longtime trustee of the Natural Resources Defense Council, a nonprofit environmental advocacy group, Redford was an outspoken environmentalist. In the 1970s, he successfully opposed a pair of rural Utah proposals: a six-lane highway and coal-fired power plant.In the Utah mountains, Redford also launched the Sundance Institute. Beyond Sundance's annual festival for independent film, the institute has been a lifeblood young filmmakers. Its year-round laboratory — the part of Sundance that Redford was most proud of — has helped nurture some of the most vital voices in American cinema for decades.“For me, the word to be underscored is ‘independence,’” Redford once said of his legacy. “I’ve always believed in that word. That’s what led to me eventually wanting to create a category that supported independent artists who weren’t given a chance to be heard. The industry was pretty well controlled by the mainstream, which I was a part of. But I saw other stories out there that weren’t having a chance to be told.”That spirit of independence often infused his films, too. When Redford wanted to make “All the President’s Men,” the seminal 1976 film directed by Alan Pakula about Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein’s Watergate investigation, few in the film industry thought there was much drama to be found in a story that was then several years old.“Nixon had already resigned, and the held opinion (in Hollywood) was ‘No one cares. No one wants to hear about this,’” Redford, who also co-produced the film, said in 2006. “And I said, ‘No, it’s not about Nixon. It’s about something else. It’s about investigative journalism and hard work.’”If “All the President’s Men,” one of the greatest newspaper movies, detailed the hard-earned revelations of Watergate, “Three Days of the Condor” — one of the greatest political thrillers — captured the paranoia and disillusionment that followed. If anyone was completely unfamiliar with why Redford was so good, “Three Days of the Condor” would be a good place to start.As a bookish CIA employee code-named Condor, he returns from lunch to his office to find, as he soon reports, “Everybody is dead.” Condor, untrained for such lethal spy activities, is left dangling in the wind.“Will you bring me in, please?” he pleads by phone to his superiors. “I’m not a field agent. I just read books.”Not so different from his Woodward of “All the President’s Men,” Redford is a fresh-faced novice thrown into a high-stakes scheme where few, including those in the government, can be trusted. No one has ever been better at playing the regular guy trying to think fast on his feet, and make sense of an ever-darker world. A politician only on screen Though some called for him to, Redford never entered politics, himself. He remained outspoken — he's in some way the model for the modern Hollywood activist — on a wide range of issues, including Indigenous and LGBTQ+ rights. The closest he came to running for office was Michael s 1972 satire “The Candidate,” in which Redford played an idealistic lawyer enlisted to challenge a highly favored incumbent Republican senator. Redford’s candidate ultimately wins, but not without sacrificing his principles and seeing much of what he stands for diluted.Redford’s place, instead, was outside politics. The perfect bookend to his ’70s movies is “Sneakers,” Phil Alden Robinson’s absurdly underrated 1992 caper starring Redford as a former ’60s radical now living under a false moniker and leading a band of security specialists. They stumble into possession of a computer device that brings the attention of the NSA, CIA, FBI and many others, forcing Redford to, yet again, try to figure out what’s moral in a dangerous (and now newly digital) America.The world that Redford’s films often presciently depicted seemed to push him further into the wilderness, on screen and off. He largely retreated into retirement over the last decade. When Redford died, he was at his home in the Utah mountains, outside Provo. One of his last films was 2015's “A Walk in the Woods,” playing Bill Bryson ambling along the Appalachian Trail. The most fitting and elegiac swan song, though was J.C. Chandor’s “All Is Lost,” a near-wordless 2013 drama about an old man at sea. Redford plays a solo mariner whose sailboat collides with a shipping container. Though terse, the movie reverberates with economic and ecological metaphor. A visibly older and weathered Redford — no longer the golden, freckled face of his youth — suffers through increasingly rough and stormy seas, improvising his survival. For an actor who had covered so much ground, “All Is Lost” was one last frontier. Redford's unnamed character was credited only as “Our Man.” Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Sept. 2025

Robert Redford, 1970s sex symbol and Oscar-winning director, dies at 89

After rising to stardom in the 1960s, Redford was one of the biggest stars of the ’70s.

Robert Redford, the Hollywood golden boy who became an Oscar-winning director, liberal activist and godfather for independent cinema under the name of one of his best-loved characters, died Tuesday at 89.Redford died “at his home at Sundance in the mountains of Utah — the place he loved, surrounded by those he loved,” publicist Cindi Berger said in a statement. No cause of death was provided.After rising to stardom in the 1960s, Redford was one of the biggest stars of the ’70s with such films as “The Candidate,” “All the President’s Men” and “The Way We Were,” capping that decade with the best director Oscar for 1980’s “Ordinary People,” which also won best picture in 1980. His wavy blond hair and boyish grin made him the most desired of leading men, but he worked hard to transcend his looks — whether through his political advocacy, his willingness to take on unglamorous roles or his dedication to providing a platform for low-budget movies.His roles ranged from Washington Post journalist Bob Woodward to a mountain man in “Jeremiah Johnson” to a double agent in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and his co-stars included Jane Fonda, Meryl Streep and Tom Cruise. But his most famous screen partner was Paul Newman. Redford played the wily outlaw opposite Newman in 1969’s “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” a box-office smash from which Redford’s Sundance Institute and festival got their names. He also teamed with Newman on 1973’s best-picture Oscar-winner, “The Sting,” which earned Redford his only acting Academy Award nomination.Film roles after the ’70s became more sporadic as Redford concentrated on directing and producing, and his new role as patriarch of the independent-film movement in the 1980s and ’90s through his Sundance Institute. But he starred in 1985’s best picture champion “Out of Africa” and in 2013 received some of the best reviews of his career as a shipwrecked sailor in “All is Lost,” in which he was the film’s only performer. In 2018, he was praised again in what he called his farewell movie, “The Old Man and the Gun.”“I just figure that I’ve had a long career that I’m very pleased with. It’s been so long, ever since I was 21,” he told The Associated Press shortly before the film came out. “I figure now as I’m getting into my 80s, it’s maybe time to move toward retirement and spend more time with my wife and family.”Sundance is bornRedford had watched Hollywood grow more cautious and controlling during the 1970s and wanted to recapture the creative spirit of the early part of the decade. Sundance was created to nurture new talent away from the pressures of Hollywood, the institute providing a training ground and the festival, based in Park City, Utah, where Redford had purchased land with the initial hope of opening a ski resort. Instead, Park City became a place of discovery for such previously unknown filmmakers as Quentin Tarantino, Steven Soderbergh, Paul Thomas Anderson and Darren Aronofsky.Actor-director and environmentalist Robert Redford speaks at an environmental news conference at Baltimore's Middle Branch Park Rowing Facility, Md., Oct. 7, 1988. Redford is supporting Gov. Michael Dukakis' stand on environmental issues. (AP Photo/Carlos Osorio)ASSOCIATED PRESS“For me, the word to be underscored is ‘independence,’” Redford told the AP in 2018. “I’ve always believed in that word. That’s what led to me eventually wanting to create a category that supported independent artists who weren’t given a chance to be heard.“The industry was pretty well controlled by the mainstream, which I was a part of. But I saw other stories out there that weren’t having a chance to be told and I thought, ‘Well, maybe I can commit my energies to giving those people a chance.’ As I look back on it, I feel very good about that.”Sundance was even criticized as buyers swarmed in looking for potential hits and celebrities overran the town each winter.“We have never, ever changed our policies for how we program our festival. It’s always been built on diversity,” Redford told the AP in 2004. “The fact is that the diversity has become commercial. Because independent films have achieved their own success, Hollywood, being just a business, is going to grab them. So when Hollywood grabs your films, they go, ‘Oh, it’s gone Hollywood.’”By 2025, the festival had become so prominent that organizers decided they had outgrown Park City and approved relocating to Boulder, Colorado, starting in 2027. Redford, who had attended the University of Colorado in Boulder, issued a statement saying that “change is inevitable, we must always evolve and grow, which has been at the core of our survival.”Redford was married twice, most recently to Sibylle Szaggars. He had four children, two of whom have died — Scott Anthony, who died in infancy, in 1959, and James Redford, an activist and filmmaker who died in 2020.Redford’s early lifeRobert Redford was born Charles Robert Redford Jr. on Aug. 18, 1937, in Santa Monica, a California boy whose blond good looks eased his way over an apprenticeship in television and live theater that eventually led to the big screen.Redford attended college on a baseball scholarship and would later star as a middle-aged slugger in 1984’s “The Natural,” the adaptation of Bernard Malamud’s baseball novel. He had an early interest in drawing and painting, then went on to study at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, debuting on Broadway in the late 1950s and moving into television on such shows as “The Twilight Zone,” “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” and “The Untouchables.”Actor Robert Redford in 1988. (AP Photo)APAfter scoring a Broadway lead in “Sunday in New York,” Redford was cast by director Mike Nichols in a production of Neil Simon’s “Barefoot in the Park,” later starring with Fonda in the film version. Redford did miss out on one of Nichols’ greatest successes, “The Graduate,” released in 1967. Nichols had considered casting Redford in the part eventually played by Dustin Hoffman, but Redford seemed unable to relate to the socially awkward young man who ends up having an affair with one of his parents’ friends.“I said, ‘You can’t play it. You can never play a loser,’” Nichols said during a 2003 screening of the film in New York. “And Redford said, ‘What do you mean? Of course I can play a loser.’ And I said, ‘OK, have you ever struck out with a girl?’ and he said, ‘What do you mean?’ And he wasn’t joking.”Indie champion, mainstream starEven as Redford championed low-budget independent filmmaking, he continued to star in mainstream Hollywood productions himself, scoring the occasional hit such as 2001’s “Spy Game,” which co-starred Brad Pitt, an heir apparent to Redford’s handsome legacy whom he had directed in “A River Runs Through It.”Ironically, “The Blair Witch Project,” “Garden State,” “Napoleon Dynamite” and other scrappy films that came out of Sundance sometimes made bigger waves — and more money — than some Redford-starring box-office duds like “Havana,” “The Last Castle” and “An Unfinished Life.”Redford also appeared in several political narratives. He satirized campaigning as an idealist running for U.S. senator in 1972’s “The Candidate” and uttered one of the more memorable closing lines, “What do we do now?” after his character manages to win. He starred as Woodward to Hoffman’s Carl Bernstein in 1976’s “All the President’s Men,” the story of the Washington Post reporters whose Watergate investigation helped bring down President Richard Nixon.With 2007’s “Lions for Lambs,” Redford returned to directing in a saga of a congressman (Tom Cruise), a journalist (Meryl Streep) and an academic (Redford) whose lives intersect over the war on terrorism in Afghanistan.His biggest filmmaking triumph came with his directing debut on “Ordinary People,” which beat Martin Scorsese’s classic “Raging Bull” at the Oscars. The film starred Donald Sutherland and Mary Tyler Moore as the repressed parents of a troubled young man, played by Timothy Hutton, in his big screen debut. Redford was praised for casting Moore in an unexpectedly serious role and for his even-handed treatment of the characters, a quality that Roger Ebert believed set “the film apart from the sophisticated suburban soap opera it could easily have become.”Robert Redford died Tuesday at his home, according to his publicist. Here he is seen attending the premiere of "The Old Man and the Gun" at the Paris Theater on Thursday, Sept. 20, 2018, in New York. (Photo by Charles Sykes/Invision/AP, File)Charles Sykes/Invision/APRedford’s other directing efforts included “The Horse Whisperer,” “The Milagro Beanfield War” and 1994’s “Quiz Show,” the last of which also earned best picture and director Oscar nominations. In 2002, Redford received an honorary Oscar, with academy organizers citing him as “actor, director, producer, creator of Sundance, inspiration to independent and innovative filmmakers everywhere.”“The idea of the outlaw has always been very appealing to me. If you look at some of the films, it’s usually having to do with the outlaw sensibility, which I think has probably been my sensibility. I think I was just born with it,” Redford said in 2018. “From the time I was just a kid, I was always trying to break free of the bounds that I was stuck with, and always wanted to go outside.”-- The Associated PressIf you purchase a product or register for an account through a link on our site, we may receive compensation. By using this site, you consent to our User Agreement and agree that your clicks, interactions, and personal information may be collected, recorded, and/or stored by us and social media and other third-party partners in accordance with our Privacy Policy.

Scientists race to understand why tufted puffins are disappearing from the Pacific Northwest

Scientists think fewer than 2,000 tufted puffins remain on the West Coast.

THE STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA — The R/V Puffin sliced through uncharacteristically calm waters near Smith Island, a lopsided pancake of land often buffeted by wind and waves at the end of the strait.Just after a July sunrise, four researchers on the boat eyed a cracked and collapsing bluff, the home to about 25 breeding pairs of the tufted puffin, a bird in mysterious decline here.“You are looking at the largest remaining colony of tufted puffins in the Salish Sea,” said Peter Hodum, a professor with the University of Puget Sound.In Washington, the tufted puffin has seen a 90% reduction in population in recent decades with fewer than 2,000 of the birds remaining on the West Coast. The bird isn’t at risk for extinction (over a million still live in Alaska), but when Washington listed the species as endangered in 2015, the agency wrote that with the current rate of decline, the state’s population could be gone by 2055.The reasons for the tufted puffins’ decline in the Northwest isn’t fully understood. Researchers here are seeking answers before it might be too late to bring these populations back from the brink.Surprisingly, another species of Salish Sea puffin, one known for its austere and stocky appearance, might hold some clues. Around 14 miles away from this cliffside, the rhinoceros auklet breeds on a larger island — and is flourishing. Tens of thousands of burrows dot the seaside cliffs, and each summer fierce-eyed rhinoceros auklets — which are a puffin despite the name — flock to them, said Scott Pearson, a senior research scientist with the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife.The divergent paths of the rhinoceros auklet and the tufted puffin are part of the mystery that scientists Pearson and Hodum have tried to prod in their research and talks.Combinations of factors related to the birds’ well-being are likely at play. Both are in a subgroup of the alcid or auk family of seabirds. Both birds raise a single egg each year. They dive deep into the ocean to forage for fish, but the tufted puffin has a more limited diet, locally, and is much more skittish and sensitive to human interference.For Hodum and Pearson, their comparative study of the two species could shed light on what exactly is driving the tufted puffins’ decline.They also fear that one day the rhinoceros auklet will follow the path of the tufted puffin. Warming seas and ocean acidification threaten fish and the diet of both birds. The marine environment is changing, perhaps too fast for either bird to adapt, Hodum said.“They’re telling us and showing us what’s going on. Are we really paying attention?” he said.The tufted puffinEach spring, tufted puffins journey from the vast Pacific Ocean to breed at colonies along the West Coast, Alaska, Siberia and Japan.Ahead of the journey, the otherwise drab gray seabirds transform. Their faces whiten, highlighting giant, ridged, bright orange bills. Blond plumes erupt from their heads, giving the species its clownlike appearance.Once returned to their colonies, the birds stretch and yawn at each other. Thought to bond with the same mate year after year around the same burrow, the tufted puffins’ courtship rituals include clapping bills against each other and showing each other nesting material.In Washington, 44 tufted puffin colonies were once found throughout the San Juan Islands, the outer coast of the Olympic Peninsula and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. In the late 1970s, researchers estimated around 23,000 birds lived among these sites. Today, the colonies on the San Juan Islands are empty, and just 19 breeding sites remain in the state.According to recent research, the tufted puffin population is in decline across California, the Pacific Northwest and the Gulf of Alaska, around three-quarters of the bird’s North American range. The species is also declining in Japan, though over a million birds are estimated to be holding steady or growing in the Aleutian Islands of Alaska.In 2020, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declined to list the tufted puffin as threatened or endangered under the Endangered Species Act, citing that while the bird’s range is contracting, the species is still “widely distributed” and “maintains high overall abundance.”Race for answersFor the scientists surveying puffins along Smith Island, the race is on. Hodum and Pearson have theories as to what is driving the tufted puffins’ decline locally — fewer fish, more bald eagles, contaminants in the water, humans leading them to abandon their burrows. But until the scientists pin down what’s driving the decline, most conservation efforts are an experiment, Hodum said.At the top of the cliff at Smith Island, the scientists have placed a handful of tufted puffin decoys, which they hope will attract more birds into mating. It’s a conservation technique that helped recover the widely recognized Atlantic puffin on the East Coast.Recently, the scientists have been thinking about which islands in Washington might be the best place to reintroduce tufted puffins to boost their survival, Pearson said. One possibility could include the scientists placing tufted puffin chicks that were born in captivity in burrows when they are just ready to leave and venture into the world for the first time. After living on sea for three or four years, the scientists would hope they would return to breed.The cliffs are eroding at Smith Island, and over 20 years ago, the last of its lighthouse fell into the water. Today, rusted electricity cables that jut out and dangle from the cliff face and a weathered white home and two radio towers with eagle nests serve as landmarks for the scientists when identifying burrows. (Strangely, one or possibly two errant horned puffins also visit Smith each summer.)Although Smith Island is the largest tufted puffin colony in the Salish Sea, it’s not the only one. At least one active burrow remains on another nearby island, where the rhinoceros auklets live in abundance.A seabird sanctuaryKneeling in a bed of cheatgrass, Hodum snaked a black cable attached to an infrared camera several feet into a dark hole in the ground deeper than his shoulders.On Hodum’s headset screen, a barely recognizable gray blob came into view. To an untrained eye, it almost looked like a rock until it started to move, a beady black eye and beak coming into relief. Suddenly, the gray blob morphed into a fuzzy baby bird — a rhinoceros auklet chick the size of a small grapefruit.The chick is oblivious to the camera. Its parents are likely out on the open water, foraging or bobbing on the surface. Long after the late summer sun has set, the parents, alongside thousands of other rhinoceros auklets, will descend upon this island in the dark with neat rows of sand lance and other fish stacked in their beaks.Just a few miles off Sequim, and 14 miles south of the tufted puffins of Smith Island, lies Protection Island. It’s a wildlife refuge over seven times the size of Smith Island and largely untouched by people. On top of the island, deer hop through nonnative pasture grasses. Lazy seals and their pups lounge and mottled seagull chicks waddle along the shore at the primitive marina.Like Smith Island, Protection Island is closed to the public, but it almost wasn’t that way. In the 1970s the island was narrowly saved from the jaws of development when The Nature Conservancy and environmental activists, citing the island’s importance to nesting seabirds, successfully fought off the development of 800 vacation homes.Now scientists travel up the island’s steep slopes in a white Jeep on dirt roads, which were originally bulldozed when the island was first being prospected. A land frozen in time, water pipes stick up in the middle of fields, connected to nowhere, a reminder of what the island almost became.The few structures on the island include one private residence and a U.S. Fish and Wildlife caretaker’s cabin. The night before, the scientists stayed up past midnight on the island to study the diets of the rhinoceros auklets, who (unlike the tufted puffins) return to their pufflings at night.Thanks to this conservation, the island’s greatest real estate asset is perhaps its habitat, which includes nearly 55,000 burrows on steep grassy slopes. The burrowing birds (which include pigeon guillemots) have dug them with their beaks and feet — sometimes with branches — to be several feet deep. Research estimates that the island hosts around 35,000 breeding pairs of rhinoceros auklets each summer, making it the third largest colony for its species in North America.Pearson and Hodum have a few ideas on why the rhinoceros auklet, which is evolutionarily the oldest puffin species, might have fared well in recent decades. They deliver food to their chicks under the cover of night, away from bald eagles. Their chicks need less food less frequently compared with the tufted puffin, and they eat a wider range of fish.The rhinoceros auklet is also just a hardier bird. Researchers have netted rhinoceros auklets, held them in hand, clawing and biting, and stuck GPS and satellite trackers on them with little issue, Hodum said. Some research indicates tufted puffins will abandon their burrows after they are caught and tagged. Human disturbance is likely part of the reason tufted puffins fled the San Juan Islands, Pearson said.An uneasy futureOn Protection Island, just two tufted puffin burrows remain and at least one of them has been active recently, and the researchers keep their distance. It’s a far cry from the dozens of tufted puffins that were observed in the 1970s and 1980s, and it’s quite possible that this colony could be lost too in the “next few years,” Hodum said.Pearson said the privilege of visiting Protection and Smith islands up close as a researcher isn’t lost on him, and there’s a reason the islands are closed. Rhinoceros auklet burrows are fragile and prone to collapsing if stepped on. There are also black oystercatcher eggs on the beach and other species that rely on the absence of people to thrive.The scientists are careful to modify their methods for each puffin species, and to date, a burrow has never failed because of their work, Pearson said.“If there were a lot of people on this island, people bringing their dogs or whatever, we would lose the (puffins). Birds can’t handle that level of human activity,” he said.If you purchase a product or register for an account through a link on our site, we may receive compensation. By using this site, you consent to our User Agreement and agree that your clicks, interactions, and personal information may be collected, recorded, and/or stored by us and social media and other third-party partners in accordance with our Privacy Policy.

Freedom of Voice: A Newcomer’s Guide to Safe and Effective Protesting

How to participate in causes you believe in — in a manner that will be noticed, respected, and heard. The post Freedom of Voice: A Newcomer’s Guide to Safe and Effective Protesting appeared first on The Revelator.

The “No Kings” protests in June drew an estimated 4-6 million people to more than 2,000 events around the country — making it one of the largest protest turnouts in history. Many attendees interviewed during “No Kings” revealed that they had never attended a protest before. This continues two trends we’ve seen since the Women’s March in 2017: More and more people are protesting, and every event is someone’s first protest. Environmental causes have been a big part of this. The 2019 Global Climate Strike was the largest climate protest to date. And a recent survey found that 1 in 10 people in the United States attended environmental protests between June 2022 and June 2023. But protesting for the planet (or against oppressive government actions) poses risks that newcomers should understand. Protesting itself can be physically demanding. Meanwhile, legislatures around the country (and the world) have taken steps to criminalize protest, and right-wing agitators have increasingly used violence to harm or intimidate protestors. With all of that in mind, The Revelator has launched a multipart series on protest safety, especially geared toward first-timers. After all, it’s going to be a long, hot summer for environmental advocates seeking to make their voices heard in public across America and the globe. Before the Protest Are there meetings, including virtual meetings, from the organizing entity? Attend if you can; they’ll help you to understand the specific protest messaging so everyone is on the same page before the protest. Learn if there’s a check-in process: Will there be signs, T-shirts, hats, or other identifying items to receive while registering or when you show up for this protest? Make sure you sign up for text lists and other communications in case of inclement weather, parking issues, and other last-minute changes for the location and presentation of the protest. Know who to contact and what to do if you run into trouble while protesting. Decide how you’re getting there (in an eco-friendly way, if possible): Find out if public transportation or carpools are available, or organize your own rideshares. What to Bring to a Protest — and What NOT to Bring Plan ahead: Bring the right supplies for a day of protesting. What to Bring: A backpack and belt bag that are durable and not bulky. The belt pack keeps your hands free. Comfortable, quality walking shoes. This is non-negotiable. Wear closed-toe shoes that are broken-in and for walking long distances. Protest signs that clearly display your message in big, bold letters and can be easily read from far away. Make sure your signs are made with sturdy, bright, durable boards, with a comfortable handle. Short messages are better than a block of text. Stay hydrated. Bring a lot of water — which may also prove useful for clearing eyes and face of tear gas and pepper spray. (Milk has been disproven as tear-gas relief.) Lightweight, nutritious, protein-rich snacks: energy bars, nuts, etc. A face mask and safety goggles for smoke and tear gas. These can also hide your identity from cameras and police surveillance. A hat, sunglasses, jacket, umbrella…Clothing should be appropriate for changing weather conditions and can perform double duty as cover for any identifying skin markings. These items can also obscure your face from facial recognition technology. A change of clothes (just in case). Hand sanitizer and wipes. A first-aid kit if the organization does not provide a medical station or personnel that can be easily identified as first aid providers in the crowd. Your ID in case you’re detained. Your phone. (Essential for staying connected, but digital privacy may be a concern. See our resources section below for some guidance.) A power bank to charge devices. Other items might include a cooling towel; flashlight or headlamp; and a lanyard with a list of emergency contacts, medical conditions and medications. Things Not to Bring for a Demonstration: Alcohol or drugs. Spray paint. Firearms, knives, mace, pepper spray, tasers or weapons of any sort, even items that might be construed as weapons (such as a small Swiss army knife, metal eating utensils, etc.). Firecrackers or fireworks or anything explosive. Flammable liquids. Flares and smoke bombs. Torches (flashlights are okay). While You’re at the Protest The late civil rights icon John Lewis said, “Get in good trouble, necessary trouble,” encouraging people to challenge the status quo. Do: engage in group activities, meet and greet people. This is a great opportunity to forge friendships behind a greater cause, and for future protests or community organizing. Help those around you. Study your surroundings and people around you. Stay alert and be aware of the people in your group: Is there someone who has joined the demonstration who seems too aggressive and appears to be carrying firearms, weapons, and other tools of violence? If you get triggered and feel overly emotional with what’s happening, take that as your cue to head home. Empirical research shows that the most effective protests are non-violent. Political scientist Omar Wasow saw this in a study of the 1960s U.S. Civil Rights movement, finding that when protesters were violent, it prompted news stories focused on crime and disorder, and lent more sympathy to the opposition, who then become viewed as promoting law and order. In contrast, peaceful demonstrations that are violently repressed by the state make media coverage sympathetic to the protesters and strengthen peaceful movements. Remember that you’re not protesting in a vacuum. Don’t take actions that feed the opposition news media. Your behavior, attire, and reactions to provocative actions by the opposition and the police, National Guard, or military could be recorded by smart phones or the media, especially social media. Assume you’re being watched and that your words are being listened to. Don’t taunt or antagonize the opposition and de-escalate any confrontations that are becoming heated or aggressive. Stay calm and focused. Don’t rise to the bait of police or military force. Don’t throw things at them. Be passive but firm in your presentation. If you are arrested, don’t struggle or fight. Be polite and compliant — and the only word coming from your mouth should be, “lawyer.” Staying calm and respectful can be challenging when participating in a protest demonstration. Emotions run high, especially in the hot summer months. However, being a “peaceful protester” with resolute calm and dignity makes a greater impression on the public, many of whom sit on the fence about current issues and events. These are people who may be getting inaccurate information and have become dismissive of our endeavors as “unserious” activism. Screaming, yelling, and deriding don’t win them over but reinforce their opinion of us as obnoxious troublemakers. Opposition media outlets will cherry-pick video footage of “bad actors” and edit these bits of footage in loops that will play constantly in the media. As a result, your protest message will be ignored over the more inflammatory messaging about your cause. Coming Up: This series will continue with a look at the history of peaceful protesting and tips on how to organize a protest. And we want to hear from you. What questions do you have about protesting? What advice would you share? Send your comments, suggestions, questions, or even brief essays to comments@therevelator.org. Sources and Resources: Summer of Change: New Books to Inspire Environmental Action The Activist Handbook and other sources below provide practical guides and resources so you can plan your demonstration successfully. Indivisible  and No Kings offer training and education on protesting safely and effectively, as well as new and upcoming protest events. The Human Rights Campaign: Tips for Preparedness, Peaceful Protesting, and Safety ACLU Guide: How to Protest Safely and Responsibly Amnesty International Protest Guide Wired: How to Protest Safely: What to Bring, What to Do, and What to Avoid Infosec 101 for Activists “The New Science of Social Change: A Modern Handbook for Activists”  by Lisa Mueller “Agenda Seeding: How 1960s Black Protests Moved Elites, Public Opinion and Voting”  by Omar Wasow “Non-Violent Resistance (Satyagraha)”  by M. K. Gandhi Republish this article for free! Read our reprint policy. Previously in The Revelator: Saving America’s National Parks and Forests Means Shaking Off the Rust of Inaction The post Freedom of Voice: A Newcomer’s Guide to Safe and Effective Protesting appeared first on The Revelator.

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