With Biden’s inauguration fast approaching, the threat of lead contamination is probably the last thing on your mind. But at least half a million children in the US under age six have lead poisoning, permanently damaging their health and well-being, and millions more are at risk of lead poisoning at home and school. The Biden administration’s plan to “build back better” post-pandemic must address the failure of the US government to follow the most recent scientific research on the threat of lead and how this longest running epidemic in US history disproportionately affects marginalized communities, especially Black and Indigenous communities.

Where should the Biden administration start? Trump’s EPA purportedly made reducing lead exposure a top priority, but Trump’s policies lacked teeth. In December 2018, the Trump administration unveiled the Federal Lead Action Plan, a “road-map to reduce lead exposure nationwide.” This road-map was faulty and incomplete. The Department of Housing and Urban Development was awarded $28 million for an educational campaign focusing on lead paint, instead of lead dust in soils, now considered the main source of lead contamination. Trump’s EPA simultaneously downgraded enforcement and compliance mechanisms throughout the country, relaxing regulations for polluters. Erik Olson, director of Health and Food for the Natural Resources Defense Council, argued that Trump’s policies were “feel-good promises to ‘consider’ and ‘evaluate’ actions without time frames or commitments…[which] won’t protect children.”

What can Biden do? Biden pledged to make environmental justice a top priority. He promised to ensure safe drinking water for all communities while holding polluters responsible. Despite pledging to double federal funds for drinking water infrastructure improvements in low-income communities, Biden’s plan falls short by only focusing on lead in water.

This is a start, but Biden must commit to policy proposals taking concrete action following science on the threat of lead in soils, dust, and air, in addition to water. Failure to do this, combined with centuries of racism, leaves marginalized communities to bear the brunt of lead pollution.

Scientists now agree that a majority of lead that poisons people comes from leaded gasoline remnants in soil and not paint chips. But most federal research focuses on finding lead-based paint, estimating up to 3.6 million homes with children have contaminated paint, despite new research showing soils are the biggest source of lead in children. This means millions of older at-risk homes that have not yet been identified could be poisoning children. The lead problem extends to roads, the parks children play in, and even household dust. The incoming administration must examine not only the water we drink, but also the air we breathe, and the places we call home for lead.

The Biden administration must address the disproportionate effects of lead on communities of color. Environmental racism means Black Americans specifically face higher rates of lead poisoning. One way to see this is through redlining: where residents are denied housing, loans, or aid due to ethnic, racial, and prejudiced societal assumptions. Redlining concentrated Black, Latinx, and low-income homeowners in specific neighborhoods, entrenching segregation, economic inequality, and lack of public services. Redlining intentionally confined already marginalized people into neighborhoods with greater environmental risks, like lower air quality, increased industrial plants and landfills, and higher lead contamination. The fact that the main source of lead today is from the historic use of lead in gasoline, means that lead is dispersed throughout the environment, but is more concentrated in areas with lots of transportation, for example, near highways. Redlining has made these areas predominantly communities of color, as opposed to the suburbs where there is significantly less lead. These environmental risks have resulted in Black children having lead poisoning six times more often than white children. Nationwide, one in four Black children living in homes built before 1950 housing and one in six living in poverty have lead poisoning.

Not only is lead disproportionately in communities of color, but cleanup is slow at best. Flint, Michigan is the poster case for lead poisoning, and the devastating effects it has in communities. Obama initially denied requests for a disaster declaration, which would have freed up $96 million in federal aid to replace leaching pipes. Even after the Obama administration declared an emergency in Flint, giving $5 million in federal aid, and despite Obama infamously ‘drinking’ the water in May 2016 to prove it was safe, the Flint water crisis continues to this day. Scientists believe there may be thousands of “Flints” across the country. This abandonment of communities of color will not fix itself, and must be the new administration’s top priority. Biden’s stance on fighting environmental problems through an environmental justice lens shows promise, but cannot end at lip service.

The Biden administration must take decisive action on lead so that one of the worst environmental problems of the 20^th century does not continue into the 21^st century. A focus on environmental justice focus, adequate funding and following science are critical. We must move beyond publicity stunts, like Obama’s in Flint, and strive to address the threat of lead once and for all.

Burning trees might not seem like the answer to climate change, but in New Hampshire it just might be part of the solution. Biomass power plants burn plant material of any kind to produce energy. In New Hampshire’s case, these power plants are burning wood chips and other scrap wood, thus creating a market for low-grade timber. Governor Sununu’s policy decisions have long been opposed to biomass despite its benefits to the local timber industry.

Whether it is the vivid fall foliage or the verdant green of summer that comes to mind, forests are New Hampshire’s defining feature. And like the rest of our planet, these forests are threatened by climate change.

 

Addressing this threat will require unprecedented collaboration and communication about our forest resources. 

To make matters complicated, New Hampshire’s forests are 70 percent privately owned. 128,000 private landowners control the forests of this beautiful state. Any climate solutions will require convincing numerous individual actors. 

Climate change activists and many scientists argue that building more biomass plants could increase demand for biomass, thus encouraging landowners to increase their cutting practices. And to be sure, the last thing we need is widespread deforestation. In NH, forests offset roughly 38 percent of the state’s total carbon dioxide emissions. But small-scale sustainable timber harvesting does not necessarily mean deforestation or even a net loss of carbon storage. 

A recent paper by Jevon et al. comparing two forest sites with different logging histories found no difference in the carbon storage capacity. Although additional harvesting has the potential to change where the carbon is stored in a forest, deep in the soil or high in the canopy, forests do not stop providing carbon storage. Matthew Ayres, the study’s co-author and a professor of biological sciences at Dartmouth said, “This study shows that our northeastern forests can provide sustainable products such as lumber, pulp and fuel while still serving as reservoirs for lots of carbon, but the details depend on how forests are managed, and we need to keep getting better at that.” 

New Hampshire must improve dialogue between policymakers and landowners to clarify what measures should be met to maintain land as forest. 

Closing current biomass plants has the potential to shutter the state’s local timber industry. Biomass may not be the climate solution for New Hampshire, but we cannot discount it from the conversation entirely. In an interview with New Hampshire Public Radio, local tree farmer Tom Thomson said “There is no way, without the biomass, that we can manage [forests] sustainably. So instead of growing trees, I will be growing house lots. And I will invite you up when I put the sign up.” A recent draft report showed that most private landowners see biomass plants as critical to maintaining the state’s timber industry. If they have nowhere to sell low-grade wood, it is hard to turn a profit.

The NH Timberland Owners Association and other local landowners have heavily criticized Governor Sununu’s positions on biomass for this reason. In 2019, Governor Sununu vetoed Bill 183, a law that would have subsidized the state’s six current biomass power plants, allowing the plants to stay open. Since then, two of the state’s biomass power plants have closed while two others have greatly reduced operations. This jeopardizes NH’s local timber operations and threatens the thousand or so biomass jobs, as well as countless others in the logging, trucking, and equipment industries. 

New Hampshire trails the region in our climate change response. Although Governor Sununu has publicly acknowledged that climate change can be attributed to human causes (a change from his 2017 outright denial), he has stalled nearly all clean energy efforts in New Hampshire. In addition to saving the state’s current biomass power plants, Bill 183 would have ensured power companies bought renewable energy credits from the biomass plants in their operating regions. Sununu’s veto exemplifies his disregard for climate change and predilection for siding with large business interests over communities. His main argument against the bill was its potential to drive up consumer energy costs, but his economic calculations ignore the avoided costs of having local electricity (line losses, or reduced transmission capacity) as well as any new costs as a result of regional replacement needs as the state’s biomass plants go under. 

Climate change is a complex issue and will require a complex solution. For New Hampshire, this could mean relying more on biomass plants as we transition away from fossil fuels. Although I don’t support biomass as a solution to climate change on a global scale, maintaining current biomass power plants in NH plays a crucial role in curbing deforestation. 

2020 has been a year of impressive organizing in Georgia. As a progressive Georgia resident, it was miraculous watching the state flip blue during the presidential election. But the remarkable organizing leading up to November has drawn focus from other important initiatives. In October, a crowd-solving group called Drawdown Georgia announced their goal of reducing Georgia’s carbon emissions by a minimum of one third in the next ten years. 

Emphasizing community collaboration on carbon reducing projects, Drawdown Georgia has outlined several initiatives that are good starting places to reduce the state’s carbon footprint. These initiatives range from reducing car travel, to encouraging Georgians to eat plant rich diets, to installing solar farms and rooftop solar. Drawdown Georgia also has a goal of increasing coastal wetland area as a carbon storage measure. Not many climate activist groups emphasize conserving and expanding wetlands, so this is an impressive and important goal. 

Around twenty percent of Georgia’s area is covered in wetlands. From 100 linear miles of coastal marshes to the Okefenokee Swamp, one of the largest swamps in the United States, the state holds a varied array of wetlands. 

An alligator rests on a log in Okefenokee Swamp, Source: One Tank Media

Georgia’s diverse wetlands provide benefits that residents often overlook. Wetlands shield our coasts as water levels rise due to climate change, filter pollutants out of our watersheds, and provide habitat for an abundance of species including birds, alligators, fish, otters, and black bears. 

Wetlands are also some of the most effective naturally occurring carbon storage systems in the world. They can store up to fifty times more carbon than the Earth’s rainforests. In the face of catastrophic global climate disasters, we need to protect wetlands more than ever. 

By the early 1990s, Georgia had lost 23% of its wetlands to non-wetland related development, especially agriculture. In an effort to regain some of the lost ecosystems, the state has largely overturned policies that historically promoted converting wetlands into other landscapes.

Georgia now encourages landowners to protect wetlands by offering tax breaks for keeping wetlands on private property from being drained and developed as agricultural or building space. The state has also established a project to re-marsh segments of the coast by creating “living shorelines,” spaces where coastal ecosystems are bio-engineered to fight erosion and rebuild habitats for native plants and animals.

Some of Georgia’s beautiful coastal wetlands, Source: GA DNR 

Despite these positive programs, it is difficult to see their success as Georgia has yet to introduce a formal tracking system or a state standard for wetland assessment and classification.

Georgia’s positive steps are not enough in the face of climate catastrophe. There are several areas where I see room for improvement. First, Georgia needs to implement a formal statewide plan to restore and protect wetlands. Without a comprehensive plan, it is difficult for individuals across the state to work together on this problem. 

Although the state champions their tax break for private landowners who keep wetland property out of development, they are missing a larger opportunity. The Environmental Protection Division of the Department of Natural Resources should create and endorse scientifically based guides in the form of websites, books, or articles to explain the process of re-establishing and protecting wetlands. This would help private landowners know how to protect and expand wetlands on their property. 

Through long-term planning and alliances with local landowners, Georgia’s wetland policies could help the state rise to the forefront of climate action. With the help of climate organizers like Drawdown Georgia and others focusing on wetland and coastal conservation like the One Hundred Miles group, Georgia has the opportunity to transform its climate response.

In a conservative state, trying to pass environmental protections is discouraging. The term “climate change,” is not even used in wetlands protection measures. Mentions of climate change in policy have the potential to alienate voters as well as policy makers. It is my hope that projects like Drawdown Georgia will help create grassroots movements that acknowledge the importance of wetland protection as a bipartisan step towards combating climate change. 

It is exciting to see wetland-based climate action beginning to be prioritized by NGOs in my state. Ultimately, this goal is something we need not just in Georgia, but on a national scale. I do not doubt that Georgia can be a leader when that time comes. Hopefully, for the sake of our planet, it’s sooner rather than later. 

As the U.S. tops nearly 14 million COVID-19 cases, leaders work tirelessly on policy to rebuild from the pandemic’s economic and social shocks. While media attention is on the pandemic, other pressing global issues risk being swept under the rug. Let’s not forget that the world is still on track for at least 3.6°F (2°Celsius) of global warming; deforestation in the Amazon is the highest it’s been in 12 years, and human activities that encroach habitats have been shown to exacerbate emerging infectious diseases in wildlife that can transfer to humans. Ultimately, the continued degradation of nature increases the risk of animal-borne diseases like COVID-19.

The U.S.’s response to the pandemic thus far has failed to take nature into account. Under President Donald Trump, the government passed legislation aimed at assisting hard-hit industries, such as airlines and cruise operators. These industries are heavy contributors to environmental health problems. Shipping vessels release large quantities of sulfur dioxide, nitrogen oxides and particulate matter, endangering human health, and contribute 2-3% of the world’s total greenhouse gas emissions.

Pandemic recovery plans should not promote growth at the expense of nature. Ignoring nature will only leave humans more vulnerable. From more frequent natural disasters to increased wildlife-to-human disease transmission, the U.S. needs economic recovery plans that promote economic growth and the protection of nature.

The good news is that we have a solution. The U.S. government could design a stimulus package that makes use of nature-based solutions (NbS) to promote economic growth and recovery while also protecting natural resources.

NbS are activities aimed at protecting and restoring natural ecosystems to help us address society’s challenges effectively. Examples include restoring wetlands to reduce coastal erosion and restoring degraded forests. Incorporating NbS into current economic recovery plans would simultaneously stimulate the economy and increase the U.S.’s climate resilience.

We don’t have to look hard for examples of how nature can be an important part of a COVID-19 recovery strategy. Germany allocated $848 million of its two-year $157 billion COVID-19 economic plan to forest management. Promoting forest management promotes carbon storage and increases biodiversity.

The U.S. once considered nature in its economic plans. During the Great Depression, the government set up the Civilian Conservation Corps, an initiative that engaged three million people in planting three billion trees, building coastal barriers, and constructing facilities for hundreds of national parks.

More recently, the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 (ARRA) included $167 million to restore coastal habitat, supporting on average 17 jobs per $1 million invested.

The U.S. has lost 22 million jobs during the pandemic. Most have yet to be recovered. NbS projects create entry-level jobs, making them feasible and accessible for most Americans. The message is clear: now is the time to integrate nature into our recovery plans.

Politicians are recognizing the role of NbS in pandemic recovery plans. Harkening back to the Civilian Conservation Corps, Washington state Governor Jay Inslee has proposed another CCC—the Civilian Climate Corps. Workers would manage forests, plant trees in cities, restore ecosystems, and remove invasive species. Likewise, in September, Illinois Senator Dick Durbin introduced the RENEW Conservation Corps Act to employ one million unemployed Americans in similar conservation and recreation work. While President-elect Joe Biden’s current climate plans don’t integrate nature-based solutions as much as they could, the message is getting there.

Let’s not be short-sighted. The pandemic has hit the U.S. hard, and Americans need a strong recovery strategy. As the U.S. addresses the critical health and economic impacts of COVID-19, let’s also strengthen our resilience to environmental risks by promoting economic growth that works with nature, not against it.

 

Although he ran as a moderate, President-Elect Joe Biden’s climate plan is fairly progressive. Pushing for renewable energy infrastructure, rejoining global climate agreements, and creating American jobs along the way make up the bulk of his 2019 campaign climate platform. A few of the talking points in his platform deviate from what we’ve seen before in American political discourse. Among these are a brief mention of soil carbon sequestration. Soil carbon sequestration practices will be needed to address climate change, but Biden will need to consider the complexities of the US agricultural system if he wants to implement them effectively.

Soil carbon sequestration, in Biden’s own words, involves working “to remove carbon dioxide from the air and store it in the ground.” In practice, this can look like promoting no-till and multi-crop agricultural fields. The U.S. already does some of this. The Environmental Quality Incentives Program, which provides financial support for farmers using conservation practices, and the Conservation Reserve Program, which compensates farmers for land that they leave fallow are just two examples. Biden’s soil carbon sequestration plan takes these programs one step further and explicitly connects the health of agricultural soils to the nation’s mitigation of climate change.

Constructed by climate scientists, officials from the Obama presidency, and members of Biden’s transition team, the Climate 21 Project implores the U.S. Department of Agriculture to implement a national carbon bank within Biden’s first 100 days in office. This system would allow farmers storing carbon in their soil to sell credits to the national government. Notably, the price per ton of carbon suggested by the Climate 21 Project is $20 per ton of carbon dioxide, $30 short of the Environmental Defense Fund’s minimum estimate of its true social and environmental price.  Including soil in a national carbon market sounds simple, but the Biden administration must consider construct this program carefully to ensure its eventual success.

Any national carbon market must also recognize the inequities inherent in the American agricultural system. U.S. farming is overwhelmingly white by design. While the Climate 21 Project’s memo to the USDA does mention a need for “diversity, inclusion, and environmental justice,” in the implementation of its recommendations, there is no such mention of how these principles would factor into a national carbon market. Biden’s explicit support for the Justice for Black Farmers Act would be a good way to signal that his administration is committed to racial justice in U.S. agriculture. This step would also signal that these principles may also be taken seriously in its design of a national carbon market.

None of these complexities mean that Biden should abandon the idea of a soil-based carbon market completely. Australia has financially incentivized soil carbon sequestration on farms since 2013 through its Emissions Reduction Fund and has plans to increase these efforts imminently. Climate scientists and soil ecologists alike tell us time and time again that soil carbon sequestration is powerful. Estimates of the amount of carbon stored in soil annually range from 1 to 3 billion tons. With climate change, the ground is buying us time.

But there is a limit to what farms’ soil can fix for us. The Climate 21 proposal focuses only on farmland as a potential site for carbon storage, and in doing so ignores the potential of other ecosystems to store huge amounts of carbon. Peatlands, for instance, store more carbon annually than all other ecosystem types combined. Prairies too, which are prevalent in the U.S., can store tons of carbon in their extensive root systems. A robust, climate driven soil carbon market must also include these non-agricultural ecosystems.

Biden and the Climate 21 Project’s emphasis on soil carbon sequestration is a microcosm of larger problems with mainstream discourse around the climate crisis. Yes, we must take action to ensure that we do not squander the soil’s amazing ability to shield just from the full force of the carbon that we emit. But this action should account for and work to dismantle the inequities inherent in the U.S. agricultural system. This action should apply to every ecosystem that is scientifically relevant, not just farming where it is more politically popular. It should not undervalue the damage that we are doing to our planet and to each other.

Climate change is a global, complex issue, and the soil carbon sequestration side of things is no exception. The level of nuance necessary to successfully implement soil carbon sequestration frameworks in the U.S. is huge. Now that we have an administration that agrees with scientists about the basic facts of climate change, we may be closer to having these necessary conversations about how best to implement effective and lasting climate policies.

In the past few weeks, COVID-19 has completely upended our way of life. The scale of COVID has thus transformed our landscape. In response to the growing anxieties and uncertainties that COVID has produced in our lives, many have been told to socially isolate themselves by staying home as much as possible. 

However, a certain subset of people has taken a different approach. The wealthy are fleeing high density COVID hotspots for less dense, quieter cities and neighborhoods. This is happening most notably with New Yorkers who have fled the Big Apple for second homes in quieter homier New England neighbors or even farther. 

History has shown us that this pattern is neither surprising nor uncommon. The wealthy experience pandemics much differently from the rest of the world, and sometimes that means not very much at all. 

In the 19^th century, the U.S. was plagued with numerous and sporadic outbreaks of cholera from 1832 until 1866. Cholera’s symptoms were swift and violent: diarrhea, vomiting, dehydration and cyanosis turned victims black and blue. The appearance of symptoms was a certain death knell with only a day if not a few more hours left to live. 

Charles E. Rosenberg’s book The Cholera Years details the impact of cholera on the American consciousness and culture. One such reaction to the first 1832 outbreak in New York was mass exodus. The Evening Post in 1832 wrote: “The roads, in all directions, were lined with well-filled stage coaches, livery coaches, private vehicles and equestrians, all panic struck, fleeing from the city.” 

As the country battled numerous outbreaks, responses to cholera changed each time. Initially, when the reasons for the disease were moral, people simply fled the cities, which at the time were regarded as literal and symbolic cesspits of filth and decay, and headed for the healing hills of the countryside. The unbridled and unregulated growth of the urban environment, fueled by industrialization and capitalism, was a scary and dirty place, and many were skeptical about life there. 

But as cities grew and became more accepted as a mode of human life, “flight to the country was no longer in 1866, as it had been to many in 1849, an acceptable solution to urban problems”. This shift in strengthened the argument for mass improvements to urban sanitation and clean water infrastructure. 

We see the same patterns being repeated today and have seen it as a reaction to other crises: billionaires relocating to areas that will be less impacted by climate change, Elon Musk’s mission to colonize Mars. 

However, the nature of these departures and of the departures of cholera is different from COVID. While cholera was non-contagious, caused not by contact with others, but by transmission of via contaminated water, COVID’s danger lies in how easily it spreads between others, and the minimal or delayed onset of symptoms in many victims. 

Thus, the exodus of New Yorkers to other, less populated areas of the country, has sparked criticism and discussions of ethics. Some who have already relocated to suburban havens have even reported feeling ostracized for their places of origin, even motivating one Manhattanite to leave behind his New York license plate when driving in Connecticut. [https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/coronavirus-new-yorkers-stigmatized/2020/04/03/da96b9d2-7442-11ea-a9bd-9f8b593300d0_story.html ] 

Despite huge evolutions in technology, tracking, and public health research, it appears that the same human impulses of history are repeating themselves.