Common Home Issue 05

Letter from the Editors

We are thrilled to present to you the fifth issue of Common Home, Georgetown’s magazine on environment and sustainability from the Earth Commons Institute (ECo).

In this issue, we dive deep into issues surrounding the ocean. We talk to Elizabeth Hogan (SFS ‘97) about some of the biggest problems plaguing marine wildlife, as well as her experience in the field as a marine conservation scientist. Farther out to sea, we examine the fascinating oddity of rafting species—floating ecosystems which have been found growing on dead trees, debris, and even plastic in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.

We highlight stories where the resources of the ocean—and of the land—are managed sustainably while also meeting the vital needs of communities. Candice Powers (CAS ‘22) illustrates the wealth of environmental benefits of certain marine food systems, such as māra mataitai—an approach to mariculture traditionally practiced by Māori communities emphasizing reciprocity between humans and the ecosystem. Alannah Nathan (SFS ‘24) covers innovative technological solutions emerging in the private sector to grow food more efficiently and sustainably. Shelby Gresch (SFS ‘22) reflects on urban farming—a growing practice in cities like DC—and how the Georgetown Hoya Harvest Garden may contribute to our local community.

Lastly, this issue also aims to spotlight underrepresented voices and issues in the environment, especially regarding Indigenous perspectives and the right to access resources. Sadie Morris (SFS ‘22) highlights the significance of the Klamath River dam removal for the Yurok, Hupa, Klamath, and Kurok communities. Green Commons Award recipient Anya Wahal travels to Arizona, where farmers are struggling amidst the state’s water crisis.

Gillian Meyers (SFS ‘23) analyzes the durability of corporate-Indigenous partnerships and their interests in protecting people, profits, and the planet.

We are excited to share with you an issue that features the most Georgetown student voices yet. We would also like to give a special thank you to our esteemed guest writers within and beyond Georgetown. We are delighted to share your voices with our readers.

Sincerely,

The Common Home Editorial Board

Maya Alcantara, Marion Cassidy, Deena Eichhorn, Alannah Nathan, Maya Snyder, and Nishitha Vivek Students at Georgetown University

With support from Katryn Bowe and Sadie Morris (SFS ‘22)

To Conserve Biodiversity, We Must Stop Chasing Ghosts and Start Making Plans

By Peter P. Marra, Director of The Earth Commons

Ecosystems Afloat: The ecosystems growing on our plastic waste

By Dr. Rebecca Helm, Ph.D., Assistant Professor of Environmental Studies at Georgetown University & Georgetown Earth Commons Affiliate

Dismantling Dams for Decolonization

By Sadie Morris, SFS ‘22 & Environmental Educator, Farmer, and Writer

Drought-Stricken, Arizona Farmers Face a Bleak Growing Season

By Anya Wahal, SFS ‘23 & Green Commons Award Recipient

Reinventing the Food System Through Private Investment: Two companies in the growing landscape of food and AgTech

By Alannah Nathan, SFS ‘24 & Common Home Editor

People, Profits, and Planet: Can Mutually Beneficial Corporate-Indigenous Partnerships Protect all Three?

By Gillian Meyers, SFS ‘23

A Win for the Environment: How Brazil’s new president has the chance to steer the country back to the future

By Olivia Ainbinder & Climate and Sustainability Consultant

Frontiers of Mariculture Series

By Candice Powers, COL’22 & Maine Aquaculture Pioneers Program Intern

• Changing our minds, stomachs, and planet: The mission to make kelp mainstream

• Kelp is on the way: How one scientist is using seaweed and oysters to save our coastal waters and communities

• Stewardship of Our Oceans Should Belong to the First Nations People

Under Jamaican Sea: Turning seaweed into carbon credits at Kee Farms

Nicholas Kee, CEO and co-founder of Kee Farms, interviewed by Nishitha Vivek, MS ‘23 & Common Home Editor

Invasive Insects: Examining the Spread of The Cabbage White Butterfly

By Maya Snyder, SFS ‘24 & Common Home Editor

Hello Hoya Harvest: Reflecting on Georgetown’s role in Urban Agriculture

By Shelby Gresch, COL ‘22

Fellow

& Post-Baccalaureate

at the Earth Commons

Climate Change and Curriculum: Georgetown’s Core Pathways Initiative at Five Years

By Sarah Craig, SFS ‘23 & Assistant at The Red House at Georgetown University

Alumni Spotlights:

• Elizabeth Hogan, SFS ‘97 & Program Director at National Geographic

• Miguel CuUnjing, MBA ‘15 & Associate Director of North America

The Breakdown: Electric Vehicles

By Ryan Levandowski, GULC ‘20 & Institute Associate at Georgetown Climate Center

Editorial Board

Marion Cassidy is a Senior in the college studying History and Art History. She is from Brooklyn, NY and is passionate about the intersection of sustainability and the arts.

Alannah is a Junior in the Walsh School of Foreign Service, pursuing a degree in Global Business. Alannah has a strong interest in the energy transition and the private sector’s role in pursuing sustainable development, including sustainable business and investment. She is from Brooklyn, NY.

Maya is a Junior in the Walsh School of Foreign Service, majoring in Science, Technology, & International Affairs with a focus in Energy & Environment and minoring in Chinese. In her free time, she enjoys hiking and reading. She is from San Diego, California.

Maya Snyder

Marion Cassidy

Alannah Nathan

Deena Eichhorn

Deena is a Junior in the College of Arts and Sciences studying Justice and Peace studies, Government, and Spanish. She is from Wichita, Kansas, and loves to cook.

Maya Alcantara

Maya is a graduate student in the McDonough School of Business and Graduate School of Arts and Sciences studying Environment and Sustainability Management. Her favorite pastimes are journaling and painting. She is from Rancho Cucamonga, CA.

Nishitha Vivek

Nishitha is a Master's in Management (STEM) Graduate Student at McDonough School of Business, graduating in May 2023. She completed her undergraduate at SRM University in Chennai, India.

To Conserve Biodiversity,We Must Stop Chasing Ghosts and Start Making Plans

By Peter P. Marra, Dean of The Earth Commons and the Laudato Si’Professor of Biology and the Environment; and David B. Hunter Professor of Law at American University’s Washington College of Law

Policy debates around climate change and biodiversity loss both suffer from the same misconceptions: that vague, non-binding agreements and a focus on a few, charismatic species—think polar bears—will spur the international community to act in such a way that life on earth can continue as we know it.

But just as we can’t fight climate change exclusively via lastditch efforts and give up when we fail to reach certain targets— like 1.5 degrees Celsius of warming—we can’t fight biodiversity loss by acting only when species’ populations dwindle to only a few individuals and then pouring all our energy into resurrecting others that are already gone.

In biodiversity conservation as in climate action, seeing the forest for the trees means acting before the forest is reduced to a single tree. That means taking real action now by passing legislation like the Recovering America’s Wildlife Act, revamping existing international treaties, and investing in the research that is required to inform proactive conservation.

Too often, we’ve lavished attention on species like the Whooping Crane and the Kākāpō, which were brought back from the brink of extinction by expensive, decades-long interventions only when it was nearly too late.

We’ve also spent too much time and energy holding out hope for lost species, like the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, a wonderful but almost certainly extinct species that continues to capture imaginations and headlines, but which ultimately distracts us from taking steps to protect other fantastic creatures that still exist.

Just last week, the IPCC—the UN’s climate panel—released its annual climate change report, which provides an update to the signatories of the Paris Agreement about the science of climate change and where the world stands on its goals.

Like the Paris Agreement in 2015, the COP15 UN Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) agreed to in Montreal last December was widely regarded as a pivotal, consequential moment for the future of Earth’s biodiversity. But the agreement that emerged from the conference (which the U.S. is not even party to) was a report lofty in concept but unenforceable in practice.

CBD countries “pledged” to protect 30 percent of natural areas on the earth by 2030. As laudable as this sounds, it is intangible and unenforceable. None of the 20 biodiversity targets the CBD agreed to 10 years ago were achieved, leaving us with nothing but unbounded (and ungrounded) hope that this time countries will act.

Left out of the CBD negotiations were specific science-based measures to prevent future species extinctions by addressing specific causes of population declines. Meanwhile, more than 70 bird species in the U.S. alone are considered to be at tipping points that put them at risk of being listed under the Endangered Species Act.

Thinking about our children’s future, we can—and should— focus on achievable and impactful species conservation by using tangible, existing opportunities and mechanisms.

The United States has an opportunity to lead by example and pass landmark legislation through the Recovering America’s Wildlife Act, which would dedicate 1.3 billion dollars for statelevel conservation and 97.5 million to tribal nations to recover

and sustain fish and wildlife populations on reservations. This is low-hanging fruit, and legislation that must pass in the next session of Congress.

Another opportunity: the United States is party to the Convention on Nature Protection and Wildlife Preservation in the Western Hemisphere, a visionary instrument put in place in 1942 that calls for protecting species from extinction, establishing protected areas, regulating international trade in wildlife, taking special measures for migratory birds, and encouraging the need for international co-operation in scientific research.

Revitalizing that convention could focus hemispheric cooperation on the most urgent threats to our shared wildlife—threats we must address now if we want to avoid more species becoming ghosts in the binoculars of a passionate few. But we need to act fast.

Now is the time to recover the populations of miraculous birds like the whimbrel, mountain plover and evening grosbeak while we can still enjoy them in their natural habitats. We must lead by prioritizing conservation measures specifically tailored for each of these 70 species and others like them before they are formally listed.

Our new understanding of migratory science can pinpoint exactly where to act for each species, whether to prioritize the protection of critical habitats; the removal and reduction of threats from invasive species, including outdoor house cats; the reduction of chemical exposures from pesticides like neonicotinoids; or the design of wildlife-friendlier cities on migration routes.

Funding more research can inform conservation efforts for other species across the tree of life.

If we do not move from vague non-binding pledges and scattershot approaches to habitat conservation toward discrete, science-based conservation efforts, the natural world will continue to vanish before our eyes, leaving us with an impoverished world populated only by the ghosts of our own making.

Dr. Marra releasing a red knot bird in Corpus Christi, Texas

Photo by Tim Romano courtesy of the Smithsonian Institution

Sandhill Cranes in Nebraska

Photo by Peter Marra 2023

Ecosystems Afloat: The ecosystems growing on our plastic waste

By Dr. Rebecca Helm, Ph.D., Assistant Professor, Earth Commons, Georgetown University

What if we told you that there are entire ecosystems on the ocean surface that live on our plastic waste?

When Ben Lecompt swam from California to Hawai’i through the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, he saw something he didn’t expect: life. “Every time I saw plastic debris floating, there was life all around it,” Mr. Lecomte told the New York Times.

As scientists who study high-seas ecosystems, my colleagues and I collaborated with Mr. Lecompt to understand the mysterious ecology of the ocean’s surface. Through our work, we learn that the story of plastic debris in the oceans isn’t as clear as it seems on the surface.

We discovered that floating life might be concentrated by the same physical forces, such as currents and wind, that concentrate plastics. These animals do not depend on plastic and may live peaceably beside our debris. But a key piece of the puzzle is still missing: Mr. Lecompt also found many species living directly on plastic debris.

Why did Mr. Lecompt find a vast amount of life in the Garbage Patch? The answer may lie in an unexpected place: forests.

Before industrial-scale damming and deforestation, large amounts of natural floating wood entered the ocean every year. In fact, there are some species that only live in the open ocean on floating wood. Let me say that again: there are species of animals that have only been found on floating dead trees drifting thousands of miles from shore!

The tragic 2011 Japanese tsunami proved that wood could last years in the open ocean and carry life with it. Animals that call floating debris home are known as rafters, and their natural habitat may be dramatically shrinking. Rafting species are found naturally on driftwood, where they attach themselves and spend years riding on waves.

Now, widespread deforestation and river damming have dramatically decreased the amount of natural wood that enters the ocean. Scientists estimate that, at a minimum, there are 300,000 cubic meters (m3) of large woody pieces entering the ocean each year. In contrast, before humans started altering the environment, at least 70 million m3 of wood objects entered the ocean each year. For rafters, that reduces their living space by over 99%.

If the wood is largely gone, where will the rafting ecosystem go?

Rafting species that can live on buoyant objects are now developing ecosystems on the floating plastics in the ocean. One study found 95 rafting species living on floating plastic in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.

However, rafting animals are not the only species living around plastic. Floating objects also attract fish.

On a swim through the Garbage Patch, Mr. Lecompt once saw a school of curious fish beneath him. “They were leading me back to what had become their house,” he said of the plastic they now lived around.

The fishing industry has noticed this tendency, too. Tuna fisheries now intentionally release between 47,000–105,000 large floating objects into the ocean every year, many of which are made out of plastic. These objects, called “fish aggregating devices” (or FADs), attract large open-ocean fish, especially tuna. Once enough fish gather around a FAD, a fishing boat surrounds the FAD with a purse-like net to collect the island of life. If you’ve eaten tuna recently, there is a chance you have eaten a fish collected with a FAD.

The tendency of tuna and other open-ocean fish to gather around floating objects hints at what may have been a oncegreat ecosystem floating at the ocean’s surface. The massive reduction in oceanic wood and the global increase in plastic have undoubtedly changed the open ocean. While plastic may be a far more dangerous material than wood, it is undeniably a home for some animals.

Recently, we have seen a big public push to “save our oceans” by cleaning up plastic in the open ocean using large nets or other remote devices. While images of marine life tangled in plastic are heartbreaking, the rush by some companies to clean up plastic from the open ocean may be premature because we know very little about the impacts of plastic in the open ocean, and even less about the ecosystems now growing on our waste.

Though little is known, we cannot ignore the role the rafting ecosystem, now displaced onto plastic, may play in the health of our oceans. We cannot disregard the unknown historical damage that logging and damming may have inflicted upon the ocean’s surface.

As scientists and citizens, we must address the negative impacts of plastic, but we can and should also examine the role that plastic may play in keeping the rafting ecosystem afloat. After all, deforestation and damming will certainly not stop anytime soon, and the amount of floating plastic debris entering the ocean will inevitably continue to grow. We must understand the role of the rafting ecosystem and floating debris in our ocean health in order to protect the ocean’s future.

Dismantling Dams for Decolonization

By Sadie Morris, SFS ‘22 & Environmental Educator, Farmer, and Writer

In November of 2022 the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission gave final approval to begin the removal of four dams on the lower Klamath, an area straddling the Oregon-California border. After two decades of tireless struggle by Indigenous communities to undam 400 miles of river and salmon habitat, the final plan includes nearly 200 projects ranging from fish habitat and flow restoration to the actual removal of the dams.

The first dam on the lower Klamath will be removed the summer of 2023 with the complete removal of the first dam by early 2024.

The project is already historically unparalleled in scope, but the victory’s implications run deeper than returning the land to its more natural state. It is a direct rebuke of the colonizing forces that have directed the course of U.S. history and in particular US relations with Indigenous nations since the original British colonization.

To understand the full meaning of the Klamath dam removal, it is helpful to examine the relationship between colonization and water infrastructure projects as well as the motives of the Indigenous peoples leading the “un-damming” movement.

Colonization occurs at both the material and symbolic levels. When the English, Spanish, and French colonized the present-day United States they brought with them certain ideas that underpinned their justification for colonization and implemented cultural colonization of the original peoples of the Americas. Namely, colonizers instilled a dualistic perspective of nature in which nature and humans are pitted against one another and humans must subjugate nature.

Theorists like Val Plumwood root the paradigm in the “technological capacities to direct events in the material environment,” indicating the direct link between the ability to control the environment and emerging worldviews. When colonizers arrived on the shores of the present-day United States, they equated the original peoples with the natural environment: “The inhabitants of untamed, or even unacceptable wildernesses, deserts, and swamps are thrown rhetorically into the class of needing domination or ‘civilizing influences.’” Thus, colonization, displacement, and even mass murder of Indigenous peoples were justified by colonizers in the same breath in which they justified the “taming” of their new natural environment.

Iron Gate Dam on the Klamath River Illustration inspired by photography by Michael Weir

Control over water was and continues to be an important aspect of domination in colonizer relations. Since water is both essential for life and fundamentally finite, it plays a particular role in social relations as an impetus for the development of social practices and relationships in order to regulate water access within a community.

Environmental anthropologist Veronica Strang elucidates the relationship between water and society further: “The link between water and power is an expression of material relations. No exercise of power is possible unless it can be expressed in material form, in this instance through the physical control of water bodies or the capacity to determine (from whatever distance) whose interests will benefit from the flow of water.”

Dams as regulators of water flow and access to water are key manifestations of material control over water. It should come as little surprise then that dams have played a unique and prominent role in colonization.

In the United States, the majority of dam projects fall under the purview of the Bureau of Reclamation which was established in 1902 under the Department of the Interior. Uncoincidentally, the Bureau of Indian Affairs (and its various precursors) is also housed in the Department–a material embodiment of the continued naturalization of Native bodies in the U.S..

Jane Griffith is a communications scholar who focuses on settler colonialism. She conducted an analysis of the magazine published by the Bureau of Reclamation from 1907 to 1983 in order to explicate the connection between infrastructure projects–particularly dams–and the continuation of U.S. colonizing practices. Her use of written narrative further underscores the connection between material and symbolic forms of colonization, as she writes: “[I] demonstrate how dams are built with more than engineering equipment—their tools also include narratives, language, rhetoric, and image that recast Indigenous waterways for settler audiences.” In language parallel to earlier justifications for the occupation of Indigenous land, the Bureau “painted land in the West as arid and otherwise useless without Reclamation, ‘a desert solitude’ home only to ‘sand and cactus desolation,” and ‘infertile, nonirrigable, seeped or otherwise unproductive.’”

The Bureau even utilized “before and after” reclamation spreads, so “readers could view water unfold over time from original water source to white settlement” with Native stewardship but one step in a march towards modernization.

In actuality, what the Bureau painted as “reclamation” was occupation funded by theft of Indigenous lands. Beth Rose Middleton, Chair of Native American Studies at U.C. Davis, explains that “Federal water projects in the American West

were funded by the seizure and sale of Indian lands to non-Indians” by order of the 1901 Reclamation Act. In the same way in which the Dawes Act had allowed the partitioning of Native land into parcels for sale to settlers, the Reclamation Act sold unceded Native land in order to provide areas for water infrastructure projects that “tamed” the wild, arid lands of the West.

As a result, Indigenous peoples are at the forefront of resistance to dams globally in opposition to colonization.

While the U.S. led the way in 21st-century major infrastructure projects, the rest of the world readily followed suit. By 2003, $2 trillion dollars globally had been spent on dam construction and geophysicists believe “The world’s dams have shifted so much weight that…they have slightly altered the speed of the earth’s rotation, the title of its axis, and the shape of its gravitational field.” At the height of the neoliberal hegemonic heyday in the late 1980s and 90s, the World Bank and International Monetary Fund regularly pursued water infrastructure projects across the Global South as a means of implementing capitalistic economic models. These incursions became a rallying point for Indigenous groups who readily classified dam project schematics as a new form of colonization for the modern age.

Dam construction slowed down in 1997 after Indigenous resistance prompted the World Commission on Dams that supported Indigenous claims that dam profits did not clearly

outweigh the environmental and social costs of dams. Nonetheless, construction in the Global South continues at a slower pace–and Indigenous resistance continues.

In the U.S. context, Indigenous response to dam construction in the 21st century was largely quashed by overwhelming government suppression; nonetheless, Indigenous resistance has found renewed expression in the openings created by the post-industrial nature of U.S. capitalist society. As Western science catches up with Indigenous understandings of water relations, Indigenous people are leading an un-damming movement as a way of “(re)activating water as an agent of decolonization, as well as the very terrain of struggle over which the meaning and configuration of power is determined.”

The Klamath River dam removal project is the embodiment of how the removal of dams operates as a decolonizer on both the material and symbolic levels.

Four Native American tribes – the Yurok, Hupa, Klamath, and Kurok – are the original and present-day inhabitants of the Klamath Basin where 6 dams currently control the flow of the river. Each of their cultures has a unique relationship with the surrounding waterways and in particular with the salmon who populated the rivers before the dams. For example, the Yurok Tribe embeds their cultural practices in the lifecycle of the salmon which they view as their kin. As anadromous fish,

Copco Dam on the Klamath River Illustration inspired by photography by Michael Weir

salmon complete a multi-year lifecycle in which they breed in the freshwater rivers, travel downstream to the ocean and eventually return to rivers where they hatched in order to lay their own eggs. The Yurok Tribe accompanies the salmon during their return home and roots their value system of sharing and care around what provides for the health of the salmon.

Dams have devastated the salmon life cycle because they have altered the temperature of the water in the rivers, allowed the proliferation of diseases, and literally blocked the return of salmon to their nesting grounds. Since the installation of dams, humans have tried to manage the salmon populations–which are now on the Endangered Species list–by building hatcheries and fish ladders, but efforts have proved unable to restore or even sustain population levels.

The Yurok, Hupa, and Kurok tribes have sued multiple times in court, claiming “the dams were hurting the river, the fish and its culture.” In 2002, “60,000 [salmon] died after the Bush Administration limited water releases for fish in favor of agricultural water deliveries.” The incident galvanized the four Indigenous tribes to band together and demand that the dams be removed entirely.

The effort to remove the dam is happening at both the material and symbolic levels. As Yurok Tribe chair Joseph James relates, “‘This dam removal is more than just a concrete project coming down, it’s a new day and new era for California tribes…we are connected with our hearts and prayers to these creeks, lands, animals, and our way of life will thrive with these dams being out.’” James references both the symbolic connection between the Yurok cosmological relationship to the river–his heart connection to the river– and the material ability for the Tribe to practice their traditions. Frankie Myers, vice-chairman of the Yurok Tribe is even more direct: “For the Yurok, Myers says the dams are seen as ‘monuments to colonialism’ and compares them to statues of Confederate generals. ‘These dams are statues of the war that we fought here on the Klamath River. And these statues destroy our river, the landscape, our culture. We have to deal with them every single day.’”

Emboldened by the stakes of their actions, Tribal leaders and allies went on to lead a series of attacks on PacifiCorp, the company in charge of operating the dams. On one front, the tribes participated in direct action; for instance, in 2004, a group picketed at Scottish Power (a parent company of PacifiCorp) company’s annual shareholders meeting, and in 2007, tribal members embarked on a caravan from California to Nebraska to protest outside an additional parent company. On another front, the tribes took the company to court using the federal licensing renewal process which brought both the state and federal governments to the table.

An initial agreement was reached in 2010 to decommission four of the dams but quickly was bounced between different lawsuits and eventually different presidential administrations. Nonetheless, the tribes have persisted and in 2020 a new agreement was reached between the tribe, state governments, and PacifiCorp, cutting out the federal government entirely. The 2022 Federal Energy Regulatory Commission ruling was the final piece needed before removal could begin.

The Indigenous victory in the Klamath River Basin is a major boon to a movement sweeping the U.S.. One thousand seven hundred dams have been removed in the U.S. overall and 69 in 2020 alone. Elizabeth Grossman, who has documented the undamming movement across the U.S., identifies how the movement positions itself in opposition to the colonized, capitalist norm: “Reconsidering the use of our rivers means examining our priorities as a nation. It forces us to rethink our patterns of consumption and growth and may well be key to reclaiming a vital part of America’s future.”

The future is exactly what Indigenous leaders within the movement are looking to: Indigenous leadership pointedly rejects that Indigenous ways are those of the past, meant to be dammed over by modern means of environmental control. Rather, un-damming demonstrates that Indigenous ways of relating to water are actually a living lesson, “a glimpse of an alternative form of sovereignty.”

Un-damming should not be viewed as a regression to a time before the “civilizing” force of colonization but rather an embrace of an alternative, decolonized way of being. Like Franz Fanon reminds us, “No, there is no question of a return to Nature. It is simply a very concrete question of not dragging men towards mutilation, of not imposing upon the brain rhythms which very quickly obliterate it and wreck it.”

When Indigenous peoples today tear down dams, they are not only freeing the waters and living creatures caged behind dams but breaking the cultural trap of the colonized mindset.

Sadie Morris graduated from Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service in 2022 with a bachelor’s in Culture and Politics. She continues to engage in issues of the environment, water, and the West as a farmer in Montana. She is a former editor of Common Home.

Drought-Stricken, Arizona Farmers Face a Bleak Growing Season

By Anya Wahal, SFS ‘23 & Green Commons Award Recipient

Photo by Caleb Urrea

Drenched in sweat and scorched by the 110°F Arizona heat, I made my way towards Caywood Farms, a fifth-generation farm run by Nancy Caywood.

Nancy and other farmers have struggled to recoup their businesses from Arizona’s record-setting drought. Farming had been her family’s livelihood since they first moved to the West decades ago. As I sought to understand and amplify her story, she shared her distant hopes for a more water-abundant future and financial struggles - which have inevitably accompanied our state-wide drought.

Cotton, a water-intensive crop, helped Nancy’s family fulfill their ‘American Dream.’ From an environmental perspective, building a business dependent on the crop is at extreme odds with the state’s sustainable development goals. And while Nancy expressed a desire to implement more water conscious practices, she did not have the resources to do so, even on a smaller scale. In the midst of our interview, Nancy gazed forlornly at a patch of life on her fields: cotton, in a midst of cracked, brown, dirt.

Experiences like those of Nancy have spread like wildfire across Arizona. But despite the overwhelming news coverage of the Colorado River water shortages, the human impact of Arizona’s water policies on its most affected group—farmers— is often missing from the discourse.

Due to severe drought, farmers are experiencing unprecedented financial hardships and letting their fields lie fallow. In fact, according to Steve Miller, Supervisor for Pinal County, one of the hardest hit counties in the state, 60% of agricultural land could be fallowed because of the Colorado River water shortages. Still, the voices of farmers are consistently being lost amid competing narratives surrounding water in the Southwest. At the same time, farmers suffer from a disconnect between the implementation and intent of water policies. While policymakers may intend for policies to positively impact farmers and ranchers, these same policies, such as those on water taxes and surface water management, have sometimes undermined the interests of those exact communities.

To better understand these challenges, I returned to my home state of Arizona this past summer to film a mini-documentary

from farmers’ perspectives on how water shortages are impacting their lives and livelihoods. With the support of the Earth Commons and Mortara Center for International Studies, I spent months interviewing and filming farmers with the goal of understanding and amplifying their stories. What I learned transformed my thinking on what policies might be necessary to tackle environmental crises in Arizona and around the world.

My conversations changed my view of Arizona’s water challenges in three key ways.

First, conversations among policymakers and farmers surrounding agriculture and development must be reframed to encapsulate a greater understanding of the nuanced perspectives of all stakeholders. Currently, the dialogue orients farmers against developers, and vice versa, reflective of an “us versus them mentality.” Although conversations with farmers did reveal some resentment against unqualified development, opinions tended to be more nuanced in practice.

In fact, as one farmer I spoke with put it, “I’m not against development. I’m just against how they’re going about it… [They just want to] build the cheapest house possible.” Focusing on who is angered by development and why they are angry about it sheds crucial light on how to build a more sustainable and inclusive path forward.

In the West, we often throw around the phrase “whiskey is for drinking, water is for fighting,” when discussing water shortages. This phrase encapsulates the conflict: water, because of its scarcity, is too often the source of great tension, but collaboration is still possible.

Second, the existence of Phoenix and other large cities must be acknowledged to create policies that effectively support sustainable development in desert cities. In response to water shortages, progressive environmentalists in Arizona have often made arguments that a large city like Phoenix should never have existed since Arizona is a desert. However, this point is moot, because Phoenix does exist. Phoenix is one of the fastest growing cities in the country and a hub for business and development. Accepting that Phoenix and other cities in Arizona will continue to grow is a crucial step in ensuring they do so

Farmer Nancy Caywood

Photo by Caleb Urrea

sustainably. For instance, investing in improved wastewater and groundwater management, engaging in dialogue between other Colorado River basin states and Mexico, and considering the possibility of water augmentation through desalination may be instrumental to policymakers as they craft future water policy.

Third, many reasonable citizens and policymakers are demanding that farmers make their businesses more sustainable. However, demanding this change without providing the necessary support would lead to less-than-ideal outcomes. Such demands can make farmers out to be the villains, when the blame often lies with policymakers as well.

In a field visit I conducted, one farmer mentioned that she wanted to diversify to more sustainable crops, but simply didn’t have the necessary financial resources or labor. When I asked if government grants existed to make this change, she said that they didn’t, and any help that was offered by nonprofits wasn’t nearly enough to cover the costs. This sentiment was widespread amongst the 25 farmers I spoke with, most of whom were actively considering new ways to conserve water in their businesses.

If Arizona policymakers aim to maintain agricultural traditions, support farming businesses, and create new development,

they must make a more conscious effort to include farmers’ perspectives. Only then might we see policies produce their intended effects and policymakers make reasonable demands of farmers and ranchers disproportionately affected by water shortages.

These lessons I learned from studying my state’s water crisis are not applicable to only Arizona. Just as farmers in the West are poorly treated in the environmental discourse, so too are coal miners in Appalachia and oil field workers in Texas. As an environmental advocate, I too yearn for sweeping environmental policy changes to conserve our country’s precious resources and build resilience strategies in the wake of the climate crisis. But I also know that true progress can only be sustainable if it is inclusive of those left behind.

Arizona farmers need monetary aid to change their growing practices; sustainability on a larger scale sometimes means supporting existing ways of life. To shift away from conflict and towards genuine progress, we need to create a policy discourse that reflects the interests of all communities affected by environmental crises.

Reinventing the Food System Through Private Investment:

Two companies in the growing landscape of food and AgTech

By Alannah Nathan, SFS ‘24 & Common Home Editor

Meeting the increased demand for food in the face of mounting environmental threats and climatic shifts requires nothing short of a complete transformation in how we produce and consume food globally. Public sector reforms are vital, but private sector solutions such as those at Smallhold and Hippo Harvest are a new and important avenue to tackle this crisis.

Currently, 35% of all greenhouse gas emissions trace back to our food system, primarily a result of industrial farming practices, mass livestock, rice production, fertilizer use, and food waste.

Solutions from the private sector play an important role in bringing to market new technologies, products, and behaviors. However, such solutions aren’t cheap, nor are they risk-free. The high cost of new agricultural production technologies and infrastructure such as vertical farming, digitalization, genetic engineering, and fermentation—known as “AgTech”—can only reach economically viable scale with the backing of investors willing to generously fund businesses and take on significant risks.

The good news? One class of investors—venture capitalists (VCs)–are currently pouring record amounts of money into AgTech. In 2020, VCs invested a total of $3.3 billion across 422 deals. By 2021, the total invested capital rose to $5 billion across 440 funding deals.

Venture capital investment comes in all shapes and sizes and with various strategic aims. Venture capitalists (VCs) are private equity investors that provide capital to privately-held companies in exchange for a stake in the company (equity). They invest when the companies are rather early, provide guidance alongside their financial investment, and then sell their stake once the company has grown.

Within venture capital (and other asset classes), some investors identify as “impact investors.” They seek financial return and creating a positive, measurable impact in the world, so they only invest in companies that provide a product or service that improves the environment or society. This subset of venture capital funds are accountable to their investors for delivering positive impact, just as they are in meeting financial returns.

Photo by Laura Murray

In order to create such impact, they might make investments that financially driven investors might overlook; perhaps they have a higher degree of risk, cater to an underserved market, or require a more patient timeline.

Beyond this small space of self-designated “impact investors” are other venture capital firms that also invest in companies that improve the environment, but they are not driven to do so because of such impact. Rather, they simply see a compelling business opportunity. Investors into such funds are often finance-first, choosing between such a fund and other equally-lucrative opportunities, agnostic of impact.

Although their motivations are different from impact investors, in practice, capital from the entire spectrum is critical to get environmentally-innovative companies off the ground.

One particular VC firm, Energy Impact Partners (EIP), invests in companies and entrepreneurs leading the transition to a sustainable energy future. EIP has invested in companies decarbonizing utilities, industrial infrastructure, and

steelmaking; developing carbon capture and sequestration and battery storage systems; building digital environmental, social, and corporate governance products and solutions; renting electric vehicles (EVs); amongst others. Recently, EIP has expanded its investment portfolio to firms in AgTech.

Within the growing landscape of food and AgTech investment, we sat down with two founders of EIP-backed ventures: Andrew Carter, the co-founder and CEO of Smallhold, and Eitan Marder-Eppstein, the CEO and founder of Hippo Harvest.

Smallhold

Specialty mushrooms have recently taken the U.S. by storm and Smallhold, a Brooklyn-based start-up founded in 2017, is leading the way.

Smallhold grows and sells specialty varieties of mushrooms to over 500 retailers across the United States, including Whole Foods and Erewhon. Each of Smallhold’s varieties of

mushrooms are grown in climate-controlled environments across New York, Texas, and Los Angeles. Not only does Smallhold seek to bring to market a higher quality product, but Smallhold’s mission is also rooted in sustainability.

“The vast majority of our customers are within 100 miles of our farms,” says Carter. The benefit of localized production is twofold: a smaller carbon impact and a higher quality product. “We also really try to limit the packaging plastic we use. If you check us out in stores it's mostly just cardboard which is recyclable and compostable at home.” Moreover, in a recent lifecycle assessment, Smallhold found that their carbon footprint is 30% lower than other mushroom growers with publicly available data. The farms’ carbon and water footprints are a tiny fraction of those in the meat production industry.

Smallhold began by developing and patenting technologies that allow for optimal conditions to grow mushrooms anywhere and everywhere, from the heart of Brooklyn, NY, to a Texas macrofarm and even a hotel bar. Smallhold’s mushrooms are grown on waste streams from timber—most of which would have likely gone straight to landfills. All of Smallhold’s waste goes to large-scale compost and bioremediation projects.

Currently, mushrooms make up just a small fraction of the American diet. In the U.S., the annual per capita mushroom consumption is estimated between two and four pounds. In China, Japan, and Korea, those numbers are far higher. Chinese mushroom consumption is estimated closer to 20 to 30 pounds per person per year. While American consumption may not reach levels on par with East Asia anytime soon, even a doubling or tripling of consumption would create a significant market opportunity, particularly as demand for non-meat products increases.

“I think it's important for people to eat less meat,” says Carter, “so, if people aren't eating mushrooms now, they will be in the future, especially if they're trying to lead a more sustainable lifestyle.”

Since its launch, Smallhold has been backed by private investors. In 2021, it received Series A investment from multiple investors, including Energy Impact Partners.

When asked why Smallhold chose EIP, Carter noted: “I tried to focus on people who have a thesis around indoor agriculture. EIP has historically been focused on decarbonization and clean energy,” explains Carter. “But food is energy. We don't use nearly as much energy as, for instance, an indoor

Smallhold mushroom cultivation at the Standard Hotel

Photo provided by Smallhold

A Smallhold minifarm

Photo by Jack Taylor PR 04

Cultivation at Smallhold's Brooklyn indoor grow site

Photo by Zeph Colombatto

vertical farm, but we still have to be thoughtful about where the energy comes from” he notes. “We have to be thoughtful about whether we can find the right kinds of partners to not only provide us the right kinds of energy, but also the real estate to do things. We’ve focused on transportation routes, for example.”

For Carter’s investors, sustainability metrics are equally as important as revenue and profitability: “It’s refreshing to be in board meetings with people who care that much about sustainability,” says Carter. “When your investors don't care, and you're weighing out the difference between a compostable recyclable cardboard box— which is inherently more expensive than Styrofoam—that's a different kind of conversation if your shareholders aren't aligned with your company. It's a lot easier when we care and our investors are aligned with that.”

Smallhold’s future looks bright. It recently launched in Los Angeles and plans to expand to regions across the U.S., building out a national brand with local production. Smallhold is focused on building more facilities, working on producing more mushroom varieties, and increasing the efficiency of their farms and supply chains.

“I think that we're in a moment with mushrooms that has never existed before. Smallhold’s definitely positioned in a really interesting way to take advantage,” says Carter.

Hippo Harvest

Record-breaking floods in eastern Kentucky. Temperatures surpassing 110 Fahrenheit in California. Shrinking lakes in Arizona and Utah. All of these climate change-fueled natural disasters have had devastating effects on U.S. agriculture. In fact, the frequency of billion-dollar climate-based agriculture disasters in the United States has more than doubled since 2015, a trend expected to increase as climate change disasters persist and intensify.

The impacts of climate change—including droughts, floods, and extreme temperatures—on food security in the U.S. warrant new models of food production—and may even call for entirely moving away from traditional food production systems on outdoor fields.

Hippo Harvest, a controlled environment agriculture (CEA) company, takes CEA a step further and employs machine learning, robots, and artificial intelligence (AI) to grow vegetables sustainably in greenhouse environments.

Controlled environmental agriculture (CEA) includes a variety of technology-based solutions to farming. CEA ranges from simple greenhouses to full indoor and vertical farms with fully automated systems, including controlled lighting, irrigation, and ventilation.

Utilized for decades as a way to grow food in harsh climates and extend growing seasons, CEA is now being looked at as a strategy to adapt to increasingly unpredictable weather.

Photo courtesy of Hippo Harvest

Photo courtesy of Hippo Harvest

With CEA, farmers are far less at the mercy of the weather to grow their food. Moreover, on an acre of land, CEA farmers can produce a yield 11 times larger than traditional outdoor field farmers.

“What we're trying to do is improve the unit economic profile and build greenhouses that are cost-competitive with outdoor organic farming in fields,” says Eitan Marder-Eppstein, the founder and CEO of Hippo. “If you [we] can accomplish that, it will become a catalyst for the transition from outdoor production to controlled environment agriculture.”

While greenhouses are still not cost-competitive with outdoor organic agriculture, decreasing prices have created a growing consumer base. Additionally, as climate-related disasters intensify, the cost of outdoor production will increase while the cost of CEA continues to decrease.

Machine learning and AI allow for Hippo Harvest to constantly improve their production yield and lower costs, creating a flywheel effect: As they achieve more scale, they accumulate more data on optimal growing conditions, leading to more insights, lower costs, and, in turn, more scale.

“We're moving away from a linear model of agriculture, where you do research and development (R&D) in a university or in a research greenhouse, then you do your field trial, and you learn from that and get your insights, then your improvements, and then you deploy them, and then you scale them,”

notes Marder-Eppstein. With Hippo’s systems, production is constantly fine-tuned and adjusted to create the conditions for an optimal yield.

In the summer of 2020, Hippo raised an initial seed round of funding and built their first proof-of-concept greenhouse, roughly 6,000 square feet, in Half Moon Bay, California. In a six-month period, Hippo doubled its yields. Energy Impact Partners (EIP)—along with Amazon—has since invested in Hippo’s Series A round, allowing Hippo to expand production.

Hippo Harvest now has a 150,000-square-foot facility, about three and a half acres.

“The next two years will be about replication for us,” says Eitan-Eppstein. “Assuming that we hit our unit economic target, then it'll be like, “Ok, can we do this in a few different environments? How do we start getting to scale? How do we shift production to this modality and give consumers a choice where they don't have to decide on price.”

While both the public and the private sectors are vital to the transformation of the global food system, private-backed companies like Smallhold and Hippo Harvest are exciting examples of the private sector already at work in transforming the agricultural industry toward sustainability.

People, Profits, and Planet: Can Mutually Beneficial Corporate-Indigenous Partnerships Protect all Three?

By Gillian Meyers, SFS ‘23

Dotted along highways crisscrossing the country, scattered among towns and nestled into buzzing urban intersections, Shell’s cheerful yellow logo is a familiar sight for most Americans. Many even sought it out after BP’s disastrous 2010 oil spill.

Yet Shell’s record is equally stained: since the 1990s, it has relentlessly pushed into Ogoniland, a lush corner of the Niger Delta as rich in gnarled mangroves and teeming rainforests as it is in oil. Though Shell’s exploitation has faced unwavering pushback from the Indigenous Ogoni people since it began, Shell has continued extracting oil, paying Nigerian soldiers to torture, assault, and murder innocent Indigenous people who got in the way.

Oil prospecting subdivided and contaminated native territory, forcing the Ogoni people into smaller and smaller pieces of land that are now overcrowded and underfunded. Though Shell has yet to atone for its long-standing mistreatment of people and environmental destruction, over a decade of relentless litigation finally pushed Shell to settle with the widows of murdered tribal leaders in 2009 for $15.5 million. However, no amount of funding can restore the land and the lives

upended by Shell’s extraction, raising a fundamental question: how can businesses justify the cost-benefit analysis of a project when there are human lives in play?

Settlement agreements–like that of Shell with the Ogoni people–are a result of Indigenous struggle for international recognition of the harm caused to their land and livelihood by natural resource exploitation. In recent years, the Indigenous rights movement has gained strength and scope. Contemporary Indigenous protests often aim to damage business' reputations as easily accessed reserves run dry leaving remote tribal land the main target for exploitation.

By widely sharing the impacts of corporate abuses, Indigenous peoples have enlarged the reputational and legal risks of exploiting Indigenous land. This was the case with the 2007 UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples which explicitly requires the Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC) of Indigenous groups before extraction can occur. Corporations have also become incentivized to build positive, healthy relationships with Indigenous communities resulting in use agreements between corporations and Indigenous tribes.

Corporate interactions with Indigenous communities are usually evaluated by the environmental and social aspects of the ESG (environmental social governance) framework.

In the case of Shell’s impact on Ogoni land, both environmental and social factors are at play. There is both the environmental poisoning of Ogoni forest and waterways as well as the impact of Shell-funded murders of several tribal leaders who played significant roles in their communities.

In order to consider how Shell might move forward with creating an ESG agreement that would mitigate its harm to the Ogoni people, it is useful to examine other agreements reached between corporations and Indigenous peoples.

The partnership between the Black River tribe and Tembec, a Canadian forestry company, is an example of one such positive relationship between an Indigenous community and a powerful corporation. Black River, a tribe of roughly 750 people living near Winnipeg, might seem outnumbered against Tembec, an industrial giant employing 10,000 people. Yet the two have founded a valuable partnership. The Black River tribe contribute sustainable forest management practices based on traditional knowledge, while Tembec provides courses on modern forestry to increase tribe members’ skills and employability.

Tembec succeeded because it achieved what other corporations overlook: inclusive communication. Its Regional Advisory Committees allow community members––including Indigenous people––to directly discuss their needs with Tembec representatives. In addition, Tembec works with Manitoba Model Forest, a nonprofit that brings together tribal communities, scientists and natural resource specialists, industry, and government to establish common values related to sustainable forest development.

By listening to (and acting on) Indigenous peoples’ needs, Tembec and the Black River tribe created a mutually beneficial relationship that improved the earning potential of both parties, while profiting from natural resources sustainably. Developing a positive relationship between the Indigenous tribe and the foestry company through ESG principles proved to help mitigate the reputational and legal risks to the company’s bottom line.

Other companies can achieve similar partnerships by following three guiding practices: gaining Indigenous consent for exploitation, understanding the business case for ESG, and drawing on cross-sectoral knowledge.

First, multinational corporations must obtain Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC) for any activities undertaken in Indigenous territory, characterized by inclusive dialogue, transparent goals, and accurate communications. Even though the right to consent is guaranteed by the UN, corporations must

increase funding and support for internal departments that manage their social relationships with tribes. In addition, external ethics review boards, context-specific training, and shareholder engagement can all help avoid unethical behavior.

Companies should formalize processes for gaining consent wherever possible and draw on outside support–such as the First Peoples Worldwide, a coalition of North American tribes–to ensure their practices are beneficial for all parties involved. This organization facilitates FPIC by enabling dialogue between Indigenous people and representatives of extractive industries. In addition, FPW funds the translation of documents into native languages to ensure that Indigenous communities’ consent is always informed.

Secondly, businesses must examine the financial case for ESG agreements. In actuality, businesses are measured predominantly using balance sheets rather than the ESG framework so business needs incentives to prioritize ESG initiatives. The First Peoples Worldwide’s 2014 Indigenous Rights Risk Report found that companies with lower social risks had higher returns than those with exploitative community relationships. And a positive impact on the environment can also drive better performance: sustainability is now viewed as a core element of large corporations’ strategies, and multinationals have already lost millions from failing to address climate-related risks.

Third, cross-sectoral research and collaboration should drive business decisions. While the Manitoba-Tembec partnership model of sustainable harvesting is an exciting indication of the the kinds of beneficial cross-sectoral work that can be done, research on the relationship between corporations and Indigenous groups is thin. This is due in large part to the way in which Indigenous knowledge has long been undervalued by Western science. If corporations can incorporate stewardship methods perfected by Indigenous groups over centuries, as well as cultural and spiritual practices that prohibit pollution and degradation, they can align with both the environmental and social criterion of the ESG framework, to the benefit of all parties involved.

Until Shell and similar companies change their behaviors, ESG principles remain a thin veneer for a continued pattern of exploitation. Yet, companies can drive real change by backing their words with genuine action: they can establish relationships with Indigenous communities built on trust, consent, and clear communication. In doing so, they may just unlock the ability to simultaneously safeguard people, profits, and the planet.

Photo by Dan Cristian Padure via Unsplash

A Win for the Environment:

How Brazil’s new president has the chance to steer the country back to the future

By Olivia Ainbinder

Like the US elections of 2020, the 2022 presidential election in Brazil was decisive in determining whether the world can achieve a zero-carbon future. Brazil is one of the greatest greenhouse gas global emitters, representing 4% of the world's emissions. It is also home to the Amazon, the largest tropical forest on the planet, which stores an enormous amount of carbon and contributes to the regulation of the global climate. In other words, a lot was at stake.

So, what led to Lula da Silva’s win?

The Environment Under Jair Bolsonaro

In the hands of an authoritarian president, Jair Bolsonaro, Brazil was on the road to potential collapse. During his presidential term from 2019 to 2022, Bolsonaro denied science, attacked minorities, and neglected critical issues. His term was characterized by ineffective COVID-19 policies, weak environmental protection laws, and disregard for Indigenous peoples.

Bolsonaro attacked and dismantled environmental institutions. His government allocated insufficient public resources

to critical environmental departments, persecuted civil servants, excluded members of civil society from important decision-making spaces, and nominated individuals openly against the environmental agenda to public offices, such as the Minister of Environment.

In addition, Bolsonaro neglected to care for Indigenous peoples, as shown by the recently discovered humanitarian crisis in the Yanomami Indigenous lands, which revealed serious health problems in the Indigenous population, such as malnutrition, malaria, and respiratory diseases.

During his four-year term, his government loosened standards on previously established environmental regulation, which had been part of a globally recognized framework of Brazilian environmental policies. A report from the Talanoa Institute identified over 800 regulations from the Bolsonaro era that contributed to this dismantling process. Four hundred and seventy two of these changes require immediate revision to avoid more severe environmental consequences. Some of these regulations altered the way in which environmental infractions were investigated and punished, cut off resources for important funds, and revised policies protecting forests and Native peoples.

After Bolsonaro took office, there was a significant rise in harmful activities in the forests, including a recorded 60% increase in deforestation.

Consequently, after Bolsonaro took office, there was a significant rise in harmful activities in the forests, including a recorded 60% increase in deforestation.

A Desire for Change

Ultimately, Brazil’s voters chose to elect former president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, who previously governed Brazil from 2003 to 2011. The recent election was close, and Lula won by a difference of just over 2 million votes.

Lula was a president who, unlike Bolsonaro, placed Brazil as a protagonist in the international arena for fighting deforestation. During Lula’s first terms, his administration implemented a series of positive environmental policies. Led by Marina Silva, the Minister of the Environment, they focused on strengthening environmental monitoring and control policies, expanding protected areas and indigenous lands, and establishing public funds to finance climate and sustainability projects. Several laws and policies were created for setting environmental quality standards and protecting Brazilian biomes as well.

With Lula and Marina Silva, the fight against one of Brazil’s worst climate foes– deforestation– was treated at the highest level of the federal government’s political agenda. With the implementation of these policies, deforestation fell by 83% between 2004 and 2012 and Brazilian emissions decreased as well.

Furthermore, during Lula’s government– and later during that of his successor, Dilma Rousseff– Brazil became a signatory of important international climate agreements. In 2009, Brazil was recognized worldwide for having been a pioneer for its National Climate Change Policy. It internalized the voluntary goal, which it assumed before developing countries had to establish targets under the Climate Change Convention, to reduce 80% of deforestation in the Amazon by 2020.

This was unfulfilled by Bolsonaro. The rate of deforestation in 2020 was three times higher than the established target, putting the country even further away from its goals of the Paris Agreement and its NDC to reduce GHG emissions by 37% by 2025 and 43% by 2030.

In contrast, Lula poses as a leader who takes seriously the global issues faced by Brazil. As the newly elected president, in his emblematic speech at COP27, he promised to achieve zero deforestation not only in the Amazon, but also in other critical Brazilian biomes, strengthening environmental monitoring and control institutions, as well as imposing strict laws regarding illegal activities in the forest.

So far, in his first month as president, Lula and his new Ministers– which include Marina Silva again as Minister of the Environment and Sonia Guajajara, an Indigenous woman, as the newly created Minister of Indigenous Peoples–have already revoked 58 of Bolsonaro’s regulation changes, as identified by Talanoa. In addition, he promised to treat climate change as a priority in his government and proposed the city of Belém, on the Amazon, as a Brazilian candidate to host COP30.

Lula has the solutions available to meet Brazil’s commitments and the potential to once again become a prestigious leader in the fight against climate change. He has in his hands a unique opportunity for combining Brazil’s previously successful policies with new solutions, reversing Bolsonaro's recent trail of destruction and steering Brazil back to the future.

Olivia Ainbinder is a lawyer and a climate and sustainability consultant. She has previously worked at the Talanoa Institute, a climate policy think tank based in Brazil.

The 2022 presidential election in Brazil was decisive in determining whether the world can achieve a zero-carbon future.

“Lula and his new Ministers have already revoked 58 of Bolsonaro’s regulation changes.”

Frontiers of Mariculture Series

By Candice Powers, COL’22 & Maine

Aquaculture Pioneers Program Intern

Changing our minds, stomachs, and planet:

The mission to make kelp mainstream

This is a part of a three part series on mariculture in the United States.

The ocean waves lapping the shoreline of Machiasport, a sleepy town of fewer than 1,000 people situated along the coast of Downeast Maine, is a soothing sight. If you look beyond the jagged coastline, vibrant buoys bob in synchrony, unsuspiciously supporting a sea crop that flourishes just feet below the surface: kelp.

This ocean farm belongs to Morgan-Lea Fogg, a Machiasport local who is now the resident farmer and Director of Impact & Special Projects for AKUA, a kelp foods company founded in 2019.

AKUA is one of many similar kelp-centered enterprises that have sprung up in recent years as seaweed grown in the United States has taken a front seat in aquaculture ventures. In Maine alone, farmed seaweed harvests grew from 15,000 pounds in 2015 to over 325,000 pounds in 2019. And more and more businesses within the growing industry are hatching innovative ways to normalize this nutritious, environmentally-restorative sea vegetable.

Why is kelp farming so exciting?

How Kelp Can Help

Ocean-based kelp farming has emerged as not only one of the most sustainable methods of aquaculture, but an actively restorative one. Contrary to its land-dwelling relatives, kelp requires no freshwater, no pesticides, and no arable land to

flourish. This maintenance-free system actively protects the surrounding ecosystem from the hazards of ocean acidification (OA) by soaking up dissolved carbon dioxide for use in photosynthesis, thereby restoring pH to healthy levels. Kelp can also help prevent harmful algal blooms (HABs) by absorbing anthropogenic inputs of nitrogen and phosphorus–nutrients that stimulate the toxic proliferation of algae– to feed itself.

U.S. investment in this method of regenerative ocean farming (ROF) has grown substantially in the past decade as people have sought to supplant the tradition of purchasing seaweed products from China and Indonesia. With imports accounting for over 95% of edible seaweed products available in the U.S., there is plenty of room for homegrown farmers to take over. Such a switch would also eliminate the monetary and emissions costs of cross-continent transportation. Farmers such as Fogg are therefore “[creating] nutritious, delicious kelp-based products that support ocean farmers and fight climate change.”

Currently, Maine and Alaska are farming the majority of domestic seaweed biomass, but regenerative ocean farming is quickly expanding throughout New England and the West Coast. Researchers project U.S.-farmed seaweed harvests will quadruple by 2035. Expansion of the kelp farming industry creates and diversifies coastal jobs, provides healthy seafood from local sources, and buffers marine wildlife from the impacts of OA and HABs. So, what's left to do?

Sell this seaweed all along the seashore.

“Kelp is making a new name for itself by flaunting its applicability and nutrition.”

Taking Our Taste Buds Out to Sea

Finally growing out of the boutique, US-grown seaweed market in 2019, kelp is making a new name for itself by flaunting its applicability and nutrition. Kelp is a versatile food that can be kept fresh, frozen, dried, or ground into an array of products, from noodles to seasoning. This salty sea veggie is packed with potassium, magnesium, fiber, essential fatty acids (omega-3’s), high quality proteins, and vitamins A, B, C, E, and K. A single ⅓ cup serving of kelp can satisfy your daily iodine requirements– a mineral that is essential for regulating metabolism, among other important bodily processes.

commercially sold kelp burger. Since their launch, AKUA has tripled their purchasing volume and garnered more capacity for food research and development, adding pasta, ground “meat,” and a kelp “krab” cake to their list of creations. “We’re on a mission to make kelp mainstream,” says Boyd Myers.

And they’re not alone. Back in Maine, Atlantic Sea Farms (ASF) is making waves with their award-winning kelpbased kimchi, fresh seaweed salad, and smoothie-ready frozen kelp cubes. ASF even boasts high-profile partners such as Sweetgreen and Daily Harvest. Alaska’s Barnacle Foods is creating a line of salsa made from bull kelp that packs an umami punch. Eat More Kelp (Long Island, NY), Seagrove Kelp Co. (Alaska), and Blue Evolution (Pacific Coast) are also hopping on the regenerative seaweed farming boat. Excitingly, more than eighty percent of domestic seaweed production growth through 2035 is projected to be stimulated by value-added edible products.

The U.S. non-profit Greenwave is leading the charge to establish more regenerative ocean farming (ROF) operations and is now directing a market innovation program that helps open up new business channels for these ROF farmers. AKUA is just one of the companies that Greenwave is partnering with to develop desirable kelp commodities.

Courtney Boyd Myers, the co-founder of AKUA, launched her first product, kelp jerky, in 2019 upon learning about the vast environmental, economic, and health benefits of kelp farming. Their new headline product which propelled the company to the national stage is the world’s first

Kelp Can “Usurp the Burp”

The benefits of kelp are being explored beyond the human market, creating an even larger demand for biomass. One surprising candidate: cows. There are about 3 billion ruminant, plant-eating animals on the planet, including cows, sheep and goats, that burp methane as part of their digestive process. Methane has almost 30 times the short-term, heat-trapping power as carbon dioxide, making it an especially potent greenhouse gas. According to the EPA, domestic livestock in the U.S. contributes 36% of

Greenwave co-founder Bren Smith harvests sugar kelp from his regenerative ocean farm in Long Island Sound

Photo by Ron Gautreau, Greenwave

Researchers are finding that a seaweed-enriched diet reduces methane production from ruminant livestock by over 90%

“U.S.-farmed seaweed harvests will quadruple by 2035.”

anthropogenic emissions, and in California alone, 1.8 million dairy cows together emit the CO2 equivalent of 2.5 million cars each year. In some environmentalists' perfect world, the entire planet would be vegan. However, this tactic ignores the 1.3 billion people that partially or entirely depend on the livestock industry as a vital source of income, the cultural implications, and the world’s dependency on animal-based protein.

Through kelp driven innovation, perhaps we do not have to condemn livestock production outright. Researchers at James Cook University in Australia explored the ancient Greek and Icelandic practice of raising cattle by the ocean on kelpbased diets to explore how kelp-based diets for cattle can reduce methane emissions. The team tested over 20 species of seaweed in cow’s diets and came up with one clear climatefriendly winner: Asparagopsis taxiformis

Whereas some species reduced methane emissions by 50% when comprising up to 20% of the feed, A. taxiformis reduced methane production by 99% when only taking up 2% of the diet.

Kinley and his team realized that bromoform–a molecule found in A. taxiformis –disrupts an enzyme used by

methane-producing gut bacteria in the course of digestion. In addition to solving an environmental problem, seaweed feeds also help farmers save on cattle cuisine: by minimizing energy waste in animal digestion (~15% of feed expenses are lost in methane emissions) the livestock can grow and produce more milk while requiring less sustenance.

Many growers and foodies originally projected that kelp will take over as “the new kale” and come to dominate the plates of health-minded consumers. Despite this enthusiasm, kelp still needs all (I’m looking at you, cows) of our curiosity and support to reach an economy of scale in which such nutrient-rich, climate-friendly creations can compete with other GMO, lab-grown, and resource-intensive food alternatives on the market today.

The bottom line, says Myers: “If we can move people’s stomachs, we can move their minds to be conscious of the impact of their decisions around food and in other parts of their life.” The next time you visit the grocery store, go out to eat, or talk to a friend, try to make a choice that will actively help our farmers, our seas, and our planet.

Kelp requires no freshwater, no pesticides, and no arable land to flourish

Kelp is on the way : The mission to make kelp mainstream

This is a part of a three part series on mariculture in the United States.

For Michael Doall, the salty waters surrounding Long Island have long harbored promises for exploration and entertainment. Growing up along the coast, Doall spent countless days fishing, surfing, and swimming at the beach, partly because his mother let him skip school on especially lovely spring afternoons. “From birth, one of my passions has been the ocean,” Doall says, a lasting enthusiasm that ultimately led to his career in regenerative aquaculture and shellfish restoration. While his days of skipping class to bum it at the beach may be over, you can still find Doall in the bays of Long Island, dedicating hours to researching and restoring the marine organisms that provide innumerable benefits to the ecosystem he calls home.

When Doall began studying marine biology, regenerative aquaculture—the farming of marine species in open waters to bolster habitat quality—was far from common in the U.S. However, having always had gardens growing up, Doall found that the field of ocean aquaculture brought together his passions for the ocean and cultivation.

Doall was first exposed to regenerative aquaculture 20 years ago when The Nature Conservancy started a hard-shell clam and oyster restoration program in Long Island’s Great South Bay and reached out to Doall for his analytic expertise. Bivalves, such as clams and oysters, are essential to ocean ecosystems. They suck up excess nutrients and sediment from waterways, improving water quality and preventing harmful algal blooms. At The Nature Conservancy, Doall grew shellfish in cages across the bay to study how different marine environments would support these species.

There, he realized how much he enjoyed growing the oysters and rebuilding marine ecosystems, so he dove deeper into open-water aquaculture by establishing some of the first oyster

restoration projects in New York Harbor (NYH). While first working at these sites, he aimed to use oysters solely for environmental purposes—the harbor’s pollution meant organisms wouldn’t be safe for consumption. Later, however, he had “the epiphany that oysters do the same thing in an aquaculture setting as they do in nature.” By growing oysters for human consumption, these filter feeders would naturally improve water quality by consuming excess nutrients while providing a sustainable source of fresh seafood.

Inspired, in 2008 Doall started his own oyster farm: Montauk Shellfish Company. He took a lot of pride in being an oyster farmer, stating that “one of the most important activities you can do is to grow food and feed your community.” And that’s exactly what he did. Doall was on the cusp of an “oyster renaissance” and would soon witness Montauk take off beyond his expectations.

Doall would next discover the missing piece to make his project sustainable: kelp. During his time as an oyster farmer, Doall visited Maine where he learned from the first U.S. kelp farmers that by diversifying his crop to include kelp, which has an opposite growing season to oysters, he could complement his shellfish operation (kelp in the winter, shellfish in the summer).

The relationship between kelp and oysters would later inspire Doall’s research. After selling his farm in 2017, Doall still considers himself a farmer in his current role as Associate Director for Bivalve Restoration and Aquaculture at Stony Brook University. Doall combined his experience in cultivating both oysters and kelp in his new role to create a marine-cleaning superteam to counteract eutrophication that has long plagued Long Island.

Frontiers of Mariculture Series

“Doall developed a specialized technique for growing kelp in the shallow coastal waters of Long Island.”

01

Ocean farmer Michael Doall manages a kelp rope in the waters off Long Island, New York

Photo provided by Michael Doall

Like oysters, kelp sucks excess nitrogen out of the water, helping to keep our oceans clean. Kelp also captures carbon dioxide from the water column as it photosynthesizes. Harvesting the kelp then removes carbon from the ocean, making the seaweed an important tool for combating harmful ocean acidification. Unfortunately, Long Island does not yet allow kelp farming due to a decade-long battle surrounding permits. Nonetheless, Doall has been able to implement research projects over the last four years dedicated to bringing the benefits of kelp to the area.

Through one such research project, Doall developed a specialized technique for growing kelp in the shallow coastal waters of Long Island, as opposed to traditional kelp farming done in much deeper waters. He was impressively able to grow 12-foot-long kelp fronds in only two feet of water. This compact feat can help not only shallow-water ocean farmers, but also other species residing in shallow bays, where poor water flow otherwise means poor water quality.

The nutrient-extraction capabilities of kelp are especially important in Long Island. As Doall says of his hometown, “Long Islanders love their lawns and golf courses.” He tells me about the truckloads of fertilizer that are brought in during the warmer months, dumping nitrogen all across the island. A farmer at heart, Doall envisions growing forests of kelp along the coast to absorb the nitrogen runoff from shore. Once harvested, this kelp can be developed into nitrogen-rich fertilizer packed with other micronutrients and biostimulants that can be used throughout the community. It would be a closed nitrogen loop, lowering the demand for imported fertilizer and delivering environmental and economic benefits to the island. Doall plans to explore such a system’s feasibility this summer through garden studies on kelp-based fertilizer’s benefits.

Along Doall’s journey to restore his local ecosystem, he encountered a variety of challenges. Despite support from large environmental groups such as the Nature Conservancy

and Pew Charitable Trust, regenerative aquaculture must compete with a variety of stakeholders on the water. Recreational boaters, commercial fishermen, and even windsurfers have opposed Doall’s projects.

“In the end, all these groups recognize the value of regenerative farming, but a lot of people don’t want it in an area where they’re doing something,” he says. There is also a so-called “social carrying capacity” for aquaculture: as soon as over ~5% of the coastline is occupied by ocean farmers, “people start freaking out” and are quick to complain about the oyster farms visible from their backyard. Nevertheless, Doall has found that a healthy, bustling ocean can unify disparate marine interests.

At the end of the day, Doall believes in his mission to support ocean farming and rebuild shellfish populations in his home waters. While he knows these nature-based projects are not the only climate solutions, the benefits of regenerative aquaculture and shellfish restoration cannot be ignored. Aquaculture projects secure jobs and income while nutrient bio-extraction revitalizes the ecosystem, a win-win for coastal economies and environments. Moreover, because of overfishing and marine habitat degradation, fishing communities that have long relied on the ocean for their sense of identity are losing their cultural ties. Luckily, according to Doall, “regenerative aquaculture is a way to bring that cultural identity back…so there's a win-win-win.”

You will always find Doall working away in the waters of Long Island, happy as a clam, because, “When do you plant a victory flag? Never.” The fight for climate-resilient solutions never stops, but local, restorative projects such as Doall’s continue to provide hope for a greener future.

“A farmer at heart, Doall envisions growing forests of kelp along the coast to absorb the nitrogen runoff from shore.”

Oysters cultivated for their taste, and the health of the ocean

Photo provided by Michael Doall

Stewardship of Our Oceans Should Belong to the First Nations People

The recent attention on advancements in mariculture is exciting for environmentalists and ocean activists. But for Jen Rose Smith and her fellow dAXunhyuu (Eyak people), seaweed has always been a treasured tool as well as a tasty treat. The Eyak peoples have developed an array of uses for kelp, from using specially prepared kelp as an anti-crack finish for canoes to pressing it into blocks for later consumption. It is an important reminder that mariculture is not a new development but rather part of a long history. While this knowledge has persisted in the community, centuries of imperialism and colonialism have intentionally disrupted traditional Indigenous activities.

As a result of extractive and polluting capitalist ventures, humanity is now engaged in a fight for our ocean’s survival–and along with it, the livelihoods of those who depend on it for sustenance, income, and cultural meaning. With industrial overfishing and marine environmental destruction threatening fish and crustacean health, we desperately need to overhaul our maritime relationships and seafood systems.

A wealth of environmentally preservative marine traditions stewarded by Indigenous communities provide sustainable models. Indigenous scholar Kii'iljuus Barbara Wilson of the Cumshewa Eagle Clan notes, "It's time to…learn about all the things my ancestors did to ensure that there was enough fish and octopus — to look after and respect the environment.” Our planet is in dire need of sustainable food sources that both support our deteriorating natural ecosystems and nourish increasing human populations; luckily, these requirements are met by multiple Indigenous seafood systems.

There is an extensive history of First Nations people across the world practicing mariculture, or the cultivation of marine

life for food in enclosed areas of open waters. For example, Indigenous communities along the northwest coast of North America have long harvested herring eggs from kelp, cedar, and spruce fronds strategically placed in shallow ocean waters. These organic materials enhance spawning grounds, therefore improving the likelihood that herring will return.

In New Zealand, the Māori people have engaged in mara mataitai– various approaches to mariculture– to ensure collective food security since 925. In one approach, Māori communities use bull kelp to fertilize beds of toheroa, a large bivalve mollusk, to enhance its productivity. Māori mariculture is informed by Utu, a concept dictating reciprocity with the species and ecosystems from which humans derive our resources. If this principle is replicated worldwide, people can bolster and protect critical ocean habitats.

This is a part of a three part series on mariculture in the United States.

Researchers, tribal nations, students, and various Indigenous stewards are coming together through The Cross-Pacific Regional Collaborative Hub.

One of the most productive Indigenous mariculture innovations, the clam garden has the potential to radically transform our seafood systems if adopted at a large scale. For 4,000 years, various populations have been constructing clam gardens by building a rock wall at the low tide line that traps sediment, thereby reducing the slope of the beach and increasing clam habitat area. Clam gardens support enhanced production by creating a larger area of optimal intertidal height qualified with prime growth conditions. In British Columbia, butter clams within gardens had 1.96 times the biomass and 2.44 times the density as their counterparts in unmodified beaches.

These are just a few examples of Indigenous mariculture innovations that bolster seafood supplies while fostering a restorative relationship with our seas– all without utilizing industrial resources or exploiting the environment. The seafood industry is currently missing an invaluable opportunity to learn from the skills willing to be shared by Indigenous cultivators to create a more productive food system. Western science continues to confirm what First Nations people have known about the success of their seafood systems for centuries, but the seafood industry has to be willing to listen.

In bitter irony, “Indigenous people are now the 'outliers' on their own ancestral lands,” despite their superior, sustainable stewardship. Thus, the first and most obvious step forward

towards justice and a more sustainable world is ensuring access of First Nations people to their land and oceans. This requires support from industrial actors and government programming alike. Governments can start by reversing restrictive policies such as Canada’s Fisheries Act that asserts federal authority over all fisheries in Canada, undermining the rights of Indigenous communities to exercise their expertise over the waters they’ve long depended on.

In a present-day model program, researchers, tribal nations, students, and various Indigenous stewards are coming together through The Cross-Pacific Regional Collaborative Hub, funded by NOAA’s Sea Grant program in Washington state. This project is initiating research, outreach, and education in collaboration with Indigenous communities across Hawaii, Alaska, and Washington to advance Indigenous aquaculture practices in the Pacific region. The group hosts summits, advances existing restoration sites, and plans for future investments in Indigenous aquaculture.

Returns to Indigenous ocean stewardship, accompanied by reparatory and collaborative action, can create sustainable, robust seafood systems and also help rebuild the industry’s broken connection to the sea.

Under the Jamaican Sea: Turning seaweed into carbon credits at Kee Farms

Nicholas Kee, CEO and co-founder of Kee Farms, interviewed by Nishitha Vivek, MS ‘23 & Common Home Editor

What is Kee Farms?

Kee Farms is a regenerative ocean farm network based in Jamaica. We try to mitigate climate change by growing seaweed, oysters, sea cucumbers, and sea grass, and preserving mangroves. These biomasses and organisms are then converted into products (such as agar, carrageenan, biochar, and hydrochar) which are useful for everyday society.

What is your revenue model?

We center our business around growing and selling the biomass we cultivate in the ocean. We either sell the seaweed to be processed into byproducts or convert them ourselves. We create biochar and hydro char, which are soil and remediation materials, as well as activated carbon, which we can use for water and air filtration at an industrial level. Agar and carrageenan are also two important byproducts of our seaweed. The healthcare, food, and services industries use these byproducts extensively.

Accruing carbon credits is another prong in our revenue model. What we grow on our ocean farm removes carbon from the atmosphere. We earn carbon credits for this work, which carries a financial value to us. Our work (for example, our oyster reefs) also increases biodiversity, cleans waterways, and provides clear habitats for organic growth and restoration.

Another revenue stream is facilitating research from institutions and possibly individuals that might want to do some work with us on an R&D level.

We also train fishing communities in Jamaica on how to replicate our cultivation process, so that they can set up their own ocean farm and then sell the biomass (namely seaweed, sea cucumbers, and sea grass) back to us.

How did your multi-pronged business model develop?

We've been running for a little over two years now. The barriers to entry are extremely high within the climate change space. In my experience, it is mainly because of regulatory concerns.

We spent half of our existence working with the Jamaican government, and within the Caribbean countries, to ensure that we have policies in place to facilitate our activities, as well as facilitate others entering into this space. During that time, we relied heavily on grants to help bootstrap a lot of our core operations and R&D.

That learning led to a new transitory phase of providing fertilizer as a by-product of the seaweed that we collect. In doing so, we activated a new revenue stream: using by-products.

With respect to carbon credits, entering into that marketplace is a bit tricky again due to the lack of legislation or regulatory framework in place. That makes this space uncertain, but it also makes us the front runners who try to inculcate projects like presale carbon credits into the conversation. It is on the horizon for us, but it's not too far.

Since Kee Farms is doing so many different things, how do you choose among competing priorities?

Our overarching narrative is based on our top two priorities. First, to ensure that marginalized communities, like fisherfolk, gain access to some added revenue streams or alternative revenue streams based on their precarious nature and risk as a result of climate change. Our second priority is ocean regeneration and restoration.

As these issues are so complex and with occasional tradeoffs, we are nudged to incorporate every single variable, all at once.

That nuance can stagnate conversation but we try to mitigate the inherent difficulty in balancing priorities as much as possible.

Why did you start the business? What gap did you see, and attempt to fill, in efforts to reduce climate change?

During the pandemic, I was definitely burnt out, so I decided to do something outside of the norm. I already had exposure and nascent experience in the climate change space through other side quests in life and I had done a lot of policy work.

In policy work, I saw a whole lot of issues in how we think about climate change mitigation for small island developing

states, like Jamaica. I got a bit frustrated that we were always on the defensive approach with respect to how we think about protecting ourselves and preparing ourselves for the future.

The entrepreneur within me was pushing for a more aggressive and offensive approach. I wanted us to significantly contribute to solutions with the resources that we have available, and to compete at an international level. The ocean is a critical part of the solution. I also had some practical exposure to the climate change space through renewable energy tech, such as working on solar mobile collectors and lab experiments on artificial photosynthesis within organic electronics. It made sense to me to leverage my background and interests and jump in.

Nicholas Kee and the Kee Farms team taking a break from work to drink coconut water

Photo by Kee Farms team

Tagged and cultured gracilaria seaweed species being grown

Photo by Kee Farms

You mentioned that there has been a bit of a “defensive culture,” could you elaborate?

The Global South generally tries to negotiate with the Global North for funding with which to protect ourselves. But it has felt like a losing battle. It has felt as if there isn’t enough leverage for us to really participate more meaningfully in a lot of the conversations.

This motivated me to shift my approach to a more offensive one - to have communities be more involved, have them growing seaweed, creating products and selling those products back into the Global North. This way there can be a more harmonious approach to the way we think about climate change mitigation–a way that minimizes rather than perpetuates the power dynamic between the Global South and the Global North.

Was there any pushback from the traditional Jamaican fishing communities to your new methods and approaches?

We found that the older generation inherently was used to a lot of the older lifestyles that have allowed them to receive income over the past few decades, which was generally efficient for the time.

That is no longer necessarily the case, or at least their ways are not as profitable. We originally came in with approaches that were at least similar to how they would have thought about fishing activities in the past (for example, the ocean parameter). Even though it was greeted with some pushback we found that the younger generation of board members was more adept and willing to explore new ideas. This made us hopeful. Our objective is to grab those that can share our vision, and are able and willing to be trained.

Beyond the community of growers, you’re also a part of a community of entrepreneurs at Halcyon House in DC. How has that experience been?

We are all experiencing similar challenges in our own fields because we tend to be attacking very niche problems. We are all in a precarious spot with respect to the economy, and having to fundraise allows us to bring back all of the stories and lessons that we basically take to better our approaches. Something as simple as them coming back to me with different approaches on how to see different investors and find different opportunities, or even navigating the fundraising space has been incredibly helpful. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

Climate finance is a rapidly evolving space, and you are in some respects a first mover. How do you view that in terms of opportunities and risks?

I've been a bit optimistic on this front, with the point of view that this is going to be a long game. The true return on investment hence, won't necessarily come within the first five years, or even possibly ten. We're predicting a significant uptick as the pressures of climate change and debris degradation become more evident. And following that will be like a slew of people climbing on the bandwagon, who hadn't been on board before.

I used to be a tech entrepreneur. In my experience, the climate change space is vastly different from it and far more precarious. We have to think about such aspects as policy, private sector interests, and product-market fit structure along with the dynamic overarching environmental considerations. It is definitely overwhelming if you don't have the grades, and even if I dare say, financial runway to execute and keep this going.

Five years from now, what would you want to see at Kee Farms?

I definitely want to grab hold of setting operations in three to five more countries within the Caribbean region, especially in the activated carbon market. From an ecosystem standpoint, we are hoping that more attention will be paid to the Caribbean by the Global North with respect to opportunities for climate change mitigation and revenue within the region.

Invasive Insects: Examining the Spread of The Cabbage White Butterfly

A look at Earth Commons affiliated faculty member Professor Judith Miller’s latest ecological research.

By Maya Snyder, SFS ‘24 & Common Home Editor

How do invasive species spread? Professor Judith Miller, a Georgetown professor in the Department of Mathematics and Statistics focusing on mathematical models, hopes to answer this critical question with her research. Dr. Miller studies the genetics of invasive species and how they adapt–or fail to adapt– to the new environment they are invading.

One of Dr. Miller’s recent projects focuses on the spread of the Cabbage White butterfly in eastern North America. It is a collaboration with a team including Georgetown faculty members Leslie Ries, Naresh Neupane, Mariana Abarca (now at Smith College), undergraduate student Jackson Foran (COL ‘22), and several other researchers.

The research investigates two main questions. First, what are the factors that explain how this butterfly spread in North America during the 19th century? And second, how did genetics and adaptation– or the failure to adapt– to new environments affect the speed and ultimate extent of the spread?

The team employs a mathematical model to examine how the species spread in North America. To dive into how it works, we sat down with Professor Miller.

“There are many kinds of mathematical models. The kind of models that I do most of my work with are called deterministic evolutionary models,” Dr. Miller explained. “‘Evolutionary’

in this context doesn't refer to Darwin, it means changing in time. In mathematics, if you know the state that a system is in right now, you can solve evolution equations to figure out what states it will be in the future.”

To illustrate their usefulness, Professor Miller proposed an example. “Say you have a hypothesis that a type of species had to adapt to a dry environment in order to spread into this new terrain. You can make a mathematical model that doesn’t allow adaptation to take place. If computer solutions of the model show the species invading new territory anyhow, then maybe adaptation isn’t crucial to the species’ expansion. If not, you can try models that do allow adaptation to see if their solutions come closer to what’s been observed in the field. You can explore models that incorporate certain hypotheses about, say, what kind of genetic architecture crucial traits have. Then you can see if those plausibly explain the spread of the species.”

In short, mathematical models allow you to make predictions and confirm hypotheses– a powerful tool in the field of spatial ecology.

In their research on the Cabbage White butterfly, Dr. Miller and her team compare the predictions of their model with a map showing the actual spread of the species during the time of their study. They are currently testing the model under the null hypothesis that there was no adaptive evolution involved. “We have some very interesting preliminary results, suggesting that it is difficult to explain the spread to Canada without relying on adaptation to a colder climate up north,” Miller noted.

Alternatively, establishing that there was adaptive evolution is more complicated. “To understand evolution, well, that involves how certain traits change. And to understand what the evolutionary pressure will be on the trait to change, you have to understand what would be the best possible form for that trait to take in terms of fitness,” Professor Miller explained. “For instance, if it's a flower, what's the absolute best time for the plant to bloom so that it will be fertilized and spread its seed and propagate the most offspring?”

The research process is further complicated by the project’s geographical scope. “For a huge geographical area, how are you ever going to do a field study to get that information?”

Professor Miller and her team proposed a solution. “An idea that we had was that, there's so much more climate data available than there is about any trait in a given species. When we think that fitness is very closely related to being well adapted to climate, hopefully incorporating all that climate data into a model will allow you to infer what the best trait values are over these huge areas and possibly large stretches of time.”

Where there was once no hope of determining the role of adaptation from any feasible field study, Professor Miller and her team are now able to continue their investigation with greater depth and more accuracy than ever before.

Special thanks to the Massive Data Institute for helping make this research possible.

In 2023, Professor Miller will be at the Institute for Advanced Study—Nantes where she is jumpstarting a project involving social networks and their influence on landowners willingness to take measures against invasive species. If you’re interested in reading more about her research projects, you can access her Georgetown faculty page here.

Using the results from their simulation, the team was able to plot the modeled original and anthropogenic spread in comparison to the observed population Image courtesy of Jackson Foran

Hello Hoya Harvest: Reflecting on Georgetown’s role in Urban Agriculture

by Shelby Gresch, COL ‘22 & Post-Baccalaureate Fellow with the Earth Commons

Georgetown is now home to the “Hoya Harvest Garden,” a mini urban farm at the heart of campus. Rows of spinach, squash, and sunflowers are replacing the ornamental roses and groundcover on the fourthfloor patio between the Regents and Hariri buildings. Where once there was a limited community of flies and beetles supported by decorative plants, the patio will soon hum with life supported by a diversity of flowers, herbs, and native plants intentionally chosen to foster insect communities and healthy soil. Georgetown students, faculty, and staff will still be able to sit and eat lunch in the space– and also engage with the deep roots of their food.

Spearheaded by the Earth Commons and in collaboration with multiple departments and individuals across campus, Hoya Harvest has been in the works for the past year and a half. It is set to launch as a two-year pilot the spring of 2023. After traveling around the DMV to learn from other universities, organizations, and individuals in the urban agriculture scene in the D.C. region, I began to conceptualize how Georgetown can fit into that network. Transforming existing planter beds on campus, the garden aims to highlight the environmental and social aspects of growing food in our warming world while also providing opportunities for hands-on learning and generating food for our community.

Food production is one of the major drivers of climate change and habitat destruction worldwide. However, food consumption is one of the most essential and communal human experiences. Hoya Harvest recognizes this and explores how we can grow clean, healthy,

and sustainable food in the 21st century. In doing so, Georgetown joins the rich tradition of urban agriculture in the District.

Before joining the Hoya Harvest project as a post-baccalaureate fellow, I served as a research assistant with Dr. Yuki Kato whose work centers around food justice and gentrification. We sat down with dozens of DC farmers to learn more about their experience in urban agriculture. For instance, we found that one of the biggest challenges many growers and prospective growers face is access to farming land. I began planning for Hoya Harvest with these valuable perspectives in mind.

Talking with people about urban agriculture also raised interesting questions about what role universities play in that space. For example, how does a university farm fit into this broader urban agriculture context when we are sheltered from many of the primary hurdles, like land access? Can we as a university act in solidarity with other urban farmers, or is our campus farm something entirely different?

To begin, “urban agriculture” is not always the most useful term because it can refer to a wide range of practices. Everything from pea-patch community gardens to half-acre rooftop farms to commercial aquaponics systems can be considered “urban ag,” and we have examples of all three in D.C. There are “big” farms (by urban standards), small farms, rooftop farms, indoor farms, and vertical farms. On these farms, I’ve had the pleasure of sampling kiwi berries, fish peppers, and szechuan buttons. Some farms have market stands, some sell to farmers' markets, others distribute through

Farm

Photo by Shelby Gresch

produce-share programs, and, still, others donate everything they grow to charitable organizations throughout the city. Many of these farms are explicit justice-driven nonprofits, but an equal number are more traditional for-profit businesses.

This diversity often leads to general confusion about the nature of urban agriculture. Without a clear understanding of its practices, the value of urban agriculture can sometimes appear muddled. Opponents argue that it’s not worth the time and money, claiming the space used to grow a handful of veggies would be better diverted to affordable housing or that the total yield is laughable compared to large market farms located outside of the city.

The champions of urban agriculture, on the other hand, point to the relatively high yield per acre, the minimization of food-distance-traveled (a large contributor to the carbon footprint of the food system), and a slew of other values. With the majority of the world already living in urban areas and the global migration to cities only expected to continue, these debates are increasingly relevant on the world stage and, consequently, right here at Georgetown University.

This raises another question. Traditionally, the schools that have been most connected to agriculture are land grant universities– universities that the Federal Government has funded to advance research into agricultural and mechanical sciences, such as Cornell, Rutgers, and most state schools. Located near rural communities and expected to share their knowledge with local farmers, their role in the food system appears relatively clear. But, why a farm at Georgetown? What is the point of a relatively small farm at a liberal arts university with no agricultural school?

The short answer is that food systems impact all of us. Agriculture is deeply embedded in broader social issues like sustainability and economic inequality; it is all but impossible to remove ourselves from the modern food system. Even a small garden can start to demonstrate the complex nature of agricultural production and encourage the community to think about where we access that most basic necessity – food. Already these questions have sparked valuable conversations on our role in the food system and engaged dozens of thoughtful students, faculty, and staff who have each offered input on what the garden should stand for and how it should operate.

Indeed, for supporters of urban agriculture, the perceived implications are far-reaching. In interviews with current and prospective growers, I’ve been told that urban farms can accomplish all of the following: ending food insecurity, restoring human relationships with the earth, breaking systemic cycles of poverty and violence, building strong communities, combating climate change… just to name a few themes. With

this all in mind, the goals of urban agriculture are certainly ambitious. I can’t help but wonder, though, is our campus farm truly capable of all that?

A through-line of my conversations with farmers has been that farming means failing. Fortunately, failure isn’t always bad. The whole enterprise is about adapting, trying new things, and seeing what works. A pest that decimates your crops one year may not even show up the next, or you may learn how to deal with it only to have it be replaced by a new scourge the very next season.

In other words, maybe the question is not whether urban agriculture can ultimately end world hunger or heal communities but simply whether or not it can help us take the first step toward progress. On our campus farm, this “first step” might mean practicing regenerative agriculture or measuring the predicted increase in biodiversity as we sequester carbon and decrease stormwater run-off. It might also mean hosting workshops, seminars, and garden parties for the whole community where the conversation can continue.

As we begin our urban agriculture project here at Georgetown, we must consider the significance of the ecology, history, and stewardship of this place. It often feels as though our little garden must get it all right. But Hoya Harvest does not need to be everything to everyone right away; it can adapt and build over the years as we learn from our failures and successes. After having seen the diversity of projects around the city and the enthusiasm right here at Georgetown, I can’t wait to watch our farm grow.

Interested in learning more about Georgetown's urban agriculture initiative? Find out more on their website and submit any ideas or suggestions you may have for the campus farm here!

Photo Courtesy of Shelby Gresch

Climate Change and Curriculum: Georgetown’s Core Pathways Initiative at Five Years

By Sarah Craig, SFS ‘23 & Assistant at The Red House

In a time seemingly defined by an unprecedented number of climate catastrophes, the need for environmental justice work has grown more salient than ever.

Among a myriad of Georgetown programs committed to environmentalism and sustainability is the Core Pathways Initiative, which seeks to address climate change by involving students from various disciplines in innovative curriculum.

Following a year-long, collaborative design process, Core Pathways was launched in 2017 by the Red House, Georgetown’s educational research and design unit. A variety of thematic courses that allow students to fulfill their core requirements is the program’s main component.

This innovative initiative will enable students to take, for example, “Ethics of Climate Change” and “Climate Change and Global Justice” to fulfill their philosophy requirement, or take “Literature and Environmental Crisis” and “Climate Storytelling” to fulfill their humanities requirement.

Interest or experience in environmentalism is not a requirement for the program—in fact, one of the goals of Core Pathways is to attract students who don’t have a background in the field.

For Core Pathways co-founder Randall Amster, involving students with various backgrounds is an essential part of achieving climate justice.

“To address [climate change] fully, it will require way more than any one person, community, discipline, field of study, methodology,” Amster said. “We're going to need all hands on

deck and all perspectives to even have a thought of meaningfully addressing the issue.”

Dagomar Degroot, a professor in the Core Pathways Initiative, concurs with the need for interdisciplinarity.

“Climate change is a problem that affects just about every aspect of human life—and not just human life, but every aspect of the planet. It has very complicated causes that are ultimately rooted in human action,” Degroot said. “Every discipline has something to offer.”

Degroot teaches two courses in the program, both of which focus on the history of climate change. To him, analyzing climate change through a historical lens is critical to his perspective of climate justice.

“I kind of wear two hats. One is the history hat, which you need to figure out how fast populations respond to climate change. But the other is a science hat, which you need to figure out how the climate has actually changed in the past in the first place. And so I'm a very interdisciplinary scholar—this pedagogy really makes a lot of sense to me,” he said.

For Charlie Wang (SFS ’22), the interdisciplinary nature of the program was a huge draw.

“I think it's very interesting, the way that Core Pathways is structured—I got to really understand the issues regarding climate change, and also some of the potential ways to address it in a very interdisciplinary way,” he said.

Photo by Daniel Olah via Unsplash

A core tenet of Core Pathways is pedagogical innovation, something that has become synonymous with a commitment to climate justice. Students take a series of four 1.5 credit classes across one academic year; with each class being just 7.5 weeks, students have the opportunity to explore a different area of a core requirement as it relates to climate change. According to Amster, the modular structure allows students to explore alternative course structures and, in turn, various ways of addressing climate change.

“[The modular structure] is not only to make it pedagogically innovative; it's also to reflect the idea that we felt that it was critically important for students to think about climate change through a range of different perspectives and lenses,” he said.

A key component of pedagogical innovation in the program is a high degree of student involvement, something that can be found in both the classroom and the actual development of the courses.

“Core Pathways was built for students, but it was also built by students,” said Amster. “And I would say, as a five-year-old project, now, it's continually being built with students.”

Degroot identified student involvement and feedback as foundational to the program.

“What was important for us, from the beginning, was to bring those student fellows into the actual planning meetings, right from the start,” Degroot said. “And the point of that is that it's not just faculty imposing a kind of solution or pedagogy onto the students, but that it's a bit more of a back and forth process.

I think that's part of the reason why the curriculum ultimately works well for students.”

Students in the program have the opportunity to become Core Pathways Fellows, who assist with courses, develop integrative experiences, and take up individual projects.

As a Core Pathways Fellow, Carolyn Ren (SFS ’23) has had the opportunity to develop integrative days, which are programwide collaborative learning experiences in which all Core Pathways students engage once per semester.

“Integrative days are such a unique experience. I don't think other programs offer similar exercises,” Ren said.

Whether it be through solving simulated climate disasters, working with off-campus clients, or creating gallery exhibits, the goal of integrative days is for students to apply their knowledge from the course to an external experience.

“I think that Core Pathways is really trying to allow students to employ their knowledge to real-life situations, real-life scenarios, and let them know that the information they have obtained throughout the Core Pathways program, there are places where this information could be useful,” said Ren.

The application of knowledge from Core Pathways classes is important to both Ren and Wang, who have each been able to tie environmentalism to their chosen career paths.

Ren’s time in the Global Justice and Climate Change course helped influence her interest in law.

“It was one of the major reasons why I decided to pursue a future legal career studying human rights,” Ren said. “I really appreciate my opportunity working with Core Pathways and taking these classes, because it kind of opened up a new career path for me as well.”

Wang, who studied international economics at Georgetown, sees a clear overlap between economics and environmentalism.

“I think the study of economics is pretty much a study of trade-offs—of policy trade-offs—and how to balance different policy priorities,” Wang said. “I think that's what environmental studies is also about, because on the one hand, we have to have economic growth, but on the other hand, we have to think about long term environmental costs as well.”

To Professor Wesley Della Volla, Core Pathways creates a space for students to learn how climate justice relates to their career ambitions, something that is especially important as college students prepare to become a new generation of leaders.

“I think 18 to 20 year olds are who I should be talking to, and who I should be learning from,” he said. “They are stepping into becoming the next generation of voters, people who are engaged and active—scientists, storytellers.”

As a climate storyteller, Della Volla believes that narrative and communication is key to addressing climate change.

“We all know climate change is happening—talking back and forth to ourselves doesn't advance anything. So how do we communicate beyond that?” he asks.

The relevance of this question grows with each passing day, as climate change continues to threaten our planet. And as these threats prevail, Core Pathways hopes to be a space that engages the Georgetown community in climate justice, with the goal of creating a long-lasting impact.

“I don't think climate change is an issue that can be fixed in the very near future. So our goal is to get more people involved in the process, make more people aware of the factors that can lead to climate change, that can impact climate change,” Ren said. “So maybe sometime in their future career, they get to make certain choices that can have a substantial impact on solving this crisis.”

For Wang, Core Pathways provides an example for the rest of the university to follow.

“I think what Georgetown can do better, as far as improving the future, is talk more about the solutions in tackling climate change,” Wang said. “One thing that Core Pathways has been very good at in the past is showing different perspectives on how to tackle this issue from different angles.”

Degroot agrees that Core Pathways has the potential to expand to different parts of Georgetown.

“I hope that we see more of a buy-in from different departments, even more than we have so far,” Degroot said.

With Core Pathways offering more classes every semester, increased buy-in from other parts of the Georgetown community appears increasingly feasible. Further hopes of expansion for the program include connecting with other climate engagements on campus and designing other problem-focused course offerings.

And as Core Pathways continues to grow, so does its reach. By simultaneously allowing students to fulfill their core requirements and learn about climate change, the program weaves core concepts of environmentalism into the foundation of students’ college experience, imbuing a sense of responsibility and awareness in the next generation of leaders.

The resources for Core Pathways have been made possible over the years by generous gifts from Gabriela Smith, Bill and Karen Sonneborn, Jon and Patricia Baker, and Nina and Chris Buchbinder.

Alumni Spotlight: Life on the Seas: Navigating a career in marine conservation

Hundreds of Hoyas within the vast network of Georgetown alumni are working towards a greener future, leading critical projects in wildlife conservation, sustainable business, ecological research, and other vital efforts. Our Alumni Spotlight series elevates alumni voices in the environmental field and shares their inspiring stories.

We profile Elizabeth Hogan, SFS ‘97, a passionate marine conservation scientist and Program Director at National Geographic.

Tell us a little bit about your work.

It’s very much a hybrid of conservation science– marine conservation science, in particular– policy, and project management, which is by design. I like having those three disciplines intersect with one another.

At the National Geographic Society, I’m the science lead for a team called Perpetual Planet. Our mission is to develop a science-informed protection and conservation plan focused on three different biomes– mountains, rainforests, and oceans. We work with our expedition leads to bring together all of their expertise and specific research initiatives to form one holistic program that drives toward an overarching conservation goal.

What led you to this career? What interests and experiences led you here?

I had an interest in marine biology ever since I was a kid. That was always in the back of my mind. When I went to Georgetown, I was very torn. I had applied to the School of Foreign Service and was interested in international policy as well as marine science. In fact, it was the only undergraduate school I applied to where I didn’t list a science major. I was fascinated by the law of the sea and the role of civil society organizations in determining environmental policy. So, that was the angle I took while I was doing my undergrad.

I lived in South America for a while after I finished at Georgetown, and when I came back to the US, I got into the nonprofit sector in DC. I decided I really wanted a more scientific focus and I realized I needed graduate school to gain the scientific background I needed.

I got two master’s degrees– one in Marine and Coastal Natural Resources from a university in Costa Rica, and one in Climate and Sustainability at American University. After finishing graduate school, I returned to DC and pursued the career that I wanted in the nonprofit sector. I started at the International Fund for Animal Welfare, working on issues pertaining to sustainable fisheries and the North Atlantic Right Whale.

I focused on the conflict between the North Atlantic Right Whale population and lobster fisheries, since these critically endangered whales often become entangled in the gear. It also involved looking at issues like the speed of ships in the water and whale strikes (collisions between ships and whales). It was a perfect fit right out of grad school for me. I’m originally from New England and had been around lobster fisheries for a lot of my childhood and it paired well with my degrees.

Afterwards, I worked for World Animal Protection, a global nonprofit headquartered in the UK, and worked for over seven years on issues related to, again, sustainable fisheries.

At World Animal Protection, I found that the issue of marine wildlife being entangled in fishing gear coincided perfectly with the growing issue of ocean plastic. In 2012, believe it or not, very few people were talking about ocean plastic– it wasn’t considered a mainstream issue. At the time it felt like we were the only people focused on macroplastics. Fishing gear is almost always the largest source of plastic lost in the ocean. It causes a great deal of damage. Ingestion of plastic is obviously a major concern, but so is entanglement (when animals become caught in gear or other plastics). It’s designed to trap and kill. When it

gets lost, it continues to do that.

I spent seven years working on that issue, and it was a good mix of fishing policy, sustainable fisheries work, and working with the plastic sector on everything related to the circular economy, recycling, how to repurpose recovered ocean plastic (and actually get it out of the ocean), as well as the rescue of entangled ocean wildlife. So I got to do a lot of hands-on work, especially with seals and sea lions, but also with whales,

dolphins, and sea turtles, which I enjoyed tremendously. After I left World Animal Protection, I consulted for USAID and for the Australian government for about a year. Then, the National Geographic position came along and I’ve been here for about a year and a half.

That sounds like a fascinating career path. Among your many experiences, have you had a favorite project?

I’m starting work in the Arctic, which I’m very excited about. I get to study belugas, narwhals, and Arctic char– which are all of tremendous importance in terms of food security. The project involves working with Indigenous communities in the Arctic. The work we do will be co-generated with the Elders, must meet their needs, and be of use to their communities. Blending traditional knowledge with Western academic science is a new challenge for me that I’m tremendously enjoying and learning a lot from.

Over the next two to three years, I’ll have the chance to do some first-hand beluga and narwhal conservation, research aspects of food security (particularly related to the Arctic char population), and look into why the Arctic is warming as quickly as it is and the role that it plays in keeping our planet cool.

In the past, one of my favorite projects has been working on the conservation of the critically endangered Vaquita porpoise. Unfortunately, there are probably only twelve or fewer alive now, all in the upper the Sea of Cortez. I worked in the community of San Felipe trying to locate the abandoned or illegal fishing nets used for the totoaba fisheries. It was a lot of first-hand experience with the immediate effects of illegal, unreported, and unregulated (IUU) fishing, and the impact it has in driving a species to extinction.

What do you consider some of the most relevant or overlooked topics in the field of marine conservation today?

I’m pleased to hear that IUU seems to be gaining some

Image taken in Hawaii, Big Island during a coastline survey of entanglement cases and risks to the endangered Hawaiian monk seal population.

Photo provided by Elizabeth Hogan

Image taken in the Gulf of Alaska while doing disentanglement of Steller sea lions.

Photo provided by Elizabeth Hogan

Image taken in the Gulf of Maine during a removal of ghost gear (lost fishing gear) to prevent entanglement in critical right whale habitat (also habitat to other marine life prone to entanglement, including humpbacks, grey and harbor seals, sharks, etc.)

traction. Even ten years ago, you didn’t hear about illegal fishing that often. Now, it seems to be getting more recognition and mainstream press.

I think deep-sea mining is also a topic that needs to be addressed. It's challenging because the metals from deep-sea mining are what make our phones and computers work, and nobody’s in a hurry to cause any issues or disruptions within that supply chain.

Like all areas of marine work, most of the laws that govern deep sea resources haven’t been written yet. They’re beyond areas of national jurisdiction, and while the U.N. certainly pays a lot of attention to these areas, the U.N. does not have an enforcement arm. The International Court of Justice could help regulate marine practices, but it's a very difficult and slow process to get a case in front of them. A lot of damage can be done in the time it takes to bring an issue to light and get the safeguards that are needed.

Do you see these enforcement issues as one of the biggest challenges facing marine conservation efforts? What other major problems do you see facing the field today?

Yes. There are no vehicles for safeguards when you’re operating in areas outside jurisdiction. Who’s in charge? Who gets to say whether you can use those resources? And who enforces that when someone ignores what the international community has recommended? There’s no guiding law and means of enforcement to really protect the ocean the way there is for land. There’s also the issue of a lack of responsibility. No one lives in the middle of the ocean, which means that there’s no accountability.

Trade agreements tend to have the most enforcement when it comes to issues like that. They tend to have some teeth in them, as long as free trade agreements are written with forums for dispute resolution and consequences. I think that is where some of the hope for resolving this issue lies.

Have you seen any particularly inspiring conservation stories in your career that you’d like to share?

I’ve participated in rescue work where an individual animal that was caught in plastic is rescued and released. Disentanglement work is not easy– there’s a very small group of people around the world that do that– and it’s incredibly rewarding any time an animal recovers and is able to rejoin its population.

I take the most encouragement from protection language in trade agreements because I know that there’s a higher likelihood of enforcement and accountability in those than there is in other forms of international law.

I also find hope in general public awareness. Public awareness and concern are always the first major step. It wasn’t that long ago when no one was talking about plastic in the ocean, now I feel like that topic is absolutely everywhere. That tells me that there is going to be some accountability somewhat soon.

More specifically, Iceland stopped hunting whales in the last year or two. That was a story I wasn’t expecting to see and was a good win. You have to take a win whenever you can get one.

For people that are interested in working in your field, where would you recommend that they start?

If fieldwork is what you want to do, I definitely recommend that you get a graduate degree. It’s not necessarily a requirement, but for me it was necessary. Try to be open-minded because a lot of people have dreams of fieldwork. Be prepared to say yes to whatever opportunity comes along because you never know where it will lead.

I am often asked how much I have to scuba dive to do my job–I’ve never once had to scuba dive as a part of my job! I think a lot of people think it’s a skill needed for a career in marine science. Instead, one skill you should devote more time to is being able to drive a boat. If you want to do rescue work, if you

Photo provided by Elizabeth Hogan

want to be out on the water, every team wants to know that everyone on that boat can take over at any point in time when it’s needed.

Unfortunately, when it comes to a lot of field sciences, they are not usually jobs where you make a lot of money. A lot of people are willing to intern for free because they know how competitive it is, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong or not dedicated if you’re thinking about your own financial well-being. I find that the field is often very skewed because the people that were able to advance were the people that could afford to work for free. But when it comes to things like going to graduate school, taking out loans, and taking unpaid internships, be conscious about your financial future. You’re no less dedicated for taking those things into consideration.

Do you have any book, film, or podcast recommendations that you’d like to share?

This may sound silly at first, but the movie Finding Dory was actually incredibly well done. That film has an interesting backstory to it.

Separately, Blackfish. After the release of the documentary, the producers learned more about what happens to marine animals in captivity and changed the film to take place in a rehabilitation center instead of its original setting, which was something similar to a SeaWorld. That meant redoing a lot of the movie, but they did.

It presents issues about ocean plastic, entanglement, and sea life in captivity, and it’s very well done in that it doesn’t send a message of “This is why sea life in captivity is evil, shame on you for going to the aquarium.” Instead, it just shows what it’s like from the animals’ perspective without painting the humans as selfish or horrible. The messaging is an excellent lesson in how to go about making change and inspiring other people. Scolding and telling people they’re doing something wrong in life never works. If you can illustrate the message in a way where people can come to that realization on their own, it’s usually more effective.

Any last thoughts you’d like to share?

Fieldwork isn’t the only path to working in conservation. If you’re someone who can think beyond the scope of one single issue, and realize the way in which an entire system is connected, then you’re actually someone who is very suited for an environmental career. Environmental issues are often caused by a lot of small things coming from different directions, rather than from one big problem. Anyone who is a systems thinker would be incredibly valuable to the environmental field.

Alumni Spotlight: Miguel CuUnjieng

Hundreds of Hoyas within the vast network of Georgetown alumni are working towards a greener future, leading critical projects in wildlife conservation, sustainable business, ecological research, and other vital efforts. Our Alumni Spotlight series elevates alumni voices in the environmental field and shares their inspiring stories.

We profile Miguel CuUnjieng (MSB ‘15), Associate Director for EOS at Federated Hermes on the North American team.

Please share a brief overview of your current position and the work that you do at Federated Hermes.

I serve on Federated Hermes’ climate change, human rights, and shareholder protections and rights thematic teams, and lead our global financial sector team. I engage most heavily with leading US- and Southeast Asia-based financial institutions, as well as many leading US oil and gas operators and technology software companies, among others. Informed by the priorities of our client base, and to help inform investment decision-making, we continue to engage on priority ESG issues such as climate transition strategy, mitigating adverse human rights impacts, and diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) strategy among others.

What inspired you to work in the corporate sustainability field and ESG investment? What have you found exciting or innovative in your field recently?

I am from the Philippines and am keenly aware of the extreme deforestation, waste mismanagement, and dramatic degradation of the country’s biodiversity (particularly marine) and natural resources that have occurred within my lifetime. I am also a lifelong fly fisherman and outdoorsman, which has only increased my reverence for pristine ecosystems. Rather than merely a profession, I consider my work in ESG to be a lifelong vocation.

An exciting dynamic I have witnessed in my role is the increasing investor emphasis on holding board directors and executive leadership accountable for ESG strategy and progress. Company commitments and track records on material ESG issues are now informing shareholder support for company directors and executives and, increasingly, buy/sell decisions made by leading global investors. This activity evidences the ongoing integration of ESG factors into the global economic system.

What career path led you to where you are now? Were there any pivots, or did you have a clear sense from the beginning that you wanted to be where you are now?

While only working at the intersection of business and sustainability, I have served in a variety of different capacities including in-house operational sustainability lead, sustainability communications strategist, NGO/think tank program manager, external consultant, ESG risk and due diligence lead, and investment stewardship/engagement specialist.

I have remained dedicated to a career in sustainability since my undergraduate years, and my career path is reflective of the very recent and ongoing ‘mainstreaming’ of the ESG profession. While I did not plan each of these moves, I am certainly a stronger ESG professional given my experience working on these issues from a variety of perspectives.

When you reflect back on your time as a Georgetown student, what would you tell current students regarding their career search? Do you have any advice for current students hoping to pursue a career in corporate sustainability and ESG investment?

It is always a great sign when alumni are jealous of current students, and the Georgetown McDonough School of Business in particular has significantly increased the opportunities present for those interested in the space. Georgetown continues to enable students to explore the intersection between business, sustainability, and government in a way few other institutions are able to provide.

My advice for those interested in ESG is to pursue alignment between one’s own ESG priority issues, tactical skillsets, and desired professional and work/life balance dynamics. This space is booming and, amidst the increasing market demand for ESG expertise, it is prudent for candidates to consider the above areas to differentiate themselves and refine their job search.

I would also recommend networking and informational interviews to learn more about potential opportunities. There is a spirit of ‘coopetition’ among ESG professionals, and (in my experience) many recognized leaders in the field remain very generous with their time and are open to connecting with interested talent.

Do you have any interesting books, films, or podcasts related to the environment (or your particular line of work) that you recommend?

Bloomberg Green has a daily newsletter that is free and provides a great rundown of the latest news at the intersection of climate change and business, especially in the financial sector. GreenBiz also provides weekly newsletters, articles, videos, and podcasts (including the GreenBiz 350 series) that cover a wide range of ESG issues beyond climate.

"Rather than merely a profession, I consider my work in ESG to be a lifelong vocation."

The Breakdown: Electric Vehicles

By Ryan Levandowski, GULC ‘20 & Institute Associate at Georgetown Climate Center

What is an electric vehicle?

The term “electric vehicle” (EV) refers to a group of vehicle technologies, all of which are either partially or fully powered by an electric motor. Modern EVs fall into two main categories: battery electric vehicles (BEVs)—also known as all-electric vehicles—which are powered exclusively by electricity and must be recharged by plugging the vehicle into an outlet or other charging equipment; and plug-in hybrid electric vehicles (PHEVs), which have a gasoline or diesel engine that can partially power the vehicle and recharge the battery.

The ability to travel significant distances on batteries alone and recharge from the electric grid distinguishes BEVs and PHEVs from the older, rudimentary type of “hybrid electric” vehicles, which use small self-charging electric motors in tandem with a gasoline engine to improve gas mileage and performance but typically cover only short distances under electric power alone.

Today, EVs are available in a variety of shapes and sizes ranging from familiar passenger cars and pick-up trucks to buses and heavy-duty vehicles. Automakers continue to expand the number and variety of EV models on the market.

Why are electric vehicles important for sustainability and achieving climate goals?

EVs offer environmental benefits by reducing the amount of harmful pollutants emitted compared to conventional fossil fuel-powered vehicles. BEVs—as well as PHEVs running in all-electric mode—produce zero so-called “tailpipe” emissions, avoiding the air pollutants and greenhouse gasses directly

exhausted by the operation of gasoline- or diesel-powered engines. Although some greenhouse gas emissions may still be produced during the manufacture of EVs and the generation of electricity, research shows that, in the U.S., swapping a fossil-fuel powered car or truck for an EV results in a roughly 60–70% net reduction in climate pollution over the lifetime of the vehicle.

Transportation is the leading source of greenhouse gas emissions in the United States, accounting for more than a quarter of national emissions. The vast majority of these emissions come from passenger vehicles and medium- and heavy-duty trucks, making the transition to EVs a necessary step to avoid the worst effects of climate change. Reducing vehicle emissions also improves local air quality and creates immediate health benefits for communities, especially those situated near high-traffic roadways.

What are some of the major barriers to realizing the benefits of transportation electrification?

There are a few commonly cited barriers to widespread EV adoption: cost, driving range, and charging availability.

Although average prices are expected to come down, EVs today are generally more expensive to purchase than similar conventional vehicles. However, the difference in upfront costs can often be offset by government incentives and fuel savings over the life of the vehicle. A growing used electric car market may also help to make EVs affordable for more consumers.

Another barrier that prospective consumers frequently contend with is “range anxiety,” the fear of running out of battery power mid-trip without being able to find a convenient place to recharge. This barrier is largely psychological, though, since more than 90% of daily trips are well within the range of current EVs. Still, increasing range on newer models, building out charging infrastructure networks, and getting EVs into the hands of more drivers may alleviate this worry over time.

How are policy developments affecting EVs today? What does the future look like?

Federal and state policies continue to provide support for the maturing EV market. At the federal level, the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act of 2021—the latest comprehensive federal transportation funding authorization—provides $7.5 billion to build out a national network of public charging stations, and the recently passed Inflation Reduction Act extends EV tax credits and establishes billions of dollars in grant money that could be used for transportation electrification.

At the state level, air quality standards and looming climate goals are leading to strong policies in favor of EV adoption. In California, the Advanced Clean Cars Program requires automakers to produce an increasing number of zero-emission vehicles (ZEVs), including BEVs and PHEVs. So far, another fifteen states have also adopted California’s ZEV regulation. Additionally, many states offer their own financial incentives to promote EVs and charging infrastructure.

Over the coming years, these policies may play less of a role as consumer demand grows. New sales of fully electric vehicles have surged over recent years—surpassing 5% U.S. market share for the first time in 2022. If this trend continues, one in four new car sales nationwide could be all-electric by the second half of this decade.

An accelerated rate of EV adoption may be critical to achieving climate targets and limiting the worst effects of climate change. In fact, experts suggest that 90% of cars on U.S. roads may need to be electric by 2050 in order to be consistent with the Paris Agreement's goal of limiting global warming to 2 º C. However, this alone will not be sufficient; even with widespread EV adoption, it will continue to be important to pursue policies that reduce the amount that Americans drive, including improving access to alternative modes of transportation.