The episode features a compelling conversation with journalist, filmmaker, and community organizer Allen Myers, whose recent article for Shareable, Modern Day Colonialism and the Disastrous Fate of an Indigenous Water and Land Protector, offers a chilling look at the ongoing struggles in the region. Myers shares insights from his 2022 trip to Brumadinho, Brazil, where he witnessed the enduring scars left by a 2019 dam collapse and the fight for justice that followed.

In January 2019, a toxic dam operated by Vale in the State of Minas Gerais failed catastrophically, releasing 12 million cubic meters of sludge into the surrounding environment. The disaster claimed 272 lives and decimated the livelihoods of countless others. This was not an isolated incident—just four years earlier, the Mariana dam collapse, also operated by Vale, caused Brazil’s worst environmental catastrophe. Despite warnings and inspections highlighting structural vulnerabilities, Vale failed to act, prioritizing profits over safety.

For the Indigenous Kamakã Mongoió, the collapse was not just a distant tragedy but a direct assault on their way of life. Chief Merong, a prominent leader of the tribe, emerged as a steadfast protector of his community’s land and water, standing against the encroachments of Vale. He and other Kamakã Mongoió have faced threats, harassment, violence, and even death for their resistance, a chilling manifestation of what Myers calls “modern-day colonialism.”

While the subject matter of this episode of The Response is tragic, it’s also a call to action. Myers draws parallels between the disasters in Brazil and the 2018 Camp Fire in Paradise, California, highlighting the universal dangers of corporate negligence and environmental exploitation. Both of these stories serve as stark reminders that disasters exacerbated by greed are not inevitable but preventable.

Editor’s note: Allen’s trip to Brazil was captured on film. The original project included producing a sequel to our award-winning documentary, “The Response: How Puerto Ricans are Restoring Power to the People,” but we have had to put it on the back burner for some time due to a lack of funding. Please contact theresponse@shareable.net if you would like to support bringing this story to the screen.

Resources:

• Survivors for Peace
• www.allen-myers.com
• Donate to The Response

Indigenous Disaster Response episode credits:

• Hosted and executive produced by Tom Llewellyn
• Produced and edited by Paige Kelly
• Theme Music by Cultivate Beats

Follow The Response on Twitter and Instagram for updates, memes, and more. Our entire catalog of documentaries and interviews can be found at theresponsepodcast.org — or wherever you get your podcasts.

The Response is an award-winning podcast series produced by Shareable exploring how communities respond to disaster — from hurricanes to wildfires to reactionary politics and more.

Want to help spread the word? Please rate and review us on Apple Podcasts and Spotify — it makes a huge difference in reaching new people who may otherwise not hear about this show.

Available anywhere you get your podcasts, including:

The post Indigenous disaster response: The fight against a mining giant in Brazil with Allen Myers appeared first on Shareable.

In the heart of Brazil, in the state of Minas Gerais, the lush green canopy veils both the stunning beauty of nature and the shadowy depths of exploitation. Here, an age-old conflict persists between those committed to protecting the land and water and those who profit from its destruction.

Chief Merong, a respected leader of the Kamakã Mongoió tribe, stood steadfast as a guardian of his territory against the encroachments of Vale, a multinational mining corporation notorious for its environmental destruction. Vale’s relentless pursuit of profit clashed with Chief Merong’s commitment to safeguarding the sacred springs and forests that sustained his people.

Talles, my interpreter and local fixer, and I journeyed into the verdant hills and dense foliage that surrounded Brumadinho. Along the border of fenced-off land claimed by the mining giant Vale, I encountered a stark juxtaposition: guarded and private land stripped of its life to bare red soil alongside open, teeming canopies of flourishing jungle.

We followed a narrow and winding road as instructed by our contact until it ended abruptly into a wall of vines and trees, an impassable berm. We parked, and there, peering through the green shadows, spear in hand and a small headdress, was our guide to the village. As we walked, he pointed out edible and medicinal plants and shared with excitement about the wild boar they hunt and the fish from the pools of fresh water they harvest. It was as if he was introducing us to members of his family. It was clear: this land was a part of him.

The path began to ascend. At the top of the hill, we could look west across a small ravine and see the scars left by Vale: barren land, naked red soil, and the ominous distant roar of lifeless machines with an endless appetite. From where we stood, paths continued in different directions, a patch of land open to the sky where rows of seedlings sprouted among taller coffee and corn plants. We had arrived at the Kamakã Mongoió Village, a humble bastion of resilience amidst the encroaching threat of exploitation. A simple banner reading “Territory of the Kamakã Mongoió” marked the border of the tribe’s claimed land. There waiting for us was Chief Merong.

Legacy of ecocide

Vale’s history in Brazil is marked by catastrophic failures and enduring environmental destruction. In 2015, the Vale-operated Mariana Dam collapsed, unleashing 60 million cubic meters of iron ore waste, creating a toxic mudflow that devastated communities, killed 19 people, and polluted the Doce River, affecting hundreds of thousands of residents. This disaster was not only the worst environmental catastrophe in Brazil’s history but also a stark warning of the risks associated with lax safety standards in large-scale mining operations. Just last week, a Brazilian court did not find Vale and mining giant BHP “legally” responsible for the damn collapse. Despite the ruling, over 620,000 complainants, including many Indigenous communities, continue to seek over $45 billion in damages from Vale.

Despite this avoidable tragic event, necessary reforms and safety measures remained unimplemented. Just four years later, in 2019, history repeated itself when the Brumadinho Dam, also operated by Vale, catastrophically failed. Ignoring prior warnings and expert reports of imminent risk, the dam’s collapse released 12 million cubic meters of toxic tailings, which swept through the area’s infrastructure, including a busy cafeteria and several villages, and claimed 272 lives. The surrounding community of Brumadinho was devastated by the loss of life, environmental destruction, and erosion of trust with the region’s largest employer.

As we recount the devastations wrought by Vale, it’s crucial to recognize the demand driving such destruction. The iron ore extracted from these mines, a cornerstone for the steel used in buildings and vehicles across the developed world, ties global consumers directly to the ecocide in Brazil. Each ton of steel in our cities’ skylines to the appliances in our kitchens starts with ore mined at great environmental and human cost—facilitated by a global market system that prizes low costs over ecological or social impacts.

Listen: “Indigenous disaster response: The fight against a mining giant in Brazil with Allen Myers”

In Brumadinho, the relationship between the residents and Vale is fraught with contradictions. On one hand, Vale is seen as a benefactor that has brought economic prosperity to the region. Jobs provided by Vale are often well-paying compared to local alternatives, bringing a level of economic stability previously unattainable for many families. Schools, healthcare, and infrastructure have all seen improvements directly or indirectly due to the presence of mining operations.

However, this financial dependency is a double-edged sword. The economic benefits come with a high cost. The environmental degradation caused by Vale’s activities has not only scarred the landscape but also undermined the community’s long-term sustainability. Fishing and agriculture, once staples of local subsistence, are now compromised by pollution and land use changes.

Interviews with local residents reveal a spectrum of emotions—from gratitude for the economic opportunities Vale provides to a profound sense of loss and betrayal after the dam disaster. Geraldo Oliveira Silva, a resident of Brumadinho and employee of Vale lost his brother in the 2019 dam collapse. He expressed his dilemma this way: “What are we to do? We need jobs and yet, these jobs could cost us our lives.”

While many in Brumadinho feel economically tied to Vale, they live under the shadow of a grim statistic: according to data from Global Witness, Brazil is the second deadliest country in the world for environmental and land protectors, with hundreds killed over recent years. This underscores the high stakes of any opposition to the mining giant.

The sentiment of being trapped in an “abusive relationship” with Vale is echoed throughout the community. Many express anger and frustration over the disasters, recognizing the preventable nature of these tragedies if Vale had prioritized safety and environmental concerns over profits. Yet, the fear of losing their primary source of income keeps many from voicing their concerns too loudly.

Community division on the issue strains the social fabric. Talles shared, “Many people have been paid lots of money for the disaster, they feel grateful to the company, while others have received nothing. There is inequality in the community based on how close you are with the mining companies.”

The story of Brumadinho is a microcosm of a global issue where local communities are caught in the web of corporate influence and malpractice, dependent on the very forces that threaten their way of life and environment. The tragic irony is not lost on the residents, who continue to grapple with their realities, hoping for change yet wary of the consequences.

For the Kamakã Mongoió, who are not employed by Vale, who live simply on land claimed by the company, Vale’s role in the story is much more straightforward: They are a villain, unceremoniously exploiting land and water for profit, land and water they hold to be sacred, the dam collapse in their eyes is an unsurprising continuation of disastrous behavior.

Learning from disaster: A personal connection

As I embarked on my journey to Brazil, my initial intent was to glean insights from communities grappling with the aftermath of catastrophe. I’m from Paradise, California, a community intimate with major disasters. The 2018 Camp Fire reduced the mountain town of 28,000 to rubble and ashes in a single day. The inferno claimed 85 lives and laid waste to 14,000 homes, including my parents’ home.

Like the tragedy unfolding in Brazil, our own disaster bore the fingerprints of corporate greed. Pacific Gas and Electric Company (PG&E), entrusted with maintaining our vital electric infrastructure, had long ignored the warning signs of impending danger.

On November 8th, 2018, as unrelenting winds, accelerated by the effects of the man-made climate crisis, swept through our parched landscape. An outdated transmission line broke free, sending a shower of sparks into the tinder-dry brush below. These sparks fanned by unseasonably high winds whipped up a wildfire of unprecedented magnitude. By year’s end, the Camp Fire stood as the most costly disaster in the world in 2018, another grim testament to the perils of corporate negligence, climate change, and poor forest management.

Exploring Post-Disaster Recovery: A Journey to Brumadinho, Brazil

Armed with a keen sense of inquiry and a commitment to understanding the intricate dynamics of post-disaster recovery, I embarked on a journey to Brumadinho, Brazil. There, amidst the wreckage left by the dam collapse, I sought to unravel the complexities of community resilience and response to disaster in a cultural context.

I connected with survivors, dedicated search and rescue workers, community organizers, and journalists who tirelessly chronicled the aftermath. While much of the focus was understandably on immediate relief efforts and survivor support, I was compelled to delve deeper, probing into the vital work of prevention and regeneration. This led me to the Kamakã Mongoió tribe.

The Kamakã Mongoiós are a family of the Pataxó-hã-hã-hãe people, whose mother village is located on the southern coast of Bahia state, Brazil. Chief Merong, as prompted by spirits in the dream world, relocated to Menias Gerisis with a mission to heal the land from the destruction of Vale. “I was called by the Earth to be here,” he shared with me.

Indigenous wisdom

We settled into the Kamakã Mongoiós’ communal gathering space, a maloca made from logs from the forest and thatch from its fronds. Chief Merong greeted us and broke into song and dance with members of his tribe; they moved in unison, weaving a rich tapestry of harmonious sound in a circular dance. What transpired before me was far more than merely settling in for an interview, it was a revered and vital ritual for welcoming outsiders and commencing a conversation. It felt, for lack of a better word, holy.

I posed questions that weighed heavy on my mind: How can communities organize after disaster to address the underlying conditions that led to catastrophe? How can they rebuild in a manner that meets the diverse needs and aspirations of all members? And, crucially, how can future disasters be mitigated through informed decision-making and collective action?

Chief Merong, a young man of 35, wore an exquisite headdress of Macaw feathers. Adidas flip-flops protected his feet, and tattered board shorts hung from his hips. His resolute gaze matched the clarity and directness of his words. “Our connection to this land and water is not merely about survival—it’s a profound relationship with all beings,” he explained. “Being good stewards of this earth is an ancestral duty, deeply ingrained in our way of life. The examples of destruction we see are because they are hurting the Earth. This is just the Earth reacting, balancing. The company [Vale] does not care about the Earth. We are here to defend the land and water.”

The land settled by the Kamakã Mongoió was in contention: Vale believed the land was theirs to expand their iron ore extraction. The Kamakã Mongoió believed their duty was to restore and protect the land and water. Courts sided with Vale, but the Kamakã Mongoió remained on the land. The stage was set for conflict.

Chief Merong recounted chilling encounters with modern threats: unidentified men appearing without notice that issued stark ultimatums to vacate their land, drones that buzzed overhead as symbols of surveillance and intimidation. “These aren’t just intrusions; they’re direct assaults on our sovereignty and well-being,” Merong stated. The cold mechanical whirring of drones— celebrated technologies in the global north—became harbingers of fear in the otherwise tranquil village.

After some time in conversation, with children playing nearby and chickens pecking at some sweet morsel, Merong wanted to show us the sacred spring and offer another song. We walked past simple structures made of local materials. Coffee, taro, and other edible plants lined the path to a modest pool of water shaded by the thick canopy of the jungle. There, Chief Merong and other tribal members recited another song. There was reciprocity in all of his interactions with the environment; the water wasn’t merely there for his taking but something to be worshiped.

Tragedy strikes

On March 4, 2024, I received a text from Talles notifying me that the Chief was found lifeless and hung from a tree. As the days unfolded, news reports emerged that cast his death in stark terms: murder. His death sent shockwaves not only through the Indigenous community but the residents of Brumadinho, who all the more starkly felt the internal conflict of loyalty to a company that provides them with jobs and victimization by a corporate power that values profit over life.

According to data from the Inter-American Court of Human Rights (IACHR) published on Tuesday, March 5th (a day after Chief Merong was found dead), at least 126 human rights and environmental defenders were murdered in Latin America in 2023. That’s a murder every 3 days in Latin America alone. Chief Merong’s death fits into a larger, menacing trend. According to Global Witness, five percent of the world’s population are Indigenous peoples, yet they make up 40 percent of the murdered land and water defenders. They are the frontline communities seeking to protect that which we all depend upon and yet are at the greatest risk for reprisal.

Despite knowing his life was under constant threat, Chief Merong bravely stood his ground and ultimately sacrificed his life for the sacred lands he cherished.

Colonialism is alive and well. It operates as it has for hundreds of years by exploiting and extracting resources to the benefit of the few. It hides behind the innovation of “free markets,” presenting an incomplete story devoid of cause and effect. In the global north, we are encouraged to seek personal opportunity and indulge without limitations. We reap the benefits of environmental exploitation and are shielded from the consequences of our appetite for consumption.

As we mourn the loss of Chief Merong, we are compelled to confront the stark realities of our world—a world where Indigenous voices are silenced, where the pursuit of profit can trump even the sanctity of human life, and where the legacy of colonialism continues to build systems of exploitation in the present. In honoring Chief Merong’s memory, we must redouble our efforts to dismantle the structures of oppression that continue to plague our world.

Yet amidst our resolve, a troubling reality looms large: the pervasive influence of the very systems we seek to dismantle. Indeed, we find ourselves entangled within a web of exploitation as both victims and unwitting accomplices. It is only through collective awareness and concerted action that we can hope to break free from the grip of the “company” and forge a future rooted in justice and equity, where we are all water and land protectors.

Editor’s note: Allen’s interviews on this trip were captured on film with the help of a local fixer who also served as a translator. The original project was intended to produce a film as a follow-up to our award-winning documentary, “The Response: How Puerto Ricans are Restoring Power to the People,” but have had to put it on the back burner for some time due to a lack of funding. Please contact theresponse@shareable.net if you would like to support bringing this story to the screen.

The post Modern-day colonialism and the tragic fate of an indigenous water and land protector appeared first on Shareable.

But there is a way to reestablish balanced ecosystems by a process called depaving: the act of removing pavement and freeing up the soil below. Depave, a Portland-based nonprofit promoting the “transformation of over-paved places,” put together a guide to help people depave in their communities.

As How to Depave: The Guide to Freeing Your Soil states, “The removal of impervious pavements will reduce stormwater pollution and increase the amount of land available for habitat restoration, urban farming, trees, native vegetation, and beauty, thus providing us with greater connections to the natural world.”

Here are Depave’s key points to depaving.

Preparation

Before you start tearing pavement up, do some research. Things to consider include how water interacts with the site, what drainage currently exists, and where the downspouts from existing buildings send water. There may be opportunities to disconnect downspouts from sewer lines and utilize the newly-depaved area for on-site infiltration.

Depave suggests contacting your local city or county for guidance on stormwater retrofit information and design. You’ll need to find out how removing pavement will affect adjacent areas. For a first-time depaving project, start with a small lot of 500 square feet or less. The guide also suggests that you discuss the project with the property owner and get written approval.

1. Determine site history and soil health

Before you depave, determine the condition of the underlying soil. Start by researching the site’s history. You can do this at your local library or assessor’s office or by viewing land deeds.

Lead is a common urban soil contaminant you may find, from lead paint, older construction, and older houses. Depave recommends testing for lead, cadmium, hydrocarbons, arsenic, and organochlorine pesticides if the post-depave plan includes growing food.

If you find these contaminants, Depave discourages removing pavement as the contamination is capped and is not causing any severe negative environmental or health impacts. “Unless there is a cleanup plan in place,” they write, “removing the pavement may do more harm than good.”

Another test to run is an infiltration test. This will help determine if the soil is suitable for certain types of stormwater management systems. This test measures how quickly water can soak in and flow through the soil and can be easily performed. The How to Depave appendices provide detailed step-by-step instructions for testing soil.

2. Develop a site plan

Once you’ve determined the site conditions, create a plan for improving the space. As Depave explains, “A well executed depaving can help revitalize a neighborhood space with features that can: manage stormwater, provide habitat diversity for urban wildlife, reduce the urban heat island effect, and/or provide garden space for community members.”

Depaved sites can also be used as stormwater management devices. Common ways to do this include:

• Vegetated bioswales, which slow runoff
• Rain gardens, which store runoff until it can be infiltrated into the ground
• Planters, including infiltration planters, contained planters, and flow-through planters, which beautify the site and slow runoff
• Trees and naturescaping with evergreen trees and native plants, which also beautify the site and slow runoff
• Learning gardens for people to experience growing food and plants in an educational setting
• Community food gardens and orchards. These can have raised beds for soils with low permeability or if there is any possible soil contamination, and individual garden plots to provide garden space for many people and build community around the garden

3. Seek approval for your plan

Before depaving, you’ll also need a detailed drawing of the site, including any proposed changes. Your city may require this, which will help determine what materials will be needed, the budget, and how the project will look when it is complete. You may also need permits from various city departments.

From the Depave guide: “Your site plan should clearly depict: where you propose to depave, a scale, a north arrow, elevation points and water flow across the site, stormwater drains, important project notes, as well as existing and proposed structures and trees. These drawings do not need to be polished documents, but do need to be drawn to scale and thoroughly detail the elements of your proposal.”

Reach out to the community when creating your plan. You may find design professionals who can help create and visualize your design for a future green space.

4. Create a plan for recycling the pavement

When it comes to depaving, you’ll need to determine what surface material you’ll be removing and what you’ll do with it once you’ve removed it. Concrete can be repurposed and reused to construct walkways, flower beds, fire pits, retaining walls, and other outdoor structures. Local pavement processing companies can recycle asphalt into a crushed rock aggregate used in construction projects.

5. Prepare the pavement

Before removing concrete, you’ll need to break it up with a jackhammer. Asphalt must be cut with a walk-behind saw to cut it into slabs, which can be removed by hand. Before you depave, have a 10-yard dumpster delivered to your site to collect materials.

Once the pavement is cut and broken up, you’ll need hand tools to remove the pieces one-by-one. Tools and supplies needed include:

• Pry bar
• Pick axe
• Sledgehammer
• Wheelbarrow
• Hand truck
• Gloves
• Closed-toe shoes and long pants
• Eye protection
• Ear protection
• Dust mask

Depaving techniques

Now comes the actual removal of the pavement. If it was cut into squares, start with a pickaxe or pry bar. You can cut and remove small triangles at the corners of a few squares to give yourself places to start.

Start at a corner and use a pry bar to get under the slab. Leverage the slab with the pry bar on one end and have someone do the same on the other. This should be enough to get the heavy slab off the ground.

Have at least two people lift the slab into a wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow will be very heavy and can easily tip over, so Depave cautions against overfilling it.

Now you need to get the asphalt from the wheelbarrow to the dumpster. There are two ways to do this:

1. Ramp it: You can either use a big piece of plywood or rent a metal ramp at any local tool rental location
2. Throw it: Carefully toss smaller pieces over the edge

Make depaving a community event

Depaving is not easy work, but there are great payoffs. Make it a celebration for the whole community. Here are tips to create a fun and effective depaving event:

• Promote the event to make sure you get plenty of volunteers
• Provide food and drinks
• Make sure there is plenty of shade for rest breaks
• Prepare leaders ahead of time with the right safety procedures
• Provide volunteers with gloves, glasses, and dust masks
• Add other festivities and music
• Try hosting your event in conjunction with other neighborhood activities

Post-depaving

Once you remove the pavement, there’s typically four to six inches of gravel. There are two ways to remove the gravel:

1. With small sites, the gravel can easily be shoveled out of the newly depaved area. Gravel can be reused to create walkways through gardens, fill potholes, create drainage areas, and more
2. For larger sites, the gravel can be removed using heavy machinery. You can hire a local contractor to do this work, or rent a small backhoe or bobcat from a heavy equipment facility and do it yourself.

If kept separate from other materials, gravel can be hauled away in a dropbox and recycled at a local reuse facility.

1. Restore the soil

Soil restoration is an important part of depaving, as pavement compacts soil and prevents it from being vital. The Depave guide explains,“The biggest problem caused by heavy impervious surfaces is soil compaction. The weight of the pavement crushes macropores—the small spaces between the soil aggregate—preventing water, air, and roots from moving through the soil.”

To break up the compacted soil at small sites, use a spading fork or pickaxe. For larger sites, you’ll want farm implements such as a deep-ripper or chisel plow.

Once the soil is broken up, mix in organic matter such as compost or a three-way blended soil mix to help create a healthier soil profile and bring your site back to life.

2. Landscape

From the Depave guide: “Now for the fun part! Using your site plan and planting plan as a guide, your team can begin to bring the site to life. While depaving is a great summer activity, plants shouldn’t go into the ground until fall, when the temperature is cooler. Determine the best time of year to begin planting in your area to ensure the highest possible survival rate for the plants. Organize volunteer work parties to space out the work over several days and many hands.”

For more information on depaving, see How to Depave: the Guide to Freeing Your Soil, by Depave.

This article was originally published on April 15, 2015, and was most recently updated on August 13, 2024.

Check out these related articles:

• Let’s make dirt: 5 community composting resources you can start using today
• How to create a Resilient Space in your neighborhood
• COVID-19 pandemic brings new growth to Montreal’s urban gardens

The post How to free the soil by depaving appeared first on Shareable.

The original permablitz network was established by Adam Grub and Dan Palmer, and (as of 2012) more than 140 permablitzes have been held in Melbourne, Australia. The concept has since spread across Australia, and begun to move overseas to countries such as the U.K., the U.S., and Canada.

As a blitz host, you’re about to receive a big input of labor, design and energy. Permablitzes are great fun, but do require some work getting ready for. You’ll be expected to work with a designer, organize materials, do some prep work, and most importantly, feed your volunteers. In fact, you may not be doing much work at all in the garden on the day of the blitz, as hosts often find themselves in the kitchen instead. The permablitz network will help you with your design, come up with the quantities of materials needed, facilitate the day, and provide some follow up help if needed.

Below are tips for creating and running your own permablitz.

1.Design

Every permablitz must incorporate permaculture design, therefore someone who’s completed a Permaculture Design Certificate (PDC) needs to work with you to draft up a design for your garden.

Finding a designer 

• Once you’ve been to a few blitzes and have decided that you want to host your own, it will be easier for your network to connect you to a permaculture designer.
• A good design is the difference between you doing the clearing, digging, fertilizing, and pest control for your new veggie patch — or your rotationally fenced chooks (that’s an Australian chicken) doing the work for you. Isn’t it smarter to let the chickens gorge themselves on grass, weeds, and bugs; dig through soil; poo in it; and hand over eggs into the bargain? In short, you need an ultra-smart, well-integrated garden design.
• Work with your designer to create a plan that you are willing to commit to over the long haul. It is more important to get a great, long-term design established during your permablitz, than it is to complete all the work in one day. Use your blitz day to break the back of that design, then keep adding to and refining your project slowly, over the years.
• At the end of the design process you should have a to-scale sketch, explanatory notes and brief implementation guidelines. In order to achieve this the designer(s) usually need a minimum of 3-4 hours consulting with you and developing the design on-site.

2. Prepare for the day.

Find a facilitator

Generally the host isn’t expected to facilitate the blitz (although some do). 

• There should be one or more facilitators — usually one of the designers or someone else from within the permablitz network.
• For a particularly complex blitz, up to five or more facilitators and team leaders may be needed, whereas for a very simple blitz you may only need one facilitator.
• Your network should have access to a list of potential facilitators if you are having trouble finding them.
• If needed, there are Facilitators’ Guides available like this one from the Permablitz Melbourne network.

Set a date

• Work with the designer and facilitator(s) to set a date for the permablitz
• Generally you’ll want to give yourself a few weeks to prepare and time to promote
• the event. 
• It’s not usually a major consideration if there are other blitzes on the same day, but we would recommend finding a date that does not have other blitzes scheduled.
• Most blitzes are scheduled on weekends, but if you are feeling adventurous (or you have a small project) try hosting one on a weekday!
• Let your network know so they can add it to their online calendar and social media, and assist with promotion.

Gather materials

• The designer’s report should include a list of materials such as length of pipes, cubic meters of mulch, height of newspaper piles, etc. 
• Some materials such as cardboard and horse manure can often be sourced for free. 
• If you have a list of materials that you need that you would like to crowdsource, post a list of your needs on your network’s website and social media accounts.
• Take your permablitz design to your local nurseries and garden centers; your network may already have arranged discounts with particular nurseries, but if not, these businesses may offer discounts for large projects.

Promote your permablitz

• Again, utilize your network’s website, mailing lists, and social media.
• You may also wish to invite neighbors or other members of the local community to your blitz. 
• Another good way to let people know about the blitz is to put up notices in like-minded businesses such as your local coffee shop, your local co-op, and/or your workplace’s newsletter. 
• Remember to play up “what’s in it for them (the volunteers)” angle: learning new skills; free food and drink; potential volunteers for their permablitz; meeting new friends; etc.
• Be sure to make it an RSVP event where respondents must email you to get the address, which not only adds an air of “exclusivity, but also so that you can track numbers.
• Make sure that you respond to any inquiries straight away, and keep your volunteers informed along the way with email blasts showing the plans, pictures of your yard, and any other information to keep them interested and excited for the big day. 

Bookings and numbers

• Track volunteer numbers so that you can not only anticipate mouths to feed, you can also control the number of volunteers. 
• Too much energy in any system creates chaos and disorder so we recommend limiting the number of people attending your blitz to 15 – 20 people.

The number of people you can handle depends on:

• The size of the property
• The amount of work to be done
• Whether there are additional facilitators/supporters who can run workshops throughout the day to soak up all the spare energy and make sure people have a good time.

• Encouraging people to arrive at different times in the day can also be helpful;  this ensures that. as one group of people begins to fade, new, energetic sorts can kick in and start things all over again.

Health and Safety 

Prior to the permablitz, the host’s role is to deal with any obvious safety issues. 

• Don’t plan to fell any trees or large branches on the day, or other potentially dangerous activities. 
• As well, the host is responsible for locating underground lines and hazards well in advance of the blitz. 
• Contacting your electric company is a good idea.
• It’s the facilitator’s role on the day to draw attention to any dangerous tools, like mattocks or power tools. They should also discuss proper back care, and highlight any safety issues specific to the site.

3. Finally, permablitz day!

• Create a game plan with your designer and facilitator(s) ahead of time so that they can provide practical direction and support and try to find out who amongst your volunteer crew has the specialist skills that you will need (like bricklaying or carpentry) in advance.
• Hosts need to make sure they have enough materials on hand — enough timber, mulch, shovels, saws, and screwdrivers, etc., to finish the job. 
• Have a registration sheet for volunteers and greet people as they arrive.
• Give them a name tag, a marker, and masking tape for their tools, as well as the itinerary of the day. 
• Make sure to post site and design plans around the blitz area.
• Have beverages and snacks ready, and make sure they are available throughout the day. 

The best blitzes are the result of adequate preparation in the lead-up to the event, and crazy, constructive improvisation on the day.

It’s fun. You’ll like it.

This how-to guide was originally posted on July 29, 2013. It was updated and reposted on Monday, May 20, 2024.

The post How to host a permablitz appeared first on Shareable.

Shareable is partnering with Tufts University on this special series hosted by professor Julian Agyeman (Co-chair of Shareable’s Board) and Cities@Tufts. Initially designed for Tufts students, faculty, and alumni, the colloquium has been opened up to the public with the support of Shareable, and The Kresge Foundation.

Cities@Tufts Lectures explores the impact of urban planning on our communities and the opportunities to design for greater equity and justice.

Register to participate in future Cities@Tufts events here.

Below is the audio, video, and full transcript from a presentation on October 27, 2021, “Unequal Protection Revisited: Planning for Environmental Justice, Hazard Vulnerability, and Critical Infrastructure in Communities of Color” with Marccus D Hendricks. 

The impact of hazard exposures such as stormwater runoff is rarely evenly felt across a community. Neighborhoods of color, particularly of low-wealth, will often face worse stormwater problems especially in the era of climate change with more frequent and intense stormwater runoff.

In this lecture, Dr. Marccus Hendricks discusses the equity and environmental justice issues related to stormwater infrastructure planning that result in vulnerable systems leading to everyday challenges in stormwater and more extreme urban flooding. Specifically, he will examine conceptual frameworks and contextualize what it means for physical systems to operate in a social world.

Listen to “Unequal Protection Revisited: Planning for Environmental Justice, Hazard Vulnerability, and Critical Infrastructure in Communities of Color” on the Cities@Tufts Podcast (or on the app of your choice):

The post Unequal protection revisited: planning for environmental justice and critical infrastructure appeared first on Shareable.

At this point, half of the global population has been affected by at least one climate change-fueled disaster (and the other half isn’t far behind).

And California has been a microcosm of the global climate emergency.

For the past decade, communities across the state have faced severe challenges on multiple fronts — from extreme fires and flooding to earthquakes and the COVID-19 pandemic.

But how have they responded and what community resilience strategies have proved most successful?

In this episode of The Response, we explore some of the answers to these questions with two guest speakers

Lisa Beyer is an Urban Water Infrastructure Manager at World Resources Institute. As part of that role, she is responsible for developing and scaling financially innovative, environmentally sustainable municipal water management solutions in cities across the country.

Learn more about Lisa Beyer, World Resources Institute, and the Joint Benefits Authority (JBA) by visiting wri.org.

Greg Kochanowski is a licensed architect, an aspiring landscape architect, and educator in the State of California. His new book, The Wild, explores the urban periphery of Los Angeles, where the city meets the mountains, a landscape inherently vulnerable to wildfire, and its secondary and tertiary effects, including flash floods and debris flows.

Learn more about Greg Kochanowski and his book, “The Wild,” by visiting the-wild.org/

Listen to “Community Resilience Strategies in California” on The Response Podcast here (or on the app of your choice):

The Response is a podcast series from Shareable.net exploring how communities are building collective resilience in the wake of disasters

Episode credits:

• Host and executive producer: Tom Llewellyn
• Series producer: Robert Raymond
• Theme Music: “Meet you on the other side” by Cultivate Beats

*This episode features the audio recording from a webinar that was co-hosted by American Institute of Architects San Francisco (AIASF) and Center for Architecture and Design. As a result, here are several references to images that were shared by our presenters. The video recording of this talk can be accessed by becoming a member of AIASF.

Additional Stories:

• The impact of Northern California fires on the undocumented community
• Reimagining Paradise in an age of climate disruption
• TED Talk: Building Collective Resilience in the Wake of Disasters

The post Community resilience strategies in California appeared first on Shareable.

Colombia, with its biological, cultural and hydrological richness, has become a trailblazer in legally formalizing Rights of Nature, beginning with the 2017 Judgement of the Atrato River, but to what end? Who will defend these rights against powerful legal and illegal natural resource exploiting interests in such a conflicted country, and how can these formal voices for nature be strengthened by tools of modern science and technology, as opposed to repressed by them? 

Colombia’s Choco: Illegal gold mining, conflict and a river with rights

The Choco Rainforest along Colombia’s Pacific Coast pulsates with life. Thousands of endemic species call this dense forest home, while expansive rivers empty out into the ocean through extensive deltas and mangrove forests. Afro-Colombian and Indigenous communities live side-by-side — or, more frequently, face-to-face — along the rivers of the Choco.

The isolated rivers and forests of the Choco have also been hotspots of conflict, illicit activity and state neglect, facilitated by their strategic access to the coast. Illegal gold mining in particular — along with drug, arms, timber and wildlife trafficking — has run the illegal economy and fueled conflict in the Choco for decades, making its Rivers of Blood the harsh, semi-literal inverse of the Indigenous interpretation of rivers as Mother Earth’s lifeblood. 

While artisanal mining for alluvial gold was — and remains — a relatively low-impact livelihood for the Choco’s many descendents of African slaves, semi-industrial mechanized mining has deforested, degraded and contaminated the rivers and riverine habitats of the Choco for the past 20-30 years. Both the open-pit mines and dredges along the rivers have used mercury in copious quantities, poisoning the drinking water and fish species. The ecological and health crisis is devastating Afro-Colombian and traditional Indigenous riverine communities. 

The Embera Dobidá — which literally means people of the river — live along the 416 mile, south-to-north flowing Atrato River and its tributaries, and have been actively protesting the exploitation of the Atrato and its surroundings for decades.

Embera Dobidá leader Belarmino Tunay told me in December 2019, “For us, the people of the river, the Atrato is everything. It is the origin, the provider of life and the extension of Karagabí [a holistic conception of a cosmic world and creator]…. The Atrato speaks to us, and it is suffering. The damage being done affects our health and threatens to destroy our culture.” Studies have shown dangerously high levels of mercury in the water, in fish species and in the people living along the banks of the Atrato, including members of the Embera Dobidá.

South of the Atrato River Basin lives the Wounaan Indigenous ethnic group, principally concentrated along the San Juan River within the Choco. 

The San Juan has its source along the Andean slopes then flows west-southwest-west before draining 240 miles downstream into an impressive delta full of rich mangrove forests that depend on nutrient-rich sediments accumulated throughout the San Juan’s journey. Many fish species spawn within these mangrove forests, and just off the coast are breeding grounds for humpback whales, whose dances and songs inspire awe above and below the surface. It is a beautiful area at the confluence of different ecosystems, where Indigenous communities lived in harmony with this diverse ecological milieu for millennia.

The Wounaan — sometimes referred to as Embera Wounaan — are closely related to the Embera Dobidá (as well as other Embera such as the Chamí and Katío), in genealogy, linguistics and many traditions, though they subscribe to a number of distinct beliefs and practices specific to their biogeography. The Wounaan base their worldview around a “Supreme Father” known as Inwadam, who created all living beings in, along, and including the San Juan River, the less voluminous but ecologically unique Baudó River, and the limitless Pacific Ocean that they flow into. 

Respected Wounaan teacher and werregue artisan Yenny Cardenas spoke to me in her community of Union Balsalito on the northern bank of the lower San Juan River. “The river provides us with our livelihoods and our food, but more importantly it allows us to preserve what our ancestors have taught us about Inwadam and to practice our traditional crafts and medicine,” she said. “We live in constant fear though, knowing that someday soon we may be forced to leave our homes on the river permanently.” 

Tragically, the last few decades have brought strife and degradation to the idyllic river and riverine communities of the San Juan River Basin. And like the Atrato River, the San Juan River is believed to be contaminated with mercury from illegal gold mining upstream.

Within this complex socio-economic and environmental context, Colombia’s Constitutional Court gained international notoriety in 2017 for granting legal biocultural rights of “personhood” to the degraded Atrato River. Local “guardians” —  including members of Embera Dobidá and Afro-Colombian communities — are now responsible for being the legal voice of the river, in order to ensure its conservation, restoration and dynamic evolution.

Beyond symbolic legal victories

How can we turn this potentially revolutionary ecocentric framework of Rights of Nature from eloquent legalese, symbolic victories and often misunderstood traditional Indigenous worldviews, into pragmatic action in high-risk areas dominated by extensions of the modern world, such as rivers and riverine communities impacted by illegal gold mining and conflict?

To begin with, ways must be found to ensure the health and security of those individuals and local communities who speak in defense of rivers, forests, coral reefs, individual animal species and other designated legal persons within the Rights of Nature paradigm. Eliminating the existential threats to the Embera Dobidá and Wounaan, for example, is essential to protecting and restoring the diverse ecosystems of the Choco. 

To bolster formalized legal Rights of Nature in general and enforce accountability, culturally appropriate tools for monitoring, communicating and incontrovertibly documenting violations of nature’s rights are also needed. For off-grid communities, integrated solutions for connectivity and access to energy sources are also important, to coordinate monitoring efforts between themselves, and to share and receive vital information in real-time with the outside world.

Adaptable complex frameworks, such as the Multiple Evidence Base (MEB) approach and Mixed-method bicultural research, can help guide the formation and evolution of resilient, shared-knowledge initiatives around the world. “Using water as a central point of multidisciplinary, intercultural and educational collaboration, we can develop new ways of understanding our surroundings and place within them,” says professor Rafael Hurtado, a physicist from Colombia’s National University. Professor Hurtado leads REMONA, a community-based water quality monitoring network built around principles of complex systems science, that has recently been introduced to several isolated Indigenous communities in Colombia.

These kinds of multidisciplinary and intercultural shared knowledge approaches between integrated science and traditional knowledge can produce mutual understanding and evidence considered concrete within modern judicial structures; they may, in fact, form the foundational structure for upholding the rights of rivers and other dynamic ecosystems to “exist, thrive and evolve.”

Progress in Colombia since the Judgement of the Atrato River

The Judgement of the Atrato River set a strong precedent for Rights of Nature in Colombia, and along with some celebrated rulings granting personhood to sacred rivers in New Zealand and India, for further Rights of Nature advancements around the world. 

Between 2018-2020 there have been a number of local court rulings in Colombia, mostly at the municipal level, that have given nominal legal rights to some of Colombia’s rivers: the Cauca River, La Plata River and Pance River, for example. Rivers connect diverse ecosystems, and damage in one or multiple sections of a river can have cumulative impacts downstream, so — in reality — coordinated international, national or at least regional efforts are needed to effectively enforce Rights of Nature for rivers. 

The big post-Atrato victory for the Rights of Nature movement in Colombia, and potentially for our highly stressed living planet, was a 2018 ruling by the Colombian Supreme Court granting legal rights to the entire Colombian Amazon region. The proclamation builds off of the Judgement of the Atrato River, and is a rather beautifully crafted and comprehensive document. How Rights of Nature for the Colombian Amazon will formally and effectively be implemented remains to be seen, as deforestation, land grabbing and illegal gold mining have rapidly expanded throughout the entire Amazon region, including in several parts of the post-conflict Colombian Amazon. Illegal actors have also become further emboldened by the uncertainty surrounding the COVID-19 pandemic and rising global gold prices. 

An integrated, multidisciplinary and intercultural evidence-based system is needed to support the newly designated legal voices of Colombia’s rich ecosystems. A successful framework for enforcing Rights of Nature for the Choco and the Colombian Amazon could lay the groundwork for coordinated, interconnected efforts for the entire Amazon, and other bioculturally rich areas globally.

The post How Rights of Nature victories in Colombia’s rainforests can inform shared knowledge systems globally appeared first on Shareable.

With the launch of this new app, however, things look set to change. (‘Mizu’ is the Japanese word for water). Using the MyMizu app, people can locate places to get free water refills — from public drinking fountains to restaurants and other participating businesses.

MyMizu is the brainchild of Robin Lewis and Mariko McTier, a pair of Tokyo-based millennials who share bicultural roots and a passion for social innovation. McTier was raised in the U.K. and has previously worked for a government program which facilitates innovation partnerships between Japan and the U.K. Lewis has lived and worked around the world, and has a background in humanitarian aid and international development. The duo joined forces to launch Social Innovation Japan, a platform for action on social and environmental issues, in 2017.

“At the heart of our work as Social Innovation Japan has been a mission to engage more people in social and environmental issues, ensuring that a growing community of people recognize the agency that they have to create change,” says McTier. “I’d been toying with the idea of leveraging technology and behavioral insights to encourage more sustainable consumer habits for many years. But although we were both aware of plastic waste as a global issue, neither of us had a clear vision of how we could tackle it.” 

During a visit to Kyushu in southern Japan in the spring of 2018, the sight of the sheer number of plastic bottles on the beach was the catalyst that inspired Lewis to come up with the initial idea of developing an app.

“It seemed totally crazy that we were paying so much money for something we didn’t really need — bottled water — and that this habit was having an enormous effect on our natural environment, and so we decided to try and stop the problem at the source,” Lewis points out.  “There are other services in other countries that have a similar offering, such as one called ‘Tap’ in the U.S., and ‘Refill’ in the U.K. However, MyMizu is the only free water refill app that we know of in Japan.”

Like many successful startups, MyMizu was developed with limited resources and a small band of dedicated personnel, but McTier says that things are moving in a positive direction, with a wide range of business partners and volunteers expressing interest in becoming involved since the launch of the app in September. 

Changing cultural mindsets is another issue the team has faced. “One of the challenges is that some people may not want to drink from public water fountains in parks, stations and so on,” Lewis says. “To tackle this, we are building a network of partner businesses — such as cafés, shops, restaurants and hotels — where you can refill your bottle for free so that users have an alternative to public water fountains, and encouraging users to upload photos of new refill spots they discover.”

Lewis adds that Japanese people often carry reusable drink bottles as children, but come to depend more on vending machines and convenience stores as they grow older. To this end, refilling bottles is not a completely new idea, but rather one with which people need to reacquaint themselves.

The businesses who have signed up with MyMizu see the value of what McTier and Lewis are trying to achieve, and are keen to contribute to Japan’s nascent but growing sustainability movement. Partner businesses are provided with MyMizu stickers for their windows, letting people know they have “permission” to come in and refill their bottles. 

“I think it comes down to community, and a sense of shared ownership. Sure, if you view refilling your water bottle as ‘taking’ water from a shop or business, then it is transactional and you may feel as though you need to give something in return. However, if you consider that both you and the business owner are part of a community, and it is in your shared interest to create an environment that is safe and sustainable to live in, then you are really just collaborating to create that desired environment using the resources and means available to you,” McTier explains.

Their timing seems to be perfect. Fueled by a sharp increase in inbound tourism in recent years, the number of foreign visitors to Japan quadrupled between 2012 and 2017. With Japan hosting the Rugby World Cup this year and the Tokyo Olympics coming in the summer of 2020, the nation is keen to show it is in touch with global trends — including working towards a more sustainable future. 

The MyMizu team have big plans going forward, including improving the app by adding  features such as games and a review function for refill spots. They are also working to educate and engage with the public through talks and workshops at schools, universities and companies, and are even exploring the idea of forming official partnerships with local governments to make their areas more “refill-friendly.”

“MyMizu is not just an app; it’s a movement. Education and in-person engagement are critical components of what we are trying to accomplish, which is not just to reduce plastic consumption but a larger shift in consciousness around sustainability,” Lewis says.

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This post is part of our Winter 2019 editorial series on waste reduction. Get our free ebook on this series: “Beyond Waste: Community Solutions to Managing Our Resources.” Shareable is a partner of this project with Greenpeace. 

Take a look at the other articles in the series:

• • Celebrate the radical power of DIY during MAKE SMTHNG Week
  • Communities worldwide prepare to host MAKE SMTHNG Week events
  • Fashion Detox Challenge invites people to pause, reflect and change
  • Bring sustainability to the party with reusable party packs
  • Right to Repair movement invites us to review the way we produce and consume electronics
  • From Oakland to Utrecht, sustainability-focused maker villages unite artisans for creative exchange
  • Using ancient values to solve modern problems at the Eunpyeong Sharing Center
  • Community cupboards feed neighborhoods despite legal hurdles

The post How the MyMizu app is creating community and fostering sustainability in Japan appeared first on Shareable.

In a new model of environmental cooperation, five countries — Austria, Croatia, Hungary, Slovenia and Serbia — are working towards the creation of the largest transboundary natural reserve in Europe and the first five-country UNESCO biosphere reserve in the world. It would unite 12 major riverine areas that are already protected.

With protection of the Amazon rainforest making headlines in the context of fighting climate change, proponents say this watershed is also an important battleground for climate protection, as the “Amazon of Europe.”

The development of this new model of transboundary management was initiated in 2000 by regional offices of the World Wildlife Fund for Nature (WWF). 

“In the current era of climate crisis and species extinction, it is absolutely not a luxury pastime but a matter of humankind’s survival to protect our last natural areas,” said initiative leader Arno Mohl from WWF Austria. He said the area had the Danube basin’s largest floodplain forests. “The planned biosphere reserve is of key importance as it aims to protect and restore our Amazon, an important step away from nature exploitation and towards sustainable living together with nature,” he said.

“The main reason why we lead this initiative is the necessity for a joint and harmonized management of this remarkable river corridor. Water bodies in this area are still mostly managed with solutions that are not in a correlation with nature. Some of the biggest issues are threats of potential new dams, extraction of sand and gravel, channelization of rivers. Due to an astonishing biodiversity of this landscape and support which this ecosystem provides to people, WWF decided to act and support [the] governments of [the] five countries towards its protection“, explains Ivana Korn Varga from WWF’s office in Croatia.

The goal is for the biosphere reserve Mura-Drava-Danube, to be protected by UNESCO’s Man and Biosphere program. The culmination of seven years’ work, the reserve is close to becoming a reality. In 2012, UNESCO approved the joint nomination of the Croatian and Hungarian protected areas, which was followed by the approval of the Serbian rivers in 2017, Slovenia in 2018 and Austria this year. The next step is for all the countries to receive joint approval from UNESCO, which will give the reserve global recognition.

It has not been easy. Four out of five countries involved are members of the European Union but there are still many differences in laws and regulations and in the management of protected areas. 

“The goal behind the biosphere reserve is to have harmonized management and at the end to protect those beautiful rivers. Nature has no boundaries, humans are the ones who are creating differences and from our perspective the unique ecosystem should be managed in a unique way,”  points out Korn Varga.

Since the reserve covers a very large area, public engagement was complex. Some people use the river for activities like fishing or tourism. As the reserve project takes shape, new sustainable activities have emerged, including transboundary routes for cycling tourism which tie in with farmers markets.

“Of course, our aim is also to provide local people possibility to benefit from the nature they are surrounded with. We see the five-country reserve that we will soon have as an amazing opportunity to harmonize river management in order to amplify the benefits for local communities while providing the rivers with an opportunity to restore to its natural state and support people, but also animal and plant life,” says Korn Varga. 

The post River protection: A cross-border effort to tackle climate change appeared first on Shareable.

Green infrastructure is, at its core, about utilizing nature to manage storm-water. Pavement is impermeable, but vegetation and soil have an innate ability to manage water before it ever reaches a city’s sewers. Through strategically planted trees, parks, and wetlands, cities can reduce strain on their sewer systems, and reduce pollution at the same time. The Democracy Collaborative recently released a report recommending the use of green infrastructure as a community-based climate adaptation strategy.

Johanna Bozuwa, who authored the report, said in an interview: “We’re seeing the power of nature, every day. Some of our man-made solutions can’t stand up to what is happening around us… nature knows how to deal with these things better than we do, and it’s been around so much longer. The biomimicry community has found that we can use what is already here for our benefit and it will have positive ramifications.”

Green infrastructure is an appealing policy solution because it has benefits far beyond storm-water management — research has long shown that increasing vegetation and green space increases quality of life in a community. “The exciting thing about green infrastructure is obviously this storm-water management piece,” said Bozuwa. “But if we are literally ripping up concrete and putting in trees, or shrubs, or even parks, that is going to have a multiplicity of benefits.”

Besides the positive impact on people’s health, green infrastructure also has the capacity to lift up communities economically through well-paying, quality local jobs. “So much of the infrastructure [for water] has been disinvested in the United States and as there’s a mounting issue of climate change, storm-water infrastructure is becoming more and more apparent as a necessary intervention in order for us to have climate resilient cities,” said Bozuwa. “We zeroed in on green infrastructure because we saw some of this potential for job creation and providing jobs to underserved and marginalized communities.”

Because green infrastructure is a distributed solution that requires longer-term maintenance but lower upfront costs, it is ideal for worker cooperatives (democratically owned and operated businesses) and social enterprises (nonprofits that have a fee-for-service component) in low-income communities where jobs are needed. Green infrastructure workers can be trained on the job and the work can offer upward mobility while increasing climate resilience. However, to work as a community resiliency model, Bozuwa emphasized that green infrastructure initiatives will have to be carefully designed to avoid displacement and gentrification: working deeply with the community, coordinating with existing unions, and led by residents.

In her report, Bozuwa mentions several case studies of effective green infrastructure initiatives, one of which is the nonprofit group Verde’s landscaping project in the majority-Latinx Cully neighborhood of Portland, Oregon. Verde Landscape is a social enterprise landscaping firm with a four-year training program that can lead to long-term employment or prepare participants to start their own businesses. One of the things that struck Bozuwa about the Verde project is that it was started by an existing community group that works on affordable housing, Hacienda CDC, which is based in the neighborhood.

“One really interesting piece [in my fieldwork] was the persistence with which this activists and community organizers are thinking about the displacement potential of green infrastructure if we don’t design our housing and think of these things as systems,” said Bozuwa. “And that is a reason why the Verde model is so compelling.”

Bozuwa and the Democracy Collaborative were attracted to green infrastructure as a route to long-term, community-led climate resilience. She is hopeful that green infrastructure will continue to be put in place in cities around the United States. Green infrastructure projects are already around the country in cities like Seattle, Washington DC, Oakland, California, Buffalo, New York, and others.

Some U.S. cities are already under consent decrees, agreements with the Environmental Protection Agency to reduce storm-water runoff and sewer overflow. Green infrastructure could be part of that commitment. Green infrastructure can work very effectively alongside traditional gray infrastructure, such as structures made of concrete, and act as a community development tool at the same time. Climate resiliency will require both large-scale infrastructure projects and smaller ones, but greening America’s cities from the ground up is a climate solution worth getting behind.

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This article is part of our series on disaster collectivism. Download our free series ebook here.

The post Green Infrastructure is (de)paving a pathway to resilience appeared first on Shareable.