By Breanna Draxler for Yes! Media. Broadcast version by Lily Bohlke for Illinois News Connection reporting for the YES! Media-Public News Service Collaboration
CHICAGO -- The term "urban forest" may sound like an oxymoron. When most of us think about forests, we may picture vast expanses of tall trunks and dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves, far from the busyness of the city. But the trees that line city streets and surround apartment complexes across the U.S. hold great value, in part because of their proximity to people.
"Per tree, you're getting way more value for an urban tree than a tree out in the wild," says Mark McPherson, founder and director of a Seattle nonprofit called City Forest Credits. In an increasingly urbanizing world, cities are, after all, "right where people live and breathe and recreate."
Trees-and urban trees in particular-provide enormous benefits. For starters, they're responsible for producing oxygen and removing CO2 and other pollutants from the air. Urban forests in the U.S. remove an estimated 75,000 tons of air pollution per year. They reduce the impact of falling rain and encourage that water to soak into the ground, reducing flooding and erosion as well as preventing pollution from entering waterways. And the shade they provide isn't just good for picnics; trees absorb heat and release water vapor that cools the surrounding air. The U.S. Forest Service estimates that trees reduce the energy consumption needed to cool homes in the U.S. by more than 7%.
To find out just how much one tree can do, you can even estimate the value of the benefits of a specific tree near you using this calculator developed by a collaboration of tree experts and nonprofits.
The trouble is that these benefits are not equitably distributed. "Nationally, there's a trend for trees to follow wealth," says Leslie Berckes, the director of programs for Trees Forever, a nonprofit environmental group that works with communities across Iowa and Illinois to plant and care for trees. She says wealthier communities tend to have more trees for a variety of reasons, including racist housing practices. "Redlining left a lot of scars on communities, one of those being less green space, less tree cover," Berckes says.
And the results are life-threatening. In the absence of trees, these urban areas tend to be concrete-either buildings or sidewalks or streets. These impervious surfaces absorb heat during the day and then release it at night, preventing the relief of cooling temperatures, and creating urban heat islands. "People are getting sick or dying from heat," Berckes says, "and their utility bills are going up. ... Heat is the biggest killer from [a] natural disaster perspective."
Building Community by Planting Trees
To better support the health of these communities, Berckes' organization employs local teenagers to plant and care for trees. Trees Forever pays a starting rate of $10 an hour-higher than the state's minimum wage of $7.25-and then bumps it up to $15 an hour for crew leaders. In addition, Trees Forever provides teens with professional development resources such as resume-building, mock interviews, financial literacy courses, stress management tools, and shadowing professionals in green jobs. Although COVID-19 has paused some of these activities, the organization sees this multifaceted support as an investment in a local workforce that will then have the knowledge and skills to continue the important work of tree-planting for building healthier communities.
Dawud Benedict, 18, has been planting trees with Trees Forever since the fall of 2020. He applied after hearing about a friend's positive experience working with the organization. "It just sounded nice to do something more for Des Moines area," he says. The work has taught him to appreciate trees and their benefits to the community and the world, he says, as well as to work together as a group. He enjoys being able to drive past work sites and point out trees that he helped plant in his community. "I feel like I'm making a bigger impact," he says.
In recent years, Trees Forever has endeavored to put equity at the center of their work through training and education, though Berckes admits that a lot more work must be done. "Our own staff is all White," she says. "Iowa is a predominantly White state. When we go to work with some of these small towns, I bet the percentage of White people is 80 to 90-or-more percent." Much of the group's outreach has historically focused on door-knocking and connecting with groups like neighborhood associations, churches, and local businesses. But Trees Forever's traditional methods weren't reaching Hispanic residents who moved to these communities to work in the meatpacking industry. So to make access to the benefits of urban trees more equitable, the organization is working to overcome language barriers and meet these community members where they are.
West Des Moines is home to three Microsoft data centers, and two more are slated for construction starting in 2021. In the corporation's efforts to invest in communities that house its data centers, it funded Trees Forever's work in 2019. And in 2020, the collaborative piloted a project that promises to put equity first.
The project, called the Impact Scorecard, is being rolled out in West Des Moines as well as Phoenix. The creator of the scorecard, Mark McPherson, says Microsoft was looking for high-impact projects, and his organization, City Forest Credits, developed a way to measure the impacts of trees on equity, human health, and the environment.
"As a society, we have not found a way to put natural capital on the balance sheet as an asset," he says. "There's no asset value to the trees; only an expense item." As such, trees necessarily fall to the bottom of many city's budgets, or off of them altogether. "Urban trees don't just store carbon, they reduce stormwater, they improve air, they provide energy savings in terms of heating and cooling. They can, if done right, tremendously advance environmental justice-they provide human health benefits, biodiversity, bird and pollinator habitat, slope stability, and the list goes on. They are like utilities," McPherson says. "They provide incredible services."
Those services are immensely valuable to cities. They reduce the costs of doing all kinds of other work, including stormwater management, air purification, and water retention.
Sure, some carbon markets put a dollar value on capturing CO2. But the problem, McPherson found, was that carbon markets couldn't capture any of the values of urban forests specifically. Carbon credits are typically sold by the ton for huge acreages of forest. In the city, an individual tree isn't going to store enough carbon to make a blip on these particular charts, but it has incredible value for countless lives.
So he teamed up with his older brother, Greg McPherson, a scientist emeritus with the U.S. Forest Service who founded the Center for Urban Forest Research. In the '90s, he moved to Chicago to figure out how to quantify the value of the services that trees provide to the city, and he continues to refine benefit-cost analyses for trees.
The Impact Scorecard is the latest outcome of this work. It aims to get corporations and other private funders to underwrite the costs of doing important community-led work through the planting of urban forests.
"That's a critical part of environmental justice," explains Mark McPherson, who, as a White man, says he works hard to avoid the tropes of White saviorism. "Not just, you beam in from your NGO office and plant trees," but rather "to actually have these projects led by the local community."
Letting Communities Lead
That's what drives the work of Lydia Scott, director of the Chicago Region Trees Initiative. This partnership brings together 14 organizations-from the Morton Arboretum to the U.S. Forest Service, the Chicago Parks Department to the Chicago Department of Public Health-to leverage resources and expertise in support of the urban forest in and around Chicago. She says trees can help reduce crime, improve property values, and reduce temperatures.
To let communities lead, though, members of the initiative had to be willing to listen. Some neighborhoods, for example, didn't want trees or actively removed them to prevent obstructing street lights because of safety concerns. Police departments, too, sometimes cite a need for open lines of sight on sidewalks and in parks. "This was an eye-opener for us," Scott says. It all comes down to having the right tree in the right place. That's why her organization works within communities to show the value of trees and evidence of the ways trees can support a different dynamic.
But unlike a forest on public lands or a reservation, urban forests can't be managed as a whole. Urban areas are a mix of public and private lands, so to plant trees requires the buy-in of a greater number of stakeholders.
"We know trees have a dramatic impact on quality of life," Scott says. They are critical infrastructure in communities and should be protected and budgeted as such, she says, but they are rarely recognized for the value and services they provide. All too often she hears that "trees are a luxury we handle after everything else." With COVID-19, being outside is more important than ever, and people are seeing and appreciating trees in a whole new way. But in some ways the work is made harder, Scott says. City budgets are tight and meeting basic needs like housing and safety is necessarily taking priority.
Measuring Impact
Here's where the scorecard comes in. It matches communities who want to invest in their tree cover with private funders, such as corporations who want to make investments that have a measurable impact. That impact is broken down into three categories that emphasize the value of urban trees specifically: equity, human health, and environmental benefits.
Mark McPherson says that urban forests are unique because they connect global atmospheric benefits with ecosystem benefits and resilience and mitigation benefits. "Very seldom do you get a climate action that fits all of those," he says.
To look at the benefits of trees at scale, the Chicago Region Trees Initiative developed a map that breaks it down by neighborhood, indicating the percentage of land covered by impervious surfaces, the percentage of tree cover, and the financial benefit those trees provide the community. It also includes location-specific information on air quality, heat, flooding, and vulnerable populations.
Take, for example, the La Grange Park area of south Chicago. It has 47% tree cover and 30% impervious surfaces. The calculator estimates the community gains more than $750,000 a year from these trees. In contrast, Bedford Park, just to the south, has only 7% tree cover and 59% impervious surfaces. Their benefit from these trees is $300,000. But the calculator also estimates that the community could reasonably boost that tree canopy to as much as 65% of the neighborhood's land area-a ninefold increase-which would also up their benefits.
Scott says the priority communities don't always track exactly on racial or socioeconomic lines. In fact, the two neighborhoods with the fewest trees, according to their assessment, were actually quite well-off financially, so the initiative decided to focus its efforts elsewhere. These communities have the resources available to make change but choose not to.
Instead, the initiative is prioritizing projects that put health and equity at the center. An assessment of educational facilities, for example, identified a list of 24 schools and 24 day cares in Chicago within 500 feet of an expressway. The initiative is doing air-quality testing and planting vegetative buffers as a means of improving air quality at each of these facilities. (A 2013 study found that adding a row of trees between a roadway and nearby houses reduced pollution levels in the houses by 50%.) By using the Impact Scorecard, funders have third party verification of the health, equity, and environmental benefits of the project.
"The trees in our neighborhoods tell a story about our society-one of equity," Mark McPherson says. The story we're trying to craft, he says, is one in which living in a city is healthy, equitable, and connected with nature.
Breanna Draxler wrote this article for YES! Magazine.
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By Enrique Saenz for Mirror Indy.
Broadcast version by Joe Ulery for Indiana News Service reporting for the Mirror Indy-Free Press Indiana-Public News Service Collaboration.
The first thing Patti Daviau sees when she opens the front door of her home on South Harris Avenue every morning is a thick bunch of weeds reaching through a 500-foot stretch of chain link fence across the street.
It's difficult to see what's beyond the fence in all but a few patches. But Daviau, 70, who has lived on the street since she was a child, says she knows what's back there now - a looming threat.
The site was once a foundry, a lead smelter and a lead battery recycling operation. It was the center of a large lead contamination investigation and cleanup in the 1990s. It's now known as the Avanti Superfund Remedial Site, an empty property covered with a large 2,500-square-foot concrete pad that covers tens of thousands of cubic yards of lead-contaminated soil.
The last owners of the Avanti site, which had changed hands many times over the years, essentially abandoned it. The site now belongs to the city of Indianapolis.
The property is top of mind again for neighbors with long memories who worry that more needs to be done to protect the people living nearby. They know that the presence of lead can damage the brains and kidneys of kids and adults and reduce the chance of successful births.
The EPA has started taking the presence of lead more seriously in recent years, too, adopting new rules to make it easier to launch investigations at hazardous sites. But that won't help neighbors near the Avanti site.
The EPA's new guidance only affects sites on the National Priorities List, the agency's list of sites with known or threatened releases of hazardous substances throughout the country that currently threaten human health. The shuttered westside smelter isn't on it.
Federal, state and local agencies, in fact, no longer see the Avanti site as a threat due to a 1999 cleanup of the site and hundreds of properties surrounding it. But soil testing done more than a decade after the cleanup found levels of lead both at the site and on nearby properties that would set off investigations under the new guidance.
Daviau and other neighbors want to be sure that their neighborhood is safe. They want their neighborhood tested again to find out if the threat of lead contamination is actually gone.
"We're not trash. We're working class people," Daviau said. "We should be treated with the same dignity and respect as other people in the city."
Decades of documented lead use
Daviau believes regulators should have known that she and her neighbors were being exposed to toxic lead for decades.
"It wasn't this huge secret," Daviau said.
She grew up in a house on the 300 block of South Harris Avenue, and when she got married in the 1970s, she and her husband bought a home just down the street for $9,000. Her home, like many of the houses on the street, was built in the early 1900s to house the workers at the American Stove Company plant.
By the time Daviau and her husband bought their home, the site across the street had changed hands and became the Oxide and Chemical Corp.
The plant turned bars of lead and other metals, called ingots, into pellets that could be melted down easily. Occasionally, residents would see yellow or white clouds of noxious dust drifting out of the plant.
"In the summer, I would have to mow our grass maybe once a month, because it didn't grow," she said. "We had bushes out front, but I never had to trim them because they didn't grow. We didn't have squirrels. We had no wildlife. You go out in your yard and there's no worms in the grass."
She said clouds of noxious lead dust from the plant would cover her entire neighborhood.
"The stuff would come out of the plant and it would go on your car," Daviau remembered. "If you wiped the top of your car, you literally would wipe the finish off your car."
Daviau would babysit kids from the neighborhood. She taught the kids to come inside her home if they ever saw the clouds. She remembers one particularly bad emission from the plant in 1976.
"One time they came running in the house, saying 'They're doing it again,' so we came in, put the windows down, and we'd stay in the house until things settled down," Daviau said.
Fighting contamination for decades
Concern about the plant's pollution grew. Neighbors distributed flyers, warning them to call the plant or other agencies to report the dust. Daviau and other neighbors reported the company to the Indianapolis Air Control Board, which regulated air emissions locally until the state took over the responsibility during the Gov. Mitch Daniels administration.
Neighbors who lived along Warman Avenue, two blocks away from the plant, told the board that emissions were so thick neighbors called the fire department believing there was a fire.
"You can hardly breathe when the dust gets in your throat," one neighbor, James Pickett, told the board in 1976.
The company admitted to the city that its pollution controls sometimes failed. The plant shut down the following year and moved to Brazil in western Indiana. Indianapolis officials then established its first air emissions limits on lead, but the contamination problems weren't over.
Between 1978 and 1993, several light industrial businesses operated at the site. The site became an unofficial playground for bored kids whenever a business moved away.
David Alsup grew up next door to Daviau and remembers playing around loading docks on the south end of the site in the early 1980s. Now 46, he said he and his friends regularly came into contact with lead dust.
"I remember playing there and touching the door and having that yellow dust on my hand," he said. "I had no idea what it was, but I probably ate some of it by biting on my nails as a kid."
Finding evidence of a threat
Although it was a known source of lead, a widespread investigation of the site did not begin until the 1990s.
That happened after the Marion County Public Health Department discovered multiple chemical carcinogens and lead in the drinking water wells in a neighborhood to the south known as "The Bottoms." Lead there was found in private wells at levels up to 8.7 times the amount allowed by law.
Officials, though, did not immediately suspect that contamination was coming from the nearby Avanti site.
"The problem is that there are several companies that could be considered responsible for contamination of the groundwater," health department officials wrote in a letter to the mayor's office March 10, 1992.
Besides the Avanti site, the Bottoms neighborhood was near a former Chrysler foundry and various junkyards. It was also downstream from other industrial sites across Eagle Creek.
The health department expanded the contamination investigation, and soil samples were taken from the Avanti site. Investigators had stumbled upon a major source of lead as well as evidence of arsenic, mercury and cadmium contamination.
Initial testing detected lead at the site at 180,000 parts per million, more than 200 times the amount set by the EPA for authorities to justify an investigation at an industrial site. Blood testing of 225 kids and adults near the site by the Indiana Department of Health found high levels of lead in people's blood, including eight of 11 children tested along the road where Daviau lives.
As the agencies continued investigating, they found higher levels of lead on the site grounds and on the sidewalk outside the site. In a site assessment report, EPA investigators expressed concerns that children could be exposed to lead contamination and that runoff from the site could contaminate Eagle Creek and nearby homes.
By January 1994, the EPA ordered a cleanup of the site and in nearby yards under the federal Superfund law, which allows the federal government to pay for the cleanup and later recoup the money from responsible parties.
The agency estimated they would have to remove 10,000 cubic yards of contaminated soil from the site and remove lead from soil in yards near the plant at the cost of $1.2 million.
"They told me they were gonna do this quickly and that the magnitude wasn't going to be that big," Daviau said. "It was much worse than they realized."
A much larger problem than anticipated
The federally mandated cleanup would be split into two phases and take more than five years to accomplish, involve hundreds of homes and force agencies at all levels of the cleanup to deal with new problems.
The EPA began tracking down the companies believed to be responsible for the pollution.
By December 1994, the EPA had excavated and replaced the contaminated soil from 73 homes but kept finding more yards containing contaminated soil. Up to 300 more residences required cleanup.
"They were cleaning up and they had all these suits on. They looked like men from space. And my neighbor's kids were running up and down the street in their bare feet, riding their bicycles," Daviau said. "(The people cleaning) would ask us, 'Aren't you afraid?' I said, 'What can we do? You want to buy my house?'"
Eventually, more than 40 families sued 11 companies believed to be responsible for the contamination. They later settled the suit for $500,000 to be split among the families.
Daviau was part of the lawsuit and reluctantly agreed to the settlement.
"I said, 'You guys, we don't want to take this. You know, I really feel like there's more to be had,' but I was one piece of the huge puzzle," Daviau said. "I knew what $10,000 meant to some of my neighbors. That was millions to them."
By the end of the cleanup in September 1999, the price tag was $9 million, and tens of thousands of cubic yards of contaminated soil were removed and replaced with clean soil. Several companies that operated at the site agreed to pay for the cleanup without admitting they were responsible for the contamination.
About 15,000 cubic yards of contaminated soil from nearby homes - enough to fill four and a half Olympic swimming pools - were taken to a hazardous waste landfill in Danville.
About 39,000 cubic yards of contaminated soil from the industrial site grounds were buried, covered by 18 inches of clay and six inches of clean soil and surrounded by a second chain link fence within the property.
Continuing concerns
After the cleanup, questions still remained as to whether the site was free of contamination, so there was little interest in redeveloping it.
A site reuse investigation made by the EPA in 2006 found that the agency and the Indiana Department of Environmental Management still weren't sure whether some parts of the site were cleaned up sufficiently.
The companies that owned the site, Avanti Development, Inc. - which owned three out of the four parcels of land on the site - and Harris Corner LLC - which owned the northeast corner of the site - essentially abandoned the site soon after and stopped paying taxes on it. There were no buyers when the properties were put up for auction in 2006 and 2007.
According to the Marion County Auditor's Office, the companies together owe about $2.4 million in delinquent taxes and the site belongs to the city of Indianapolis.
Development options for the site are limited due to reuse restrictions. Potential developers wouldn't be able to dig up the land due to potential contamination and would have to incorporate the concrete building pad into their plans.
IDEM reassessed the site in 2011, finding evidence of PCE, a carcinogenic chemical used as a degreaser, in groundwater under the concrete pad. Cadmium, pesticides, metals and other chemicals were also found in the soil.
Despite the findings, the department determined that the Avanti site "does not appear to be a significant potential for harm to human health or the environment through the ground water, surface water, or soil exposure pathways."
But soil sampling in 2011 by then-IUPUI researchers found evidence that some remediated areas were actually getting worse.
Gabriel Filippelli, director of Indiana University Indianapolis' Center for Urban Health and executive director of IU's Environmental Resilience Institute, was part of some of those studies.
"That area still had really elevated blood lead levels in kids, so we took soil samples from a lot of those areas that were already cleaned up," he said.
In the 2013 study that resulted from the 2011 sampling, researchers found that samples from some homes whose contaminated yard soil was replaced with clean soil more than a decade before were showing levels at 200 to 250 parts per million.
That's nearly eight times the national average of lead found in soil naturally, at 26 parts per million, and even more than the national average when the most contaminated sites are factored in, at 185 parts per million. The formerly clean soil had been contaminated with lead from the site or, potentially, another source.
"They'd acquired a lot of lead since then, so clearly there were still some ongoing sources," Filippelli said.
In 2015, Filippelli was part of another sampling session when the city demolished the buildings still standing at the Avanti site.
According to the cleanup plan, soil from the Avanti site that exceeded 1,000 parts per million was supposed to have been excavated and treated with chemicals to prevent them from migrating, a process known as stabilization. Filipelli said he witnessed soil samples at much greater levels than what was supposed to be there.
"They just had a chain link fence around the site that was broken in many places," he remembered. "We saw kids playing there, and we took samples right at the fenceline and they were 7,000 parts per million. So, I think that plant was still a major source of lead."
EPA rule doesn't apply, but university offers testing
An EPA rule change earlier this year lowered the screening level for lead in soil at residential properties near Superfund sites and other active hazardous waste sites.
The lead threshold, or screening level, was 400 parts per million. It is now 200 parts per million - the amount detected in residential soil near the Avanti site in 2011.
Residential properties with multiple potential sources of lead have an even lower screen level of 100 parts per million.
With government agencies seemingly unwilling to help, the Harris Avenue residents' best chance for testing in the short term is through IU Indianapolis' Center for Urban Health, which studies lead and other contaminants.
Filippelli, the center's director, said the center is willing and able to test soil samples that are gathered by residents and delivered to the center.
"You don't know if you have a problem until you test," Filippelli said. "Fortunately, lead is super easy to test for and super easy to fix once you find it."
Daviau and Alsup said they would work to get their soil samples tested and convince others in the neighborhood to get it done, too.
"Something's got to change," Daviau said. "There's no reason to leave this for a second and third generation farther down the road."
Many are concerned about potential sources of contamination under a large concrete pad that covers most of the Avanti site. In the last two decades since the cleanup the pad has developed large cracks, especially at the edge of the property. It's unclear how much contaminated soil is there and at what levels.
"My biggest concern is runoff," Alsup said. "When it rains, all that rainwater goes up in those yards. I'd like to see some of those yards get tested again, especially in the 500 block."
How to get your soil tested
Indianapolis residents can get their residential soil tested by IU Indianapolis' Center for Urban Health. All that's needed are three clear plastic Ziplock baggies, something to collect soil with, a marker for labeling the baggies and a small box or envelope to ship the samples in.
Collect the soil from three areas near your home:
- Somewhere near the street
- The middle of your yard
- Under the drip line, which is the two to three feet of yard closest to the foundation of your home
The full instructions on how to collect the soil samples and send them to the Center for Urban Health are at the
center's soil testing site. For more information, contact professor Gabriel Filippelli at
gfilippe@iu.edu or earth sciences program manager Angela Herrmann at
aherrman@iu.edu.
If the instructions are followed correctly, the center will send an email report of what they found.
Enrique Saenz wrote this article for Mirror Indy.
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Federal grant money is supporting an Oregon organization rehabilitating the land and training tribal youth.
The Interior Department's Indian Youth Service Corps has awarded the Lomakatsi Restoration Project two grants of $300,000 and $400,000. The funds will support the organization's Tribal Youth Ecological Stewardship Training and Employment program.
Marko Bey, executive director of the project, said the Indian Youth Service Corps supports tribal young people age 18 to 30, and up to 35 if they are veterans.
"What it's focused on is providing paid to train opportunities for tribal members to work on their ancestral lands or neighboring ancestral lands," Bey explained. "Engaged in ecosystem restoration or eco-culture restoration work."
The Lomakatsi Restoration Project has been around since 1995 and is based in Ashland. Bey noted the focus is on ecosystem resilience and reducing large wildfires that have become more prevalent and destructive in recent decades. The organization works in Oregon and northern California.
The goal of the Indian Youth Service Corps grant is for the organization to train 12 tribal youth from seven tribal communities on restoration in southern Oregon.
Belinda Brown, director of tribal partnerships for the group, said the program will prepare the young people for careers in forestry work.
"The success is the youth having family wage jobs, of them being able to contribute and help their family, of them being able to be successful in their community," Brown outlined. "Which elevates them to the mentors for that next generation."
Bey added the goal is also to include tribes in restoration and management work.
"This gives an opportunity to get the lands treated in an ecological way," Bey emphasized. "And to get cultural fire ultimately back on the ground, incorporating indigenous, traditional ecological knowledge with Western science into the work."
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Coastal tribes in the Northwest are on the front lines of the changing climate but face barriers to responding to its effects.
A new report collected testimony directly from tribal members to hear what their biggest hurdles are. Sea level rise is already pushing some tribes from the coast of Washington.
Meade Krosby, senior scientist in the Climate Impacts Group at the University of Washington, one of the organizations behind the report, said tribes have been at the forefront of adapting to climate change but their biggest barriers stem from accessing funds to address the scale of the issue.
"The tribes are having to navigate really a maze of different pots of money that are spread out across different agencies and departments and units within federal government agencies," Krosby explained. "They're having to chase down these funds."
The report was compiled with input from listening sessions with members from 13 tribal nations on the Washington and Oregon coasts. It identified five key barriers to greater adaptation to climate change, including funding, staffing and technical expertise.
Funds from the Inflation Reduction Act, the 2022 federal climate action law, could help speed up tribes' responses. The Tribal Coastal Resilience program associated with the University of Washington recently received $3.4 million for coastal readiness projects.
Amelia Marchand, senior tribal climate resilience liaison for the Affiliated Tribes of Northwest Indians, also worked on the report.
"We're hoping that those funding opportunities will be less of a burden, a little bit more supportive to the flexible and timely needs that tribes have," Marchand noted.
Even with the funding, Marchand stressed climate change is accelerating, worsening the conditions for tribes.
"Swift action is really needed to ramp up the response and to have it occur in a manner that's coordinated and respectful of tribal sovereignty, tribal self-determination and tribal rights," Marchand emphasized.
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