By Syris Valentine for Grist.
Broadcast version by Eric Galatas for Colorado News Connection reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration
We tend to think of buildings as semipermanent structures. Once they go up, decades or even centuries pass before they come down. But when they do, it's usually under the weight of wrecking balls and sledgehammers. The shattered remains of the structures that once sheltered us are then often cast into a landfill. Each year, nearly 150 million tons of this debris piles up in dumps in the U.S. alone.
Globally, the act of erecting new buildings and tearing down old ones consumes roughly a third of all resources extracted from the environment every year and produces just under a third of all the world's waste. But several cities across the U.S. have begun to push the construction sector toward practices that keep materials out of the landfill. The goal: Reuse parts of old buildings in new ones, and recycle the rest.
In 2016, Portland, Oregon, became the first city in the country to institute a deconstruction ordinance, requiring that all single-family homes built before 1940 and slated for removal be deconstructed - that is, taken apart board by board - so their materials can be salvaged for reuse. Since then, more than half a dozen cities from San Antonio to Pittsburgh have followed Portland's example.
"Ideally, what is being pulled out of these houses is being used for their same purpose," says Stephanie Phillips, San Antonio's deconstruction and circular economy program manager. Like Portland's, San Antonio's 2022 ordinance specifically mandates that old, historic homes be deconstructed if they're coming down.
That's at least in part because the best, and sometimes only, way to get the right materials to rehab historic buildings is from a different home built in the same period. As Phillips says, "Rehabbing buildings is looked at as the pinnacle of climate-wise building."
A small number of cities go even further. Boulder, Colorado, is one of only two cities nationwide (the other being Palo Alto, California) that requires deconstruction of any and every building slated to come down, regardless of age and whether it's residential or commercial. Boulder's ordinance also includes what's known as a "mandatory minimum." At least 75 percent of the total weight of a building must be diverted from landfill through either reuse or recycling.
Jackie Kirouac-Fram, executive director of the Portland-based nonprofit ReBuilding Center, believes that a mandatory minimum is necessary to achieve the intent of these deconstruction ordinances: salvaging high-quality materials that homeowners, builders, and craftspeople can then access at affordable rates. Without this requirement, Kirouac-Fram says, Portland has seen particularly low rates of salvage. (Official figures aren't available, and city representatives didn't respond to a request for comment.)
While San Antonio also lacks a mandatory minimum, Phillips says the city's contractors have on average recovered 70 percent of a given building's weight, with over half of the recovered materials going to reuse. Phillips attributes these figures to the thorough, city-sponsored training contractors must go through in order to qualify for San Antonio's list of certified deconstruction contractors.
Meanwhile, in Boulder, despite its mandatory minimum, the city has not provided much training for the local workforce or established certification requirements, according to Emily Freeman, the city's policy advisor on the circular economy. As a result, some contractors may exploit loopholes to meet the requirements without salvaging so much as a single two-by-four, and property owners have few tools to evaluate the bids they receive. They're being asked to compare "apples to kiwis," Freeman says.
In the worst example she has seen to date, a contractor used the foundation - the heaviest part of a building - as well as patio furniture and mulched trees on the property to meet the requirement to divert 75 percent of the building's weight.
This reveals another challenge when it comes to mandatory minimums: Such requirements often don't differentiate between reuse - the ideal form of waste diversion - and recycling. For instance, if lumber isn't sorted and stored so it can later be picked up and incorporated into a new project, it might instead be sent through a chipper and processed into particleboard.
To address these problems, Freeman and her colleagues are looking to revise and strengthen some of Boulder's deconstruction practices, which could include hosting trainings and establishing a certified contractors list, similar to San Antonio's, to ensure everyone has the same playbook of best practices. Freeman hopes that these types of changes would help Boulder to achieve the vision she briefly saw realized in 2023, when the city deconstructed an abandoned hospital. Of the 65-million-pound building, the city recycled or salvaged 60.8 million pounds, or 93.5 percent of the building's weight. This included structural steel that has found its way into two new city-owned buildings: a fire station and a golf course clubhouse.
Taking salvaged materials and getting them into other buildings is what organizations like Kirouac-Fram's ReBuilding Center aim to facilitate. It stores salvaged materials that Portlanders can purchase at low-to-no cost. San Antonio has launched its own Material Innovation Center to find the next best use for salvaged materials, including bus shelters, garden beds, and affordable housing repairs.
But a final challenge remains in many of these cities: getting contractors to use salvaged materials in their projects. In some cases, the problem is a matter of ease and inventory; contractors don't want to waste time browsing stacks of mismatched materials when they may not find what they need. In other cases, builders still need to be convinced that giving old materials a second life in new construction won't compromise a building's integrity.
Boulder has been struggling to close this piece of the reuse loop. Though the city has incorporated many of the metal beams extracted from the old hospital into new city-owned properties, some leftover steel remains. City officials are still in talks with builders in Boulder to find someone to take what's left.
"It's just a matter of convincing the construction world that reused steel is going to be solid," Freeman says. She hopes that as people see other buildings standing strong with salvaged steel, they'll start to use it in projects of their own.
Syris Valentine wrote this article for Grist.
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When the Champlain Towers South collapsed in Surfside in 2021 taking 98 lives, it sent shock waves across South Florida. The tragedy has left lingering questions about the safety of coastal high-rises and whether the ground beneath them is as solid as once thought.
A new study by scientists from the University of Miami uncovered a troubling pattern: 35 buildings along the coastline from Miami Beach to Sunny Isles Beach are sinking, some at rates of up to eight centimeters in the past seven years.
Farzaneh Aziz Zanjani, a postdoctoral researcher at Washington University in St. Louis and the study's lead author, called the findings significant.
"We saw a correlation between the start of the subsidence and the nearby construction activities and we also found some correlation between the geology," Aziz Zanjani explained. "As we move from Sunny Isles to Miami Beach, the amount of subsidence is less."
Using satellite-based technology, the team tracked subtle ground movements which are otherwise invisible. Sunny Isles Beach, known for its luxury high-rises, showed the most dramatic rates of subsidence. The researchers believe the southern Florida geology with softer sandy layers within the limestone may be a factor.
For longtime residents, the study is unsettling. The idea some buildings may be sinking in a region already grappling with rising seas and stronger storms adds concerns about the future. Aziz Zanjani cautioned against jumping to conclusions.
"It doesn't necessarily mean that these buildings are unsafe," Aziz Zanjani pointed out. "This is beyond the scope of the study we had. It just shows that there is something happening under these buildings and it's related to geology and a lot more factors that we don't understand, and we need to do more research."
The research was motivated by the Surfside collapse but scientists found no evidence subsidence contributed to the tragedy. Still, Aziz Zanjani emphasized the study highlights the need for transparency and better monitoring of structural stability across the region. Aziz Zanjani's paper is open-access to the public.
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The Iowa Department of Natural Resources is training operators of Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations on the safest ways to apply manure to their fields and what to do if a spill happens. It is part of the state's effort to help reduce accidents and protect the environment.
Iowa produces about 50 million tons of manure every year or enough to fertilize roughly 17% of the state's cropland.
Jeff Prier, senior environmental specialist for the Iowa DNR, said the state is teaching commercial and smaller operators how to apply it safely by following a required manure management plan.
"When they go out to do their application, they need to comply with any separation distances to residence, church, business, school, public use area, water sources," Prier outlined. "Dependent on their application method."
Manure from Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations is known to pollute air and groundwater when it is not properly applied. Commercial operators said they are looking for more environmentally friendly ways to operate while trying to meet consumer demand for high quality meat. The deadline to apply for the DNR training is next week.
The DNR charges commercial operators $225 for a manure application permit and $175 for smaller operators. Prier noted it is a small price to avoid fines of between $3,000 and $5,000 for applying fertilizer without state certification.
"When they hear the numbers, they tend to open their eyes pretty big and think that's a pretty big number," Prier observed. "But the best reason is being in compliance with the rules and regulations and knowing what to do if there is a spill."
Prier, who has been overseeing training for 26 years, added given the amount of manure spread on Iowa farms every year, the number of spills is relatively small.
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By Ilana Newman for The Daily Yonder.
Broadcast version by Eric Galatas for Colorado News Connection for the Public News Service/Daily Yonder Collaboration
Recycling may be a given in metropolitan areas, but in many rural communities, it is more complicated. Without the infrastructure and funding to reach isolated homes outside of city centers, it falls on individuals to try and dispose of their waste responsibly.
In Montezuma County, Colorado (population 26,248), the main issue with recycling is the remote location. Located in the far southwest corner of the state, the Four Corners region sits nearly 400 miles from Denver and Salt Lake City, and 250 miles from Albuquerque.
The isolation means that there is no backhaul trucking to the region — which is when a commercial truck can bring a load on the return trip — which would cut costs dramatically for recycling in the area.
However a new law signed into law in 2022 is supposed to increase access to recycling infrastructure in rural communities of Colorado in the coming years. The law wants to promote circular economies that cut down on waste and support recycling in rural parts of the state. A circular economy looks at the end of life of a product and helps it to be revitalized, recycled or reused instead of trashed.
The Producer Responsibility Program for Statewide Recycling Act was signed into law in 2022 and a needs assessment was published in early 2023 to assess the current state of recycling services in Colorado. Currently, Circular Action Alliance, Colorado’s Producer Responsibility Organization is working to create a program plan which is due by February 1, 2025.
But many people have already been working on the ground before to manage trash and recycling for their communities. Take Colby Earley, superintendent of refuse and recycling for the City of Cortez, Colorado, as an example. “There’s no magical place called ‘away,’” he said. Once your waste leaves your home, it has to go somewhere. Many people are doing their best to make sure that waste is disposed of responsibly.
Recycling in Montezuma County happens in a few different ways. The City of Cortez (population 8,909) has a curbside pickup program, which is free for residents. But for the rest of the county, recycling is much trickier.
In 2009, the nonprofit Four Corners Recycling Initiative stepped up to fill the gaps in recycling infrastructure for Montezuma County, with three dropoff bins around the county that, when full, get brought to the Montezuma County Landfill for processing.
Casey Simpson, president of the board for Four Corners Recycling Initiative, said that the nonprofit was not designed to exist forever. It was created to get the grant to pay for the bins because the small towns of Dolores and Mancos did not have the funding to support municipal recycling programs.
The Producer Responsibility program in Colorado will require companies to pay for the eventual recycling of their packaging which will fund recycling around the state. Other states like California, Oregon, Minnesota, and Maine are beginning to implement similar extended producer responsibility (EPR) programs.
Now, Simpson is working in collaboration with the circular economy work that is happening on a state level because of the Producer Responsibility Program. One of the ways that recycling could be increased in rural areas would be to incentivize businesses that use recycled material.
“If there was a plastic company that was taking plastic and turning it into rain gutters in Montezuma County, you would have a high demand for recycled plastics, and it would be really cheap because it would be more lucrative. You wouldn’t have to transport that plastic anywhere,” Simpson said.
Transportation is currently a big factor for Montezuma County recycling. According to landfill manager Mel Jarmon, number one plastics are currently sent to Georgia to make carpet backing. He sends out a semi-load of these every year. Number two plastics he can only send out every 15-16 months, to California. He sends cardboard and electronic waste to Oklahoma. The landfill can only recycle what they can make money off of.
“We’re a business just like anybody else in town. We’re not taxpayer-funded. We make our money on what we do here. If it’s so contaminated that we can’t at least break even or make a little bit, then we can’t do it,” Jarmon said.
For one load of e-waste sent to Oklahoma, Jarmon said it costs the landfill over ten thousand dollars.
Glass is one thing that currently does not make financial sense to recycle. Jarmon said there’s no market for it close by. But Earley at the City of Cortez continues to collect it because he hopes there will someday be a market closer to the Four Corners. For now, Earley crushes the glass himself, mixes it with street sweepings, and sells it to the landfill to create cover for the landfill itself.
Earley said that it remains to be seen what impact the Producer Responsibility program will have on Montezuma County and Cortez, but he hopes it will make it easier and cheaper to recycle in the area.
Simpson has personal reasons to continue to fight for increased recycling in his rural community. “I love where I live and I don’t want to see it all turn into a landfill. I would much prefer seeing the wild and open spaces that we have and keep the landfills as small as possible.”
Ilana Newman wrote this article for The Daily Yonder.
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