Corvallis Green New Deal

                 On Monday night, the Corvallis Green New Deal is coming before the city council. And, although I opposed the earlier, much less focused, version, I am supporting this one. It feels, to me, like the 21^st century version of the fundamental problem of our impact on the environment—beyond pollution and burning rivers, beyond the energy crisis of the 1970s, toxics  from refineries and mining, peak oil and global warming. We have begun to observe and articulate how the impacts of climate change will hit the poorest first and hardest. I have always known, in my mind, that the poorest countries and peoples would bear the brunt of the Climate Crisis. I have nodded in agreement, thought about rising sea levels and island nations, seen photos of oil refineries and the small towns huddled up near them. But that felt abstract and distant. In the past two years, I have seen how climate change impacts the poorest people in our communities, here in Oregon, more directly.

                In 2020, a huge fire burned through Talent and Phoenix Oregon. It started on the far end of Ashland—a wealthy small town—and raced through the manufactured homes, cheap small apartment complexes, and trailer parks that house most of the low income residents of two neighboring towns. It was frightenly fast moving, driven in part by very dry vegetation along the greenway that links the region; residents drove through the neighborhoods, filming the flames. All of Oregon watched in horror. In the end, three thousand homes were destroyed—and the vast majority were “affordable” for the residents. When it came time to rebuild, the state allowed the developers to build to 1994 codes for insulation and other energy measures, which are cheaper, in the short run, than the more energy efficient, tighter homes the more recent code requires. This action bakes in, for fifty to seventy years, higher energy costs for the occupants, mostly renters, of the new housing.

                Here in Corvallis, tree cover in neighborhoods is becoming an indicator of wealth. Poor neighborhoods have fewer trees. Partly because the sidewalks were designed to older standards and the planting strip, if there is one, is too narrow to accommodate a healthy tree. Some apartment complexes were not required to plant trees when they were built and sit is a sea of asphalt parking. Near campus, the trees planted by university professors when their houses were built are coming to the end of their life cycles and must be taken down. Now that the houses are student rentals, trees are not being replanted in the yards. An old large tree comes down and nothing grows in its place. That house becomes harder to cool in the summer; the sidewalk is less appealing for an afternoon stroll; the entire neighborhood is hotter. This is a small example, but one I see every day as I walk my neighborhoods.

                The news, this summer, is full of photos and stories of extreme weather events across the globe. Heat waves. Downpours. Fires. And, in story after story, who is suffering the most? The people who do not have the resources to buffer themselves. This is only going to grow worse. We need to take action. Now.