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The Best Climate Solutions Start with Listening to Communities
As the South Bay grapples with the impacts of climate change, people there are creating solutions by relying on arguably the most fundamental element of conversation: listening.
This process began in East Palo Alto, California, where community groups and scientists are helping residents understand how warming temperatures are raising water levels in the bay鈥攈alf of the city already lies in a federal flood zone. And the idea is now spreading to nearby communities like North Fair Oaks, a small unincorporated area of mostly neighborhoods. Soon, it will expand into a regional science project where hundreds of residents will document how climate change is altering their lives over the next five years.
The listening project is led by , founder and executive director of the nonprofit . Her group advocates for climate change solutions that integrate the communities most affected by warming temperatures in the Bay Area.
鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of power in the community,鈥 she said. 鈥淭hey are the ones who are being impacted. They鈥檙e the ones who live in East Palo Alto, they know more than me. They are the experts. 鈥 Success is really about bringing the community together and finding ways where they can also be part of the process.鈥
Too often, she says, climate change policies are top-down approaches that forgo meaningful exchanges with the people who will have to live with solutions created for them.
Wulf-Saena鈥檚 primary mode for closing that gap is conversation. It works, she says, because her team looks like the communities they work with. She鈥檚 from Samoa and emigrated to the U.S. to be closer to her husband鈥檚 family nearly two decades ago.
鈥淚t鈥檚 easier for me, because I鈥檓 a person of color and I do come from the island,鈥 she said. 鈥淭hey see that: 鈥極h, yeah, she鈥檚 part of us.鈥欌
Last April, , only to find that in the coming decades they could be climate migrants for a second time. One of those residents is Appollonia Grey 鈥楿hilamoelangi, known as Mama Dee.
鈥淭he last two floods over here, the question is, 鈥榃here was God?鈥欌 she said. 鈥淒on鈥檛 get me wrong. I believe in prayers. But I lived through so many disasters.鈥
I learned East Palo Alto is ahead of some other Bay Area cities in planning for rising tides鈥攖hanks in large part to the community activism of those who emigrated to this small city along the bay.
It Began in Samoa
This idea of listening isn鈥檛 new. People likely listened (or, 诲颈诲苍鈥檛 listen) before they even learned to write. But Wulf-Saena experienced an epiphany about the power of listening when she was Samoa鈥檚 first climate change officer in the early 2000s.
The government she represented wanted to move the village of Saoluafata, on the north side of the island Upolu, upland and away from an eroding shoreline鈥攁 problem that would be exacerbated as climate change pushed tide levels even higher. Already, residents reported waves washing away the land and encroaching on homes, according to a study titled .
While drinking kava鈥攗sually sipped to mark important occasions within Samoan society鈥攚ith elders of the village in Saoluafata, Wulf-Saena quickly learned they 诲颈诲苍鈥檛 want to move inland.
鈥淏eing able to stay on their ancestral land is more important than adapting or moving to another place where their families can be safe,鈥 she explained. 鈥淚n the end, we compromised.鈥
The solution? A piled on top of sand that allowed the villagers to stay. The coastline was revegetated, the village water tank was upgraded, and residents were taught about coral gardening and how to protect the reef. Residents said in the survey that the sea wall solved the erosion problem, and a study suggests it was a success because the 鈥渧illagers made all of the decisions.鈥
The big lesson for Wulf-Saena in Saoluafata was that engaging residents in climate change solutions opens the opportunity for them to thrive despite the ever-increasing climate emergency.
鈥淚t鈥檚 really about being in their shoes … trying to understand their situations, the conflicts, and the barriers that they鈥檙e facing. And also working with them to find a way forward,鈥 she said.
Listening to People Around the Bay
Wulf-Saena moved to California in 2005. Shortly after, she took what she learned in Samoa and began applying it to the community of East Palo Alto in San Mateo County, which is the most at-risk from sea-level rise of all the Bay Area counties. The city is one of the most vulnerable to climate-driven inundation.
About 2.5 square miles, the city is made up of mostly one-story homes. Scientists say that in about a decade, two-thirds of the city may regularly flood, and by 2050, those areas could be frequently underwater during high tides.
Wulf-Saena partnered with Stanford students on a door-to-door climate survey, and she learned that the community did not understand the link between increased flooding and warming temperatures.
鈥淲hat I found was a lot of the community members 诲颈诲苍鈥檛 know what climate change was,鈥 she said.
Through community meetings and one-on-one peer counseling, local organizations and the county worked to help residents connect the dots. Her team fostered community buy-in for a levee project to protect against future flooding as the bay rises, much like the sea wall in Samoa.
Still, she understands that there鈥檚 a large percentage of the population she hasn鈥檛 reached; working with other nonprofit groups, she hopes to 鈥渉elp residents plan and respond [to climate change].鈥
鈥楾he Community Knows Best鈥
A similar listening session occurred 15 minutes north of East Palo Alto in the community of North Fair Oaks. In 2018, San Mateo County announced the community would receive a $50,000 grant to study climate change-related flooding impacts. The contract was finalized in 2019.
But when advocates and Stanford students once again went door to door, they were surprised with what residents such as Linda Lopez, who moved to the community in 1959 when she was 9 years old, told them.
Their climate concern? Heat and smoke from wildfires, not flooding.
鈥淚 just wasn鈥檛 thinking about [sea-level rise] because we鈥檝e never had any degree of flooding,鈥 she said. 鈥淲e think we live far enough from the (San Francisco) Bay that if it did rise, it鈥檚 not going to affect us.鈥
Climate models show water encroaching only on the eastern edge of North Fair Oaks as the seas rise by mid-century. (Although, flooding could block roads and create other transportation problems, cutting off access to food.)
Smaller than a couple square miles and home to roughly 15,000 people, the main drag of North Fair Oaks is a predominantly Latino area, lined with taquerias, paleterias and joyerias. But what鈥檚 noticeably missing are trees, says Ever Rodriguez, chair of the volunteer
North Fair Oaks borders Menlo Park to the south, which he describes as a 鈥渕ore affluent area鈥 with many 鈥渂eautiful oaks鈥 and other trees.
鈥淗ere on this side, there aren鈥檛 any trees, really. Just all cement and asphalt,鈥 he said.
This is where that fundamental part of conversation comes in again. The organizers realized they had to listen.
Early research questions were centered around flooding, but the community insisted that the blistering heat was the more imminent problem. Organizers say the community feedback helped them convince the county that the most immediate climate risk for North Fair Oaks was heat.
Community leaders and the county began working with , a nonprofit, to reduce temperatures by planting free trees in people鈥檚 yards. Temperatures in North Fair Oaks, a heat island, are higher than surrounding areas.
With little shade from sparse greenery, black asphalt streets and cement sidewalks absorb sunlight, radiating heat out into the neighborhoods.
鈥淭he community knows best and I think all public servants need to be guided by listening,鈥 Rodriguez said.
Rodriguez is in the process of helping organize climate change ambassadors on each block of North Fair Oaks. He wants every resident to be prepared for when the effects of climate change鈥攆ire, floods, drought, smoke鈥攊nevitably worsen.
鈥楶artly a Problem of Consent鈥
But why is it important for scientists and government leaders to listen to communities while creating climate solutions?
says listening replaces the mindset that the government or scientists know best. She studies the mental health impacts of climate change as a postdoc at Stanford University and the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine.
Wray says listening to people is about moving past the 鈥渄ark legacies鈥 that have shaped the climate crisis and figuring out 鈥渨hy it hurts some people more than others,鈥 referring to the world鈥檚 dependence on fossil fuels, corporations valuing wealth over people鈥檚 health, and how .
鈥淒omination is the predominant force in this crisis, as compared with true partnership that centers around human values like reciprocity, trust, dignity, and respect,鈥 she said.
Wray says listening empowers people to come up with climate solutions that improve life at the neighborhood level.
鈥淲e can actually start moving towards the world that isn鈥檛 the one we鈥檝e been living in, but the one that we want to live in,鈥 she said. 鈥淲e can鈥檛 do that without listening deeply to the people who are most affected.鈥
For , listening to people is about restoring consent. He鈥檚 an enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation in Oklahoma, and as a University of Michigan professor, he studies the moral and political issues around climate policy, and Indigenous people.
He says the issue of climate change in the country鈥檚 history 鈥渨as created not just because people were addicted to the benefits of fossil fuels, but they were also addicted to getting away with taking advantage of Indigenous people and other groups without those people鈥檚 consent.鈥
He says the consent issue hasn鈥檛 improved, and he鈥檚 concerned 鈥渢hat we actually haven鈥檛 gotten out of the situation that got us into the climate crisis, and it鈥檚 partly a problem of consent,鈥 he said.
Whyte is on the advising the administration on the , which calls for 40% of the proposal鈥檚 benefits to go to communities affected by environmental justice. He says his role is to remind the team that these projects will take longer to implement because these communities already have an infrastructure deficit because of a lack of federal investment鈥攊ncluding inadequate roads, housing, and transmission lines.
鈥淧eople haven鈥檛 listened to tribes for years, and they don鈥檛 understand the current infrastructure situation that tribes are in,鈥 he said. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e about to consider spending billions of dollars, and it could just be wasted if our policymakers and legislators aren鈥檛 listening to what tribes are going to actually need to be able to use and benefit from the renewable energy and clean water infrastructure being advocated for right now in Washington.鈥
The Wake-Up Call
Wulf-Saena and Stanford lecturer will soon start recruiting 500 families for a big listening project over the next five years in Redwood City, East Palo Alto, Palo Alto, and Alviso in San Jose. They鈥檒l routinely check in with participants to see how climate change is challenging their lives. Participants have the option to be contacted through an app, over the phone, or in person.
Ouyang had a major realization several years ago that if his research doesn鈥檛 help regular people, he feels like it鈥檚 worthless.
鈥淟istening from the bottom up ensures that you鈥檙e identifying the most important challenges that communities are facing and the most feasible, and holistic solution,鈥 he said.
He hopes the study illuminates blind spots to exactly what affects floods, heat waves, and wildfires can have on the most housing insecure.
鈥淭he only way to really understand the deep underlying challenges households face is if you can really follow them for the next few years, until those events inevitably occur,鈥 he said.
The team of scientists, students, and community organizers will lead the five-year study to examine the social and psychological effects of climate exposure, while building relationships with the families as warming alters their lives. The goal is to come up with the best solutions with the families involved.
鈥淥ur hypothesis is that we鈥檒l find that the things that work are exactly the kinds of things that organizations like Climate Resilient Communities are best poised to offer,鈥 he said. 鈥淏ecause they look like the neighborhood, they鈥檙e more trusted and have built those networks already.鈥
He thinks that the impacts of climate change are being felt 鈥渕uch deeper than we like to admit right now鈥 and could 鈥渓ook like [families] increasingly forgoing healthy food and the kinds of care you want to provide for your children,鈥 he said.
Ouyang wants to examine how vulnerable communities in the South Bay really are, and if they need greater access to mental health services, sandbags for flood times, ventilators for smoky times, and cooling centers for hot times.
Wulf-Saena says that she鈥檚 involved because she believes it will lead to solutions for people.
鈥淚鈥檓 also on the other side protecting the interests of the communities,鈥 she said. 鈥淚鈥檓 there thinking, 鈥極K, Stanford, this is not just a study.鈥 Whatever the outcome of this project will be, let鈥檚 have something that will give back to the communities that we鈥檙e going to work with.鈥
This story originally appeared in and is republished here as part of Covering Climate Now, a global journalism collaboration strengthening coverage of the climate story.
Ezra David Romero
is a climate reporter for KQED News. He covers the absence and excess of water in the Bay Area 鈥 think sea-level rise, flooding, and drought. For nearly a decade he鈥檚 covered how warming temperatures are altering the lives of Californians. He鈥檚 reported on farmers worried their pistachio trees aren鈥檛 getting enough sleep, families desperate for water, scientists studying dying giant sequoias, and firefighters containing wildfires. His work has appeared on local stations across California and nationally on public radio shows like Morning Edition, Here and Now, All Things Considered, and Science Friday.
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