Beyond Civil Rights: The M.L.K Legacy
They say April is the cruelest month.

I can see why, having just spent the early part of it in Memphis, standing outside the infamous Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered exactly 40 years to the day.

But I wasn’t in Memphis just to mourn—I also was there to celebrate.

The Dream Reborn conference, which brought together more than a thousand Environmental Justice activists from across the nation, was located in Memphis as a way to reclaim both the city and Dr. King’s misunderstood legacy.

Decades of oversimplified media reports and sanitized history lessons have reduced the great man to a handful of epic speeches. We rarely hear that he spoke out against war, and that he tried to eliminate poverty for people of all color.

We're never taught that he was an environmentalist.

Always ahead of his time, Dr. King realized that racial justice could not be separated from the larger issue of human rights. He also recognized that a human rights agenda could never be limited to only political rights. In this visionary way he was an Environmental Justice activist a full decade before the movement's roots took hold. He recognized the interconnected nature of moral vision and material results. The Environmental Justice Movement's holistic vision of relieving the suffering of individuals and the planet at the same time owes its inspiration to Dr. King's own all encompassing vision of a moral future.

In his lifetime King never confined himself to working only for civil rights. It is not often remembered that he was in Memphis that April to march with striking sanitation workers, who were demanding humane treatment and fair wages. Their rallying cry, "I AM A MAN,", made it clear this was more than just a salary dispute—it was very much about human rights. For the communities that rallied to support them it was also about environment, about unchecked waste disposal, and the targeting of poor minorities for hazardous jobs.

Forty years later, King's dream of a hewing "out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope" is still alive and well in the Environmental Justice movement from Dr. Robert Bullard's efforts to help neglected communities advocate for environmental safety, to Winona LaDuke and her fellow Native American activists as they convert their reservations' energy supplies from traditional fossil fuels to renewable sources. In communities all across the nation, you'll still find lots of people committed to following "The Dream".

So just when you're ready to dismiss April as the cruelest month, remember that it also brings us Earth Day, a time of celebration, hope, and promise—a chance to renew our commitment to saving our planet and ourselves.

We may have lost our King 40 years ago this month, but his legacy lives on in the Environmental Justice movement. And I know he's marching alongside us in spirit as we fight to ensure that "green" practices include justice for all.


Winona LaDuke and Robert Bullard

Art Imitates Justice
Every good social movement needs its artists and the Environmental Justice movement is no exception.

Great art not only has the power to reflect the times, it also pulls us in, and inspires us to take action.

Of course, there was a rich tradition of artists expressing environmental themes years before any official movement existed. From the sensual watercolor flowers of painter Georgia O'Keefe to Woody Guthrie proclaiming some seventy years ago that, "this land was made for you and me," many great artists have dedicated their lives to honoring our powerful connection with nature.

As the Environmental Justice movement continues to expand, art will play an increasingly important role in reflecting our challenges—and in bringing new people into the fold.

Visionary artists like Chris Jordan are already leading the way.

Jordan's photographic illustrations capture the wastefulness of a consumer society run amok: an ocean of discarded cell phones, a mountain of un-recycled office paper towering over the Manhattan skyline—frightening extrapolations that remind us our "trash" doesn't magically disappear when it's hauled off to the local landfill.

Most of these Environmental Justice artists remain underground, protected from compromise, like Vanessa German, whose fierce poetry address everything from fair housing to environmental racism, or Clayton Thomas-Muller, who brings his Native American perspective to Hip-Hop, following in a long line of socially-committed rappers, from KRS-ONE to Talib Kewli.

Whether it's films or literature, music or photography, artists across all media and throughout all genres have lent their voices and vision to environmentalism, assuming the role of prophets—or as the late great Joe Strummer put it: "London is drowning and I live by the river."

After the Green Rush
Alright, environmentalists, wipe that cocky smile off your face.

I know you're thinking, "No matter who wins in November, things will improve."

True, all three presidential candidates promise to take action against climate change, and they all vow to create millions of new "green" jobs. So it seems like a safe bet to assume positive changes are inevitable.

Not so fast.

As we begin the mad dash for all jobs "green," how do we ensure no one gets left behind? After all, what good are "green" jobs if they only benefit multi-national corporations that don't reinvest in local communities? And how do the poor—those most in need of jobs—participate in what will surely be a highly-skilled job market?

Fortunately, a network of Environmental Justice entrepreneurs is already addressing those questions—and finding tremendous results across the nation.

The Apollo Alliance, which connects businesses, labor, and environmental and community activists, provides green job training and jobs to minority and low-income communities, from California to Milwaukee to the Bronx.

Whether it’s the Ella Baker Center training disadvantage youths for “green” jobs in Oakland, Sustainable South Bronx teaching its neighborhood effective land-use, or Solar Richmond, training community members in the profession skill of installing solar panels, such initiatives demonstrate that—given a fair chance—these communities can successfully compete for "green-collar" jobs.

Change is coming—the only question is, what kind of change? As we dive into the promise of a new, green economy, it's important that we always ask two key questions: "Who's getting those jobs—and who's truly benefiting?"



     Van Jones                                                       Majora Carter

Disaster Recovery
Are you still pissed off about our government's response to Hurricane Katrina? I sure am—and I don't even live near the Gulf.

From an environmental standpoint, a human rights standpoint, or simply a matter of national pride, it was sickening to see the inadequate response directed toward some of our least fortunate citizens.

”Heckuva job,” indeed.

It seems, though, that at least one good thing came out of that disaster: it mobilized the people of New Orleans to succeed where their government failed them.

Places like the Deep South Center for Environmental Justice, at Dillard University in New Orleans, are helping residents take control over their situation, training them in Hazmat disposal, and soil and mold remediation.

At Tulane/Xavier University, the Center for Bioenvironmental Research is helping the community plan its rebuilding efforts, making sure principles of sustainability and Environmental Justice are included in the discussions—whether that means establishing "health zones" that favor grocery stores over liquor stores, or providing safe pedestrian and bike paths.

But the efforts aren't just about rebuilding the city they're about building up the people, as well. The Corps Network recently launched a new pilot program in New Orleans that will provide green job training and work for some 800 disadvantaged youths there.

There's still a great deal of work to be done, but at least these efforts prove that New Orleans is moving forward. Still, that's only because they're not waiting for things to happen, they're making it happen.

Or, as one Katrina survivor said recently at The Dream Reborn conference: "Listen to us, let us do what we want, and support us if you can—that's not charity, that's solidarity."

By Ranjit Arab