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29 March 22
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For justification to try something a bit different, however, I turn to the late longtime New York Times columnist William Safire. I first met Bill back in the Nixon-Agnew White House, where he was a speechwriter. He later provided commentary at CBS News, and even though we disagreed on a lot of things, I grew to like him, and I believe he, me. I think back to how different those times were in our political discourse.
Well, Bill wasn’t shy about sharing his views, and that tendency extended to offering advice about how to read a newspaper column. (In so doing, he was perhaps offering a wink at those who wish to write them.)
“Never look for the story in the 'lede.' Reporters are required to put what's happened up top, but the practiced pundit places a nugget of news, even a startling insight, halfway down the column, directed at the politiscenti. When pressed for time, the savvy reader starts there.”
(Safire’s admonition came in one of the final pieces he wrote for The Times, titled “How to Read a Column,” which is still very much worth a read as long as you don’t use it to judge this one too harshly.)
So in the spirit of Safire, I am moving up something I had intended to put much farther down.
It might seem odd to begin a consideration of the war in Ukraine, and how it echoes the dangerous divisions we are witnessing here in the United States (the ultimate subject of this Sunday essay), with a poem about spring from William Wordsworth.
It’s the kind of thing that if you have the gall to include at all, you would try to safely tuck away toward the end of the column, once you have explained it and set it up with all the necessary context. And you would probably just pull a quote rather than printing the full poem. But for better or worse, that’s not the Steady way. We are all among friends here, right? So let’s give it a try, because it builds to one of the most haunting questions in verse, a question that reverberates in the tragedies of our current age.
"Lines Written in Early Spring," by William Wordsworth
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
That last line has echoed in my mind recently. Have we not all reason to lament what man has made of man?
Amidst the beauty of our natural world, we see humans wreak death and destruction for no purpose but the misguided pursuit of glory and ego. We see good people attacked by those cynically using vitriol to gather political power. We see wealth hoarded while so many go hungry. And we see the balance of our Earth thrown off-kilter by our short-sighted actions to a degree Wordsworth never could have imagined. It is not only what man has made of man, but what we have made of our precious planet.
As we welcome spring, a season that always builds stirrings of hope in mind and heart, the tension that Wordsworth so deftly expressed is everywhere. Let us think of the symbol of Ukraine, the bright yellow sunflower. It brings such color and beauty to our world — such a stark contrast to the mounds of eviscerated rubble in Mariupol and the death and suffering they represent.
The cherry blossoms are in full bloom in Washington, D.C. They bring an ethereal sense of wonder to the city, as families, couples young and old, and solitary strollers gather to admire the lush budding branches:
There's really no need for a caption here. We'll let the cherry blossoms take care of the poetry.
— National Mall NPS (@NationalMallNPS) March 25, 2022
🌸🌸🌸🌸
Pics from this morning by National Park Service.#CherryBlossom #BloomWatch pic.twitter.com/hn7TA7CBu1
And yet this same city has seen such ugliness on display. That has been depressingly obvious in the confirmation hearings for Ketanji Brown Jackson at the Capitol, the same building that was the stage for a violent insurrection.
We must note, however, that Wordsworth lived before the age of modern science. He didn’t know how intertwined we are in our biological makeup to the rest of life. We sit not apart from nature, but amidst it. And nature itself is not simply unadulterated beauty or tranquility. The coronavirus represents nature. So too do the ravages of natural disasters. From the perspective of a wildebeest running for its life from a lion, nature isn’t very pretty.
And in this reality, we can perhaps also find hope. We can begin by expanding the framing to what humans have made of humans, or even more optimistically, what humans have done for humans. For as much pain and suffering as I have witnessed in my career as a reporter, I have seen many more actions of heroic kindness and decency.
The stories out of Ukraine are heartbreaking, but think of all those putting their own lives at risk to help others. The people going into the rubble to pull out survivors, even as bombs continue to fall. The farmers who continue to plant in the breadbasket of Europe, even as war rages around them. The neighboring countries helping millions of men, women, and so many children who are fleeing for their lives with little more than the clothes on their backs.
Around the world, there has been an outpouring of support for the Ukrainian people. The stirring chords of the Ukrainian national anthem seem to be everywhere, a defiant pushback to forces of darkness and death:
The Met Chorus singing the Ukrainian national anthem before tonight’s opening of Don Carlos at the Met Opera, a day after the Opera announced it’s cutting ties with Pro-Putin artists @NY1 pic.twitter.com/EWkoviUF6p
— Stef Manisero (@StefManisero) March 1, 2022
Meanwhile, back in Washington, we can admire the steadfast resolve of Judge Jackson and her unwavering faith in this country and the rule of law. Her testimony about how she got to this moment, of those who helped along the way, is also an inspiring tribute to what humans can do for humans.
I particularly love this picture of her husband and daughter looking on — and from the likes on Twitter, I can tell I wasn’t the only one. That the picture was taken by Sarahbeth Maney, a young Black woman, makes it all the more meaningful:
Being the first often means you have to be the best — and the bravest. 📸 @sbmaneyphoto for @nytimes pic.twitter.com/DSZiawlnDd
— Sarahbeth Maney (@sbmaneyphoto) March 24, 2022
We can think of our fellow humans in the sciences who produced vaccines for Covid in record time. We can think of the engineers developing new alternative energies. We can think of the social workers, librarians, teachers, nurses, bus drivers, custodians, park rangers, and many others who provide services large and small, public and private, in the past, the present, and the future.
Ultimately, I like to believe in a conspiracy of decent people. I have lived long enough to know that the past isn’t as glorious as we would like to believe. In many ways, and for many people, it was far less just. On a global scale, our misery index, when measured for such suffering as hunger and infant mortality, has diminished.
We can learn from what worked in the past, but progress means going forward. Sometimes a snapshot of a moment of time, whether our own or that spring day from two centuries ago that inspired Wordsworth, can be misleading. We are not frozen in any one instant. Yes, we need to stop and think about what we do to each other. We need to recognize and confront the horrors that face us. But every bracketing of the present will invariably proceed into the future.
Time marches in one direction. We can’t stop it, but we can help shape it. Each human act of support to others is one that helps heal our world. Even now, with so much anxiety and chaos destabilizing our country and beyond, we can grip firmly onto what is good and just and use it to steady ourselves for the work to be done.
Firefighters removed a body from the rubble of a government building damaged by a Russian attack in Mykolaiv, Ukraine, on Tuesday. (photo: Bulent Kilic/AFP/Getty Images)
Ukrainian officials have been pushing for a ceasefire agreement to enable thousands of civilians to evacuate from besieged towns and cities that are still being bombed by Russian forces.
Russia's lead negotiator Vladimir Medinsky emerged from Tuesday's talks to say his country had received "a clearly formulated position from Ukraine," and that "the possibility of making peace will become closer" as the two sides continue to work quickly to reach compromises.
Ukrainian negotiators also indicated some progress as the two sides seek to hammer out mutual "security guarantees."
David Arahamia, one of the Ukrainian negotiators, declared a "first victory" merely by having the venue for the negotiations moved from Belarus, a Russian ally on Ukraine's northern border, to Turkey. "We see Turkey as one of our guarantor countries for Ukrainian safety."
But the most significant declaration after Tuesday's talks came from Moscow, where the ministry of defense issued a statement saying it would "reduce military activity" in order to "create the necessary conditions for further negotiations."
Ukraine's leaders have made it clear since last week that they're willing to accept a formal neutral status for the country, ruling out NATO membership and accepting some constraints on its military, in exchange for an end to the war.
"Due to the fact that negotiations on the preparation of the treaty on the neutrality and non-nuclear status of Ukraine, as well as on the provision of security guarantees to Ukraine, are moving into practice, taking into account the principles discussed during today's meeting, by the Ministry of Defense of the Russian Federation — in order to increase mutual trust and create the necessary conditions for further negotiations and achievement of the ultimate goal… a decision was made to radically, at times, reduce military activity in the Kyiv and Chernihiv directions," Russia's Deputy Minister of Defense Alexander Fomin said.
It wasn't clear to what extent Russia's military would reduce its artillery barrage against Kyiv's suburbs and the decimated city of Chernihiv, close to the Russian border, but it was the first time Moscow had given any indication that it would reduce the intensity of its "special military operation" since it began on February 24.
Russia's defense ministry has said it will now focus its efforts on eastern Ukraine to ensure the "independence" of two breakaway regions held by Moscow-backed separatist fighters.
Turkey's Foreign Minister Mevlut Cavusoglu said the round of Russia-Ukraine talks in his country had brought "the most meaningful progress" to date toward ending the war, but his American counterpart, Secretary of State Antony Blinken, was more cautious.
"I would leave it to our Ukrainian partners to characterize whether there is any genuine progress and whether Russia is engaging meaningfully," Blinken told reporters on Tuesday. "What I can say is this: There is what Russia says, and there is what Russia does. We're focused on the latter. And what Russia is doing is the continued brutalization of Ukraine and its people. And that continues as we speak."
While Russia's defense ministry pinned the change in tactics to the peace talks, a former Ukrainian ambassador told BBC News that, in his view, it was down to Russia being forced to accept realities on the ground.
"Maybe they realize that they are not winning this war, and they will never win," Ukraine's former ambassador to Austria, Dr. Olexander Scherba told the BBC after Tuesday's negotiations. "We know what we are fighting for, Russians don't."
CBS News senior foreign correspondent Holly Williams reports that Putin's ground forces have been stalled for weeks in their approach to Kyiv and other towns, and they're taking heavy losses. As many as 15,000 Russian troops have been killed in just over a month of fighting, according to an estimate by a NATO official.
Unable to advance due to logistical failures and stiff Ukrainian resistance, Russia has resorted to a war of attrition, pummeling cities from afar with missiles and artillery.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy said in a video address Monday evening that Russia's "ruthless war against our nation" had killed at least 143 children.
He lauded Ukraine's defense forces for refusing to let Russian troops take Kyiv, and said they were even pushing Putin's military out of some towns it had seized near the capital.
"Our defenders are advancing in the Kyiv region, returning control over Ukrainian territory," Zelenskyy said. "The occupiers are getting pushed away from Irpin, from Kyiv. However, it is still too early to talk about security in this part of the region. The fighting continues."
Williams and her team saw first-hand this week that advances by Ukraine's troops do not guarantee safety for the people living in towns that are reclaimed from Russia.
Williams was with Ukrainian forces as they traveled by road on Monday toward the town of Makariv, about 40 miles west of Kyiv. Ukraine said its troops recaptured Makariv last week, but as they approached, the Ukrainian forces spotted Russian drones flying overhead.
It was a tense situation. Twice the convoy left their vehicles by the side of the road and scattered for cover. The booms of shells landing could be heard nearby.
Williams said it was clear that Ukraine's fight for freedom could be long and dangerous.
The Russian cellist Sergej Roldugin, godfather of Putin's eldest daughter, has been described as the key to tracing Putin's hidden fortune. (photo: Valentin Antonov/EPA)
The jurisdictions that help kleptocrats live in luxury on stolen assets must stop shielding corrupt elites
All this hidden wealth mattered when we published the Panama Papers in 2016, two years after Russia had annexed the Crimean peninsula. Now, after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, it matters more than ever. Lawmakers in the UK, the EU, the US and Canada have sanctioned Russian banks, Russian companies and individuals close to Putin. This includes Russian oligarchs, as well as Putin’s friends, supporters and admirers who have helped facilitate his kleptocracy by hiding his wealth in accounts under their own names or just championing his kleptocracy for their own illicit enrichment. Individuals like the cellist Sergej Roldugin, the Rotenberg brothers and Usmanov.
Now, the western world has decided that they want Putin’s friends to be sanctioned for the kleptocracy and harm they have facilitated and from which they have benefited. Prosecutors and investigators as well as special police units are now hunting for the riches of Putin’s friends. They are seizing yachts, grounding planes and confiscating lavish villas. Yet what they will find is probably only the tip of the iceberg. To really hit Putin and his friends where it hurts, one must go to Switzerland, to Panama, Cyprus and the British Virgin Islands. Unfortunately, investigators will probably not get much help there – as secrecy is what those countries sell.
Economists like to call them tax havens or secrecy jurisdictions. But “black holes” would be more appropriate for these places where greedy lawyers, tax advisers, consultants and other crooks help the rich and powerful to hide or, as they put it, “fence” their assets. These willing helpers assist the oligarchs to make their fortunes vanish from the view of law enforcement.
When we received the leak that became the Panama Papers, we found – apart from Roldugin – dozens of filthy rich Russians. When we received the Paradise Papers, another offshore data leak, the names of oligarchs Roman Abramovich, Alisher Usmanov and Oleg Deripaska appeared in the data, as did Olga Shuvalova, the wife of Russia’s first deputy prime minister. More than a year ago we got hold of the Suisse Secrets, yet another leak, and there was the sister of Alisher Usmanov and a fortune of about 2bn Swiss francs.
Sanctions are a powerful tool in foreign policy. Some even call them a “tool of modern war”. We understand the idea to put pressure on Putin’s inner circle and Russia’s economy. But why stop there? Let’s address the problem and not only its symptoms. Let’s change the system so governments do not have to rely on sanctions to prevent Putin and other kleptocracies from gaining more power.
First and foremost, secrecy jurisdictions themselves need to be targeted. It is not enough to go after the profiteers of these countries, but the jurisdictions themselves. If necessary, the black holes themselves need to be sanctioned – to bring change not only to the war in Ukraine, but worldwide.
Russia’s oligarchs are not the only ones who enjoy a luxury lifestyle financed with stolen money. Kleptocracy and corruption are far from a uniquely Russian phenomenon.
Think Venezuela. Think China. Think Angola.
Addressing the systemic causes of kleptocracy and corruption will inevitably mean targeting both the legal structures and professionals in the west that facilitate kleptocracy: law firms, consultants and asset managers in Zurich, London and New York who regularly lend a helping hand to kleptocrats. They profit from jurisdictions like the Cayman islands and Switzerland – and yes, the US – which still offer secrecy on a grand scale. They profit from jurisdictions without public registries of who owns real estate and companies.
Defenders of secrecy claim their rights to privacy matter most. But let us face the facts: financial secrecy is the engine of global corruption and kleptocracy. It makes it too easy for corrupt elites to plunder whole continents, for traffickers of drugs and people to launder their money, and it helps to finance brutal wars. It helps Putin and his friends.
Fortunately, in late 2020, the United States government finally passed legislation that requires a beneficial ownership registry for US companies. Similar registries exist in dozens of countries, because forcing companies to reveal who ultimately benefits from them makes it far more difficult for kleptocrats and their cronies to hide their illicit money. But the US legislation, the Corporate Transparency Act, does not go far enough. It forces the ultimate beneficial owners to be revealed only to the authorities and only under certain circumstances.
But not to the public. And this is a huge mistake.
As long as we rely on authorities and law enforcement alone, kleptocrats, autocrats and Putin’s friends will have an easier time evading sanctions and continuing to hide their ill-gotten gains. Mutual legal assistance between national law enforcement agencies takes years, and does not penetrate the numerous layers of secrecy used by evildoers around the globe. Journalists and civil society groups have proven to be far more effective. They can collaborate quickly and effectively across borders, they can work with leaked data (something law enforcement still has to learn) and connect it with publicly available data. New government task forces set up late in the day to chase Putin’s cronies’ cash will be insufficient. Governments should open up the registries: company registries, ship registries, plane registries, real estate registries. Give the investigative power to the people – and we bet: you will not be disappointed.
Above all, let’s finally get rid of those black holes.
Demonstrators march at the 'say gay anyway' rally in Miami Beach in March. (photo: Chandan Khanna/AFP/Getty Images)
The bill bans classroom instruction about sexual orientation and gender identity from kindergarten through the third grade.
LGBTQ rights advocates have condemned the bill for, they say, erasing and stigmatizing LGTBQ people. Critics also worry that the bill’s “parental notification” requirements would also essentially mandate that teachers out LGBTQ students to their parents.
“LGBTQ youth in Florida deserve better,” Amit Paley, CEO and executive director of the Trevor Project, which aims to reduce suicide among LGTBQ young people, said in a statement. “They deserve to see their history, their families, and themselves reflected in the classroom.”
In a 2021 national survey, the Trevor Project found that 42 percent of LGBTQ youth seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year. That number rose among transgender and nonbinary youth: More than half seriously considered doing so.
Under the bill, any instruction on sexual orientation and gender identity, for students beyond the third grade, must be “age-appropriate and developmentally appropriate in accordance with state standards.”
On Monday, DeSantis dismissed criticism of the bill as “sloganeering and fake narratives by leftist politicians, by activists, by corporate media.” DeSantis signed the bill at a charter school, an institution that would not be impacted by the bill, the Hill reported.
Local LGBTQ rights group Equality Florida also slammed DeSantis for the bill.
“He has attacked parents and children in our state by invoking hateful anti-LGBTQ stereotypes all to pander to his right-wing base as he prepares to run for president in 2024,” the group tweeted in a thread. “He has made us a laughingstock and target of national derision. Worse, he has made schools less safe for children.”
The Florida bill is set to go into effect on July 1.
Israeli border police members patrol past shops in the old city of Jerusalem on 28 March 2022, as Israel raises its security measures. (photo: AFP)
Israeli raids have been ongoing since early Monday following a shooting incident that killed two police officers
The operation, supported by Israel’s security service the Shin Bet, targeted the Wadi Ara area, in Umm al-Fahm, the hometown of the attackers, as well as Nazareth, Sakhnin, al-Tayba, Zelfa, and other nearby villages in Israel's central and northern areas.
Two Palestinian citizens of Israel opened fire in the central Israeli city of Hadera on Sunday night, in an attack that also wounded 10 people, before the pair were fatally shot by undercover police.
The Islamic State group claimed the attack, without citing any evidence.
Almost immediately after the assault, police and special forces raided Umm al-Fahm, set up roadblocks on Israel’s central roads, and raised its threat level to the highest possible.
On Monday, police said they had called in six reserve police units, with the possibility of more being called into active duty.
The Israeli army also said it was sending reinforcements along the 1967 borders separating Israel from the occupied West Bank.
Meanwhile, an armed militia announced that it has set up squads across the area to defend it from future attacks.
The Palestinians detained on Tuesday were arrested on suspicion of various security offences, including possession of weapons and affiliation with IS, the police said.
The police said in a statement that it will intensify its arrest campaign, which is expected to continue over the next few days, and will target Palestinian citizens of Israel who were previously suspected or accused of supporting or belonging to IS.
Since early Monday, police have carried out search operations across Palestinian-majority towns in Israel, including the Negev, known as Naqab for Palestinians, and Galilee regions. The raids included home searches and field interrogations.
Police arrested five people from Umm al-Fahm, including a brother of one of the assailants, overnight on Monday.
The swift arrival of police units, coupled with growing incitement in the media, has left Palestinians fearful and anxious about the aftermath of the attack.
Palestinian citizens in Umm al-Fahm and across Israel, were quick to condemn Sunday’s shooting, as fears of Israeli reprisals against them rose, both from the state and armed Jewish militia.
"This attack does not represent the people of the city, nor our society, nor our values that call for a decent and tolerant life, a society that seeks security and peace," the Umm al-Fahm municipality said in a brief statement released on Sunday.
Honduran president Juan Orlando Hernandez answers questions from the media, Aug. 13, 2019, in Washington. (photo: AP)
He governed Honduras from 2014 to 2022, through a re-election that was criticized because the Constitution did not allow it. Until then, however, he had the support of Washington.
"The magistrates have ruled against the appeal filed, which means that the decision to grant the extradition of Juan Orlando Hernandez by the judge of first instance on March 16 is confirmed," CSJ spokesperson Melvin Duarte said.
"By unanimous vote, the extradition is granted in relation to charge number one (conspiracy to import a controlled substance into the United States)," he added.
The United States requested Hernandez's extradition on three drug trafficking counts, accusing him of importing 500 tons of cocaine as well as using and carrying firearms.
The former president was arrested on Feb. 15 and immediately appeared at two preliminary hearings that led to the decision to grant extradition. Now, the delivery of Hernandez will depend on the coordination between local authorities and the U.S. Embassy in Tegucigalpa.
Following the U.S.-backed coup against President Manuel Zelaya in 2009, Hernandez became the leader of the Honduran right and had a dizzying political career, which led him to become president of Parliament from 2010 to 2013.
Later, he governed Honduras from 2014 to 2022, through a re-election that was criticized because the Constitution did not allow it. Until then, however, he had the support of Washington.
The heart of town in Naukati Bay, Alaska: the community's marina. (photo: SEAKdrones)
Naukati Bay sits in the upper half of Prince of Wales Island, part of the archipelago that makes up Alaska’s southeast panhandle. Surrounding the town is Tongass National Forest, the world’s largest intact temperate rainforest, nearly 17 million acres spread across 1,100 mountainous islands. There’s not much to see in town, except the marina and the old steam donkey on display, an antique powered winch that was used in the early 20th century to help gather logs.
Nearly 2 million people visit the Tongass every year, coming from all over the world to marvel at the vast swaths of Sitka spruce, western hemlock, and red and yellow cedar, some towering as tall as 200 feet. They also come for the wildlife. Black and brown bears swat at spawning Pacific salmon and Dolly Varden char. Bald eagles and ravens feast on the leftovers. Humpback whales scoop up thousands of herring that spawn each spring as orca stalk Chinook salmon in the waters that divide the Alexander Archipelago. The forest is also the historical home of the Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian people, whose lands were stolen and then used to establish the national forest.
The Tongass has been the heart of the logging industry in Alaska for decades, starting in the 1950s with the arrival of pulp mills. It was at its zenith in 1990, employing crews in the thousands to clear-cut old growth trees. But attitudes were shifting. In the late 1990s, the federal government declined to renew a 50-year contract with a pulp mill in Ketchikan, which, along with tightening environmental and production standards, dealt a fatal blow to the largest consumer of Prince of Wales Island’s timber.
In 2001, in the waning days of his administration, President Bill Clinton issued the Roadless Area Conservation Policy, also known as the Roadless Rule. The directive was designed to restrict roadbuilding, and by extension large-scale logging and mining, on 58 million acres in the country’s national forests. For more than two decades, industry interests and resource-heavy states have challenged the policy. But the Roadless Rule has largely always prevailed, and long been heralded as a major win for conservation, helping to protect the United States’ few remaining wild places.
Except, that is, for the Tongass.
The policy’s legacy is being challenged in Alaska, where resource extraction is a key driver of the state’s politics. Governors from both parties have fought the Roadless Rule in federal court. Now, Naukati Bay and the other communities nestled within Tongass are on the front lines of the debate over clear-cutting old-growth trees in the 21st century.
According to an analysis of satellite data by Grist and Earthrise Media, the Southeast Alaska rainforest lost nearly 70,000 acres of tree cover between 2001 and 2014. In southern Southeast Alaska — the lower half of Alaska’s panhandle — alone, that figure was close to 58,000 acres. Most of this logging, however, occurred outside designated roadless areas and federally owned lands.
From 2015 to 2020, the lower half of the Southeast Alaska panhandle saw another 22,000 acres logged. But these cuts were different: Forty-six percent of the logging over that time period occurred on parcels recently transferred out of federal ownership.
What happened? Land exchanges by Congress.
In basic terms, a land exchange is when Congress approves a swap between a parcel of federally protected forest land and tracts that have been in private hands. In some cases, this could mean a swap of old-growth forest for land that has been clear-cut or is in second-growth (and therefore less valuable). Negotiations for these arrangements can take years and involve people from government and the private and nonprofit sectors.
Land exchanges have allowed lawmakers in Washington, D.C. to bypass the Roadless Rule and other environmental protections and transfer ownership of thousands of acres of old-growth Tongass National Forest, opening the land up for logging.
A deeper look at the data from the Tongass region shows that 62 percent of the forest acreage lost between 2001 and 2014 was on state or private lands that had been transferred out of federal ownership — and by extension, oversight and management.
Recently, about 10,800 acres near Naukati were granted from Tongass to the Alaska Mental Health Trust, which is obligated — it’s in the trust’s charter — to maximize profit from its landholdings to fund social services in the state. “The trust grants more than $20 million a year to partner organizations that provide services and support to Alaskans with developmental disabilities and behavioral health conditions,” Jusdi Warner, the executive director of the Trust’s land office, said in an interview. “The immediate goals for this land exchange on the trust side is for timber harvest to maximize the revenue from the trust lands.”
The organization plans to harvest timber from the former federally protected Tongass land and sell it to two primary customers. Viking Lumber operates the last remaining sizable sawmill in Southeast Alaska and is the primary holder of large-scale timber contracts on Prince of Wales Island tracts owned by the Mental Health Trust. Its owners did not respond to a series of interview requests. According to a 2015 report, Viking’s Tongass old-growth trees go into products ranging from Steinway grand pianos to picket fences and gazebos.
The other is Alcan, a Ketchikan, Alaska-based timber outfit that exports 100 percent of its logs to Asia for milling. The company’s principal owner also declined to be interviewed. By the Mental Health Trust’s own accounting, it stands to make between $20 million and $30 million by commercially logging former Tongass parcels it’s received from the federal government. Old growth is prized by the timber industry for the quick buck; second-growth forests are a longer-term play pushed by those advocating for sustainable logging.
Here in Naukati, a community that was founded as a logging camp, there’s genuine worry about the speed and scale of the clear-cuts outside of town. Last year, the Biden administration rolled back one of the latest attempts to exempt the Tongass from the national Roadless Rule, this time by President Donald Trump.
For some people on Prince of Wales Island, the move by Biden brought hope that large-scale logging would stop.
“I was so excited,” said Mark Figelski, who made his home here in Naukati in 2014 after purchasing 4 acres sight-unseen in a state land auction. “I thought, ‘Oh, for sure. Now we’re gonna get — you’re gonna cut this off.’”
But the logging here did not stop. If anything, it’s accelerated.
Naukati’s residents now watch excavators and logging trucks clear large swaths of trees on their doorstep faster than ever before. As he tells it, Figelski moved to Naukati for his son, who was diagnosed with autism. He wanted a place where his child could get invested in a small, tight-knit community.
Here in the rainforest, he gets much of his food for his family from the land. He forages for berries and mushrooms, hunts deer, and fishes for salmon and halibut. For him, protecting the Tongass is personal.
But Figelski wants people to know that splashy federal policy initiatives often don’t tell the whole story.
“When you think about what a victory everybody was celebrating about the Roadless Rule coming back, but really it means nothing if there’s a backdoor,” Figelski said as he drove his compact SUV through an immense clear-cut near his home. “This is one big-ass loophole.”
Figeslki said he’s not anti-logging nor are his neighbors, many having worked in the forest products industry themselves. But they believe in responsible forestry. And what they’re seeing, they say, isn’t responsible and could take away their way of life. Aggressive logging can destroy habitat for deer and ruin the spawning habitat for salmon.
And, of course, it’s not just bad for Naukati. The world depends on the Tongass, seen by many as “the lungs of North America,” a vital resource for sequestering carbon. The Tongass currently holds 44 percent of all the carbon stored by U.S. national forests. While other forests often burn in wildfires, releasing the carbon sequestered by photosynthesis right back into the atmosphere, the rainforest of Southeast Alaska is different. Forest fires are relatively rare here. In fact, climatologists believe this part of the world will generally get wetter as global temperatures rise. So the Tongass isn’t just a carbon sink, it is a steady one — vital to the long-term fight against climate change. The Tongass “is some of the most carbon-dense, old-growth rainforest in the world,” said Dominick DellaSala, an ecologist and chief scientist at the nonprofit Wild Heritage. “Even more dense in carbon storage [per acre] than the tropical rainforest … What it comes down to is really abusive use of the rainforest. When you come in and you clear-cut — and you take out all the trees over an area as large as 40 acres, in some cases, private lands, it’s even larger — that just takes out all of the value of the forest. You lose most of the carbon, which goes up into the atmosphere.”
The land exchange between the Forest Service and Mental Health Trust was more than a decade in the making. But much of its legislative success can be laid at the feet of the U.S. Republican Senator from Alaska, Lisa Murkowski. She and her staff spent years in talks to design a transfer of Tongass federal lands into the hands of the trust.
She’s heard concerns about accelerated logging but said protections are in place.
“It’s not as if the Alaska Mental Health Trust has some ability to go outside of the built-in protections that are already provided by law,” Murkowski said in an interview, saying the exchange will be a net benefit to the communities in and around the land swap.
But people in the region like Joe Carl are more skeptical. He owned a small sawmill and raised oysters outside of Naukati. In an interview in late 2021, shortly before he passed away, he expressed concern over what would become of the area surrounding his home: Now that the land isn’t owned by the federal government, timber crews are able to harvest trees more liberally because of the state of Alaska’s more flexible timber rules.
In his view, he said, the Mental Health Trust is not a responsible steward of the land it was granted.
He pointed to rules about buffers. Those are the no-cut zones around streams and rivers to prevent clear-cuts from destroying salmon spawning habitat in freshwater.
“Their buffers on their streams are bigger,” Carl said of Forest Service regulators who oversee timber harvests in the federally owned land of the Tongass National Forest. “Now, they do a good job compared to all these other places I’ve logged for, where we’re getting the last tree, and see you later.”
Public lands managed by the Forest Service have stronger protections for streams and waterways than required under Alaska law. That means once land is removed from the Tongass it can be more aggressively harvested, which arguably leads to less sustainable practices.
The Forest Service requires a 100-foot buffer around salmon-producing streams. But under Alaska law, the Mental Health Trust can leave buffers as narrow as 66 feet on the land it has logged.
State fisheries biologist Mark Minnillo grew up on Prince of Wales Island. It’s his job to walk lands identified for logging and point out salmon habitat before the first tree is cut. It’s a contentious issue in a place where the salmon run is a means to feeding families; it’s more than a recreational pastime.
“Unless they have anadromous fish in them, they receive no protection,” Minnillo said, referring to fish who live in the sea but return to freshwater to spawn, such as salmon. “So yes, the operator’s following what’s in the Forest Resources and Practices Act [Alaska’s statute regulating logging], but those protections are definitely less than what the Forest Service uses.”
State biologists and foresters still walk the land and point out places where logging buffers should be widened to keep clear-cuts further away from salmon and trout habitat. That’s because the thin line of trees left standing are often later felled by high winds and heavy rains and erosion. But any protections past the 66-foot no-cut zone would be voluntary, explains Joel Nudelman, a veteran state forester of two decades.
“It is ultimately up to the landowner to determine where they’re going to harvest,” he said.
The impact of this logging is palpable in the forests surrounding Naukati. Streams that people here rely on to feed their families with salmon show signs of degradation. Commercial salmon fisheries also rely on these waterways, and make up a sizable chunk of the local economy. Much more than, say timber, which an analysis of state data by a regional development group says provides about 320 jobs across this region — about a tenth of what Southeast Alaska’s commercial fishing industry employs.
According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game’s anadromous waters catalog, 124 streams cross the forested parcels transferred from the Forest Service to outside stakeholders, like the Mental Health Trust. These waterways serve as spawning and rearing grounds for salmon. Satellite imagery confirms the suspicions of observers like Carl: Buffers along fish-bearing streams on trust and private lands toe the 66-foot limit afforded by Alaska’s Department of Natural Resources.
But the land exchange is good business for the region’s logging industry — or what’s left of it. And it’s almost universally supported by Alaska’s elected leaders.
“When we looked to how we could allow for an exchange that would protect areas within Forest Service lands, while at the same time taking care of an obligation to a subset of Alaskans as people that are cared for under the Alaska Mental Health Trust, we figured that this was a symbiotic relationship,” Senator Murkowski said in an interview.
She successfully inserted language authorizing the land exchange with the Alaska Mental Health Trust in a must-pass piece of legislation. It was signed by President Trump in 2017. Along Yatuk Creek, about a few miles northeast from Naukati, Minnillo, the state fisheries biologist, walks through an area being actively logged by crews contracted by the trust. Logs are stacked high along the side of a road waiting to be hauled off to the mill. Trees lie in and across the salmon-producing stream.
This likely wouldn’t have happened if it were logged under the federal rules that regulate the Tongass.
Some blowdown is to be expected, even in untouched old growth. It can help shade the creeks, Minnillo said, keeping water temperatures low — just as salmon here in Alaska like it. But too much, and stream banks start to erode. Felled trees can block salmon and trout from making their way upstream. Waterways get more turbid.
In knee-high rubber boots, the biologist strides across a bridge overlooking the creek. Salmon in greenish-brown spawning colors rest in an eddy downstream, waiting for just the right time to scamper up the creek and complete their journey.
“This is some of the blowdown that’s happened in this area,” he said, pointing to trees within the legally mandated 66-foot ribbon of uncut timber. That small buffer often translates to two or three trees on each side of the stream. In many places, though, it’s functionally zero — because those that are left standing by loggers are felled by Mother Nature.
But the worst damage is yet to come. With the bank now exposed, it’ll likely collapse, in this area that gets about 100 inches of rain a year.
“You can see this one here with this big exposed root wad, you’re going to get a lot of erosion off of that,” he said, pointing to a gash in the creek bed. “You can see what you end up with if this creek gets higher flows. It’s going to erode.”
As we talk, a logger — Chris — shows up. We pause so Minnillo can pitch him on fixing up the stream bank. But it’s all voluntary. State officials can’t compel him to do more to protect a salmon-rich stream like this one.
The Mental Health Trust’s land exchange is the most recent land swap affecting the Tongass, finalized this year. But it is nowhere near the size or scale of the 2014 transfer of 70,000 acres to a regional Alaska Native corporation.
Sealaska is one of a dozen regional Alaska Native corporations created a half-century ago by the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, or ANCSA, of 1971. Corporations received lands to invest in and pay out to Alaska Native shareholders.
Some invested in oil exploration, others mining, and many leveraged lucrative federal defense contracts. Sealaska logged on lands across Prince of Wales Island. It was always controversial, but it allowed the group to pay dividends to Alaska Native shareholders.
Some of those lands were meant for cultural sites and preservation. “But the economics of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act didn’t leave too many options available to the original board,” said Patrick Anderson, who is Tlingit and a former Sealaska director on the board from 1989 to 2016.
“Part of the pressures that we really felt were the dividend pressures from shareholders,” he said.
Those are the annual payments to the corporation’s 20,000-odd Native shareholders.
Sealaska dominated the region’s logging industry between 2014 and 2021. According to timber harvest plans submitted to the state, Sealaska applied to log at least 18,000 acres of land it received in the 2014 transfer. No other entity came close to this volume.
Sealaska representatives declined to comment on the volume of its timber harvests, saying it was proprietary information.
Sealaska renounced commercial logging in 2021, a blow to the region’s timber industry. But that doesn’t mean more land transfers aren’t being considered. In 2019, Sealaska invested at least $500,000 in a campaign to create five new Alaska Native corporations that would be allowed to select federal lands from the Tongass. The new corporation shareholders would be descendants of the five village populations originally left out of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act.
That effort, introduced on Capitol Hill last fall, is being supported by Alaska’s Congressional delegation, including Senator Murkowski, who helped engineer Sealaska’s 2014 land swap.
“The timber industry in Southeast [Alaska] has struggled for years,” Murkowski said from Washington, D.C. “And it’s been because of a lack of supply from the Forest Service.”
Those descendents from the five villages have created the group Alaska Natives Without Land. The organization has released maps that include tracts on Prince of Wales Island — land where they do not have direct historical ties. If approved, the bill would allow these shareholders to use the land for economic activities, including logging and tourism. The mining rights, however, would belong to Sealaska.
Tribal leaders on Prince of Wales Island say they are sympathetic to the landless communities’ situation but are worried that their forestlands will be targeted for their timber.
“We support these communities that want to gain access to a resource that other communities got in the past,” said Clinton Cook, president of the Craig Tribal Association on the island.
But “hopefully they’ll look at more areas in their community,” he said, and not on Prince of Wales Island that already has a network of logging roads and a legacy of clear-cut logging.
The Tongass National Forest is often lauded as an asset for all people in the United States. But for those whose homelands were nationalized it’s a legacy of stolen land.
“When they set aside the 16 million-acre Tongass out of the total 25 million acres, that fueled a lot of early rage against the government,” Anderson said of the early 20th-century creation of the Tongass. “While I know the Tongass is a tremendous public resource, it was taken from the Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian people.”
All for what he calls “a minuscule amount of money” — $7.5 million — paid in 1968 and only after Tlingit and Haida tribal leaders sued the federal government for forcibly taking its lands to create the Tongass in the early 1900s.
“What we gave up in rights, should be at least acknowledged by the rest of the United States,” he said. “And maybe some of the investment that then goes into the fighting that occurs, all of the public policy that occurs, should be invested in developing other aspects of the Alaska Native world.”
Tucked into a narrow fjord that serves as the gateway for ferry passengers, a historic water-powered boatworks greets those coming to Prince of Wales Island. It has serviced the region’s fishing fleet since the 1940s.
Sam Romey has owned the Wolf Creek Boatworks for nearly 30 years, leasing the land it’s on from the Forest Service. Previous owners have leased it since 1939.
But the land was included in the exchange with the Mental Health Trust. Now, Romey is locked in a legal battle with the state of Alaska, which defends the trust in court.
Romey feared the ridges above his land would be clear-cut. Then he got a public notice in February 2022 confirming his fears.
“It’s in the backyard, the side yard, it’s everywhere,” he said in a phone interview.
The trust says it intends to cut some 800 acres of old-growth forest and 29 acres of young growth, some of which comes uncomfortably close to Romey’s historic structures.
“They’re planning to log that entire mountainside,” he said. There’s a salmon-bearing stream that powers the boatworks. He had to be mindful of it when it was managed by the federal foresters.
“All of a sudden,” he said, “we go from ‘preserve the forest, take care of it — you can’t cut a tree down without asking the Forest Service’ — to ‘we’re going to mow the entire mountainside down’,” he said.
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