By Lisa Held for Civil Eats.
Broadcast version by Eric Tegethoff for Big Sky Connection, reporting for Civil Eats/Solutions Journalism/Public News Service Collaboration.

On the day the Tigercat carbonator - a machine that looks like a giant metal dumpster mounted on Snowcat-style treads - arrived in western Montana from Oregon, Michael Schaedel set to work navigating "a colossus" over narrow, rolling forest roads.

As a forester for the Nature Conservancy, Schaedel works to thin and restore 500,000 acres of former industrial timberland to make it more resistant to wildfires. And he collects debris and burns it in piles so that it doesn't become fuel for future fires. It's a common practice, but it releases carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. So he and others are looking to the carbonator-which burns the material in a way that traps carbon and creates a product called biochar-instead.

After two weeks of trying it out, he was impressed with the results. His team was burning debris that would fill 60-80 dump trucks daily with little to no smoke. But the second half of their plan is bound to be more difficult. Schaedel's team hopes convince western Montana farmers to take the biochar and add it to their soils.

It should be a relatively easy sell, as a growing body of research suggests that biochar might just be the most versatile soil health tool available-and an important climate solution. Biochar particles are incredibly porous, creating nooks and crannies that hold onto excess nutrients, water, and microbes. Adding them to fields can reduce nitrogen and phosphorous runoff that pollutes waterways, help soil retain moisture in drought-stricken areas, and stimulate microbial activity. Most importantly, biochar is one of the most stable, long-lasting forms of carbon available. In the right conditions, it can last hundreds-and even thousands-of years, potentially holding on to significant amounts of carbon dioxide that would otherwise end up in the atmosphere.

"The evidence is very strong that it's the best approach [to carbon sequestration]," said Chuck Hassebrook, head of the National Center for Appropriate Technology's (NCAT) Biochar Policy Project. "But it's not something we can turn around and do tomorrow at scale. We don't have the biochar production facilities, and there are knowledge gaps that we need to fill."

Now, this little-known tool may receive a boost in Washington. In 2022, lawmakers in both houses of Congress introduced the Biochar Research Network Act. And if it passes, the legislation would set up a national network of up to 20 research sites focused on biochar as a climate solution on farms.

"We know that biochar amendments improve the quality of soil and that, in turn, has positive benefits to drawing down carbon," said LaKisha Odom, the scientific director for soil health at the Foundation for Food & Agriculture Research (FFAR), which hosted an event dedicated to biochar research and commercialization in partnership with NCAT and American Farmland Trust (AFT) in March. "But there is additional research needed . . . to really provide solutions and recommendations to farmers and ranchers."

Biochar is a form of charcoal, made through a process called pyrolysis, that involves heating organic biomass while depriving it of oxygen.

In Montana, the carbonator, burns limbs, branches, and small trees in a fiery box, where a fan blows air downward continuously, accelerating the burn and keeping the smoke down, Schaedel explained. As the charred wood particles burn and get smaller, they drop into water, which stops the burn. The final product is biochar.

Self-proclaimed hippie homesteader Dale Hendricks doesn't have an expensive machine, and prefers to make biochar in metal barrels.

Hendricks grows and sells native plants, proselytizes about permaculture, and has been making his own biochar in southeastern Pennsylvania since 2009. He sprinkles it in his chicken coop to reduce the smell of the manure and adds it to his compost continuously, where it helps create carbon-rich, vibrant soil that helps plants thrive.

But Hendricks and others say the hype around biochar as a climate silver bullet has sometimes led to the opposite effect: Many farmers and scientists discount it entirely. "Please don't let the idea get out there that there are fanatics that think char is going to save the world," he said. "We want it to take its place as a tool. It's great, long-term, practically permanent structural soil improvement."

Especially in drought-prone areas, there is strong evidence that biochar can improve how much water soils hold, said Deborah Page-Dumroese, who has been studying the practice for 12 years as part of her research on forest resilience in Colorado. And given the intensity and length of recent droughts in the West, the impacts they're already having on agriculture, and the fact that the trend is likely to continue, that's no small thing.

"We're also pretty confident that forest-made biochar could be used in places like feedlots to absorb manure and contaminants in the manure," she said, "and that biochar can improve the forage capabilities of pastureland."

Interest in those agricultural uses appears to be picking up steam. In September, the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) named the U.S. Biochar Initiative (USBI) is a partner in a $30 million effort to lower the carbon footprint of beef.

As for biochar's ability to draw more carbon into the ground, studies have shown that it remained stable in the Terra Preta soils of the Amazon basin for thousands of years. But the fact that the carbon can stay stable for that length of time doesn't mean it will.

How long it stays in place depends on the size of the particles and the texture of the soil, Page-Dumroese said. Farm practices like tillage might disturb it, too. And because the particles hold onto nitrogen, there is a limit to how much can be applied to the soil before the biochar competes with the plants for nutrients.

In the latest report from the UN's Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), the expert authors used the word biochar 188 times and conclude that it "has significant mitigation." Project Drawdown estimates that widespread use of biochar as a soil amendment could reduce global emissions by between 1.3 and 3 gigatons of CO2 equivalent per year by 2050, which is slightly more significant than the potential impact of scaling up ocean power and slightly less than increasing the number of hybrid cars on the road by around 20 fold.

However, those estimations are based on the production of between 63 and 188 million metric tons of biochar globally, and production capacity as a major limitation.

Statistics about the size of U.S. biochar industry are hard to come by, but Miles, head of USBI estimates that there are about 150 commercial producers in the country, creating between 70,000 and 100,000 tons per year-a drop in the bucket of the 63 million tons needed.

Most of the biochar being produced in the U.S. is a byproduct of biomass energy plants. But low-cost natural gas has eroded the market for biomass energy, Miles said, challenging the industry's ability to grow. And cost is not just an issue for the big producers.

In Pennsylvania, Sparks Topsoil & Mulch, one of the only companies making biochar at a commercial scale in the region, recently stopped. According to a spokesperson, production costs were so high the company was not breaking even.

One way to cut production costs is to avoid transporting the materials, which is why Page-Dumroese and Schaedel have both focused on "in-forest" production. But Schaedel said getting more farmers on board with using it could also help. "Costs could come down if there was a reliable market," he said.

Still, Schaedel discovered logistical headaches with his approach. The carbonator uses a lot of water, which he had to have trucked in each day. And although he has no shortage of accessible wood to burn, it's not clear whether there is enough materials available to produce biochar at a scale that will reduce emissions at any significant. Back in 2016, the U.S. Department of Energy's researchers calculated that the country could have an estimated billion tons of biomass available annually to put toward biomass energy and the production of biochar and other similar products.

In addition to forest slash piles and crop residues, biochar can be made with some food waste and animal manure. But depending on what it's made from, its properties change.

With that potential and the impacts of the climate crisis in mind, Hassebrook said it's long past time to commit "major federal dollars" to practical research that will enable farmers to begin using biochar at a meaningful scale. He says the agency has already proposed adding the use of biochar as a soil amendment as an approved practice under one of its major conservation programs, which will allow farmers to apply for funding to help defray the costs of using it on their fields.

But the Biochar Research Network Act would push biochar forward as an agricultural climate solution in a new way. And as farm bill negotiations heat up, many conservation and farm groups will be pushing for expanding farmers access to the practice.

The Department of Energy also has funds to invest in bioenergy facilities and Hassebrook said. his group is urging the department to "put some weight on the benefits of biochar co-produced with fuel and trying to ratchet up the priority on funding more pilot and demonstration facilities."

In the meantime, states are also investing funding in biochar as a soil amendment. For example, Schaedel's project was partially funded by a $288,000 grant from the state of Montana.

Now that the production phase of the experiment is finished, 120 cubic yards of biochar are sitting in the Montana woods under a blanket of fresh snow. Come spring, his team will transport it to the farms where farmers have agreed to do field trials on pastures and croplands. "That's the exciting part-actually getting this product out of the woods and into the fields," he said. "Our hope here is to really demonstrate the potential in Western Montana." In order to scale its impact as a climate solution, that momentum will need to spread to agricultural regions coast to coast.

This story was produced with original reporting from Lisa Held at Civil Eats. Held is Civil Eats' senior staff reporter. Since 2015, she has reported on agriculture and the food system with an eye toward sustainability, equality and health, and her stories have appeared in publications including The Guardian, The Washington Post and Mother Jones. In the past, she covered health and wellness and was an editor at Well+Good. She is based in Baltimore and has a master's degree from Columbia University's School of Journalism. Follow her on Twitter at @lisaelaineh


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With the cost of farmland up by more than 8% percent in North Carolina, the state's Black farmers are struggling to purchase additional acreage or jumpstart their farming dreams.

Demi Tucker, owner of Uyoga Farms and a fifth-generation Black farmer, grows mushrooms on her family's land in Steadman. She said most farmers she knows are leasing and looking to expand, but finding themselves competing with investors and corporations swooping up large tracts.

"If somebody has 23 acres to sell, they're going to sell it to the person who can buy out 23 acres and that half of an acre or an acre, which is what most people can afford starting off, " Tucker said.

According to Global AgInvesting, an estimated 26 to 35 billion dollars of farmland nationwide is owned by institutions or corporations.

Tucker pointed out after purchasing land, farmers also face additional costs to clear it, buy heavy machinery, and do soil and water testing. She said all of these obstacles add up for Black and Indigenous farmers who historically have faced discrimination qualifying for federal funding.

"There's a lot happening right now with the farm bill that's going to pass this year, a lot of advocacy going around as far as certain demands that we would like met so that more people of color can qualify for loans," Tucker added.

Over the past century nationwide, an estimated 98% of Black farmers were dispossessed through the denial of loans and credit, and through acts of violence and intimidation, according to Data for Progress.


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Farmers, ranchers and livestock producers are working with solar companies in Iowa to find multiple uses for land once used only to plant corn and soybeans.

Some are investing in what's known as "dual-use solar" or agrivoltaics. They are cultivating profitable crops, grazing livestock, even raising healthier honeybees, all in the shadows of solar panels. Farmers can grow clover and other highly pollinating grasses under the panels, and put beehives adjacent to those fields.

Lindsay Mouw, policy associate at the Center for Rural Affairs, said "solar beekeeping" is an example of how alternative energy interests and farmers cannot only coexist, but mutually benefit. She argued it will be a necessity as solar consumes more Iowa farmland.

"If we want to keep land in some type of agricultural production, while producing energy with solar, solar beekeeping or other dual-use solar practices are a great option to do that," Mouw explained.

Mouw pointed out the practice gives offers solar beekeepers diverse pollen sources for honey, which can then be sold as a specialty, locally grown product. Project developers benefit from the energy produced by the solar panels and nearby farmers profit from the bees' pollination services.

In addition to environmental benefits, local beekeepers see health benefits, too.

Joel Fassbinder, owner and operator of Highlandville Honey Farm in Winneshiek County, was raised in a beekeeping family and is in his ninth year of running his own operation. He said moving his bees away from traditional farms using pesticides has produced healthier bees.

"Being in Iowa, you're around conventional farming a lot, with spraying and stuff, and so, any chance to move them in a place where there might be less of that going on is a benefit," Fassbinder emphasized. "Also, the honey that they make is not only good tasting and light colored for human consumption, but bees consume it as well."

Backers of dual-use solar say it can provide new revenue streams for farmers, as well as avenues into ag production for people who want to farm or raise livestock on a smaller scale.

By Sky Chadde and Johnathan Heddinger for Investigate Midwest, with support from the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting.
Broadcast version by Mark Richardson for Illinois News Connection reporting for Investigate Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration.

In early 2019 in Illinois, a farmworker, his wife and his son lived in a moldy house. Attempting to keep the winter cold at bay, he'd spray-foamed the windows shut. The toilet often malfunctioned. Unlike most farmworker housing, it hadn't been inspected - the employer hadn't registered it with the state.

But the man had another option. He complained to a state employee whose job is to advocate for farmworkers' rights. A crucial component of the advocate's job is visiting fields and housing and forwarding complaints to law enforcement.

Several farmworkers a week were contacted through this outreach. Between 2018 and 2020, Illinois forwarded 10 complaints - ranging from being sprayed twice by pesticides to illegally garnishing wages for medical treatment - to authorities. For example, once the father in the moldy house complained, the state employee informed the U.S. Department of Labor.

However, when farmworkers likely needed this outreach most, Illinois stopped delivering it.

When COVID-19 hit, Illinois barred the outreach workers from traveling and assigned some to other duties, according to state and federal documents. Often living in crowded housing, farmworkers were particularly susceptible to COVID-19. Between the pandemic's first summer and summer 2022, the state contacted zero farmworkers. The state recorded one complaint.

The outreach workers in Illinois are part of a federal and state partnership known as the Monitor Advocate System. U.S. Department of Labor officials oversee state counterparts who are supposed to ensure their states protect farmworkers from unsafe housing, wage theft and other abuses. Outreach is only part of the system's duties, but it's an essential element.

A nationwide problem

The failings in Illinois echo across the country, according to internal program documents obtained by Investigate Midwest, and other state and federal records.

Consider:

* The pandemic either impaired or completely shut down required outreach to farmworkers. States are supposed to have full-time outreach staff during harvest season. Personnel at some local job centers - mainly known for providing career counseling and job referrals - also chip in.

But in the pandemic's first years, some states - including Illinois, Ohio and Kansas - closed job centers or reassigned staff. Across the country, the number of contacts with farmworkers fell, according to the system's latest annual report.

Meanwhile, more than 90,000 farmworkers contracted the virus, and at least 100 died during the pandemic, according to tracking by the Food and Environmental Reporting Network, a nonprofit newsroom.

* The monitor advocate system has convulsed with turnover in recent years. The system has about 60 positions: a national monitor advocate, six DOL officials overseeing states in different regions, an advocate in each state and some support staff. Since 2020, 37 people have cycled through the system, according to Investigate Midwest's review of staff directories.

Since 2020, four states, including Illinois, have had three different people employed in the monitor advocate role. Some who technically served in the role did not perform its duties full-time. For instance, between 2016 and 2018, Iowa's monitor advocate spent less than half of her time performing monitoring duties. (The state said this is currently not the case.)

Janie Claytor-Woodson, the longtime state monitor advocate for West Virginia who retired in 2020, said many monitor advocates she worked with were dedicated and caring individuals who had farmworkers' best interests in mind.

"Most of the people I worked with were outstanding. They took their jobs to heart," she said. But, she added, "You can't just put somebody in that seat. You got to have somebody who has some interest or background (with farmworkers). Otherwise, the program's going to suffer."

* Even before COVID-19, some states did not perform the required outreach to farmworkers. The year before the pandemic started, 16 states failed to do so, according to a recent annual report. The annual reports note little contact with farmworkers generally means fewer complaints.

Yu-Mon "Luis" Chang, Connecticut's state monitor advocate, said in a video for the National Center for Farmworker Health that frequent visits are essential to building trust with farmworkers. (He did not return repeated requests for an interview.)

"If you're just showing up once every two years to the farm, you're not going to gain the trust of the workers," he said. "But if they see you out there all the time, and they start talking to you, they'll get comfortable enough to disclose something that may be bothering them. That's the key."

In a statement to Investigate Midwest, the labor department said it disagreed with any characterization that the program wasn't successful. The statement said the oversight the monitor advocate system provides focuses on reviewing states' protections of farmworkers, the functionality of their complaint process and their compliance with regulations and directives: "This system is successful when Monitor Advocates effectively perform their specific duties," the statement reads.

On a national level, several of the performance indicators the labor department uses to determine the program's success are being met. But, the agency acknowledged, "state-level data shows that not all (local job centers) are meeting all measures."

The system's most recent annual report notes weekly contacts increased after the pandemic's first year. However, it reads, "it is critical to understand that the pre-pandemic contact rate may not have been adequate."

When asked what kind of accountability existed for states not meeting the required standards, the labor department said, "Continued non-compliance can result in (the agency) formally noting deficiencies in a monitoring report and requiring a corrective action plan. Most states can resolve compliance issues through these steps."

In more extreme cases, funding can be withheld, the agency said.

But, the labor department said, it was "not aware" of an instance where funding related to farmworker services was withheld.

For example, Indiana has been cited repeatedly since 2009 for inadequate outreach staff, according to a copy of the labor department's corrective action plan for the state. Indiana said it is "currently in compliance" with staffing regulations.

The Illinois Department of Employment Security, which houses Illinois's part of the monitor advocate system, originally said it would answer Investigate Midwest's questions about its role in the system and its decisions during the pandemic. It did not respond prior to publication.

The monitor advocate system was in the headlines recently because of a possible connection between its representative in Georgia and a human trafficking operation, according to reporting by USA TODAY.

The operation forced farmworkers to dig for onions with their bare hands, and to live in housing with limited plumbing and no safe water, according to the U.S. Department of Justice. According to testimony related to the case, the traffickers paid off a state official who inspected and approved farmworker housing.

The person who inspected housing was the state monitor advocate for Georgia, who retired in the wake of the DOJ's investigation. The advocate's sister was indicted in the DOJ's case, and several of his family members owned companies that employed farmworkers, USA TODAY reported.

The Georgia Department of Labor did not respond to requests for comment.

Chronic issues in farmworker housing

In an ongoing series on farmworker housing, Investigate Midwest is examining chronic issues and the systems created to uphold farmworker rights. Ensuring safe living conditions is not the Monitor Advocate System's only responsibility, but protecting farmworkers from substandard housing - an entrenched problem - has been part of its mission since its start.

Across the country, examples of poor housing abound. In Iowa, authorities have found housing with holes in the wall and floor. In Missouri, farmworkers were forced to live in an old jail. One farmworker complained to an advocacy group of living in an "iron chicken coop" with bunk beds.

"Farmworkers are one of the worst housed groups in the United States," said Lance George, director of research and information at the Housing Assistance Council, which studied the issue in 2002. "This is a group in the shadows."

Oversight and enforcement need to improve for conditions to change, said Antonio De Loera-Brust, communications director for United Farm Workers, a California labor union.

"There's one law on the books," he said. "There's another law in the fields."

Research, government data and previous reporting show farmworkers are also vulnerable to labor abuses, human trafficking and legal violations - necessitating a government position like the monitor advocate.