By Syris Valentine for Grist.
Broadcast version by Eric Galatas for Colorado News Connection reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration

We tend to think of buildings as semipermanent structures. Once they go up, decades or even centuries pass before they come down. But when they do, it's usually under the weight of wrecking balls and sledgehammers. The shattered remains of the structures that once sheltered us are then often cast into a landfill. Each year, nearly 150 million tons of this debris piles up in dumps in the U.S. alone.

Globally, the act of erecting new buildings and tearing down old ones consumes roughly a third of all resources extracted from the environment every year and produces just under a third of all the world's waste. But several cities across the U.S. have begun to push the construction sector toward practices that keep materials out of the landfill. The goal: Reuse parts of old buildings in new ones, and recycle the rest.

In 2016, Portland, Oregon, became the first city in the country to institute a deconstruction ordinance, requiring that all single-family homes built before 1940 and slated for removal be deconstructed - that is, taken apart board by board - so their materials can be salvaged for reuse. Since then, more than half a dozen cities from San Antonio to Pittsburgh have followed Portland's example.

"Ideally, what is being pulled out of these houses is being used for their same purpose," says Stephanie Phillips, San Antonio's deconstruction and circular economy program manager. Like Portland's, San Antonio's 2022 ordinance specifically mandates that old, historic homes be deconstructed if they're coming down.

That's at least in part because the best, and sometimes only, way to get the right materials to rehab historic buildings is from a different home built in the same period. As Phillips says, "Rehabbing buildings is looked at as the pinnacle of climate-wise building."

A small number of cities go even further. Boulder, Colorado, is one of only two cities nationwide (the other being Palo Alto, California) that requires deconstruction of any and every building slated to come down, regardless of age and whether it's residential or commercial. Boulder's ordinance also includes what's known as a "mandatory minimum." At least 75 percent of the total weight of a building must be diverted from landfill through either reuse or recycling.

Jackie Kirouac-Fram, executive director of the Portland-based nonprofit ReBuilding Center, believes that a mandatory minimum is necessary to achieve the intent of these deconstruction ordinances: salvaging high-quality materials that homeowners, builders, and craftspeople can then access at affordable rates. Without this requirement, Kirouac-Fram says, Portland has seen particularly low rates of salvage. (Official figures aren't available, and city representatives didn't respond to a request for comment.)

While San Antonio also lacks a mandatory minimum, Phillips says the city's contractors have on average recovered 70 percent of a given building's weight, with over half of the recovered materials going to reuse. Phillips attributes these figures to the thorough, city-sponsored training contractors must go through in order to qualify for San Antonio's list of certified deconstruction contractors.

Meanwhile, in Boulder, despite its mandatory minimum, the city has not provided much training for the local workforce or established certification requirements, according to Emily Freeman, the city's policy advisor on the circular economy. As a result, some contractors may exploit loopholes to meet the requirements without salvaging so much as a single two-by-four, and property owners have few tools to evaluate the bids they receive. They're being asked to compare "apples to kiwis," Freeman says.

In the worst example she has seen to date, a contractor used the foundation - the heaviest part of a building - as well as patio furniture and mulched trees on the property to meet the requirement to divert 75 percent of the building's weight.

This reveals another challenge when it comes to mandatory minimums: Such requirements often don't differentiate between reuse - the ideal form of waste diversion - and recycling. For instance, if lumber isn't sorted and stored so it can later be picked up and incorporated into a new project, it might instead be sent through a chipper and processed into particleboard.

To address these problems, Freeman and her colleagues are looking to revise and strengthen some of Boulder's deconstruction practices, which could include hosting trainings and establishing a certified contractors list, similar to San Antonio's, to ensure everyone has the same playbook of best practices. Freeman hopes that these types of changes would help Boulder to achieve the vision she briefly saw realized in 2023, when the city deconstructed an abandoned hospital. Of the 65-million-pound building, the city recycled or salvaged 60.8 million pounds, or 93.5 percent of the building's weight. This included structural steel that has found its way into two new city-owned buildings: a fire station and a golf course clubhouse.

Taking salvaged materials and getting them into other buildings is what organizations like Kirouac-Fram's ReBuilding Center aim to facilitate. It stores salvaged materials that Portlanders can purchase at low-to-no cost. San Antonio has launched its own Material Innovation Center to find the next best use for salvaged materials, including bus shelters, garden beds, and affordable housing repairs.

But a final challenge remains in many of these cities: getting contractors to use salvaged materials in their projects. In some cases, the problem is a matter of ease and inventory; contractors don't want to waste time browsing stacks of mismatched materials when they may not find what they need. In other cases, builders still need to be convinced that giving old materials a second life in new construction won't compromise a building's integrity.

Boulder has been struggling to close this piece of the reuse loop. Though the city has incorporated many of the metal beams extracted from the old hospital into new city-owned properties, some leftover steel remains. City officials are still in talks with builders in Boulder to find someone to take what's left.

"It's just a matter of convincing the construction world that reused steel is going to be solid," Freeman says. She hopes that as people see other buildings standing strong with salvaged steel, they'll start to use it in projects of their own.


Syris Valentine wrote this article for Grist.


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West Virginia environmental groups are suing the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, arguing the agency failed to consider residents' health when it gave the stamp of approval for the creation of four valley fills on a thousand-acre surface mine in Raleigh County.

Vernon Halton, executive director of the nonprofit Coal River Mountain Watch says the region experienced severe flooding in the 1990s and early 2000s, and says more valley fills, which involve dumping rocks, minerals and waste into nearby waterways, will put their lives at risk.

"It's going to permanently endanger the people whose homes are in the valleys below, he explained."

According to Environment America, valley fills permanently bury headwater streams and reduce water quality. More than 2,000 miles of headwater streams have been buried due to mountaintop removal.

Haltom added that communities continue to grapple with health challenges unparalleled outside of the coalfields.

"Higher rates of cancer, higher rates of heart disease, higher rates of birth defects, higher rates of other diseases, and most of them can be linked to the airborne dust that people are forced to breathe," he continued.

Research has shown breathing in toxic dust promotes the growth of lung cancer cells in people living in communities near mountaintop removal. Coal is mined in 22 of West Virginia's 55 counties, according to federal data.

A Knoxville environmental group is raising concerns over federal budget cuts and their effects on jobs at the Y-12 National Security Complex in Oak Ridge.

The Trump Administration briefly laid off workers at the complex but called them back the next day.

Tanvi Kardile, coordinator for the Oak Ridge Environmental Peace Alliance, warned the cuts, including layoffs at the Department of Energy and National Nuclear Security Administration, are troubling. She advocated shifting jobs from weapons production to environmental cleanup, citing ongoing efforts to address groundwater contamination, though she pointed out cost overruns and major concerns remain unaddressed.

"One of these cuts we feel should be the uranium processing facility, which is being constructed to replace, all these old, deteriorating buildings at Y-12," Kardile explained. "The budget for that keeps skyrocketing.
And this is one of the largest construction projects in Tennessee history."

Kardile emphasized the uranium processing facility is estimated to cost $10.3 billion and will not be complete in 2031. Initially, the project was expected to cost $6.5 billion and be finished by this year.

Kardile added her group is hesitant about Trump's statement expressing his intention to initiate nuclear arms reduction negotiations with China and Russia. The future of the U.S. nuclear weapons program remains uncertain as a result.

"Who knows if reduction talks will happen or how successful they'll be, especially with some other energy initiatives that he supports, such as discrediting climate change, promoting fossil fuels and drilling," Kardile outlined. "It doesn't seem like the administration will take many initiatives to protect the environment."

Kardile argued it is crucial for Tennesseans to push for greater accountability from the Department of Energy on the rising cost of Y-12 and collaborate with lawmakers to find the best path to allocate their tax dollars and protect public health.

Ohio is seeing a growing number of solar energy projects, including the first utility-scale installation in Dayton, which will help power a key water treatment facility.

Cities across the state are also working together to expand clean energy access. The five-megawatt solar array in Dayton will be built on a brownfield site, which is also a repurposing project for land that had been burned and has limited use because of contamination.

Robert McCracken, energy manager for the neighboring city of Cincinnati, said it is amazing to be able to produce energy to help with energy resiliency anywhere in Ohio.

"There is a lot of great work happening in the sustainable energy field throughout the state of Ohio," McCracken observed. "That's happening in large cities and small towns."

It is expected to provide 38% of the Miami Water Treatment Plant's electrical power needs and cut consumer energy bills by keeping water rates low. The City of Dayton serves as the principal water source for an estimated 1.5 million people in southwest Ohio.

McCracken pointed out local governments across Ohio recognize the importance of clean energy and are working collaboratively on solutions.

"It's become ever more important for all of those cities throughout Ohio ... to be working together to figure out how we all can advance the projects that we're working on that can benefit residents and businesses in each of our local communities," McCracken contended.

The project supports Dayton's climate emergency commitment to cutting carbon emissions at city facilities through renewable energy. McCracken emphasized Ohio cities remain dedicated to sustainable solutions, benefiting the environment and local communities.


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