Fighting for Our Forests

Ben Elkind BA ’07 remembers gripping the edge of the plane’s open door, scanning the forest below. A wisp of smoke curled through the tree canopy—a small fire, for now. He leapt, his mission clear: reach the flames before they raged out of control.

As a veteran smoke jumper, Elkind was one of just 450 firefighters nationwide trained to parachute into remote wildfires before they exploded into infernos. On this particular mission into Oregon’s Wallowa Mountains, there were no fire trucks, no backup—just a handful of firefighters cutting firebreaks and digging trenches to halt the flames. He landed and raced toward the fire, inhaling smoke with every breath. As his chainsaw tore through a burning tree, the smoldering ground began burning his boot soles. The wind shifted, engulfing him in smoke, forcing him to his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for it to pass.

Elkind has been on the front lines of a crisis far larger than any single wildfire. Forests absorb carbon, sustain biodiversity, and regulate global temperatures, but climate change is making them increasingly vulnerable, and deforestation is accelerating the damage. Without intervention, forests could reach a tipping point beyond recovery, leading to irreversible consequences.

Members of the Lewis & Clark community—researchers, policymakers, and frontline responders like Elkind—are working to protect and restore forests before it’s too late.

On the Front Lines of Fire Prevention

In 1993, federal agencies battled fires across 1.8 million acres; by 2021, that number had more than quadrupled. Each year, record-breaking fires strike new locations—Montana set a record in 2017, followed by California in 2018, which lost nearly 2 million acres, a record that was broken twice in the next three years. The January 2025 wildfires in Southern California resulted in the decimation of more than 40,000 acres, the displacement of more than 150,000 people, and estimated economic losses of more than $250 billion.

Elkind argues that investing in wildfire prevention would save billions in disaster recovery costs. “With smokejumpers, you’re paying up front to put out a fire before it becomes a massive, destructive event. That costs money—the planes, the jumps, the training. But what people don’t see is how much money it saves taxpayers when you prevent a fire from blowing up.”

Once a fire grows out of control, the costs skyrocket. “Meanwhile, it would cost just a few hundred million a year nationally to pay firefighters fairly and staff up properly,” Elkind says. “It’s far cheaper to stop fires before they get out of control than to clean up the mess afterward. Fires are getting bigger, and we need to be better at preventing them.”

At the end of the day, as Elkind puts it, “Firefighters are the last stop for climate change.”

The Politics of Preservation

Susan Jane Brown JD ’00 finds solace by a brook in Washington’s Gifford Pinchot National Forest, listening to spotted owls among towering Douglas firs. She calls it “home,” a place to take in the vastness of the landscape. As an environmental lawyer, she devotes much of her time to protecting forests like this one through policy. “Protecting old forests has been a lifelong passion for me. I’m a tree hugger—literally.”

Old-growth forests are vital in the fight against climate change. They store carbon more efficiently than younger forests, provide critical habitat for species like the northern spotted owl, and act as natural water filters, cooling and purifying water—an increasingly crucial function in a warming climate.

Brown, who teaches Forest Law and Policy at Lewis & Clark, is also principal and chief legal counsel of Silvix Resources, a nonprofit focused on conserving the West’s public lands. A key focus of her work is integrating Indigenous land management practices into federal policy. “The public lands I work on were historically stewarded by Indigenous communities prior to colonization and removal,” she says. “We need to braid Indigenous knowledge with Western science to create sustainable land management practices.”

Fire management is a prime example. Despite their devastation, wildfires play a vital ecological role by clearing dead underbrush, revitalizing vegetation, and spreading seeds. In the early 20th century, however, the Forest Service’s full-suppression policy—which required all wildfires to be extinguished by 10 a.m. the day after discovery—led to massive fuel buildup, making today’s wildfires more extreme. Much of the country is now in a fire deficit, with forests overdue for burning. Without intervention, these landscapes are increasingly vulnerable to catastrophic blazes.

“Fire isn’t inherently bad,” Brown says. “It has always existed and always will. The Indigenous approach is about working with fire, rather than suppressing it completely.” Through controlled burns guided by Indigenous practices, forests can be restored and maintained in a way that prevents destructive megafires. 

Instead of embracing science-backed and Indigenous solutions, government policies often stand in the way of progress. The current administration has rolled back critical environmental protections, and Brown is experiencing firsthand the ways in which political priorities can be at odds with conservation efforts.

While at Silvix, she helped shape policy under President Biden’s Executive Order 14072, which directed federal agencies to assess and protect old-growth forests. Collaborating with conservationists, hunters, fishers, and outdoor recreation groups, she worked to develop policy recommendations rooted in both Western and Indigenous science. But when the new administration took office, the order was revoked, dismantling years of work.

“It was devastating,” Brown says. “We worked tirelessly for two years, building coalitions, crafting policy, and pushing for protection—only to see it disappear overnight.”

Despite setbacks, she remains committed. “For those of us in the field, the next four years will be defensive, with lawsuits, advocacy, and blocking bad policies where we can.” The work is relentless, but she stresses its urgency. “When we lose a case, it’s not just a theoretical loss—it has real, immediate consequences on the ground, often with irreparable environmental harm.”

Credit: Robert Reynolds

Collective Action for Conservation

Alana Rader, assistant professor of environmental studies at Lewis & Clark, examines how communities support forest resilience and how landscapes regenerate. Her research encompasses diverse environments, from beach-dune systems in western North America to tropical forests in Mexico. At Lewis & Clark, she leads a project on how Los Angeles’ urban oak woodlands recover after wildfires.

Oak trees provide essential ecological services—regulating climate through shade and humidity, retaining soil moisture to prevent erosion and landslides, and supporting biodiversity by maintaining vegetation corridors. Endemic to California, oak woodlands exist nowhere else naturally. Unlike dense forests, they form a mosaic of trees, crops, and open grassland. Urban development and ranching have further shaped these ecosystems.

In cities, however, land is often valued for development rather than for its ecological function. When oak trees are damaged by wildfire, drought, or flooding, they become vulnerable to removal, making space for new construction. Cutting down a single oak eliminates vital ecosystem services. “These trees aren’t just scenery; they’re part of the system that keeps communities livable,” Rader says. Their loss increases local temperatures, reduces humidity, and worsens drought conditions, further raising the risk of wildfires.

In another project, Rader studies how communities recover from climate-driven disasters and the role of mutual aid organizations in that process. “Mutual aid groups help communities recover in meaningful, holistic ways,” she explains. “They don’t impose preconceived definitions of need. Instead, they listen and provide exactly what’s required—whether that’s food, water, technology access, legal assistance, mental health care, or social support. They don’t just help people rebuild; they strengthen communities to be less vulnerable to future hazards.”

Rader is particularly interested in landscapes that persist despite ongoing challenges. “Hazards don’t just happen once; they occur again and again. In coastal landscapes, I saw ecosystems rebounding—sometimes in just a few weeks or a season. I’ve found that pattern of regeneration to be inspiring.”

Credit: Nina Johnson

The Science of Forest Regeneration

Margaret Metz, associate professor of biology at Lewis & Clark, studies how forests withstand and recover from wildfires and disease, investigating their resilience in a rapidly changing climate. Her research spans old-growth conifer forests in the Columbia River Gorge, coastal forests of the western U.S., and tropical rainforests of eastern Ecuador.

Metz’s earliest work took her to the western Amazon, one of the most biodiverse places on Earth. “I was struck by the sheer number of tree species coexisting in a single area,” she says. These forests play a critical role in global carbon cycles but are increasingly threatened by development and climate change. “We’re drastically altering these ecosystems without fully understanding the consequences.”

Even in one of the most studied rainforests, much remains unknown. “At my field site, 30 percent of the tree species don’t even have scientific names yet,” Metz says. “If we don’t even know what’s there, how can we possibly understand how it functions?” 

That’s why she focuses on long-term ecological monitoring—tracking changes over decades to understand how forests adapt, decline, or persist. Every two weeks since 2002, Metz and her collaborators have tracked flowering and fruiting patterns across hundreds of plots in Ecuador’s Yasuní National Park. This extensive dataset provides insight into how tree reproduction shifts over time in response to environmental changes.

“Nighttime temperatures have increased, and we’ve seen a decline in flowering for about 20 percent of the species we studied,” she explains. Fewer flowers mean fewer seeds, which could alter forest composition for generations. “Because trees live for hundreds of years, we’re only beginning to see the long-term effects. Some species may disappear, while others might fill the gaps.” She extends her research to the Columbia River Gorge, where forests of Western hemlock, Western red cedar, Douglas fir, and other species dominate, and the central coast of California, characterized by redwoods, bay laurel, and tan oak. In California, she studies Sudden Oak Death, a pathogen killing millions of trees in fire-prone landscapes, and investigates how the disease spreads, its impact on biodiversity, and whether it increases wildfire risk by adding dry fuel to already volatile environments.

“These disturbances don’t just kill individual trees—they can permanently shift entire ecosystems from forests to shrublands,” Metz says. With each data point, she builds a clearer picture of how climate change is creating extreme conditions that could push forests toward collapse—and how some species persist despite it.

Hope in Resilience

While forests face urgent threats, the expertise of scientists, policymakers, and frontline workers offers a way forward. But perhaps the greatest source of hope lies in the forests themselves. Resilience is in their nature, says Metz. “Forests are incredibly dynamic—trees fall, new ones grow, and species compositions shift.”

Resilience is not invincibility. Forests are both victims of climate change and a crucial part of the solution, but their future depends on the choices we make today—how we manage fire, protect biodiversity, and balance conservation with human needs.

The work of the Lewis & Clark community is a reminder that while climate change is transforming the world, so too can collective action. The future of forests is not just about survival; it’s about what we choose to protect and restore, and that work starts close to home, says Brown.

“Get involved locally. Local communities have real power,” she says. “Whether it’s conserving forests, supporting mental health services, or improving education, change happens from the ground up. You don’t have to be a lawyer or a scientist—you just have to care.”