The discipline known as knowledge management is one of the through-lines of my career. A common scenario when you work in this discipline is helping folks think through how they deal with the loss of deep expertise as people leave the workforce or transition out of active service.
I am now in what I recognize as another version of this same narrative, but with some subtle and important differences.
The setting involves folks I met earlier this year and now have the privilege of working with on Evanston environmental justice issues. The core leaders of this 11-year-old organization are in their 70s and 80s and face a transition that is much more complex than one involving a single set of experienced practitioners sharing know-how with a single set of less-experienced practitioners. Their transition involves multiple organizations (not-for-profits, community organizations, the city) that are continuously evolving. And it involves legacy, and history.
What’s coloring my thinking is the legacy element. I don’t know of comparable situations outside of community and civic work. The generational transition in the environmental justice case involves folks deeply rooted in the history of civil rights in Evanston. Their work to make change connects directly to the negative legacy of redlining and racism. They have lived it. Fought against it. Worked to change minds and structures.
This work – especially of the group’s leaders – rings differently because of its historical significance. It’s both more personal (the lived experiences of the leaders) and more universal (the struggle against oppression and exploitation).
Fortunately there is a home for preserving history like this. An Evanston organization – Shorefront Legacy – holds archives of material recording the experience and history of Black citizens. It’s a unique enterprise that grew out of Evanston really ignoring the history of its Black community in more traditional history organizations. Through Shorefront Legacy, researchers and historians now have a resource to explore the history of Black folks in this city.
One of the elements of the environmental justice transition is work to archive material at Shorefront that may contribute to that history.
What’s so interesting to me is that this idea came up in discussion at a recent meeting as a very natural outgrowth of the work that members of environmental justice team do. It springs (my sense) from the same deep commitment to a just and equitable society that led to the environmental justice organization first forming 10 plus years ago. They do work to improve the community and society. Part of that work is sharing the story so that others may build upon it.
The other element of this transition – its complexity – also has me thinking about it in terms of this long, continuing story of equity and justice.
The result of the environmental justice folks’ decade-long effort is that the city now has several new resources working to address environmental justice issues. A broader coalition of organizations advocating for the well being of Black and Brown citizens has formed around the idea of environmental justice as an element of their work on racial and equity issues. The city has a patchwork of ordinances and practices directed at environmental justice. And one important effort still underway – the Environmental Equity Investigation – is a direct result of the advocacy of the environmental justice team.
This is all good stuff. Yet there is a bone-deep concern – borne out of the group’s years of experience – that the know-how to continuously translate all that advocacy and policy work into realized change will be lost, leading to a loss of momentum.
A classic example of this realistic fear is expressed in concerns regarding the Environmental Equity Investigation. This is a funded, months-long effort led by a team of excellent consultants working on behalf of city staff. Yet – like all projects of this type – moving from a research and data analysis project to changing policy, practice and ultimately results is a treacherous, difficult journey. The fear – at its worse – is that the consulting project is used as appeasement. “We talked to y’all,” created some great bullet points and visuals, and nothing changes. Only slightly better is something closer to reality. “We did some really good work,” but the commitment and energy to move it forward in a meaningful way gets dissipated under the barrage of routine and insidious city challenges. The work, once again, sits on the shelf.
So as the leaders of the Evanston environmental justice movement think about the generational transition, the key question seems to be: How do we increase the likelihood that visible changes (visible in the built environment, or in data trends) continuously take place? Many of the issues of environmental justice require long-term effort and commitment. Improving air quality, the tree canopy, open spaces, access to transportation, etc. in specific neighborhoods. There are solutions that can address each of these individually in measurable ways, but improvement across all the issues also creates a measurable collective benefit: improvement in health and well-being.
The know-how to get this work done is a wicked mix of technical knowledge, political skills, understanding the subtleties of city staff work, relationship building and collaboration, and more. All colored by a deep sense of purpose: That this is repair work. That we citizens have a duty to repair the long-term damage of racism and disinvestment in Black and Brown neighborhoods.
I’m going to be working with the environmental justice folks on these challenges as the leaders transition their work and expertise to new generations of advocates and practitioners. The solutions will undoubtedly involve creating new committees or similar structures, and devising policies and practices that provide confidence that changes will be realized. But another outcome must also be preserving and respecting legacy and the through-lines to history. We indeed stand on the shoulders of many.
The photographs which accompany these posts are taken by me, and show different settings and views of Evanston (where I live). It is a visual reminder that this is the most important setting for belonging and contributing to community: our neighborhoods, our cities.
Jeff Merrell 
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