Tera Hurst and Aaron Schmautz found themselves sitting side by side in a van zipping through Portugal. Close quarters. They’d long been accustomed to sitting on opposite sides of Oregon’s State Legislature, battling over drug policy. Would the two longtime adversaries spend the drive exchanging polite pleasantries about the Iberian Peninsula scenery?

Ms. Hurst is the executive director of the Health Justice Recovery Alliance, which represents over 100 addiction recovery groups. Her organization opposes incarceration for drug use. It’s a cause that’s deeply personal to her. As a teenager, she was diagnosed with alcoholism.

“My mom got to a place where she didn’t think I would live past 20, and I didn’t want to,” she recalls. One night, at 3 a.m., she was contemplating suicide. At that lowest of moments, she entered rehab. “I actually had a friend drive me around for four hours waiting with me, because I knew if I went to sleep, I wouldn’t go. I wouldn’t go, and I probably wouldn’t have survived,” she recalls.

Mr. Schmautz is president of the Portland Police Association. He doesn’t want to incarcerate drug users, but he believes public drug use should qualify as a misdemeanor. “When you talk to a lot of people who are suffering from addiction, many of them will tell you that their pathway to sobriety was through the justice system,” he says.

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

Aaron Schmautz, president of the Portland Police Association, poses for a photo in his office March 26, 2024, in Oregon.

During his 20 years on the job, the second-generation police officer has seen it all. He recounts seeing a man bathing himself in the contents of a port-a-potty that the city provided for homeless people. 

“The question becomes, what is compassion for him?” Mr. Schmautz asks. Do you just let him carry on? “Or is it compassionate to take away his freedom and put him in a place where he can actually get help? And honestly, like this is where the conversations are hard.”

Ms. Hurst and Mr. Schmautz previously clashed over the voter-approved passage of Measure 110, which effectively decriminalized drugs for three years. This year, following a wave of public discontent, the Legislature rolled back decriminalization. 

Last November, Ms. Hurst and Mr. Schmautz were among 24 Oregonian lawmakers, treatment specialists, and police on a fact-finding mission to Portugal. Ms. Hurst’s organization financed the trip to observe the European nation’s 20-year-old drug decriminalization program. Oregon, like so many other parts of North America and the rest of the world, is trying to figure out how to lower deaths from drug addiction.

Inside the confines of the van, Ms. Hurst and Mr. Schmautz did something they hadn’t really done much of before. They started talking and listening to each other.

The pilot program that resulted from that trip offers promise for a new path forward, one in which both sides are working together. Treatment providers are teaming up with law enforcement to patrol high drug-use areas in Portland. When police intercept drug users in dire situations, rehabilitation specialists are on scene to offer a lifeline. The two groups have long disagreed over the most effective way to get people into treatment. Stick, meet Carrot. 

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

Tera Hurst, executive director of the Health Justice Recovery Alliance, sits in her home dinning room March 26, 2024, in Portland, Oregon. Her group funded a trip to Portugal that resulted in a promising pilot program in which law enforcement and treatment providers team up.

What made the two sides open to change? Answer: Oregon’s drug policy hit rock-bottom. In 2020, voters approved Measure 110. Voters turned against that experiment because crime remained high. Tent encampments proliferated. According to a new Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report, drug deaths in Oregon spiked by 27% last year. The Pacific Northwest bucked an otherwise encouraging trend: the first nationwide decline in fatal overdoses in five years.

In April, the state recriminalized low-level drug possession. 

Policy solutions to Oregon’s overlapping homelessness and drug addiction crises require rigorous debate. Here’s what Oregon is discovering about overcoming mistrust between various stakeholders. First, in-person relationship building is essential. Second, when two sides have to solve a problem they each care about, a desire for cooperation can override old feelings of competition. Third, find a common point of agreement as a grit of sand to make the pearl.

“Although there was real disagreement about what to do, there was agreement, for the most part, on the human worth of people who have this problem,” says Keith Humphreys, a professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Stanford University and author of “Addiction: A Very Short Introduction.” “So people were fighting, but they were all fighting for the same thing. They were all upset about overdoses. ... The idea of recovery is, I think, a unifying concept.”

What happened after the 12th arrest

It took 12 arrests for Joe Bazeghi to finally surrender. The man with a heroin addiction was dying. He’d already spent three months in intensive care. Then his girlfriend died of an overdose. One of the cops who responded to that call recognized Mr. Bazeghi. They’d gone to high school together.

“He said, ‘Joe, I’m not going to let you go this time,’” Mr. Bazeghi recalls. “I’m gonna do everything I can to hold you.”

The police officer helped him enter a program to get help. For Mr. Bazeghi, it was a relief.

“I was treatment-ready long before I had access to treatment,” says Mr. Bazeghi, now director of engagement at Recovery Works Northwest, a drug rehabilitation program. “My case was desperate and I knew it. And, therefore, I was willing to accept treatment.”

Today, Mr. Bazeghi is one of the co-founders of Portland’s pilot program.

In Portugal, Mr. Bazeghi also spent time with Mr. Schmautz, whom he describes as a “great guy.” He recalls a pivotal conversation. Mr. Bazeghi, a representative from Portugal’s national institute on drug use, a leader from the Mental Health & Addiction Association of Oregon, and Mr. Schmautz all liked Portugal’s street-team partnerships between police and outreach workers.

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

Joe Bazeghi, Recovery Works’ director of engagement, stands in the lobby of a detox facility March 26, 2024, in Portland, Oregon. He is the co-founder of Portland’s promising new pilot program.

“We said, ‘Hey, instead of waiting around, why don’t we pilot getting together?’” says Mr. Bazeghi. “We didn’t wait for a legislature or a mayor’s office or anybody to sign off on it.”

The following month, a police bike squad and treatment providers quietly began working together in the Old Town neighborhood. In April, the successful program was officially expanded to other areas with $683,000 in funding.

Which isn’t to say there isn’t still lingering wariness. Just ask Ms. Hurst and Mr. Schmautz.

“What was important with going on that trip with Aaron, for me, was really understanding that his perspective comes from his job,” says Ms. Hurst, who gained an appreciation for the pressure the police are under to keep a community safe.

In turn, Ms. Hurst shared her perspective that not all drug dealers are predators. Some are trying to feed themselves and, sometimes, a family.

A major fault line is over the most effective way to get people into treatment. Mr. Schmautz favors a tough-love approach; Ms. Hurst, a softer harm reduction that emphasizes creating a safe, humane environment for drug users. They can’t be forced into rehab. They have to be ready for it.

One point of agreement: Oregon can’t arrest its way out of its crisis. It’s a mental health and public health issue and should be handled as such. That’s the Portuguese approach. Oregon is still playing catch-up. Everyone agrees there’s a chronic shortage of beds and detox facilities. That’s why the provision in Measure 110 to fund shelter and drug treatment has been preserved. 

The wealth of funding – $211 million in 2024 – has facilitated cooperation among nonprofits that previously saw themselves in competition.

“Measure 110 said, ‘If you want to take one cent from this money, you must coordinate across a system of partnerships that will make up the entire continuum,’” says Mr. Bazeghi, sitting in Recovery Works Northwest offices, yards from a suburban house that’s been converted into a detox center. “In order for us to make money here, we have to work with residential treatment providers, housing providers, support and employment providers.”

The same goes for working with law enforcement.

Yet according to Mr. Schmautz, there are still some in the treatment ecosystem who won’t partner with members of law enforcement because they say they’ll lose credibility with people on the streets. 

“Law enforcement in our country has more touch points with people suffering from addiction than anybody else,” continues Mr. Schmautz. “Why would you not then want to be a partner with law enforcement to get people out of that justice system as soon as humanly possible, to give them hope, to give them a different pathway, if you truly care?”

For treatment providers, suspicion of police is rooted in the war on drugs. For decades, it’s resulted in high levels of incarceration –especially among Black people and Latinos. 

“The actual culture of law enforcement is problematic because it is built in a kind of fear, militaristic ‘power over’ model,” says Ms. Hurst. “They haven’t built that trust.” 

Those misgivings have been underscored by police brutality in the national news, from children being killed in home raids using deadly force to the murder of George Floyd, which sparked a “defund the police” movement. 

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

Tents are set on the sidewalk, March 25, 2024, in downtown Portland, Oregon. A public backlash to tent encampments and public drug use led to the recriminalization of drugs this spring.

Mr. Schmautz remembers that backlash in 2020 vividly. He recalls the more than 100 days of rioting in downtown Portland.

“A mob of people broke into an occupied jail and lit it on fire,” he says. “With people in it.” 

Demoralized police officers quit in droves. 

“Being a police officer is becoming sort of a shameful activity for families that are left-wing or centrist. And so police are [self-]selecting more conservative,” says Stanford University’s Mr. Humphreys, who helped guide drug policy for Presidents George H.W. Bush and Barack Obama. “If that continues, this gets a lot harder because, for health and public health and public safety to work together, they have to at least agree on some shared reality.” 

“We cannot ... arrest our way out of these issues”

In an interview at her home, Ms. Hurst pushes back on the claim from some legislators that treatment providers aren’t willing to work with police. She says that if the police feel that way, law enforcement should invite treatment providers to morning roll calls at police stations to dispel their fears and preconceived notions.

“Aaron and I both know that that takes time and that takes buy-in, and he and I can only do so much,” she says.

Mr. Schmautz has tried to model a path. He recalls inviting several treatment providers, who themselves had battled addictions, to the police station for a meeting about the pilot program. They were initially reluctant. Some had arrests and convictions, and they had bad memories of the place. But when the providers showed up, he ushered them into a meeting room that’s off-limits to the public. 

“That’s the level of access for people who historically haven’t had it,” says Mr. Schmautz. “When you’re an addict, you feel like you’re just cast out. ... They were emotional. I’m like, ‘We’re going to do this together. I’m not better than you. I’m just a guy doing a job, and you’re a guy doing a job. Let’s do it together.’”

That mutual recognition is already happening at a one-on-one level in the pilot program. Some treatment providers who were formerly incarcerated and living on the streets are now on patrols with law enforcement. When an officer comes across someone asking for help and then does what Ms. Hurst calls “a warm hand-off” to a treatment provider, they can witness firsthand what addiction treatment looks like.

At a leadership level, Ms. Hurst wishes that lawmakers would use their bully pulpit to convene constituents for more of the sorts of conversations that took place in Portugal. But she concedes that relationship building can’t all be incumbent on waiting for the other side to act. 

“Aaron and I probably need to get back to talking again,” she says. She’s appreciative that he was willing to go to Portugal and engage in dialogue despite the pushback he received. “We’re not out there usually advocating for the police. We’re advocating for thoughtful, effective strategies. Police have to play a role in this.”

It may be difficult for the two sides to resolve fundamental philosophical disagreements. But the Justice Health Alliance’s website approvingly quotes something that Mr. Schmautz told the statehouse: “Addiction and mental health concerns are a health issue. We cannot and should not attempt to arrest our way out of these issues.”

Mr. Schmautz says that the only way forward is cooperation. Ms. Hurst and Mr. Bazeghi both agree. They still share the common goal of reaching people when they’re at their lowest moment and ready to accept help. 

During the winter months of the pilot program, Mr. Bazeghi recalls working alongside officers who’d found a fentanyl user freezing to death in a sleeping bag. The man had a realization: “I don’t want to do this anymore.” That night, he entered a rehab facility.

“If we can make people not feel separated, not feel exiled, feel safe ... then eventually that window is going to present [itself],” says Mr. Bazeghi. “Measure 110 made us work together. We still have a ways to go there. It’s gotten so much better than in 2021 when we started this off.”

Part 2: ‘Our children would not be dead.’ Why these moms are advocating for safe drugs.

Part 3: How Portugal became a world leader in fighting drug addiction

Ken Cedeno/Reuters

Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) takes questions during a press conference following the weekly Senate caucus luncheons on Capitol Hill in Washington, July 9, 2024.

Nearly two weeks after President Joe Biden’s debate disaster, elected officials from his party seem to be cycling through stages of grief.

Some are stuck in denial about how bad things look for their party. Some are angry he won’t get out. Some are still trying to strike a bargain for how to give him a push. Some are just depressed. And some are accepting the reality that Mr. Biden isn’t going anywhere – and that there’s no consensus among party leaders to try to push him out.

In separate huddles on Tuesday, House and Senate Democrats privately vented about Mr. Biden’s debate performance as well as his team’s slow response. But the pair of fraught meetings showed Democrats there’s no unanimity about what to do, with a fractured caucus agreeing only that they had few good options in front of them and time dwindling until an election they see as an existential test for democracy itself.

“We’re still talking. We’re still talking,” said Rep. Bobby Scott, a Virginia Democrat who has expressed support for Mr. Biden, as he left the House meeting.

In their first full day back in Washington after the July 4 recess, congressional Democrats expressed a deepening sense of hopelessness over their party’s chances in November. But they still face the same collective-action problem that kept any serious candidate from challenging Mr. Biden for the 2024 nomination, and kept many party leaders from publicly voicing concerns about his age and mental acuity. Few want to criticize the sitting president, who is only digging in harder, if it means damaging the party’s chances against the GOP. 

John McDonnell/AP

Rep. Gregory Meeks of New York departs the Democratic National Committee headquarters. After President Biden held a Monday evening call with the Congressional Black Caucus, the group's head put out a statement in support of the embattled president.

On Tuesday, a growing number of elected Democrats appeared prepared to once again fall in line and support Mr. Biden, even though many think he’s destined to lose to a flawed candidate they see as a would-be dictator. The emerging game plan seems to be no plan at all. And the longer their deliberations drag out, the less likely it is that Democrats will pull together to push for a change. With time running short, inertia and indecisiveness among Democratic leaders are Mr. Biden’s friends.

Outside the Washington bubble, some Democratic voters are exasperated with the lack of resolve from their representatives.

“What’s the holdup? Who are you afraid of angering?” asks Jesse Dehnert, a Democratic voter who works in construction management in Seattle. “You guys in Congress are going to anger your constituents by not doing anything.” 

Mr. Biden warns ‘elites’ not to go against voters’ will. But are they?

In recent days, Mr. Biden has been making a concerted push to show fellow Democrats he’s not going anywhere – and pressuring party members to stop talking about his failures as a candidate. In a strongly worded letter to congressional Democrats on Monday, he declared: “Any weakening of resolve or lack of clarity about the task ahead only helps Trump and hurts us.” Then he called in to MSNBC’s Morning Joe, daring possible rivals to “challenge me at the convention.”

Mr. Biden held a Monday evening conference call with the Congressional Black Caucus to cement the support of a powerful bloc of House Democrats. Both the CBC head and the leader of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus soon put out statements in support of their embattled president. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, a progressive leader from New York, also moved to shore up Mr. Biden on Monday night, telling reporters: “the matter is closed,” and urging Democrats to unite behind him.

The president has blamed party “elites” for trying to cast him aside against the will of Democratic voters. And to be sure, he is the presumptive nominee, thanks to voters’ support in a largely uncontested primary season. 

But polls since the June 27 debate have shown the president trailing Mr. Trump by a widening margin, even in swing states where Democratic senators are ahead – and nearly half of Democrats think he shouldn’t be running. It’s true that many Democratic voters will pull the lever for Mr. Biden in November simply to avoid a second Trump term. But that doesn’t mean that “the average voter out there,” as Mr. Biden put it in his Morning Joe appearance, strongly supports him.

Mr. Dehnert of Seattle, who voted for Mr. Biden in 2020, says he wishes the president would now step aside. A different Democrat – frankly, anyone, he says – would have a better chance at beating Mr. Trump in November, who he believes is a threat to American democracy. And he’s dismayed that Mr. Biden has resorted to what he sees as Trumpian tactics to shut down dissenting voices in his party. 

Other frustrated Democratic voters fear having such a public fight about Mr. Biden’s physical and mental fitness will only serve to strengthen Mr. Trump.

John McDonnell/AP

Rep. Jerry Nadler of New York arrives at the Democratic National Committee headquarters. Congressman Nadler had said on a private call with House Democrats Mr. Biden should step down. But on Tuesday, he said Mr. Biden had made it clear that he wasn't leaving.

“If Biden had been primaried ... I probably would have considered someone else. But if it’s Biden vs. Trump, that’s not really a choice for me,” says Lekesha Benson, a Democratic voter who serves on the city council of Seneca, South Carolina. At this point, she wishes congressional Democrats would “shut up and vote for him, ’cause you’re not going to get anyone else.” 

Ms. Benson says she’s not surprised the Congressional Black Caucus was among Mr. Biden’s most vocal backers on Capitol Hill this week. During Mr. Trump’s first term, which Ms. Benson calls the “most uncomfortable years of my life,” she says the “whole rhetoric” in America changed. Black voters, says Ms. Benson, must think practically. 

“We’re not thinking about his age,” she said. “We’re fearful of another Trump presidency.”

How do you just say, ‘We’re going to find a new person to run’?

Seven House Democrats have publicly called on the president to step aside, while several senators have issued statements warning Mr. Biden that he hasn’t done enough to prove he should stay in the race – but stopping short of calling for him to drop out. The president should “seriously consider the best way to preserve his incredible legacy and secure it for the future,” Washington Sen. Patty Murray, the longest-serving Senate Democrat, said in a statement Monday evening. 

Sen. Michael Bennet of Colorado said Monday evening that it was “an act of loyalty” to their party and the country for Democrats in positions of power to have tough conversations about whether they should push Mr. Biden to exit the race.

But a number of other Democrats have rallied around him in the past few days.

“I feel we’ve hit a turning point,” said Massachusetts Rep. Stephen Lynch, echoing Mr. Biden’s assertion that it’s “time to move on” from discussing the debate, and adding that “many more members” have come to share that view. Rep. Jerry Nadler of New York said on a private call with senior House Democrats on Sunday that Mr. Biden should step down. But on Tuesday, he said his concerns were “besides the point” now that Mr. Biden had made it clear that he wasn’t leaving.

One factor is simply timing. Democrats may not feel confident about Mr. Biden, but many fear an 11th-hour disruption would be worse. A coronation by party bosses of Vice President Kamala Harris – or an ugly, contested convention next month – are both huge risks.

“There’s no plan. How do you just say, ‘We’re going to find a new person to run’?” says Rep. Jan Schakowsky of Illinois. 

Members emerge from party gatherings tight-lipped 

House Democrats held a meeting at the Democratic National Committee to talk through their options Tuesday morning. Leadership required them to turn over their phones so they couldn’t text reporters from the room.  

Consensus was not reached. Many emerged from the testy gathering into the sweltering Washington summer heat tight-lipped and irritable. 

South Carolina Rep. James Clyburn, one of Mr. Biden’s closest allies on Capitol Hill, would only repeat “Ridin’ with Biden!” over and over. Florida Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz, a former DNC chair, rebuffed the reporters who flocked to her. “Guys. I need to find my staff, if you could give me room to do that,” she said. 

Nathan Howard/Reuters

President Joe Biden and Pennsylvania Sen. John Fetterman campaign at the Roxborough Democratic Coordinated Campaign Office, in Philadelphia, July 7, 2024. Senator Fetterman has expressed unequivocal support for Mr. Biden throughout the current crisis.

Senate Democrats were no more eager to talk as they emerged from their weekly lunch that ran twice as long as usual.

Sen. Jon Tester of Montana, who on Monday called on Mr. Biden to “prove … that he’s up to the job for another four years,” would only say that the meeting was “constructive.” That’s the same word used by Virginia Sen. Mark Warner, who had planned a private meeting with Democrats to talk through a path forward but canceled it when it leaked to the press. Vermont Sen. Peter Welch said only that Democratic senators had “a ways to go,” before declining to say more. 

Senators Tester and Bennet, along with Ohio Democrat Sherrod Brown, all reportedly said in the Tuesday meeting that they didn’t believe Mr. Biden could win this fall. 

Sen. John Fetterman of Pennsylvania, who campaigned with the president over the weekend and has been one of Mr. Biden’s most vocal supporters, was one of the few Democrats willing to talk. 

“Joe Biden is our guy. He’s my guy, and he’s the only guy ever to kick Trump’s [expletive],” he told a throng of reporters. 

The handful of Democrats who are publicly pushing for Mr. Biden to get out of the race worry that the whole situation is likely to get worse. But they aren’t optimistic that the president will heed their calls.

“He’s a proud guy. He’s not a guy who listens to other people,” said Rep. Mike Quigley of Illinois. “So, we are where we are.”

In June 2019, the city of Ithaca, New York, announced a shockingly ambitious climate goal: It pledged to become carbon neutral by 2030, a timeline officials described as faster than that of any other municipality in the country.

Officials called this commitment the Ithaca Green New Deal, a nod to the federal resolution released to much fanfare earlier that year by Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and Sen. Edward Markey of Massachusetts, both Democrats. The scope was big.

Not only would the city develop wide-scale solar energy and take its building stock off fossil fuels, it would reduce greenhouse gas emissions in the food and transportation sectors, electrify its vehicle fleet by 2025, and build out public charging networks. All the while, city officials pledged, they would ensure that lower-income residents of this Finger Lakes city would benefit just as much as the wealthier population. 

“In layman’s terms,” says Rebecca Evans, Ithaca’s current sustainability director, “it was totally, totally crazy.” 

Sure enough, these lofty goals have been difficult to meet. According to the Ithaca Green New Deal Scorecard, maintained by a local group of climate advocates, many of the promises, such as decarbonizing the electric grid and establishing a curbside food scrap pickup service, have stalled.  

But if Ithaca’s movement to zero emissions has been far slower than pledged, there’s also another part of the story, government and climate activists say. Even with a global pandemic, a change in city government leadership, and the crushing reality of how much it actually costs to move a city away from fossil fuels, this community hugging the southern tip of Cayuga Lake is crawling toward its climate goals – and motivating other smaller cities across the country to do the same.  

“It’s a catalyst for hope,” Ms. Evans says.

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff

An electric heating and cooling pump hangs in an architectural salvage store called Significant Elements, owned by the nonprofit Historic Ithaca. It's one of the first 10 privately owned buildings in the city to be electrified.

Ithaca, some environmental advocates say, shows how smaller towns and cities are increasingly instrumental in developing the most practical climate solutions – as well as identifying those places where deep systemic roadblocks exist and need attention.

“Smaller cities can be living laboratories in a way that larger cities can’t,” says McKenzie Jones, resilience hub director for the Urban Sustainability Directors Network. “In smaller cities, you can be more nimble. You can do really interesting, equity-centered climate work.” 

On the leading edge of change 

The City of Ithaca has a population of around 33,000, while the surrounding Town of Ithaca has an additional 20,000 or so. Home to both Ithaca College and Cornell University, the region is known for both an intellectual bent and a willingness to use that academic prowess for environmental action. 

“Ithaca is a town that has a lot of history of being on the leading edge of progressive change in the state,” says Lisa Marshall, advocacy and organizing director at New Yorkers for Clean Power.  

Ms. Marshall worked for years in surrounding Tompkins County to replace fossil-fuel-based heating sources with electric heat pumps. She recalls that in the late 2010s, a group of younger local climate activists joined forces with some of the old-guard environmentalists who had long lobbied for climate action in the city. They began pressuring city officials on social media, demanding big, sweeping action.

They eventually got the Green New Deal. But while people were excited about the idea, Ms. Marshall and others recall, there were a lot of questions about what, exactly, came next. 

“I don’t necessarily think the Council at the time really understood what it was going to take to get to zero by 2030,” says Ms. Evans. “We’re talking an unprecedented amount of money, an unprecedented culture shift. It’s very, very, very hard.”  

But there are always reasons not to attempt big change, she says. And with bold commitments and fast-approaching deadlines, she says, officials here recognized that they needed to take a more startup approach, trying out solutions and then adjusting as needed. Should they get air scrubbers to suck carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere around town? Buy heat pumps for all residents? Those were the sort of proposals that people here needed to consider – even if, for various reasons, they didn’t end up being possible. 

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff

Susan Holland, executive director at the nonprofit Historic Ithaca, stands in front of its architectural salvage store in Ithaca.

This sort of mindset helped spur a number of changes. In 2021, Ithaca adopted the first net-zero building code in New York. The next year, it launched a first-of-its-kind building electrification program, becoming the first US city to begin the process of decarbonizing all of its buildings. (According to the city, an estimated 40 percent of Ithaca’s greenhouse gas emissions come from its buildings.)  

Although only a handful of structures have since switched from fossil fuel to electric heat, the city has partnered with energy startup BlocPower to accelerate the effort. The company finances building retrofits, manages construction projects, and helps digitally map communities so government officials can know what projects will most effectively lower emissions. 

Two complementary initiatives that passed under President Joe Biden – the bipartisan Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act of 2021 and the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022 – earmarked millions of dollars for climate-related programs to local governments, from tax incentives for electrification efforts to workplace development funding.

That money is making its way to state governments and local municipalities, and officials here say they hope it will be helpful in getting closer to Ithaca’s Green New Deal goals. The city itself has a limited budget, advocates say, and is relying on these state and federal dollars, along with financial relationships with private groups like BlocPower.

“We’re trying to pitch huge changes, and in many ways, our infrastructure is locked in,” says Ethan Bodnaruk, the Ithaca program manager for BlocPower. “Progress isn’t as fast as we want. But we’re trying to work to resolve up-front costs.”

Locating roadblocks 

Earlier this year, for instance, Mr. Bodnaruk worked with Susan Holland, executive director of Historic Ithaca, a preservation group, to find incentives to offset the cost of retrofitting her office building from the 1910s (once a grocery) and an attached 1880s architectural salvage store (once a carriage repair shop). 

“They saved us 65 percent in replacement from gas to heat pumps,” Ms. Holland explains, pointing out the new mini-splits placed along the ceiling. “As a preservation organization, we are demonstrating that this can be done.”

But she and Mr. Bodnaruk say they also recognize the huge challenges around town.

Construction is expensive. And in upstate New York, where natural gas is relatively cheap, there’s not a great financial benefit for residents to switch their HVAC systems to electric heat pumps. Federal and state incentives can help, but the programs are often opaque and even at cross-purposes. 

Moreover, many of the residents of Ithaca are renters, says Ms. Marshall. They don’t have the ability to change their buildings’ heating systems, even if they wanted to. 

Added to that are challenges with the utilities themselves. Customers pay extra money in their gas and electric bills to the utility companies, which in turn promise to maintain a region’s power infrastructure. In New York, that explicitly means gas. According to state law, the utilities must maintain gas infrastructure and must install gas lines for any new building project that asks for it, as long as that structure is within 100 feet of an existing gas main. 

The utility spreads the cost of these new installations among its customers, rather than charging the building project. The same is not true for green power distribution projects. Although the state recently passed ambitious building electrification goals – prompted in large part by local efforts like Ithaca’s – the legislature rejected a bill that would have dropped the gas mandate for utilities, which advocates said would have freed up money for clean energy projects. 

But identifying these roadblocks is, in some ways, just as important as finding solutions, advocates say. Ms. Evans, for instance, initially thought that she might be able to lower the cost of heat pumps by purchasing them in bulk to distribute throughout the city. But city lawyers told her that the New York Constitution can be read as prohibiting government expenditures for private homeowners. And it also turned out that the City of Ithaca, by itself, wouldn’t have a big enough order to get discounts from suppliers.

So, Ms. Evans has started to team up with other towns in the region to try to become one, large buying bloc. 

“I think the biggest lesson learned is that we cannot do this alone,” she says. “It seems like an impossibility, and it is incredibly difficult, but there’s plenty of money. We know how to do it. The technology exists. It’s the culture shift that we really need.”

On his first trip to Russia since the war in Ukraine began, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi embraced Russian President Vladimir Putin in one of his signature bear hugs. 

The embrace outraged many. India celebrates being the world’s largest democracy, and is an increasingly important U.S. ally in Asia. But other than Mr. Modi’s veiled criticism of Russia’s attack on a ​​children’s hospital in Kyiv that occurred before his arrival on Monday, the two leaders got on like old friends – which their nations are. 

India has long relied on Russia for military equipment, and today, India’s warmth toward Russia helps ensure a supply of cheap coal, oil, and fertilizer for the country of 1.4 billion.

While India’s Western allies want Delhi to be tougher on Russia, experts say the United States accepts the relationship.

Pankaj Saran, former deputy national security adviser of India, says that over the past 70 years, the India-Russia relationship has powered through difficult times. The U.S. concern over India’s closeness with Russia has only been a challenge for the last two years.

“It is not as if there is anything secret about the relationship” between Delhi and Moscow, says Mr. Saran, who was India’s envoy to Russia from 2016 to 2018. “The Americans understand that the Indians are getting the discounted oil,” and that India isn’t Russia’s only potential ally in Asia. 

“If you look at Russia and China, then India does not consider Russia in the same adversarial manner as it considers China,” which shares a contentious border with India, he says. “We have to maintain this friendship also to ensure that ... we do not push Russia further into Chinese arms.”

Rajanish Kakade/AP

An employee of a fuel station fills petrol in Mumbai, India, in June 2022. India and other Asian nations are becoming an increasingly vital source of oil revenues for Moscow as the United States and other Western countries cut their energy imports from Russia in line with sanctions over its war on Ukraine.

India’s national priorities

Russia and India established a strategic defense and trade partnership during the Cold War, a relationship that persisted after the fall of the Soviet Union and was solidified in 2000 when the two countries signed a new cooperation declaration. 

Facing U.S. sanctions after invading Ukraine, Russia deepened trade ties with India, offering significant discounts on oil and making India a major export market. Foreign Secretary Vinay Mohan Kwatra said last week that bilateral trade has witnessed a sharp increase in the 2023-24 financial year, reaching approximately $65 billion primarily due to energy cooperation. 

During the summit, Mr. Modi and Mr. Putin agreed to boost bilateral trade to $100 billion by 2030, announced the opening of two new Indian consulates in Russia, and discussed the need for peace talks. Russia also supported India’s United Nations Security Council bid and agreed to release Indians controversially recruited into the Russian army. 

For Russia, the meeting demonstrated that Moscow still has friends. For India, it marked a bold step forward on foreign and domestic goals. 

“Modi’s dreams of transforming India economically depend on the country’s ability to attract investment and technology from global partners, and to effectively secure the homeland,” says Milan Vaishnav, South Asia Program director at Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, a Washington-based think tank.

Even as Western allies pressure Delhi to distance itself from Moscow, India’s friendship with Russia still serves Mr. Modi’s ambitions to raise India’s profile as a global leader.

“Overall, [the trip] just underlines the fact that India will decide its relationships on the basis of its national interest, and it’s not going to be swayed by pressures from other powers,” says Nandan Unnikrishnan, head of Eurasian Studies at Observer Research Foundation, a think tank in Delhi.

Indeed, India’s foreign policy prioritizes independence. Its goal is to balance relations among three major powers – Russia, the U.S., and China – and to prevent any single hegemon from dominating Asia.

Manish Swarup/AP

A U.S. Army soldier and an Indian army soldier carry their respective country flags during an Indo-U.S. joint exercise in the Indian state of Uttarakhand, Nov. 30, 2022. India is an increasingly important U.S. ally in Asia.

Grudging acceptance

Among those major powers, India’s relations with China are currently the most strained. 

In this geopolitical balancing act, that puts India and the U.S. on the same page. Just as Delhi sees ties to Moscow as essential for limiting Beijing’s power, the U.S. is prioritizing ties with India to counterbalance China, explains Peter Rough, director of the Center on Europe and Eurasia at Hudson Institute, a Washington-based think tank.

“India’s relationship with Russia is secondary for Washington,” he says. “The goal of U.S. foreign policy should be to maximize alignment and overlap on priority issues, and not allow differences or disagreements on secondary matters to hamper relations.”

Michael Kugelman, South Asia Institute director at the Wilson Center, says that the West may not agree with India’s neutral position on Ukraine, but most Western allies recognize it as a consequence of India’s partnership with Russia.

“It’s a partnership that is problematic for the U.S., especially given all the Russian military equipment in an Indian defense system receiving ample U.S. defense technologies, but it’s a partnership the U.S. has grudgingly accepted,” he says. 

Mr. Kugelman says there’s little the U.S. can do but play the long game, seeking ways to eventually provide India with the military and energy supplies it has relied on from Russia, a process that will take time.

Mr. Saran, the deputy security adviser, says Mr. Modi’s commitment to independent foreign policy could prove valuable to the West. “There is also an element here of trying to engage the Russians and Putin into some kind of a dialogue, in the hope that this dialogue can contribute towards” diplomacy with the West and peace in Ukraine, he says. 

Eugene Rumer, former U.S. National Intelligence Council officer for Russia and Eurasia, agrees. He calls India an important U.S. partner, sharing many interests as seen in the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue, or the Quad, comprised of India, the U.S., Australia, and Japan. “The relationship between Russia and the U.S. could benefit from mediation, and it could be a good thing if India could play that part.”

When he was a teenager, Muhammad Faheem visited a festival in Delhi and watched gravity-defying performers drive up and around the steep walls of a cylindrical arena. In Hindi, the carnival attraction is known as Maut ka Kuan, or Well of Death, because performers risk falling off at any moment.

“I wasn’t scared; I was drawn to it,” Mr. Faheem says. “It felt like the roaring engines and the cheering crowd were saying, ‘You belong here.’”

Today, Mr. Faheem is one of those stunt performers in northern India, riding his motorcycle inside a 30-to-50-foot-diameter wooden cylinder formed like a barrel. The breathtaking shows – which were once very popular in the region but now pull in smaller crowds – bring a modern twist to classic tent circuses, with cars and motorcycles replacing animals and tightrope walkers.

Despite the modest wages and dangerous operational hurdles, Mr. Faheem remains passionate about thrilling the heart of every audience member.

“Every challenge we face, financial or logistical, is just another part of the act,” he says. “It’s what makes the final applause so worth it.” 

Ahmer Khan

A vehicle races around the steep walls of a wooden cylinder formed like a barrel during a Well of Death performance.

Ahmer Khan

Stunt performers sip cups of tea before they participate in a Well of Death show.

Ahmer Khan

Crowds enjoy a fair in Aligarh, India. The Well of Death shows were once very popular in northern India, but attendance is waning.

Ahmer Khan

Muhammad Faheem – a performer in the Maut ka Kuan, or Well of Death – stands next to his motorcycle in Aligarh in northern India.

Ahmer Khan

A worker eats amid the dismantled pieces of carnival rides after a Well of Death performance.

AP

Allison Schmitt, former Olympic athlete, testifies during a House hearing on anti-doping measures before the 2024 Olympics, June 25.

On the eve of the 2024 Summer Olympics, many world-class athletes are tracking the latest scandal over the alleged use of performance-enhancing drugs. The World Anti-Doping Agency recently gave an all clear to 11 Chinese swimmers to compete in their events in Paris even though they had tested positive for a banned substance in 2021. The agency itself is now under investigation by the U.S. Justice Department.

Yet top athletes are doing more than merely watching. They are speaking out and organizing to ensure integrity in sports remains the global norm.

“As an athlete you want to be treated fairly and [have] full transparency and make sure that in those cases those results [positive test] are not hidden and they’re not put under secrecy,” said Adam Peaty, a British breaststroke champion.

An international activist group, Global Athlete, reported last year that thousands of athletes participated in calls for probes or bans of athletes suspected of doping. The funder of the group, FairSport, says the goal is to “create a global conversation about the necessity of fair and clean sport, and to grow a movement towards violation-free sport throughout the world.”

This “clean athletics” activism relies on athletes being open and honest about their training and the ups and downs of their sports careers – including any lying or cheating. The head of the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency, Travis Tygart, told a congressional hearing last month, “We view athletes – and their powerful stories – as USADA’s guiding light, our North Star. Their stories give us hope, they remind us of our purpose, and they provide us the fuel to continue to advocate for their right to clean and fair competition.”

Leaders of this movement say it relies on respect for one’s self, other athletes, and the sport itself. “Foundational to the Olympics is the trust that clean athletes, both aspiring and current Olympians, have in the system to keep cheaters out,” stated Rep. Morgan Griffith, chair of the House subcommittee that held the hearing on doping in June.

Sport unifies people through creativity, ingenuity, and perseverance. Every honest athlete possesses and appreciates these qualities in competitors. They know the long hours, the talent, and the support from others that it takes to become Olympic-level great. It is worth celebrating every athlete on the podium, behind a microphone, or at a board table making sure sports stay clean.

“If we win, let it be because we earned it,” Allison Schmitt, a four-time Olympic gold medalist in swimming, told lawmakers. “And if we lose, let it be because the competition was fair.”