Conservationists Destroying the Legacy of Black Farmers in the Midwest

At least 18 threatened or endangered plant and animal species, including the ornate box turtle and regal fritillary butterfly, have been sighted at the Sweet Fern Savanna Land and Water Reserve, in the heart of Pembroke Township, Illinois-- offering a glimpse into what much of the area looked like before European settlers drained swamps and cleared forests to grow corn and soybeans.  But there is a dark underbelly to this seemingly noble effort-- one that threatens the livelihoods of actual human beings.

Sixty miles south of Chicago, this wildlife reserve is among nearly 2,900 acres owned by the Nature Conservancy and other private individuals, trying to establish a network of nature sanctuaries in Kankakee County. Their efforts have overlapped with those of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which two decades ago put forward a plan to buy up and preserve thousands of acres of what conservationists consider a rare habitat, one that includes the nation’s largest and most pristine concentration of sandy black oak savanna. But the acquisition of land by both the federal government and private conservationists has continued in the face of persistent objections from local communities, including residents of this longtime Black farming community.

Founded by formerly enslaved people and later a haven for Black Southerners fleeing racial violence during the Jim Crow era, Pembroke became renowned as a symbol of Black emancipation and touted as one of the largest Black farming communities north of the Mason-Dixon Line. In its heyday, farmers and ranchers here not only raised their own food but supplied fresh produce to Kankakee and Chicago. Today, a small number of Black farmers are trying to hang on to what little they have left, while other parts of the township have struggled as well, with loss of jobs, a declining population and a crumbling village hall.   At the same time, land for the nature sanctuaries have been blithely purchased at county auctions after local residents fell behind on their property tax payments, or from outsiders who picked up the delinquent parcels and flipped them for profit, raising echoes of predatory practices that have long plagued Black landowners.

Cruelly, newly enacted environmental designations and restrictions have allowed these outside conservation groups to receive tax breaks that are eroding an already precarious tax base.  The loss of Black-owned land in this community exposes a cruel irony. Pembroke has been one of the few places Black landowners could gain a foothold in Illinois, in part because this land was passed over by white settlers who presumed its sandy soils were worthless. And now, after generations without large-scale development or landscape-destroying corporate farming, this land has become sought after by outside conservationists because Pembroke’s savannas remain largely untouched.  But for the benefit of who?  Not the hard-working underprivileged local citizens-- but seemingly for privileged absentee conservationists who don't deliver tangible benefits for people who actually live there.

Years of protest have done little to dissuade those pushing for more land to be dedicated for conservation.  Most of the sites reserved for conservation have banned long-standing local traditions like hunting and picking wild fruit-- restrictions which will remain in place forever, even if the land changes hands. In a community known for Black cowboys, new conservation-minded owners have even barred horseback riding-- yet still have  protected the right to cross-country ski (not exactly a popular pastime in Pembroke-- either now or back in the day when the  land was settled).

The growing tension has become a prime example of how predominantly white environmental organizations can marginalize communities of color by prioritizing conservation goals over the wishes of residents and actual people.  But as conservationists and the federal government continue to press on toward their ultimate goal of preserving savannas, Pembroke residents find themselves on the outside looking in.

Over the years, Pembroke’s farmers have suffered from the same racial inequities that permeate the American agriculture industry. Without capital or access to loans, they often used outdated equipment or planted by hand. Most farmed their land without irrigation systems, commercial fertilizers and pesticides — the hallmarks of modern agriculture. Many didn’t grow at the scale that would warrant crop insurance, leaving them vulnerable to drought or floods.  As time passed, Black farmers in Pembroke owned less and less land, due in part to financial hardship and lack of access to legal services that complicated the process of bequeathing property to heirs.

The push to preserve and restore rare natural habitats in Kankakee County, where Pembroke is the largest township by area, might have stalled out two decades ago if the only party interested was the federal government. 20 years ago, the federal government promised locals that they would not establish a national wildlife refuge at the Illinois-Indiana border until local residents were consulted and agreed to the effort.  But there were no such promises from The Nature Conservancy, which had endorsed the federal plan and accumulated land on the Indiana side of the border. Without any announcement or public input, it began buying on the Illinois side too.

 The Arlington, Virginia-based land trust has been praised for its efforts in protecting more than 125 million acres of land globally. But the organization also has been the subject of scrutiny for its real estate dealings.  A 1994 government watchdog report found some environmental land trusts, including The Nature Conservancy, had profited handsomely in some cases from selling land to the federal government. A 2003 Washington Post investigation found the organization had imposed permanent land-use restrictions on some of its properties to guard their natural features, but later sold the land to current and former trustees at reduced prices, some of whom built houses there.

 In 2015, when the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS)revealed it would be pursuing the dormant plans for what it called the Kankakee National Wildlife Refuge and Conservation Area, the Kankakee County Board voted 22-2 in favor of a resolution objecting to plans for the refuge.  In November 2016, the Pembroke Township organized a ballot measure asking: “Should The Nature Conservancy be allowed to purchase land within Pembroke Township to establish a conservation marshland?”  Voters left no doubt about their preference, answering “no” by a margin of 708-123.

In response to the local outcry, the Nature Conservancy took conciliatory steps, agreeing to temporarily halt land acquisition efforts and consult with local residents in a Pembroke community planning project.  But conservancy leaders secretly struck a different tone in emails with government officials, characterizing the situation as a “melodrama.”  In an email later that year, the Nature Conservancy urged USFWS officials not to scrap the refuge plans despite community resistance.  “It is important that USFWS does not pull out all together because it will feed the idea that all you have to do is throw a tantrum and USFWS will pack up and leave.”  In 2017, the Nature Conservancy even schemed on how financial hardships for local farmers might favor the Conservancy's strategy.  “All it takes is two years of bad corn prices and it changes the chess board,” a Nature Conservancy official wrote in an email.

 The Nature Conservancy resorted to double dealing in its talks with Sharon White, the Pembroke Township supervisor.  ProPublic also unearthed an email a Nature Conservancy official to the USFWS, to which a list of tax-delinquent parcels in Pembroke was attached.  The email contained the note:  “Fyi. I will let you know how this works out.” Highlighted in yellow were seven parcels owned by Sharon White whose taxes were delinquent.   In an interview, White said she had no idea that her properties, mostly wooded lots neighboring her three-bedroom home, had been discussed by The Nature Conservancy and Fish and Wildlife.   “They knew me and they were trying to buy properties from underneath me,” White said.

The changes brought on by conservationists go beyond mere land use restrictions.  After gaining ownership, conservationists have obtained state designations or imposed land restrictions that drastically reduce what they have to pay in property taxes.   The Nature Conservancy enrolls Kankakee County land in the state’s Conservation Stewardship Program, which allows the property to be assessed at 5% of its fair market value. Other Nature conservancy land is earmarked for nature preserves which reduces the assessed value to only $1 per acre.

In a community where the median household income hovers around $29,000, local residents say it has been difficult to have land seized for failure to pay taxes and then see the new owners get a hefty tax break. In one instance, a Black farmer forfeited a 3-acre parcel of land in 2004 after falling behind on a $580.90 annual tax bill. The Nature Conservancy bought his land at tax sale, and two years later obtained a state conservation designation that allowed the organization to pay $19.60 annually in taxes — 96% less than the yearly amount the farmer lost it for.

Local opposition has been especially intense in Hopkins Park because of the village’s desperate need to reverse years of economic stagnation and disinvestment. The conflict pits The Nature Conservancy, which in a 2019 tax filing reported $1.1 billion in revenue, against the mayor of a village that collected less than $37,000 in taxes for that year. Mayor Mark Hodge has led the chorus of naysayers against the Nature Conservancy's efforts, which have severely undercut local development plans. The conservancy purchased six parcels on Main Street, one of a limited number of places within the township served by water and sewer lines. It also bought land within several residential subdivisions.  “When they own the property, that means a house can’t go there, a business can’t go there because they are not willing to relinquish it. That would be tax revenue that we would receive for any water, sewer and other utilities,” Hodges said, adding: “It’s obvious that this is David and Goliath, the big guy trying to crush the small guy.”  Many feel that such constraints on local development and the exercise of undue tax breaks amount to “community genocide.”

When landowners reduce or eliminate their tax payments, the remaining property owners in the tax district must pay more to make up for the lost funding needed for things like schools and roads, said Nick Africano, Kankakee County’s treasurer.  “These are communities that can least afford a hit to their school and village budgets,” Africano said. “They struggle for every nickel. I think it works for one set of people, and unfortunately most have no stake in our community.”