A Quiet Revolution: 20 Years of Impact with U of U Environmental Humanities Program

On an unseasonably warm late October afternoon at the Commander's House on the University of Utah campus, a research symposium marked what might seem like a modest milestone: the 20th anniversary of a small master’s degree program. But the Environmental Humanities (EH) Program, founded in 2005 as the first of its kind in the world, has quietly positioned itself at the vanguard of how universities prepare students to shape our ecological future.

The celebration itself reflected the program's dedication to research excellence; featuring three panels showcasing the scholarship of students, faculty, and alumni, followed by an evening reception where attendees mingled, reminisced, and participated in a focused conversation on visions for Utah's energy future. Attendees received anniversary notebooks and stickers featuring brine shrimp–the tiny crustaceans that thrive in the Great Salt Lake–an ecosystem now threatened by climate change and water policy. Even the party favors demonstrated love for what makes Utah unique. 

Danielle Endres, professor of communication and the program's current director, opened the evening reception by acknowledging the Shoshone, Ute, Goshute, and Paiute peoples on whose homelands the university stands. It was more than ceremonial recognition. Respect for Indigenous ecological knowledge forms one of three pillars supporting the program's curriculum, alongside environmental justice and community engagement. These aren't abstract values but practical commitments that shape how students learn to conduct research. 

"What do our community partners need?" Endres asked, describing the program's approach. "And what assets do our community partners have?" These questions reject extractive models of academic research; instead, EH students build what Endres calls "ethical, reciprocal, and non-extractive" relationships with communities impacted by climate change.

The results are tangible. Several EH students over the years have worked in partnership with the Northwestern Band of Shoshone Nation (NWBSN) on projects to better tell the history and identity of the Nation and its people, deepening our understanding of the place where we live. In 2022, Hanna Taub worked with the NWBSN to install a Shoshone-created interpretive film in the Antelope Island State Park Visitor Center. In 2023, Fiona Summers collaborated with Elders from the Nation to revise the junior ranger handbook at the same park, including Shoshone language and honoring Indigenous ecological knowledges. Now, Cait Quirk, a current student, is working on a community-engaged project to build a digital archive in partnership with the NWBSN. Through this process, Quirk reflects, “Through my time in EH, I have learned how community-engaged research is a praxis that requires listening, care, and desire-based approaches.” 

Several alumni and students have worked with a local nonprofit, the Tracy Aviary Nature Center at Pia Okwai to build bridges between the community and the Native homelands on which the nature center sits. In 2024, Olivia Chandler, who designed and taught two courses as part of the center’s Ecojustice Education series, wrote about her goals as an environmental educator: “I aimed to illuminate the connections between theory and practice–or praxis. Our lived experiences inform academic theory as much as these theories create and explain our lived experiences.” During the same time, Erin O’Farrell was involved in the center’s renaming from the Jordan River Nature Center to the Nature Center at Pia Okwai, paying tribute to the Shoshone words for “big water” in the Newe Taikwa language. Abby Laskey, who was employed at the center prior to enrolling in the Environmental Humanities program, is currently interviewing community members and staff about how their relationships with community and place inform each other and are influenced by the nature center. 

These projects represent what Wanda Pillow, dean of the College of Humanities, called the program's "bold stance" of linking theory to practice. Pillow described being raised to "observe and listen to land, trees, moss, stones," an onto-epistemological way of knowing that academia often dismisses. Environmental Humanities, she remarks, has operated ahead of its time by refusing to separate knowledge from ethics and action.

Evolution of Environmental Humanities

The EH Program has evolved considerably since its founding two decades ago under inaugural director Mark Bergstrom. During his tenure from 2005 to 2008, Bergstrom laid much of the program’s foundation, most notably by securing student funding from both internal and external sources. This early financial stability enabled the program to expand rapidly, as Bergstrom recalls, allowing it to “grow from 3 students, to 5 students, to 8 students” within just three years. From the outset, he viewed collaboration as central to the program’s mission and long-term success. Reflecting on this guiding principle, Bergstrom explains, “We are all faced with increasingly complex environmental issues and problems, and collaboratively working together greatly increases the impact of our research and advocacy.”

From 2008 to 2014, Steve Tatum successfully worked with Robert Newman, then dean of the College of Humanities, and Mark Bergstrom, then associate dean and founding director of the program, to establish a sturdy foundation for the EH program. Tatum helped increase the financial support for a larger number of students, secured the program’s current location in the Fort Douglas building, and contributed to the founding of the Taft Nicholson Environmental Humanities Education Center in Montana’s Centennial Valley. 

Jeff McCarthy served as director of EH from 2014 to 2023, a period marked by significant growth in national visibility, academic excellence, and institutional support. He collaborated with faculty across the university to build “the world’s best environmental humanities education,” recruited outstanding graduate students, and helped the program attract record application numbers. During his tenure, EH settled into the Fort Douglas building, created the Utah Award in the Environmental Humanities, secured additional resources for student research, and earned a prestigious Mellon Foundation grant focused on environmental justice and community-engaged learning. McCarthy reflects, “There’s a lot for all of us to be proud of looking back, and there’s even more for us to do looking forward.”

While McCarthy was on sabbatical during 2020-2021, Katharina Gerstenberger served as interim director of EH. In addition to keeping a steady hand during the COVID pandemic, Gerstenberger doubled the dedicated staff in the Environmental Humanities program by hiring the first Community Engagement and Outreach Coordinator and welcomed the first Community Practitioner-in-Residence and the first two Mellon Graduate Fellowship recipients. One of her proudest accomplishments was, she writes, “With the help of colleagues, I laid the groundwork for the Environmental Humanities and Transformative Justice Undergraduate Certificate that began enrolling students during Fall 2024.” 

Each of these directors has helped build what Endres calls a “premier epicenter” of environmental humanities research and teaching. Danielle Endres has been involved with the Environmental Humanities (EH) program since its founding as a teacher and advisor and became director in 2024. Over the last two years, she has continued to expand the program's focus on environmental justice, Indigenous ecological knowledges, and community engagement. She reflects, “I hope that these will be standards for the whole field of environmental humanities by the time we celebrate our 30th anniversary.” She established an ongoing partnership with the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation, added a new community engagement course to the catalog, and grew the program’s affiliate faculty to ensure that the three pillars are supported with faculty expertise. This year, Endres will begin working on an edited volume focused on new directions in the environmental humanities. In this volume, she hopes to highlight “both the dynamic and creative work coming out of students and faculty in the program and bring in scholars, artists, and writers representing the cutting edge of environmental humanities work.”

Unsurpassed Societal Impact

At the symposium, the ripples of this intellectual “epicenter” were readily apparent. Current EH students presented a wide range of research projects: Cait Quirk discussed using art and critical research to interpret melting landscapes such as the North Cascades glaciers; Rikki Longino described efforts to preserve seeds native to the Wasatch Front and distribute them to local urban farming and Native communities; and David James examined how influential authors and leaders at the turn of the 20th century used orchids to communicate or protest ideas. 

EH affiliate faculty also shared their ongoing work: Leah Ramnath (Social and Cultural Thought) discussed research from her faculty fellowship with the Black Feminist Eco Lab; Jeff Rose (Parks, Recreation, and Tourism) presented community-engaged research on ethical work with communities experiencing homelessness; and Melissa Parks (Communication) examined the research behind her first book, Storying Plant Communication: More-than-Human Relationships in New Mexico. 

Alumni shared how their education shaped their career trajectories: Jack Stauss now serves as executive director of Save Our Canyons; Jenna Fischer sits on the National Parks Conservation Association’s Next Generation Advisory Board; and Meaghan McKasy teaches strategic science communication here at the U. 

The evening reception’s brief panel focused on Utah’s energy future. Speakers included Ataya Cesspooch, the 2024-2025 Annie Clark Tanner Teaching and Research Fellow in Environmental Humanities, whose research—conducted in partnership with the Ute Tribe, of which she is a descendant—examines Ute engagement with oil and gas; Matty Sudweeks, an alum who worked with the White Mesa Concerned Community; and Nate Blouin, a Utah state senator for District 13 and former Interwest Energy Alliance policy manager. Although Utah faces many environmental challenges, including the shrinking Great Salt Lake, public land disputes, and air pollution, Endres noted that “energy intersects with all of these.” The choice to focus on energy policy for the anniversary program demonstrated how the Environmental Humanities translates academic inquiry into public conversation.

This translation is particularly important now. As Pillow observed in her remarks, the program operates "in an era of misinformation and denial," where faculty, students, and alumni "respond with accuracy, knowledge, research, reflection, and ethical praxis." The work, she suggested, acknowledges "the intricate connections among ecosystems, land, humans, animals, and more than human beings."

That phrase "more than human beings" captures something essential about the program's philosophical orientation. Traditional environmentalism often focuses on conservation or sustainability, framing nature as something humans must protect. Environmental humanities asks deeper questions about how we understand our relationship to the non-human world, how power shapes environmental outcomes, and whose knowledge counts when we make decisions about land and resources.

While the program itself is still relatively small—around seventy people attended the anniversary celebration—its influence extends well beyond campus. Alumni of the EH program have pursued doctoral and law degrees, work with federal and state governments on environmental policy, create art and writing that reshape environmental narratives, and lead powerful advocacy movements and dedicated nonprofits. They carry with them a particular intellectual imprint: interdisciplinary training, ethical frameworks for community engagement, and attention to environmental justice.

As the sun began to set, casting the leafy streets of Fort Douglas into the golden hour, revelers gathered in friendly knots of conversation. Outside the Commander's House, the Wasatch Mountains rose to the east, the Great Salt Lake stretched to the west. Between them, a generation of environmental thinkers prepared to navigate the increasingly urgent questions of how we live on this planet. Their training ground, two decades in, continues its quiet revolution.