The Power of a People, Casa Pueblo, Puerto Rico, and the Pursuit of Self-Determination.

Author: Faith Njoku

Published: 8:52 PM MDT September 21st 2026

The Power of a People, Casa Pueblo, Puerto Rico, and the Pursuit of Self-Determination.

I had the most extraordinary opportunity to spend time with

Dr. Arturo Massol-Deyá, Executive Director of Casa Pueblo in Adjuntas, Puerto Rico.

He was passionate, poignant, and, at moments, palpably heated. His words carried the weight of a man who has witnessed the vulnerabilities of his homeland and dedicated his life to strengthening the very communities that have endured them.

His discussion was rich in history, environmental science, political discourse, and the intimate realities of a people whose relationship with the United States remains complicated by the enduring legacy of colonialism.

He spoke of home.

Of the mountains, the municipalities, the mothers and fathers, and the families who have watched the lights go out and waited, with dwindling patience and diminishing resources, for someone to turn them back on.

Eleven months.

That was how long it took to restore electricity to all eligible customers across Puerto Rico following Hurricane Maria in 2017.

I sat with that number for a moment.

Eleven months of interrupted livelihoods, compromised healthcare, and communities navigating the uncertainty of an electrical grid that had collapsed beneath the force of a hurricane.

I could not help but wonder what eleven months without electricity would look like in my own community. What would become of our schools, hospitals, small businesses, and the elderly residents whose lives depend on refrigerated medication and electrically powered medical equipment?

For Puerto Rico, these were not hypothetical questions. They were the conditions under which people were expected to survive. And for Casa Pueblo, they were conditions that demanded an entirely different approach to community development.

A History Rooted in the Mountains:

The history of Casa Pueblo begins in 1980, when residents of Adjuntas organized against proposed open-pit mining operations in Puerto Rico's mountainous interior. The proposed mining development threatened the ecological integrity of the region, its agricultural resources, and the relationship between the people of Adjuntas and the land they had cultivated for generations. Led by Alexis Massol González and Tinti Deyá Díaz, the movement brought together residents, environmental advocates, and community organizers who challenged the government's plans for mineral extraction.

After fifteen years of organizing, the proposed mining project was abandoned in 1995. What interests me about Casa Pueblo's history is what happened after the movement achieved its initial objective. The organization did not dissolve, nor did its founders consider the preservation of the mountains the conclusion of their work. Instead, they expanded their efforts into environmental education, cultural preservation, forest conservation, and community economic development. Their work contributed to the establishment of Bosque del Pueblo, a forest reserve managed by the community.

Today, Casa Pueblo's work includes renewable energy initiatives, environmental education, scientific research, and the preservation of Puerto Rico's natural and cultural heritage. There is a remarkable continuity between the organization's founding and its present-day work. The same community that once organized to prevent the destruction of its mountains would eventually turn to those mountains, and the sunlight that falls upon them, to develop a more independent and resilient future. Yet, the story of Casa Pueblo cannot be fully appreciated without examining the political conditions under which its work takes place.

Puerto Rico: The Peculiar Position of an American Territory:

One of the most interesting aspects of Dr. Massol-Deyá was his discussion of colonialism and the political relationship between Puerto Rico and the United States. Puerto Rico is a United States territory. Its residents are American citizens, yet they do not enjoy the same congressional representation as citizens residing in the fifty states. The island has no representation in the United States Senate. Its elected Resident Commissioner serves in the House of Representatives but

cannot vote on final legislation before the full House. This distinction carries considerable consequences for a population whose access to federal resources, infrastructure investments, and disaster recovery assistance is shaped by decisions made in Washington. Consider the peculiar position of Puerto Rico. Its residents are subject to federal authority, yet they cannot elect senators to advocate for their interests during the legislative process. Their elected representative in the House may participate in committee proceedings, but cannot cast a final vote on legislation affecting the island.

Dr. Massol-Deyá spoke passionately about this political arrangement, describing the continued effects of colonialism on Puerto Rico's ability to determine its own future.

I found myself particularly interested in the relationship between political representation and access to federal funding. When a state experiences a natural disaster, its congressional delegation can advocate for federal assistance, negotiate appropriations, and participate directly in the legislative decisions that shape recovery. Puerto Rico, by comparison, must navigate these processes without the same degree of representation. Of course, the island's political status is not the sole explanation for its infrastructure challenges or delays in federal funding. Nevertheless, the distinction raises important questions about the distribution of political power and the ability of communities to influence decisions concerning their own welfare. For Dr. Massol-Deyá, these questions are inseparable from the work of Casa Pueblo.

His discussion of colonialism was not confined to the historical relationship between Puerto Rico and the United States. It extended into the contemporary realities of energy production, infrastructure management, and the degree to which the island remains dependent on institutions beyond its immediate control. And then came Hurricane Maria....Eleven Months Without Power In September 2017, Hurricane Maria struck Puerto Rico, devastating communities and destroying much of the island's electrical infrastructure. The storm left residents without reliable electricity, interrupted access to essential services, and exposed the fragility of an electrical system upon which millions of people depended. The island-wide restoration process took approximately eleven months.

Eleven months! I find it difficult to comprehend the magnitude of such an interruption. Electricity has become so deeply embedded in the ordinary rhythms of our lives that we rarely consider the extraordinary infrastructure required to sustain it. We wake up, turn on the lights, prepare breakfast, charge our phones, and continue with our day. The refrigerator hums quietly in the background. Traffic signals direct our morning commute. Hospitals operate through the night. It is all so wonderfully ordinary until it is no longer available. For the people of Puerto Rico, the loss of electricity was accompanied by damaged roads, disrupted communications, compromised medical services, and significant economic uncertainty. The elderly, individuals with disabilities, and residents requiring electrically powered medical equipment faced particularly severe risks. Small businesses struggled to reopen. Families faced difficulties preserving food and obtaining clean water. Communities already experiencing economic hardship were confronted with the additional burden of rebuilding their lives. Climate change adds urgency to Puerto Rico's experience. Warmer ocean temperatures and atmospheric conditions can contribute to more intense tropical cyclone rainfall, while coastal communities face additional risks associated with rising sea levels.

Yet, Hurricane Maria also exposed vulnerabilities that cannot be attributed to climate change alone.

The condition of the electrical grid, the distribution of public resources, and the institutional capacity to respond to a disaster all influence the severity of its consequences. While the island's electrical infrastructure lay in ruins, Casa Pueblo's headquarters remained powered by solar energy.

Its solar installation allowed the organization to maintain electricity and provide assistance to surrounding residents. People could charge their phones, communicate with loved ones, and obtain access to information and emergency resources. The organization's solar-powered radio station also served as an important source of communication during the disaster. For a community surrounded by darkness, the significance of that functioning electrical system was immeasurable. And for Casa Pueblo, the experience reinforced a conviction that had been developing for decades: the people of Puerto Rico needed greater control over the infrastructure upon which their lives depended.

The Pursuit of Government Non-reliance

Of all the topics discussed, I was most intrigued by Dr. Massol-Deyá's emphasis on developing a community capable of functioning without complete reliance on the government. His remarks challenged my understanding of the relationship between public institutions and community development. Much of our discussion surrounding community development begins with identifying a need and determining which public agency, nonprofit organization, or funding mechanism might provide the necessary resources. We discuss grants, government appropriations, public-private partnerships, and the distribution of services. But what happens when those resources are delayed? When the institutions responsible for providing essential services become overwhelmed? When a community must wait for assistance that may not arrive for weeks, months, or, in Puerto Rico's case, nearly a year?

Casa Pueblo's response has been to invest in the community's capacity to meet its own needs.

Following Hurricane Maria, the organization expanded its renewable energy initiatives, supporting the installation of solar systems in homes, businesses, and community facilities throughout Adjuntas.

Its efforts have included the development of community solar microgrids, allowing participating businesses and institutions to generate and share electricity locally. These initiatives are particularly important in a mountainous region where damage to transmission infrastructure can leave entire communities disconnected from the centralized electrical grid. A locally managed electrical system can support the continued operation of a pharmacy, grocery store, medical facility, or other essential community institution during a wider power outage. A small business equipped with solar energy and battery storage may be able to preserve its inventory and continue serving residents when the conventional grid fails. For families, the availability of reliable electricity can mean the difference between remaining in their homes and being forced to seek shelter elsewhere. The desire for government nonreliance, as I understood it from our discussion, was not simply a rejection of public institutions. It was a pursuit of greater autonomy over the resources necessary for everyday life. Government has a responsibility to provide essential services, maintain public infrastructure, and ensure that communities have access to the resources necessary for their well-being. However, the experience of Casa Pueblo demonstrates how local institutions can supplement these responsibilities by developing their own capacity to respond to emergencies and sustain community life. The organization's work also raises an important question concerning the future of community development. How might our understanding of public service change if we placed greater emphasis on helping communities develop the resources, expertise, and institutions necessary to sustain themselves? For Casa Pueblo, this question is no longer theoretical. It is reflected in the solar panels installed across Adjuntas, the businesses participating in community microgrids, and the residents who have become active participants in the development of their own energy infrastructure.

From the Mountains of Adjuntas to Climate Week

As the discussion came to a close, I found myself reflecting on the remarkable evolution of Casa Pueblo.

An organization that began as a community movement against open-pit mining has spent more than four decades developing an approach to environmental protection rooted in local participation, scientific knowledge, and community autonomy. Its work has expanded from protecting the mountains of Adjuntas to developing renewable energy infrastructure that serves the people who live among them.

And now, the organization's experience is contributing to a much larger international discussion.

Climate Week NYC takes place September 20–27, 2026, bringing together representatives from government, business, academia, and civil society to examine the challenges and opportunities associated with climate change.