Let us begin long before the coinage of the word biochar, with Demosthenes, an Athenian scrivener and speechwriter who lived in the middle of the fourth century BCE. He long aspired to become an orator, an occupation with more prestige in Ancient Athens, but was seen as unfit because of a stutter. So he delivered speeches to the waves with his mouth full of rocks, and practiced and practiced, until he became perhaps the greatest orator of Ancient Greece and Rome. Adlai Stevenson once quipped, “in classical times, when Cicero had finished speaking, the people said, ‘How well he spoke,’ but when Demosthenes had finished speaking, they said, ‘Let us march!’” Demosthenes understood that rhetoric was not just flourishes and twenty-dollar words, and this insight enabled him to become a master of motivating behavior change.

Fast-forward to today, and what Demosthenes perfected could be of use to the biochar industry as it braces for potentially exponential growth in the coming years. How many innovators, entrepreneurs, companies, and collectives have crashed on the rocky shoals of persuasion, just as they felt they had covered their financial and technical bases? We have all heard tell of perfect pitch decks that did not succeed or large, centralized facilities that did not come to be because key stakeholders were not convinced, or had second thoughts.  

With already mountainous policy and financial hurdles, the biochar industry does not need another. To understand how rhetoric can factor into the implementation of biochar-friendly policies and creation of pyrolysisPyrolysis is a thermochemical process that converts waste biomass into bio-char, bio-oil, and pyro-gas. It offers significant advantages in waste valorization, turning low-value materials into economically valuable resources. Its versatility allows for tailored products based on operational conditions, presenting itself as a cost-effective and efficient More sites, I began researching public-sector biochar facilities and the role of rhetoric in accelerating the adoption of biochar at industrial scale with governmental support. This seemed an ideal starting point since public-sector just screams rhetoric, and civic leaders are often navigating diverse audiences of stakeholders, who may have competing and contradictory demands. 

I interviewed civic employees and private-sector consultants from Douglas County, Colorado and Minneapolis, where government-funded pyrolysis facilities have come online in 2025, as well as cities that are currently or have in the past considered such a project, including Cincinnati, Lincoln, Boulder, San Antonio, Austin, and Nevada City, California.  

As depicted on the accompanying graph, we discussed ownership models (does the governing entity own and operate the facility?), stakeholder coordination (Climate Action Plans or regional non-profits calling for biochar use before facility was conceived of), grant funding, partisanship, and management model (often, cities fall into either the “strong mayor” or “council-manager” model, with the former affording the mayor more executive and financial authority than the latter, which employs a city manager to oversee many financial obligations).

I then employed a qualitative thematic analysis of all interviews, which means I found patterns in the data. It may seem like having a strong mayor would be beneficial, and it was in the case of Minneapolis, but in the case of Lincoln, the mayor’s office grew concerned over political headwinds in November 2024, so such a system can cut both ways. Partisanship also may seem significant, and one ignores it at their own peril, but we can see that biochar transcends partisan boundaries since red Douglas County and blue Minneapolis both launched in the same year. Nor was pre-existing CAP language or regional non-profit support a requirement, as Douglas County had neither.

As is often the case, the graph does not tell the whole story. The most salient pattern from this admittedly small sample size is that successful implementation of public-sector biochar goes hand-in-hand with a rhetorical focus on the legacy of the political champions who support the facilities. In both Douglas County and Minneapolis, key decision-makers were driven by a belief that these facilities would bolster their public image after they left office, or that the facilities would be long-lasting benefits for the communities they served.

The narrative of these successes starts with bottom-up support, that is, from visionary civil employees who saw biochar’s many benefits for their cities and counties. They then built coalitions within and without the government, and ultimately persuaded decision-makers to approve the project. Key to their success were two concepts from ancient rhetoric, Concessio and Kairos. The former is what one scholar terms rhetorical jiu-jitsu, or an effort to use an opposing argument to one’s advantage, agreeing with a single point only to leverage that point to further the overall argument. For instance, in Minneapolis, various environmental groups were initially opposed to biochar production in the city because of concerns over disproportionate harms to underserved communities, such as truck traffic, noise, and pollution. In town halls, city employees agreed that nuisance issues were of utmost import, and then argued that biochar production is a net positive regarding pollution and public health. By legitimating and affirming the EJ groups’ point, they were able to educate broader audiences about the numerous municipal benefits of biochar.

Kairos, on the other hand, is waiting for the opportune moment to even start a pitch. Jim Doten, who spearheaded the Minneapolis biochar project, began his rhetorical endeavors in 2013, and they yielded fruit in 2025. In between there were years of educating, outreach, community-building, and patience. By 2023, an inflection point had been reached, and when he attended the Midwest Composting Council’s Biochar Summit, key stakeholders already knew what biochar was before he walked in the room. He knew it was only a matter of time.

Now, some may say they do not have the luxury of ten years to get key people on board. Indeed, most of us experience time poverty, not “time wealth.” But Kairos is not merely waiting. It requires an insightful knowledge of your intended audience—who they are, what they desire, and when they will be most receptive. Sometimes, that requires speed. Douglas County completed its facility in 2025, after beginning their planning in 2023, roughly. This was because of the power of rhetoric and legacy: decision-makers were convinced by the potential of biochar to mitigate wildfires, a prime concern in Douglas County, whose Wildfire Action Collaborative (DCWAC) convenes over 40 organizations in Colorado to study how to combat wildfires and implement innovative solutions. With the growth of mega-fires due to climate change, the DCWAC was open to studying biochar’s benefits. Civic employees leapt at the chance to convince county commissioners to put the study into action, an example of Kairos benefitting those willing to act decisively.

Prior to my conversations, I assumed that owning and operating a biochar-production facility would be too expensive for municipal politicians, but it turns out that once a critical mass of support is achieved, the project snowballs. People go get the money at that point, and do not expect the facilities to turn profits, even though that is an added benefit. Instead, the expectation is that the facilities will strengthen the communities they serve over the long term. Civil servants are future-oriented and sensitive to public perceptions. While many rhetorical approaches succeeded in piquing the attention of municipal leadership across the US, the importance of phrases like “climate legacy” or “legacy of fire safety” or “legacy of innovation,” all of which were used in the cases of Minneapolis or Douglas County, cannot be overstated.