Journey to regeneration: Inside the fertile ground network with David Trapp

Regeneration is not an abstract concept. It comes alive in the real, often unexpected places where people choose to redesign systems from the inside out. Few settings reveal the stakes of that work more clearly than our criminal justice systems. These are spaces shaped by scarcity, control, and disconnection. And yet, as regenerative practitioner David Trapp shows us, even here, life can find a way back.

David’s quest focuses on building the Fertile Ground Network, a distributed learning and support system emerging across Latin America. The network helps partners create growing spaces inside prisons as places of nourishment, learning, dignity, and reconnection to natural cycles. His work challenges one of our most entrenched social systems and reframes incarceration through a regenerative lens: restoring ecosystems and supporting people’s own renewal are not separate tasks, but deeply interconnected ones.

This conversation is a story of courage and practice, of people stepping into the complexity of systems transformation with clarity of intention and a willingness to take the first step even when the path ahead is still forming.

David’s journey reminds us that regeneration is relational: the soil, the seed, the human being, the institution, and the community are all part of one system. And when you intervene at the right place, with care, the cascading benefits can ripple far beyond the walls that contain them.

To begin, I wanted to understand the roots of David’s systems lens — how his formative experiences shaped the worldview he brings to this work.

Chad: David, let’s start with your journey. What first sparked your interest in regenerative approaches to justice?

David: My understanding of regeneration really began at the Arava Institute in Israel, where the idea is that shared ecological challenges can bring people together across political and cultural divides. That’s where I first experienced systems thinking, not in the formal way we define it at RegenIntel, but through seeing how one problem doesn’t stay in one place. If it affects me, it affects my neighbor, so the solution has to reflect that.

Over time, I kept recognizing that sustainability isn’t actually sustainable. We’ve built systems that cannot sustain themselves. So when I dove deeper into a more holistic definition of regeneration, I realized we really need to create systems, whole systems that actually improve the conditions for all life to thrive equitably.

Chad: Tell us more about the Fertile Ground Network. What inspired its creation, and how has it evolved?

David: It started organically. I was living in Paraguay, and someone inside Tacumbú Prison reached out wanting to start a garden. I’d never worked in a prison before, but I agreed. Walking in for the first time — the metal cell doors closing behind you — that sound stays with you. But inside, I found individuals eager for the chance to restore a sense of purpose and control over their time.

We transformed an abandoned courtyard into an organic garden with 17 incarcerated people, and I saw how powerful it was to watch something grow. After leaving Paraguay, the idea stayed with me. Through the RegenIntel Fellowship, it has evolved into something larger: a network, not a single institutional blueprint.

Every prison, country, and context needs something different. A network allows organizations across Latin America to share practices, challenges, and insights so that each project can adapt to the place and community.

David’s work began with a single garden in a Paraguayan prison. What emerged from that experience is now evolving into a regional network.

Chad: What kinds of benefits did you observe — both inside the prison and beyond it?

David: Even in the short time we worked there, you could see changes immediately. Within a few months of starting, people were eating fresh vegetables, which is something they rarely get because food in prison is measured in calories, not nutrition. Seeing someone bite into fresh lettuce or tomatoes inside that environment… It’s hard to quantify, but it’s significant.

And when you look at long-standing alternative incarceration models like the Associação de Proteção e Assistência aos Condenados (APAC) system in Brazil, you see reductions in recidivism, lower costs, and drastically less violence. These models give people more control over their lives, more purpose, and better conditions for reintegration. The benefits ripple outward to families, communities, and the social systems surrounding incarceration.

Chad: Could you share some examples of agroecological practices in prison settings and what success has looked like?

David: In Tacumbú, success looked like transforming rubble into a garden—literally. We had no soil, so we brought it in bag by bag, which took a lot of time as the guards had to check every bag to ensure no contraband was stashed away!

But it was worth it. Watching individuals celebrate a seed sprouting was remarkable. At the garden’s peak, about 100 people were receiving some portion of food from it.

An important nuance in the work was language. Inside the prison, we intentionally avoided using the word agroecological. We used the term ‘organic,’ even though in practice it was closer to agroecology by incorporating seed saving, ecological techniques, and systems thinking that go beyond standard organic practices.

This wasn’t simply semantic. It was necessary for navigating institutional and political sensitivities inside the prison. Using organic made the project legible to officials, since some definitions of agroecological frame it as a political movement, while still allowing deeper regenerative principles to guide the work.

Beyond Paraguay, the APAC prisons in Brazil offer a powerful example of what regenerative justice can look like. They’re small, community-run, and grounded in dignity rather than punishment. They have zero recorded homicides in 50 years, and recidivism rates of 8–20% compared to 60–70% in conventional Brazilian prisons. They show what’s possible when rehabilitation and humanity guide the system.

Chad: How do you think about measuring success — recidivism, employment, wellbeing? What matters most?

David: Recidivism is the metric everyone uses because it’s easy to measure, but it’s incomplete.  I understand the appeal of a clean yes or no measure, someone either returned to prison or they did not, but that alone cannot tell us what real success looks like. When the bar for success is defined only by the absence of reincarceration, without any sense of how someone is actually living after release, we miss the deeper questions of impact. The additional indicators, like well-being, stability, or employment, are harder to track, yet they reveal far more about whether someone is truly thriving. Long-term, I’d love to push toward those more meaningful measures. But even with its limitations, recidivism data from alternative models is still powerful. When a system goes from 60–70% recidivism to 8–20%, you know something is working. It is a strong indication of reintegration in communities and better livelihood outcomes.

Chad: With everything happening globally — social fragmentation, climate pressures, ecological decline — why is now the moment for regenerative incarceration models?

David: Because what we have now isn’t working. Prison populations are growing—in Latin America, they increased by about 76% between 2010 and 2020. And conventional systems aren’t rehabilitating people; they’re worsening outcomes.

The polycrisis only increases the need for solutions that are adaptable and regenerative. We can’t keep applying the same model and hope for different results. Regenerative solutions take longer to build, but they’re more resilient. The best time to start was years ago; the next best time is now.

Chad: What’s your long-term vision? How do you see the Fertile Ground Network evolving?

David: I want to see a regional ecosystem of organizations supporting one another. A network that shares techniques, adapts to local contexts, and provides funding and continuity, especially for people transitioning out of prison, where support often drops off.

The goal isn’t to impose a single model. It’s to create a flexible, adaptive system that grows through collaboration and local leadership.

David’s quest reminds us that regeneration is not just restoring ecosystems, but restoring the human systems that shape our collective future. Prisons, often treated as static and immovable, reveal themselves as living systems that are capable of degradation, but also capable of renewal when we intervene at the right leverage points.

The Fertile Ground Network reminds us that transformation rarely begins with sweeping policy shifts. It begins with people. With soil carried in by hand. With a seed sprouting in a courtyard once filled with rubble. With individuals rediscovering dignity, purpose, and relationships. These are not symbolic gestures; they are system-level interventions that change how we understand justice and how we design for reintegration.

This is the work we are all called to do: illuminate possibility where others see only constraint, and design regenerative futures grounded in place, community, and courage.

David’s vision is a reminder that regeneration is not a metaphor. It is a practice that can take root anywhere, even behind the walls we too often assume cannot change.

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