Habitability Havoc

Anyone who is paying attention to our environment or is not supportive of the fossil fuel industry has to be concerned with climate change, and may even be inclined to use the term “global warming,” without being concerned that they may be targeted by the powers that be. It is amazing that the fact of human-caused climate change remains off the political agenda on the part of most politicians—especially in the US.

I have been taking an online course offered by Sweden's Stockholm University, titled “Planetary Boundaries.” The term refers to an exhaustive study being conducted by a consortium of university researchers around the world. Their goal is to define the various kinds of environmental boundaries beyond which we might go, with the result that a tipping point happens, which flips the environment into a new realm, from which we cannot return. 

An example is the level of ocean acidification that will kill off all the world's coral reefs and the refuge they provide for many kinds of marine life. Another example is the triggering of glacier melting to the point that they cannot be re-formed. Each of these trigger points leads to a runaway situation that will tip the planet into a new era that has not been seen for millions of years.

These teams of scientists are quantifying the climate change process, so as to be able to describe accurately the ramifications of increased carbon dioxide, or air pollution, or water pollution, etc. Two recent remarkable results of their analyses struck me as particularly telling. Let me see if I can explain them adequately.

Currently the proportion of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere is a little over 400 parts per million (ppm). Many environmental groups maintain that a safe limit is 350 ppm—a boundary we've already crossed. Analyses by the Stockholm scientists show that if we can stay below 450 ppm, for example, we have a 1.8% chance of exceeding a 6^o C (11^o F) rise in world temperature. To put this in perspective, a 6^o C rise in temperature would definitely create an uninhabitable planet for most of today's creatures—including us. Massive extinctions would occur—maybe even including humans.

But some people might look at the other side of this CO₂ analysis and say, “but wait, we also have a 98.2% chance of staying below a 6^o C rise. Isn't that an acceptable risk?” No. If we accepted that kind of risk in another area—say a 1.8% chance of airplane crashes—we'd be experiencing some 1500 crashes a day! We'd never accept that level of risk for air travel. Why do we seem to be so complacent about the planet's habitability?

Another example of a tipping point that we narrowly and blithely have already missed: In the 1960s the refrigeration industry chose chlorine as its coolant material. It could have just as easily chosen bromine, rather than chlorine; their chemical refrigerant properties are quite similar. In the 1980s scientists noted a huge hole in the ozone layer over Antarctica, caused by the escaped chlorine compounds. Had the refrigeration industry 20 years earlier selected bromine instead, it would have caused the complete collapse of the planet's ozone layer, crossing a tipping point that would have made the Earth uninhabitable for most species. We'd all have fried under the high levels of ultraviolet radiation, from which the upper atmospheric ozone layer protects us.

These atmospheric scientists have defined nine different kinds of planetary threats—three of which have already crossed their safe boundaries. Humanity seems headed towards some frightening consequences, as we carry on with business as usual, because the polluting industries have much sway over politicians.

Science Struggles—Part 1

Having had a career in science a few decades ago, I continue to find that I am very interested in news about science and often read books on the subject. This field of discipline is critically important to humanity today, as it brings an increasing understanding of the world around us and our place in it. But science is struggling... particularly in the US. Americans are becoming progressively illiterate about science, and I find that worrisome.

Our educational system—both secondary schools and universities—do not do a very good job of either educating scientists or the general public. Our elected politicians and public policy makers do not understand science, and are even often hostile to it. The most egregious example of this is Washington's current war on the science of global warming. In addition, an anti-science bias frequently creeps into much of society's discourse on subjects such as vaccinations, space research, antibiotic use, energy use, nutrition, etc. It is sadly ironic, because the public enjoys and benefits from the developments of science, as people simultaneously denigrate it.

Tania Lombrozo recently wrote about this struggle in her science blog on National Public Radio. She makes the point that many researchers are working hard to increase the public's scientific literacy. In doing so, however, there is often confusion on their part over the difference between the public's knowledge of science and their understanding of it. Not only are many Americans uninformed about science—if not biased against it—but many who do try to acquaint themselves with the subject simply come to know a few facts, but really don't understand science.

What is the difference between knowledge and understanding? I may know that photosynthesis is the process of plants using sunlight to synthesize foods from carbon dioxide and water, but if I understand the process I can appreciate why plants are the source of oxygen and how they help to combat global warming. Thus I'll be more likely to advocate for halting the warming process, because plants can't keep up. I may know that NASA has sent several spacecraft to our solar system's planets, but if I understand a little of the science of the space program, I will be more supportive of these missions, not just for the cool pictures that they radio back, but for the gathering of crucial scientific information that will help scientists comprehend similar natural processes here on Earth; maybe even to better combat global warming.

Scientists know that they need to help the public to become more scientifically literate, but even they often fail to appreciate the important difference between scientific knowledge and understanding. Science educators know that they need to do a better job at countering the public's uninformed and biased opinions. Given the current struggles, there's a lot of work to do.

More on the struggle next time...

Siberian March

I have been collecting daily weather data for nearly 30 years now: high/low/average temperature, precipitation, etc. At the completion of each month and year I play with all my data, computing things like total precipitation, average temperatures, heating and cooling degree days per month and season, the winter's amount of wood burned, monthly electrical usage, snowfall, number of days of temperature extremes, first and last days of frost, drought and heavy rain spells, and a few other eccentric calculations.

That's why I know that March 2013 set a 30-year record for the coldest March, here on the old homestead. When a month's average temperature is 3-4 degrees above or below the long-term average, we can subjectively feel it. When it's 7-8 degrees different, we really feel it! All month long this March felt very chilly to us and the month's end statistics confirmed our impressions: the average daily high temperature was 10^o below normal! The days of March simply refused to warm up.

March may metaphorically come in like a lion and exit like a lamb, but this one stayed Siberian the whole time. Those normal, warm, late-March afternoons induce plants to bud and bloom, as they prepare themselves for a showy April. But not this March! Wisely, the buds kept themselves tightly rolled up from the cold, and the daffodils hunkered down close to the ground, leery of poking their delicate heads into the frigid air.

We stayed mostly inside, stoking the wood stove far more than usual, as we chomped at the bit to get outside and prepare the garden for another summer's bounty. Warm up, dammit!

In stark contrast, last year brought an unusually warm March—the days' high temperatures were 18^o higher than this year. Eighteen degrees! That's the equivalent of having last year's March be as warm as April, while this year's March was more like February! Now, that two-month spread has got to be confusing to Mother nature's flora and fauna. Yet they've dealt with it, rolling with the hot or cold punches.

Climate doubters will scorn any thoughts of global warming, in the face of an unusually cold month like this March. They simply misunderstand the difference between climate and temperature. As the climate gradually warms, cold spells will still visit us. In fact, colder temperatures at our latitude can be directly chalked down to a warming arctic region, because the warmer weather up there disturbs and forces the jet stream farther south, bringing that chill down here.

I don't mind a cool early spring period, however, because it keeps those delicate blossoms under wraps longer than usual, so they are less likely to be damaged by a late April frosty night. After last year's warm March, we lost all of our fruit crop, because the warmth had made all the blossoms open too early. They all got zapped by that April night's chill. Maybe this year the fruit trees will bear a bounty!

After Masting Aftermath

As I was composing the earlier masting story ("Masting Aftermath", posted 2-3 weeks ago) about our local oak trees, I read an article in the autumn 2012 issue of Living Bird magazine (from Cornell University), on a similar process that is unfolding in the western US. It’s another fascinating tale about the close relationship between animals and trees that periodically mast—this time in the higher elevations of Arizona and New Mexico. It’s a very intimate alliance that has been forged for millions of years between two species that even share the same name: the pinyon pine and the Pinyon Jay. (It’s an interesting byproduct of scientific custom that the bird’s name merits capital letters, while the tree must suffice with lower case letters.)

The symbiotic partnership between the bird and the tree has evolved over time, to the point that today, neither one of them can survive without the other. It is referred to by biologists as a mutualistic relationship—wherein each species derives benefit from their interdependence. The Pinyon Jay’s beak is long and sharp, having evolved specifically to extract seeds from pinyon pine cones. The seeds are very nutritious, but when not available, the birds nearly starve and their chicks—if they have any that year—will not survive.

As part of its bargain, the bird will plant the tree’s large seeds at distant locations, caching thousands of them during the years when the pines mast. The Pinyon Jay has evolved a special throat pouch, into which it can stuff over four dozen seeds! (And any one seed nearly fills its bill!) Monogamous mates will jam their pouch with the plentiful seeds and then fly off, wing-to-wing, and carefully cache the seeds, poking them into the ground. They specifically choose a location where no pinyon pines currently grow. (If that’s not a wonderful example of inherent intelligence, I don’t know what is!) Even though the bird’s memory is so good that researchers have determined it later retrieves some 95% of all its hidden seeds, a few do get forgotten, and some pinyon pines may later sprout in a new location.

This old partnership is in peril, however—threatening both the tree and the jay. Pinyon pine habitat is dramatically diminishing, as development, forest fires, and climate change take their toll on the trees. Recent dry years have fostered more fires; and those fires have worsened because of mistaken forest management in the west, that has discouraged forest fires in recent years and allowed an abundance of dry tinder to accumulate. Conservationists have monitored an alarming decrease in the population of both bird and tree.

The situation is aggravated by climate change—which is causing droughts and heat to worsen. The fates of the Pinyon Jay and the pinyon pine—inextricably linked to each other—is shaky. There is a ray of hope here, however. The mutualistic connection between bird and tree has existed for millennia, and as climate change occurred in past eras, the pines were moved to more favorable locations, thanks to the propensity for the Pinyon Jay to cache seeds in virgin territory.

Will the Pinyon Jay be smart enough (they are a corvid, like crows, and are very intelligent) to find favorable new habitat for the pine, as climate change increases? The future is very uncertain for these two intertwined species. It’s just one more example of the threat to many of nature’s species, as the globe warms and weather becomes increasingly chaotic.

Earth's Climate Swings

This precious planet of ours has gone through numerous changes in its climate, over its lifespan (4.5 billion years). For most of that time, the climate was not one that we humans (or most other existing plants and critters) could even have survived in. More often than not, the atmosphere was composed of gases that would have choked us: carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, methane, and other suffocating gases.

 

The temperature swings in Earth’s past are another factor that made our type of life impossible. At times the entire planet was covered with ice and on other occasions it was so hot that we would have turned into grilled meat in short order.

In fact, only in the last 500 million years have climate conditions allowed any form of life larger than single-celled microorganisms to survive. And for most of that time period, our species could not have endured. As recent as a few million years ago the climate swung wildly from icy cold to blazing hot, every few thousand years.

In stark contrast to that history of nasty environmental swings, the last 10-15 thousand years on Earth have been unusually stable, mild, and gentle. Since our written history extends only a few thousand years back, we have no comprehension of the tough conditions that our deep ancestors had to contend with.

We barely have an understanding, for example, that a super volcano exploded in Toba, Indonesia some 75 thousand years ago, and came close to wiping out the human species by creating massive climate change. It led to an extended volcanic winter, wherein the worldwide temperature dropped some 5-9^oF. Most humans died. Only a few thousand of our ancestors managed to squeeze through, hunkered down in Africa. It was the largest super volcano in the last 25 million years.

In a similar fashion, we are not really able to appreciate the kind and gentle climate that Earth has given us in the last few thousand years, that has allowed our population to swell to seven billion people.

Maybe that’s partly why so many people seem blissfully ignorant of the fact that the current benevolent climate period is drawing to a close. Modern Homo sapiens has enjoyed a friendly world and has come to take it for granted. We expect the good times to keep rolling on, but it ain’t necessarily so.

In fact, the good times are ending. The tragic irony of the situation is that the current swing towards an unpleasant climate is not being caused by a crashing meteorite, a volcano, or a shift in the planet’s magnetic axis, but by the dominant species that has most benefited by the recent idyllic situation: us. Climate change this time around is our responsibility. We’ve pumped so much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere that the benevolent times are over. Polar ice is melting, the temperature is rising (along with the sea level), and superstorms like hurricane Sandy are becoming commonplace.

The future is very uncertain, and it’s being pushed toward the scary side by our stupidity and inaction. Hang on, folks… the ride is about to get bumpy.

Just Say No

Way back in history—back in the 1980s—Nancy Reagan became associated with the phrase “Just say no.” In her context, she was referring to children’s recreational drug use, inferring that kids could resist peer pressure simply by refusing to partake. The campaign that followed was simplistic in its viewpoint, and ignored the reality of inner-city drug abuse and associated social issues that lead to that abuse. The “Just Say No” campaign effectively reduced the drug issue to a catch phrase that pretty much went nowhere. It became coupled with the government’s “War on Drugs”, another ongoing failure.

And yet… there is a validity and efficacy to saying no to things that are harmful to ourselves and others. All religions teach the discipline of refraining from harm—of avoiding dangerous activities. There is a lot to be said for refusing to play along, for choosing a moral and healthy lifestyle that rejects hatred, violence, and greed.

What might happen, for example, if tomorrow morning a large number of well-to-do people (not the addicts in the inner city, but the cocaine-sniffing, white collar workers in those nearby tall buildings) quit buying drugs from the cartels of Mexico and Colombia? What might happen if tomorrow morning a large number of people quit demanding so much electricity, which is mostly generated through the use of global-warming, coal-fired power plants? What happened last year when the price of gasoline soared past $4 a gallon? People trimmed their gas usage and oil futures plunged.

Rather than discipline ourselves, we consumers tend to look to the government to make laws that will check harmful activities—from personal crimes to corporate abuses. But if governments were at all effective at improving our lives in these areas, might the War on Drugs have had a few victories by now? How about the War on Poverty? The War on Global Warming? I don’t think we can count on the government; it seems unable and even unwilling (given deep-pocket lobbying) to curb these problems. Furthermore, it really is up to us—the consumers… we who buy all these harmful things.

In a recent Mother Jones magazine article, a mogul in the exploding African biofuels industry was asked by an American journalist, What could stop the devastation of his country’s old-growth forests, as they continue to get cut down for palm oil plantations? He immediately replied, “People like you, who wear cotton shirts that take 25,000 liters of water to make—you like to wear them, because they’re comfortable. People like you who drive private cars and like to fly around the world in airplanes. The consumer. That’s who determines what happens.”

That response keeps rolling around in my head. It has a ring of truth. Who’s going to stop the insanity of environmental destruction and other harmful practices? The consumer. You and me. If only we could just learn to say no.