[TheClimate.Vote] April 9, 2020 - Daily Global Warming News Digest
Richard Pauli
richard at theclimate.vote
Thu Apr 9 09:25:52 EDT 2020
/*April 9, 2020*/
[Opinion in Scientific American ]
*We're Thinking about Climate Change the Wrong Way*
Rather than convince other nations to "do their part," the U.S. should
develop clean energy technologies and make them cheap enough for
everyone to adopt
By Solomon Goldstein-Rose on April 8, 2020
- - -
The only way to solve climate change by anywhere near scientists' 2050
target is for the U.S. to treat this as an engineering challenge:
replacing all the systems that emit greenhouse gases with ones that
don't, then making these clean systems--many of which are still in
development--affordable enough to spread rapidly worldwide.
We can do that through moonshot-style innovation projects: RD+D, policy
and public procurement to drive deployment and scale up manufacturing,
financing and other measures to bring every needed technology to the
"nth of a kind" cost that can outcompete fossil fuels globally.
- - -
This mindset is the antidote to the voter's question of "Why should we
act massively when China isn't doing enough?" We can solve pretty much
the entire problem through domestic policy. We don't need China to do
much if we do enough. In fact, the more we invest in these projects
upfront, the larger share of the economic benefits we'll reap compared
to China.
By communicating about solving climate change as an engineering
challenge, we can reassure voters and politicians that it is achievable:
if we act boldly enough with massive investments in the next few years,
we will solve the entire problem.
But communicating from a technical perspective is also effective in
painting a picture for voters of what solving climate change actually
looks like. That's the subject of my new book, The 100% Solution. It
lays out five pillars that constitute the physical transformation
needed, nearly all driven by lowering the cost of clean systems through
manufacturing scale-up. Spoiler: solving climate change means changing
systems, not lifestyles. If we can communicate to the average voter the
fact that they'll be able to heat their home the same amount, drive the
same amount, fly when necessary--only with different equipment powering
those processes--we can make the public (and therefore our political
leaders) more comfortable buying into the idea of a massive set of projects.
And finally, by creating a consensus among political and thought leaders
about what must physically be achieved and a strategy encompassing the
full range of innovation to achieve it, we can make politics the trivial
side of solving climate change. Who doesn't like American innovation?
Job creation? Manufacturing booms? Healthier and cheaper equipment?
That's what we're talking about when we talk about solving climate
change: we simply don't say it often enough.
With more technical voices speaking up, we can create a consensus around
what must be achieved and get people comfortable with the (pretty
awesome!) world that will be realized through this transformation. And
we can give hope to my fellow young people who need to know that it is
entirely possible--and although technical, perhaps politically easy--to
fully solve climate change.
https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/observations/were-thinking-about-climate-change-the-wrong-way/
[Wallace-Wells clips will be distressing]
*The Coronavirus Is a Preview of Our Climate-Change Future*
By David Wallace-Wells
COVID-19 is not a climate-change pandemic -- as far as we know, nothing
about the emergence or spread of the coronavirus bears the recognizable
imprint of global warming. But if the disease and our utter inability to
respond to it terrifies you about our future staring down climate
change, it should, not just as a "fire drill" for climate change
generally but as a test run for all the diseases that will be unleashed
in the decades ahead by warming. The virus is a terrifying harbinger of
future pandemics that will be brought about if climate change continues
to so deeply destabilize the natural world: scrambling ecosystems,
collapsing habitats, rewiring wildlife, and rewriting the rules that
have governed all life on this planet for all of human history.
Among the many unnerving lessons the two crises share is this one:
Nature is mighty, and scary, and we have not defeated it but live within
it, subject to its temperamental power, no matter where it is that you
live or how protected you may normally feel. As the coronavirus has
paralyzed much of the northern hemisphere, for instance, 192 billion
locusts, perhaps 8,000 times more than usual, are swarming East Africa
in clouds as big as whole cities, thanks to weather patterns scrambled
by climate change; a small swarm can destroy the food supply of 35,000
people in a single day, and they are now traveling in swathes as wide as
25 miles, imperiling the food supply of tens of millions. In the U.S.,
it looks likely we will now be sheltering in place into the beginning of
hurricane season. "We have been living in a bubble, a bubble of false
comfort and denial," as George Monbiot wrote recently in the Guardian.
"Living behind screens, passing between capsules -- our houses, cars,
offices and shopping malls -- we persuaded ourselves that contingency
had retreated, that we had reached the point all civilisations seek:
insulation from natural hazards."
COVID-19 is one such hazard we believed, until a few weeks ago, we were
mostly invulnerable to. In the future, we may have to reckon also with
diseases we believed we already defeated, since in addition to bringing
about pandemics of the future, global warming will revive plagues of the
past. There are now, trapped in Arctic ice, diseases that have not
circulated in the air for millions of years -- in some cases, since
before humans were around to encounter them. Which means our immune
systems would have no idea how to fight back when those prehistoric
plagues emerge from the ice. Already, in laboratories, several microbes
have been reanimated: a 32,000-year-old "extremophile" bacteria revived
in 2005, an 8-million-year-old bug brought back to life in 2007, a
3.5-million-year-old one a Russian scientist self-injected, out of
curiosity, just to see what would happen. (He survived.) In 2018,
scientists revived something a bit bigger -- a worm that had been frozen
in permafrost for the last 42,000 years.
The Arctic also stores terrifying diseases from more recent times. In
Alaska, researchers have discovered remnants of the 1918 flu that
infected as many as 500 million, and killed as many as 50 million --
about 3 percent of the world's population, and more had died in the
world war for which the pandemic served as a kind of gruesome capstone.
Scientists suspect smallpox is trapped in Siberian ice, among many other
diseases that have otherwise passed into human legend -- an abridged
history of devastating sickness, left out like egg salad in the Arctic
sun. Many of these frozen organisms won't actually survive the thaw;
those that have been brought back to life have been reanimated typically
under fastidious lab conditions. But in 2016, a boy was killed and 20
others infected by anthrax released when retreating permafrost exposed
the frozen carcass of a reindeer killed by the bacteria at least 75
years earlier; more than 2,000 present-day reindeer died.
What concerns epidemiologists more than ancient diseases are existing
scourges relocated, rewired, or even reevolved by warming. The first
effect is geographical. Before the early modern period, human
provinciality was a guard against pandemic -- a bug could wipe out a
town, or a kingdom, or even in an extreme case devastate a continent --
but in most instances it couldn't travel much farther than its victims,
which is to say, not very far at all. The Black Death killed as much as
60 percent of Europe, but consider, for a gruesome counterfactual, how
big its impact might have been in a truly globalized world.
Today, even with globalization and the rapid intermingling of human
populations, our ecosystems are mostly stable, and this functions as
another limit -- we know where certain bugs can spread, and we know the
environments in which they cannot. (This is why certain vectors of
adventure tourism require dozens of new vaccines and prophylactic
medications, and why New Yorkers traveling to London don't need to worry.)
But global warming will scramble those ecosystems, meaning it will help
disease trespass those limits as surely as Cortes did. The footprint of
every mosquito-borne illness is currently circumscribed, for instance,
but those borders are disappearing rapidly as the tropics expand -- the
current rate is 30 miles per decade. In Brazil, for generations, yellow
fever sat in the Amazon Basin, where the Haemagogus and Sabethes
mosquitoes thrived, making the disease a concern for those who lived,
worked, or traveled deep into the jungle, but only for them; in 2016, it
left the Amazon as more and more mosquitoes fanned out of the rain
forest, and by 2017, it had reached areas around the country's
megalopolises, São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro -- more than 30 million
people, many of them living in shantytowns, facing the arrival of a
disease that kills between 3 and 8 percent of those infected.
Yellow fever is just one of the plagues that will be carried by
mosquitoes as they migrate, conquering more and more of a warming world
-- the globalization of pandemic disease. Malaria alone already kills a
million people each year, infecting many more, but you don't worry much
about it if you are living in Maine or France. As the tropics creep
northward and mosquitoes migrate with them, you may; over the course of
the next century, more and more of the world's population will be living
under the shadow of diseases like these. You didn't worry much about
Zika before a couple of years ago, either.
As it happens, Zika may be a good model of a second worrying effect --
disease mutation. One reason you hadn't heard about Zika until recently
is that it had been trapped in Uganda and Southeast Asia; another is
that it did not, until recently, appear to cause birth defects.
Scientists still don't entirely understand what happened or what they
missed, even now, several years after the planet was gripped by panic
about microcephaly. It could be that the disease changed as it came to
the Americas, the result of a genetic mutation or in adaptive response
to a new environment, or that Zika produces those devastating prenatal
effects only when another disease is present, possibly one less common
in Africa, or that something about the environment or immunological
history in Uganda protects mothers and their unborn children there.
But there are things we do know for sure about how climate affects some
diseases. Malaria, for instance, thrives in hotter regions, which is one
reason the World Bank estimates that by 2030, 3.6 billion people will be
reckoning with it -- 100 million as a direct result of climate change.
Projections like those depend not just on climate models but on an
intricate understanding of the organism at play. Or, rather, organisms.
Malaria transmission involves both the disease and the mosquito; Lyme
disease, both the disease and the tick -- which is another
epidemiologically threatening creature whose universe is rapidly
expanding, thanks to global warming. As Mary Beth Pfeiffer has
documented, Lyme-case counts have spiked in Japan, Turkey, and South
Korea, where the disease was literally nonexistent as recently as 2010
-- zero cases -- and now lives inside hundreds more Koreans each year.
In the Netherlands, 54 percent of the country's land is now infested; in
Europe as a whole, Lyme caseloads are now three times the standard
level. In the U.S., there are likely around 300,000 new infections each
year -- and since even many of those treated for Lyme continue to show
symptoms years after treatment, the numbers can stockpile. Overall, the
number of disease cases from mosquitoes, ticks, and fleas have tripled
in the U.S. over just the last 13 years, with dozens of counties across
the country encountering ticks for the first time. But the effects of
the epidemic can be seen perhaps most clearly in animals other than
humans: In Minnesota, during the aughts, winter ticks helped drop the
moose population by 58 percent in a single decade, and some
environmentalists believe the species could be eradicated entirely from
the state within the next few years.
In New England, moose calves have been found suckling as many as 90,000
engorged ticks, which often kill the calves not through Lyme disease but
simple anemia, the effect of that number of bugs each drawing a few
milliliters of blood. Those that survive are far from robust, many
having scratched so incessantly at their own hides to clear the ticks
that they completely eliminated their own hair, leaving behind a spooky
gray skin that has earned them the name "ghost moose."
Lyme is still, in relative terms, a young disease, and one we don't yet
understand all that well. We attribute a very mysterious and incoherent
set of symptoms to it, from joint pain to fatigue to memory loss to
facial palsy, almost as a catchall explanation for ailments we cannot
pinpoint in patients who we know have been bitten by a bug carrying the
bug. We do know ticks, however, as surely as we know malaria -- there
are not many parasites we understand better. But there are many, many
millions we understand worse, which means our sense of how climate
change will redirect or remodel them is shrouded in a foreboding
ignorance. And then there are the plagues that climate change will
confront us with for the very first time -- a whole new universe of
diseases humans have never before known to even worry about.
"New universe" is not hyperbole. Scientists guess the planet could
harbor more than a million yet-to-be-discovered viruses -- many of them,
like COVID-19, for now "quarantined" in particular susceptible species,
but which could evolve or "jump" into humans, either as the result of
changing climatic conditions or because the scrambling of native
ecosystems and habitats brings the host species into contact with humans
in a much more direct way that ever before. The more we pave over and
log and deforest the natural world, disrupting stable ecosystems and
turning those organisms living happily within them out into the human
world, the more diseases, and pandemics, we'll produce. That is what it
means to be living entirely outside the window of climate conditions
that enclose all of human history -- everything we have ever taken to be
stable about our relationship to the planet is thrown into chaos. That
chaos will confront us, again and again, with undiscovered disease.
Bacteria are even trickier, and so we probably know about even fewer of
them. Perhaps scariest are those that live within us, peacefully for
now. More than 99 percent of even those bacteria inside human bodies are
currently unknown to science, which means we are operating in near-total
ignorance about the effects climate change might have on the bugs in,
for instance, our guts -- about how many of the bacteria modern humans
have come to rely on, like unseen factory workers, for everything from
digesting our food to modulating our anxiety, could be rewired,
diminished, or entirely killed off by an additional few degrees of heat.
Overwhelmingly, of course, the viruses and bacteria making homes inside
us are nonthreatening to humans -- at present. Presumably, a difference
of a degree or two in global temperature won't dramatically change the
behavior of the majority of them -- probably the vast majority, even the
overwhelming majority. But consider the case of the saiga -- the
adorable dwarflike antelope, native to Central Asia. In May 2015, nearly
two-thirds of the global population died in the span of just days --
every single saiga in an area the size of Florida, the land suddenly
dotted with hundreds of thousands of saiga carcasses and not one lone
survivor. An event like this is called a "megadeath," this one so
striking and cinematic that it gave rise, immediately, to a whole raft
of conspiracy theories: aliens, radiation, dumped rocket fuel. But no
toxins were found by researchers poking through the killing fields -- in
the animals themselves, in the soil, in the local plants. The culprit,
it turned out, was a simple bacteria, Pasteurella multocida, which had
lived inside the saiga's tonsils, without threatening its host in any
way, for many, many generations. Suddenly, it had proliferated,
emigrated to the bloodstream, and from there to the animals' liver,
kidneys, and spleen. Why? "The places where the saigas died in May 2015
were extremely warm and humid," Ed Yong wrote in The Atlantic. "In fact,
humidity levels were the highest ever seen in the region since records
began in 1948. The same pattern held for two earlier, and much smaller,
die-offs from 1981 and 1988. When the temperature gets really hot, and
the air gets really wet, saiga die. Climate is the trigger, Pasteurella
is the bullet."
This is not to say we now understand what precisely about humidity
weaponized Pasteurella, or how many of the other bacteria living inside
mammals like us -- the one percent we have identified, or perhaps more
worryingly the 99 percent we house without any knowledge or
understanding -- might be similarly triggered by climate, friendly
symbiotic bugs with whom we've lived in some cases for millions of years
transformed suddenly into contagions already inside us. That remains a
mystery. But ignorance is no comfort. Presumably climate change will
introduce us to some of them.
https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2020/04/the-coronavirus-is-a-preview-of-our-climate-change-future.html
[A great young voice - from a disasterologist]
Dr. Samantha Montano
@SamLMontano
https://twitter.com/samlmontano/
https://twitter.com/SamLMontano/status/1213131182877093889
- - -
[Hot Take audio podcast with transcript]
*Disaster Denialism with Guest Co-Host Dr. Samantha Montano*
https://megaphone.link/ADL3388618773
- -
[Samantha Montano video talk in 2017]
*From Acts of God to Disasterology | Dr. Samantha Montano | Skepticon 10*
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_wM657RJK0
[Digging back into the internet news archive]
*On this day in the history of global warming - April 9, 2007 *
Environmental activist Laurie David and singer Sheryl Crow begin a brief
tour of colleges and universities across the United States to raise
awareness about climate change. Later in the month, the Washington Post
reports on the David/Crow tour.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/19/AR2007041900650.html
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