The Climate in Emergency

A weekly blog on science, news, and ideas related to climate change

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A Shot in the Dark

It’s been an interesting week in the news. My nation’s most recent mass shooting incident triggered the beginnings of a promising student protest movement.  The release of the groundbreaking superhero comic, Black Panther, spoke to America’s “original sin” in a way no other movie ever has. Temperatures in the Mid-Atlantic region are predicted to hit thirty degrees above normal, breaking records set…last year. The prediction is similar for the entire Eastern US, including the Lower Hudson Valley and Boston. And some states are making serious attempts to remove climate change from required school curricula.

I am very glad that young people are organizing to protect their lives in school. The issue needs attention, and the political experience they gain now will make them better citizens. I am very glad that there is now a very popular movie about brilliant and powerful black people and all of the other things Black Panther is about. It’s a rare mainstream acknowledgement of some important truths. Plus, I just saw the movie and it’s fantastic.

But where is climate change in all of this? Climate change threatens the lives of school children. Climate change is one of the agents by which the disenfranchised are abused. And I’m not hearing anyone talking about it. For a while there, climate change was getting on people’s radar. Political demonstrations, cultural references, frequent news coverage….It all seems to be backing off.

Is something being  silenced?


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Strange Priorities

Computer problems are minimizing my post this week, sadly, but….Can I just take a moment to acknowledge that the city council of Ocean City, Maryland, recently voted to object to any wind turbines being built offshore where they can be seen from the beach. They worry that the “eyesore” could hurt the tourism economy. The city populace, in contrast, supports the wind farm, by and large. The whole thing is very weird. It’s all over the news. And, meanwhile, how much of a threat is the possibility of oil and gas exploration offshore, which we mostly don’t hear about?

Which is more serious?

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BOEM, Again

Remember the BOEM scoping process from a few years ago?

Basically, every five years, the Federal government decides which Federal waters will be available for oil and gas exploration. The process is supervised by the Bureau of Ocean Energy Management, or BOEM, and is somewhat drawn out. In the beginning, all areas that will be considered are included in a proposed map, and public and expert comment is sought. Based on those comments, some areas may be removed from consideration, before the creation of another map and another round of comments. At each stage, the area potentially available to oil and gas extraction can grow smaller, but never bigger. When the final plan comes out, energy companies can lease small areas within those regions made available under the plan, but not every square mile within those regions is ever offered for lease, and not every possible lease is ever exploited. Although BOEM explicitly allows and facilitates oil and gas exploitation, its job is to make sure that such exploitation happens in as safe, as environmentally responsible, and as fair a way as possible.

As possible given the scale of oil and gas exploitation demanded by the economic and political will of the American people.

That last is the key–although BOEM’s job is to say “yes” to people who really should not be said “yes” to, that approval has already been issued by many other entities, including the collective weight of all the American people who buy petroleum products. BOEM’s job is to say a negotiated “yes,” to minimize harm. The BOEM personnel I’ve spoken to have all seemed friendly, helpful, sincere, and genuinely interested in environmental values and fair due process. They depend on us to give them the political cover they need to do the right thing, and they want to help us provide that cover.

BOEM is not our enemy.

Two years ago, parts of the Atlantic were initially considered for exploration, a problem, both because even the safest practices do not reduce the risk of an oil spill to zero, and because the process of locating oil and gas deposits involves sonic testing that is so loud it can kill marine life that happens to be in the way. A lot of us organized and gave public comment, passed local resolutions, and even lobbied Congress. And it worked. Most of the areas originally under consideration, including the entire Atlantic, were removed from the plan. We won! Yay!

And then Present Trump decided to start the whole process over again.

Starting Over

A new presidential administration has the option to re-examine certain decisions of its predecessor, including which areas are available for oil and gas exploitation. Mr. Trump has exercised this option, so we have to go over all of it again.

The obvious motivation for the Trump Administration to re-start the process is a desire to open up more seabed to resource extraction, especially since now, for the first time, almost all American Federal waters are under consideration. But if the process goes as it should, the results should be close to the same as they were last time–most areas should again be excluded.

But even if we win this time, too, there is still a problem, because this process requires quite a lot of work on the part of BOEM personnel–and while they are working on collecting and analyzing comments and making recommendations, they are not doing other things. While discussing the matter with BOEM personnel at a public outreach meeting yesterday, I asked what these other duties are.

Turns out, when not wrangling public comments, many BOEM personnel are involved in conducting environmental impact assessments, identifying gaps in the scientific knowledge used for those assessments, and hiring scientists to fill those gaps. Right now, those duties are still being carried out, but by fewer people. To some extent, this temporary personnel reassignment slows research for some months. More seriously, few people doing the work means fewer minds available to figure out how to solve problems and how to ask research questions.

Do you suppose interfering with research in this way could be the point of this massive do-over?

What to Do?

This is a call to action. Although not directly related to climate change, there are a lot of indirect connection, as I’ve described in previous posts.

The action is fairly simple and user-friendly–make a comment.Obviously this especially addressed to you if you live in the US somewhere coastal, but if you simply care about these areas, please get involved. And remember, we’re talking about almost the entire US coastline and adjacent offshore waters and all the animals and human economic activity (tourism, seafood, etc.) that depend on them.

Feel free to read my earlier posts (like this one) for more information, the issue and the process haven’t changed. There are a number of organizations that have also agreed to provide talking points and links; I’ll update this post when they do so. You can also go to BOEM’s website for more information on the process, a virtual version of the public informational meetings BOEM is holding, as well as how to comment.

BOEM personnel suggest that your comment involve more than “please don’t drill off my beach.” If you have any detailed information on ecological vulnerabilities of specific oceanic areas and coastlines, give those details. If you or someone you know has a strong personal connection to a given area, or if your livelihood depends on the water in some way, say so, and provide details, numbers, data, stories.

Here’s the link to comment again–you have until March 9th.


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Just the Facts

I just returned from leading a bus tour through Assateague Island, a barrier island near where I live. It’s far from the first time I’ve given a natural history talk, but I hadn’t done it in awhile, and never before on a tour bus. The difference is that on a bus, the content of my talk has to be synchronized to the changing view outside the bus window. Also, I needed about four hours of content, instead of the twenty minutes to an hour that I’m used to.  I’m tired, but I had fun.

To prepare for the job, I tagged along with another guide (my husband) on a couple of bus tours, and I was struck by how often climate change came up. Of course, Assateague is the perfect place to talk about climate change. As a low-lying island, the place is vulnerable to sea level rise and extreme weather, and the plants are vulnerable to changes in insect survival through the winter. Almost any story or explanation on the island can plausibly include the phrase”because of climate change.” And yet, we live in a day and age when climate change is regularly ignored in public, even when it is entirely obvious. When the subject is raised, it is often done in a strident and political way, for obvious reasons–producing an unfortunate feedback loop, where the climate-denier activities of one political bloc forces climate sanity to align itself with the other political bloc, forcing climate discussions further out of politically neutral spaces, such as bus tours. I was pleasantly surprised to see that there is another way.

It is possible to talk about climate change in a matter-of-fact, apolitical way. The reason why that piece of coastline looks like that is climate change. Boom. Simple. On the bus today, I said “if anybody ever said ‘where’s climate change,’ you can say you’ve seen it.” And a busfull of strangers accepted that.

Just a simple fact of the world we live in.


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Ordinary Threats

On the 23rd day of the month of September, in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, the human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence. And this terrifying enemy surfaced, as such enemies often do, in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places.

Thus begins Little Shop of Horrors, a movie I was completely obsessed with for about five years as a kid. Thus also begins a post I wrote a year ago, in honor of the date and of then-current events. I’m reworking that post now. After all, Mr. Trump has been elected President, is giving all the signals up-and-coming fascist dictators do, has initiated the American pull-out of the Paris Agreement, largely dismantled the EPA, is quietly letting American citizens in Puerto Rico die while he dog-whistles racists over football, and may well start a nuclear war with North Korea any day now (if North Korea doesn’t start one with us, first).

Our very existence indeed seems under deadly threat.

As the subject of my post, I took, not the movie, Little Shop of Horrors, but the play it was based on. The critical difference between the two is that the latter does not have a happy ending. The carnivorous plant wins. It is a much darker–and more interesting–story.

In brief, the story is as follows:

A flower shop on Skid Row (a strange idea in itself) is about to go out of business, when the shop assistant, Seymour, puts a strange plant in the window, to draw in customers. And it works! Inexplicably, customers start pouring in! But then the plant wilts, and the owner orders Seymour to fix the plant Or Else. Seymour discovers that the plant perks up only when fed human blood. Of course, he pays up–his coworkers are the closest thing Seymour has to a family and the store is his only means of livelihood. The plant grows, business flourishes, and Seymour must give more and more blood. The plant gains the power of speech and tells Seymour to deliver an entire human. The man refuses. The plant temps him with money, respect, access to beautiful women. The man wavers. The plant points out that the woman Seymour loves is dating an abusive jackass who deserves to die. Sold.

Seymour gets the girl (who had always loved him, it turns out), money, fame, the whole nine yards, but then the owner of the shop discovers the murder and blackmails Seymour. Soon, the boss, too, is eaten.

Seymour now has everything, but the guilt is eating him and he tries to rebel. The plant attacks Seymour’s beloved, who then dies, asking Seymour to feed her to the plant because then at least they can be together. He complies, but then flies into a rage, tries to kill the plant, fails, climbs into its mouth intending to kill it from the inside, and dies. Shortly thereafter, a businessman arrives to take cuttings, intending to propagate the plant worldwide.

When I was a kid, I saw the plant as no more evil than a mosquito (a potentially lethal blood sucker). I see the story now as a morality play and a true and disturbing tragedy.

In a classic tragedy, the hero loses, not because he (rarely she) is overwhelmed by superior forces or bad luck, but because he is destroyed from within by his own shortcomings–which are inextricably related to the very things that make him great. The scary thing is that Seymour is great only in that he is ordinary. He’s normal. A bit geeky and skittish, but basically one of us. It’s hard not to like him. And who among us would not behave as he does? A little blood to save our livelihood? Sure. From there, Seymour gradually crosses one red line after another, taking the least bad option at each turn while the options steadily get worse and the stakes grow ever higher–at what point can any of us honestly say we would have done anything differently?

The final song of the play states the moral of the story:

They may offer you fortune and fame,
Love and money and instant acclaim.
But whatever they offer you,
Don’t feed the plants!

Although there’s no evidence the people who wrote Little Shop of Horrors intended to create anything other than a goofy spoof of a grade B horror movie, it works very well as a metaphor for exactly the process that is threatening the world. After all, how could the fossil fuel industry create climate change, if not with our money? And yet we keep feeding them, sometimes in order to obtain luxury and power, but more often because how else are we supposed to get to work?
This week’s nuclear threat is a somewhat different animal. It is less obvious that we, the people, are directly complicit, for one thing, and it’s far from certain that a nuclear exchange in this case is a threat to the world as a whole–North Korea is not the USSR. The more realistic fear is regional destruction on an unprecedented scale. The United States can win a war against North Korea, provided China does not intervene, but with what stains on its soul? My president is casually threatening a level of violence that could kill close to 26 million people, most of them utterly innocent and powerless in this situation. Not global destruction, but bad enough.
But I’m a child of the eighties. You say “nuclear,” and I think Mutually Assured Destruction. I think nuclear winter. I think the end of the world.
I think I’ve got a couple of books I really want to publish before I die.
I don’t know what actually should be done about North Korea. Such things are outside of my field of expertise and beyond the scope of this blog. I do know what should be done about climate change, but I do not know what I can do, personally, to make it happen, beyond what I have been doing, which is not much and isn’t working. Somehow, we’re collectively feeding the plant. We’re feeding it through our elections, our purchases, and by our prioritization of other issues for reasons that anybody would understand. How do you ? How do you stop being an ordinary person?
A nuclear bomb can destroy a city. But so can climate change–we’ve seen it happen. We’ve seen worse. There are people in Puerto Rico who will go to sleep tonight in houses that have no running water, no electricity, and no roof.
How do you stop being ordinary?

Hold your hat and hang on to your soul.
Something’s coming to eat the world whole.
If we fight it we’ve still got a chance.
But whatever they offer you,
Though they’re slopping the trough for you,
Please, whatever they offer you,
Don’t feed the plants!

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To the Point

My time has been highly limited this week so far because I had medical appointments two days in a row–nothing serious, don’t worry, I just needed new glasses and also had some questions for my MD. Just somehow the two appointments ended up being back-to-back, so now I’m behind on everything. Rather than skip this week’s climate post or try to squeeze it into Wednesday, I’m going to just take a few minutes right now to say….

Where are the climate protests? I have a friend who intentionally got himself arrested the other day protesting the healthcare bill, which is absolutely admirable, and it one of many worthy issues that deserve phone calls and emails to elected representatives. But it made me realize that I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the climate movement lately.

Either there are actions going on that aren’t well-organized enough for me to hear of them and don’t make the news, or nobody’s doing anything, and I don’t know which one is worse. So, I say again, climate change is the central issue, both because it can hurt us on a scale like almost nothing else and because the fossil fuel industry is currently the primary driver of most of our other political woes. Follow the money; no matter where you start, you’ll end up in oil.

So. There are heat waves and droughts and famines and fires afoot right now. Let’s get climate change back in the news.

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As If

A few weeks ago, I sent an email to my teacher.

To be clear, I’m not currently taking any classes, nor am I in a training program of any kind. There are simply some people who remain one’s teachers no matter what. I have two, and I sent an email to one of mine the other week, more or less just to say hi.

He asked how I was. I confessed I was not well; multiple people I care about have cancer and a president named Trump. He made the appropriate sympathetic noises (we’ve never talked much about private matters with each other) and then reminded me that “especially in politics, this too shall pass.”

I suspected him of being blithely ignorant, though of course I didn’t say so. The forces that would see the Earth burn so they can make a buck seem to be winning, and he tells me it will be ok? Yes, this, too, SHALL pass; in twenty million years, biodiversity and climate stability will likely have recovered, but that’s supposed to be comforting?

Actually, it is comforting. As I think I’ve said before, I find great comfort in Ursula K. LeGuin’s line, “No darkness lasts forever, and even there, there are stars.” The character who speaks this line is talking about the literal end of the world. “There” refers to the land of the dead. That no matter what we humans do, the Earth will probably be able to repair itself in a few million years is a kind of good news.

Beyond that, “this, too, shall pass” is not necessarily a note of hope in the ordinary human sense. The idea is not necessarily that things will get better (though they may), but simply that things are transitory, that the current situation is not the only context, and not the permanent context, that can apply. I have heard it suggested that the way to really internalize and believe “this, too, shall pass” is to make a point of saying it when things are going well.

As a Buddhist might, I can take refuge in the simple truth of impermanence.

I suspect my teacher would be on board with all these interpretations, but could he also have meant what he initially seemed to mean, that yes, indeed, things will be alright? This isn’t the end of the world?

Back when he was more obviously engaged in teaching me, I became fairly sure this man was always right, that things he said were true because he said them. Even before I finished grad school, I’d modulated that stance somewhat. Yes, he could be wrong (though it does seem to be rare), but it was more interesting, and ultimately more educational, to begin with the presumption that he wasn’t. The principle here is a bit like that of a Tarot deck or a zodiac–the process of figuring out how the oracle applies to your question is a wonderful source of insight, whether the oracle actually applies to your question in a literal sense or not. Rather than wondering is my teacher right? I made a practice of asking myself what if he is right? What can I see from the perspective he is offering me?

(I mean this principle within certain limits, of course. Clearly, treating individual human beings as totally infallible could cause problems)

So, I decided to return to that practice and ask myself what if things aren’t as bad as I fear that they are? What does the world look like if the anti-environment plutocracy we now face is simply transitory?

The thought echoed one I learned many years ago–when faced with a challenge, don’t ask whether I can succeed. Assume that I can, and seek to discover how.

And from my teacher’s vantage point of hope and optimism I looked out and saw…a spaghetti pile of possibilities that I find utterly overwhelming. I don’t know about you-all, but I find it very difficult to choose among equally valid options. Faced with a to-do list of five quick items and an afternoon to do them in, I not infrequently end up spending the whole afternoon playing on Facebook because I can’t decide which one to do first. Occasionally I have actually asked my husband to pick a task for me. He complies with good humor.

So, I seem to be paralyzed now, not by the awesome awfulness of Trump (who, after all, will pass, one way or another), but by the difficulties of my own brain. But while awesome awfulness seems like a very big problem to tackle, I have at least some hope of learning to operate my own grey matter. It’s a start.

What about you? What lies in the way of your own action? What does the world look like if you assume you’ll succeed?