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24 ECOLOGY Global warning Two different approaches to addressing climate change and its consequences Keeping global warming below 2°C, and indeed “as close as possible” to 1.5°C, as was agreed at last year’s climate conference in Paris, is an almost impossble challenge. Two thought-provoking books address how it might be met. Atmosphere of Hope, by Tim Flannery, makes the case for a solution with renewable energy and carbon sequestration through both natural and manmade means. More radically, but also necessarily, Oliver Morton’s The Planet Remade takes an in-depth look at geoengineering, thus breaking a major taboo. Flannery’s climate science discussion focuses largely on the impacts of weather events and climate trends which Flannery attributes, to a greater or lesser extent, to human influence. To me, as a climate scientist, this seems a bold move. The science of attribution of impacts to current climate change has only recently got under way, and it is fraught with complexity and scientific caveats. Relying on such science is therefore a risky move in an arena where vocal critics are ready to pounce on the slightest mistake in communicating its nuances. However, Flannery is experienced enough to make his message strong but still defendable. But delivering such a message is in itself not without risk. Given his aim to inspire hope for the future, there’s a danger that Flannery could dash these hopes himself at the outset by giving the impression that things are already beyond repair. To be fair, he does highlight recent research providing reassurance on certain specific risks – hurricane frequency is not expected to increase, and die-back of the Amazon rainforest is not a foregone conclusion, so active conservation of the forest is not a lost cause. However, Flannery still gives the impression that the current “sixth great extinction” is largely due to climate change, when in fact biodiversity loss is predominantly a consequence of direct human impacts such as habitat loss. While he does acknowledge this, the point is somewhat buried amid his climate-related examples of species under threat. This risks a backfire – if biodiversity loss is presented as all down to climate change, then this implies that only halting climate change could stop it, so other conservation measures could (wrongly) seem pointless. A clearer recognition of non-climate influences on biodiversity would give greater hope of heading off a major extinction event. Flannery is also largely dismissive of the idea that we might live with at least some measure of climate change. His discussion of adaptation to a changed climate overlooks most of the vast amount of scientific research in this area. In the past, talk of adaptation did seem to be viewed as defeatist, but since climate change is already happening, there is no escaping the fact that some adaptation is going to be necessary even if global emissions are reined in. If the aim is to give hope, the scope to adapt ought to be explained. Flannery’s main reasons for hope concern RICHARD BETTS Tim Flannery ATMOSPHERE OF HOPE Solutions to the climate crisis 282pp. Penguin, Paperback, £7.99. 978 0 14 198104 8 Oliver Morton THE PLANET REMADE How geoengineering could change the world 428pp. Granta. £20. 978 1 78378 095 2 the energy system and carbon uptake. He views the fossil-fuel economy as falling out of favour for reasons independent of climate policy, and renewable as building up sufficient momentum to have a chance of making a significant impact. While he has little time for nuclear power, he makes a good case for human interventions in the carbon cycle reader wondering what really is possible. It is already well recognized that negative emissions will probably be necessary if global warming is to be kept below 2°C, and with Flannery all but ruling out nuclear energy, it’s likely that his vision would require very substantial contributions from enhanced carbon sinks and bioenergy with carbon capture and storage (BECCS). The true potential and limits for these need to be laid out if the hope is to be tangible – otherwise it could easily be thought of as just wishful thinking. This is especially critical in the context of threats to biodiversity – if the global ecosystem is to be actively managed to help reduce or even reverse climate change, what are the implications for species that play little direct role in this? How much space will they have left? Are there win-win solutions or will there be difficult decisions on trade-offs? All this is left unexplored. While it is clear that we are far from having all the answers, Flannery’s wide-ranging A seaweed farm, Iwate, 2012 through enhancement of natural carbon sinks and creation of artificial ones. Much of this illustrates the need to think on a large scale – vast seaweed farms, integrated energy systems coupling renewable energy production with battery storage in electric vehicles. It’s fascinating reading. Frustratingly though, the analysis lacks a clear, quantified scenario of how these huge transformations might be achieved. This leaves the review of the different options does indeed suggest that decarbonization might be feasible. However, without a clearer model and a more integrated view, Flannery’s hope for decarbonization seems rather more like crossed fingers than a convincing action plan. This huge difficulty provides Oliver Morton with the starting point for The Planet Remade. Indeed, the disconnect within the Paris Agreement is taken up on the opening page of the book, where he challenges the reader to consider whether the risks of climate change should be avoided, and whether bringing global carbon emissions to virtually nothing will be very difficult. He categorizes the players in the climate debate according to their answers to these two key questions. Most people in favour of the usual environmental policies are, he says, the “Yes/No” group – yes they wish to reduce the risk, but no, they don’t think it will be difficult to reduce emissions. Those against climate action are the “No/Yes” group – no, they do not see climate change as a major source of worry, and yes, they see huge problems with reducing fossil fuel use. Morton places himself in a third group – “Yes/Yes”, and in Paris it turned out that the United Nations is in this group as well. The Paris Agreement aims to keep global warming well below 2°C in order to minimize climate risk, but the commitments of the world’s governments to emissions cuts do not come anywhere near what would be needed to do this. Although the Agreement is intended to set in train a process of ratcheting up the emissions reductions commitments over time, the fact that this is not mapped in detail at the outset shows that it is far from clear how this will be achieved. Morton’s argument, therefore, is now quite pertinent. We should at least think through the potential alternative to rapid, total emissions cuts as the only means of reducing climate change. We may well need to at least consider the possibility of other deliberate interventions with the climate system – or “earthsystem”, to use the phrase coined by Morton. The idea of such interventions – geo-engineering – can bring into play concerns over ethics, risks and unmanageable responsibilities. Morton gives a comprehensive, in-depth and highly readable discussion of geo-engineering and its wider context. Unlike Flannery, Morton focuses very little on the impacts of climate change and more on the actual workings of the climate system. He does not seem to feel the need to convince his readers that climate change is a problem – instead, he wants them to understand how the climate works, so they can see what kind of interventions could be made, and what the effects of these might be. To my mind, this helps elevate the book to a level beyond the mere imparting of information. Morton has long been part of the community considering the Earth and its life as a system, including those who have given active consideration to James Lovelock’s Gaia theory. Morton also considers himself part of what he calls the “Geoclique”, the group of scientists, writers and thinkers who collaborate to varying degrees of proximity as part of their exploration and discussion of different aspects of geo-engineering. Morton discusses a number of examples of how humans have intervened in the climate system and its large-scale chemical cycles. He argues that the invention of the Haber– Bosch process, central to manufacturing TLS JULY 15 2016
page 25
ECOLOGY 25 fertilizer, was the first example of this, as it led to human dominance over the global nitrogen cycle. Human influence on the carbon and sulphur cycles are also explained, leading to the two main forms of geo-engineering that are commonly considered – carbon dioxide removal (CDR) and solar radiation management (SRM). Whether the former can always be defined as geo-engineering remains an open question – some forms of carbon dioxide removal may alternatively be viewed as simply giving nature a helping hand. Enhancing plankton growth by fertilizing the oceans with, for instance, iron or biofuels is covered in depth, although there is a surprisingly perfunctory mention of biochar (the part-burning of organic matter which can then be buried without subsequent release of CO 2 by decomposition). In contrast, SRM, the deliberate alteration of how much sunlight is absorbed by the Earth, is arguably in a different realm. Weather modification by cloud seeding, the injection of aerosol particles into the atmosphere by volcanoes, meteorite impacts or nuclear war are all discussed, all of which helps build an understanding of the many ways in which the climate can be caused to change either naturally or by human action, deliberate or accidental. There are many and varied concerns about solar radiation management, which works by reflecting some of the sun’s energy back to space and hence cooling the planet. These include the difficulty in trying to offset the fairly uniformly spread influence of greenhouse gases with the more patchy influence of aerosols; the unintended consequences for regional climates; and the worry over “termination shocks” of the full enhanced greenhouse effect that it had been partly masking. Morton also recognizes the moral hazard argument, that geo-engineering could be used as an excuse to actively avoid reducing greenhouse gas emissions. It would therefore be simply brushing the decarbonization issue under the carpet rather than buying time to deal with it effectively – human influence on climate would still be continuing to build, masked to some extent by geo-engineering countering the average effects, but requiring more and more of this masking as it continues to grow. Solar radiation management is a plausible scenario, and potentially even more so in the light of the deeper ambition of Paris to not only limit global warming to 2°C but to keep it as close as possible to 1.5°C. While small island states have been adamant that any warming above 1.5°C poses unacceptable risks in the longer term, it is easy to imagine how a group of nations, or wealthy individuals, could take unilateral action, forcing the hand of the rest of the world. If nothing else, Morton reminds us that the Paris Agreement is a job started at two ends which are far from meeting in the middle. Joining up the ambition with the delivery will require something big to happen. Oliver Morton has put one of the options firmly on the table – the world can either take it or leave it, but it can no longer put off considering it. Hunger shames The problems we collectively face in finding the resources to feed the ‘bottom billion’ Joel K. Bourne considers a world seemingly destined for even more hungry people. The world’s population is expected to reach 9 billion by 2050. Food production increases are barely able to match population increases. Food stocks are diminishing. The extraordinary growth of food production brought about by the Green Revolution since the 1960s is now levelling out owing to soil nutrient depletion, a result of the intensive farming that was deemed necessary to address unprecedented global population growth. The increasing consumption of meat and dairy products, which requires and releases more carbon dioxide to produce, is exacerbating climate change. Climate change is already reducing production for farmers throughout the world. It makes for scary reading. Bourne is happy to furnish our fears. He writes, Th e world’s farmers face a . . . Herculean, task: to double grain, meat, and biofuel production on fewer acres with fewer farmers, less water, higher temperatures and more frequent droughts, floods and heat waves. And they must do it without destroying the forests, oceans, soils, pollinators, or climate on which all life depends. It is the biggest collective hurdle humanity has ever faced. La ter he adds, “we’re on a roller coaster that has just left the tracks”. This catastrophic scenario is relieved somewhat by the book’s narrative structure. Bourne eases our worries with stories of ingenious and personable farmers doing their bit to help themselves and, implicitly, humanity. Bourne has a passion for seeds and soil. He admires people working the land, none more so than the father of the Green Revolution, Norman Borlaug. He describes an “iconic” image of Borlaug in a Mexican field in 1964: “His shirtsleeves are rolled high, revealing a brawny, sun-darkened right arm that scribbles in a large notebook . . . his eyes steeled on the wheat field in front of him, judging its height, vigor and yield”. Borlaug is one of many heroic figures in this story. Other hope-inspiring characters include: a maverick American aquaculturist off the coast of Panama, an Ivy League micro-irrigation engineer launching his HARRY JOHNSTONE Joel K. Bourne THE END OF PLENTY The race to feed a crowded world 416pp. Scribe. £16.99. 978 1 925228 12 0 US: Norton. $16.95. 978 0 393 35296 2 David Rieff THE REPROACH OF HUNGER Food, justice, and money in the twenty-first century 432pp. Verso. £20. 978 1 78478 338 9 US: Simon and Schuster. $27. 978 1 4391 2387 4 start-up in India, and corporate farmers in Ukraine looking to exploit the potential of Europe’s breadbasket. The End of Plenty is both readable and compelling as a series of largely apolitical tales of farmers’ challenges and triumphs set against the wider environmental context. Yet The End of Plenty does not go far enough, both in terms of analysis and prescription. As its subtitle states, this book is about “the race to feed a crowded world”. But Bourne sees the problem of hunger narrowly, as largely one of food supply, and suggests answers mainly involving agricultural innovation alone. This tendency to see the solution to global hunger through “innovative” agricultural development is the view of the “mainstream”, as David Rieff makes clear in The Reproach of Hunger: Food, justice, and money in the twenty-first century. The mainstream comprises all the major players apparently aiming to tackle hunger: the United Nations, bilateral aid agencies such as USAID and DfID, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, Jeffrey Sachs, the World Bank, international NGOs and even agro-industrial multinationals. Rieff argues that they share a misguided “faith” that hunger can be eradicated – for that is their aim – through “smart aid”, scientific innovation and “best practices” drawn from the private sector. Rieff correctly asserts that this mainstream development consensus represents an ideology Norman Borlaug, 1998 that simplifies the causes of hunger and underestimates the scale of the changes required to tackle it. He argues that “hope has become the default of our age, and realism . . . is now widely considered to be a moral solecism and almost a betrayal of what it should mean to be a compassionate human being”. He laments this status quo, “in which good intentions are too often conflated with good deeds and good deeds with effective ones”, and deplores “an age where it is a fact and not an opinion that inequality is deepening across the world, that power and wealth are more and more concentrated in the hands of the tiny minority of the world’s population, and that politics even in democratic countries is increasingly unresponsive”. He concludes that “all this talk about individuals making a difference [is] at best a consoling farce”. The Reproach of Hunger is a long, rambling book filled with long, rambling sentences. But Rieff’s insight on the illusory quality of the development consensus is important. As is his assertion that hunger is fundamentally a political problem, not a technical one. But Rieff, like Joel Bourne, fails to offer an alternative. His overriding scepticism precludes it. Disconsolate, he agrees with the philosopher John Gray that the “emancipation of market forces from social and political control” represents the only revolution currently under way. These books – one fearful, the other despairing – offer divergent visions of the challenges we face in feeding the “bottom billion”. Bourne fears we may not produce enough food considering existing farming methods, population growth, and the effects of climate change, while David Rieff doubts that “philanthrocapitalism” – the present approach – offers a real solution. Yet they struggle with the same binary: either working with, or against, capitalism. Neither ventures a credible political alternative. Alternatives do exist, however. As with water, we must defend the aim of “enough food for all” from the vicissitudes of market economics. As a norm and an ideal, ending hunger should be a cross-party political goal. This should be safeguarded legally, by enshrining rights within all state constitutions. Governments that breach their citizens’ “right to food” should be liable. TLS JULY 15 2016

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24

ECOLOGY

Global warning Two different approaches to addressing climate change and its consequences

Keeping global warming below 2°C, and indeed “as close as possible” to 1.5°C, as was agreed at last year’s climate conference in Paris, is an almost impossble challenge. Two thought-provoking books address how it might be met. Atmosphere of Hope, by Tim Flannery, makes the case for a solution with renewable energy and carbon sequestration through both natural and manmade means. More radically, but also necessarily, Oliver Morton’s The Planet Remade takes an in-depth look at geoengineering, thus breaking a major taboo.

Flannery’s climate science discussion focuses largely on the impacts of weather events and climate trends which Flannery attributes, to a greater or lesser extent, to human influence. To me, as a climate scientist, this seems a bold move.

The science of attribution of impacts to current climate change has only recently got under way, and it is fraught with complexity and scientific caveats. Relying on such science is therefore a risky move in an arena where vocal critics are ready to pounce on the slightest mistake in communicating its nuances. However, Flannery is experienced enough to make his message strong but still defendable.

But delivering such a message is in itself not without risk. Given his aim to inspire hope for the future, there’s a danger that Flannery could dash these hopes himself at the outset by giving the impression that things are already beyond repair. To be fair, he does highlight recent research providing reassurance on certain specific risks – hurricane frequency is not expected to increase, and die-back of the Amazon rainforest is not a foregone conclusion, so active conservation of the forest is not a lost cause. However, Flannery still gives the impression that the current “sixth great extinction” is largely due to climate change, when in fact biodiversity loss is predominantly a consequence of direct human impacts such as habitat loss. While he does acknowledge this, the point is somewhat buried amid his climate-related examples of species under threat. This risks a backfire – if biodiversity loss is presented as all down to climate change, then this implies that only halting climate change could stop it, so other conservation measures could (wrongly) seem pointless. A clearer recognition of non-climate influences on biodiversity would give greater hope of heading off a major extinction event.

Flannery is also largely dismissive of the idea that we might live with at least some measure of climate change. His discussion of adaptation to a changed climate overlooks most of the vast amount of scientific research in this area. In the past, talk of adaptation did seem to be viewed as defeatist, but since climate change is already happening, there is no escaping the fact that some adaptation is going to be necessary even if global emissions are reined in. If the aim is to give hope, the scope to adapt ought to be explained.

Flannery’s main reasons for hope concern

RICHARD BETTS

Tim Flannery ATMOSPHERE OF HOPE

Solutions to the climate crisis 282pp. Penguin, Paperback, £7.99.

978 0 14 198104 8

Oliver Morton THE PLANET REMADE How geoengineering could change the world

428pp. Granta. £20. 978 1 78378 095 2

the energy system and carbon uptake. He views the fossil-fuel economy as falling out of favour for reasons independent of climate policy, and renewable as building up sufficient momentum to have a chance of making a significant impact. While he has little time for nuclear power, he makes a good case for human interventions in the carbon cycle reader wondering what really is possible.

It is already well recognized that negative emissions will probably be necessary if global warming is to be kept below 2°C, and with Flannery all but ruling out nuclear energy, it’s likely that his vision would require very substantial contributions from enhanced carbon sinks and bioenergy with carbon capture and storage (BECCS). The true potential and limits for these need to be laid out if the hope is to be tangible – otherwise it could easily be thought of as just wishful thinking.

This is especially critical in the context of threats to biodiversity – if the global ecosystem is to be actively managed to help reduce or even reverse climate change, what are the implications for species that play little direct role in this? How much space will they have left? Are there win-win solutions or will there be difficult decisions on trade-offs? All this is left unexplored.

While it is clear that we are far from having all the answers, Flannery’s wide-ranging

A seaweed farm, Iwate, 2012

through enhancement of natural carbon sinks and creation of artificial ones.

Much of this illustrates the need to think on a large scale – vast seaweed farms, integrated energy systems coupling renewable energy production with battery storage in electric vehicles. It’s fascinating reading. Frustratingly though, the analysis lacks a clear, quantified scenario of how these huge transformations might be achieved. This leaves the review of the different options does indeed suggest that decarbonization might be feasible. However, without a clearer model and a more integrated view, Flannery’s hope for decarbonization seems rather more like crossed fingers than a convincing action plan.

This huge difficulty provides Oliver Morton with the starting point for The Planet Remade. Indeed, the disconnect within the Paris Agreement is taken up on the opening page of the book, where he challenges the reader to consider whether the risks of climate change should be avoided, and whether bringing global carbon emissions to virtually nothing will be very difficult. He categorizes the players in the climate debate according to their answers to these two key questions. Most people in favour of the usual environmental policies are, he says, the “Yes/No” group – yes they wish to reduce the risk, but no, they don’t think it will be difficult to reduce emissions. Those against climate action are the “No/Yes” group – no, they do not see climate change as a major source of worry, and yes, they see huge problems with reducing fossil fuel use.

Morton places himself in a third group – “Yes/Yes”, and in Paris it turned out that the United Nations is in this group as well. The Paris Agreement aims to keep global warming well below 2°C in order to minimize climate risk, but the commitments of the world’s governments to emissions cuts do not come anywhere near what would be needed to do this. Although the Agreement is intended to set in train a process of ratcheting up the emissions reductions commitments over time, the fact that this is not mapped in detail at the outset shows that it is far from clear how this will be achieved.

Morton’s argument, therefore, is now quite pertinent. We should at least think through the potential alternative to rapid, total emissions cuts as the only means of reducing climate change. We may well need to at least consider the possibility of other deliberate interventions with the climate system – or “earthsystem”, to use the phrase coined by Morton. The idea of such interventions – geo-engineering – can bring into play concerns over ethics, risks and unmanageable responsibilities. Morton gives a comprehensive, in-depth and highly readable discussion of geo-engineering and its wider context.

Unlike Flannery, Morton focuses very little on the impacts of climate change and more on the actual workings of the climate system. He does not seem to feel the need to convince his readers that climate change is a problem – instead, he wants them to understand how the climate works, so they can see what kind of interventions could be made, and what the effects of these might be. To my mind, this helps elevate the book to a level beyond the mere imparting of information.

Morton has long been part of the community considering the Earth and its life as a system, including those who have given active consideration to James Lovelock’s Gaia theory. Morton also considers himself part of what he calls the “Geoclique”, the group of scientists, writers and thinkers who collaborate to varying degrees of proximity as part of their exploration and discussion of different aspects of geo-engineering. Morton discusses a number of examples of how humans have intervened in the climate system and its large-scale chemical cycles. He argues that the invention of the Haber– Bosch process, central to manufacturing

TLS JULY 15 2016

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