Best laid plans

Let me start out by saying that what you're about to read is in no way meant to be critical of scientists in general, nor the entire scientific endeavor.

What I want to emphasize right from the beginning, though, is that however supportive I am of science, it is inherently incomplete.  We fill in pieces, and move toward a more thorough understanding of the universe -- it's undeniable that we know more now than we did five hundred, or a hundred, or even fifty years ago -- but there are still edges of our knowledge, and entire realms that are only partly understood.  Nearly all scientists are themselves aware of this, and consider the "perimeter of our ignorance" (to use Neil deGrasse Tyson's pithy term) not to be a problem, but an impetus to further inquiry.

That said, the familiar student's complaint of "why do we have to learn this stuff when it could all be disproven tomorrow?" is nothing more than an excuse for laziness; at this point, the overturning of entire disciplines in the fashion that Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton did for physics and astronomy, Mendel (and many others) did for genetics, and Darwin did for evolutionary biology, is vastly unlikely.  About the only area of science that still has enough odd and contradictory data (with dozens of competing models vying for acceptance) to qualify as a candidate for a major overhaul is astrophysics, with its dark energy and dark matter and cosmic inflation and cosmological constants, none of which have come together into a coherent whole.  (Yet.)

But.  It bears keeping in mind that the systems scientists study are complex, and the models they use to make predictions are often based on qualifications, assumptions, and idealizations.  That doesn't mean they're worthless or unrealistic; just that they need to be used with caution.

This is why I was horror-struck by the recent suggestion of using stratospheric aerosol injection to combat anthropogenic climate change.

Because apparently the obvious solution -- investing in conversion to renewable energy sources, and phasing out fossil fuels -- is a pill too bitter to swallow for our political leaders, people are casting about for other ways to combat the warm-up while continuing to burn our way through the Earth's sequestered carbon.  And one of the ideas was to copy what volcanic eruptions do, and blow huge clouds of fine particulates into the upper atmosphere, which would block sunlight and cool the Earth's surface.

There's no doubt that the idea has some factual basis.  You probably know that the 1815 eruption of Mount Tambora, in Indonesia, generated so much ejecta that the following year was called "the Year Without a Summer," and temperatures dropped enough that crops failed across the globe (and here in my home of upstate New York they had snow falling in July).

The problem, though, is that climate is a complex, multi-variable system, which is why meteorologists still have difficulty making long-range forecasts.  They're vastly better than they used to be; the deadliest natural disaster in the history of the United States, the 1900 Galveston hurricane, struck with almost no warning, leaving tens of thousands of people without enough time to get to high ground.  But even considering how much the science has improved, using something like stratospheric aerosol injection to cool the globe is basically a climatological game of Jenga.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Guma89, Jenga distorted, CC BY-SA 3.0]

Fortunately, the scientists themselves are sounding the alarm.  A study just released from Columbia University has shown in no uncertain terms that tweaking the climate by injecting aerosols into the stratosphere would be likely to have drastic and unpredictable effects.  "Even when simulations of SAI in climate models are sophisticated, they're necessarily going to be idealized," said Faye McNeill, who co-authored the paper.  "Researchers model the perfect particles that are the perfect size.  And in the simulation, they put exactly how much of them they want, where they want them.  But when you start to consider where we actually are, compared to that idealized situation, it reveals a lot of the uncertainty in those predictions.  There are a range of things that might happen if you try to do this -- and we're arguing that the range of possible outcomes is a lot wider than anybody has appreciated until now."

The climate shows sensitive dependence on initial conditions -- a phrase that will be familiar to anyone who has read about chaos theory.  The one thing that is almost certain is that something like SAI wouldn't cool the planet smoothly and uniformly, leaving other factors (like rainfall patterns) unchanged.  Models showed a chaotic response to injection, often resulting in effects like disruption of tropical monsoons, alteration in the position of jet streams (thus changing storm track patterns), and uneven and rapidly-fluctuating shifts in temperature.

Not good.  As Robert Burns said, "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley."

Basically: we do not understand climate well enough to do this with confidence.  After all, we're in the current mess because we ignored the scientists (starting with Svante Arrhenius in 1896) who said that atmospheric carbon dioxide levels were directly correlated with global average temperature, and that therefore we were going to warm the planet by burning fossil fuels.  Let's not ignore the ones now who are saying, correctly, that blowing aerosols up into the stratosphere and hoping for the best is a bad, bad idea.

My fear, though, is that the current regime here in the United States has the motto "quick fixes and short-term expediency FTW," so they'll think this is just a nifty idea.

To return to my original point, despite the best work of scientists, our knowledge is still incomplete, and that applies especially to complex, chaotic systems like the climate.  The climatologists themselves know this, and thank heaven a group of them have published a paper urging us to (extreme) caution.  

Let's hope the people in power are, for once, listening.

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The collapse

You've undoubtedly heard British philosopher Thomas Hobbes's famous quote that in the past, our forebears' lives were "nasty, poor, brutish, and short."  That's certainly true in my ancestors' case, given that just about all of them were poverty-stricken French and Scottish peasants who uprooted and came over to North America because they thought for some reason it would be lots better to be poverty-stricken peasants over here.

I've had at least some inkling about how difficult life was back then since my history classes in college, but it was always in a purely academic way.  While my parents weren't wealthy by any stretch, we never wanted for food on the table, and any struggles they had paying the bills were well hidden and not talked about.  As an adult, I went through a long period in my life when I was the sole member of the family with a paying job, and it was scary to think that if I'd lost it, we would have been screwed; but I never really was in any danger of that.  As long as I kept showing up to school every day and teaching my classes with a reasonable level of competence, I could count on being able to pay the mortgage.

Hundreds of years ago, though, that simply wasn't true for the vast majority of humanity.  I think what really brought home to me the precarious existence most people led was when I read the book The Little Ice Age: How Climate Made History by Brian Fagan (which I highly recommend).  For most of human history, people have literally been one bad harvest season from starvation and one sudden epidemic from being wiped out en masse.  All it took was a single prolonged drought, early frost, or extended period of cool, rainy weather spoiling the crops, and people had nothing to fall back on.

No wonder so many of them were superstitious.  It's easy to put your faith in magical thinking when your lives hinge on a set of conditions you don't understand, and couldn't control even if you did.

What is striking, though, is how insulated the leaders of countries have always felt from the effects of all of this -- often to the extent of ignoring them completely.  There's an argument to be made that it was a series of weather-related poor harvests that lit the tinder box in the French Revolution (and many of the leaders didn't find out their mistake until they were being led to the guillotine).  But to take a less well-known example, let's look at a paper that came out last week in the journal Science Advances about a different civilization, the fascinating Classical Mayan culture, which lasted over six hundred years -- from about 250 to 900 C. E. -- completely dominating the Yucatán Peninsula in southern Mexico and northern Central America before collapsing with astonishing speed.  Cities were abandoned to the jungle, the elaborate building and carving stopped entirely, and the entire region went largely silent until the rise of the city of Mayapan in the twelfth century.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons User:PhilippN, Calakmul - Structure I, CC BY-SA 3.0]

Scientists from the University of Cambridge did a study of the chemical composition of the oxygen isotope ratios in the limestone deposited on stalagmites in caves in the northern Yucatán, which can be read in layers like tree rings.  Oxygen isotope ratios are a good proxy for rainfall; oxygen-18:oxygen-16 ratios tend to drop during the rainy season, so an overall low 18:16 ratio is a strong signal of drought.

And what the scientists found was that during the time between 871 C.E. and 1021 C.E. there was a severe thirteen-year drought, and three shorter (five to six year) droughts.  Water supplies dried up, crops failed, trade stopped, and the inevitable happened -- the common people blamed their leaders.  Violent revolution ensued, and in the end, a civilization that had dominated the region for centuries collapsed completely.

It's easy to think something like this couldn't happen to us, but right now we're in the middle of one of the most dramatic climate shifts on record, with global average temperatures rising faster than they did during the terrifying Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum, 55 million years ago.  And you know what the Trump regime's response to this is?

Just last week they announced plans to deliberately destroy the Orbiting Carbon Observatory, one of our chief climate monitoring satellites.  Not because it's malfunctioning; it's working fine.  Not because it costs lots of money; it's already paid for.

No, the reason they want to destroy the satellite is the same as the reason they stopped keeping track of new COVID cases during the height of the pandemic.  If you don't measure something, you can pretend it's not happening.

Destroying the OCO won't stop the effects of anthropogenic climate change, of course.  It'll just prevent us from seeing them coming.

So I may have misspoken at the beginning, in leading you to believe that our ancestors were any different from us with regards to the fragility of our existence -- and the tendency to fall back on unscientific thinking.  But let us hope that the ignorance and greed of our current elected officials won't return us to another era of nasty, poor, brutish, and short lives, where the risk of starvation was never far away.  

This time, though, if it happens it won't be an unfortunate result of living in a world we don't understand.  It will be a self-inflicted wound caused by trusting power-hungry people who know perfectly well what they are doing, but value short-term expediency over the long-term habitability of the planet.

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Halting the conveyor

Today we have three stories that are absolutely horrifying in juxtaposition.

The first is a paper that came out a couple of days ago in Nature, describing a study by Jade Bowling (of Lancaster University) et al.  It is an analysis of a strange and sudden change in the topography of the Greenland Ice Sheet that happened in 2014 -- a two-square-kilometer part of the sheet dropped by as much as eighty-five meters.  The question, of course, is what happened to all the ice that used to be underneath it.  And what Bowling et al. found was that it had melted -- that the underside of the Greenland Ice Sheet is riddled with subglacial lakes and rivers.  In this case, downstream of the collapsed region, a flood burst through the surface, and within ten days ninety million cubic meters of fresh water gushed out as the cavity emptied.

We usually think of the melting of the polar ice sheets as a gradual process, something like the way ice cubes slowly melt in your glass of tea in summer.  But what this study shows is that the process proceeds quietly -- until it doesn't.  The tipping point between a gentle trickle and a massive flood can occur suddenly, and be due to factors that are largely out of sight.

The second came out in the same issue of Nature, and has to do with a study of the paleoclimate by a team led by Pedro DiNezio of Colorado University - Boulder.  DiNezio and his collaborators looked at the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC), sometimes called the "Atlantic Conveyor."  The AMOC is an enormous ocean current, of which the Gulf Stream is only a part, moving a greater volume of water per second than all of the rivers of the world put together.  It is driven by the combined effects of evaporation (making the water saltier) and cooling as the current flows northward; both of these result in the water becoming denser, and south of Iceland it becomes dense enough to sink.  This draws more warm water northward -- and is why Ireland and the United Kingdom, which are on the same latitude as Alberta, have mild climates.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons R. Curry, Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution/Science/USGCRP., OCP07 Fig-6, CC BY 3.0]

But freshwater intrusion, like the one the prior study considered, lowers the density of the surface water, eventually making it too fresh to sink.  This can slow down -- or halt entirely -- the AMOC.

The focus of the effects has usually been on northeastern North America and northwestern Europe, where that heat transfer slowdown would be expected to trigger a dramatic cooling similar to the sudden crash that initiated the Younger Dryas 12,900 years ago, during which a warming climate was plunged back into the freezer for over a thousand years.  But what the DiNezio et al. study considered was what happens to all that excess heat.  Just because we here in upstate New York would probably be freezing our asses off doesn't mean the rest of the world would be.  The heat energy, of course, doesn't just go away.

And what they found is that when the AMOC slows down, that heat remains in the tropics -- triggering a spike in temperature and a drop in rainfall near the equator.  "This is bad news, because we have these very important ecosystems in the Amazon," said DiNezio.  "The Amazon rainforest contains almost two years of global carbon emissions, making it a major carbon sink on Earth.  Drought in this region could release vast amounts of carbon back into the atmosphere, forming a vicious loop that could make climate change worse."

But of course, no story about climate change would be complete without some breaking news describing how the Trump administration is determined to make it worse.  Lee Zeldin, head of the Environmental Protection Agency (which should have its name changed to the Big Oil Protection Agency, because under his leadership they couldn't give a flying rat's ass about protecting the environment), has just announced the overturning of a 2009 declaration stating that carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases endanger human health and welfare.

His justification?  What do you think it was?

"It cost Americans a lot of money," Zeldin said.

The declaration was the foundation of climate change regulation in this country, and the impetus for rules limiting emissions from cars, airplanes, and power plants.  If the "endangerment finding," as the declaration is called, is overturned. it gives corporations carte blanche to ignore previous guidelines and mandates.

Zeldin, of course, thinks this is just hunky-dory.  "This will be the largest deregulatory action in the history of America," he crowed.

Because short-term profit is apparently more in need of attention than the long-term habitability of the planet.

I wish I had a hopeful note to end on, but I don't.  The whole thing puts me in mind of a comment from a student in my Environmental Science class, maybe fifteen years ago.  The question I put to them was, "At what point do you think that the majority of Americans will be motivated to address climate change in a meaningful way?"

Her answer was, "It won't happen until average Americans are directly and harshly impacted by it.  When there's no food on the shelves in the grocery stores.  When the rivers dry up.  When the sea level rises enough to flood major coastal cities.  Until then, it's easier to pretend nothing's wrong."

Another student, aghast, said, "But won't it be too late at that point?"

She responded simply, "Of course it will."

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The collapse

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the spike in atmospheric oxygen concentration -- by some estimates, rising to 35% -- during the Carboniferous Period, triggered by explosive growth of forests, and allowing arthropods like insects, arachnids, and millipedes to grow to enormous sixes.

The good times, though (for them at least), were not to last.  Around three hundred million years ago, there was a sudden drop in oxygen and rise in carbon dioxide.  This triggered rapid climatic shifts that resulted in the Late Carboniferous Rain Forest Collapse, which saw a major alteration from the swamp-dwelling plants and animals at the height of the period to species that could tolerate the dry heat that was to persist throughout the next period, the Permian.  (This set up the rise of reptiles, which would see their peak in the dinosaurs of the Mesozoic.)

Artist's depiction of the mid-Carboniferous swamps (ca. 1887) [Image is in the Public Domain]

The source of the excess carbon dioxide was very likely volcanic.  Besides the fact that lava can contain dissolved gases (mostly carbon and sulfur dioxide), the heat of the eruptions may have caused the oxidation of the plentiful limestone and coal deposits formed during the earlier lush, wet part of the period -- a precursor of the much bigger disaster that was in store fifty million years later, when at the end of the Permian, the Siberian Traps erupted and tore through a huge amount of the sequestered carbon, causing widespread global anoxia and climate change, and the largest mass extinction ever.

By some estimates, ninety percent of life on Earth died.

But the rain forest collapse at the end of the Carboniferous was bad enough.  A study that came out this week in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found the anoxia/hypoxia hit the oceans the hardest, where the oxygen levels rapidly dropped by between four and twelve percent, with a commensurate rise in dissolved carbon dioxide.  When carbon dioxide dissolves in water, it produces a weak acid -- carbonic acid -- lowering the pH.  Organisms that make their shells out of calcium carbonate, like mollusks, brachiopods, and corals, literally dissolved.

You ready for the kicker?

The study's estimate of the rate of carbon dioxide release during the Late Carboniferous Rain Forest Collapse is a hundred times smaller than the rate we're putting carbon dioxide into the atmosphere today through burning fossil fuels.

"This is a huge discovery, because how do you take an ocean sitting under an atmosphere with much more oxygen than today and permit this?" said Isabel Montañez of the University of California - Davis, senior author of the study.  "The message for us is, 'Don't be so sure that we can't do this again with our current human-driven release of carbon dioxide.'"

The problem is, the current administration is in the pockets of the fossil fuel industry, and is doing their level best to pretend this isn't happening, and to discredit anyone who says it is.  Worse, actually; they've cancelled funding for any scientific research about climate.

Because apparently "la la la la la la not listening" is now considered wise political policy.  This, despite warning signals like the eastern half of the United States sweltering this past week under the most extreme heat wave we've had in over fifty years.

So I'm expecting studies like the one released this week by Montañez et al. to receive exactly zero attention from the people who actually could work toward addressing this situation.  It brings to mind a quote from Upton Sinclair, uttered almost a century ago: "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it."

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Thawing the snowball

One of the frightening things about a system in equilibrium is what happens when you perturb it.

Within limits, most systems can recover from perturbation through some combination of negative feedbacks.  An example is your body temperature.  If something makes it goes up -- exercise, for example, or being outside on a hot, humid day -- you sweat, bringing your temperature back down.  If your body temperature goes down too much, you increase your rate of burning calories, and also have responses like shivering -- which brings it back up.  Those combine to keep your temperature in a narrow range (what the biologists call homeostasis).

Push it too much, though, and the whole thing falls apart.  If your temperature rises beyond about 105 F, you can experience seizures, convulsions, brain damage -- or death.  Your feedback mechanisms are simply not able to cope.

This, in a nutshell, is why climate scientists are so concerned about the effects of anthropogenic carbon dioxide.  Within limits -- as with your body temperature -- an increase in carbon dioxide results in an increase in processes that remove the carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, and the whole system stays in equilibrium.  There is a tipping point, however.

The problem is that no one knows where it is -- and whether we may have already passed it.

A piece of research from the Virginia Polytechnic Institute, however, has suggested that this flip from stability to instability may be fast and unpredictable.  A paper authored by a team led by paleobiologist Shuhai Xiao, that was published in the journal Geology, looks at one of the main destabilization events that the Earth has ever experienced -- when the "Snowball Earth" thawed out in the late Precambrian Period, 635 million years ago.

Artist's conception of the Precambrian Snowball Earth [Image is in the Public Domain, courtesy of NASA/JPL]

Xiao and his team studied rocks from Yunnan and Guizhou, China, that are called cap carbonates.  They are made of limestone and dolomite and are deposited quickly in marine environments when the carbon dioxide content of the atmosphere spikes, leading to a dramatic temperature increase and a subsequent increase in absorption of carbonates into seawater (and ultimately deposition of those carbonates on the seafloor).  The cap carbonates Xiao et al. studied were dated to between 634.6 and 635.2 million years old, which means that the entire jump in both temperature and carbon dioxide content took less than 800,000 years.

So in less than a million years, the Earth went from being completely covered in ice to being subtropical.  The jump in global average temperature is estimated at 7 C -- conditions that then persisted for the next hundred million years.

Xiao et al. describe this as "the most severe paleoclimatic [event] in Earth history," and that the resulting deglaciations worldwide were "globally synchronous, rapid, and catastrophic."

Carol Dehler, a geologist at Utah State University, is unequivocal about the implications.  "I think one of the biggest messages that Snowball Earth can send humanity is that it shows the Earth’s capabilities to change in extreme ways on short and longer time scales."

What frustrates me most about today's climate change deniers is that they are entirely unwilling to admit that the changes we are seeing are happening at an unprecedented rate.  "It's all natural," they say.  "There have been climatic ups and downs throughout history."  Which is true -- as far as it goes.  But the speed with which the Earth is currently warming is faster than what the planet experienced when it flipped between an ice-covered frozen wasteland and a subtropical jungle.  It took 800,000 years to see an increase of the Earth's average temperature by 7 degrees C.

The best climate models predict that's what we'll see in two hundred years.

And that is why we're alarmed.

It's unknown what kind of effect that climate change in the Precambrian had on the existing life forms.  The fossil record just isn't that complete.  But whatever effect it had, the living creatures that were around when it happened had 800,000 years to adapt to the changing conditions.  What's certain is that an equivalent change in two centuries will cause massive extinctions.  Evolution simply doesn't happen that quickly.  Organisms that can't tolerate the temperature fluctuation will die.

We can only speculate on the effects this would have on humanity.

This is clearly the biggest threat we face, and yet the politicians still sit on their hands, claim it's not happening, that remediation would be too costly, that we can't prevent it, that short-term profits are more important than the long-term habitability of the Earth.  (Not to mention firing the people and closing the agencies that are currently trying to do something about it.)  Our descendants five hundred years from now will look upon the leaders from this century as having completely abdicated their responsibility of care for the people they represent.

Presuming we still have descendants at that point.

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Whiplash

Like many people, I've been watching the news, photographs, and video footage coming in from the fires in the Los Angeles region with feelings of absolute horror.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Toastt21, PalisadesFire fromDowntown, CC BY-SA 4.0]

As of the time of this writing, ten people have died, 34,000 acres have burned, and 200,000 people are under mandatory evacuation orders.  At least ten thousand structures -- homes and businesses -- have burned to the ground.  And while the high winds that have been driving the spread of the wildfires and making fighting them difficult to impossible are supposed to moderate this weekend, meteorologists have predicted them to increase again early next week.

Because there's no human tragedy so heartwrenching that Donald Trump won't use it to score political points, he's gone on Truth Social repeatedly in the last couple of days to say the whole thing is Governor Gavin "Newscum"'s fault, presumably for not raking the forests or going up to Canada to turn on the "very large faucet" that is holding back all the water from the western half of the United States.  Not a word of empathy for the people who've had their homes and their livelihoods destroyed, not a mention of the scale of this catastrophe.

It's what we've come to expect from leaders who have zero compassion and no benchmarks for conduct except for profit, cronyism, and revenge.

Note, too, that there's been no mention that the ultimate cause of this disaster is anthropogenic climate change.  No, gotta find a way that the Democrats are to blame, even though we've been the ones who have been warning about this for years.  In fact, just this week a study was published in the journal National Review of the Earth and the Environment that directly attributes the risk of devastating fire outbreaks to climate change -- more specifically, to a phenomenon called hydroclimate whiplash.

One of the results of global warming that is hard to get people to understand is that it isn't uniform.  The entire world isn't going to gradually slide into becoming a tropical rain forest.  The polar vortex phenomenon we've seen here in the northeastern United States over the last few years is actually one of the predictions of climate change models; the overall warming of the Earth causes a weakening of the polar jet stream, causing it to meander like a river crossing a flat plain.  Loops of the jet stream are pushed south, and those meanders allow icy polar air to move much farther south than normal.  So these deep cold snaps are actually caused by anthropogenic climate change; they're not an argument against it.

Likewise, rainfall and snowfall patterns aren't going to move uniformly in one direction, they're expected to fluctuate wildly.  This is hydroclimate whiplash, and is at the root of the Los Angeles fires.  The rainy season in early 2024 in southern California was abnormally wet (in fact, there were multiple damaging mudslides caused by what are called "atmospheric rivers" dumping huge quantities of rain and snow).  This triggered explosive growth in fast-growing plants like grasses and annual and perennial weeds.  The summer that followed was abnormally dry, and the winter 2024-2025 rainy season basically hasn't happened yet.  So you had what amounted to a tinder box of dried-up plants, just waiting for a spark to start the conflagration.

"The global consequences of hydroclimate whiplash include not only floods and droughts, but the heightened danger of whipsawing between the two, including the bloom-and-burn cycle of overwatered then overdried brush, and landslides on oversaturated hillsides where recent fires removed plants with roots to knit the soil and slurp up rainfall," said Daniel Swain, climatologist with UCLA, who co-authored the study.  "Every fraction of a degree of warming speeds the growing destructive power of the transitions."

You won't hear a word of this from Donald Trump and his cronies, of course.  Not while they have Joe Biden and Gavin Newsom to blame, and certainly not as long as the GOP is in the pockets of the fossil fuels industry.  Trump's pronouncements on the wildfires have contained, to quote CNN's Daniel Dale, a "staggering amount of wrongness," but I guess now we're back to living in the "alternative facts" world we were in from 2016 to 2020.

Since we've now lost our opportunity here in the United States to put the brakes on fossil fuel use, at least for the next four years, look for more extremes to come.  We can expect bigger storms, more heat waves and polar vortexes, more atmospheric rivers and catastrophic droughts.  We tried to warn people; hell, I've been writing about this topic here for fifteen years, and was discussing it in my classes three decades ago.

Not that the people in charge were listening.  As Upton Sinclair put it, "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it."

So there's nothing we can do now but to put pressure on legislators -- frustrating though that's likely to be in the current political climate -- and prepare our own selves for weathering the storms, literal and figurative.  Find places to donate to help those displaced by the fires, some of whom have lost everything.  (Here's just one of many options.)  

Most importantly to the bigger picture: keep speaking up against the lies coming from Trump and his allies.  We can't let misinformation shout more loudly than the truth.

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NEW!  We've updated our website, and now -- in addition to checking out my books and the amazing art by my wife, Carol Bloomgarden, you can also buy some really cool Skeptophilia-themed gear!  Just go to the website and click on the link at the bottom, where you can support your favorite blog by ordering t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, bumper stickers, and tote bags, all designed by Carol!

Take a look!  Plato would approve.

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Ignoring Cassandra

The Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC), sometimes nicknamed "the Atlantic Conveyor," is an enormous oceanic current that not only encircles the entire Atlantic Ocean, it links up with other circulation patterns in the Indian and Pacific Oceans.

[Image is in the Public Domain courtesy of NASA]

It's called a "thermohaline" circulation because it's driven by two things; temperature and salinity.  Cold water is denser than warm water; salty water is denser than fresher water.  Alterations in these factors determine where the water goes, setting up convection (the movement of a fluid because of gradients in density).  Specifically, as the warm Gulf Stream (the red line along the eastern coast of North America on the above map) moves northward, it cools down and evaporates.  Those both act to increase its density, to the point that just south of Iceland, it sinks.

That sinking mechanism is what drives the entire thing.  Slow that down, and the whole system fails.

Which is exactly what is happening.  A paper last week in Nature found that the AMOC has diminished dramatically because of anthropogenic climate change; the warming oceans, along with fresh meltwater from Greenland, has made large parts of the north loop of the circulation too buoyant to sink.  Since 1950, the flow rate has gone down by 0.46 sverdrups.  Before you say, "Well, that doesn't sound like very much," allow me to point out that one sverdrup is a million cubic meters a second.  The combined flow of all the rivers in the world is only about 1.2 sverdrups.

So 0.46 is huge.

Current models indicate that this change is going to have enormous effects on local climates.  Western and northern Europe are likely to get colder; the surface loop of the AMOC is why Iceland, Scotland, and Scandinavia are way warmer than you'd expect given their latitudes.  The southeastern United States and eastern South America will probably become much warmer; the heat energy doesn't just go away because it's not being transported northward and dissipated.  Rainfall patterns, and storm paths and intensity, will certainly change, but how is unknown.

The truth is, we don't know enough to predict exactly what the outcome will be, at least not with any certainty.  We're perturbing a complex global system with about as much caution as a toddler playing in the mud.  But what seems certain is that we have now entered the "Find Out" phase of "Fuck Around and Find Out."

What kills me is we've been warning about this for decades.  British science historian James Burke's prescient documentary After the Warming described the collapse of the AMOC as an outcome of anthropogenic climate change all the way back in 1991.  But instead of listening to the scientists, and brilliant advocates like Burke who bring science to the public notice, more people were swayed by idiots like former Oklahoma Senator James Inhofe, who brought a snowball onto the floor of the United States Senate and basically said, "Hey, it's snowing, so climate change isn't real, hurr hurr hurr durr."

Of course, listening to Inhofe and his ilk is easy.  If you believe him, you don't have to make any changes to your lifestyle.  And we haven't gotten any further in the intervening decades; President-elect Trump has nominated Lee Zeldin for the head of the Environmental Protection Agency and Doug Burgum for Secretary of the Interior, both thoroughgoing climate change deniers who are deep in the pockets of the fossil fuel industry.  (And please, for the love of all that's holy, stop calling them "climate skeptics."  A skeptic respects the evidence.  These people reject a body of evidence that's as high as Mount Everest in the name of profit and short-term expediency.)

Politicians Discussing Global Warming by Isaac Cordal (2011)

I read a serious analysis of Donald Trump's win claiming that one factor was that Americans have a "suspicion of expertise."  That is something that will never, ever make sense to me.  How is it reasonable to say, essentially, "These people know more than I do, so I don't believe them"?  The result is that we now have one of the most powerful countries in the world being run by a cabal of people who are united by two things -- (1) devotion to Donald Trump, and (2) a complete lack of qualifications.  So this distrust of evidence, science, and rationality is only going to get worse -- and will become the motive force in driving policy.

The problem is, though, if you ignore the truth, sooner or later it catches up with you.  And from the recent paper, it appears it's going to be sooner.  Sea level rise is already threatening coastal communities, and there are island nations that will simply cease to exist if if gets much worse.  Extreme weather events are likely to become commonplace.  We're sure to see alterations in climate that will affect agriculture, and in some places, habitability.

As usual, the people creating the problem aren't the ones who are going to get hurt by it -- at least not at first.  But this is an issue that will, ultimately, affect us all.

And lord have mercy, I am tired.  Tired of shouting warnings, tired of citing study after study, tired of arguing from the standpoint of facts and evidence with people determined not to listen to any of it.  I'm not even an actual scientist, just a retired science teacher and blogger, and I feel like I've been sounding the call about this stuff forever; I can't imagine how the actual researchers feel.  It makes me sympathize with Cassandra, from Greek mythology -- who was blessed with the ability to see the future, but cursed to have no one believe her.

I wish I had some sort of hopeful message to end on, but I don't.  I'm not naturally a pessimist, but given the fact that the country I live in just voted in an anti-science, anti-intellectual, anti-academic administration whose motto seems to be "Corporate Profit Über Alles," I don't think we're going to make any progress here for the next four years.  By then, how much more damage will have been done?

As journalist Sheri Fink put it: "Soon after a disaster passes, we tend to turn our eyes away and focus our resources on the day-to-day, rather than on preparing for the rare, but foreseeable and potentially catastrophic disaster.  It's another form of triage, how much we invest in preparing for that, a very important question for public policy.  But... we are such a short-sighted species."

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Time to act

I know we really don't need anything else to worry about.  World events have been depressing enough, and here in the United States we've got an election on Tuesday that is making me pop Xanax as if they were Skittles.  But I ran across something in a book I'm reading that was absolutely jaw-dropping, and not in a good way, and I knew I would be seriously remiss in not writing about it here.

I mentioned a few days ago (in a post about some bizarre volcanoes in the East African Rift Zone) that I've been reading Tamsin Mather's wonderful book Adventures in Volcanoland: What Volcanoes Tell Us About the World and Ourselves.  Mather's specialty is monitoring gas production from volcanoes, and using the composition of offgassed material to gather information about magma characteristics and the likelihood of eruptions.  She's traveled all over the world collecting and analyzing samples, comparing hotspot volcanoes (like the ones in Hawaii) to rift volcanoes (like Ol Doinyo Lengai in Tanzania) to trench/subduction volcanoes (like Etna, Vesuvius, Krakatoa, Fujiyama, the Andes, and the North American Cascades).  Her research puts her in position as one of the world's foremost and most knowledgeable experts on volcanic offgassing, and what it means for our understanding of what is going on inside the Earth's mantle.

In her book, she not only references currently-active volcanoes, but prehistoric eruptions -- and one of those she discusses is the astonishingly huge Siberian Traps.  

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons OlgaChuma Ольга Чумаченко, Плато Путорана-3, CC BY-SA 3.0]

This eruption, of a type known as a large igneous province or flood basalt, happened 252 million years ago, at the end of the Permian Period.  Flood basalt eruptions occur when something rifts the crust of the Earth and deep-source, extremely hot basaltic (low silica content) lava flows out.  This lava is incredibly fluid, and fills up valleys like water fills a bowl.  In the case of Siberia, it was a quantity that beggars belief; current estimates stand at around four million cubic kilometers of lava.  The disaster this caused was amplified by the fact that prior to the eruption, the Earth had had a long period of warm, wet climates pretty much worldwide, facilitating the growth of widespread swamps and rainforests.  The age when this occurred is called the Carboniferous Period, so named because all that dead compressed plant matter locked up gigantic quantities of atmospheric carbon, forming enormous seams of coal.

When the Siberian Traps erupted, the lava ripped its way through those massive coal deposits, and the carbon they contained was suddenly returned to the atmosphere as carbon dioxide.  Mather writes:

Estimates of total carbon dioxide emissions over the million-year-scale lifetimes of these basaltic floods are in the region of tens to hundreds of trillion tonnes...  Estimates of varying emission rates over the very long lifetimes of these provinces are harder to make than the totals, but one recent study put the maximum emission rate during the Siberian Traps at around eighteen billion tonnes per year.

The result was widespread disruption of the climate, global marine anoxia, and the largest mass extinction ever -- the Permian-Triassic Extinction, which wiped out on the order of ninety percent of life on Earth.

The kicker comes in the very next paragraph, when Mather tells us that the rate of carbon dioxide production from the most massively devastating volcanic eruption on record, the rock from which covers an area of seven million square kilometers, is half the rate our current fossil fuel use is currently churning out carbon dioxide.

I don't exaggerate when I say I had to read that passage three times before I was convinced I'd understood her correctly.

I've all too frequently heard laypeople give a sneering chuckle at the climatologists, saying stuff like, "What a lot of bullshit.  One volcanic eruption emits more carbon dioxide than all the cars on Earth do."  They rarely cite a source, and when they do it's from something like the fossil-fuel-industry-funded Heartland Institute, but -- because this opinion is a great excuse for continuing to do stuff the same way we always have -- they almost never get challenged on it.

It's astonishing how easy it is to accept a false viewpoint when it gives you a comforting reason not to do anything inconvenient to your lifestyle.

But here's the straight scoop from Tamsin Mather, who (allow me to reiterate) is a volcanologist who specializes in analysis of volcanic offgassing:

Despite the wide error bars in our estimates of the global rate of volcanic carbon degassing, what we can know is that these natural emissions pale into insignificance compared to what humans produce.  In 2019, human fossil-fuel burning released over 35 billion tonnes of carbon dioxide into our atmosphere.  This is seventy times more than even our most generous current estimates of global magmatic carbon degassing.  In 2022, the aviation industry alone emitted 800 million tonnes of carbon dioxide, eclipsing estimates of that from our planet's background tectonism before even considering other sectors of human industry.  We cannot look to Earth's volcanism today to reassure ourselves that our rate of carbon emission might not be too much of a change in terms of our planet's natural cycles.  Powerful as the forces of tectonics that daily drive the slow creep of plate movement and volcanic activity across the globe are, the human race has currently surpassed them in terms of its carbon dioxide flux to the atmosphere.  It is apposite to reflect upon the level of responsibility that should appropriately come with the level of power attained by our species that, by this carbon metric, overwhelms all Earth's volcanoes.

Despite this, we have a candidate for president here in the United States -- I doubt I need to tell you which one -- who has stated he wants to discontinue investment in renewable energy and withdraw from the Paris Accords, and frequently says "Drill baby drill, and frack frack frack!" to cheering crowds.

Anyhow, I'm sorry to post alarming stuff, but perhaps now isn't such a bad time after all.  We have the chance to make a difference not only by our actions and choices, but in the voting booth.  It put me in mind of a conversation that occurs in my novel In the Midst of Lions, which seems a fitting way to end this post:

Mary Hansard's face registered near panic.  "It's not just here.  It’s everything we know.  Soon it’ll all be gone, and if we don’t find a way out, us with it.  We've got to do something, now.”

Soren glanced at Dr. Quaice.  “Okay, this is scaring the shit out of me.”

Mary tightened her grip on Soren’s sleeve.  “Good.  Good.  You should be scared.  Scared people act.” She hitched a sob.  “Complacent people die.”

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Bell ringer

Sometimes we dodge a bullet.

In September of 2023, seismologists all over the world recorded an odd periodic signal that lasted about nine days.  It was strongest in Europe and eastern North America, but was recorded in places far distant.  The first pulses of the signal had the highest amplitude, and it gradually faded in intensity afterward; the effect was very much like the sound waves generated by a struck bell, which begin loud and eventually diminish into silence once the metal stops vibrating.

It took a while for the geologists to figure out what caused the signal, and when they did, it caused a few gasps -- and then sighs of relief.

The climate-change-induced warmup in the polar regions has caused a huge loss of ice mass in Greenland and Antarctica, and the main associated hazard we've been warned about is sea level rise.  But the September 2023 event highlights another potential problem.  The source of the seismic signal was the collapse of a 1.2-kilometer-high mountain peak into remote Dickson Fjord in Greenland, triggered by the thinning of an ice wall that had held back the rock and debris.  When the estimate 25 million cubic meter landslide hit the water, it triggered a tsunami over a hundred meters high that proceeded to slosh back and forth across the fjord about once every ninety seconds, creating a vibration in the Earth's crust that was picked up on seismometers thousands of kilometers away.

Dickson Fjord, Greenland [Image licensed under the Creative Commons Bjoertvedt, Dicksonfjorden IMG 8800, CC BY-SA 3.0]

The reason I call this "dodging a bullet" is twofold.  First, Dickson Fjord is far away from human settlements; the only damage was to an at-the-time-unoccupied patrol station on Ella Ø, an island seventy or so kilometers away, where the tsunami height was about four meters.  Second, Dickson Fjord is narrow, with a lot of twists and turns, so most of the energy of the tsunami was expended by the sloshing of water back and forth across the inlet; little of the energy made it out of the mouth of the fjord into the north Atlantic.

The analysis of the seismograph data, and their cause, were the subject of a paper in Science this week.

"When I first saw the seismic signal, I was completely baffled," said Stephen Hicks, geologist at University College London, who co-authored the study, in an interview with Science Daily.  "Even though we know seismometers can record a variety of sources happening on Earth's surface, never before has such a long-lasting, globally-traveling seismic wave, containing only a single frequency of oscillation, been recorded.  This inspired me to co-lead a large team of scientists to figure out the puzzle.  Our study of this event amazingly highlights the intricate interconnections between climate change in the atmosphere, destabilization of glacier ice in the cryosphere, movements of water bodies in the hydrosphere, and Earth's solid crust in the lithosphere.  This is the first time that water sloshing has been recorded as vibrations through the Earth's crust, traveling the world over and lasting several days."

It's sobering to think of what would have happened had the landslide occurred in a cliff facing the open ocean, and not in a narrow, remote fjord.  Without anything to damp the oscillations and act as a shock absorber to dissipate the energy of the landslide, the displaced water would have created an unimpeded tsunami that might have wrought havoc on populated coastlines.

We lucked out.

Addressing climate change should be a priority not only for the obvious reasons -- mitigating extremes of weather, slowing down sea level rise, and minimizing the impacts on biodiversity and agriculture.  But the warming Earth increases our risks of other, more sudden and unexpected, hazards, ones that are impossible to predict and therefore way harder to protect ourselves against.  Decreasing our reliance on fossil fuels isn't going to be an easy fix, but in the long run, the dangers of accelerating climate change far outweigh the problems created by our efforts to slow it down.

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A self-portrait drawn by others

As you might imagine, I get hate mail pretty frequently.

Most of it has to do with my targeting somebody's sacred cow, be it homeopathy, fundamentalist religion, ESP, homophobia, climate change denial, or actual sacred cows.  And it seems to fall into three general categories:

• Insults, some of which never get beyond the "you stupid poopyhead fuckface" level. These usually have the worst grammar and spelling.

• Arguments that are meant to be stinging rebuttals. They seldom are, at least not from the standpoint of adding anything of scientific merit to the conversation, although their authors inevitably think they've skewered me with the sharp rapier of their superior knowledge. (Sometimes I get honest, thoughtful comments or criticisms on what I've written; I have always, and will always, welcome those.)

• Diatribes that tell me what I actually believe, as if I'm somehow unaware of it.

It's the latter I want to address in this post, because they're the ones I find the most curious.  I've got a bit of a temper myself, so I can certainly understand the desire to strike back with an insult at someone who's angered you; and it's unsurprising that a person who is convinced of something will want to rebut anyone who says different.  But the idea that I'd tell someone I was arguing with what they believed, as if I knew it better than they did, is just plain weird.

Here are a handful of examples from my fan mail, to illustrate what I'm talking about:

• In response to a post I did on the vitriolic nonsense spouted by televangelist Kenneth Copeland: "Atheists make me want to puke. You have the nerve to attack a holy man like Brother Kenneth Copeland.  You want to tear down the foundation of this country, which is it's [sic] churches and pastors, and tell Christian Americans they have no right to be here."

• In response to my post on a group of alt-med wingnuts who are proposing drinking turpentine to cure damn near everything: "You like to make fun of people who believe nature knows best for curing us and promoting good health.  You pro-Monsanto, pro-chemical types think that the more processed something is, the better it is for you.  I bet you put weed killer on your cereal in the morning."

• In response to a post in which I described my frustration with how many of our elected officials are in the pockets of fossil fuel corporations: "Keep reading us your fairy tales about 'climate change' and 'rising sea levels.'  Your motives are clear, to destroy America's economy and hand over the reigns [sic] to the wacko vegetarian enviro nuts.  Now that at least the REPUBLICANS in government are actually looking out for AMERICAN interests, not to mention a good man running for president who will put our country first when he's re-elected, people like you are crapping your pants because you know your [sic] not going to be in control any more."

• And finally, in response to a post I did on the fact that the concept of race has little biological meaning: "You really don't get it do you?  From your picture you're as white as I am, and you're gonna stand there and tell me that you have no problem being overrun by people who have different customs and don't speak English?  Let's see how you feel when your kid's teacher requires them to learn Arabic."

So, let's see.  That makes me a white English-only wacko vegetarian enviro nut (with crap in my pants) who eats weed killer for breakfast while writing checks to Monsanto and plotting how to tear down churches and deport all Christians so I can destroy the United States.

Man, I've got a lot on my to-do list today.

I know it's a common tendency to want to attribute some set of horrible characteristics to the people we disagree with.  It engages all that tribal mentality stuff that's pretty deeply ingrained in our brains -- us = good, them = bad.  The problem is, reality is a hell of a lot more complex that that, and it's only seldom that you can find someone who is so bad that they have no admixture whatsoever of good, no justification for what they're doing, no explanation at all for how they got to be the way they are.  We're all mixed-up cauldrons of conflicting emotions.  It's hard to understand ourselves half the time; harder still to parse the motives of others.

So let me disabuse my detractors of a few notions.

While I'm not religious myself, I really have a live-and-let-live attitude toward religious folks, as long as they're not trying to impose their religion on others or using it as an excuse to deny others their rights as humans.  I have religious friends and non-religious friends and friends who don't care much about the topic one way or the other, and mostly we all get along pretty well.

I have to admit, though, that being a card-carrying atheist, I do have to indulge every so often in the dietary requirements as set forth in the official Atheist Code of Conduct.

Speaking of diet, I'm pretty far from a vegetarian, even when I'm not dining on babies.  In fact, I think that a medium-rare t-bone steak with a glass of good red wine is one of the most delicious things ever conceived by the human species.  But neither am I a chemical-lovin' pro-Monsanto corporate shill who drinks a nice steaming mug of RoundUp in the morning.  I'll stick with coffee, thanks.

Yes, I do accept climate change, because I am capable of reading and understanding a scientific paper and also do not think that because something is inconvenient to American economic expediency, it must not be true.  I'd rather that the US economy doesn't collapse, mainly because I live here, but I'd also like my grandchildren to be born on a planet that is habitable in the long term.

And finally: yes, I am white.  You got me there.  If I had any thought of denying it, it was put to rest when I did a 23 & Me test and found out that I'm... white.  My ancestry is nearly all from western Europe, unsurprising given that three of my grandparents were of French descent and one of Scottish descent.  But my being white doesn't mean that I always have to place the concerns of other white people first, or fear people who aren't white, or pass laws making sure that America stays white.  For one thing, it'd be a little hypocritical if I demanded that everyone in the US speak English, given that my mother and three of my grandparents spoke French as their first language; and trust me when I say that I would have loved my kids to learn Arabic in school.  The more other cultures you learn about in school, the better, largely because it's hard to hate people when you realize that they're human, just like you are.

So anyway.  Nice try telling me who I am, but you got a good many of the details wrong.  Inevitable, I suppose, when it's a self-portrait drawn by someone else.  Next time, maybe you should try engaging the people you disagree with in dialogue, rather than ridiculing, demeaning, dismissing, or condescending to them.  It's in general a nicer way to live, and who knows?  Maybe you'll learn something.

And if you want to know anything about me, just ask rather than making assumptions.  It's not like I'm shy about telling people what I think.  Kind of hiding in plain sight, here.

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