Our world, our old world that we have inhabited for the last 12,000
years, has ended, even if no newspaper in North America or Europe has
yet printed its scientific obituary.
1. Farewell to the Holocene
Our world, our old world that we have inhabited for the last 12,000
years, has ended, even if no newspaper in North America or Europe has
yet printed its scientific obituary.
This February, while cranes were hoisting cladding to the 141st floor
of the Burj Dubai tower (which will soon be twice the height of the
Empire State Building), the Stratigraphy Commission of the Geological
Society of London was adding the newest and highest story to the
geological column.
The London Society is the world's oldest association of Earth
scientists, founded in 1807, and its Commission acts as a college of
cardinals in the adjudication of the geological time-scale.
Stratigraphers slice up Earth's history as preserved in sedimentary
strata into hierarchies of eons, eras, periods, and epochs marked by
the "golden spikes" of mass extinctions, speciation events, and abrupt
changes in atmospheric chemistry.
In geology, as in biology or history, periodization is a complex,
controversial art and the most bitter feud in nineteenth-century
British science -- still known as the "Great Devonian Controversy" --
was fought over competing interpretations of homely Welsh Graywackes
and English Old Red Sandstone. More recently, geologists have feuded
over how to stratigraphically demarcate ice age oscillations over the
last 2.8 million years. Some have never accepted that the most recent
inter-glacial warm interval -- the Holocene -- should be distinguished
as an "epoch" in its own right just because it encompasses the history
of civilization.
As a result, contemporary stratigraphers have set extraordinarily
rigorous standards for the beatification of any new geological
divisions. Although the idea of the "Anthropocene" -- an Earth epoch
defined by the emergence of urban-industrial society as a geological
force -- has been long debated, stratigraphers have refused to
acknowledge compelling evidence for its advent.
At least for the London Society, that position has now been revised.
To the question "Are we now living in the Anthropocene?" the 21 members
of the Commission unanimously answer "yes." They adduce robust evidence
that the Holocene epoch -- the interglacial span of unusually stable
climate that has allowed the rapid evolution of agriculture and urban
civilization -- has ended and that the Earth has entered "a
stratigraphic interval without close parallel in the last several
million years." In addition to the buildup of greenhouse gases, the
stratigraphers cite human landscape transformation which "now exceeds
[annual] natural sediment production by an order of magnitude," the
ominous acidification of the oceans, and the relentless destruction of
biota.
This new age, they explain, is defined both by the heating trend (whose
closest analogue may be the catastrophe known as the Paleocene Eocene
Thermal Maximum, 56 million years ago) and by the radical instability
expected of future environments. In somber prose, they warn that "the
combination of extinctions, global species migrations and the
widespread replacement of natural vegetation with agricultural
monocultures is producing a distinctive contemporary biostratigraphic
signal. These effects are permanent, as future evolution will take
place from surviving (and frequently anthropogenically relocated)
stocks." Evolution itself, in other words, has been forced into a new
trajectory.
2. Spontaneous Decarbonization?
The Commission's coronation of the Anthropocene coincides with growing
scientific controversy over the 4th Assessment Report issued last year
by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). The IPCC is
mandated to establish scientific baselines for international efforts to
mitigate global warming, but some of the most prominent researchers in
the field are now challenging its reference scenarios as overly
optimistic, even pie-in-the-sky thinking.
The current scenarios were adopted by the IPCC in 2000 to model
future global emissions based on different "storylines" about
population growth as well as technological and economic development.
Some of the Panel's major scenarios are well known to policymakers and
greenhouse activists, but few outside the research community have
actually read or understood the fine print, particularly the IPCC's
confidence that greater energy efficiency will be an "automatic"
byproduct of future economic development. Indeed all the scenarios,
even the "business as usual" variants, assume that at least 60% of
future carbon reduction will occur independently of greenhouse
mitigation measures.
The Panel, in effect, has bet the ranch, or rather the planet, on
unplanned, market-driven progress toward a post-carbon world economy, a
transition that implicitly requires wealth generated from higher energy
prices ultimately finding its way to new technologies and renewable
energy. (The International Energy Agency recently estimated that it
would cost $45 trillion to halve greenhouse gas emissions by 2050.)
Kyoto-type accords and carbon markets are designed -- almost as an
analogue to Keynesian "pump-priming" -- to bridge the shortfall between
spontaneous decarbonization and the emissions targets required by each
scenario. Serendipitously, this reduces the costs of mitigating global
warming to levels that align with what seems, at least theoretically,
to be politically possible, as expounded in the British Stern Review on the Economics of Climate Change of 2006 and other such reports.
Critics argue, however, that this represents a heroic leap of faith
that radically understates the economic costs, technological hurdles,
and social changes required to tame the growth of greenhouse gases.
European carbon emissions, for example, are still rising (dramatically
in some sectors) despite the European Union's much praised adoption of
a cap-and-trade system in 2005. Likewise there has been little evidence
in recent years of the automatic progress in energy efficiency that is
the sine qua non of the IPCC scenarios. Although The Economist
characteristically begs to differ, most energy researchers believe
that, since 2000, energy intensity has actually risen; that is, global
carbon dioxide emissions have kept pace with, or even grown marginally
faster than, energy use.
Coal production, especially, is undergoing a dramatic renaissance, as
the nineteenth century has returned to haunt the twenty-first century.
Hundreds of thousands of miners are now working under conditions that
would have appalled Charles Dickens, extracting the dirty mineral that
allows China to open two new coal-fueled power stations every week.
Meanwhile, the total consumption of fossil fuels is predicted to
increase at least 55% over the next generation, with international oil
exports doubling in volume.
The United Nations Development Program, which has made its own study of
sustainable energy goals, warns that it will require "a 50 percent cut
in greenhouse gas emissions worldwide by 2050 against 1990 levels" to
keep humanity outside the red zone of runaway warming (usually defined
as a greater than two degrees centigrade increase this century). Yet
the International Energy Agency predicts that, in all likelihood, such
emissions will actually increase in this period by nearly 100% --
enough greenhouse gas to propel us past several critical tipping
points.
Even while higher energy prices are pushing SUVs towards extinction
and attracting more venture capital to renewable energy, they are also
opening the Pandora's box of the crudest of crude oil production from
Canadian tar sands and Venezuelan heavy oil. As one British scientist
has warned, the very last thing we should wish for (under the false
slogan of "energy independence") is new frontiers in hydrocarbon
production that advance "humankind's ability to accelerate global
warming" and slow the urgent transition to "non-carbon or closed-carbon
energy cycles."
3. Fin-du-Monde Boom
What confidence should we place in the capacity of markets to
reallocate investment from old to new energy or, say, from arms
expenditures to sustainable agriculture? We are propagandized
incessantly (especially on public television) about how giant companies
like Chevron, Pfizer Inc., and Archer Daniels Midland are hard at work
saving the planet by plowing profits back into the kinds of research
and exploration that will ensure low-carbon fuels, new vaccines, and
more drought-resistant crops.
As the current ethanol-from-corn boom, which has diverted 100 million
tons of grain from human diets mainly to American car engines, so
appallingly demonstrates, "biofuel" may be a euphemism for subsidies to
the rich and starvation for the poor. Likewise "clean coal," despite a
vigorous endorsement from Senator Barack Obama (who also champions
ethanol), is, at present, simply a huge deception: a $40 million
advertising and lobbying campaign for a hypothetical technology that BusinessWeek has characterized as "being decades away from commercial viability."
Moreover there are disturbing signs that energy companies and utilities
are reneging on their public commitments to the development of
carbon-capture and alternative energy technologies. The Bush
administration's "marquee demonstration project," FutureGen, was
scrapped this year after the coal industry refused to pay its share of
the public-private "partnership"; similarly, most U.S. private-sector
carbon-sequestration initiatives have recently been cancelled. In the
United Kingdom, meanwhile, Shell has just pulled out of the world's
largest wind-energy project, the London Array. Despite heroic levels of
advertising, energy corporations, like pharmaceutical companies, prefer
to overgraze the commons, while letting taxes, not profits, pay for
whatever urgent, long-overdue research is actually undertaken.
On the other hand, the spoils from high energy prices continue to
gush into real estate, skyscrapers, and financial assets. Whether or
not we are actually at the summit of Hubbert's Peak -- that peak oil
moment -- whether or not the oil-price bubble finally bursts, what we
are probably witnessing is the largest transfer of wealth in modern
history.
An eminent Wall Street oracle, McKinsey Global Institute, predicts
that if crude oil prices remain above $100 per barrel -- they are, at
the moment, approaching $140 a barrel -- the six countries of the Gulf
Cooperation Council alone will "reap a cumulative windfall of almost $9
trillion by 2020." As in the 1970s, Saudi Arabia and its Gulf
neighbors, whose total gross domestic product has almost doubled in
just three years, are awash in liquidity: $2.4 trillion in banks and
investment funds according to a recent estimate by The Economist.
Regardless of price trends, the International Energy Agency predicts,
"more and more oil will come from fewer and fewer countries, primarily
the Middle East members of OPEC [The Organization of the Petroleum
Exporting Countries]."
Dubai, which has little oil income of its own, has become the regional
financial hub for this vast pool of wealth, with ambitions to
eventually compete with Wall Street and the City of London. During the
first oil shock in the 1970s, much of OPEC's surplus was recycled
through military purchases in the United States and Europe, or parked
in foreign banks to become the "subprime" loans that eventually
devastated Latin America. In the wake of the attacks of 9/11, the Gulf
states became far more cautious about entrusting their wealth to
countries, like the United States, governed by religious fanatics. This
time around, they are using "sovereign wealth funds" to achieve a more
active ownership in foreign financial institutions, while investing
fabulous amounts of oil revenue to transform Arabia's sands into
hyperbolic cities, shopping paradises, and private islands for British
rock stars and Russian gangsters.
Two years ago, when oil prices were less than half of the current level, The Financial Times
estimated that planned new construction in Saudi Arabia and the
emirates already exceeded $1 trillion dollars. Today, it may be closer
to $1.5 trillion, considerably more than the total value of world trade
in agricultural products. Most of the Gulf city-states are building
hallucinatory skylines -- and, among them, Dubai is the unquestionable
superstar. In a little more than a decade, it has erected 500
skyscrapers, and currently leases one-quarter of all the high-rise
cranes in the world.
This super-charged Gulf boom, which celebrity architect Rem Koolhaas
claims is "reconfiguring the world," has led Dubai developers to
proclaim the advent of a "supreme lifestyle" represented by seven-star
hotels, private islands, and J-class yachts. Not surprisingly, then,
the United Arab Emirates and its neighbors have the biggest per capita
ecological footprints on the planet. Meanwhile, the rightful owners of
Arab oil wealth, the masses crammed into the angry tenements of
Baghdad, Cairo, Amman, and Khartoum, have little more to show for it
than a trickle-down of oil-field jobs and Saudi-subsidized madrassas.
While guests enjoy the $5,000 per night rooms in Burj Al-Arab, Dubai's
celebrated sail-shaped hotel, working-class Cairenes riot in the
streets over the unaffordable price of bread.
4. Can Markets Enfranchise the Poor?
Emissions optimists, of course, will smile at all the gloom-and-doom
and evoke the coming miracle of carbon trading. What they discount is
the real possibility that a sprawling carbon-offset market may emerge,
just as predicted, yet produce only minimal improvement in the global
carbon balance sheet, as long as there is no mechanism for enforcing
real net reductions in fossil fuel use.
In popular discussions of emissions-rights trading systems, it is
common to mistake the smokestacks for the trees. For example, the
wealthy oil enclave of Abu Dhabi (like Dubai, a partner in the United
Arab Emirates) brags that it has planted more than 130 million trees --
each of which does its duty in absorbing carbon dioxide from the
atmosphere. However, this artificial forest in the desert also consumes
huge quantities of irrigation water produced, or recycled, from
expensive desalination plants. The trees may allow Sheik Ahmed bin
Zayed to wear a halo at international meetings, but the rude fact is
that they are an energy-intensive beauty strip, like most of so-called
green capitalism.
And, while we're at it, let's just ask: What if the buying and selling
of carbon credits and pollution offsets fails to turn down the
thermostat? What exactly will motivate governments and global
industries then to join hands in a crusade to reduce emissions through
regulation and taxation?
Kyoto-type climate diplomacy assumes that all the major actors, once
they have accepted the science in the IPCC reports, will recognize an
overriding common interest in gaining control over the runaway
greenhouse effect. But global warming is not War of the Worlds,
where invading Martians are dedicated to annihilating all of humanity
without distinction. Climate change, instead, will initially produce
dramatically unequal impacts across regions and social classes. It will
reinforce, not diminish, geopolitical inequality and conflict.
As the United Nations Development Program emphasized in its report last
year, global warming is above all a threat to the poor and the unborn,
the "two constituencies with little or no political voice." Coordinated
global action on their behalf thus presupposes either their
revolutionary empowerment (a scenario not considered by the IPCC) or
the transmutation of the self-interest of rich countries and classes
into an enlightened "solidarity" without precedent in history. From a
rational-actor perspective, the latter outcome only seems realistic if
it can be shown that privileged groups possess no preferential "exit"
option, that internationalist public opinion drives policymaking in key
countries, and that greenhouse gas mitigation could be achieved without
major sacrifices in upscale Northern Hemispheric standards of living --
none of which seems highly likely.
And what if growing environmental and social turbulence, instead of
galvanizing heroic innovation and international cooperation, simply
drive elite publics into even more frenzied attempts to wall themselves
off from the rest of humanity? Global mitigation, in this unexplored
but not improbable scenario, would be tacitly abandoned (as, to some
extent, it already has been) in favor of accelerated investment in
selective adaptation for Earth's first-class passengers. We're talking
here of the prospect of creating green and gated oases of permanent
affluence on an otherwise stricken planet.
Of course, there will still be treaties, carbon credits, famine relief,
humanitarian acrobatics, and perhaps the full-scale conversion of some
European cities and small countries to alternative energy. But the
shift to low, or zero, emission lifestyles would be almost unimaginably
expensive. (In Britain, it currently costs $200,000 more to build a
zero-carbon, "level 6" eco-home than a standard unit of the same area.)
And this will certainly become even more unimaginable after perhaps
2030, when the convergent impacts of climate change, peak oil, peak
water, and an additional 1.5 billion people on the planet may begin to
seriously throttle growth.
5. The North's Ecological Debt
The real question is this: Will rich counties ever
mobilize the political will and economic resources to actually achieve
IPCC targets or, for that matter, to help poorer countries adapt to the
inevitable, already "committed" quotient of warming now working its way
toward us through the slow circulation of the world ocean?
To be more vivid: Will the electorates of the wealthy nations shed
their current bigotry and walled borders to admit refugees from
predicted epicenters of drought and desertification like the Maghreb,
Mexico, Ethiopia, and Pakistan? Will Americans, the most miserly people
when measured by per capita foreign aid, be willing to tax themselves
to help relocate the millions likely to be flooded out of densely
settled, mega-delta regions like Bangladesh?
Market-oriented optimists, once again, will point to carbon offset
programs like the Clean Development Mechanism which, they claim, will
allow green capital to flow to the Third World. Most of the Third
World, however, probably prefers for the First World to acknowledge the
environmental mess it has created and take responsibility for cleaning
it up. They rightly rail against the notion that the greatest burden of
adjustment to the Anthropocene epoch should fall on those who have
contributed least to carbon emissions and drawn the slightest benefits
from 200 years of industrialization.
In a sobering study recently published in the Proceedings of the [U.S.] National Academy of Science,
a research team has attempted to calculate the environmental costs of
economic globalization since 1961 as expressed in deforestation,
climate change, over-fishing, ozone depletion, mangrove conversion, and
agricultural expansion. After making adjustments for relative cost
burdens, they found that the richest countries, by their activities,
had generated 42% of environmental degradation across the world, while
shouldering only 3% of the resulting costs.
The radicals of the South will rightly point to another debt as well.
For 30 years, cities in the developing world have grown at breakneck
speed without any equivalent public investment in infrastructure
services, housing, or public health. In large part this has been the
result of foreign debts contracted by dictators, payments enforced by
the International Monetary Fund, and public sectors wrecked by the
World Bank's "structural adjustment" agreements.
This planetary deficit of opportunity and social justice is captured in
the fact that more than one billion people, according to UN-Habitat,
currently live in slums and that their number is expected to double by
2030. An equal number, or more, forage in the so-called informal sector
(a first-world euphemism for mass unemployment). Sheer demographic
momentum, meanwhile, will increase the world's urban population by 3
billion people over the next 40 years (90% of them in poor cities), and
no one -- absolutely no one -- has a clue how a planet of slums, with
growing food and energy crises, will accommodate their biological
survival, much less their inevitable aspirations to basic happiness and
dignity.
If this seems unduly apocalyptic, consider that most climate models
project impacts that will uncannily reinforce the present geography of
inequality. One of the pioneer analysts of the economics of global
warming, Petersen Institute fellow William R. Cline, recently published
a country-by-country study of the likely effects of climate change on
agriculture by the later decades of this century. Even in the most
optimistic simulations, the agricultural systems of Pakistan (a 20%
decrease from current farm output predicted) and Northwestern India (a
30% decrease) are likely to be devastated, along with much of the
Middle East, the Maghreb, the Sahel belt, Southern Africa, the
Caribbean, and Mexico. Twenty-nine developing countries will lose 20%
or more of their current farm output to global warming, while
agriculture in the already rich north is likely to receive, on average,
an 8% boost.
In light of such studies, the current ruthless competition between
energy and food markets, amplified by international speculation in
commodities and agricultural land, is only a modest portent of the
chaos that could soon grow exponentially from the convergence of
resource depletion, intractable inequality, and climate change. The
real danger is that human solidarity itself, like a West Antarctic ice
shelf, will suddenly fracture and shatter into a thousand shards.
Mike Davis is the author of In Praise of Barbarians: Essays against Empire (Haymarket Books, 2008) and Buda's Wagon: A Brief History of the Car Bomb (Verso, 2007). He is currently working on a book about cities, poverty, and global change.
Copyright 2008 Mike Davis
LINK: TomDispatch

Last update : 01-08-2008 18:06
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