Bil McKibben
Pacific News Service, September 12th 2005
If the images of skyscrapers collapsed in heaps of ash were the end of one
story -- the United States safe on its isolated continent from the turmoil
of the world -- then the picture of the sodden Superdome with its peeling
roof marks the beginning of the next story, the one that will dominate our
politics in the coming decades of this century: America befuddled about how
to cope with a planet suddenly turned unstable and unpredictable.
Over and over in the last few weeks, people have said that the scenes from
the convention center, the highway overpasses, and the other suddenly infamous
Crescent City venues didn't "look like America," that they seemed instead
to be straight from the Third World. That was almost literally accurate,
for poor, black New Orleans (whose life had never previously been of any
interest to the larger public) is not so different from other poor and black
parts of the world: its infant mortality and life expectancy rates, its educational
achievement statistics mirroring scores of African and Latin American enclaves.
But it was accurate in another way, too, one full of portent for the future.
A decade ago, environmental researcher Norman Myers began trying to add up
the number of humans at risk of losing their homes from global warming. He
looked at all the obvious places -- coastal China, India, Bangladesh, the
tiny island states of the Pacific and Indian oceans, the Nile delta, Mozambique,
on and on -- and predicted that by 2050 it was entirely possible that 150
million people could be "environmental refugees," forced from their homes
by rising waters. That's more than the number of political refugees sent
scurrying by the bloody century we've just endured.
Try to imagine, that is, the chaos that attends busing 15,000 people from
one football stadium to another in the richest nation on Earth, and then
multiply it by four orders of magnitude and re-situate your thoughts in the
poorest nations on earth.
And then try to imagine doing it over and over again -- probably without
the buses.
Because so far, even as blogs and Web sites all over the Internet fill with
accusations about the scandalous lack of planning that led to the collapse
of the levees in New Orleans, almost no one is addressing the much larger
problems: the scandalous lack of planning that has kept us from even beginning
to address climate change, and the sad fact that global warming means the
future will be full of just this kind of horror.
Consider the first problem for just a minute. No single hurricane is "the
result" of global warming. But a month before Katrina hit, MIT hurricane
specialist Kerry Emmanuel published a landmark paper in the British science
magazine Nature showing that tropical storms were now lasting half again
as long and spinning winds 50 percent more powerful than just a few decades
before. The only plausible cause: the ever-warmer tropical seas on which
these storms thrive. Katrina, a Category 1 storm when it crossed Florida,
roared to full life in the abnormally hot water of the Gulf of Mexico. It
then punched its way into Louisiana and Mississippi -- the latter a state
now governed by Haley Barbour, who in an earlier incarnation as a GOP power
broker and energy lobbyist helped persuade President Bush to renege on his
promise to treat carbon dioxide as a pollutant.
So far the United States has done exactly nothing even to try to slow the
progress of climate change: We're emitting far more carbon than we were in
1988, when scientists issued their first prescient global-warming warnings.
Even if, at that moment, we'd started doing all that we could to overhaul
our energy economy, we'd probably still be stuck with the 1-degree Fahrenheit
increase in global average temperature over the past century that's already
driving our current disruptions. Now scientists predict that without truly
dramatic change in the very near future, we're likely to see the planet's
mercury rise five degrees before this century is out. That is, five times
more than we've seen so far.
Which leads us to the second problem: For the 10,000 years of human civilization,
we've relied on the planet's basic physical stability. Sure, there have been
hurricanes and droughts and volcanoes and tsunamis, but averaged out across
the Earth, it's been a remarkably stable run. If your grandparents inhabited
a particular island, chances were that you could too. If you could grow corn
in your field, you could pretty much count on your grandkids being able to
do likewise. Those are now sucker's bets -- that's what those predictions
about environmental refugees really mean.
Here's another way of saying it: In the last century, we've seen change in
human societies speed up to an almost unimaginable level, one that has stressed
every part of our civilization. In this century, we're going to see the natural
world change at the same kind of rate. That's what happens when you increase
the amount of heat trapped in the atmosphere. That extra energy expresses
itself in every way you can imagine: more wind, more evaporation, more rain,
more melt, more... more... more.
And there is no reason to think we can cope. Take New Orleans as an example.
It is currently pro forma for politicians to announce that it will be rebuilt,
and doubtless it will be. Once. But if hurricanes like Katrina go from once-in-a-century
storms to once-in-a-decade-or-two storms, how many times are you going to
rebuild it? Even in America there's not that kind of money -- especially
if you're also having to cope with, say, the effects on agriculture of more
frequent and severe heat waves, and the effects on human health of the spread
of mosquito-borne diseases like dengue fever and malaria, and so on ad infinitum.
Not to mention the costs of converting our energy system to something less
suicidal than fossil fuel, a task that becomes more expensive with every
year that passes.
Our rulers have insisted by both word and deed that the laws of physics and
chemistry do not apply to us. That delusion will now start to vanish. Katrina
marks Year One of our new calendar, the start of an age in which the physical
world has flipped from sure and secure to volatile and unhinged. New Orleans
doesn't look like the America we've lived in. But it very much resembles
the planet we will inhabit the rest of our lives.
Pacific News Service contributor Bill McKibben
is the author of many books on the environment, including "The End of Nature."
His most recent book is "Wandering Home, A Long Walk Across America's Most
Hopeful Landscape" (Crown, 2005). This article first appeared on TomDispatch.com.