Zoopolis

Journalism is dead; long live journalism

February 5, 2010 · Leave a Comment

See…

I love writing. If perchance I have five free minutes on any given day, I will spend it either reading or writing, and this has been true since I was five years old.

Journalism–holding power to account, communicating important events and ideas to the public, being part of the public discourse that makes democracy possible–is crucial. Without it, modern societies cannot function in the way that they are designed to. Thus the demise of newspapers troubles many people: whither newspapers, whither democracy, whither freedom?

It’s the sort of thing that tends to get a girl using anachronistic phrasings for dramatic impact.

And yet, for those of us toiling away in the environmental trenches, stories like this make us wonder if we wouldn’t all be much better off if every newspaper office in the world went up in flames tomorrow.

Because the man is right. One of the most important reasons that needed actions to forestall or mitigate climate change are not happening is because that wonderful institution called the newspaper continually obfuscates and confuses the issue by publishing the ill-informed and fossil-fuel-funded rantings of a handful of self-proclaimed climate experts without enough peer-reviewed publications between them to start a decent-sized bonfire. Are we better off without newspapers, maybe? What should take their place?

I write. I publish smallish articles on environmental subjects in magazines. For entirely selfish reasons, I’d like to see the entire industry not come to a grinding, crashing, apocalyptic, ignominous end just moments after I try to join it. (Figures.) (Kidding!)

On the other hand, if this is the best that the fourth estate can do, maybe we should let it die and be replaced by something that actually manages to do what journalism is supposed to: communicate the truth to the public so they can elect responsible officials on workable, reality-based platforms that will contribute to the continuance of human civilization and all of its itty bitty working parts.

The ideal of journalism is so, so pretty, and so necessary, and yet the messy, human-infested reality of it is so often the exact opposite of what we need.

~~~~~

(For interesting, on-going coverage of the complexities of climate change in the media, see The Yale Forum on Climate Change and the Media. Hopefully the Science Media Centre of Canada will help us locals out once it gets itself more established.)

→ Leave a CommentCategories: Big Picture

One must have a mind of winter

January 28, 2010 · Leave a Comment

a frozen river

…For the listener, who listens in the snow,

And, nothing himself, beholds

Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

With apologies to Wallace Stevens for borrowing his words from “The Snow Man” for my own photographic efforts. Still. I can think of no better description of the palpable nothing that is most definitely there in January.

→ Leave a CommentCategories: Visual

What $7B Will Get You: 4% of Ontario’s Electricity Market

January 22, 2010 · Leave a Comment

The Ontario government just signed a massive deal (billed as possibly the world’s largest) with Samsung and a South Korean consortium  that includes a heavy stake from the South Korean government to construct a whackload (that’s the technical term) of green energy manufacturing and generation in Ontario. The consortium has promised to invest between $6B and $7B in the province to build four manufacturing plants for green energy parts such as wind rotors and turbines, and to construct wind and solar energy generating capacity to supply around 4% of Ontario’s electricity needs, by 2016. In return they will get a higher rate for that electricity under Ontario’s FIT program, so long as the plants and the capacity are up and running on time.

Predictably, the opposition parties have gone nuts. It’s too much money and not enough jobs! There wasn’t enough transparency and they weren’t involved! Before I go any further, the Liberals are the only party I have never voted for; I have no personal or political stake in the governing party and, one might think, quite a bit invested in the other three. Yet I can’t help but think that they are complaining because that’s what opposition parties are supposed to do, rather than because there is anything substantive to complain about. Ontario is spending under $500M to get a $6.7B investment.

The Green Energy Act* was meant not only to stimulate the development and construction of renewable energy supplies for the province, but to help replace Ontario’s obsolete automobile manufacturing capacity (sorry, folks–I know this is an unpopular stand with the labour crowd but the car is dying, and rightfully so. The faster we move to the new reality the better for us in the long run) with green manufacturing capacity. Right now the vast majority of green energy manufacutring is in Europe, and so whenever anyone in North America wants to put up a wind turbine they end up ordering parts from halfway around the planet. This is Not Good. It’s not good for the environment and it costs a lot of money.

Encouraging manufacturers of renewable energy products to locate in Ontario is better than continuing to bail out auto manufacturing in the misguided belief that their union jobs can be propped along with public money forever.

The Samsung Deal is apparently meant to be part of that: get Samsung to manufacture here, get them to promise to bring another four manufacturers along, and build a “critical mass” of local green manufacturing capacity, which should then become an attractor for other manufacturers, and then Ontario’s environment gets cleaner, our electricity supply gets greener, and displaced workers from traditional manufacturing sectors have somewhere to go.

What’s not to like?

Oh, right: the capacity deal. As part of the overall package, the Ontario Liberals promised 500MW of transmission capacity to the consortium, bumping them ahead of local manufacturers and projects who have patiently waited their turn to access the grid. Yep, I’d be steamed too. But if the Samsung deal works to attract manufacturing to the province, it could end up being a boon to the very parties who are now so disgruntled. (I am willing to be corrected if anyone would like to.) Parts should be easier and cheaper to source, purchase and replace. It should stimulate local R&D.

In the meantime, they’ll have to wait longer for access to Ontario’s overworked grid–so let’s hope the Powers that Be recognize this as a significant weak spot and make a nice big announcement of a significant upgrade in grid capacity. We need it.

~~~~~

* I see someone forgot to replace Smitherman’s photo on the GEA website, now that he’s retired from provincial politics to run for Toronto’s mayor. Oops!

→ Leave a CommentCategories: Environmental News

Altamont Wind Pass and Bird Mortality

January 17, 2010 · Leave a Comment

Altamont Pass Wind Farm

And now for a drastic change in course…

(In case you’re wondering, yes, I skated. Sort of. I shuffled across the ice while wearing skates, and then I fell on my ass and bruised my tailbone so badly I could hardly walk the next day. Very graceful! But I will be skating again, and probably soon.)

The Altamont Pass Wind Farm, located in California and built during 1981 after the energy crisis, is a favourite plank of the anti-wind argument. Why? Because approximately 4,700 birds, 1,300 of them raptors,* die there every year. Therefore, anti-wind advocates claim, wind farms slaughter birds and industry claims that turbines kill on average one bird each per year are obviously lies.

No one disputes the avian death toll at Altamont. Thousands of birds die there every year.

But this leaves much out: the turbines are thirty years old; they were sited before environmental assessments changed the way major projects are constructed, and back then no one considered the impact on birds. Altamont Wind Pass is a major migratory route and population centre for many sensitive raptor species, including golden eagles.

But the most important, most overlooked fact?

Altamont Wind Farm has just under 4,500 turbines.**

Therefore, each turbine kills on average about one bird per year.

Now. An annual slaughter of 4,700 birds, even if it is a low number per turbine, is clearly not a good thing. No one wants to kill birds. (Except hunters, but I think they’d find this method rather unsatisfactory.) But whatever the pros and cons of Altamont may be, it is a lousy argument against modern wind farms, which require environmental assessments, avoid migratory routes and avian population centres, and benefit from thirty years of additional research and design to minimize collisions. Not to mention that climate change will kill birds too. It’s not like this is a uniquely human catastrophe.

So the next time you hear or read someone argue that wind energy is mass extinction for birdkind because Altamont kills 4,700/year, remember: the first large-scale wind facility in North America, constructed before environmental assessment was introduced, with at its peak nearly 9,000 small, old-style turbines constructed in a major migratory zone and population centre for birds, still kills only about one bird per turbine per year. Therefore one can assume that the half-dozen-odd new turbines constructed in a farmer’s field will kill only a few birds per year, which is on the order of how many birds likely fly into your lighted windows, to die on your driveway and be eaten by the neighbourhood cats.

We absolutely can and should do everything we can to minimize bird fatalities at wind energy facilities. There’s nothing to be gained from doing otherwise. But having minimized it, we need to accept that there will be some losses and get on with it–just as hundreds of birds die every year flying into the average mirrored skyscraper, and, hell, thousands of people die on highways every year, but we don’t stop building those.

~~~~~

*Raptors are birds of prey such as hawks and eagles. All predators are highly sensitive to even small losses because their populations are so small to begin with: a large population of plants supports a smaller population of herbivores supports a smaller population again of omnivores supports a very small population of carnivores, a la the trophic pyramid. Thus while fairly large losses of herbivores can be sustained without threatening the species as a whole (I’m not saying that’s a good thing), the same cannot be said for predators. Many raptors are already endangered, and have difficulty sustaining even small additional losses.

** As of the end of 2005, according to an email with Bob Aldrich of the California Energy Commission in December of 2008. This number declines every year as older, smaller turbines are taken out of commission and replaced with fewer, larger ones.

Looking for more information? Try the Audubon Society and the American Bird Conservancy, both of which support wind energy. So does Canada’s World Wildlife Fund, though we lack a bird-specific equivalent. Wind power: good for wildlife.

→ Leave a CommentCategories: Uncategorized

Skating Lessons

January 8, 2010 · 2 Comments

maple leaf in the snow
Of course, if I was going to be hacked–inconveniencing me and my twenty-odd readers–it would be during the Copenhagen summit. Fortunately I know all of you were well-supplied with climate news from other quarters and that the only real consequence was that you were spared my nail-biting highs and lows as I oscillated between hope that maybe something of note would come out of it after all and despair that I was witnessing the beginning of the end of the world. Not to mention the shame of watching our nation’s leader drag Canada’s reputation through black crude; now I can worry about revealing my Canadianness when next I travel abroad.

Maybe I’ll just stay home.

I’ll claim it’s climate-friendly.

Anyway. The thing is, in Toronto in January, it’s easy to forget we even have a non-built environment. We scurry from heated home to heated car or heated subway to heated mall or heated office, spending agonizing minutes at a time exposed to the wind and twisting our ankles in the slush at the side of the roads. And yes, I know that Toronto is relatively blessed climate-wise for Canada and we could live in St. John or Saskatoon and know what a real Canadian winter is like. Stuff it. All I am saying is that Torontonians generally spend the time periods bracketed by Christmas and the spring thaw pretending that there is no such thing as a non-built environment.

This is not surprising. The Canadian winter can, and until the 20th century regularly did, kill people. It was not all that unusual for poorer Canadians to run out of wood for their stoves sometime in February (and in echoes of today’s political debates, albeit with less potential for disaster, be scolded by the rich and the political conservatives for being poor in the first place and in the second daring to spend a single cent of their meagre resources on anything not strictly related to survival, thus deserving to die by freezing).

I digress. The point is: it’s Toronto, it’s winter, it’s cold, the closest most of us come to the natural environment is the greenery at the local mall, and half the time it’s fake.

Not that being outside with all that non-human nature stuff loses its positive effects. I’m sure it would still make me a kinder, more altruistic, happier, healthier person with higher levels of vitamin D. It’s just uncomfortable. Really, in Toronto in the wintertime, you have two options: 1) Coccoon. Never be farther than 20 feet from a heating vent of some kind. Drink lots of tea or coffee. Plot the shortest possible point between any two external doors. The non-built environment is out to get you; avoid it all costs. 2) Learn to enjoy the cold.

My daughter, sweet innocent poppet that she is, does not yet have to learn to enjoy the cold (though she does shiver along with me while we walk to her school in the morning, pitiably lamenting, “I wish it was spring!”). She wants to build snowmen and make snow angels and examine the prints different kinds of animals make in the snow; she wants to get a toboggan and ride it downhill. She wants to skate.

She doesn’t know how to skate. I don’t know how to skate. I’ve lived in Canada for 34 years; I’ve been dragged to oodles of yearly skating field trips during my public school career. Each time I would wobble fearfully around the ice–did I mention I was terrified of ice when I was in grade school? That I would often walk around a frozen puddle rather than risk slipping on it?–find some sort of a hobbledy gait, decide I liked it ok, put the skates away and only bring them out during the next year’s field trip. It was warmer inside and I had books to read. But Frances wants to learn how to skate, which means I need to learn how to skate, which means dear god help me she’d better like it or she’ll have hell to pay.

(Metaphorically speaking. No pressure.)

This means that tomorrow the boyfriend is teaching me to skate. Or, at least, he’s going to try. He was born in Korea and he plays hockey every week. I was born in Toronto and I still shuffle my way across a frozen puddle. I love Canada. Anyway: he is going to teach me how to skate, and if you think I sound nervous about this you’d be right, and his threat to bring a camera and provide the world or at least a few close friends with photographic evidence (or blackmail material, I’m not sure which) is only partially contributing.

Still. I am determined to learn how to enjoy, or at least tolerate, the Canadian winter, for as long as we still have one, rather than spend January and February pining for April and trout lilies (though there will be that too). Then I might have more to tell you about between now and our annual flooded-creek warnings. That I may be providing Frances with an athletic skill that will be all but useless in the February of Toronto 2030 when we no longer have ice in winter, I refuse to contemplate.

Sorry again about Copenhagen, world.

(By the way: I have short pieces in Corporate Knights and Spacing right now about solar energy in California and the 20th anniversary of the Task Force to Bring Back the Don respectively, and an essay recently published in a parenting anthology. You’ve missed my publication updates, haven’t you? No?)

→ 2 CommentsCategories: Lake Erie Lowlands · Self-Promotion

a temporary fix…

December 27, 2009 · 1 Comment

…but hopefully it’ll get me blogging until I can salt the earth at the old spot and reinstall it properly.

→ 1 CommentCategories: Uncategorized

Moral High Ground: Claimed

December 2, 2009 · 4 Comments

dsc_00490010-2

Looking at this picture may make you a better person.

Once upon a time, a boy hit on me on a dating site because I’m an environmentalist. “Environmentalists are usually nice people,” he explained, and I think he still believes that. Now there’s scientific evidence for his anecdotal claim: exposure to nature makes people more generous, caring, and altruistic.*

See? I am better than you. No, wait…

Maybe it’s not that nice people care about the world and get involved in issues like environmentalism. Maybe it’s that people who spend time outside grow both to become more altruistic and more attached to the environment, and express both of those values through activism and in their personal lives.

Or maybe other recent studies are right and people who do the right green thing often offset that by screwing other people over. Of course, that study did nothing to differentiate those who act on environmental issues out of guilt vs. love, or obligation vs. desire. My guess is that those who buy recycled paper products because they love nature will not show the same behavioural patterns as those who buy them because they’re sick to death of the kids haranguing them. Much like someone who eats fruit because they like fruit will probably not eat as much cake later as someone who eats fruit because the kids are watching and the doctor’s been bugging them to lose twenty pounds. Of course this is entirely speculative.

But evidence from environmental psychology has been piling up for a few decades now: exposure to nature is good for us; or, phrased in a more evolutionarily-correct way, nature-deprivation is very very bad for us. People in hospital rooms with a view of a tree heal faster. Walking in nature is more restorative and restful than walking on a city street. No, never mind, just go read Richard Louv’s Last Child In the Woods, and if that doesn’t convince you that adults and children both need non-human nature in their lives on a regular basis, nothing ever will.

And then maybe stop trying to goad your children into behaving better by surrounding them with Proper Moral Messages in book and television form, and supplement that with a few trees and flowers. You’ve got to admit that’s more appealing than yet another half-hour show with a Very Important Lesson learned in the last ninety seconds and delivered at super-human pitch. Trees and flowers: prettier, quieter, and they make you a better parent, too.

~~~~~

*By the way, the author of the SciAm blog post, P. Wesley Schultz, is one of the major researchers in environmental psychology. He knows whereof he speaks.

→ 4 CommentsCategories: Science · Visual

Leaving Neverland: the costs of climate change

November 18, 2009 · 2 Comments

You may not have heard of the Pembina Institute and David Suzuki Foundation’s release of a report analyzing the economic implications of two greenhouse gas reduction targets in Canada, but if you have, I can nearly guarantee that all you’ve heard is “dealing with climate change is the end of the economy in Western Canada and too divisive to even contemplate” or “what are you talking about, it’s not that bad.” Which is a shame, because the real problem with the report isn’t about the cost of dealing with climate change or the geographic disparities and implications of that cost or the job gains to be had with transitioning to a clean energy economy.

The real problem is that the entire report is mythical.

Imagine this: you are the owner of a home with a leaky roof. You have hired someone to tell you how much it will cost to fix that leaky roof, and have received an estimate of the cost. When you consider whether or not you can afford to fix the roof, do you compare it to the imaginary cost of living in a house that does not require any roof repairs for the next twenty years? Or do you compare it to the cost of not fixing the roof and experiencing constant flooding and water damage for twenty years?

You own a car with an engine that is on the brink of disintegration. Do you compare the cost of fixing the engine or replacing the car with the cost of having an imaginary car that requires no repairs for twenty years, or do you compare it to the cost of not having a car to get around in?

For some unaccountable reason (and I’ve read the report, and they don’t explain it), the consultants chose to compare the cost of dealing with climate change over the next twenty years to an imaginary future in which climate change itself imposes no costs of its own, as if we have the option of living in a Canada for the next twenty years which can simply opt out of precipitation changes, shifts in tropical disease patterns, heat waves, the enormous die-backs in Western forests and possibly the boreal, the loss of permafrost, the likely extinction of thirty per cent of terrestrial species, the acidification of oceans, and so on.

This has the entirely expected effect of making climate change mitigation look expensive. Much as it would look really expensive to fix a leaking roof if you could just wish it away and pretend to live in a different house for twenty years.

Any economic analysis of the costs of climate change over the next couple of decades shows that it far, far outstrips the cost of dealing with it–and that we can successfully deal with climate change using current technology at a price tag of about 1% of global GDP.

All they had to do was compare the cost of dealing with climate change to the cost of not dealing with it–even the most basic, preliminary estimate–or at least of explaining why they could not do so but where interested readers could go for such estimates.

Boys and girls, climate change is not free. There is no potential Canadian future where we and our children will not pay through the nose for it–economically, socially and politically. Let’s stop living in Neverland.

→ 2 CommentsCategories: Environmental News

The Tale of Butterdrops

November 4, 2009 · Leave a Comment

butterfly on boulder

It’s getting to the time of year when any reasonably warmish, sunny afternoon is to be treasured; when the night starts falling before evening begins and it feels like the sky is sinking into the earth along with the flowers and leaves. So, when I had Monday off work and it wasn’t rainy or too cold, I had to go to the Don. Any November visit could be the last one until spring, and I wasn’t going to miss my chance to watch it all falling asleep.

This somehow or other being the 21st century already, I brought my iPhone, and so when I saw what I thought at first was a dead leaf and then realized was a butterfly (in November!) I whipped it out and chanced it falling into the river to get a shot. The butterfly, amazingly, cooperated–even when I held the camera right in front of it.

butterfly on hand november 2009

I picked it up. Its sticky feet tickled the back of my hand as it picked its way back and forth along my thumb, but it made no move to fly away.

It was just after 3:00. I will bring this butterfly to Frances at school, I thought. She’ll love it. A butterfly in November! I can’t wait to see the look on her face.

From that spot just past the third bridge coming from the Sheppard & Leslie entrance, I walked as quickly as I could, occasionally shielding the butterfly from the wind; but the whole time it made no attempt to fly away. It would spread its wings, or close them; turn into the wind or away from it; but no flight. Who knows? Maybe it liked the warmth of my hand. All along Sheppard I carried it, earning a few startled and happy glances from drivers or other pedestrians, all the way to Frances’s school, and to the door of her daycare room.

“Frances, I have something to show you. Want to see?”

Out she came, and I carefully lifted my covering hand. “A butterfly!” she exclaimed. Out her friends came, crowding around to see for themselves. “That’s so cool.” “Did you find the butterfly?” “Where did you find the butterfly?” “What is its name?”

“Can we bring it home?” asked Frances.

“Sure,” I said. “Get your coat and backpack on and let’s go quickly so we can get her out of the cold.”

On the walk home I held my hands lower so Frances could see her more easily. A butterfly! Such a pretty butterfly! Wasn’t it cute? Wasn’t it tiny? We should call it Butty. No, we should call it Tiny, on account of it’s so small. What a beautiful butterfly! Oh, that cute little butterfly. Mummy, can we keep it?

“Hmm,” I said. “We can try. Butterflies are wild animals. She might not want to stay. Plus this is probably a very old butterfly–she might be sick.”

At home Frances decked out a boot box with cotton stuffing and old leaves and I put in a plastic plate with a small puddle of apple juice on it. The butterfly flew around a little–I do think it’s old–but seemed mostly content to sit in the box on an old leaf and have the occasional sip of apple juice, its little tongue furling and unfurling, spiralling in and out again. We admired her fur and her antennae and the way her little legs look like sticks.

butterfly on Frances Nov 2009

Frances and Butterdrops

“We should call her Butter,” said Frances. “No, Butterdrops. We should call her Butterdrops.”

Butterdrops it is.

This morning, Butterdrops was still full of life and pep. She now has a bit of clementine too. The guinea pigs are very jealous. And no, we can’t keep her for long, but what an easy way to bring a bit of magic into a little girl’s life for a couple of days. A pet butterfly.

→ Leave a CommentCategories: Non-human Neighbours · Visual

tale

October 13, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Once again I am copping out with a poem, this time Dennis Lee’s “tale” from yesno:

Tell me, tall-
tell me a tale. The one about
starless & steerless & pinch-me, the
one about unnable now — which they did-did-
did in the plume of our pride, and
could not find the way home.
Little perps lost.

Yet a rescue appeared, in the
story a saviour arose. Called
limits. Called
duedate, called countdown ex-
tinction/collide. Called, eyeball to ego:
hubris agonistes.

Bad abba the endgame. In-
seminal doomdom alert:
pueblo naturans, or
else. But the breadcrumbs are gone, and the
story goes on, and how
haply an ending no
nextwise has shown us, nor known.

~~~~~

yesno is good all over. This is the last poem in the collection, and reflects the general tone of it: lots of wordplay and sound games, lots of invention, and the surface nonsense papers over some very big ideas.

→ Leave a CommentCategories: Prose & Poetry