Climate change has been on societies’ radar for decades,
although I do not remember when it entered my ecological consciousness. Not high
school (in the late 80s), when I first became concerned about risks of
biodiversity. Nor college (in the early 90s) when I first became aware of
amphibian population declines. Maybe it
was graduate school (in the rest of the 90s) or maybe it was always there in
the background—a threat that seemed far off and something to start planning
ahead for so that our grandchildren didn’t face a world vastly different from
the one we were living in. But I do remember the moment when it first occurred
to me that the scientists closest to the climate change data didn’t believe
society was going to make the changes necessary. I was a regional SETAC meeting at Miami
University (sometime post 2004) when the keynote speaker was talking about the
predicted climate changes, which were
familiar by that point, as well as the potential solutions of weaning ourselves
off of fossil fuels (also familiar) and geoengineering solutions, which were
not familiar and shocking. It was at that
moment when it occurred to me, they don’t think we can fix this.
In Part II (Magical Thinking) of This Changes Everything, Klein's chapter on “Dimming the Sun” lays
out the various ways people are considering avoiding climate change, aside from
reducing greenhouse gas emissions:
fertilizing the oceans, reflecting light back into space by covering
deserts or by putting tiny mirrors in the atmosphere with mirrors (and idea
that was surely thought up by a clever kindergarten class and not actual scientists),
or by pumping sulfate aerosols (like sulfur dioxide, the stuff of volcanos)
into the stratosphere. She lays out the risks of these ideas and the risks of
not having a catastrophic Plan B. She
presents it in a way that the risks are great enough that only a fool would
move forward with one of these Plan Bs.
They are certainly plans that focus solely on human impacts and do not
consider risks to the rest of the biota we share this planet with—and given
that climate change poses great immediate threats to the most vulnerable
humans, such approaches are understandable.
If you have any members of your family, you have probably
watched one (or more!) of them make decisions for herself or himself (or for his/her
immediately family) that cause problems and heartache. Not just for themselves, but for the entire
family who is often powerless to truly resolve the problem. Sometimes it
unfolds for years with the same story repeated over and over again; time or the
details change, but the story racked with crisis is more or less the same. The
solution is often clear, but it is often too hard or too painful of an option,
so the loved one and family members treat the symptoms and things will be
better for a while. And then, go to the
repeat sign and play the tune again—perhaps the tune will change. In facing our
personal and societal crises, we often fail to address the root of the predicament.
Geoengineering solutions seem to be treating the symptom and not the disease. I
am with Latour, you have to take care of your monsters, once they are created—Dr.
Frankenstein was a completely irritating protagonist for this reason—but for
heaven’s sakes, could we just stop creating monsters??
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