Review: We Are Eating the Earth

Cover image for "We Are Eating the Earth" by Michael Grunwald

We Are Eating the Earth

We Are Eating the Earth, Michael Grunwald. Simon & Schuster (ISBN: 9781982160074) 2025.

Summary: The sustainability of our food system, feeding earth’s population, and the impact it has on our climate

You’ve probably heard this before. We can only live a few minutes without oxygen and fall unconscious in seconds. We can only live a few days without water. And we can only live a month more or less without food. This book is about the third of these. It is incredible, but with proper distribution, we are able to feed a global population of over 8 billion human beings as well as the other creatures with which we share the planet. To feed the Earth’s population, a land mass equivalent to all of Europe and Asia is already devoted to food production.

The rub in all this is that we are continuing to consume more of the Earth to accomplish this vital end. That means clearing forests and other uncultivated land. Not only does this remove the trees that absorb carbon dioxide and exude oxygen in far greater quantities than our crops. Our food production contributes a quarter of all greenhouse emissions. This includes tractors, fertilizers (that sustain high yields), and livestock burps and farts, a source of methane that is worse than CO2 . Decaying food waste generates additional emissions.

The author’s deep dive into this subject came when he called Tim Searchinger, a Princeton research scientist who began his career as a lawyer, to factcheck an article. Searchinger will feature prominently throughout this book. It had to do with quitting meat. He asked Searchinger if meat is really that bad. Searchinger’s answer boiled down to this. “It’s land….Meat uses too much land. just like ethanol.” Livestock currently use the equivalent of fifty Texases and pound for pound, emit fifty times more greenhouse gasses than coal.

And the ethanol remark leads to an account of how Searchinger fought a battle to convince governments that ethanol made from corn would result did not come free. Land is not free and land is needed for food as well as fuel production, and is far more efficient at the first of these. If land is taken out of food production, other land would be put into food production. For example, forests, bogs, previously “marginal” lands.

Subsequent chapters look at other examples of flawed reasoning that didn’t take land into account. For example, he chronicles the biomass loophole European nations fell into in their plans to convert to woodburning, that actually resulted in net increases in carbon emissions. He looks at “carbon farming,” the problem being that it actually removed land from food production.

He considers what we eat. Basically we need to eat food that uses less land. And we need to produce more food on that land. He shows that at least some forms of sustainable agriculture result both in lower yields and use more land.

Then he turns efforts to create meat alternatives and the failures to come up with marketable products. He looks at ways to reduce the land use and emissions of livestock as well as new developments in producing more on less land. One point Grunwald makes is that the amount of research money devoted to this sector is still a pittance.

At the end of the book, he summarizes the actions Searchinger recommends to reform our food system in four statements. Produce more food per acre. Protect key habitats and keep them off limits to food production. Reduce our demand for meat, biofuels, and other land consuming products. Restore unproductive lands to nature.

In conclusion, he advocates both systemic change and personal action. Each of us is eating the earth and how we eat matters. I’ve seen how concerned citizens can protect key habitats. Several years ago, local residents fought off an effort to develop a wetland that was supposed to be set aside “in perpetuity.” It continues to do all the good things wetland do. At very least, this book is making me look, as the new year approaches, how we might change our own patterns of consumption and food waste. As the author notes, even drops fill buckets.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher through LibraryThing’s Early Reviewers program.

Review: Cheaper, Faster, Better

Cover image of "Cheaper, Faster, Better" by Tom Steyer

Cheaper, Faster, Better. Tom Steyer. Spiegel & Grau (ISBN: 9781954118645) 2024.

Summary: A climate activist and investor argues we can win the climate war through clean tech and free market capitalism.

Tom Steyer walked away from a highly successful investment fund he managed to focus on climate issues. Since then, he has advocated for clean-energy ballot measures and invested in clean technology firms. He even pursued a brief run for president on a climate platform. Reading Steyer is metaphorically, and perhaps literally, a breath of fresh air. Steyer moves past the standard binary of either climate action that is costly and government regulated and the fossil fuel industry arguments that we need to keep digging and drilling. From his work, he is convinced that mobilizing capital to invest in clean energy can be profitable, create jobs, and can be ramped up to reach climate goals. And we can do this without climate-shaming people.

He begins by describing his personal pivot to climate activism and investing. He became convinced of the real threat to life on our planet from climate change. And he discovered that the fossil fuel industry is also convinced of this. It has orchestrated campaigns to protect their industry, including the huge government handouts they receive each year. As a capitalist, he argues that this just doesn’t make sense, comparing it to the whaling industry, that tried to hang on as oil discoveries threatened to supplant them. Doesn’t it make more sense to shift our investment to new sources of energy, especially as these become cheaper to implement and scale up? Rather than get into the weeds of all the fossil fuel industry arguments, he applies “the Jane Austen test.” He asks “Are these guys trustworthy?”

He outlines the major areas where technology innovation is needed: electricity generation, transportation, manufacturing, agriculture, and building. The point is for each of us to assess to understand our choices and what we can do in each area. He argues against climate doomsayers and urges people to stop rooting for the end of the world, contending that we’ve just scratched the surface of what we can do. Instead, he argues for embracing a “walk-on” mentality. You accept you are an outsider, enjoy the game you can play as a JV and don’t relinquish your judgement to the insiders. It means doing what needs to be done even if you are not on “the first team.” This includes refusing to accept conventional wisdom and thinking smart. An example is the cattlemen who figured out you could grow beef and sequester carbon.

He argues against carbon-footprint shaming. Of course we should do what we can personally. But it can be more important to join collective actions like ballot initiatives that have the potential to be carbon-negative on a large scale. Steyer also believes it is time to take calculated risks to “go big.” We can timidly ask “what is right?” when we need to think about whether we are doing enough. This means winning in the marketplace by doing things that are not only cleaner but better and cheaper. And he offer examples of clean technologies that are doing just that.

Steyer believes the rules need to change so that fossil fuels don’t have an unfair advantage. He believes the best way to do this is to set standards but give lots of flexibility to industries as to how they meet them. He also proposes that getting better at measurements helps us better target interventions. Finally, messaging is more important than being right. What we call things is important.

Steyer compares this generation to the Greatest Generation of World War Two. Just as it was common to ask someone “what did you do during the war?” in an effort to which everyone was all in. He argues that we have this opportunity once again. One way or another, our children and grand-children will ask, “what did you do?”

I write this review on the night a president who opposes what Steyer advocates has taken office. I suspect this is especially a time for that “walk-on” mentality. It doesn’t look like the “rules” are going to favor clean tech. It’s going to take scrappy entrepreneurs who succeed because they are doing something better and cheaper. It would be great if they do this in America. But they might be more successful in other places more open to clean tech. The world needs this, even if the U.S. falls behind.

I like Steyer’s approach which argues that we can both walk and chew gum. We can be clean and profitable. We can invent in ways good for both people and the planet. Steyer impresses me because he has put his money and his life where his mouth is. The question is, will we jump in, or give over to despair? Will we believe lies that even those telling them don’t believe, or will we act on what we know is true while there is time?

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book for review from the publisher through LibraryThing’s Early Reviewer Program.

Review: Fire Weather

Fire Weather, John Vaillant. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2023.

Summary: An account of the Fort McMurray fire of 2016, when a forest fire consumed a town and became a harbinger of things to come in a hotter, drier world.

I never wore face masks outdoors during all of the COVID epidemic. I did several days last summer when a smoky haze that had traveled a thousand miles settled over the Midwest and other parts of the eastern United States. For much of the summer, vast tracts of forest were on fire in Canada. News just today indicates there are zombie fires burning underground and dry conditions in western Canada portend another fire summer.

John Vaillant tells the story of what happened when a raging wilderness fire intersected with an oil industry town, Fort McMurray in Alberta. Fort McMurray grew to a city of 90,000 people because of our insatiable thirst for oil. The tar sands nearby are rich in bitumen, which can be converted through energy intensive processes to the petroleum products helping to warm our atmosphere. Fort McMurray also exists in the heart of the boreal forests that stretch across the north of Canada.

Conditions in the spring of 2016 were exceptionally warm and dry. A high pressure system yielded blue skies unseasonably high temperatures and low humidity, further drying out the forest around the town. On May 1, a small fire known as Fire 009, the ninth fire around Fort McMurray, was sited southwest of the town, on the other side of the river. By May 2, officials began to worry, even as they projected calm. But those in the know knew May 3 would be hard. No one knew how hard. Another hot, dry day, with winds coming around to blow out of the southwest and freshening. All the ingredients were present for the fire to explode…and it did. The morning began with brilliant blue skies. Suddenly, at 12:15, everyone discovered that a monster was among them. In rapid order, neighborhoods were consumed. While people got up expecting a normal day, suddenly they needed to evacuate–immediately–90,000 of them.

The amazing story is that none of them died. But much of the town did. Firefighters tore down rows of houses and were able to save others. What they discovered however was that when a fire became this intense, rivers were not a barrier, that fire tornados and other freak meteorological occurrences could cast the fire over firebreaks and natural obstacles. The fire would seek fuel.

That’s one of the interesting things the emerges from Vaillant’s rendering of the many eyewitness accounts–that the fire was a kind of living thing–akin to the Balrog in The Lord of the Rings. He describes the flammability of the boreal forest, particularly the black spruces, dripping with sap, exploding into flame as the wall of heat of the fire approaches. They are like bombs, containing all this stored energy. Vaillant describes another kind of bomb–the residential houses in the fire’s path. Made of vinyl siding, kiln dried wood framing, shingled roofs, polyurethane, polyester in furniture, curtains and clothes, and all sorts of other petroleum based plastics throughout as well as gas cans, propane tanks, and other flammables. Houses went from livable structures to holes in the ground in less than five minutes.

Vaillant describes the stunning awakening from “this is no big deal” to “the apocalypse has come” of the residents. He goes on to describe the slower, more insidious burn as our atmosphere warms. He retells the story of what we know and when we knew it about greenhouse gasses and anthropogenic global warming. The basic physics was demonstrated in 1856. By 1956, scientists were testifying before Congress. Their predictions, even back then are startlingly accurate. There was no partisan debate. But nothing was done. As early as the 1970’s, the oil companies own scientists knew. And there was a window of time when something could be done to avert the dramatic climate changes we are seeing. Now we may be facing a rapidly closing window to avert changes on such a scale that they result in a mass extinction of much of life.

Vaillant is one of many voices describing the future on our doorstep. Year round fire seasons in many parts of the world is the impact on which he focuses. Fuel, dry conditions, wind, and a spark are all that’s needed for another Fort McMurray at the wilderness-urban interfaces where many of us live. The irony is that we keep lighting the fire that fuels the fire everyday. Fort McMurray with its petrochemical industry, is in microcosm the story in which we all are implicated. Vaillant not only tells a riveting story about a monster fire. He tells a sobering story that demands we face the reality of the world we are leaving our children and grandchildren. It could very well be one where they are fighting, and maybe running, for their lives. But to where will they run?

A Foretaste of Earth’s Future

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

I discovered a new use for those left over face masks from the pandemic this summer. It began on an evening in June when I was working in my back yard and I kept coughing and my throat felt raspy. My eyes were burning. And I noticed the haze in the evening sky turning the sun deep crimson. Smoke. From fires in Canada. In the last few days, it has been back for the third time–a plume of smoke that had its origins in western Canada as unprecedented dry conditions have resulted in a summer of fires across Canada. This plume eventually covered all of the northern US, traveling more than 2500 miles just to reach us. Every time our winds come from the north, our air conditions deteriorate. At its worst, our Air Quality Index hit 233, considered very unhealthy for everyone. I go for evening walks. I wore a face mask on a few of the worst evenings. I delayed cutting my lawn to avoid making things any worse.

Until this year, this was something I heard about from friends in the west. Now I wonder if this will be a recurring problem.

My sister lives in Phoenix. They have just surpassed the record for consecutive days in excess of 110 degrees. The ten day forecast suggests there is no relief in sight. Her air conditioning runs constantly. Buying any refrigerated groceries is a challenge. The temperatures there are part of a heat dome that has covered much of the south and southwest this summer.

Triple digit heat domes have hit Europe and China as well. I just heard that the fifteen hottest days on record on Earth have all been in July 2023. And when this happens, people who don’t have access to adequate hydration and places to cool off begin dying. Cooling largely still relies on carbon-based fuels in many parts of the world, so increased cooling means increased emissions of greenhouse gases–a vicious cycle.

Meanwhile, locations as diverse as the Hudson Valley, Vermont, parts of the south, and even the Taj Mahal are facing flooding from record rains. Early this year, after years of drought, the western U.S. was inundated with an “atmospheric river” of repeated rainstorms. In the middle of the country, it has been an active tornado season and, to date, 74 people have died, three times the typical year.

The ocean is experiencing a heat wave as well with temperatures in the Atlantic off Florida in excess of 90 degrees, and similarly in parts of the Gulf of Mexico. Hurricane season hasn’t begun but ocean heat feeds super storms. Meanwhile, the danger is the destruction of coral reefs, and in turn, the aquatic populations that inhabit them.

All of this obscures ongoing processes of melting glaciers, Antarctic and Greenland ice and permafrost melting releasing methane, raising ocean and CO2 levels over the long term.

It feels to me that in the 1980’s and 1990’s, the planet was whispering to us about the changes occurring. In the last two decades, we’ve gone from a whisper to urgent speaking tones. We noticed the milder winters and longer frost-free seasons. This summer, it feels like Earth has begun to shout. Is it saying, “This is the new normal” or “You ain’t seen nothing yet”? I sense that it is probably the latter from all I have read.

It means several things to me. One is that we are going to see rising climate mitigation costs, in the forms of insurance, tax-funded government aid, food production costs and more. If we decide to seriously address carbon-emissions, this will mean rethinking life as we know it. We think tech will fix it but I don’t know any technology that doesn’t require energy. Relying only on wind, solar, hydro, and nuclear raises questions in my mind about whether these can generate enough unless we change the way we live. It makes me wonder about what a life not as reliant on combustion or electricity is like. Perhaps we need to study the Amish.

Earlier this year, I read Stephan Markley’s The Deluge, a prophetic book if there is one. It is a fictional account of the near future exploring the challenges posed to our public and political and international order by accelerating extreme weather events. It’s scary.

At one time I thought it would be our children who would face the consequences of our climate incontinence. Now it seem increasingly likely that we’ll face this with them, with the increased vulnerabilities of age. And so I think about what it will mean to lean into my faith as I face this. For me, Philippians 4:13 comes to mind: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Paul speaks of this in times of plenty or want. What it does suggest is that even if life is stripped down to the bare necessities of survival, the love empowered by Christ of God and neighbor and the peace of being in relationship with God remain. It seems to me that now is the time to ask what will spiritually sustain us for the time ahead. Rather than trying to maintain the illusions of normal, of the American dream, we need to ask what will sustain us if times get hard, and the core of our humanity is challenged.

It seems to me that this summer is the Earth’s wake up call, and it is too insistent to hit the snooze button. As we rub our burning eyes, we need to ask how now will we live? How will we live toward God, toward each other, and toward our changing planet? Whether we ask it or not, we are answering this question day by day.

Review: Following Jesus in a Warming World

Following Jesus in a Warming World, Kyle Meyaard-Schaap. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2023.

Summary: By combining biblical and theological framing with personal narrative, offers hope and practical steps to those daunted by the immensity, and perceived hopelessness, of the realities of climate change.

Kyle Meyaard-Schaap grew up in a conservative, Christian-schooled community voting heavily Republican. The one social issue his community cared about was a pro-life opposition to abortion. Until his brother came home one day and announced himself as a vegetarian. He had not deconstructed his faith. As they talked, it became more and more apparent that his brother was living into biblical truths they had been raised upon, and commitments to life that were dear to them.

Meyaard-Schaap traces his own journey to becoming an evangelical environmental activist, currently serving as vice president of the Evangelical Environmental Network. Part of the book is theological. He overviews the sweep of scripture from creation and our mandate to serve and protect creation, the impacts of human fallenness, and God’s purposes for new creation, where heaven comes down to earth as we reign with Christ and restore creation with him to what he intended. He argues that this is good news, and in one of the distinctive contributions to the Christian environmental conversation, contends that climate action motivated by the vision of the kingdom, is evangelism. He also proposes that climate activism is pro-life. Climate change is killing people. In the decimation of forested land, new diseases are arising for which we have no immunities, and vector-born diseases are expanding into formerly temperate zones. Especially, climate change is killing those with the least resources to protect themselves in coastal communities and rapidly warming parts of the world where temperatures are exceeding what the human body can tolerate for any length of time.

The news about climate change seems daunting and Meyaard-Schaap acknowledges how many of his generation have lost hope. They are not having children. From his field experiences, he shares the power of stories. Defying the image of guilt and drudgery, he relates how both advocacy and personal disciplines of climate care are sources of joy and hope. He discusses how we replace climate arguments with conversations about the things we care about together in God’s world and how we can ensure their continued existence. He offers practical instructions on effective climate citizenship and various forms of advocacy, including an appendix on how to write an effective letter to the editor or op-ed piece. And he lists practical disciplines of good creation care.

Some of the book draws upon the thought of others, notably Dr, Katherine Hayhoe’s framework for climate conversations that bond, connect, and inspire. What is unique about this book is his account of his own journey through conversations like that with his brother and his ability to connect theologically with concerns of evangelical Christians around the creation, the return of Christ, evangelism, and the pro-life cause. He shows in his own life that becoming active in climate causes reflects Christian faithfulness rather than deconstructed faith. He offers practical advice drawn from his own experiences in advocacy.

What I thought most significant is that he addresses at different points the decision many are making not to have children, perhaps most eloquently in a letter to a grandchild at commencement in 2066. He writes:

By the time your dad was born in 2018, though, the consequences of our [climate] procrastination were becoming harder and harder to ignore. There were some our age, even then, choosing not to have kids. Deciding that the future was too dangerous, to unpredictable to morally justify yoking a human life to it without that human’s prior and informed consent, a sentiment your grandma and I could certainly understand, though never quite embrace. I guess our hope in God’s good plans for the world has always been more stubborn than our fear of our ability to derail them. But that doesn’t mean the fear hasn’t been there, ever mingling with the hope.

On the day your father came into the world, that alloy of hope and fear was forged in my heart for good….It’s a phenomenon that repeats itself whenever we make the dangerous, awesome choice to love (p. 176).

In sum, what Kyle Meyaard-Schaap offers is an account of Christian climate action that is nothing more nor less than faithful Christian discipleship, following Jesus.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: The Deluge

The Deluge, Stephen Markley. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2023.

Summary: A novel imagining the interaction of accelerating impacts of climate change and the unraveling of societies.

I should say at the outset that there are a number of reasons not to read this book:

  • It’s long–880 pages
  • It’s scary, because it reads like our news feeds on steroids–both in accounts of extreme weather and other climate change impacts and societal unraveling.
  • It involves movement back and forth in narrating the lives and actions of a disparate set of characters, all a part of a growing crisis intermixed with collages of news articles, fictional op-ed columns, and magazine articles. It’s not always easy to keep track of it all.
  • It’s raw with graphic descriptions of violence, of various iterations of sex, and adult language.

Yet, despite all this, I could not put it down and I can’t stop thinking about it and talking about it. The lead character in this book is really our planet–its ice sheets, its oceans, its atmosphere, and its weather. Markley portrays in vivid detail the extreme weather events we already are seeing–in even greater extremes. Unprecedented snow storms. An atmospheric river flooding California (certainly written before the recent actual weather events). Monstrous hurricanes with 250 mph winds. Fires that destroy Los Angeles. Sea levels inundating coastal cities. Midwest flooding. Triple digit heat domes a routine summer event. Melting permafrost and ocean floors releasing methane, leading to cascading increases in global warming.

The novel moves between the stories of a collection of characters. A passionate environmentalist, Kate Morris, founds a creative movement, Fierce Blue Fire, starting both local community development groups and a national lobbying effort to pass environmental legislation, ultimately gutted by carbon interests. Her story is told mostly through the eyes of Matt, her partner in an “open” relationship–the terms dictated by Kate. Tony Pietrus, is a scientist who discovers and models what happens when underwater methane is released through oceanic warming. Then there is the Pastor, a has-been actor who undergoes a conversion and becomes a religious alt-right charismatic figure who eventually runs for president as a tool of the carbon lobby. Jackie is a savvy ad exec, who crafts the media strategy that guts the climate legislation Kate had fought so hard for who goes on to join her partner, Fred, in building a global investment fund leveraging the changing energy and social situation to make lots of money for investors at the expense of the world’s poor–until she regains a conscience. There is a group of climate radicals, 6Degrees, committed to using violent means to stop big coal and corporate America that through compartmented protocols and infiltration of computer networks, evades detection while staging a series of increasingly violent bombings. Keeper, an ex-addict trying to put his life back together with the help of an immigrant pastor in a small town community and gets swept up in 6 Degrees activity. And there is Ashir, who writes memoranda to a congressperson that are really personal narratives. He is a brilliant analyst and mathematician whose predictive algorithm ends up being exploited by everything from sports betting to the investment fund Jackie and her partner, Fred, manage.

All of these characters’ stories unfold against the backdrop of an unraveling country. States seceding, An irreconcilably divided political environment controlled by powerful lobbies. A tanking economy. Food and power shortages. Increasingly violent and aggressive militias. And a similarly unraveling international situation. A series of “martyrdoms” lead to what seems an awakening and embrace of the actions needed to stabilize an ever-warming world, but one requiring generations of brave effort to do so.

While one might find faults with the book, its length, structure, and character development, I thought it all worked in the end. I found myself actually caring about many of the people. As I said, I couldn’t put it down. And it made me ask the question–could all this really happen? I find myself very troubled by the fact that I have no good argument to say, “it can’t happen here?” A society that threatens public health and political officials over wearing a piddly little face mask during a highly infectious pandemic strikes me as ill-prepared or disposed to enact radical and long term societal-wide changes to reduce global warming. Despite all we know and all the talk about energy-saving and renewables our U.S. carbon emissions went UP 1.3 percent in the last year.

Can fiction speak to what all our white papers and models have not? What Markley does is take a holistic look at what happens to a society when increasingly extreme weather disrupts the fabric of our lives on an increasingly pervasive scale. The picture isn’t pretty. He bids us to look into the abyss. While some act with nobility and courage, for many others, the worst nature dishes out brings out the worst in humans. He raises profound questions about whether our democratic republic can survive these stresses. There are indications that he hangs on to hope even while portraying how challenging the world will be for our children and grand-children. And perhaps that is where we need to be–both clear-eyed, and passionately hopeful. Lord have mercy!

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: Climaturity

Climaturity, Marc Cortez. Morro Bay, CA: Wise Media Group, 2022.

Summary: An argument for a more transparent and measured climate discussion, avoiding either scare tactics or denialism.

Marc Cortez has worked on various projects addressing climate change over several decades. But he writes critically about the way the climate discussion has unfolded. On one side are those saying we are in an existential crisis threatening life on the planet. On the other are the deniers that say the climate isn’t changing and carbon dioxide isn’t a problem.

Cortez stands in the middle, at least this is what he says. He acknowledges the rise in CO2 in the atmosphere and temperature rise and that there appears to be a relation between the two but he argues that much of the climate discussion is driven by predictive or attributive models that are far from certain and that costly remedies are being recommended or even pushed through governing bodies. He calls much of this “psyence,” claiming it is more an effort to manipulate public opinion, and worse, scare a whole generation of children and young adults.

Part of his argument is that in reality, no one is acting as one would in a real emergency. Scientists and politicians continue to fly in large numbers in jets emitting great quantities of CO2. More significantly, our carbon reduction strategies only say how much less carbon we will emit, but does nothing with the excess already there, or the fact that we still are emitting amounts in excess of what are being absorbed. It’s like, he says, being told you are 50 pounds overweight and saying you won’t eat donuts. But that does not deal with the excess weight already there. And many of the “carbon zero” goals have no realistic plan for how states or countries will get there. He salutes Microsoft as a rare exception of a company with specific plans not only to get carbon zero but to remove the carbon they have emitted over the years the company has existed, going back to 1976.

He wants us to get realistic about renewables. They are like stopping eating donuts, but even then, require large amounts of carbon fuel in their manufacture, and, in the case of electric vehicles, in their re-charging in many cases. Much of our power grid, agriculture, and manufacturing, and many of our consumer goods depend on fossil fuels. We can’t just make them the bad guys. We all are the bad guys.

I question some of the arguments. Climate modelling has been predictive of regional changes that have proven accurate in many regions. He makes out that temperature rise hasn’t been such a bad thing over the last century and the rise of a degree or two may not be so bad. But warmer temperatures are resulting in ice melts, rising seas, coastal inundations and even the disappearance of island nations like Vanuatu and more severe weather events occurring with greater frequency. Modelling is iterative, subject to continuous improvement based on feedback, and an important resource for many regional planners to do what I think Cortez is recommending–taking realistic measures to mitigate effects of change that has, is, and likely will occur. If not racist, as Cortez contends, the impacts of climate change are at least unequal. Often, the impoverished suffer greater impacts for the actions of rich countries than those in the richer countries–and have less wherewithal to mitigate those impacts.

What separates Cortez from the deniers, although he seems to use many of their arguments, and many may draw comfort from what he says, is that he does take a hard look at what needs to be done. Very simply, he argues our major task is to reduce CO2 in the atmosphere. He believes the most effective solutions begin, not with reducing emissions, which are often quite costly, comparatively speaking, but with those that focus on absorbing CO2 which in itself is a necessary component of life, absorbed by all sorts of vegetation. Many of these are relatively low cost for the amounts of carbon absorbed: peatland protection and rewetting, the protection and restoration of all sorts of forests, grasslands, coastal wetlands, and various agricultural methodologies. Making our cities walkable once again with good public transit are other relatively low cost steps. Yet this is not where much of our investment is going.

I do think he has a point in discussing the lack of efficacy and the real harm of our scare tactics. He actually agrees that individual decisions are important–the lifestyle changes people made at the outset of the pandemic resulted in at least an 11 percent reduction of CO2 emissions–now if we could make those lasting. Moving to plant-rich diets, even planting trees is important (our church sits on a former farm property with a lot of grassy area, which, thanks to a donation from an environmental group, has been planted with 100 trees).

Cortez calls for “climaturity.” For him, this means a more honest conversation about our models, our goals and how we will actually get there, and an end to the cheap shots at the fossil fuel industry that in reality we all depend upon. The capacity to feed 8 billion people resulted from an agricultural revolution made possible through petrochemicals. Renewables simply haven’t yet shown they ability to replace our fossil fuels. We should look more at increasing our capacity to absorb CO2.

What I question is whether Cortez will be one of those to lead us to that “climaturity.” His dismissiveness of climate scientists and groups like the IPCC will not draw those who shape climate policy to his “muddy middle.” And his snark and “it’s not so bad” attitude will not influence those who do not think there is a problem. And the citizenry in the middle? By and large, many of us already are taking a number of the personal steps he mentions from reducing our carbon footprints to planting trees. I much prefer what scientists like Katherine Hayhoe are doing in reaching across the divides and engaging with people around what they care about and want to preserve, and finding common ground for good environmental action.

There is one thing Cortez and Hayhoe agree on. We won’t get to productive discussion through manipulating guilt and fear. That, I think, is a good place to begin in the pursuit of climaturity.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher through LibraryThing’s Early Reviewer Program.

Review: Saving Us

Saving Us, Katharine Hayhoe. New York: Atria/One Signal Publishers, 2021.

Summary: A discussion of both the urgent challenge of climate change, and the difference we can make in both action and conversations.

I thought this book was going to be one more argument for why we need to address climate change. And it certainly offers good fact-based evidence for why this is so, why it is urgent, and what the impacts on life on the planet, human, animals, and plants will be. But while Katharine Hayhoe believes there are consequences that we should be afraid of, this is not an appeal from fear or guilt or an exercise in shaming. Instead, Katharine Hayhoe’s hopeful appeal in this book is rooted in what she loves and we love and care for. She writes hopefully of the steps being taken by individuals, churches, businesses, towns, schools and governments that are making a difference

She begins by the problem so many have faced–the deep divisions around climate that arose since this issue was politicized (it wasn’t always). It’s just hard to talk with those with whom we disagree. Hayhoe proposes that there are actually six and not two camps. Only seven percent are in what she calls the dismissive group. She believes that it is possible to find ways to collaborate with the other 93 percent. Much of it, she believes is connecting what we care about with what someone else cares about. She writes about connecting with conservative Rotarians around their Four Way Test, around West Texas farmers around concerns about water, with conservative Christians around their shared love of creation and the truths of the Bible. While facts are important at certain points, recognizing the mental dispositions of others and how counter-productive approaches based on fear and guilt, is vital.

She explores why we often fear solutions and takes on the big issues of carbon and energy and what can be done. While fossil fuels certainly contribute to carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, she recognizes how energy dependent our lives are and the role these sources play as we transition. At the same time it is important to speed our transition, and provide reliable and renewable electricity throughout the world.

Hayhoe concludes by discussing the ways we matter. I see in my neighborhood her example how residential solar contagiously spreads as one neighbor gets solar and others see it, talk about it, and follow. She believes talking about it, connecting what we care about with what others care about is important, and coaches us how to do that without the alienating arguments. Finally, she addresses the matter of hope and how we find and sustain it.

This book was a breath of fresh air. Amid so many dire accounts of what is happening with the climate, this book is neither despairing or tendentious. Hayhoe doesn’t want to discourage us or divide us but to find ways for us to work together on what we care about, no matter our disagreements about science or policy. She is not pollyannish–she observes that scientists’ intolerance for error means they have been more conservative in their projections than what is happening (i.e. things have happened even more quickly than they projected). But she has seen so much of what can be done, and that it leads to better outcomes for us and the planet. She has realized that when it comes to “saving us,” there is only us. We have no planet B which means its time to end our fighting and care together for our common home.

Climate Change In My Backyard

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

That’s what my lawn looks like in the middle of July. In many past years the grass is dry and going into dormancy, its natural response to the hot and dry weather of mid-summer.

Not this year. Our lawns are green and growing. The landscape has the lushness of spring. It has rained nearly every day of the last week. Someone may say it is just a weather pattern, like the hot weather in the west. While there is truth to that, climate scientists say the impact of a warming climate is an intensifying of these patterns. In the case of Central Ohio, where I live, we are in the fifth year of wetter than usual weather. Average rainfall in Columbus is 39.7 inches. Over the past four years the rainfall here has been:

YearRainfall
201746.7 inches
201855.2 inches
201944.0 inches
202050.5 inches

What I have observed is more rain events with heavy downpours with risks of everything from flooded basements to more widespread flooding. This corresponds to the predicted effects of climate change for our region. Sometimes, those rain events are dramatic–high winds, tornadoes, more lightning strikes.

Temperatures in Ohio have risen 1.2 to 1.5 degrees Fahrenheit over the last hundred years. While summers are wetter, we are also seeing more days over 90 degrees. The growing season is longer, I would estimate by 10 days on each end. While we have more rain, generally, we are having less snow and warmer winters.

Compared to some parts of the country, we are relatively fortunate. We don’t have the hurricanes of the southeast or the hot and dry weather and fire seasons of the west.

These are the kinds of things I think about given the changes we are seeing in our climate:

Water drainage is the big one. It begins with the gutters and downspouts on my house. With heavy downpours making sure these are clear and adequately can handle the water coming off the roof. Are all the drains to our street clear? Is the drain outside the landing to the backdoor on our lower level clear? Is the sump working properly (we replaced it last summer after bailing the pit during a heavy rainstorm)? I’m also looking at all the grading around our house to make sure water is flowing away from the house.

Warmer and wetter conditions invite insects. Ticks and mosquitoes are a growing concern. Ticks can transmit Lyme disease and Rocky Mountain spotted fever. Mosquitoes carry West Nile Virus, and Zika could also become an issue. Now an evening working in the yard includes a tick check on oneself and one’s clothes. We look for any standing water where mosquitoes can breed.

Last summer, we cleaned out an interior storage closet so it could be used for a tornado shelter if worst came to worst. We hope that’s enough. If I were building a new house anywhere in the Central and Midwest part of the country, I would incorporate a safe room in the design.

The high winds that accompany some of our storms mean evaluating the health of the trees on our property. We do find ourselves spending more time cleaning up branches after a storm. We don’t want to clean up heavier limbs, though.

When we replaced an A/C unit to our house, we installed one that had greater cooling capacity and energy efficiency to handle the higher summer temperatures.

We’ve probably halved our electricity consumption in recent years through energy efficient appliances and lighting. But heavier storms have made power outages a greater problem. We’re weighing using the southern exposure on our roof for solar energy, and the possibility of some form of backup power. Two major storms in recent years have resulted in widespread outages, some lasting a week.

There are some upsides. We do have longer growing seasons. I can put my tomatoes out by May 1 instead of May 10-15 when I first moved here. That means ripe tomatoes in July. We do have ample water (wish we could send some out west). During the worst of COVID, we were able to do outdoor visits comfortably from April through late in October of last year.

I don’t want to indulge all the tiresome arguments about whether climate change is real or whose fault it is. What I do have to think about as a responsible homeowner are the climate impacts we are experiencing. What I’ve discussed is simply how I am thinking about “what is” rather than “what if.” I do think the longer term challenge to limit global warming is an important, even an existential issue, as the heat-related deaths in the Pacific Northwest underscores. But the changes to our climate that I have seen in the thirty-one years we have lived in our home involve all sorts of practical considerations from maintenance schedules to what improvements we make on our home.

Human beings all over our planet are making changes, many far more dramatic than the ones I’ve described. Some are having to relocate to produce food or because rising sea levels are inundating their homes. Some have “go bags” packed to evacuate at a moment’s notice during fire season and are not sure to find their home standing when they come back. Some are trying to survive unseasonably hot temperatures that can be deadly to the elderly.

Whether we choose to admit it or not, life is changing for all of us. It certainly is for me.

Living Christianly in a Changing Climate.

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I wrote a post last week titled “Pandemic as Dress Rehearsal,” discussing how the pandemic is really a test of how we will respond to the challenges of a changing climate.” A friend of mine who shares my Christian commitments wrote back, “Now, in next column, tell us what are a few Biblically correct ways to respond to the frightening facts you put before us today!” This is my attempt to do so. I don’t claim to speak for all Christians by any means, but rather of the biblical convictions that are formative for me.

I would begin in response, that I believe we are called not to live in a “spirit of fear but of power and love and a sound mind” (2Timothy 1:7). It is one thing to confront frightening facts (or hide from them which I believe is one species of fear). I believe living in and acting out of fear thwarts our capacity to live with power, love, and a sound mind.

Power. Often this is seen as a bad thing, and certainly can be. However if we understand power as agency, or even better, as vice-regency with God in the care of his creation, this means we’ve been given capacities to act for good or ill in the care of creation. Sadly, we have often understood our dominion over the creation as license to exploit it. If, however, we see creation as a trust from God to be cared for, cultivated and developed for the flourishing of humans and other creatures, and conserved for those who will follow, we will act differently. A principle of gardening is to put as much (or more) into the soil as you take out, and it will keep feeding you. In our changing climate, we do not need to surrender to fear or hopelessness, because to do so would be to surrender our power or agency to care for God’s world. Scripture? Genesis 1:28 and 2:15 begin to address these matters. There are things to be done to address build-ups of greenhouse gasses and the effects these are already having. But how ought we do them?

Love. The greatest command to love God and neighbor (Mark 12:30-31) summarizes the ethic of a Christian, with the other commands elaborating how we do this. It seems to me that we cannot love God without loving what he has made. It is sad that I see many Christians spending more of their time fighting about how God created than devoting themselves to love his creation. We cannot care for places or people well without loving them. Do we recognize their intrinsic worth, whether the trees of the Amazon rain forest or the people living on islands or coastal regions facing inundation from rising sea levels. Often, sadly we only consider the economic, extrinsic worth of so many things (and people) and how they may enrich those of us with more access to wealth and power.

Love means love of the soil, of rivers and oceans, of the tiniest creatures of earth and the rarest. If we believe God made them all and that not a single sparrow if forgotten before God (Luke 12:6), then the extinction of a species surely grieves him and is a loss to the fabric of creation, weakening it and rendering it less lavish and full. Loving means we will take steps to care for those whose lives are ravaged by extreme climate events–shelter, food, and for those from other countries who lose their home or livelihoods, a welcome to find these among us, as challenging as that may be. Mother Theresa spoke of doing “small things with great love.” There are a thousand small things we may do from our dietary choices to the vehicles we drive that may be done with love. Both cows and cars are significant factors in contributing to greenhouse gas buildups. I can also envision technological interventions implemented lovelessly. These will not be good.

Sound mind. There is no other creature that devotes the energy to studying everything from genomes to galaxies that we humans do. As Ecclesiastes 7:25 say, there is something in us that wants to search out “the reason of things.” I’m struck in Paul’s encouragement to Timothy that he speaks of a sound mind. Elsewhere, in Romans12:2 he speaks of a renewed mind. Christians are to live contrary to those who accept whatever their “itching ears” want to hear. They believe there is such a thing as truth that may be distinguished from falsehood. No wonder that science grew up in a Christian atmosphere that believed both in our abilities to observe and study the world’s phenomenon, and to search out the truth about them through rigorous processes. We have great need for those with soundness of mind not only in science but among those who develop technology, who model data, who develop public policy, and who seek to skillfully marshal public support for the changes that need to be made.

Beyond all this, I believe we need to live as people of hope. My pastor preached this past Sunday on Jeremiah 29 which includes this passage:

Build houses and dwell in them; plant gardens and eat their fruit.  Take wives and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons and give your daughters to husbands, so that they may bear sons and daughters—that you may be increased there, and not diminished. And seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray to the Lord for it; for in its peace you will have peace. (Jeremiah 29:5-7)

Jeremiah is writing to exiles in Babylon. This should ring true for all of us who Peter also calls exiles (1 Peter 1:1,2:11). We live in hope of a better home. It might be easy to become indifferent and say “let it burn.” Jeremiah tells people who are tempted to indulge false hopes of a quick return home to build homes and gardens, have babies and grandbabies and seek the peace of the city of their exile. That is how they live in hope. For us, caring for our home and seeking its peace prepares us for our new home, the new heaven and earth. No matter what happens to our climate (and I believe things will get worse before they get better), our care of creation reflects hope, not that we will bring a new Eden on earth, but rather in some dim way prepare for the new creation to come.

Faith. Finally, this is an uncharted journey for all of us. But we are not the first to take uncharted journeys. Abraham gets that honor, for leaving his family in Haran to go wherever God would take him. The scriptures say, “Abram [Abraham] believed God and he credited it to him as righteousness” (Genesis 15:6). And God kept his promises to Abraham to give him offspring, land, and to make him a blessing to the nations. Someone has said that what matters is really not the size of our faith (a mustard seed is enough) but the size of our God. Another friend observed that the big question of the Bible is, “is God good and can we trust Him?” I believe within the next generation, we will face serious tests of faith. Will we trust that the God who did not spare his own son will bring us through?

So to my friend who suggested I write this, here is my humble and far from complete reply. Whole books have been written about this (and I should probably write a post listing some of them!). Surely my friend and many others may add to what I’ve written, which I welcome. It is an important conversation I believe we need to be having about how then we shall live in these times.