Читать книгу Green Gone Wrong - Heather Rogers - Страница 5
ОглавлениеThe riots started in early 2007. The first country to erupt was Mexico. In just one year the price of corn, the key ingredient in tortillas, had shot up more than 80 percent. Suddenly, not just the poorest but also wage earners were unable to put food on the table. Tens of thousands of workers and peasants angrily took to the streets, marching down Mexico City’s main thoroughfare to the famous Zócalo, setting off what came to be called the “tortilla riots.” To quell the uproar, Mexican president Felipe Calderón was forced to announce a price freeze on corn. In the ensuing months the world convulsed with violent unrest in over thirty countries, including Egypt, Somalia, Colombia, Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam, Cameroon, and Haiti. The sometimes deadly protests were set in motion by a global food crisis triggered in part by the diversion of food crops to refineries making plant-based transportation fuels known as biofuels. Considered ecologically sustainable, biofuels can substitute for fossil fuels, thereby cutting emissions of carbon dioxide, a major contributor to global warming. However, today’s eco-friendly fuel is made from edible crops such as corn, soybeans, sugarcane, and palm oil (a vegetable oil); thanks to subsidies and the high price of oil, at that time selling crops for biofuels offered a bigger return than selling them for food, so growers and agribusiness followed the money.
By the spring of 2008 food prices peaked further still, having surged by more than 50 percent from the year before. Discontent ignited across the globe as grocery bills went through the roof. The cost of vegetable oils, wheat, rice, and other basics soared well beyond reach in developing countries, where many people spend half or more of their income to keep their families fed. As strife over rising prices intensified, more than forty people were killed in Cameroon. In Haiti, the prime minister was ousted and at least four rioters were shot and killed amid street protests over the scarcity and escalating costs of food. In China, a stampede at a supermarket that had discounted its prices left three shoppers dead and another thirty-one injured. Small vendors in outdoor markets in Indonesia sold vegetable oil that appeared new but was used; the dark color from cooking was eliminated by adding household bleach, which buyers would unwittingly ingest.
As the terrible social impacts of crop-based biofuels grew more acute, questions also began arising about their supposed environmental benefits. People such as David Pimentel, professor of ecology and agriculture at Cornell University, claimed it required more energy to grow and refine corn ethanol than the alt-fuel could provide. According to assessments such as Pimentel’s, corn ethanol was a net loser when it came to preventing carbon dioxide emissions. In other arenas environmental groups such as the Rainforest Action Network and Friends of the Earth were already campaigning against the supposedly eco-friendly fuels. These organizations said escalating demand for biofuels was driving deforestation as agribusiness expanded into tropical-forest zones. Detailing these knock-on effects, two reports published in early 2008 in the journal Science stated that more carbon dioxide was being released into the atmosphere from the production of some biofuels than if people continued filling their tanks with gasoline and diesel.
That same year deforestation rates in Brazil shot up sharply. Similarly, Indonesia had recently earned the dubious distinction of becoming the world’s third-largest carbon dioxide emitter, trailing only China and the United States. Much of Indonesia’s spike in CO2 came from clear-cutting and burning trees to make room for crops that could be refined into biofuels. Imagine millions of acres of dense rain forest teeming with the world’s most diverse flora and fauna. A crew armed with chain saws and bulldozers forges a narrow path through the trees. The workers begin to rip away and flatten the forest as wildlife, including endangered species such as orangutans, flee for their lives. A bulldozer shoves innumerable splintered trees into tangled piles that stretch for miles, and crews set them alight. Ferocious fires blast through what was once a dynamic web of life, leaving behind a carbon dioxide–filled haze and a silent, charred wasteland. After the forest has been erased it’s almost impossible to imagine what was once there.
Such outcomes—violent social upheaval, and the further shattering of vital ecosystems—reveal some of the dangers of taking up solutions without serious critical assessment. So how do we work toward solving the profound ecological problems we face in ways that don’t make matters worse?
MORE IS LESS
From today’s vantage point, 2006 was a big year. That’s when global warming was finally acknowledged by the last, and very powerful, holdouts: U.S. government and industry. The city of New Orleans still lay smashed from the previous year’s Hurricane Katrina—a storm that was likely intensified by the effects of global warming. Commissioned by the British government, the Stern Review was published, the foremost study on the grim economic impacts and financial risks of climate change. Also in 2006, Al Gore’s documentary film, An Inconvenient Truth, helped convince the mainstream that global warming was real and the result of human activity. These events were backed up by reports from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change—a global body of scientists and governments created in 1988 under the auspices of the United Nations to assess the latest atmospheric science—that confirmed industrialized society plays a significant role in creating global warming.
Newfound acceptance of the dangers of unchecked greenhouse gas emissions set off a barrage of coverage in magazines and newspapers, on talk shows and websites. Major rock groups such as the Rolling Stones, KT Tunstall, and the Dave Matthews Band started planting trees to cancel out the CO2 released from their tours and the production of their albums. Hillary Clinton, Leonardo DiCaprio, and the pop entrepreneur Richard Branson began proselytizing about the need to take action. Even George W. Bush, the notorious global warming denier, uttered the words “climate change” in his 2007 State of the Union address.
As of 2007 global warming had become a fact of life, and growing numbers of people were looking for solutions. A news broadcast from that year, a midday edition of CNN International, typified the emerging state of affairs. The lead story featured an intrepid but well-coiffed reporter exploring catastrophic ice loss at the north pole. Visually incongruous with the blank, undulating landscape, the perky newswoman explained that temperatures were climbing faster in arctic regions than elsewhere on the planet, and at a more rapid clip than previously thought. The latest projections, she reported, said summer ice may be extinct as soon as 2040, taking several animal species with it. The follow-up segment on CNN that day was what Wal-Mart—the biggest retailer on the planet—was doing to address ecological degradation. In addition to reducing energy consumption in its stores and using more fuel-efficient trucks, the company committed to push its 180 million customers to buy more commodities it deemed helpful to the environment. As this example suggests, the dire and depressing problem of climate crisis is increasingly being answered by the next phase of environmentalism: the buying and selling of ecologically responsible products.
Not so long ago wheat germ, solar panels, and electric minicars were the purview of activists, hippies, and renegade engineers. Recently, however, a rush of fashionable responses to ecological meltdown has crowded out the previous generation’s reaction—often characterized as strident and blaming. The new green wave, typified by the phrase lazy environmentalism, is geared toward the masses that aren’t willing to sacrifice. This brand of armchair activism actualizes itself most fully in the realm of consumer goods; through buying the right products we can usher our economic system into the environmental age. The new naturalists don’t reject the free market for its reckless degradation of the air, water, and soil as their forebears did. Instead they aspire to turn the forces of economic growth and development away from despoliation and toward regeneration. Couched in optimism that springs from avoiding conflict, the current approach asks why taking care of ecosystems must entail a Spartan doing without when saving the planet can be fun and relatively easy.
Over the past several years green has gone from just a color to indicating that something possesses what’s needed to protect the earth’s natural systems. Green is now used as a modifier to differentiate products that are healthier for the planet: green cars, green architecture, green fashion, green investing, green energy. The word has also become a verb: we can now green our homes, cars, and even our lives. Indeed green goods have become all the rage. In the decade leading up to the economic crash of 2008–9, eco-products conquered the market. Whole Foods, the all-natural grocery store chain, turned into a Wall Street darling, while such food manufacturing giants as General Mills, Kraft, and Unilever began offering organic goods. And Wal-Mart set out to make itself into a top vendor of organic groceries. During that time the organic-foods industry expanded by double digits each year, far outstripping conventional food, which remained stalled at less than 3 percent annual growth. Homebuyers’ and commercial developers’ demand for ecologically astute architecture continues to spread even as the real estate market overall is still struggling through its grueling recovery. Often considered a badge of honor, and in some circles a status symbol, this method of design and construction using materials that promote energy efficiency, reduce polluting emissions, diminish natural-resource degradation, and encourage more eco-friendly living is now de rigueur in the industry.
In terms of automobiles, most major carmakers now offer gas-electric hybrid models, as well as vehicles that can run on biofuels. And both Toyota and General Motors are poised to mass-produce what might be the next generation of superefficient cars: plug-in gas-electric hybrids. Although it’s still unclear in what form the various auto firms will survive the industry’s drastic downturn, vehicles that are more ecologically sensible have become a must. On the transportation-fuels front, after three solid years of rapid expansion, biofuel production fell into disarray in 2009 with the plummeting price of oil and the collapsing economy. Nevertheless, Big Oil and Big Ag continue pushing for transportation fuels derived from plants. BP has claimed for itself the leadership position in eco-fuels even though its investment in biofuels was negligible until 2007. That year the company poured a half billion dollars into a controversial biofuels research center at the University of California, Berkeley, which works in partnership with a lab at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. Since then BP has committed over $1.5 billion to various plant-based fuel ventures. Keeping drivers on a liquid diet via biofuels is preferable to the oil industry because it can curtail the switch to electric vehicles, which are juiced up by the competition: power plants. Coupled with ongoing mandates and subsidies in the United Kingdom, the European Union, the United States, Brazil, Indonesia, and parts of China, biofuels are clearly here to stay. More broadly, government support and funding for green-collar jobs, renewable power such as solar and wind, and energy-conservation measures promise to keep ecologically oriented industries growing. Without question a greater awareness of the environmental impacts of mass consumption is changing what’s for sale.
The promise implicit in these changes is that global warming can be stopped by swapping out dirty products for green ones, with little disruption to daily life. Getting behind the wheel of a gas-electric hybrid is not so different from driving a regular car. Ethanol and biodiesel come out the nozzle the same as ordinary petrol. Eating organic breakfast cereal no longer feels unfamiliar because it’s coated with sugar and comes in cartoon-covered boxes. And paying a little extra for an airline ticket to cancel out CO2 emissions from a flight takes almost no effort at all. One of the most popular current tools to counteract the mucking up of the earth is the reusable shopping bag. Nowadays more people are bringing them along to the store so they won’t need new plastic bags each time. These totes—often decorated with cheerful images of trees and animals, or sporting slogans like I AM NOT A PLASTIC BAG or I AM EARTH WISE—exemplify today’s popular environmentalism. There is good that comes from using them, but they are also symbols that convey responsibility while glossing over the more significant issues of what goes into those bags, how much, and how often.
MENDING OUR WAYS
For at least twenty years the captains of industry and their operatives, together with compliant politicians, have labored to cast doubt on the majority scientific opinion that global warming is under way. For over a century scientists have recognized carbon dioxide emissions from human activities as having a warming effect on the planet. Svante Arrhenius, a Swedish chemist working at the turn of the last century, was the first to argue, in an 1896 report, that CO2 resulting from burning fossil fuels would cause global warming. Arrhenius, a prolific researcher (albeit a prominent eugenicist), and Sweden’s first Nobel Prize winner, considered higher temperatures desirable to fend off another ice age. During one of his lectures he mused, “We would then have some right to indulge in the pleasant belief that our descendants, albeit after many generations, might live under a milder sky and in less barren surroundings than is our lot at present.” Sixty years after the Swede’s death, James Hansen, an esteemed NASA climatologist, voiced his decidedly less rosy take on global warming as potentially highly destructive. In a dramatic episode, testifying before a Senate committee on a searingly hot summer day in 1988, Hansen told lawmakers that he believed with “ninety-nine percent confidence” that climate change was real and the world was heating up.
Today a majority of Americans agree that climate change is real despite the concerted efforts of the biggest polluters and their allies to revive doubt. This book takes as its starting point that these matters are settled—the conversation on global warming and other grave afflictions the natural world suffers must move forward. Part of the next step is a critical assessment of solutions to ecological crisis.
I started thinking about this book as I was doing talks for my last book, which was about garbage. Almost everywhere I spoke in the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom, at least one person in the audience would say he or she thought we could cure our environmental ills by consuming the right products. I began this project because I wasn’t sure the answer was so straightforward. Ultimately, I was concerned that the remedies being promoted in the marketplace may not have the power to keep biodiversity intact and the planet cool. The following pages take the reader into forests, fields, factories, and boardrooms around the world to draw out the unintended consequences, inherent obstacles, as well as successful methods, that lie beneath the surface of environmentally friendly products. I visited a different geographical location for each chapter to piece together a global picture of what’s happening in the name of today’s environmentalism.
As some readers will note, all this flying and driving made no small contribution to greenhouse gas emissions. I regret the resulting environmental impacts, but not the journeys themselves. In an effort to shrink my swollen carbon footprint, which became double what it normally is, I could simply pay a CO2 offset company to “neutralize” my greenhouse gases. But after the research I’ve done, I don’t have the confidence that this would have the intended impact. Although the average American spits out almost twice the CO2 of a European, and five times more than the average Chinese, none of us do so simply based on our individual choices. I’ve come to realize that my toxic emissions are not solely mine. Instead they are linked to a larger socioeconomic system that actually depends on pollution to maintain its well-being. As we currently keep the books, stewarding the health of the biosphere costs more than dumping and endlessly extracting from nature, so our society does the latter. Environmental depredation, it turns out, better serves the bottom line. America is the world’s largest economy (for now, anyway) and its most profligate consumer; with just 5 percent of the global population the United States burns through over 20 percent of the planet’s energy and, along with China, is the top emitter of greenhouse gases.
As a society over the last half century we’ve wavered between ecological awareness and the bliss of ignorance. This back-and-forth isn’t just the outcome of stretches of greediness followed by spells of guilt—although these are factors. In the late 1960s and 1970s mounting concern over the well-being of the planet culminated in the rise of the environmental movement. But political pressure and persuasive PR that said everything was fine coming from the fossil-fuel industry and the manufacturing sector helped contain the movement’s force. Public awareness reemerged in the late 1980s and early 1990s, only to be outmaneuvered by vested interests once again. Today, a popular desire to find solutions to ecological devastation has slowly worked its way back to the fore despite the repressive efforts of the richest, most powerful industries in history, namely oil. But where we direct the energy of this latest awakening is the key question. Although truly remedying global warming and its attendant ecological ills can seem insurmountable, it’s not. But finding solutions that work requires us to learn what to fight for.
Green Gone Wrong is structured in three parts—food, shelter, and transportation—to address the basic aspects of what we need and use in daily life.
In delving into the issue of food for Part I, I made two separate trips to investigate the implications of locally grown organic food as well as produce cultivated in faraway locales for consumption in the West. My initial destination was New York State’s Hudson Valley, one of the biggest farmers’ market regions among Western countries. I went to find out what day-to-day existence is like for small organic farmers who raise their crops and animals without chemicals, hormones, or antibiotics on land that’s managed to maximize biodiversity. Locally raised food has captured the imagination of healthy eaters and a new generation that believes alternative cultivation can undo the damage inflicted by scorched-earth industrial agriculture. The reach of this insurgent project, however, is confined by the meager income earned by farmers who practice organic methods. For even the most successful growers, costs, including manual labor, add up fast. Although they sell the highest-priced produce around—which only a wealthier clientele can afford—many of these cultivators can barely make ends meet. While a vibrant discussion has blossomed about organic and local food as an important antidote to ecological decay, the economic struggles of small organic farmers must not go overlooked.
As consumer demand for organics exploded during the last decade, natural-foods processors and retailers began sourcing ever more produce from Latin America and Asia. To further explore the implications of ditching conventional food for organic, for chapter 2 I ventured to the South American country of Paraguay, among the world’s top organic sugar producers and exporters. Organic farming is seen as a solution to global warming and ecological destruction by facilitating a widespread shift to holistic cultivation practices. But as more players enter the field, major food processors such as General Mills and retailers such as Wal-Mart are making some controversial compromises. Most crucially they rely on growers who use methods that tack back toward conventional agriculture.
Seeking the lowest costs, Western food processors and retailers increasingly source from large producers in developing countries where land and labor are cheap, and environmental protections lax. This is the case in an astounding number of places, including China, many Southeast Asian nations, and parts of Latin America. In Paraguay I found an organic sugar plantation that was violating the organic standards of the U.S. Department of Agriculture and the International Federation of Organic Agriculture Movements, a group that’s considered the global authority on organic standards. Among the plantation’s sketchy activities was monocropping, or the cultivation of the same crop in the same fields season after season. Farming in this way can cause dramatic erosion, exhaust the soil’s nutrients, and deplete groundwater. More startlingly, I discovered what appeared to be the clearing of native forests to plant organic fields, also forbidden under international organic standards. In interviewing registered Fair Trade smallholder farmers, I found that many aren’t paid the higher incomes that consumers in the West believe. In distant places the real workings of operations that call themselves organic can be obscured, leaving room for manipulation of the rules and outright fraud.
In considering the question of shelter for Part II of the book, I went to three different eco-villages, one in a London suburb and two in the German city of Freiburg. The communities I visited are considered to be some of the most ecologically sustainable and successful in the world’s developed countries. For chapter 3 I found out what it’s like to live on almost no energy, and the circumstances that have both created and allowed green housing to flourish in these places.
Current iterations of eco-architecture have come a long way from the earthships and geodesic domes of the 1960s and 1970s. Today’s environmentally sound dwellings are straightforward and modern, more closely resembling standard housing. They often incorporate features such as energy-efficient appliances, chemical-free wall paint, and solar water-heaters. Sustainably harvested wood, lumber milled from trees extracted in a manner that doesn’t degrade forests or displace forest dwellers, is a popular construction material. Green roofs are also a staple of the eco-abode. Comprised of plants, grasses, and mosses, these rooftop gardens provide an earthen blanket that cuts energy use by helping the building retain heat in the winter, and cool air in the summer. Environmentally sound homes are becoming more affordable and culturally accessible for average people—not just the committed hippie or wealthy maverick. Perhaps surprisingly, buildings account for almost 40 percent of CO2 emissions in the United States; the fossil fuels, primarily coal, used to light, heat, and cool them are the top source of greenhouse gases. The communities I visited in the UK and Germany have achieved major reductions in CO2 levels while creating highly functional, comfortable dwellings. So how do they do it, and what’s keeping this architecture from spreading to more places?
Since transportation involves fuel, vehicles, and emissions, I made three different stops for Part III of the book. As the 2007–8 riots revealed, crop-based biofuels wreck food supplies, but they also strain the earth’s vital ecosystems. For chapter 4 I journeyed to Indonesia, the world’s top producer of palm oil, which is an increasingly important raw material for biodiesel. Much of this oil comes from plantations established on the incinerated ruins of clear-cut tropical rain forests on the Indonesian island of Borneo. The island comprises carbon-rich forests that are the sole remaining viable habitat for the critically endangered orangutan, and home to ancient indigenous societies including Dayaks. With some of the last large rain forests on the planet, Borneo’s natural systems are integral to maintaining global atmospheric carbon balance. Regardless, the clear-cutting continues apace thanks in large part to biofuel mandates and targets in the world’s biggest economies.
For chapter 5 I visited Detroit, historically the nerve center of the auto industry. There I sought out why the major automakers in the United States—the world’s leading vehicle market from the industry’s inception until late 2009—have confined less environmentally destructive cars to the sidelines. When Toyota launched the Prius in Japan in 1997 and in the United States and Europe three years later, it was a surprise hit. Yet the vast majority of cars the big automakers continue producing run on gas and diesel, as will likely be the case for decades to come. With the Obama administration strengthening fuel economy standards from 27.5 mpg in 2009 to 35.5 by 2016, it would appear we’re on the right track. While higher efficiency is good, consider that American firms profitably make and sell fuel-frugal cars overseas—some that get over 80 mpg—and the change seems feeble at best.
We know that burning fossil fuels is the number one source of carbon dioxide, so why don’t car companies give U.S. drivers a cleaner set of wheels? Many people believe the Detroit Three—Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler—bury ecologically responsible vehicle technology to ward off change. After all, General Motors, as portrayed in the documentary film Who Killed the Electric Car?, scotched its first viable electric-car program after only a few years. The problem of getting more green rides on the road is not simply technological. Despite what we’re so often told—“the right technology is just around the corner”—highly efficient cars already exist. We’re still driving gas-guzzlers because green vehicles aren’t profitable enough. Another crucial piece of the story is the complicity of consumers. Given that the first Ford Model T built in 1909 got 26 mpg, why have drivers accepted, even embraced, lackluster fuel economy?
The situation looks set to shift as a new green wave washes over the struggling auto industry, bringing with it more efficient cars. At the forefront was the Prius, while the latest rising star is GM’s new Chevy Volt. The car is a higher-tech gas-electric hybrid that the company says will get a staggering 230 mpg. Sounds great, but this mpg can only be achieved under specific conditions; depending on how it’s driven, according to Edmunds.com, the Volt can also get a perplexingly low 38.3 mpg. Charging our vehicles from the grid presents further, and paramount, questions about just how eco-friendly automobiles can really be. In 2007 electricity generation accounted for 42 percent of the U.S.’s total carbon dioxide output. Until the grid is juiced up with renewable energy from sources such as wind and solar, we will not have solved the problem.
When all else fails, consumers can turn to a new type of service that promises to expunge their CO2 after it has been released. Companies claiming they can balance out pollution from fossil-fuel-intensive activities such as airplane flights and road trips sell what are called carbon offsets. Consumers pay a fee based on how much CO2 they create, and the offset firm channels that money to projects such as planting trees and constructing renewable energy facilities. To find out how and if counteracting CO2 works, for chapter 6 I went to India, which hosts more than 25 percent of carbon-offset projects globally. I discovered that some projects don’t seem to be happening at all, some are poorly implemented, and others are causing additional ecological damage. Such outcomes easily go unnoticed, however, because the voluntary industry is wholly unregulated. Critics argue that the overall offset system is flawed because it’s impossible to truly rub out carbon. Even if it is, the greenhouse gas certainly won’t be neutralized immediately, but only over the duration of an offset project. For example, say a consumer buys offsets for a flight and the money goes toward a reforestation project. The CO2 balance from that person’s travel will only be settled over the lifetime of the trees, which, depending on the species, can be as long as thirty, fifty, one hundred years, or more. Meanwhile, these greenhouse gases don’t disappear, but linger in the atmosphere at precisely the moment we need to contain pollution. Carbon emitted today cannot be wiped out today, if at all, even though most buyers believe otherwise.
With widespread acceptance of the problem of global warming, a torrent of responses has issued forth from pent-up environmentalists, eco-entrepreneurs, and government. President Barack Obama’s 2009 stimulus package, the American Recovery and Reinvestment Plan, outlines unprecedented spending on a range of more ecologically sound solutions. As a result, the emerging green marketplace, including organic food, energy-efficient homes, biofuels, green cars, and CO2 offsetting, will only continue to grow. Crucially, these new products reflect people’s irrepressible desire to know the processes that lie behind the things they use in daily life. More consumers now look for the Certified Organic label, Fair Trade seal, or any of the other myriad emblems—referred to as “trust marks” in the branding industry—guaranteeing a more ecologically and morally pure provenance. But these stamps, meant to illuminate, can often obscure ongoing destructive practices. As ecological remedies such as the ones covered in this book become mainstream, people will increasingly want and need to know more. Green Gone Wrong doesn’t consider all of the potential cures, such as green jobs and weatherizing existing buildings, but the ground it does cover will hopefully provide a useful perspective that can be applied in these other spheres.
Green Gone Wrong is an appeal to the reader to take the evolving environmental crisis as an opportunity. If we can step back and honestly assess our options, we will make better decisions than we have in the past. We could take any number of approaches to investigate where to go from here, such as looking back: what choices and structural forces led us to this perilous place? While history is crucial, this book focuses primarily on the present. Investigating current remedies allows for an exploration of whether today’s most popular solutions are up to the task. Some might interpret the findings of this investigation as discouraging. “If these solutions don’t work, then nothing will!” But there is a difference between hope and false hope. Green Gone Wrong is an attempt to further the discussion so that we can broaden the possibilities and focus on remedies that bring results. Fundamentally, this book arises from the belief that we have the capacity to find solutions that are not simply products to buy, but ways of engaging with how we live and what we want our world to be.
