Shall we go, you and I while we can…
…Through the transitive nightfall of diamonds?
Several times, while I kept my Covid-19 diary here, I wrote that the pandemic was small fry compared to climate change. A month ago, more or less, I wrote:
Covid continues, and builds momentum, while politicians flounder in their own ineptitude, but it is the change in climate that’s the big picture, a process of change that I think is now irreversible. I keep up to date with news and views on climate change in the popular science press, and I know the view continues to be expressed that there’s still time to change course. But all the things that are said to be essential to do rely for their implementation on co-ordinated, decisive action by politicians and on the majority of humans ‘doing the right thing’.
The thing is, I have no faith that politicians in particular or humans in general will do anything at all of significance. Short of some volcanic cataclysm, the future is here and it’s already too late. The Moon is getting in on the act, too, sleekit wee bastard that it is.
What else is there to do but to sit here writing dystopian fiction?
The tendency towards catastrophism is, on the whole, something to be avoided, because it becomes so dominant an interpretive framework as to distort deeper awareness of the world about us. But, given the new IPCC report published yesterday, the urge to catastrophise is strong today. And for good reason. I found myself this morning drinking green tea and scanning the key points of the IPCC Report (New Scientist Summary here) while listening to an 8 1/2 Spotify playlist I put together of different versions of Dark Star: it formed the perfect accompaniment, particularly the earlier, primal versions. A link to the playlist is down below for the (very) few of you who might be interested.
More useful, and more difficult, than catastrophising is figuring out consequences and mitigations. Some examples:
(1) We live in a house built in 1933. While the Scottish weather is variable, a shift to extremes of heat and wetness is likely to be problematic. Most of July was very pleasant here, but the last few days have seen heavy, and at times torrential, rain. Heavy rain isn’t uncommon in Edinburgh at Festival time any more than it is at Wimbledon. Occasional floods aren’t unknown either, and a lot of money was spent on flood defences after the Water of Leith burst its banks several years ago. What has changed is frequency: we’ve had floods at the foot of our hill every year for the past three. This is partly because of sudden quantities of water falling in a short time but also because the old drains can’t cope with the amount of water coming off the hill. And with no natural drainage, the road and shops become a giant concrete culvert.
Our back garden is much more prone to saturation than previously, and I think changes in the water table are implicated in that (and in the dampness of the soil in the void beneath our floorboards). Will this lead to structural problems with the house? I don’t know.
(2) One of our daughters lives in the USA and, of course, we like to see her in person rather than over a video call. However, that, currently, means flying and the airline industry is going to have to change quickly and dramatically, particularly in its reliance on fossil fuels. I know alternative engines are being in tested, but scaling up to retrofit every fleet? That’s quite a task. So how easy will it be to get a flight? And will we be able to afford it? Or perhaps ocean liners will come back into fashion, with all their problems. And I’m not sure I’d fancy being at sea in the North Atlantic in years to come anyway, because—
(3) The UK relies on the gulfstream (the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation or AMOC to its friends) for its climate, and it is also part of the broader global system. It has been threatened with disruption for years, but now looks to be on the brink. What will that mean? I don’t know, but I doubt it will be good.
(4) Fire, flood, drought and plague lead to conflict, population movement, resource shortages and more disease. Where will all the displaced people go? And how will they be fed and watered?
There’s more, of course, such as global logistics and food supplies, but that’s off the top of my head.
All of the causes for (relative) optimism rely on concerted political will, and I don’t expect that to happen until it is much too late. Oddly, the response to the pandemic, at least in the West, suggests a positive in that, on the whole, populations responded to the bigger picture, notwithstanding the dingbats who make the news headlines. A more permanent shift to working from home may well bring benefits, too. (I’m still sceptical that, worldwide, there will be sufficient change, though). The bad news is that an appropriate response by governments to climate change will require an awful lot more than mask mandates. Expect to see more protests which, given point 4 above, may well turn nasty.
No doubt I’ll write more about this here when I think it through some more. Until then, back to dystopian fiction and dark stars crashing it is.
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