Many people believe that growing our fuel will improve energy security and independence, reduce greenhouse gas emissions and promote rural development. The Biofuel Delusion contends that such perceived advantages are quite simply not the case.

Authors Mario Giampietro and Kozo Mayumi dedicate much of this book to energetics – an area of study that considers the feasibility and desirability of energy sources, and how they may affect the structure of society. To determine the feasibility of a new energy supply, for example, researchers use the Output- Input (OI) ratio, which determines how much net energy the new source provides society, once we have subtracted the energy spent to obtain it. An OI of 1.0 indicates an energy supply that uses up all its energy to produce itself, and therefore has no surplus energy. Giampietro and Mayumi suggest that an OI below 3.0 is not worth the effort in energetic terms. Most fossil fuels range from an OI of 13 to 20, while US corn ethanol is often calculated at roughly 1.1 (ouch!) and Brazilian sugarcane ethanol at about 7.

Energetics also involves the study of the amount of energy produced by an energy supply for every hour of human labour devoted to its production. Developed societies are predicated on obtaining fantastically high labour productivity from the energy and agricultural sectors. The US, for example, requires 47,000 megajoules (MJ) of net energy for every hour of labour in the energy sector. By contrast, the energy-labour productivity of US corn-ethanol and Brazilian sugarcane-ethanol are both below 400 MJ per hour. To produce three per cent of US fuel needs from ethanol would require an unbelievable 48 per cent of the country’s workforce, after absorbing all the unemployed. If only producing energy was as much fun as consuming it.

After providing a crash course in energetics, the authors set their sights on agro-biofuels directly. They suggest that biofuels cannot possibly produce energy in sufficient quantity, nor with sufficiently high labour productivity, to meet the requirements of complex society. Given the low OI ratio of biofuels, there is simply not enough land for it.

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Former Alberta environment minister Lorne Taylor was reported to have remarked to David Suzuki that without a strong, growing economy, Canadians simply could not afford to protect the environment.

Most economists today continue to promote the idea that the wealthier the economy, the more money we will have to reduce pollution, invest in green technologies and protect wilderness areas. So why on Earth would we want to dispense with the pursuit of economic growth, particularly when the global economy is so vulnerable?

For Tim Jackson, the answer is simple: the relationship between growth and prosperity has fundamentally broken down. His most recent book, Prosperity without Growth, grew out of a report he wrote in 2009 for the UK’s Sustainable Development Commission, the government’s independent watchdog on sustainable development. Based on three years of research, the report looked into the connections and conflicts between sustainability, growth and well-being.

As Jackson rightly notes, realizing the legitimate desire for all of humanity to lead full and prosperous lives – given the planet’s finite resource base – may well be the most profound dilemma of our times. What can prosperity possibly look like, he asks, in a world with a global population expected to reach nine billion by mid-century? The traditional economic response has been to associate prosperity with income and to call upon continued growth to deliver it.

But prosperity, Jackson argues, is not the same as material wealth. The former resides in our ability to “flourish as human beings, in the quality of our lives, the strength of our relationships, participation in our communities and the health and happiness of our families” – none of which are automatically delivered by continued growth.

Although Jackson believes there is no case to abandon the growth imperative in all countries, it has thus far failed to eliminate poverty, reduce income disparities or make citizens of developed countries any more satisfied with their lives. The growth model may be undermining happiness and causing a “social recession,” he says. Even if growth were socially desirable, the author makes the case that it would be ecologically impossible to provide the material comforts found in developed countries to the entire global population.

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The Ptarmigan’s Dilemma: An Exploration into How Life Organizes and Supports Itself,
John and Mary Theberge.

If I were asked by a visitor from outer space for the best information on the history and ecology of life on Earth, I’d offer this book. Deservedly short-listed for the 2010 Writers’ Trust Non- Fiction Prize, The Ptarmigan’s Dilemma covers all the bases, bridging the authors’ decades of research into animal ecology and their many engaging encounters with animals. Their belief that science matters if we are to learn to live harmoniously with nature is illustrated by their investigations of the adaptive musicology of birdsong, and why sagebrush proliferates in pastured grassland. The writing is first rate, often lyrical and joyful.

This is a wondering, questioning book, buoyed by the married authors’ relentless curiosity about how life “kaleidoscoped through the ages to arrive at what we have today.” How do ptarmigan mothers make critical decisions in raising their chicks? Why do some animals gather in herds or flocks? How does life organize and sustain itself? Does an “underlying commonality” account for success in nature? And – more sombrely – how close are we to ecological catastrophe due to human abuse?

The book begins with the basics: genetics, evolution and environmental adaptation. The Theberges then introduce us to higher levels of organization (populations, ecosystems and the biosphere) by considering “that cunning, cruel, magnanimous force – natural selection.” We are left with a deeper understanding of the resilience of healthy natural systems, but also their vulnerability to human muddling and destruction. “Just one environmental bullet can kill us,” the Theberges warn. “We need a way to call off the firing squad, a last-minute reprieve. Is there one?”

– Greg Michalenko 

Empires of Food: Feast, Famine, and the Rise and Fall of Civilizations,
Evan D.G. Fraser and Andrew Rimas.

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You are probably aware that nature is dead. This may be why you are gloomy all the time. We tried so hard to ensure that biodiversity wasn’t lost and climate change didn’t spiral (further) out of control, but only an extreme idealist can maintain the illusion any longer. We have lost. Species disappear on a daily basis and we fail to enact even a semblance of the climate change policies required to stem the tide. Some of us have even surrendered to the dark side of fabricated landscapes and a geoengineered Earth. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

Not so fast. There is hope, but to realize it we may need to jettison our idea of nature itself, along with our apocalyptic pessimism. Paul Wapner, director of the Global Environmental Politics Program at American University in Washington, DC, makes the counter-intuitive but compelling case that environmentalism can become stronger if we accept that its philosophical underpinnings have been problematic all along – and are even more so today. His argument isn’t entirely new, but Living Through the End of Nature is a remarkably clear introduction to what is at stake.

For most environmentalists, the divide between nature and humanity has been sacrosanct, with the former being the unequivocal home of the sacred. The desire to better align with nature as the source of the true, good, right and beautiful has animated efforts to conserve wilderness and limit climate change. But human influence reaches everywhere on the globe. Wapner effectively demonstrates that the “dream of naturalism,” as he calls it, has definitively failed.

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In the movie adaptation of N. Richard Nash’s The Rainmaker, Burt Lancaster plays a flamboyant confidence man who promises to bring rain to drought- stricken Texas. How? By using sodium chloride to “barometricize the tropopause” and “magnetize occlusions in the sky.” Are today’s climate engineers the modern equivalent of steam-era rainmakers, mixing dubious science with questionable motives to sell a desperately needed quick fix? Or is their mission a timely and necessary exploration of what may soon be our only remaining option for keeping the planet habitable?

Historically, weather-making and snake oil shared the same murky scientific bottle and were met with matching public derision. But as we move into the new millennium, prospects for reducing carbon emissions are dim. Greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere continue to rise even as Arctic ice melts more quickly than our best models predicted. With each failed effort, once-ridiculed fringe ideas – like fertilizing the ocean to create carbon-eating algae blooms, or spraying aerosols into the stratosphere to reflect heat – gain new, mainstream attention.

Both Fixing the Sky and How to Cool the Planet explore the controversial idea of geoengineering. While one author is doggedly skeptical and the other cautiously optimistic, both conclude that geoengineering may be a necessary but potentially perilous undertaking.

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What do you call four adults viciously attacking one another in front of a sold-out audience screaming for blood? No, this is not the next generation of ultimate fighting. This is debating, Munk style.

The Munk Debates consists of transcripts of the first five debates hosted by the Aurea Foundation. According to its benefactor, businessman Peter Munk, the purpose of the debates is to “create a forum that attracts the best minds and debaters to address some of the most important international issues of our time.”

To this end, the first five debates addressed whether the world is safer with a Republican or Democrat in the White House; whether the international community should intervene in human-made humanitarian crises, such as those in Zimbabwe, Burma and Sudan; whether foreign aid does more harm than good; whether climate change is humankind’s defining crisis and demands a commensurate response; and finally, whether it is preferable to get sick in Canada or the US. To date, the debates have featured a who’s-who of speakers, including retired general Rick Hillier, actor Mia Farrow, diplomat Stephen Lewis and scientist Bjørn Lomborg.

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Now Wallace-Wells has released a book of the same title, and it has also caused a splash and achieved something unusual for a science-based take on climate change: it has become a New York Times bestseller.

The Uninhabitable Earth makes three main points. First, climate change is a bigger threat than most of us think in terms of speed, scope and scale.  Second, solutions to climate change already exist. And finally, these solutions will only be implemented we embrace – rather than flee from – our collective responsibility to act.

From its first sentence – “It is worse, much worse, than you think” – the book chillingly describes the vastness of the threat we face.  

Through short chapters on heat, hunger, floods, wildfires, disasters, fresh water, air quality, plagues, economic collapse and conflict, Wallace-Wells paints a frightening picture of life in 2100 based on various possible trajectories of planetary warming.

For example, at three to four degrees warming in this century, towards which we are headed barring a change in course, we will see “suffering beyond anything that has ever occurred”: equatorial regions will be unlivable; southern Europe, Caribbean and Sub-Saharan Africa will experience multi-year – or even permanent – drought; wildfires in the U.S. will expand ten-fold; Miami, Dhaka, Shanghai and a hundred other cities will be flooded; between 140 million and 1 billion people will be displaced from their homes; and the world’s economy will face a hit of about $600 trillion dollars (twice the world’s current wealth).

A number of climate scientists pointed out specific errors in Wallace-Wells’ original article, and some reviewers have criticized his book for focusing on worst-case scenarios for global warming and their impacts. As a result, some have argued that the book unnecessarily breeds resignation and despair.

Personally I found Wallace-Wells’ articulation of worst case scenarios to be motivating rather than paralyzing.  Indeed, Wallace-Wells repeatedly emphasizes the importance of human agency. “The question of how bad things will get,” he writes, “is not actually a test of the science; it is a bet on human activity. How much will we do to stall disaster, and how quickly.”

Wallace-Wells, like many others, believes that solutions to the climate crisis already exist.

He writes: “Half of the Great Barrier Reef has already died, methane is leaking from Arctic permafrost that may never freeze again, and the high-end estimates for what warming will mean for cereal crops suggest that just four degrees warming could reduce yields by 50 percent.  If this strikes you as tragic, which it should, consider that we have all the tools we need, today, to stop it all: a carbon tax and the political apparatus to aggressively phase out dirty energy; a new approach to agricultural practices and a shift away from beef and dairy in the global diet; and public investment in green energy and carbon capture.”

All of this begs the question (which Swedish teenager Greta Thunberg has so poignantly raised):  Why, in face of a such a clear and dramatic threat, to which solutions exist, do most of us – and our governments – continue life as usual?  And what does our collective failure to act tell us about how to move forward?

Wallace-Wells, like many others, recognizes the inherent human desire to turn away from a problem that feels so large, complex, all-encompassing and threatening to life as we know it.

He (rightly) points to the sordid role of fossil fuel companies in preventing action by hiding their knowledge of climate change and funding misinformation campaigns.  But Wallace-Wells refuses to lay ultimate responsibility for the inaction at the feet of fossil fuel executives or the capitalist class more generally. He states: “[M]any on the Left point to the all-encompassing  system, saying that industrial capitalism is to blame. It is. But saying so does not name an antagonist; it names a toxic investment vehicle with most of the world as stakeholders, many of whom have eagerly bought in. And who in fact quite enjoy their present way of life. That includes, almost certainly, you and me and everyone else buying escapism with our Netflix subscription.”

While Wallace-Wells clearly recognizes the importance of emission reduction by conspicuous emitters (if the top 10% of emitters reduced their emissions to those of the average citizen, global emissions would fall 35% within a few years), he says that we “won’t get there through dietary choices of individuals, but through policy changes.”

At a deeper level, Wallace-Wells believes that the prevailing mythology of the inevitability of human progress has most hindered our acceptance of, and active response to, the climate crisis.  He writes: “The possibility that our grandchildren could be living forever among the ruins of a much wealthier and more peaceful world seems almost inconceivable from the vantage of the present day, so much do we still live within the propaganda of human progress and generational improvement.”

Wallace-Wells doesn’t prescribe a singular action plan to address climate change (he sees himself as a “storyteller” and “truthteller” rather than “advocate”).  Rather, he believes that change must come from different directions: we will need those who rage against fossil capitalists, those who lament consumer excess, those who launch lawsuits, those who push for aggressive legislation, and those who block new pipelines.  

The bottom line, according to Wallace-Wells, is that each of us must accept our responsibility to act: “The path we are on as a planet should terrify anyone living on it, but, thinking like one people, all the relative inputs are in our control, and there is no mysticism required to interpret or command the fate of the earth. Only an acceptance of responsibility.”

In the end, despite all its horrors, Wallace-Wells sees climate change as an “invigorating picture,” because it “calls the world as one, to action.”

May we respond to that call.

Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming, David Wallace-Wells, New York: Tim Duggan Books, 2019, 320

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AS SOMEONE WHO lives comfortably in a developed country, I struggle, as I’m sure others do, with how to live a meaningful and joyful life in a world that requires a drastic reduction in greenhouse gas emissions in order to avoid uncontrolled planetary warming.

I have done some of the easier things to reduce my emissions: changing light bulbs, weatherproofing windows, purchasing high efficiency appliances, and even giving up meat and going car-free since our Toyota Matrix died two years ago.

But my emissions are still four or five times higher than a globally sustainable per capita level of about two tonnes per year.

And I love to travel.

My partner and I fly 3500 kilometers every year or so to visit parents. And once every two or three years we have flown to Europe or the Caribbean.

I feel surrounded by people going on or coming back from exciting trips – to Latin America, India and South East Asia.

I don’t want to miss out.

And why should I give up flying when others continue to fly?

Yet I know that the carbon emissions from just one long-distance return flight exceed my annual share of sustainable global emissions.

It was with this struggle in mind that I came upon climate scientist Peter Kalmus’ book, Being the Change.

“[A] low-carbon, low-consumption lifestyle can be one filled with joy, peace and fulfillment.”

Kalmus writes of his growing awareness of the climate crisis, and his understanding of the urgent need to reduce individual and collective fossil fuel use. He documents, with insight and humour, the ups and downs of his family’s path to reducing their emissions to about 10 per cent of the American average.

The book is an excellent primer on the causes, consequences and potential solutions to climate change. It provides practical tools to help each of us assess our carbon emissions, and to identify where we have the most potential to reduce them. 

But the book’s most important and provocative message, I believe, is that a low-carbon, low-consumption lifestyle can be one filled with joy, peace and fulfillment.

Kalmus and his family certainly had to give some things up – like seeing their relatives each Christmas. But they also gained skills and discovered new joys, such as beekeeping, fruit growing, building furniture, and helping and relying on others. Along the way, they found a deeper sense of connection and community.

He experienced great pleasure in his new activities, in part, because they were consistent with his deep desire not to harm others or the planet.

Perhaps the greatest challenge for Kalmus was letting go of his default mentality – which so many of us share – of always wanting more, of feeling that one’s happiness was dependent on one’s next trip or concert or purchase.

In the end, what made it possible for him to undertake and sustain his life transition was a consistent attention to his inner self and a regular practice of meditation.  Meditation helped him see his own “wanting of more” clearly and to let it go. He became more present to himself and the beauty of people, places and actions around him.

Kalmus recognizes that his privileges, such as wealth and leisure time, made his life changes easier.  He also recognizes that individual action is not sufficient. Rather, collective, political action is imperative to win the policy changes that will engender a wider transition to a fossil-free society (such as ending fossil fuel subsidies and pricing carbon).

But Kalmus’ exploration of the inner work, the social support, and the sense of joy that people need to sustain the difficult project of individual and collective action is welcome.

A friend of mine recently told me that, as important as the environmental issues are to him, the experience of joy, friendship and community is critical to sustaining his environmental activism. 

In Being the Change, Kalmus offers us a sense of hope that in living more lightly on this planet, we may find a renewed sense of community, commitment and compassion.

In the final section of his book, he writes:

“Learning to live respectfully within the biosphere is a sacred task.  Learning to get along with each other is a sacred task. And learning how to be happy in our own minds, to be joyful on this Earth in the short time we’re here, is a sacred task. These three sacred tasks are beautifully interconnected.”

May we undertake these sacred tasks together.

Being the Change: A New Kind of Climate Documentary

For the more visually inclined, US filmmakers Mary Grandelis and Dave Davis have made a 60-minute documentary based on the Being the Change book.

The film includes interviews with Peter Kalmus and his partner Sharon Kallis, as well as others in their community: a co-worker from CalTech, the owner of a vegan café, a meditation teacher, and other climate activists.  There is even a surprise appearance by Mike Farrell of MASH fame.

The film makes real the actions Kalmus and members of his community have taken to reduce their carbon emissions, build human connections, share their skills and resources, and have fun together. They do this by meditating in the early morning, retrieving food from supermarket dumpsters, giving away fruit from their backyard trees, and hosting a “repair café” (where people help fix everything from old cameras to bike and clothes).

Throughout the film, Kalmus reflects on his struggle to find a way to live with integrity and compassion in a world on the precipice of a climate disaster. He sums it up by saying this: “My tears poured down as I mourned the world, mourned my boys’ future, mourned how avoidable it all was. Then I accepted the reality. Whatever you do, do it in the spirit of love, gracefully, and with a smile.”

Michael Polanyi works as a community worker in Toronto and is involved in advocacy on various social and environmental issues.

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Humanity is already experiencing horrific forest fires and flooding – think Fort McMurray and Hurricane Sandy – yet many of us still engage in the flying, driving and beef-eating which bring wide-spread greenhouse gas emissions. Some of us elect governments that don’t take global warming seriously. Psychologist Margaret Klein Salamon, one of the film’s interviewees, wonders why we continue to live pretty much as usual (even prepare for retirement) despite the rising crisis.

True, there’s now an international climate movement – and it’s made important gains. It includes among its supporters celebrities like Leonardo DiCaprio and Al Gore, and revered scientists such as James Hansen. The 2014 People’s Climate March – whose optimism the film celebrates – brought an astounding 400,000 participants to New York.

When I said coal threatens climate, journalists’ eyes glazed over. When I said the black rock exacerbates asthma, they immediately understood.

Yet this activism hasn’t proven wholly successful. It hasn’t sparked the massive, worldwide citizen engagement necessary to reduce GHGs dramatically. Why is that?

Beyond Crisis suggests the movement needs to improve its strategies and tactics. For one, it has to tell a better story. It needs a language that has purchase for folks in their daily lives. The film shows activists doing street theatre in New York’s South Bronx. They remind us that fossil fuels harm local children’s respiratory health. Concerns about the latter (more than worries about climate) mobilize this struggling community. I found this framing useful in my own work to close Alberta’s coal plants. When I said coal threatens climate, journalists’ eyes glazed over. When I said the black rock exacerbates asthma, they immediately understood – and often replied that their own kids had the disease.

Dr. Peter Carter, an expert reviewer for the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, tells viewers that the movement needs to have three succinct demands: divestment, polluter pays, and no fossil fuel subsidies.      

Naomi Klein argues the movement needs to speak more about justice. The rise of renewables is essential but many in the oil and gas sector will find the change wrenching; they mustn’t be abandoned. Over time the transition will be beneficial for the labour market – as Klein points out, there’s far more employment in renewables than in dirty fuels – but in the short-term some people will be out of work.  Activists should make common cause with these folks and insist that government help them find fulfilling, well-paying jobs elsewhere.

Salamon says the movement needs to “go big”. It can’t be composed merely of traditional environmentalists. It has succeeded in bringing together faith groups, labour, First Nations, youth and scientists, but needs to be more encompassing still. Venture capitalist Tom Rand suggests there’s even a role for large corporations – as major wind and solar investors.

I think these strategies are useful but, to grow, I also think the movement needs to attend to its members’ inner life. It’s not just a matter of improving the message box, correctly framing our demands or reaching out to new constituencies.  We need to create a movement people love being part of, a movement their friends are in. We need to offer folks a community – one that’s fun and uplifting and adds meaning to their lives. If people attend rallies and find themselves bored or lonely, they won’t come back.

Amanda Lewis, an editor at a major publishing house, tells viewers that, if we’re to engage citizens on climate, we need to show more creativity and “a certain amount of play”.  Those are good overarching suggestions.

As we build our movement, we need to try many different approaches – everything from arts-based activism to building bridges with big business. We need to be open to making mistakes. And, in the face of crisis, we have to offer our members a measure of lightness and joy. 

You can arrange to host a Beyond Crisis screening at beyondcrisisfilm.com/screenings.

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Perhaps unsurprisingly, the book is far from a leisure read. And not having read Dale’s first book, I was unfamiliar with her personal history, which she weaves throughout the book. It took time to appreciate how deftly she integrates personal disclosures with the current hurdles facing environmental policy and cultural change across Canada.

Each paragraph is tightly packed with case studies, anecdotes and allusions, with Dale often leaving the reader to unpack each connection to build a fuller picture in their mind. As such, post-secondary students to “lifer Environmentalists,” as she calls them, would read Edging Forward in completely differently ways and find value all the same.

Depending on your familiarity with the subject, Edging Forward is either a primer or a pit-stop. There are so many layered ideas contained within its pages that, at times, its messaging comes off as rushed or hurried. Though I don’t agree with all Dale suggested in the book, I do appreciate that her hurried pace is purposeful. It’s the kind of book that appears meant to entice readers into taking action rather than bog them down in the details.  

Depending on your familiarity with the subject, Edging Forward is either a primer or a pit-stop.

Yet the details are at-hand in the supporting material, reams of them in the endnotes and a corresponding website, all of which are organized in a masterful way. In these resources, the eco-conscience Canadian can find information and tools to assist them in however they are advocating for sustainable change in their community.

I was excited to dive into Edging Forward with its promise of weaving the “power of stories” into imperatives to drive sustainable development across the country. But while I appreciate that each chapter began with allusion, not all tied together as effectively as intended. Dale bravely shares her own personal story in what it took to overcome her own life’s hurdles; here I believe Dale is showcasing how a single human can become an agent of change despite grappling with despair. That acknowledging and acting on one’s agency in their own life is the same exercise (perhaps on a different scale) as it is to move an entire community to act on behalf of the environment.

Despite this, can Edging Forward shift environmental discussions and practice in Canada or around the world? Perhaps not. The book did not read to me as though Dale was trying to reinvent the wheel when it comes to sustainability in Canada; rather, given political climates at home and abroad that fail to grasp the magnitude of the global challenges we face as a species, I think she was simply trying to keep those wheels moving forward.

Which is noble enough in itself.

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