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Politics : The Exxon Free Environmental Thread -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: Wharf Rat who wrote (244)4/8/2007 5:12:57 AM
From: Wharf Rat  Respond to of 49051
 
The War of the Words
Debate: Whether it's climate 'chaos', 'change' or 'crisis', language comes first in the environment fight.

Gary Taxali for Newsweek

By Jerry Adler
Newsweek
April 16, 2007 issue - What is the most pressing environmental issue we face today? "Global warming"? The "greenhouse effect"? At the Oscar ceremonies, Al Gore referred to a "climate crisis," but in his State of the Union address President Bush chose the comparatively anodyne phrase "climate change." They all refer to the same thing, but the first rule of modern political discourse is that before addressing any empirical problem each side must "frame the debate" in the most favorable way. If you doubt it, just try to get a Republican to utter the phrase "estate tax" rather than "death tax." Behind the overt campaign to head off whatever it is—environmental heating? thermal catastrophe?—is a covert struggle over what we should even call it.

In recent years this has played out largely as a contest between "global warming" and "climate change." Bush's use of the latter was consistent with Republican practice, which calls for de-emphasizing the urgency of the situation, as recommended in a 2002 memo by strategist Frank Luntz. Unlike the "catastrophic" connotations of global warming, Luntz wrote, "climate change sounds a more controllable and less emotional challenge." So should activists favor "global warming"? Well, not necessarily. Richard C.J. Somerville, a leading researcher on—um, worldwide calorification?— at Scripps Institution of Oceanography, thinks "global warming" is problematic because it puts the focus on worldwide average temperature, rather than the more serious regional dangers of storms, floods and drought. More pointedly, a leading Democratic strategist, Celinda Lake, actually endorsed "climate change" in 2004 on the grounds that "global warming" only works for half the year. "Every time we'd use the term in the winter, people would say, 'It doesn't feel that warm to me'," she said. (For the record, she now believes the issue has penetrated the public's awareness to the point where it doesn't matter much what it's called.) Similarly, it's been suggested that Americans have been slower than Europeans to grasp the magnitude of the impending disaster because they think of temperature in Fahrenheit, while scientists—and most of the rest of the world—use the Celsius scale, on which the numbers are smaller. A predicted temperature rise of, say, 3 degrees Celsius sounds less alarming than the equivalent swing of 5.4 degrees in the units most Americans are familiar with.

In any case, "global warming" seems to have won out over its rivals, if one can judge by The New York Times, where for each of the last three years "global warming" has outpaced references to "climate change" by almost exactly two to one—or an even bigger margin if you throw out articles that are actually about changes in the economic or cultural climate. Both of these phrases have triumphed over "greenhouse effect," which was the most common term in the early 1980s, when the phenomenon of—atmospheric pyrogenesis? —first came to public attention. Arguably, if your goal is to affect public attitudes and policies, "greenhouse effect," which refers to the buildup of heat-trapping gases in the atmosphere, puts the emphasis in the wrong place, on the mechanism rather than the outcome. George Lakoff, the Berkeley professor of linguistics and cognitive science, is a strong backer of the dark horse "climate crisis," which is also favored by Gore (along with the rather more cumbersome term he used in his congressional testimony last month, "planetary emergency"). " 'Climate change doesn't suggest immediate action," says Lakoff. " 'Climate crisis' says immediate action needed. The framing is not just a matter of labels, it's modes of thought. In Europe they use 'climate chaos'."

So that ought to settle it, except, of course, that this is a kind of crisis for which neither human experience nor language has quite prepared us: a slow-motion crisis, requiring heroic action now to head off disaster decades down the road. Somerville was on the losing side of a public debate last month in New York, sponsored by Intelligence Squared U.S., and he believes he lost in part because the proposition was framed as "Global Warming Is Not a Crisis." The other side, which included the novelist and, uh, meteorological-calamity skeptic Michael Crichton, was able to convince a narrow majority of the audience that "crisis" is the wrong term for whatever it is humanity is dealing with. "I don't like words that leave me vulnerable to charges of being alarmist," says Somerville. "Using crisis conveys the notion this is hopeless. But there's a lot that can be done about this. I'm still looking for the right words to describe what's happening, but it's not keeping me from trying to stop it."
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To: Wharf Rat who wrote (244)4/8/2007 5:52:45 AM
From: Wharf Rat  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 49051
 
Mayors Take the Lead
Cities: The federal government has been dithering on climate change and energy conservation for years. Lucky for us, America's local leaders are filling the vacuum.

Robin Twomey for Newsweek
Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels, standing on the energy-reducing 'green' roof of city hall, recruited 435 U.S. city leaders to commit to the greenhouse-gas reductions of the Kyoto Protocol
View related photos

By Anne Underwood
Newsweek
April 16, 2007 issue - Sometimes great ideas are born of desperation. For Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels, that sense of urgency developed in the winter of 2004-05, when the annual snowfall failed to materialize in the neighboring Cascade Mountains. That's a serious issue in Seattle, where melting snow feeds the city's reservoirs in the spring-time and swells the river that supplies its hydroelectric energy. Nickels's advisers were coming to him weekly with reports that the snow pack was just 1 percent of normal. "I don't think 'normal' exists anymore," Nickels remembers saying, having endured a succession of unusually warm winters. "Normal would be cause for popping champagne corks."
Nickels wasn't the only one who was starting to worry about climate change. In February 2005, 141 nations worldwide were preparing to put the Kyoto Protocol into effect—aiming to reduce global warming by cutting greenhouse-gas emissions 7 percent below 1990 levels by 2012. The United States was notably not one of them, so Nickels decided to "show the world there was intelligent life in the United States after all" by getting American cities to commit to Kyoto's targets. He drafted a document called the U.S. Mayors Climate Protection Agreement and presented it along with eight fellow mayors at the U.S. Conference of Mayors in March 2005. Their goal: to have 141 of their colleagues sign within a year, equaling the number of foreign countries that were party to Kyoto.

Two years later, a maverick idea has blossomed into a movement. To date, 435 mayors have signed on, Republican and Democratic, in Red States and Blue, from the crunchy coasts to the conservative heartland. Some of them govern cities with longstanding records of environmental activism, such as Chicago, San Francisco and Portland, Ore. But their ranks also include recent converts like conservative Republican Robert Cluck of Arlington, Texas, and Tom Barrett of Milwaukee, who just two years ago said it would be hard for him to join because of his city's commitment to promoting industry. Their combined efforts are now far more than symbolic. "These cities represent 61 million people," says Nickels. "That's equivalent to the population of France and larger than the United Kingdom."

The resources they bring to the task vary widely. In San Francisco, the city's Department of the Environment tackles sustainability with a staff of 70 people and a budget of $20 million. In Fayetteville, Ark., Mayor Dan Coody just hired his city's first sustainability director. Still, a remarkable patchwork of programs is emerging, from the creation of car-sharing schemes on the West Coast to a new initiative in Cambridge, Mass., that aims to green at least half the buildings in town. In the process, city officials are discovering that these measures save money, reduce demands on overstretched utilities and make cities more pleasant places to live and work. "We're not talking about some broad international policy that doesn't trickle down," says Coody. "Cities are where the rubber meets the road." Here are some ways they're taking action:

Energy Efficiency

Embarking on an environmental program sounds like a great idea. But if you're a mayor trying to cut greenhouse gases, where do you begin? How do you even know how to measure your current levels? That's where an organization called ICLEI—Local Governments for Sustainability can help. Founded in 1991, ICLEI provides computer software that walks city officials through the calculation one step at a time, helping tote up emissions from buildings (based on energy-consumption data from utilities) and vehicles (based on volume of traffic—that's what those little black strips on roads are for). The software even takes into account emissions from landfills, which generate methane, a potent greenhouse gas. ICLEI presents officials with a menu of energy-saving measures and helps calculate the reductions they can achieve from each. "We show them the low-, medium- and high-hanging fruit," says executive director Michelle Wyman.

One of the easiest measures is also one of the most cost effective. That's converting stoplights from incandescent bulbs to LEDs. On the downside, the conversion demands a major investment upfront. "When I found out the cost, it scared me," says Cluck in Arlington, Texas, noting that the new lights will cost his city $1.35 million. But since LEDs use 80 percent less energy than standard lights—and last six to 10 times longer—they pay for themselves in several years. After that, cities reap the savings. For Arlington, that's a projected windfall of more than $250,000 a year. In a larger city like New York, it's even more. The Big Apple—which has replaced 80,000 incandescent bulbs in 12,000 intersections—will realize savings of $6.3 million a year once the initial investment of $28 million is paid off.

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