$1 Trillion in Oil and Gas Pipelines Worldwide Could Become Stranded Assets, New Report Warns

DeSmog

$1 Trillion in Oil and Gas Pipelines Worldwide Could Become Stranded Assets, New Report Warns

 

pipeline under construction
Pipeline, April 22, 2010. Credit: Ripperda, CC BY 2.0 

 

On January 7, 2021, Energy Transfer was notified by its insurer, Westchester Fire Insurance Co. of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, that it had lost a $250,000 surety bond for the Dakota Access pipeline (DAPL) — a bond that Iowa, one of the four states it passes through, required the pipeline to maintain.

That loss of insurance coverage comes as the Biden administration and a federal court each must confront a decision about whether to order DAPL to shut down, after a federal appeals court last week upheld a lower court’s finding that the oil pipeline still lacks a completed environmental review. Financial observers have been watching DAPL closely — and a new report warns that DAPL is hardly alone in the oil and gas pipeline industry in facing major financial risks linked to projects’ environmental impacts.

Dakota Access Pipeline has no federal easement. It’s now losing insurance coverage on the state-level which is a requirement for Iowa’s state permit,” the Indigenous Environmental Network said in a January 29 statement. “It’s time to end this saga and do what’s right.”

Environmentalists predicted that the lost insurance coverage could be difficult for Energy Transfer to replace, particularly given DAPL’s incomplete federal review. “It will be difficult because the bond holder will require the pipeline to comply with all legal requirements,” attorney Carolyn Raffensperger, director of the Science and Health Network, told DeSmog. “If it is operating without a permit, any spill would be a big, big legal problem.”

But as consequential as the DAPL fight — which has raged for roughly a half-decade — might be, Dakota Access is just one of hundreds of pipelines worldwide that a new report finds are at risk of early abandonment because they’re “on a collision course” with climate agreements.

The report, titled “Pipeline Bubble 2021” and published by the climate data nonprofit Global Energy Monitor, warns that pipeline construction projects worldwide have put $1 trillion worth of pipeline investment at risk of being rendered obsolete by the energy transition away from fossil fuels.

The risky projects include over 131,000 miles of pipe, both oil pipelines like DAPL and — to an even higher degree — new natural gas pipelines. “18 of the 20 longest pipelines in development and 82.7% of all pipelines in development globally will carry gas,” the report finds, “reflecting the fossil fuel industry’s success in perpetuating the myth that gas can be a ‘bridge fuel’ to a clean energy future.”

Permian ‘Carbon Bomb’

When it comes to the U.S. oil and gas industry, Global Energy Monitor’s report zeroes in on the productive Permian Basin straddling Texas and New Mexico, an oil and gas play which it calls a potential “carbon bomb,” adding that by 2050, Permian gas “would consume ten percent of the world’s allowable carbon budget if we are to have a 50/50 chance of limiting global warming to 1.5°C.”

The report adds that there are over 100 institutions providing financial support for the industry in the U.S. Permian Basin alone, including major backers based in Japan, France, the Netherlands, Canada, and the UK, as well as U.S. banks like Goldman Sachs, JPMorgan Chase, and Morgan Stanley. The authors tallied $102.3 billion in debt financing for the Permian Basin’s pipelines and gas export facilities alone since 2014.

Enterprise WAHA Gas Plant. Reeves County, Texas.
Enterprise WAHA gas plant in Reeves County, Texas. Credit: ©2020 Justin Hamel

The ability of the oil and gas industry to overcome near-term challenges to its Permian Basin expansion plans, such as the COVID-19 pandemic and the collapse of prices, will depend in part on the appetite of banks and governments to continue funding midstream infrastructure,” they wrote. “Should they decide to do so, it will be in spite of the industry’s long-term decline and growing concerns over the global climate emergency.”

The investment risks are compounded by fossil fuel divestment pressure from investors and financial institutions, which are increasingly wary of projects that fail to take climate risks into account — a wariness the report predicts may grow beyond coal, Arctic drilling, and tar sands projects.

Just four major financial institutions (BNP Paribas, Rabobank, UniCredit, and US Bancorp) have restricted pipeline finance, the report finds — so far. “For the first time, exclusions affecting the entire spectrum of oil and gas extraction activities appeared in 2020, announced by Suncorp Group and Government Pension Fund Global (GPFG),” Pipeline Bubble 2021 said. “But examination of the policies of other institutions suggests that the scope is likely soon to widen to include pipelines and other infrastructure.”

In January, the world’s largest investment fund manager, BlackRock, warned corporate executives that it would ditch investments in companies that fail to disclose plans to reach “net zero” carbon emissions by 2050 — though The Guardian reported that announcement only covers BlackRock’s “actively managed” investments, representing about $616 billion of the firm’s $8.7 trillion under management, allowing the firm to retain major oil, gas and coal investments.

Toll Booth on a Closing Highway

The U.S. pipeline industry, often referred to as the “midstream” oil and gas industry, was once marketed to investors as a safe bet, like running the “toll booth” on the shale rush’s highway. This past year, it’s been temporarily rocked by the impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic, which has led to pipeline construction deferrals and delayed start-ups.

During 2020, developers completed 3,600 km [2,236 miles] of oil pipelines and 9,619 km [5,977 miles] of gas pipelines, or an overall average of 1,102 km [684 miles] per month for oil and gas pipelines combined,” the report found. “The decline in pipeline completions parallels a general financial decline in private-sector oil company balance sheets and market value” since 2008.

The pandemic has also forced U.S. drillers to slow their activities. “The rig count is less than half of what it was,” RBN analyst Jason Ferguson told trade publication Natural Gas Intelligence in January. “Producers are not out spending, and the historical relationship of how many wells will be drilled at this price has changed.”

EagleClaw's East Toyah cryogenic processing plant in Reeve's County, Texas.
EagleClaw’s East Toyah cryogenic processing plant for natural gas liquids in Reeve’s County, Texas. Credit: ©2020 Justin Hamel

The pandemic’s impacts, Global Energy Monitor said, are expected to be temporary and may create little long-lasting deterrence to pipeline construction. “Overall, however, the expansion curve has been bent rather than broken, with pipelines continuing to enjoy both policy support and financial support by governments and major financial institutions,” the Pipeline Bubble 2021 report said.

But the pipeline industry has also faced a political backlash that has created upheaval for the industry. “Intense opposition from landowners, [I]ndigenous groups, and climate activists is causing the cancellation or delay of high-profile pipelines, and is changing perceptions of pipelines as a ‘safe’ investment,” Global Energy Monitor found. But worldwide, the report adds, many pipelines are owned by state-owned enterprises, the report adds, leading them to be “somewhat insulated” from market forces, at least in the short run.

And the looming energy transition should reduce overall demand for the products carried by pipelines, the report warns. “For oil, the main threat in the coming decade is the prospect of vehicle electrification, as more governments announce transitions away from internal combustion sales and manufacturers respond by shifting investments toward electric vehicles,” Global Energy Monitor wrote. “For gas, change is arriving most rapidly in the power sector, where combinations of renewables, batteries, and demand management now offer equivalent reliability at lower cost than gas-fired power plants.

It adds that worldwide, “gas supply chains are lengthening, which means larger investments in infrastructure and greater stranded assets if and when projects stall or are prematurely retired.”

Boom And Bust And …

Some energy analysts have been warning for years that the pipeline industry, especially in the Permian Basin, was on track to over-build.

If we don’t overbuild this time, it will be the first time in the history of the industry,” Wouter van Kempen, Chairman, President, and CEO of DCP Midstream, said at an April 2018 pipeline indusry conference, as DeSmog has previously reported. “There’s absolutely, we will overbuild, there’s no doubt about it.”

That excessive building is already creating financial difficulties, East Daley Capital Advisors reported this year. Those difficulties aren’t primarily from the sprawling network of small “gathering” pipelines that connect individual oil and gas wells to the large interstate pipes that form the backbone of the oil and gas transportation network, RBN Energy analyst Housley Carr said as he summarized a January 2021 East Daley report, instead “it’s volume and rate declines on large-diameter, long-haul crude oil and natural gas pipelines owned by midstream giants that present the main challenge to sustainable cash flow health in aggregate.”

Drilling rigs stacked at a yard in Midland, Texas, after oil prices went negative in April 2020
Dozens of drilling rigs are stacked at the H&P yard in Midland, Texas, after the oil price went negative on April 20, 2020, Midland, Texas on May 28, 2020. Credit: ©2020 Justin Hamel

Other forecasters predict that 2021 could bring higher oil prices and a turnaround for the financially struggling U.S. oil and gas industry — which in turn could revitalize interest in new pipeline projects in the short term. For its part, the U.S. Energy Information Administration predicts that U.S. oil production in 2021 will be 11.1 million barrels a day in 2021, down from 11.3 million per day in 2020, with an average 2021 West Texas Intermediate spot price of $49.70 a barrel — roughly $10 a barrel higher than the 2020 average.

But while oil and gas prices might fluctuate in the short run, over the long run, the pipeline industry faces growing questions about whether it’s wise to build a massive network of pipelines that could become obsolete well within their projected 50-year-plus lifespans.

The report’s authors called on the Biden administration to carefully consider the ways that the U.S. energy industry has changed since Obama was in office, particularly with regards to natural gas, which is predominantly made up of the powerful greenhouse gas methane.

The policy landscape facing the new administration in 2021 is radically different from the one that Biden left in 2017,” James Browning, lead author of the report, said. “Fossil gas is now recognized as a climate buster, not a climate solution. That means Biden faces the tough decision to rein in gas infrastructure, which is the most effective way to limit emissions.”

A Former Trump Adviser May Have Revealed What The Fossil Fuel Bonanza Was Really About

A Former Trump Adviser May Have Revealed What The Fossil Fuel Bonanza Was Really About

Alexander C. Kaufman, Senior Reporter, HuffPost – 
Larry Kudlow, director of the National Economic Council under former President Donald Trump, is seen here in 2018. He's remained a fixture on the increasingly political Fox Business Network since leaving office. (Photo: Alex Wong via Getty Images)

 

Ramping up fossil fuel production and shredding pollution rules, as the Trump administration did for four years, largely defies economic and scientific logic in an era of costly climate disasters. But Larry Kudlow, who was director of the National Economic Council for part of that time, may have indicated Wednesday that the administration saw its policies on fossil fuels through another lens: culture.

During an interview with Fox Business star Maria Bartiromo, Kudlow dismissed President Joe Biden as an ideologue whose approach to climate change threatens to “wreck the whole energy sector.”

“It turns out President Biden may be the most left-wing president we’ve ever seen,” Kudlow said. “His actions on spending and taxing and regulating, on immigration and fossil fuels and other cultural issues… he may be the most left-wing.”

It was only a split second, possibly even an unintentional slip of the tongue. But the idea of defining fossil fuels as a “cultural issue” gets at something that typically goes unacknowledged in policy debates over how to deal with the industry most responsible for destabilizing the planet’s ecosystems. For conservatives, fossil fuel fights are just another front in the U.S. culture war that’s been waged for decades over issues like same-sex marriage and abortion.

On the other hand, the economic logic of pumping and burning more oil, gas and coal is difficult to square.

Already, the planet has warmed 1.2 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial averages, yielding biblically terrifying and astronomically expensive results in the form of deadly floods and fires, prolonged droughts and ravenous locust swarms. Last year, the United States alone suffered a record-breaking 22 warming-fueled disasters that each topped $1 billion in damages.

An aerial view shows pumpjacks in the South Belridge Oil Field near McKittrick, California. Oil prices have cratered with the spread of the coronavirus pandemic. (Photo: David McNew via Getty Images)
An aerial view shows pumpjacks in the South Belridge Oil Field near McKittrick, California. Oil prices have cratered with the spread of the coronavirus pandemic. (Photo: David McNew via Getty Images)

 

And that only accounts for fossil fuels’ effect on global temperatures. Tiny particles from fossil fuels that pollute the air kill as many as 4.5 million people worldwide each year, and result in global economic costs totaling roughly $8 billion per day, a study published last year by the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air found.

Then there’s the reality that fossil fuel producers rely heavily on debt and generous government subsidies to turn profits. About 50% of new oil drilling in the U.S. would be unprofitable without subsidies, according to a 2017 study in the peer-reviewed journal Nature Energy.

Over the past decade, cheap loans from Wall Street investors boosted the popularity of hydraulic fracturing, the drilling technique known as fracking ― thereby flooding the market with supply and reducing the price of oil and gas. The sector’s success was its own undoing: Between 2012 and 2017, the 30 largest shale producers lost more than $50 billion, according to a Wall Street Journal estimate. From 2015 to 2016, an eyebrow-raising 91% of all corporate debt defaults in the United States were in the oil and gas sector, the financial research firm Moody’s  calculated in 2019.

Now that policymakers are starting to heed scientists’ calls to rapidly transition the global economy away from fossil fuels, even the mightiest companies are showing signs of financial atrophy. Exxon Mobil Corp., the Western world’s largest oil explorer, lost its place in the Dow Jones Industrial Average stock index last August as its debt, and its obstinate refusal to plan for a low-carbon future, repelled investors. This week, the company reported its first annual loss in at least 40 years.

If the adoption of renewable power and electric vehicles proves as swift as leaders in the U.S., Europe and East Asia now say they want it to be, new drilling projects ― which can take decades to pay off ― could become what financial experts call “stranded assets,” virtually worthless money pits that will never make a profit but may instead be costly to clean up.

What, then, explains the political power of fossil fuels? Hefty political donations and the long-term need for some supply of the fuels, albeit paired with some kind of technology to capture emissions, only tell part of the story. The industry, especially in the U.S., also serves as an avatar for a certain kind of cultural worldview, one that resonates with tough-guy masculinity and patriarchal families.

The concept of petro-masculinity suggests that fossil fuels mean more than profit; fossil fuels also contribute to making identities, which poses risks for post-carbon energy politics. Virginia Tech political scientist Cara Daggett

In 2011, a study in the peer-reviewed journal Global Environmental Change found that white males were overrepresented among people who denied the reality of climate change. Researchers attributed the phenomenon to a desire to “protect their cultural identity.”

“Perhaps white males see less risk in the world because they create, manage, control, and benefit from so much of it,” the study’s authors wrote. “Perhaps women and nonwhite men see the world as more dangerous because in many ways they are more vulnerable, because they benefit less from many of its technologies and institutions, and because they have less power and control.”

In 2014, researchers in Sweden found that climate denial was “intertwined with a masculinity of industrial modernity that is on decline.” Those who defended the industries destabilizing the planet were trying “to save an industrial society” that men like them had built and dominated, argued the researchers, whose work appeared in Norma: International Journal for Masculinity Studies.

In 2018, Virginia Tech political scientist Cara Daggett gave the concept a name: petro-masculinity.

“The concept of petro-masculinity suggests that fossil fuels mean more than profit,” Daggett wrote in the international studies journal Millennium. “Fossil fuels also contribute to making identities, which poses risks for post-carbon energy politics.”

Reflecting on this growing body of social research, the climate writer Emily Atkin asked in a recent edition of her Heated newsletter: “Do you ever wonder what the planet might look like if men didn’t control the world?”

“I’m not talking about all cisgender men, or the entirety of the male gender,” she wrote. “Really, I’m just talking about people who believe that because they have penises, they are required to act in a traditionally, almost performatively masculine way ― like ‘being strong’ and ‘never showing weakness’ and ’ not ordering sauvignon blanc.”

Project to block Asian carp from entering Lake Michigan moves forward

Project to block Asian carp from entering Lake Michigan moves forward

Morgan Greene, Chicago Tribune                    February 3, 2021

CHICAGO — It’s not good news for some of the most foreboding fish in Illinois swimming their way toward Lake Michigan.

The next phase of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ project for the Brandon Road Lock and Dam near Joliet is moving ahead after state and federal funding has been secured. The project aims to block out some particularly prolific species of invasive carp that could destroy the balance of the Great Lakes ecosystem and eat their way through the region’s $7 billion fishing industry.

Gov. Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan and Illinois Gov. J.B. Pritzker last month pledged to work together to keep out the invasive carp. Illinois signed on to fund about a third of the estimated $28 million pre-construction engineering and design phase of the Brandon Road project. Michigan offered Illinois up to $8 million and the Illinois Department of Natural Resources will contribute the other $2.5 million. Federal funds will cover the other two-thirds. The entire project is now estimated to cost $858 million.

Loren Wobig, IDNR’s office of water resources director, likened the Asian carp effort to the strong offense and defense needed on a football team. Commercial fishing to rid waterways of the carp as well as monitoring efforts are part of the offense, he said. The electrical barriers that have been in place for years at Romeoville help with defense.

“With Brandon Road, we’re essentially adding a very successful linebacker to our defense,” Wobig said.

This phase of the Brandon Road project is expected to take three to four years, and will include plotting out the many tasks ahead, securing the construction site, implementing research data, and a lot of modeling, said Andrew Leichty, a project manager with the Army Corps.

“It’s the phase here where we’re getting ready and prepared to get to that first construction contract,” Leichty said.

Among the technologies included in the recommended plan for the site: an electric barrier to deter and stun carp, underwater sound to scare them off, an air bubble curtain to turn around small fish that sneak along with barges, and a flushing lock to send larval fish and eggs downstream.

An engineered channel, which upped the costs of the project, will allow for more effective implementation of the technologies, including making it easier to clean out fish and debris. It also offers the potential to test new technology, Leichty said, such as carbon dioxide deterrence, which was not included in the feasibility plan but is being studied as another tool to steer away carp.

One of the challenges will be accommodating Illinois public waters law, Wobig said.

Once the pre-construction phase wraps up, construction could be completed in six to eight years, Leichty said, meaning a best case finish in 2030.

While Brandon Road progresses, the ongoing efforts to hold back the invasive carp will continue.

“We don’t want carp knocking on the door of this new barrier anytime soon,” said Kevin Irons, IDNR’s assistant chief of fisheries.

The last big scare past the electric barriers at Romeoville came in 2017, when an 8-pound silver carp was found in the Little Calumet River, just 9 miles from the lake.

Silver carp, known for scaring easily at the sound of a boat engine and sometimes leaping feet into the air, and bighead carp, the nearly nonstop eaters that regularly reach 40 pounds and can top 100, continue to be the species of most concern. Asian carp were brought to the U.S. to clean up algae blooms and nuisance vegetation, and flooding sent them into the Mississippi River basin, setting off years of proposals to keep them out of the Great Lakes.

The good news is the carp still haven’t made major moves above I-55, Wobig said. And more than a million pounds of carp are removed from the river annually. The state also works with commercial fisherman in the Lower Illinois River near Peoria who get an extra 10 cents a pound on Asian carp and can take out a few additional million pounds.

There’s been a more than 95% drop in the Dresden Island Pool population, about 47 miles from Lake Michigan, since 2012, Irons said.

“And we’re going to continue doing this because if we were to stop, we would expect those numbers to rebound,” Irons said.

As for Brandon Road, there really was no “plan B,” said Marc Smith, policy director for the National Wildlife Federation.

“They’re doing yeoman’s work on the water throughout the year with the unified method of capturing carp,” Smith said. “However, it’s not enough. And that’s where the political progress comes into play.”

Reaching this phase of the Brandon Road project is years in the making, after other possibilities in a 2014 Army Corps study on stopping carp and aquatic invasives — such as an $18 billion option of separating Lake Michigan from the river — were passed over. When Brandon Road became the preferred option, then-Illinois Gov. Bruce Rauner’s administration was hesitant in its support, questioning the costs and rejecting Michigan’s $8 million offer on his way out of office.

With state funding in place and inclusion on this year’s Army Corps work plan, the pre-construction phase can begin. But before actual construction starts, another agreement will need to be reached and more funds secured for the pricier part of the project, which requires 20% in nonfederal funding.

Some would like to see the federal government step in and cover the costs for cash-strapped Illinois.

“One hundred percent federal funding makes sense because you’re talking about a threat to eight states and two provinces,” said Molly Flanagan, chief operating officer for the Alliance for the Great Lakes.

Additionally, the technology tested for Brandon Road could be deployed throughout the country to curb aquatic invasive species, Flanagan said, leading to a national benefit.

Similarly, Smith said, “We’ve argued all along that Brandon Road really is a national response.”

“It’s been a long and bumpy road to get us to this point,” Smith said. “But nevertheless we are here. And it’s a huge step forward in the process.”

Living with natural gas pipelines: Appalachian landowners describe fear, anxiety and loss

Living with natural gas pipelines: Appalachian landowners describe fear, anxiety and loss

Erin Brock Carlson, Assistant Professor of Professional Writing and Editing, West Virginia University and Martina Angela Caretta, Senior Lecturer in Human Geography, Lund University      February 3, 2021
<span class="caption">Pipeline construction cuts through forests and farms in Appalachia.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Provided by Erin Brock Carlson</span>, <a class="link rapid-noclick-resp" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank" data-ylk="slk:CC BY-SA">CC BY-SA</a></span>
Pipeline construction cuts through forests and farms in Appalachia. Provided by Erin Brock Carlson, CC BY-SA

 

More than 2 million miles of natural gas pipelines run throughout the United States. In Appalachia, they spread like spaghetti across the region.

Many of these lines were built in just the past five years to carry natural gas from the Marcellus Shale region of Ohio, Pennsylvania and West Virginia, where hydraulic fracturing has boomed. West Virginia alone has seen a fourfold increase in natural gas production in the past decade.

Such fast growth has also brought hundreds of safety and environmental violations, particularly under the Trump administration’s reduced oversight and streamlined approvals for pipeline projects. While energy companies promise economic benefits for depressed regions, pipeline projects are upending the lives of people in their paths.

As a technical and professional communication scholar focused on how rural communities deal with complex problems and a geography scholar specializing in human-environment interactions, we teamed up to study the effects of pipeline development in rural Appalachia. In 2020, we surveyed and talked with dozens of people living close to pipelines in West Virginia, Ohio and Pennsylvania.

What we found illuminates the stress and uncertainty that communities experience when natural gas pipelines change their landscape. Residents live with the fear of disasters, the noise of construction and the anxiety of having no control over their own land.

‘None of this is fair’

Appalachians are no strangers to environmental risk. The region has a long and complicated history with extractive industries, including coal and hydraulic fracturing. However, it’s rare to hear firsthand accounts of the long-term effects of industrial infrastructure development in rural communities, especially when it comes to pipelines, since they are the result of more recent energy-sector growth.

For all of the people we talked to, the process of pipeline development was drawn out and often confusing.

Some reported never hearing about a planned pipeline until a “land man” – a gas company representative – knocked on their door offering to buy a slice of their property; others said that they found out through newspaper articles or posts on social media. Every person we spoke with agreed that the burden ultimately fell on them to find out what was happening in their communities.

Map
A map shows U.S. pipelines carrying natural gas and hazardous liquids in 2018. More construction has been underway since then. GAO and U.S. Department of Transportation. 

 

One woman in West Virginia said that after finding out about plans for a pipeline feeding a petrochemical complex several miles from her home, she started doing her own research. “I thought to myself, how did this happen? We didn’t know anything about it,” she said. “It’s not fair. None of this is fair. … We are stuck with a polluting company.”

‘Lawyers ate us up’

If residents do not want pipelines on their land, they can pursue legal action against the energy company rather than taking a settlement. However, this can result in the use of eminent domain.

Eminent domain is a right given by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to companies to access privately held property if the project is considered important for public need. Compensation is decided by the courts, based on assessed land value, not taking into consideration the intangibles tied to the loss of the land surrounding one’s home, such as loss of future income.

Through this process, residents can be forced to accept a sum that doesn’t take into consideration all effects of pipeline construction on their land, such as the damage heavy equipment will do to surrounding land and access roads.

One man we spoke with has lived on his family’s land for decades. In 2018, a company representative approached him for permission to install a new pipeline parallel to one that had been in place since 1962, far away from his house. However, crews ran into problems with the steep terrain and wanted to install it much closer to his home. Unhappy with the new placement, and seeing erosion from pipeline construction on the ridge behind his house causing washouts, he hired a lawyer. After several months of back and forth with the company, he said, “They gave me a choice: Either sign the contract or do the eminent domain. And my lawyer advised me that I didn’t want to do eminent domain.”

Pipeline construction on a farm
Pipeline construction cuts through a farmer’s field. Provided by Erin Brock Carlson, CC BY-SA 

 

There was a unanimous sense among the 31 people we interviewed that companies have seemingly endless financial and legal resources, making court battles virtually unwinnable. Nondisclosure agreements can effectively silence landowners. Furthermore, lawyers licensed to work in West Virginia who aren’t already working for gas companies can be difficult to find, and legal fees can become too much for residents to pay.

One woman, the primary caretaker of land her family has farmed for 80 years, found herself facing significant legal fees after a dispute with a gas company. “We were the first and last ones to fight them, and then people saw what was going to happen to them, and they just didn’t have – it cost us money to get lawyers. Lawyers ate us up,” she said.

The pipeline now runs through what were once hayfields. “We haven’t had any income off that hay since they took it out in 2016,” she said. “It’s nothing but a weed patch.”

‘I mean, who do you call?’

Twenty-six of the 45 survey respondents reported that they felt that their property value had decreased as a result of pipeline construction, citing the risks of water contamination, explosion and unusable land.

Many of the 31 people we interviewed were worried about the same sort of long-term concerns, as well as gas leaks and air pollution. Hydraulic fracturing and other natural gas processes can affect drinking water resources, especially if there are spills or improper storage procedures. Additionally, methane, a potent greenhouse gas, and volatile organic compounds, which can pose health risks, are byproducts of the natural gas supply chain.

A woman walks through an oil spill near tanks.
Oil spills are a major concern among land owners. Provided by Erin Brock Carlson, CC BY – SA 

 

“Forty years removed from this, are they going to be able to keep track and keep up with infrastructure? I mean, I can smell gas as I sit here now,” one man told us. His family had watched the natural gas industry move into their part of West Virginia in the mid-2010s. In addition to a 36-inch pipe on his property, there are several smaller wells and lines. “This year the company servicing the smaller lines has had nine leaks … that’s what really concerns me,” he said.

The top concern mentioned by survey respondents was explosions.

According to data from 2010 to 2018, a pipeline explosion occurred, on average, every 11 days in the U.S. While major pipeline explosions are relatively rare, when they do occur, they can be devastating. In 2012, a 20-inch transmission line exploded in Sissonville, West Virginia, damaging five homes and leaving four lanes of Interstate 77 looking “like a tar pit.”

Flames on the interstate highway.
A gas line explosion near Sissonville, West Virginia, sent flames across Interstate 77. AP Photo/Joe Long

 

Amplifying these fears is the lack of consistent communication from corporations to residents living along pipelines. Approximately half the people we interviewed reported that they did not have a company contact to call directly in case of a pipeline emergency, such as a spill, leak or explosion. “I mean, who do you call?” one woman asked.

‘We just keep doing the same thing’

Several people interviewed described a fatalistic attitude toward energy development in their communities.

Energy analysts expect gas production to increase this year after a slowdown in 2020. Pipeline companies expect to keep building. And while the Biden administration is likely to restore some regulations, the president has said he would not ban fracking.

“It’s just kind of sad because they think, once again, this will be West Virginia’s salvation,” one landowner said. “Harvesting the timber was, then digging the coal was our salvation. … And then here’s the third one. We just keep doing the same thing.”

Read more:

Dr. Carlson has received funding this project from the West Virginia University Humanities Center.

Dr Caretta has received funding for this project from the Heinz Foundation and the West Virginia University Humanities Center.

Study: Pandemic’s cleaner air added heat to warming planet

Study: Pandemic’s cleaner air added heat to warming planet

By Beth Borenstein                         February 2, 2021

Earth spiked a bit of a fever in 2020, partly because of cleaner air from the pandemic lockdown, a new study found.

For a short time, temperatures in some places in the eastern United States, Russia and China were as much as half to two-thirds of a degree (.3 to .37 degrees Celsius) warmer. That’s due to less soot and sulfate particles from car exhaust and burning coal, which normally cool the atmosphere temporarily by reflecting the sun’s heat, Tuesday’s study in the journal Geophysical Research Letters reported.

Overall, the planet was about .05 degrees (.03 degrees Celsius) warmer for the year because the air had fewer cooling aerosols, which unlike carbon dioxide is pollution you can see, the study found.

“Cleaning up the air can actually warm the planet because that (soot and sulfate) pollution results in cooling” which climate scientists have long known, said study lead author Andrew Gettelman, an atmospheric scientist at the National Center for Atmospheric Research. His calculations come from comparing 2020 weather to computer models that simulated a 2020 without the pollution reductions from pandemic lockdowns.

This temporary warming effect from fewer particles was stronger in 2020 than the effect of reduced heat-trapping carbon dioxide emissions, Gettelman said. That’s because carbon stays in the atmosphere for more than a century with long-term effects, while aerosols remain in the air about a week.

Even without the reduction in cooling aerosols, global temperatures in 2020 already were flirting with breaking yearly heat record because of the burning of coal, oil and natural gas — and the aerosol effect may have been enough to help make this the hottest year in NASA’s measuring system, said top NASA climate scientist Gavin Schmidt, who wasn’t part of this study but said it confirms other research.

“Clean air warms the planet a tiny bit, but it kills a lot fewer people with air pollution,” Gettelman said.

The Associated Press Health and Science Department receives support from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute’s Department of Science Education. The AP is solely responsible for all content.

Kenyan woman finds a way to recycle plastic waste into bricks that are stronger than concrete

Kenyan woman finds a way to recycle plastic waste into bricks that are stronger than concrete

Catherine Garcia                           February 3, 2021

Using her ingenuity and engineering skills, Nzambi Matee found a way to help the environment by converting plastic waste into building materials.

In 2017, Matee opened a factory in Nairobi called Gjenge Makers, where workers take plastic waste, mix it with sand, and heat it up, with the resulting brick being five to seven times stronger than concrete. The factory accepts waste that other facilities “cannot process anymore, they cannot recycle,” Matee told Reuters. “That is what we get.”

The bricks are made of plastic that was originally used for milk and shampoo bottles, cereal and sandwich bags, buckets, and ropes. Every day, Gjenge Makers produces about 1,500 bricks, in different sizes and colors. Matee is a materials engineer, and she designed the factory’s machines after becoming sick of waiting for government officials to do something about plastic pollution. “I was tired of being on the sidelines,” she told Reuters.

Since opening, Gjenge Makers has recycled 20 tons of plastic waste, and Matee plans on adding a larger production line that will allow the factory to triple its output.

Long-Haul Covid and the Chronic Illness Debate

New York Times – Opinion

What persistent Covid cases might have in common with chronic fatigue syndrome and Lyme disease, and why it matters.

By Ross Douthat, Opinion Columnist             February 2, 2021

 

Credit…Mario Tama/Getty Images

 

In this paper’s Sunday Magazine about a week ago, there were two powerful stories about so-called long-haul Covid — a form of the disease that seems to leave certain patients permanently sick, creating a legacy of chronic illness that may be with us long after vaccines have consigned the pandemic’s acute phase to the past.

One was a first-person account by my colleague Laura Holson, detailing her nine months with the disease: the initial terrifying springtime surge of symptoms, and then the persistent ones — low fever, brain fogs, mild chest aches — that were punctuated, in her case, by a brief return of the more frightening ones, the crushing chest pain and racing pulse and gasps for air. Her story ends with sustained improvement, movement “in the right direction” as doctors like to say, but still a shadow of fatigue eight months after she got sick.

The other story, by Moises Velasquez-Manoff, follows patients like Holson but also others who haven’t enjoyed even her level of improvement, and the doctors and scientists who are trying to figure out what’s happening to them — with “them” meaning anywhere from 10 to 50 percent of Covid-19 patients, depending on the study and the definition of long-term symptoms.

I wrote about long-haul Covid last summer, when it was still an emergent phenomenon, and at that point I tried to offer some practical lessons for people dealing with it, from my years of experience with an enduring illness, the medically contested chronic form of Lyme disease.

In Velasquez-Manoff’s exploration, many of his sources also draw analogies to forms of chronic illness that predate Covid. For instance, one possible parallel to what long-haul Covid patients are experiencing is myalgic encephalomyelitis, commonly known as chronic fatigue syndrome — a debilitating and mysterious affliction that’s increasingly understood as an autoimmune-related condition, in which the body’s own defenses seem to be constantly flaring, independent of actual infection, in ways that consign people to fatigue, brain fog and incapacity.

Similar autoimmune theories are also often applied to the larger constellation of chronic conditions that bear some similarities to what we’ve seen from long-haul Covid: chronic Lyme, multiple sclerosis, rheumatic fever, Guillain-Barré syndrome, various psychiatric conditions that seem to be caused by persistent inflammation in the brain.

And as with Covid, for many of these conditions, there appears to be some precipitating infection. Multiple sclerosis is often associated with the commonplace Epstein-Barr virus, rheumatic fever with the same bacteria that cause strep throat, and Lyme, famously, with bites from ticks that carry a spirochete called Borrelia burgdorferi. Chronic fatigue syndrome isn’t known to have a single agent as its trigger, but as Velasquez-Manoff notes, chronic-fatigue-like symptoms have long been linked to viral infections, from the recent SARS and H1N1 pandemics to the 1918 Spanish flu.

This means that a key unanswered question, for Covid long-haulers now as for other chronic sufferers, is what happens to the infectious agent over the long term of the disease. Past a certain point, is the agent itself gone, and everything that patients like Holson feel just the immune system running amok? Or are people who have some of these conditions really suffering from a persistent infection, from a pathogenic invasion that the immune system keeps exciting itself by trying and failing to suppress?

Given the range of chronic afflictions and the diversity of human beings, the safest answer is simply “It depends” — that different things can happen to different people, that as Velasquez-Manoff writes, the varying long-term reactions to a trigger like a coronavirus infection shouldn’t necessarily be thought of as “a single syndrome at all.”

But the particular case of Lyme disease brings the question to a sharper point, because more than for other chronic conditions, treatment for Lyme has become deeply polarized. There is an official consensus that regards “post-treatment Lyme-disease syndrome” as a problem without a clear cure, and then a smaller faction of doctors who are certain that the infection itself persists and can be treated, with antibiotics and other drugs, in ways that gradually bring most patients back to health.

As it happens, the minority view — that chronic Lyme is actually a chronic infection, not just an autoimmune response or a psychosomatic malady — has a new defense this month: a book called “Chronic: The Hidden Cause of the Autoimmune Pandemic and How to Get Better Again,” written by Dr. Steven Phillips, a Lyme practitioner and researcher, and one of his patients, the musician Dana Parish.

The book makes the case that the spread of what the authors call Lyme+, an array of tick-borne pathogens that often infect patients simultaneously, is responsible not just for the more than 400,000 cases of Lyme disease diagnosed each year in the United States but also for an unknown number of chronic infections beyond that — undiagnosed or misdiagnosed and left untreated because of a combination of testing failures, institutional bias and the horrible complexity of the diseases themselves.

Then further, they argue that most of these cases can be treated effectively. Many people who are told they have a condition that can only be managed, not eliminated — to say nothing of the people told “It’s all in your head” — could claw back toward normalcy, if not always perfect health, with a long-term regimen of oral antibiotics and a doctor who’s willing to work with them to figure out which drug combination works.

In the specific (but in their view, quite broad) case of Lyme, in other words, they are rejecting what Velasquez-Manoff calls the “scary permanence” of the chronic-fatigue-style diagnosis greeting many long-haul Covid patients. Even if issues specific to individual immune systems help make some Lyme cases long-term and others not, the infection itself is usually still there, usually still treatable, and those with the worst symptoms don’t have to suffer in the same way forever.

“Chronic” offers a mix of scientific research and clinical and personal experience to make this case; if you are particularly interested in the questions it raises, I also recommend reading “Cure Unknown by Pamela Weintraub, the best journalistic account of the Lyme controversy, and dipping into “Conquering Lyme Disease,” by Brian A. Fallon of Columbia and Jennifer Sotsky — a more cautious and academic account.

But I have a particular reason to highlight the Phillips and Parish book, because Phillips is also my physician, with whom I have worked off and on for much of the last five years. I like to think that I would find his argument convincing on its own terms, but my bias is obvious and overwhelming, because his treatments have been crucial to my unfinished recovery from Lyme.

Not them alone: I have tried a lot of things on my own in pursuit of recovery. But nothing I’ve tried was as essential, as obvious in its stabilizing, lifesaving effects, as months and months of high-dose antibiotics. When I didn’t take them, on the advice of doctors who insisted that they had no long-term benefit, I slipped away day by day into the dark. When I took them and stuck with them, when I acted on the reasonable belief that persistent symptoms reflect persistent infection, I began to clamber back toward life and light.

That’s just one man’s testimony, and if chronic Lyme has some striking similarities to chronic Covid, there are obviously manifold differences — starting with the basic fact that one infection is bacterial and the other viral.

But for all the people — doctors and patients both — struggling to figure out this new long-haul condition, the medical establishment’s possible misunderstanding of chronic Lyme is an important signpost, a possible cautionary tale. As Phillips and Parish put it, in their book’s Covid-era afterword, there’s an “echo chamber in the medical community that defaults patients who develop chronic illness after an acute infection, to a ‘post-viral’ or ‘post-infectious’ syndrome, without deep exploration into the likelihood of ongoing infection. We fear that long-term Covid patients will be resigned to the same fate.”

I worry about the same thing. Living through the coronavirus era after spending so many years in the world of Lyme disease is a strange experience because you can see all kinds of different pieces of the tick-borne epidemic refracted strangely in the Covid pandemic — disputes over testing, mysterious and shifting symptomatology, expert failures and medical populism, and controversies around what it means when the disease just hangs around indefinitely. (Even the theory that the coronavirus escaped from a laboratory in Wuhan, China, has counterparts in the theories surrounding Plum Island, the U.S. biowarfare laboratory in Long Island Sound that just happens to sit near the epicenter of the Lyme epidemic.)

One thing we’re definitely doing better with long-haul Covid than with Lyme, chronic fatigue syndrome and all their strange companions is taking the lived experience of long-haul patients seriously — probably because we have so many of them all at once — instead of treating them as weaklings or hypochondriacs.

But I want to believe that we can do better still — and that like the many people restored from Lyme with actual treatment, not just patience, there are people suffering from months and months of Covid misery who will eventually be lifted back to health.

Trump’s assault on the environment is over. Now we must reverse the damage

Trump’s assault on the environment is over. Now we must reverse the damage

Jonathan B Jarvis and Gary Machli                     February 1, 2021
<span>Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo</span>
Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo

 

Now that the Trump administration’s four-year assault on environmental protection and conservation has crested, the work of restoration must begin. As professionals in the field of conservation, we watched with dread and dismay as the laws, policies, science, and stewardship of waters, air, wildlife, and public lands were systematically dismantled.

While the damage is profound, the Biden-Harris administration can reverse these harms, restart fundamental environmental policies and programs, and restore the federal commitment to environmental protection and lands and waters stewardship. What is needed is a tactical plan for restoration.

Ten months before the November 2020 election, we convened a team of diverse environmental leaders with government, nonprofit, private sector, and academic experience. They were from both coasts and the heartland, the north-west and the south-east, rural America and large cities. Meeting virtually as The Restoration Project, they worked over several months to create a carefully researched and prioritized list of the top 100 important actions to be taken to restore the nation’s environment. The plan was delivered to the Biden-Harris transition team in November, and we are releasing it today to the public here.

Some of the plan’s top priorities have already been met, including rejoining the Paris Climate agreement (#1), issuing executive orders on meeting climate change goals (#2), and halting the Keystone XL pipeline (#25). Other restorative actions will take longer, especially where the Trump administration locked in changes with new federal regulations.

For instance, final regulations were issued by the Environmental Protection Agency that weakened fuel economy standards for cars and trucks from 54 mpg to 40 mpg by 2025, which may exacerbate the climate crisis. The EPA also finalized the so-called “transparency rule” that would restrict the agency from considering scientific studies that do not reveal raw data, including confidential or personal identifying information. The result is that studies including such personal information can no longer be used to evaluate toxic substances that endanger public safety. The team prioritized these reversals among its top 10, and recommended either they be repealed by Congress or a new rule be promulgated, a process that will take several years.

Some of the “harms” are already being challenged in the courts, such as drastic reductions of both Grand Staircase-Escalante and Bears Ears national monuments. In other cases, the courts have ruled the Trump action as illegal, as in the replacement of the Clean Power Plan with one that did not protect air quality. The Biden-Harris administration can restore the boundaries of the two national monuments and issue a new, stronger plan for clean air.

The Trump administration rolled back a series of protections for the nation’s wildlife, mostly through policy directives within the interior department. The plan calls for the new interior secretary to restore protections for migratory birds that could be killed by industrial development, eliminate the practice of shooting female grizzly bears in their dens in Alaska, and prevent the shooting of polar bears by private companies exploring for oil in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

The plan also calls for a restoration of protection for special places that we all thought were legally protected from development and impact, including road building and logging in the Tongass National Forest of Alaska, drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, and oil and gas development adjacent to Chaco Culture National Historical Park.

The detailed approaches required for restoration and outlined in the report – executive orders, policy changes, and prudent use of the Congressional Review Act– may seem mundane, but this is what we must do to restore what has been lost, threatened, and harmed. Some of the actions will be easily completed in the first 100 days of the administration and others will take years to reverse, requiring patience and persistence. We recommend that the administration track and report to the American people progress on the accomplishments detailed in the plan.

The Restoration Project was written for the government as a tactical plan for progress. But it is also a call to action for a broader conservation movement that includes those working to restore civil rights, rural economies, public health, scientific integrity, and environmental justice. The new administration should be supported in its progress, applauded for its successes – and held accountable when action is forestalled or lacking.

  • Jonathan B Jarvis served 40 years with the National Park Service and was its 18th director. Dr Gary Machlis served as science advisor to the director of the National Park Service and is a professor of environmental sustainability at Clemson University. They are the co-authors of The Future of Conservation in America: A Chart for Rough Water (University of Chicago Press).

Op-Ed: We need open space, and Washington can help us get it

Op-Ed: We need open space, and Washington can help us get it

Tim Palmer                                  February 1, 2021
LOS ANGELES, CA - MAY 27: Hikers enjoy Runyon Canyon Park near the North entrance on Mulholland Drive in the Hollywood hills on Wednesday morning as the popular park has been reopened and is closely monitored by L.A. City personnel new under COVID-19 safety guidelines. Visitors are still required to wear masks at the park and people are instructed to walk in lanes with directional arrows trying to maximize social distancing. Hollywood on Wednesday, May 27, 2020 in Los Angeles, CA. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
Runyon Canyon Park, in the Hollywood Hills, was the beneficiary of federal Land and Water Conservation Fund dollars in recent years. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)

 

We who live in the West benefit from public ownership of 47% of the land across 11 states, most of it managed by federal agencies. It’s our wild backyard — mountains, forests and seashores available to all for free or for a nominal entrance charge. But only 4% of the land in the rest of the country is publicly owned, and even in the West, much of our “commons” is remote, far from cities where people may need it most.

Fortunately, we have a national program for adding to America’s open-space estate: the Land and Water Conservation Fund. Since 1964 a portion of the receipts from offshore oil and gas leases has gone to federal, state and local agencies to acquire and preserve land for recreation and conservation. Unfortunately, Congress diverted much of the money — $22 billion by one estimate — to other federal programs.

Then in 2019, after the fund came close to sunsetting, it was permanently authorized, and in 2020 the bipartisan Great American Outdoors Act mandated that the $900 million a year now set aside for the fund must be tapped solely for conservation and recreation.

The money is administered through four federal agencies — the National Park Service, the Bureau of Land Management, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and the U.S. Forest Service — for state, local and national projects. In Southern California in recent years, Land and Water Conservation Fund dollars have helped refurbish L.A.’s Lincoln Park swimming pool, added to Runyon Canyon hiking trails and improved steelhead habitat in Malibu Creek. At the national level, the fund has increased park service holdings by more than 2 million acres. Imagine how much more could have been done with the billions Congress repurposed over the years.

Since the fund was established, our need for recreation areas and public land has only grown. Fifty-five years ago, the U.S. population was 194 million; today it’s 330 million, with most of us crowded into urban areas. The increase in outdoor activity during the pandemic — up sharply according to federal and local sources — is just one indicator of our collective need for more and better access to the outdoors. And the conservation fund’s programs have benefits that stretch far beyond recreation.

Consider, for example, the climate crisis. Each year billions of taxpayer dollars are spent trying to protect homes from fires, floods and sea level rise, much of it induced or made worse by global warming. Disaster relief follows, along with subsidies to rebuild, followed by a repeat of the whole process. Think instead how we could avoid public and private losses if those who have settled or invested in the path of fire and flood could have the option of selling their land for open space and recreation areas that can double as buffers against disasters and hazards.

In addition to tax savings and safety nets, parklands provide reservoirs of carbon sequestered in unlogged forests, reducing the greenhouse effect that’s the root cause of global warming. Land kept free from development protects watersheds that are the sources of our drinking water. And with climate change triggering a shocking loss of biodiversity, the U.S. should join 50 other nations in committing to protect 30% of the world’s wildlife habitat.

“Getting the annual appropriation for the Land and Water Conservation Fund was an extraordinary accomplishment in the last Congress,” said Zach Spector of the Western Rivers Conservancy. “The need now is to see that the federal and other agencies have the wherewithal to spend that money.” It is not an idle challenge, coming at a time when the government groups charged with protecting and adding to public land have lost staff, expertise and morale to attrition, erosion and outright hostility from the Trump administration.

Despite our divisions, many Americans agree that safeguarding more land for public use and conservation is how we improve America. The popularity of land-protection programs has been evident over the last several decades in the passage of multiple open-space bond initiatives in California. Sponsoring several, Jerry Meral, formerly of the Planning and Conservation League, said, “Voters repeatedly indicate that they support funding to secure more parklands and open space.” As another barometer of opinion, support for the Land and Water Fund in 2019 and 2020 came from both political parties, one of few issues to gain bipartisan votes during four years of toxic partisan mayhem.

We now have an opportunity to do for coming generations what insightful predecessors did for us when they set aside the parks, forests and vistas that we use and admire today. We must make sure Congress and the new administration double down on protecting our most valuable remaining open space.

Tim Palmer is the author of “America’s Great Mountain Trails,” “Rivers of California” and other books. 

Op-Ed: Collapseologists are warning humanity that business-as-usual will make the Earth uninhabitable

Op-Ed: Collapseologists are warning humanity that business-as-usual will make the Earth uninhabitable

Christopher Ketcham and Jeff Gibbs              January 31, 2021
Smoke from wildfires darkens the sky over the mountains and freeway.
(Photo illustration by Nicole Vas/Los Angeles Times; John Antczak/Associated Press)

 

Hundreds of scientists, writers and academics from 30 countries sounded a warning to humanity in an open letter published in the Guardian in December: Policymakers and the rest of us must “engage openly with the risk of disruption and even collapse of our societies.” “Damage to the climate and environment” will be the overarching cause, and “researchers in many areas” have projected widespread social collapse as “a credible scenario this century.”

It’s not hard to find the “collapseology” studies they are talking about. In a report for the sustainability group Future Earth, a survey of scientists found that extreme weather events, food insecurity, freshwater shortages and the broad degradation of life-sustaining ecosystems “have the potential to impact and amplify one another in ways that might cascade to create global systemic collapse.” A 2019 report from the Breakthrough National Center for Climate Restoration, a think tank in Australia, projected that a rapidly warming world of depleted resources and mounting pollution would lead to “a largely uninhabitable Earth” and a “breakdown of nations and the international order.” Analysts in the U.S. and British military over the past two years have issued similar warnings of climate- and environment-driven chaos.

Of course, if you are a nonhuman species, collapse is well underway. Ninety-nine percent of the tall grass prairie in North America is gone, by one estimate; 96% of the biomass of mammals — biomass is their weight on Earth — now consists of humans, our pets and our farm animals; nearly 90% of the fish stocks the U.N. monitors are either fully exploited, over exploited or depleted; a multiyear study in Germany showed a 76% decline in insect biomass.

The call for public engagement with the unthinkable is especially germane in this moment of still-uncontrolled pandemic, institutional failures and economic crises in the world’s most technologically advanced nations. Not very long ago, it was also unthinkable that a virus would shut down nations and that safety nets would be proven so disastrously lacking in resilience.

The international scholars’ warning doesn’t venture to say exactly what collapse will look like or when it might happen. Collapseology is more concerned with identifying trends and with them the dangers of everyday civilization: ever-expanding economic growth, rapacious consumption of resources and the saturation of the planet’s limited repositories for waste.

Among the signatories of the warning was William Rees, a population ecologist at the University of British Columbia best known as the originator of the “ecological footprint” concept, which measures the total amount of environmental input needed to maintain a given lifestyle. With the current footprint of humanity — most egregiously the footprint of the energy- and resource-entitled Global North — “it seems that some form of global societal collapse is inevitable, possibly within a decade, certainly within this century,” Rees said in an email.

The most pressing proximate cause of biophysical collapse is what he calls overshoot: humans exploiting natural systems faster than the systems can regenerate. The human enterprise is financing its growth and development by liquidating biophysical “capital” essential to its own existence. We are dumping waste at rates beyond nature’s assimilative capacity. Warming temperatures, plunging biodiversity, worldwide deforestation and ocean pollution, among other problems, are all important in their own right. But each is a mere symptom of overshoot, says Rees.

The message we should glean from the evidence is that all human enterprise is ultimately determined by biophysical limits. We are exceptional animals, but we are not exempt from the laws of nature.

Another of the signatories on the warning letter is Will Steffen, a retired Earth systems scientist from Australian National University. Steffen singles out the neoliberal economic growth paradigm — the pursuit of ever expanding GDP — as “incompatible with a well-functioning Earth system at the planetary level.” Collapse, he told an interviewer, “is the most likely outcome of the present trajectory of the current system, as prophetically modelled in ‘Limits to Growth. ‘ ”

Limits to Growth” is a 150-page bombshell of a book published in 1972. The authors, a team of MIT scientists, created a computerized system-dynamics model called World3, the first of its kind, to examine worldwide growth trends from 1900 to 1970. They extrapolated from the historical data to model 12 future scenarios projected to the year 2100.

The models showed that any system based on exponential economic and population growth crashed eventually. The gloomiest model was the one in which the “present growth trends in world population, industrialization, pollution, food production, and resource depletion continue unchanged.” In that “business as usual” scenario, collapse would begin slowly in the 2020s and accelerate thereafter. Updates to the “Limits” study have found that its projections, so far, have been spot-on.

Only if we discuss the consequences of our biophysical limits, the December warning letter says, can we reduce their “likelihood, speed, severity and harm.” And yet messengers of the coming turmoil are likely to be ignored — crowned doomers, collapseniks, marginal and therefore discountable. We all want to hope things will turn out fine. “Man is a victim of dope/In the incurable form of hope,” as poet Ogden Nash wrote.

The hundreds of scholars who signed the letter are intent on quieting hope that ignores preparedness. Let’s look directly into the abyss of collapse, they say, and deal with the terrible possibilities of what we see there “to make the best of a turbulent future.”

Christopher Ketcham is the author, most recently, of “This Land: How Cowboys, Capitalism, and Corruption Are Ruining the American West.” Jeff Gibbs is the writer and director of the documentary “Planet of the Humans.”