Calling all economists: don’t let the denialists leave you the blame

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Climate change is both an economic AND a moral issue

By David Salt

“Where climate change is a moral issue we Liberals do it tough. Where climate change is an economic issue, as tonight shows, we do very, very well.”

These were Tony Abbott’s parting words on the 18 May 2019 as he conceded defeat at the recent federal elections. The voters in his Warringah electorate had finally tired of his denialist cant, and his wrecking and leaking from the side lines.

But in the ashes of his defeat he still found solace in the fact that while he had lost, his party, the Liberals, had won. They took no credible policy on carbon emissions (or the environment in general) to the election, they backed the development of new coal mines, and they scared the nation that the changes the nation would face under the opposition would cost everyone.

Against all poll-based predications, the Liberals won, and from their (close) victory they claim they have a mandate to ramp up the economic development of our fossil fuel reserves and continue with their non-action on the environmental front (with displacement activity on plastic recycling on the side to cover the void of their inaction).

Economics traduced

So, while Abbott has departed the political stage, possibly his parting observation of how the conservatives should be framing climate change held some truth: ‘Where climate change is framed as an economic issue, the Liberals do very, very well.’

If that’s the case then the once noble science of economics has been traduced – revealed as lacking a moral centre. It is merely a tool (a pawn) in a political game used to instil fear and prejudice in a jittery electorate.

Climate change is big – indeed it’s massive – but it’s also amorphous, uncertain and lies in our future (even though its impacts are starting to be felt). With clever economic framing it’s easy to convince people that the deep, transformative change that the world’s scientists say we need comes with ‘unacceptable’ short term costs. This is the exact game the Liberal party has been playing.

Indeed, the Liberals line in the run up to the last election was that their climate policies met their climate commitments “without wrecking the economy” and they released economic modelling suggesting Labor’s 45% target would cost the economy billions. The Liberals climate commitments have been shown time and again to be inadequate and their modelling of Labor’s higher target have been widely debunked.

It was a climate campaign based on fear and deception, and it seems that it worked in that it convinced voters the short term costs outweighed any longer term benefits. And then the government’s biggest denier (in the form of its past leader Tony Abbott) claimed it was simply an economics framing.

Stand up and be counted!

Well, I say to economists everywhere, please don’t accept this. Your science is based on rationality, public welfare and moral outcomes. Don’t allow conservatives to hide behind the economic façade of short term optimisation. Don’t allow them to sell your science as a reason to turn our back on climate change.

Of course, economists are some of the biggest supporters of meaningful action on climate change. And, truth to tell, there are real dangers in raising any issue to the status of a moral crisis.

In 2007 one of the world’s leading economists, Sir Nicholas Stern, told the world that “climate change is a result of the greatest market failure the world has seen.”

“The evidence on the seriousness of the risks from inaction or delayed action is now overwhelming. We risk damages on a scale larger than the two world wars of the last century. The problem is global and the response must be a collaboration on a global scale,” said Stern.

Our own Prime Minister at the time, Kevin Rudd, then chimed in on this rising tide of concern by labelling climate change as “the great moral challenge of our generation.” But then he seemed to squib on his commitment as soon as it hit resistance in parliament (resistance led by Tony Abbott). Surely the ‘great moral challenge of our generation’ was worthy of a bit of a fight.

But with major ecosystems failing, mass extinctions on the increase and Pacific nations drowning under rising seas, there can be no doubt that climate change is the great moral challenge of our generation. It’s also the great ecological, economic and social issue of our times, and experts from all areas should be standing up and demanding our political leaders see it as such.

For a past prime minister (Tony Abbott) to claim otherwise is immoral. To claim legitimacy for his party’s denialism by hiding it behind the cloak of economics is deceitful but in that he invoked economics it’s beholden on economists everywhere to set the record straight.

But the last word goes to the Pope

And another little postscript on Abbott’s election night epiphany. He began by pointing out that ‘where climate change is a moral issue the Liberals do it tough’. Where is Abbott’s moral centre in this debate? As a self-professed Catholic of deep faith, what does he make of Pope Francis’ declaration (coincidently also made in May this year). Pope Francis said: “We continue along old paths because we are trapped by our faulty accounting and by the corruption of vested interests. We still reckon as profit what threatens our very survival.” From this perspective, the Liberals economic framing is revealed to be merely faulty accounting and corrupt.

Not that Abbott has ever shown the moral fortitude of the leader of his Church. At the same time that Abbott was telling the world that climate change was not something to worry about, Pope Francis is on the record as saying: “Human-induced climate change is a scientific reality, and its decisive mitigation is a moral and religious imperative for humanity.”

Image byPete Linforth fromPixabay

Environmental regulation and the Productivity Commission

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Is ‘efficiency’ the sole solution to the challenge of ‘sustainability’?

By Peter Burnett

Last week the Australian Government announced a new inquiry by the Productivity Commission (PC) into regulation of the resources sector. While not confined to environmental regulation, in announcing the review Treasurer Josh Frydenberg made specific reference to improving the efficiency of environmental approvals to reduce the ‘regulatory burden’ on business. Frydenberg also said that the review would complement the forthcoming statutory review of national environmental protection law, the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act. (For more on this review, see my recent blog).

In his media release, Frydenberg repeated the mantra of recent governments: that the aim was to ensure that projects were assessed efficiently while ‘upholding robust environmental standards’. This largely reflects the terms of reference of the PC inquiry, which talk of removing unnecessary costs while ‘ensuring robust protections for the environment are maintained’.

The week before the inquiry was announced, the new chair of the Minerals Council of Australia, Helen Coonan (a former Howard Government minister), identified efficient regulation as one of her top priorities. She claimed that if project approvals were sped up by one year, this would release some $160 billion and 69,000 jobs to the economy. I’m not sure where this figure came from, but it may have been based on a PC inquiry into the upstream oil and gas industry in 2009, which estimated that expediting the regulatory approval process for a major project by one year could increase its net present value by up to 18%. In any event, that’s a juicy target for efficiency savings.

The PC’s role on sustainability

On its website, the PC advertises itself as ‘providing independent research and advice to Government on economic, social and environmental issues affecting the welfare of Australians’. That’s not bad for a slogan but the substance is a little more complicated.

Under the Productivity Commission Act 1998 the substantive functions of the PC are all cast in terms of industry development and productivity. And the PC’s statutory policy guidelines, to which it must have regard, are dominated by considerations of improving economic performance through higher productivity; reducing regulation and increasing efficiency.

The statutory guidelines do, however, include considerations relevant to sustainability. Beyond a direct reference to the need ‘to ensure that industry develops in a way that is ecologically sustainable’, there are also references to other things connected to sustainability such as regional development; avoiding hardship from structural change; and meeting Australia’s international obligations. Further, one of the Commissioners must be experienced in sustainability and conservation while another must be experienced in social issues.

So, while the PC is definitely about efficiency and growth, it doesn’t have a one-track mind. Environmental and social impacts are definitely members of the cast, though in supporting roles. As we’ll see below, the problem doesn’t seem to be the PC but what the government does or doesn’t do with its recommendations.

We’ve been here before

Industry keeps complaining about inefficiency and duplication in environmental regulation, and governments keep returning to this theme, often through references to the PC. In recent years, in addition to sector-specific reports on regulation (including environmental regulation) of transport, agriculture, fisheries, water, upstream oil and gas, and mineral exploration, the PC has produced general reports on native vegetation and biodiversity regulation (2004); planning, zoning and development assessment (2011); COAG’s regulatory reform agenda including environmental regulation (2012); and major project assessment (2013).

This is in addition to the statutory review of the EPBC Act itself by Allan Hawke in 2009, which also included significant recommendations for regulatory streamlining.

The PC has also conducted other relevant review activities, such as convening a roundtable on Promoting Better Environmental Outcomes (2009).

And it looks like we’ll do it again

The terms of reference for this latest review focus on identifying practices for project approval that have led to streamlining the process without compromising environmental standards. This is rather unimaginative and I think will simply lead the PC back to places it has already gone, such as recommending increased use of regional plans and other landscape scale approaches; increased regulatory guidance; and a single national threatened species list.

In response to past recommendations, governments have done some of all these things. For example, there is a process underway to adopt a common assessment method for threatened species listings.

But governments don’t seem to tackle the issues in a fulsome and vigorous way, to deal with them once and for all. In fact, they attempt to walk on both sides of the street, pursuing reforms in an incremental way while simultaneously cutting environment department budgets. On this basis, one must even question their appetite for reform.

So much at stake

So is environmental regulation just a convenient whipping boy? There’s so much at stake that I don’t think so. Perhaps governments are wedged between their own policies and the politics: they don’t want to increase spending and can’t be seen to water down existing standards, yet remain frustrated by the processes that those standards bring with them.

If governments want real improvements to regulatory efficiency, without simply winding environmental laws back, they have to front-load the regulatory process with information and guidance and resources, ie with things that the PC and others have already recommended. These boil down pretty much to landscape-scale approaches such as regional planning (done comprehensively) supported by increased levels of regulatory service, including detailed guidance on what will and won’t be approved.

It’s not rocket science, but it will take serious money. But keep in mind that such an investment would lead to saving even more serious money.

And there’s an incidental benefit in such an approach. Proper environmental information and planning will also improve the quality of decision-making, which should improve environmental outcomes.

Image: Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Nothing to see here

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Displacement is the game when you have nothing really to say (on the environment)

By David Salt

‘How good is the environment?’

Well, by any objective measure it’s in serious trouble and getting worse. But what do you say if your policies aren’t prepared to acknowledge this?

As our national government, you’re in charge of protecting the environment. You’re faced with collapsing ecosystems, declining biodiversity and a rising toll from climate extremes. In spite of this, you’ve made cut after cut to your Environment Department, told everyone Australia is going to make our carbon emission targets ‘at a canter’ (despite all the hard evidence that emissions are actually going up) and repeatedly stated when it comes to the environment everything is sweet. It’s getting harder to sustain this line but you have to say (and do) something. So, what will it be?

Based on what our Environment Minister is saying in Parliament in answer to questions from her own side, the game appears to be to focus on the little picture and displace everyone’s attention.

A tiny agenda

‘Questions without notice’ are supposed to be an opportunity for members to raise important issues relating to their electorates. Unfortunately, they have largely become political theatre in which the major parties just try to embarrass each other.

Under Question-Time rules, government members are allowed to ask questions of their own side. These are called ‘Dorothy Dixers’, after a famous syndicated column in womens’ magazines, ‘Dear Dorothy Dix’, in which ‘Dorothy’ played agony aunt to her readers and provided homespun advice on marriage and the other challenges of home life.

When the government gets a Dorothy Dixer (or ‘Dixers’ as the insiders call them) it’s an opportunity for the government to use a rehearsed question from a friendly questioner to spell out its strategy and agenda, often in the context of announcing (or re-announcing) the spending of money. So when the Minister for the Environment is asked by her own side what’s on the environmental agenda we get a good idea on what the Government is setting out to achieve, what its grand vision is, including how it intends to spend our money.

In recent weeks, that vision seems to consist of small community projects – “it’s supporting grassroots organisations working on small projects that make a big difference”; a bit of environmental restoration, a bit more on soil conservation (God bless our farmers) and a big focus on increasing recycling and reducing waste. (Note: the links in this paragraph take you to the Hansard record of Parliament for the day in question – 23, 30 & 31 July in these cases – but not to the specific answers in the Questions-Without-Notice sessions that I’m referring to. Why Hansard can’t provide specific links to specific answers I don’t know. Maybe to make it harder to pin Ministers down to their answers.)

Indeed, recycling and waste reduction seem to be this government’s big ticket item when it comes to the Environment: “We can’t opt out of modern living or the modern world,” says Sussan Ley, our new Environment Minister, “but we can get smarter about the way we live and the pressure we place on our environment, and about doing everything we can to mitigate that—reducing waste, increasing recycling.”

We don’t need to save the reef (?)

They’ve even appointed an ‘envoy for the reef’ in the form of Warren Entsch (Member for Leichhardt in far north Queensland) who has refused to acknowledge the imminent threat of climate change to the Great Barrier Reef instead citing plastics as being the big problem and increased recycling as the solution.

“We don’t need to save the reef,” Entsch said recently in The Guardian. “It’s still going – we need to manage it and manage it well and we’re the best reef managers in the world.”

So what is his (and this Government’s) solution to saving the Reef? Get rid of single-use plastics. Though, when it comes down to it, our political leaders don’t even believe Australia is the cause of this problem: “the bulk of it [plastic] on our seas comes down from our northern neighbours,” says Entsch. “If we can create world’s best practice and get them to clean up their own backyard then we will reduce the volumes that come down to us.”

What about cleaning up our own backyard, Mr Reef Envoy? Have you read any of the voluminous science coming out over recent years telling us our reef is dying (from declining water quality, increased storm activity, increased outbreaks of crown-of-thorn starfish and, multiplying every threat, climate change)?

“Australians care about our environment,” says Environment Minister Ley. “They want to be involved in protecting it now and into the future. The Morrison government will work internationally and with communities, with local organisations and with our scientific experts to address all of the issues that confront us, large and small, including Asia-Pacific rainforest recovery, blue carbon and sequestering carbon in our coastal and marine ecosystems, and we will continue to invest in protecting the Great Barrier Reef.”

Nice words, but it’s such shallow rhetoric. When it comes to our environment, the government only pays lip service to the big issues, and only engages in doing things that are too small to make much difference overall. All the while it ignores and marginalises the scientific expertise it claims to respect.

High opportunity cost

This is displacement activity of the worse type because the opportunity cost of ignoring the bigger picture – trashing the evidence and degrading our environmental capacity – is the horrible cost of environmental failure our society (and children) will bear down the line.

And, even as I write this, the Government is doing more displacement on the environmentally linked sector of energy – let’s set up an enquiry on nuclear energy to show we mean business.

Nothing to see here.

Image: Tane Sinclair-Taylor, Centre of Excellence for Coral Reef Studies

An ‘environmental accounting’ primer

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What is it? (and why should we use it?)

By Peter Burnett

‘Environmental accounting’ (or ‘environmental-economic accounting’ to use its full name) is, on first blush, a dry-as-dust topic. Yet the ideas behind it and the insights it unlocks are fundamental to good environmental governance and a meaningful shift towards sustainability. That’s in part why Australia’s governments adopted a national strategy, or at least a common national approach, to environmental accounting in 2018.

Recently I attended a workshop in Brisbane on environmental accounting* hosted by state and federal governments. The workshop was lively and well-attended, with many more participants asking to be part of the discussions than had been originally invited. Clearly the value of environmental accounting is beginning to be acknowledged across multiple sectors.

But the development of environmental accounting didn’t happen overnight. Its gestation took over half a century with some of its central concepts going back centuries. What’s more, a lot more needs to happen before its full potential is realised.

Origins

Environmental accounting can be traced back to the 1970s when several countries, including Norway and France, developed what was then described as ‘natural resource accounting’, or in the case of France, ‘patrimonial accounting’, as part of their response to the emergent major environmental concerns of that era. There were also fears associated with resource scarcity arising from the oil crisis of 1973. These accounts were kept in physical terms.

At about the same time, economists William Nordhaus and James Tobin (later to be Nobel laureates) wrote a seminal paper highlighting the shortcomings of GDP as an economic indicator. They argued for a ‘Measure of Economic Welfare’ (MEW) that subtracted consumption of capital, including ‘environmental capital’, from domestic product. This is because treating consumed capital as income creates an inflated sense of well-being in the short term but is unsustainable over the longer term. Implementing a MEW would require the inclusion in national accounts of figures for the consumption of environmental or ‘natural’ capital, expressed in monetary terms.

During the 1980s the United Nations Environment Program (UNEP) and the World Bank ran workshops aimed at linking environmental accounting to the System of National Accounts (SNA), an international standard maintained by the UN. This work may have influenced another well-known UN project, the Brundtland Report of 1987, famous for proposing a global goal of ‘sustainable development’.

Brundtland placed great emphasis on policy integration as essential to achieving sustainable development. Although Brundtland did not go on to recommend environmental accounting per se, it did couch some of its arguments in economic and accounting terms, referring for example to ‘overdrawn environmental resource accounts’ and the need to maintain the stock of ‘ecological capital’. Given the implicit connections made in Brundtland, it’s probably no coincidence that Agenda 21, the action plan adopted by the subsequent Rio Earth Summit of 1992, linked accounting and sustainability directly by including a commitment to develop integrated environmental and economic accounting as ‘a first step towards the integration of sustainability into economic management’.

With Agenda 21 providing a mandate, the UN soon published a handbook on integrated environmental and economic accounting in 1993. However, it took a further 20 years to develop the handbook into a full international accounting standard and even then the scope of the standard was confined to traditional natural resources, with ecosystem accounting relegated to a supporting ‘experimental’ framework. The UN is scheduled to consider adopting a revised version of this experimental framework as a full international accounting standard in 2021. I hope this indeed occurs, but it reflects how long these processes take. The gestation period for this work is nearly 30 years!

Delay aside, a key innovation of the resulting System of Environmental-Economic Accounts (SEEA) is the concept of ‘combined presentation’, the ability to produce accounts expressed in either physical or monetary terms, or both. This allows accounts to support two streams of work: 1. the integration of environmental consumption into national accounting and
2. the use of physical accounts to inform environmental management.

Why bother?

As national accounting informs economic decision-making, the rationale for environmental accounting in monetary terms is clear. But why bother with physical accounting, other than as an intermediate step to monetary accounts? The answer lies in two developments, one in the late 1960s and the other going back to medieval times.

Concerns about the extent of environmental decline had been growing steadily through the 1960s. In 1969** two resource economists, Robert Ayers and Allen Kneese made a profound observation concerning environmental ‘externalities’ (externalities are the costs or benefits affecting persons not party to an economic transaction). Their observation was that if environmental externalities could no longer be regarded as exceptions, but were more the norm, then good economic decision-making required a ‘materials balance’; that is, a full recording and accounting for environmental impacts, in physical terms. Implicitly, Ayers and Kneese had just made the case for environmental accounts.

The other development foundational to the case for environmental accounting is the concept of the ‘double entry’, which goes back at least to the medieval ‘Venetian method’ of book-keeping. Double entry recognises that almost all transactions involve both a gain and a loss. In purchasing equipment for example, a business gains the equipment but loses the money used to pay for it, so it records both the gain and the loss in separate ledgers, one for equipment and one for cash. Moreover, accounting links the two aspects of the transaction, showing that this purchase in the equipment ledger was paid for with this payment, and correspondingly that this payment was attributable to that equipment purchase.

Stocks and flows

Environmental accounting builds on the parallels between our interactions with each other in business and our interactions with the environment. Just as business accounting tracks the stocks of business assets and liabilities, and the flows of business receipts and expenditure, recording the net change in capital at year’s end, so environmental accounting tracks the stocks of environmental assets (and liabilities, eg pollutants) and the flows of ecosystem services (and expenditure on ecosystem maintenance), recording the net change in natural capital each year.

Moreover, environmental accounts record the transaction from both society’s end and the environment’s end, making it ‘quadruple entry’. As a result, environmental accounts can show for example that this flow of ecosystem services to society came from that environmental asset, depleting it by this much, but that the depletion was offset by that degree of natural replenishment and this much environmental maintenance. This capacity to link transactions so specifically to their causes and impacts is what makes accounting a powerful tool for environmental analysis and decision-making.

What next?

Environmental accounting is starting to build significant momentum in Australia. As this work is still in its infancy, despite its long gestation, the ongoing work under way nationally and internationally to develop accounting standards and protocols remains important. More important however is the need to pay extra attention to, pardon the pun, the other side of the ledger, the application of accounts for better decision-making. I will cover this in a future article.

* The Brisbane workshop on environmental accounting brought together a number of researchers to present their work on the development or application of accounts. For example, Victoria presented their work on using accounts to identify the ecosystem services provided by forests.

**1969 is big in the news at the moment with the 50th anniversary of the Moon landing. It seems strange to me that so much attention is paid to this triumph of technology; while so little attention has been given to 1969 as the dawn of modern environmental policy. Beyond the analytical insights of Robert Ayers and Allen Kneese, 1969 also marked the passage of the world’s first comprehensive environmental law the US National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), thanks significantly to the efforts of Professor Lynton Caldwell.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Trinity and the dawn of the Anthropocene

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Reflecting on the moment the world changed

By David Salt

Seventy four years ago, at 5.29am on Monday 16th of July 1945, the US military detonated the world’s first atomic bomb. Code named Trinity, the test was run out on a lonely New Mexican desert on an air force bombing range. Small by the standards of later tests, Trinity still managed to light up the surrounding mountains brighter than day, fuse the sand underneath it into radioactive green glass and generate a shock wave felt over 160 km away.

Yet the significance of Trinity extends way beyond that New Mexican desert, and even beyond the end of the Second World War which, with the aid of atomic weapons, was now only weeks away.

By some reckonings, 5.29am on Monday 16th of July 1945, marks the beginning of a new geological epoch – the Anthropocene, the age of humans. Seventy four years on, the trajectory of the Anthropocene should be at the fore front of all our thinking.

Written in stone

The Anthropocene is not yet an ‘official’ geological time period. Such decisions require a formal review and proclamation by the International Commission on Stratigraphy (ICS), a fairly conservative scientific panel not keen on mixing their science with fashion and politics (and the ‘Anthropocene’ is jam packed with political ramifications).

According to the ICS, planet Earth is still officially in what’s known as the Holocene Epoch, which began after the last ice age ended some 12,000 years ago.

But many scientists have been unhappy with the title ‘Holocene’ believing human activity is now dominating the Earth system, and this should be reflected in the stratigraphic nomenclature – the Earth’s geological rock strata reflecting the deep history of our planet. The name ‘Anthropocene’ was proposed by the atmospheric chemist (and Nobel laureate) Paul Crutzen back in the year 2000.

For a new geological epoch to be declared the rock strata above a proposed boundary needs to distinctly different from those below, suggesting some major change in the processes that created them. But this difference also needs to be evident all around the world, indicating that the change is global and not merely regional in character.

Can human activity be seen in the geological record? You betcha! Particles of plastics, concrete and aluminium, all of undeniable human origin are now widespread around the planet and found in today’s emerging strata. But possibly the most undeniable material of human origin being found in the strata are radionuclides from atomic bombs, beginning with Trinity in 1945. Nothing like these substances had existed on Earth prior to 1945, but now they coat the planet.

While the radionuclides serve as an easily detectable marker, they only exist in trace quantities. Other artificial materials are so abundant we’re drowning in them. The total amount of concrete that humanity has produced, most of it in the post-1950 period, amounts to about a kilogram for every square metre across the entire surface of the Earth. The amount of plastic wrap produced since 1950 is enough to cover the entire planet in plastic. And enough aluminium foil has been manufactured to wrap the continent of Australia.

All of these stratigraphic markers begin to appear in significant amounts around the middle of the 20th century. This coincides with a time that is now commonly referred to as the Great Acceleration, a period of unparalleled economic growth and development. And it wasn’t just plastic production that skyrocketed; so too did water use, energy use, fertilizer consumption, international tourism, dam construction and paper production. Underpinning it all was a swelling human population and an insatiable drive to grow the economy.

When did the Anthropocene begin?

When Crutzen first began writing about the Anthropocene with colleagues he proposed that it began with the invention of the steam engine and the Industrial Revolution from the second half of the 18th Century. This was because this period coincided with increasing levels of carbon dioxide associated with greater levels of coal consumption.

Other scholars have suggested the Anthropocence began much earlier, back with the Agricultural Revolution some 5-8000 years ago. The spread of agriculture also led to increased greenhouse gas emissions through changes in land management.

Others have suggested even earlier dates with human making their mark through the extinction of mega fauna in areas where they appeared.

Each proposal for the beginning of the Anthropocene has its strengths and weaknesses depending on your frame of reference.

From an Earth systems perspective, however, it is only from 1950s that the cumulative impact of human activity began to distort the Earth system itself. Humanity was changing the very behaviour of our planet. None of the earlier ‘start’ dates can claim this.

And, when you combine this with the crystal clear signal of radionuclides and their sudden appearance, I believe Trinity is the best candidate for the opening of this latest planet-shifting epoch – the Anthropocene. The fact that Trinity also symbolises our ‘mastery’ over matter by unleashing the dangerous power of the atom only reinforces the significance of the 16th of July 1945.

So, 74 years into the Anthropocene, where is it taking us? I don’t think we’ll need another 74 years to find out.

Image: The Anthropocene began with a bang. The Trinity explosion is pictured here 16 milliseconds after the detonation. The highest point of the explosion’s dome in this image is about 200 metres high. (Los Alamos National Laboratory)

Review of ‘green tape’ for farmers throws up old conundrums – but also contains one gem

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By Peter Burnett and Philip Gibbons

Wendy Craik’s review of the impact of national environmental law on farmers (Craik Review) was released quietly late last week by new federal environment minister Sussan Ley, nine months after it was received by her predecessor, Melissa Price. (That law, of course, is the Environmental Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999, or EPBC Act. It’s up for review later this year and for many years farmers have been complaining it places an unfair burden on their agricultural activities.)

Craik is a former Executive Director of the National Farmers’ Federation (NFF) and former head of the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park Authority. She is well respected by government, the farm and conservation sectors.

Useful but mostly problematic

Craik has handed over a good report. The review has produced some useful proposals, including ways to improve environmental information and to align existing research with regulatory objectives.

It does however throw up some old conundrums for government. Maybe this is why its release was delayed till after the election, and then done with little fanfare.

The review recommends keeping farmers informed about what they can and can’t do on their land by investing in environment department services and systems, yet Coalition governments have cut federal environmental resources by 40% in six years (ACF 2019). You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.

It also prescribes a new $1 billion National Biodiversity Conservation Trust as a remedy for biodiversity decline, an amount exceeding existing funding under the National Landcare Program. Same problem, a good proposal but requiring considerable additional resourcing.

Craik also made a number of recommendations, including nationally-aligned policies and encouraging environmental markets, that would require genuine and ongoing federal-state collaboration on policy, something that has mostly eluded federal and state governments over nearly 50 years of trying.

The conundrums are not confined to the recommendations.

The review found that only 2.7% of the 6000 referrals considered under the EPBC Act have been for agriculture.

This is a striking statistic given nearly 90% of all land clearing in Australia is for agriculture, suggesting that the EPBC Act is significantly under-applied and (from the government’s perspective) an indigestible outcome from a review originating in farmer complaints of regulatory burden.

Ley’s brief media release implies that she will defer responding until completion of a much larger review, the forthcoming second 10-year statutory review of the EPBC Act.

It is little wonder Ley is kicking the can down the road, a decision no doubt aided by current controversy concerning Minister Angus Taylor’s involvement in some of the events behind the review (Guardian 2019).

A gem of an opportunity

There is one recommendation however that presents a gem of an opportunity for immediate action.

One of the triggers for the review was complaints by farmers in the Monaro region of southern NSW about the combined effect of federal and state laws affecting the management of native grasslands on their properties (farmonline 2017).

The review prompted a ‘well-resourced’ offer from NSW that federal and state officials work together on two pilot studies, one in the Monaro, to identify what biodiversity needs protecting under both federal and state law and how to achieve this.

Craik supported the idea, proposing the production of non-statutory regional plans under an independent chair.

The NSW offer is significant. The traditional approach of the states towards federal environmental regulation has been to resist and contain, especially in regard to on-ground management, which the states have seen as their exclusive role and a major bulwark against federal jurisdiction creep.

Previous attempts at regulatory collaboration, such as the ‘one-stop-shop’ for development approvals, have focused on regulatory change negotiated between officials rather than on-ground management and service-delivery, and have been conducted in an atmosphere that was at least lacking in trust, if not adversarial.

A genuine attempt to work together on the ground, along with local stakeholders and twin aims of protecting what is ecologically significant while also making life easier for farmers and other businesses, has much better prospects of building the trust necessary for effective regulation. It would also be a valuable investment in social capital.

Cynics may regard the prospects of successful on-ground collaboration as limited. The problem is, we have tried most of the other options with limited success, especially over time.

The environment continues to decline, dramatically according to the latest UN report. The opportunity to trial collaborative regional planning is too good to leave in the in-tray.

The real climate change debate

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Beliefs trump evidence while the truth disappears in the babble

By David Salt

A few years ago American comedian John Oliver ran a skit on the way most mainstream media run debates on climate change. He lampooned the way they inaccurately portray the debate as a balanced affair in which a climate expert is pitted against a climate skeptic. The viewer sees one person versus one person – a 50:50 debate. But, as Oliver points out, the scientific consensus supporting climate change is an overwhelming 97%. To portray the debate as a 50:50 divide is inappropriate and dangerously biased.

Oliver demonstrates the ludicrousness of this by staging a ‘statistically representative debate’ in which three climate-change deniers argue their cant against 97 climate scientists who drown out the naysayers with their chorus of facts.

It’s a great skit, much loved by climate researchers and science communicators everywhere. If you haven’t seen it, I commend it to you. Indeed, I regularly screen it in a talk I give on ‘science and policy’. And, I note, it’s been watched by well over eight million people with 77,000 giving it the thumbs up with around 3,000 giving it the thumbs down – fairly close to the 97% scientific consensus.

So, having praised Oliver’s efforts, and lauded the skit’s central conceit, I’m now going to call it out for demonstrating two critical weaknesses in the overall effort to communicate the seriousness of climate change; flaws that are hampering current efforts to bring about enduring policy reform.

Belief vs evidence

The first relates to Oliver’s contention that facts are more important than people’s beliefs. He begins by pointing out that a recent Gallup poll found that 1 in 4 Americans are skeptical about the impacts of climate change and think this issue has been exaggerated. Oliver retorts (to much laughter) “who gives a shit, that doesn’t matter; you don’t need people’s opinions on a fact; you might as well have a poll on which figure is bigger, 15 or 5? Or, do owls exist? Or, are there hats?”

But, as we have seen increasingly over recent elections both here and abroad, beliefs do trump facts. We make fun of people’s beliefs, regardless of their relation to evidence, at our peril.

When I looked for stats on current beliefs in the US on climate change I found results from multiple surveys. Most suggested there was a growing acceptance of the reality of climate change, that young people had higher rates of acceptance and believed that governments should be doing more, and that Republican voters had significantly lower rates of belief.

One recent survey by Yale University of over 1000 adults found that a record 73% of Americans polled agreed that global warming was happening, marking a 10% point increase since 2015. The results were trumpeted in Forbes news under the banner New Survey Finds 3 Out Of 4 Americans Accept The Reality Of Climate Change, which is really pretty much the same as the figure quoted in the Oliver skit, just framed in the reverse way (1 in 4 Americans are skeptical about the impacts of climate change).

Speaking with one voice

And the second issue raised in the Oliver skit relates to the cacophony of scientist cries as the ‘statistically representative debate’ gets underway. The point he was trying to make is that the weight of evidence drowns out the denialism if you line them up along the lines of the 97% scientific consensus (97 scientists vs 3 deniers).

But I couldn’t hear any message; it was drowned out in the babble. Indeed, the only line you actually hear is that of the deniers who get the first line in: “Well I just don’t think all the science is in yet and settled,” says the denier. Oliver then asks for what the scientists think and you can’t hear anything from then on as the 97 voices speak out in unison.

So, Oliver’s point is made with comic impact but I think he also highlighted the problem of what the public hears when confronted by multiple voices spewing out endless facts and figures, impenetrable graphs and numbers loaded with dense techno-speak expositing doom and gloom if we don’t dramatically change our ways.

On the other side* is a tiny minority of players (usually representing unstated vested interests with deep and well-funded ideological roots) putting out simple, well-crafted messages of uncertainty, sowing seeds of doubt that, with time, flower into vigorous weeds of denial that prove ever so hard to pull out. Their seductive message is that this whole climate change thing is big and complicated, we’re still figuring out what it means, but we’d be fools to change the status quo while so much uncertainty is present. Let’s do nothing for now, keep the economy growing as we have for the past 50-70 years and some way down the track we’ll fix up the climate if indeed it turns out to be broken. And, if it does need fixing, our wonderful science and market forces will provide the solution.

It just isn’t fair

Scientists live and die by the evidence they generate. In their world facts win and beliefs inevitably bend to the weight of evidence, even if it takes a while. It’s a numbers game; over time the evidence builds and a scientific consensus forms (or shifts).

The scientific consensus on (anthropogenic) climate change has grown and solidified over the past 50 years. There is now no doubt in the world of science as to its reality or consequence, even if a small clique of deniers still warps the media debate. But this clique represents powerful vested interests, and their influence may take more than facts to shift.

Scientists believe their consensus will eventually permeate the societal debate; that, in a rational world, ‘facts’ will squash unfounded belief. But the real world isn’t always rational (or fair), and it doesn’t always conform to the rigorous black and white perspective of its scientific citizens.

*Sowing seeds of doubt is just one of several techniques employed by the climate-change denial lobby/collective. They also peddle conspiracy theories, cherry pick data, employ logical fallacies and set up fake debates. If you’d like to learn more about these dark arts and how they can be resisted, check on the University of Queenslands’ online course called Denial 101: Making Sense of Climate Science Denial. Highly commended.

Image: John Oliver stages a statistically representative debate. See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjuGCJJUGsg

From ‘cowboy economy’ to ‘spaceman economy’

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Kenneth Boulding and the view from Spaceship Earth

By Peter Burnett

Sustainability is a complex multidisciplinary field, so it’s not surprising that many of its concepts evolved over decades of scholarship and policy development. However, in my research, I have been surprised on several occasions by scholars putting forward valuable framings of sustainability concepts well before the emergence of the notion of sustainable development itself. Kenneth Boulding’s 1966 essay The Economics of the Coming Spaceship Earth is the example par excellence of this phenomenon. Not only did Boulding hit the nail on the head in regards to the nature of the problem, he also framed the way forward in a compelling and lucid way. It’s something we can still learn from today.

Early Boulding

Boulding was a British-American; a professor of economics by title, a social philosopher by inclination and a Quaker by conviction.

He began publishing in the 1930s and had been pushing boundaries long before Spaceship Earth. Influenced by his study of accounting, he had argued in his 1950 book A Reconstruction of Economics that the balance sheet should be a central analytical concept in economics, specifically that asset preferences (stocks) rather than profit maximisation (flows) should be a central to explaining the behaviour of economic entities. It is thus not surprising to find Boulding talking elsewhere about World War II as having ‘drained the economic bathtub in a great waste of consumption’, with the task of post-war reconstruction being to refill the bath.

Boulding argued for a ‘conceptual revolution’ concerning consumption. He believed the emphasis should be on the enjoyment of assets rather than their consumption (or, as Boulding put it, their destruction). Through this lens, production and income should be seen as quantities to be minimised rather than maximised, in the interests of maximum enjoyment. This would have been complete heresy in an era when the idea of unbounded growth was rapidly becoming dominant.

Undaunted, Boulding would make much the same argument a decade and a half later in Spaceship Earth, but this time in connection with the environment.

Spaceship Earth

In 1966 Boulding was invited to write an essay for a forum held by the think tank Resources for the Future (RFF, itself an interesting organisation that played a pivotal role in sustainability thinking). Prompted by growing recognition that most of the pressures on the natural environment were the result of high levels of consumption and economic growth, RFF adopted a forum theme of ‘Environmental Quality in a Growing Economy’. (If RFF had added the word ‘maintaining’ to this theme they would, in essence, have defined environmental sustainability 20 years early: another example of prescient thinking.)

Boulding was a big picture thinker and in 1966 the ‘space race’ and the ‘moonshot’ were the order of the day (as was the sexist language in the quotes that follow). His narrative was that humans were making a long transition in their image of interaction with the environment. This transition involved moving from the ‘cowboy economy’, in which there were vast expanses of resources and an ever-beckoning frontier, to the ‘spaceman economy’, which was a closed system, a single earthly ‘spaceship’ in which man must find his place in a cyclical ecological system that is capable of continuous reproduction but limited by energy inputs from the sun (whether directly as solar radiation or indirectly through fossil fuels).

The measure of success in the cowboy economy was production and consumption (throughput), because reservoirs of resources were effectively infinite. In contrast, the measure of success in the spaceman economy was not throughput but the nature and extent of total capital stock, including human bodies and minds (which we would now call human and intellectual capital). The task in the spaceman economy was thus to maintain the stock, in part by increasing resource-use efficiency. In a masterly understatement, Boulding noted that the idea that both production and consumption were undesirable would be very strange to economists. It would have been to politicians too, who by then had become wedded to the mantra of economic growth and GDP as the only measure of success, as reflected in the OECD’s 1961 target of increasing growth by 50% in a decade!

Sustaining capital in time and space

Boulding describes the sphere of economic activity as the ‘econosphere’ and society as the ‘sociosphere’, with environmental resources passing from the environment into the econosphere and waste passing in the reverse direction. This pretty much captures the later foundational model of ecological economics (figure 1) in which the economy is a subset of, and thus dependent on society, which in turn sits within and depends upon the environment.

Figure 1: The foundational model that lies at the heart of ecological economics.

Boulding recognised that a prescription of maintaining capital for the long haul raises the question of why we should do such a thing, encapsulated in the sardonic aphorism ‘What has posterity ever done for me?’ Rather than pose a normative answer to this question, as nations later did in endorsing the principle of intergenerational equity through the Rio Declaration (1992), Boulding argues an anthropological rationale: that the welfare of the individual depends on identifying with a community, not only in space but over time. In other words, we identify with future generations as part of our own well-being.

Natural capital on Spaceship Earth

The Spaceship Earth essay carries, expressly or by implication, a full theory of, and prescription for, environmental sustainability. It recognises that our attitude to the environment is based on our image of the environment, which thus explains our attitudes. It presages the insights of ecological economics and the policy prescriptions of modern environmental sustainability: maintain natural capital, increase resource efficiency and ensure that the scale of consumption remains within the regenerative capacity of the environment.

Even where Boulding does not solve a problem of sustainability policy, he plants the seed of its solution. For example, he recognises that even if we accept the welfare of future generations as part of our own welfare, it remains economic practice to discount future values. He explains that discounting is based on our myopia concerning the future, which is ‘an illusion which the moral man should not tolerate’.

Although he does not propose a solution, he nevertheless plants the seeds of one in his prescription to maintain capital. In economics, the case for any project is evaluated by cost-benefit analysis, in which future costs are discounted. If the maintaining of capital is a prescribed as fundamental policy, then the case for any individual project, which might otherwise have been justified solely by reference to cost-benefit analysis, must now be made within and subject to a constraint of maintaining capital. In other words, you can discount all you like but your project will be constrained by rules concerning or prices of natural capital.

Beyond Silent Spring

Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring (1963) is generally acknowledged as the foundational work of the modern environmental era. However, Silent Spring identified a particular aspect of the problem of environmental decline and did not develop a solution. Spaceship Earth came a little later, but it was the first to describe the problem in holistic and conceptual terms and the first to outline a policy solution.

The best modern approaches to environmental sustainability can trace a direct lineage to Boulding’s essay and sit entirely within its construct. It is a tour de force.

Image: The Blue Marble, the view from Apollo 17 of Spaceship Earth some 45,000 kilometres distant. (NASA, 1942)

A (very) short history of sustainability

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A mud map of how sustainable development has grown up

By David Salt

For many, sustainability is a buzz word; a descriptor used and abused by governments (and corporations) all around the world to give the impression their policies of economic growth and development are simultaneously meeting the needs of society and the environment. But it’s more than just a hollow catch cry. Sustainability is a concept with substantive meaning and pedigree.

The growing body of evidence, unfortunately, is that our world is not on a trajectory of sustainability. If anything, we are accelerating away from it. However, there was a time, no so long ago, when there appeared to be a growing international consensus that sustainability was a real and achievable goal. When was that? Here is my (very) short potted mud map of sustainability (with a fist full of caveats at the end for me to hide behind).

The Twentieth Century

The Twentieth Century was the century of human domination in which our species ‘conquered’ the final bits of the planet’s surface. We encircled the world with our communication cables (1902), reached its South Pole (1911), ascended to its highest point (Mt Everest, 1953) and then reached even higher with artificial satellites (Sputnik, 1957). We also made a real effort to annihilate many dimensions of our own culture in two world wars.

If the first half of this century was marked by massive global-scale disruptions (two world wars and a Depression) and empire failures (Britain and Japan especially), then the second half was characterised by population and economic growth of unprecedented scale. Population more than doubled, while the global economy increased by more than 15-fold. And it was in this second half that notions of sustainability were developed.

The 1940s: Reboot

My mud map begins in the aftermath of the Second World War; a time of mass destruction, renewal and new beginnings. The aim of governments was growth, stability and the kindling of hope for a prosperous future.

The tremendous economic growth that followed was in large part enabled by the ‘rebooting’ effect of the wars. These broke down old imperial and feudal institutions, opened up space for new institutions based on liberal-democratic and later neo-liberal economic principles, and empowered us with a new suite of powerful science and technology.

Survival was more the consideration than sustainability, but towards the end of the 1940s there was an international push to set aside bits of landscapes for wildlife and nature with the establishment in 1948 of the International Union for the Protection of Nature (which was to become the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, IUCN, in 1956). Economic growth was the main focus and the environment was seen as a space separate from human activity.

The 1950s: Lift off

Today’s economy and environment has direct roots in the explosion in economic growth that took place in the 1950s, the beginning of the so called Great Acceleration. Population, GDP, energy generation, fertiliser consumption, water use and international tourism all underwent dramatic (often exponential) increases as the economy powered up.

The ‘sustainability’ of the environment was not really a question back then. The USA, a major driver of growth, was concerned about the ongoing supply of natural resources, but only as it related to feeding the economy rather than sustaining the environment. It set up a commission, the Paley Commission, which led to the establishment of the NGO called ‘Resources for the Future’. Its brief was to look at resource scarcity issues on an ongoing basis. The great environmental economist David Pearce identifies this as the founding of environmental economics.

The 1960s: Cracks in the model

The economy was growing strongly, living standards for many were improving, the rich were getting richer but the poor were getting less poor. Indeed, during these first decades after the war the gap between the richest and the poorest was decreasing (proof that a rising tide can indeed lift all the boats).

But underneath the growth and the technological mastery, cracks were appearing in the form of environmental decline. These concerns were embodied in the book Silent Spring by Rachel Carson (1962). It drew attention to the accumulating impacts of pesticides on natural ecosystems, and questioned the costs of industrial scale-agriculture.

Technology also gave us new frames for considering humanity’s role and place, with the race for the Moon providing new perspectives, metaphorical and literal, on our planet. Kenneth Boulding coined the term ‘Spaceship Earth’ in a famous essay in 1966 (and in 1968 we saw our fragile home in perspective for the first time in the famous ‘Earth Rising’ photo taken by Apollo 8 astronauts as they orbited the moon).

Concern was growing as case study (eg, acid rain) after case study (eg, contaminated waterways) caused people to question the costs and benefits of economic development. Laws for environmental protection started taking shape and the idea of Environmental Impact Assessment took off (enshrined in US environmental law, NEPA, in 1969); yet the approach that evolved was more a ‘bottom up’ one of minimising impacts on a case by case basis rather than the holistic bigger picture approach that Boulding had advocated and NEPA, read as prose rather than law, clearly embodies.

The 1970s: Hopes are high

1972 saw the publication of landmark report titled Limits to Growth, one of the first formal efforts to understand what the consequences of unbounded economic development might be. Its conclusion was that our species was likely heading for some form of collapse in the mid to latter part of the 21st Century. (While widely dismissed by economists, a review in 2014 of the Limits-to-Growth analysis found its forecasts are still on track.)

The 70s saw many efforts by governments and community groups around the world to address the swelling list of environmental problems falling out of our rapacious growth. Key among these was UN Conference on the Human Environment, also known as the Stockholm Conference, in 1972. It catalysed many activities that were to prove pivotal to the manner in which we dealt with the environment, including many nations setting up their own environment ministries. It also saw the creation of UNEP (the UN Environmental Programme), and it put a greater focus on the connection between society and the environment. The Stockholm Conference was one of the first events where there was a strong acknowledgement of the need for poverty alleviation and its connection with access to environmental resources.

And it was during this decade that the term sustainable development began to see common usage. Indeed, the term was first used officially in the World Conservation Strategy launched in 1980, though at this stage the focus was on the environment alone.

The 1980s: Negotiations are had

‘Sustainable development’ took real form with the release of the report titled Our Common Future by The World Commission on Environment and Development (let by the indefatigable Gro Harlem Brundtland, Norway’s first female Prime Minister) in 1987. The report defined a sustainable society as one that “meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs”. It made sustainability an idea that involved acknowledging the linkages between the economy, the environment and society.

The mid 80s also saw the emergence of a massive ozone hole over the south pole (resulting from humans pumping ozone depleting substances into our atmosphere). This went some way to puncturing our complacency about environmental decline. Countries met and negotiated what they would do about the ozone problem, treaties were signed and these days ozone depleting emissions are on the decline.

Not so easily addressed, unfortunately, was the greenhouse gas problem in which a by-product of economic activity (energy, transport and agriculture in particular) was carbon-based emissions that distorted the Earth’s climate systems. Though the science of greenhouse warming was well understood and discussed in scientific circles in the 70s, it actually became visible in the late 80s. (In 1988 Jim Hansen, a leading atmospheric scientist at NASA, declared: “The greenhouse effect has been detected, and it is changing our climate now.”)

The 1990s: Plans are drawn

In 1992 the world came together in Rio for the great Earth Summit in which nations would pledge how they were going to meet the great challenge of sustainability. A plan for sustainable development in the rapidly approaching 21st Century was adopted (Agenda 21) and an international agreement on biodiversity conservation was opened for signing.

Through the 90s the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (formed by UNEP and the WMO in the 80s) began compiling an enormous brief of evidence that greenhouse gas levels were growing remorselessly and creating a raft of problems from shifting climate to sea level rise and extreme weather. But as the fear rose about the need to do something about carbon emissions, vested interests increased their efforts to discredit the science, and obfuscate the emerging picture.

And governments everywhere were discovering that policy positions developed to meet sustainability pledges came with real short term electoral pain, and that the prospect of deep change, transformational change, was simply too much to push through. Sustainable development is a moral imperative but the reality is that sustainability bites. Or, as President Bush said in 1992 at the Rio Earth Summit: “the American way of life is not up for negotiation.”

The 2000s (the Naughties): Sustainability bites

As you’d expect, the beginning of a new millennium saw a lot of reflection, discussion and planning for a better world (a bit like my New Year’s resolutions to be a better person). There was the Millennium Summit in 2000 (and ensuing Ecosystem Assessment in 2005), a Rio+10 Earth Summit (held in Johannesburg in 2002) and a World Summit held in 2005. Millennium Development Goals were drawn up and agreed to, and almost all nations (with the US a notable exception) committed to reversing declines in biodiversity (the Convention on Biological Diversity, CBD).

And the manner in which many governments sought to deliver on their sustainability commitments increasingly invoked utilitarian values, a move supported by an emerging line of conservation science that demonstrated that nature provided benefits to humans that save us money (like native vegetation providing water purification). So, why don’t we start paying for the things that nature gives us, ecosystem services, and let the market optimise the delivery of these services? Some saw this as a dangerous move away from acknowledging nature’s intrinsic value.

But, just like my News Year’s resolutions, it didn’t take long for most governments to begin making excuses for why aspirations (for sustainable development) needed to take second place to the realities of day-to-day life: “as soon as we’ve secured a strong economy we can begin worrying about fixing up the environment.”

Targets adopted under the CBD meant that 2010 was supposed to be the line in the sand for biodiversity conservation but all countries failed to deliver on their commitments with extinction rates climbing and the drivers of extinction only accelerating.

The 2010s: Cracks in the ice cap

Sustainability, however you want to define it (and heaven knows it comes in many flavours), was proving a stubbornly elusive goal. But the negotiations continued.

The world’s nations continued to get together (Rio+20 in 2012, this time in Rio) but failed to agree on any major outcomes other than replacing a failed international body, the Commission on Sustainable Development, with a new one, the UN Environment Assembly); the failed Biodiversity Convention targets were replaced with a more nuanced set of goals (the Aichi Targets); the Millennium Development Goals (which some believed were quite effective while others said were unmeasurable) were replaced with a more nuanced set of sustainability targets (the Sustainable Development Goals); and the stalled climate change discussions actually reached half a consensus with the Paris Agreement (in 2015; though President Trump has since withdrawn from it).

In many ways, it’s the same old, same old; endless meetings, discussions, agreements and targets; one step forward, two steps back, another step forward; but, at the end of the day Bill Clinton’s 1992 election mantra ‘it’s the economy stupid’ sums up the approach of virtually every country. Which sometimes has me wondering that Rachel Carson, Kenneth Boulding and the doomsayers behind ‘Limits to Growth’ were simply wrong. The environment is undoubtedly in decline but we’re still standing, talking and aspiring to better things (most of us are wealthier, but at the expense of future generations). Clearly governments are almost unanimous in believing that the economy is what counts and if things get scarce then markets and technology will always find a solution; they have so far.

But those people calling for reflection and change were not wrong; and the 2010s and the emerging science are emphatically backing their calls for a new way of stewarding Spaceship Earth. We’re losing species and ecosystems that we depend upon. We are seeing changes to our climate and Earth system that are already stressing many parts of our planet (including our food and water systems); and the science tells us these changes are just beginning, promising an increasingly uncertain future. We are losing the challenge of sustainability and it’s not a challenge we can afford to lose.

Caveats and endnotes

This ridiculously short history only touched on a few of the elements that have contributed to the evolution of sustainable development (and only mentioned a couple of the thousands of identities – people and institutions – who have made important contributions to its story). And, clearly, dividing this history into decadal phases doesn’t reflect the real inflection points of its evolution, it is merely my effort to subjugate a complex, non-linear, multi-faceted topic into something that looks like time line with a simple narrative.

However, even the limited set of events described here tells us that the history of sustainable development has gone through life stages with different dynamics. It began as our faith in the economic growth model began to erode and it’s early days kept a tight focus on the environment; as it developed there grew a better appreciation of the connections between society, economy and environment; and as it reached maturity and asked for real commitment from its sponsoring actors, the reality of shifting the status quo has proven that much of its rhetoric is impotent.

In its youth sustainable development was driven by natural science. In its young adulthood, it began to take on it legitimacy from ideas founded in social values, rights and laws. And as it matured it cloaked itself in the robes of economics and markets.

Is it any wonder then that sustainable development is no longer a force for change (if it ever was)? Rather than challenge the paradigm of unbounded economic growth, it has been forced to work within the normative structures that put economic growth before all other goals.

So, if you were a doctor asked to prescribe a change to an ageing man whose life style is clearly leading to a miserable old age, what might you suggest? Because maybe this is the lens we need to look through when considering where to from here for sustainable development. And, maybe, just like our ageing patient, we need to be confronted with some hard truths about what the future holds (unless we sign up for some demanding therapies)?

Image: Earthrise, 25 December 1968. Taken aboard Apollo 8 by Bill Anders. Earth is peeking out from beyond the lunar surface as the first crewed spacecraft circumnavigated the Moon. (NASA)

Regretfully, it’s too late for ‘no-regrets’

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What’s the pathway for real sustainability following the Australian Election?

By Peter Burnett

Like many people, I was surprised by the win for conservative parties in the recent Australian election. I know there were lots of factors in play, but I thought that the extreme weather of last summer in particular had propelled climate change to the top of the political agenda, especially in the minds of young people, who were enrolled to vote in record numbers. I was reinforced in my views by much of the political commentary. Progressive parties seemed to have reached a similar conclusion, campaigning hard as they did on ambitious environmental policy platforms.

How wrong I was

Financial issues, especially proposed tax changes, appear to have weighed more on the minds of voters. The views of one young voter, who appeared on the television show ‘Q&A’ after the election, seemed to me to encapsulate the electoral mood. This voter commented that she was concerned by climate change (and also, she implied, by the expected opprobrium of her climate-voting cohort) but ultimately voted conservatively because of her concerns about the more immediate impacts of progressive party tax policies on her family.

While the election result could be attributed to various one-off factors, from an environmental perspective the underlying problem is that environment continues to be framed as an issue of progressive vs conservative, left vs right. Unless both sides pursue strong environmental policies then we cannot hope to sustain the policies necessary to avert the ‘dangerous climate change’ of the UN Climate Convention, let alone other disasters such as the loss of a million species predicted in the latest report from the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES).

The divide over environmental policy was not part of the political landscape when environmental concerns first became prominent in the public consciousness in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Rather, it emerged much later as vested interests, realising the implications of the policies necessary to counter environmental decline, pushed back hard, including by framing issues in terms of the ‘environment vs jobs’ dichotomy that reflects the dominant and still-powerful post-war paradigm, that of economic growth as progress.

A clash of paradigms

Can we return to bipartisanship? This would require a shift from a growth paradigm to one of sustainability. In pure policy terms the case for such a shift is clear: the growth paradigm became outdated around 50 years ago, when humans realised that the environment was a limited, rather than unlimited, resource. The sustainability paradigm that emerged in response rests on the recognition that we can only consume nature at the rate at which it renews itself. If we exceed that rate, we are headed for disaster.

In political terms however the case is far from clear. The growth paradigm is based on ‘growing the economic pie’ and gives a ‘win-win’ outcome: grow the pie and you grow every slice, including the slice constituted by government spending on the environment. ‘A rising tide lifts all boats’, as they say.

The sustainability paradigm on the other hand gives a ‘win-lose’ outcome. If we consume to our hearts’ content, we court disaster at the expense of future generations (if not our future selves). If on the other hand we live within our environmental means, we do the right thing by future generations, but at the expense of constraining our own consumption, especially by those who do, or aspire to, consume a lot.

And who wants to give government a mandate to constrain consumption, unless convinced there is no other way to look after their children and grandchildren? Although this has been a logical conclusion to draw for over 50 years, this framing has yet to be adopted generally, in part because so many people have a vested interest in either clinging to the growth paradigm or watering down the sustainability paradigm.

This watered-down version of sustainability is that we can live within our means simply by using environmental resources efficiently, with the bonus outcome that efficient consumption will save us money. Another win-win, achieved for example by switching off lights in empty rooms. We might have got away with such an approach in 1969, but in 2019 it’s far too late for such a ‘no-regrets’ approaches.

It’s time (?)

I argued in an earlier blog that it will probably take a significant environmental crisis to generate the social consensus necessary to support a paradigm shift. I still hold that view, although there is at least one example of a country finding an easier path. In the period 2005-2009, the United Kingdom shifted from a bland incremental climate policy to an ambitious goal, enshrined in law, to an 80% cut in emissions, from a 1990 base, by 2050. There was no crisis, but a confluence of factors conducive to change.

The UK Government had commissioned the influential Stern Review, which argued the economic costs of not acting (Sir Nicholas Stern pointed out that climate change is the “greatest and widest‐ranging market failure ever seen”). Al Gore produced his influential documentary, An Inconvenient Truth (aimed at alerting the public to an increasing ‘planetary emergency’ due to global warming). And future Prime Minister David Cameron wanted to modernise the Conservative Party (then in Opposition) and actually beat the Government to the punch in opting for ambition. And the Global Financial Crisis gave the UK Government an opportunity to present ‘green economy’ measures as a major part of the solution to the crisis.

Whatever the precipitating event, we will only respond effectively to environmental issues when we abandon the growth paradigm in favour of one built around sustainability. If that happened, environmental policy would become much more like foreign policy: generally bipartisan because we are all in favour of Australia being a secure country able to pursue prosperity under an effective international rules-base order. If only Australia had a David Cameron or two (circa 2006 of course, not the Brexit David Cameron).

Image by Mediamodifier from Pixabay

Retreat from reason

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Environmental crisis, existential angst and electoral backlash

By David Salt

The story so far: A climate crisis has been called, the Great Barrier Reef is in the process of collapsing and our great inland waterways are dying. The government doesn’t seem to have a reasonable plan of response and, in any event, a national election is underway and no-one gives them a chance of winning. The opposition party has a more credible emissions target but the government says achieving this target will wreck our economy. The nation votes (18 May 2019) and, against all the polling, the opposition is repudiated and the government is re-elected. What’s the story?

Of course, the election outcome was much more than economics vs environment but I think the widespread anxiety about environmental decline was a major factor. But possibly not in the way many concerned environmentalists may have thought.

Future uncertain

Anyone who is aware of environmental issues is alarmed at the state of the world, be it collapsing biodiversity, wild weather or plastic pollution. Conditions are deteriorating, and in many cases the decline is accelerating. Policy responses so far are inadequate.

But even those people not up on the environment know something is happening. The floods are more brutal, the bushfires more horrendous, the heatwaves more cruel.

And life is increasingly complex. We have a world of information at our fingertips – more info than at any time in history – and more options to choose between. Social media means we’re in contact with everyone 24/7 and there are louder voices shouting at us from all directions. Houses are unaffordable, congestion chokes our cities and anxiety is our biggest growth industry. The future is increasingly uncertain.

What do you do when you have no confidence in the future? Indeed, there are people all around shouting it’s not just an uncertain future we’re facing but an environmental cataclysm (“I want you to feel the fear I feel every day. And act as if your house is on fire. Because it is!” one young climate activist named Greta Thunburg exhorted).

Three pathways from existential angst

I teach and write about environmental science. I am scared of what the future holds, and I’m saddened by the lack action being taken by our elected representatives. I often wonder how people deal with the prospect of a dark future.

A few years ago a colleague of mine (Richard Eckersley) posed a simple typology of responses to fears of the apocalypse. Now, I’m not saying the apocalypse is nigh, but I found his typology a useful model for how we respond to the existential angst associated with an uncertain future.

Richard suggested there were three basic responses: nihilism, fundamentalism or activism.

With nihilism, we basically give up. We’re going to hell in a handbasket and our individual actions don’t seem to make any difference so why care; let’s party till we drop.

But if you don’t want to give up and are prepared to accept the comfort of a simpler model of how the world behaves then maybe fundamentalism is for you. This might be the acceptance of a religious framework setting out what a good life entails (with a guarantee of heaven or paradise when you leave this mortal coil). Or it might be a secular framework of markets solving all our resource issues and creating a rising tide that will eventually lift all the boats.

And then there’s activism. In this response you don’t give up or accept a simpler model; you ‘act’ to make a difference. You think global but act local. You acknowledge the rotten unsustainability of what’s going on around you but you focus on something that you can do, some little bit where you can make a difference; and you hope that everyone else starts doing the same thing.

All roads lead to…

I’ve often wondered about this typology.

Nihilism and fundamentalism, while not saving the world, have a certain rational appeal to them. If the state and trend of the world is making you anxious, depressed and dysfunctional and you feel powerless to do anything then why not look for different ways of engagement. Drop out or sign up.

Activism*, on the other hand, while seemingly a positive response (in Eckersley’s discussion he describes it as ‘hope rules’ and a constructive response), has never seemed as ‘rational’. You can go ahead and make your own backyard a little more sustainable but it’s impossible to ignore that the surrounding neighbourhood is going to the dogs. Activism only salves the angst for so long before the outside reality seeps in and has you reaching for the bottle (nihilism) or the bible (fundamentalism). (Or maybe that’s just me cause I’ve always been a little ‘glass half empty’. I’ve been trying to make my own little difference for decades through engagement with environmental NGOs, and the angst is still rising.)

In truth, I don’t believe anyone goes down one path exclusively. Rather, we all adopt varying degrees of nihilism, fundamentalism and activism simultaneously in all our thought processes. We all want to make a difference through our actions, conform to some normative ideology without too many questions, and sometimes just forget about life and get wasted.

Why do we do this? Because the world is a complex place and that complexity is difficult and painful to deal with. Attempting to reconcile ourselves with that complexity, to fill the gap between our aspirations and what actually happens, creates a cognitive dissonance that wears us down.

To help us cope with this complexity, and the cognitive dissonance it generates, we will often deny that complexity (nihilism), subjugate it with simplistic models (fundamentalism) or just focus on a tiny bit of it to stop from being overwhelmed (activism).

Get real

So what does this have to do with a poor election outcome in Australia for the environment? To my mind a lot.

The government had been bagged for its abysmal performance on the environment and especially on our pathetic efforts to curb our nation’s greenhouse emissions. It decided it’s best hope for re-election was to keep it simple, make it about the economy vs the environment, play up the uncertain economic conditions coming our way, and damn the opposition for gunning for change (big change, uncertain change, change that will rob you of your accrued wealth).

We’re all suffering from change overload. We’re all carrying a degree of existential angst; angst that is being hypercharged by an environmental movement telling us daily that the end is nigh (climate crisis, extinction catastrophe, pollution apocalypse, blah, blah, blah). And with social media they can send us direct emails telling us this on a daily basis (I know this, I get their emails).

The polls tell us that more and more people are worried about climate change and the future but is it possible that the Opposition and the Greens have got it wrong when it comes to what the voters expect our leaders to do about it?

Fundamentalism: Maybe they don’t want reality and greater connection with the complexity that engulfs us. Maybe they want a simple answer or model of how things should work; take the government’s simplistic solutions on faith. (Maybe our emissions targets will prove to be adequate and we really will reach them in a canter despite all the evidence to the contrary.)

Activism: And maybe the comprehensive prescriptions of the opposition were too much to handle, and a more constrained form of engagement is all the electorate was after, or could cope with. (50% renewable energy sounds like a big change, couldn’t we just do a little more recycling?)

Nihilism: And if simple solutions or constrained actions still won’t help you deal with reality, why not damn the lot of them and vote informal (or worse, cast your vote for those absolute nutters on the far right, a hell of a lot of voters did).

Tell me I’m wrong.

*On activism: All models are wrong but some are useful. The ‘model’ presented here is my interpretation of how we cope with a complex world and growing existential angst. To me this model (in part) explains why a compelling rational case for a change in government, partly based on a better environmental policy, found no favour in the broader electorate. Beyond this explanatory value (and the guide it serves for messaging future campaigns), my model also suggests there’s no point in doing anything as we’ll eventually withdraw from the complexity of the environmental challenges we’re involved in (which is really another form of nihilism). What’s the point of being active? The point is that while acting may sometimes not achieve what we desire (in this case a sustainable future), it is our only realistic pathway to finding hope. Not acting, in contrast, simply leaves us hopeless (which is how I felt after the recent election result, but I’ll get over it).

Image by Maklay62 from Pixabay

All the way with EIA

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There’s still value in persisting with Environmental Impact Assessment

By Peter Burnett

For more than a decade I’ve been working and researching in the field of Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA). I keep telling myself to move on, that my priorities lie in overarching environmental policy frameworks and that EIA is just one decision-support tool (admittedly one that is very popular), best adapted for dealing with local issues. But I can’t stay away from EIA. Is there new life for this old tool?

Why can’t I stay away from EIA?

It’s partly a ‘boys-and-their-toys’ thing. I’m a lawyer by training and EIA has developed from a simple idea of gathering all the relevant environmental information for decision-making into a complex nested set of processes that can take up hundreds of legislative pages. It’s even more complicated in Australia’s federal system, which has EIA at national and state levels. I admire the sophistication of the EIA process as it has evolved and enjoy nutting out how this complicated system applies to any particular development project.

It’s partly an ‘in-the-club’ thing. Having been responsible for administering EIA under Australia’s national environmental law, the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 (EPBC Act) and having been accepted by peers as having some knowledge and expertise, I found myself reluctant to let this ‘club membership’ expire when I changed status from senior public servant to PhD candidate in 2013. So I found a way to make EIA one of my case studies in a thesis that was focused on high level policy relating to sustainability.

But the strongest reason was my belief in the potential of this tool. My instinct was that even though EIA didn’t seem to be achieving its original aspirations of leading to decisions that would protect the environment, not just in particular cases but across the board, it still had potential to play a major role in doing so.

But I wasn’t quite sure why it didn’t seem to work or how it might be improved, beyond the consensus view to make more use of strategic approaches to EIA. This would avoid the ‘salami slicing’ or ‘death of a thousand cuts’ involved in project-based EIA decisions such as the approval of individual mines or housing divisions.

Regulating discretion

One of my research findings concerned the way in which discretionary decision-making works in our legal system. EIA decisions need to be at least partly discretionary to allow decision-makers to tailor approval conditions to a multitude of cases and circumstances. Yet if that discretion is to be exercised consistently, it must also be constrained.

The problem here stems from the way the legal system has evolved to regulate discretion. First there are general principles of administrative law, which are directed to making sure that decision-makers takes fair decisions based on all the relevant information, at the same time preventing them from straying off the reservation by taking irrelevant factors into account or doing someone else’s bidding. These general rules are usually supplemented in EIA by statutory directions to consider specific environmental factors, such as the principles of Ecologically Sustainable Development (ESD).

But in either case the courts treat these as rules of due process. Short of the rare instances in which a substantive decision has no apparent rational basis (or in special cases such as the NSW Land and Environment Court) they won’t go into the merits of the decision. They regard merits as the province of governments or their appointed statutory expert decision-makers.

So they won’t tell a decision-maker what to decide. Fair enough. But Parliament can tell the decision-maker what to decide, although this is harder than it seems.

Take the EPBC Act. At first blush, it seems to be steering decision-makers towards a goal of ESD. But on closer examination the Act uses qualified language, saying it wants to ‘promote’ ESD. Then it takes a reductionist approach and breaks (an undefined) ESD into five ‘principles of ESD’ which the decision-maker must simply ‘consider’.

We’re back to due process. If he or she chooses, the decision-maker can pay lip service to these ‘considerations’ and then take any decision at all, short of irrationality.

Even if the Act used the clearest of language to define ESD and direct decision-makers to achieve that goal in all their decisions, this is probably not enforceable, because in such a broad context the courts would regard the question of whether any given decision achieved ESD (or other clearly defined policy goal) was one of merits or expertise, not law.

Can we fix it?

My research conclusion was that there were only two ways to ensure that individual EIA-based decisions deliver environmental policy goals in an enforceable way. Both involve translating the policy goal into limits of acceptable action at any given place and narrowing the scope for discretion, and the two approaches are related.

The first is environmental planning. In an ideal world of environmental plans, if you want to build a mine, the relevant plan will tell you whether this is possible on an unrestricted basis, or on conditions; for example that there were offsets available for certain vegetation losses.

The second, a combination of specific decision rules plus comprehensive environmental information (which often needs to be geospatial, thus bearing some resemblance to planning) will achieve a similar result. If you want to build a mine and there is a rule against clearing critical habitat, the answer depends in part on whether the mine site is listed as critical habitat. And a decision to approve a mine in an area of critical habitat would be challengeable in court, because this is not an instance of discretion but the breach of a rule.

There would still be a role for EIA and discretion under both these approaches, but its task would be more oriented to the detailed conditions under which the proposal should proceed. Of course, these approaches would be expensive and, in our federal system, particularly complex.

They also shift decision-making away from pluralism and trade-offs towards a more constrained application of rules. This is uncomfortable territory for politicians, but a necessary evil if we are to make EIA an instrument of our high-level policy goals.

Sticking with EIA

So I found a way to satisfy my urge to stay involved with EIA, by connecting it to policy and information. To highlight that connection, consider this poetic metaphor inspired by John Masefield’s poem, Sea Fever. We need to shift our attention from the ‘tall ship’ of EIA to the entire voyage of environmental decision-making, which requires both a clear sense of destination (policy) and fulsome environmental information, ‘a star to steer her by’.

EIA is an important tool but unless we have a clear sense of where we want it to take us and ensure the necessary information is available to guide its application, then this venerable tool will not be delivering the environmental outcomes it was established for.

Image by MonikaP from Pixabay

Not in my backyard

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To save the planet we need ‘transformative change’!!! (But not in my backyard.)

By David Salt

Did you hear the sobering news last week? “Nature is declining globally at rates unprecedented in human history,” says the UN-supported Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES). Following the most comprehensive assessment of its kind; IPBES announced 1,000,000 species have been identified as threatened with extinction and that the rate of species extinction is accelerating.

Consequently, IPBES says, we need ‘transformative change’; and by that they mean a “fundamental, system-wide reorganization across technological, economic and social factors, including paradigms, goals and values.”

Well, having sobered up, my first response to this science-based statement and ‘call to arms’ is to reach for the bottle.

I don’t for a second doubt the evidence or the gravity of the declaration; it’s just that I’ve heard it all before. Pretty much exactly the same thing was said in the Global Biodiversity Outlook 4 released in 2015, the Global Biodiversity Outlook 3 released in 2010, the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment released in 2005, and at the proclamation of the Convention of Biological Diversity (CBD) in 1992 (and at its renewal in 2002).

The numbers in this 2019 declaration are direr but the underlying message is the same: situation awful and it’s getting worse and the awfulness is accelerating. To address it we need BIG change, transformative change, and we need it immediately.

A line in the sand

I think my pessimism about these declarations really took off in 2010 with the release of the third Global Biodiversity Outlook. 2010 was supposed to be a line in the sand for biodiversity conservation around the world.

Most of the world’s nations signed up to the Convention of Biological Diversity in 1992 at the Earth Summit in Rio (though the US, along with Andorra, Iraq and Somalia, never ratified it). In this Convention, signatories promised to do something about declining biodiversity.

In 2002, at the World Summit on Sustainable Development held in Johannesburg (famously boycotted by US President George W Bush), signatories agreed to work to specific targets – these being to halt or reverse declines in biodiversity by the year 2010. To celebrate what signatories hoped would be achieved, 2010 was declared the International Year of Biodiversity.

However, rather than demonstrate the success of the CBD, the release of the third Global Biodiversity Outlook revealed that biodiversity declines were accelerating (at all scales), that the drivers of decline (land clearing, invasive species, over exploitation, pollution and climate change) were growing and that the future was looking bleak.

‘We need transformative change’ was also the call at the time, but rather than exploring what that meant, a more comprehensive and nuanced set of targets (the Aichi Targets) was drawn up on what needed to be achieved by 2020.

Business as usual

Well, rather than witnessing a transformative change from this wakeup call in 2010, the world trundled along, business as usual.

The fight over greenhouse emissions seems to have stolen most of the available oxygen in the environmental debate, and rates of biodiversity decline have skyrocketed.

The IPBES report last week suggests we have a snowflake’s chance in hell of meeting the Aichi Targets (by next year); but even that shock announcement will quickly be forgotten in the relentless 24/7 media overload that is life in the 21st Century.

I’m not saying that the IPBES announcement last week was ‘wrong’, just that its framing reveals an inherent ‘disconnect’ with reality. The numbers presented (and the underlying trends they reflect) are horrifying, but the call for transformation just seems naïve (particularly so when that same plea is oft repeated).

In this instance, the IPBES Chair, Sir Robert Watson, observed: “by its very nature, transformative change can expect opposition from those with interests vested in the status quo, but also that such opposition can be overcome for the broader public good.”

Taking on the status quo

Too tepid by half Bob. Those ‘interests vested in the status quo’ have been running the show since the beginning of the Great Acceleration back in the 1950s. That status quo is founded on unbounded economic growth and held together by neoliberal ideology. What’s more, the elites in all the developed world are the main beneficiaries of this status quo and are unlikely to seriously engage with the transformation that might change it.

And that’s the nub of the problem. It’s all well and good to say that environmental degradation is unacceptable (unsustainable) but transforming the status quo simply won’t happen of its own accord. The ‘broader public good’ is usually trumped by the ‘sweet self-interest of the successful man’*.

Which is why I included earlier a couple of references to the US not participating in the international agreements on biodiversity conservation. The US Government is very divided when it comes to international conventions that might constrain their business interests. As a general rule they don’t sign them.

“The American way of life is not up for negotiation,” said President George Bush (Snr) at the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio, the event where the Convention of Biological Diversity was signed. Sustainability is all well and good, but not if it requires us to change the status quo.

The Australian backyard

Back in Australia the government response to the IPBES announcement was so poor it was comical. We are in election mode at the moment so the shelf life of any important news story is lamentably short. Our political leaders know that so when our Prime Minister Scott Morrison was asked about the extinction report he claimed his government had already taken action on that, hoping no-one would follow up his statement. But, as it turned out, the PM was referring to a recent bill on the testing of cosmetics on animals, an animal welfare issue that has absolutely nothing to do with biodiversity conservation. All the while our Environment Minister said nothing.

Possibly more germane to this editorial on the difficulty of transforming the status quo, our Agriculture Minister David Littleproud said the IPBES report “scared him”. We assume he was ‘scared’ because he knows the scientific consensus tells us that declining biodiversity has breached a planetary boundary with dire consequences for the Earth System and all who depend on it.

But possibly he’s really scared because if we do respond appropriately to the IPBES report then he could suffer a direct electoral backlash. That’s because one of the main drivers of extinction is land clearing and guess which electorate in Australia has the worst record for clearing of threatened species habitat? It’s the electorate of Maranoa where two million hectares of threatened species habitat has been destroyed since 2000 – and it’s represented by David Littleproud, our Minister for Agriculture.

*Borrowed from the song “Girl, Make your own mind up” by Seven World’s Collide.
The verse it comes from reads:
“They’ll try to make you believe in the invisible hand
The sweet self-interest of the successful man
To believe in the chance however remote
The rising tide lifts all the boats”

Image: Stumps on the valley caused by deforestation and slash and burn type of agriculture in Madagascar (Photo: Dudarev Mikhail/Shutterstock.com)

Twenty Years of the EPBC Act – looking back, looking forward

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Reviewing our national environmental law as if it mattered

By Peter Burnett

It’s hard to believe but Australia’s national environmental law, the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 (EPBC Act), is twenty years old. Given that it lies at the centre of so many important and controversial debates, how is this 20-year old piece of legislation tracking? In a time of climate change, extinction and growing uncertainty, is the EPBC Act still fit for purpose?

As is appropriate for such a critical piece of law, the EPBC Act gets a statutory review every 10 years. That means the EPBC Act is up for its second review later this year. Does it need a little tinkering or a major overhaul?

Because I had been responsible for the administration of the EPBC Act during the first review in 2009, I was asked recently* to share my reflections on how we should frame the review of the EPBC Act.

To my mind, this is a valuable opportunity for environmental policy reform and the thing we need to resist is the notion that it’s simply a matter of looking inside the Act to see how we can make it work better. The way forward lies on the outside of the Act, and I’d like to pose five big ‘outside’ questions.

But before I talk about these, I should tell you briefly what happened to the first review, led by Dr Allan Hawke, a former federal department head, and completed in 2009. Because what happened back then may help us make the most of this second review.

A potted history of the Hawke Review

The Hawke Review was comprehensive in approach and well-packaged in its recommendations.

Hawke was assisted by an expert panel and engaged extensively with stakeholders. He laid the ground well by packaging his recommendations in an integrated nine-point plan, which had something for everyone: new environmental protection for environmentalists; streamlining of regulation for business; stronger institutions for administrators; and a fresh name and look for maximum political effect.

Unfortunately these outcomes never materialised.

It was 2010 by the time government was able to act on the review and (as some will remember) there was significant political turmoil following a leadership ‘coup’ against Prime Minister Rudd, precipitated in part by a proposed mining tax. That culminated in the watering down of the tax, an election, a change of environment minister and a minority government. Of course, minority government in turn increased the ‘transaction costs’ of reform.

New environment minister Tony Burke announced a detailed government response to the Hawke Review in 2011, but in the ensuing period the minority government was giving high priority to pleasing business generally (and mining companies in particular). The Government thus focused its attention on a ‘one-stop-shop’ initiative to reduce regulatory duplication by using an existing mechanism in the EPBC Act, under which States could be accredited to approve development projects on the Federal Government’s behalf. 

As a result, progress on the EPBC reforms slowed to the point where, late in its term, the Gillard Government decided that there wasn’t enough time to get them through and deferred them to the next Parliament. But the next Parliament brought a change of government and the incoming Abbott Government returned to pursuing the ‘one stop shop’.

So, except for some administrative changes, including a policy on biodiversity offsets, the response to the Hawke Review was never implemented. Good policy reform foundered on the rocks of difficult politics.

Back to my questions for the forthcoming review.

The big ‘outside’ questions

1.‘What are we trying to achieve?’

A goal well defined is a goal half achieved. Neither the EPBC Act itself, nor the policy or explanatory documents that surrounded it, answer this question. The Act does include goals such as ecologically sustainable development, but expresses them in qualified language and leaves it open to decision-makers to simply pay lip service to them, so this fundamental question remains largely unanswered.

2. How do we allocate roles & responsibilities between federal and state governments?

Australia’s Constitution operates to share these roles and responsibilities between the two levels of government, but not in any clear or obvious way. However, there is considerable scope for the two levels to agree on a sensible division. In fact there are some agreements of this type, but they date back to the 1990s and were less than ideal even at the time. The EPBC Act is built in part on these agreements and so they need to be renegotiated before major legislative reform.

3. Given that roles are shared, how should the two levels of government cooperate, especially on areas in which overlap in unavoidable, such as environmental information?

Again, the 1990s agreements addressed this but implementation has been desultory. Governments should have tried harder.

4. How do we regulate discretion to ensure conformity with goals?

The freedom that decision-makers have under the current Act is too great: even if the goals of the Act were clear, there is no guarantee that discretionary decisions will implement them. Discretion is necessary in regulatory schemes, but my research suggests there are only two ways to ensure that such discretion is confined to implementing the goals of the Act. The first is to make environmental plans and require that decisions conform to the plans. The second is to have a series of specific decision rules (for example, not to approve development in listed critical habitat). Because characteristics such as critical habitat are usually geospatial, the two approaches are related.

5. How do we ensure that the Act is funded so that it is commensurate with its goals?

The EPBC Act has never been properly funded, going right back to the time when it’s principal architect, Environment Minister Robert Hill, was unable to secure additional funding for his new law. This is one reason why several major mechanisms under the existing Act, including provision for bioregional planning and grants for information-gathering, have been little used. In the absence of election commitments or an environmental crisis, in the current culture there is a high risk that Budget offset rules would strangle reforms.

The bottom line

I leave you with this thought. Unless the government elected later this month addresses the big ‘outside’ questions, the second statutory review of the EPBC Act can only deliver incremental change. That would be a wasted opportunity.

*The National Environmental Law Association (NELA) recently held a short conference to promote discussion of the upcoming review, under the theme of ‘Twenty Years of the EPBC Act – looking back, looking forward’. NELA asked me to reflect on the conference theme.

Image by Zesty from Pixabay

This febrile environment

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The election is called, ‘peak crazy’ is on, and cynicism reigns at a time we can’t afford it

By David Salt

Australia has entered an election period (described as ‘peak crazy’ by former Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull) and chickens everywhere are running around claiming the sky is falling.

Right-wing politicians are describing animal-rights activists as equivalent to terrorists and calling for them to be thrown in jail.

Our Prime Minister has accused the opposition Labor Party of attempting to steal our weekends because they announced a policy of 50% electric cars by 2030.

Carbon emissions are rising but our Government leaders are telling us we’ll make our targets at a canter (and their policy to date has actually seen emissions on average rise).

Adani’s new coal mine proposal in outback Queensland is being lauded in the regions as a source of jobs while simultaneously being condemned in the cities as an environmental horror.

It’s all so shrill, so hysterical, that large slabs of the electorate have simply switched off. No-one believes anyone and everyone seems to stop caring.

The same but different

On the one hand it was ever thus. Every election period is shrill and hysterical, every candidate smeared and compromised by the time it’s over. Then the government is returned (or changed) and life goes on. Normalcy returns.

On the other hand, things are different and we won’t be bouncing back to ‘normal’ no matter who wins.

We look around us and the evidence of climate change is real and present be it in the bleached degrading skeleton of the Great Barrier Reef or the millions of stinking fish corpses clogging the Murray Darling. Species are going extinct, droughts and floods are becoming more punishing.

We’ve just survived the most brutal summer on record but no-one believes there isn’t worse down the line.

The world is burning, figuratively and literally, but the chorus from leaders standing for election is that ‘she’ll be right’, and ‘trust us’. Such platitudes simply don’t cut it anymore, and voters are retreating into a bleak cynicism.

Rome is burning

Sometimes, however, a plaintive cry cuts through the crap.

Just prior to the commencement of the official election period I heard a former head fire fighter say on public radio that he was scared. The bushfires he was seeing in the last couple of years were unlike anything he had had to confront throughout his career. The fire seasons were longer, the burns more intense and covered a greater area. Our available resources weren’t coping.

He, along with former fire chiefs from every state and territory, were making a plea for government to acknowledge and act on the escalating risks associated with climate change. But as the country descends into a frenzy of election madness their hopes of being heard are dashed.

Your house is burning

So, our dedicated expert emergency managers are scared.

Well, I’m scared too. I’m scared of what’s coming at us; and I’m scared that our democratic process is not up to the challenge of engaging with the problems growing from the global changes we are creating.

I’m scared because our political leaders are presenting simplistic solutions to complex problems.

They tell us we can meet the challenge of sustainability and we don’t even have to sacrifice anything to achieve it. We can have our economic development and rest assured that it isn’t going to cost us the environmental capital upon which it’s based. We can have our cake and eat it.

And their assertions are so demonstrably wrong, with the evidence of this mounting around us all the time.

Yes, this is a rant*. It’s a release of the frustration that I (and many other voters) feel towards this election period that reduces important issues to sound bites, slogans and attack dogs.

The Earth is boiling and our polity is increasingly febrile.

If only our political leaders could show they care in a way I believe. Exhibit a little humility instead of hubris; acknowledge uncertainty instead of parading simplistic absolutism; and demonstrate that they too are a little scared of an increasingly frightening future.

“I want you to feel the fear I feel every day. And act as if your house is on fire. Because it is.”

Those aren’t my words. They were uttered by a Swedish teenager named Greta Thunberg back in January when she admonished the planet’s economic leaders at the World Economic Forum meeting in Davos for not acknowledging the growing catastrophe of climate change.

I feel that fear. I wish my elected representatives might too.

*I commit to be less ranty and more constructive in future posts. And I would point out that much of the angst the electorate feels during election periods (that I am ranting about here) results from our political parties pandering to vested interests, whipping up tribalism and focussing on the short term – three problems my colleague Peter Burnett focussed on in an earlier Sustainability Bite (in which he proposed several constructive solutions).

Environmental policy came from the side of the angels

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Lynton Caldwell, NEPA and the birth of Environmental Impact Assessment

By Peter Burnett

When did the age of modern environmental policy begin? Some claim it kicked off with the publication of Our Common Future (also known as the Brundtland Report) in 1987. This landmark document defined the notion of ‘sustainable development’ and stressed the need for integrating economic, social and environmental approaches. Others suggest 1972 is more appropriate as it was the year of the Stockholm Conference and the establishment of Environment departments in many countries around the world.

But I’m going to suggest to you that 1969 and drafting of the US National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) is really when environmental policy began, and it owes much to a visionary political scientist named Professor Lynton Caldwell. And it’s not just that Caldwell was astute enough to understand what effective environmental policy needed, he was also canny enough to know when to make his pitch.

NEPA is famous for introducing the world to the concept of environmental impact assessment (EIA), a mechanism now used in almost every country. But NEPA stands for so much more.

Interdisciplinarity

Its antecedents lie in Caldwell’s earlier work. In 1963 he published an article entitled ‘Environment: A New Focus for Public Policy?’ 1963! That’s only a year after Rachel Carson published Silent Spring, the book often regarded as having launched the modern environment movement.

In his article, Caldwell argues for, and thus invents, ‘environmental policy’. He calls for, among other things, an interdisciplinary approach to this new creature. Caldwell was a Professor of Government at Indiana University and he practised what he preached. He embarked on a course of interdisciplinary training and started hanging around with ecologists. (In 1963, ecology was still a relatively small discipline.) These days, interdisciplinarity is a much lauded goal (if little practiced) but back then it was a very brave undertaking.

In 1964 Caldwell began to operationalise his ideas by presenting them to a workshop for economic planners. Brave again. Not surprisingly, most of them were, as Caldwell later reminisced, ‘baffled’ by his argument and most of them rejected it as irrelevant. That’s except for one now world famous economist, Abraham Maslow (of ‘Maslow’s hierarchy of needs’ fame). Maslow understood what Caldwell was advocating. He later offered Caldwell constructive suggestions, declaring Caldwell to be ‘on the side of the angels’.

The time was ripe

By the late 1960s a wave of environmental concern was sweeping the Western World, particularly in America. Some major environmental disasters contributed to this. In 1969 and in America alone, the Santa Barbara oil spill despoiled the California coastline while on the other side of the country the Cuyahoga River was so polluted it actually caught fire.

Various members of Congress responded by proposing environmental laws. Public opinion was galvanised.

Against this backdrop, one of the leading proponents of reform in Congress, Senator Henry ‘Scoop’ Jackson, hired Caldwell to help with Jackson’s environmental Bill. Initially, Caldwell wrote a report for a Congressional committee on what a national environmental policy might be.

He later wrote that he anticipated the need for ‘action forcing provisions such as impact statements’ to support a national policy statement. But Caldwell held back as he suspected Senator Jackson ‘did not appear ready to endorse so novel and intrusive a proposition’.

Later, however, in appearing before the committee, Caldwell was able to make his arguments for his action forcing provisions and they were then included in the compromise bill. That bill became the NEPA. Caldwell had bided his time and ‘threw his pebble’ (to borrow a term from one of our earlier blogs) when he perceived it would have maximum impact.

A remarkable piece of legislation

NEPA itself is a remarkable piece of legislation. Its statement of environmental policy goals is visionary. It talks about the need for a global approach three years before the world first met to talk about a global approach, at the UN Conference on the Human Environment held at Stockholm in 1972.

The legislation talks about each generation being trustees of the environment for future generations and sharing life’s amenities – this was 18 years before the Brundtland Report proposed the concepts of sustainable development and intergenerational equity.

It refers to maintaining the diversity if life just 12 months after Dasmann first wrote of biological diversity and 20 years before Lovejoy coined the term ‘biodiversity’.

And NEPA required the preparation of state of the environment reports (as ‘environmental quality reports’), 10 years before the OECD produced one and called on its members to do likewise. NEPA sought to drive policy integration 10 years before the OECD began to promote the same concept.

Ahead of its time?

Unfortunately most of the enormous potential of NEPA was not realised. True, it brought environmental impact assessment, EIA, to the world. But Caldwell, Jackson and the others behind NEPA had a much bigger vision than EIA.

If NEPA had been applied as an ordinary reading of its words would suggest, all US government agencies would have brought their decisions in line with a long-term policy vision directed to avoiding environmental degradation, and these decisions would have been supported by comprehensive information and research facilitated by a new institution, the Council of Environmental Quality. These things did not happen because government agencies were antagonistic and the US Supreme Court read the law down to a set of procedural requirements.

Caldwell’s vision and achievements, which would have been much greater if others had not been working against them, are not widely known. And to top it off, he was a registered Republican voter, working for a Democrat: if only environment was the bipartisan issue today that it was then.

Image: Lynton Caldwell enjoying the great outdoors. Indiana University Archives

Confessions of a cheerleader for science

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Don’t put off action today in the belief that science will save us tomorrow.

By David Salt

In the halcyon days of my youth I thought science was the solution and that clever technology would always be the shiny knight that would eventually come to our rescue. These days I think such beliefs are dangerous. They are dangerous because they build in complacency about making tough decisions now: ‘things might be getting worse but science will save us down the line so no need to interfere with business as usual’.

Selling science

As a younger man I was salesman for science. I had a science degree, I loved technology and I was lucky enough to score a job at CSIRO Education. My job was to get young Australian’s into careers in science, raise the profile of science & technology in society, and promote the value of research (which, by the by, also promoted the value of CSIRO, Australia’s premier research agency). It was a good job, one you could believe in, and I thought I did it well. I developed a popular science magazine called The Helix. For ten years (the 1990s) I was a cheerleader for science.

Now I’m not saying I’ve since turned anti-science, because I haven’t. I love a good science story when it’s well told. But over the years I started to question the claims that were routinely rolled out with every new announcement: ‘We’ve discovered a cure for the flu’; ‘this process will revolutionise waste disposal’; ‘this new material promises to transform industry; ‘our new breakthrough solves the energy problem’; and so on. Each story presented a new bit of science in such hyperbolic terms that the reader is convinced the world is about to be saved – science to the rescue!

Are things getting better?

But the areas I was most interested in – biodiversity conservation, ecology and conservation – things weren’t getting better.

Over time I grew ever more skeptical of the ability of science to turn these things around. Clearly science and technology was contributing to incremental (and sometimes transformative) increases in productivity, improvements in quality of (human) life and safety. But all the time the impacts of our escalating development was destroying and degrading the non-human parts of our world.

In the last ten years we’ve reached the point where there is a broad scientific consensus that human activity has actually distorted the Earth system, pushed it into a new way of being. Climate systems and hydrological cycles are no longer functioning as they have in the past. Species are being lost at ten to a hundred times natural rates, land is degrading, available freshwater is declining, and seas are rising.

Living standards have improved for developed countries but most developing countries are struggling.

And here’s a statistic that amazes me: In 2010 the OECD countries accounted for 74% of global GDP but only 18% of the global population. In other words, three quarters of the planet’s economic growth is being enjoyed by one fifth of the planet’s people, the people in developed nations. And yet it’s this economic activity that has pushed the planet out of its safe space of operation, and everyone will pay for that (and the poorest people will pay for it first).

Cognitive dissonance

So, on the one hand I was selling science as the answer to all our problems. But, on the other, economic development (fuelled by science and technology) was pushing the Earth over multiple planetary boundaries.

Indeed, every promised 5% increase in efficiency (or 10% or 20% or whatever you like) delivered through scientific innovation seemed to correlate with an even greater deterioration in environmental condition rather than an improvement.

About the time I was leaving The Helix I vividly remember a molecular researcher preaching to me about the new world opening up through nanotechnology. It would be a world in which anything was possible, a world without limit; a time in which humans would wield ultimate mastery over the very building blocks of matter!

I think this technological hubris was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. It was hyperbolic hyperbole. Did this person even listen to what she was saying?

In any event, that was 20 years ago. Nanotechnology has certainly transformed many areas of the economy but, over the same period, Earth’s sustaining ecosystem services have lost resilience and the future is looking increasingly dire.

Do scientists believe the hyperbole of science?

Back in the 90s there was much greater accord on climate change and the need to curb it. Since then the science on climate change has firmed; there’s almost no doubt (not in scientific circles anyway) that it is real, present and growing. But, ironically, the accord of past decades has become fractured and contested. And real effective action is continually postponed, a challenge for the next generation down the line.

About ten years ago I discussed the parlous state of the planet with a senior government scientist. This guy had charge of a large climate change research program. I asked him what he honestly felt about the world’s response to climate change. He said it got him seriously depressed; clearly governments everywhere were in a state of denial, prioritizing short term economic growth (business as usual) over long term sustainability.

But, he told me, he was sure that a time would come when the truth of climate change would sweep away the denialism. And when that happened, the incredible power of science would generate the solutions we need to tackle this existential threat.

And that got me thinking; scientists themselves believe that science will be there to save us.

So when governments and political leaders tell us that science will save us, and their scientists believe that too, then it’s okay that we stick with business as usual a little bit longer. Because no matter how bad it gets, there will always be a technical solution down the line to undo the harm we’ve done.

Unfortunately for my peace of mind, I stopped believing that decades ago.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Environmental FoIs & the ‘decision-making onion’

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Reasons behind an environmental decision are often concealed beneath layers of government process.

By Peter Burnett

Why is it that despite reforms to federal Freedom of Information (FoI) laws, it seems it’s getting more and more difficult to get information out of government on the reasons behind decisions about the environment? These reforms, by the way, declare that embarrassment, loss of confidence in government and public confusion are irrelevant to decisions about whether to release documents. And yet the reforms don’t seem to have helped much.

Where officials might once have claimed substantive exemptions to release, based on grounds like confidentiality, now governments starve FoI processes of funding so that requests are more likely to be strangled by delay or blocked under an exemption based on the request involving an unreasonable diversion of the agency’s resources. Requests are also constricted by charging fees.

Information hidden in layers

Issues of exemptions, delays and fees aside, there can be a question of where to look for pertinent information. Sometimes substantive information is concealed (not necessarily deliberately) under layers of government process. The example that comes to mind is that of decisions concerning the approval or refusal of development projects, following environmental impact assessment (EIA). In the example these decisions are made under the federal Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act (EPBC Act).

Say you want to know why a minister has approved a controversial project. It’s like an onion: you will have to peel back the layers of advice and deliberation to get to the heart of the matter.

First, there’s the environmental impact statement. You would think this would be a public document, but it’s only public for a limited time, when it is published for public comment. After that you’ll have to make an FoI application. In any event, because it is prepared by the proponent it will tell you about the project but it won’t contain any ministerial thinking. Let’s call this layer 1.

Then there’s the environment department’s ‘recommendation report’, their statutory advice to the minister on whether the development should be approved and, if so, on what conditions (this is layer 2). This is available on application, under the EPBC Act rather than under FoI, although the department can still claim some FoI-style exemptions. Assume however that you’ll get it. As it’s a legal document, it will be couched in formal and evidence-based terms. It will tell you more, but it’s probably not the whole story.

Then there’s the department’s ‘covering brief’ (layer 3) to which the statutory documents are attached. While the brief might blandly transmit the recommendation report and other decisional documents to the minister, equally it might get more directly to the nub of the issue than the recommendation report, and better reveal the ‘flavour’ of the department’s advice. The brief will be available under FoI, subject to the usual exemptions and processes, but a separate application will be needed.

The next layer (number 4) might be advice from a political adviser in the minister’s office. Advisers are not officials, not bound by public service rules or ethics. This advice might be oral or written. If it’s written, it’s still subject to FoI, but in practice it probably won’t be available because often takes an ephemeral form, such as a ‘sticky note’, which might be discarded once the decision is made and the documents returned to departmental custody.

Invisible and hidden layers

The Minister might also meet with the department to discuss its advice. While officials may make a record of the meeting (number 5), such records are often bland: a minister may probe departmental advice, but even if that probing reveals the minister’s political thinking, officials may think that it is not their business to record political comments or inferences.

The minister may also discuss the issue with proponents, lobbyists or other political players, many of whom pride themselves on working invisibly behind the scenes. Such discussions are not likely to be recorded in detail.

There is another process for obtaining reasons (behind decisions), but it doesn’t seem to yield much. Under the Administrative Decisions (Judicial Review) Act (ADJR Act), a person aggrieved by a decision can ask for a formal statement of reasons. The idea is to elicit enough detail about a decision to help the person get legal advice on a legal challenge. The problem is that ministers get government lawyers to draw-up these statements, so they become legally-justifying rather than records of actual thinking. These ‘section 13’ statements are likely to tell you that the minister had regard to all the considerations laid down in the Act and then balanced them carefully in the exercise of discretion. Unless someone’s made a legal mistake in the decision process, it can be a story of ‘move along, nothing to see here’.

Why not just ask?

Rather than wade through FoI processes, there’s always the option of asking. A journalist for example might ask about the reasons for a decision. Politicians of course are legendary for not answering questions.

Another channel for asking is for Senators to ask questions in Estimates Committees. These questions are usually answered by public servants. You could be forgiven for expecting public servants, with their statutory duties of honesty and integrity, and their mantra of ‘frank-and-fearless’ advice, to be straight-shooters. However, in public forums they often aren’t, at least not in response to ‘advice’ questions. This is because public servants ‘advise’ government on policy, but usually do not ‘advise’ other parties.

My experience in Senate Estimates Committee hearings was one of public servants (including myself) answering questions directly, but literally and without elaboration, thereby meeting legal and ethical obligations, but sometimes frustrating Senators who were, in effect, asking for or about advice. Sometimes Senators don’t ask quite the right question, but if they do, the answer might be that the public servant can’t answer because it’s a question about advice!

At the end of the day, you can trust public servants, but they often won’t be much help on the most important questions: the information is concealed by the nature of their duties.

The decision onion

So there you have it. If you try to peel all the layers of the ‘decision onion’, the outer layers will come away easily enough, if slowly, and won’t tell you much. But the inner layers are resistant to removal. Advice from advisers is likely to be ephemeral. Discussions between Ministers and lobbyists or colleagues probably won’t be recorded in detail. An ADJR statement of reasons will be formal and unlikely to offer any real insight. And Estimates hearings won’t reveal advice.

But if you want to know what really was really driving a controversial decision, official processes probably aren’t the way to find out. Perhaps the story will come out years later in a political ‘tell all’ book.

Image by Chris Stermitz from Pixabay

If science is the answer, what was the question again?

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THE answer to the challenge of sustainability is NOT science and technology

By David Salt

It should be apparent from previous blogs that I am a believer in science and the scientific process. That said, in and of itself, I don’t believe science is THE answer when it comes to the challenge of sustainability. Yes, it has an important (and central) role to play but anyone who believes that science will save us is deluded. And when political parties tell us that science will be our salvation, there’s enormous potential for perverse outcomes.

The problem with science-as-our-savior has many dimensions including partial solutions and delayed action. And it has more to do with how science is used (and abused) by our political leaders than the science itself. I’ll deal with partial solutions in this blog.

Addressing symptoms

Science is not wrong or bad. Much of its application, however, is usually applied to one part of a complex problem, and our political leaders pick and choose which part that is and then usually ignore the bigger picture. In this way our science is often focused on the immediate issue and not the underlying cause. In many ways we address the symptom but fail to tackle the ‘disease’ that created the symptom.

More often than not, the symptom being addressed is a consequence of development and economic growth (and the way we make decisions around this growth). For example, declining water quality is the symptom but from over extraction of our rivers is the cause; extinction (symptom) from over clearing of habitat (cause), or climate change (symptom) due to carbon pollution (cause). The development generates economic activity and contributes to our quality of life but also comes with impacts on our environment that, at some point or other, come back to bite us.

And when our communities demand that our political representatives fix the problem (be it fish kills, mass coral bleaching or climate-change supercharged storms), our leaders turn to science and ask for quick fixes. And when scientists respond with the best science they can muster, the politicians will seize any skerrick of information they can that suggests they have a solution; that they are on top of the problem.

Silver bullets for dead fish

A small illustration of this: when billions of fish recently died on one of Australia’s major river systems, scientists pointed out the proximate cause of death was a lack of oxygen in the river water. It is possible to artificially aerate small patches of water and maybe keep some fish alive but the bigger problem is over-extraction of water and poor governance of the river system (something pointed out by the scientists).

Politicians seized on the quick fix and deployed manual aerators in a few locations (and maybe saved a few fish) but squibbed the bigger problem of over extraction because that involved changing the way we are managing the whole river.

Of course, this points to the nature of big environmental problems. They are multi-dimensional and complex. They are rarely fixed with single technological solutions, yet when the politicians turn to science that is what they really want – a quick fix, a silver bullet.

The problem with ‘quick fixes’ is that while they might address a symptom, they usually don’t fix the underlying cause. And ignoring the underlying cause usually leads to a worse (and possibly irreversible) situation down the line.

The biggest silver bullet of all

So let’s consider one of the biggest sustainability challenges of our time – climate change. The cause is humans pumping too much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, a byproduct of our economic growth (acknowledging that this has growth has underpinned massive improvements in the quality of life by many people). A symptom of this problem is rising temperatures which has produced a raft of devastating impacts (one of which is mass fish kills).

The ultimate solution to the problem of climate change is to somehow decouple economic development from the environmental impacts it is producing. But that’s hard. It involves massive disruption to our economic system and probably a basic change to human values.

Or we could look for a technological fix that reduces the planet’s temperature (and not worry about the hard stuff relating to economic reform and changing behaviour). If this sounds like a ludicrous suggestion then you haven’t been following the news. The big talk around the planet at the moment is geoengineering, and specifically the injection of sulfide particles into the upper atmosphere to reflect away sunlight to cool the Earth.

By focusing on the symptom (temperature) and not worrying about the cause (carbon emissions) we are setting up subsequent generations for a gloomy future. Gloomy because we’re blocking sunlight (by deliberately polluting the upper atmosphere). And gloomy because rising temperature is only one of the symptoms of carbon pollution. Another is rising acidity in our oceans (an impact quite separate to temperature effects) leading to the collapse of marine ecosystems. And what happens to crop productions if we miscalculate and block too much sun?

A sting in the tale

This form of geoengineering has yet to be tested in any meaningful way and many scientists are urging caution. Playing with the planetary climate thermostat is not something done lightly. Who wants a technological fix that might wipe out the species?

And yet this story on geoengineering appears to be moving in a sinister direction. A couple of weeks ago, an effort by several countries at the UN environment assembly to better scrutinise climate geoengineering experiments was scuttled by the United States and Saudi Arabia. Why? Because their petrochemical industries see climate geoengineering as a pathway that might enable further expansion of fossil fuel use.

If that’s the case then this silver bullet is surely more of a Faustian Pact.

Making better sense of Australia’s Environmental Impact Assessment

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Surely we can put an end to overlap and duplication

By Peter Burnett

Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) is a cornerstone of our system for protecting environmental values in Australia. A long standing problem with the EIA process has been the need to do them to meet both state and federal requirements.

You wouldn’t think that eliminating duplication and overlap between federal and state EIA processes (without compromising environmental outcomes) would be that hard. And yet so it has proven to be.

To date, there have been four attempts to address this issue, on each occasion by creating a mechanism under which the Commonwealth could accredit state EIA processes. Success has been limited and, with an election coming on, some are returning to this rather muddy policy watering hole. The Minerals Council of Australia, a major industry stakeholder, has renewed its call for more progress in this area, while Labor on the other hand recently ruled accreditation out, though it remains in favour of efficient regulation.

Surely there’s a solution here? To appreciate how difficult the issue is, consider what has gone before.

A short history of the fight to end duplication

Prime Minister Hawke was the first to put this topic on the agenda. He raised it as part of his 1990 ‘New Federalism’ push. The overarching theme was efficiency, and removing duplication in EIA was one way to achieve it.

The main result was an accreditation mechanism in the Intergovernmental Agreement on the Environment (IGAE, 1992). Unfortunately, attempts by several states to gain accreditation came to nought. This can be put down in part to the fact that Hawke had been replaced as Prime Minister by Paul Keating, and Keating wasn’t a great fan of cooperative federalism.

Next up it was Robert Hill, Environment Minister in the first Howard Government. He went one step further than the IGAE and included provision for accreditation in Australia’s new national environmental law, the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 (EPBC Act).

There were two types of statutory agreement, one for accreditation of environmental impact assessment processes (‘assessment bilaterals’) and another for accreditation of state final decisions on development proposals (‘approval bilaterals’). With an assessment bilateral, there is only one EIA but still two decision-makers, one federal and one state. Only an approvals bilateral gets it down to a single process and a single (state) decision-maker. Despite the availability of a statutory process, agreement proved difficult and although some assessment bilaterals were negotiated in the early 2000s, approvals bilaterals proved a bridge too far.

The Gillard government was the next to take on the challenge, this time under the title of a ‘Seamless National Economy’ program. However, Prime Minister Gillard pulled the plug on negotiations, on the basis that the result of accrediting different state systems would be to ‘create the regulatory equivalent of a Dalmatian dog’.

Finally, the Abbott Government pursued a ‘one-stop-shop’ initiative to accredit the states. It managed to negotiate assessment bilaterals with every state, a modest achievement, but the holy grail of approvals bilaterals fell by the wayside when the Government discovered that it needed some minor tweaks to the EPBC Act to make accreditation work smoothly. Environment groups were successful in persuading several cross-benchers about the risks of environmental standards slipping, and the Government allowed its amendment Bill to lapse with the 2016 election, without calling on a final vote.

Is it worth another try?

Why is doing this so hard?

The first problem is partly that environment is a shared federal and state responsibility. Even though land management is primarily a state responsibility, the feds were actually on the scene first, with the Whitlam Government passing Australia’s first EIA law in 1974. The feds have been there ever since and I can’t see them vacating the field in favour of the states.

Nor can I see a solution in amending the Constitution. The Hawke Government looked at this in 1989 but, in contrast to some non-environmental Constitutional proposals it had taken to referendum, abandoned the idea without taking it to the people. Giving all the power to one level of government seems to be going too far, yet this is cake that resists the cutting knife.

The second problem is that decisions to approve (or not) development proposals like mines are discretionary. While an approvals bilateral under the EPBC Act could protect against egregious decisions (eg a development likely to cause an extinction), it’s much harder to write an agreement that would stop a pro-development state minister from simply ‘going easy’ on a developer by imposing weak conditions. Standards might be maintained on paper, but accreditation might exacerbate the existing weakness of EIA, the so-called ‘death of a thousand cuts’, by making each of those cuts a little larger.

This leaves the option of going around the problem. If we can’t solve it by accreditation, what about a completely different approach? If there are two objectives, reducing duplication while protecting the environment to a high standard, I think there are only two approaches that can work.

Environmental planning

The first is environmental planning, which involves getting ahead of the game and working out, comprehensively, where development can and can’t occur and under what conditions. If environmental planning is done well, approving particular developments can become quite straightforward. Trouble is, it’s expensive and may also be politically unpalatable because it can bring on all your development disputes at once, as the planners start consulting society about various possibilities, some of which may otherwise never have arisen.

The second is a very detailed set of rules, for example a rule prohibiting development in areas of critical habitat for threatened species. A major problem with this approach is that you either have to identify sensitivities such as critical habitat in advance (which starts to look like environmental planning) or identify them during assessment, which could weigh individual assessments down with some expensive and time consuming extra work, thus failing the test of efficiency.

The solution? If there were an easy option, governments would have taken it long ago. My own view is that we have to bite the bullet and do environmental planning. It would cost, but if done well (which has to include doing the consultation well) I think the investment would pay long term dividends, both environmental and economic. Trouble is, modern governments are very focused on the short-term and tend to give short shrift to long term propositions. The solution is there, but don’t hold your breath.

[Image by Sumanley xulx from Pixabay]

Throwing pebbles and making waves

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Timing is important when to comes to bringing down dams

By David Salt

Sometimes you throw a pebble into a dam, it creates a ripple, and then disappears without a trace. Sometimes, however, you throw a pebble, and the ripple it creates forms a wave that grows and grows, sweeping away the status quo.

Sometimes the wave from a well-timed throw of a pebble can change the world. Consider the rise of environmentalism in Australia. There are many stories about people and campaigns which sought to save some precious piece of the Australian environment. One of the highest profile of these was the campaign to save the Gordon River in Tasmania.

This was a battle to stop a ‘wild’ river from being dammed for hydro-electricy. It was a case of economic development vs wilderness but it also tapped into a number of other tensions as well – state rights vs international obligations, jobs vs the intrinsic value of nature. However, this was not the first time this battle had been fought in Australia (it wasn’t even a first for Tasmania). In the years prior to the battle for the Gordon River another high profile battle had been waged over the pristine Lake Pedder.

Paradise drowned

Lake Pedder was a beautiful and remote mountain lake in remote south west Tasmania. It was formed about 10,000 years ago during the last ice age and was known for its unique brilliant white and pink quartzite beaches. And by remote I mean it was extremely difficult get to and was only really enjoyed by a few hardy bushwalkers. It was also in a region targeted by the Tasmanian Hydro Electric Commission for hydro development; in other words, damming mountain valleys for water storage for hydro energy production.

The fight to save Lake Pedder raged for years but it was ultimately lost in the early 1970s; even though the Federal Government had promised to compensate the Tasmanian government for any economic losses if it stopped the project (an offer turned down by the Tasmanian state government).

It was the flooding of Lake Pedder that saw the birth of the United Tasmania Group – the first Green political party in the world. Despite the protests and demonstrations, more than 240 square kilometres of Tasmania’s wilderness were drowned and the original lake is now 20 metres underwater.

Lake Pedder was lost, and looking back from the vantage point of 2019 it seems unbelievable that such a unique environmental asset was destroyed on the altar of economic development (and that loss occurred with Australian governments flaunting their national and international responsibilities). But times were different back then.

Sea change

However, the Lake Pedder campaign led to sea change in the broader Australian community, a sensitization to environmental values, and it was during this period (the 1980s) that the campaign to stop the Gordon-below-Franklin Dam took off.

It was the same contest of values at play but the actors in this drama this time around threw pebbles that had resonance with the broader community.

As we now know, the battle to save the Gordon River was won and it was never dammed. But possibly just as important was that this campaign was the genesis of the political party the Greens, and an environmental movement that saw that community resistance could sway government intent. The Greens were led by one of the head pebble throwers, Bob Brown, who remained its leader for several turbulent decades.

For the times they are a changing

Throwing pebbles of dissent made no difference for Lake Pedder. It was lost. The times weren’t favourable. But that campaign helped energise public resistance against further economic development (that failed to balance environmental concerns) and a subsequent campaign generated a wave of dissent that actually made a big difference. And that difference marked a turning point for the environment movement in Australia.

Which actually begs the question: Is it the pebble or the timing of the throw that matters? In other words, if the times are right, ripe for change, then any pebble will do. However, if the times are not right, then it doesn’t matter who throws the pebble or how well they throw.

The FDR Gambit

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Making a difference (through environmental policy) without rocking the boat

By Peter Burnett

Our environment is in serious decline and our policy response is seriously inadequate. We need to act but, short of a serious crisis, it’s difficult to see what might cause our leaders to take action proportionate to the problem. The major parties are reluctant to move ahead of public opinion and even if there were a crisis and public opinion shifted quickly, would we be prepared to respond?

The efforts of US President Franklin D Roosevelt (FDR) to prepare his country for World War II, a ‘foreign’ or ‘European’ war of which most Americans wanted no part (before Pearl Harbour), suggest there is much that governments could do, even when determined not to rock the political boat.

One researcher, Andrew Macintosh, has noted that governments seem to be willing to deal with certain environmental problems (such as pollution or over-consumption of natural resources), but not others (such as climate change or biodiversity conservation). As a result, Macintosh has proposed some useful rules of thumb about the political limitations on what governments will or won’t tackle in our current policy climate.

First up, most governments only adopt environmental policy that offers some clear short term benefits, such as better health and amenity from reduced air pollution, or keeping a fishery going. These short-term benefits make it politically worthwhile to accept some limited costs.

Beyond these cases, Macintosh argues that governments are only prepared to take real action on environmental problems within boundaries defined by three rules of thumb: avoid significant budgetary costs, avoid significant impacts on economic growth and avoid significant conflict with vested interests.

The policy straight-jacket

That’s a useful heuristic to keep in mind for anyone proposing policy action on the environment.

First, does the policy have a significant impact on the budget? Increasing the environment budget to any noticeable degree will either require savings, and the attendant political pain, in other budget areas, or increasing the size of the budget overall, which will often be seen as putting a drag on the economy.

Second, does the policy slow economic growth? Economic growth has been the mantra of all western governments pretty much since the end of the World War II, when they first pursued growth as a way of giving everyone a job as the world returned to peace. This will often rule out measures such as environmental taxes and pricing (even though economic theory shows that proper environmental pricing will grow the economic pie in the long run, by reducing ‘spillovers’ from the economy onto the environment).

And third, does the policy cause significant conflict with vested interests? If it does, those interests may change their votes or influence others to do so. The 2010 campaign by the mining industry against the proposed mining tax in Australia is an example par excellence of how effective some interests can be when they feel threatened.

Presidential nous

Despite the policy straight-jacket these rules create, I’d like to argue that there is still some scope for significant policy action, without courting defeat at the next election. FDR took some very effective policy action as World War II loomed over his country, despite very strong isolationist sentiment among the public.

FDR acknowledged this sentiment by making and maintaining a pledge that ‘your boys are not going to be sent into any foreign wars.’ At the same time, he managed to provide considerable support to America’s soon-to-be allies, while also preparing America itself for war. He worked with the British to plan for war. He persuaded the Congress to pass a law that enabled America to become the ‘arsenal of democracy’, on the argument that giving him the discretion to make foreign military sales would help to keep the US out of the war! He also moved to expand and re-equip America’s own armed forces.

Admittedly FDR’s strategy involved some secrecy and deception, something I am not advocating here. Yet his efforts show just how much can be achieved within major policy constraints.

Getting on with the job

Taking a lesson from FDR, a government determined to address environmental degradation as far as possible might, without breaking Macintosh’s rules of thumb:

  • Engage in ongoing social dialogue to build broad support for stronger action. The Climate Commission, created under the Gillard Government’s 2011 Clean Energy Future package, to provide authoritative information to the community on climate change, including at ‘town hall’ style meetings, provides an example of how this might be done.
  • Review existing policy comprehensively, redirecting resources as necessary. This exercise might involve two stages. The first would be to adopt an overarching goal for environmental policy, eg to maintain ecological function. The second would be to redirect existing environment spending to the programs most likely to advance that goal. For example, this might result in resources being redirected into research on ecosystem restoration.
  • Establish a comprehensive and coherent environmental information policy optimised to support policy-relevant decision-making, for example by establishing environmental accounts based on the UN System of Environmental-Economic Accounting (SEEA), prioritising the population of accounts for key ecological functions and processes.
  • Increase environmental diplomacy, to promote international agreement and build capacity for quick action when attitudes change.
  • Establish or reform institutions such as an Environmental Protection Agency, to enhance expertise, transparency, continuity and accountability in environmental decision-making.
  • Renegotiate federal–state cooperation under a new Intergovernmental Agreement on the Environment to improve the efficiency of overlapping responsibilities.
  • Negotiate reforms with business to exchange improved efficiency for improved environmental outcomes – for example, business might accept a stricter environmental offsets policy in return for decisions that are quicker and more predicable.

Let’s get on with it

While such measures might seem incremental, their combined effect could be considerable, as present policies often lack clear goal clarity and consistency. If a government thought such an approach a little too mild, it could always take a further leaf from FDR’s book and push the boundaries a little further!

Hopefully, it won’t take a Pearl Harbour moment (an environmental disaster) because, with better environmental information and communication, public opinion will change as evidence mounts that the risks arising from environment degradation are ever-increasing.

But, either way, we can still do a lot better in the meantime without rocking the political boat.

Duelling scientists at 10 paces

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When it comes to ecosystem collapse, will ‘my’ scientist say something that overshadows what ‘your’ scientist says? If the game of science is played according to its own rules, probably not. Unlike the game of politics, in science evidence is king.

By David Salt

When the environmental chips are down, who do you turn to? When an environmental crisis can’t be denied or ignored, who do you call?

For many politicians, the call is put out for scientists who can provide some expert advice that might help. At the very least, it gives the pollies something to say, it delays a difficult decision and sometimes pushes the problem far enough down the road till the issue-attention cycle has cooled (or it’s past the next election).

Smells fishy

So it was last month when millions of dead fish began bobbing to the surface along the Darling, one of Australia’s great river systems. The stench was horrid and the pictures graphic. Locals were disgusted and made videos accusing river managers, political leaders and irrigators of incompetence, corruption and malfeasance. Where lay the truth?

Everyone had an excuse – ‘it was the drought’s fault!’ was one of the most common invocations – but the disgust of the local community and the graphic imagery flooding the news media swamped all protestations and the pollies were looking for something to hide behind.

Who do you call? An expert scientific committee, of course. They’ll give us sage, technocratic advice couched in big words and heaps of caveats that will allow the pollies responsible for this area to escape immediate responsibility. So far, so normal.

Two reviews are better than none

But this story, the case of the mass fish kills at Menindee, has a few novel edges to it. For starters, it wasn’t the government who asked for an expert review, it was the opposition party. And they didn’t choose the reviewers. Instead they asked Australia’s scientific brain’s trust – the Australian Academy of Science (AAS) – to select an independent panel and provide feedback in weeks.

The Government’s response? First they disparaged the AAS accusing it of being too close to the opposition party, and then they set up their own scientific enquiry (“a fair dinkum independent panel”) to provide another independent scientific review that would deliver its interim findings days after the AAS review.

So, here we have two ‘duelling’ science reviews studying the same environmental disaster, releasing ‘competing’ reviews in days of each other; one for the government, one for the opposition. Such a ‘contest’ is in many ways farcical and potentially damaging to the brand value of science.

Or is it? Truth to tell, the game of science is not the game of politicians. Politicians play to win elections (to gain power). They’ll promise anything they can get away with, often shirk the hard decisions that upset their biggest donors, and bend the truth as far the system will allow (and often further). They are kept in line by voter awareness and the many checks and balances that the democratic system has built around their power (though the pollies always appear to be watering down these constraints).

The game of science

The game of science is based on the collection of evidence, and the process of applying reason and critical thinking to determine validity. Scientists are kept in line by peer review, transparency and accountability.

Which is why I parenthesised ‘duelling’, ‘competing’ and ‘contest’ in the above description. Because while the Government clearly intended its independent review to overshadow the opposition’s independent review, that’s not how the eminent scientists who undertook the review saw it. They saw it as an opportunity to review the facts, to collect the evidence and throw a little light on an epic environmental disaster.

And, because the institution of science is relatively strong in Australia (if poorly resourced in the environment sector), the resulting reports (just released) made strong statements about deficiencies in management that were, for the most part, in agreement and complementary with each other.

The Australian Academy of Science’s report, Investigation of the causes of mass fish kills in the Menindee Region NSW over the summer of 2018-2019, found that: There isn’t enough water in the Darling system to avoid catastrophic outcomes. This is partly due to the ongoing drought. However, analysis of rainfall and river flow data over decades points to excess water extraction upstream.

The second report, commissioned by the Government, Independent Assessment of the 2018-19 Fish Deaths in the Lower Darling, found that the fish death events in the lower Darling were preceded and affected by exceptional climatic conditions… amplified by climate change.

Both reports said there had been inadequate scientific monitoring and a lamentable lack of consultation with the local communities on the Darling River over time. As the AAS report put it: “engagement with local residents, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, has been cursory at best, resulting in insufficient use of their knowledge and engagement around how the system is best managed.”

The evidence is in

In this short space it’s impossible to dissect the full set of causes (and solutions) of the eco catastrophe that the mass fish kills at Menindee has become. There’s a lot of evidence to suggest that adverse weather, climate change, mismanagement, poor governance, greed and corruption have all played a role. It’s a complex, richly layered story that spreads out over multiple scales of time and space.

Politics will always look for simple solutions when disaster strikes, and politicians will often claim they have the silver bullet to slay the problem beast that has emerged. But complex environmental problems rarely have simple solutions (and silver bullets are but a myth). Good science usually points this out, though whether that results in better policy depends on many factors.

In this particular case, both sides of politics sought to use science as a political weapon. And both resulting reviews have concluded it was a lack of science in the first place that led to such a horrific environmental outcome.

The BIG fix

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Why can’t we just fix the environment?

By Peter Burnett

Environmental experts tell us that there are big problems with the environment. Increasingly, our own senses are telling us this too (consider this past year and recent summers). Yet, although we talk about it all the time and governments make announcements, things just get worse. Why can’t we just fix it, once and for all?

There are many reasons why we don’t come up with a big fix. Environmental decline is a complex problem operating at different scales and involving many uncertainties and unknowns. Often we are not sure what needs to be done. How do you restore a degraded landscape for example?

Overspending our natural income

But most of the problem is us. We are consuming nature faster than it can renew itself. We are like a family with a large inheritance (ie nature) in the bank, living off the interest. Except that we don’t. We are over-spending our ‘natural income’, using up nature faster than it can renew itself and making up for it by drawing down the inheritance instead, the ‘natural capital’. If we keep doing this, there won’t be enough nature left for future generations: it’s their inheritance too.

But going back to living off our natural income means not just tightening our belts as individuals or countries, but settling all the ‘family squabbles’ between countries about a fair sharing of the belt-tightening. And paying back our environmental debt, replacing the natural capital we shouldn’t have consumed, eg by going beyond reductions in carbon emissions, and actually taking carbon out of the atmosphere.

So it’s difficult scientifically and it’s difficult socially. The environment is not called a ‘wicked problem’ for nothing! Despite this, there are some things we could do relatively easily. We waste a lot of stuff, eg food. And technology can help us do more with less – eg, renewable energy. But even these ‘low-hanging fruit’ aren’t as easy to pick as it might seem because any change, even positive change, creates winners and losers.

It’s a moving target and we are ‘predictably irrational’

Even if we could pick these low-hanging fruit, by themselves they aren’t enough. New technology and more efficiency will not bring the Earth System back into a safe operating space. The Earth’s population is growing, and so are standards of living, which usually means consuming more. We will still need to take some hard decisions, with far-reaching consequences.

For some on the political Right this raises a spectre of ‘big government’, even ‘world government’. But many others among us are wary too, not because of ideologies about big government but for practical reasons. We don’t like tough decisions. They hit our ‘hip pocket nerve’ and deflate our ingrained expectations of ‘progress’, the sense that our quality of life will always improve.

This is why many of us take the irrational position that we want the environment fixed, but at someone else’s cost. A recent article in The Economist summed this phenomenon up well: ‘Few people like change, even when they have voted for it, and those touched the most like it the least.’ And they weren’t even talking about the environment! Countries think like this too. No-one likes to slip back down the greasy pole.

The environment and the issue-attention cycle

One theorist, Anthony Downs, offered an early explanation as to why we avoid major change as a solution to environmental (and other) problems. He called his article ‘Up and Down with Ecology: the “issue-attention cycle”. He discussed this idea back in the early 1970s and you can probably guess the drift of this argument.

The cycle goes like this: When we first become aware of a major problem like the environment we are alarmed, and then enthusiastically demand action. Sometimes, and the environment is an example of this, we expect a technological solution. Then, as we realise over time how difficult and expensive it is to solve the problem, we lose interest, some because they feel threatened by it, while others become bored or inured.

The reasons may differ, but people are united in not wanting to confront the need for major social change. Other issues emerge (health, immigration, education etc) and the caravan moves on, although even in 1972 Downs thought this would occur more slowly with the environment because of the significance and impact of environmental issues.

Mainstream economics, which underpins most mainstream policy, reinforces our instinctive reactions with its ‘Pareto efficiency’ benchmark. That is based on the idea of making people as well off as possible, without making anyone else worse off (or at least compensating them if they are). It’s a ‘no disadvantage’ test.

Unfortunately, with the environment being a problem of a collective overdrawing of nature’s bank account, there’s no way we could apply such a test. It’s not a matter of compensating a few losers at the margins.

Get real

In fact, we’ve all been winners to varying degrees but between us we’ve consumed the winnings. To fix the problem properly, we’d have to stop increasing our withdrawals of natural capital, pay our ecological debt back to future generations, and work out how to share the belt-tightening, all without sending the current economy into a tailspin.

Given the enormity of this challenge, is it any wonder we either put our heads in the sand, or fall back on weak measures. For example, the best we’ve been able to achieve internationally on climate change is the Paris climate agreement in 2015. This agreement relies on countries taking voluntary action, and (hopefully) then succumbing to peer pressure to push their voluntary commitments up. So far, this has left us a long way short of what’s needed.

Taken together, these arguments suggest, unfortunately, that we won’t demand real action, and governments will not take it, until a crisis makes the problem impossible to ignore. How big a crisis will it take?

Throwing pebbles to make change

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Is it aim or timing that makes for the biggest impact?

By David Salt

“What do we want!”

“We want action on climate change!”

“When do we want it it!”

“We want it now!!”

And what are you going to do make it happen? Sign a petition? Throw a few bucks at some climate action group? Maybe even march in a protest rally (if you’re not off on holiday and the weather is pleasant).

At the end of the day, most of us wishing for action on climate change (and more broadly, sustainability) will happily talk about it and vote for a political representative that promises they will deliver on it (but seemingly never do). And that’s pretty much it. We’re all busy, and most of us in Australia do pretty well by global standards so why rock the boat too much.

And yet the status quo is increasingly letting us down, and climate change is becoming more real and present every year (and particularly every summer and particularly this summer). We want change, we need change; but the pathway that might deliver it is never clear and the status quo is stubbornly resistant.

Breaking the status quo

Crises often break a status quo but are normally very messy coming with mass destruction and suffering. In any case, individual citizens rarely have the capacity or opportunity to ‘engineer’ a crisis.

But citizens in many parts of the world (including Australia) do have the power to speak out and be heard. And sometimes a message resonates and is amplified. And sometimes, what starts as a single pebble of discontent being thrown against the edifice of orthodoxy, goes on to change the world. #Me Too and the Arab Spring are two examples where a few voices raised against inequality led to a massive shift in social norms and order.

Sudden shifts in the social order are sometimes referred to as tipping points, and they are one of the characteristics of complex systems. That is, a hallmark of complexity is that small changes (pebbles) can sometimes produce unexpectedly large and enduring shifts in the structure and function of the broader system.

Tipping points

Back in 2000, the pop psych author Malcolm Gladwell wrote a best-selling book titled The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference in which he suggested it was possible to create a tipping point if you could identify and harness the three groups of people (connectors, mavens and salesmen) that enable social trends to take off. “The success of any kind of social epidemic is heavily dependent on the involvement of people with a particular and rare set of social gifts,” explained Gladwell. (Connectors are people who know lots of people, mavens are helpful information specialists and salesman are persuaders.)

Gladwell is a gifted writer and he did a lot to popularise the notion of tipping points but the idea that you can create your own tipping point seems a bit ridiculous to me. Indeed, some of Gladwell’s detractors suggest that if it was possible to do easily then marketeers and politicians would be creating tipping points all the time. The reason they don’t is because complex systems are unpredictable and uncontrollable.

Yes, tipping points exist but they usually only recognised after we’ve crossed one. Yes, highly connected people (Gladwells’ ‘connectors’ and ‘mavens’) can play important role is precipitating a tipping point, but their part in making it happen is usually serendipitous and unplanned. (And, I would note, there are potentially millions more of these people around now with the rise of social media like Twitter and YouTube – neither of which existed when ‘The Tipping Point’ came out).

It’s all in the timing

My belief on tipping points is that there are times when they are more easily triggered (like when the whole community is sick of the status quo and is demanding change) and times when they are less likely (such as when strong economic growth means most in the community are enjoying a degree of prosperity and stability). You throw a pebble in one time and it might foment a revolution. In another, it raises barely a ripple.

So what might this mean to someone wanting to throw pebbles to cause change? I think it means that both your aim and timing is important. You want your message/concern/demand to be acknowledged by people who will make a difference (this relates to the aim of your throw) but you also want to make sure the timing of your throw is in a period that, should you hit your target, the message will be acted upon.

But here’s the thing. While it might be obvious after the event (eg, #Me Too and the Arab Spring) that ‘change’ was in the wind, nobody spotted it beforehand; and nobody predicted where the first seed would take off from.

If you want change then start throwing pebbles at the status quo. Sign those petitions, march in those protests, support those groups advocating for change. But don’t kid yourself you’re achieved anything with a single pebble. What it takes is many pebbles thrown at many targets over a sustained period. And if others in the community start throwing pebbles too then you never know, that tipping point might be closer than you think.

And in this summer of extremes and at the end of four of the hottest years on record during which Australia has witnessed unprecedented mass coral bleaching and mass river death, the time might be right.

How are we going?

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What’s in Australia’s decadal Environmental Report Card?

By Peter Burnett

The OECD has just released its ten yearly environmental report card on Australia. It’s called OECD Environmental Performance Reviews: Australia 2019. This is the third review of Australia, following reviews in 1998 and 2007, so we can look at some trends as well as the current report card.

How did we do? Good and bad.

Being reviewed by our ‘peers’

Before reviewing its findings, some background. The OECD’s environmental review program was established in 1991. Since then around 85 reviews have been conducted. The review teams include members from other OECD countries. For the 2019 Australian review these reviewers came from Canada and New Zealand. So the report is not just ‘the view from Paris.’

These reviews aim to help countries assess their environmental progress while promoting domestic accountability and international peer review. Unfortunately, there hasn’t been much sign of this has happened with past reviews. Perhaps Australian governments use the reviews behind the scenes, but publicly at least governments have not said much about them beyond the formal welcome when they hit the desk. And they haven’t generated much debate either. Nor is there much sign of international peer learning.

But these reviews offer a unique opportunity to governments seeking genuine environmental policy advance. Perhaps it’s time to try some encouragement from the sidelines.

Could do better

The report says some nice things about Australia. They acknowledge that we perform well in the OECD ‘Better Life Index’, showing that we rate better, often significantly better, than the OECD average on a range of things, including on environmental quality. That’s great, but our environmental quality rating was earned largely on the back of good scores on urban air quality and public satisfaction with water quality in an OECD index (see www.oecdbetterlifeindex.org/countries/australia).

These are both factors where we get a boost from being a small population in a large country and from the absence of the high-polluting neighbours that you can find elsewhere (South Korea, for example, chokes on China’s industrial emmissions).

The OECD also compliments us on being one of the few OECD countries that has a green investment bank (the Clean Energy Finance Corporation, CEFC) to help finance renewable energy, but they either don’t know, or diplomatically overlook, the fact that we only kept the CEFC because, in one of the stranger events in recent Australian political history, Al Gore dropped in and talked Clive Palmer into opposing its abolition.

So some of our success is more down to good luck than good management. But, of course, it’s the brickbats rather than the bouquets that are more important here. The headlines of the 2019 Review amount to saying ‘this student is not working to potential’, or the old-fashioned ‘could try harder’.

On climate policy and resource efficiency, the OECD recommends that we intensify our efforts to reach our Paris Agreement goal and produce an integrated energy and climate policy framework for 2030. Of course, we nearly did the latter with the National Energy Guarantee, but the politics got too hard.

On governance, which in Australia’s federal system is as much about federal-state cooperation as anything else, the OECD calls for more effort, but they add a new emphasis on state-to-state cooperation, to encourage best-practice and increase efficiency. For example, they recommend standardised approaches to cleaning up old mine sites and a nationally-consistent approach to landfill levies to remove incentives to truck waste interstate. While federal-state cooperation is less politically-sensitive than topics like climate policy, it’s profoundly and perennially challenging. In fact, there aren’t many examples of genuine success, except where there are large federal government carrots or sticks involved, as there were with the successful National Competition Policy of the 1990s. The trouble is that the carrots are expensive and the sticks take great political skill to wield effectively.

On economic efficiency, a key recommendation relates to environmental taxes: to tax fuels that are currently exempt (eg, coal) and increase rates on fuels that are too low (eg, petrol and diesel taxes don’t include an environmental component). In principle this is simple enough but fuel taxes can be political dynamite, not just here but elsewhere, as recent demonstrations in France and Zimbabwe show.

Our ‘special topics’

Finally, the report included two ‘in depth’ chapters on topics chosen by Australia, one on threatened species and biodiversity and the other on chemicals.

The OECD was blunt about species and biodiversity: things were poor and worsening. It found that pressures from humans, such as agriculture and urban development, were increasingly interacting to exacerbate challenges for threatened species. They recommended that Australia invest time and resources in regional plans and strategic assessments and that we get our act together on environmental information, including biodiversity baselines to measure progress. Sensible, but complicated, expensive and a political minefield.

In contrast, the recipe for success on chemicals seems easier: we already have reforms in the works and could achieve much just by getting a move on.

Recurring themes

Some of the themes that recur in the reports include the need for ongoing water reforms, full policy integration and enhanced Indigenous engagement in land management. Some of these themes are really tough because they affect vested interests or might constrain economic growth, but surely we can get Indigenous engagement right.

Other recommendations that I think are achievable without too much pain are the greening of government procurement and comprehensive and consistent approach to environmental information, especially baseline monitoring.

These are very useful reports and hopefully government will do more with the 2019 report than it did with the earlier ones. The ANU has given the reports some early attention by holding several events to mark the release of the report, and the report has already received some significant publicity, eg on the ABC: www.abc.net.au/radio/programs/pm/oecd-says-australia-not-on-track-to-meet-paris-agreement-targets/10764274.

Watch this space.

Wishing for a ‘Goldilocks’ crisis’

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Would a crack in the Greenland Ice Sheet make a difference?

By David Salt

How do we break the current gridlock on sustainability? What would it take to get our political leaders to commit to meaningful long-term change?

If we could break the hold of vested interests by full public funding of elections it’d be a great start. Blunting tribalism by mobilising public opinion and ending short-termism through longer parliamentary terms might also help. Such solutions (very sensibly proposed by Peter) are easy to argue but diabolically difficult to implement.

Or are they? Maybe what we need is a good crisis, a catalyst to dissolve all those pesky impediments standing in the way of real policy reform; a call to arms to the broader population that we need to get serious about sustainability.

A ‘good’ crisis

A student of mine recently opined that to break the gridlock on climate change we needed a new ‘Pearl Harbour’ moment. He was referring to the day Pearl Harbour was bombed by the Japanese Imperial Forces during the Second World War, thrusting the US into that global conflagration. Over 2,400 Americans died in the attack on Pearl Harbour but the event transformed the nation overnight into a war machine that would go on to become the world’s leading superpower.

We need another transformative moment for the environment, something that would lead to deep and enduring engagement with the challenge of sustainability. So what might it take?

Several years ago I covered an environmental futures conference in Canberra where the mood was decidedly glum (It was titled ‘Can Homo sapiens survive?’ and included luminaries such as Frank Fenner and Stephen Boyden). The general consensus was that prospects for the future of our planet were not looking good. Many said we needed a wakeup call. One scientist commented that he felt nothing short of a massive crack in the Greenland Ice Sheet would be enough.

Is there anything in the history of environmental science (and policy) that gives us hope that a shock might make a difference to our seeming deep indifference to declining environmental health?

Some point to the discovery of the ozone hole over Antarctica in the mid 1980s, a phenomenon caused by stratospheric ozone depletion caused by human created gases (chlorofluorocarbons or CFCs). The existence of a massive and growing hole in our upper atmosphere came as a complete shock – some even claimed it was an existential threat to human life on Earth.

And, as an international community, we did something about it. We agreed via the Montreal Protocol in 1987 to phase out ozone depleting substances and it seems our actions are reducing concentrations of ozone depleting substances in the atmosphere, and the hole is shrinking. Though, when it comes to big environmental challenges, this success seems more the exception than the rule.

Another crack

Another ‘crack in the Greenland Ice Sheet’ (if we use that as a metaphor for an environmental wakeup call) appeared in Australia in 2016. This time in the form of a mass bleaching event of the Great Barrier Reef. Unprecedented in size and intensity, this bleaching event led to the death of up to a third of the reef; and it was followed up by a similar sized event in 2017.

The cause was crystal clear: climate change and overheating. The scientific consensus on what we need to do about it is overwhelming: reduce carbon emissions and, specifically, stop burning coal. And what was the political response at the national level? The response was one of denial and withdrawal from any engagement with the topic of climate change (though millions of dollars was thrown at a Great Barrier Reef restoration fund to give the impression the government was doing something, but that’s a topic for another day).

Of course, there are crises and crises. Each is unique in terms of magnitude, longevity, frequency and impact. And each has a different legacy; some good, some bad and some of no consequence.

So how big does a crisis need to be to create meaningful change? Some observers reckon that Australia’s Millennial Drought, reckoned to be Australia’s worst drought since European settlement, enabled some progress in water reform but that it might have been better had it lasted just that bit longer for the reform to have had real enduring bite. (Not that any suffering farmer would agree that a historic drought might have achieved more had it been longer).

It’s hard to conceive that the bleaching of the Great Barrier Reef in 2016 and 2017 could have been any worse, and yet it failed to achieve any meaningful action on climate change policy at all.

What we need is a Goldilocks’ crisis: not so small that it fails to break the policy gridlock; but not so large that it brings down the whole system and it can’t rebuild.

The flip side of crisis

Complex systems science has a bit to say about disturbance and crisis, and their capacity to produce change. Whether a disturbance will cause deep and long lasting change to a system depends a lot on the system’s resilience at the time of disturbance. A disturbance in one circumstance (say the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand in 1914, the event that precipitated World War I) might change the world whereas in another situation, no-one might notice. This is something to discuss in future blogs.

No-one actually wishes for a crisis. Drought, fire and flooding rain bring destruction, death, suffering and uncertainty. But, as any politician will tell you, the flip side of a crisis is that it’s also a window of opportunity to change things (“You never want a serious crisis to go to waste,” said Chicago’s Mayor Rahm Emmanuel).

And today’s status quo is propelling us towards an increasingly uncertain and impoverished future. We need deep change. A Goldilocks crisis now might be better than a mama or papa of a crisis later.

Why can’t we agree on fixing the Environment?

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Of tribalism and short-termism, and other diabolical drivers of disagreement

By Peter Burnett

There are strong arguments that looking after the environment is as much a conservative idea as a progressive one. Since most on the political Left also support pro-environment policies, why then can’t we get bipartisanship on the environment?’

Some believe there is a Conservative fundamentalism that is so wedded to the free market and opposed to ‘big government’ that, when confronted with a global problem requiring a collective response, such as climate change, they’d rather deny the facts than accept any form of collectivism.

Free market fundamentalism is not the only factor pushing politicians on the Right in particular (although not exclusively on the Right) to oppose substantive action on the environment.

The major parties of the political Left and the Right are really coalitions of groups with overlapping world views. Labor is a coalition of unionised labour and social progressives, while the Coalition includes ‘small l’ liberals, social conservatives, free market fundamentalists, regional interests and even libertarians. Different pressures have more or less traction with different groups within these coalitions and some of these pressures combine to drive opposition to comprehensive action on the environment.

I’ve tried to describe some of these drivers below. As all of them are socially undesirable, I’ve also included suggestions (potential solutions) for how society might weaken their influence.

Vested interests

Politics is resource-intensive. Politicians need to get their messages to voters, but mass media advertising is costly. Both old fashioned approaches such as door-knocking, and modern social media are low-cost, but using them (legitimately) is still resource-intensive and volunteers are scarcer than ever. We have public funding for elections, but it’s not enough. As a result, politicians are dependent on campaign donations, especially large ones from big business and other vested interests. This makes the politicians beholden to these donors.

Solution: Full public funding of elections and more transparency about who’s influencing whom; eg, making ministerial diaries public (currently this is done only in Queensland and NSW).

Tribalism

We live in a time of declining support for traditional institutions and values, and increasing polarisation. Social values are now more diverse, relative and fluid: your truth is as good as mine and people are not ‘rusted on’ any more. As a result, coalitions of support in politics are based less on ideological commitment and more on loyalties. These loyalties are more personal and thus less amenable to compromise. People are more likely to defend positions because they are loyal to, or face pressures from, members of their political tribe. In the environmental sphere, this polarisation has been exacerbated by the rise of Green parties and the resulting association of the environment with them as a Left, even far Left, issue. The Greens are seen by many on the Right as extreme and their ideas not to be associated with, reinforcing the tribalism.

Because tribalism is driven by interests more than values, it can seem irrational when viewed through a policy lens. On the Left, it might mean, for example, propping up an uneconomic industry in preference to facilitating industry restructuring, driven by loyalty to unions and existing workers. On the Right, it might mean opposing a price on carbon in the face of any amount of advice from economists that this is the most economically efficient response to climate change, driven by loyalty to business interests.

Solution: seek to mobilise public opinion to override tribal loyalties. Of course this is more easily said than done. ‘Get Up’ may an example of doing this, although some argue that it is really an arm of the Labor Party. Transparency measures will help here too.

Short-termism

Another problem is short-termism, the constant focus of governments on the next election, which is never far off under three year terms. Short-termism tends to squeeze out any good policy which has a political downside, which includes most things environmental.

This problem is exacerbated by careerism, the modern political phenomenon of pursuing politics as a career straight out of university, rather than starting later in life, after a successful career in the real world (including in trades and the many other careers that don’t call for tertiary education). The result is to increase the incentive for politicians to place their political careers ahead of everything else because, politics aside, they have mortgages and no other experience to fall back on.

The result of all this is a major disjunct: most environmental issues involve short term pain for long term gain, while politicians seeking election crave short term gain, even at the expense long term pain (for others). Their priority is to dispense the sugar hit to win votes, and to sweep the structural issues under the carpet. This will encourage, for example, small one-off environmental grants while discouraging major reforms such as carbon pricing.

Solution: longer Parliamentary terms and independent institutions, one to monitor and report on the environment over the long term and another to provide deep policy analysis and advice on environmental sustainability, as the Productivity Commission does for the economy.

Diabolical drivers of disagreement

At the end of the day, despite the availability of mitigating reforms, the tribalism of modern politics seems entrenched. In the current political culture, a pro-environment coalition of conservatives and progressives is fanciful, despite the underlying common ground.

I think it will take an environmental crisis, and a very large one at that, to change that culture. I’d love to be wrong.

Sustainability and ‘big government’

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A ‘good’ reason to deny climate change

By David Salt

Why do people deny climate change? Are they ignorant? Are they stupid?

I’m a science writer. I place great store in the scientific process and accept what the overwhelming majority of scientists say about climate change – that it is real and endangers all that I hold dear (including the wellbeing of my children).

But I’m also aware that many powerful people don’t accept the scientific evidence on climate change, and these people go out of their way to block meaningful engagement and action relating to it.

A case study in denialism

As one example, Tony Abbott, a former Prime Minister of Australia (our most powerful elected office), recently told an international forum: “Certainly, no big change has accompanied the increase in atmospheric carbon dioxide concentration over the past century from roughly 300 to roughly 400 parts per million or from 0.03 to 0.04 per cent. Contrary to the breathless assertions that climate change is behind every weather event, in Australia, the floods are not bigger, the bushfires are not worse, the droughts are not deeper or longer, and the cyclones are not more severe than they were in the 1800s. Sometimes, they do more damage but that’s because there’s more to destroy, not because their intensity has increased. More than 100 years of photography at Manly Beach in my electorate does not suggest that sea levels have risen despite frequent reports from climate alarmists that this is imminent.”

Now Abbott is dead wrong about the two central points in this quote. Weather events are becoming more severe because of climate change, and sea levels are rising. There are vast quantities of empirical evidence from multiple studies demonstrating this. What’s more, there is a strong scientific consensus that the impacts of climate change will increase significantly as carbon dioxide concentrations continue to rise.

And yet Abbott is far from alone in his beliefs, and many powerful people from the Conservative side of politics peddle the same set of falsehoods that prop up climate-change denialism.

Are they ignorant? As Prime Minister of Australia, Abbott had ready access to the world’s finest scientists; indeed many have gone out to their way to explain the science to him. He had at his fingertips the best knowledge around but has either chosen to ignore it or not engage with it.

Is he stupid? He was a Rhodes Scholar and made it to the top office in the land. He’s not stupid.

In any case, ignorance and stupidity are just two ‘excuses’ that might be invoked in an effort to explain the irrational situation of powerful people denying a demonstrable truth. Greed, vested interest and corruption might be other explanations, as might the ideas of sunk investments and system inertia. While each of these ‘justifications’ might apply in some situations, for me they simply don’t explain the entrenched visceral opposition to the idea that we need deep and concerted action to address climate change.

A core belief

As a younger man I believed in ‘rationality’ and common sense, and that a fact was a fact. The challenge of climate change (and sustainability) was simply a problem of information deficit. In other words, more information would eventually solve the problem.

As I matured, the evidence supporting climate change increased. The case for doing something became ever more compelling. But, rather than act on that evidence, political forces gathered to neutralize our capacity to deal with it. Australia’s greenhouse gas emissions, as one example, have been rising in recent years when our international commitment was to reduce them.

Better science and science communication is not working. Stupidity, ignorance and all the other possible reasons mentioned above play a role but for me they don’t explain the underlying force behind denialism.

And then I heard a talk by Naomi Oreske, a prominent science historian from the University of California (and co-author of the widely acclaimed book Merchants of Doubt) discuss the strategies of denialism. Whether it’s tobacco or ozone depletion or acid rain or pesticide regulation, the claims being made by deniers (she said) is always the same: extra regulation means an expansion of government and a constriction of freedoms – and this is an assault on Neoliberalism Conservative ideology which holds that big government is bad, markets are good and individuals should be free to maximize their wealth as they see fit.

As I reflected on this, it became crystal clear: the ‘idea’ of climate change is an existential threat to the ideology of free market fundamentalism (and Libertarianism). If we as a society acknowledge the clear and present danger of climate change (and the need for a deep and systemic response) then we are also acknowledging the need for bigger government and for greater constraints on our personal freedoms (in order to tackle climate change).

And the longer I thought about it the more I was convinced that here is ‘good’ reason underpinning climate change denialism. That’s ‘good’ as in strong, deep and powerful, not as in virtuous or right.

Anathema

Our world view is the well spring of our identity, the thing that gives substance to our meaning and to what we hold as important. And our world view is the frame through which we interpret everything around us, and the information presented to us. If that information does not conform to our world view, we often ignore it or distort it so that it does. Indeed, psychology has often demonstrated that attacks on our core identities often make them stronger.

In any case, the argument that a Libertarian ideology lies at the core of climate denialism makes a lot of sense to me. It’s also my response to Peter’s reflection on sustainability being a Conservative idea.

Maybe Peter is right; maybe I am too. Our arguments are not mutually exclusive.

If we are right, however, it’s reasonable to suggest that effective policy for sustainability will necessarily involve an engagement with Conservative and neoliberal ideology on several fronts. At the very least it will involve presenting ideas on sustainability and global change that are framed in a manner that Conservatives will engage with.

Environmental sustainability: a thoroughly Conservative notion

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In the face of a worsening global crisis, can’t we find some common ground?

By Peter Burnett

‘The Environment’ has been a major public concern for more than fifty years now. Surveys consistently place the environment among the issues of greatest social concern, while numerous scientific reports continue to document a general and ongoing environmental decline. What’s more, the effects of environmental decline are becoming increasingly obvious, not only through intense heat, drought and cyclones, but also as previously unknown phenomena such as multiple coral bleaching events and arctic wildfires.

With all this concern and things getting worse, you’d expect action, but paradoxically, having gained considerable momentum in earlier years, environmental policy seems to be moving more slowly as the problem worsens, like an icebreaker that slows and eventually becomes stuck as it moves further into the pack ice. Even the Paris climate agreement of 2015, which looked at the time like a significant breakthrough into more navigable policy waters, now looks to have been no more than a patch of thinner ice. Optimists can retain some hope because of growing indications that renewable energy technologies might mitigate climate change, despite policy efforts. Yet technology is much less likely to solve other dimensions of environmental decline, especially biodiversity loss. We still need good policy.

The greatest obstacle to progress on policy is the polarisation of political views on the environment. In modern discourse, we have become so used to associating environmental concern with the political Left that we’ve lost sight of the fact that caring for the environment, especially when seen through a sustainability lens, is actually a fundamentally conservative idea. Perhaps navigable policy waters can be found in the roots of environmental concern, among older notions of what we would now describe as environmental sustainability.

Good husbandry

Concerns about human impacts on the environment go back to antiquity. Some 2,500 years ago, Plato compared the denuded hills of Attica to bleached skeletons, while just over 2,000 years ago the Roman writer Columella lamented the depletion of agricultural land on the Italian peninsula.

Searching for a solution, he argued the need to maintain the ‘everlasting youth’ of the Earth through good husbandry. This is as clear a definition of sustainability as any you’ll find today.

In the early modern era, the roots of sustainability can be traced to the great Enlightenment philosopher John Locke and his theories of private property. Locke argued that by investing their labour in harvesting goods from nature, individuals gained the right to regard them as private property. But he attached a proviso to this. The right to convert natural goods into private property would apply only where there was enough left in common for others, in good condition. This provides another good framing for sustainability.

In usufruct to the living

In the eighteenth century, the French Revolution prompted Thomas Jefferson to reflect on the rights of the present generation to bind those coming after, leading him to argue that ‘the earth belongs in usufruct to the living’. This was a reference to the Roman civil law concept of ususfructus, which was the right to use the land and take produce, without impairing its capacity to produce. (This is not old hat. Margaret Thatcher made much the same argument in her famous statement to the 1998 British Conservative Party conference that no generation has a ‘freehold’ on the earth: ‘All we have is a life tenancy—with a full repairing lease. This Government intends to meet the terms of that lease in full.’ )

Early sustainability concerns were not just philosophical reflections. Wood shortages affected a number of European countries in the early modern era. In 18th century this prompted discussion in German forestry circles on how to use natural resources in the interests of present and future generations, leading Von Carlowitz to propose a principle of nachhaltende Nutzung (sustainable use). This implied the need to keep the harvesting of trees within rates of regrowth.

Two centuries later, in 1908, US President Theodore Roosevelt, riding the Progressive Era tide of public interest in conservation, established a National Conservation Commission, which then made the first survey of the natural resources of the United States. Even into the early years of the ‘Great Acceleration’ of economic growth after World War II, the economist Ciriacy-Wantrup was arguing that we shouldn’t run nature down because the cost of restoring it would be unacceptably high.

Society is a contract…

None of these arguments is even slightly suggestive of what might be described today as a ‘Green Left agenda’. In fact, you could argue that conservatives were all over this issue more than a century ago. What is common to the arguments is an express or implied concern for the future, especially a social obligation to future generations. This is entirely consistent with the argument of another conservative, British philosopher and MP Edmund Burke, that ‘Society is a contract… between those who are dead, those who are living, and those who are to be born’. This concern is also the essence of ‘intergenerational equity’, the principle underlying the modern ideal of environmental sustainability.

With broad support for environmental causes on the Left, and with the strong conservative pedigree of sustainability, why isn’t there bipartisan support for policies to keep the environment in good condition for future generations?