Sunday, November 15, 2020

The Great Pause Week 35: Why Climate Solutions Will Fail… or Not

"70 million USAnians voted for Krusty the maniacal clown instead of Mr. Rogers. Is it that we genetically crave that kind of entertainment?"

Image after Victoria Van, Tiger Times student newspaper in Texarkana

Last week I took a look at the McPherson Paradox and explained why it failed the real-world test of the Covid Pandemic. Some may believe that my conclusion was that McPherson’s general theory of near term human extinction (NTHE) was discredited, so I want to take time this week to explain why that is not the case.

While McPherson’s conclusions about the clathrate gun and global dimming are reasonably to be called into question, I believe his conclusions about the social dimension of the problem are fundamentally sound and support his overall NTHE thesis, if not his timeline.

The ongoing rate of temperature rise indicates that the climate of Earth will resemble that of the Pliocene Epoch as early as 2030, even ignoring the aerosol masking effect and many self-reinforcing feedback loops. The mid-Pliocene was more than 2 °C warmer than contemporary Earth. The rate of change foreseen by Burke et al. is occurring rapidly enough to assure the inability of vertebrates and mammals to adapt, thus leading to extinction of humans and most other life on Earth well before 2030. I am not suggesting there will be humans on Earth in 2030. Rather, it seems unlikely there will be any life on Earth at, or shortly after, that time.

— Prof. Guy McPherson, Environ Anal Eco Stud. 7(2). DOI: 10.31031/EAES.2020.07.000656

The reason I believe this has much to do with our recent election in the United States, where some 70 million USAnians voted, without coersion or duress, to return President Cobblepot and his Gotham crime family to the White House. Fortunately for the planet, he needed more than 75 million votes to best his opponent and did not get that last 5 million. It also has to do with the response to the Covid Pandemic that we see acted out in the streets of many countries. 

I posted something to Facebook last week about how N95 masks work to electrostaticly trap virus particles and received an angry screed from a dear friend in Bolivia. The screed elicited many more comments and from that colloquy it is possible to illustrate why I think the response to the pandemic is but a foreshadow of our NTHE trajectory.

My friend wrote:

I do not believe that there is a pandemic, but a scamdemic that is incarcerating healthy people in their homes, making them sick, poor, and eager to commit suicide. I believe that governments are complicit and that they are taking peoples’ rights and freedoms in the name of this plandemic and through the everyday spreading of fear among the population. If you read what they are doing in Spain, following the EU, they will control the spread of any article or news talking against C19. 
… it is all a big f….* hoax. The base for their numbers is mainly the PCR test, which can only show traces of RNA of any of the 7 coronaviruses we know, 4 of them being the common flu. This is the trigger for a complete takeover and the start of the Great Reset and The World Economic Forum’s agenda.

Another friend in Thailand wrote to tell me he was providing me “factual data, expert opinion and comprehensive analysis.” He then gave a summary of thirty facts that “strongly contradict the official narrative and raises serious questions about the need for, and effectiveness of such drastic reactions as those that have been imposed by most governments around the world.”

I will be the first to acknowledge that the forced limitation of face-to-face contact has caused tens of millions to become involuntarily unemployed, along with the closure of many markets and devastation of many industries, especially in the independent small business sector. Retail merchandising, travel, hospitality, entertainment, restaurants, bars, gyms, and personal services (hair salons, massage) have been especially hard hit. A huge proportion of small enterprise is closing and will never be able to reopen. Remaining retail sectors are increasingly going online and virtual platform businesses and networks are thriving — companies like Google, Amazon, E-bay, PayPal, Facebook, Apple, and Uber.

Race, ethnicity, social status and caste play a huge role in whom among us can work from home or behind a plexiglass shield. Many protective measures exempt those who work as janitors, maids, meat-packers, prison guards, or checkout counter clerks. We don’t very carefully protect Uber drivers, Amazon packing line workers, or postal clerks and letter carriers. Your risk of dying from Covid depends not only on what your job is, but whether it carries health benefits, is indoors, and involves large amounts of random personal contact. We have known since the Plague of Justinian that those who can afford to flee to a private villa and just wait it out with their servants have a better chance of survival. Some things never change.

I think the two communications from my friends fairly summarize the disconnect many people feel with national and international attempts to bring the pandemic to heel. Many see it as merely the latest example of governments’ intrusive overreach towards some unobtainable security goal. These friends don’t trust the vaccination program for the same reason they don’t trust government assurances of peace through war or energy security through atomic power — too many lies.

So let us imagine the new US administration sets up a White House Office on Climate Change. Asked to make recommendations, the science is clear but the politics is a third rail. Science tells them to even have a 50–50 chance of bringing Earth back to the safe habitable zone in time to avert human extinction, CO2 emissions need to be reduced by 11% per year — halved every decade. From a starting point now of 40 GtCO2/y (global emissions of 40 billion tons per year of carbon dioxide and its equivalents of other trace greenhouse gases), we need to get to 20 by 2030, 10 by 2040, 0 by 2050. Then, because we waited too long to start the process, we need to withdraw legacy carbon at the same rate as growth, inverted — minus 10 by 2060, minus 20 by 2070, minus 30 by 2080 and so on, until we stabilize at a pre-industrial concentration, successfully withdrawing approximately 1.5 trillion tons from the atmosphere.

If my friends — and the many citizens of like mind in many countries — chafe under the heavy hand of their government in mandating masks, travel restrictions, home quarantines and vaccination, what might we imagine would be their response to halving their use of transportation, electrical appliances, land, and more — every decade? Imagine half the number of energy draining server farms by 2030, and half that again by 2040. Imagine half the semesters abroad programs, half the trips to the mall, half the cargo ships carrying goods from China, and then halve that again, and again.

I think it is reasonable to conclude, as both McPherson and I do, that people won’t cooperate. They’ll toss out the tight-fisted, socialist scoundrels and elect people who promise to return 20th-century greatness again. And so our grandchildren shall all perish from the heat and the storms. And so will many, or even most, other life forms on Earth.

I could leave this essay to end here, but I won’t. There is still a way out. It is only a faint glimmer of hope, a flicker of light, but it is there. We could change our minds, roll up our sleeves, and work this out together.

 Help me get my blog posted every week. All Patreon donations and Blogger subscriptions are needed and welcomed. You are how we make this happen. Your contributions are being made to Global Village Institute, a tax-deductible 501(c)(3) charity. PowerUp! donors on Patreon get an autographed book off each first press run. My latest book, Plagued, is out now. A children’s version of Dark Side of the Ocean called Making Waves, may be out by Christmas. Please help if you can.


Sunday, November 8, 2020

The Great Pause Week 34: Dragon Dimming

"Pandemic lockdowns curtailed jet travel, closed shops and schools, and reduced global dimming by more than 20%. So what happened then?"

 There was a famous experiment on May 21, 1946 that cost the Manhattan Project physicist Louis Slotin his life. In 2016, Alex Wellerstein revisited it for The New Yorker

Slotin’s procedure was simple. He would lower a half-shell of beryllium, called the tamper, over the core, stopping just before it was snugly seated. The tamper would reflect back the neutrons that were shooting off the plutonium, jump-starting a weak and short-lived nuclear chain reaction, on which the physicists could then gather data. Slotin held the tamper in his left hand. In his right hand, he held a long screwdriver, which he planned to wedge between the two components, keeping them apart. As he began the slow and painstaking process of lowering the tamper, one of his colleagues, Raemer Schreiber, turned away to focus on other work, expecting that the experiment would be uninteresting until several more moments had passed. But suddenly he heard a sound behind him: Slotin’s screwdriver had slipped, and the tamper had dropped fully over the core. When Schreiber turned around, he saw a flash of blue light and felt a wave of heat on his face.

Subsequent calculations put the total number of fission reactions at about three quadrillion. This radioactivity excited the electrons in the air, which, as they slipped back into an unexcited state, emitted high-energy photons — a blue flash. Slotin swept the tamper aside to end the reaction, but it was already too late. He had been machine-gunned by a billion atomic bullets and a wave ray outside the visible spectrum. His bone marrow was already reacting like microwave popcorn. The man who assembled the heart of the Trinity device died nine days later, at the age of thirty-five.

In 2020, humans tickled the dragon’s tail in a different way. A paper published in Nature Communications in 2019 calculated that as little as a 20% reduction in industrial activity will drive a 1°C spike in temperature within days or weeks by removing the cooling effect of aerosol pollution (global dimming). The estimate, taken from improved satellite instruments, doubled the risk cited in the most recent IPCC report (AR5) so was greeted with skepticism. Then came Covid.

Pandemic lockdowns in the Spring of 2020 curtailed jet travel, closed schools, stores and restaurants, brought birdsong back to cities, and converted previously busy superhighways to cannonball race tracks. It also reduced global dimming by more than 20%.

According to pre-pandemic knowledge as epitomized by the 2019 Nature Communications paper, losing global dimming should have brought an average global surface temperature rise of 0.5 to 1.1°C, and precipitation increases of 2.0 to 4.6 percent, along with an uptick in extreme weather. This would all happen within weeks to months, not years to decades. 

Alarmingly relevant, a research note from Hansen and Sato on October 14 reported a steeper than expected rise in global surface temperature for the past 5 years. After eliminating the usual suspects — greenhouse gases, solar gain, ocean warming, ice melt — they concluded “that the warming acceleration must be due to the one other large climate forcing, atmospheric aerosols” (specifically, their diminishment). In other words, dimming had already been underway due to pollution controls or economic downturn prior to Covid and warming was picking up as a result.

But then the October issue of Nature contained an article by 14 climate scientists who studied global dimming between early February and the end of June. Google mobility trends which track phone movements indicated that more than 80% of the population in the 114 countries in the dataset (4 billion people) reduced their travel by more than 50%. Home energy use increased 4% while air pollution from industry declined. The Nature paper reported that while reduced sulfur emissions weakened the cooling effect by 20%, which should have been a cause for concern, the drop in nitrogen emissions (NOx) reduced greenhouse warming as much as 30%, cancelling the SO2 effect and possibly making the Earth a little cooler than it otherwise might have been. Because of built-in lag times, they expect further reductions of upper atmospheric CO2 around 2 ppm in two years’ time. If we see that in the Mauna Loa data it should validate this finding. The paper went on to discuss the difference to climate change depending on whether the economic recovery to Covid-19 is driven by a green stimulus package or an increase in fossil fuel use.

The pandemic lockdown tickled the dragon’s tail only to discover fears of the McPherson Paradox (kicking the fossil habit speeds warming) are perhaps overblown.

We came away considerably better for this experiment than Louis Slotin did in 1946. Once the US election is decided, we can go full steam ahead with the Green New Deal.

Help me get my blog posted every week. All Patreon donations and Blogger subscriptions are needed and welcomed. You are how we make this happen. Your contributions are being made to Global Village Institute, a tax-deductible 501(c)(3) charity. PowerUp! donors on Patreon get an autographed book off each first press run. My latest book, Plagued, is out now. A children’s version of Dark Side of the Ocean called Making Waves, may be out by Christmas. Please help if you can.


Sunday, November 1, 2020

The Great Pause Week 33: Explosive Cyclogenesis

"Biophysical inertia, technological lock in, and the socioeconomic addictions we hear parroted in the speeches of our political candidates condemn us to this self-inflicted fate. "

From a thatched palapa here I have been watching the weirding of the weather—a viral phenomenon of a different sort. At this writing, Las Vegas has seen 198 consecutive days without rain. Parts of California have gone 204 days. In October temperatures across half of the USA dropped to 40 degrees below normal. Thousands of birds were found dead throughout the western United States due to the weather. The year also saw record wildfires and devastating droughts, landslides from heavy rains, and new dust bowls. In late October Colorado firefighters were battling the largest blaze in state history amidst swirling ash and… snow.

For the past four billion years, Earth has been producing unique lifeforms. Probably it will continue doing that until the rock on which we stand is drawn closer to the collapsing star it circles. Six times in that great span there have been extinction events. Life was pared back to something simpler. Eventually, conditions recovered and the process of evolutionary expansion resumed. We are in the sixth event now. We do not yet know if there will be any recovery this time. We still have agency and for better or worse our agency grows more powerful by the year.

Over the past 1.2 million years (a.k.a the Late Quaternary), Earth’s surface temperature rose and fell as ice ages waxed and waned. Not every cycle followed precisely the same pattern but they were broadly similar, until now. We won’t be experiencing the old cycle again for quite some time, probably millions of years. We have pushed the hot extreme to a new high mark and the cold extreme is unknown — likely much warmer; potentially a habitable cool; possibly not. We are conducting a large biogeophysical experiment with no predetermined outcome.

One summer evening a year or two ago, ecosystem regenerate John D. Liu leaned over our table in a cafe in Covent Garden to show me a ground-penetrating radar view of ancient watercourses in the Arabian Peninsula. Pointing to a geological lake bed at the edge of the Eastern Mediterranean, he described how all the freshwater drainage of the Peninsula had converged.

After a few thousand years tilling most fertility out of the lush savannas of the Levant and felling the cedars of Lebanon, formerly migratory, now stationary, bipedal mammals had begun changing the climate of Earth. The Arabian Peninsula and Fertile Crescent desertified, and when that happened, the winds flowing eastward across the Mediterranean reversed direction. Where once there had been reliable monsoons to re-wet the area from Ash Sharqia to the Zagros, now the winds drained down from the mountains of present-day Armenia and Azerbaijan and flowed towards the Atlantic. The wind change created a reinforcing feedback. Desertification accelerated. 

The Anthropocene had started. 

However, because the orbit and tilt of the Earth predisposed us to glaciation every hundred millennia, the tools of early humans merely countered natural cooling trends. We stabilized into a geological epoch, the Holocene, that would be the envy of Goldilocks. Not too hot, not too cold, just perfect for the expansion of a warm-blooded, fecund, mammalian species.

The reforestation of Europe brought about by the Mongol Invasion from 1220 CE (~700 megatons of CO2 drawdown) and of the Americas in the Columbian Encounter (~10 gigatons of CO2 drawdown) were minor perturbations compared to the Industrial Revolution. Now we melt ice in the Arctic and change the net reflectivity (albedo) of the planet. The darker ocean stores more heat, and that in turn changes the way the polar vortex — the circulation of air contra to the spin of the planet — moves. The stream meanders. The October blizzards and freezes just experienced across half of North America were a southward dip of the vortex. Drought and wildfires break out when the river of air swings north.

In late October I sat quietly at the desk in my one room palapa watching the approach of Zeta via I had only just returned to the island from the mandatory evacuation for Hurricanes Gamma/Delta but remained for Zeta because there was simply not enough time to evacuate safely, given how quickly it developed. Zeta was the seventh Atlantic storm since July to hit the meteorologists’ definition for rapid intensification. The term coined by climatologists is “explosive cyclogenesis.”

But really, Zeta’s cyclogenesis started 130,000 years ago in the Western Levant, when we sedimented in that giant lake, using irrigation and the plow. Today the wind that blows across the Sahara carries tiny bits of sand, some of them the memories of ancient fortresses, temples and granaries. Those grains become seed kernels of raindrops, clouds that drift west along the Tropic of Cancer until they encounter warmer water in the mid-ocean doldrums and assume a counterclockwise cyclonic motion in the Eastern Caribbean. That is how most Atlantic Hurricanes reach my island.

Sometimes the waters of the Central Atlantic become so warm that hurricanes will form spontaneously without taking days and weeks to cross an ocean. On October 15, 2005, an unusually large, monsoon-like circulation organized itself into a tropical cyclone east-southeast of Grand Cayman, in the Western Caribbean. In the span of just 24 hours, Hurricane Wilma intensified from a 60-knot gale to a 160-knot category 5 hurricane, a then unprecedented event and the origin of “explosive cyclogenesis.” When Wilma made landfall on October 22 it dumped 62 inches of rain on Mexican coastal cities and collapsed many beachfront hotels.

In 1988, I asked M.I.T. meteorologist Kerry Emanuel, whose interests tilted towards hurricane events, whether climate change would increase the frequency, not just the power, of 21st century hurricanes. He didn’t think so. I thought he was wrong but kept it to myself. 

On November 1,  Eta, the 28th named storm of 2020, tripled in strength in just over a day, explosively intensifying from 40-mph gusts Sunday morning to sustained winds of 120 mph Monday and 150 mph on Tuesday—only 5 mph shy of Category 5. A couple weeks ago, Gamma produced Category 1 winds and even as the rain fell, we learned about Delta taking shape and undergoing explosive cyclogenesis to Category 4, tracking directly in Gamma’s wake. With almost no advance warning, I had less than a day to secure everything and get off the island before Delta arrived. When I returned a week later, I cleared pieces of some distant neighbors’ roofing tiles from the path to my door, counted the dead amongst plants and wildlife, and removed spoiled food from the fridge to the soggy compost. Then explosive cyclogenesis replayed, not once, but twice more. Eta tied the 2005 record for named storms and the season runs until Nov. 30.

Last year I elevated my floor above the then-risen Atlantic waterline and this year I changed my roof from thatch to biochar ferrocement. There are other improvements needed, but at least, for now, I seem to be keeping pace. In UN-speak its called “adaptation.”

Away in the Arctic, things appear to be speeding up. I experienced Gamma, Delta and then Zeta, but Epsilon swung north before it reached my part of the ocean. Epsilon “transitioned” to a North Atlantic “extratropical cyclone” before reigniting into a zombie hurricane.

Arctic Sea ice is not refreezing in October for the first time since measurements began. The warming of the Arctic slows the jet stream and lets it meander. On October 26, Epsilon’s remnants in the North Atlantic merged with an extratropical storm south of Iceland, absorbing each other into something unfathomably humongous that pounded Ireland, Northern Ireland, and Scotland with 9–12 meter (30–38 feet) waves. Fortunately for much of Northern Europe, wind shear broke Epsilon apart before it went any farther.

The broad channel of arctic air imaged by satellite folded into the two merging cores

Possibly one or more “sting jets” could develop. A sting jet is a relatively localized jet of rapidly descending cold air inside a deep extratropical cyclone. It affects a small region, compared to the size of the cyclone, and lasts only several hours, but can wield tornado-strength winds in excess of 160 km/h. 

Fortunately for much of Northern Europe, a steering high from the Azores will push Zombie Epsilon north until wind shear breaks it apart.

Banksy, Show Me The Monet

Banksy, Show Me The Monet

Even if, with carbon dioxide removal, we could return to 220 parts per million CO2, we are at the beginning of new climatic conditions and a profoundly different biosphere. Biophysical inertia, technological lock in, and the socioeconomic addictions we hear parroted in the speeches of our political candidates condemn us to this self-inflicted fate. A few decades ago we might have stopped the slide, but it is too late now. We’ve passed numerous forks in the road — Kyoto; Copenhagen; Rio + 20 — and chosen to go the wrong way, each detour taking us further off course and locking in delayed consequences. We are unwilling to strangle the parrot.

Antarctic sea ice loss is now irreversible because of heat accumulation in the Southern Ocean. Felled forest conversion to grassland augurs warmer soils, increasing microbial respiration, releasing CO2 and methane at greater rates. Ocean methane hydrates bubbling to the surface decompose a million years of microbial and abiogenic exhalations in every summer season. Peat and permafrost carbon that require millennia to regenerate can burn away in hours. Fires release more carbon from soils than from burnt trees and it won’t be replaced in a few seasons, or even a few centuries.

As the Arctic heats up, it raises sea levels in Miami and Bangladesh and every other coastal city in the world, and it increases the odds of wildfires in California and the west. In a sense, the massive changes that are taking place in the Arctic are remaking the weather in America and northern Europe, with profound implications for everyone who lives there, whether they know it or not. 

 — Jeff Goodell, Rolling Stone, 2018 

The future all these signs portend was represented in Figs. 1 and 2 of the PNAS paper by Steffen, Rockstrom, Richardson, et al, Trajectories of the Earth System in the Anthropocene (2018). Beyond a planetary stability threshold, intrinsic biogeophysical feedbacks control the dice. At 2°C the dice get loaded by tipping elements that raise the temperature further, increasing the likelihood of further tipping elements joining in. The game switches from dice to dominoes. Even if the Paris target of a 1.5 °C to 2.0 °C rise in temperature is met, a cascade of feedbacks can push Earth onto a “Hothouse” pathway. 

There are, even now, ways back, and cascades that accelerate the return. There are good people showing the way, including John D. Liu. Ecosystems can be regenerated. The tools nature provides are still functioning. But we will need to perform repairs while adapting to changed conditions. I write this having just experienced a third explosive cyclogenesis in the Western Caribbean in a single month. I’m adapting.

For human civilization as a whole, we will not have a lot more time to make changes.


Help me get my blog posted every week. All Patreon donations and Blogger subscriptions are needed and welcomed. You are how we make this happen. Your contributions are being made to Global Village Institute, a tax-deductible 501(c)(3) charity. PowerUp! donors on Patreon get an autographed book off each first press run. My latest book, Plagued, is out now. A children’s version of Dark Side of the Ocean called Making Waves, may be out by Christmas. Please help if you can.



Sunday, October 25, 2020

The Great Pause Week 32: Deficit Spending

"Many people reject the notion that we could already be beyond carrying capacity, but try to picture it like a marathon runner becoming dehydrated."

 “In the last 3 weeks we’ve seen as many new cases as in the previous 8 months.”

 — Wisconsin Lt. Governor Mandela Barnes, October 15, 2020
“During the 1950’s, people used twice as much oil as during the 1940’s. During the 1960’s, we used twice as much as during the 1950’s. And in each of those decades, more oil was consumed than in all of man’s previous history combined.”
 — US President Jimmy Carter, November 8, 1977
In the fall of the first year of the 21st century coronavirus pandemic, the President of México delivered to his Beatitude, Pope Francis, a request for apology from the Catholic Church on behalf of the indigenous peoples of México, for the genocide they had endured by the edicts of his predecessors.

On the one hand, the request, and whatever response His Holiness may give, can be viewed as merely symbolic. They have no significance to the cultures that were exterminated; to the many languages lost; to cultivated ecologies that continuously regenerated food, fuel, climate and a wide community of diverse lifeforms; to the wisdom gathered over millennia and then scratched out as if it had never existed to begin with. A Pope’s apology will not unburn Mayan codices. It will not restore the carved and polished exterior stones to the pyramids of Tenochtitlan. It will not recover the chinampas of Xochlmilco or refill Lake Texcoco.

Today the number of independent nations in the world fluctuates at around 200. At the time of the Spanish Conquest, it may have been more than 3000. According to carved stone monuments erected in Sri Lanka and on the Malabar coast of India, and to contemporaneous journals (1403–1430), “3,000 countries large and small” (Duyvendak’s first translation) were contacted on the diplomatic voyages of Admiral Zheng He (郑和) on behalf of Ming Emperors Zhu Di (成祖 朱棣), Zhu Gaochi (朱高熾), and Zhu Zhanji (宣宗 朱瞻基) in 1405–1433. 

By the start of the second millennia, Ireland contained a dozen separate kingdoms. The Armenian region of the Eastern Mediterranean and the India/Tibet region each contained a similar number. There were scores of Swahili and Bantu kingdoms and city-states in Southeastern Africa. Alliances or conquests of many nations separately comprised the Holy Roman Empires of Italy and Germany, the Caliphates of Northern Africa and Arabia, the Ghaznavid Empire, and the Volga-Bulgar, Kara-Khanid, and Khazar Khanates.

There were likely more than 100 separate Pre-columbian sovereign nations just within the borders of present México, as nearly as different from one another as Borneo and Switzerland. Even today there are more than 20 distinct Mayan linguistic groups.

Map of the nations before Columbus created by Victor G. Temprano 

As in other parts of the world, great empires waxed and waned in Central America. Hernán Cortéz conquered the vastly superior army of the Aztec Triple Empire by allying with smallpox. Pizarro happened upon an Incan Empire devastated by plague and civil war. Many nations and alliances were never militarily conquered, merely converted to Catholicism and culturally absorbed into something called New Spain. “Catholic” literally translates from Latin as “homogenizing”; “including a wide variety of things”; or “all-embracing” and that was its strategic genius. In addition to demanding that conquered peoples bend the knee (and bend backs as perpetually impoverished slaves), the priests bent their own narratives to bring in a Black Madonna, a Mestizo Madonna, and a Corn Goddess. Ritual offerings where mendicants kneel together to drink the blood of Christ (if you were ever Christian you can relate) were different in place more than in kind to ritual bloodlettings by an ash-covered shaman standing atop a pyramid temple. 

Aaron Carapella’s map of Mexico before Columbus

The unspeakably cruel genocide of native peoples unleashed in the second half of the second millennium of Christ was not the worst sin of the Catholic Church in México, however. Worse was the sin of overpopulation. 

From that Biblical command flowed all the serpents of our present impending doom: climate chaos; the Sixth Great Extinction; illegal migration; deforestation and desertification. The Vatican edict on birth control demanded Mexicans of every descent, in whose blood flowed genetic histories of hundreds of different nations, go forth and be good Catholics by having many children, and even more grandchildren, and many times that number of great-grandchildren. It was their Christian duty as servants of The Lamb.

The colonization of México is not unique, of course. Nor is peer-pressed fecundity confined to the worshipers of Jesus of Nazareth, who was celibate as far as we are told. In many parts of the Muslim world, polygamy — in the limited “poly” sense of one rooster and many hens — is still sanctioned and confers social status. Fundamentalist (Christian) Mormons call it “celestial marriage.” These marriages produce far more offspring than dyadic arrangements even in the serial mode rather than parallel, and when coupled with child marriage, more generations within a single lifetime. A grim reaper of planetary proportions emerges from fecund families in Senegal, Indonesia and Utah and scythes through land fertility, threatened species, forests, and whatever remnants of hospitable climate may remain. Heirloom orchards fall to make room for cement subdivisions, single use plastics flow from rivers into bays, and more caves and canopies spill their viral inventories into the bloodstreams of invaders and domestic livestock.

In a recent piece for The Atlantic, Anne Applebaum relates a story of how when it came time to vote for the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948, Saudi Arabia abstained because the document supported everyone’s right to “change their religion or belief.” In several branches of Islam, even today, choosing to leave the faith is a capital crime. So it is with the Catholic prohibition on birth control— by all means cut your foreskin if it marks you Judeo-Christian, but sever testicular tubing at peril of excommunication. In many countries, having greater numbers of children or grandchildren benefits political candidates (US presidents have 4.1 on average), as if fecundity signaled foresight instead of its opposite.

In the exponential sequence, numbers double to a given cadence — hourly, daily, weekly or whatever. 128 becomes 256 at the same interval as 2 became 4. Then 256 becomes 512, becomes 1024, and so on. As we get up into the higher numbers, the doublings are less easy to ignore. 8 billion becomes 16 billion becomes 32 billion. They come at us with speed AND power. 

When I was born in 1947, the world held 2.5 billion humans. That seemed a large amount, but it took less than 40 years, or until 1988, to double to 5 billion. We may have already gone beyond Earth’s carrying capacity for such a troublemaking species by our 30th doubling to 1 billion. My father was born in 1908, just after that doubling. I may live to see the 33rd, to 8 billion. The exponential function, by the way, is also why SARS-CoV-2 is still so dangerous.

Many people reject the notion that we could already be beyond carrying capacity, but try to picture it like a marathon runner becoming dehydrated. If they pick up some water along the route and drink it, their body will refresh. If not, they’ll draw down reserves and go into deficit energy spending. Performance drops, then they get dizzy and start to stagger. Vision blurs. They may collapse. Up to some point the body can recover and regain its former strength. Carried beyond that, permanent damage can be done. We, as a species, have been doing permanent damage. 

We are deficit spending when we do mountaintop removal. We are deficit spending when we take a fish population below the point of reproductive recovery. We are deficit spending when we release the Fukushima wastewater to the Pacific or Hanford tank farm plutonium to the Columbia River. These are not debts our children and grandchildren can repay. They are permanent damage. 

Climate chaos, the Sixth Great Extinction, deforestation, and desertification, migrant border camps and zoonotic spillovers are all symptoms of the disease that Pope Francis should really be apologizing for spreading.

The Catholic Church has been the Donald Trump of the population pandemic.

Help me get my blog posted every week. All Patreon donations and Blogger subscriptions are needed and welcomed. You are how we make this happen. Your contributions are being made to Global Village Institute, a tax-deductible 501(c)(3) charity. PowerUp! donors on Patreon get an autographed book off each first press run. My latest book, Plagued, is out now. A children’s version of Dark Side of the Ocean called Making Waves, may be out by Christmas. Please help if you can.


Sunday, October 18, 2020

The Great Pause Week 31: The Inevitable Glide Path

"This week I am starting to build raised beds from street rubble and found bottles."

I gave a talk on Tuesday of this week at the Scaling Biochar Forum put on by the Sonoma Ecology Center in California. I canned the talk at the end of September and posted it to YouTube because I worried I would not have sufficient bandwidth to Zoom into the conference and give the keynote in person. Two hurricanes 5 days apart proved the strategy prescient. 

My video is unlisted so it doesn’t appear on my YouTube channel page. It also won’t appear in YouTube search results unless someone adds it to a public playlist, but you can see it here:

Going back now to watch it I think, “Well, I could have taken that part out and made it tighter,” or “I wish I had said something more about that,” or “that scroll runs much too fast and you lose the information.” But you can get the idea. This is a work in progress, and it served its purpose. The audience was climate wonks, investors interested in carbon capture, engineers, activists, and agronomists. I immediately started getting mail from forum participants wanting to know how they could get more involved in our Belize Cool Lab.

In September the Lab applied for a round of funding from the Rasmussen Fund but I was notified Monday that we had not made the cut. Our chances going in were 1 in 10 and the house won. This is the latest of many such rejections this year, but we are far from dispirited. These exercises, even when unsuccessful, hone our fundraising skills and better define our project with each rewriting. Gradually, we elaborate our budget and time targets. We write more annexes to our white paper. This is something that will happen, if not as quickly as we’d like, or the world needs.

Parque San Bernardino de Sisal, Valladolid. Hurricane Gamma 2020

I am just back from evacuation to Valladolid and restoring my little palapa after the storm. I lost some plants and trees to the winds and flooding, but my new biochar cement roof came through Gamma’s meter-deep rainfall and Delta’s 150-mph winds unscathed. This week I am starting to build raised beds from street rubble and found bottles so that next time all my plants can survive. 

There is not yet good water pressure or reliable internet here, but our power and cell-service is restored so I can get on my laptop if I set up my phone as a hotspot. This is a great improvement over Hurricane Wilma in 2005, when I could only use devices that could recharge from my small portable solar array. Back then, with a MacBook, a 12V adapter, and no intermediate battery, I wrote The Post Petroleum Survival Guide in the 2 months it took to fully restore services. I sympathize with the folks in Southern Louisiana who are going through that kind of long-haul ordeal now, with the pandemic thrown in, but maybe a few of them have that book.

Covid testing and contact tracing is not something they do in rural Mexico, much like North Dakota. You may get tested if you are hospitalized, but typically once you lose taste and smell and your lips turn blue it is assumed you’ve got it. If you survive, you get tested on the way out of the hospital to make sure you are not contagious.

Our Covid support group of four people that used to meet every day to encourage each other to stay vigilant — our little “quaranteam” — is now 75% Covid positive. Sandra, who led the way, emerged and is presumed relatively immune after the ordeal. Diana nearly died but is out of critical care now. Anna took Diana to the hospital in Cancun when she developed blue lips and lost feeling in her limbs, per the protocol. That was during the Gamma/Delta evacuation I described last week, and now, a week later, Anna came down with early symptoms and is in home care. Of our four I am the only one still untouched.

Many of the residents here are quite angry with local officials who oversaw the evacuation because scores who may have been symptomatic and were forced from their home isolation were made to stand in the same long lines and board the same crowded boats and buses as hundreds of us with potential vulnerabilities of age or disease histories. We hope that this experience, and the angry response now, will change how it goes the next time.

But one could say that of the Spanish Flu of 1918. It had all the lessons we needed — a president (Woodrow Wilson) who refused to cancel War Bond parades or order masks and closures; how to expect and treat a cytokine storm; and a rewriting of history so that World War I is remembered for brutal trench warfare and poison gas until the doughboys arrived to save the allies with a daring exhibition of American Exceptionalism, instead of by the flu they brought from Kansas that so infected the armies it ended the war. Will this be the same: rebranded as our finest hour? Barring some miracle vaccine we may have a few years to think about that.

Stay safe and be prepared. We live in interesting times.

Help me get my blog posted every week. All Patreon donations and Blogger subscriptions are needed and welcomed. You are how we make this happen. Your contributions are being made to Global Village Institute, a tax-deductible 501(c)(3) charity. PowerUp! donors on Patreon get an autographed book off each first press run. My latest book, Plagued, is out now. A children’s version of Dark Side of the Ocean called Making Waves, may be out by Christmas. Please help if you can.


Sunday, October 11, 2020

The Great Pause Week 30: Dawn after Delta

"The trick to mental preparation is to keep your focus when everyone around you is losing theirs."


STORM SURGE: A life-threatening storm surge will raise water levels in areas of onshore winds by as much as 9 to 13 ft above normal tide levels along the northern coast of the Yucatan Peninsula from Cabo Catoche to Progresso, and 6 to 9 ft above normal tide levels along the eastern coast of the Yucatan Peninsula from Tulum to Cabo Catoche. Near the coast, the surge will be accompanied by large and destructive waves.

Since March, after running a permaculture workshop in furtherance of our prototype Cool Lab in Belize, I have been holed up in a small cottage in a sand-street island village in the Mexican Yucatan where I have in past years come to write my books in winter months. This has been an exceptionally long winter — 30 weeks now — but at 73 and having heart and lung conditions that predispose me towards a quick demise should I contract the SARS-CoV-2 virus, I have remained sheltered in that place, 8 miles out into the Atlantic, from an abundance of caution.

I don’t know that age necessarily confers wisdom. I know several fellow seniors that I consider pretty obtuse. Not to say I have any special position from which to judge, mind you, because I find myself pretty obtuse at times as well, and in hindsight could have done better making many decisions. Still, I feel age confers experience, and sometimes maybe I see things that younger friends may not. I often wish I could have had time at this age to have discussions with my parents, because by the age I had attained when they passed I was incapable of even asking the right questions.

Having gone through a number of experiences where my life hung in the balance, I am not too bold in saying I can offer good advice to people when they find themselves suddenly plunked into danger.

My first bit of advice is as simple as the Scout motto: be prepared. Footnote: if the Scouts had been prepared for dealing with pedophiles they wouldn’t be in liquidation proceedings now. The second rule is you are never prepared. At least, never perfectly provisioned. You can always be mentally prepared.

The trick to mental preparation is to keep your focus when everyone around you is losing theirs. Stop. It may not seem like there is time to pause, but pause anyway. Threat matrix. Inventory. Sequence of coming events. What will you need and when will you need it? Make a quick plan, you can revise and improve it later. Then execute, firmly, without hesitation. Don’t get distracted. If there were a third rule, it would be to keep your sense of humor because funny stuff will happen.

There are many caveats. Having a team is to be preferred, but teamwork carries its own hazards. By way of example, I went to Washington for the Clinton-Gore First Inaugural. I went by the transition office where Al had left me a pass to the swearing-in bleachers. I was deeply honored to be admitted to a viewing seat at that moment in history. 

On the morning of the Inauguration I met with a lawyer friend and we decided to drive out along the Virginia route Bill and Al’s excellent adventure bus was taking into the city. We had the list of their planned stops, some where there would be a podium and speeches, and some where the bus just pulled off the road and they got out to shake hands with those gathered. Towards evening there would be a White House reception and the public could attend, first come, first serve if you got in line early. So our plan was the morning bus stop meet and greet, midday witness to the swearing in, and then directly to the reception line.

I was not surprised to see at the first stop in a small town square that people had to pass through a Secret Service metal detector. I went through the portal and was collecting my belt and coins on the far side when my friend, who reminds me a little of the Brown Buffalo Samoan Dr. Gonzo (based on Chicano activist Oscar Zeta Acosta) in Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, was held up because of the metal ring on his hash pipe. In his shirt pocket. Full of bud. 

I thought, “Was he born that stupid or did he learn it?” And that was pretty much the end of that day for me. Funny stuff happens.

This past Monday afternoon I got the word that we were in the direct path of Delta and she would be arriving for supper on Tuesday. I had last looked at the NHC track that morning when Delta was forecast to cross Cuba, presenting little danger to us. I had spent the day cleaning up damage from Gamma, which had delimbed my Uva del Mar, flooded my yard (not my house) and taken my septic tank off line so my toilet and shower were off limits. I was working to drain down the yard with a sump pump and Lysol my bathroom when it started to rain hard. Then came the news.

NOAA predicted a storm surge of 9 to 13 feet. The highest point of my island was 1.7 meters — 5 foot 6 inches.

There was no time to waste, but back to rule #1. Pause and take stock. I made a plan and executed it. I am executing it still, in that I am living out of my suitcase and ready to move again in 5 minutes if required. I know what I have and what I lack.

Living on a sandbar 8 miles into the Atlantic Ocean, I already had a hurricane plan, so that part was easy. I filled waterproof plastic tubs with all my stuff and stacked them above where the waterline had been for Wilma, the largest Atlantic hurricane on record. Everything I owned and could move went above that mark.

My new biochar-ferrocement roof was an improvement over the thatch I’d had during Wilma but I tarped everything inside anyway. I steel-cabled my footlocker to a roof beam. Darkness descended to the sound of the police department’s only vehicle going street-to-street with loudspeakers blaring to tell everyone a mandatory evacuation order was in effect for Tuesday.

Gamma exits into the Gulf as Delta approaches

I kept prepping, having time now to go out and rescue some of my recent plantings — ginger, tumeric, moringa, neem, coffee — and get them on shelves. I brought in all my garden tools and my bike and put them above the Wilma line. I elevated furniture. Then I packed my jump kit, prepared to leave, and slept until dawn.

This is where it starts to get complicated. The next part of the story goes back to lifetime experience and what I said earlier about choosing your partnerships. On Monday when I learned about the storm track changing, I messaged my friend, with whom I had earlier discussed evacuation planning. I asked her what she intended. My friend, at 68, is only recently recovered from a month-long bout with Covid and awaiting a postponed surgery, having no cartilage in one knee. She is not infectious and likely swimming in antigens. Traveling is safer for her than for me, albeit more painful. She said she planned to go to Valladolid but did not invite me. Later she texted and asked if I would come with her to assist with her dogs. My threat analysis:


She has her own car, and traveling that way will be much safer than public transportation.
She is not going to be infectious.
Our mutual friend owns a nice hotel in Valladolid and there are rooms available for us there. It is far enough South to be leeward of the hurricane wind, most likely. 
She is psychologically stable.
We get along.


Six dogs. 
High Stress. 
Walking only with great pain and difficulty. 
Once we embarked, there would be mutual dependence. 
Her timetable, not mine.

On balance I took the risk and accepted her offer. I had another kind offer from a close friend in Solferino, a town about 15 miles inland. I could stay in her home, which would be closer, and promptly return to the island after the storm passed. My life experience again entered upon my thoughts. During Hurricane Wilma in 2005, my close friend Maria had been living in Solferino and decided to remain there rather than leave. Her hurricane experience was like a horror film. Flying pigs. Drowning chickens, cats and dogs. She had to climb to the second floor to stay above the rising water. Should I evacuate to that location now? No, and I told my friends to leave, too. 

Per agreement with my travel companion, I was preparing to leave home early Tuesday and rendezvous at the dock. The streets were all badly flooded from Gamma and the rain overnight but I had packed lightly and was ready to go. She was not. The hours ticked by as I tinkered about making fast more of my stuff that was not tied down or otherwise well secured. Finally at 9 am she said she needed help and asked me to come to her house.

Me: Can you send the carrito? My bike is hung up and I will have to lock up and take my bag if I leave. [Carritos are the golf carts used on an island that prohibits automobiles.]

Her: There is no carrito [it had been moved inside and the sliding doors sealed with plywood]. Please just come and find a CanAm [off road taxi] on your way.

Me: I don’t know how. I could lock my bag in my house and then come back for it. I will have to wade there barefoot. I have not seen many CanAms. 

Her: Need help.

Me: Yes, but I am on the far side of town and there are lakes. I can help but will need to find a way to get there. How will you get to the boat if there is no carrito? All the taxis are being put on shelves or barged to the mainland. 

Her: Find a way Albert.

Fair enough. You make your choices in life, then you have to live with them. I locked my bag in my house and took a good staff for a long wade 12 blocks to her house. It took a half hour. Once there, I saw she was still directing a 3-man crew attaching plywood battens to her windows and doors. The dogs were leashed and ready to go. Her bags were packed. She sent me wading to the main road to find a taxi. I flagged down three CanAm taxis but they were all en route to get customers who had phoned, so I returned and asked if she could call for one. We both tried phoning around to find a taxi but were unsuccessful. By this time most taxis were being placed on boats to leave or driven up inside buildings. We sat in silence. I suggested we hire the plywood guys as porters but she obviously couldn’t walk, and they were getting anxious to bug out themselves. So I volunteered to walk back to the central taxi stand 6 blocks away, and then the port, another 8 blocks, if necessary. I got to the taxi stand but it was empty, no surprise there. Delta’s landfall was now expected in 9 hours and once the seas got rough the boat-lift would end.

Hasty roller bag tracks on an empty beach

At the port I figured I only had to wait until a taxi discharged its clients and then it would be available. I was wrong. The driver had a list from a dispatcher and went on to pick up the next customer, and with each drop there were fewer and fewer as they were taken out of service and mothballed above floodline. It was now 11 am and the port resembled a scene from the beach at Dunkirk or the Wildlings’ last stand on the beach in Game of Thrones. Finally my friend texted. She had gotten her taxi order in and told me to meet her at the port. 

Fine, I said, I would return to my house and get my bag. I was back at 11:30 but by then she had not only arrived but had been put aboard a boat, ahead of the queues. She said to get a boat and meet her on the mainland. I did. As we were entering the mainland port however, our boat slowed to let another ferry go by. It was filled with Covid isolation patients. I could see the lights of waiting ambulances in the port and knew there were too few. The rest of the patients, if they were ambulatory, would be seeking taxis. Walkers. Questions of contaminated interiors and surfaces buzzed through my mind. I was careful not to touch the railings as I disembarked the boat, not knowing whom it might have been in contact with that day. A light rain fell.

I was able to locate my friend easily by her six dogs but we were not permitted to bring her car to the dock so we had to slowly and painfully make the 200 yard walk to where it was parked. And then, finally, we were safely inside a bubble again and driving away from the chaos behind.

Queueing for buses inland

On the 3 hour drive to Valladolid we were in one continuous swath of flooding and downed tree limbs from Gamma. A harder rain began to fall, more Gamma than Delta, but the two were now behaving as a single combination — jab and swing. A one-two knockout.

I hold the memory of recovery from Hurricane Wilma in 2005 and it is a valued one. The scene after we were allowed back to the island was heartbreaking. Beautiful spa hotels had been reduced to piles of rock on the beach. Some streets were canyons 15 feet deep. Others were crisscrossed with utility poles. Fishing boats are heaved up on rooftops. The dead animals had been removed but garbage still smelled. Power remained off another month, internet even longer. The cell towers were down. The water pipe from the mainland was broken. All the golf cart taxis had been electric before, but soon they would be replaced with 2-stroke diesel. Anything electric was fried. The fishing fleet was wrecked. The ferries and truck barges were aground.

And yet, inside of 2 years, the island was back to normal. Over the next decade the population grew 3 times larger, with 5 times more hotel rooms. These are not all good things, but it showed how resilient people were, and determined to keep living there, hurricanes or no.

I am writing this on Thursday morning from a hotel room in Valladolid. My friend and I, and her six dogs, are all well and good, or at least not showing any symptoms of infection (which could be up to 2 weeks away in any event). The news from the island is promising, with fishermen reporting it was not damaged as badly as in 2005 and should be open again in a few days, rather than weeks. We were lucky this time and no one was hurt. We came away better than many others have this year, as climate chaos takes another step up the ladder of intensity. All too soon, these will be the good old days.

Help me get my blog posted every week. All
Patreon donations and Blogger subscriptions are needed and welcomed. You are how we make this happen. Your contributions are being made to Global Village Institute, a tax-deductible 501(c)(3) charity. PowerUp! donors on Patreon get an autographed book off each first press run. My latest book, Plagued, is out now. A children’s version of Dark Side of the Ocean called Making Waves, may be out by Christmas. Please help if you can.


Sunday, October 4, 2020

The Great Pause Week 29: In Our Jeans

"Once tribal loyalism was baked into our genes there were ramifications."


The whole world is festering
With unhappy souls,
The French hate the Germans,
The Germans hate the Poles,
Italians hate Yugoslavs,
South Africans hate the Dutch,
And I don’t like anybody 
Very much.

 — Sheldon Harnick, The Merry Minuet, 1949

In social psychology experiments, subjects made aware of a border between insiders and outsiders will rapidly bond with those on their own side and reject those outside it. They’ll judge insiders to be fairer than outsiders. They’ll describe insiders as having “broadly positive” traits and outsiders as possessing “broadly negative” ones. They’ll notice variation among insiders but not among outsiders. 
The line between outsider and insider does not have to accurately correspond with shared interests or meaningful characteristics between people on one side and those on the other. Awareness of a border triggers biases regardless. In social psychology experiments, researchers have divided subjects into two groups based on arbitrary grounds such as a coin toss or the color of the t-shirts they’re wearing, or their preferred ice cream flavor, it makes no difference. Subjects will exhibit bias towards those on their side and discriminate against those on the other side.

 — Sonia Shah, The Next Great Migration: The Beauty and Terror of Life on the Move, 2020.

Is it any wonder then, that when an elderly, overweight, diabetic, stalwart Republican attending a rally is taunted to throw away his or her mask, they do so? Or that they join in a chant to “Lock her up!” at the mention of the former Secretary of State, heedless of chanting’s proven ability to spread the airborne virus? Or that they can completely block the image of bird-caged Latino immigrant children, crying for their parents whom they may well never see again, or cheer on cue when informed, obliquely, they will be losing their health care coverage?


The fact that an overwhelming majority of voters in my home state are expected to wait in lines at polls to cast ballots for Donald Trump does not shock or offend me. I grew up during the lunch counter protests. I had a cross burned on my lawn for having had the temerity to rudely question the governor of Alabama. I was in Belfast in August, 1969 when white, middle-class Protestants and their foreign mercenary police took to the streets to assault white, middle-class Catholics like they were the foreign invaders. I witnessed police officers beating a handcuffed prisoner in the Manhattan Tombs, and when I complained to my superiors at the New York Appellate Division I was nearly terminated. I have visited any number of strongly caste societies and been in homes and offices where snobbery and class are de rigueur. 

I am all too aware of the policy of the Bush and Obama administrations to inter 22 harmless Chinese Uigher refugees at the extrajudicial Guantánamo torture camp for 12 years, including the 5 years under Obama after Judge Merrick Garland, writing the unanimous opinion of a three-judge panel, had ordered them released. They were unconstitutionally held without any rights solely out of contagious xenophobia.


But if our tribal instincts become destructive of our tribe — and world — and selves — why? And what is to be done?
Over the last million years or so, humans evolved the ability to learn from other humans, creating the possibility of cumulative, non-genetic evolution. These capacities were strongly beneficial in the chaotic climates of the Pleistocene, allowing humans to culturally evolve highly refined adaptations to rapidly varying environments. However, cultural adaptation also vastly increased heritable variation among groups, and this gave rise to the evolution of group beneficial cultural norms and values. Then, in such culturally evolved cooperative social environments, genetic evolution [of] new, more pro-social motives. 
We think that the evidence suggests that after about 100,000 years ago most people lived in tribal scale societies. These societies are based upon in-group cooperation where in-groups of a few hundred to a few thousand people are symbolically marked by language, ritual practices, dress, and the like.
We think cultural evolutionary processes constructed a social environment that caused ordinary natural selection acting on genes to favor empathetic altruism, and a tendency to direct that altruism preferentially to fellow members of symbolically marked groups. These social instincts evolved in the late Pleistocene but the radically new social institutions that have evolved in the Holocene were (and continue to be) both enabled and constrained by them.

 — Boyd, Robert, and Peter J. Richerson. “Culture and the evolution of the human social instincts.” Roots of human sociality (2006): 453–477.

As we periodically emerged from glaciations and migrated into more abundant ecosystems, or gradually retreated from frigid regions as Earth entered upon another Ice Age, conflict over land, food, and other resources was always present. In such an environment, smaller, more cooperative groups could outcompete larger, less cooperative, and therefore less clever or adaptive, groups. Communication and willingness to cooperate and strategize provided advantage. Non-cooperators might be punished by reduced status, fewer friends, and fewer mating opportunities. 

“Cowards, deserters, and cheaters may be attacked by their erstwhile compatriots and shunned by their society, made the targets of gossip, or denied access to territories or mates,” says Boyd. 

…moralistic punishment can stabilize any arbitrary behavior — wearing a tie, being kind to animals, or eating the brains of dead relatives. It does not matter whether or not the behavior produces group benefits. All that matters is that, when moralistic punishers are common, being punished is more costly than performing the sanctioned behavior, whatever it might be.
[Suppose] that groups are made up of close relatives. Selection can favor the genes that give rise to prosocial behavior because the benefits of prosocial acts are non-randomly directed toward others who carry the same genes. Thus, the benefits of the act raise the average fitness of the genes leading to the prosocial behavior, and if this effect is big enough to compensate for the cost, selection will lead to the evolution of the behavior. 

Once tribal loyalism was baked into our genes there were ramifications. Care for the sick has been shown to be more effective in family settings than in impersonal clinics. Home birth has fewer complications than hospital birth. Child development improves in extended families. Income-sharing groups out-perform and out-last income-competitive groups during the difficult pioneer phase of community development.

Studies of dog behavior have shown that all domestic dogs, regardless of breed, crave social contact with humans. They will choose affection from humans over food, even when close to starvation. This is as true of packs of stray dogs in the streets of Moscow or Mumbai as it is of pampered apartment poodles. The same cannot be said of wolves, who, even when they have formed a lifetime association with particular humans, will tend to maintain distance except for short intervals of affectionate interaction. 

The difference between domestic dogs and their wolf ancestors is a tropism towards trans-species caressing over pack loyalty. Likewise, modern humans are captives to their unique genetic tribal instincts, and will make up some group to attach it to — by skin color, religion, neighborhood, club, shared antipathy, or sexual perversion — to fill that need. Fetishist dominatrices are driven by the same deep urges as nuns of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance. So are MAGA-hat wearers, Miami Heat fans, and skinhead bikers.

I used to imagine we could overcome this maladaptive tropism the same way humans control their tendencies towards violence and selfishness in order to live in civil society. We just needed to expand our loyalties from clans, nations and races to all sentient beings, and it seemed to me, in the Sixties, that was precisely where cultural evolution (assisted by mycopharmacology) was pointing us. We just needed to love — or at least extend compassion towards — our “enemies.”

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Livin’ life in peace
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one.

 — John Lennon, Imagine, 1971

He’s a Catholic, a Hindu, an Atheist, a Jane
A Buddhist and a Baptist and a Jew
And he knows he shouldn’t kill
And he knows he always will
Kill you for me my friend and me for you
And he’s fighting for Canada
He’s fighting for France
He’s fighting for the USA
And he’s fighting for the Russians
And he’s fighting for Japan
And he thinks we’ll put an end to war this way

 — Buffy Sainte-Marie, Universal Soldier, 1964

The hippies believed there should be no discrimination between people based upon gender, race, color, ethnicity, belief, or social position. The problem is, we hippies see ourselves as tribe. The Woodstock Nation. There is us, and then there is The Man. The Squares. The Establishment.

You can put patches on patches but it’s always there, even in your bell-bottomed jeans.

It’s in our genes.

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves….” 

 — William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene III, L. 140–141

Help me get my blog posted every week. All Patreon donations and Blogger subscriptions are needed and welcomed. You are how we make this happen. Your contributions are being made to Global Village Institute, a tax-deductible 501(c)(3) charity. PowerUp! donors on Patreon get an autographed book off each first press run. My latest book, Plagued, came out October 1. A children’s version of Dark Side of the Ocean, called Making Waves, should be out by Christmas. Please help if you can.






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