Not two weeks before I started reading this book, our neighbourhood was hit by a short power cut. It was a potent reminder of how we take electricity for granted and are utterly dependent on it. Author and journalist Robert Bryce has been writing about electricity and power for the last 30 years, publishing numerous articles and several books, and hosting the Power Hungry podcast. A Question of Power is part-history of electrification, part-reportage on current patterns of global electricity consumption, and part-outlook on the future of electricity generation, with Bryce coming out against renewables and in favour of nuclear energy. This proved to be a thought-provoking book and I disagree with some of his ideas, though not for the reasons you might think.
A Question of Power: Electricity and the Wealth of Nations, written by Robert Bryce, published by Public Affairs Press in April 2020 (hardback, 320 pages)
In four parts, Bryce looks at electricity from many angles. The first two parts cover some electricity basics and walk you through the history of electrification in the USA, first in cities and later in rural parts (though see Powering American Farms as a critique of the narrative that the rural USA was neglected by utility companies). He explores the theme of electricity poverty by visiting India and sees how it affects rural women in particular. He looks at global statistics and notes how many people consume less than his fridge or have only intermittent access. Destroying electricity grids has become an effective military strategy and in Beirut, he sees first-hand what civil war can lead to. A “generator mafia” fills in when the state grid cannot provide, charging extortionate prices and influencing politicians to not hurry with solutions. Coal, meanwhile, remains an important source of electricity for many developing countries and Bryce does not expect it to be phased out, despite the opposition of Western environmental organisations. He considers what factors make an electricity grid successful and how e.g. corruption and poor governance undermine it. A take-home message is that, since high-voltage transmission lines only reach so far, “each country or region has to build, pay for, and manage their own electric grid. That’s no simple task” (p. 79).
Part 3 takes a look at the flip side: the tremendous and increasing use of electricity by industries in the developed world. Giant tech companies and online payment providers operate huge data centres, backed up by banks of emergency batteries and diesel generators. It is a powerful reminder of the vast infrastructure underlying our online world—there is nothing fluffy about this cloud. Bryce also visits a cryptocurrency miner in Iceland and a black-market marijuana grower in Denver. The latter felt a bit incongruous given the vast electricity consumption of e.g. the steel and aluminium industry. He furthermore discusses the consequences of extended blackouts on hospitals, plus a range of causes, both mundane (squirrels and falling branches) and unlikely (electromagnetic pulses caused by nuclear detonations).
Up to this point, A Question of Power is well-written and little controversial, with short, snappy chapters that draw on a wealth of experience reporting around the world. The fourth part retains that accessible style but is more controversial. How will we meet the forecasted increase in demand from 6 terawatts now to 12 terawatts by the late 2030s? Answers Bryce: not with renewables, preferably with nuclear, but likely with natural gas.
I disagree with some of his points, though perhaps not the ones you (or he) might be expecting. I agree with his claim that the numbers do not add up in favour of going 100% renewable and am glad he mentions the under-appreciated aspect of power density. Switching to methods that give us less bang for our energetic buck has consequences: it needs more land and its electricity is more expensive. His point that renewables are being greenwashed is well taken. Surprisingly, he waits until the last chapter to mention the very polluting mining and refining of oodles of minerals and rare metals needed to build and maintain this high-tech infrastructure. For Bryce, nuclear, as a power-denser fuel, is the way forward: environmental organisations have exaggerated the dangers of radiation and the risk of accidents, and countries such as France show that radioactive waste can be handled sensibly. Again, good points; I lean more towards the few pro-nuclear environmentalists such as Mark Lynas and George Monbiot. So where do I disagree? Three points, mainly.
First, I think his comparison between renewable and nuclear is not free from bias. Bryce focuses on onshore wind farms and the various reasons they are resisted, but what of offshore? Some objections likely hold, but I feel it is incumbent on him to explore this better. And what of other forms of renewable energy? Nor does he detail how nuclear runs on finite fuel and, like renewables, still needs transmission lines. Though he is happy to do rough calculations on how much wind or solar needs to be added to keep up with growing demand, he does not do this for nuclear. I came across a very interesting 2011 paper that, starting with slightly different numbers, did do that exercise. It also raises other points I had not yet considered as to why going all-nuclear is difficult too.
Second, Bryce argues we have a humanist imperative to electrify the developing world: “it is to bring light and power to others so that those who are living in the dark can come into the bright light of modernity and progress” (p. 247). If this means e.g. sanitation, basic health care, or clean drinking water—absolutely. But if this means bringing a material-intensive, consumerist lifestyle to the rest of the world then I am going to stop you there. That is a very narrow, Western-centric view. We have relentlessly broadcast our vision of the good life, homogenising and disrupting other cultures and ways of living in the process, frequently during centuries of colonial exploitation. I agree with Bryce that “when forced to choose between energy poverty and access to electricity, consumers and policymakers will always choose electricity” (p. xxiv), but there is a difference between access to electricity and squandering it. This brings me to…
Third, industrial electricity generation is a dirty business no matter the method. No serious conversation on this topic should ignore that our Western consumption patterns are hugely problematic. Since Bryce is fond of Smil’s work, let me quote from his 2019 book Growth: “we urgently need to consume less. A lot less” (p. 498) and “recognize the obvious, the impossibility of infinite growth on a finite planet” (p. 508). Judging by one of his previous books, Bryce firmly believes technology will continue to save the day. I am sceptical, also because increasing efficiency rarely reduces overall consumption. He writes that “we cannot stand still” (p. 248). On the contrary, I have become increasingly receptive to ideas of scaling down and pulling back, and of cultivating an ethos of self-limitation, certainly in the West. These are unpopular topics, but that is no reason to avoid them.
Though Bryce accuses environmentalists of “feel-good rhetoric” (p. 244), ignoring this sees him conclude the book with some of his own. He calls natural gas “a fuel of the future [because] global gas reserves are enormous. At current rates of consumption, [they] are projected to last more than fifty years” (p. 243). That is a freakishly short time! And consumption is only set to increase. What does he think will happen after that? To me, this seems like saddling the next generation with even bigger problems on a further impoverished planet. Similarly, he acknowledges that in the process we will affect the climate, but remains “optimistic that we can, and will, adapt to whatever changes are coming” (p. 248). Other than ignoring that climate change is already hitting the poorest the hardest, that seems based on little more than fervent hope.
My criticism does not imply that Bryce is dogmatic. He is realistic in noting that “there are no quick or easy solutions. Energy transition takes decades” (p. xxv), while a visit to a microgrid “forced me to reconsider some of my skepticism about solar and storage” (p. 237). A Question of Power is very enjoyable where its history and reportage are concerned, while its future outlook is sure to provoke discussion.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended resources mentioned in this review:
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Normally the sight of photovoltaic panels and wind turbines fills me with hope, but I have my doubts after reading this book. Many politicians, business leaders, and environmental organisations argue that we need to invest in renewables to transition away from fossil fuels and the accompanying carbon dioxide emissions. What is rarely mentioned is that these technologies require the mining of rare metals: chemical elements such as rhenium, lithium, antimony, neodymium, tantalum, and many others that most people have barely heard of. In The Rare Metals War, French investigative journalist Guillaume Pitron sounds the alarm, showing both the environmental impact and China’s chokehold on the market.
I read this book in tandem with David S. Abraham’s slightly older The Elements of Power which I had been meaning to read for ages. Thus, this is the second of a two-part review dealing with these little-known elements that have silently come to dominate our lives.
The Rare Metals War: The Dark Side of Clean Energy and Digital Technologies, written by Guillaume Pitron, published by Scribe Publications in January 2021 (paperback, 263 pages)
This book was originally published in French in 2018 as La Guerre des Métaux Rares and was swiftly translated into eight languages. Although the publisher does not mention it, the English version has been updated, referencing events and reports up to 2019. Bianca Jacobsohn‘s excellent translation perfectly captures the urgency of the alarm that Pitron sounds.
After a brief introduction to the nature and numerous applications of rare metals, the first three chapters tackle pollution. Pitron surreptitiously visits major mining sites in China and Mongolia to see first-hand the destruction: the vast toxic sludge ponds that leach metals into the groundwater, the poisoned agricultural land, the villages where people suffer and die from pollution-inflicted diseases. “The Chinese people have sacrificed their environment to supply the entire planet with rare earths” (p. 28), says a Chinese rare-metal expert. And it is not just China, pollution accompanies the mining for cobalt in the Democratic Republic of Congo, chrome in Kazakhstan, and lithium in Latin America.
What makes this so shocking is that this pollution is not spoken of in the West. Pitron is intent on opening your eyes and does not mince his words. “[…] in contrast to the carbon economy, whose pollution is undeniable, the new green economy hides behind virtuous claims of responsibility for the sake of future generations” (p. 54). It is all too easy to forget that our online world requires a huge infrastructure of data centres, cables, satellites, etc. requiring rare metals: “[…] the age of dematerialisation is nothing more than an outright ruse” (p. 44). It is even worse for renewable energy: “Put simply, clean energy is a dirty affair. Yet we feign ignorance because we refuse to take stock of the end-to-end production cycle of wind turbines and solar panels” (p. 53). And then on page 72, his coup de grâce: “Concealing the dubious origins of metals in China has given green and digital technologies the shining reputation they enjoy. This could very well be the most stunning greenwashing operation in history.“
Bowyer already highlighted this hypocritical contradiction in our attitude in The Irresponsible Pursuit of Paradise. Pitron here calls it “delocalised pollution”. While China does “the dirty work of manufacturing green-tech components“, the West happily buys “the pristine product while flaunting its sound ecological practices” (p. 71). He reminds us that: “everything comes at a cost: the globalisation of supply chains gives us consumer goods while taking away knowledge of their origins” (p. 81). For me, this part of the book was worth the price of admission alone, and it might come as a rude but necessary awakening for some readers.
The next four chapters tackle the second major topic of this book: the near-monopoly China now has on the supply of many rare metals. Pitron traces the history of how Europe and the US shuttered its rare metal mines, off-shored its heavy industries, and focused on high-value manufacturing with imported components and the service economy. China used this opportunity to the fullest and has come to dominate the production of many raw materials, including the rare earth elements so critical for high-tech applications. But that is only their first step towards becoming a global powerhouse, as their 2010 rare earth export quotas made clear. Companies are of course welcome to relocate their production to China, and many have done so to remain competitive. Though the west has cried foul, Pitron avoids anti-China sentiments by providing their perspective. At a conference, a Mongolian official clarifies that “Western businesses that, like the colonisers before them, sought only to mine resources to generate added value back home are no longer welcome” (p. 110). I could not help but think: can you blame them?
Our appetite for rare metals is rapidly growing and Pitron highlights that some could run out within decades. Mention of “peak anything” easily attracts derision, but I agree with him that we are in “collective denial of resource scarcity” (p. 162). Logically, we have used up the most rewarding and easily accessible resources first, so we mine and drill in ever more extreme environments, including plans to mine asteroids and the deep sea. Bonus points for Pitron for mentioning the underappreciated concept of energy returned on energy invested that Ugo Bardi highlighted in Extracted. Producing energy costs energy. As long as there is a net gain, all is well, but ore grades (the concentration of desired material) have been in decline for decades. “[…] As Bardi concludes, ‘The limits to mineral extraction are not limits of quantity; they are limits of energy’” (p. 165).
Pitron’s proposed solution is unusual, but I like it. Reopen mines in the West. Not just to compete with China, but to make consumers “realise—to our horror—the true cost of our self-declared modern, connected, and green world” (p. 177). He hopes that this will finally move us to dial down our consumption. And it is hard to argue with his conclusion that “nothing will change so long as we do not experience, in our own backyards, the full cost of attaining our standard of happiness” (p. 178).
The Rare Metals War is a powerful and sobering exposé that will no doubt shatter the green dreams of many readers. However, we cannot continue to ignore the material reality that underlies the green revolution that politicians and environmental organisations want us to pursue. This book is a much-needed conversation starter.
So, how does it compare to Abraham’s The Elements of Power? I considered the former to be remarkably comprehensive: it covers pollution and China’s monopoly, and several other topics besides. And yet, its tone is more neutral and might not set alarm bells ringing. Abraham seems concerned but optimistic about the promise of green technology. Maybe it is something about the French, but Pitron is much more outspoken by calling out our collective hypocrisy in the West and suggesting we act on the root problem of overconsumption. If Abraham informs you widely, Pitron wakes you up—I found both takes on this topic very useful and recommend both books highly.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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]]>Tantalum, tellurium, indium, niobium, germanium, dysprosium, rhenium, yttrium, neodymium, titanium, lithium, tungsten, cobalt. These are but some of the many chemical elements that are collectively known as rare metals. You will probably recognize only a few of them, but trace quantities are in products and structures all around you, making things stronger, faster, and lighter. They are used to make smartphones, laptops, and fibre-optic cables; but also cars, airplanes, and military weapon systems; and even photovoltaic panels and wind turbines. We live in the Rare Metal Age, writes natural resources strategist David S. Abraham here.
I have been meaning to read this book for ages. With the recent publication of Guillaume Pitron’s The Rare Metals War, now is the right time. Thus, this is the first of a two-part review dealing with these little-known elements that have silently come to dominate our lives.
The Elements of Power: Gadgets, Guns, and the Struggle for a Sustainable Future in the Rare Metal Age, written by David S. Abraham, published by Yale University Press in June 2017 (paperback, 319 pages)
Before proceeding, about that name, rare metals. Also known as minor metals, it is a blanket term that includes rare earth elements. And though metallurgists cannot agree on a definition, the Minor Metals Trade Association currently recognizes 49 metals, encompassing pretty much everything that is not a base (e.g. iron or copper) or precious metal (e.g. gold or silver). The rarity can refer to their limited consumption (hundreds vs. millions of tons annually), but also their geological occurrence. Some are scarce, while others are plentiful but so dilute that they rarely can be mined profitably.
Nomenclature aside, there are many reasons why rare metals are exceptional, unpredictable, and troublesome. The Elements of Power explores numerous facets of our use of them, and I found this book to be remarkably balanced and comprehensive in its coverage.
First off, simply developing a mine is not straightforward. Their geology means there are only limited places where a metal can be profitably mined, allowing a few countries or companies to monopolise the world’s supply. This leads to geopolitical tensions, and when China restricted rare earth exports in 2010, it rattled industries around the world.
Furthermore, extraction and purification are expensive and “[m]any rare metals are so technically challenging for chemists to produce that it is better to think of them as chemical creations rather than geological minerals” (p. 69). Every mineral vein is different and optimising the production process can take years of trial and error. Several decades can pass between a mining company finding willing investors and producing metals. There is no cookbook you can turn to. Well, there is, but even so, a lot of knowledge is hard-earned and jealously guarded. And with rare metal specialists a dying breed due to the lack of dedicated university departments in Europe and the US, there has been a brain-drain towards Asia.
Then there is the lack of openness in the trading sector. Commodity traders are already a shady bunch, but as Abraham’s interviews with anonymous sources reveal, this sector is “a web of small companies of specialty traders“, with materials having to travel “through a murky network of traders, processors, and component manufacturers” (p. 90). There are no exchanges such as for oil with accepted benchmark prices. Business is very much about who you know—backroom deals, smuggling, and distrust are rife. “No one really knows the true size of these markets. Even the U.S. Geological Survey […] won’t hazard a guess […]” (p. 91). And given that many rare metals are recovered as by-products of other mining activities, there is no neat supply-and-demand relationship, resulting in volatile prices.
The economic side of rare metals is, in short, complex. And that is a problem, as we use much. Abraham gives numerous examples of their use in our gadgets, cars, airplanes, and weapons. The iPhone “relies on nearly half the elements on the planet” (p. 2), while “the newest weapon systems like the F-35 are flying periodic tables” (p. 168). And we will need even more in the future for green technologies: for the magnets in wind turbines and the batteries in electric cars. Once Abraham works through these examples, you realise that these technologies are anything but “green”.
Mining in general “[…] speeds up otherwise relatively benign natural processes that usually occur over millennia […] (p. 180). Some have even called it planetary plunder. But rare-metal mining is even more taxing on the environment. Abraham describes the different refining steps—the crushing of rock, the leaching of ores using strong acids—highlighting how energy-intensive and polluting these practices are. And in case you are wondering, recycling “[…] is not a panacea. It too has its own environmental consequences […]” (p. 177). Next to the challenges of gathering the waste and getting people to recycle rather than discard, separating complex devices back into their component elements is no less energy-intensive and polluting. An important point Abraham makes is that “the combination of metals in products like batteries and even steel are in far more complex alloys than the finite set found in nature” (p. 190). Often, whether recycling is even possible has simply not been studied yet.
If rare metals are so problematic, can we not just swap one metal for another? The answer is no, but outside material scientists, few understand the subtleties. The performance we now routinely demand from our technology is such that we cannot simply substitute one metal for another without sacrificing performance, affordability, structural integrity, or weight. And what is true of weapons, “[w]ithout some of these minor metals you would have to go back to 1960s or 1970s performance” (p. 166), holds for most applications.
The combination of few mines, opaque and complex supply chains, and the booming demand for these metals makes for a very uncertain future that has analysts and governments concerned. Demand is likely to outstrip supply, at least in the short term: “[…] we could be condemned to a fossil fuel world, if we cannot bolster the rare metal supply lines we need to support our green technologies” (p. 136), warns Abraham. When even the former CEO of mining giant Vale is quoted as saying “[t]he reality is the planet is very small for the number of inhabitants we will see in 2025” (p. 219), I cannot help but wonder how much of this an endless rat race of techno-fixes that are doomed to fail. Nevertheless, Abraham’s envisioned solution is not to shy away from using them but to double down: “to search for more sources, use them more efficiently, and advance our knowledge of geology, metallurgy, and material science” (p. 219).
The Elements of Power tackles this topic from many angles, and Abraham is a knowledgeable guide, not least because of his insider perspective of what is happening in China and Japan. This book was everything I hoped for and provided numerous “aha” moments. If you want to better understand what the deal is with rare metals, this book comes highly recommended.
Can Pitron add to this? I will turn to The Rare Metals War next to find out, but, spoiler alert, the answer is yes. Foremost, Pitron will give you reason to pause and question the cost of the transition to green technologies.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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]]>When it comes to environmental issues, certain topics steal the limelight, with climate change, deforestation, and biodiversity loss being prominent examples. However, humans have only so much time and energy available, meaning that other, potentially more pressing problems might not get the attention they deserve. Resource depletion, specifically all the materials we dig up from the Earth’s crust, has always struck me as one of them. It is easy to underestimate just how thoroughly dependent modern civilization is on a vast range of very basic substances. As we continue to extract these at ever-accelerating rates, competition and conflict seem inevitable. Guessing by the title of this book, Australian business journalist Geoff Hiscock seems to think so too. Yet this book was not quite what I was expecting.
Earth Wars: The Battle for Global Resources, written by Geoff Hiscock, published by John Wiley & Sons in April 2012 (hardback, 286 pages)
Hiscock’s main goal with Earth Wars is to introduce the major economies (especially China and India) that are consuming Earth’s resources and the kinds of resources they are competing for. Given that this book was published in 2012, it is inevitable that some information here is outdated, although the larger theme of future resource conflict holds up. Two factors, in particular, have given this book a somewhat limited shelf life.
First is Hiscock’s choice to give a snapshot of the state of play at the start of 2012. After having introduced the major movers and shakers (the trading, mining, and energy companies), a large part of the book consists of chapters discussing both resources and capacities. The former covers primarily fresh water, fossil fuels (oil, gas, and coal), uranium, and metals such as copper and iron ore, both how much is being consumed and how much is still in the ground. The latter gives an overview of the sizes and output of mines, oil and gas fields, refineries, power stations, and assorted renewable energy infrastructures. The book goes into great detail which companies have stakes and investments in what and for how much, and which countries are expected to become important resource suppliers and see strong economic growth. By now, of course, this snapshot of the global economy has become dated, but as a historical overview of where we were at the time of publication that is fine.
A second aspect of this book that has aged less well is Hiscock’s mention of the numerous forecasts, outlooks, predictions, and plans of all these companies and countries. Following up on each statement would be tantamount to rewriting this book, but when out of curiosity I did some spot checks it was clear that things have not always panned out as expected. For example, the Ok Tedi copper mine in Papua New Guinea, subject of a 1996 environmental damage lawsuit, did not close in 2013 as expected, while the plans to turn the Australian Olympic Dam mine into the world’s largest open-pit mine were shelved by the time this book was published. Other things came to pass, but not quite as expected. The Brazilian Belo Monte dam was completed in 2019 rather than 2015, but already seems to be running into trouble, while the repeatedly-mentioned planned merger between global commodities trader Glencore and mining company Xstrata turned into a takeover. Of course, I do not expect Hiscock to have a crystal ball, but readers will have to keep this in mind.
Every reader comes to a book with certain expectations of what will be discussed. These not being met does not necessarily mean the book should be judged negatively. With that caveat in mind, I was nevertheless surprised that Hiscock fails to engage with the impossibility of endless growth on a finite resource base, all the more so as he is aware of it. The publisher’s blurb mentions the “ongoing scramble for finite natural resources“, chapter 1 opens with the acknowledgement that “the pressure on the planet’s finite resources is rising rapidly” (p. 1). Even the concept of the Great Acceleration is not new to him, as evidenced when he quotes Rio Tinto chief executive Tom Albanese, speaking in 2011: “Over the next 30 years it is projected that the world will consume as much copper as it has over the last 10,000 years” (p. 139). Regarding iron ore mining in Australia Hiscock estimates that “By 2020, mining in the Pilbara could reach 1 billion tonne a year, meaning that without further resource discoveries, the ore could be gone within 30 years” (p. 162). Does this not set any alarm bells ringing?
The book’s title suggests that the likely outcome is (violent) conflict. And though Hiscock highlights hotspots, he does not really explore this theme. Nor does he ever question any of the industry executives or business leaders he had access to while writing this book. What will they do when the resource party fizzles out? Is it even ethical or desirable to turn the planet inside out to get at the last resources? I feel this is a missed opportunity, especially from a journalist with access to some very elite business circles. I will have to dust off my copies of Bardi’s Extracted and Klare’s The Race for What’s Left for a future review.
As Eileen Crist highlighted in Abundant Earth (I keep coming back to this book), the language people employ is very revealing. Earth Wars describes our planet as an endless portfolio of assets to be acquired, of reserves to be brought on stream, of blocks to be developed. And I get the uncomfortable feeling that when Hiscock speaks of Earth Wars, he is not talking about the actual warfare in our future, but of the competition between businesses. Like a game show host, he writes of Russia that if it can get its act together and overcome the many challenges ahead “it will be a genuine Earth Wars winner“. And a bit further on: “If the Earth Wars were a sporting contest, here’s how the half-time score might stand at the beginning of 2012 […]” (p. 261).
Beg your pardon?
This is not a lazy Sunday afternoon game of football where afterwards we all get to pat each other on the back for a match well played and go home for supper! It is hard not to come away with the impression that these business sectors are run by people with some serious tunnel vision.
Putting these ideological differences aside for a moment, there were some interesting bits I did take away from this book. The book drives home the point how interconnected these industries are with pretty much everyone having fingers in each other’s pies. Hiscock also lifts a corner of the veil on the little-known business sector of global commodity traders that aim “to keep the lowest possible profile” (p. 39) – the upcoming The World for Sale promises to rip the veil off this completely. And though sand does not feature here, he does briefly mention the importance of rare earth elements that “one day may prove the biggest mining bonanza of them all” (p. 2). I discuss these more in-depth in reviews of The Elements of Power and The Rare Metals War.
For readers interested in the economics of natural resources, Earth Wars provides an in-depth snapshot. By its very nature, this picture is now dated, and not all material here has aged well. The title personally led me to expect a different take on the topic than the one Hiscock delivers here, so I will be turning to below books to explore this topic further.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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]]>The best way to introduce this book is to quote the first sentence of the blurb: “Techno-Fix challenges the pervasive belief that technological innovation will save us from the dire consequences of the 300-year fossil-fuelled binge known as modern industrial civilization“. Stinging, provocative, and radical, Techno-Fix puts its fingers on many a sore spot with its searing critique.
Techno-Fix: Why Technology Won’t Save Us or the Environment, written by Michael Huesemann and Joyce Huesemann, published by New Society Publishers in September 2011 (paperback, 435 pages)
You might ask why, in 2021, I would bother reviewing a book published ten years ago. Both for the prosaic reason that I have had this book for some years without reading it, and because I am working on a little something that I cannot divulge yet. Plus, as it turns out, because this book is still relevant despite having been published in 2011.
The Huesemanns, Michael a biotechnologist with an interest in sustainability, Joyce an academic and activist, pull no punches in Techno-Fix. Our technology has brought us tremendous affluence and a world population growth spurt, but it also has unintended consequences that are both unavoidable and unpredictable. Some examples discussed here are climate change resulting from the generation of energy, the unknown effects of most synthetic chemicals, the pollution accompanying industrial activities, or the way the introduction of the car reshaped the world.
Even more outspoken is their statement that most technology is exploitative, abusing ecosystems, animals, and other humans. The industrial and globalised nature of much technology blunts us to this by creating distance in either space or time between exploiter and exploited. Do you know where your stuff comes from and who made it? Do you have a care for the planet your grandchildren will inherit? With the same fury that would later characterise Abundant Earth, the authors speak of the human domination of nature and the brainwashing by television and other mass media. The frequent references to TV might seem outdated given how online social media has ballooned in the last decade, but it has arguably not changed the beast much. And where free-market trade does not get us the needed resources, “high-tech military technology plays a key role in ensuring the continued exploitation and control of natural resources that are essential to maintaining the materialistic consumer lifestyle” (p. 68). Theirs is a bleak outlook on our modern society indeed.
Surely, new technology can fix the problems old technology created? To the Huesemanns, counter-technologies such as geo-engineering schemes are like handing you another spade as you are digging your own grave—they come with their own unintended consequences. Furthermore, they write, efficiency gains (e.g. dematerialisation) have their limits and are often followed by increased consumption, a phenomenon known as the Jevons paradox. Ironically, despite increased affluence in the developed world, psychological research shows that happiness and well-being have not increased. Instead, we are stuck on a hedonic treadmill, furiously desiring ever more. The profit motive behind most technological developments results in solutions that benefit corporations and their shareholders, not the public at large.
Since these drawbacks are known, why does the belief in technological progress persist? The authors draw parallels between religious faith and techno-optimism, with the latter rising as the former waned. Furthermore, seemingly objective practices such as risk assessments and cost-benefit analyses are skewed towards continued technological development, downplaying or neglecting externalized costs. Finally, they take serious issue with the uncritical acceptance of new technologies due to the widespread belief that progress is inevitable and that technology is value-neutral, i.e. just a tool that can be used for good or evil.
Up to this point, much of what they write resonates with me, but I found their proposed solutions a mixed bag, strongly disagreeing with some of it. Since we cannot hex our way out of our problems with more technology, we need, I agree, a paradigm shift. They draw an interesting parallel with Kuhn’s book The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Just as scientific dogmas disappear not because minds are changed but because the old guard dies, future generations will change the way we live. Current generations will, by and large, be too set in their ways, too unwilling to give up their affluence. Plus, expect pushback from industries and corporations that stand to lose the most.
I think it should be stressed at this point that the Huesemanns are not technophobes advocating a return to the caves (although some of what they say is not far off). Technology has a role to play if it is employed more responsibly. To avoid stepping off the Seneca Cliff into wholesale collapse, they envision a transition to a steady-state economy that acknowledges planetary boundaries (some Planetary Accounting might help) and practises long-term sustainability.
The latter would require three things. First, 100% renewable energy generation. This, they admit, brings its own share of problems, one of which they remarkably do not even mention: the need for a vast infrastructure constructed from non-renewable materials. Speaking of which, second, we need to use renewable resources exclusively and phase out non-renewable resources, or fully recycle them where this is not possible. Other than the difficulties—if not impossibility—of finding replacements for most non-renewable resources (including basic ones such as all metals), they pass over the fact that materials cannot be endlessly recycled, requiring a constant input of virgin material. Third, waste can only be discharged at rates than can be assimilated by ecosystems, and those that cannot be biodegraded (read: most synthetic chemicals) should be discontinued. They acknowledge that, clearly, this would require a sea change in our attitudes: a society that embraces self-limitation rather than unfettered abundance. All of this is necessary, I agree, but it also seems almost unimaginable. If the COVID-19 pandemic has revealed one thing, it is how willingly people will relinquish liberties and accept restrictions imposed upon them.
There were a further three issues raised here that I mildly to strongly disagree with. First, they are justifiedly very critical of the corruption of medicine by the so-called medico-industrial complex, specifically pharmaceutical companies. Rather, we should focus on prevention and lifestyle changes (sure), accept the inevitability of death (agreed), and embrace holistic medicine (hmmm). Once they start talking of the power of placebo effects and the body’s innate ability to heal itself I become a bit uneasy. There is a kernel of truth in there but, in my opinion, you are at the top of the slide that reads “pseudoscience this way”. Second, they appear to contradict themselves by stressing the importance of efficiency in saving precious resources but also wanting things to go small-scale and local again, holding up organic agriculture as a shining example (something of which I am sceptical). You cannot have it both ways, we scale up production processes for more than just profitability. Third, they surprisingly really have it in for genetic engineering. Other than completely ignoring the pervasiveness of horizontal gene transfer (one could say nature invented genetic modification billions of years before we did), they are unwilling to acknowledge it will be one of the necessary tools to keep feeding the world, deal with the impact of climate change on crops, or that we can take the best of both approaches.
The Huesemanns acknowledge human overpopulation at several points: “More people generally translate into more problems” (p. 44) and unless “the size of the human population [is] stabilized and reduced, and the materialistic consumer lifestyle largely abandoned, there is little chance that our environmental problems will be solved” (p. 83). This is more than most authors do. Shame, then, that they do not dedicate a chapter to the thorny questions of whether we should control world population, what population size is optimal for the planet, and how many children to have (if any).
Instead, their last chapter felt to me like barking up the wrong tree. It calls for “critical science” (sensu Ravetz), which would stand in opposition to current scientific practice. Scientists need to take responsibility for their work, refuse dubious research financed by corporations, and abandon the excuse that they are not responsible for the end-uses. These are some really good points, but to put the onus almost completely on scientists struck me as, frankly, ridiculous. Some of their claims here really irked me. People choose this profession because of the relatively good income? Or the claim on page 329 that scientists and engineers do not really mind that problems are not solved as it guarantees their long-term employment? I normally hear a related version of that argument from climate-change deniers. I do not know what planet the authors live on, but my personal experience in academia showed me a world where you routinely work 60 to 80 hours a week on grant money or (if you are really lucky) a 40-hour contract while chasing short-term projects (known as PhD and postdoc positions) well into your forties before having a shot at a permanent position. When conditions are this exploitative it is no wonder many choose the job security and decent income offered by companies. If you want to keep scientists out of the clutches of well-paid corporate jobs and have them act as whistle-blowers you will have to properly reward and protect them, something only briefly acknowledged here.
In light of my criticism, would I recommend Techno-Fix? Yes, there is much I thoroughly agree with here. I applaud the authors for tabling controversial ideas and challenging readers with probing questions and assignments in an appendix. Furthermore, the book is thoroughly researched and annotated, very readable (including regular, useful summaries), and still relevant.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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]]>The legendary British broadcaster and natural historian Sir David Attenborough needs almost no introduction. Since his first appearance on our television screens in 1954, he has gone on to a long and distinguished career presenting and narrating groundbreaking nature documentaries. And he shows no sign of slowing down. His voice and style have become so iconic that he has been dubbed the voice of nature. Over the years, he has increasingly expressed concern over the state of the natural world, and in A Life on Our Planet Attenborough fully engages with this topic. However, when you turn to the title page you will notice the name of a co-author, Jonnie Hughes, who directed the Netflix documentary tied in with this book. As Attenborough explains in his acknowledgements, Hughes has been particularly instrumental in the writing of the third part of the book, together with substantial assistance from the Science Team at WWF. This is Attenborough’s witness statement, yes, but whose vision of the future is it?
A Life on Our Planet: My Witness Statement and a Vision for the Future, written by Sir David Attenborough with Jonnie Hughes, published by Witness Books (an imprint of Ebury Press) in October 2020 (hardback, 282 pages)
A Life on Our Planet is divided into three parts, the first of which features highlights from Attenborough’s filmmaking career. Interwoven with vignettes that you might recognize from his autobiography are short episodes in the history of life on our planet and the rise of human civilization—this is Attenborough writing at his finest. Overlaid is his increasing concern for the changes he has witnessed. Each chapter heading ominously lists the human world population, the atmospheric carbon level, and the estimated percentage of wilderness remaining in a certain year.
The brief second part, “What Lies Ahead”, serves as a bridge to the third part and introduces several important concepts. One is the Great Acceleration, the period following the 1950s in which our activity and impact on the environment ramped up tremendously. The other is the Planetary Boundaries model drawn up by Johan Rockström and colleagues, which I brought up in my previous review of Planetary Accounting. This Earth systems science framework demarcates a “safe operating space for humanity” by identifying nine planetary processes and systems with their boundary values, several of which we have exceeded with our actions. In just ten pages, the book then looks ahead to some likely environmental tipping points in our near future, such as forest dieback and permafrost melting. I was expecting a longer section along the lines of Lynas’s Our Final Warning and Wallace-Well’s The Uninhabitable Earth, but clearly, this book has no interest in dwelling on the catastrophes ahead.
This brings us to the vision for the future, which is where the question of authorship becomes increasingly blurred. At times I was not sure whether I was reading Attenborough’s voice or a WWF policy brief. The book takes the planetary boundaries model with its ecological ceiling and Kate Raworth’s modification known as the Doughnut model, which adds a social foundation to it, i.e. the minimum requirements for human well-being. It then outlines some of the changes required to significantly reduce our impact on the planet, leaning towards “green” and nature-based solutions aimed primarily at restoring biodiversity. The overall tone here is hopeful and the book hits many relevant points, though I have some criticism.
Let’s start with what I appreciated. First, and this feels like Attenborough speaking, it gets its philosophy right, tackling anthropocentrism: “We moved from being a part of nature to being apart from nature […] we need to reverse that transition” (p. 125). It also acknowledges the shifting baseline syndrome in the context of fisheries and beyond: how each generation takes an increasingly impoverished environment as the new normal. Right out of the gate it tackles the need to move beyond the paradigm of perpetual growth and abandon Gross Domestic Product as our prime measure of welfare. Agriculture will have to rely on far less land through solutions that are high-tech (e.g. hydroponic greenhouses run on renewable energy), or low-tech (e.g. a shift away from monocultures to something more approaching functional ecosystems via regenerative farming and the growing of mixed crops). Most important would be a change from a meat- to a plant-based diet. Attenborough again: “When I was young […] meat was a rare treat” (p. 169). We should want less stuff and require our things to be repairable and recyclable, moving ultimately towards a circular economy. This all ties in nicely, although it is not spelt out here, with an ethos of self-limitation that we need to reclaim.
Carbon capture will have to be achieved not by high-tech solutions, but by both reforestation on land and the farming of kelp forests in the sea (Ruth Kassinger already made the point in Slime that algae might just save the world). Both these solutions will help the massive rewilding efforts this book envisions: Marine Protected Areas will help fish populations to recover, resulting in sustainable fisheries, while on land more habitat will become available for wild animals. And, finally and importantly, the book tackles human population numbers, aiming for the humane solution of stabilising the world population as quickly as possible at 9–11 billion people by lifting people out of poverty and empowering women.
The holistic package proposed here, underpinned with examples of success stories from around the globe, almost makes it sound like we can have it all. Can we? The authors acknowledge that many of these transitions will not come easily and will require everyone to come together and cooperate (in itself a tall order). Where achievability is concerned, the devil is in the details, and I do feel that these are sometimes glossed over and that taboo subjects are avoided.
Take agriculture—there is no mention of the tremendous potential of genetically modified organisms. Similarly unmentioned regarding renewable energy is the concept of energy density and our reliance on increasingly energy-dense fuels as civilization progressed. There is no consideration of the tremendous amount of resources needed to build and maintain the necessary infrastructure. A combined solution of renewable and nuclear energy (admittedly a non-renewable) is considered a no-no. And though a circular economy is a step up from our linear system of produce-use-discard, you cannot endlessly recycle: a constant influx of virgin material is required. Not all metals can be economically recovered, nor all the compound materials we make unmade. Ever tried unfrying an egg? Entropy does not run that way.
The word “overpopulation” is studiously avoided, which is remarkable as Attenborough has been outspoken on the subject elsewhere (see this short explainer or the 2011 RSA President’s Lecture). The closest he gets to it here is when he writes that “we have overrun the Earth” (p. 100). Later, the possibility of a demographic transition to a declining world population is mentioned, but not the suggestion put forward by some that a lower world population of, say, 2–3 billion might be more sustainable. And though Attenborough points out increased longevity as a contributing factor, there is no examination of our relationship with death. Should we really direct all our efforts to maximising life span? At what cost, both environmental and quality-of-life-wise? And, lastly, the now-dominant narrative of female empowerment is only half the story and puts the onus squarely on their shoulders. Making contraception and abortion available to women is needed, but better still would be to prevent pregnancies by starting with male education. Condom, gentlemen?
Admittedly, I am arguing details here. Though they need serious consideration in my opinion, much of what is proposed here is sensible. A Life on Our Planet is very accessible and admirably concise. Its central message, that things cannot continue as they are, stands. If there is anyone who can communicate this to a wide audience, it is Sir David Attenborough. Some of the writing here will stick with you long after you have closed the book: “We often talk of saving the planet, but the truth is that we must do these things to save ourselves.” (p. 218). Here speaks a wise elder who, even at 94, indefatigably defends our environment.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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