Showing posts with label global warming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label global warming. Show all posts

Sunday, June 06, 2010

Tumorous Tarballs: June 6 Sunday BP Oil Spill Update

1. Western Panhandle.

Yesterday, the oil of doom reached Okaloosa Island, in Ft. Walton Beach. It's official: the entire 40-mile length of Santa Rosa Island, the second longest contiguous barrier island in the world, has now been thoroughly infected with BP's oil.

NOAA's oil-cast for the coming few days (above) shows the leading edge of the oil spill reaching all the way to Freeport. Panama City cannot be far behind, along with St. George's Island, Apalachicola's famed oyster beds, and soon Cedar Key.

2. Historical Endings.

These are all areas with sensitive wetlands, estuaries, and bayous. They have been one of planet Earth's major cradles of sea life for as long as Santa Rosa Island has been around, about five thousand years.
3. Tarball Tumors.

BP's massive oil spill invites the cancer metaphor. It's like an aggressive cancer, insidiously invading the body of Florida's panhandle.

The first signs are seemingly so benign, as we saw Friday; just tiny little orange droplets, easily overlooked. Not even enough to discourage swimmers or surfers.

Kimberly Blair's superior news report in today's PNJ captures the sense of it:
For the most part, beachgoers on Pensacola Beach seemed oblivious of various-sized tar balls washing up around them. They sat in chairs and spread out beach towels on top of the tar balls dotting the high-tide line and hiding in clumps of seaweed.

And parents didn't seem to mind their children playing and swimming near tar balls on the beach and in the surf.
Kevin Rhodes, 37, of Piedmont, Okla., helped his son, Carter, 2, dump buckets of sand into a big pile on the surf's edge, just inches from tar balls."I'm not concerned about them," he said.
Everything seems normal. Beach life goes on:
After a swim at Casino Beach, Brittanie Heuremann washed off her baby daughter, Paislie, in the public showers.

"It's nice out there," she said. "We're visiting from Houston. We were surprised to hear about tar balls here. But we didn't see any."

Then comes the shock and surprise, like suddenly discovering an unfamiliar lump on the body:

[O]ne of her family members, Heather Burkes, yelled out, "What's that?" when she discovered a quarter-sized spot of oil on her leg.
And the terror:
At the same time, a group of women ran to the sand near the showers and began grinding their feet in the sand trying to rub the tar balls off their feet.

Farther to the east, in front of the Hampton Inn, Darcy Roberston of Gulf Breeze pushed silver-dollar-sized blobs of oil around to make a smiley face in the sand. Then she lifted her foot to show the tar ball was stuck on her
Before you know it, the toxic oil slick and tumorous tarballs are spreading everywhere:
Like so many people, Emily Keith of Hattiesburg, Miss., wanted to enjoy Pensacola Beach one more time today before more oil spoiled the beach.

"I came out at 8 a.m. and saw an oil mat that looked like a chocolate-pudding pancake," she said while relaxing on a beach lounger behind the Hilton Pensacola Beach Gulf Front. "I came back at 11 a.m. and it, and other tar balls, were still here. "About 1 p.m., two or three cleanup teams swept through. They were wearing hazmat suits, heavy gloves and boots.
The cancer has spread so fast and so far that it overwhelms all remedies. No amount of healing efforts can stop it.
They just scooped it up and threw it in a trash bag. But they were passing up many other tar balls."

About a dozen bags with tar balls sat in a pile behind her waiting to be picked up
.
A quick cure is impossible:
[I]n what is expected to become the norm on the beach for some time, more tar balls continued washing in from the Gulf.
You know now that you are very, very sick. If survival is even possible, it will require painful, expensive treatments over a very long time. And all the while, there will be that temptation to deny it is happening to you:
He looked out over the Gulf and said, "I think the worse is yet to come. I don't want to believe it, though."
4. Healing the Gulf.

As with some cancers, perhaps time and extraordinary efforts eventually will heal the island. Certainly it will take at least decades, judging by the much smaller Exxon Valdez oil spill. For the sea life and wildlife of the Gulf coast, the answer is scientists just don't know. How much longer will it take to see the newly discovered coral reefs restored? The wetlands and bayous?

An even bigger question is whether this been a sufficient wake-up call for us to effectively address, at last, mankind's other great assault against nature, the rising sea levels due to global climate change? Even as the oil spill continues, the evidence mounts that the entire globe is warming, sea levels are rising, and the oceans are experiencing a diminished capacity to absorb carbon dioxide.

It's worth remembering the same "drill, baby, drill" personalities told us imminent climate change was a "myth" and mankind had nothing to do with it. If the BP oil spill does nothing else that's good, at least we can hope that, like a bad pap smear, it will shut up the deniers of reality who are so handsomely paid by oil companies and let us get on with healing the whole planet -- before the seas around Florida rise another six feet meters.


metric edit 6-06 pm

Sunday, June 15, 2008

A Floridian Flooded with Iowa Irony

We have more than merely a passing interest in the great Iowa floods. Among other things, we have an emotional investment in a painting that was hanging, at least until this week, in the foyer of Clapp Recital Hall on the campus of the University of Iowa in Iowa City.

The subject comes up because a Pensacola Beach friend writes to ask, 'Is any place safe?' This is our answer.

Quite a few years ago, we commissioned as a memorial a large acrylic painting depicting three of our family members. Our dad, our mom, and our brother. Each had died too young, each of different ailments. All three had been professional musicians for much of their adult lives and very well known locally in their day.

The artist we chose was Byron Burford. He had personally known each of our relatives very well and for a very long time.

Byron is highly regarded in Midwest and more academically oriented New York art circles. He studied under or alongside such notables as Grant Wood, Marvin Cone, Thomas Hart Benton, and others of the regionalist school. Indeed, until his retirement nearly two decades ago, he was a professor of painting in the same department that Grant Wood chaired for many years at the University of Iowa.

As the artist in charge, what Byron Burford conceived was a large painting depicting each of our loved ones at various ages -- just as he had known them himself over several decades. But he depicted them as if they were different people of different ages, all gathered together in a single nightclub jazz band.

We loved that painting. It hung in a prominent place in our home for many years before we relocated to Florida.

Eight months after moving to Pensacola Beach, Hurricane Opal (1995) struck. Our beach home weathered that storm relatively well. Better than most of our neighbors, in fact. But for the first time it dawned on us life-long 'Yankees' that hurricanes always would pose a potential threat to our lives and property as long as we lived in Florida. So, we took stock of what we couldn't bear to lose and made suitable arrangements.

One of those arrangements was to remove the canvas from its frame, carefully roll the painting, and store it away in what we judged to be the safest place in the house. Grabbing that rolled canvas when the time came for hurricane evacuation was always near the very top of our list -- right after saving the spouse and the dogs.

When Hurricane Ivan hit Pensacola Beach in 2004, we were shocked at how close we could have come to seeing the painting totally destroyed, anyway. Like most islanders, in the dismal aftermath of the storm we grew depressed and worried, wondering what to do with all the stuff we had managed to save, where to live next, what if anything to take with us if we decided to move, or whether to chuck all the books and the art and the nick-nicks and change our life style entirely.

Eventually, we decided to donate the painting to the University of Iowa in Iowa City. That's where our family members had been so well known, even locally famous, for their musical work and other prominent positions they held in the university community. We also figured that Iowa is just about as far away from hurricane country as one can get.

So, two years ago we had professional slides taken of the painting for our own use, in case we ever want to make a very large poster print. Then we paid for reframing it in a fancy "security" frame and sent the painting off to Iowa City after completing the usual charitable paperwork.

The university decided to hang it in the foyer of the new Clapp Music Hall which was being dedicated that Fall as the latest in a large complex of new music and art buildings on the banks of the west side of the Iowa River. Although we haven't been there yet to see it, we were told it was very prominently placed in the new entry hall and everyone was thrilled.

It was a huge relief to transfer the painting into safe hands. It lifted our spirits tremendously. Not only were we able to bask in the glow of certitude that the painting we loved so much was now safe, but we were surprised to discover that in giving it away our own load suddenly seemed so greatly lightened.

Today, we read that several of the music and art buildings on the University of Iowa campus, including Clapp Recital Hall, are threatened with severe and destructive flooding. A press report has it that at least one very rare, autographed concert piano already has been declared a total loss. Engineers there are worried that two or even three bridges may collapse, causing damage beyond comprehension.

We do not know what has happened to the painting. Almost all contact with university personnel and old friends there has been cut off either because they're out sandbagging day and night or because the raging river has overwhelmed local communications.

Moreover, the worst is yet to come. According to early Sunday news reports, water levels now inundating Iowa City aren't likely to crest until next Tuesday.

The irony is plain: we gave away a much beloved painting to save it from Gulf Coast hurricanes, only to watch helplessly as flooding Midwest rivers threaten to destroy it. If there is any obvious lesson in this, it is that nowhere is truly safe from the vagaries of nature or, for that matter, life itself. That might be the best answer we can give our beach friend.

But there is a subtler lesson, too. Quite likely, Thoreau had it right two centuries ago: one should own no more than the minimum necessities of life.
Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind. With respect to luxuries and comforts, the wisest have ever lived a more simple and meagre life than the poor.
Maybe the 'consumer culture' America has created is beginning to consume us. As we learned after Ivan, and Iowans will learn after the floods, even one's most precious sentimental belongings matter not at all, really, compared with the lives of friends and loved ones and the memories we have of those we have loved. Things possessed matter not at all, in the end.

We know this intellectually, of course. And we treasure our memories. Yet, for some reason, we still can't help wondering what has happened to that painting.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Thoughts About the Deluge

The Iowa floods are truly of historic dimension. Even Digby is wowed.

"Far be it for me," she says, "to bring up the Obalglay Armingway, but this seems really bad."

Indeed, it is. Pensacola residents, with their recent history of violent hurricanes fresh in mind, can relate. But the kind and extent of flooding we're seeing in the Midwest is, if anything, even more devastating than Ivan and Dennis.

Iowa (from the Mesquakie word for "beautiful land") is blessed with many rivers and streams, as the NOAH map, above, illustrates. We happened to be hanging around there in '93 when the worst floods in that state's recorded history inundated Iowa and neighboring states downstream along the Mississippi River all the way to New Orleans.

For a very long time that year Des Moines, a metropolitan area at least three times the size of greater Pensacola, lost all of the most basic municipal infrastructures we tend to take for granted: electric power, passable streets and bridges, sewer and garbage service, readily available food, and potable water. Without those, surviving became a huge challenge every day.

Ironically, it was the lack of potable water that quickly became the most frightening. The Des Moines municipal water plant was knocked out for ten days back in 1993. For a week and a half, nearly half a million people had only what rainwater they could catch and occasional Army Reserve water distribution trucks ("bring your own containers") for all their needs. Half the city took showers outside, under the eaves. The other half didn't take them at all.

Judging from news reports, the flood levels in most Iowa communities this year are twice as high as in '93. Although it may be true, as one local described it to us today, that the Des Moines water plant is now a "fortress" that cannot be inundated again, other cities haven't had the foresight or the means to protect against renewed flooding of the biblical dimensions they're seeing today. They have to extemporize.

And when extemporizing, one can get desperate. Among the strangest stories of the Great Iowa Floods of '08 is this, from the Cedar Rapids Gazette:

In hopes of keeping the raging Cedar River from washing away a railway bridge, on Tuesday evening local railway company officials "placed about 20 rail hopper cars loaded with rock on the span." The river rose, and rose, and rose some more. Then --
The Cedar Rapids and Iowa City Railway Co. bridge downstream from the Eighth Avenue bridge collapsed into the river at 9:43 a.m. *** The hopper cars are in the river now, too, the railway reports.
Here's a photo of the aftermath:

Northwest Florida residents can relate to what's happening in Iowa perhaps better than most. Severe hurricanes disrupt and threaten life in much the same way. So, too, can out of control fires in the West. And, for that matter, killer blizzards in the North and East.

Now that it's evident we're all in this together, can we at last dispense with the pointless carping about the "moral hazard" of living here, or there, or over yonder? No one is proof against disaster, whether natural or man-made. Everyone is as likely as not to be in need of help from his fellow citizens at some time or another.

Today, it's our distant fellow citizens in the Midwest who need an extra hand. Tomorrow, it could be us.

Watching the Iowa Floods

Monday, December 10, 2007

Al Gore's Nobel Speech (Video and Text)

(22 min.)

(prepared text)
SPEECH BY AL GORE ON THE ACCEPTANCE
OF THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE
DECEMBER 10, 2007
OSLO, NORWAY

Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Honorable members of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, Excellencies, Ladies and gentlemen.

I have a purpose here today. It is a purpose I have tried to serve for many years. I have prayed that God would show me a way to accomplish it.

Sometimes, without warning, the future knocks on our door with a precious and painful vision of what might be. One hundred and nineteen years ago, a wealthy inventor read his own obituary, mistakenly published years before his death. Wrongly believing the inventor had just died, a newspaper printed a harsh judgment of his life's work, unfairly labeling him "The Merchant of Death" because of his invention -- dynamite. Shaken by this condemnation, the inventor made a fateful choice to serve the cause of peace.

Seven years later, Alfred Nobel created this prize and the others that bear his name.

Seven years ago tomorrow, I read my own political obituary in a judgment that seemed to me harsh and mistaken -- if not premature. But that unwelcome verdict also brought a precious if painful gift: an opportunity to search for fresh new ways to serve my purpose.

Unexpectedly, that quest has brought me here. Even though I fear my words cannot match this moment, I pray what I am feeling in my heart will be communicated clearly enough that those who hear me will say, "We must act."

The distinguished scientists with whom it is the greatest honor of my life to share this award have laid before us a choice between two different futures -- a choice that to my ears echoes the words of an ancient prophet: "Life or death, blessings or curses. Therefore, choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live."

We, the human species, are confronting a planetary emergency -- a threat to the survival of our civilization that is gathering ominous and destructive potential even as we gather here. But there is hopeful news as well: we have the ability to solve this crisis and avoid the worst -- though not all -- of its consequences, if we act boldly, decisively and quickly.

However, despite a growing number of honorable exceptions, too many of the world's leaders are still best described in the words Winston Churchill applied to those who ignored Adolf Hitler's threat: "They go on in strange paradox, decided only to be undecided, resolved to be irresolute, adamant for drift, solid for fluidity, all powerful to be impotent."

So today, we dumped another 70 million tons of global-warming pollution into the thin shell of atmosphere surrounding our planet, as if it were an open sewer. And tomorrow, we will dump a slightly larger amount, with the cumulative concentrations now trapping more and more heat from the sun.

As a result, the earth has a fever. And the fever is rising. The experts have told us it is not a passing affliction that will heal by itself. We asked for a second opinion. And a third. And a fourth. And the consistent conclusion, restated with increasing alarm, is that something basic is wrong.

We are what is wrong, and we must make it right.

Last September 21, as the Northern Hemisphere tilted away from the sun, scientists reported with unprecedented distress that the North Polar ice cap is "falling off a cliff." One study estimated that it could be completely gone during summer in less than 22 years. Another new study, to be presented by U.S. Navy researchers later this week, warns it could happen in as little as 7 years.

Seven years from now.

In the last few months, it has been harder and harder to misinterpret the signs that our world is spinning out of kilter. Major cities in North and South America, Asia and Australia are nearly out of water due to massive droughts and melting glaciers. Desperate farmers are losing their livelihoods. Peoples in the frozen Arctic and on low-lying Pacific islands are planning evacuations of places they have long called home. Unprecedented wildfires have forced a half million people from their homes in one country and caused a national emergency that almost brought down the government in another. Climate refugees have migrated into areas already inhabited by people with different cultures, religions, and traditions, increasing the potential for conflict. Stronger storms in the Pacific and Atlantic have threatened whole cities. Millions have been displaced by massive flooding in South Asia, Mexico, and 18 countries in Africa. As temperature extremes have increased, tens of thousands have lost their lives. We are recklessly burning and clearing our forests and driving more and more species into extinction. The very web of life on which we depend is being ripped and frayed.

We never intended to cause all this destruction, just as Alfred Nobel never intended that dynamite be used for waging war. He had hoped his invention would promote human progress. We shared that same worthy goal when we began burning massive quantities of coal, then oil and methane.

Even in Nobel's time, there were a few warnings of the likely consequences. One of the very first winners of the Prize in chemistry worried that, "We are evaporating our coal mines into the air." After performing 10,000 equations by hand, Svante Arrhenius calculated that the earth's average temperature would increase by many degrees if we doubled the amount of CO2 in the atmosphere.

Seventy years later, my teacher, Roger Revelle, and his colleague, Dave Keeling, began to precisely document the increasing CO2 levels day by day.

But unlike most other forms of pollution, CO2 is invisible, tasteless, and odorless -- which has helped keep the truth about what it is doing to our climate out of sight and out of mind. Moreover, the catastrophe now threatening us is unprecedented -- and we often confuse the unprecedented with the improbable.

We also find it hard to imagine making the massive changes that are now necessary to solve the crisis. And when large truths are genuinely inconvenient, whole societies can, at least for a time, ignore them. Yet as George Orwell reminds us: "Sooner or later a false belief bumps up against solid reality, usually on a battlefield."

In the years since this prize was first awarded, the entire relationship between humankind and the earth has been radically transformed. And still, we have remained largely oblivious to the impact of our cumulative actions.

Indeed, without realizing it, we have begun to wage war on the earth itself. Now, we and the earth's climate are locked in a relationship familiar to war planners: "Mutually assured destruction."

More than two decades ago, scientists calculated that nuclear war could throw so much debris and smoke into the air that it would block life-giving sunlight from our atmosphere, causing a "nuclear winter." Their eloquent warnings here in Oslo helped galvanize the world's resolve to halt the nuclear arms race.

Now science is warning us that if we do not quickly reduce the global warming pollution that is trapping so much of the heat our planet normally radiates back out of the atmosphere, we are in danger of creating a permanent "carbon summer."

As the American poet Robert Frost wrote, "Some say the world will end in fire; some say in ice."
Either, he notes, "would suffice."

But neither need be our fate. It is time to make peace with the planet.

We must quickly mobilize our civilization with the urgency and resolve that has previously been seen only when nations mobilized for war. These prior struggles for survival were won when leaders found words at the 11th hour that released a mighty surge of courage, hope and readiness to sacrifice for a protracted and mortal challenge.

These were not comforting and misleading assurances that the threat was not real or imminent; that it would affect others but not ourselves; that ordinary life might be lived even in the presence of extraordinary threat; that Providence could be trusted to do for us what we would not do for ourselves.

No, these were calls to come to the defense of the common future. They were calls upon the courage, generosity and strength of entire peoples, citizens of every class and condition who were ready to stand against the threat once asked to do so. Our enemies in those times calculated that free people would not rise to the challenge; they were, of course, catastrophically wrong.

Now comes the threat of climate crisis -- a threat that is real, rising, imminent, and universal. Once again, it is the 11th hour. The penalties for ignoring this challenge are immense and growing, and at some near point would be unsustainable and unrecoverable. For now we still have the power to choose our fate, and the remaining question is only this: Have we the will to act vigorously and in time, or will we remain imprisoned by a dangerous illusion?

Mahatma Gandhi awakened the largest democracy on earth and forged a shared resolve with what he called "Satyagraha" -- or "truth force."

In every land, the truth -- once known -- has the power to set us free.

Truth also has the power to unite us and bridge the distance between "me" and "we," creating the basis for common effort and shared responsibility.

There is an African proverb that says, "If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together." We need to go far, quickly.

We must abandon the conceit that individual, isolated, private actions are the answer. They can and do help. But they will not take us far enough without collective action. At the same time, we must ensure that in mobilizing globally, we do not invite the establishment of ideological conformity and a new lock-step 'ism.'

That means adopting principles, values, laws, and treaties that release creativity and initiative at every level of society in multifold responses originating concurrently and spontaneously.

This new consciousness requires expanding the possibilities inherent in all humanity. The innovators who will devise a new way to harness the sun's energy for pennies or invent an engine that's carbon negative may live in Lagos or Mumbai or Montevideo. We must ensure that entrepreneurs and inventors everywhere on the globe have the chance to change the world.

When we unite for a moral purpose that is manifestly good and true, the spiritual energy unleashed can transform us. The generation that defeated fascism throughout the world in the 1940s found, in rising to meet their awesome challenge, that they had gained the moral authority and long-term vision to launch the Marshall Plan, the United Nations, and a new level of global cooperation and foresight that unified Europe and facilitated the emergence of democracy and prosperity in Germany, Japan, Italy and much of the world. One of their visionary leaders said, "It is time we steered by the stars and not by the lights of every passing ship."

In the last year of that war, you gave the Peace Prize to a man from my hometown of 2000 people, Carthage, Tennessee. Cordell Hull was described by Franklin Roosevelt as the "Father of the United Nations." He was an inspiration and hero to my own father, who followed Hull in the Congress and the U.S. Senate and in his commitment to world peace and global cooperation.

My parents spoke often of Hull, always in tones of reverence and admiration. Eight weeks ago, when you announced this prize, the deepest emotion I felt was when I saw the headline in my hometown paper that simply noted I had won the same prize that Cordell Hull had won. In that moment, I knew what my father and mother would have felt were they alive.

Just as Hull's generation found moral authority in rising to solve the world crisis caused by fascism, so too can we find our greatest opportunity in rising to solve the climate crisis. In the Kanji characters used in both Chinese and Japanese, "crisis" is written with two symbols, the first meaning "danger," the second "opportunity." By facing and removing the danger of the climate crisis, we have the opportunity to gain the moral authority and vision to vastly increase our own capacity to solve other crises that have been too long ignored.

We must understand the connections between the climate crisis and the afflictions of poverty, hunger, HIV-Aids and other pandemics. As these problems are linked, so too must be their solutions. We must begin by making the common rescue of the global environment the central organizing principle of the world community.

Fifteen years ago, I made that case at the "Earth Summit" in Rio de Janeiro. Ten years ago, I presented it in Kyoto. This week, I will urge the delegates in Bali to adopt a bold mandate for a treaty that establishes a universal global cap on emissions and uses the market in emissions trading to efficiently allocate resources to the most effective opportunities for speedy reductions.

This treaty should be ratified and brought into effect everywhere in the world by the beginning of 2010 -- two years sooner than presently contemplated. The pace of our response must be accelerated to match the accelerating pace of the crisis itself.

Heads of state should meet early next year to review what was accomplished in Bali and take personal responsibility for addressing this crisis. It is not unreasonable to ask, given the gravity of our circumstances, that these heads of state meet every three months until the treaty is completed.

We also need a moratorium on the construction of any new generating facility that burns coal without the capacity to safely trap and store carbon dioxide.

And most important of all, we need to put a price on carbon -- with a CO2 tax that is then rebated back to the people, progressively, according to the laws of each nation, in ways that shift the burden of taxation from employment to pollution. This is by far the most effective and simplest way to accelerate solutions to this crisis.

The world needs an alliance -- especially of those nations that weigh heaviest in the scales where earth is in the balance. I salute Europe and Japan for the steps they've taken in recent years to meet the challenge, and the new government in Australia, which has made solving the climate crisis its first priority.

But the outcome will be decisively influenced by two nations that are now failing to do enough: the United States and China. While India is also growing fast in importance, it should be absolutely clear that it is the two largest CO2 emitters -- most of all, my own country -- that will need to make the boldest moves, or stand accountable before history for their failure to act.

Both countries should stop using the other's behavior as an excuse for stalemate and instead develop an agenda for mutual survival in a shared global environment.

These are the last few years of decision, but they can be the first years of a bright and hopeful future if we do what we must. No one should believe a solution will be found without effort, without cost, without change. Let us acknowledge that if we wish to redeem squandered time and speak again with moral authority, then these are the hard truths:

The way ahead is difficult. The outer boundary of what we currently believe is feasible is still far short of what we actually must do. Moreover, between here and there, across the unknown, falls the shadow.

That is just another way of saying that we have to expand the boundaries of what is possible. In the words of the Spanish poet, Antonio Machado, "Pathwalker, there is no path. You must make the path as you walk."

We are standing at the most fateful fork in that path. So I want to end as I began, with a vision of two futures -- each a palpable possibility -- and with a prayer that we will see with vivid clarity the necessity of choosing between those two futures, and the urgency of making the right choice now.

The great Norwegian playwright, Henrik Ibsen, wrote, "One of these days, the younger generation will come knocking at my door."

The future is knocking at our door right now. Make no mistake, the next generation will ask us one of two questions. Either they will ask: "What were you thinking; why didn't you act?"

Or they will ask instead: "How did you find the moral courage to rise and successfully resolve a crisis that so many said was impossible to solve?"

We have everything we need to get started, save perhaps political will, but political will is a renewable resource.

So let us renew it, and say together: "We have a purpose. We are many. For this purpose we will rise, and we will act."

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Convenient Meet-up Saturday

We've mentioned it before. In fact, we've raved about David Guggenheim's documentary -- often mistakenly called the 'Al Gore documentary' -- titled "An Inconvenient Truth."

Saturday, nearly 50 local residents -- one of them could be you -- have the chance to see the film for free by accepting one of three invitations to a Moveon.org meet-up in a private home of volunteer hosts here in Northwest Florida: Deborah Moore (Gulf Breeze), Robert N. Suberi (Orange Beach), or Susan (Destin).

The local "meet ups" are part of nearly 1,700 simultaneous showings in private homes taking place this weekend across the nation. Not only does it give you the chance to see a riveting, informative, and entertaining presentation about global warming, but you'll have the opportunity to make new friends who share similar concerns and values.

If you live somewhere other than Northwest Florida, you can cadge an invitation to a Saturday showing nearest your zip code by clicking here.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Opening: An Inconvenient Truth

"An Inconvenient Truth, based on a slide show Gore developed and has given for years, is part documentary, part dark comedy and part horror thriller."
---
"The temptation to reject the truth and try to manufacture your own reality is what got us into Iraq—it’s what got us into these deficits. At some point, reality has its day."
-- Al Gore, Newsweek, Apr. 28, 2006
It isn't happening here in Pensacola. Not yet, anyway.

But the David Guggenheim documentary An Inconvenient Truth, opens today in major cities across the nation. Here are some comments among the multitude who have seen the film in previews and at Cannes this past week:

Andrew O'Hehir in Salon, Tuesday, May 23: "'An Inconvenient Truth,' the striking and surprisingly endearing film about Gore's global-warming crusade made by director Davis Guggenheim, in a day or two."

A. O. Scott, New York Times movie review:
"[T]he movie is not about [Al Gore]. He is, rather, the surprisingly engaging vehicle for some very disturbing information. His explanations of complex environmental phenomena — the jet stream has always been a particularly tough one for me to grasp — are clear, and while some of the visual aids are a little corny, most of the images are stark, illuminating and powerful.

"I can't think of another movie in which the display of a graph elicited gasps of horror, but when the red lines showing the increasing rates of carbon-dioxide emissions and the corresponding rise in temperatures come on screen, the effect is jolting and chilling. Photographs of receding ice fields and glaciers — consequences of climate change that have already taken place — are as disturbing as speculative maps of submerged coastlines. The news of increased hurricane activity and warming oceans is all the more alarming for being delivered in Mr. Gore's matter-of-fact, scholarly tone."

Margaret Carlson of Bloomberg News Service:
"[M]uch of what Gore said in his 1993 book, 'Earth in the Balance,' has proven prophetic. His prescriptions -- increased mileage standards, wind power, appliances rated by the energy efficiency, hybrid cars -- are more practical than anything the government has done lately and are now widely accepted, even by the industries that fought them.

* * *
"Translated to film, 'An Inconvenient Truth'' -- part slide show, part home movie, part freshmen lecture hall -- is never going to be confused with 'The DaVinci Code' with which it shared billing at the 59th Cannes Film Festival this weekend. But it is important, if not always entertaining. It doesn't have the polemics or histrionics of Michael Moore's 'Fahrenheit 911.'' It's NPR, not 'CSI Miami.'

* * *
"It's short and pithy, what Gore's speeches often weren't. The visuals are simple. He drives home the point that there's no factual dispute over global warning. A Science magazine survey of all peer-reviewed studies on climate change showed that of the 928 independent studies done to date, (those not paid for by industry) all concluded that global warming is a real and growing threat.

"There are no independent studies saying otherwise. Yet stories sampled from newspapers, television and magazines, show that 53 percent suggest global warming is unproven.

"In that way, global warming is much like the evidence that tobacco caused lung cancer. For decades it was greeted by the industry, politicians, doctors paid to do ads and the media with unwarranted skepticism -- until everyone accepted that smoking makes you deathly ill.

* * *
"The movie comes at a time when some pundits (including me) might wonder if we should give a rest to that old saw about likeability. Maybe Americans prefer to have a beer and burger with the charming frat boy to the student who always does his homework. But is that a wise basis for choosing a president?

"With all the needless death from a ill-conceived war, the wasteful corruption of sweetheart contracts in Iraq and New Orleans, debt and deficits as far as the eye can see, gas prices through the roof with no energy policy in sight, and with a president who delegates to incompetents and cronies, I'm ready to give the class nerd his due and raise a glass to a serious man. Here's to you, Al and a huge box-office gross."

Related Links

Eleanor Clift's Interview with Al Gore

Post-Ivan Civic Recovery


The Alliance for Climate Protection