Space junk is classified by NASA according to whether it is of natural or artificial origin, with the latter defined as ‘any man-made object in orbit around the Earth which no longer serves a useful function’. But how does space junk affect the environment and us? The accumulation of space junk poses a particularly catastrophic threat to humankind’s future in space exploration, due to increased risk of collision with and damage to functioning satellites. It could also have detrimental effects on Earth’s environment.  

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What is Space Junk?

Artificial, or orbital, space junk consists of objects ranging from paint flecks from functioning space stations, to those as large as decades-old, inoperative spacecraft. As of August 2021, the European Space Agency (ESA) reports that approximately 29,210 pieces of debris are tracked on a regular basis by Space Surveillance Networks. Statistically, however, the numbers are likely to be much higher. The count of artificial objects in orbit around the Earth that are greater than 10cm in length is likely to be approximately 34,000, with approximately 900,000 objects between 1cm and 10cm. For those objects between 1mm and 1cm, the count is some 128 million. Consequently, the sheer number of these objects currently in orbit, and their potential to slam into other objects at speeds of up to 5 miles per second, means that the risk of causing serious damage to functioning spacecraft is significant. In 2006, the International Space Station’s (ISS) fused-silica and borosilicate-glass fortified window suffered a 7mm chip due to an impact from a piece of space debris no larger than thousandths of a millimetre across. It is easy to see the threat posed by much larger objects. 

A single collision can generate thousands of particles of space trash. In 2009, the inactive Russian satellite Cosmos 2251 collided with the active American communication satellite Iridium 33 approximately 804 kms above Siberia, resulting in approximately 2,000 pieces of debris at least 10cm in diameter, and thousands more smaller pieces, entering the Earth’s atmosphere. It is estimated that over 50% of the debris from Iridium 33 will remain in orbit for at least a century, and that of Cosmos 2251 for at least 20 to 30 years. 

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Space Pollution Effects and Impact of Space Debris 

Most space junk is located in what is known as low Earth orbit – the zone within approximately 2,011 km of the planet’s surface, and in which many satellites, such as the ISS and NASA’s Earth Observing Fleet System, operate. Effects of space debris can be significant; allowing space junk to accumulate, and henceforth increase the risk of further collisions similar to that of Iridium 33 and Cosmos 2251, poses a great risk to the possibility of future space exploration. 

The >4700 launches that have been conducted across the globe since Sputnik 1 in 1957 have resulted in a steep upward trend in material mass in Earth orbit, which has exceeded 700 metric tons and shows no signs of relenting. According to computer simulations focusing on the next 200 years, over this time debris larger than approximately 20 cm across will multiply 1.5 times. Debris between 10 inches and 20 cm is set to multiply 3.2 times, and debris smaller than 10 cm will increase by a factor of 13 to 20. The risk this poses to satellites such as the ISS, which as of 2016 has had to perform 25 debris collision avoidance manoeuvres since 1999, is considerable. 

The problem is not confined to the risk posed to space exploration. A proportion of the space junk in low Earth orbit will gradually lose altitude and burn up in Earth’s atmosphere; larger debris, however, can occasionally impact with Earth and have detrimental effects on the environment. For example, debris from Russian Proton rockets, launched from the Baikonur cosmodrome in Kazakhstan, litters the Altai region of eastern Siberia. This includes debris from old fuel tanks containing highly toxic fuel residue, unsymmetrical dimethylhydrazine (UDMH), a carcinogen which is harmful to plants and animals. While efforts are made to contain fallout from launches within a specified area, it is extremely difficult to achieve completely. 

Anatoly Kuzin, deputy director of Khrunichev State Research and Production Space Centre, which manufactures Proton rockets, maintains that thorough testing shows no correlation between reported illnesses in affected areas and the rocket launches. Testimonies from locals, however, refer to a disproportionate number of cancer cases in the area which many believe is related to the UDMH in the fuel tank debris; in 2007, 27 people were hospitalised in the Ust-Kansky District of Altai with cancer-related complications, many of them citing the rocket fuel as the suspected cause. 

Efforts to tackle the problem started in the 1990s, with NASA’s orbital debris mitigation policy and guidelines. The U.S. National Space Policy of 2006 and 2010 emphasises the necessity to implement the U.S. Government Orbital Debris Mitigation Standard Practices, which prioritise debris-release control, selection of safe flight profile and operational configuration, and the secure disposal of space apparatus after a mission. 2002 saw the first internationally-recognised standard consensus on orbital debris mitigation guidelines, but in place by the Inter-Agency Space Debris Coordination Committee. 

However, head of the ESA’s space-debris office in Germany, Holger Krag, estimates that only half of all space emissions abide by these guidelines. The introduction of mega-constellations – mass groupings of artificial satellites – into low Earth orbit, Krag warns, will bring the need to remove failed satellites from space, on which most companies will not want to spend money. NASA warns against the accumulation of mega-constellations and miniature satellites such as CubeSats, which will do nothing to alleviate the growing problem. 

In May 2020, economists at the University of Colorado Boulder proposed attaching an annual fee, rising 14% per year, to each satellite put into orbit in the hope that the fee might discourage the unnecessary accumulation of space junk. Other measures proposed over the years have included removal of large pieces of debris with instruments such as harpoons and lasers, the development of self-removing satellites, and the coating of satellites in polymeric foam, to allow them to descend into the Earth’s atmosphere and burn up. As yet, however, there is no universally recognised solution to the problem. More spaceflight companies must adhere to the guidelines set out by the Inter-Agency Space Debris Coordination Committee, and it is vital that the movement to reduce future accumulation of space junk becomes a more cohesive, vigorous effort.

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In 2011, construction of the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD), located in the Benishangul-Gumuz region of Ethiopia, began. The dam, whose location and construction are Ethiopian, is controversial in Egypt, which is concerned about reductions the dam may cause to water supply downstream. The GERD’s construction has led to tensions between Ethiopia, Egypt and neighbouring Sudan, with disputes over water supply threatening to delay the dam’s completion. This leads to an important consideration- as water shortages loom around the world, how can countries share water?

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85% of the River Nile flows through Ethiopia, while Egypt depends on the Nile for 90% of its water-related needs. The dam project is managed by Ethiopian Electric Power Corporation.

Tensions between Egypt, Sudan and Ethiopia are, as yet, unresolved, particularly as Ethiopia prepares to begin the operation of two of its sixteen turbines later this year.

Egypt’s reliance on the Nile’s waters is due to water scarcity in the country. A treaty in 1929 granted Egypt and Sudan the rights to most of the Nile’s water and, crucially, granted Egypt the power to veto any projects by upstream countries that would affect Egypt’s share of the Nile. Egypt is reluctant to relinquish its control of the Nile, as the downstream flow of the river will be affected by the dam. Its worries are that the Lake Nasser reservoir, located behind the Egyptian Aswan Dam (itself possessing under half the power capacity of the GERD), will be affected by a diminished water flow, and that this will in turn affect the Nile’s scarce water supply to Egypt – the only primary source of water for Egyptian citizens. Transport on the Nile could also be disturbed if the water level recedes too much and farmers can no longer depend on the Nile for irrigation. Sudan has similar worries about the effects of the dam on its Roseires Dam. 

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All this should be balanced with the benefits of the dam, however. The government of Ethiopia argues that the GERD will boost its economic and energy security, doubling its power capacity and ensuring its status as a competitive East African energy exporter.  Meanwhile, Ethiopia is a landlocked country, with little access to groundwater resources, aquifers or seawater. The risk of famine, caused by climate change and drought, is pervasive, and almost 60% of the population has no access to power, with the small amount available obtained from biomass.

Despite the dam’s benefits, the conflict centres around the fact that Egypt relies on the Nile for a vast majority of its fresh water, which must serve a rapidly expanding population of approximately 100 million. It is largely desert, meaning it imports around half of its food and recycles around 25 billion cubic metres of water every year. Droughts such as those seen in the Nile Basin in the 1970s and 1980s could cause devastating job losses and affect USD$1.8 billion in annual economic production.

A similar scenario befell Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay in the 1970s; the Itaipu Dam project initiated by Brazil and Paraguay on the Paraná River provoked significant resistance from downstream Argentina, which was concerned about its water supply. The solution to the problem came in 1979, with the Acuerdo Tripartito (Tripartite Agreement) signed by all three countries. The treaty established regulated water level changes and agreed environmental protection and water quality initiatives. Compliance monitoring safeguarding measures were also put in place, with information exchange prioritised. 

The continuing disputes concerning the GERD could be resolved by learning lessons from the Itaipu Dam. The conflict between Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay demonstrates the need for stable, methodical communication between all parties involved. The implementation of treaties and international law is crucial in avoiding delays to what could be environmentally-beneficial projects, and in preventing an escalation of conflict. 

Featured image by: Flickr 

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Current average rates of warming in the Arctic are approximately double those of the rest of the world, while regional variation accounts for certain areas warming even faster than this. Novembers in the town of Utqiaġvik, Alaska, are around 5.5C warmer than they were in 1979, compared to the average increase of 1C of the globe’s temperature since the Industrial Revolution. Climate change in the Arctic results in much collateral damage in terms of its impact on wildlife, geography and the rest of the world. Its impact on the indigenous communities of the Arctic, however, is just as significant, and yet is often neglected in the wider discourse surrounding climate change. 

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The effects of climate change on the Labrador region of Canada and its Inuit population are pertinent case studies. The coast is seeing ocean temperatures rise at unprecedented rates, while Labrador’s sea ice coverage has decreased by a third over the past decade. Meanwhile, winters in the region have shortened by an average of about six weeks. This erratic climatic behaviour in the Arctic is having serious consequences for the indigenous Inuit communities, who are increasingly having to abandon centuries of ingrained customs and ways of life to adapt to the changing conditions. 

For example, travel is made increasingly difficult due to the premature thawing of lakes, rivers and sea ice, with certain traditional travel routes now unreachable. A study of Inuit peoples in the eastern Canadian Arctic by the University of Leeds found that these communities rely on trails on sea ice, rivers and frozen ground for travelling between settlements to traditional hunting grounds and to places of cultural importance. Such journeys are typically taken by snowmobile; however, the ice is becoming too thin in places to support such a machine. In 2019, the island community of Diomede were forced to abandon their traditional use of an ice runway and instead use a helicopter for travel off the island since the ice had become too thin. 

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It is possible that having to adapt so quickly to changing environmental conditions could also have a detrimental effect on Inuit mental health: Ashlee Cunsolo, director of the Labrador Institute, one of the key researchers looking into climate change and mental health, notes higher levels of depression and anxiety in such communities. 

Rapid changes to the climate in Labrador have also resulted in difficulties in catching food, an important aspect of Inuit life.  This is due to reduced access to the wildlife the Inuit have always relied on as a result of climate change-induced impacts on weather, ice and permafrost in the region. Traditionally, trappers and hunters have relied on the land and natural sources of food to provide for their families, however, communities are beginning to rely more on processed foods. This will have knock-on effects on Inuit health, which is also being threatened by the introduction of new contaminants and species into the Arctic due to shifting air and water currents. These have alarming implications for the spread of new diseases. There is a concern that zoonotic diseases – those transmissible between humans and animals, like COVID-19 – will increase in the Arctic as temperatures continue to rise, as higher temperatures and levels of precipitation are ideal conditions for infectious diseases to spread. This could result from new contact between previously isolated species as snow or sea ice reduces due to rapid melting. 

The threat of increased disease transmission in the Arctic does not lie solely in contact between different species, however. Dr. Vladimir Romanovsky, Professor of Geophysics at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, is concerned that rising temperatures in the Arctic could release viruses from thawing permafrost, which have survived for perhaps thousands of years in a frozen state. According to Romanovsky, permafrost is already thawing at rapid rates in northern Canada. Meanwhile, virologist Dr. Jean-Michel Claverie confirmed that viruses can survive in permafrost for perhaps thousands of years. In 2005, scientists at NASA were able to successfully revive bacteria that had been frozen in Alaska for 32 000 years. Meanwhile, in 2016, a 12-year-old Siberian boy died after being infected with anthrax, the suspected result of a frozen reindeer who had contracted anthrax over 75 years ago. Its body, frozen under a layer of permafrost, was most likely exposed during a heatwave in the region in summer 2016. Dr. Claverie points out that “the real danger is not the thawing of permafrost per se . . . it’s that humans are now starting to exploit the Arctic regions, and are making big holes by which to excavate layers [of] permafrost that are up to a million years old. This is a recipe for disaster because you have humans here and you have the virus when it is fresh.” The indigenous communities of locations targeted for Arctic exploration and exploitation could be severely threatened in the event of a virus being released from permafrost. 

Thawing permafrost also poses a serious problem for the foundations of infrastructure. Buildings constructed on frozen ground are increasingly weakened as a result of thawing permafrost, particularly older buildings constructed in a time when climate change was not a significant threat. For example, in the northern Russian city of Norilsk, approximately 60% of all buildings have been ‘deformed’ as a result of thawing permafrost as of 2016, according to the regional emergencies ministry. Meanwhile, in June 2020, a fuel tank in Russia collapsed due to thawing permafrost and out-of-date facilities, causing the spillage of 20 000 tons of diesel into Arctic ecosystems. The deteriorating state of such buildings creates a vicious cycle in terms of government funding: resources which could otherwise have been dedicated to creating new infrastructure are being diverted to maintain weakened buildings. In addition to buildings, permafrost degradation can also lead to cracked roads, flooding hazards and ultimately to forced migration as conditions become unsuitable for habitation. 

Indigenous communities in the Arctic Circle are facing widespread disruption to their everyday life as a result of climate change. Their traditional ways of life, infrastructure and mental health are threatened as warming rates in the Arctic accelerate beyond those of the rest of the world. Degrading permafrost poses a particularly grave threat to the wellbeing of these communities, threatening the safety of buildings and leading to the relocation of entire villages which are slowly sinking into the melting permafrost. A recent example is that of the Alaskan village of Newtok, whose residents were recently forced to relocate ten miles away to the new village of Mertarvik due to the flooding risks and erosion, direct results of permafrost degradation that have ravaged Newtok over the past twenty years. The failure of the rest of the world to reduce emissions is making climate refugees of the Arctic Inuit people, and it is the responsibility of nations around the world to implement policies with the purpose of tackling climate change head-on, and reducing the threats posed to these communities.

Featured image by: Flickr 

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The long-term environmental consequences of political repression can be just as devastating as the more immediate humanitarian implications amongst the affected populations. A pertinent case study is that of Zimbabwe, whose chaotic transition of power from Robert Mugabe to President Emmerson Mnangagwa led to the country being described by journalist Henry Munangatire as “a poster child for the link between authoritarianism and environmental degradation.”

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Since former president Robert Mugabe was overthrown in 2017, the country has been under the rule of President Emmerson Mnangagwa. As a result of his actions, combined with the legacy of Mugabe, Zimbabwe has entered a hunger crisis, with approximately 8.6 million Zimbabweans classed as “food insecure.” This accounts for around 60% of Zimbabwe’s total population. This insecurity has worsened as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic. Mnangagwa’s presidency and his political activities has done little to remedy the severe environmental consequences of Mugabe’s poor economic management, examples of which will be examined below.

The Forestry Commission of Zimbabwe estimates that 330 000 hectares of forestland is being lost each year, with a 9% drop in the total forest and woodland cover since 2014. This has contributed to a decrease in annual rainfall in Zimbabwe over the last ten years; twice as much rain is produced by air that passes over woodland than air that does not. Zimbabwe is located in such a position in the tropics that it is vulnerable to changing patterns in rainfall, making it susceptible to droughts. These droughts, along with the effects of heavy rainfall, exacerbated the consequences of Robert Mugabe’s land reforms during the early 2000s; land was seized from farmers and redistributed among senior party officials and small producers, and agricultural output had fallen by over 50% by 2013. Aggravated by the droughts, this has fuelled the current hunger crisis.

Munangatire also refers to “the politicisation of basic services” in Zimbabwe, citing the government’s ‘intentional’ failure to manage urban waste management and water supplies. He argues that the motivation behind this is to remove power from the opposition party, Movement for Democratic Change Alliance (MDC-A), which controls 26 out of 32 local authorities. The ruling party, the Zimbabwe African National Union- Patriotic Front, has responded to the increasing power of the opposition by bypassing certain constitutional clauses that give local authorities greater control when it comes to delivery of basic services.

The sewage pollution of the Zimbabwean capital Harare’s principal water source, Lake Chivero, is one of the consequences of the ruling party’s neglect of basic services. Water from the lake is contaminated with substances that can cause serious illness in the liver and central nervous system. The water-treatment facility in Harare was designed to provide for 300 000 people; it now finds itself serving 1.5 million people, a situation which is not sustainable in the long-term. 

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In 2019, temperatures in southern Africa were rising at over twice the average global rate, fuelling yet more droughts and erratic rainy seasons. The World Food Programme (WFP) operates a large-scale emergency relief programme in Zimbabwe, particularly in the rural areas where the effects of high temperatures, droughts, and erratic rainy seasons hit especially hard. WFP’s Zero Hunger strategy, which aims to rid the country of food insecurity by 2030, identifies six outcomes necessary to achieve in order to implement this strategy:

1. Food-insecure people, including refugees, in the most affected districts are enabled to meet their basic food and nutrition requirements during severe seasonal shocks or other crises.
2. Children in prioritised districts will have stunting rates reduced in line with national and global targets by 2025.
3. Smallholder farmers have increased access to well-functioning agricultural markets by 2030.
4. Food-insecure rural households achieve food security and demonstrate resilience to seasonal shocks and stressors.
5. Zimbabwe’s social protection system ensures that chronically vulnerable populations across the country are able to meet their basic needs all year round.
6. Partners are reliably supported by world-class, cost-effective and efficient supply chain services.”

WFP is generally well-received at local level in Zimbabwe, making it easier to implement these measures at grassroots level. The key, says Eddie Rowe, WFP country representative and director for Zimbabwe, is funding. The WFP is politically neutral, its priority being the securing of funds to reach as much of Zimbabwe’s affected population as possible. If more resources are allocated to politically unaligned aid groups, the environmental consequences of past and current political repression could be brought under control, or, at the very least, slowed down.

Featured image by: Flickr 

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In April 2020, Earth.Org addressed the pervasive problem of climate change denial in Australia by prominent politicians, examining how the disregard of key scientific evidence can contribute to the severity of, for example, Australia’s seasonal wildfires. The subject of this article – the awareness on the part of an individual that climate change is a problem, coupled with a lack of motivation to address or remedy it – is perhaps a more subtly dangerous cousin of pure climate change denialism: climate inactivism. 

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The key difference between these two types of inactivism lies in belief in the science surrounding climate change. Pure climate change denialism is motivated by a disbelief in, or an unwillingness to engage with or acknowledge, the facts reinforcing the existence of climate change. Meanwhile, the latter kind involves the individual being aware of the existence and severity of climate change, but being unwilling to address the problem. This could be due to the individual seeing climate change as too removed from their personal circumstances, or as too large or costly a problem to remedy. 

Initially, human psychology and how people behave in threatening situations appears to be at odds with climate change inactivism. If we encounter a potentially threatening situation, we tend to explore all possible means of avoiding it; for example, if we see a car travelling towards us at speed while we cross the road, we will naturally endeavour to move out of its way. According to this logic, then, climate change – one of the most fundamental threats to human lives and existence – should provoke a similar response amongst the populations and governments of the world. 

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There is clearly something else at play, however, when one examines certain case studies. Donald Trump, President of the United States of America, has called climate campaigners ‘perennial prophets of doom’, ‘global warming hoaxters’,  and has described the Paris Climate Agreement as ‘badly flawed’.  On the other hand, on separate occasions, he has declared the environment ‘very important’ and denied that climate change is a myth. Is this a case of pure climate change denialism, or something more complicated?

In Donald Trump’s case, it is more likely that he is simply catering to the mood of his voters. A 2019 survey found that approximately 31% of Americans did not believe climate change was real or a threat, compared with approximately 13% of Brits from the results of a separate 2017 survey. The US figure appears at odds with the findings of another, more recent survey: a poll conducted by the Guardian and VICE shows that as many as seven in ten Americans support direct government action to combat the climate crisis. However, this does not necessarily translate into direct action on the part of American individuals, whatever their beliefs about the climate crisis are. 

The contradiction between what is expected behaviour in humans in threatening situations, and what occurs in reality, can be explained by another fundamental aspect of human psychology: temporal discounting, which finds that humans place higher importance on short-term benefits than on long-term benefits. In other words, the long-term benefits of slowing or reversing the process of climate change are, to most individuals, not worth the considerable sacrifices which would need to be made in the short term to daily life in order to achieve this. 

It is in the best interests not only of individuals, but also of governments and businesses to refrain from taking an active role in combating the climate crisis, chiefly due to the expenses involved in the short term. It is becoming increasingly apparent that the cost of ignoring the climate crisis could be far worse than any short-term losses – according to a 2020 article in Nature Communications, the global economy would lose between US$150-792 trillion by 2100 should countries fail to meet their current targets to cut emissions. In contrast, according to the UN Environment Programme, the total cost of adapting to the impacts of the climate crisis would be $280-500 billion per year globally by 2050. Despite this, the compulsion to value short-term benefits over those in the long term means that, while the climate crisis accelerates, governments are stalling. 

Similarly, construal level theory posits that an individual will not relate as personally to an issue that does not directly affect them, than to one that has a significant impact on their daily life. While many people across the world are indeed directly affected by the climate crisis, the majority of the world’s population does not suffer, for example, from the consequences of extreme weather conditions on a regular basis. The direct impacts of the climate crisis, therefore, are more removed in the minds of most individuals from their personal situation. As a result, although the individual may understand that such problems as extreme weather conditions and drought arise from the climate crisis, they are less likely to take direct action. 

Clearly, waiting until everybody in the world is directly affected by the more extreme effects of the climate crisis is not a viable scenario. Markman (2018) suggests that a potential solution to the problem of construal level theory in relation to the climate crisis is “bringing the future mentally close, so you begin to feel the specifics of a daily life disrupted by a change in global climate,” in order to “help reduce the psychological distance” between the individual and the climate crisis. He also promotes the idea of self-education, suggesting that familiarising oneself with the science and key climate legislation and predictions, such as the UN Special Report from 2018, is an important step. 

Despite the psychological barriers preventing direct action to combat climate change on the part of individuals and governments alike, a methodical and specific approach to self-education and planning for the future could be the answer to reducing this particular kind of climate change inactivism. 

The post Climate Inactivism: Why Aren’t People More Motivated to Address the Climate Crisis? appeared first on Earth.Org.

In recent years, microplastics have been appearing in news headlines with the same creeping ubiquity with which they permeate our everyday lives and the natural world. Microplastics are defined as fragments of plastic smaller than 5mm and larger than 1 micron (1/1000th of a millimetre) in length, and their impact as one of the most common and pervasive pollutants on Earth is only just beginning to be subject to rigorous investigation. 

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Common examples of microplastics include materials such as glitter, microbeads and fragments from larger pieces of plastic debris, as well as from items of clothing. Over a matter of decades, these substances have become widespread in bodies of water, the digestive systems of wildlife, in the food we eat and in the air we breathe. The ingestion of microplastics by marine wildlife means that the substances have ‘the potential to bioaccumulate and threaten ecosystem health’, and can introduce harmful organic substances into the food chain. 

An investigation conducted by researchers from the Ellen MacArthur Foundation, the Universities of Oxford and Leeds and Common Seas, discovered that the estimated 11 million tonnes of plastic dumped into the world’s oceans in 2016 could increase nearly threefold to 29 million tonnes every year by 2040. A crucial factor in the projected increase, the researchers state, is the prospected doubling of the volume of plastic on the market by 2040 if governments and businesses do not take preventative action. Meanwhile, researchers from the University of Manchester found that urban ‘hotspots’ in the north-west of England contained the highest concentrations of microplastics in their study, including a section of the River Tame in Denton which contained over 500 000 plastic particles per square metre.

The risks posed to organisms found in rivers are further illustrated in a study by Royal Holloway, University of London, which focused on the River Thames. According to the study, some 94 000 fragments of microplastics flow down certain sections of the river every second, a level which exceeds that of rivers such as the Danube and the Rhine in Europe. The bodies of crabs inhabiting the Thames were found to contain microplastic fragments, and 75% of the river’s European flounder population showed evidence of microplastic ingestion. Researchers also reported evidence of microplastics in 80% of London’s tap water. 

The fact that these substances do not decompose means that the uncontrollable accumulation of microplastics on the planet is already a reality. Plastic production is expected to increase from today’s 300 million metric tonnes to 33 billion metric tonnes per year by 2050. Despite the gloomy outlook, however, there are several steps humankind can take to tackle the problem. The most significant of these is the need to dramatically reduce the use of single-use plastic items and increase recycling. In Europe, however, only 30% of plastic is recycled, and only 9% in the USA is recycled. The figure for Southeast Asia is also 9%. China has stopped importing plastic waste intended for landfill in the USA; therefore the USA needs to develop recycling capacities, in order to deal with the increased volume of plastic waste that would previously have been imported to China. A 2020 Greenpeace report found that just 14% of the nation’s recycling facilities can process containers commonly used in takeout food, fruit and baked goods. Just 11% can recycle plastic cups; 4% plastic bags and 1% can process plastic plates, cutlery and straws. 

A long-term solution would be to develop new methods to break plastic down and more eco-friendly materials, such as biodegradable plastics. While some plastics are labelled as biodegradable, they can only be broken down by extremely high temperatures. One problem, however, is that the substances needed to create fully biodegradable plastics – polymers that can degrade into carbon, oxygen and other elements in water or soil – would not be useful as food packaging, for example. While this kind of biodegradable plastic could potentially be used for quick-use products such as plastic cutlery or food wrappers, it could not be used to replace all substances which cause microplastic particles to break off. 

There has been evidence to show that certain aquatic organisms can break down microplastics that enter their systems. However, certain polymers, such as the polyethylene used in plastic shopping bags or polystyrene, are more difficult to break down. It seems that the first steps to tackle this problem lie in better quality waste-management facilities and more investigation into how polymers can be broken down. If the problem is not brought under control soon, humankind could be facing a future saturated in microplastics. 

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Featured image by: Oregon State University

The post What Are Microplastics? appeared first on Earth.Org.

COVID-19 has disrupted normality across the globe, bringing societies and economies to a grinding halt and throwing all aspects of life into uncertainty. The havoc it has the potential to wreak on the natural world, too, should not be underestimated. With 50 million jobs in the tourism sector expected to be lost in 2020 as a result of the pandemic, the ecotourism industry is also at the mercy of the COVID-19 virus. 

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The social distancing and quarantining measures necessary to flatten the curve of COVID-19 mean that ecotourism- the sustainable capitalisation of the natural world, usually in the form of guided tours of protected habitats- is infeasible for the time being. Repercussions are already being felt across world heritage sites, such as the Aldabra coral atoll in the Seychelles, which relies exclusively on income from tourism to fund monitoring of the corals. Similar concerns have been expressed regarding the Great Barrier Reef, the West Norwegian Fjords, and the Galápagos Islands.

Meanwhile, the Kenyan Wildlife Conservancies Association reports that important tourist attractions on the country’s Masai Mara plains, most notably the annual wildebeest migration safaris, have been cancelled, resulting in a vastly whittled-down workforce due to lack of income. In an average year, Kenya welcomes approximately 1.5 million tourists per year, 70-80% of which are visitors to national parks, generating $1.6 billion in annual revenues. According to Kaddu Sebunya, leader of the African Wildlife Foundation, approximately three million conservation-related jobs have been lost in Kenya due to the virus as of late May 2020. This illustrates how damaging the prospect of months of inactivity could be in countries such as Kenya where conservation is a vital source of employment and income.  

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The virus could also unravel years of hard-fought progress in the conservation of the mountain gorilla. Across two habitats- the Virunga National Park in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), and the Bwindi Impenetrable National Park in Uganda- the total number of gorillas stands at 1063 as of 2018; this is a vast improvement from the total during the early 1980s, approximately 350. Mountain gorilla conservation has been a long slog since their discovery in 1902; during much of the twentieth century, their populations have suffered poaching, disease and destruction of habitats. An earnest drive for their conservation was only initiated in the late 1970s, with the foundation of the Mountain Gorilla Project in 1979. However, the use of traps by poachers and the tourist demand for body-part souvenirs meant numbers continued to fall. Meanwhile, Dian Fossey, who dedicated her life to gorilla conservation, was murdered in Rwanda in 1985. Thankfully, these setbacks did not damage conservation efforts irreparably, and numbers began to rise following Fossey’s death. The International Gorilla Conservation Programme was founded in 1991, and as of November 2018, mountain gorillas are no longer classed as critically endangered.

Unfortunately, COVID-19 could reverse this progress. The gorillas share 98% of their DNA with humans, meaning they are at significant risk of catching the virus if extensive precautions are not taken. Introducing the virus into mountain gorilla populations could have ‘moderate-to-severe outcomes’, according to Thomas R. Gillespie and Fabian H. Leendertz of Nature.

The economic consequences of the suspension of gorilla-related ecotourism, however, are just as likely to result in a decline in populations as COVID-19 itself. Ensuring that the communities local to gorilla habitats profit from ecotourism is a key preventative measure against poaching, to which locals often have no option but to turn if other means of income cease. At approximately US$1500 per person for a guided viewing of Rwandan mountain gorillas, the heavy reliance on ecotourism for gorilla conservation is clear. 

The problem is not limited to mountain gorilla conservation. Patrick Greenfield and Peter Muiruri, writing in the Guardian, warn that the pandemic could cause ‘a surge in poaching, illegal fishing and deforestation in life-sustaining ecosystems’. In April, Cambodia saw the pandemic diminish local tourist industries, with three giant ibis, a critically endangered species, were killed for their meat in an incident most likely related to the rapid decline of conservation efforts as a result of the virus. 

More optimistic are the signs that the illegal wildlife trade has been impeded by travel curbs brought about by the pandemic. However, experts fear a rise in the demand for bushmeat, which would likely result in an increase in poaching; in March, the black rhino population in Botswana’s Okavango Delta was evacuated after at least six were killed by poachers. Additionally, the new lack of opportunities to profit from ecotourism in some areas may mean that turning to farming for income could become more common, increasing the likelihood of animals being killed for invading farmland. 

The COVID-19 pandemic has brought the ecotourism industry, a vital source of funding for conservation work, to a standstill. In turn, this could bring about an increase in poaching, as communities located in the heart of natural habitats lose ecotourism-generated income. If the disease is not properly managed, particularly among at-risk populations such as those of the mountain gorilla, progress in the conservation of endangered species and world heritage sites that has taken years to achieve may have been in vain. 

To maintain conservation efforts and ensure post-recovery ecotourism, governments should evaluate implementing a voluntary public conservation programme aimed at keeping young members of the workforce employed. Such a program would be similar in ideal to the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) programme put in place in the US following the Great Depression. A contemporary programme would employ young people who are out of work due to the recession. Volunteers would be trained for specific roles, and work on a temporary basis in jobs pertaining to conservation, sustainable development and resource management. In exchange, governments could fund worker housing, clothing and food, as well as providing a modest stipend. Such a programme would have the potential to significantly raise and improve physical and mental health for a beaten down generation, grow young workers’ skill sets and preparedness for future careers and increase public awareness of and attention towards conservation efforts and the preservation of natural resources.

The post How COVID-19 Threatens to Collapse the Ecotourism Sector appeared first on Earth.Org.

The concepts of ‘post-truth’ and the ‘alternative fact’ have become rather prevalent in modern discourse, and as a result, it can be difficult to remain as wary of them as we ought to be. The practice of stretching or ignoring what should be recognised as scientifically verifiable fact tends to be especially rife in situations that threaten the future security of those in power. The history of climate denial in Australia is problematic for not only the country, but for the global community working to mitigate the effects of the climate crisis. 

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An alarming example of this occurred in January, when Australian MP Craig Kelly, of the ruling conservative Liberal Party, appeared on Good Morning Britain at the height of his country’s bushfire crisis. He dismissed the claim that the current administration in Australia could do more to reduce its carbon emissions, as ‘complete nonsense’. Indicative of a widespread problem of climate change denial in Australia, Kelly’s remarks fan the flames of a post-truth society, in which it is becoming increasingly easy to deviate from what science shows to be true.

Around the same time as Kelly’s appearance on Good Morning Britain, approximately 2 000 houses had been lost to the fires. Over 26 people were dead. By 31 January, over 10 million hectares of land had been affected. 

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The likes of Kelly- whose constituency, incidentally, is located in New South Wales, a state with some of the largest coal reserves in Australia– and Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison find blame in everything but the climate crisis. Money and resources have been hurled at police efforts to trace arsonists suspected of deliberately starting the fires; meanwhile, Australia remains the biggest exporter of coal and liquefied natural gas in the world. In 2018, Australia exported  249.4Mtoe of coal in 2018. Indonesia, in second place, exported 220.3Mtoe. 

As of 2018, coal exports were worth $46 billion to the Australian economy, and in 2019, liquefied natural gas exports contributed $33.6 billion. 

This seems to be a particularly destructive case of ignoring an incredibly conspicuous elephant in the room, and is fuelled by a strain of denialism characteristic of a post-truth society. Certain politicians do not deny the existence of the climate crisis, but rather attempt to absolve Australia of responsibility. Australia has always had a problem with bushfires, they claim, and those shouting about it now are young people with little experience of the ferocity of Australian summers. If the trend showing the worsening effects of the fires is caused in part by the climate crisis, the problem is on a global scale, and the Australian coal industry should not bear the brunt of the blame. In short, conservative Australian politicians frame the climate crisis as a one shared equally by all nations, therefore diluting the notion of individual responsibility. 

This may be due in part to a fundamental lack of understanding of the processes behind climate change on the part of Australia. A report commissioned by the Australian Government’s National Climate Science Advisory Committee, and produced by the Centre of Excellence for Climate Extremes, found ‘critical gaps’ in the coordination of research into issues such as atmospheric physics concerning heatwaves. This, the report stated, poses a ‘critical threat to Australia’s ability to understand and predict such phenomena into the future’.  

What is the Australian government doing about climate change?

Writing in Nature, Adam Morton examines Australia’s carbon policies as of September 2018, and finds that the then-new Liberal administration, under Prime Minister Scott Morrison, actively ended its involvement in certain energy-saving initiatives crucial to achieving the Paris Agreement. These included the National Energy Guarantee policy, whereby electricity companies were required to meet emission-reduction targets; Morrison abandoned this and committed to reducing public expenditure on energy. 

Furthermore, existing emission-cutting initiatives are being abandoned; for example, in 2019, Australia ended its contribution, which stands at $187m since 2015, to the UN-established Green Climate Fund, dedicated to cutting emissions in developing countries. More recently, the Australian Conservation Foundation found that nearly a fifth of the most polluting industrial sites in Australia exceeded maximum constraints on greenhouse gas emissions set by the government. Moreover, the majority of tonnage emitted by these sites was not penalised, meaning the companies were not required to pay a penalty or purchase carbon credits, as is detailed in a ‘safeguard mechanism’ for cutting carbon emissions implemented by the federal government. This renders this mechanism not fit for purpose. 

This desire to avoid ‘reckless job-destroying and economy-crunching targets’ is understandable; any economic instability caused by deviating from the status quo is naturally less than appealing to voters. However, the Climate Council in Australia, a crowd-funded organisation which gathers facts about the climate crisis, produced a report in 2019 entitled ‘Compound costs: How climate change is damaging Australia’s economy’. It found that the climate crisis stands to present ‘substantial systematic economic risks’ to Australia in the long-term. The report detailed that the Australian property market stands to lose $571 billion by 2030 as a result of property damage caused by climate change-driven extreme weather. Other key findings included the fact that, if greenhouse gas emissions remain at current levels, a rise in sea levels by 2100 will mean that $226 billion in infrastructural, commercial and residential assets will be under threat. Morton points out that, although Australia has not formally pulled out of the Paris Agreement, the target set by the Agreement – that Australia should cut its emissions by 26–28% below 2005 levels by 2030 – is unlikely to be met if Australia continues down its current path. 

How has climate change affected Australia?

Meanwhile, the effects of climate change denial in Australia are being felt beyond dry land. One of Australia’s most defining emblems, the Great Barrier Reef, has in the past five years endured three mass bleaching episodes, undergoing ‘very widespread’ damage in the summer of 2019-20. This was attributed to a heat build-up during February. 2016 and 2017 saw the bleaching and death of approximately 50% of the reef’s shallow water corals. 

Such a track record has not gone unnoticed in the international community. Australia was criticised at the COP25 2019 UN climate conference in Madrid for its stubbornness regarding the introduction of regulations on international carbon markets. Meanwhile, in November 2019, a Brown to Green report- a comprehensive evaluation of efforts to address and adapt to the climate crisis across G20 countries- found Australia to be one of the most underprepared countries examined in the report. In particular, the report drew attention to Australia’s rising emissions and the absence of policies to remedy this. The need to address this is becoming ever more urgent. 2019 was Australia’s warmest recorded year, and the country has warmed by just over one degree Celsius since 1910, the bulk of this occurring since 1950, according to the Bureau of Meteorology. Australia’s ‘all-time temperature record’, last set in 2013 at 40.3 degrees Celsius, was broken in December 2019 over two consecutive days, at 40.9C and 41.9C respectively.

Climate change denial in Australia, then, demonstrates the dangers of politicising the climate crisis and offering policies geared solely towards propping up the economy in the short-term. With Prime Minister Morrison’s support of the coal industry, his failure to acknowledge the full implications of this summer’s bushfires, and his country’s lack of research into key issues such as  heatwaves, it is unsurprising that the crisis has resulted in the deaths of civilians and wildlife, and the devastation of millions of hectares of Australian land. It is now more urgent than ever that our society prioritises facts backed up by rigorous scientific evidence. 

Featured image by: Ninian Reid

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