Vaclav Smil. Making the modern world: materials and dematerialization

Preface.  I can’t believe I read this book, it is just a long litany of the  gigantic amounts of materials we exploit, with no analysis, implications, or the meaning of what impact this will have on the planet.

I certainly don’t expect anyone to read even this shortened version of his book, but it might be worthwhile to skim for an idea of how much material we’re consuming.

As I point out in my review of the United Nations 2016 report Global material flows and resources productivity” here, in order to accommodate an additional 2 billion people in 2050, material consumption will need to nearly triple to 180 billion tonnes of materials, almost three times today’s amount. If 180 billion tonnes grows in the future at a 5% compound rate, in 497 years the entire earth will be consumed, all 5.972 x 1021 tonnes of it, and we’ll be floating in outer space.

After reading this book, it’s hard to believe there’s anything left to exploit, though here it is 5 years later and the earth is still being pillaged.  But from Smil’s gargantuan numbers and the exponential exploitation of just about everything, clearly this will end badly.  The issue of peak sand has been in the news more frequently lately, which is essential for civilization to make concrete, computer chips, solar PV, and fracking.

Smil covers a wide range of materials that are essential to civilization that you may not have thought much about, and all the myriad uses of silicon, plastics, nitrogen, aluminum, steel, hydrogen, ammonia, cement, and more.  All of them made possible by oil.  All of them essential for civilization, so if one fails….(Liebig’s law of the minimum).

Nor can we avoid our predicament by recycling. Smil states that While some metals can be reused indefinitely (albeit with some mass losses) recycling of most materials often entails considerable loss of quality and functionality”.

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Derrick Jensen, Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report

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Vaclav Smil. 2013. Making the Modern World: Materials and Dematerialization.  Wiley.

An overwhelming majority of people lived in pre-modern societies with only limited quantities of simple possessions that they made themselves or that were produced by artisanal labor as unique pieces or in small batches – while the products made in larger quantities, be they metal objects, fired bricks and tiles, or drinking glasses, were too expensive to be widely owned. The principal reason for this limited mastery of materials was the energy constraint: for millennia our abilities to extract, process, and transport biomaterials and minerals were limited by the capacities of animate prime movers (human and animal muscles) aided by simple mechanical devices and by only slowly improving capabilities of the three ancient mechanical prime movers: sails, water wheels, and wind mills.

An updated inventory, with data for aggregate categories extending until 2006, was published in 2009 (Matos 2009) and data on individual elements, compounds, and materials are updated annually (USGS 2013).

the series does not include materials contained in traded finished goods: given their mass and variety their tracking would be very difficult.

The ships that made the first Atlantic crossings were remarkably light: a Viking ship (based on a well-preserved Gokstad vessel built around 890 CE) required the wood of 74 oaks (including 16 pairs of oars).

The Egyptian pyramids at Giza are unique: Khufu’s pyramid not only remains the largest stone structure ever built (195 m high, it required 2.5 million stones whose average weight was 2.5 t) but this mass of more than 6 Mt of stone

Romans are credited with the invention of concrete, but this is an inaccurate attribution. Concrete is a mixture of cement, aggregates (sand, pebbles), and water and cement is a finely ground mixture of lime, clay, and metallic oxides fired in kilns at a high temperature. There was no cement in Roman opus cementitium and hence this sturdy mixture, strong enough to build large vaults and domed structures, was not the material now known as concrete. Opus cementitium contained aggregates (sand, gravel, stones, broken bricks, or tiles) and water but its bonding agent was lime mortar (Adam, 1994). The combination of slaked lime and volcanic sand from the vicinity of Puteoli near Mount Vesuvius (pulvere puteolano, later known as pozzolana), produced a superior mixture that could harden even under water and that could be used to build not only massive and durable walls but also spectacular vaults.

The most consequential material development in antiquity was the ability to smelt and to shape a growing array of metals. All of this devastated local and regional wood resources, and copper smelting was a leading cause of Mediterranean deforestation, particularly in Spain and Cyprus.

[We still live in] the Iron Age, with the total consumption of other metals adding up to a small fraction of iron use.

Global population increased by less than 60% during the 500 years between 1000 and 1500 but then more than doubled (from about 460 million to nearly a billion) by 1800 – but remained overwhelmingly rural, with cities accounting for less than 5% of all humanity

Fuel-wasting fireplaces and braziers resulted in a huge demand for fuelwood and charcoal to heat the expanding cities of the pre-coal era. In Paris, the demand rose from more than 400,000 loads of wood in 1735 to more than 750,000 loads in 1789 (about 1.6 Mm3) and the same amount of charcoal, prorating to more than a ton of fuel per capita (Roche, 2000).

Wood remained indispensable not only for building houses and transportation equipment (carts, wagons, coaches, boats, ships) but also—as iron smelting rose in parts of Europe—for charcoal production for blast furnaces (substitution by coke began only during the latter half of the eighteenth century and was limited to the UK). And as Europe’s maritime powers (Spain, Portugal, England, France, and Holland) competed in building large ocean-going vessels—both commercial and naval—the increasing number of such ships and their larger sizes brought unprecedented demand for the high-quality timber needed to build hulls, decks, and masts.

With wooden hulls, masts, and spars being as much as 70% of the total mass (the remainder was divided among ballast, supplies, sails, armaments, and crew) these pioneering vessels contained 60–75 t of sawn timber (Fernández-González, 2006).

Iron production in small blast furnaces required enormous quantities of charcoal and combined with inefficient wood-to-charcoal conversion this led to widespread deforestation in iron-smelting regions: by 1700 a typical English furnace consumed 12 000 t of wood a year (Hyde, 1977).

Only during the mid 1950s that Alastair Pilkington introduced the molten tin bath that allowed production of very large pieces of flat glass with near-perfect uniformity

By 1900 the railroads on five continents added up to 775,000 km, with about 250,000 km in Europe, more than 190,000 km in the USA, 53,000 km in Russia, and 30,000 km in the UK (Williams, 2006). Given the wide range of terrains covered by rail tracks it is impossible to estimate a typical volume of bulk construction materials – earth displaced and replaced to create cuts or embankments, stone cut to create tunnels or incision in mountainsides, and stone quarried to produce gravel for access roads and rail beds – that had to be handled for an average kilometer of new track. Even a highly conservative assumption of 3000 m3/km would result in nearly 2.5 Gm of bulk materials associated with the global railway construction of the second half of the nineteenth century. A similarly conservative assumption of at least 2000 t of ballast (crushed stones packed underneath and around ties) per kilometer would translate to at least 1.5, and more likely to 2 Gt, of coarse gravel applied to hold in place the tracks built between 1830 and 1900. Mineral aggregates were also needed in unprecedented volumes for the building of new factories, for the expansion of ports, and for the construction of hard-top roads.

All ties (sleepers) installed during the nineteenth century were wooden; concrete sleepers were introduced only around 1900 but remained uncommon until after World War II. Standard construction practice requires the placement of about 1900 sleepers per km of railroad track, and with a single tie weighing between roughly 70 kg (pine) and 100 kg (oak) every kilometer needed approximately 130–190 t of sawn (and preferably creosote-treated) wood. My calculations show that the rail tracks laid worldwide during the nineteenth century required at least 100 Mt of sawn wood for original construction and at least 60 Mt of additional timber for track repairs and replacements (Smil, 2013).

Rails used during the nineteenth century weighed between 20 and 30 kg/m and, assuming an average of 25 kg/m, the railway construction between 1850 and 1900 would have required about 20 Mt of steel, while replacement would have more than doubled that total. Steel became the favorite material for railway bridges:

Because of their renewability, annually harvested crop residues used to be indispensable materials in all traditional agricultural societies. In many deforested regions they were the only source of household fuel, straw–clay mixtures were made into bricks and straw bundles were used for roof thatching, in some countries peasants wore straw sandals and coats, and cereal straws were used as both feed and bedding for domesticated ruminants

There are no reliable data about the final fate of crop residues: in many agroecosystems they should be directly recycled to maintain soil organic matter and to prevent erosion, but often their mass is judged to be excessive and they are simply burned in fields. This undesirable practice is particularly common in rice-growing regions of Asia. Straw continues to be burned even in some affluent countries, most notably in Denmark where about 1.4 Mt of wheat straw (nearly a quarter of the total harvest) is used for house heating or even in centralized district heating and electricity generation (Stenkjaer, 2009).

A global aggregate of around 40 EJ in 2000 is thus a good consensus value and implies a nearly 70% increase in biomass fuel demand between 1950 and 2000 and a doubling of wood and crop residue harvests during the twentieth century. But the intervening high population growth greatly reduced the average per capita consumption and the huge expansion of fossil fuel extraction cut the biofuel share from 50% in 1900, to less than 10% of global primary energy supply in the year 2000, and (because of inferior efficiencies of wood and straw combustion) to less than 5% in terms of useful final energy supply. Among the major economies, wood has the highest national share of primary energy supplies in Brazil, at about 10%, while its share in affluent nations ranges from negligible values (just 1% in the UK and Spain) to about 20% in Sweden and Finland, with the US share falling from about 4.5% in 1950 to just 2% in 2010

Wooden railway ties, that quintessential nineteenth-century innovation, maintained their high share of the global market throughout the twentieth century. During the 1990s, 94% of America’s ties were wooden.

 

Better treatment of ties prolonged their average lifespan from about 35 years in 1940 to 40–50 years by the year 2000 (James, 2001). European and North American tie markets have been basically limited to replacements, mostly reinforced concrete

But most reinforced concrete has not gone into iconic structures but into ever-increasing numbers of nondescript or outright ugly (or brutal looking) apartment buildings, high rises, factories, garages, roads, overpass bridges, and parking lots.

Much more steel (in the form of sheets and rods) has gone into cars and trucks and new transportation infrastructures on land (ranging from multi-lane highways and bridges to new airports) and into the construction of large oil tankers, bulk carriers (transporting anything from grain to ores), and, starting in the 1960s, container ships and ports. Steel allows particularly captivating design of long suspension bridges with woven cables supporting lengthy road spans:

The transportation sector also became the leading user of aluminum: the combination of light weight and durability made the metal, and its alloys, an ideal choice for applications ranging from cooking pots to rapid train cars,

The fourth most important metal has been zinc, with a consumption of 12.6 Mt in 2010; but the steadily rising demand for lead has brought this formerly more distant number five close to the zinc total: in 2011 the global refined lead supply surpassed, 10 Mt for the first time, to reach 10.6 Mt, with about 45% being primary metal and the rest coming from recycled material

With a total of just over 1 billion cars and light and heavy trucks, and with an average mass of 10 kg Pb in automobiles and 13 kg Pb in truck batteries, there was nearly 11 Mt of lead on the world’s roads in 2010.

Silicon makes nearly 28% of the Earth’s crust, and while it is abundantly present as SiO2 (silica) in sand, sandstone, and quartz and in many silicates ranging from hard feldspars (rock-forming minerals) to soft kaolinite (a layered clay mineral), it is never found in pure, unbound elementary form. But the purest crystalline silicon is the material foundation of modern electronics: intricate webs of semiconductors

Global production of all plastics

265 Mt in 2010:

we could not have supported the twentieth century global increment of 4.5 billion people consuming increasingly better diets without a huge increase in nitrogen applications.

Global output of synthetic fertilizers (in terms of pure N): 85.13 Mt in and 2000, an increase of two orders of magnitude (roughly 570 times) in 80 years.

Global output of synthetic fertilizers (in terms of pur nitrogen) rose from just 150,000 tonnes in 1920 to 3.7 million tonnes in 1950 and 85.13 million tonnes in 2000, an increase of two orders of magnitude (roughly 570 times) in 80 years.

Remarkably that was not even an exceptionally large gain, as the global production of other new materials saw even greater increases over the course of the 20th century:

  • three orders of magnitude for aluminum (roughly 3600 times, from just 6800 t in 1900 to 24.3 Mt in 2000)
  • four orders of magnitude for plastics (from about 20,000 t in 1925 to 150 Mt in 2000).
  • 30 times more production of paper and steel (from 28.3 to 850 Mt)
  • 27 times more copper (from 495 000 t to 13.2 Mt)

In comparison, the global population increased 3.8 times between 1900 and 2000, and the gross world product (in constant monies) rose about 20-fold,

The annual output of bovine (cattle and water buffalo) hides surpasses 6 Mt, that of sheep and lambskins over 400,000 t, and some 300,000 t of goat and kidskins are turned into leather product annually (FAO, 2011). Production of wool, the most important animal fiber, rose from about 960 000 t in 1950 to 2.9 Mt in 1970, fluctuated afterwards (peaking at 3.3 Mt in 1990), and declined to just below 2 Mt in 2011 (FAO, 2013). In contrast, production of silkworm cocoons has more than doubled during the past 50 years, to about 500 000 t in 2010.

30% of humanity continues to live in structures whose material, locally available clay, has not undergone any elaborate processing and that can be made without any modern energy inputs.

Production of all durable soil- or earth-based materials requires firing in kilns, with temperatures ranging from less than 500 °C for low-quality bricks to as much as 1100 °C for ceramic tiles, 1300 °C for vitrified bricks, and 1400 °C for glass, while the pyro-processing of Portland cement requires 1400–1450 °C (Berge, 2009).

Sequential washing, screening, crushing, and dewatering eliminate any organic matter and clay and produce a specific coarseness of material with low moisture. The best available estimates indicate that, in the USA, 41% of construction sand and gravel ends up as concrete aggregates, a quarter of the total is destined for road building, 13% for construction fill, and 12% for asphaltic concrete and similar mixtures (USGS, 2012). The small remainder is used for filtration, snow and ice control on roads (some municipalities also use salt), railroad ballast and golf courses, as well as for replenishment of eroding beaches

The construction of the US Interstate Highway System was a major component of this rising demand (USGS, 2006). About 60% of these multi-lane highways are paved in concrete whose standard thickness is 28 cm and hence 1 km of a four lane highway (each lane is 3.7 m wide) requires about 4150 m3. This adds up to roughly 10,000 t of concrete for every kilometer and the entire system of 73,000 km embodies about 730 Mt of concrete in driving lanes, with more emplaced in shoulders, medians, approaches, and overpasses.

Global compilations of CO2 emissions from the cement industry show its contribution almost 5% in 2010 (CDIAC, 2013).

Concrete (particularly its reinforced form) is now by far the most important manmade material both in terms of global annual production and cumulatively emplaced mass.

While this material provides shelter and enables transportation and energy and industrial production, its accumulation also presents considerable risks and immense future burdens. These problems arise from the material’s vulnerability to premature deterioration that results in unsightly appearance, loss of strength, and unsafe conditions that sometimes lead to catastrophic failures, and whose prevention requires expensive periodic renovations and eventually costly dismantling. Concrete, both exposed and buried, is not a highly durable material and it deteriorates for many reasons (AWWS, 2004; Cwalina, 2008; Stuart, 2012). Exposed surfaces are attacked by moisture and freezing in cold climates, bacterial and algal growth in warm humid regions (biofouling recognizable by blackened surfaces), acid deposition in polluted (that is now in most) urban areas, and vibration. Buried concrete structures (water and sewage pipes, storage tanks, missile silos) are subjected to gradual or instant overloading that creates cracks, and to reactions with carbonates, chlorides, and sulfates filtering from above. Poor-quality concrete can show excessive wear and develop visible cracks and surficial staining due to efflorescence in a matter of months. Alternations of freezing and thawing damage both the horizontal surfaces (roads, parking) that collect standing water, as well as vertical layers that collect water in pores and cracks. While concrete’s high alkalinity (pH of about 12.5) limits the corrosion of the reinforcing steel embedded in the material, as soon as that cover is compromised (due to cracks or defoliation of external layers) the expansive corrosion process begins and tends to accelerate. Chloride attack (on structures submerged in seawater, from deicing of roads, in coastal areas from NaCl present in the air in much higher concentrations than inland) and damage by acid deposition (sulfate attack in polluted regions) are other common causes of deterioration, while some concretes exhibit alkali-silica and alkali-carbonate reactions that lead to cracking. Unsightly concrete blackened by growing algae embedded in the material’s pores is a common sight in all humid (especially when also warm) environments. Given the unprecedented rate of post-1990 global concretization, it is inevitable that the post-2030 world will face an unprecedented burden of concrete deterioration.

 

This challenge will be particularly daunting in China, the country with by far the highest rate of new concrete emplacement, where the combination of poor concrete quality, damaging natural environment, intensive industrial pollutants, and heavy use of concrete structures will lead to premature deterioration of tens of billions of tons of the material that has been poured into buildings, roads, bridges, dams, ports, and other structures during the past generation. Because maintenance and repair of deteriorating concrete have been inadequate, the future replacement costs of the material will run into trillions of dollars. To this should be added the disposal costs of the removed concrete: some concrete structures have been recycled but the separation of the concrete and reinforcing metal is expensive. The latest report card on the quality of American infrastructure gives poor to very poor grades to all sectors where concrete is the dominant structural material:

with an estimated investment of at least $3.6 trillion needed by 2020 in order to prevent further deterioration (ASCE, 2013).

Transposed to post-2030 China, this reality implies the need for an unprecedented rehabilitation and replacement of nearly 100 Gt of concrete emplaced during the first decade of the twenty-first century, at a cost of many tens of trillions of dollars.

The world’s impervious surface area (built-up, paved) at about 580 000 km2: that is less than 0.5% of ice-free surface, but an area equal to Kenya. In per capita terms, high-income countries in northern latitudes had the largest areas of impervious surfaces (Canada 350 m2, USA 300 m2, Sweden 220 m2)

Of course, not all impervious surfaces are concrete but the material accounts for their largest share.

 

In 2010, humanity put in place close to 40 Gt of them (dominated by 33 Gt of concrete and 4.5 Gt of bricks), an equivalent of at least 17 km3. For comparison, the volume of one of the world’s best known mountains, Japan’s Fuji, is about 400 km3

By the year 2000 the global output of iron ore, pig iron, and steel had reached new global records: at 1 Gt/year iron ore extraction was surpassed only by the output of fossil fuels and bulk construction materials, pig (cast) iron production rose to nearly 600 Mt, and at roughly 850 Mt/year steel output was about 30 times higher than in 1900. That total was also almost 20 times larger than the aggregate smelting of aluminum, copper, zinc, lead, and tin, and in per capita terms it rose from less than 20 to about 140 kg/year. Demand for copper increased by a similar rate (27-fold, to 13.2 Mt) and zinc production rose almost 20-fold, from about 480 000 t to 8.77 Mt (Kelly and Matos, 2013).

Gold output rose nearly 7-fold, but in absolute terms it amounted only to about 2600 t in the year 2000, compared to 18,100 t for silver,

Polyethylene (PE) is by far the most important thermoplastic (it accounted for 29% of the world’s aggregate plastic output, or roughly 77 Mt, in 2010), polypropylene (PP) comes next (with about 19% or 50 Mt in 2010), followed by polyvinyl chloride (PVC, about 12% or 32 Mt in 2010).

In 2010, packaging consumed almost 40% of the total (mostly as various kinds of PE and PP), construction about 20% (mostly for plastic sheets used as vapor barriers in wall and ceiling insulation), the auto industry claimed nearly 8% (interior trim, exterior parts), and the electrical and electronic industry took about 6% (mostly for insulation of wires and cables).

All of these products begin as ethane. In North America and the Middle East ethane is separated from natural gas, and low gas prices and abundant supply led to surplus production for export and favored further construction of new capacities: in 2012 Qatar launched the world’s largest LDPE plant and, largely as a result of shale gas extraction, new ethylene capacities are planned in the USA (Stephan, 2012). The dominant feedstock for ethane in Europe, where prices of imported natural gas are high, is naphtha derived by the distillation of crude oil.

Transparent or opaque bags (sandwich, grocery, or garbage), sheets (for covering crops and temporary greenhouses), wraps (Saran, Cling), and squeeze bottles (for honey), HDPE garbage cans, containers (for milk, detergents, motor oil), and toys (including Lego bricks). Among a myriad of hidden PE applications are HDPE for house wraps (Tyvek) and water pipes; PEX for water pipes and as insulation for electrical cables; and UHMWPE for knee and hip replacements.

Other plastic uses:

  • massive LDPE water tanks
  • indoor–outdoor carpeting to lightweight fabrics woven from PP yarn and used particularly for outdoor apparel,
  • insulated wires, water, and sewage pipes to food wraps and her car’s interior and body undercoating
  • disposable and surgical gloves, flexible tubing for feeding, breathing and pressure monitoring, catheters, blood bags, IV containers, sterile packaging, trays, basins, bed pans and rails, thermal blankets, lab ware (Smil, 2006, p. 131)
  • construction (house sidings, window frames), for outdoor furniture, water hoses, office gadgets, toys,

Plastics have a limited lifespan in terms of functional integrity: even materials that are not in contact with earth or water do not remain in excellent shape for decades. Service spans are no more than 2–15 years for PE, 3–8 years for PP, and 7–10 years for polyurethane; among the common plastics only PVC can last two or three decades and thick PVC cold water pipes can last even longer (Berge, 2009).

[In conclusion, then, it is clear] plastics, [and the fossil fuels they are derived from], are indispensable for the functioning of modern civilization.

Industrial Gases

The three most important elements – oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen – deserve such ranking because without them we could not produce steel in the most efficient way, and could not have our modern petrochemical and nitrogen fertilizer industries. Other elements and compounds classified as industrial gases include acetylene, argon, carbon dioxide, helium, neon, and nitrous oxide.

Without the synthesis of ammonia (predicated on large-scale supply of pure nitrogen) we would not be able to feed billions of people, and without oxygen we could not produce most of the world’s most important alloy. Ammonia synthesis is the world’s largest consumer of nitrogen: in 2010 it required 130 Mt of the gas (about 112 Gm3 of N2). Nitrogen’s other key uses as a feedstock include ammonia for the synthesis of nitric acid, hydrazines, and amines.

 

Nitrogen cooling of metal parts enables tight assembly fits and, in reverse, it allows the taking apart of closely-fitted parts. With the expansion of modern electronics, nitrogen found a new market in those instances (particularly during soldering) when it is necessary to reduce the presence of oxygen and to maintain a clean atmosphere (by 1985 this use claimed 15% of US consumption).

Ferrous metallurgy is by far the largest user of oxygen: the gas is blown into blast furnaces, EAFs, and BOFs

Chemical syntheses (above all ethylene oxidation) are the second largest market, and oxygen is also used in smelting color metals (lead, copper, and zinc furnaces), in the construction material industries (producing a more intense flame and reduced fuel use in the firing of glass, mineral wool, lime, and cement),

Argon, the cheapest truly inert gas, goes into incandescent and fluorescent lights

Hydrotreating, hydrodesulfurization, and hydrocracking used to process roughly 3.7 Gt of oil in 2010 claimed (assuming that H2 demand averaged 0.5% of the total crude input, or roughly 60 m3/t) about 20 Mt of the gas.

Hydrogen

Industrial gases are used in sectors that account for more than half of the world’s economic output and the value of their production has been growing faster than the growth rate of the global economy: in 2000 their global market was worth about $34 billion, a decade later it had nearly doubled as it exceeded $60 billion, and it is heading to about $80 billion by 2015

Liquid hydrocarbons (principally naphtha) are the feedstock for hydrogen production in crude oil refineries where the gas is needed for the catalytic conversion of heavier fractions to lighter fuels, and also in order to comply with ever stricter environmental regulation and to desulfurize the refined products.

Synthesis of ammonia remains the leading user of hydrogen, followed by refinery needs

Post-1950 expansion was rapid, with global ammonia synthesis rising from less than 6 Mt in 1950, to about 120 Mt in 1989, 164 Mt in 2011 (USGS, 2013).

Two-thirds (65–57%) of all synthesized NH3 has been recently used as fertilizer, with the total global usage more than tripling since 1970, from 33 to about 106 Mt N in 2010. Because ammonia is a gas under ambient pressure, it can be applied to crops only by using special equipment (hollow steel knives), a practice that has been limited to North America. The compound has been traditionally converted into a variety of fertilizers (nitrate, sulfate) but urea (containing 45% N) has emerged as the leading choice, especially in rice-growing Asia, now the world’s largest consumer of nitrogenous fertilizers; ammonium nitrate (35% N) comes second.

Compared to traditional harvests, the best national yields of these three most important grain crops have risen to about 10 t/ha for US corn (from 2 t/ha before World War II), 8–10 t/ha for European wheat (from about 2 t/ha during the 1930s), and 6 t/ha for East Asian rice (from around 2 t/ha).

 

High-yielding US corn now receives, on average, about 160 kg N/ha, European winter wheat more than 200 kg N/ha, and China’s rice gets 260 kg N/ha, which means that in double-cropping regions annual applications are about 500 kg N/ha. According to my calculations, in the year 2000 about 40% of nitrogen present in the world’s food proteins came from fertilizers that originated from the Haber–Bosch synthesis of ammonia (Smil, 2001).

The rising use of nitrogen had to be accompanied by a rising use of the other two essential macronutrients

Agricultural phosphate consumption: 20.3 Mt P in 2010.

Potassium is obtained mostly by underground mining of sylvinite, a mixture of about a third KCl and two-thirds NaCl; Saskatchewan has the largest reserves of the rock and is the leading global producer. Worldwide extraction (expressed in terms of K2O equivalent) rose to nearly 34 Mt by 2010, with Canada (nearly 10 Mt) and Russia (more than 6 Mt) being the largest producers and worldwide exporters. About 85% of all KC ends up as fertilizer.

Silicon

The raw material for producing silicon is abundant, but an energy-intensive high-temperature deoxidization with carbon – SiO2 + 2C + Si + 2CO (using graphite electrodes in electric furnaces) – is required to yield element that is 99% pure. But even 99% purity is quite unacceptable for solar and electronic industries, and hence the metallurgical-grade Si has to undergo elaborate and costly processing that makes it many orders of magnitude purer in order to meet the specifications for producing semiconductors, solar cells, and optical fibers (Föll, 2000).

In 1965, when the number of transistors on a microchip had doubled to 64 from 32 in 1964, Gordon Moore predicted that this rate of doubling would continue,

By 2012 the count reached 5 billion in Xeon Phi Coprocessor (Intel, 2012). Mass deployment of these increasingly powerful microprocessors in conjunction with increasingly capacious memory devices has transformed every sector of modern economies thanks to unprecedented capacities for communication, control, storage, and retrieval of information.

Wafer shipments for semiconductor applications rose from just $4 billion in 1977 to  $292 billion in 2012 (SIA, 2013).

During the first decade of the twenty-first century, electronics ceased to be the major consumer of high-grade silicon as most of that material now ends up in PV cells.

There are hundreds of PV-powered satellites used for weather and Earth monitoring, telecommunication, and spying;

The best commercially available models are rated at 19–22% (NREL, 2013; Solarplaza, 2013). For decades, PV cells were made with off-grade polycrystalline material that was not good enough for electronic applications, but as the heavily subsidized market for PV installation rose from less than 100 MW/year in 1995 to more than 10 GW/year in 2009, it was necessary to divert increasing amounts of purified polycrystalline metal into the solar cell industry. In 1997 the industry used only 800 t of such metal, by 2009 it required 69,100 t, three times as much as consumed by electronics, to produce about 44,500 t of solar cells, mostly by the casting of polycrystalline metal (Takiguchi and Morita, 2011).

While some metals can be reused indefinitely (albeit with some mass losses) recycling of most materials often entails considerable loss of quality and functionality.

Increasing burdens of environmental pollution and the critique of economic thinking that tended to ignore such matters. Ayres et al. (1969, pp. 283–84), describing the reality in clear physical terms, noted that such omissions “may result in viewing the production and consumption processes in a manner that is somewhat at variance with the fundamental law of the conservation of mass,” and pointed out the obvious consequences for the environment, namely that in the absence of trade and net stock accumulation “the amount of residuals inserted into the natural environment must be approximately equal to the weight of basic fuels, food, and raw materials entering the processing and production system, plus oxygen from the atmosphere.” But it took nearly two decades before this admonition was transformed into the first fairly comprehensive studies of material requirements on a national level, as it was only during the late 1990s that several research teams began to reconstruct direct material inputs (DMIs) as well as outflows, and total material requirements (TMRs) of the world’s leading affluent economies. Fischer-Kowalski et al. (2011)

There are other approaches to the investigation of material flows; one attempts to trace the life-cycles of individual commodities on a national, regional, or global level; another looks at the energy costs of commodities and products; and yet another traces the environmental impacts of their production, use, and abandonment (or recycling). Life-cycle assessments (or analyses, in either case the acronym is LCA) have been performed at different scales for many elements and compounds – for example, chlorine by Ayres (2008) and polyvinyl chloride (PVC) by the European Commission (EU, 2004) – and for products ranging from aluminum cans (Mitsubishi, 2005) to steel truck wheels (Alcoa, 2012).

Limiting the account to DMI will greatly underestimate the overall resource demand in all modern economies engaged in intensive international trade, and particularly in such major powers as the USA, Germany, or Japan that rely on imports for large shares of many materials. Correcting this by the inclusion of net imports of all raw materials is only a partial (and increasingly deficient) solution, because many metals and other minerals are not imported in the form of ores or concentrates or bulk shipments but are instead embodied in finished products. Identifying the specific material content of these products (even their limited inventory would run to many hundreds of individual machines, tools, components, and consumer items) presents a major challenge – but the adjustment should not end there, as many items imported from a particular country contain components made of materials in a number of other countries that, in turn, imported parts or raw materials from yet another country or, more likely, a set of countries.

The global on-line database and most of the global and national studies of material flows have been produced by a small group of researchers from Austria and Germany and that most of them have been published in just two sources, in the Journal of Industrial Ecology and in Ecological Economics.

I question the utility of constructing these all-encompassing national or global flow accounts because I am not sure what other revealing conclusions to derive from these summations of disparate input and output categories besides the obvious confirmations of substantial differences in national aggregates and in the rates of long-term growth. Of course, the maximalist aggregates of the all-encompassing variety also have an undoubted heuristic and curiosity value and they do convey the truly massive scale of global mobilization of raw materials.

Half a dozen studies of global material extraction at the beginning of the twenty-first century, that include all harvested biomass, all fossil fuels, ores and industrial minerals, and all bulk construction materials (but exclude hidden flows, water, or oxygen), cluster fairly tightly around 50 Gt/year. This is hardly surprising given the fact that these studies derive the flows from the same sets of data:

with roughly 18 Gt coming from biomass, 10 Gt from fossil fuels, nearly 5 Gt from ores and other minerals, and more than 17 Gt from bulk construction materials.

given the uncertainties in estimating the mass of bulk construction minerals (above all for the extraction of sand and gravel) that account for at least two-thirds of the all material flows, the mass of 0.5 Gt is well within the minimal range of estimation error

and the total of roughly 25 Gt thus remains my preferred aggregate of directly used global materials in the year 2000. That total prorates to just over 4 t of materials per person (the global population was 6.08 billion in the year 2000), with at least 2.5 t (and perhaps as much as 3 t) accounted for by bulk construction materials and only about 0.8 attributed to all metals and nonmetallic minerals. These rates compare to nearly 1 t of food and feed crops (fresh weight), close to 0.5 t of wood (excluding fuelwood), and about 1.7 t of fossil fuels (roughly 0.8 t of coal, 0.6 t of crude oil, and 0.3 t of natural gas) extracted for every inhabitant of the world in the year 2000.

 

pre-1950 global totals are nothing but questionable estimates, and even the recent aggregates depend critically on what is included. For example, Krausmann et al. (2009) put the worldwide biomass extraction (crops, their residues, roughages, and wood) at 19.061 Gt in 2005, while in my detailed account of phytomass harvest (Smil, 2013) I showed that in the year 2000 the total for woody phytomass alone could be anywhere between 2 and 13.4 Gt depending on the boundaries chosen for the analysis.

Consequently, there can be no single accurate total, as the search for global totals will be always determined by assumptions, and even if everybody agrees on common boundaries the basic results will be largely predictable. Physical realities dictate that the mass of sand and gravel used to emplace and maintain modern concrete-based infrastructures must be substantially greater than the mass of metallic ores; and that the mass of iron, a metal of outstanding properties produced from abundant ores with a moderate energy intensity, must be orders of magnitude higher than the mass of titanium, an even more remarkable metal but one derived from relatively rare ores with a great energy expense. At the same time, it must be kept in mind that data for inexpensive, readily available bulk construction materials (particularly for sand and gravel) that are usually sold not far from their points of extraction are generally much less reliable than the statistics for metal ores and industrial nonmetallic minerals that are globally traded.

the world now consumes in one year nearly as much steel as it did during the first post-World War II decade, and (even more incredibly) more cement than it consumed during the first half of the twentieth century.

little guidance for future decision-making (beyond the obvious point that the recent high growth rates cannot continue for many decades).

Useful insights can be gained from two kinds of finer focus: through closer examination of material flows on the national level, and by putting more restrictive analytical boundaries on the set of examined materials and tracing the flows of individual commodities with some clear goals in mind. This can be done by detailing their uses, dispersal, and persistence in a society, and by attempting life-cycle analyses of those materials that circulate on a human timescale, that is by quantifying their direct and indirect requirements for energy or by identifying and assessing the environmental impacts of their production and use.

During the twentieth century, natural growth potentiated by immigration increased the US population nearly 4-fold (3.7), and the country’s GDP (expressed in constant monies) was 26.5 times higher in 2000 than in 1900: not surprisingly, the combination of these two key factors drove absolute consumption increases in all material categories, with the multipliers ranging from 1.7 for materials produced by agriculture to more than 90 for nonrenewable organics (and 8 for primary metals, 34 for industrial minerals, and 47 for construction materials). The importance of renewable materials (wood, fibers, leather) fell from about 46% of the total mass (when bulk construction materials are included) or 74% (with stone, sand, and gravel excluded) in 1900 to just 5% (or 22%) for analogical rates in the year 2000, a trend that was expected given the increasing reliance on light metals and plastics. Aggregate wood demand rose less than 1.4-fold during the twentieth century, but consumption of primary paper and paperboard multiplied about 19 times and was supplemented by rising quantities of recycled paper: when the data collection in the latter category began in 1960, recycled paper accounted for about 24% of all paper and paperboard use, but by the year 2000 its share was up to 46% even as large quantities of waste paper are exported (in 2000 this amounted to about 22% of all domestic collections), primarily to China (FAO, 2013).

The fact that bulk minerals used in construction (crushed stone, sand, and gravel) have increasingly dominated America’s annual flows during the twentieth century – in 1900 they accounted for 38% all materials, by 2006 their share reached 77% – is not surprising given the enormous expansion of material-intensive transportation infrastructures after World War II. Construction of the Interstate system began in 1956 and required the building of many new bridges (USDOT, 2012), while the introduction of commercial jetliners led to the rapid expansion of airports, a process recently repeated in China. Large demands for bulk construction materials also came from the building of new container ports, stream regulation (above all in the Mississippi basin), electricity generation (hydroelectric dams, nuclear power plants), new factories, commercial real estate (warehouses, shopping centers), and housing. The mass of construction materials used in the USA rose about 7-fold between 1900 and 1940 and then doubled between 1945 and 1951, doubled again by 1959 to 1.1 Gt, but the next doubling, to 2.26 Gt, took until 1997.

End-use data indicate that the largest identifiable category of sand and gravel consumption (about a fifth of the total surpassing 1 Gt/year) is as aggregate added to cement in the production of concrete, followed by road base and coverings, fill, and as aggregate added to asphaltic and bituminous mixtures; but unspecified uses make up the largest category, accounting for about a quarter of the total. Differently-sized aggregates used in the production of concrete are also the leading final uses for crushed stone, and railroad ballast is another indispensable application. With a ballast minimum depth of 15 cm and up to 50 cm for high-speed lines, and an overall width of roughly 4.5 m, this amounts commonly to more than 1000 m3/km or (with density of 2.6 t/m3) to around 3000 t of crushed stone per kilometer.

In comparison to construction sand, the total use of industrial sand is minuscule but qualitatively very important. Annual consumption has recently fluctuated around 25 Mt/year: about 40% of this total is pure silica used in glassmaking, and a fifth goes to foundries to make moldings and refractories as well as silicon carbide for flux and metal smelting. Smaller but functionally irreplaceable uses include abrasives used in blasting and sanding, sands for water filtration, and sands for creating artificial beaches and sporting areas. A new, and rapidly rising, market is for the special kinds of sands used in hydraulic fracturing of gas- and oil-bearing shales, well-packing, and cementing.

 

390 Mt in 2010. Its largest constituents include salt (about 55 Mt in 2010), phosphate rock (about 30 Mt), nitrogen (about 14 Mt), and sulfur (about 11 Mt). America’s salt consumption is remarkably high (20% of the world total in 2010); the two dominant uses (each about 18 Mt in 2010) are production of alkaline compounds and chlorine, and for road deicing; amounts an order of magnitude smaller (both about 1.8 Mt) are used in food production and in animal feed, and more than 1 Mt/year is used in water treatment (in water-softening to remove mineral ions).

Consumption of 10.3 Mt of primary metals in 1900

by the year 2000, with total metal consumption at nearly 144 Mt, they supplied 44%.

I must reiterate that actual domestic US consumption of virtually all metals is, often significantly, higher than shown by the USGS balances because substantial amounts of various metals reach the country embedded in products, and that presence is excluded from nationwide aggregates of apparent domestic consumption. Major components of these unaccounted flows include not only such leading metals as steel and aluminum in cars, airplanes, machinery, and appliances, but also such toxic heavy metals as lead in automotive lead-acid (PbSO4-H2SO4) batteries and cadmium in rechargeable Ni-Cd batteries.

In 1900, the total consumption of nonrenewable organics (mostly paving materials and lubricating oils) was less than 2 Mt, but subsequent extension of paved highways, mass ownership of cars, the rise of the trucking industry, and, above all, rapid expansion of crude oil- and natural gas-based synthetic materials made this the fastest growing material category in the USA: by 1950 the flow surpassed 30 Mt and by 1999 it had reached 150 Mt, with nearly two thirds being hydrocarbon feedstocks (naphtha and natural gas) used to make ammonia, the starting compound for all synthetic nitrogen fertilizers. The second largest input by mass is asphalt and road oil; consumption of these paving and surfacing materials rose from less than 10 000 t in 1900 (when few paved roads existed outside cities) to 100 times that mass in less than two decades, it reached more than 10 Mt by 1950 and, until the 2008 recession, it was on the order of 30 Mt/year.

In aggregate terms, the USGS accounts translate to a domestic consumption of about 1.9 t/capita in 1900, 5.6 t in 1950, and 12 t/capita in the year 2000; after leaving out bulk construction materials these rates are reduced, respectively, to 1.2, 2.3, and 3 t/capita, which means that the use of construction materials rose from about 0.7 t/capita in 1900 to 3.3 t in 1950, and 9 t in the year 2000. Wood is the only material category showing a century-long decline of per capita consumption, from about 800 kg in 1900 to about 400 kg by 1950 and about 300 kg/capita in 2000. Materials produced by agriculture rose slightly from 40 to 47 kg/capita during the first half of the twentieth century, but afterwards they declined to just 18 kg

Consumption of all metals has shown a similar pattern, rising from 135 kg in 1900 to 515 kg/capita in 1950, but by the year 2000 were essentially the same at 510 kg/capita (once more a somewhat misleading rate given the country’s large post-1970 net imports of cars, airplanes, and machinery).

In comparison with the USA, the EU-27 has similar metal consumption (0.4 vs. 0.5 t/capita) but a much lower demand for construction minerals (4.6 vs. nearly 10 t/capita), a difference that is due mostly to the continent’s much higher population density and more compact transportation infrastructure.

 

According to official statistics, between 1980 and 2010 China’s annual rate of economic growth was only below 5% three times (1981, 1989, and 1990) and was above 10% 16 times, while the average for the three decades was 9.6% (IMF, 2013). This implies a doubling every 7.3 years resulting in a 2010 GDP (in constant prices) 17.8 times higher than in 1980. In per capita terms, the multiple was still roughly 13-fold (NBSC,

The pace of China’s frenzied concretization and its overall scale has been stunning. In 1980 the country produced just short of 80 Mt of cement, a decade later it had more than doubled the total to about 210 Mt, by the year 2000 it rose to 595 Mt and by 2010 that total had tripled and reached 1.88 Gt (nearly 24 times the 1980 total and 57% of the global production for less than 20% of the world’s population), and it rose further to 2 Gt in 2011 (NBSC, 2013).

such a pace of construction guarantees that a substantial share of newly poured concrete will be of substandard quality, a conclusion confirmed by the obvious dilapidation of China’s concrete structures built during the late 1980s and the early 1990s,

The quality of concrete used to construct many of China’s new dams (by 2010 the total stood at more than 87,000 structures of all sizes including the world’s largest dam, Sanxia) is of particular concern, even more so as thousands of them are located in areas of repeated, vigorous seismic activity.

raw steel output rose 17.2 times between 1980 and 2010, from 37.1 Mt in 1980 to 637.4 Mt in 2010, when it accounted for nearly 45% of the global output (WSA, 2013). But as the extraction of iron ores increased about 14 times (from 75 000 t to 1.07 Gt) an increasing share of this output has come from imported materials. In 2010, China imported 618 Mt of iron ore, more than a third of the total input into its blast furnaces, and it has been by far the largest iron ore importer (nearly 60% of the global total and close to 70% of the domestic demand) with Australia and Brazil being the major suppliers. And while the country has been the near-monopolistic exporter of rare earths and a major exporter of molybdenum and magnesium (also of graphite), it has been also the world’s largest importer of bauxite (44 Mt in 2010) and, at nearly 1.2 Mt in 2010, of copper ores and concentrates.

the material category that has seen the greatest production increase has been the synthesis of plastics, with a nearly 70-fold rise between 1980 and 2010. Of course, that large multiple is due to a rapid development from a very low base (less than 900 000 t in 1980) but the absolute output of 62 Mt in 2010 was larger than the production of about 57 Mt in EU27 (Europe Plastics, 2011).

The need to secure more food and better nutrition for a still-growing population has led to substantial gains in the production (and imports) of fertilizers. New Haber–Bosch plants were added to raise the output of nitrogenous fertilizers from 10.3 Mt N in 1980 to 45.2 Mt in 2010, but in 2009 the record output was 48.6 Mt N, a nearly 5-fold increase in three decades, while production of phosphate fertilizers posted a roughly 8-fold increase to 19 Mt. Disparity between N and P growth rates is explained by China’s attempt to move away from excessive nitrogen uses toward more balanced fertilization with N:P:K ratios improving the efficiency of applications. As a result, China has been buying record amounts of potash from Canada. China has also become a prominent importer of materials for recycling, and the USA has been their greatest supplier. In 2010, Chinese imports of waste paper were nearly 25 Mt/year, with the USA as the leading exporter (Magnaghi, 2011). Similarly, in 2010 China bought almost 6 Mt of scrap steel – becoming the world’s third largest importer of the material after Turkey and South Korea (WSA, 2013) – with the USA again as the leading supplier. This trade is certainly one of the most remarkable indicators of changing national fortunes, as the world’s largest affluent economy has become the primary supplier of waste materials to the second largest economy experiencing a rapid rate of growth. In 2011 the USA exported more than $11 billion of waste and scrap (materials belonging to the 910 category of the North American Industry Classification System) to China. This was less than the exports of transportation equipment or agricultural products – but more than the exports of all nonelectric machinery and more than five times as much as the shipments of all electrical equipment and appliances (Smil, 2013). China is also the world’s largest importer of plastic and electronic waste.

Before any materials can start flowing through economies, energies must flow to power their extraction from natural deposits or their production by industrial processes ranging from simple mechanical procedures to complex chemical reactions. These energies belong to two distinct streams: direct flows of fuels and electricity used to energize the production processes (producing mechanical energy, heat or pressure and lighting, and electronically controlling a process) and indirect flows (embedded energies) needed to produce the requisite materials, machines, equipment, and infrastructures.

the energy needed to smelt a ton of iron from its ore in a blast furnace (as coke and supplementary coal, gas, or oil) will be vastly greater than energy embedded in the furnace’s steel, lining, and charging apparatus and prorated per unit of output. Modern blast furnaces can operate without relining for two decades, and during that time can produce tens of millions of tons of hot metal. Similarly, the energy needed to create the combination of high temperature and pressure that is required by many chemical syntheses will be far greater that any prorated energy embedded in the initial construction of reaction vessels, pipes, boilers, compressors, and computerized controls. This explains why the second category of flows is almost always neglected

Most appraisals of energy costs have followed one of two distinct approaches: either a quantification based on input–output tables of economic activities, or a process analysis that traces all important energy flows needed to produce a specific commodity or manufactured item. In the first instance, relevant prices are used to convert values of energy flows in a matrix of economic inputs and outputs (for major industrial sectors or, where available, disaggregated to the level of product groups or individual major products) to energy equivalents in order to assemble direct and indirect energy requirements. In contrast to this aggregate approach, process analysis can focus on a particular product in specific circumstances as it identifies all direct energy inputs and as many relevant indirect needs as possible, a process that is in itself quite valuable as a management tool. As with all appraisals that deal with complex inputs and encompass sequential processes, the setting of analytical boundaries will affect the outcome of process analysis. In most cases, the truncation error inherent in counting only direct energy inputs (purchased fuels and electricity) will be small, but in some instances it could be surprisingly large. For example, Lenzen and Dey (2000) found the energy costs of Australian steel to be 19 GJ/t with process analysis, but 40.1 GJ/t with input–output analysis.

Another complication is introduced due to increasing shares of globally traded commodities and products: in some cases the additional energies required for import of raw materials and export of finished products will be a negligible share of the process energy cost, in other cases their omission will cause a serious undercount. For example, two identical looking steel beams used at two construction sites in New York may have two very different histories: the first being a domestic product made by the scrap-EAF-continuous (electric arc furnace) casting route in an integrated operation in Pennsylvania, the other coming from China where Australian iron ore and coke made from Indonesian coal were smelted in a blast furnace in one province and the beams were made from ingots in another one before loaded for a trans-Pacific shipment and then transported by railroads across the continent. Approximate energy costs of long-distance transportation can be easily calculated by assuming the following averages (all in ton-kilometers for easy comparability, ranked from the highest rates to the lowest): air transport 30 MJ, diesel-powered trucks (depending on their size) mostly between 1 and 2.5 MJ, diesel-powered trains 600–900 kJ, electricity-powered trains 200–400 kJ, smaller cargo ships 100–150 kJ, and large tankers and bulk cargo carriers just 50 kJ/tkm (Smil, 2010). Obviously, energy-intensive air shipments will be restricted to high value-added products, while bringing iron ore by a bulk carrier from a mine 3000 km from a Chinese blast furnace would entail energy expenditure equal to less than 10% of overall requirements for steel production – while the energy cost of shipping construction stone from Europe or Asia to the USA may be equal to 25–50% of the energy used to cut and polish it. These realities should be kept in mind when examining and comparing the values reviewed in this section. Energy costs – presented here in a uniform way as gigajoules per ton (GJ/t) of raw material or product –as with any analytical tool, they alone cannot be used to guide our choices and preferences of material use without concurrent considerations of affordability, quality, durability, or esthetic preference; if the latter were to be ignored concrete, a material of low energy intensity, would rule the modern world even more than it actually does.

The energy cost of market-ready lumber (timber) is low, comparable to the energy cost of many bulk mineral and basic construction materials produced by their processing. Tree felling, removal of boles from the forest, their squaring and air drying will add up to no more than about 500 MJ/t, and even with relatively energy-intensive kiln-drying (this operation may account for 80–90% of all thermal energy) the total could be as low as 1.5 and more than 3.5 GJ/t (including cutting and planing) for such common dimensional construction cuts as 2 × 4 studs used for framing North American houses.

The low energy cost of wood is also illustrated by the fact that, in Canada, the energy cost of wood products represents less than 5% of the cost of the goods sold (Meil et al., 2009). Energy costs on the order of 1–3 GJ/t are, of course, only small fractions of wood’s energy content that ranges from 15 to 17 GJ/t for air-dry material. Obviously, the energy cost of wood products rises with the degree of processing (FAO, 1990). Particle board (with a density between 0.66 and 0.70 g/cm3) may need as little as 3 GJ/t and no more than 7 GJ/t, with some 60% of all energy needed for particle drying and 20% for hot pressing.

The energy cost of papermaking varies with the final product and, given the size and production scale of modern papermaking machines (typically 150 m long, running speeds up to 1800 m/min., and annual output of 300 000 t of paper), is not amenable to drastic changes (Austin, 2010). Unbleached packaging paper made from thermo-mechanical pulp is the least energy-expensive kind (as little as 23 GJ/t); fine bleached uncoated paper made from kraft pulp consumes at least 27 GJ/t and commonly just over 30 GJ/t (Worrell et al., 2008). Most people find it surprising that this is as much as a high-quality steel.

Recycled and de-inked newsprint or tissue can be made with less than 18 GJ/t, but the material is often down-cycled into lower quality packaging materials.

Construction aggregates whose production requires only extraction and some physical treatment (sorting, sizing, crushing, milling, drying) have generally very low to low energy costs, and higher fuel and electricity use comes only with the pyro-processing required to make bricks, tiles, glass, and, above all, cement. The energy cost of natural stone products is low, usually just around 500 MJ/t for quarried blocks, somewhat less for crushed stone, but twice as much for roughly cut or split stones,

The energy costs of sand extraction and processing can easily vary by a factor of 2, but even the higher costs leave them in the category of the least energy-intensive materials when compared in mass terms. The simplest mining and preparation sequence to produce fairly clean sand and uniformly-sized sand may require no more than 100 MJ/t, and even more costly gravel sorting (or crushing as needed) should have an energy cost well below 500 MJ/t. The highest energy input is required for the preparation of the industrial sand that is used in glassmaking, ceramics and refractory materials, metal smelting and casting, paints, and now also increasingly in hydraulic fractioning of gas- and oil-bearing shales: its moisture must be reduced (in heavy-duty rotary or fluidized-bed dryers) to less than 0.5%, and this may consume close to 1 GJ/t. Bricks fired in inefficient rural furnaces in Asia may require as much as 2 GJ/t, just 1.1–1.2 GJ/t is typical for Chinese enterprises (Global Environmental Facility, 2012; Li, 2012) while US production of high-quality bricks requires 2.3 GJ/t (USEPA, 2003). Cement production is fairly energy-intensive because of high temperatures required for the thermo-chemical processing of the mineral charge. Limestone supplies Ca and other oxides, and clay, shale, or waste material provide silicon, aluminum, and iron; in order to produce a ton of cement about 1.8 t of raw minerals are ground and their mixture is heated to at least 1450 °C.

This sintering process combines the constituent molecules, and the resulting clinker is ground again with the addition of other materials to produce 1 t of clinker that is then ground to produce fine Portland cement. Fly ash (captured in coal-fired power plants) or blast furnace slag can be used to lower the amount of clinker. Additional energy is to needed to rotate large kilns. These inclined (3.5–4 °) metal cylinders are commonly around 100 m, up to 230 m, long, with diameters of 6–8 m, and they turn typically at 1–3 rpm, with the charged raw material moving down the tube against the rising hot gases (Peray, 1986; FLSmidth, 2011). Disaggregation of all energy inputs shows that the extraction of minerals (limestone, clay, shale) and their delivery to cement kilns is a minimal burden. Kiln feed preparation is electricity-intensive as crushing and grinding of the charge consumes about 25–35 kWh/t and the grinding and transportation of the finished product (clinker) claims at least 32–37 kWh/t (Worrell and Galitsky, 2008). This leaves the bulk of energy consumption for the pyro-processing, a sequence of water evaporation, decomposition of clays to yield SiO2, decomposition of limestone or dolomite (calcination) that releases CaCO3, formation of belite (Ca2SiO4, making up about 15% of clinker by mass), and finally sintering, production of alite (Ca3O·SiO4, that makes up some 65% of the clinker mass) (Winter, 2012). Total energy use in cement production varies with the principal fuel used, the origin of the electric supply, and the method of production. Average specific energy consumption in the cement industry has declined as a more efficient dry process replaced the old wet method. The highest electricity consumption in the dry process is for the grinding of raw materials and clinker and for the kiln and the cooler, in aggregate more than 80% of the total that averages mostly between 90 and 120 kWh/t of cement (Madlool et al., 2011). Heating of dry kilns (mostly with coal, petroleum coke, and waste materials in the USA, and with coal in China) consumes between mostly 3 and 4 GJ/t; the range is 3.0–3.5 GJ/t for kilns with four or five stages of preheating, while a six-stage process could work with as little as 2.9–3 GJ/t (IEA, 2007; Worrell and Galitsky, 2008).

World best practice can now produce Portland cement with total primary energy inputs of 3.3–3.5 GJ/t, while the rates for fly-ash cement and blast furnace slag cement can be as low as, respectively, 2.4 and 2.1 GJ/t (Worrell et al., 2008). In contrast, many plants in low-income countries still need around 4.5 GJ/t for Portland cement.

Energy requirements for glass production range mostly between 4 and 10 GJ/t, with about 7 GJ/t being a typical value

the energy cost of ceramic products rises with the degree of pyro-processing and the quality of items: unglazed tiles need only 6 GJ/t, glazed tiles up to 10 GJ/t, fine ceramics as much as 70 GJ/t,

The usual approach for quantifying the energy costs of the iron and steel industry is to include the energy costs of coke, pelletizing and sintering of ore, iron and steel making, cold and hot rolling, and galvanizing and coating; this leaves out the energy costs of coal and ore mining and transportation, of such energy-intensive inputs as electrodes and refractories, as well as the embodied energy cost of scrap metal. Analyses performed (more or less) within these boundaries show that average energy consumption in the global steel industry was about 20 GJ/t by the year 2000 (Yellishetty et al., 2010).

A review of best industry practices for the entire iron–steel sequence ended up with 16.3–18.2 GJ/t for the blast furnace-BOF-continuous (basic oxygen furnace) casting route, 18.6 GJ/t for direct iron reduction followed by EAF steelmaking and thin-slab casting, and 6 GJ/t for melting scrap metal in EAF and thin-slab casting (Worrell et al., 2008).

A comparative analysis of the energy costs of the iron and steel industry in the USA and China illustrates this reality: it shows that the aggregate input in 2006 was, respectively, 14.9 GJ/t and 23.11 GJ/t of crude steel (Hasanbeigi et al., 2012).

electricity’s share is 20% of the total primary energy used in the US steelmaking, but only 10% in China’s industry. Taking 25 GJ/t as a mean would suggest that in the year 2010 the global iron and steel industry needed roughly 36 EJ of energy, or about 6% of the worldwide consumption of primary commercial energy. For comparison, Allwood and Cullen (2012) put the global energy use in steelmaking at 38 EJ. Aluminum production is much more energy intensive than making steel. Fuel and electricity consumption in the Bayer process, between 10 and 13 GJ/t of alumina, is a small share of the overall cost that is dominated by the electrolysis that is done, preferably with the cheapest kind of electricity produced in large hydro stations (it supplies about 60% of the industry’s needs worldwide).

The IEA put the weighted energy cost of the entire sequence at 175 GJ/t in 2004, and a review of best industry practices came up with a nearly identical rate of 174 GJ/t of metal (Worrell et al., 2008). That is nearly twice the energy intensity of copper and almost 10 times as much as the least energy-intensive production of steel using the blast furnace-BOF-continuous casting route. Global 2010 production of 40.8 Mt of Al would have thus required about 7.1 EJ, less than 1.5% of the world’s total primary commercial energy supply. Metal’s high electricity requirements steer the location of primary aluminum production to countries with abundant hydro resources, and the four such largest producers (China, Russia, Canada, and the USA) account for half of the world output. Secondary aluminum requires only 7.6 GJ/t (for remelting only). As already noted, titanium has the highest energy cost among the other relatively commonly used metals (400 GJ/t), followed by nickel at about 160 GJ/t and copper (global average of 93 GJ/t), while chromium, manganese, tin, and zinc have a very similar energy cost of about 50 GJ/t (IEA, 2007). Not surprisingly, very low metal concentrations of even the best exploited deposits raise the energy intensities of silver and gold orders of magnitude above common metals: the average for silver is about 2.9 TJ/t (30 times higher than for copper) and for gold it is 53 TJ/t, roughly 300 times the energy cost of aluminum.

A World Bank review of PE energy costs found ranges of 87.4–107.8 GJ/t for high density polyethylene (HDPE) and 74.4–116.3 for low-density polyethylene (LDPE), with the processing energy being as low as 25–28 GJ/t and as high as 45 GJ/t (Vlachopoulos, 2009).

The heavy dependence of modern production of plastics on hydrocarbon feedstocks has not been, so far, a major burden, as the industry still claims less than 5% of the world’s natural gas and crude oil output. Rising demand for plastic materials and higher costs, particularly of crude oil, will change this, and in the long run plant-based bioplastics appear to be the only practical answer both to the eventually less abundant petrochemical feedstocks and to the presence of nonbiodegradable materials in the environment.

 

the lignin carbon fiber used in reducing the weight of passenger cars and other vehicles costs 670 GJ/t and carbon-fiber reinforced polymer (polyacrylonitrite) fiber requires just over 700 GJ/t (Das, 2011), more than three times that of aluminum.

synthesis of ammonia from its elements, the Haber–Bosch process

as little as 27 GJ/t NH3 in the year 2000. When Worrell et al. (2008) reviewed the best commercial practices, they rated natural gas-based synthesis at 28 GJ/t (roughly a third higher than the stoichiometric minimum), and coal-based process at 34.8 GJ/t. Naturally, typical performances are higher, around 30 GJ/t NH3 for gas-based plants, 36 GJ/t for heavy fuel oil feedstock, and more than 45 GJ/t NH3 for coal-based synthesis (Rafiqul et al., 2005). The IEA (2007) used regional means ranging from 48.4 GJ/t in China to 35 GJ/t in Western Europe, resulting in a global weighted mean of 41.6 GJ/t for the year 2005.

treating the insoluble rocks with sulfuric and nitric acids in order to produce water-soluble phosphorus compounds is much more energy intensive. Overall energy costs range from 18 to 20 GJ/t for superphosphates (single superphosphate with just 8.8% P, triple superphosphate with 20% P) to 28–33 GJ/t for diammonium phosphate containing 20% of soluble P (Smil, 2008). The energy cost of potash (sylvinite) extraction is low: in Saskatchewan, conventional underground mining followed by milling needs only 1–1.5 GJ/t, and surface mining and milling averages only about 300 MJ/t (NRC, 2009).

the entire production chain – starting with Si made from quartz and carbon through trichlorosilane, polysilicon, single crystal ingot, Si wafers, and actual fabrication and assembly of a microchip – consumes about 41 MJ for a 2-g chip. This implies a total electricity cost for shipped wafers of at least 2100 kWh/kg. Even if using only hydroelectricity this would prorate to about 7.6 GJ/kg, and energizing the entire process by electricity generated from fossil fuels would push the total primary energy to more than 20 GJ/kg for finished Si wafers, 2 orders of magnitude more than aluminum made from bauxite, and 3 orders of magnitude more than steel made from iron ore.

The typical rates presented in this section can be used (after rounding, to avoid impressions of unwarranted accuracy) to assess the global energy needs of major material sectors and to calculate their fractions of TPES (whose total was just over 500 EJ) in 2010 (BP, 2013). Not surprisingly, steel’s relatively high energy intensity (25 GJ/t) and its massive output (1.43 Gt in 2010, 1.5 Gt in 2011) make it the material with the highest total energy demand that dominates the total of about 50 EJ (or 10% of TPES) required to produce all metals in 2010. Plastics are next (assuming 80 GJ/t and an output of 265 Mt in 2010) with roughly 20 EJ (4% of TPES), well ahead of construction materials (cement, bricks, glass) with about 15 EJ, or 3% of TPES. Paper production required about 10 EJ and fertilizers added less than 8 EJ for the grand total of just over 100 EJ or 20% of the world’s TPES in 2010. For comparison, the IEA (2007) estimated energy input for the entire global industrial sector at almost 88 EJ for the year 2005. Paper (and paperboard) and aluminum each end up with very similar totals of close to 10 EJ (2% of TPES) as a result of aluminum’s much higher energy intensity (175 vs. 25 GJ/t) but much lower total output (53 vs. 400 Mt in 2010). Perhaps the most interesting result concerns the energy cost of inorganic fertilizers: given their truly existential importance it is reassuring to realize that the energy needed to produce them adds up to a surprisingly small share of global supply. Assuming averages of 55, 20, and 10 GJ/t for, respectively, N, P, and K (all including the cost of final formulation, packaging, and distribution) would result in a total demand of a bit more than 5 EJ in the year 2010 (with nitrogenous fertilizers accounting for about 90% of the total) – or only about 1% of the TPES.

 

the steadily increasing crowding of transistors has limited the annual mass of wafers needed to produce all of the world’s microchips to only about 7500 t in 2009 and to an aggregate energy expenditure of just 150 PJ, or about 0.03% of TPES.

These calculations also make it clear that modern civilization can afford all this steel and fertilizers and microchips because scientific discoveries and technical advances have greatly reduced their energy intensities.

LCA is now a mature analytical discipline that has its own periodical, International Journal of Life Cycle Assessment,

Varieties of LCA include complete cradle-to-grave sequences

LCAs of housing in cold climates show embodied energies as a small fraction of life-time total.

A 200 square meter Canadian house that cost 1.5 TJ to build, heating and lighting (averaging about 25 W/m2) will claim about 9.5 TJ in 60 years, reducing the construction share to just 14% of the overall cost. By coincidence, that share is nearly identical to the construction share of a medium-sized American car: it takes about 100 GJ to produce and (at about 8 l/100 km and 20 000 km/year) it will need about 550 GJ of fuel and oil in 10 years, while the initial construction will claim only about 15% of the overall cost, and even less once repairs and garaging are included (Smil, 2008). Embodied energies make up even lower shares in the life-cycles of machines that are in nearly constant operation: only 6–7% for jetliners, freight trains, and cargo ships (Allwood and Cullen, 2012).

Williams (2004) ended up with the reverse ratio. According to his analysis, the energy used to make a desktop with a Pentium III processor, 30 GB hard drive, and 42.5 cm monitor added up to 6.4 GJ, while during its relative life of three years the desktop would consume about 420 kWh of electricity or roughly 1.5 GJ of primary energy, yielding a manufacturing:usage energy split of 81:19.

For a Swiss desktop computer, the split was much closer at 46:54 (Ecoinvent, 2013).

LCAs also make it clear that over their life-time many infrastructures will cost nearly as much, or more, to maintain than their initial construction. A Canadian LCA for a high-volume two-lane concrete highway shows initial construction costs of 6.7 TJ/km and a rehabilitation cost of 4.1 TJ/km or 38% of the total 50-year cost of 10.8 TJ/km, and the burdens are actually reversed for a roadway made of flexible asphalt concrete that needs 15 TJ/km to build and 16% more (17.4 TJ/km) to rehabilitate over a 50-year life-cycle (Cement Association of Canada, 2006).

The LCA of repeatedly washed garments is yet another excellent illustration of the boundary problem noted at the beginning of the energy costs section, as products made from different materials have different durabilities and maintenance requirements and a complete account of these realities may shift the overall advantage from a material that requires less energy to produce to one that is more energy-intensive to make but whose life-long energy cost may be lower.

polyester production required twice as much energy as producing cotton lint (clear advantage cotton) but because of a higher cost of cloth manufacturing, the total energy cost of a cotton shirt was about 20% higher than that of its pure polyester counterpart (slight advantage polyester), and after including the energy costs of maintenance (washing, drying, ironing) the cotton shirt was about 3.6 time more energy intensive (clear advantage polyester).

Cotton appears even more disadvantaged once nonenergy impacts are compared: the water requirements of the blend are less than a third of those for pure cotton, and global warming and acidification potentials are 38% lower than those for producing and laundering two pure cotton sheets. Going even further, we can consider the long-term cost of excessive soil erosion in cotton fields, soil quality decline due to salinization in irrigated cotton fields in arid regions, and the presence of pesticide residues in soil and water (Smil, 2008). All of these are avoided by using a synthetic fiber – but its production depends on a nonrenewable feedstock. But so does the cultivation of cotton: PE synthesis consumes about 1.5 kg of hydrocarbons per kilogram of fiber but growing a kilogram of cotton requires nearly 500 g of fertilizers and 15 g of pesticides made from hydrocarbon feedstocks, as well as liquid fossil fuels for farm machinery.

But what LCAs have done is to allow comparisons within the same category of environmental consequences (when a choice of materials is possible, which one will have the lowest effect on water use or water pollution?) as well as more comprehensive rankings of materials according to several categories of environmental impact. This is important because material use is one of the three dominant ways that humans have been changing the biosphere: food production and energy supply (dominated by extraction and combustion of fossil fuels) are the other two great interventions. And when considered in its entirety, the intricate system of extraction, processing, transportation, use, reuse, and disposal of materials encompasses every major environmental interference, from land use changes (ranging from deforestation due to lumber and pulp production to destruction of plant cover and disruption of water cycle due to massive surface ore mines) to atmospheric emissions (ranging from acidifying gases to being a major contributor to anthropogenic warming).

 

there can be no ranking of anthropogenic environmental impacts. There is no unifying metric that would allow us to conclude that soil erosion should be a greater concern than photochemical smog, or that tropical deforestation is more worrisome than the enormous water demand of modern irrigated agriculture.

With CO2 usually being the leading contributor, this indicator will have a very high correlation with the mass of fossil fuel used in the initial production. For example, production of a kilogram of cement will release about 0.5 kg CO2 per kg of but making a kilogram of hot-rolled sheet steel will release about 2.25 kg of CO 2 liberated from fossil fuels (NREL, 2013b). The other two commonly assessed variables are acidification and eutrophication impacts. Emissions of sulfur and nitrogen oxides from combustion of fossil fuels, smelting of ores, and other industrial processes are the precursors of atmospheric sulfates and nitrates whose wet and dry deposition acidifies waters and soils. In LCAs this acidifying potential of products or processes is calculated in terms of grams of hydrogen ions per square meter (g H +/m2) or per volume of water (g H +/l). Eutrophication is the process of nutrient enrichment of fresh and coastal waters (most often by releases and leaching of nitrates and phosphates) that leads to excessive growth of algae whose decay deprives waters of dissolved oxygen and creates anoxic zones that either kill or impoverish heterotrophic life in affected waters

As just explained in the previous section, production of materials claims roughly a quarter of the world’s primary energy supply. Because the combustion of fossil fuels provides most of this energy – in global terms about 87% in 2010, with the rest coming from primary, that is mostly hydro and nuclear, electricity (BP, 2013) – production of materials is a leading source of emissions of particulate matter (including black carbon), SOx and NOx (whose conversion to sulfates and nitrates is the primary cause of acidifying precipitation), and GHGs. The water needed for processing, reaction, and cooling ends up contaminated or is released at elevated temperatures by many industries, and most of them also share the necessity of disposing of relatively large volumes of solid waste and small but potentially worrisome volumes of hazardous waste.

 

Production of a kilogram of typical construction steel sections generates about 1.5 kg of CO2 equivalent, 50 g of SO2 equivalent of acidification potential, a negligible amount of eutrophication potential (0.36 g), and just 0.8 g of the photochemical smog-inducing ethane (WSA, 2011b). Production of a kilogram of PVC (consuming around 60 MJ) requires about 10 kg of water (excluding cooling demand), produces 1.9–2.5 kg of CO2 equivalent, 5–7 g of acidification potential (as SO2), 0.6–0.9 g of nitrification potential (as PO4), nearly 0.5 of ethane (measure of photochemical ozone creation), 0.4–0.8 g of total particulate waste, and 5–8 g of hazardous waste (Sevenster, 2008).

Natural materials can be a better choice, and often resoundingly so in the case of biomaterials. For example, a comprehensive LCA by Bolin and Smith (2011) showed that a wood/plastic composite decking results in 14 times higher fossil fuel use, 3 times more GHG, almost 3 times more water use, 4 times higher acidification potential, and about 2 times more smog potential and ecotoxicity than a wooden deck built with lumber treated with alkaline copper.

Wooden floors are much less energy intensive than the common alternatives: the total energy per square meter of flooring per year of service was put at 1.6 MJ for wood (usually oak or maple) compared to 2.3 MJ for linoleum and 2.8 MJ for vinyl.

Remarkably, many life-cycle assessments take a cavalier approach to life-spans and just assume what seems to be a reasonable length or use (often unexplained)

There are no LCAs taking into account the great longevity of some plastics (on the order of hundreds of years) and their now ubiquitous, and clearly highly disruptive, distribution in aquatic environments. Their buoyancy, their breakdown into progressively smaller particles, and their eventual sinking through the water column to the sea bottom combine to make them a truly global and omnipresent environmental risk to marine biota: they are now found on the remotest islands as well as in the abyss, but their highest concentrations are in surface water and on beaches (Moore, 2008; Barnes et al., 2009).

Great Pacific Garbage Patch (Moore and Phillips, 2011). Later studies estimated that at least 6.4 Mt of plastic litter enters the oceans every year; that some 8 million pieces are discarded every day; that the floating plastic debris averages more than 13 000 pieces per km2 of ocean surface; and that some 60% of all marine litter stems from shoreline activities (UNEP, 2009). Additionally, the latest summaries show that, despite many efforts to limit this, now planet-wide, degradation the accumulation is still increasing (STAP, 2011). Dangers to ocean life are posed by every size unit of discarded plastics: among the largest items are abandoned or damaged fishing nets that can ensnare fishes, dolphins, and often even whales; while aquatic birds often mistake small-size pieces of plastic for small fish or invertebrates and regurgitate them to their fledglings: the stomachs of many species show a distressing collection of such objects. And microplastics – the smallest pieces (sizes less than 5, 2, or 1 mm) that are manufactured for cosmetics, drugs, and industrial uses and that arise from abrasion and photodegradation of larger pieces – can be ingested by marine biota and can have serious metabolic and toxic effects (Cole et al., 2011). Inevitably, masses of plastic microparticles have been also accumulating on shorelines where they endanger more organisms (Browne et al., 2011). This important example shows how incomplete and uncertain are even our best analytical procedures tracing the requirements and consequences of material production, use, and abandonment; it also provides a strong argument for much better management of materials and, obviously, recycling should be a key component of these efforts.

 

with most materials recycling is more accurately described as down-cycling: high-quality paper becomes packaging stock or cardboard, expensive plastics are turned into cheap items.

Production of recycled steel will require roughly 75% less energy and the LCA of common steel products (sections, hot-rolled coil, and hot-dip galvanized steel) showed recycling benefits of up to about 50% for both GWP and acidification potential (WSA, 2011b).

Delacquering (removal of any coatings) needs about 7 GJ/t, melting consumes 7 GJ/t, addition of pure aluminum to adjust the alloy composition takes about 8 GJ/t, and the production of containers (casting, rolling, blanketing, forming) adds 30 GJ/t for the total of about 52 GJ/t, a saving of 74% rather than 96% (Luo and Soria, 2008).

Benefits go beyond energy savings, as recycling lowers GWP, claims less water, and generates less water and air pollution: Grimes et al. (2008) provide many comparisons for steel, aluminum, and paper production. Recycled paper can be made with 40% less energy while generating 45% less waste water and 50% less solid waste (EPN, 2007). Energy savings for recycled high-density polyethylene are 45–50% and 40–45% for PVC.

recycling is also a quest that is often very difficult to pursue (be it because of logistic challenges, excessive costs, or negligible energy savings) and one that, unlike the flows of carbon or nitrogen atoms in grand biogeochemical cycles, often amounts to a fairly rapid down-cycling as the reused materials appear in less valuable guises.

The greatest challenge is to recycle the increasing amount of electronic waste that is, in mass terms, dominated by a few plastics, a few metals, and screen glass, but that also contains small, but in aggregate quite substantial, amounts of more than a dozen elements.

Of the 60 metals and metalloids examined by a UN report, more than half (including all rare earths, as well as germanium, selenium, indium, and tellurium) have recovery rates of less than 1%, for only five elements is the rate between 1 and 25%, and 18 common (or relatively common) metals have end-of-life recycling rates above 50%, but rarely above 60% (Graedel et al., 2011).

Unfortunately, some toxic heavy metals, whose release into the environment is particularly undesirable, have very low recycling rates. The only relatively common way of recycling cadmium is by returned Ni-Cd batteries, but their collection rate remains low. The recycling rate of fluorescent lights containing mercury is also too low.

Correct separation is difficult but imperative: a single PVC bottle in a load of 10 000 PET bottles can ruin the entire melt (ImpEE Project, 2013). Sorting is followed by cleaning (but removing print and labels cannot be 100% successful) and reduction to uniform pellet sizes ready for reuse, still mostly only in lower-grade applications such as cheap carpets, garbage cans, or park benches.

Collection of household waste paper is expensive, and a thorough processing of the material is needed to produce clean fibers for reuse. This includes defibering of paper, cleaning and removal of all nonfiber ingredients (most often adhesive tapes, plastics, and staples), and de-inking is needed if the fibers are to be reprocessed into white paper. Reprocessing shortens the cellulose fibers and this means that paper can be recycled no more than 4 to 7 times.

Recycling of e-waste is particularly challenging, because the devices commingle many compounds and elements that must be separated by a sequence of mechanical and chemical operations. Silicon is the core of modern computers, but transistors and microchips could not function without the presence of a multitude of materials, including many heavy metals.  Elements used to dope silicon include arsenic, phosphorus, boron, and gallium. Printed wire boards, disk drives, expansion cards, electrical supplies, and connections add up to a hoard of materials, small (and for many elements even miniature) per unit but highly consequention in the aggregate. Most of the mass in electronic devices is steel, glass, plastics, copper, and aluminum, but more than a dozen other metals are also present in tiny amounts, eight of them classified as hazardous (As, Cd, Cr, Co, Hg, Pb, Sb, and Se).

Lead is of the greatest concern. The lead in computer wire boards has 30 to 100 times the level of lead (5 mg/l) that classifies waste as hazardous.

In 1997 100 million cellphones were sold a year, a billion by 2009, and at the end of 2012 more than 6.5 billion devices in use, plus tablets, notebooks, and netbooks. These only last 1.5 to 2 years, so up to 1.2 billion cellphones a year are discarded.  In the USA recycling rates for all mobile devices was a dismal 8% in 2009 (and 17% for TVs, 38% for computers).  130 million discarded devices in the USA collectively have 2000 tons copper, 45 tons silver, 4 tons gold, 9,000 tons plastics, 2,500 tons ceramics and glass. Multiply by 6 or more for global amounts.

 

The USA buries nearly 80,000 tons of plastic in its landfills every day, with only 8% of discarded plastics recovered (23% for PET bottles but less than 1% for polypropylene waste).

ENERGY EFFICIENCIES

Late 19th to early 20th century hand-stoked coal stoves converted no more than 20-25% or less of the fuel’s chemical energy to useful heat, though that’s good compared to the less than 10% efficiency of wood-burning fireplaces before that. Oil-fired furnace efficiency can be up to 50%, natural gas home furnaces 70-75%.

Steam engines with top efficiency of 15% used to power small freight ships (less than 5,000 dwt). No bulk carriers (100,000 dwt+) are powered by diesel engines whose best efficiencies are close to or slightly above 50%.

The world’s copper resources are about 1.6 Gt.  To provide all 10 billion people in the future with the average per capita mean (170 kg) would require 1.7 Gt, more than the estimated resource in the crust (Gordon 2006).

Gordon, R.B., et al. 2006. Metals stocks and sustainability. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (USA) 103:12-9-1214

Posted in Infrastructure Books, Life Before Oil, Limits To Growth, Peak Resources, Vaclav Smil | Tagged , , | 9 Comments

Steam engines. Exergy power. and work in the US

Preface.  At some point of fossil fuel decline future generations will be tempted to build steam engines again, and perhaps just as in America initially they’ll use wood to fuel the engines, since coal will be scarce at some point (steamships didn’t burn coal until 1850 when iron ships first appeared).  A good thing coal came along — burning wood in steam engines for locomotives, steam ships, factories, tractors, and other uses decimated America’s forests.

Steam engines are a great deal less efficient than internal combustion engines, making a recovery to today’s level of civilization unlikely.

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Derrick Jensen, Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report

***

Ayres, R.U., et al. March 2003. Exergy, power and work in the US economy, 1900-1998. Energy Vol 28 #3 219-273.

During the first half of the century (1900-1950) steam locomotives for railroads were the major users, with stationary steam engines in mines and factories also significant contributors.

Steam turbine design improvements and scaling up to larger sizes accounted for most of the early improvements. The use of pulverized coal, beginning in 1920, accounted for major gains in the 1920s and 30s. Better designs and metallurgical advances permitting higher temperatures and pressures accounted for further improvements in the 1950s. Since 1960, however, efficiency improvements have been very slow, largely because existing turbine steel alloys are close to their maximum temperature limits.

The conversion efficiency of steam–electric power plants has increased by nearly a factor of ten, from 3.6% in 1900 or so to nearly 34% on average (including distribution losses) and 48% for the most advanced units. The consumption of electricity in the US has increased since 1900 by a factor of 1200, and continued to increase rapidly even after 1960.

In the case of large stationary or marine steam engines operating under optimal conditions at constant loads, the thermal efficiency exceeded 15% in the best cases. However, locomotive steam engines were not nearly so efficient — between 4% and 8% on average — and the best locomotive engine in 1900 achieved around 11%, increasing to perhaps 13% by 1910

Factory engines were generally older and even less efficient and transmission losses in factories (where a central engine was connected to a number of machines by a series of leather belts) were enormous. For instance, if a stationary steam engine for a factory with machines operating off belt drives circa 1900 had a thermal efficiency of 6%, with 50% frictional losses, the net exergy efficiency was 3%. The Dewhurst estimate, which took into account these transmission losses, set the average efficiency of conversion of coal energy into mechanical work at the point of use at 3% in 1900 (when most factories still used steam power) increasing to 4.4% in 1910 and 7% in 1920, when the substitution of electric motors for steam power in factories was approaching completion. The use of steam power in railroads was peaking during the same period.

In the case of railroad steam locomotives, average thermal efficiency circa 1920 according to another estimate was about 10%, whereas a diesel electric locomotive half a century later (circa 1970) achieved 35%. Internal friction and transmission losses and variable load penalty are apparently not reflected in either figure, but they would have been similar (in percentage terms) in the two cases. If these losses amounted to 30%, the two estimates are consistent for 1920. Coal-burning steam locomotives circa 1950 still only achieved 7.5% thermal efficiency; however, oil-burning steam engines at that time obtained 10% efficiency and coal-fired gas turbines got 17%. But the corresponding efficiency of diesel electric locomotives c. 1950 was 28%, taking internal losses into account. The substitution of diesel–electric for steam locomotives began in the 1930s and accelerated in the 1950s.

The work done by internal combustion engines in automobiles, trucks and buses (road transport) must be estimated in a different way. In the case of heavy diesel-powered trucks with a compression ratio in the range of 15–18, operating over long distances at highway speeds, the analysis is comparable to that for railways. The engine power can be optimized for this mode of operation and the parasitic losses for a heavy truck (lights, heating, engine cooling, air-conditioning, power- assisted steering, etc.) are minor. Internal friction and drive-train losses and losses due to variable load operation can conceivably be as low as 20%, though 25% is probably more realistic.

In the case of railroads the traditional performance measure is tonne–km. From 1920 to 1950 the improvement by this measure was threefold, most of which was due to the replacement of coal-fired steam locomotives by diesel–electric or electric locomotives. This substitution began in the 1930s but accelerated after the second World War because diesel engines were far more fuel-efficient — probably by a factor of five.

According to a study published in 1952, diesel engines can perform ten times as much work as steam engines in switching operations, five times as much in freight service and three times as much in passenger service. The overall gain might have been a factor of about five — and also required significantly less maintenance. But from 1950 to 1960 the service output (measured in vehicle–km traveled) per unit exergy input quadrupled and from 1960 to 1987 there was a further gain of over 50%. The overall performance increase from 1920 to 1987 by this measure (tonne–km per unit of fuel input) was around 20-fold. In 1920 US railways consumed 122 million tonnes of coal, which was 16% of the nation’s energy supply. By 1967 the railway’s share of national energy consumption had fallen to 1% and continued to decline thereafter.

It is obvious that much of the improvement has occurred at the system level. One of the major factors was that trucks took over most of the short-haul freight carriage while cars and buses took most of the passengers, leaving the railroads to carry bulk cargoes over long distances at (comparatively) high and constant speeds and with much less switching — which is very exergy intensive. Under these conditions the work required to move a freight train is reduced because rolling friction and air resistance are minimized, while work required for repeated accelerations and decelerations was sharply reduced or eliminated.

Another factor behind the gains was that the work required to overcome air and rolling resistance had been reduced significantly by straightening some of the rights-of-way, improving couplings and suspensions, and introducing aerodynamic shapes. A third source of gain was increasing power-to-weight ratios for locomotives; locomotives in 1900 averaged 133 kg/kW. By 1950 this had fallen to about 33 kg/kW and by 1980 to around 24 kg/kW. The lighter the engine, the less power is needed to move it. (This is an instance of dematerialization contributing to reduced exergy consumption.) If the railways in 1987 were achieving 30% thermal efficiency, and if the coal-fired steam locomotives of 1920 were averaging 7% (for an overall factor of four and a fraction), then an additional factor of five or so was achieved by increasing system efficiency in other ways. In effect, the work required to haul rail cargoes has declined dramatically since 1960, but the exergy input required per unit of mechanical work done has hardly changed since then.

Substitution of diesel for steam locomotives in the USA, 1935–1957.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Coal | Tagged , | 3 Comments

238 academics call on the EU to plan for a post-growth future

Preface. We know there’s going to be no growth soon due to peak oil and limits to growth, and ought to be planning for it so that the financial system doesn’t “freak out” and crash like Humpty Dumpty, beyond repair.  We will eventually be forced to reach a steady state economy, but the landing when civilization snaps from resource shortages could be softened by evolving to a non-growth society, which would also hugely help the environment and reduce biodiversity loss.

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report

September 16, 2018. The EU needs a stability and well-being pact, not more growth. 238 academics call on the European Union and its member states to plan for a post-growth future in which human and ecological wellbeing is prioritised over GDP. The Guardian.

This week, scientists, politicians, and policymakers are gathering in Brussels for a landmark conference. The aim of this event, organised by members of the European parliament from five different political groups, alongside trade unions and NGOs, is to explore possibilities for a “post-growth economy” in Europe.

For the past seven decades, GDP growth has stood as the primary economic objective of European nations. But as our economies have grown, so has our negative impact on the environment. We are now exceeding the safe operating space for humanity on this planet, and there is no sign that economic activity is being decoupled from resource use or pollution at anything like the scale required. Today, solving social problems within European nations does not require more growth. It requires a fairer distribution of the income and wealth that we already have.

Growth is also becoming harder to achieve due to declining productivity gains, market saturation, and ecological degradation. If current trends continue, there may be no growth at all in Europe within a decade. Right now the response is to try to fuel growth by issuing more debt, shredding environmental regulations, extending working hours, and cutting social protections. This aggressive pursuit of growth at all costs divides society, creates economic instability, and undermines democracy.

Those in power have not been willing to engage with these issues, at least not until now. The European commission’s Beyond GDP project became GDP and Beyond. The official mantra remains growth — redressed as “sustainable”, “green”, or “inclusive” – but first and foremost, growth. Even the new UN sustainable development goals include the pursuit of economic growth as a policy goal for all countries, despite the fundamental contradiction between growth and sustainability.

The good news is that within civil society and academia, a post-growth movement has been emerging. It goes by different names in different places: décroissance, Postwachstum, steady-state or doughnut economics, prosperity without growth, to name a few. Since 2008, regular degrowth conferences have gathered thousands of participants. A new global initiative, the Wellbeing Economies Alliance (or WE-All), is making connections between these movements, while a European research network has been developing new “ecological macroeconomic models”. Such work suggests that it’s possible to improve quality of life, restore the living world, reduce inequality, and provide meaningful jobs – all without the need for economic growth, provided we enact policies to overcome our current growth dependence.

Some of the changes that have been proposed include limits on resource use, progressive taxation to stem the tide of rising inequality, and a gradual reduction in working time. Resource use could be curbed by introducing a carbon tax, and the revenue could be returned as a dividend for everyone or used to finance social programmes. Introducing both a basic and a maximum income would reduce inequality further, while helping to redistribute care work and reducing the power imbalances that undermine democracy. New technologies could be used to reduce working time and improve quality of life, instead of being used to lay off masses of workers and increase the profits of the privileged few.

Given the risks at stake, it would be irresponsible for politicians and policymakers not to explore possibilities for a post-growth future. The conference happening in Brussels is a promising start, but much stronger commitments are needed. As a group of concerned social and natural scientists representing all Europe, we call on the European Union, its institutions, and member states to:

1. Constitute a special commission on post-growth futures in the EU parliament. This commission should actively debate the future of growth, devise policy alternatives for post-growth futures, and reconsider the pursuit of growth as an overarching policy goal.

2. Incorporate alternative indicators into the macroeconomic framework of the EU and its member states. Economic policies should be evaluated in terms of their impact on human wellbeing, resource use, inequality, and the provision of decent work. These indicators should be given higher priority than GDP in decision-making.

3. Turn the stability and growth pact (SGP) into a stability and wellbeing pact. The SGP is a set of rules aimed at limiting government deficits and national debt. It should be revised to ensure member states meet the basic needs of their citizens, while reducing resource use and waste emissions to a sustainable level.

4. Establish a ministry for economic transition in each member state. A new economy that focuses directly on human and ecological wellbeing could offer a much better future than one that is structurally dependent on economic growth.

  • Dr Dan O’Neill, Associate Professor, University of Leeds, UK
  • Dr Federico Demaria, Researcher, Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, Spain
  • Dr Giorgos Kallis, Professor, Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, Spain
  • Dr Kate Raworth, Author of ‘Doughnut Economics’, UK
  • Dr Tim Jackson, Professor, University of Surrey, UK
  • Dr Jason Hickel, Lecturer, Goldsmiths, University of London, UK
  • Dr Lorenzo Fioramonti, Professor, University of Pretoria, South Africa
  • Dr Marta Conde, President of Research & Degrowth, Spain
  • Dr Kevin Anderson, Deputy Director, Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research, UK
  • Dr Steve Keen, Professor, Kingston University, UK
  • Dr Saskia Sassen, Professor of Sociology, Columbia University, USA
  • Dr Ann Pettifor, Director, Policy Research in Macroeconomics (PRIME), UK
  • Dr Serge Latouche, Université Paris Sud, France
  • Dr Kate Pickett, Professor, University of York, UK
  • Dr Susan George, President of the Transnational Institute-TNI, Netherlands
  • Dr Joan Martinez Alier, Professor, Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, Catalonia
  • Dr David Graeber, Professor, London School of Economics, UK
  • Dr Juan Carlos Monedero Fernández, Universidad Complutense de Madrid, Spain
  • Dr Dominique Méda, Professor, University Paris Dauphine, France
  • Dr Lourdes Beneria, Professor Emerita, Cornell University, USA
  • Dr Inge Røpke, Professor, Aalborg University, Denmark
  • Dr Niko Paech, Professor, University of Siegen, Germany
  • Dr Jean Gadrey, Professor, University of Lille, France
  • Dr Nadia Johanisova, Lecturer, Masaryk University, Brno, Czech Republic
  • Dr Wolfgang Sachs, Research Director Emeritus, Wuppertal Institut, Germany
  • Dr Stefania Barca, Senior Researcher, Centre for Social Studies, University of Coimbra, Portugal
  • Dr Gilbert Rist, Emeritus Professor, Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies, Switzerland
  • Dr György Pataki, Professor, Corvinus University of Budapest, Hungary
  • Dr Simone D’Alessandro, Professor, University of Pisa, Italy
  • Dr Ian Gough, Visiting Professor, London School of Economics, UK
  • Dr Iñigo Capellán-Pérez, Researcher, University of Valladolid, Spain
  • Dr Amaia Pérez Orozco, Researcher, Colectiva XXK, Spain
  • Dr Max Koch, Professor, Lund University, Sweden
  • Dr Fabrice Flipo, Professor, Institut Mines Télécom-BS et LCSP Paris 7 Diderot, France
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The Butterfly Defect: How Globalization Creates Systemic Risks

Preface. I’m fascinated by system risks, so I’ve included this, though there’s no awareness at all of peak oil or limits to growth or that energy, not money, is the basis of civilization and foundation of every single widget made and transported.  But since the next economic collapse may well be due to the financial system, and since money is how most people view the world, here are my Kindle notes.  David Korowicz has the best articles about systemic risk, I review three of his publications here.

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report

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Ian Goldin & Mike Mariathasan. 2015. The Butterfly Defect: How Globalization Creates Systemic Risks, and What to Do about It. Princeton University Press.

We are so accustomed to globalization that we take for granted the products and services we consume from around the world.

Our information technology (IT) services may run on Israeli software provided from Mumbai as we consume entertainment from Los Angeles filmed in South Africa on computers manufactured in China or Taiwan assembled from parts from more than 20 countries.

Individual and local choices have global impacts and vice versa: what happens outside our borders has direct daily consequences for each of us, every day. These connections are complex, frequently opaque, and often beyond our control. Yet together they are shaping how the world develops. As we will see, there is a growing likelihood that events in one place will have cascading effects in other areas, jumping across national borders and sectors

Globalization can generally be understood as the process driven by and resulting in increased cross-border flows of goods, services, money, people, information, technology, and culture. 2 These flows are multi-dimensional, and the number of connections between them is unprecedentedly large and growing exponentially. It is becoming deeper in that these connections penetrate a growing range of human activities. Increasingly not only people but also things are being connected—cars, phones, merchandise, and a rapidly widening range of inanimate objects and sensors.

two additional examples of global connectivity that we feel are unique and have significantly lowered the transaction costs of economic integration. The first is innovation and technological progress, particularly with respect to computing power and information technologies.

The global movement of goods and people has been facilitated by the expansion and development of an increasingly complex system of roads, railways, shipping routes, and air traffic. In 2008 world container port traffic surpassed the threshold of 500 million TEUs (twenty-foot equivalent units) for the first time and was seven times greater than in 1988. World air travel has more than doubled since the mid-1990s. Over the same period, the real value of world trade has more than quadrupled as the demand for high-value traded goods has risen more rapidly than incomes, and production processes have fragmented geographically with the rise in global value chains, facilitated by more efficient logistics.

Finance, too, has seen a rapid expansion in connectivity and integration. An illustrative measure of volume is the interbank market activity conducted through the Federal Reserve System’s Fedwire interbank payment network. There are an extraordinary 70,000 links in just one day. The right-hand side depicts the core links at 75% of the day’s activity. A more global picture of integration in the financial sector emerges when we consider finance at the multinational level. As well as increased linkages within nations, in the figure we see the corresponding evolution of foreign direct and portfolio investments. The picture that arises from these graphs is one of cross-border capital flows increasing from the late 1980s onward.

Global integration has been a key contributor to recent improvements in living and health standards, but these improvements have for a long time also concealed a mutual interdependence. More than simple connectivity, our increasing interdependence represents complexity.

Our actions are bound to have systemic consequences that we cannot foresee before they occur and often fail to understand afterward; this is true for us individually, but potentially even more so for policy makers and institutions seeking to provide guidance and management in this highly complex environment.

The potential for mutual influence leads us to the second important consequence of complex linkages, an erosion of responsibility that occurs because our actions lead so indirectly to their effects. If a natural disaster disrupts a tightly linked global supply chain, who is to blame for the resulting shortage of cars, computers, or customized machinery? Is the owner responsible for not taking sufficient precautions? Is the manufacturer to be held accountable for operating in a risky location? Is the distributor at fault for using the supply chain without backups? Did the local government fail in its urban management duties by licensing an exposed area for industrial use? Is climate change the reason the disaster occurred in the first place? In this area, as in the case of financial crises, pandemics, and other highly complex cascading risks, it is increasingly difficult to identify the root cause of a hazard or even the channels of its transmission. Increasing global integration is making this task harder.

Complex system researchers Dirk Brockmann, Lars Hufnagel, and Theo Geisel simulated the effects of a single individual infected with severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) placed anywhere in the world using data that accounted for 95 percent of the entire global civil aviation traffic and assuming virulence equivalent to that of SARS. 32 Whereas in previous centuries the insular nature of parochial communities would contain such an infection and give the authorities time to consider their options, now two plane journeys on average would require the vaccination of 75 percent of the world’s population to avoid a global pandemic. After three flights, global vaccination would be required.

Analogous patterns of infectious risks spreading throughout the world can also be observed within the economic and infrastructural spheres. By 2009 the global financial crisis that began in 2007 had triggered losses of $4.1 trillion, with its effects felt in every world market. 34 Earlier events exhibited the same pattern of system-wide failure. The widespread implications of the 1929 Great Crash and the more recent 1987 stock market crash show how, already in the twentieth century, world systems were integrated and highly sensitive to distant shocks. More recently the turmoil of 1997–98 that began with the devaluation of the Thai baht led to the financial contagion associated with the Russian loan default, the collapse of the hedge fund Long-Term Capital Management, and crises across Asia.

the specification of contingencies becomes progressively more difficult as transport, communication, and financial and other world systems become increasingly integrated. This is because we start to lose sight of the effects of individual actions, introducing uncertainty and hazard. Given the pace of change, the traditional concepts of risk have become increasingly inappropriate as a basis of modern global governance. This means that the notion of risk needs to be expanded to include nonstochastic elements that cannot be easily quantified or defined using traditional tools and formulas from probability theory and mathematics. The classical distinction between risk and uncertainty is beginning to unravel, in our view, due to rising complexity and the difficulty of classifying real-world phenomena as either of these two. Additional concepts are increasingly required to understand the “possibility” or risk of failure in an increasingly complex and connected world where assigning probabilities to risks is becoming more difficult.

Systemic risk refers to the prospect of a breakdown in the entire system as opposed to the breakdown of individual parts. Implicit in this definition is the understanding that risk and uncertainty become more virulent in systems as the number of linkages grows. A “systemic risk” is a risk of a “common shock which is not the result of direct causation but … [of] indirect impacts.”  This distinction is crucial because it underlines the fact that it is increasingly difficult to identify direct causality for outcomes.

  1. A large shock or “macroshock” triggered when relatively modest tipping points, breaking points, or regime shifts hit their thresholds and produce large, cascading failures in most or all of the system.
  2. A shock propagated through a network via risk sharing (transferring) or contagion (transmission and amplification). The latter involves a cascading failure, that is, the “cumulative losses [that] accrue from an event that sets in motion a series of successive losses along a chain of institutions or markets comprising a system.” 46 3. A “common shock,” which is the result not of direct causation but of indirect effects. These indirect effects can be just as important as direct effects if not more so. 47 Systemic failure is also characterized by “hysteresis,” whereby the effects are much less resilient to recovery and are in some cases irreversible.

Geographical Risk

efficiency concerns rather than strategic political choices or logistical issues that determine the locations of production facilities, financial centers, and organizational hubs. These efficiency concerns have created a new class of geographical or spatial risk. We can divide this new type of risk into two categories: vector risk and density risk.

urbanization and heightened population density in cities. The risk that arises from these is illustrated best in the context of biological hazards and the transmission of viruses and diseases. One noteworthy study estimates that the breakdown of biogeographic barriers and the introduction of invasive species cost the world in excess of $120 billion annually. This cost includes that of the rise of pathogens that directly affect the health of humans, livestock, and animals.

vector risk

second geographical risk, density risk, relates to the growing concentration of activities in solitary or a small number of world epicenters. The global financial system is effectively rooted in New York and London, and global electrical manufacturing is concentrated in certain regions of China and Hong Kong, while Thailand produces 40 percent of the world’s hard disk drives. Silicon Valley continues to be the central hub for most IT engineering and innovation.

When the Nock-ten typhoon hit Thailand in 2011, it affected car and computer manufacturers all over the world because profit-driven outsourcing had led many firms to the same cost-efficient location.

What these instances had in common is that the source of the economic hazard in each case was entirely geographical. Had the financial system been less concentrated in lower Manhattan, the impact of the 9/11 attacks would have been felt, but the financial repercussions would have been lessened.

There are numerous reasons to be concerned about globalization. Our focus is on the systemic risk that is embedded in the current wave of globalization and the complexity it engenders, which give rise to uncertainty and unintended consequences, including the erosion of the responsibilities of individuals and firms. These unintended outcomes are “externalities” because profit-maximizing agents do not incorporate these social costs in their cost–benefit analyses. Systemic risks may thus be considered a contemporary manifestation of the tragedy of the commons. Exploiting Ricardo’s comparative advantage creates efficiency gains but simultaneously fosters interdependence. Using the benefits of trade leads to output growth but also to inequality.

The Internet has increased transparency and the flow of information but equally has the potential to facilitate the spread of rumors and panics as well as cybercrime and aggression.

Container traffic accelerates the transport of goods but enables the proliferation of illegal trade in weapons and spreads viruses and diseases.

Efficiency promotes “monocultures” of products and production and removes the fat that provides a cushion against shocks. Although in agriculture it has long been understood that monocultures are particularly susceptible to disease and extreme weather conditions, these simple insights have been neglected in other domains.

The global financial system has become more interconnected than ever before over the past decade due to policy and regulatory changes that have opened markets combined with the massive surge in computer power described in chapter 1. The increase, however, comes at the expense of a much higher potential for cascading collapse,

It also has been associated with a higher level of dependence on computer systems, which increases the vulnerability of markets to technical failures, human error, and cybercrime. More computing power implies greater complexity in code, increasing the potential for breaches of cybersecurity and also the potential for bugs.

Errors occur not only due to poor programming or interfacing problems but also as the result of human interaction with computers. The most notorious of these mistakes are so-called fat-finger trades, which occur when a trader mistakenly enters the wrong amount for a trade, for example, by keeping a finger on the “0” key on the keypad and adding an additional order of magnitude. On 18 September 2012 a fat-finger trade caused major market volatility when the shares of Rowan Cos., National Oilwell Varco Inc., and other oil drillers and equipment manufacturers jumped between 3 and 9%.  Relying heavily on computer systems carries the inherent risk of unanticipated errors and mistakes as well as increasing vulnerability to cyberfraud or cyberaggression.

Global financial concentration also increased. The share of the top three banks increased from 10% in 1990 to 40% in 2008 in the United States and from about 50% in 1997 to almost 80% in 2008 in the United Kingdom.  Such significant increases in market concentration lead to implicit bailout guarantees by the state in the event of insolvency. These guarantees, as the 2007/2008 crisis shows, can quickly turn into explicit guarantees that erode market discipline and encourage the largest banks to take on excessive risks, safe in the knowledge that they will be rescued if something should go wrong. Moral hazard thus fuels systemic risk

Concentration as a source of systemic risk is not found just in the financial system, however. A number of studies show how concentration in commodity networks also enables firms to exert control over suppliers, “making them captives.”

Financial traders have invented new ways to trade and to gain access to credit. Though marginal at the turn of the century, credit default swaps, collateralized debt obligations and the resale market for capital had all become ubiquitous operations by 2008. In less than a decade the over-the-counter derivative market expanded to 10 times global GDP, or roughly $600,000 billion.

Until 2002, banks issued more corporate debt than asset-backed securities. In 2005, however, banks issued almost twice as much in complex asset-backed securities as in corporate debt. The same trend can be observed when looking at the global issuance of collateralized debt obligations, which increased by a factor of five between 2002 and 2006

Securitization is the process in which banks repackage a number of risky assets (for example, mortgages, credit card receivables, and student loans) and sell claims to different parts of the return stream. Although securitization in itself might not be destabilizing, excessive securitization has a number of detrimental effects, including excessive opacity and complexity. One important reason for the excessive transfer of risk through securitization was that this process was a convenient method to reduce the amount of capital required for a certain risk. The models on which regulatory capital requirements relied had a tendency to overlook tail risks.  This loophole was exploited by banks that took $100 worth of loans for which they had to hold $8 of capital to generate a $100 security for which they had to hold much less, if any, capital. This regulatory and ratings arbitrage made it increasingly attractive for banks to engage in securitized lending. It also implied that the banks’ assets received favorable pricing.

With the endorsement of rating agencies, banks were able to combine small, risky individual mortgages into one large apparently riskless security.

When banks started issuing securitized assets they engineered a way to increase the share of highly rated assets and subsequently reduced the amount of capital they had to hold. In combination with light-touch regulation, securitization allowed banks to leverage up to unprecedented levels. Through securitization, risks could also be transferred to legal entities called special-purpose vehicles (SPVs). These vehicles in certain respects were like a bank, with the crucial difference that they were not subject to regulation. Moving risks to these SPVs was possible due to loopholes in the existing regulatory framework. And even if regulators had wanted to go after such SPVs they could not have done so because these legal entities were set up in places like the Cayman Islands, Liechtenstein, and other regulatory and tax havens. Banks then issued guarantees to the SPVs, which in turn enabled them to issue short-term liabilities (so-called asset-backed commercial papers) to outside investors.

These investors often were very large insurance companies or mutual funds that could not have invested in risky loans but were allowed to purchase these seemingly riskless securities. This apparently endless cycle resulted in a systemic maturity mismatch that ultimately led to a breakdown of markets once “the fuse was set on fire” and Lehman Brothers filed for insolvency. Securitization allowed banks to transfer large risks off their balance sheets, making credit available to investors with a seemingly insatiable appetite for allegedly riskless assets. When banks started leveraging instead of creating larger capital cushions, they were able to expand their balance sheets substantially. More and larger deals led to higher profits for the banks. Yet most of the profits from leveraging were not used to capitalize the banks but were paid out either as dividends or as bonuses, typically based on short-term successes such as revenue increases in a given quarter.

The maturity mismatch that ultimately led to a breakdown of markets once “the fuse was set on fire” and Lehman Brothers filed for insolvency. Securitization allowed banks to transfer large risks off their balance sheets, making credit available to investors with a seemingly insatiable appetite for allegedly riskless assets. When banks started leveraging instead of creating larger capital cushions, they were able to expand their balance sheets substantially. More and larger deals led to higher profits for the banks. Yet most of the profits from leveraging were not used to capitalize the banks but were paid out either as dividends  or as bonuses , typically based on short-term successes such as revenue increases in a given quarter.

Bankscope, https://bankscope2.bvdep.com/ .  A major contributor to instability was the fact that poorly designed remuneration schemes for senior executives and traders favored short-run profits and asset accumulation over prudence and stability. Bankers responded to these incentives, so it should not come as a surprise that they were primarily concerned with maximizing their returns (for example, through leverage) and minimizing each individual’s risk exposure. With the rise of securitization, bonuses on Wall Street tripled within six years, reaching an all-time high of nearly US$35 billion in 2006. The trend did not stop there, though. Even when bonuses were declining, generous dividends were still paid. In 2008, when the crisis reached its pinnacle when the insolvency of the U.S. investment bank Lehman Brothers was declared on 15 September, bonuses and dividend payments totaled about US$130 billion.

The rapid expansion of the sector was aided by a political culture that favored deregulation at the national level, along with resolute noncommittal to international regulation. Due to international competition among the various financial hubs around the globe, a race to the bottom led to the reduction in already weak regulatory standards. In the short term this provided more financial activity, higher revenues, more taxes, and more growth and explains why so many policy makers argued that their domestic financial system had to become “more competitive,” which they took to mean bound by less regulation.

The culture of deregulation became entrenched worldwide despite the efforts of groups such as the Basel Committee on Banking Supervision and warnings of a number of the world’s foremost economists. 3At the height of subprime lending in the United States, the attorneys general of all 50 states were seeking to investigate these risky practices but were “blocked by a coalition of major banks and the Bush administration,” which used the archaic National Banking Act of 1863 to prevent state-level action.  In the United States, the world’s largest national financial market, legislation such as the Glass-Steagall Act had aimed to foster financial stability since the Great Depression. Commercial and investment banking activities were separated, reducing speculation and risk taking by stopping banks from “gambling” with savings. In the decades after Glass-Steagall’s ratification, however, administrations convinced of the merits of uncontrolled capital flow began to undermine such efforts. The repeal of the Glass-Steagall Act by the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Act in 1999 constituted the final removal of the divide between commercial and investment banking.

Now nothing prevented multiple claims from being made against debtors or the implicit extension of deposit insurance.

In order to remain competitive with the U.S. financial market, the European economies felt compelled to create matching opportunities for investors and similarly succumbed to deregulatory pressures.

National deregulation and an integrated market led to a global financial network that Andrew Haldane from the Bank of England has described as a “monoculture.”

 

At the same time that regulators were stumbling, the collapse of the U.S.-based hedge fund Long-Term Capital Management following the 1997–98 financial crisis signaled that banks deemed “too big to fail” could expect to be bailed out by national governments.

Implicit government guarantees had a substantial impact on banks’ funding costs. One estimate puts the yearly reduction in funding costs due to implicit guarantees at between US$70 billion and US$120 billion between 2002 and 2011. Implicit guarantees are effectively a transfer of wealth from taxpayers to the financial system.

In the buildup to the crisis, the global financial network could be likened to “the dynamics of ecological food webs” or “networks within which infectious diseases spread.”  Within these networks an increasing number of nodes and links, along with the corresponding opportunities to trade and share risks, created the illusion of enhanced financial stability.

In a model of fire sales and market breakdowns, banks face an inherently uncertain environment when assessing counterparty risk. In a network of interbank lending the default risk of a bank depends on the default risk of all the banks’ counter parties. This, in turn, depends on the default risk of the counterparties of counterparties, and so on. It follows that complexity can make healthy banks reluctant to buy, which can lead to the evaporation of liquidity and the breakdown of markets.

Regulation itself has become increasingly complex.  Whereas Basel I, the predecessor of the current Basel III agreement, had a total length of 30 pages in 1988, by the time Basel III is fully implemented in the United States it will take up to 30,000 pages.

The connectivity that had enabled rapid growth suddenly turned to amplifying and spreading systemic risks.

Haldane argues that connectivity is a knife-edge property. Up to a certain point, financial networks and interbank linkages serve as a form of mutual insurance of the financial system and thus contribute to systemic stability. Beyond this point, the same interconnections might serve as shock amplifiers and thus increase systemic fragility.

If a number of banks hold identical or similar assets, this correlation between their portfolios can give rise to a fire sale that is typically associated with significant losses for a large number of banks.

The main idea behind information spillovers is that the insolvency of a bank can increase the re financing costs of the surviving banks—especially in times of crises, when financial markets exhibit herding behavior.

Although a growing chorus of economists cautioned against unchecked deregulation, the mainstream of the profession saw the lowering of transaction costs as economically sensible. These economists provided cover for those in government and business who were un willing to curtail the flow of cheap credit that was driving consumers’ confidence and sense of good fortune. It is never easy to turn off the music or take away the punch bowl while a party is in full swing. Politicians who profited from the bubble in credit and expectations, along with bankers who were intoxicated by bonuses, not surprisingly resisted attempts to enforce tighter standards. Profit overtook reason and common sense. It was not simply the case that institutional procedures were too sluggish to respond to policy directives, or even that politicians and regulators simply ignored expert warnings.

 

Globalization has facilitated the widespread creation of extensive supply chains, defined as systems of organizations, people, technology, activities, information, and resources involved in moving a product or service from supplier to customer.

China used the power of its economic dominance in the production of this key commodity during a maritime conflict with Japan and blocked the exports of rare earth elements. This episode shows how supply chain dependencies can be exploited to achieve strategic geopolitical goals.

“Globalization requires greatly increased co-ordination of transport by road, rail, sea, air and now also by an entirely new route to market: the internet. This makes logistics vastly more complex. The job of ensuring that all these things work together is known as supply-chain management.”

Between 1951 and 2004, the average annual growth rate of world trade was 5.7 percent.

Declines in the cost of shipping and air transport now make it both possible and profitable for supply chains to operate across a wider range of countries. Companies today function transnationally, outsourcing everything from manufacturing to engineering as raw and processed materials flow from one continent to another.

There was an extraordinary eight-fold increase in China’s exports between 1999 and 2008.

The standardization of container size and freight technology made international transport easier by substantially reducing transaction costs, the virtual world experienced a parallel standardization with the invention of the Internet Protocol Suite, which significantly simplified communication between disparate networks and across borders. World container traffic was almost seven times as high in 2008 as in 1988; in the intervening period, the Internet fundamentally transformed our commercial habits. These two trends were not unrelated.

Toyota relied on efficient transportation platforms and data exchange networks to deliver parts when they were needed but not before. This “just-in-time” manufacturing helped to cut muda and was essential to the “Toyota Way.” Toyota also pioneered the practice of supply chain fragmentation, outsourcing the manufacture of various components to subsidiaries around the world. It was the first company to recognize that by leaving the production of individual parts to specialized suppliers it could optimize efficiency and operate more cost-effectively. This quest for efficiency moved Toyota to open multiple manufacturing facilities in over a dozen countries worldwide. The firm overcame geographic, linguistic, and cultural barriers to search out the most cost-efficient locations, balancing production costs, speed to market, and access to labor.

The prevailing logic of supply chain management today is that the production of goods, where possible, should be outsourced to the most cost-efficient provider.

The strategy of fragmenting supply chains into outsourced locations has proved so profitable that it is now a management standard in many manufacturing industries. The example of flooding in Thailand illustrates what can happen when centers for outsourcing experience problems or, as the Economist puts it, “when the chain breaks.”  The reason that so many different industries were so severely affected by the floods was that cost-minimizing locations such as Thailand tend to be seen to address a range of efficiency concerns. Low taxes, low wages, liberal regulation, and other incentives make specific locations attractive across industries. Although one generally thinks of globalization as a process involving a multiplicity of locations, and thus a geographical diversification of risk, in practice it has also resulted in a concentration of risk and instability. By allowing these nexuses to arise, the world is literally putting all its eggs in one basket and leaving itself vulnerable to highly disruptive hazards.

 

It can be highly beneficial for an individual student or firm to learn from techniques and procedures that have proven to be successful in the past (the use of best practices). The standardization of management education, however, impairs the ability of graduates to draw from their diverse backgrounds and to react to unexpected circumstances. Uniform teaching of textbook techniques ensures efficiency during standard periods and thus responds well to standard tests. These techniques, however, are unprepared to respond to unexpected circumstances or to react to rare events. With the proliferation of management education, there is standardization and shared models of how to deal with risk. This means that when an event occurs that is not predicted by textbook analysis (and we know from our discussion of global complexity that this is increasingly likely), all managers will be similarly unprepared and will respond in a similar fashion. Systemic risk is, by its nature, surprising. In the face of unusual challenges, there is no manual or textbook response. Ingenuity and the pooling of different perspectives are required. Responding to systemic risk requires managers who can think originally and draw on a heterogeneous set of perspectives to come up with novel solutions to often uniquely testing circumstances.

Researchers at the WTO, for instance, have shown that there is a “resonance effect” between supply chains and monetary circuits. 38 They provide evidence of cross-sectorial systemic risk and identify international supply chains as potential conduits for the spread of financial shocks.

National Strategy for Global Supply Chain Security issued by the White House in January 2012 marks an important step toward containing supply chain risks.

it also raises awareness of the threat of an “adverse impact” on “global economic growth and productivity” that would result from natural disasters such as earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions.

 

As in the financial sector, it appears that highly interconnected firms lack the resources to appraise all of their risk factors. This is in part because such risks extend to their trading partners, subcontractors, suppliers, and others,

Here complexity not only interferes with the ability of companies to manage risks; it also, as in finance, affects the capacity of regulators to monitor instability.

The effects of outsourcing and subcontracting in global supply chains are in many ways comparable to the effects of securitization and secondary market trading in the financial sector. All of these innovations can diversify risk and may be profitable for individual firms, yet they also fail to account for their negative externalities and the creation of systemic risk. The result in both cases is that profit-driven firms inject unsustainable fragility into the global economy. Supply networks and financial networks are not independent of each other. Whenever a commodity is sold from a supplier to a retailer, the supplier faces the risk that the retailer will file for insolvency after obtaining the good but before making the appropriate payment.

Supply chain risks include everything from natural hazards, terrorism, pandemics, and data security to demand variability and supply fluctuations. Fierce competition and tight margins can further magnify the impact of a supply chain failure on a business…. Economic pressures exacerbate supply chain–related risks particularly in relation to supplier viability given tightening credit markets, downward pressure on costs, and shrinking consumer markets.

Because infrastructure underlies all other sectors, shortcomings in infrastructure spread to other domains with particular virulence—an electrical glitch can lead to a financial collapse, an airport closure can disrupt a global supply chain, and an Internet crash can destroy communications arrays, with infrastructure collapses quickly cascading across sector boundaries. Second, the growing complexity of infrastructure systems and the significance of a small number of increasingly connected nodes mean that particular pinch points in the system are sources of instability.

A few oil refining and transshipment centers account for most U.S. fuel. Power, communication, financial, and other systems are increasingly geographically concentrated, with little real option to relocate. The pace of population and economic growth and the rapid rise in connectivity and technological change mean that in much of the world the supply of infrastructure has lagged further and further behind demand. Many of the networks on which existing transport, water, and sanitation systems rely in the advanced economies are more than 50 years old and in some cases more than a century old and are operating well beyond their design capacity. With the economic crisis reducing the capital allocated to investment in new building and maintenance, a growing number of societies are suffering from increased aging of infrastructure.

Complexity and efficiency.

Today transport networks are operating at close to capacity, and choke-points such as airports (for instance, Chicago’s O’Hare) or junctures (for example, the Suez Canal) process significant shares of regional and even global traffic with wafer-thin margins of flexibility. Through economies of scale, key ports can process far more traffic than smaller competitors and can claim ever-larger regional shares. Similarly, cargo lines using larger and larger ships and planes to transport goods efficiently in bulk have managed to push smaller players out of the market. An over-reliance on critical nodes and lines means that natural disasters and human error are more likely to be amplified and become systemic failures. The second dimension of systemic risk in infrastructure is that, as well as creating a risk of cascading failures, globalization has increased the vulnerability of these critical nodes. As many infrastructure systems become outdated and are under-monitored, they become more vulnerable. High-volume traffic means that there is little time for maintenance. Meanwhile, the international nature of these nodes makes national regulation incomplete and less effective. These two risks can be illustrated simply: complexity means that a failure at one node (for example, an airport) is likely to have systemic consequences that could easily affect multiple sectors of the economy, multiple countries, and millions of only indirectly connected global citizens. Vulnerability means that this one node is more likely to

Environmental disruptions lead to extreme weather conditions and diseases that originate from the ecosystem and put vital systems (such as those for food and energy supplies, telecommunications, and manufacturing production) at risk. The two aspects of environmental risk are linked; as globalization creates risks to the environment, the resulting ecological disruptions cause risks from the biosphere.

Rising water levels resulting from melting ice caps put large numbers of people at risk. More than half of the world’s population lives within 60 kilometers of shorelines, and the rising tides are likely to bring flooding, the contamination of groundwater and crops, and the destruction of homes and livelihoods.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Science magazine on Peak Sand 2017 and 2018

[ Sand is essential to make concrete, glass, silicon for computer chips, and many other products (longer list in Peak Sand), so no wonder top journal “Science” has had two articles on this topic.

Sand mining also ruins ecosystems, lessens biodiversity, impairs water and food security, makes storm surges and tsunamis more destructive, ruins drinking water with salty water, and salinization of cultivated land reduces and even prevents land from being farmed.

In India, illegally mining sand has become very lucrative and the “Sand Mafia” in India has become one of the most powerful and violent organized crime groups. They’ve killed hundreds of people so far in “sand wars”.  As a consequence of sand mining, death stalks people in other ways; standing-water pools created by extraction have increased the prevalence of malaria and other diseases.

These two articles have been shortened.

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Derrick Jensen, Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report ]

Larson, C. 2018. Asia’s hunger for sand takes toll on ecology. Science 359: 964-965.

Across Asia, rampant extraction of sand for construction is eroding coastlines and scouring waterways.

Already, scientists have linked poorly regulated and often illegal sand removal to declines in seagrasses in Indonesia and in species such as the Ganges River dolphin and terrapins in India and Malaysia. In eastern China’s Poyang Lake, dredging boats are sucking up tens of millions of tons of sand a year, altering the hydrology of the country’s largest freshwater lake, a way station for migratory birds.

Used to make concrete and glass, sand is an essential ingredient of nearly every modern highway, airport, dam, windowpane, and solar panel. Although desert sand is plentiful, its wind-tumbled particles are too smooth—and therefore not cohesive enough—for construction material. Instead, builders prize sand from quarries, coastlines, and riverbeds.

Between 1994 and 2012, global cement production—a proxy for concrete use—tripled, from 1.37 billion to 3.7 billion tons, driven largely by Asian construction, according to a 2014 report from the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP). Land reclamation projects, too, have a rapacious hunger for sand. Singapore, for example, has expanded its land area by 22% using sand primarily from Malaysia, Cambodia, and Indonesia as fill. All told, UNEP warned, sand mining—on an industrial scale and by individual operators—“greatly exceeds natural renewal rates” and “is increasing exponentially.”

Scientists are now tracing the collateral damage. A paper under review at Science of the Total Environment  explains how sand mining has driven declines of seagrass meadows off of Indonesia. Sediment plumes stirred up by the dredging block sunlight, impeding photosynthesis, his team has found. The meadows nourish several species, including the dugong, which is in decline.

Another sand mining victim is the southern river terrapin, a critically endangered turtle in Southeast Asia.  “Terrapin habitat cannot be easily replaced,” Chen says, because female turtles return each year to lay eggs at the same beaches.

Also under siege, in Bangladesh and India, is the northern river terrapin. “Sand mining is one of the biggest problems and reasons why they are so endangered today,” says Peter Praschag, a biologist at the Conservation Breeding and Research Center for Turtles in Graz, Austria. “When the sand banks are gone, the [terrapin] is gone.” Other creatures directly affected by river sand mining, scientists say, are the gharial—a rare crocodile found in northern India—and the Ganges River dolphin.

Poyang Lake, a key wintering ground on the East Asian-Australasian Flyway, hosts dozens of migratory species, including almost all of the 4000 or so surviving Siberian cranes. But sand dredging campaigns in the middle Yangtze Basin have expanded rapidly since the early 2000s, when such activities were banned on sections of the lower Yangtze. “Sand mining has significantly lowered the water level, especially in winter,” says Lai Xijun, an environmental hydrologist at the Nanjing Institute of Geography and Limnology in China. Falling lake levels can curtail the birds’ access to aquatic vegetation. And when lake bottom mud dries and hardens, the birds may not be able to pluck out nutritious tubers.

In grasslands near Poyang, the kind and amount of food the cranes consume “may no longer be enough to fuel egg laying” at the levels the birds managed in the past, says James Burnham, a conservation biologist at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. His group has documented a worrisome decline in the ratio of juvenile cranes to adults at Poyang between 2010 and 2012.

Torres, A., et al. September 8, 2017. A looming tragedy of the sand commons. Science.

Increasing sand extraction, trade, and consumption pose global sustainability challenges.

As a morning mist rolls in from the Arabian Sea, young men lead a couple of dozen ox-drawn carts onto a beach south of Mumbai, India’s commercial capital. Using shovels and buckets, they pile their rickety wooden transports high with sand, which they will sell to cement makers. Altering the shoreline is illegal in India, but enforcement of coastal protection zones is lax.

Between 1900 and 2010, the global volume of natural resources used in buildings and transport infrastructure increased 23-fold. Sand and gravel are the largest portion of these primary material inputs (79% or 28.6 gigatons per year in 2010) and are the most extracted group of materials worldwide, exceeding fossil fuels and biomass. In most regions, sand is a common-pool resource, i.e., a resource that is open to all because access can be limited only at high cost. Because of the difficulty in regulating their consumption, common-pool resources are prone to tragedies of the commons as people may selfishly extract them without considering long-term consequences, eventually leading to overexploitation or degradation. Even when sand mining is regulated, it is often subject to rampant illegal extraction and trade. As a result, sand scarcity is an emerging issue with major sociopolitical, economic, and environmental implications.

Rapid urban expansion is the main driver of increasing sand appropriation, because sand is a key ingredient of concrete, asphalt, glass, and electronics. Urban development is thus putting more and more strain on limited sand deposits, causing conflicts around the world. Further strains on sand deposits arise from escalating transformations in the land-sea interface as a result of burgeoning coastal populations, land scarcity, and rising threats from climate change and coastal erosion. Even hydraulic fracturing is among the plethora of activities that demand the use of increasing amounts of sand. In the following, we identify linkages between sand extraction and other global sustainability challenges.

Environmental Impacts

Sand extraction from rivers, beaches, and seafloors affects ecosystem integrity through erosion, physical disturbance of benthic habitats, and suspended sediments. Thus, extensive mining is likely to place enormous burdens on habitats, migratory pathways, ecological communities, and food webs.

For instance, sand mining degrades corals, seaweeds, and seagrass meadows through direct removal during dredging operations, sedimentation, and reduction in light availability that compromises photosynthesis. As a result, it is a driver of biodiversity loss that threatens species on the verge of extinction—such as the Ganges river dolphin—as well as newly discovered species, such as the São Paulo marsh antwren, found in isolated marshes of southeast Brazil that have been heavily degraded by sand mining. Furthermore, sand transport vessels may carry one of the most aggressive freshwater invaders, the Asian clam, although the role of sand transport in the spread of invasive species remains underexplored.

Cascading Effects

Such environmental impacts have cascading effects on the provisioning of ecosystem services and human well-being. For example, sand mining is a frequent cause of shoreline and river erosion and destabilization, which undermine human resilience to natural hazards such as storm surges and tsunami events, especially as sea level continues to rise. In Sri Lanka, extensive sand mining exacerbated the impacts of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami; ironically, sand demand for coastal restoration increased in the aftermath of the tsunami.

Extensive sand extraction also impairs water and food security. Extraction-induced erosion and degradation of riverine and coastal systems may disrupt the productivity of both wild (e.g., fisheries) and cultivated (e.g., mariculture and croplands) food sources. In the Mekong Delta, sand mining is responsible for enhanced salt-wedge intrusion during the dry season, which damages domestic water supply and increases salinization of cultivated land in Southeast Asia’s most important food-producing region. In Sri Lanka, saltwater intrusion due to extensive illegal sand mining has affected drinking water supply and led to severe declines in productivity of crops (e.g., coconut, rubber, and tea).

Health impacts associated with sand mining remain poorly characterized, but there is evidence that the conditions created by extracting sand can facilitate the spread of infectious diseases. New standing-water pools created by extraction activities in rivers and stream beds provide potential breeding sites for malaria-transmitting mosquitoes. Hence, sand mining has been associated with the spread of malaria. For example, Soleimani-Ahmadi et al. have shown that in Iran, the most common larval habitats for anopheline larvae of two malaria vectors (Anopheles dthali and Anopheles stephensi) are sandmining pools. Sand mining has also been associated with increased incidence of an emerging bacterial disease, the Buruli ulcer, in West Africa.

The high profits generated by sand trade often lead to social and political conflicts, including violence, rampant illegal extraction and trade, and political tensions between nations. For example, in India, the “Sand Mafia” is considered one of the most powerful and violent organized crime groups, and hundreds of people have been killed in “sand wars”. To gain land through land-reclamation projects, Singapore relies on sand imports from neighboring countries; the latter lose sand and suffer the consequences of mining, frequently leading to political tensions, accusations of illegal sand extraction, and sand export bans.

All these challenges have important implications for environmental justice. The degradation brought about or reinforced through sand extraction places heavy burdens on local populations, especially on farmers, fishers, and those—typically women—fetching water for households. People from these populations may become environmental refugees, as has already happened in Sri Lanka and the Mekong Delta. Increased vulnerability of eroded areas to flooding and landslides may directly displace populations, as shown by the recent relocation of over 1200 households in Vietnam.

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Jorg Friedrichs: The future is not what it used to be. climate change and energy scarcity

Preface. This book ranges across many topics and I’ve only included a few bits and pieces.  Friedrichs discusses what to do, recovery, denial, migration, historically how Japan, North Korea, and Cuba reacted to sudden energy decline and based on their politics and economics, how other nations may react.

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report

***

Jorg Friedrichs. 2013. The Future Is Not What It Used to Be. Climate Change and Energy Scarcity. The MIT Press.

Established energy experts have for a long time retained the veneer of disinterested technocratic competence, with the peak oil community constituting a vocal counterculture.

Mainstream climate scientists, by contrast, have openly embraced a transformational political role and sounded the alarm regarding global warming, with climate skeptics deploring the politicization of science as illegitimate. In energy science the alarmists remain the “cranks,” whereas in climate science they have occupied the mainstream position.

Today, our backbone energy resource is oil. A century ago, it was coal. Even further back, it used to be labor.

 

I hypothesize a decline of global oil production by 2–5% per year for a couple of decades, after a few years on a bumpy plateau. In line with most of the peak oil literature, I further hypothesize that no adequate alternate resource and technology will be available to replace oil as the energy backbone of industrial society.

An event comparable to peak oil has never happened at the global level.

The fundamental question is why is so little being done about climate change and energy scarcity?

Tackling such problems is hindered because people tend to greatly undervalue future events and distant strangers. The more remote somebody or something is from us, the less we care.  John Maynard Keynes famously cautioned that the long run is “a misleading guide to current affairs. In the long run we are all dead”. Long-term considerations are futile because our life happens now, not some distant future. Therefore we shouldn’t worry about the future and instead focus on the events of the day, which accurately describes the routine behavior of citizens, economic stakeholders, and even politicians who are notoriously concerned about (re)election.

Then there is the problem that the pursuit of particular interests often thwarts collectively desirable outcomes.  Even if we all agree that something needs to be done, most of us may not be ready to do it.

Finally there is denial: people frequently treat real problems as if they were non-issues. Denial has a rational core because it minimizes pain, but it often leads to tragic outcomes. Denial is not irrational. When in denial, people follow what they think to be in their best interest by minimizing real or perceived harm, thereby maximizing well-being. Acknowledging a problem may lead to considerable psychological and social cost: negative emotions such as fear, shame, and helplessness; cognitive dissonance; loss of identity, or loss of friends; embarrassment; and social conflict about the attribution of blame and responsibility. Many people are predisposed to minimize such psychosocial cost with denial rather than facing up to their problems. This may be short-sighted, but it isn’t irrational.  Denial is based on a self-interested rationale of pain avoidance and harm minimization.  Also, deep down, people know that climate change and energy scarcity are existential predicaments that can’t be solved, so denial is a good way to treat these problems as non-issues.

It is unrealistic to assume that human ingenuity is an unlimited resource. A more realistic view is that, at the end of the day, even ingenuity is subject to the law of diminishing returns, with the lowest hanging fruit picked first. If this is so, then technical innovation is bound to become more and more challenging because of diminishing returns to investment in research and development  (Strumsky, Lobo, and Tainter 2010; cf. Tainter 1988; Homer-Dixon 2006).  Today, technical ingenuity requires escalating amounts of money and time.

Climate Change

As with rising temperature, there is a hopeful but naive view holding that a global increase in precipitation should improve secure access to water. Unfortunately, once again this is not the case. While it is true that climate change will increase the total amount of fresh water available to human societies and natural ecosystems, on the local and regional level precipitation patterns will become significantly more unequal and erratic. Rainfall is expected to increase in areas that are already humid, such as moist tropics and high latitudes like Siberia and northern Canada. In relatively dry mid-latitudes such as the Mediterranean, as well as semi-arid low latitudes such as southern Africa, by contrast, precipitation levels are expected to decrease. In humid mid-latitudes, such as the northern part of Europe, the climate is expected to become drier in summer and wetter in winter, leading to a higher risk of undesirable summer droughts and winter floods. On balance, the number of people living in areas suffering from water stresses is likely to increase.

Few people on this planet will be exempt from more frequent and more intense droughts, floods, heat waves, and perhaps even cold spells.

There are considerable uncertainties related to the large ice sheets of Greenland and Antarctica. In principle it would take thousands of years for these to melt, but the pace of sea level rise will dramatically increase should they “slide” into the ocean.

Contrary to the rosy scenarios depicted by some, even the Far North will suffer from more weather extremes, rising sea levels, and the risk of radical discontinuities. Polar agriculture is extremely susceptible to soil erosion. Although the effects may be positive in some locations on some occasions—for example, in Siberia in a year without either flood or drought—they will be negative in most places most of the time.

Peak Oil

These people claim that, regardless of climate change, the world is about to face disruptive energy scarcities on the supply side, due to the imminent peak of virtually any non-renewable energy resource from oil to gas, and from coal to uranium.

They propound four reasons why crude oil production cannot stay for long on this plateau, and why the world supply of liquid fuels will soon enter a rapid decline. First, there is a runaway decline in output from existing oil fields. Second, unconventional oil and alternate liquid fuels are already struggling to compensate for the decline. Third, energy return on energy investment (EROI) is declining. Fourth, there is not enough oil “yet to be found” and “yet to be developed.

What to Do

Voluntary simplification is usually not an option, as the current level of complexity is needed to cope with existing problems. Therefore, involuntary collapse is often the only way for the fragments to enter a new equilibrium at a significantly lower level of social and political complexity.

Alas, community solutions cannot work without considerable solidarity and social cohesion. This is precisely what is lacking in rich industrial countries, where social capital has been undermined by the effects of economic affluence and mass consumerism (Putnam 2000). Under such circumstances, the deliberate investment in community solutions can only be a fringe phenomenon. A genuine communal revival is not likely to happen unless and until it is forced by systemic collapse (Greer 2008; Kuecker and Hall 2011). With due respect to environmentally conscious individuals, it may take a dreadful period of “dark ages” to force the fragments of industrial society to find a new sustainable equilibrium (Chew 2007, 2008). Moreover, with due respect to well-meaning communitarians and local activists, modern civic achievements such as multiculturalism and gender equality may be lost when industrial civilization is replaced by land-based neo-traditionalist lifestyles.

Recovery

If we assume a large-scale collapse, then a recovery will certainly be difficult. For example, it would be hard to resume advanced mining operations after a serious deterioration of the industrial base. It would also be difficult to reactivate networked infrastructure, including advanced information technology, once their industrial underpinnings are gone.

 

In the long run, however, there is also significant good news for people living in poor countries: they should be able to preserve more of their way of life than people living in rich industrial societies. If we imagine a systemic demise of world industrial civilization, people in poor countries may often be in a better position to recover from mayhem than individuals living in rich countries. The reason is that the solidarity and social cohesion of many communities in poor countries is tighter, which makes them more resilient compared to individuals from wealthy consumer societies.

After the American Civil War, Dixieland was deprived of slaves as the backbone resource of the “Southern” way of life. Without prior knowledge, one would probably expect this to be a clear-cut case of a smooth transition. After all, Southerners only had to look to the northern part of the United States for investment and innovative technologies. Nevertheless, the modernization of Dixieland took a century if not more. Insofar as similar upgrades do not seem to be available in the event of peak oil, there is no reason to be particularly optimistic about a smooth transition to a post-oil (or even post-carbon) society.

Migration

When facing serious problems, ancient civilizations were sometimes able to become more sophisticated. Another strategy available to them was to increase their resource base by occupying and exploiting new land at their periphery. When everything else failed, one result was a great migration. People from marginal communities would exploit the relative weakness of the apex civilization, while people from the apex civilization would leave their areas of origin in search of better habitats. Similar kinds of migration are likely to remain a typical response to climatic stresses (Piguet, Pécoud, and De Guchteneire 2011). But whereas the survivors from the collapse of ancient civilizations, such as the Mayans in the ninth century, could effectively disperse into the wilderness, habitat tracking is not going to be an adaptive systemic response in a world crowded by seven to nine billion people (Weiss and Bradley 2001, 610).

 

Modeling

Ever since the 1970s scholars have explored world models to understand the global dynamics of resource depletion and scarcity (Meadows 1972; Council on Environmental Quality and U.S. Department of State 1980, Meadows 2004).

This is valid but for two reasons can’t work for our present purposes. One is that formal models tell us little about the social and political consequences of disruptive energy scarcity. Most focus on physical flows and/or economic processes, but the passage from there to the socio political sphere is difficult.

Another problem is that the assumptions underlying the models are starkly contested. Some models are based on general equilibrium theory (IMF 2011; Waisman 2012), while others rest on ecological economics (Ayres 2009). Some take a linear view of technological progress (IEA 2010b, 2012b), while critics emphasize the non-linearities and tipping points (Korowicz 2010). Some models concentrate on material flows (Meadows 2004), while others take the financial economy into account (Turner 2011). The relatively simple yet powerful model developed by Jaromir Benes and colleagues (2012) is probably as good as it gets, but still leaves many crucial questions open as the authors readily acknowledge. The result is that virtually any vision of the future is supported by some formal model. To avoid such indeterminacy, my analysis rests on a historically and empirically more grounded strategy by examining specific cases when socioeconomic and political systems have actually experienced disruptive energy scarcity.

Lessons from the past.  Predatory Militarism: Japan, 1918–1945

 

In September 1945, defeated Japan was so fuel-starved that it was difficult to find an ambulance with sufficient fuel to transport Premier Tojo to a hospital after his attempted suicide. Pine roots had been dug out from mountainsides all over the country in a desperate attempt to find a resinous substitute to fossil fuel. Much of the Japanese air force and navy had been sacrificed in kamikaze raids, at least in part because there was not sufficient petrol to refuel planes and ships to return from their sorties and keep fighting (Yergin 1991).

Ultimately, Japanese fuel starvation was the result of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Originally, it had been the fear of military and economic strangulation by an oil embargo that led Japan to radicalize its strategy of imperial expansion and to fatefully engage in full-blown predatory militarism. This in turn led precisely to the fuel starvation that Japanese planners were dreading so much.

Ever since the late 19th century, a modernizing Japan had been committed to military conquest in order to compete against overextended European empires. The strategy was to emulate countries like Britain and France in their effort to achieve prosperity, power, and glory by the acquisition of overseas territories. In the absence of adequate power projection capabilities, Japan’s strategy was concentrated on East Asia where it won a war against China, conquering Korea and Taiwan (1895), and another war against Russia consolidating its territorial claim on Korea and expanding its influence into Manchuria (1905). Japan’s participation in World War I further expanded its overseas territories to encompass former German possessions.

The main lesson the Japanese military took home from World War I was that a country cut off from access to raw materials was bound to lose in a military contest due to a trade embargo. In their view, Germany had lost the war because it did not muster the necessary industrial base or access to foreign markets to achieve wartime autarky. To be prepared for a similar war, resource-poor Japan would have to control access to strategic resources. Only a self-sufficient economic bloc in East Asia would sufficiently prop up Japanese industrial capacity to secure the desired status of a great power. From this perspective, the US-sponsored Open Door policy of free trade in the Pacific was not in Japan’s interest.

While Japan could stockpile considerable amounts of petroleum and other strategic resources, such stockpiles would not be sufficient in the event of a protracted war to be fought without foreign oil imports. Since the United States was the dominant producer of petroleum at the time, Japan was heavily dependent on American deliveries. Japan was importing 90% of its petroleum consumption, of which 75–80% was shipped in from California. For the critically important gasoline, the dependence was even higher.

With that in mind, it is easy to understand (certainly not to condone) what happened when Tokyo felt threatened by the specter of a US trade embargo: the limited Japanese onslaught in East Asia degenerated into what was to become the relentless Pacific War. The only alternative to importing oil from the United States was looting it from Borneo and Sumatra in the East Indies.

Totalitarian Retrenchment: North Korea, 1990s

During the 1990s the totalitarian regime of North Korea, formally known as the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, retrenched in order to preserve elite privileges.

In 1990, estimated per capita energy use was twice as large in North Korea as in China and more than half that of Japan. Life expectancy was high, and over 60% of the population was urban. Their industry, which was based on coal and steel, was as wasteful as in any other Soviet country. In line with the national ideology of self-reliance (juche), up until the 1980s the regime had heavily invested in coal mines and hydropower to satisfy the country’s enormous energy needs. Furthermore, Pyongyang had developed a toxic “modern” industrial agriculture to feed the highly urbanized North Korean population. Farming was based on irrigation, mechanization, electrification, and the prodigal use of chemicals.

The North Korean economy was geared toward domestic consumption and did not produce any competitive export staple, except for some advanced weapon systems. The country was thus running a permanent trade deficit, and its economy was not in a position to generate the revenues necessary to substitute for the subsidized energy inputs that were being delivered by external protectors.

The situation came to a head in 1991 when post-soviet Russia stopped subsidized exports of oil and other vital goods to North Korea.  Two years later, Russian exports to North Korea were down by 90%. This had dramatic effects. While the North Korean regime reserved most remaining fuel for the military, the rest of the industry nearly collapsed and agricultural production languished around subsistence level.

The North Korean Great Famine is a paradigm example of how the shortage of a backbone energy resource such as oil can have momentous systemic ripple effects. To begin with, agricultural machinery depended on oil. Without fuel, tractors and other machines were not running. The next problem was transportation. Fuel was needed to transport fertilizer and other inputs to farms, and agricultural products to urban consumers. Fuel was also needed to ship coal from mines to fertilizer plants, where coal was converted into soil nutrients. Fuel was further needed to get coal to power stations for electricity generation. As a consequence, electricity was yet another problem.

Without sufficient electricity, irrigation pumping and electrical railways became intermittent. The intermittency of electrical railways further affected transportation. Without reliable trains, it became even more difficult to bring coal to fertilizer plants or power stations, to transport fertilizer to farms, and to get agricultural products to urban consumers. Thus, interlocking energy shortages, combined with shortages of industrial inputs and a general decline in infrastructure, produced a dramatic decline in production, and thus an almost hopeless situation.

While the entire economy was damaged, the consequences were most dramatic in agriculture and resulted in plummeting food production, considerable loss of arable land, and a rapid depletion of soil fertility. Restoring soil fertility would have required large amounts of lime, which could not be transported without fuel. The regime sent more urban workers and school children to the fields, but this did not compensate for the losses. In a desperate attempt to replace agricultural machinery, most animals for meat consumption were culled and draft oxen slowly became more numerous. But, unlike tractors, working animals compete with humans for food. The energy crisis also compelled many poor people to rely on biomass for cooking and heating. Unlike fossil fuel, however, the extraction of biomass reduces soil fertility, which in turn aggravated the agricultural crisis. As a result of these and other interlocking vicious circles, the production of rice and maize fell by almost 50% between 1991 and 1998. The public food distribution system crumbled. Since distributed food rations were the most important form of payment to workers, this led to a further decline of industrial activity.

Since North Korea’s industrial agriculture cannot be restored without a viable energy regime, even today there is still a protracted food crisis with an ever-present risk of further starvation. Because the problem is structural, international food deliveries cannot solve it.

Cuba

When taking into account the fact that heavily subsidized oil deliveries from China to North Korea lasted until 1993, the Cuban supply shock was even more abrupt and dramatic. Subsidized energy supplies from the Soviet Bloc declined between 1989 and 1993 at a whopping 71%. The crisis entirely devastated the Cuban economy. Machines lay idle in the absence of fuel and spare parts. Public and private transportation were in shambles, with people walking and cycling long distances or riding on modified vans called “camel buses.” Workers had difficulty getting to their jobs. Factories and households all over the island were struck by rampant and unpredictable electrical power outages. As in North Korea, the most painful effects were felt in the food sector. From a daily chore under real communism, the procurement of food became a real source of anxiety to consumers. The nutritional intake of the average Cuban, especially protein and fat, fell considerably below the level of basic human needs. Consumers resorted to chopped-up grapefruit peel as a surrogate for beef, and some people started breeding chickens in their flats or raising livestock on their balconies.

The immediate reaction of the Cuban regime was predictable: mobilize the masses for food production, and revitalize the state sector. Townsfolk were sent to the countryside for farm labor, but after more than 40 years of real communism there was little revolutionary fervor left in the population. Also, the state sector was too sclerotic to be converted from sugar and coffee to potatoes and beans. Despite world market prices for sugar below production costs, state farms continued to produce sugarcane.

The next response of the Cuban regime was cautious liberalization and reform. To begin with, the regime moved from toleration to the controlled legalization of certain black-market and informal-sector activities. To attract hard currency, the country was cautiously opened to Western tourists. The US dollar was legalized as a parallel currency. Control over numerous state farms was partly devolved to the employees and management. All of this contributed to a burgeoning informal and semi-informal sector, which quickly took on its own dynamic and significantly contributed to the provisioning of the Cuban population.

This strategy was not only more flexible and pragmatic but also considerably more humane than the approach taken by Havana’s communist counterpart in Pyongyang. Overall, the regime in Havana enlisted the Cuban population in an aggressive import substitution program.

The policy was a tall order for a country that continued to suffer from the historical trade embargo imposed by its most obvious economic partner, the United States. As a consequence, tractors had to be substituted with oxen, and fertilizer with manure, in order to revitalize agricultural production and feed the population. At any rate, the real miracle was performed by the Cuban people. Against all odds, ordinary people managed to get by due to the remarkable cohesion of Cuban society at the level of local communities and neighborhoods.

Although Cuba is highly urbanized, the typical barrio is an urban village. Cuba’s multigenerational family households are tightly embedded in neighborhood life. The typical household is shared by an extended family including aunts, uncles, and cousins. One-person households are very rare. Most families have lived in the same home for generations. The occupational structure tends to be mixed, with some members of a household working in the official sector, others in the informal economy, and yet others dedicated to reproduction and care. People cultivate close relationships with friends and relatives inside and outside their barrio.

One should not idealize this. In the early 1990s, families were stuck in their homes because the regime had frozen the property structure after the revolution. Thus, people were cramped into narrow spaces because they had no other choice. The regime had invested in community cohesion not so much to create social glue, but rather to sustain political control. Moreover, communitarian neighborhood life is not just cozy. It is also rife with gossip and strife.

Be that as it may, what ultimately matters is that most Cubans could rely on their families, friends, and neighbors. In a survey, 86% of people from vulnerable neighborhoods in Havana declared that they could count on support from relatives, 97% from friends, and 89% from neighbors. This local solidarity, or social capital, helped ordinary Cubans to make ends meet during the Special Period. As one inhabitant of a vulnerable neighborhood put it, the crisis brought people closer together because it forced them to rely on one another.

In the countryside, there were deliberate efforts to link people with the land. Labor organization on state farms was shifted from collectivist “brigades” to the territorial organization of workforce by ranches (granjas) and farms (fincas), which were further subdivided into dairies (vaquerías) and plots (lotes). State farms and agricultural cooperatives were expected to provide their own food, both for canteens and for private consumption. Some factories had workers cultivate land to cater to their food needs. Elsewhere, workers were encouraged to have their own small plots where they could produce food for their families. Thus, localities in the Cuban countryside became increasingly self-sufficient. Traditional knowledge was another decisive factor in feeding the population. Although most land had been collectivized after the revolution of 1959, about 4% of Cuban farmers had kept their land. Another 11% was organized in private cooperatives.

The survival of traditional family farms and private cooperatives alongside industrial agriculture turned out to be an important asset. Independent farms were more resilient to the crisis than state farms because they operated with less fuel and agrochemical inputs. Cuba’s surviving family farmers kept alive important traditional knowledge that could now be recovered.

Other formerly independent farmers had moved to towns and cities, where they provided valuable know-how for urban agriculture. Urban agriculture was a local self-help movement, facilitated by the availability of traditional knowledge in combination with technologies of organic gardening and the Cuban-specific rustic ingenuity. Idle stretches of land between concrete blocks or in urban peripheries were turned into makeshift organic gardens. Vacant or abandoned plots in close vicinity to people’s homes were transformed into plantation sites. People used whatever urban wastelands they could occupy to grow vegetables and other foodstuffs.

The movement was purposefully augmented by the regime, but the real action was at the grassroots level. By the mid-1990s, there were hundreds of registered horticultural clubs in Havana alone. An urban cultivator from Havana explained: “When the Special Period started, horticultural clubs were organized by farmers themselves. . . . Special emphasis was made to involve the whole family in these activities. . . . We wanted also to develop more collaboration and mutual help among ourselves; we exchanged seeds, varieties, and experiences. We achieved a sense and spirit of mutual help, solidarity, and we learned about agricultural production”.

Again, one should not idealize this. Environmentalists have exalted urban farming during the Special Period as a social experiment, or even as an alternative model of organic agriculture In reality, Cuba’s detour into low-input agriculture was obviously driven not so much by ecological consciousness as by dire necessity. From the second half of the 1990s, when the economic situation improved and agrochemical inputs became more available again, many reforms were aborted, and Cuba started drifting back to industrial farming. This was helped by subsidized oil deliveries from Venezuela. At the same time, foreign investment enabled Cuba to cover about half of its oil and gas consumption from domestic sources. Nevertheless, it is highly encouraging to note that, during the early and mid-1990s, Cubans managed for a few years to mitigate an extremely disruptive energy scarcity by their remarkable community ethos. The comparison with North Korea shows that this was not a minor achievement.

Peak Oil Trajectories

 

This obviously does not imply that responses to a terminal decline of world oil production would follow exactly the same lines as the national reactions to oil supply disruptions described in my case studies. Japan in the 1930s, as well as North Korea and Cuba in the 1990s, were unique places. It clearly makes a difference that today all oil-importing countries are tightly integrated in global market structures. Another difference is that, while even a gradual decline of world oil supply would be extremely disruptive for oil importing countries, the onset of mounting energy scarcity after peak oil would be somewhat less abrupt than it was in the cases of North Korea and Cuba.

Countries prone to military solutions may follow a Japanese-style strategy of predatory militarism. Countries with a recent authoritarian tradition may follow a North Korean path of totalitarian retrenchment. Countries with a strong community ethos may be able to embark on Cuban-style socioeconomic adaptation.

It is of course possible to imagine additional reactive patterns, such as the mobilization of national sentiment by populist regimes. Even so, the trajectories identified can help us to derive plausible hypotheses on how different parts of the world would be likely to react to disruptive energy scarcity after peak oil.

Given its unrivaled military capabilities, the United States is the most obvious candidate for a Japanese-style strategy of predatory militarism. Simply put, the United States may be tempted to use its unique power-projection capacity to secure privileged access to oil. It has happened sometimes in the past, and may happen more often in the future, that US decision makers find military coercion more effective than trade. Increased domestic production of unconventional oil in the United States and Canada may obviate the drive for predatory militarism, but this is premised on the continuation of the current boom of shale oil and tar sands.

 

The People’s Republic of China (PRC) may be tempted to use its military muscle to secure access to oil and gas in Central Asia and, possibly, in the South China Sea. Elsewhere, the PRC would be unlikely to use a predatory strategy because, for the foreseeable future, its maritime forces and air power are no match for the United States.

Countries like India and Israel have even more limited military capabilities, but may nevertheless be tempted to engage in geopolitical operations in their regional neighborhood to secure access to vital energy resources.

A North Korean-style solution of totalitarian retrenchment that screws the population to preserve elite privileges is most likely to occur in countries with a strong authoritarian tradition. In consolidated democracies, totalitarian retrenchment is much harder to imagine. Nevertheless, the history of 20th-century Europe shows that even liberal democracies can and do sometimes degenerate into tyranny. It is difficult to predict to what point even in consolidated liberal democracies the political culture could deteriorate in a protracted and serious crisis. Political elites in less consolidated democracies might experience fewer constraints and scruples right from the start. For example, elites in the second-wave democracies of Latin America may have lesser qualms than their counterparts in Western Europe about screwing their own populace to preserve their privileges.

Compared to predatory militarism and totalitarian retrenchment, Cuban-style socioeconomic adaptation is normatively more desirable. At the local level, people in many developing countries may be able to mitigate the effects of disruptive energy scarcity by reverting to community-based values and a subsistence lifestyle. Such a regression would be comparatively easy for people in societies where individualism, industrialism, and mass consumerism have not yet struck deep roots.

By contrast, socioeconomic adaptation would be far more difficult for people in Western societies where individualism, industrialism, and mass consumerism have held sway for such a long time that a smooth regression is hard to imagine.

And yet, survival in many presently industrial Western societies may ultimately depend on the mobilization of support from local communities and a subsistence-based lifestyle (Hopkins 2008; Murphy 2008; Orlov 2008; Holmgren 2009; Rubin 2009; De Young and Princen 2012).

In abstract terms, this leaves us with three causal propositions, or hypotheses.

Hypothesis 1 The greater a country’s military potential and the stronger the perception that force is more effective than the free market to protect access to vital resources, the more likely there will be a strategy of predatory militarism.

Hypothesis 2 The shorter the time and the less a country or society has practiced humanism, pluralism, and liberal democracy, the more likely its elites will be willing and able to impose a policy of totalitarian retrenchment.

Hypothesis 3 The shorter the time and the less a country or society has been exposed to individualism, industrialism, and mass consumerism, the more likely a regression to community-based values and a subsistence lifestyle.

In the transition, large private Western oil companies such as Exxon and Shell would lose further ground to the state-controlled companies of oil-exporting countries such as Saudi Aramco or Nigeria’s NNPC. As a consequence, oil-importing countries would increasingly rely on state-controlled companies such as China’s CNPC. Both in the realm of power politics and the “marketplace of ideas,” the ability of Western countries to impose liberal democracy through instruments such as development assistance and economic conditionality would further dwindle. This can be formulated as yet another causal proposition, or hypothesis.

Hypothesis 4 In the event of peak oil, there will be winners and losers. It seems reasonable to expect a redistribution of power and wealth from oil importers to oil exporters, and from private to state-controlled companies.

The Energy Transition?

The energy transition beyond oil or beyond carbon is likely to be even more challenging and protracted than past energy shifts. Rather than studying past energy upgrades, we must look at a situation where the challenge was to radically alter an entrenched socioeconomic way of life. This suggests another case study: the US South or Dixieland, after the American Civil War (1861–1865). What can be gleaned from this case is that the formation of the “new consciousness” necessary for radical social change is a slow and painful process. The socioeconomic backbone resource of the Old South was neither coal nor oil, but human slaves. Precisely because the slave economy worked, white Southerners were willing to defend it in a bloody civil war. After the end of the American Civil War, the forceful abolition of slavery plunged the Old South into a deep crisis.

Despite the introduction of representation and suffrage for former slaves, reconstruction was mostly thwarted by the recalcitrance of traditionalist Southern elites. Heavy subsidization of railroads by Republican state governments in the South did not lead to the hoped-for modernization, but rather to corruption, making a few investors rich and otherwise contributing to soaring public deficits. After the withdrawal of the last federal troops from the South, race inequality was reestablished under the banner of white supremacy.

Despite their conservative values, they were not entirely prevented by these from cautiously embracing industrial capitalism. Initially, this amounted to an uneasy compromise between cherished industrialization and dreaded modernization. On the one hand, Southern elites became obsessed with the idea that an industrializing “New South” would rise like a phoenix from the ashes of the “Old South.” On the other hand, they remained loyal to time-honored values of agrarianism and patriarchal society.

While railroads were finally built on a massive scale, often with capital from the North, industrialization in the South was initially dominated by low-wage and labor-intensive manufacturing. Most industries were dedicated to the processing of agricultural goods (e.g., in cotton mills) or natural resources (e.g., in blast furnaces). The real industrial takeoff came much later, after several generations of socioeconomic backwardness, and was spurred by the New Deal of the 1930s (electrification) and the war economy of World War II. In the mid-twentieth century, Dixieland finally developed as a growth region and came to be seen as part of the American “Sunbelt”. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 famously put an end to official race segregation in the South, although some race issues remain until the present day.

While this amounts to a decently happy ending, it took a century for the South to recover and catch up. This is remarkable because to understand how a technological and socioeconomic upgrade might look, Southerners only had to look to the North of their own country. There, industrial capitalism with its superior technologies and know-how was unfolding before their very eyes. With the right incentives in place, attracting investment and technology transfers from the North would not have been too difficult.

Dixie is a cautionary tale for those who believe that, after peak oil, there will be a smooth technological upgrade. If—even in the US South despite uniquely favorable circumstances—adaptation took a full century, then a technological upgrade will be even harder under the more challenging circumstances of disruptive energy scarcity after peak oil. This time around, the world would be struggling with an industrial downgrade, rather than an upgrade, as in the case of the US South. Developing new energy technologies is never fast and easy, and even less so in times of crisis. After peak oil, we should therefore expect extremely slow and painful processes of social and technological adjustment that may easily last for a century or more (Haberl et al. 2011).

Hypothesis 5 In the event of peak oil, we should not expect either immediate collapse or a smooth transition. People do not give up their lifestyle easily. We should expect painful adaptation processes that may last for a century or more.

Social and political effects of climate-change-induced energy scarcity

Military campaigns are highly carbon intensive and require advanced industrial capabilities, which would be rapidly dwindling among the signatories to the compact. As a consequence, it would become increasingly difficult for the signatories to stop the predatory behavior of the outsiders.

Elites may secure privileged access to the remaining allocations at the expense of the rest of the population, to the point of establishing antidemocratic political regimes (totalitarian retrenchment).

Please note that a scenario is not a prediction. A scenario is based on assumptions. As mentioned above, I follow the peak oil literature in assuming a decline of world oil production by 2–5 percent per year, after a few years on a bumpy plateau. Moreover, I assume that no adequate alternate resource and technology will be available to replace oil as the energy backbone of industrial society.

In North America, the United States combines strong dependency on foreign oil deliveries with an unrivaled capacity to project power. The current surge of shale oil may postpone this for a decade or two, but ultimately a military strategy will be tempting. To be sure, America’s liberal democracy and free-trade ideology militates against the open recourse to military coercion. The United States is going to support liberal democracy and the free market for oil as long as it is convenient. Even when the oil market comes under pressure because of tightening international supply, the United States is likely to continue to defend it for a while.

But when soaring oil prices start crippling the American economy, US leaders may find that military coercion is more effective and can be justified in terms of protecting free trade. The United States is then likely to put the blame on foreigners and pursue a geopolitical strategy of energy security to protect the free market and/or the American way of life (Klare 2004, 2008). Why keep negotiating with recalcitrant leaders such as Hugo Chavez if there is a military option? This is not to say that the military option is easy, as the Iraq War has shown. Moreover, liberal democracy in the homeland can be corroded by illiberal practices abroad. Nevertheless, military coercion is likely to gain ascendancy relative to free-market rhetoric as oil supplies dwindle. The resource-rich neighbors of the United States, Canada and Mexico, are likely to be tied more closely to the US core. In Latin America, medium-sized oil-exporting countries such as Venezuela and Ecuador may try to profiteer from soaring oil prices. If they engage in a strategy of brinkmanship and deny the United States oil on favorable terms, then their political regimes may be toppled. While this would further increase anti-American resentment in the region, political elites are likely to acquiesce, ultimately, to US hardball tactics. In fact, historical evidence suggests that Latin American elites often opportunistically collude with the United States. Eventually, resource-rich Brazil may be able to escape intervention due to its larger size and geographical distance from the United States. If Brazil manages to offer sufficient benefits to neighboring countries, a regional state complex around Brazil may eventually be possible. Otherwise, energy-poor Latin American countries would enter a serious crisis.

Western Europe would enter a particularly difficult quandary. In theory, advanced industrial countries such as Germany and France could quickly rearm. In practice, however, predatory militarism is not a credible option for them. Since Europeans have good historical reasons to dread militarism, the social consensus necessary for this strategy would not be forthcoming at the decisive initial stages of geopolitical positioning. For the same historical reasons, in most of Western Europe the path of totalitarian retrenchment does not seem to be available either. Concomitantly, Western European countries would be forced to strike opportunistic bargains with Russia and oil-exporting countries across the Mediterranean. Due to their asymmetrical nature, such deals would be inherently fragile and subject to constant renegotiation. Investment in renewable energy and innovative technologies could somewhat smooth the transition, but ultimately Europeans would hardly be able to avoid a transition to a more community-based lifestyle. Despite the present affluence of Western European societies (and, in part, precisely because of it), this would be extremely painful and last for generations.

Ordinary Western Europeans would be forced to rely on local communities for their welfare, if not their survival. For most of the indigenous population, a regression to community-based values and a subsistence lifestyle would be challenging because the habits of industrial society are deeply rooted. The problems would be compounded by the fact that immigrant groups might segregate from Europe’s multiethnic societies, potentially reinforcing religious fault lines. On the one hand, this might enhance the solidarity among members of specific social groups. On the other hand, it would almost certainly conjure up severe social conflict.

The situation in Japan would be largely comparable, although Japan is far less multiethnic and Japanese people may be more willing to accept disruptions to their taken-for-granted lifestyles. This was confirmed in 2011 when the Japanese responded in a calm and disciplined way to a tsunami followed by serious mayhem and a nuclear meltdown at the facilities in Fukushima. As in the Western European case, however, the unavoidable transition to community-based values and a subsistence lifestyle would be painful and last for generations.

 

The situation would be somewhat different in countries and regions that have industrialized later and/or have a more recent authoritarian tradition that can be recovered. Therefore, totalitarian retrenchment and socioeconomic adaptation are more likely and easier to imagine in the new democracies and semi-authoritarian countries of Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia than in Western Europe, Japan, Australia, Canada, or the United States.

In least developed countries (LDCs), common people with limited exposure to industrial lifestyles would be forced to rely on the cohesion of social groups for their survival. Given the high population pressure in most LDCs, however, large population segments would fall victim to famine, disease, and conflict. Particularly but not exclusively in sub-Saharan Africa, state failure and conflict over scarce resources would become endemic. Moreover, the inevitable end of the oil-based green revolution in agriculture and the demise of international aid would wreak environmental havoc and human insecurity.

The ecological situation would be aggravated by vital biomass being removed from the soil as a combustible. In most places, the unavoidable consequence would be famine, disease, and mass exodus.

The elites of oil-exporting African kleptocracies such as Nigeria, Angola, and Equatorial Guinea would certainly keep selling their oil to the highest bidder, especially when the bid is backed by sufficient military clout, and when there are no onerous obligations with regard to democratization and human rights. If the United States gives up its dysfunctional democratization agenda, it will have better access to African resources than Europe, China, or Japan. However, it is an open question how much ordinary people in African petro-states would benefit from the increased oil revenues (people in African countries that do not have rich fossil fuel reserves would almost certainly suffer more).

In Asia, Russia has enough resources to provide for its own energy needs. In geopolitical terms, it would become a more important regional player due to its abundant export capacities. China, by contrast, heavily relies on imported oil. To preserve its industrial capacity, the country might be tempted to secure access to vital resources from Central Asia by military means. Totalitarian retrenchment may also be lurking. India has more limited military clout and a less authoritarian state tradition, but may nevertheless be tempted to engage in limited geopolitical operations in its regional neighborhood. Small and resource-poor outposts of industrial civilization, such as Singapore, would struggle to survive. The oil-exporting countries of Central Asia and the Middle East would benefit more than in the past from their abundant resource endowment. Due to the effects of skyrocketing oil prices on the world market, their economies would continue to grow in relative and absolute terms. Their domestic oil consumption would be stable or even increase at a time when it would be declining in the rest of the world.  The Middle East would almost certainly replace Western Europe as the most attractive destination for Muslim migrants.

The Struggle over Knowledge

There is a puzzle. Climate change and energy scarcity are both fundamental challenges to the viability of industrial civilization. How is it possible that, in the case of climate change, the alarmists have come to represent mainstream science, whereas in the energy case they have never made much headway? To understand this puzzle, I start off by developing an analytical framework that enables us to explore the struggle over knowledge about energy scarcity and climate change. I outline three kinds of science: normal, abnormal, and post-normal. I further show that, depending on whether normal or post-normal science reigns supreme, there are different patterns of contestation.

Despite a convincing case that the risk of energy scarcity is a post-normal problem (Tainter, Allen, and Hoekstra 2006), normal science continues to reign supreme in the field of energy studies. Mainstream economics is the science of choice when it comes to making forecasts, despite the fact that more technical disciplines such as geology and engineering are more directly concerned with fuel extraction and, by implication, future energy supply. Official expertise is concentrated in a couple of authoritative national and international institutions: the International Energy Agency (IEA) and its US counterpart, the Energy Information Administration (US-EIA).

Though not very successfully, normal energy expertise is challenged by a critical counterculture of abnormal energy science that is mostly made up of concerned citizens and a small number of retired geologists sounding the alarm at runaway fuel depletion. This abnormal energy science has its own institutional infrastructure, albeit relatively dispersed. At its center, there are loose epistemic networks like the Association for the Study of Peak Oil and Gas (ASPO) and its various national offshoots, as well as a number of Internet platforms such as The Oil Drum and Energy Bulletin (which moved to resilience.org in January 2013). Normal Energy Expertise Energy expertise is concentrated in a small number of organizations gathering and processing data (IEA, US-EIA, BP, & Shell).  By far the most authoritative entity is the International Energy Agency (IEA), which publishes the annual World Energy Outlook, as well as a biennial report called Energy Technology Perspectives.

The United States Department of Energy’s Energy Information Administration (US-EIA) is somewhat less authoritative because it represents a particular government. In recent years, US-EIA has been more optimistic about future energy supply than the IEA. Despite this bias, or perhaps precisely because of it, some observers prefer to quote US-EIA rather than the IEA.

Business firms have limited epistemic authority due to their vested interests. Nevertheless, industry-oriented circles sometimes rely on their publications. Interestingly, a feature common to all energy supply reviews is that data are not directly gathered but collected from sources such as the United States Geological Survey, the OPEC Secretariat, the Oil and Gas Journal, or the World Oil magazine.

 

The original purpose of the IEA when it was created in 1974 was to manage a crisis response in the event of a major oil supply disruption, defined as a shortfall of oil supply of 7% or more.  But since then this hasn’t happened.  Precisely because the IEA has been inactive as a fire fighter, its staff have had to be employed in some other useful way. For that purpose, the statutes of the IEA mention a few other goals in addition to the emergency response mechanism. The most important are monitoring the oil market and reducing the dependency on imported oil. Thus, the IEA was originally mandated to evolve in two complementary ways: first, to keep track of international markets and thus provide an early warning mechanism; and second, to work on ways to reduce the unsustainable oil dependency of industrial countries. While the second task might have suggested a shift to post-normal science, things did not turn out that way. The agency has eagerly embraced the first task of monitoring international markets, which was entirely in line with normal science. However, it never really confronted the task of questioning the oil dependency of industrial society.

Since the IEA’s core mission was the strategic governance of energy scarcity as a long-term risk, the agency should have become an expert watchdog monitoring the availability of oil and facilitating a large-scale transformation away from oil. But this didn’t happen fir a number of reasons.

First, the IEA was never really meant to question the presumption that oil is abundant. By placing its faith in markets, the agency followed the policy preferences of its member states.

Second, the decline of oil prices from the mid-1980s made the task of preparing industrial society for the eventuality of disruptive energy scarcities appear less urgent and allowed the IEA to focus on standard operating procedures like gathering data, developing forecasting tools, and publishing at the end of every calendar year the iconic World Energy Outlook.

 

Third, the IEA is attached to the OECD, whose culture has always been a firm belief in the ability of markets to safeguard economic development.

Fourth (and closely related), for a long time the IEA has been dominated by mainstream economists. As in the OECD, most staff members are economists and/or public servants, usually with a background in economics. There have always been a few lawyers, but engineers, geologists, and other energy experts have been a small minority until recently. The longstanding ascendancy of mainstream economists has been consequential. For most economists it is simply axiomatic that, in an effectively functioning market, supply will always meet demand. Accordingly, until 2008 the standard practice of the IEA has been to extrapolate trends in energy demand, and simply to assume that future demand will be met via the market mechanism.

In the 1998 World Energy Outlook, and then again in the 2008 WEO, the IEA looked more carefully into the physical availability of energy resources. In both cases it appears that in subsequent years there was backlash from member state principals and particularly the United States. Presumably as a result of such backlash, the IEA has become more optimistic again. The latest edition of the WEO (2012a) is strikingly upbeat compared to previous iterations, despite the fact that only few fundamentals have changed.

Abnormal Energy Science

The study of energy scarcity in general and peak oil in particular is a paradigm case of the abnormal science of radical dissidents. It is civic and intellectual alarmism gone wild in the face of a serious post-normal problem, and in the absence of a willingness on the part of normal science to reconsider its tenets, extend the peer community, and thus become post-normal.

 

Abnormal energy science is conventionally traced back to the founding father of peak oil theory, Marion King Hubbert. Like many other oil men, this leading geoscientist was a self-made man and a maverick. Unlike most of his colleagues working for the oil industry, however, he worried about physical limits to growth.

Ever since then, the most prominent proponents of peak oil theory typically have a background in geology, engineering, or some other physical science. However, their dissident standpoint forces them to turn their back on normal science and seek an audience among outsiders, notably concerned citizens.

During the 1980s the debate was largely dormant due to low oil prices, but it was reignited in the early 1990s through a book written by geologist Colin Campbell as he neared his retirement (Campbell 1991). A few years later, Campbell (1997) published another book about oil depletion that greatly benefitted from data provided by the company Petroconsultants. The following year, he partnered with retired petroleum engineer Jean Laherrère to publish an article in Scientific American (Campbell and Laherrère 1998), which is often cited as the beginning of the contemporary peak oil debate.  The notion of peak oil was further popularized in a book by retired oil geologist Kenneth Deffeyes (2001).

Forty years after Hubbert’s original analysis (1956), and despite the fact that the oil shocks of the 1970s were rapidly fading from memory with prices heading toward record lows, authors such as Campbell and Laherrère were trying, from their retirement, to awaken the world to what they saw as the defining challenge of the twenty-first century. Needless to say they were mostly ignored and sometimes opposed by their mainstream colleagues, with particularly fierce criticism and even ridicule coming from economists and industry figures unwilling to accept the idea of oil depletion (Adelman 1995, 2004; Odell 2004; Maugeri 2006, 2012; Clarke 2007).

 

Although public interest in oil depletion was initially limited to the “lunatic fringe,” physics professor Kjell Aleklett at the University of Uppsala in Sweden organized a conference in 2002 and used it to shepherd Campbell and the other members of the fractious peak oil community into ASPO, the Association for the Study of Peak Oil (Campbell 2011; Bentley 2011). Despite the lack of funding, this independent and loose collection of individuals, mostly retired geologists and academics from a broad range of fields, has since played an important role as an institutional platform, convening annual congresses on peak oil and coordinating various national chapters.

This became possible because, from about 2003, increasing oil prices and the surge of Web 2.0 brought an explosion of peak oil citizen science. The takeoff was further catalyzed by Richard Heinberg’s influential and popular book The Party’s Over (Heinberg 2003), as well as the peak of North Sea oil and gas and the outbreak of the Iraq War, which was often described as a war for oil.

The isolationist radicalism of the peak oil counterculture was particularly evident in the blogosphere, where sites such as Energy Bulletin (from 2003), peakoil.com (from 2004), and The Oil Drum (from 2005) took off rapidly and gained additional speed in 2005, when Hurricane Katrina shocked the United States, taking offline a significant portion of oil production and refining capacity.

As the founder of Energy Bulletin recalls: The issue of energy depletion had very little representation on the web . . . in 2003 when I began work on Energy Bulletin. The most prominent site about peak oil was Jay Hanson’s DieOff.com with its animations of grotesquely obese Americans overlaid with dead bodies and famine. . . . It was collapse porn. . . . Engaging with the issue felt like stepping into an alternative reality, and quite a lonely one! . . . I chose the rather generic name Energy Bulletin, and neutral color scheme to suggest a certain amount of “neutrality,” and perhaps to obscure the fact that myself and my colleagues were working on it in our spare time from our bedrooms and secretly from our workplaces, and had no formal qualifications in the areas of either journalism or energy.

 

At the more scholarly blog The Oil Drum, the association of the peak oil community with abnormal science is equally apparent. The site was founded by Kyle Saunders, professor in political science at Colorado State University, and David Summers, professor of mining engineering at the University of Missouri-Rolla. Both initially wrote under pseudonyms. Stories of academics losing tenure-track positions because of a blog were legendary in the blogosphere, which is why “Prof. Goose,” aka Kyle Saunders, would not risk revealing his name until getting tenure (McKenna 2007, 224).

All peak oilers share at least three views in common: that oil is a finite resource, that it is essential to industrial civilization, and that its production peak is fairly imminent.

Another remarkable common feature is that most on- and offline forums discussing peak oil are strongly male dominated. A 2009 readership survey carried out at The Oil Drum found that more than 90% of respondents were male. At the 2011 ASPO conference in Brussels, 82% were male (of 217 people). It is worth noting that the community activists in the Transition town movement is more equally women and men.

There are three main peak oil camps:

The first emphasizes the limits to growth and sees oil depletion as just one limitation alongside environmental sinks reaching their capacities, ecosystems being exploited, and the depletion of other finite resources. Rather than a problem in and of itself, peak oil is a symptom of a wider malady facing growth-based complex societies.  In this view, culture is sleepwalking toward the end of growth and peak oilers are rooting for cultural change.

The second sees peak oil as a liquid fuels problem, especially in the U.S. where it was promoted by the Hirsch Report commissioned by the Department of Energy.  Hirsch describes peak oil as an unprecedented risk management problem. As peaking is approached, liquid fuel prices and price volatility will increase dramatically and the economic social and political costs unprecedented. Mitigation must be attempted at least 10 to 20 years in advance of peaking. This viewpoint presents peak oil as a tremendous challenge, but if timely action is taken the problem need not be fundamental.

 

The third group is best described as “doomers” with many happily labeling themselves that way. In their view peak oil represents a desperate problem without any hope of significant mitigation, and it will inevitably lead to a partial of not total collapse of civilization as we know it.

Why bother to try to change the minds of those in denial?

Here is my personal response: the best thing a moral individual can do is to try to live “in the truth.” Life is tragic and often there are no solutions. Not every disease can be cured. Insofar as climate change and energy scarcity are part of the human predicament, even the most accurate diagnosis is unlikely to suggest a cure. Yet my mission as a scholar is to get to the bottom of things regardless of whether or not there is a solution. My task as a scholar is not to save the planet. It is plain old fashioned intellectual honesty.

My attitude will sound weary to those believing that problems like climate change and energy scarcity can and must be dealt with either through politics or local activism. It will sound outrageous to those setting their hope in a cornucopian can-do attitude and believing that aspirational statements and positive thinking can revolutionize what is politically feasible.

 

Posted in Collapse of Civilizations | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

60 minutes promotes biomass scam

Preface. Hey 60 minutes, do some fact checking first.

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report

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On January 6, 2019, 60 Minutes had a segment on an amazing biofuels breakthrough invention by Marshall Medoff, an “81-year old eccentric with no science degree” (watch the video or read the transcript here).

His stunning innovation has won over many famous board members, such as Steven Chu, the former Secretary of Energy, as well as Shell Oil executive Sir John Jennings, George Shultz, former secretary of state and former defense secretary, William Perry.

Medoff’s company, Xyleco, has also garnered hundreds of millions of dollars from investors impressed with his inventive use of accelerators. Sixty minutes describes this as his “novel idea of using these large blue machines called electron accelerators to break apart nature’s chokehold on the valuable sugars inside plant life – or biomass”.

But wait!  There are thousands of research papers going back as far as Imamura (1972) about using electron accelerators to break down lignocellulosic biomass. This is done to create more surface area for the next step, in Xyleco’s case, enzymes to break down the cellulose further.  Other ways biomass can be shattered are milling, chipping, shredding, grinding, and pyrolysis.

But all of these are highly energy intensive methods.  In fact, one paper thought that electronic beams were probably economically infeasible (Saini 2015).

This plant is also likely to fail because all other commercial level cellulosic ethanol plants have gone out of business. Only one plant still exists, POET’s $275 million Emmetsburg, Iowa facility, with a capacity of 25 million gallons per year.  I can’t find out how much was actually produced there, but even if all 25 million gallons were made, that is a far cry from the 8.5 billion gallon cellulosic ethanol mandate of 2007, which will be reduced to 418 million gallons in 2019 because cellulosic ethanol is clearly not commercial yet (Rapier 2018).

Dr. Steven Chu told 60 minutes “that biofuels could make a 30% dent in the petroleum market, according to a report by the Department of Energy”.  Well, I’ve read that report and it is hogwash.  It treats crop residues and other biomass as “waste”, when in fact, if this so-called “waste” isn’t returned to the soil to prevent erosion, add nutrition, create ways for water and air to reach plant roots, and provide a natural immune system, then next year’s crop production will decline.

Another huge problem with “waste” biomass is that it needs to be within 40 miles of a biofuels plant, or the amount of diesel energy to harvest, compact into a bale, and transport the biomass to the refinery is more energy than you’ll ever get out of the ethanol after it’s created.

One reason cellulosic ethanol isn’t commercial is that to break the cellulose down further after physically blasting it apart, enzymes are needed to break it down even further. But enzymes take too much money and energy to make now. Yet that’s the next step at Xyleco where the electron accelerator it will be “combined with a proprietary enzyme mix”.  And another hurdle is that by blasting apart biomass, by products are created that enzymes can’t cope with very well.

Robert Rapier (2019) wrote that “they were pretty nonchalant about the kinds of fuels that were being produced, as if it’s equally easy to make ethanol, gasoline, or jet fuel. The former is pretty easy to make. The other two — no way can he do this cost effectively via this route. Finally, biodegradable plastics have been around for a long time. Again, Lesley is leaving the implication that he has invented something new.”

Xyleco also proposes to turn biomass into materials, chemicals, and the sugar “xylose which could reduce obesity and diabetes, since it is consumable, and low in calories, and doesn’t decay your teeth”.   Well, again, xylose has been around a long time, this is not a new discovery.

Xyleco isn’t yet in business, so it remains to be seen if the founder’s name ought to be Madoff rather than Medeff.

REFERENCES

Imamura, R., et al. 1972. Depolymerization of cellulose by electron beam irradiation. Bulletin of the Institute for Chemical research, Kyoto university 50: 51-63.

Rapier, R. 2018. Cellulosic ethanol falling far short of the hype. Forbes.

Rapier, R. 2019. Private communication.

Saini, A., et al. 2015. Prospects for irradiation in cellulosic ethanol production. Biotechnology research international.

 

Posted in Biomass, Far Out | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Lakes run dry from too much water extraction and climate change

Source: Hannah Osborne. Feb 8, 2016. Bolivia’s vanishing Lake Poopó: ESA images show fully evaporated lake from space. International Business Times.

Preface.   I think that declining oil will be the main cause of civilization to collapse, since it is the energy that makes all other activities possible, but there are so many other contenders I wonder if scholars in the future will argue over what was the main coup de grace.

Such as loss of water leading to less food production, mass migrations, and more. Abbott (2023) states that the Great Salt Lake could evaporate within 5 years unless water is conserved.  But hello, what about limiting development, immigration, and taxing families with more than two children? It would seem capitalism has squelched all discussion of birth control, limits to growth, and overshoot.

Alice Friedemann  www.energyskeptic.com  Author of Life After Fossil Fuels: A Reality Check on Alternative Energy; When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, Barriers to Making Algal Biofuels, & “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”.  Women in ecology  Podcasts: WGBH, Jore, Planet: Critical, Crazy Town, Collapse Chronicles, Derrick Jensen, Practical Prepping, Kunstler 253 &278, Peak Prosperity,  Index of best energyskeptic posts

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Abbott BW et al (2023) Emergency measures needed to rescue Great Salt Lake from ongoing collapse. https://pws.byu.edu/GSL%20report%202023

Great Salt Lake is facing unprecedented danger. Without a dramatic increase in water flow to the lake in 2023 and 2024, its disappearance could cause immense damage to Utah’s public health, environment, and economy.

1. Great Salt Lake is a keystone ecosystem in the Western Hemisphere. The lake and its wetlands provide minerals for Utah’s industries, thousands of local jobs, and habitat for 10 million migratory birds. Fertilizer and brine shrimp from the lake feed millions of people worldwide. The lake provides $2.5 billion in direct economic activity yearly, as well as increasing precipitation, suppressing toxic dust, and supporting 80% of Utah’s wetlands.

2. Excessive water use is destroying Great Salt Lake. At 19 feet below its average natural level since 1850, the lake is in uncharted territory. It has lost 73% of its water and 60% of its surface area. Our unsustainable water use is desiccating habitat, exposing toxic dust, and driving salinity to levels incompatible with the lake’s food webs. The lake’s drop has accelerated since 2020, with an average deficit of 1.2 million acre-feet per year. If this loss rate continues, the lake as we know it is on track to disappear in five years.

3. We are underestimating the consequences of losing the lake. Examples from around the world show that saline lake loss triggers a long-term cycle of environmental, health, and economic suffering. Without a coordinated rescue, we can expect widespread air and water pollution, numerous Endangered Species Act listings, and declines in agriculture, industry, and overall quality of life.

4. The lake needs an additional million acre-feet per year to reverse its decline. This would increase average streamflow to ~2.5 million acre-feet per year, beginning a gradual refilling. Depending on future weather conditions, achieving this level of flow will require cutting consumptive water use in the Great Salt Lake watershed by a third to a half. Recent efforts have returned less than 0.1 million acre-feet per year to the lake, with most conserved water held in reservoirs or delivered to other users rather than released to the lake.

The lake is a vital link in the Pacific Flyway, providing food and habitat for more than 10 million migratory birds and wildlife throughout the Wasatch Front. Almost 350 bird species depend on Great Salt Lake habitats. The lake’s diverse wetland, island, and open-water environments are becoming even more crucial as habitat is lost or degraded throughout the western US.

Great Salt Lake also provides numerous ecosystem services, including protection of air quality, removal of water pollution, and moderation of local weather. Its dramatic vistas have inspired countless scientists, pioneers, artists, writers, photographers, and recreationists.

Over the last three years, the lake has received less than a third of its natural streamflow because of excessive water diversions.

The depletion of water is even more severe than it appears because groundwater is not included in these estimates. Approximately 26 million acre-feet have been lost from the lake itself, but twice that amount may have been lost from the aquifers around the lake due to water table drop. These empty aquifers could slow the rate of rebound after runoff is increased.

Agriculture consumes most of the water, as well as mining (9%), cities & industry (9%). Climate change warming has contributed about 9% of the lakes decline.

Irrigated agriculture is destroying saline lakes on every continent except Antarctica. The loss of a saline lake sets off a sequence of environmental and economic damage that is extremely difficult to reverse, such as air and water pollution, collapse of food production, economic depression, lower property values, mass migration, social conflict from loss of jobs and quality of life, loss of industry, and devastation of lake and wetland ecosystems.

Lakebed sediments are already being exposed that are laden with pollutants such as arsenic, cadmium, mercury, nickel, chromium, lead, copper, selenium, organic contaminants, and cyanotoxins. The dust in turn causes health effects such as reproductive disfunction, developmental defects, cognitive impairment, cardiovascular damage, and cancer. Plus damage agricultural crops, degrade soil fertility, and cause premature snowmelt when deposited on snowpack.

Ecologically food webs are disrupted or destroyed. The climate can experience extreme temperature swings, desertification, and more. The salinity of the main body of the lake has climbed to ~19%. At this level, the brine flies and brine shrimp cannot maintain their populations because of decreased primary productivity (i.e., loss of their food sources) and direct inhibition of their life cycles. These invertebrates feed migratory birds and support much of the lake’s industry.

Kate Ravilious. 4 March 2016. Many of world’s lakes are vanishing and some may be gone forever. NewScientist.

Bolivia’s second largest lake has vanished into thin air. In December, Lake Poopó became a dry salt pan and its largest lake – Lake Titicaca – is heading towards trouble, too. The combination of silting up and irrigation withdrawal from the Desaguadero River, which feeds Poopó, together with climate change and the extra warmth from current El Niño, were enough to finish this lake off.

Recent research and new data suggest that lakes in other parts of the world may also be on their way out.

“Considering the size of the lake – 2700 square kilometers (1042 square miles) – this is quite an astounding event, with slim prospects of recovery,” says Dirk Hoffmann from the Bolivia Mountain Institute. “This event should serve as a real warning. Eventually, we can expect Lake Titicaca to go the same way.”

Air temperature has risen by around 0.7 °C in the Andes over the past 70 years and lakes are being evaporated faster than they are replenished. Lake Titicaca is close to a tipping point. Just 1 to 2 °C of atmospheric warming – which is expected by 2050 – could be enough to evaporate the top few meters, which would shut down the Desaguadero River and dry up all the water bodies that this river feeds. Such an outcome would be catastrophic for the 3 million inhabitants of Bolivia’s highlands, including the city of La Paz.

“If Titicaca stops supplying the Desaguadero River then the region will enter a new climate regime and the entire Andean Plateau will change from a benign agricultural area to an arid inhospitable area,” says Mark Bush, biologist at Florida Institute of Technology. “This happened during two prior interglacials and each time the dry event lasted for thousands of years.”

It’s not just Andean lakes that are in trouble. Evidence from around the world suggests that lakes are warming, shrinking or disappearing, with huge impacts on ecosystems.

Warming lakes

The surface waters of the world’s lakes have warmed on average by 0.34 °C per decade since 1985. Sweden’s Lake Fracksjön is the fastest warming lake in the world, increasing 1.35 °C per decade, outpacing the rise in air temperature around it. Close behind is Lake Superior, one of North America’s Great Lakes. “The combination of cleaner skies, increasing air temperature and a shorter period of winter ice cover is behind this rapid warming,” says Catherine O’Reilly from Illinois State University.

This rapid warming is disrupting lake ecosystems. In European lakes, cold-loving fish such as Arctic charr decline while populations of warm-water fish such as carp increase. The latter feed on zooplankton, leaving fewer zooplankton to control damaging algal blooms.

Rapid surface warming also separates the deep cold water from the warm surface water, reducing transfer of nutrients and oxygen, potentially stressing organisms that cannot travel across the two layers. Tropical lakes are vulnerable to strengthening stratification because they don’t have the cold winter season to help the lake layers equilibrate.

Lake Tanganyika in East Africa is one example of this happening. “We think this has contributed to declining fish yields,” says James Russell, from Brown University, Rhode Island – a worrying prospect given that fish are a major source of protein for people living in the four countries bordering the lake, and that the fisheries provide employment for around 1 million people.

The disappearance of lakes across southern Europe, the Middle East and central Asia has been blamed on a rise in water extraction to meet the needs of agriculture and a growing and increasingly water-thirsty population. Climate change has compounded the problem.

“This region is experiencing a drier climate now, which is also driving increased water extraction,” says Erik Jeppesen, a freshwater ecologist at Aarhus University in Denmark. The eastern Mediterranean has just gone through its worst drought in 900 years.

As a result, lakes on the Central Anatolian Plateau lost around half of their surface area between 2003 and 2010, says Meryem Beklioğlu, a freshwater ecologist at the Middle East Technical University in Ankara, Turkey. Lake Akşehir has dried up completely, she says, resulting in the extinction of one species of fish, Alburnus nasreddini, and endangering two other endemic fish species, Gobio gobio intermedius and Leuciscus anatolicus.

Beklioğlu’s models predict that, at current rate of water extraction, one of the largest lakes in this region – Lake Beysehir – will be gone by 2040. “This water is critical for irrigation and for the local economy, but right now we are cutting off the branch we are sitting on,” she says.

Many of Turkey’s lakes are shallow and this makes them particularly vulnerable. As they shrink, salt levels skyrocket. “It happens really fast – just four or five years – and has caused water-rationing in the past,” Beklioğlu says. The smaller volume of water also concentrates nutrients and encourages algal blooms that can be toxic.

“Ultimately, the drying of the lakes along with the loss of groundwater and salinisation, will make the land less viable for agriculture in this region,” says Jeppesen. “This will put significant pressure on northern countries to produce more food, leading to deteriorating water quality in northern lakes due to increased fertiliser run-off entering lakes.”

Further east, changing rainfall patterns coupled with a mining boom and agricultural irrigation have caused more than a quarter of the lakes in Mongolia to dry up by since the 1980s.

Similarly, lakes in south-east Australia have shrunk during recent droughts, with one of the largest lakes – Lake Alexandrina – losing over two-thirds of its volume and experiencing a fivefold increase in salinity in 2009. Heavy water usage by farms coupled with climate change are thought to have been to blame. “This caused localised extinctions of native fish species,” says Kane Aldridge, a limnologist at The University of Adelaide. “Droughts are a natural part of the climate here, but they are expected to become more common under climate change.”

Arctic ponds

One place that is warming especially rapidly is the Arctic. Viewed from above, it is dotted with millions of ponds – but far fewer than a few decades ago. A 2015 study in northern Alaska shows that over the last 60 years the surface area of ponds has diminished by nearly a third, and nearly a fifth of the ponds have vanished.

This is largely due to the permafrost thawing. When frozen soil thaws, the water can drain, bursting out sideways or disappearing underground. “It is like pulling the plug from a bathtub,” says Guido Grosse from the Alfred Wegener Institute in Potsdam, who has used satellite and aerial photos to document this loss. And once they start to drain they can disappear fast. In July 2014, an Arctic lake with the volume of around 350 Olympic swimming pools emptied in just 36 hours.

“These ponds are the baby lakes, and if they disappear then we will have no Arctic lakes in the long term,” says Christian Andresen from the Los Alamos National Laboratory. This will be bad news for fish like salmon, and migratory birds who depend on these lakes, says Grosse.

What to do?

Despite the trend, most of the world’s lakes are unlikely to disappear any time soon. And in some areas, such as the Tibetan plateau, the number of lakes is expanding. Rapid glacier melting is cooling existing lakes and creating new lakes there: 1099 in total between 1990 and 2010, representing a 23 per cent increase in surface area.

In the regions that are losing lakes, though, wiser water management could help slow down shrinking, says Beklioğlu.

And for warming lakes, says Jeppesen, reducing the input of nutrients could help to maintain the ecosystem balance. Hard engineering – dredging channels and building dams – can be a last resort.

But as the ill-fated Aral Sea in central Asia that went from being the world’s fourth largest lake to all but vanishing in less than a century shows, once a lake is lost it is very hard to recover. “Closed lake basins and shallow lakes are the most vulnerable to drying,” says Lisa Borre from the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in New York. “Climate change is a major issue and we will see more Aral Seas and Lake Poopós in the future.”

Posted in Air, Drought & Collapse, Overpopulation, Peak Water, Water Infrastructure | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on Lakes run dry from too much water extraction and climate change

Deep-sea trawling harms biodiversity and carbon storage

Source: October 2017. Bottom Trawling. https://www.2thepoint.in/bottom-trawling/

Preface. Overfishing has eliminated 90% of the world’s large predatory fishes and is devastating marine ecosystems.

Bottom trawling is one of the most devastating ways our oceans are being overfished, degraded and biodiversity destroyed .  This industry tossed 437 million tonnes of unwanted fish in just the past 65 years, a huge waste  (Cashion 2018). About 20 pounds of bykill are caught for every pound of desired species.

There are tens of thousands of trawlers dragging an area equivalent to twice the lower 48 states every year to catch shrimp and fin fishes.

Trawling is done by large industrial fishing vessels dragging large nets along the sea floor, often pulling up unwanted fish, and generating the most waste of any fishing method because the unwanted catch is dumped back into the ocean.  This has been going on since the Middle Ages, but the damage is orders of magnitude greater now with motorized fishing fleets, powered by government subsidies, using heavier nets to get at fish in much deeper water that are further offshore.

Satellite images show that spreading clouds of mud remain suspended in the sea long after the trawler has passed. But what satellites can see is only the “tip of the iceberg,” because most trawling happens in waters too deep to detect sediment plumes at the surface.

In addition to bottom trawling that’s every more widespread and goes deeper, oceans are also threatened by sea-mining and oil drilling.

Trawling in the news:

Einhorn C (2021) Trawling for Fish May Unleash as Much Carbon as Air Travel. New York Times.  Currently, 7% of the ocean is protected, and less than 3% highly protected. Bottom trawlers scrape an estimated 1.9 million square miles of the sea floor. If undisturbed, the carbon stored there can remain for tens of thousands of years. It’s wiping out biodiversity, it’s wiping out things like deep sea corals that take hundreds of years to grow. Journal article: 2021 Protecting the global ocean for biodiversity, food and climate. Nature.

Cashion, T., et al. 2018. Reconstructing global marine fishing gear use: Catches and landed values by gear type and sector. Fisheries Research 206: 57

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report

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Pusceddu, A., et al. June 17, 2014. Chronic and intensive bottom trawling impairs deep-sea biodiversity and ecosystem functioning. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 24: 8861-8866

Abstract. Bottom trawling has many impacts on marine ecosystems, including seafood stock impoverishment, benthos mortality, and sediment resuspension. Historical records of this fishing practice date back to the mid-1300s. Trawling became a widespread practice in the late 19th century, and it is now progressively expanding to greater depths, with the concerns about its sustainability that emerged during the first half of the 20th century now increasing. We show here that compared with untrawled areas, chronically trawled sediments along the continental slope of the north-western Mediterranean Sea are characterized by significant decreases in organic matter content (up to 52%), slower organic carbon turnover (ca. 37%), and reduced meiofauna abundance (80%), biodiversity (50%), and nematode species richness (25%). We estimate that the organic carbon removed daily by trawling in the region under scrutiny represents as much as 60–100% of the input flux. We anticipate that such an impact is causing the degradation of deep-sea sedimentary habitats and an infaunal depauperation. With deep-sea trawling currently conducted along most continental margins, we conclude that trawling represents a major threat to the deep seafloor ecosystem at the global scale.

Trawling represents one of the most common fishing practices along the coastal oceans of the world. However, it can have a plethora of impacts on the sea bottom, including stock impoverishment, alterations to the sea-bottom morphology, sediment resuspension, and increased bottom-water turbidity, epibenthos mortality, altered nutrient cycles, and alteration of the benthic biodiversity (1).

Historical records of this fishing practice date back to the mid-1300s, and it became widely practiced with the industrialization of fisheries in the late 19th century (24). Because shallow coastal water resources have steeply declined in the last 50 years (5, 6), fisheries are expanding offshore and trawling is being carried out at progressively increasing depths (7, 8).

In contrast to what was believed up to a few decades ago, deep-sea habitats (>200 m in depth) are rich in biodiversity, and they host many endemic and commercially important species (9, 10). Compared with shallow-water areas, the impact of trawling on deep-sea benthic ecosystems is deemed more severe and long-lasting, because of their lower resilience and higher vulnerability (10). However, our knowledge of the impact of trawling on deep-sea ecosystems has remained limited and has mainly focused on hard-bottom systems, such as seamounts and cold-water coral reefs (11, 12).

Sedimentary environments (i.e., the soft sea bottom) represent the greatest area of the deep-sea floor and host a vast fauna biodiversity (10). In these environments, the metazoan fauna (i.e., multicellular organisms) include almost all of the 35 modern animal Phyla. The smaller components of this fauna, the meiofauna, are characterized by relatively short life cycles, high turnover rates, and a lack of larval dispersion. For all oceanic seafloors, nematodes account for >90% of meiofauna abundance in the deep sea (13) and are characterized by very high species richness and recognizable feeding types and life strategies (14, 15). In this sense, nematodes have been recently used as a model to demonstrate that any loss in deep-sea fauna biodiversity is associated with an exponential decrease in ecosystem functioning (16).

Recent investigations carried out in the north-western Mediterranean Sea have revealed that the continuous stirring, mixing, and resuspension of surface sediments by intensive and chronic trawling activities has caused changes to the present-day sediment dynamics and has permanently smoothed the seafloor morphology of the continental slope over large spatial scales (1719). In this region, deep-sea trawled grounds are subjected to levels of sediment disturbance whose effects are larger than the changes in sediment properties associated with seasonal variability (20). Smoothed trawling grounds are also exposed to a reduced habitat heterogeneity. Because high habitat heterogeneity is crucial to preserve high biodiversity levels (21, 22), trawling activities might represent a major threat to the integrity of deep-sea ecosystems (12, 18).

References

  1. Thrush SF, Dayton PK (2002) Disturbance to marine benthic habitats by trawling and dredging: Implications for marine biodiversity. Annu Rev Ecol Syst 33:449–473.
  2. Roberts C (2007) The Unnatural History of the Sea (Island Press, Chicago, IL).
  3. Graham M (1938) The trawl fisheries: A scientific and national problem. Nature 142(3609):1143–1146.
  4. Myers RA, Worm B (2003) Rapid worldwide depletion of predatory fish communities. Nature 423(6937):280–283.
  5. Thurstan RH, Brockington S, Roberts CM (2010) The effects of 118 years of industrial fishing on UK bottom trawl fisheries. Nat Commun 1:15.
  6. Worm B, Tittensor DP (2011) Range contraction in large pelagic predators. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA 108(29):11942–11947.
  7. Roberts CM (2002) Deep impact: The rising toll of fishing in the deep sea. Trends Ecol Evol 17(5):242–245.
  8. Morato T, Watson R, Pitcher TJ, Pauly D (2006) Fishing down the deep. Fish Fish 7(1):24–34.
  9. Costello MJ, et al. (2010) A census of marine biodiversity knowledge, resources, and future challenges. PLoS ONE 5(8):e12110.
  10. Rex MA, Etter RJ (2010) Deep-Sea Biodiversity: Pattern and Scale (Harvard Univ Press, Cambridge, MA).
  11. Norse EA, et al. (2012) Sustainability of deep-sea fisheries. Mar Policy 36(2):307–320.
  12. Althaus F, et al. (2009) Impacts of bottom trawling on deep-coral ecosystems of seamounts are long-lasting. Mar Ecol Prog Ser 397:279–294.
  13. Giere O (2009) Meiobenthology. The Microscopic Motile Fauna of Aquatic Sediments (Springer, Berlin).
  14. Lambshead PJD (2004) Marine nematode biodiversity. Nematology: Advances and Perspectives: Nematode Morphology, Physiology and Ecology, Tsinghua University Press (TUP) Book Series, eds Chen ZX, Chen SY, Dickson DW (CABI Publishing, Wallingford, UK), Vol 1, pp. 436–467.
  15. Heip C, Vincx M, Vranken G (1985) The ecology of marine nematodes. Oceanogr Mar Biol 23:399–489.
  16. Danovaro R, et al. (2008) Exponential decline of deep-sea ecosystem functioning linked to benthic biodiversity loss. Curr Biol 18(1):1–8.
  17. Palanques A, et al. (2006) Evidence of sediment gravity flows induced by trawling in the Palamós (Fonera) submarine canyon (northwestern Mediterranean) Deep-Sea Res 5:201–214.
  18. Puig P, et al. (2012) Ploughing the deep sea floor. Nature 489(7415):286–289.
  19. Martín J, Puig P, Palanques A, Ribó M (2014) Trawling-induced daily sediment resuspension in the flank of a Mediterranean submarine canyon. Deep Sea Res Part 2 Top Stud Oceanogr doi:10.1016/j.dsr2.2013.05.036.
  20. Sañé E, Martín J, Puig P, Palanques A (2013) Organic biomarkers in deep-sea regions affected by bottom trawling: Pigments, fatty acids, amino acids and carbohydrates in surface sediments from the La Fonera (Palamós) Canyon, NW Mediterranean Sea. Biogeosciences 10:8093–8108.
  21. Levin LA, Dayton PK (2009) Ecological theory and continental margins: Where shallow meets deep. Trends Ecol Evol 24(11):606–617.
  22. McClain CR, Barry JP (2010) Habitat heterogeneity, disturbance, and productivity work in concert to regulate biodiversity in deep submarine canyons. Ecology 91(4):964–976.

 

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What collapse is like: Guadalajara Mexico

Preface.  Collapse can be local rather than national. There are 5 states within Mexico the State Department warns not to travel to: Colima,Guerrero, Michoacán, Sinaloa, and Tamaulipas because violent crime, such as homicide, kidnapping, carjacking, and robbery, are widespread. There are 11 more states the state department says you should reconsider travel due to violent crime and gang activity being widespread: Chihuaua, Coahulla, Durango, Estado de Mexico, Jalisco, Morelos, Nayrit, Nuevo Leon, San Luis Potosi, Sonora, Zacatecas.

There are patterns to what happens in a collapsing city or state or nation that are common to all places and all times. If you’re curious how things will go down in the U.S. at some point during the Great Simplification, this article will give you an idea of what to expect.  Though given the extremely high level of gun ownership in the U.S., it could be worse…

Alice Friedemann   www.energyskeptic.com  author of “When Trucks Stop Running: Energy and the Future of Transportation”, 2015, Springer and “Crunch! Whole Grain Artisan Chips and Crackers”. Podcasts: Practical Prepping, KunstlerCast 253, KunstlerCast278, Peak Prosperity , XX2 report

***

William Finnegan. July 2, 2012.  The Kingpins. The fight for Guadalajara. The New Yorker.

At the Guadalajara International Book Fair, Enrique Peña Nieto, who is forty-five, boyishly handsome, and generally expected to be the next President of Mexico, was asked to name three books that had influenced him. He mentioned the Bible, or, at least, “some parts” (unspecified), and “The Eagle’s Throne,” a Carlos Fuentes novel (though he named the historian Enrique Krauze as the author). And, for a few excruciating minutes, that was all he could come up with. The crowd laughed wickedly. Peña Nieto’s wife, a former soap-opera star, squirmed in the front row. His teen-age daughter didn’t help matters when, in a tweet, she scorned “all of the idiots who form part of the proletariat and only criticize those they envy.”

That debacle was in December. It did nothing to slow Peña Nieto’s well-financed march toward the election, which will take place on July 1st, but it did provide a welcome distraction for Guadalajarans, who are justly proud of their annual book fair. It is the second largest in Latin America, drawing more than half a million visitors, nearly two thousand publishers, and hundreds of authors, including, over the years, Nadine Gordimer, William Styron, and Toni Morrison. Guadalajarans sometimes offer it up as Exhibit A for the case that the city is a civilized place where life goes on unmarked by the violence that disfigures large parts of Mexico.

By late 2011, that argument was hard to make. Two days before the fair opened, twenty-six corpses were dumped under the Millennium Arches, a downtown landmark. Near the bodies, which bore signs of torture, was a message—what is known as a narcomanta—signed by the Zetas, the most feared organized-crime group in Mexico. The message taunted the Sinaloa cartel, the country’s biggest crime group, and its leader, Joaquín Guzmán Loera, known as El Chapo (Shorty). Sinaloa has controlled Guadalajara, which is the capital of the western state of Jalisco, for decades. “We’re in Jalisco and we are not leaving,” the Zetas announced. “This is proof that we are deep inside the kitchen.” Most narcomantas(which appear virtually every day somewhere in Mexico) are disinformation, their assertions dubious, their true authorship unknowable. But the Zetas have been pushing westward from their strongholds on the Gulf Coast, and they had already taken the neighboring state of Zacatecas, so there was no reason to doubt that they coveted Jalisco, a rich prize, or that this was indeed their atrocity and their message to Guadalajara.

In Mexico, it is often impossible to know who is behind something—a massacre, a candidacy, an assassination, the capture of a crime boss, a “discovery” of high-level corruption. Either the truth is too fluid and complex to define or it remains opaque to anyone not directly involved in manipulating events. This may help to explain how a city widely understood to be under the control of a leading international crime group—the U.S. Treasury Department recently labelled Guzmán, who is fifty-five, “the world’s most powerful drug trafficker”—can regard itself as a jacaranda-shaded refuge of high culture and legitimate commercial vitality. Both descriptions are true, and both realities are under siege. When Mexicans discuss the news, they talk often about pantallas—screens, illusions, behind which are more screens, all created to obscure the facts. Peña Nieto is depicted, in cartoons, as a carnival mask behind which laughs Carlos Salinas de Gortari, a former President, who is still regarded as enormously powerful. I can’t count the number of times I have asked someone about a news story and been told, “Pantalla.”

This is a problem for journalism. You fish for facts and instead pull up boatloads of speculation, some of it well informed, much of it trailing tangled agendas. You end up reporting not so much what happened as what people think or imagine or say happened. Then there is the entirely justified fear of speaking to the press, particularly to foreign journalists. I have had to offer anonymity, pseudonyms, and extraordinary assurances to many sources for this account. The reprisals that people are trying to avoid would come not only from crime groups but, in many cases, from factions within the Mexican government.

The six-year Presidency of Felipe Calderón is coming to an end, and this election can fairly be seen as a referendum on his military-led offensive against drug traffickers, which has cost some fifty thousand lives and left the country psychologically battered. Calderón’s National Action Party (pan) is far behind in the polls. Its Presidential candidate, Josefina Vázquez Mota, campaigns under the slogan “Josefina diferente,” hoping to distance herself from Calderón, but she served in his Cabinet, and her proposals for restoring security are not notably different from current policies. Peña Nieto’s security platform is nothing special, either. He might eventually return the Army to its barracks and, like virtually every recent President, revamp the federal police. His slogan is “Tú me conoces”—“You know me”—which many people find amusing, since they don’t know him at all. He was the governor of Mexico State, a populous but small horseshoe around Mexico City, and his time as a national politician has been short and heavily stage-managed, with limited press access (and no more literacy tests). Mexicans do know his party, the Institutional Revolutionary Party (pri), which ruled the country from 1929 until 2000. Throwing out the corrupt, authoritarian pri, in 2000, was a great moment for democracy in Latin America. Now it seems that Mexican voters are poised to bring the Party back.

The PAN is often described as center-right, the PRI as center-left, and the country’s third party, the Party of the Democratic Revolution (P.R.D.), as left-wing. But these labels carry little weight in Mexico today. “The parties have no ideology,” a magazine editor in Mexico City told me. “That aspect is meaningless. Power here is about money.” The P.R.D. candidate, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, a popular former mayor of Mexico City, who nearly won the Presidency in 2006, has moved toward the center this year, dropping his confrontational rhetoric. Indeed, in 2010 the P.R.D. and the purportedly rightist pan combined forces successfully, backing the same candidates for governor in three state elections. The pan and the pri are both avidly pro-business. But it was the pri that presided over the privatization of more than a thousand state companies during the nineteen-eighties and nineties. Carlos Salinas, during his sexenio, privatized hundreds of companies, as well as Mexico’s banking system, turning a lucky circle of his friends into billionaires. This creation of a new economic élite, with effective monopolies in fields such as transportation, mining, and telecommunications, resembles the creation, around the same time, of the new crony-capitalist oligarchy in Russia. And in Mexico nearly all its beneficiaries owe their fortunes to the pri, not the pan.

Calderón began his military assault on the cartels immediately after he took office, in December, 2006. He had narrowly won that year’s election. López Obrador, in a rancorous aftermath, had refused to concede, and many people believed that Calderón started his “war” in order to change the subject—to try to consolidate his legitimacy in office. A career pan functionary (his father co-founded the Party), Calderón is not a particularly colorful or forceful character, and his sudden assumption of the role of wartime leader was also seen by critics as overcompensation. Once engaged, he found himself regularly accused of going easy on the Sinaloa cartel. A zero-sum analysis of an anti-crime strategy is, understandably, the default view in Mexico: any government assault on one cartel must be at the behest of its rivals. And Sinaloa did seem underrepresented among the casualties and captured narcos as those numbers spiralled up. Reasons advanced for this alleged softness included Chapo Guzmán’s web of informers inside the government and a secret Calderón strategy to weaken Sinaloa’s rivals in order to produce a single, credible interlocutor for organized crime with whom the government could strike deals.

In yet more overcompensation, Calderón has seemed to be pounding extra hard on Sinaloa in recent times. His Hail Mary pass to keep his party in power has been a highly publicized effort to capture or kill Guzmán. In February, federal police missed getting him, they claimed, by a matter of minutes at a rented beachfront mansion in Cabo San Lucas. Afterward, in Mexico City, Janet Napolitano, the U.S. Secretary of Homeland Security, predicted that Guzmán would be caught, citing the successful manhunt for Osama bin Laden. But bin Laden didn’t have the Pentagon on his payroll; Guzmán’s bribe network inside Mexico’s security forces is formidable.

Calderón has pursued a “kingpin strategy,” like the “deck of cards” that the United States used in post-Saddam Iraq. In 2009, Mexican authorities listed the thirty-seven drug capos they most wanted. They have so far caught or killed twenty-two, and some cartels seem to have withered after losing their leaders. But organized crime controls more resources today, and sows more terror, than ever. The most common fallout from the kingpin strategy has been the fragmentation of narco-trafficking into smaller, warring, ultraviolent factions. This cops-and-robbers version of the drug war cannot, in any case, be taken at face value. The idea of a unified state that is furiously pursuing bad guys is pure pantalla. The low-grade civil war in Mexico takes place on the ground, among factions with shifting loyalties, in cities and villages with tangled histories. The “government” has innumerable faces—it has more than two thousand police agencies, for a start—and its corruption controls are too weak to counter the power of narco billions. Every local commander, every official, and every community must work out an accommodation with organized crime.

Metropolitan Guadalajara, population four and a half million, sprawls across a sunny, mile-high plateau. It’s been the administrative center of western Mexico since the sixteenth century—the older parts of town are filled with imposing churches, plazas, and public buildings—and it’s still a financial, industrial, and educational hub. Electronics and software are booming fields—people call it the Silicon Valley of Mexico. The University of Guadalajara has more than two hundred thousand students. The city has good restaurants and music, great old neighborhoods, shiny new malls, and a flourishing methamphetamine trade.

The Mexican meth trade got a big boost in the nineteen-nineties, when American law enforcement started to crack down on U.S. meth labs and production moved south. For the Mexican cartels, meth has many advantages. With cocaine, they are middlemen, dependent on producers in South America and obliged to move the product, first, across Central America. Marijuana and heroin require cropland, rainfall, harvesting, and, in the case of heroin, processing. Meth, like other synthetic drugs, is produced indoors. It has, by some estimates, the highest profit margin of all the major illegal drugs. Whether smoked, snorted, injected, or swallowed as a pill, it is extremely addictive. Worldwide consumption has been rising for decades. According to a recent United Nations report, amphetamines have passed cocaine and opiates to become the second most used illegal type of drug, after marijuana. In 2010, a hundred and sixty-six meth labs were busted in Iran; the Czech Republic shuts down some four hundred labs a year. Mexico, with the U.S. market next door, is believed to have become the world’s largest meth producer. The cartels, particularly Sinaloa, cook meth on an industrial scale that would not be possible in the U.S.

In a 2008 report (later WikiLeaked), titled “Chemical City,” the U.S. consulate in Guadalajara listed the factors that made Jalisco a major center of crystal-meth production: “geography, availability of materials, adequate infrastructure, and brain power.” The Sinaloa cartel, which got its start growing and smuggling marijuana and heroin, and then became extremely rich transshipping cocaine from Colombia to the United States, branched into the meth business sometime in the nineteen-nineties.

Its Guadalajara chieftain, Ignacio (Nacho) Coronel Villarreal, became known as the King of Crystal. He lived in the city’s wealthiest neighborhood but ran his operations without flamboyance. The profits were apparently fabulous. Then, in July, 2010, Coronel was killed in an Army raid on his home. Speculation was rife. Armchair warriors wondered if El Chapo had set up his old friend Nacho, out of concern that his Jalisco kingdom was becoming too independently powerful. In any event, everyone said that taking Coronel alive was out of the question. The “gentleman narco,” as I heard him called in Guadalajara, knew who in the Army was on whose payroll. That was why the Army sent a hundred soldiers to attack the house where he had lived, more or less openly, for many years.

“That was when things changed in Jalisco,” a bookstore clerk on Avenida Chapultepec told me. “That was the end of the peace.” The Zetas, who reportedly know nothing about cooking meth but are old hands at the hostile takeover of going concerns, started making more aggressive alliances with disaffected local gangsters.

“Heating up the plaza” is the term of art for what’s happening in Guadalajara, mainly in the poor barrios and in the badlands on the outskirts, the places absorbing the city’s wild recent growth. Tlajomulco de Zuñiga, a big, shapeless municipio (the rough equivalent of a county) on the city’s southern edge, has seen its population quadruple in a decade, to almost half a million. The pri’s candidate for governor recently described the area as “a dumping ground for corpses.” Bad guys dropped their victims in local ditches. The Army conducted raids on local meth labs. In February, the Army announced that it had seized, in a “historic” bust, in Tlajomulco, fifteen tons of methamphetamine. The street value of that much meth was, by the Army’s figuring, some four billion dollars. If true, that would indeed make it the largest meth bust in history. But was it true?

Víctor Hugo Ornelas is never without his camera. It’s a Canon EOS Digital Rebel XT, which he carries on a shoulder strap and swings silently into focus on garbage piles, flooded roads, bad potholes. He’s a tireless blogger (he is also a stringer for Milenio, a national daily), and these shots go up with notas (short articles) about derelictions, hazards, and other small outrages around Tlajomulco. Most will make it into La Verdad (The Truth), a weekly paper for which he covers politics, writes a column, and does investigations. He photographs corpses, too, and writes those notas. Unlike many papers, La Verdad doesn’t publish blood and gore, but Hugo’s laptop contains a stomach-turning archive of headless torsos, hacked-off limbs, heads on poles with narcomantas attached.

“The bodies are messages,” he told me. “If it’s missing a finger, it means you pointed to somebody. Missing legs means you changed groups. Missing the tongue means you said something you shouldn’t have. A hand cut off means it was a thief.”

We were driving around western Tlajomulco, a sunbaked miscellany of ranches, factories, subdivisions, and rough hills. I parked in a patch of shade. Hugo wanted to check out a scruffy warehouse that had caught his eye. This was on the main highway running south from Guadalajara. An old couple appeared. They lived next to the warehouse, and told us that stinking water ran out of the building. They didn’t know the name of the company that used it, but they thought it produced condiments. “They burn their trash, and we breathe the nasty smoke,” the woman said. It was hard to hear her over the roar of trucks. Hugo leaned in, took notes. He wore a dress shirt, jeans, and boots. He had beaded leather bracelets on both wrists. He is slender, thirty, with a severe face—high cheekbones, wide-set eyes. We watched him hobble off to snap pictures of the warehouse. He has used a cane since February, when he suffered a severe fracture of his left leg playing league soccer. “They pasted me,” he said.

Many people would like to paste Hugo. He was once studying a strange-looking house, figuring that it was a meth lab, when a pickup truck suddenly wheeled out of the driveway and blocked his path. Four armed men jumped out. They threw him and a female companion on the ground. With a boot on his neck and a gun at his head, Hugo played the fool. He babbled about how he admired the federal agents known as afis (the Federal Investigation Agency was a squad created to fight corruption and organized crime), pretending that he thought the narcos were afis. The ruse seemed to confuse the gunmen. Hugo allowed himself a faint smile when he told me this story. The narcos did not spot his camera, which he had quickly hidden in the car. That, he thought, probably saved their lives.

“But I fear the government more,” he said. He meant officials, police, and soldiers—those he usually offended with his investigations. Yet, he said, “You have to confront them, or they will just come more and more. I wrote a nota about corruption in the municipal police. They were taking wrecked cars and selling off the good parts. I named names, gave a lot of details. One of the cops came to my office, armed, in uniform. I told him that City Hall was down the street, if he wanted to make a complaint. I told him he shouldn’t come threatening me, and I picked up my camera. He turned and ran. I got a good picture of him running.”

Most confrontations don’t end so merrily. Anyway, if someone wants to do you real harm, he can just hire a sicario—an assassin. “It’s only a thousand pesos,” Hugo told me—less than eighty dollars. “And that’s not just in Tlajomulco. It’s everywhere.” The day before his leg was broken in the soccer game, two men accosted him. They were waiting outside his house, in the rain. “They were very aggressive. One guy asked me, ‘How low do your balls hang?’ That’s a rude question. I was sarcastic. I asked them if that was supposed to scare me. I still don’t know who sent them.”

Was there a connection to his soccer injury?

Hugo looked at his cane. “They weren’t going for the ball,” he said. He was blindsided, and never knew who hit him. The game was stopped. Nobody from the other team spoke to him. His teammates, perhaps doing him a favor, said they did not see who had pasted him. He kept writing notas from his hospital bed. I had noticed, on his Twitter page, a photograph of him out cold, awaiting surgery. It was probably best to stay in the public eye—to try to seem cheerful, unintimidated. Hugo heard that a young man who worked at City Hall said that they should have broken both his legs.

Hugo likes to go undercover. He recently posed as a building inspector, to get a look at the paperwork for a new banquet hall. The permits were bogus, as he suspected. Developers normally get their way in Tlajomulco. They have thrown up a large number of spectacularly shabby subdivisions, not bothering with even basic services. Some of these places have now been without water for years. Five thousand houses in the new subdivisions are already abandoned. The owner of the illegal banquet hall went ballistic over Hugo’s article. He cornered him in a parking lot, letting him know that he had crossed the wrong guy. Unfortunately, that could be true.

Could the police be of any help?

“The corruption is so deep,” Hugo said. “No.”

The Army?

“The soldiers here don’t speak. They don’t investigate. They don’t know who anyone is. They wear masks. They just follow orders and attack. Then they go back to their bases.

“Some cops I trust,” Hugo went on. “I even help them with things. They call me to help them find a certain place. They don’t know all the fraccionamientos”—the dirt-poor new tracts. We were passing through one, called Santa Fe. The tiny row houses, the gray cinder-block walls, seemed to stretch for miles. Gang graffiti and newly painted pri propaganda competed for wall space. We crossed a culvert. “They have dumped bodies there,” Hugo said. He directed me to a modest police substation, where there was an officer who might speak to me.

“Call me José,” the officer said. It was clearly not his name.

José said that there were two hundred and forty thousand residents in his sector, and a total of ninety cops. The worst problems were gang violence and robbery. The Army blew through occasionally but did not communicate with police. There was little point in arresting people, because there were so few prosecutions. A local capo, known as El Puerco (the Hog), who worked for a cartel called La Resistencia, which had thrown in its lot with the Zetas, had been arrested, José said, for drug dealing, robbery, and multiple homicides. Three days later, José said, he was released. The Sinaloa cartel kept a lower profile. Its local affiliate was called the Jalisco Cartel New Generation. Meth addiction was one of the ways the cartels recruited. Kids got into drugs and gangs and, if they survived, were allowed to join the cartel.

José’s men kept strolling into the room where we talked, checking me out. They wore bulletproof vests and carried assault rifles. I knew that José would not have agreed to talk to me if I had not arrived with Hugo. “This is not the U.S.,” he said. “But things have to change, or we’ll go the way of Afghanistan. The next President has an obligation to change things.”

Local security had deteriorated since the arrival of the Zetas: “Now you don’t know who is connected with whom, or where the threats are coming from.”

Two years before, José had been ambushed. “I was on patrol,” he said. He pulled his shirt up to reveal huge, frightening scars. “They never caught the shooter.”

Hugo later said, “He’s a good guy. I trust him. But he’s been scared since he got shot.”

There are reportedly three capture/kill squads working full time for Felipe Calderón’s government on Chapo Guzmán. The Drug Enforcement Administration and other U.S. security agencies are said to feed the Mexican military intelligence information on Guzmán’s movements, and are frustrated by the Mexicans’ failure to kill or capture him. After the near-miss in February, an American official told ABC News, “Every time he gets away, they tell us, ‘He got out the back door.’ ” The Americans had started joking that “there is no word for ‘surround’ in Spanish.” Press reports put Guzmán in Argentina, Guatemala, England, Honduras, or, most often, simply back home in the state of Sinaloa, in the rugged Sierra Madre range where he grew up.

Last October, President Calderón suggested, bizarrely, that Guzmán was living in the United States. He seemed to be referring to the news that Guzmán’s wife, Emma Coronel, had recently travelled to California, where, in August, she gave birth to twins in a hospital in Los Angeles County. But Coronel had returned to Mexico. U.S. law enforcement had tracked her back as far as the border.

The fact that Guzmán’s freedom has been embarrassing the Mexican President for years reflects a fundamental power shift between the Mexican state under the pan and Mexican organized crime. Before 2000, under the pri, crime groups prospered, but the national government ultimately called the shots. There were well-understood lines that the cartels could not cross. One of those was crossed in 1993, when the Archbishop of Guadalajara was gunned down at the Guadalajara airport. This was unacceptable. The circumstances of the murder were murky, but someone had to pay, and Chapo Guzmán was arrested sixteen days later—in Guatemala, despite, according to Malcolm Beith’s book “The Last Narco,” having paid a local military commander more than a million dollars for protection. Guzmán did not deny having been at the airport when the archbishop was killed, but he claimed that he was the intended victim: the assassins, rival narcos, had fired into the wrong car. This became the government’s theory of the case—there are many others—and the homicide charge was eventually dropped. He was convicted of drug trafficking and sentenced to twenty years.

In 2001, just after Vicente Fox became the pan’s first President, and just before Guzmán was expected to be extradited to the United States, he escaped from a maximum-security prison. He is said to have rolled out in the bottom of a laundry cart, his exit smoothed by bribes. Other versions have him coming and going freely for years, and finally leaving for good dressed as a guard. Under the pan, Guzmán has reportedly become a billionaire, making the Forbes list of the world’s most powerful people in each of the past two years.

N

o one believes that the government is calling the shots today in Mexico. It isn’t even clear that capturing or killing Guzmán would bring the Calderón administration a popularity windfall, let alone help the pan make up the ground it needs in order to win the now imminent Presidential election. In Guadalajara, there was a large-scale Army raid, with helicopters, near the city center in March. The military tried to seal off the target neighborhood. The narcos responded by hijacking twenty-five trucks and municipal buses, setting them on fire, and blocking the city’s main roads. The Army, ever-secretive and rightly mistrustful of other government agencies, had not informed the governor, the mayor, the state police, the municipal police, or the federal police of its plans, so Guadalajarans huddled in their homes and workplaces, phoning and e-mailing one another, waiting in vain for advisories or information from the government as the sky filled with black smoke and the city rang with sirens. A young man I met spent the afternoon of the narcobloqueowatching TV news with a local family. One of their great fears that day, he said, was that the Army might be killing or capturing Chapo Guzmán. These were middle-class Guadalajarans, painfully aware of what organized crime is doing to Mexico—not fans of El Chapo by any stretch—but they feared that, if Guzmán were no longer running the Sinaloa cartel, all hell would break loose in Guadalajara. This is a widespread view, based on hard national experience of the fallout from Calderón’s kingpin strategy.

The Army captured a lesser capo that day, one Erick Valencia Salazar, a.k.a. El 85, whom authorities described as the leader of the Jalisco Cartel New Generation (C.J.N.G.). A more important leader, according to security experts, and the real target of the raid—a gangster known as El Mencho—had eluded troops. The C.J.N.G. plastered the city with narcomantas apologizing to the public for the narcobloqueo. It had been an emotional outburst, the mantas said, in reaction to the loss of El 85. The narcos were sorry about the day’s events (which included the death of a bus driver who was inadvertently burned alive), and would now return to their main mission, which was keeping Guadalajara safe from the Zetas. Some amateur scholars of the drug trade speculated that Chapo Guzmán might have tried to set up El Mencho, whose ambitions were said to be trumping his loyalty to Sinaloa. The experts I interviewed all said that the narcobloqueo had actually been a tactical maneuver, meant to distract the Army and law enforcement, so that narcos more important than Valencia could leave the city undetected. Inevitably, Chapo Guzmán was rumored to have been among them.

How can Guadalajarans continue to see their town as a haven? The most tenacious local myth is that powerful narcos want it peaceful because their families live there. This idea may once have had validity. A crackdown in the late seventies on traffickers in Sinaloa, fuelled largely by U.S. demands, drove many narcos from that state, and some of the top dogs did settle in Guadalajara. The money laundering was excellent, and they bought hotels, restaurants, night clubs. They married into some of the best old families, sent their children to good schools. Their wealth drove a local mini-boom.

Chapo Guzmán, too, lived in Guadalajara, rising within an organization disrupted by U.S.-driven arrests to form the Sinaloa cartel. Although he had only a third-grade education, his aptitude for international smuggling was high. He cultivated cocaine sources in South America, secured routes through Central America and western Mexico, and built elaborate tunnels under the U.S. border. He could be ruthless. The story was that he built his tunnels with slave labor and, in the interests of secrecy, killed the workers when they were finished. He gave no quarter in battles over plazas that he considered valuable. At the same time, he gained a reputation as a reasonable business partner, and built alliances across the globe. This was particularly important in the meth trade, where production relies on chemicals manufactured primarily in Asia. In Mexico, it is estimated that Guzmán employs, directly or indirectly, a hundred and fifty thousand people. His influence, even his popularity, runs especially deep in Sinaloa. Local joke: How can you tell when times are tough in Sinaloa? El Chapo had to lay off ten judges.

The prison that he escaped from, known as Puente Grande, is on the outskirts of Guadalajara. His elusiveness, at least some of which must be put down to luck, only burnishes his legend. He is the subject of many narcocorridos, the popular ballads that celebrate outlaw exploits. Emma Coronel is his fourth wife. She caught his eye while Guzmán was hiding out in her village, in Durango. He helped see that she won a local beauty contest, where she was named Miss Coffee and Guava. Their wedding, on her eighteenth birthday, in 2007, was, from all reports, a great blowout. The Army showed up a day late. Emma Coronel is the niece of Nacho Coronel. Frequent reports that Guzmán travels with a uniformed, heavily armed security detail of up to three hundred men were belied by the government’s version of the bungled raid in Cabo San Lucas in February. Guzmán appeared to be staying in the rented mansion with a retinue of four, one of them a local prostitute, whom the police interrogated extensively.

Few seem to believe that Guzmán’s capture or demise would put a noticeable dent in the Mexican drug trade. A succession plan is undoubtedly in place. Some analysts think that Guzmán is not even the chief executive in the Sinaloa cartel. “Chapo is a brand,” a Guadalajara academic told me. “He does not make major decisions. His fate will be decided for him, just as his ‘escape’ from Puente Grande was the result of a deal.” Intellectuals who discount Guzmán’s agency in the multi-decade telenovela of his life see him as a mere manager of narco-trafficking, a distraction from Mexico’s problems of corruption, poverty, impunity, and bad government. For both Calderón and the country, chasing him is avoiding the hard work of building a more transparent, modern democracy.

But the power of organized crime in Mexico now holds hostage large areas of the country, including major cities, such as Monterrey, and terrorizes the rest with performances of stupefying violence. Calderón’s deployment of the Army, first justified by the military’s relatively clean reputation, has only besmirched that reputation, as soldiers commit a rising number of crimes against civilians, and fail to resist financial temptation. Four senior commanders, including three generals, one of them Calderón’s former No. 2 at the defense ministry, were arrested in May on suspicion of working for organized crime. (No formal charges have been filed.) More than fifty-six thousand troops have deserted under Calderón.

Some Guadalajarans find cold comfort by looking north, to Monterrey, where security has been in free fall for the past two years. It is Mexico’s third-largest city, and its wealthiest. But the police have lost control of the streets. Kidnapping, extortion, robbery, and murder are commonplace. The number of killings there tripled between 2009 and 2010, then nearly doubled again in 2011. Army checkpoints now lace the city. Guadalajara has experienced nothing close to Monterrey’s nightmare. What happened there? The Zetas and the Gulf cartel started a war. The local police reportedly went to work en masse for the cartels. Now the Zetas are pillaging the city.

The Zetas are unlike other Mexican crime groups. Their founders were deserters from the Mexican military’s élite special forces, recruited in the late nineteen-nineties as bodyguards and enforcers for the leader of the then formidable Gulf cartel. The cartel paid many times what the military did. The Zetas’ numbers grew. Trained as paratroopers and intelligence operatives, they introduced a paramilitary element to narco-trafficking, outgunning police units. They ambushed the Army. They seized plazas and drug routes from other cartels, with an efficiency and a brutality not seen before. Beheadings became their signature, along with castrations with genitals stuffed in mouths and corpses with a “Z” carved into the flesh. Their ranks swelled with infusions from a notorious Guatemalan counter-insurgency unit, the Kaibiles.

Traditional crime groups like Sinaloa were family-based, often deeply tied to a region. The Zetas were military. Their mission was to kill and destroy. When they outgrew their role as enforcers, they turned on their employers. They beat the Gulf cartel down to insignificance. Their only real rival now is Sinaloa. The Zetas, who are estimated to have more than ten thousand fighters, control virtually the entire east coast of Mexico, and have laid claim to several of the busiest cargo crossing points on the U.S. border, including Matamoros, Reynosa, and Nuevo Laredo. It is believed that they are pushing west because they want to open a corridor to a major Pacific port, such as Manzanillo, just south of Guadalajara.

The Zetas approach a town, a city, or a state as a shakedown opportunity. They fight for the right to terrorize a community, and bleed it dry. They also threaten the central government. One of their mantas, hung from a bridge in Monterrey in February, said, “The government must make a pact with us because if not we will have to overthrow it and take power by force.” A recent government study found that the Zetas are now active in seventeen of Mexico’s thirty-two states. (The same study found that Sinaloa is active in sixteen.) They have even moved into the state of Sinaloa, where they are reportedly fighting ferociously, village by village, for control of Chapo Guzmán’s home turf.

The Zetas traffic drugs, but their specialties are kidnapping, extortion, murder, robbery, human smuggling, and product piracy. Their punishments for failure to pay protection money are extravagant and meant to be cautionary. Last August, they firebombed a casino in Monterrey whose owner had not paid, killing at least fifty-two customers. They kidnap migrant workers, mainly from Central America, and demand ransom from their impoverished families. Some of their massacres make no obvious sense. In 2010, seventy-two migrants were found dead at a ranch near the U.S. border. In 2011, a mass grave with the remains of a hundred and ninety-three people, presumably migrants, was discovered in the desert in Tamaulipas. Migrants are now crossing further west, in Sonora, hoping to avoid the Zetas. Mexico’s state-owned oil company, Pemex, says that the Zetas have begun tapping its pipelines, stealing millions of barrels of crude oil a year.

The Zetas’ esprit is remarkable. When Zetas are captured, other Zetas break them out of prison. There have been dozens of attacks, riots, escapes. In December, 2010, a hundred and fifty-one Zetas broke out of jail in Nuevo Laredo. This February, twenty-nine escaped from a prison in Monterrey, but not before stabbing and bludgeoning to death forty-four incarcerated members of the Gulf cartel. Given the group’s reputation for steely invincibility, it is not surprising that gangbangers across Mexico want to be Zetas. Simply dropping the name does wonders, reportedly, for the success rate of extortion schemes. But fake Zetas risk retribution from real Zetas. And the Zetas’ torture methods, including decapitation, are always available for review on the Internet.

Rival cartels have often been just as bad. La Familia Michoacana nearly matched the Zetas beheading for beheading during a struggle for supremacy in the west-coast state of Michoacán, a struggle that La Familia won. (Afterward, La Familia splintered.) And, when the Zetas began to threaten Jalisco, the Jalisco Cartel New Generation formed a squad called the Mata Zetas (Zeta Killers)—said to be led by El 85, and subsidized by Chapo Guzmán—which carried the fight into the Zetas’ heartland. The Mata Zetas released a strikingly composed, politically tinged video announcing their plans to annihilate their degenerate foes, and in September, 2011, the Jalisco group dumped thirty-five bodies on a busy avenue in Veracruz at rush hour. Two weeks later, thirty-two more bodies were found in three safe houses around the city. Veracruz is Zetas territory. It is also the main seaport on the east coast of Mexico, and therefore interesting to Chapo Guzmán—useful, clearly, for cocaine moving northward, and for meth chemicals arriving from overseas. More immediately, though, the Mata Zetas’ plan was simply to open a rearguard path to try to slow the Zetas’ advance on Jalisco. The corpses thrown under the Millennium Arches in November were a retaliation.

Mexican election campaigns are short—ninety days for the Presidential contest, and usually less for state and local contests. Enrique Peña Nieto bravely launched his campaign in Guadalajara, historically a pan stronghold. By mid-April, the city was saturated with political advertising. Every taxi was festooned, every wall and billboard. Television and radio often seemed like a solid wave of slogans, jingles, appeals, attacks. By far the most numerous “spots” were the pri’s. The pri candidate for the governorship of Jalisco, Aristóteles Sandoval Díaz, is the current mayor of Guadalajara. He looks like a provincial version of Peña Nieto—young, guapo, prone to platitudes. Sandoval began the year by declaring that he would “armor” his campaign against infiltration by organized crime. In his previous campaigns, he reportedly received financial backing from several Sinaloa cartel mobsters, among them Ignacio Loya Alatorre, identified by federal prosecutors as Nacho Coronel’s money manager, who was assassinated in 2005, and Tony Duarte, who was a car thief before he became a prominent Guadalajara businessman and alleged Sinaloa bagman (he was assassinated, in Puerto Vallarta, in 2011). Sandoval’s declaration may have been reassuring to voters: he is far ahead in the polls.

Does organized crime favor one party? Or do particular cartels back particular parties? Not notably. Each of the major parties has had corruption scandals. The pri’s pre-2000 dominance meant that most, if not all, of the agreements, known as acuerdos, between organized crime and officialdom during that period involved the pri. But that was when the pri was the only game in town. Even López Obrador, the P.R.D. candidate, originally made his name as a prileader. With the rise of other parties, new acuerdoswere made. The narcos are most concerned with local politicians and police and military units. They want to be able to land this load at this airfield. Their acuerdos tend to be with individuals. If they prefer to work with one candidate for mayor, or governor, they may intimidate or, in the case of the Zetas, even kill his opponent. But the party affiliation of politicians, let alone Army or police commanders, is irrelevant.

Joanna Jablonska Bayro is a sociology student. For her doctoral dissertation, she has been interviewing twenty Guadalajarans about how they perceive their city and their security—where and why they feel unsafe, how they protect themselves from risks.

“People fight hard to maintain the fantasy that Guadalajara is an oasis of tranquillity,” she told me. “With the corpse dumping at the Millennium Arches, there was a lot of effort by the authorities to show that the dead were all narcos. Then the news came out that the victims were ordinary people. That’s when people here panicked. Then, about a month later, the authorities announced that they had caught the killers, and that, no, the victims were all narcos. They were trying to reëstablish some equilibrium, some sense of safety in the city. But who knows what’s true?”

Nobody, rich or poor, in Jablonska’s study feels completely confident that the government will tell them the truth. And everyone is mortally afraid of the Zetas. “After this recent narcobloqueo, all the mantas that went up were about protecting the people from the Zetas. The Zetas are the incarnation of the threat.”

Attitudes toward the security forces break down along class lines. The upper and middle classes are still enthusiastic about the Army, the poor far less so. As for the local police, people with more resources regard their corruption as only a nuisance, while the poor find them dangerous: “They’ll put drugs on me, and cause me a lot of problems.” Everyone in Jablonska’s study feels that Mexican social and political institutions, including the state itself, are weakening. “Some of this institutional weakness comes from the post-pri fragmentation of power,” Jablonska said. Everyone has lost confidence in the rule of law. Nearly anyone who can afford it, including the lower middle class, now lives in a gated community, with private security. “People in more precarious neighborhoods must build their own networks of protection. They rely on pit bulls, family networks, and, of course, organized crime. They never call the police.”

Ninety-eight per cent of serious crimes in Mexico go unpunished, according to a recent report by the Monterrey Institute of Technology. For kidnapping, which is rarely reported, the figure might be even higher. Kidnapping is the horror lapping at the edge of nearly everyone’s mind, and it’s known that kidnapping is one of the Zetas’ favorite crimes. Corrupt police are often involved—one of the reasons it’s rarely reported. Private security companies seek to capitalize on the public’s panic. When you read a crime story online, the advertisement blinking alongside the text is often an offer of private protection for you and your family against secuestro—kidnapping. If someone disappears and no ransom call comes, should it even be called kidnapping? Human-rights groups estimate that more than five thousand people have disappeared in Mexico in the past five years.

Mexican TV provides a P.R. forum for the police and the military. “People love these big drug busts, these acts of bravery,” Jablonska said. “They have real value.” The police and the Army play to that taste, with a constant stream of handcuffed ruffians presented to TV cameras. Behind the captured narcos stand black military helicopters. Drugs and cash and weapons, some gold-plated, are laid out on banquet tables. The government even produces YouTube-ready videos with dramatic musical intros, graphics, and sleek institutional logos. (And now: the Confession of La Barbie!)

Weary of pantallas, I tried to get to the bottom of a single bust—the “historic” meth-lab raid in Tlajomulco that confiscated some four billion dollars’ worth of drugs. Were the drugs seized really worth that much? Well, no. The more experts I consulted, the lower the number sank. Maybe it was a billion, if the meth was pure. Then was it really fifteen tons of “pure meth,” as widely reported? Well, no. There had been some confusion. There were precursor chemicals. A lot of equipment—gas tanks, reactors. Maybe it was eleven pounds of pure meth. Eleven pounds? Nobody wanted to speak on the record, but the spokesman for the federal prosecutor’s office in Guadalajara, a young man named Ulises Enríquez Camacho, finally said, “Yes, five kilos.” Eleven pounds. The fifteen tons had been methamphetamine ready for packing, according to the Army. But it was not “a finished product,” and there had been only five kilos of crystal. In the U.S., where meth is often sold by the gram, that amount might be worth five hundred thousand dollars. So the reported value had been inflated by a factor of eight thousand?

I wanted to get the Army’s side of the story, so I went to the headquarters of the Fifteenth Military Zone, whose troops had carried out the raid. The base is in Zapopan, northwest of Guadalajara. The chief of staff, General Gerardo Wolburg Redondo, said he would need permission to speak to me. He later phoned. Permission denied, he said, by Mexico City, because of Article 41, a provision of the Mexican constitution that forbids the diffusion of government propaganda during an election-campaign period.

Article 41 had suddenly become a popular law in government offices, I found. Sorry, love to chat, but—Article 41. People were happy to talk off the record, however, about the Army’s operations in Jalisco. It had been raiding meth labs at a torrid rate—sixty-three in the past year, by the Army’s count, with many of those in Tlajomulco. Arrests almost never happened, though. Why not? Ulises Enríquez explained that it was difficult for troops to arrive at a meth-lab site without neighbors seeing them approach and warning the narcos to flee. Why, I asked, would the neighbors do that? They were paid lookouts, he said. How did the Army know where the labs were? Different neighbors, made suspicious by high traffic or strong chemical odors, called—or, more often, e-mailed—the police or the Army. Anonymous denunciations.

This scenario was derided by most of the people I consulted, in law enforcement and elsewhere. Narcos ratted out rival narcos—that was normally how the authorities learned things. Or the narcos and certain authorities came to an agreement. What civilian would drop a dime on a cartel? That could be suicidal. There was no way to know who would be on the other end of that call or e-mail. Anyway, labs that were up to date on their protection payments usually had nothing to fear. Meth labs operated in networks, moving materials and personnel between facilities to maximize production and minimize risk. Losses from seizures were a cost of doing business, and rarely catastrophic. The networks in Jalisco were very big now. Sinaloa had recently ramped up production. The remnants of La Familia Michoacana had moved labs here, getting them out of strife-torn southern Michoacán. But the commander of the Fifth Military Region, General Fausto Lozano Espinosa, was on a rampage. He wanted meth labs. The Army had almost no field intelligence, but the government needed dramatic busts, headlines, and so an acuerdo had seemingly been reached. The locations of some labs would be disclosed, and they would be busted, but there would be no one there—no guards, and certainly no chemists or cooks, who were highly valued employees.

The Army’s version of the great February bust was doubted by U.S. officials, too. One told me that it had actually happened two weeks before the announcement claimed. The press release went out to the wider world before the drugs were properly tested, along with photographs of masked soldiers standing among blue barrels filled with yellow powder. According to this official, the Army often told no one, certainly not the police, and sometimes not even the federal prosecutor’s office, about its raids—not even afterward—until it had a reason, usually political, to do so. It was all about the credit. Evidence collection and preservation were not part of the Army’s mission—that was the federal prosecutor’s job. No one seemed to be in a position to question the wisdom of smashing up places, learning nothing, carrying off drugs, and calling it a blow against organized crime.

The great bust took place near a village called Buena Vista, at a “ranch” called Rancho Villarreal. Although the Army had closed its investigation almost immediately, Ulises Enríquez said that the federal prosecutor still had an investigation open. So I asked him who owned Rancho Villarreal. He said that it was difficult to determine. It was a party venue, really, with a swimming pool, a bar, cabanas. It was for weddings, quinceañeras, company picnics. But the owner of a property couldn’t be held responsible for everything that tenants did there. When I asked around about the disposition of the drugs seized at Rancho Villarreal, someone close to the case told me that he believed the product had been quietly returned to its owners, for an unknown price.

Víctor Hugo Ornelas and I went to Buena Vista. I had been there a couple of times before, checking out Rancho Villarreal, but the villagers had been reluctant to talk. They claimed not to remember the Army raid, let alone the narcolaboratorio. I believed I was endangering them just by lingering. Hugo, however, knew people there. A young guy I’ll call Ramón took us out on the back roads of Buena Vista in his 4 x 4. “Some of the kids around here really look up to the narcos,” Ramón said. “The girls, especially. It’s too bad. They go to their parties, enjoy the narcocorridos, get pregnant. One pregnant girl’s boyfriend disappeared. We assume he’s dead. But the other pregnant girls are still happy. They want the babies. The guys are from Sinaloa and Michoacán. Some from Jalisco. They all have money, nice trucks, nice ranchos.

“The priest likes having the narcos here,” Ramón went on. “Some are quite religious. They fixed up his church. They get their kids baptized there.”

We were bumping down a deeply rutted road. It was rough, open country—plenty of room for clandestinity. “Those ranchos with the big walls, the heavy gates?” Ramón said, pointing out homesteads visible here and there. “Those are all narquitos. They have watchdogs, fighting cocks. You can tell. Palm trees.”

“Yeah, palm trees,” Hugo said. “What is it with narcos and palm trees?”

“I don’t know. They just have to have them.” They laughed.

We stopped and gazed down a very long driveway at a huge new house. The driveway looked practically impassable, even for a 4 x 4. “They can afford to improve the roads,” Ramón said. “But sometimes they prefer an ugly road. It lets them see their enemies coming.”

Were the cartels fighting?

“No. Not right now. It seems like La Familia Michoacana is dominant around here at the moment. But most of the labs belong to the Jalisco cartel. They employ a lot of lookouts.”

We passed a small airstrip. “That’s for model planes,” Ramón said. “Hobbyists. Soldiers.”

He and Hugo exchanged a look. “Incredible,” Hugo said.

We regained the paved road where we had left my car. Two sedans with big, brightly painted, carefully hand-built model airplanes lashed to their roofs were turning off the road onto the dirt track.

Hugo and I went to Rancho Villarreal. It was at the end of a long, twisting, unpaved road. The brick outer walls were ten feet high. The gate was padlocked, with a warning posted that the property had been sealed by the federal prosecutor. “Who would want to have a wedding out here?” Hugo said. “These places are for money laundering.” He poked in the grass with his cane, spearing a cardboard box, which he lifted for inspection. The box had contained a “Respirator—Full Facepiece,” made by 3M. Respirators were essential meth-lab gear. Hugo stabbed in the grass again. “Military,” he said, lifting a pair of wool khaki gloves with no fingertips. He turned and walked into a log-walled guard hut that I had not noticed before. “Family,” he said, from inside. “Woman”—he lifted, from the trash-strewn floor, a sanitary napkin on the tip of his cane. “Child”—he lifted a tiny pink child’s backpack. “Man”—he lifted a work boot. He bent and picked up a golf ball, and pointed to a set of numbers stamped on it. “We could find out who bought this, possibly, and where,” he said, dropping the ball in his bag.

Back outside, Hugo stared at the high walls of Rancho Villarreal. Palm trees rose against the sky from inside the compound. At the far end of the front wall, also inside the compound, was a narrow, two-story outbuilding. “That’s a watchtower,” Hugo said. He pointed to a pile of bricks and tile in a corner where two high walls met. “That pile was for jumping over,” he said. “For getting away fast.”

While driving back toward the village, Hugo asked me to stop the car. We parked next to a white-walled farm of some kind, surrounded by fields. Hugo hiked down to look at a pair of hoses. They came out of the farm, passed under the road, and emptied into a field. He smelled the hoses. He shook his head. He pointed to a set of pipes and wires running through the bottom of the white walls. “Those, yes,” he said quietly. He looked down at the hoses. “These, no.” That was when I noticed that this place, too, had a tall, narrow outbuilding in the corner of the compound, affording a view over the high walls. “Watchtower,” Hugo said. “Palm trees. Not a farm.” He got back in the car. But he did not touch his camera.

On May 9th, Guadalajarans woke up to a new Zetas atrocity—eighteen headless, dismembered bodies left in two vehicles parked near a popular restaurant out past the airport. Then the police found some more body parts in a safe house in Chapala, a lakeside community that is popular with retired Americans and Canadians, about an hour south of the city. Half of the dead were soon identified. They were local people who had recently gone missing. Ordinary citizens, not narcos, kidnapped and murdered. Four were said to have been students at the University of Guadalajara.

That turned out to be only part of the story. It seemed that the Zetas had planned to kidnap and kill fifty people, and to distribute the dismembered corpses around Guadalajara on Mother’s Day. The details of this plan emerged after a kidnapper on guard duty, Laura Rosales Sánchez, fell asleep and a dozen victims, seizing their chance, escaped. It was too late to save the eighteen—and two boys under Laura Rosales’s guard who failed to flee were also killed—but the police managed to arrest four of the kidnappers, who, under interrogation, revealed the grand plan to kill fifty. The kidnappings, their leader confirmed, had been done at random. They just grabbed whomever they could—waiters, a construction worker, a dance teacher in a primary school.

The purpose behind all this carnage? To “cause terror,” the arrested leader, who is twenty-seven, said. He seemed vaguely bored at his perp-show press event, where he nonetheless tried to answer every reporter’s question. He was just following orders, he said, from a Zeta named Fernando, who remained at large. Laura Rosales, who is twenty-five, said that she had been mainly helping her brother, Angel, who also remained at large, and that the Zetas were responding, with this massacre, to the killing, up north, of twenty-three Zetas by Chapo Guzmán’s forces.

After the Mother’s Day massacre, thirty thousand people, led by University of Guadalajara students and dressed in white, marched silently through the city, protesting the ever-rising tide of violence and the government’s apparent helplessness before it.

Around the same time, tens of thousands of students marched in Mexico City in a sudden revolt, launched just weeks before the election, against the constantly reported inevitability of a Peña Nieto victory. Acuerdos between the pri and the country’s biggest broadcasters, including alleged payoffs exposed by the Guardian, were making this a self-fulfilling prophecy, according to the protesters. There were more marches in June, but the student movement seemed unlikely to stop the return of the pri.

The federal prosecutor’s office announced that it had incinerated the entire haul of drugs from the super-lab in Buena Vista within ten days of the seizure. I asked Ulises Enríquez where this massive chemical fire had taken place. At the Club Canada shooting range in Tonalá, he said, out toward Puente Grande. They burned narcotics there each month. In the open air? Of course. His office oversaw the destruction.

I went to the shooting range for the next bonfire. There was a compact-car-size mound of drugs already piled beyond the first target berm. It contained, I was told, just under a ton of marijuana, six hundred grams of cocaine, forty grams of ephedrine, just over a thousand tabs of synthetic drugs (Ecstasy, meth), and slightly more than thirty pounds of crystal. Six men from the Tonalá fire department torched the hillock of dope, and the heat got worse. A federal narcotics agent I’ll call Rodríguez was in charge.

Rodríguez was dressed in baggy shorts, boots, a gray T-shirt, and a little blue cowboy hat. He had a Beretta 9-mm. pistol in his waistband, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. He accused the firefighters of deliberately staying downwind of the fire, from which pungent black smoke billowed. “Look at those crazy firemen,” he called. “Watch, they’ll start dancing.” In fact, the firefighters were staggering around in heavy protective gear, including masks and helmets. There were a dozen workers from the federal prosecutor’s office in attendance, but they stayed back in the shooter’s pavilion, far from the fire, drinking Coke. The handful of us out in the field retreated to a patch of shade, where Rodríguez regaled us with tales of street drug seizures.

“I like to come up to the pinche dealers like I’m dying for a fix,” he said. He was startlingly good in the role of a desperate addict. Then he was just as good playing a gruff, paranoid dealer—funny, convincing. Then he whirled from a dope-snorting crouch, whipping out his pistol, knocking the dealer to the ground, cackling triumphantly as himself, the undercover cop. “And now, pendejo?” He had his boot on the dealer’s neck. The dealer was crying for his wife. Rodríguez, grinning wildly, was, for a moment, God. Should he arrest the guy? Rip him off? Beat him up? All of the above?

I asked Rodríguez whom he worked for. “afis,” he said, straightening up, sticking his gun back in his shorts. (The afis had actually been disbanded, but everybody still calls their replacement, the Federal Ministerial Police, by that name.) “They commissioned me from the municipal police.”

Rodríguez struck me as a man living at the coal face of Mexican life, right where legality and illegality clash and overlap. As other people drifted away, he told me that he had made twelve hundred arrests, maybe more. He had been a cop for twenty-two years. He was forty-four. Before that, he worked in Alabama, planting trees. That was great money—three hundred dollars a week. He demonstrated his tree-planting technique, making it look quick, precise, gruelling, and comical.

How did he get to Alabama?

“I was wet,” he said—illegal.

Rodríguez turned and shouted at the firefighters. They weren’t stoking the blaze correctly. He ran out, grabbed a pitchfork, and started throwing flaming bales of pot in the air, until the fire was roaring again. His energy was maniacal. He was also weirdly loose-limbed. When my cell phone rang, he started dancing to the ringtone.

How was his pay as a cop?

Bad, he said. The afis picked up some of his expenses, but he had to work a second full-time job, as a stonemason.

He changed the subject, to politics. “If the pri wins, everything’s going to change,” he said. “Everybody will start getting paid again. They know how to do it.” He pantomimed a paymaster, counting out cash to a circle of people. “The media, too,” he said, mock paying me.

It was true: the pri, when in power, paid some journalists extravagantly, and supported many newspapers and other media in return for coverage that suited its purposes.

“There will be just one big group,” Rodríguez said. “Maybe it will be El Chapo. But there will be peace.”

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