Saturday, January 19, 2013

To the Enbridge Joint Review Panel: Can we Justify This??

by Kai Chan

What follows are my comments to the Joint Review Panel (JRP) for the Enbridge Northern Gateway Pipeline, on Jan 18 2013.

Intro

Good morning, panel members, and thank you very much for hearing me today. My name is Kai Chan. I am an associate professor and Canada Research Chair in the Institute for Resources, Environment and Sustainability at UBC. I want to clearly distinguish my comments as those based on my values and those based on my science. So, I first speak to you as an impassioned BC resident, a father of two little girls, and a lover of this coast and province. I came to BC for a year when I was 7 years old, and the place got under my skin then. These spectacular coastal systems—human communities included—are a part of me. Eight years ago, this deep connection to this place lured me back and has kept me here since.

Citizen

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Figure 1. Kai Chan (the author) in front of a ferry terminal on
the BC coast.
I am not a knee-jerk environmentalist. I believe in a sustainable future, in which my children and my children’s children, and so on, can all live in a world as beautiful and giving as ours, undiminished by our actions. But I know that such a future includes resource extraction, so I accept—even welcome—such extraction and transport under some conditions in some places. For me, the Northern Gateway Pipeline is not one of those cases.
As a citizen, it seems that at its simplest, we are asked to contemplate the economic benefits of the pipeline against the risks that it poses to forests, watersheds, the coasts, and the myriad human activities and benefits that depend upon those.
Of course I care about the economic well-being of the province, and of the country. Of course, I’m affected by the economic signals that politicians pay so much attention to. We’re deeply attuned to such information, which is so measurable, so constant, so here & now. But I know that in the long-term, even the most optimistic promises of economic benefits can yield only tiny boosts to my well-being, or that of BC residents in general. I will return to this point.
On the other hand, I’m deeply afraid of the very realistic scenario of a large oil spill on this coast. Following Enbridge’s own numbers, I accept as a reasonable start Gerald Graham’s estimates of 8.7 – 14.1% risk of the one or more tanker spills of 31,500 barrels over a 50-year period (a spill in the range of the Exxon Valdez).
This is a very sizable risk of a tremendous harm to birds, at-risk (federally listed) sea otters, other marine mammals, fish, and shellfish—and to the thousands of British Columbians who depend on these animals and ecosystems for their livelihoods. Not to mention the millions of us who have this wild living coast as a part of us, whose identities are intricately intertwined with this coast. At the larger pipeline size, with a risk of 14%, that’s effectively the same risk as in Russian Roulette. That’s loading a six-shooter with a bullet, spinning the chamber, and holding it to your head. I don’t play those games, and I’m here to ask you not to let others play them with our coast, and with our children’s and grand children’s coast.

Scientist

As a scientist, I’m trained in the natural sciences, policy sciences, and also in ethics. I did my PhD at Princeton University in ecology and evolutionary biology, and also received a certificate in public policy. I also have training in conservation biology and ecological economics, as a postdoctoral fellow from Stanford University. My research and training directly pertains to the environmental impacts of human activities, and the corresponding consequences for people and the things that people want, need, and cherish.
In this capacity, I wish to make three specific comments, and one multi-faceted one.
First, I already referred to the Exxon Valdez spill, which caused billions of dollars of damages to the Alaskan coast in 1989. It’s crucial to note that marine spills associated with this pipeline project could be far more damaging yet. This is a result of what is being shipped. In the case of the Valdez, it was crude oil. In the case of the current pipeline, it is diluted bitumen—with a much higher tar content (hence the term ‘tar sands’), and including a solvent (most commonly naptha—which must also be shipped back from Asia into Kitimat, so that it can serve as a solvent for the next shipment of bitumen). These differences of diluted bitumen make it likely to be both more toxic, and much more difficult to contain, than crude oil (click here to read about the first major spill of diluted bitumen, in the Kalamazoo River).
Figure 2. Sea otter with pup.
Second, I mentioned sea otters. For the past four years, I have been leading a major multi-collaborator NSERC grant investigating sea otters and their interactions with other marine organisms. The story of the return of sea otters to the west coast of Vancouver Island is an inspiring one (e.g., see here). These charismatic animals captivate tourists, and now that sea otter populations have expanded into Clayoquot Sound, there’s a real possibility of otters becoming a true BC icon and a driver of eco-tourism and economic development on the BC coast, just as they are in California.
It’s critical to note that sea otters—just like the marbled murrelet and the short-tailed albatross—are seriously threatened by oil spills. These (listed) threatened species have globally significant populations in BC, and the single greatest listed threat is oil spills (e.g., for otters). The federal sea otter recovery team has noted that a single large oil spill could kill so many sea otters as to tip the balance for this species, and potentially lead to its extinction. A spill would likely not kill all otters, but it could make them rare enough, and so negatively impact their condition (by killing their prey and forcing them to eat highly contaminated shellfish) that it pushes them over the brink of no return.
Such a loss would likely reverberate around the world. More than 18 million people watched the YouTube video of sea otters holding hands at the Vancouver Aquarium. Millions would likely see pictures of oil-drenched and oil-drowned otters, potentially damaging BC’s brand as a ‘super natural’ vacation destination.
Figure 3. An image courtesy of Tourism British Columbia, reflecting
our Super, Natural province. If tankers and associated spills undermine
this $13.4 billion industry, it could wash out the benefits of the pipeline.
Third, I study the cumulative impacts and risks of various human activities on marine ecosystems and the benefits they provide people, so I know that the cumulative risks associated with this project alone are considerable. Not only are there the large spills I’ve focused on thus far, there are the smaller leaks, the tanker traffic and its associated noise pollution and ship strikes. With such drastically expanded vessel traffic on the coast, there is a real possibility that whale populations could avoid whole stretches of the coast. Whales are currently one of the biggest drivers of wildlife viewing in BC, an important contributor to the tourism sector.
--> And tourism is a $13.4 billion industry (by 2010 numbers), generating an estimated 127,400 jobs—so even a modest dint in tourism associated with the pipeline could undo any gains from the pipeline.
As members of this Joint Review Panel, you three are effectively asked to weigh whether the economic gains outweigh the social and environmental risks and impacts. On this issue of benefits and costs, I have three further comments. (I leave it to others, such as Robyn Allan and Rashid Sumaila to question the merits of the economic-benefit calculations.)
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Figure 1. A friend from the Kyuquot First Nation,
holding kelp--a traditional resource and foundation
for marine ecosystems. © Kai Chan
(A) Key purported benefits of the pipeline are to ensure that Canadian oilsand producers get a fair price for their oil, citing a large price discount of some $30/barrel that has been the norm in recent years, a putative cumulative loss of billions of dollars (recently, from the Financial Post). Such a forced price discount due to oversupply would generally be considered a glut and would generally be blamed on resource mismanagement on the part of the relevant industry and their overseeing regulators. (Thanks to Hadi Dowlatabadi for this point.) One might conclude therefore that the federal government and oilsand industry have effectively fettered this current decision through this mismanagement.
In ethics, any benefits that stem from such wrongdoing must be heavily discounted when considering the comparison of benefits and costs of a given decision. I am not a legal scholar, so I leave to you the question of how much ‘discounting’ should occur in the context of your own deliberations for the JRP.
(B) A key consideration in the consideration of benefits and costs is the different nature of each. In a benefit-cost analysis, both economic benefits and costs are routinely aggregated each into a single number. This cannot be done here for three reasons.
       i.         As a researcher of environmental values in BC, I know that many of the pertinent costs are non-material, in the sense that they cannot be appropriately expressed in dollar terms (like species extinction and losses of cultural identity associated with losses of traditional resources). Although they are intangible, such risks and impacts can be crippling to human well-being.
      ii.         Because many of the benefits accrue to wealthy shareholders and oil executives, whereas the costs accrue to land-based, resource-dependent, cash-poor people, this becomes a social justice issue. This inequitable distribution is intrinsically problematic in any consideration of whether the benefits exceed the costs. 
Figure 5. An example of the levelling-off of well-being
metrics with per-capita income. From GapMinder (click
here).
     iii.         Furthermore, economic gains to already wealthy people appear to yield minimal or undetectable gains to their well-being—based on a litany of well-designed scientific studies, measured by a broad suite of subjective and objective metrics. On the other hand, sizeable, even non-material losses to poor people can be devastating. Accordingly, understanding this issue of costs and benefits in terms of well-being (which I presume to be appropriate given the wording of “benefits to Canadians”), the benefits should be greatly discounted in relation to the costs.
(C) Whenever considering the appropriateness of a project that entails net costs to some parties and net benefits to others, the issue of compensation is central. If we can’t justify imposing large livelihood impacts on the poor to achieve (apparently) large economic gains to the wealthy, there must be fair compensation. One of the first rules of fair compensation is that the compensation given must have been negotiated with the affected parties, and deemed acceptable. And yet, you have heard from several speakers that no money could compensate for the kinds of risks to First Nation and coastal community identities and ways of life that are being imposed (e.g., from Kyle Clifton of the Gitga’at, whose perspective is explained here). Economics is sometimes understood as teaching us that such a hardline position is irrational. Of course that claim is debunked by the literatures I alluded to earlier, which effectively show that—beyond the poverty line—money can’t buy lasting happiness.
This isn’t to say that appropriate compensation could not be found. But for now, it is nowhere in sight.

Close

To close, as a citizen I ask you to deeply ponder the heart-felt comments of myself and thousands of fellow citizens who have spoken of their love for this coast and their horror at the risks at hand.
As a scientist, I ask you to remember the countervailing factors that would suggest a need to heavily discount the benefits of the proposed pipeline and to take extremely seriously the risks and costs. It’s hard for me to imagine, from where I sit, how it could be reasonably argued that the benefits to Canadians outweigh these costs, but I leave that momentous decision to you.
Thank you.

Monday, December 3, 2012

When being a luddite is a point of misplaced pride


I arrived at IRES four years ago with a shiny new white MacBook. Now, I often look around a meeting or lecture to find myself in possession of the oldest technology in the room. When I find myself in this position, three things happen: first, the small hipster inside me says ever so suavely “Awesome! I am so vintage!” Second, the small self-righteous environmentalist inside me gets up on my high horse (“I resisted buying shiny things the longest! I am so green!”) and feels all smug for not consuming as much as everyone else.


Then, third, my smugness explodes and I feel like a jerk, and I promptly fall off my horse. The small thinky person inside me yells “WHAATT??!?!?” – because I am no anti-consumption superhero (I am pretty sure an anti-consumption superhero would not have equipment for seven sports in her closet, or own a dog and a car), and because I have a huge respect for the people I work with. So I start thinking about why a room full of people who are dedicated to making the world more sustainable, both in their daily lives and in the work they do for a living, might have traded their old computer-friends in for the latest model – even though that generates e-waste (a big problem for environmental sustainability (1)) –, and why many keep replacing them with Macs, built by a company that is thought to be promoting consumption through in-built obsolescence, and whose ethics are questioned – despite Apple being in a position to lead industry social and environmental standards.

Many of the people I work with, like me, think it’s important to limit our consumption.  But we also share a desire to do our work as well as we can. Having a tool that works well, and is well-suited to the job is important. Unlike other computers I met during my fieldwork in Uganda, my Mac stood up to tropical temperatures and inhaling large quantities of red dust, an important consideration given there is more fieldwork in my future. At the same time, keeping my old computer alive and happy - taking it apart to clean the fan, upgrading the ram so it could handle the latest operating system, troubleshooting software glitches – has taken time and effort. Better technology can help us to do things better or more efficiently, and time and effort spent keeping old technology going is time not spent on our work.

So, how do I balance my desire to limit my consumption with my desire to do my best work?

Having to prioritize between different things that are important to us is not unusual. But this particular conflict is one that often weighs on me heavily, as I know it does on others I work with, I think because both our desire to limit consumption and our desire to work well are ultimately driven by the same overarching desire we share to make the world more sustainable. It’s hard enough to figure out how to make sense of these conflicting objectives to make the best decision for sustainability overall; on top of this, there are many other influences pulling us in different directions. I feel the pull of a society that tells me it’s desirable to consume and that I can’t really live life to the fullest or work most efficiently without the latest gadget. I feel the pull of Apple’s ingenious advertising and beautiful design that makes me covet their sleek and shiny technology. I feel the pull of an academic culture that tells me that more consumption is ok, as long as it helps me to work more efficiently and productively. And, I feel the pull of an environmental culture that lures me towards my high horse with promises of virtue for having the oldest computer in the room, even when it starts becoming questionable whether that computer is a good tool for my work. Given that, even with the best intentions, people have trouble making rational decisions – e.g. a friend’s parents buying a shady time-share condo, apparently to justify a whole morning of their vacation wasted listening to the sales pitch (a phenomenon researchers call cognitive dissonance), my own seduction by Apple gadgets (affective factors like emotions and values), and Kai’s obsession with big sales, even when he knows rationally that these sales aren’t always as good a deal as they seem (based on logic that implicitly uses the original price of the sale items as a reflection of their worth—anchoring) - it's no surprise that these decisions are hard, and we’re not always going to get them right, or even know when we have.

But that doesn’t mean we should stop trying. My computer is still ticking, but it is showing the first signs of senility (5 minute startups, periods of confusion) and fragility (persistent fanning). I don’t relish having to decide when to replace it, with what, and how to balance my desire to limit my consumption with my desire to do the best work I can. But I suspect I will have the best chance at making a good choice for sustainability if, rather than judging myself against others in the wonderful communities I belong to, I instead go forward guided by their support and insights to help me to both find good information about my options, and most importantly, to be more aware and mindful of how I am being pulled and influenced and when my pride may be out-pulling my desire for sustainability – i.e. by staying away from horses.

1. Widmer, R., H. Oswald-Krapf, D. Sinha-Khetriwal, M. Schnellmann and H. Boni. 2005. Global perspectives on e-waste. Environmental Impact Assessment Review 25(5): 436-458.

Emily Anderson is a PhD student at IRES and a collaborator in CHANS Lab. She quite likes horses in real life, when they aren't being used to make a point in a blog post.


Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Reaching and Reveling in a Ripe Old Age


What’s your ikigai? In Okinawa, Japan, ikigai is that which gets you out of bed in the morning, that which makes life worth living. Being able to articulate your ikigai is associated with adding years—maybe even a decade—to your lifespan according to a team of academics and Dan Buettner, an adventurer, author and TED-talker. This National Geographic writer traveled the world to document communities where people tend to live longer, healthier lives than most everyone else. From Okinawa, Japan, to Ikaria, Greece (see The Island Where People forget to Die), Buettner, in collaboration with demographers and gerontologists highlight nine lifestyle characteristics of people who live a really long time.  

Genetics plays a surprisingly small role in longevity; genes dictate ~25% of how long we live. Rather, a web of lifestyle characteristics woven together with cultural threads explains much of why people in certain communities live longer than others.

What else did I glean from their insights?  Not only can I happily relish a glass or two of wine (or sake) every night, but I should embrace napping when I need it.

The vigorous centenarians interviewed in this research don’t run or pump iron or do exercise as most urban folk think of exercise. Rather, they live in places that nudge them to move. In many of their communities, people have little choice but to walk up and down hills to visit friends and do the shopping. Most tend large gardens full of fruits, vegetables and herbs that sustain their health. Dieting, as promoted by the diet industry, does not work in the long term. Instead, longevity studies reinforce Michael Pollan’s simple food guideline: “eat food, mostly plants, not too much.”

Stamatis Moraitis tends his crops.
According to official records, he’s 97
but Moraitis thinks he’s 102 years old. 
Photo by Andrea Frazzetta, New York Times

Communities where people tend to live 90 to 100+ years have routines or rituals that shed stress including meditation, prayer, napping or happy hour. Most belong to a faith-based community. Critically, these folks live in social circles that support and reinforce their lifestyles. Multiple generations tend to live in one house or close to each other. With their bright eyes and tanned skin, I want to look like these 90+ year olds when I’m that age (perhaps without the plaid shorts, pictured left). 

As I mentioned, consciously recognizing and giving voice to your ikigai is strongly associated with living to a century-long age. What’s my ikigai? As a graduate student in a sustainability program, my ikigai is figuring out how to enhance human well-being while also supporting the rest of life on this planet (marine renewable energy is my current focus). In my personal and professional life, I want to be part of creating places where people have ample life-enhancing food, love, purpose and a sense of humor (as evidenced in this priceless anecdote about Moraitis, pictured above, who outlived his American doctors after moving back to his Greek island from the US where he got sick).

One of the most encouraging findings of this research is the overlap of living sustainably, living well and living for a long time.  These food-secure communities are in developed countries with functioning public health and sanitation systems. They have a basic but adequate standard of living. When I read about these vigorous centenarians, I was struck by what I see as the relatively low environmental impact of their lifestyles. Buettner’s case studies give us insight on potential ways to refocus and redefine quality of life, and re-create our lives and communities accordingly in ways that are better for our minds, hearts and the planet:
  • We can improve our transit systems. Many of the elders interviewed have primarily walked or cycled to get around rather than fully relying on motorized vehicles. We need to make the walking or cycling options easier and more convenient. 
  • We can design better food systems. The elders in these studies consume mostly locally-grown food and grow much of it themselves. I’m getting more involved in community gardening and farmer’s markets with my friends, especially since I think it’s associated with living longer!
  • We can consume less. Large houses, expensive health care products and procedures, non-essentials like fancy gadgets and other forms of conspicuous consumption are largely absent from their way of life. Enjoying modest, secure, and stable lives does not require high levels of consumption.
  • We can help others and ourselves experience a greater sense of belonging. These 90+ year olds prioritize time with family and friends, who live near them and take care of them when they need it. I have no doubt that prioritizing relationships over accumulating material things is better for my happiness and the planet. Time to plan more neighborhood potlucks. 
Although I lack quantitative data to support this speculation, I bet these elders have very small carbon footprints over the course of their lives. I speculate their carbon footprints are likely considerably smaller than the average North American’s, so, despite living longer, the average environmental impact of their lives is likely less than the shorter-lived average impact of a North American’s.  If we want to stabilize our climate and also help more people live longer, satisfied, healthy lives, we have a lot to learn from their communities and lifestyles.

Sarah Klain, a PhD Student at University of British Columbia, hopes that her fondness for pragmatic idealism, friends, family, cycling, gardening and red wine will help her live to at least 90 years old.