Originally created in 2004, Prometheus is a project of University of Colorado's Center for Science and Technology Policy Research. Prometheus is designed to create an informal outlet for news, information, and opinion on science and technology policy.
Thanks to climate change, destructive flooding caused by hurricanes is on the rise. But so is a less dramatic, if still pernicious, type of flooding. So-called sunny-day floods, which occur mostly in the fall when seasonal ocean tides are at their peak, are occurring more often as sea levels rise.
But scientists and urban planners often struggle to predict the impacts of these high-tide floods along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. The mere fact that a town’s local tide gauge registers a flood isn’t particularly helpful for, say, school administrators deciding whether to cancel class, or cops deciding which roads to close, or insurance adjusters looking to raise premiums in vulnerable areas.
So some researchers are looking for clues in a new place: Twitter.
There’s good reason to search for more powerful indicators of flood impacts: Sunny-day floods disrupt traffic, threaten infrastructure, and drain local economies. A study in Science last year found that high-tide flooding cost businesses in downtown Annapolis, MD, more than $100,000 in lost revenue in 2017.
Currently, the main sources of data on sunny-day floods are tide gauges, which are often few and far between. They also don’t paint a very detailed picture of how water levels will actually affect a community, said Katherine Mach, an environmental scientist at the University of Miami who led the Annapolis study.
“Most of what we know about coastal flooding is how it affects people through major disasters. We know less about nuisance floods, recurring, short-duration floods,” she said. So, “understanding how high-tide floods directly impact people is a really challenging issue that has been intractable so far.”
A new paper in Nature Communications takes a stab at a different approach: Monitoring flooding through peoples’ exasperated tweets. The analysis, which combed through half a million tweets geotagged in more than 200 counties along the East and Gulf coasts from 2014-2016, found that high-tide floods may be even more widespread than a report from NOAA had suggested. In 22 counties—including those of Miami, New York City, and Boston—the study documented a spike in apparently flood-related tweets at tide levels up to half a meter lower than what the gauge recorded as a flood.
The study looked for changes in the volume of tweets containing at least one of 45 flood-related keywords—including tide, inundate, sandbag, drenched, storm drain, and rising waters—and matched those with water levels as reported by the county tide gauge.
Unsurprisingly, in most cases, flood-related tweets ramped up at about the same water level that the tide gauge registered as a flood. But in those 22 counties, the tweets picked up much earlier, suggesting that in some of America’s most populous coastal cities, sea level rise is already more of a recurring headache than official records would suggest.
This approach “integrates the physical exposure to flooding [i.e., water level] with the actual disruptions people associate with that,” said lead author Frances Moore, an environmental science and policy professor at the University of California, Davis. “So in some ways it’s a more natural way to measure the consequences of flooding.”
The study is a followup to another Moore led last year, which used Twitter data to track reactions to extreme temperature events. In that study, Moore found that temperature-related tweets tend to spike during exceptionally hot or cold weather, but drop off in locations that have experienced weather extremes for several years in a row, suggesting that people can get used to a shifting baseline quickly.
The new flooding study is much smaller (the temperature study included 60 million tweets). And tweets have plenty of pitfalls as a source of data on climate change impacts.
Moore reports that on closer inspection, more than half of the tweets tagged as flood-related were false positives, meaning they included one of the keywords but weren’t really about flooding (although because that rate didn’t seem to change during high tides, Moore says it doesn’t affect the study’s conclusions). The demographics of Twitter users are also not representative of society at large. It can be difficult to verify that any particular tweet isn’t either misinformed or intentionally misleading. And only around one percent of all tweets are geotagged, according to Ali Mostafavi, an urban resilience researcher at Texas A&M University who has separately tried using social media to examine climate change impacts.AP PHOTO/BRIAN WITTEPolice closed Dock Street in downtown Annapolis in Oct. 2017, after winds at high tide caused flooding on two streets in Maryland’s capital city.
Still, Mostafavi said, there’s a growing appetite among climate researchers to use social media data—particularly data from Twitter, which is more easily accessible to researchers than Facebook or Instagram—to fill in information gaps in the wake of natural disasters. So far, that effort includes giving early warnings of emerging wildfires and analyzing photos attached to tweets to identify where emergency services might be needed.
Other novel data sources, including satellite imagery and drone footage—the Annapolis study even relied on parking meter records—can also help supplement traditional disaster data.
“As long as we work in a complementary way with scientific sources, like tide gauges, these are great developments,” said Max Boykoff, director of the Center for Science and Technology Policy Research at the University of Colorado-Boulder.
“The more data we can get at a greater resolution, will really help us better understand where people are at risk, where they’re vulnerable,” he said.
by Maxwell Boykoff Director, Center for Science and Technology Policy Research and Associate Professor, Environmental Studies Program, University of Colorado Boulder
Introduction (to a Fraught Situation) ‘Advocacy’ in academia has unfortunately become a dirty word in many quarters. It can be unsettling for numerous reasons:
precarity of one’s academic research position
susceptibility of one’s institution to funding pressures
a feeling of inundation already in one’s job by the time-pressures involved in other aspects of their roles as researchers
reticence to take on new and extra tasks in an already busy professional (and personal) life
fear of risking one’s individual or institutional scientific credibility
reluctance to pull time and energy from one’s core passions of research (in a time limited environment)
discomfort with potential peer or public backlash
acknowledgement that one simply is not a good communicator of one’s research (and possibly their teaching)
These complexities are real and must be taken into account. Frankly, engagement construed as ‘advocacy’ clearly is not for everyone, especially in the highly contentious and highly politicized United States (US) arena.
As a result, in 2020 we find that many consequently choose to avoid the treacherous waters of advocacy, broadly construed, for fear of undertow.
However, individual and institutional choices have consequences. In a 21st century communications environment, it is important to understand that those who feel their work is done once they have done the field research, and have written up and published their findings are actually those trapped in a 20th century mindset.
It
can be soothing and comfortable to take that view.
But as a result of views and (in)actions like these, there has emerged an ‘engagement gap’ where many relevant expert researchers choose to ‘self-silence’ rather than speak out on critical issues they know a great deal about (Lewandowsky et al, 2015). And at times when academic researchers do speak out, there can be a tendency to actually underplay threats so as to avoid appearing alarmist or extreme. Keynyn Brysse, Naomi Oreskes, Jessica O’Reilly and Michael Oppenheimer have called this ‘erring on the side of least drama’ (Brysse et al, 2013).
However, in 2020 I argue that more substantive engagement and ‘advocacy’ is needed among many of us academic researchers so that the scale of the climate challenges are met with some semblance of a commensurate response. Academic researchers are on solid ground when advocating for facts, evidence and truth(s) and allowing this to be conflated with advocacy for specific policies or getting involved in ‘impure’ activities is damaging to our ongoing efforts over the medium-to-long-term.
Perhaps we needn’t worry as much – as individuals, as institutions – that we tend to do. In fact, John Kotcher and colleagues found that “Climate scientists can safely engage in public dialogue about policy matters”…“and in certain forms of advocacy without directly harming their credibility or the credibility of the scientific community” (2017, 9) and “Climate scientists advocating for action broadly may not harm their credibility” (2017, 12).
What is academic climate advocacy? Some of the reticence I describe stems from a substantial amount of confusion and conflation within the academic community about different points of entry into this world of ‘advocacy’. Mixed in here are also ingredients about what may be the ‘right’ or ‘appropriate’ place for academic researchers to enter these worlds. What results is often anxiety about how to navigate these often high-profile, high-stakes and highly-politicized spaces of engagement at the science-policy interface and in the public sphere.
In
the book I sought to recapture solid ground on which researchers can then stand
on when considering their varied involvement in the public sphere.
Type 0 advocacy
= those who choose to stay away from any semblance of advocacy, due to
confusion and conflation of perceptions of academic advocacy in the public
sphere; this appearance of inaction is in fact a choice or action
Type I advocacy
= advocacy for (scientific) evidence, facts and truth: this approach also
advocates for the intersecting ways in which experiential, emotional, and
aesthetic information informs scientific ways of knowing about climate change
Type II advocacy
= advocacy for policy outcomes: this approach promotes particular decisions (e.g.
environmental policies or legislation) based on evidence ascertained its
various forms to know about climate change; one strain of this type of advocacy
may then involve advocacy for particular political parties that advance
preferred policies
These
types of advocacy are not meant to be interpreted as a binary or blunt
interpretations of varied stakes and contexts (across time and places). Rather,
these represent distinct nodes across a spectrum of chosen engagements.
Through defining these nodes across a spectrum, I do not suggest that academic researchers will slot statically into one node or the other. There is dynamism in these flavors of engagement across issues and over time, along with a range from low- to high-stakes situations, all possibly experienced by the same academic researcher. Moreover, this is not just about frequency of advocacy but efficacy.
Understanding this spectrum can help to strengthen rather than tarnish the reputation of science through politically-relevant advocacy and activism.
There
are many contemporary examples of ways in which individuals and institutions
grapple with whether or how to engage in advocacy. As one example, we can
consider the ‘Marches for Science’ that have taken place in recent years. To
date, these marches have been a coordinated set of rallies held near Earth Day
(April 22). These were first organized amid a backdrop of increased
mobilizations in the US and around the world (like the January 2017 ‘Women’s
March’).
Other satellite events have included a ‘Rally to Stand Up for Science’ outside the 2017 American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) annual meeting. Climate researchers who participated in these marches for science took ‘steps’ from talk to action.
These were marches not organized for a specific cause or policy, but for advocacy for the integrity of scientific inquiry. At the 2018 March for Science, journalist Suan Svrluga from the Washington Post reported, “A few people chanted “Science is real. It’s not how you feel,” beating a tempo on buckets, but mostly the mass of people marched through Washington quietly Saturday, letting their homemade signs show their support for empirical research” (Svrluga, 2018).
Many signs declared the need for facts, evidence and truth from science to inform policy (Figure 1). Survey work on the marches and marchers found that 89% marched because they wanted more evidence in policy decisions (Myers et al, 2018).
But other academic researchers found themselves uncomfortable participating or chose not to participate at all due to the reasons stated at the outset of this piece, and due to a sense of unclear demarcations between advocacy for scientific-evidence, or advocacy for particular policies or even advocacy against US President Donald J. Trump. In fact at the marches, calls for a return to evidence-based policymaking and funding for scientific research moved at times from general statement and signs to explicit linkages to the Trump administration’s suppression and side lining of science.
Because of this slippage in the public view, critiques then poured in from many different perspectives. For examples, sociologist Robert Brulle argued that by placing climate scientists as leading spokespeople for climate change action, “it fed into and exacerbated the existing polarized divide” rather than bridging it (2018, p. 3). Meanwhile, physicist Jim Gates opined that “such a politically-charged event might send a message to the public that scientists are driven by ideology more than by evidence” (Flam, 2017).
What have we learned so far? My recent book catalogued relevant social science and humanities scholarship to better understand which creative climate communications work where, when, why and under what conditions and audiences. The focus on advocacy (in Chapter 6) sought to clarify, provoke and inspire productive deliberations on how one might navigate these fears and challenges associated with advocacy at the science-policy interface and in the public arena.
The book profiled work from scholars like Shahzeen Attari, Naomi Oreskes, John Kotcher, Elke Weber, John Besley, Declan Fahy, Matt Nisbet, and Lydia Messling, who are conducting research to more systematically understand intersections of expertise, public intellectualism and advocacy. For instance, Shahzeen Attari and colleagues who examined personal choices by use of public transportation (not intentions to fly or home energy conservation) and found that “differences in perceived credibility strongly affect participants’ reported intentions to change personal energy consumption” (2016, 325). In the book, I also drew on research that I have undertaken with David Oonk (2018). Together, these scholars and their research provide important insights into academic climate advocacy in 2020 and beyond.
Again, it is understandable if academic researchers do not desire to be type I advocates. However, as academic researchers it is vitally important that we do not lose the term advocacy altogether. In this 21st century milieu of ‘post-truth’ and ‘fake news’, when we in the academic arena (as well as in others) surrender advocacy altogether, we surrender advocacy for facts, advocacy for truth, and advocacy for evidence as well.
There are consequential and often deleterious impacts when relevant experts do not step up. Unfortunately, this predicament around perceptions of academic advocacy has emerged at a time when involvement is sorely needed.
In February 2018, the Editors of Scientific American penned an opinion piece entitled ‘Go Public or Perish’. In it, they made the observation that “if citizens never hear from legitimate experts, no one can blame them for indifference to fake-science tweets, decisions by politicians that ignore facts, or cuts to federal agencies that are supposed to be built on sound science” (2018).
Conclusion (to an Ongoing Story) As climate change cuts to the heart of how we live, work, play and relax in modern life, engagement through research and through communications entail reflection on how our personal lives mesh with our professional ones. ‘Advocacy’ is in fact humanizing, and setting (positive) examples do matter. And members of academic communities have engaged various forms of engagement relating to their research every day. Some engage in advocacy in part because they view engagement as part of their responsibility as contemporary climate researchers. Others have engaged because they seek to shift and/or elevate the quality of public conversations.
Exemplification
theory suggests that concrete cases of influential actors grappling with issues
like climate change can significantly influence citizens’ awareness and
inclination to act themselves (Gibson and Zillman, 1994). This is the case
because such exertions have been found to lower the psychological barriers to
engagement (Zillman, 2006). Pro-environmental and pro-social behavioral
engagement though inspirational leadership has been evidenced in numerous
studies (e.g. Maki et al 2019; Lin, 2013).
Since
I wrote the book, another research contribution from Gregg Sparkman and
Shahzeen Attari gives the imperfect ones among us some encouragement too.
Detecting possible ‘greener than
thou’ blowback (in other words getting some resistance by acting too perfect or
extreme), they found that “advocates, especially experts, are most credible and
influential when they adopt many sustainable behaviors in their day-to-day
lives, so long as they are not seen as too extreme” (Sparkman and Attari, 2020,
p. 6).
Today, we are forced to navigate these challenges in choppy waters of climate discourse in the public sphere (Figure 2). There is no particularly ‘easy sailing’ here. However, informed choices (based on social sciences and humanities scholarship and examples in practice that I profile here and in my book), a more clear understanding along with mindful partnerships and collaborations can overcome many of these vulnerabilities and concerns.
When those recoiling from spaces of advocacy for evidence-based climate research are the relevant experts who hold insights for useful and informed commentary, I ultimately argue that they should be viewed as missed opportunities to attend to their present-day responsibilities of meeting people where they are on climate change. Put simply, we must instead normalize, celebrate and protect advocacy for evidence, truth and facts in our shared 21st century encounters at the human-environment interface.
References Attari, S. Z., Krantz, D. H., and Weber, E. U. (2016). Statements about climate researchers’ carbon footprints affect their credibility and the impact of their advice. Climatic Change, 138(1-2), pp. 325-338.
Boykoff,
M. (2019) Creative (Climate)
Communications: Productive Pathways for Science, Policy and Society
Cambridge University Press. ISBN
9781316646823. 302 pp.
Boykoff,
M. and Oonk, D. (2018) Evaluating the perils and promises of
academic climate advocacy Climatic Change 10.1007/s10584-018-2339-3
Brulle,
R.J. (2018). Critical reflections on the march for science. Sociological Forum, 33:1, pp. 255-258.
Brysse,
K., Oreskes, N., O’Reilly, J. and Oppenheimer, M. (2013). Climate change
prediction: Erring on the side of least drama? Global environmental change, 23(1), pp. 327-337.
Gibson,
R., and Zillmann, D. (1994). Exaggerated versus representative exemplification
in news reports – perceptions of issues and personal consequences. Communication Research, 21: pp.
603–624.
Kotcher,
J. E., Myers, T. A., Vraga, E. K., et al. (2017). Does engagement in advocacy
hurt the credibility of scientists? Results from a randomized national survey
experiment. Environmental Communication,
11(3), pp. 415-429.
Lin, S.J.
(2013). Perceived impact of a documentary film: An investigation of the
first-person effect and its implications for environmental issues. Science Communication, 35(6), pp.
708-733.
Maki, A.,
Carrico, A.R., Raimi, K.T., Truelove, H.B., Araujo, B. and Yeung, K.L., 2019.
Meta-analysis of pro-environmental behaviour spillover. Nature Sustainability, 2(4), p.307.
Myers,
T., Kotcher, J., Cook, J., et al. (2018). March
for Science 2017: A Survey of Participants and Followers. George Mason
University, Fairfax, VA: Center for Climate Change Communication.
Scientific
American Editors. (2018). Go Public or Perish. Scientific American, February.
Sparkman,
G. and Attari, S.Z., (2020). Credibility, communication, and climate change:
How lifestyle inconsistency and do-gooder derogation impact decarbonization
advocacy. Energy Research & Social
Science, 59, 1-7.
The precarious state of Earth’s climate is getting harder to ignore. The seemingly constant influx of bad news has contributed to new forms anxiety and depression, and even coined new terms like “climate grief” and “eco-anxiety.”
These new sources of stress demand new remedies — so how do we deal?
To start: Laugh about it.
No really. Research suggests that the power of humor to combat climate-induced anxiety goes beyond just temporary distraction.
A team of researchers from the University of Colorado Boulder has published several findings that get at how comedy can influence the way we feel about climate change.
In June 2019, they published a study in the journal Comedy Studies that looked at how “good-natured comedy” — beyond satire — helps people “positively process negative emotions regarding global warming” and “sustain hope.”
The study included 30 students at the university who studied environmental sciences. To gauge whether humor could influence their feelings about climate change, the researchers had them participate in a number of comedy workshops related to climate change, including coming up with their own skits.
After the workshops, 90 percent of the students said they felt more hopeful about climate change during the exercises. Importantly, 83 percent said they felt their commitment to taking action on climate change was stronger — and more likely to last.
The students also said that reframing the climate change narrative from doom and gloom into comedy not only made them feel more hopeful about climate action — it could also help others feel more empowered to take meaningful action. All hope, it seemed, was no longer lost.
CHANGING THE CLIMATE CONVERSATION
A 2018 study by the same scientists examined how comedy can change the conversation about climate change. The researchers analyzed stand-up shows that focused on climate change — specifically, a video competition series at the University of Colorado called “Stand Up for Climate Change” — and tracked how the audience responded over the three years the series took place.
Climate comedy helps to make people more aware of climate change, brings an emotional element to the conversation, and highlights themes like problem solving and knowledge formation, they found.
“While science is often privileged as the dominant way by which climate change is articulated, comedic approaches can influence how meanings course through the veins of our social body, shaping our coping and survival practices in contemporary life,” the researchers conclude in the paper.
But this conversation isn’t “a given,” they note. Having an effective funny conversation about climate change requires comedians — and communicators — to “meet people where they are.” That means “emotional, tactile, visceral, and experiential communication,” Boykoff describes in a piece for The Conversation.
“Rather than ‘dumbing down’ science for the public, this is a ‘smartening up’ approach that has been shown to bring people together around a highly divisive topic,” Boykoff writes.
Humor doesn’t always lead to positive effects on climate perspective. A 2019 study from a different group of researchers looked at how more than 1,200 people responded to late-night TV host Jimmy Kimmel’s satirical approach (contrasting the “good-natured” style examined in the first study) to talking about the climate.
The researchers edited a segment of Kimmel to highlight either humor or indignation, and tracked how participants reacted to the two approaches. The humor-only segments reduced participants’ anger about climate change — but they rated those segments as less informative. Overall, “avoiding humor helped close the partisan gap in risk perception between Republicans and Democrats,” the researchers found — suggesting a more sober approach may be better in some circumstances. Read more …
Cal Brackin, master illustrator and founder of On Board Innovations created this video encapsulating a presentation by Max Boykoff on Creative Climate Communication.
Matt Winning isn’t an ordinary comedian. He is an environmental economist — he lectures at University College London — but he also writes and performs shows about climate change. His comedy routines have caused audiences to break down in tears. Critics love him.
Winning’s latest show is called “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It,” which he performed at the Edinburgh Festival in Scotland last year. Despite his academic background, and despite the seriousness of the topic, he believes that comedy is the best way to reach out to a large number of people and prompt action when it comes to climate change.
“It elevates the topic,” he says. “There’s a lot of comedy in my show, but occasionally there’s a parcel where I make more serious points, and I think that’s what life is: highs and lows, humorous and dark at the same time. That’s actually how you can talk meaningfully about this topic.”
As climate change gets worse, and the news cycle becomes increasingly dominated by stories of wildfires and melting ice, the decline of nature and increasingly hot temperatures, it may be difficult to trust that levity is an appropriate way to respond to the crisis. Certainly, Greta Thunberg has not become the spokesperson of her generation because of her wisecracks.
Yet, there is a growing body of research to suggest that comedy is actually an effective way to ensure that people engage with climate change. Moreover, academics have found that good-natured comedy, rather than the more downbeat and indignant category of satire, may be the best way to make audiences care about the issue.
While this may be unexpected, it certainly isn’t new. Playwrights have been using comedy to address serious topics for millennia, says Beth Osnes, professor of theatre at the University of Colorado Boulder, who is studying the potential of comedy to communicate climate change.
“One of the most famous Greek plays is Lysistrata, in which there was a sex strike to stop the Peloponnesian War. There was nothing funny about the Peloponnesian War,” says Osnes. “Comedy is not something that makes things ridiculous — comedy has a long history of taking on very serious corruption and things like that.”
Rather than just theorizing about the role that comedy might play in communicating climate change, Osnes has helped establish a stand-up comedy course for students, most of whom were majoring in Environmental Studies and who had found themselves depressed by their course of study. The event is called “Drawdown, Act Up!,” and is part of a wider university program called “Inside The Greenhouse,” which explores creative ways to talk about climate change.
Following the performances, which took place at Rocky Mountain National Park, Osnes and her colleagues surveyed the students about their experiences and published the results in the journal Comedy Studies. They found that 90 percent of students felt more hopeful about climate change when engaging with the subject in a fun or joyful manner, and that 83 percent felt that their commitment to climate change action was consequently more sustainable.
By giving students a positive outlet for their emotions and making conversation around climate change an enjoyable experience, Osnes hopes that young activists are more likely to stay engaged with the topic, rather than failing to deal with their negative emotions and ultimately burning out.
“We found that it really helps young people process negative emotions around climate change,” Osnes observes. “What can help sustain commitment to climate action is the infusion of fun into the process of engagement. If we’re doing something that matches our values and aligns with our passions and it’s fun, the likelihood that we’re going to come back again and again is very high.”
A crucial part of this experiment was that the comedy was explicitly good-natured, rather than satirical in nature — in other words, the humor arises from techniques like word play, innuendo and exaggeration, rather than a pointed attack intended to shame or expose a target. This finding was echoed in another recent study by Chris Skurka, an assistant professor in media studies at Penn State University.
Skurka carried out his study by editing a clip of Jimmy Kimmel discussing climate change and Sarah Palin in four ways: one kept only the informational content, another kept only the humor, one kept only the indignation, and one — the satirical version, and the one which was closest to the original — which kept both the humor and the indignation. While Skarka started his research expecting that satire would be an effective means to communicate climate change humorously without undermining the seriousness of the topic, he actually found that the satirical version was the least effective of the four clips.
“What we suspect might be going on is that it is possible for Kimmel to use humor to talk about climate change, but when he also expresses contempt or hostility, he may inadvertently come off as abrasive. If he’s just humorous about the issue, he may be able to spark young people’s interest,” says Skurka.
He also discovered that Republicans were less likely to be amused by Kimmel’s mockery of Sarah Palin than Democrats, providing evidence of what most people already know from personal experience: that comedy is funny until you become the butt of the joke. More surprising was that the gap between political parties shrank during the humor-free segment. “It is possible for late-night comedians to talk about climate change and even promote Republicans’ perception of climate change risk — so long as they skip jokes targeting climate deniers and/or big corporations along the way,” the paper concludes.
In other words, jokes about climate change can be funny. But for the most laughs and the widest impact, the Jimmy Kimmels of this world must crack the right jokes to the right people.
by Lauren Gifford, CSTPR Research Affiliate Climatic Change, 2020
Abstract: This article takes on the political and contested nature of forest carbon accounting via three “points of engagement” that articulate forest carbon initiatives as representations of tradable carbon. The three points of engagement—(1) baseline determinations, (2) the calculation of additionality, and (3) the role of uncertainty—are used to show how processes framed as technical are often spaces where uneven social and political interests are manipulated or obscured and contribute to varying environmental and conservation outcomes. The article begins by reviewing how carbon counting emerges in critical social science literature on forest carbon projects. Next, it explains carbon accounting broadly, the specifics of forest carbon accounting and why forests are popular spaces for financialized carbon sequestration. It concludes by arguing that carbon accounting is an uneven technical and political process that makes multiples forms of carbon legible on financial markets but does little to physically address atmospheric carbon concentrations. Read more …
Look to the States to Understand Renewable Energy in the U.S.
by Kathleen Hancock CSTPR Faculty Affiliate, Associate Professor, Colorado School of Mines
Photos by Kathleen Hancock
The United States seems to be regressing when it comes to
renewable energy with Republicans leading the way. But this picture is incomplete. There is strong evidence that the current White
House antipathy toward renewables, and support for coal, is off-set by
state-led initiatives, even in solidly Republican states.
At the presidential level, there has often but not always been a partisan divide. In the 1970’s, following the OPEC crisis, the U.S. shared with Germany world leadership in investing in renewable energy (Laird and Stefes, 2009). The issue was not politicized. However, while Germany continued on an upward path of embracing renewables, the U.S. leadership on renewables collapsed when Democratic President Jimmy Carter was replaced by Republican Ronald Reagan. Most recently, Barack Obama introduced the Clean Power Plan linking Democrats with renewable energy. Announced in 2015, the Plan called for three building blocks: improve coal-fired power plants to reduce carbon, replace coal plants with ones fueled by natural gas, and increase zero-emission sources like wind and solar. Obama also signed the Paris Accords calling for reduced emissions to mitigate climate change. There was even a brief period in which the U.S. seemed poised to resume a global leadership position: Obama and Chinese President Xi Jinping agreed their states, the two biggest greenhouse gas emitters, would work together to reduce emissions.
Obama’s advocacy for renewables was quickly abandoned when Republican Donald Trump – whose primary pre-election comment on climate change was a 2010 tweet suggesting it is a Chinese hoax – assumed the presidency. More recently, Trump dismissed his own administration’s warnings about catastrophes related to climate change, stating simply “I don’t believe it.” When it comes to energy sources, Trump is most strongly associated with a pro-coal stance, a position consistent with a lack of concern about climate change and that goes against support for renewable energy.
Adding to the evidence that Republicans are anti-renewable energy, Trump’s views are supported by a slight majority of his party’s rank and file. A 2017 Pew opinion poll found that 81% of Democrats say alternative sources (generally assumed to be solar and wind) should be the most important priority for addressing America’s energy supply, whereas only 45% of Republicans supported that view.
Considering Carter vs. Reagan and Obama vs. Trump, is it
fair to say that Republicans oppose renewables while Democrats embrace
them? Recent research shows that is not
the full story.
The key to answering the partisan question is to look at individual U.S. states (Emmons Allison and Parinandi, Forthcoming). There we find that the U.S. is collectively making strides toward including more renewables. Some states are doing it quietly; others boastfully. In addition, unusual coalitions sometimes form to push through policies favoring renewables.
Before assessing state differences, it is critical to distinguish
among the uses for energy. The U.S Energy
Information Administration reports five categories of energy consumption: electric power (38%), transportation (29%),
industrial (22%), residential (6%), and commercial (5%). Electric power produces most of our
electricity while the other four use most of that electricity. Source uses vary widely by category. For
example, oil accounts for about 92% of transportation but only 1% of
electricity.
To focus the discussion, let’s look only at electricity. In this sector, renewables are playing a larger role than many might have expected, although fossil fuels combined still dominate the sector, as shown in Figure 1. Renewables include hydropower, solar, wind, hydro, biofuels, and geothermal. These figures are for utility-scale only. Rooftop solar, one of the most important forms of distributed energy, has also been steadily rising as shown in Figure 2.
To check for a partisan divide, we can break down electricity
generation and politics state-by-state. Specifically, do Democratic states have
the highest production of renewables? The answer is no. As
shown in Figure 3, a good mix of Republican and Democratic states make up the
top renewable energy producers. The dominant political party shown here is
based on which party has the majority in the state legislature and the party of
the governor as well as the majority party according to a 2018 Gallop opinion
poll. If the same party had two of three
of these indicators, it is scored for that party. Only North Carolina shows as purple due to a
mixed response on the Gallup poll, a Republican state legislature, and a
Democratic governor. This is only a
snapshot meant to give an indication of party dominance which does change over
time. Still, many of these states have
long been dominated by the same party.
Renewable energy is commonly broken into two categories: traditional large hydroelectric power and other renewables, primarily wind and solar. Hydroelectric has been around for decades whereas wind and solar are relatively new at the utility-scale. The largest hydro producer is the Democratic state of Washington while Republican Texas overwhelms the others with its high wind-sourced production.
Figure 3: Top U.S. states for renewable energy. Notes: a. Generation for utility-scale electricity, 2018. b. Includes top 10 for non-hydro, mostly solar and wind and top 10 for traditional hydroelectric (with asterisks). California scores in the top 10 for both categories.
While the numbers show renewables are not strictly a partisan issue, to understand how we get these numbers, one must understand the political processes behind getting more renewables. Political science frameworks suggest we should find key advocacy coalitions pushing for policies that open the door to more renewables. (For an example from Africa, see Hancock. 2015).
Looking for such coalitions, political scientists Michaël Aklin and Johannes Urpelainen compare the politics of renewable energy in the U.S., Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, and the U.K. (Aklin and Urpelainen, 2018). While Aklin and Urpelainen focus on the national level (with the exception of California) their approach can be adapted to politics within the U.S. states. Using their framework, we would expect to see pro-environmental groups, renewable energy industry representatives, and agricultural groups (who can earn money leasing land to wind farm developers) pushing for more renewable energy. Indeed, wind farms are popping up around the country, with a vast number of them in Texas, sometimes right along side crops and oil wells.
Two vignettes demonstrate how this type of advocacy coalition can form regardless of the larger political landscape. First, South Carolina, a solidly Republican state, was once considered one of the least friendly states for solar energy. In May 2019, South Carolina went from the state “where solar power rarely shines” to eliminating artificial barriers to solar installations and extending solar credits until at least 2021. What accounts for this change? Several factors were at work. A critical catalyst was the financial collapse of a nuclear power plant. In 2006, South Carolina was one among several states that passed legislation to encourage nuclear power. With Congress talking about possible carbon taxes, nuclear energy seemed like a good idea. But $9 billion later and construction far from finished, the state decided to pull the plug on nuclear. This opened the previously closed door to renewable energy.
Second,
in Nevada, a well-known wealthy Republican, who was also a key advocate and
“patron-in-chief” of then-candidate Donald Trump, Sheldon Adelson, became a
strong advocate for solar energy, playing a key role in taking on NV Energy, by
far the largest electric utility in Nevada.
In this case, the high energy consumption costs associated with running
a casino trumped any skepticism of climate change. Able to produce their own solar energy,
casinos can significantly cut costs.
While the national government’s actions – especially with the Trump administration’s rollback of key environmental laws and regulations – can give the impression that the U.S. is stuck in the fossil fuel world, the reality is that states are making significant strides toward embracing renewable energy, often for economic and health reasons, rather than climate change. As they do so, the coalition backing renewable energy grows stronger, further cementing the transition that other leading countries, like Germany, have been building from the top down. There will be a day, it seems, when renewable energy will no longer be politically contested, even in the United States.
Laird, F.N. and C. Stefes, 2009. “The diverging paths of German and United States policies for renewable energy: Sources of difference.” Energy Policy 37:2619-2629.
Emmons Allison, J. and S. Parinandi, Forthcoming 2020. “Energy Politics of the United States” in Oxford Handbook of Energy Politics. Ed. Kathleen J. Hancock and Juliann Emmons Allison.
Hancock, K.J., 2015. “Energy Regionalism and Diffusion in Africa: How political actors created the ECOWAS Center for Renewable Energy & Energy Efficiency.” Energy Research & Social Science 5:105-115.
Aklin, M. and J. Urpelainen, 2018. Renewables: The Politics of a Global Energy Transition. MIT Press.
Note: Once awarded, you must provide the requisite payment information within 60 days in order to claim the award; also the amount of your award is stated in gross and may be subject to taxation*
Competition Details Humor is a tool underutilized in the area of climate change; yet comedy has power to effectively connect people, information, ideas, and new ways of thinking/acting.
In this 5th annual competition, we seek to harness the powers of climate comedy through compelling, resonant and meaningful VIDEOS – up to 3 minutes in length – to meet people where they are, and open them up to new and creative engagement.
Award Criteria Successful entries will have found the funny while relating to climate change issues. Each entry will be reviewed by a committee composed of students, staff and faculty at the University of Colorado (CU) Boulder.
Application Requirements #1. 1-2 page pdf description of entry, including
– title of creative work, – names and affiliations of all authors/contributors, – contact information of person submitting the entry, – a statement of permissions for use of content, as necessary, and – a 100-word description of the work.
#2. A link to the up-to-3-minute composition, posted on Youtube or Vimeo or the like
Eligibility Must be a citizen of Planet Earth; work created since January 2019 is accepted; works must be less than 3 minutes in length, captured through video; CU Boulder employees are not eligible.
CU-Boulder has partnered with the Red Cross Red Crescent Climate Centre (RCRCCC) to place graduate students in locations Southern/Eastern Africa each summer to help understand and address climate risks. This collaborative program targets improvements in environmental communication and adaptation decision-making as well as disaster prevention and preparedness in the humanitarian sector. It connects humanitarian practitioners from the Red Cross Red Crescent Climate Centre – an affiliate of the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies – with graduate student researchers at the University of Colorado who are interested in science-policy-humanitarian issues.
This fellowship program will place a Ph.D. and/or Master’s degree student in an IFRC regional field office, a National Society branch office, or with a partner organization for a period of approximately 3 months. The Climate Centre supervisors will liaise with specific IFRC field offices to identify potential projects and placements. If possible, the student will partner with a student from a local university to work on all or parts of the project together, to contribute to local ownership and research capacity building. This process will be with the host Red Cross Red Crescent National Society and Climate Centre Junior Researcher Coordinator and Supervisor, to align with any existing institutional connections and partnerships in the host country.
Once projects are identified, Climate Centre supervisors will work with co-Director Max Boykoff, co-Director Fernando Briones and the student to design a scope of work. Projects can encompass but are not limited to, topics such as the use of scientific information in decision making, communication of probability and uncertainty, perceptions of risk, characterizing vulnerability and adaptive capacity, or recommending course of action based on analytical approaches. Placements in the field will address specific needs identified by IFRC field staff related to challenges of science communication and adaptation decision-making.
Participants will be required to write six blog posts from the field during this placement, give some presentations (e.g. in the CSTPR brown bag series) upon return, and complete a report at the conclusion of their fellowship detailing their experience and research outcomes.
$4,000 funding in total will be provided to offset expenses (in-country housing, food, airfare, and in-country transportation). Expenses can vary widely depending on the location and nature of the placement. Fellows will work with CU-affiliated travel agents to arrange round-trip airfare to their field site. Due to this $4,000 limit, applicants are encouraged to seek additional funds from alternate sources, as expenses can exceed this budgeted amount.
Student competition to attend the AAAS “Catalyzing Advocacy in Science and Engineering” workshop in Washington, DC to learn about Congress, the federal budget process, and effective science communication. Students will have an opportunity to meet with their Members of Congress or congressional staff.
Competition Details The CIRES Center for Science and Technology Policy Research is hosting a competition to send three CU Boulder students to Washington, DC to attend the AAAS “Catalyzing Advocacy in Science and Engineering” workshop. The competition is open to any full-time CU Boulder graduate student or upper class undergraduate in one of the following fields: Biological, physical, or earth sciences; Computational sciences and mathematics; Engineering disciplines; Medical and health sciences; and Social and behavioral sciences.
The evaluation committee will select four students from those who apply. The competition is supported by the CU Graduate School and the Center for STEM Learning. Competition winners will be asked to submit a brief report about their workshop experience and participate in a panel discussion.
Please submit a one-page statement explaining the importance of the workshop to your career development and a one-page resume to ami.nacu-schmidt@colorado.edu by February 3, 2020.
Workshop Overview Making our CASE: Catalyzing Advocacy in Science and Engineering March 29 – April 1, 2020
An exciting opportunity for upper-class undergraduate and graduate students in science, mathematics, and engineering disciplines to learn about science policy and advocacy. #MakingOurCASE
This entry-level program is organized to educate STEM students who are interested in learning about the role of science in policy-making, to introduce them to the federal policy-making process, and to empower them with ways to become a voice for basic research throughout their careers. The workshop is designed for students in science, technology, engineering, and math fields, with limited experience and knowledge of science policy and advocacy who want to learn more about science policy.
Students will participate in a three-and-a-half day program in Washington, DC. Participants will learn about the structure and organization of Congress, the federal budget and appropriations processes, and tools for effective science communication and civic engagement. In addition, students will participate in interactive seminars about policy-making and communication.
On the last day of the program, students will have the option to form teams and conduct meetings with their elected Members of Congress and congressional staff. More workshop Information.
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It’s 2020, and Time To Celebrate (and Protect) Academic Climate Advocacy for Evidence and Facts
by Maxwell Boykoff
Director, Center for Science and Technology Policy Research and Associate Professor, Environmental Studies Program, University of Colorado Boulder
CSTPR White Paper 2020-01
Introduction (to a Fraught Situation)
‘Advocacy’ in academia has unfortunately become a dirty word in many quarters. It can be unsettling for numerous reasons:
These complexities are real and must be taken into account. Frankly, engagement construed as ‘advocacy’ clearly is not for everyone, especially in the highly contentious and highly politicized United States (US) arena.
As a result, in 2020 we find that many consequently choose to avoid the treacherous waters of advocacy, broadly construed, for fear of undertow.
However, individual and institutional choices have consequences. In a 21st century communications environment, it is important to understand that those who feel their work is done once they have done the field research, and have written up and published their findings are actually those trapped in a 20th century mindset.
It can be soothing and comfortable to take that view.
But as a result of views and (in)actions like these, there has emerged an ‘engagement gap’ where many relevant expert researchers choose to ‘self-silence’ rather than speak out on critical issues they know a great deal about (Lewandowsky et al, 2015). And at times when academic researchers do speak out, there can be a tendency to actually underplay threats so as to avoid appearing alarmist or extreme. Keynyn Brysse, Naomi Oreskes, Jessica O’Reilly and Michael Oppenheimer have called this ‘erring on the side of least drama’ (Brysse et al, 2013).
However, in 2020 I argue that more substantive engagement and ‘advocacy’ is needed among many of us academic researchers so that the scale of the climate challenges are met with some semblance of a commensurate response. Academic researchers are on solid ground when advocating for facts, evidence and truth(s) and allowing this to be conflated with advocacy for specific policies or getting involved in ‘impure’ activities is damaging to our ongoing efforts over the medium-to-long-term.
Perhaps we needn’t worry as much – as individuals, as institutions – that we tend to do. In fact, John Kotcher and colleagues found that “Climate scientists can safely engage in public dialogue about policy matters”…“and in certain forms of advocacy without directly harming their credibility or the credibility of the scientific community” (2017, 9) and “Climate scientists advocating for action broadly may not harm their credibility” (2017, 12).
What is academic climate advocacy?
Some of the reticence I describe stems from a substantial amount of confusion and conflation within the academic community about different points of entry into this world of ‘advocacy’. Mixed in here are also ingredients about what may be the ‘right’ or ‘appropriate’ place for academic researchers to enter these worlds. What results is often anxiety about how to navigate these often high-profile, high-stakes and highly-politicized spaces of engagement at the science-policy interface and in the public sphere.
In a book I recently wrote called ‘Creative (Climate) Communications: Productive Pathways for Science, Policy and Society’ (2019), I worked to clarify and cleave nodes of advocacy across a spectrum, as I mapped out a basic taxonomy of academic advocacy through the case study of climate change science, policy and cultural action.
In the book I sought to recapture solid ground on which researchers can then stand on when considering their varied involvement in the public sphere.
These types of advocacy are not meant to be interpreted as a binary or blunt interpretations of varied stakes and contexts (across time and places). Rather, these represent distinct nodes across a spectrum of chosen engagements.
Through defining these nodes across a spectrum, I do not suggest that academic researchers will slot statically into one node or the other. There is dynamism in these flavors of engagement across issues and over time, along with a range from low- to high-stakes situations, all possibly experienced by the same academic researcher. Moreover, this is not just about frequency of advocacy but efficacy.
Understanding this spectrum can help to strengthen rather than tarnish the reputation of science through politically-relevant advocacy and activism.
There are many contemporary examples of ways in which individuals and institutions grapple with whether or how to engage in advocacy. As one example, we can consider the ‘Marches for Science’ that have taken place in recent years. To date, these marches have been a coordinated set of rallies held near Earth Day (April 22). These were first organized amid a backdrop of increased mobilizations in the US and around the world (like the January 2017 ‘Women’s March’).
Other satellite events have included a ‘Rally to Stand Up for Science’ outside the 2017 American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) annual meeting. Climate researchers who participated in these marches for science took ‘steps’ from talk to action.
These were marches not organized for a specific cause or policy, but for advocacy for the integrity of scientific inquiry. At the 2018 March for Science, journalist Suan Svrluga from the Washington Post reported, “A few people chanted “Science is real. It’s not how you feel,” beating a tempo on buckets, but mostly the mass of people marched through Washington quietly Saturday, letting their homemade signs show their support for empirical research” (Svrluga, 2018).
Many signs declared the need for facts, evidence and truth from science to inform policy (Figure 1). Survey work on the marches and marchers found that 89% marched because they wanted more evidence in policy decisions (Myers et al, 2018).
But other academic researchers found themselves uncomfortable participating or chose not to participate at all due to the reasons stated at the outset of this piece, and due to a sense of unclear demarcations between advocacy for scientific-evidence, or advocacy for particular policies or even advocacy against US President Donald J. Trump. In fact at the marches, calls for a return to evidence-based policymaking and funding for scientific research moved at times from general statement and signs to explicit linkages to the Trump administration’s suppression and side lining of science.
Because of this slippage in the public view, critiques then poured in from many different perspectives. For examples, sociologist Robert Brulle argued that by placing climate scientists as leading spokespeople for climate change action, “it fed into and exacerbated the existing polarized divide” rather than bridging it (2018, p. 3). Meanwhile, physicist Jim Gates opined that “such a politically-charged event might send a message to the public that scientists are driven by ideology more than by evidence” (Flam, 2017).
What have we learned so far?
My recent book catalogued relevant social science and humanities scholarship to better understand which creative climate communications work where, when, why and under what conditions and audiences. The focus on advocacy (in Chapter 6) sought to clarify, provoke and inspire productive deliberations on how one might navigate these fears and challenges associated with advocacy at the science-policy interface and in the public arena.
The book profiled work from scholars like Shahzeen Attari, Naomi Oreskes, John Kotcher, Elke Weber, John Besley, Declan Fahy, Matt Nisbet, and Lydia Messling, who are conducting research to more systematically understand intersections of expertise, public intellectualism and advocacy. For instance, Shahzeen Attari and colleagues who examined personal choices by use of public transportation (not intentions to fly or home energy conservation) and found that “differences in perceived credibility strongly affect participants’ reported intentions to change personal energy consumption” (2016, 325). In the book, I also drew on research that I have undertaken with David Oonk (2018). Together, these scholars and their research provide important insights into academic climate advocacy in 2020 and beyond.
Again, it is understandable if academic researchers do not desire to be type I advocates. However, as academic researchers it is vitally important that we do not lose the term advocacy altogether. In this 21st century milieu of ‘post-truth’ and ‘fake news’, when we in the academic arena (as well as in others) surrender advocacy altogether, we surrender advocacy for facts, advocacy for truth, and advocacy for evidence as well.
There are consequential and often deleterious impacts when relevant experts do not step up. Unfortunately, this predicament around perceptions of academic advocacy has emerged at a time when involvement is sorely needed.
In February 2018, the Editors of Scientific American penned an opinion piece entitled ‘Go Public or Perish’. In it, they made the observation that “if citizens never hear from legitimate experts, no one can blame them for indifference to fake-science tweets, decisions by politicians that ignore facts, or cuts to federal agencies that are supposed to be built on sound science” (2018).
Conclusion (to an Ongoing Story)
As climate change cuts to the heart of how we live, work, play and relax in modern life, engagement through research and through communications entail reflection on how our personal lives mesh with our professional ones. ‘Advocacy’ is in fact humanizing, and setting (positive) examples do matter. And members of academic communities have engaged various forms of engagement relating to their research every day. Some engage in advocacy in part because they view engagement as part of their responsibility as contemporary climate researchers. Others have engaged because they seek to shift and/or elevate the quality of public conversations.
Exemplification theory suggests that concrete cases of influential actors grappling with issues like climate change can significantly influence citizens’ awareness and inclination to act themselves (Gibson and Zillman, 1994). This is the case because such exertions have been found to lower the psychological barriers to engagement (Zillman, 2006). Pro-environmental and pro-social behavioral engagement though inspirational leadership has been evidenced in numerous studies (e.g. Maki et al 2019; Lin, 2013).
Since I wrote the book, another research contribution from Gregg Sparkman and Shahzeen Attari gives the imperfect ones among us some encouragement too. Detecting possible ‘greener than thou’ blowback (in other words getting some resistance by acting too perfect or extreme), they found that “advocates, especially experts, are most credible and influential when they adopt many sustainable behaviors in their day-to-day lives, so long as they are not seen as too extreme” (Sparkman and Attari, 2020, p. 6).
Today, we are forced to navigate these challenges in choppy waters of climate discourse in the public sphere (Figure 2). There is no particularly ‘easy sailing’ here. However, informed choices (based on social sciences and humanities scholarship and examples in practice that I profile here and in my book), a more clear understanding along with mindful partnerships and collaborations can overcome many of these vulnerabilities and concerns.
When those recoiling from spaces of advocacy for evidence-based climate research are the relevant experts who hold insights for useful and informed commentary, I ultimately argue that they should be viewed as missed opportunities to attend to their present-day responsibilities of meeting people where they are on climate change. Put simply, we must instead normalize, celebrate and protect advocacy for evidence, truth and facts in our shared 21st century encounters at the human-environment interface.
References
Attari, S. Z., Krantz, D. H., and Weber, E. U. (2016). Statements about climate researchers’ carbon footprints affect their credibility and the impact of their advice. Climatic Change, 138(1-2), pp. 325-338.
Boykoff, M. (2019) Creative (Climate) Communications: Productive Pathways for Science, Policy and Society Cambridge University Press. ISBN 9781316646823. 302 pp.
Boykoff, M. and Oonk, D. (2018) Evaluating the perils and promises of academic climate advocacy Climatic Change 10.1007/s10584-018-2339-3
Brulle, R.J. (2018). Critical reflections on the march for science. Sociological Forum, 33:1, pp. 255-258.
Brysse, K., Oreskes, N., O’Reilly, J. and Oppenheimer, M. (2013). Climate change prediction: Erring on the side of least drama? Global environmental change, 23(1), pp. 327-337.
Flam, Faye. (2017). Why Some Scientists Won’t March for Science. Bloomberg. 7 March. Available at: https://www.bloomberg.com/view/articles/2017-03-07/why-some-scientists-won-t-march-for-science
Gibson, R., and Zillmann, D. (1994). Exaggerated versus representative exemplification in news reports – perceptions of issues and personal consequences. Communication Research, 21: pp. 603–624.
Kotcher, J. E., Myers, T. A., Vraga, E. K., et al. (2017). Does engagement in advocacy hurt the credibility of scientists? Results from a randomized national survey experiment. Environmental Communication, 11(3), pp. 415-429.
Lin, S.J. (2013). Perceived impact of a documentary film: An investigation of the first-person effect and its implications for environmental issues. Science Communication, 35(6), pp. 708-733.
Maki, A., Carrico, A.R., Raimi, K.T., Truelove, H.B., Araujo, B. and Yeung, K.L., 2019. Meta-analysis of pro-environmental behaviour spillover. Nature Sustainability, 2(4), p.307.
Myers, T., Kotcher, J., Cook, J., et al. (2018). March for Science 2017: A Survey of Participants and Followers. George Mason University, Fairfax, VA: Center for Climate Change Communication.
Scientific American Editors. (2018). Go Public or Perish. Scientific American, February.
Sparkman, G. and Attari, S.Z., (2020). Credibility, communication, and climate change: How lifestyle inconsistency and do-gooder derogation impact decarbonization advocacy. Energy Research & Social Science, 59, 1-7.
Svrluga, S. (2018). Washington celebrates a day for marching and remembering. Washington Post. 14 April. Available at: https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/march-for-science-returns-to-the-district-on-saturday-for-a-second-year/2018/04/13/40113f00-3f23-11e8-974f-aacd97698cef_story.html?utm_term=.9ede5ba31550
Zillmann, D. (2006). Exemplification effects in the promotion of safety and health. Journal of Communication, 56, pp. S221–S237.