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THE OZONE CHRONICLES; HISTORY REPEATING AS TRAGEDY


Friday August 19, 2016

Joe Farnam, the dogged, data-driven discoverer of the ozone hole, died in 2013, three years before publication of findings showing that the ozone layer, which protects life on earth from UV radiation, has finally started to recover. This nascent recovery comes 42 years after atmospheric chemists first raised alarms about the threat chlorine compounds posed to this fragile shield, 34 years after Farman first saw an alarming drop in ozone in Antarctic, and 29 years after the world’s nations took action to phase out the chemicals, and it will still be decades before the ozone layer recovers completely. Were it not for Farman, the international community might not have taken action, and the world would be a far different place today, with unchecked UV radiation spreading cancer and havoc among humanity and devastating ecosystems and the food chain. It’s also worth revisiting this history because the struggle to identify and come to grips with this threat prefigured all the themes of the still-unresolved question of dealing with another man-made threat: climate change.
 
In 1982, when Farman’s monitoring equipment first showed a dip in ozone, he was tempted to dismiss the readings as instrument error. At that point, ozone levels had been stable for 25 years. A recheck validated the findings, however, and subsequent years showed an alarming acceleration in the deterioration of the ozone layer.
 
It was no mystery for scientists what was causing the decline. Eight years earlier, atmospheric scientists Sherwood Rowland, Mario Molina, and Paul Crutzen had published articles documenting that the release of certain chlorine compounds could start chemical reactions that destroyed atmospheric compounds. They won a Nobel Prize for their discovery. Later, prefiguring the playbook of climate denialists today, Congressman Tom Delay disparaged the award as the “Nobel Appeasement Prize.”
 
Even before Delay’s attempts to delay action on protecting the ozone in Congress, the industry, led by DuPont, which dominated the production of CFC’s (the chemicals deemed to destroy ozone), had organized a lobbying effort to discredit the science. They helped found The Alliance for Responsible CFC Policy in 1980, which challenged the scientists at every turn, spread alarm about the economic consequences of a CFC ban, and sowed disinformation in the media. They realized that given the inertia of American politics, they didn’t have to disprove the science. All they had to do was to argue that the science was inconclusive.
 
This was the exact same playbook used in the next decade by the Global Climate Coalition (also founded by Dupont), as well as numerous fossil fuel industry lobbying groups in so-far successful efforts to delay action on climate change. Indeed, a good number of the scientists who disparaged the threat of CFCs, including Fred Singer, Richard Lindzen, and Patrick Michaels, later turned up as leading climate change deniers.
 
In a typical example of industry casuistry, DuPont officials argued in the mid-1980s that no action was necessary because the market for CFCs was flat. What they well knew was that it only looked flat because a severe recession in 1982 distorted the figures, while, in fact, growth was accelerating as the economy recovered and emerging nations looked to increase refrigeration (CFCs were used as a refrigerant).
 
Once the evidence became incontrovertible, DuPont flipped and became an advocate for banning CFCs. While the action looked noble, DuPont had started developing alternatives to CFCs in the 1970s and had a huge lead on competitors. One wonders whether DuPont would have given its support for the 1987 Montreal Protocol if it were not to their economic advantage.
 
There are three lessons from the ozone chronicles, all of which have been ignored thus far in the struggle to deal with climate change:
 
1)   Industry requires regulation. In their no-holds barred attack on the scientists, duplicitous use of disinformation, and lobbying power, the chemical industry showed that all their executives cared about was profits, even if those profits came from chemicals that posed a threat to life on earth. Yet the mood in recent years has been decidedly anti-regulation.

2)   Politics matters. DuPont began to develop alternatives when Rowland and others showed the link between CFCs and the destruction of ozone. They tabled these efforts when Ronald Reagan was elected because they assumed no regulation was coming. In the U.K., the incoming Thatcher administration almost eliminated Farman’s ozone monitoring operation in a cost-cutting effort. How much more damage to the ozone layer might have occurred before some other agency discovered the problem? Today, Australia is considering the shut down of some of its ocean and atmospheric monitoring, vital to our understanding of climate change, in an effort to redirect science towards more commercial applications.

3)   Basic science matters. Were it not for the 25 years of data Farman had collected prior to 1982, he and his colleagues might not have noticed that something unprecedented was happening to the ozone layer. Before Rowland, Molina and Crutzen did their work, CFCs were regarded as entirely benign chemicals. It took basic science to make the leap connecting refrigerants in kitchens to the health of an atmospheric shield.  As we introduce more and more novel compounds into daily life, we need such imaginative scientists to determine whether they might also pose novel threats. Yet, both EPA and research budgets are continually under threat. The world remains one short-sighted budget cut away from blithely ignoring some new novel threat. Trouble is, we don’t know which cut it will be.

 
The world owes a huge debt to the diligence of Joe Farman who doggedly pursued what most would regard as mind-numbing data collection in the face of public indifference and political hostility. We need his successor now more than ever.
 
 

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Short Take

[Mild spoiler alert: the book is a fictionalized exploration of a girl who falls under the spell of a Manson-like cult. We all know how that story unfolded. In this Short Take I’ll be offering my reactions to the protagonist, Evie Boyd.]

 

The Girls offers as bleak a view of the amorality of American youth as I have ever encountered. In a review of my first book, I was called “Intolerably apocalyptic,” but I can’t hold a candle to Ms. Cline. The book is a novelistic attempt to try and understand how some of the privileged young women of the late 1960s could commit unspeakable acts while under the sway of a Manson-like psychopath. 

 Thus we meet Evie Boyd, a fourteen year-old growing up amid relative affluence in Petaluma California. She’s directionless, with no apparent passions, self-conscious about her looks, emotionally needy, alienated from her parents (who get divorced), but possessed of a tough inner core and a rebellious streak. She’s enthralled when she encounters Suzanne, a wild, charismatic 19 year-old who seems to be a composite of Patricia Krenwinkel and Leslie Van Houton, and Evie is honored when Suzanne pays her some attention. Events bring her to the cult’s squalid ranch, and for some weeks, Evie maintains a dual life, throwing herself into the life of the cult, while returning home enough not to galvanize her mother, who is pre-occupied with a rebound relationship with Frank, an entrepreneur who comes across as a hustler with a heart of gold.

Evie is so smitten by Suzanne that she doesn’t notice as the cult spirals down from talk of love and freedom to episodes of paranoia, back-biting and revenge. Along the way, Evie has her first sexual adventures, and enters sufficiently into the spirit of the cult that she brings them to the house of the family next door (which they descrate), even though she has known the family all her life and has no score to settle. Later, Evie talks her way into joining Suzanne as she and others set off to inflict mayhem on a Dennis Wilson-like figure, but Suzanne kicks her out of the car before they begin a horrific rampage.

Did Suzanne do this to protect Evie from what she knew was about to happen, or because she felt that Evie wasn’t a murderer and would become a liability? That’s left unanswered, but the bloodbath that Evie missed is so depraved – including the slashing apart of a toddler – that no human with a soul could find that earlier gesture redemptive … except for our Evie, who still feels the tug of Suzanne’s power, even after she learns every gory detail of Suzanne’s actions.

It’s several months between the time of the murders and when the cult is finally caught. During this time, Evie keeps her mouth shut about what happens and meekly allows herself to be shipped off to boarding school to resume her comfortable existence, though as a wreck, not a spirited teenager.

That’s when I decided Evie was a worthless human being. Sure, she was terrified that the cult would come after her, and there’s some honor on not squealing, but Evie had to know that the cult would likely kill again, and that made her an enabler of whatever they did subsequently.

The book interweaves the present and the past and so we learn how these events haunted Evie’s life. But there’s no redemptive moment, no act where she summons the courage to do the right thing, or rises above her own self-absorption. Even in the present, when the psychopath-in-the-making son of a friend and his underage, impressionable girlfriend crash at her digs, she can only summon a half-hearted (and failed) attempt to save the girl from following the path that so grievously sidetracked her own life.

All the men in the book are either pathetic or pigs of various shapes and forms – except for a premed student named Tom, who sees the cult for what it is, but who Evie rejects as a dork. Towards the end of the book, Evie ticks off a long list of subsequent experiences with awful men that could summon in her the hatred to commit horrendous crimes, seeming to imply that with the right mix of events, she too might have become a Suzanne, and, by implication, so could enormous numbers of other young women.

My first reaction was to call “Bullshit!” Were all young women potential Suzannes, we would have seen endless repeats of the Manson horrors in the nearly 50 years since the events. Instead, those murders still stand as a touchstone of horror because nothing since has eclipsed their mindless violence.

The Manson cult was at the far far end of the normal curve during truly abnormal times. In just the two years leading up to the murders, we had the huge escalation of a senseless war, the explosion of the anti-war movement and counter-culture, a breakdown of generational trust, my generation’s first experiences with powerful, mind-altering drugs, and a sexual revolution. In a country of more than 200 million people, that roiling stew of disruptive forces bubbled to the surface about 20 broken souls, deranged by drugs and in the thrall of a false prophet.

On reflection, however, maybe Ms. Clein was making a different point. All we have to think of are the teenage executioners of Pol Pot’s Cambodia or the child soldiers of Africa to recognize that the capacity for evil lies latent in the young. And, while in fiction we want our protagonists to find redemption or transcend their flaws perhaps Evie’s failure to rise to the occasion was making the point that a civilization that keeps our murderous impulses in check is not innate, but something external that has to be actively inculcated and supported. That’s something to keep in mind amid the current insanity of gun violence, and as more dark clouds gather on the horizon.



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