Anne Kilgannon
James Hansen has been called the Paul Revere of climate change for his early and urgent testimony before Congress, beginning in the 1980s and based on his research that placed the blame squarely on human actions and policy decisions—or should we say inactions and obfuscations—for the situation we now find ourselves. His book, Storms of My Grandchildren, was published in 2009, which seems an eon ago in “current events” but is still worth reading for a foundational grasp of climate science basics and the traced trajectories that are now coming to fruition. It is gripping, even enraging to read, an account of how much time we’ve wasted.
Having no background in either physics or astronomy—Hansen’s own academic disciplines—I hoped reading his work would help me understand the complexity of issues I was struggling to piece together. Melting glaciers and the break up of Antarctic ice! Changing ocean currents and the generation of hurricanes! Dying coral reefs and crashing bird populations! Wild fires, droughts and conversely, floods and record atmospheric rivers! I understood the basic fact: we have only one Earth and everything is connected. But if I wanted to be a useful advocate for addressing any part of our dilemma I knew I needed to ground myself in the science that explains how we got here and what might pull us away from the brink. Or, are we already over the tipping point line? No other issue seems as critical to grasp; it touches everything. Hansen offers a primer and expresses his own sense of urgency in his subtitle: The Truth About The Coming Climate Catastrophe and Our Last Chance to Save Humanity.
He has me committed at his title. Having my own grandchildren now has added an even more visceral connection to the near future, from an unrealized abstract notion to something very concrete indeed. Hansen himself acknowledges that his growing family is what pushed him to speak out about his scientific research, beyond publishing in academic journals and classrooms where his training and skills found a comfortable berth. He stretches himself again and again to frame his work so that nonscientists could grasp the import of his discoveries. This terrible need to translate scientific language into plain English runs like a bright thread throughout his story. Realizing that he is writing in a foreign language for most of us, Hansen mentors his readers to stick with it, to delve deeper, to connect all the dots. He holds our hands, encourages us, admitting that the material is complex and the vocabulary dense and dark. He gives us illustrations and graphs, charts and examples. I learned a great deal and felt that his material gave me the basics to understand a great deal more. It’s still a struggle but as a reader you feel guided, fussed over, and encouraged; mostly you feel trust that he’s telling you the hard truths. That was my most important take-away.
The “truth” is highly contested, as we know. Hansen as a dyed-in-the–wool scientist registers his shock, his naïveté, when he enters the halls of Congress to testify or when in meetings with various high-level administration officials that he finds his message brushed aside, silenced, reduced to the inconsequential by political forces as strong as any cyclone he’s studied. His carefully constructed analysis, his charts and graphs, and most of all, his conclusions and policy recommendations—we can fix this!—count for nothing in the rarified atmosphere emanating from the swamp of campaign money and “alligator-shoed” lobbyists. Just as he brings his readers along to a greater understanding of the science, he recounts his own journey from the laboratory into the political world where solutions must be found, funded and enforced. To his chagrin, all his careful work, his vetting in academic circles, his numbers and rigorous analysis, run smack into the politics of denial.
It’s a painful awakening. He doesn’t shy away from telling that half of the story; he’s promised us the Truth after all, and this reality is just as important to understand as the physics of ocean upwelling and the generation of hurricanes. Hansen may begin a naïf but he finds himself stepping up to the challenge in any venue he can enter, including, finally, the streets in protest. Thoughts of his grandchildren are his lodestar; he simply must not sit back and let the catastrophe happen. His transformation into an activist is electrifying.
I don’t know which was the tougher read, the details of the dire threat revealed in the science or the ugliness of the political drubbing to which Hansen was subjected. Unfortunately it’s impossible to separate the two challenges we face; just as humans have created the climate crisis, human obtuseness mires us in fractious political deadlock that may not allow implementing any of the measures that would move us out of the danger zone. It’s clear we are well into that zone. It’s been more than a decade since this book was published and it was late in the day then. We’ve done little more than dither. I admit to being frightened for my grandchildren, for birds, for our intricate and beautiful world. Hansen has given us a map, a list with stars and double-underlined points to move beyond hand wringing and anxiety to action.
Photo: Tennant Wildfire, outside Eureka, CA, June 28, 2021. Wikipedia, unmanned wildlife camera owned by the State of California.
