Losing Earth - Book Summary

Unveiling the hidden truths: The squandered chance to combat climate change

It's undeniable that climate change is a reality, a truth that science recognized as early as the 1970s. This begs the question: why has so little been achieved over the past decades to impede its relentless march?

This script aims to reveal the exasperating answers, illustrating in detail the first endeavors to tackle climate change and how those efforts were undercut by powerful corporate interests. Through meticulous research, it unravels the inception of climate denialism — a disturbing alliance between politicians and the fossil fuel industry that set us on a collision course with an ecological crisis.

The story narrated here is so alarming, so significant, that the New York Times Magazine dedicated an entire issue to the original findings of Nathaniel Rich. This reworked and enhanced narrative brings even deeper revelations about the journey that led us to our current climate predicament.

As you listen, you'll discover:

the unusual role of hairspray in revitalizing the environmental movement,

why news headlines from 1979 still resonate today, and

the figures who dropped the ball on our early opportunity to address climate change.

Climate change was on the radar earlier than you might imagine

Picture this: Geneva, Switzerland. Scores of distinguished scientists from the leading nations across the globe congregated for the first-ever World Climate Conference. Their verdict was unequivocal: industrial processes are significantly boosting carbon dioxide levels in our atmosphere. If we hope to evade catastrophe, action is required — and promptly.

Feels like a déjà vu, doesn't it? Almost like a headline from the morning news, but this is no contemporary tale. This event actually transpired back in 1979.

The harsh reality is, the looming peril of anthropogenic climate change has been understood for a long time. Scientists have been aware of its causes, the devastating implications, and strategies to avert them, for several decades now. Yet, notwithstanding their incessant efforts, we've lagged behind in implementing the necessary alterations.

Our main insight here is: Scientists have been advocating for action on climate change far longer than you might suppose.

We can trace the current momentum to halt climate change back to 1979. That year, Rafe Pomerance, an environmentalist affiliated with Friends of the Earth, came across a disconcerting report. The Jasons, a team of scientific intellectuals headed by geophysicist Gordon MacDonald, were behind this publication.

The report proclaimed that human activities were set to double the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. It forecasted that this modification would trigger a greenhouse effect, raising global temperatures, and leading to extensive ecological disarray. It was a foreboding prospect, albeit backed by potent reasoning.

Startled, Pomerance reached out to MacDonald. Together, they opted to leverage their governmental connections to advocate for drastic modifications to stave off this potential disaster. In the ensuing months, they engaged with every possible authority in Washington — members of Congress, the National Security Council, and even the top-tier staff at the President's Office of Science and Technology Policy.

The response was comforting. The officials seemed to consider the threat with the gravity it deserved. By July, meteorologist Jule Charney had convened a conference of preeminent scientific minds to deliberate on the issue. NASA scientist Jim Hansen corroborated the predictions made by Pomerance and MacDonald with detailed computer models.

The final product of this cooperative endeavor was a comprehensive report, colloquially known as "The Charney Report", officially titled 'Carbon Dioxide and Climate: A Scientific Assessment.' It amalgamated all the variables into a concise narrative: If current trends persisted, the world's average temperature would spike by three degrees — with catastrophic consequences.

The initial initiatives for climate change regulation faltered due to apathy and indecision

October, 1980. An eclectic group consisting of politicians, energy experts, and environmentalists congregates at the Pink Palace, a flamboyantly extravagant resort in the southern part of Florida. Orchestrated by Congress, the assemblage was part of the National Commission on Air Quality, tasked with devising solid policy recommendations to address climate change.

The task at hand was formidable. They spent three days deliberating the urgency, scale, and worthiness of various strategies for climate change. Some advocated for immediate and assertive emergency measures, while others suggested a more restrained, gradual response.

Ultimately, they couldn't arrive at a consensus. No policy was drafted.

The key insight here is: The initial strides toward climate change regulation were stymied by indifference and indecision.

The conference at the Pink Palace proved to be a thorn in Pomerance's side. While he and MacDonald had successfully brought climate change into congressional discourse, getting the legislative body to take action proved to be an uphill battle. The process of translating the meticulous, cautious language of scientific projections into tangible, immediate action was particularly daunting.

Pomerance and his compatriots argued that merely publicizing the science of climate change wouldn't suffice. Ordinary citizens wouldn't voluntarily make the requisite alterations to avoid a catastrophe that wouldn't manifest for several decades. They posited that the United States needed to take the lead and lay out an audacious plan.

To this end, Pomerance put forth two specific policies aimed at drastically curtailing the production of fossil fuels. The first involved the imposition of a nominal carbon tax — if implemented promptly, it could be a meager ten dollars per ton of emissions. The second policy proposed major investments in renewable energy. With ample funding for new technology, the transition to a carbon-free future would be facilitated.

Despite Pomerance's calls to action, the group failed to agree on the phrasing of their recommendations. Certain members of the conference felt uneasy with assertive rhetoric, while others expressed concern over the potential impact of these policies on the fossil fuel industry.

However, while the committee was mired in debate, the fossil fuel industry was already taking strides. Corporations like Exxon were fully aware that their products were climate change culprits. They had even conducted private studies to substantiate this claim as far back as 1957.

So, in 1979, when Exxon executives realized that Congress was contemplating carbon legislation, they were prepared. The company devised what was referred to in internal memos as a "very aggressive defensive program," replete with an annual budget of six hundred thousand dollars. The contours of the battle were already being etched out.

Climate activists leveraged congressional hearings to thrust climate change into the political limelight.

In the aftermath of the disheartening Pink Palace conference, the election of Ronald Reagan as the president struck a second blow. As a right-wing conservative, Reagan’s principal aim was to curtail the size of the federal government, paying no heed to reducing the planet's climate impact.

After taking the reins, Reagan deregulated the mining industry, bolstered coal production, and greenlit oil drilling on more public lands. Add to this, he gutted the Department of Energy and appointed Anne Gorsuch, a notorious anti-environmentalist, to preside over the Department of the Interior.

Witnessing all this unfold, Pomerance was mortified. He understood that any potential brakes on climate change would have to be applied soon and would require widespread public backing.

The central insight here is: Climate activists leveraged congressional hearings to thrust climate change into the political limelight.

Fortunately, even as Reagan backpedaled on environmental protections, climate change was gradually permeating mainstream dialogue. On August 22, 1981, a front-page article in the New York Times drew attention to the issue. The article highlighted the work of NASA scientist Hansen and his team, who had recently found evidence that the Earth was indeed warming.

Pomerance spotted an opportunity to bring climate change to the forefront of political discussion. If he could get Hansen to present his work before Congress, there was a possibility of capturing the media's attention and rallying public support for legislation. It so happened that a youthful congressman from Tennessee supported this plan. His name was Al Gore.

On March 25, 1982, Gore chaired a series of hearings on Reagan's plan to discontinue the Department of Energy's studies on carbon dioxide. Hansen, along with other distinguished scientists such as Nobel laureate Melvin Calvin, testified at the hearings. They presented the problem in simple, unequivocal terms: The Earth was warming, human-induced carbon production was culpable, and if we didn't curtail our reliance on fossil fuels, we'd soon reach a “tipping point,” beyond which an ecological catastrophe would be inevitable.

The hearings produced mixed results. Dan Rather covered Hansen’s warnings on the nightly news. Some politicians, including Republicans like Representative Robert Walker, spoke with an air of determination to act. However, in the end, no policies or regulations were implemented.

For Hansen, the aftermath was even grimmer. His funding at NASA was axed, and his climate research was hindered. By the close of 1982, his way forward — and the future of the Earth's climate — remained perilously uncertain.

A crisis in the ozone layer reignites a fading movement to tackle climate change.

Circa 1979, Pomerance and MacDonald's initial alarms about the greenhouse effect had borne fruit. They had managed to convince the Carter Administration to bankroll an extensive study on climate change. Fast-forward to October 1983, and the National Academy of Sciences was ready to disclose their findings.

As expected, the outlook was bleak. The Academy’s 500-page treatise reiterated the essential facts and ominous warnings of the prior Charney Report. However, when introducing the findings to the media, the Academy toed the Reagan Administration’s line, downplaying climate change as a minimal threat, one we could easily adjust to if it materialized.

Once more, no proactive measures were taken. It seemed the battle was lost even before it had fully commenced. And then, in an unexpected twist, scientists discovered a hole in the ozone layer.

The vital insight here is: A crisis in the ozone layer reignites a fading movement to tackle climate change.

The nation's premier scientists had squandered the chance to make a strong case for drastic reforms. The government was advocating a cautious “wait-and-see” strategy, asserting that future climate issues would be resolved through inevitable market innovations.

The fossil fuel industry heeded this stance. Organizations like the American Petroleum Institute and Exxon, which had been bracing themselves for sweeping changes in response to potential new regulations, eased up. With no forthcoming legislation, they could revert to their usual modus operandi — drilling, mining, and refining carbon-intense fuels.

Then, in May 1985, a shocking revelation: British scientists reported that the ozone layer was under threat. Their report attributed the depletion of atmospheric ozone to chlorofluorocarbons or CFCs — chemicals used in refrigerators, aerosol hairsprays, and plastic foams. Without ozone, Earth would absorb more solar radiation, leading to increased skin cancers, reduced crop yields, and the collapse of marine ecosystems.

For the first time, governments paid attention. Within a few months, the United Nations passed the Montreal Protocol, which provided a framework for drastically reducing CFC emissions. Even the Reagan administration came on board, passing regulations to cut CFC production by 95 percent. This was a monumental, global-scale response to a global-scale problem.

Environmentalist observers picked up on this. The swift and collaborative steps taken by nations to curb CFC production offered a promising template. Perhaps a similar strategy could be employed to curb carbon emissions. Perhaps, they dared to hope, there was still time.

During the mid-80s, bipartisanship and global cooperation on climate action was within reach.

Imagine the scene: It's 1985, and Pomerance is making a case for immediate climate action to Republican aide Curtis Moore. Moore attentively listens and then offers candid advice. Carbon emissions pose a significant problem, he admits, but politicians will shy away without a feasible solution in sight. Failure isn't a politician's favorite word.

Just a year prior, such an appraisal would have been demoralizing. However, with the recent, successful mobilization against CFCs still echoing in public consciousness, confronting carbon emissions doesn't seem quite as insurmountable anymore.

Pomerance, galvanized by the triumph against CFCs, is ready to stake a claim. The key insight here: During the mid-80s, bipartisanship and global cooperation on climate action was within reach.

Embarking on a fresh quest to trigger political change, Pomerance joins the World Resources Institute, becoming America's first full-time climate action lobbyist. In just a few months, he convinces John Chafee — a Republican Senator from Rhode Island — to champion his cause and convene more hearings on climate change.

By June of 1986, the gears are turning. At Senator Chafee's hearings, Pomerance, Hansen, and a host of scientists and activists are drawing potent parallels between the greenhouse effect and the recent CFC crisis. The narrative that climate change is a colossal, yet surmountable threat is finally gaining traction.

And indeed, the narrative does make a difference. Increasingly, politicians are embracing the issue of climate change. In 1987, the subject is front and center at three separate committee meetings. Then, in a watershed moment in March 1988, a bipartisan assembly of 41 senators urges Reagan to broker a climate accord with the world's second-largest carbon emitter — the Soviet Union.

These negotiations result in a bilateral agreement. In May, the US and the USSR issue a joint statement, pledging mutual cooperation to combat climate change. The announcement is met with aplomb, yet it leaves Pomerance, Hansen, and other scientists with a sense of unease.

Words without action are empty. The agreement lacked any tangible regulations or limits, and neither nation proposed a solid plan to wean themselves off fossil fuels. Nevertheless, it was a start, marking climate change as a resonant issue that could rally even international adversaries.

But the clock was ticking. 1988 was already shaping up to be the hottest year ever recorded.

Even moderate climate actions faced substantial resistance from the fossil fuel industry.

As the 1980s drew to a close, there was a whirlwind of activity. In June 1988, the hottest June on record, Hansen stood before Congress again, stressing emphatically that climate change was an imminent peril requiring immediate intervention.

His plea did not go unheard. Just four days later, delegates from 46 nations convened in Toronto for the World Conference on the Changing Atmosphere. Following extensive deliberations, the delegates adopted the first-ever global benchmarks for climate mitigation, borrowing a target proposed by Pomerance: a tentative agreement amongst the industrialized countries to curb carbon emissions by 20 percent by 2005.

Though the resolution was nonbinding, it paved the way for significant headway. However, as environmentalists rejoiced, the fossil fuel industry was quietly strategizing their counterattack.

The key insight here: Even moderate climate actions faced substantial resistance from the fossil fuel industry.

The Toronto conference elevated climate change to a global priority. It was also a hot button issue domestically in the United States. Survey data at the time indicated that nearly 70 percent of Americans perceived the greenhouse effect as a pressing concern. In the 1988 presidential race, George H. W. Bush even campaigned on a platform of climate action, pledging to rein in carbon emissions.

This did not sit well with the fossil fuel industry. If Bush introduced stringent regulations, bolstered funding for renewable energy, or slapped on a heavy carbon tax, their operations could be significantly hindered. The possibility of impending reform sent ripples of concern over their profit margins throughout the oil and gas industry.

Throughout 1988, Terry Yosie from the American Petroleum Institute spearheaded a string of meetings with top-ranking executives from Exxon, Mobil, and other leading energy companies. Confronted with the prospect of a disruptive shift towards a carbon-neutral future, these industry insiders resolved to meddle actively in climate policy. Their plan: sow controversy to delay change.

All the major fossil fuel corporations were well aware that climate change was a genuine issue. In fact, companies such as Exxon and BP had internal memos acknowledging this fact. Yet, from the late 1980s onwards, they funneled resources into public relations campaigns challenging the scientific consensus.

In public declarations and policy briefs, lobbyists for the fossil fuel industry began sowing doubt. They questioned climate data, attempted to discredit experts, and sought to create the perception of a lack of scientific agreement.

By the end of the year, the industry seemed to unite under a single, calculated mantra: "we need more research."

The US government shirked its responsibility to lead on climate action.

Fast forward to May 1989. Once again, Hansen is set to appear before Congress. As usual, he sends his statements to the White House for approval, a standard protocol he must adhere to as a representative of NASA. But this time, the process is anything but standard.

His documents return filled with revisions and annotations. The Office of Management and Budget demands sweeping changes. They insist he label his findings as mere “estimates,” describe his solid models as “unreliable,” and imply that the cause of climate change is “scientifically unknown.”

These demands were outrageous, yet not entirely unexpected. Despite Bush's climate change rhetoric during his presidential campaign, his administration had consistently demonstrated apathy and resistance towards tangible action.

The crucial insight here: The US government shirked its responsibility to lead on climate action.

Hansen's thwarted Congressional testimony was merely the first indicator of a larger issue. The entirety of the Bush administration seemed intent on aligning with the fossil fuel industry. Ever since Bush took office, the Republican president had been stifling Congressional momentum on carbon policy and actively sidestepping briefings on environmental matters.

This indifference towards climate science traced its roots to John Sununu, Bush's obstinate Chief of Staff. Sununu, a former Congressman from New Hampshire, was an enigmatic figure. Although a trained mechanical engineer, he harbored disdain for other scientists and leaned towards a business-friendly government. He viewed any form of environmental legislation as an authoritarian ploy - an attempt to control people rather than protect the planet.

In November 1989, the UN held the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change in Noordwijk, a small Dutch city. Delegates from over 60 countries gathered with the intent to ratify a binding treaty to control industrial emissions. It was a golden opportunity to implement enforceable limitations on carbon output.

Yet, Sununu was determined to sabotage this endeavor. He instructed the US representatives to derail the talks. Negotiations stretched late into the night. By the time they concluded, the American diplomats had successfully thwarted the adoption of binding regulations. None of the countries, nor industries, would be held accountable for climate change. The conference was a failure.

In the decade that followed, climate change denial became a core tenet of the Republican party. Since that fateful day in 1989, carbon production has exceeded all prior millennia combined. The world is now in the throes of global warming, and drastic action is more urgent than ever.

Concluding snapshot

The fundamental takeaway here is:

The unfolding climate change crisis didn't need to happen. From the late 1970s onwards, devoted scientists and environmental activists tirelessly pushed for substantial carbon emission regulation and other impactful reforms. Nevertheless, an orchestrated effort by the fossil fuel industry, coupled with shortsighted and ineffective political leadership, effectively hampered these early initiatives to safeguard our planet.