When I was walking in the countryside in the south of
England some years ago I came across a river where half a dozen cows were
wading upstream, grazing on the reeds that were growing in the water. I'm an unreconstructed townie and the scene struck me at the time as both bucolic and
charming. It was just like a Constable painting. I didn’t consider
for a moment the damage that those cows might be doing to the river, or the ways
in which they might be polluting the water.
That was in another life. Since then I have worked with scientists on the Demonstration Test
Catchment projects and learnt something of how cattle poach riverbanks,
resulting in sediment entering the stream, affecting the whole ecosystem of the
waterway. I know that those cows were also depositing
their urine and faeces directly into the river, and that this encourages the growth of some organisms at the expense of others,
with effects that cascade through the food web, with serious consquences for fish and mammals. From a
human perspective, if water was being abstracted for the public supply, it meant there were
added costs for the water company and their customers. So perhaps this wasn’t such a charming sight
after all. Should the farmer have
allowed the cows to access the river?
Wouldn’t it have been more responsible to fence them in? From the point of view of the consumers who have to drink the water, that’s probably true.
I don’t much like the thought of water that has been polluted
by cattle coming out of the tap in my kitchen, even if it has been purified. But fencing is expensive, and if the cows can’t
drink from the river, they will also need a drinking trough. Who is going to pay for that infrastructure? It’s a big investment for any farmer. But, at the moment, the water company is paying
to cleaning up the supply and passing the cost on to consumers. Perhaps it would be more efficient and sensible
for the consumer to pay for some fencing to keep the cattle out of the river? As with most things in life, somebody somewhere has to pay, and perhaps we need a more high-profile debate on where the costs should fall for this kind of public good.
Friday, 30 November 2012
Thursday, 15 November 2012
Tell me a story and don't make it too scary...
When I was a child nuclear war seemed like a
very real possibility if things were to go badly between the powerful nations
of the world. Although I was too young
to understand all the implications of the Cuban Missile Crisis, we all knew something
serious was happening. Throughout the
1960s, 1970s, and into the 1980s, it was a threat that bubbled up regularly
into the public consciousness. Although
there might have been disagreements about the likelihood of nuclear weapons
being deployed, people seemed to accept that if they were, the consequences could
be life-changing and might lead to the devastation of the planet. Would any country take on responsibility for
such terrible actions? The effects of
the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki still resonated and the
Aldermaston marches provided a focus for protest.
When I was at the Living With EnvironmentalChange conference this week on “Supporting the Journey to Adaptation”, I was
struck at how environmental concerns have filled that “fear niche” for some of
us while others seem to remain oblivious. Although more countries now have
nuclear bombs, the end of the Cold War has removed that most immediate threat. Dystopian literature has moved on from nuclear
to environmental disaster. The
difference in the present situation is that perceptions of such a threat, and any notion of
responsibility, vary so much across the population. In the conference hall few would, I think,
have denied the seriousness of the situation.
We saw stark statistics laid out in powerpoint slides by distinguished climate
scientists. Although probably not
everyone agreed on the likely speed of environmental change, there was no
denial of the need for action, for a journey towards both mitigation and adaptation.
However, we also heard from social science researchers
who played us some clips of interviews with “real people”. They were confused, unconvinced, unwilling to
buy into action that the scientists saw as essential. Uncertainty expressed in scientific results,
and taken for granted by researchers as part of the scientific process, is
viewed by the public with frank suspicion.
We see this every day in the media and in
life. Recently I encountered one
obviously intelligent man who maintained that climate change is a conspiracy by
scientists to create jobs for themselves.
It is difficult to counter this kind of world view. So how can we hope to change behaviour and,
as a society, embark on that journey to adaptation, let alone achieve any
mitigation? For me, the most encouraging
session at the conference was a session on digital storytelling. This was a shining example of the benefits of
bringing arts and science together, to tell real people’s stories. By bringing global climate change to a local
level, through personal experience, we might help the wider public to
understand the part everyone plays. I
have not met many farmers, for example, who would deny that the climate is
changing. Even if they might argue about
the causes, they see the consequences in their everyday experience. Personal testimony isn’t just a fluffy and
non-scientific, anecdotal approach. Stories are always powerful and, as
communicators, we could make more use of them.
They make big realities more manageable.
Monday, 5 November 2012
Is ash dieback the wakeup call we need for biosecurity?
Trees
are suddenly high on the public agenda.
We take them and their contribution to our landscapes and ecology very much
for granted, until they are under threat.
For anyone old enough to remember the ravages of Dutch elm disease in
the 1970s, the current debate about ash dieback has particular resonances. But why have we been taken so much by
surprise? Ash dieback is one of many
diseases that are currently affecting our native woodland and moorlands. Policymakers and stakeholder organisations have
known for several years that these problems are increasing. The first interdisciplinary research into
plant disease was carried out by researchers working within the Relu programme
and “Growing
Concerns: animal and plant disease policy for the 21st century”
was published just over a year ago.
Several themes emerged very strongly in this policy briefing paper:
animal and plant diseases are also spread by people, so we need to understand
human behaviour as well as the science of pathogens; public awareness of these
problems is low and consequently there is little willingness to pay for
biosecurity measures; environmental change is likely to exacerbate the
problems; international trade poses particular challenges. It is also very unclear where responsibility
for either implementing precautionary measures or meeting potential financial
losses should lie, particularly when the horticulture industry is very
disparate and involves many small companies.
Global supply chains are often long and complex, with many stakeholders
involved, so it can be difficult to pinpoint failings. But the paper does make the point that we
have sources from which policymakers can learn, including experience gained in dealing
with animal disease. Researchers have
urged a more rounded response, including a thorough analysis of socio-economic
drivers and how it affects human behaviour, alongside technical assessments of diseases. We know that stakeholders’ responses may,
sometimes unwittingly, exacerbate risk or limit the effectiveness of
precautionary measures. Flexibility is
also called for, as threats change all the time. It may be, as some commentators suggest, that
we are already too late to save our ash trees.
A more optimistic response would be that at last we do have the level of
public awareness we need in order to have an effective debate about the wider
questions of plant biosecurity. Perhaps we need to seize that opportunity now
and decide where our priorities lie: free global trade, protection of our
native flora, or crop and food security.
We also need to decide who should take on responsibility for biosecurity
and its failures.
Memory
and Prediction in Tree Disease Control
PPN 25 http://www.relu.ac.uk/news/policy%20and%20practice%20notes/25%20Potter/PPN25.pdf
Plant
Disease Risk, Management and Policy Formulation PPN 31
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