25/02/2019

Climate Change And The Threat To Companies

The Economist - Editorial


CHIEF EXECUTIVES who care about climate change—and these days most profess to—often highlight headquarters bedecked with solar panels and other efforts to lower their carbon footprint.
Last week Volkswagen, a carmaker, told its 40,000 suppliers to cut emissions or risk losing its custom.
Plenty of investors, meanwhile, say they are worried about being saddled with worthless stakes in coal-fired power plants if carbon taxes eventually bite.
Yet the reality is that meaningful global environmental regulations are nowhere on the horizon. The risk of severe climate change is thus rising, posing physical threats to many firms. Most remain blind to these, often wilfully so. They should start worrying about them.
Nature disrupting supply chains is nothing new. Businesses have coped with floods, droughts and storms since long before the joint-stock company became popular in the 19th century. Two things have changed. First, supply chains have grown complex and global (just look at VW). As links have multiplied so, too, have points of possible failure. Many sit in the tropics, more given to weather extremes than the temperate West.
Second, global warming is fuelling more such extremes everywhere (see article). In 2017 Houston experienced its third “500-year flood” in less than four decades, California suffered five of its 20 worst wildfires ever and parts of the Indian subcontinent were underwater for days following epic monsoon downpours.
That year insurers paid out a monumental $135bn in compensation. Another $195bn in estimated losses was uninsured. Power plants often run slow because the river water they use for cooling is too hot. Last year commercial traffic along the Rhine, the world’s busiest waterway, ran aground when rains failed to replenish its sources.
Corporate-risk managers have just about come to grips with tangled supply chains. But they are rotten at assessing their exposure to a changing climate (see article). Unfamiliar with bleeding-edge climate models, which tell you what disruption to expect next, risk managers fall back on retrospective tools like flood maps, which are tried, tested—and wrong.
One study last year found that accounting for physical risks to corporate assets would shave 2-3% off the total market value of over 11,000 globally listed firms. That is less than many stocks move in a given day, and a fraction of the estimated 15% downward effect of a transition to cleaner energy.
Unlike the energy transition, though, some physical harm to corporate assets is all but guaranteed. Not only that, but the risks rise as the world warms. And the average conceals a huge range. Some companies would lose nearly one-fifth of their enterprise value.
Most have no clue where they stand.
They have few pressing incentives to find out. Markets tend to punish honesty about previously unacknowledged risks, not reward it. Rather than learn that nature poses a “material” threat—which firms are obliged to disclose to shareholders—it is safer not to look in the first place. Although credit-raters and insurers are busily reassessing climate risk, companies’ premiums and credit have scarcely got more expensive.
 On the rare occasion markets do reprice a company’s risk, they do so in a hurry. PG&E, a Californian utility, was forced into bankruptcy protection in January after insurers and creditors fled when they concluded that it could be on the hook for billion-dollar liabilities over its possible role in sparking wildfires.
Such cases would be rarer if companies were legally obliged to assess and disclose their climate vulnerabilities. An international group set up by the Financial Stability Board, a global set of regulators, issued voluntary guidelines for public companies in 2017. These should be made mandatory.
It is in businesses’ long-term interest to own up to the threats they face. A post-disaster payout from a cheap insurance policy is better than nothing—but a lot worse than avoiding disruption. Adaptation could mean erecting flood barriers around factories or battening down warehouse roofs to withstand stronger gales.
Insurers reckon a dollar spent on such measures saves five in reconstruction.
It may involve lobbying politicians to fill the estimated $110bn-280bn shortfall in annual public spending on resilience. In extreme cases, it may require retreat from a business. If this lays bare the seriousness of global warming’s effects, the world may even get serious about tackling its causes.

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How Sci-Fi Could Help Solve Climate Change

Grist

Grist / CSA-Printstock / Getty Images
As early as 1905, nearly 50 years before the first photovoltaic cell was put to use, the women of “Ladyland” were thriving on solar energy.
I’m sure that Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain — the Bengali feminist thinker who dreamt up the utopian setting of Sultana’s Dream — would hate to say “I told you so.” But her seeming clairvoyance does beg the question: Is there science fiction out there right now, sitting on some library bookshelf, that could pave a yellow brick road to a better future? And, if there isn’t, shouldn’t there be?
There’s a reason that science fiction can tend toward the dystopian: It’s not hard to imagine things going to shit. But while dystopian fiction can be a jarring wake-up call — it’s one reason we’re (rightfully) freaked out about nuclear war — scholars and writers are increasingly calling for stories that help us rise above our most intimidating challenges. That’s particularly true with the sci-fi subgenre called climate fiction, known by fans as “cli-fi.”
“Climate fiction is sort of a virtual laboratory,” says Lisa Yaszek, a professor of science fiction at Georgia Tech. “It can dramatize our hopes and offer us different visions of the future.”
One example: “Better Worlds,” The Verge’s recent series of optimistic science fiction short stories and videos, several of which explore themes of climate and social justice. In one story, residents of a small island community work together to survive a worsening storm season; in another, a neighborhood bands together to ensure equitable escape from an uninhabitable planet.
“At a time when simply reading the news is an exercise in exhaustion, anxiety, and fear, it’s no surprise that so many of our tales about the future are dark amplifications of the greatest terrors of the present,” writes editor Laura Hudson in an intro to the series. “But now more than ever, we also need the reverse: stories that inspire hope.”
Arizona State University is in on it, too. ASU’s Center for Science and the Imagination has published anthologies spotlighting climate literature, optimistic sci-fi, or both, and is set to release a new anthology this spring called The Weight of Light, which pairs visions of a solar future with scientific essays that describe and analyze the premise behind the prose.
“A big part of our work is bringing together scientific and technological reality with storytelling that’s vivid and relatable for people,” says Joey Eschrich, who works at the center and edited several of the anthologies. “[Science fiction] gives you a sense that you can get your head around these complicated ideas, and maybe have a voice in them.”
That has certainly been the case in the past: We have H.G. Wells to thank for the rocket. Star Trek inspired the first mobile phone. The idea for the taser came from an “electric rifle” in a young adult series from the 1900s (ok, maybe I’m not as jazzed about that one). Science fiction has predicted or inspired future technology so often that corporations now hire sci-fi writers to help dream up new products. (As we speak, one of them might be designing your next pair of shoes.)
The genre has influenced social movements, too: Detroit activist Adrienne Maree Brown gives credit to Patternist series author Octavia Butler for her vision of a just future, and Ernest Callenbach’s 1970 novel Ecotopia became the manifesto for multiple green parties, according to Yaszek.
Writers who are hard at work on present-day challenges include Kim Stanley Robinson, whose 2017 novel, New York 2140, imagines communal life in the half-drowned city.
Cadwell Turnbull’s sci-fi addresses a problem that’s close to home. In his short story for The Verge, Monsters Come Howling in their Season, Turnbull writes about a cooperative community in St. Thomas using artificial intelligence to coordinate resources in the face of increasingly frequent and devastating tropical storms. The story was inspired by the 2017 aftermath of Hurricane Irma, when Turnbull went a day without hearing news from his mother on the Caribbean island.
The AI that Turnbull envisions — which goes by the name “Common” — is smarter than Amazon’s Alexa (and, unlike Microsoft’s Cortana, the characters actually use it). But if you’ve ever asked Siri for directions, it’s a future that doesn’t feel too far off. Turnbull would know — he once worked for Amazon on what he calls “Alexa’s brain.”
“I didn’t want to write about things that we couldn’t see and couldn’t touch and couldn’t think about using right now,” Turnbull says. “I thought that would be in some ways more hopeful.”
But some in the field argue that we need more big, risky, earth-shattering ideas from science fiction writers. Sci-fi author Neal Stephenson blames a dearth of forward-looking science fiction for what he calls “innovation starvation” — “a general failure of our society to get big things done.”
Stephenson can roast us all he wants. But does optimistic climate fiction sell?
Well, it’s unlikely that our disaster obsession will go away anytime soon: George Orwell’s famous dystopian novel, 1984, saw a 9,500 percent increase in sales in the month following President Trump’s inauguration.
Still, cli-fi author Kim Stanley Robinson, who Eschrich calls “a keeper of the utopian impulse,” is one of contemporary science fiction’s most recognizable names. Afrofuturism, which draws from sci-fi and African traditions to envision black people at the center of a powerful, innovative future, featured heavily in Marvel’s 2018 blockbuster Black Panther. Even WALL-E can be interpreted as optimistic cli-fi — at least some life finds a way to survive on a trash-covered Earth. As Margaret Atwood said, “every dystopia contains a little utopia, or at least a better world.”
Journalist Dan Bloom, who coined the term cli-fi in 2008 (and is pretty good-natured when people confuse it for “clit-fic”) hopes that Hollywood will soon take a crack at portraying more hopeful visions of humanity’s future. We haven’t had the cli-fi Star Wars yet, although Interstellar may have come close. Maybe a new hope is all we need to restore freedom to the galaxy.
Yaszek thinks that sci-fi video games could have a positive impact, too: They help us visualize ourselves as changemakers (rather than just letting people in shiny spandex with weird hair do it).
In Thunderbird Strike, a 2017 game by Elizabeth LaPensée, users play a thunderbird flying around Turtle Island hurling lightning bolts at oil rigs. The game is mostly symbolic — its website calls attention to the impact of oil drilling on indigenous lands — but Yaszek says that it makes you feel in control in a unique and powerful way. And it makes an overwhelming problem feel like a game that anyone can win.

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Poorer Households Switching To Solar Faster Than The Rich

FairfaxPeter Hannam

As urban myths go, the one about solar panels being a luxury enjoyed mostly by the wealthy with poorer households left out has endured well beyond reality.
In a research first, the Victoria Energy Policy Centre analysed electricity bills of 10,051 households provided by CHOICE, a fifth with solar power, in NSW, Queensland, South Australia and Victoria. Researchers then used socio-economic data and house prices from Domain.com.au to profile the owners.
Solar panels are not just mainstream, they even turn up more often on lower and middle-income homes that you might expect. Credit: Nick Moir
Contrary to public perceptions, solar panel uptake is proportionally more common in roofs of those with lower- to middle socio-economic standing, the study - commissioned by Solar Citizens - found.
“People are reaching for ways to get control over their energy costs and for millions of low- and middle-income households, solar is the best way to do that," Solar Citizens's national director, Joseph Scales, said.
In fact, the wealthiest decile had the lowest proportional solar uptake, and the poorest had the highest.



Victoria Energy Policy Centre director Bruce Mountain said a range of reasons may be behind the relative lack of interest in solar among the well-heeled. These include potential for heritage restrictions, heavily treed yards shading panels, and a lower responsiveness to rising prices.
Buying panels is “not at the top of their list”, Professor Mountain said. By contrast, soaring power bills have made solar power increasingly attractive for less wealthy families particularly as solar cell prices plunge.
“For most people if you have a north-facing roof in any of our cities, solar will pay for itself in five years or less,” he said.
The study comes as NSW political parties offer a range of policies to spur solar and batteries before next month's election, and follows the Andrews Labor government's promise to help 650,000 households to get solar panels.
Rooftop solar jumped 43 per cent to a record last year, while the leap in new utility-scale solar farms meant the overall capacity tripled to about 3775 megawatts.
Among the other findings of the study was that average households with solar power bought 9 per cent less electricity from the grid, but consumed about a quarter more power than those without panels.
Often that variance was because homes with solar energy - particularly in a belt of about 10 kilometres from the city centres - were also households most likely to draw the biggest benefit from solar.
“In terms of uptake, it’s actually pleasingly rational," Professor Mountain said. "The people who are economically the people to be getting the greatest benefit from it, appear to be installing it in the greatest numbers.”
Not usually this large: Daniel Epstein installed a 17kW solar system on his house in Warrandyte, on Melbourne's northern edge. Credit: Arsineh Houspian
The study also found solar households exporting power back to the grid were in effect subsidising the energy bills of those without panels.
"Around one third of households  in all states sell their electricity to their retailers at a rate that is lower than it would cost their retailers to buy that electricity in the spot markets," the report found. "Retailers profit from this to the extent that they do not pass this on to other customers in lower prices."
The benefits of solar, though, were being blunted by high fixed charges, particularly in Victoria,  compared with variable energy charges.
"Governments should clamp down on standing charges," Professor Mountain said.
The report noted that the fixed component of retail residential offers in Australia "are higher than in any other country as far as we know".
The Victoria Energy Policy Centre plans to extend the study after being given access to a much larger data set of Victorians' energy bills by the state government.

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