Has global warming really stopped?

Mark Lynas responds to a controversial article on newstatesman.com which argued global warming has s

On 19 December the New Statesman website published an article which, judging by the 633 comments (and counting) received so far, must go down in history as possibly the most controversial ever. Not surprising really – it covered one of the most talked-about issues of our time: climate change. Penned by science writer David Whitehouse, it was guaranteed to get a big response: the article claimed that global warming has ‘stopped’.

As the New Statesman’s environmental correspondent, I have since been deluged with queries asking if this represents a change of heart by the magazine, which has to date published many editorials steadfastly supporting urgent action to reduce carbon emissions. Why bother doing that if global warming has ‘stopped’, and therefore might have little or nothing to do with greenhouse gas emissions, which are clearly rising?

I’ll deal with this editorial question later. First let’s ask whether Whitehouse is wholly or partially correct in his analysis. To quote:

"The fact is that the global temperature of 2007 is statistically the same as 2006 as well as every year since 2001. Global warming has, temporarily or permanently, ceased. Temperatures across the world are not increasing as they should according to the fundamental theory behind global warming – the greenhouse effect. Something else is happening and it is vital that we find out what or else we may spend hundreds of billions of pounds needlessly."

I’ll be blunt. Whitehouse got it wrong – completely wrong. The article is based on a very elementary error: a confusion between year-on-year variability and the long-term average. Although CO2 levels in the atmosphere are increasing each year, no-one ever argued that temperatures would do likewise. Why? Because the planet’s atmosphere is a chaotic system, which expresses a great deal of interannual variability due to the interplay of many complex and interconnected variables. Some years are warmer and cooler than others. 1998, for example, was a very warm year because an El Nino event in the Pacific released a lot of heat from the ocean. 2001, by contrast, was somewhat cooler, though still a long way above the long-term average. 1992 was particularly cool, because of the eruption of a large volcano in the Philippines called Mount Pinatubo.

‘Climate’ is defined by averaging out all this variability over a longer term period. So you won’t, by definition, see climate change from one year to the next - or even necessarily from one decade to the next. But look at the change in the average over the long term, and the trend is undeniable: the planet is getting hotter.

Look at the graph below, showing global temperatures over the last 25 years. These are NASA figures, using a global-mean temperature dataset known as GISSTEMP. (Other datasets are available, for example from the UK Met Office. These fluctuate slightly due to varying assumptions and methodology, but show nearly identical trends.) Now imagine you were setting out to write Whitehouse’s article at some point in the past. You could plausibly have written that global warming had ‘stopped’ between 1983 and 1985, between 1990 and 1995, and, if you take the anomalously warm 1998 as the base year, between 1998 and 2004. Note, however, the general direction of the red line over this quarter-century period. Average it out and the trend is clear: up.

Note also the blue lines, scattered like matchsticks across the graph. These, helpfully added by the scientists at RealClimate.org (from where this graph is copied), partly in response to the Whitehouse article, show 8-year trend lines – what the temperature trend is for every 8-year period covered in the graph.

You’ll notice that some of the lines, particularly in the earlier part of the period, point downwards. These are the periods when global warming ‘stopped’ for a whole 8 years (on average), in the flawed Whitehouse definition – although, as astute readers will have quickly spotted, the crucial thing is what year you start with. Start with a relatively warm year, and the average of the succeeding eight might trend downwards. In scientific parlance, this is called ‘cherry picking’, and explains how Whitehouse can assert that "since [1998] the global temperature has been flat" – although he is even wrong on this point of fact, because as the graph above shows, 2005 was warmer.

Note also how none of the 8-year trend lines point downwards in the last decade or so. This illustrates clearly how, far from having ‘stopped’, global warming has actually accelerated in more recent times. Hence the announcement by the World Meteorological Organisation on 13 December, as the Bali climate change meeting was underway, that the decade of 1998-2007 was the “warmest on record”. Whitehouse, and his fellow contrarians, are going to have to do a lot better than this if they want to disprove (or even dispute) the accepted theory of greenhouse warming.

The New Statesman’s position on climate change

Every qualified scientific body in the world, from the American Association for the Advancement of Science to the Royal Society, agrees unequivocally that global warming is both a reality, and caused by man-made greenhouse gas emissions. But this doesn’t make them right, of course. Science, in the best Popperian definition, is only tentatively correct, until someone comes along who can disprove the prevailing theory. This leads to a frequent source of confusion, one which is repeated in the Whitehouse article – that because we don’t know everything, therefore we know nothing, and therefore we should do nothing. Using that logic we would close down every hospital in the land. Yes, every scientific fact is falsifiable – but that doesn’t make it wrong. On the contrary, the fact that it can be challenged (and hasn’t been successfully) is what makes it right.

Bearing all this in mind, what should a magazine like the New Statesman do in its coverage of the climate change issue? Newspapers and magazines have a difficult job of trying, often with limited time and information, to sort out truth from fiction on a daily basis, and communicating this to the public – quite an awesome responsibility when you think about it. Sometimes even a viewpoint which is highly likely to be wrong gets published anyway, because it sparks a lively debate and is therefore interesting. A publication that kept to a monotonous party line on all of the day’s most controversial issues would be very boring indeed.

However, readers of my column will know that I give contrarians, or sceptics, or deniers (call them what you will) short shrift, and as a close follower of the scientific debate on this subject I can state without doubt that there is no dispute whatsoever within the expert community as to the reality or causes of manmade global warming. But even then, just because all the experts agree doesn’t make them right – it just makes them extremely unlikely to be wrong. That in turn means that if someone begs to disagree, they need to have some very strong grounds for doing so – not misreading a basic graph or advancing silly conspiracy theories about IPCC scientists receiving paycheques from the New World Order, as some of Whitehouse’s respondents do.

So, a mistaken article reached a flawed conclusion. Intentionally or not, readers were misled, and the good name of the New Statesman has been used all over the internet by climate contrarians seeking to support their entrenched positions. This is regrettable. Good journalism should never exclude legitimate voices from a debate of public interest, but it also needs to distinguish between carefully-checked fact and distorted misrepresentations in complex and divisive areas like this. The magazine’s editorial policy is unchanged: we want to see aggressive action to reduce carbon emissions, and support global calls for planetary temperatures to be stabilised at under two degrees above pre-industrial levels.

Yes, scientific uncertainties remain in every area of the debate. But consider how high the stakes are here. If the 99% of experts who support the mainstream position are right, then we have to take urgent action to reduce emissions or face some pretty catastrophic consequences. If the 99% are wrong, and the 1% right, we will be making some unnecessary efforts to shift away from fossil fuels, which in any case have lots of other drawbacks and will soon run out. I’d hate to offend anyone here, but that’s what I’d call a no-brainer.

Mark Lynas has is an environmental activist and a climate change specialist. His books on the subject include High Tide: News from a warming world and Six Degree: Our future on a hotter planet.
BILL EPPRIDGE/THE LIFE PICTURE COLLECTION/GETTY
Show Hide image

Goodbye to the liberal era

How identity politics replaced class and the personal became political.

In October 1988 Marxism Today published its special issue on what it called “the New Times”. The Labour Party had been defeated and marginalised by Margaret Thatcher’s Conservatives and the monthly magazine’s editorial described the world after the first decade of the global liberal economic revolution. A new era was taking shape, driven by “flexibility, diversity, differentiation, mobility, communication, decentralisation and internationalisation”. The transition was transforming people’s identities and even their sense of self.

In a brilliant opening essay, Robin Murray argued that the British economy was entering a period of post-Fordism: the national capitalism of mechanised, standardised forms of mass production subject to scientific management was being transformed into a global, flexible, market-based system of services and niche production. John Urry, in “Disorganised Capitalism”, described globalisation as undermining the “coherence, wholeness and unity of individual ­societies”. At the heart of any transformatory project, wrote Rosalind Brunt, must be a politics of identity. Class was no longer the organising category of political, cultural and social life. New social movements around gender, sexuality, race and the environment were asserting their differences. Charles Leadbeater in his piece called for a “socialist individualism”.

New Times was a radical intervention that challenged conventional left thinking. It offered intellectual resources for the renewal of the Labour Party. But, in particular, New Times defined the world of the baby-boomer generation, which had come of age in the 1960s under conditions of growing and sustained affluence.

This generation constituted a “service class fraction” in the emerging information-oriented, post-Fordist economy. It was the first generation to break away from the confines of the industrial class system, but it did not inherit the traditional cultural authority of intellectuals. The proliferation and fragmentation of knowledge was such that roles were confined to narrow and specialised fields as interpreters and translators of information. Those who belonged to this class fraction were economically secure but politically subordinate to capital. They were workers but did not belong to the old labour interest. In the cities, they gravitated to the left and brought with them a new kind of politics.

Theirs was a revolt against the disciplines of industrial society. Imperatives of economic security gave way to post-materialist values and a liberation ethic of individual self-expression and anti-establishment sentiment. Normative values of gender, sexuality and family life were rejected as oppressive. Uprooted from the decaying patterns of industrial life, a generation embarked on an intellectual renascence of utopian and egalitarian countercultures. Identity politics replaced class and the personal became political. The boundaries between private and public life, the objective and the subjective, politics and morality, were blurred. These internationalised, liberationist cultures provided resources for new forms of capital accumulation and commodification. They have shaped the past four decades of Western culture and the liberal political class that is now passing out of power.

In 1988, New Times defined a politics for this generation and class fraction. A reliance on a revisionist Marxism influenced by critical theory and structuralism reduced individuals to concepts, structured by forces beyond their knowledge and control. Work, relationships, the life of family and friends were either deconstructed to expose their relations of power or were reduced to abstractions. Idealism replaced the slow and incremental business of politics. In these “New Times”, there were no “specific people living in specific places”.

The class fraction of “the New Times” grew considerably with the expansion of the professions and the public sector. Despite its considerable cultural influence, its socially liberal politics have not translated beyond its own specificity into the broader population. In 1964 Perry Anderson, the editor of New Left Review, had dismissed English intellectual life as “comprehensive, coagulated conservatism”. Together with Tom Nairn he established an influential view among the intellectual left that English modernity was no more than a combination of cultural philistinism and Benthamite utilitarianism. “The New Times” inherited this disdain for England, and so disconnected radical politics from its common culture. The left lost the capacity to contest the mainstream politics of national identity. With the decline of industrial collectivism, the influence of this class fraction grew in the Labour Party.

 

New Labour

In an essay in the October 1991 issue of Marxism Today, Tony Blair, then a member of the shadow front bench, set out a new agenda for Labour. He called for a socialism that redefined the relationship between society and the individual. New Times had provided important groundwork for New Labour’s revisionism, but it was forged out of the party’s humiliating defeat in 1983. Philip Gould, in his definitive account of the New Labour years, The Unfinished Revolution, wrote that the party “had declared political war on the values, instincts and ethics of the great majority of decent hard-working voters”. Gould wanted change. The country needed modernisation. He found inspiration in Bill Clinton’s New Democrats and the 1992 US presidential election campaign. “The Clinton experience,” he wrote, “was seminal for the Labour Party.”

New Labour’s progressive politics was learned from the Clinton government and its construction of a US-led, liberal market globalisation. Robert Reich, Clinton’s labour secretary, described progressive globalisation in his 1991 book, The Work of Nations. “There will be no national products or technologies, no national corporations, no national industries. There will no longer be national economies. At least as we have come to understand that concept.”

The Clinton presidency prioritised an opening up of foreign markets spearheaded by the financial sector. Business took advantage of the deregulation of capital controls to become global organisations, shifting money, goods and production across borders in search of customers, low-waged workers and low-tax regimes. The capacity of sovereign democratic governments to govern their national territories and represent the interests of their citizens was undermined. Globalisation, privatisation and market-based reforms began to deinstitutionalise national economies. Public-service reform turned the organisational cultures of education, health care and welfare into quasi or proxy markets. Intangible outputs such as relationships of care, the processes of learning and provision of social security were incentivised and measured by proxies such as cost indicators and league tables, in order to judge their “value for money”.

The character of the nation state itself began to change. In his book The Shield of Achilles (2002), Philip Bobbitt identified a new trend towards a “market state”. The nation state had been responsible for groups and embodied the values of a national culture. Its economic arena was the workplace or factory. Men and women were producers. In contrast, the market state enhanced the opportunities of individuals, and promoted economic efficiency and choice. Its economic arena is the marketplace. Men and women are consumers.

Britain’s liberal-market revolution and the deinstitutionalisation of national forms of organisation provided fresh impetus for the integration of the European Union. The Single European Act 1986 created a European Union with a single market, “in which the free movement of goods, peoples, services, and capital is assured”. Barriers to trade, including public contracts, state aid, financial regulation and “discriminating standards” were then steadily dismantled to create a single free market. In February 1992 the Maastricht Treaty formally tied the single market to economic and monetary union, with a future single currency – the euro – and a social chapter. Britain opted out of both and so set itself on a divergent path from its European partners.

In 2004 ten more countries, eight of them from the old Eastern Bloc, joined the EU. By then, popular anger at high levels of immigration, from both outside and within the EU, was adding to anxieties about rising levels of personal debt, stagnating wages and economic insecurity. The Labour government, unlike that of most other EU countries, decided against transitional controls preventing people from the new states working in Britain. It calculated that levels of immigration from these countries would be negligible. They weren’t. Between 1997 and 2010 net immigration quadrupled, boosting the UK’s population by more than two million. Immigration grew and it came to define British politics for a decade and more. New Labour’s pro-EU politics of deregulated employment markets and free movement of labour was, I think, the undoing of progressive politics and set the political conditions for the Brexit vote in 2016.

Change as both a virtue and an unstoppable force lay at the heart of New Labour’s progressive politics. The socialist individual of New Times had become the restless entrepreneur of New Labour. Philip Gould had echoed Robert Reich in defining the 21st century as an age of “permanent revolution”. By 2005, Tony Blair was celebrating the dynamism of rapid globalisation: “The character of this changing world is indifferent to tradition. Unforgiving of frailty. No respecter of past reputations. It has no custom and practice. It is replete with opportunities, but they only go to those swift to adapt, slow to complain, open, willing and able to change.”

For New Labour, it seemed, things could only get better.

 

The vote for Brexit

In 1988 New Times was prescient in describing a new global capitalism that was transforming the institutions and industries of national economies. New Labour embraced this. Yet for millions of the working and middle classes the combination of economic and social liberalism ultimately created stagnant wages, moral uncertainty and a threat to their social identity. Progressive politics was partial in recognising these new grievances. To favour one’s own kind over foreign nationals was seen as racist and xenophobic. To want borders that control the free flow of goods and labour to safeguard one’s job and way of life was both morally wrong and economically inefficient. A love of one’s own home town and country, and a desire to give priority to their wealth and security, was misguided. The sovereignty of a nation was a misnomer.

The politics and attitudes espoused by liberal globalists have provoked the very things they most dislike. Conflicts around inequality and the labour interest are now being played out through nationalism and identity rather than class. People need secure and confident social identities in order to stand up for themselves and challenge powerful interests. It is the populist right not the progressive left that speaks for those who feel dispossessed. In the conflicts between global capitalism and national democracy, it is the populist right, not the progressive left, that is winning the arguments between nationalism and cosmopolitanism, national sovereignty and global governance, and particularism and universalism.

Progressive politics, with its ­ahistorical moral relativism and its lack of cultural rootedness, embraced a borderless globalisation, and so helped to disarm society’s defences against commodification. Its left-wing variant continues to thrive in the globally focused cultures of the metropolitan cities and among the class fraction that created the original optimism of “the New Times”. However, younger generations of this class have not escaped a second wave of globalisation that is shifting high-skilled, high-value work to low-cost countries. Immigration and the huge global increase in numbers of graduates have created a global competition for talent.

The younger middle class no longer has economic and housing security. It lacks ­opportunities for job satisfaction in the interpersonal services, knowledge and cultural industries. The search for higher productivity has led management to impose greater standardisation and control, with the subsequent loss of professional auton­omy and discretion. This power struggle within the middle classes has created a new political radicalism expressed in support for Jeremy Corbyn, but Corbynism has ­minority appeal.

Yet the conditions exist for a broad electoral coalition organised around the labour interest in the cause of family, work and the places people belong. What is absent is a ­political leadership capable of bringing together its diverse range of occupations, classes and age groups. The future of British politics is Brexit. In 1940 Winston Churchill won against the appeasers because Clement Attlee supported his war ministry. Attlee understood that the labour interest and the national interest were indivisible. This insight and Labour’s contribution to the war effort ensured the party’s historic victory in 1945.

Labour has to accept that the country is leaving the European Union and stand for the labour interest in the restoration of a self-governing, trading nation. It has three objectives: to restore British sovereignty and control of our borders and law-making; to spread political and economic power to people wherever they live through the constitutional and political reform of the Union and its governance; and to reform the economy in the interests of the middling majority. By defining a new democratic sovereignty and putting the labour interest at its heart, Labour can build its new electoral coalition. That is its patriotic duty. The alternative is perpetual defeat.

Jonathan Rutherford is a writer and former academic

This article first appeared in the 02 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, American carnage