Wind farms and abuse of statistics: bird edition

When "wind farms are dangerous" really just means "there are a lot of birds".

When dealing with large numbers, it helps to have an idea of the expected order of magnitude. That way, you can know whether it is merely the number which is large, or the thing it's describing as well.

For instance, if I tell you of a country with 140,000 people in long-term unemployment, it's rather important for you to know if I'm talking about the US (population 280 million) or Luxembourg (population 525,000).

That's a test a Spectator article, Wind farms vs wildlife, failed quite badly this week.

The author, Clive Hambler, is a lecturer in biological and human sciences at Oxford university, and quotes a number of statistics to demonstrate how dangerous wind farms are to wildlife. For instance:

Every year in Spain alone — according to research by the conservation group SEO/Birdlife — between 6 and 18 million birds and bats are killed by wind farms. They kill roughly twice as many bats as birds. This breaks down as approximately 110–330 birds per turbine per year and 200–670 bats per year. And these figures may be conservative if you compare them to statistics published in December 2002 by the California Energy Commission: ‘In a summary of avian impacts at wind turbines by Benner et al (1993) bird deaths per turbine per year were as high as 309 in Germany and 895 in Sweden.’

Similar claims are made throughout. Apparently the annual death toll of bats in the US and Canada is "up to three million", "Norwegian wind farms kill over ten white-tailed eagles per year", and so on.

What is missing is any context through which we can examine these numbers. It might change our interpretation of the figures to know that:

Domestic and feral cats have also been considered a major source of anthropogenic-caused mortality with estimates near 100 million annual bird deaths [in the US].

Or that, on roads near wetlands in Canada:

223 birds were killed per mile per year.                                                                                            

Power lines in the US are estimated to kill:

…approximately 130 million birds per year.                                                                                                        

While we're banning things, we may want to keep an eye out for that scourge of the avian world, windows:

97.6 to 976 million bird deaths per year in the U.S. due to collisions with windows… based on an estimated 1 to 10 bird deaths per structure per year from a fatality study in New York.

All those figures come from a 2005 paper by the US Department of Agriculture.

In other words, even with the massive figures from Spain – figures which show deaths per turbine per year two orders of magnitude higher than equivalent figures cited in the above paper, which are based on an assumption that for every confirmed death, there's nineteen uncomfirmed, and which come from a set of guidelines which explicitly concludes wind farms are OK for birds if built correctly (pdf) –  wind farms kill fewer birds than cats, power lines, roads or windows. That comparison would have been rather useful to include in the original piece. With that in mind, the numbers in the piece become less a demonstration of the awesome mortality of wind farms, and more a confirmation that yes, there are a lot of birds in the world.

Update

It's been pointed out on Twitter that I'm not comparing like to like. Spain is smaller than the US, of course. Thankfully, the USDA also estimates the number of birds killed by wind farms in America: between 20,000 and 37,000 a year. I let you draw your own conclusions from the discrepancy.

Wind Turbines in Spain. Photograph: Wikimedia Commons

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

Gage Skidmore via Creative Commons
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Donald Trump brings home his dark vision of America at the Republican convention

The Presidential nominee pledged: "Safety must be restored."

Donald Trump brought home the Republican convention Thursday night with a dark vision of contemporary America – a darkness he claimed only his leadership could lift. It was a lengthy, tightly-scripted speech framed around polarities – insiders and outsiders, criminals and victims, the United States and the rest of the world – and infused with righteous anger. And yet against the darkness, he offered not lightness but “greatness” – a bombastic, personalistic vision of how through sheer force of will he could right the American ship before it plunged irretrievably into the depths. “I alone can solve,” he famously tweeted earlier in the campaign. This was the 80-minute version.

Any presidential challenger, of course, has to lay out a set of problems they believe need fixing and a case for why their leadership might make a difference. It was the breathtaking scale and intensity of Trump’s diagnosis, and the lack of optimistic alternative to counterbalance it, that was notable compared to other acceptance speeches. He portrayed the United States as a country riddled with crime and corruption, a “rigged system” in which politicians like Hillary Clinton can evade justice, while police officers trying to protect its citizens become targets; a fearful country, its economy sluggish, its infrastructure crumbling, its security an illusion, and its international stature in freefall

For a candidate who has mocked the soaring rhetoric of President Obama (the “hopey-changey stuff,” as Sarah Palin once called it), it was perhaps not surprising that Trump’s speech would be short on uplift. It was at least more disciplined than his other campaign speeches, if in keeping with their tone and content – the much-maligned teleprompter rolling a script to which he largely stuck. (“He sounds presidential,” a lady behind me remarked, though his press conference Friday morning marked a reversion to free-wheeling form).

It was short on substance too, though acceptance speeches aren’t designed to be policy laundry lists like a State of the Union. Still, there were few specifics, beyond a pledge to revise tax laws which inhibit religious groups from political advocacy, and a newfound concern with student loans. It was daughter Ivanka’s speech that had the greater substantive heft, promising her father would push for new labour laws to help working mothers, and for affordable childcare in the US. Neither are traditional Republican positions, but the crowd seemed on board for anything Trump might offer.

He even had them cheering for LGBTQ rights, after recalling the tragedy in Florida last month, and the need to protect gay Americans from a “hateful foreign ideology” in radical Islam. “It is so nice as a Republican to hear you cheering for what I just said,” he commended the delegates in an unscripted moment. But whether they had really embraced this unexpected message – or if it was the anti-terror chaser that really got them on their feet – remains to be seen. In either case, it was a rare grace note in an otherwise bruising speech.

Presenting himself repeatedly as the candidate of “law and order,” Trump evoked Richard Nixon’s 1968 presidential campaign. At a time when American cities were erupting in race riots and protests over the Vietnam War, Nixon had pitched himself as the face of stability and security. Likewise Trump has reacted to the simmering racial tensions and terrorist attacks this summer with a hard-line stance on “lawlessness.” “Safety must be restored,” Trump said, in one of the eerier lines he delivered. Yet in his convention speech, Nixon had balanced his tough talk with a positive message – speaking of love, courage, and lighting a “lamp of hope” in partnership with the American people. 

Trump channeled another president in his speech, too, when he promised to give voice to “the forgotten men and women of our country” – drawing on the language of Franklin Roosevelt. Roosevelt had promised to aid “the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid” during the 1932 campaign. But Roosevelt’s solution to the forgotten man’s distress was economic internationalism – tearing down tariff walls and trading freely with the world – which the Republican Party then opposed. Trump’s solution is the protectionist policies Roosevelt had railed against.

Trump’s economic and security philosophy is encapsulated in another, more notorious phrase associated with that era: “America First.” A rallying cry for isolationists seeking to avoid US entanglement in World War II, it acquired an anti-Semitic taint. But Trump has employed it nonetheless, capturing as it does his core argument that America must do more to protect its own citizens against threats from within and without – from illegal immigrants, from radicalized Islamic terrorists, from the downsides of free international trade. Little wonder that former George W.

Bush staffer Nicolle Wallace announced that the Republican party she knew “died in this room tonight.” In embracing elements of isolationism, protectionism, and nativism, however, it is perhaps truer to say that Trump’s Republican party reverted to an earlier form.

Often disconcerting, at times mesmerizing, the question remains how effective this speech will be. The delegates responded enthusiastically to Trump’s fierce rhetoric, but many prominent Republicans had stayed away from the convention altogether. Combined with Senator Ted Cruz’s non-endorsement, Trump goes into the general election campaign without a fully united party behind him. For both partisans and the public, Trump’s speech offered a cast of villains to rally against, but no positive, unifying vision to rally behind – beyond the much-touted yet elusive “greatness,” of course. In a typical election year, that would seem a critical flaw in a campaign – but Trump loves to confound the naysayers. As his convention speech showed, he thinks the formula that got him this far - showcasing his fame and fanning Americans’ fears – can land him in the White House.