We can thank our clouds for saving us from a fate worse than Venus's

Clouds are essential as they reflect and scatter sunlight back into space - but nobody knows how hot the planet can become before the clouds no longer help us.

No one wants to think about cloudy skies in August but if they’re up there, be grateful. According to research published in Nature Geoscience on 28 July, we can thank clouds for saving us from a fate worse than Venus’s.

Venus – a barren, hot planet – suffered from the “runaway greenhouse effect” when its temperature rose past a critical point. That, it seems, arose from having too much thermal insulation resulting from the heat-storing greenhouse gases in the planet’s atmosphere.

On Venus, as on earth, carbon dioxide was an important contributor. Our planet is wet and heating it creates a lot of water vapour, a far more potent insulator than carbon dioxide. The more water vapour there is, the faster warming occurs.

Once you hit the point of no return at which the runaway effect starts, it would take only a few thousand years for life on earth to become untenable.

The recently published calculations show that the Venus effect could happen here – if it weren’t for clouds. They look white and fluffy to us because they scatter light. The tops of the clouds do the same, scattering and reflecting sunlight back into space before it has the chance to warm the earth and take it into the runaway scenario.

There’s still some uncertainty in the calculations, however: we don’t know exactly how hot we can let the planet become before the clouds can no longer help us. Unfortunately, uncertainty in other areas is pushing us in the right direction to find out.

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) will publish its fifth assessment report next year. A draft report of some of its data, leaked to the Economist, suggests that increasing carbon-dioxide levels won’t warm the atmosphere as much as we had previously thought. In 2007, the IPCC stated that concentrations of between 445 and 490 parts per million (ppm) of carbon dioxide were likely to result in a rise in temperature of 2° to 2.4° Celsius above the temperatures before the Industrial Age. The new data suggests that 425 to 485ppm would give a rise of 1.3° to 1.7° Celsius.

The Economist threw in plenty of caveats (“The two findings are not strictly comparable”; the data comes “from a draft version of the report, and could thus change”) but evidently felt the burden of reducing carbon emissions is not as onerous as it once seemed. “It is clear,” the paper declared, “that some IPCC scientists think the projected rise in CO2 levels might not have such a big warming effect as was once thought.”

As it turns out, it’s not just carbon dioxide that we need to worry about. US researchers have been mapping the gas leaks from pipelines in urban areas. Boston has more than 3,000 leaks in the pipelines that deliver gas to homes and industries. Preliminary data from Washington, DC indicates that the capital is just as prone to leaks. It’s of huge concern because methane is 25 times more potent as a greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide. If similar figures apply to every other major city with an ageing gas infrastructure, perhaps the chances of earth slipping into a runaway greenhouse effect need revising upwards.

We can be sure those figures won’t be in the IPCC report, however. As for the ones in the Economist, we’ll just have to wait and see. In many ways, it doesn’t matter: the numbers are out there now and will be put to work by those keen to make sure we don’t punish carbon emitters. Such a leak is not going to make governments feel inclined to do something about the problem – they can just keep their head in the clouds.

Sunset over Tiananmen Square after a day of heavy pollution in Beijing. Photograph: Getty Images.

Michael Brooks holds a PhD in quantum physics. He writes a weekly science column for the New Statesman, and his most recent book is At the Edge of Uncertainty: 11 Discoveries Taking Science by Surprise.

This article first appeared in the 12 August 2013 issue of the New Statesman, What if JFK had lived?

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war