Global Warming: Inhofe Out

Today NPR reports that Senator James Inhofe (R, Oklahoma), Chair of the Senate's Committee on Environment and Public Works, is giving up his gavel following the democrats appropriation of the majority. For those who still believe global warming is a giant hoax, this is really bad news.

Inhofe, who has led the committee since republicans took control of the senate in 2002, has been an outspoken advocate of evidence disputing the hypothesis that the world is getting warmer as a result of carbon-dioxide emissions and rampant deforestation. He has called this hypothesis, which he distrusts so immensely: "A great hoax perpetrated on the American people."

If you've seen the movie Thank You for Smoking, you are familiar with the type of work Inhofe has done these past four years. He insists the evidence of scientists is inconclusive in order to stall legislation that would hurt the oil & gas industry - which incidentally provides more campaign funding to Inhofe than to any other Senator in the United States (with the possible exception of John Cornyn (R, Texas)). In his own words Inhofe is insisting "on sound science," a seemingly respectable pursuit - albeit an impossible one.

A scientific hypothesis is, by its very nature, unprovable. A hypothesis can be supported or substantiated, and subsequently earn widespread credibility. But a hypothesis is just a working assumption which must concede to disproving evidence should it appear in future experimentation.

To stall policy while waiting for proof could stall policy indefinitely.

Here I must point out: it is one thing for scientists to reserve judgement ad infinitum, but another entirely for legislators to mull over evidence for centuries. The term given to lengthy study in science is 'investigation.' In congress, it's dubbed 'polemics.'

I'd like to be as objective as possible in my treatment of individuals on this site. To this end, I will try to assume that all human beings are well intentioned. Thus, I credit Inhofe for his judicious scrutiny of evidence and general consideration for the merits of many opinions. But I'll say flatly: I just do not see the same benefit to political inaction.

Politicians are supposed to be decision makers! Which is to say that they are effectually hired guessers. Confident guessing is part of the job!

In case you think Inhofe waits patiently for evidence in all matters, consider his reasons for the U.S. backing the Israeli state: "I believe very strongly that we ought to support Israel; that it has a right to the land. This is the most important reason: Because God said so. As I said a minute ago, look it up in the book of Genesis. It is right up there on the desk."

First I want to know how a Christian bible has infiltrated the Senate floor. Second, I wonder what sound science Inhofe has studied to cite the English translation of an ancient manuscript as a literal transcription of this god (of allegedly supreme credibility). Finally, I want to know why Inhofe's god has dominion over policy of the secular United States government. I wonder if Inhofe is familiar with more recent text: The U.S. Constitution.

According to Establishment Clause of the First Ammendment: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion." So much for the actionability of the word of God.

If you've read Al Gore's book or seen his 2006 film, An Inconvenient Truth, as Inhofe has, I think you've seen compelling evidence that the earth is baking. While we can't prove the global warming hypothesis, the theory is widely credited.

The evidence is in! Inhofe's out! It's time for the committee to start acting!

A Tear in the Canvas

Let me paint the scene:

It's a gorgeous, Saturday morning in San Francisco. I'm sitting on a park bench by the bay with a cup of coffee, a lox and cream-cheese bagel, and an enthralling book. I watch a light wind blow ornate kites over the heads of delighted toddlers. Alcatraz, The Golden Gate Bridge, and the hills of Marin County form a panorama beyond the choppy sea as boats sail in the marina. A crew of men around my age are outfitted with flags playing football on the green while dog-walkers, bikers, and tandems of joggers pass by. From the distance, I hear the muted trumpet of an ocean-liner approaching the harbor. Occasional susurruses of laughter escape from a bunch of sailors by the docks, who are packing in their rigs.

I smile. Such beauty!

I'm still in my reverie as I meander up Fillmore Street, by the Marina school - its marble facade glistening in the afternoon sun. The land beneath my feet is the rubble of the great quake from 1906. I marvel that the stately houses around me are built on ash and mortar bulldozed into the sea. Tragedy decomposed into such splendor!

Just then a bicyclist at the intersection stops abruptly. A black sedan following too closely nudges his rear tire. The cyclist dismounts, removes his helmet, and kicks the grill of the car as the demure lady behind the wheel mimes frightened apologies. Obscenities echo off of the walls of surrounding buildings like the bursts of firecrackers. People stare. "She hit me!" shouts the pedestrian, scanning the sidewalks for support, and finding only aghast onlookers with open jaws. "I've got to teach this woman a lesson!" Remounting his bike the cyclist plants himself in front of the car at the intersection, refusing to budge. Within seconds, horns blare, but the impetuous cyclist remains motionless. The woman in the car sighs and rests her head on the window, exasperated.

At last - a tear in the canvas.

In a Lifetime

I wonder if there will be stories like this one about people in our own generation. Frankly, I doubt it.

I found a Wikipedia entry about a man named Henry Burrell.

Listen to this: the man was a stand-up comedian who took an interest in platypuses. By loafing around platypus habitats in his free time, he learned how to build enclosures keep platypuses alive in captivity at a time when no one else could. He was honored by the British Government for this discovery with knighthood (or, at least, something close to it).

Sometime later, he took a photograph of a taxidermed thylacine (a foxlike creature from Tasmania) with a chicken in its mouth and submitted it to a newpaper. The photo, when printed, led farmers to believe the thylacine would prey on their poultry, even though the animal was no more of a danger to their hens than fingerless persons to string cheese. For fear of poultry-predation by roaming thylacines, farmers subsequently hunted the species to extinction!

Finally, before the man died he "was stricken with paralysis," but then, "recovered!"

All I can say is: What a life story!

That one person could have such storied adventures and misadventures in life is really quite flooring. Think of it: we're all brought up on candied expectations that we'll lead prolific lives. (I was convinced I'd be a professional baseball player and be president of the United States while curing cancer and designing my own videogames). But few people amass biographies that even begin to match the dynamism of early-life designs. I think the days when one person might realistically play many significant roles in a lifetime are simply gone.

Let's face it; the work of dilettantes today will not merit encyclopedic entry. The frontiers of knowledge in many fields, and especially in the biological sciences, have advanced far beyond the range of dabblers and tyros. To be a contributer to the scientific knowledgebase today you need not only a doctorate, but years of post-doctoral work and a gaggle of peer reviewed papers to your name as well.

So much for the desultory labors of stand-up comedians.

Perhaps the community is better off now that rigorously prepared scientists map out new waters. The thylacines certainly wouldn't complain.

As members of the community, we do benefit from better information than we used to, and innovation occurs at a higher pace than it did previously. But now that the contributions come from highly specialized cells of experts, what can the laity aspire to?

I'll tell you. We resign ourselves to wallow as consumers. We bath in the neon glow of television sets and internet news sites, waiting for scientists to conquer the unknown for us. Also, as if it were too demanding to refer to scientists by name, we assign the bunch a sobriquet, the third person plural pronoun: They.

Did you know that They discovered a new element today? What will They think of next?!

We leave exploration to someone with expertise - narrow, vertical focus achieved through the sacrifice of broad experience.

The era of the generalist is concluding. Fewer fascinating biographies like that of Henry Burrell, will exist. Our progression will be a tragedy for humanists, who appreciate the twists and turns of an adventurous lifetime. But as I mentioned earlier, the thylacines would not complain.