Feeeeeeeeeeeelthy day! I donned full wet weather gear to take Sam out all the same, but I’m not sure she thanked me for it. And I was denied the satisfaction of finding the first periwinkles where they damn well ought to have been.
For the third time in a row, England’s ODI cricket team were swatted aside, dismembered and left in the field for the critics to pick over. Joe Root’s was the only head held high – again.
Me and my computer have come up with this graph. I almost wish we hadn’t. My initial hypothesis is, I’m bound to admit, ridiculously optimistic: world leaders agree to reach peak CO2-e emissions in 2020 and by some unimaginable miracle they do so. Furthermore, emissions are then reduced, slowly at first, then at up to 3% p.a. I know, I know – it ain’t gonna happen. But bear with me. The point is that even this wildly optimistic scenario would take us through the IPCC’s ceiling of 1000 KGt (their “budget” for total man-made emissions since 1750) in 2028.
That doesn’t mean that everything would suddenly go tits up in 2028, because all that extra energy would still have to be absorbed by the system and be translated into nasty events. But it does mean that from 2028 on we would know we were — not to put too fine a point on it — fucked.
A constant 5% rate of reduction from 2021 on makes little difference.
Even a 10% rate only pushes the point of no return back to about 2045.
To push the point of no return into the next century, peak emissions have to come forward to 2018 and still be followed by constant 10% p.a. reductions.
These numbers are comparable to those used by Clive Hamilton in Requiem For A Species. I just wanted to do the calculations myself.
Cheering news this is not. And it’s still raining…