ice – Cabot Institute for the Environment blog

Limiting global warming to 2℃ is not enough – why the world must keep temperature rise below 1℃

Posted on June 29, 2023 by amanda.woodman-hardy

Warming of more than 1℃ risks unsafe and harmful outcomes for humanity.
Ink Drop/Shutterstock

The Paris Climate agreement represented a historic step towards a safer future for humanity on Earth when it was adopted in 2015. The agreement strove to keep global heating below 2℃ above pre-industrial levels with the aim of limiting the increase to 1.5℃ if possible. It was signed by 196 parties around the world, representing the overwhelming majority of humanity.

But in the intervening eight years, the Arctic region has experienced record-breaking temperatures, heatwaves have gripped many parts of Asia and Australia has faced unprecedented floods and wildfires. These events remind us of the dangers associated with climate breakdown. Our newly published research argues instead that humanity is only safe at 1℃ of global warming or below.

While one extreme event cannot be solely attributed to global heating, scientific studies have shown that such events are much more likely in a warmer world. Since the Paris agreement, our understanding of the impacts of global heating have also improved.

A fishing boat surrounded by icebergs that have come off a glacier. — Fishing boat dwarfed by icebergs that came off Greenland’s largest glacier, Jakobshavn Isbrae.
Jonathan Bamber, Author provided

Rising sea levels are an inevitable consequence of global warming. This is due to the combination of increased land ice melting and warmer oceans, which cause the volume of ocean water to increase. Recent research shows that in order to eliminate the human-induced component of sea-level rise, we need to return to temperatures last seen in the pre-industrial era (usually taken to be around 1850).

Perhaps more worrying are tipping points in the climate system that are effectively irreversible on human timescales if passed. Two of these tipping points relate to the melting of the Greenland and West Antarctic ice sheets. Together, these sheets contain enough ice to raise the global sea level by more than ten metres.

The temperature threshold for these ice sheets is uncertain, but we know that it lies close to 1.5℃ of global heating above pre-industrial era levels. There’s even evidence that suggests the threshold may already have been passed in one part of west Antarctica.

Critical boundaries

A temperature change of 1.5℃ might sound quite small. But it’s worth noting that the rise of modern civilisation and the agricultural revolution some 12,000 years ago took place during a period of exceptionally stable temperatures.

Our food production, global infrastructure and ecosystem services (the goods and services provided by ecosystems to humans) are all intimately tied to that stable climate. For example, historical evidence shows that a period called the little ice age (1400-1850), when glaciers grew extensively in the northern hemisphere and frost fairs were held annually on the River Thames, was caused by a much smaller temperature change of only about 0.3℃.

A sign marking the retreat of a glacier since 1908. — Jasper National Park, Canada. Glaciers used to grow extensively in the Northern Hemisphere.
Matty Symons/Shutterstock

A recent review of the current research in this area introduces a concept called “Earth system boundaries”, which defines various thresholds beyond which life on our planet would suffer substantial harm. To avoid passing multiple critical boundaries, the authors stress the need to limit temperature rise to 1℃ or less.

In our new research, we also argue that warming of more than 1℃ risks unsafe and harmful outcomes. This potentially includes sea level rise of multiple metres, more intense hurricanes and more frequent weather extremes.

More affordable renewable energy

Although we are already at 1.2℃ above pre-industrial temperatures, reducing global temperatures is not an impossible task. Our research presents a roadmap based on current technologies that can help us work towards achieving the 1℃ warming goal. We do not need to pull a technological “rabbit out of the hat”, but instead we need to invest and implement existing approaches, such as renewable energy, at scale.

Renewable energy sources have become increasingly affordable over time. Between 2010 and 2021, the cost of producing electricity from solar energy reduced by 88%, while wind power saw a reduction of 67% over the same period. The cost of power storage in batteries (for when the availability of wind and sunlight is low) has also decreased, by 70% between 2014 and 2020.

An aerial photograph of a photovoltaic power plant on a lush hillside. — A photovoltaic power plant in Yunnan, China.
Captain Wang/Shutterstock

The cost disparity between renewable energy and alternative sources like nuclear and fossil fuels is now huge – there is a three to four-fold difference.

In addition to being affordable, renewable energy sources are abundantly available and could swiftly meet society’s energy demands. Massive capacity expansions are also currently underway across the globe, which will only further bolster the renewable energy sector. Global solar energy manufacturing capacity, for example, is expected to double in 2023 and 2024.

Removing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere

Low-cost renewable energy will enable our energy systems to transition away from fossil fuels. But it also provides the means of directly removing CO₂ from the atmosphere at a large scale.

CO₂ removal is crucial for keeping warming to 1℃ or less, even though it requires a significant amount of energy. According to research, achieving a safe climate would require dedicating between 5% and 10% of total power generation demand to effective CO₂ removal. This represents a realistic and attainable policy option.

Various measures are used to remove CO₂ from the atmosphere. These include nature-based solutions like reforestation, as well as direct air carbon capture and storage. Trees absorb CO₂ from the atmosphere through photosynthesis and then lock it up for centuries.

A group of people planting a mangrove forest next to the sea. — A mangrove forest being planted in Klong Khone Samut Songkhram Province, Thailand.
vinai chunkhajorn/Shutterstock

Direct air capture technology was originally developed in the 1960s for air purification on submarines and spacecrafts. But it has since been further adapted for use on land. When combined with underground storage methods, such as the process of converting CO₂ into stone, this technology provides a safe and permanent method of removing CO₂ from the atmosphere.

Our paper demonstrates that the tools and technology exist to achieve a safer, healthier and more prosperous future – and that it’s economically viable to do so. What appears to be lacking is the societal will and, as a consequence, the political conviction and commitment to achieve it.

————————-

This blog is written Cabot Institute for the Environment member Jonathan Bamber, Professor of Glaciology and Earth Observation, University of Bristol and Christian Breyer, Professor of Solar Economy, Lappeenranta University of Technology. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Arctic Ocean could be ice-free in summer by 2030s, say scientists – this would have global, damaging and dangerous consequences

Posted on June 8, 2023 by amanda.woodman-hardy

Ice in the Chukchi Sea, north of Alaska and Siberia.
NASA Goddard Space Flight Center

The Arctic Ocean could be ice-free in summer by the 2030s, even if we do a good job of reducing emissions between now and then. That’s the worrying conclusion of a new study in Nature Communications.

Predictions of an ice-free Arctic Ocean have a long and complicated history, and the 2030s is sooner than most scientists had thought possible (though it is later than some had wrongly forecast). What we know for sure is the disappearance of sea ice at the top of the world would not only be an emblematic sign of climate breakdown, but it would have global, damaging and dangerous consequences.

The Arctic has been experiencing climate heating faster than any other part of the planet. As it is at the frontline of climate change, the eyes of many scientists and local indigenous people have been on the sea ice that covers much of the Arctic Ocean in winter. This thin film of frozen seawater expands and contracts with the seasons, reaching a minimum area in September each year.

Animation of Arctic sea ice from space — Arctic sea ice grows until March and then shrinks until September.
NASA

The ice which remains at the end of summer is called multiyear sea ice and is considerably thicker than its seasonal counterpart. It acts as barrier to the transfer of both moisture and heat between the ocean and atmosphere. Over the past 40 years this multiyear sea ice has shrunk from around 7 million sq km to 4 million. That is a loss equivalent to roughly the size of India or 12 UKs. In other words, it’s a big signal, one of the most stark and dramatic signs of fundamental change to the climate system anywhere in the world.

As a consequence, there has been considerable effort invested in determining when the Arctic Ocean might first become ice-free in summer, sometimes called a “blue ocean event” and defined as when the sea ice area drops below 1 million sq kms. This threshold is used mainly because older, thicker ice along parts of Canada and northern Greenland is expected to remain long after the rest of the Arctic Ocean is ice-free. We can’t put an exact date on the last blue ocean event, but one in the near future would likely mean open water at the North Pole for the first time in thousands of years.

Annotated map of Arctic — The thickest ice (highlighted in pink) is likely to remain even if the North Pole is ice-free.
NERC Center for Polar Observation and Modelling, CC BY-SA

One problem with predicting when this might occur is that sea ice is notoriously difficult to model because it is influenced by both atmospheric and oceanic circulation as well as the flow of heat between these two parts of the climate system. That means that the climate models – powerful computer programs used to simulate the environment – need to get all of these components right to be able to accurately predict changes in sea ice extent.

Melting faster than models predicted

Back in the 2000s, an assessment of early generations of climate models found they generally underpredicted the loss of sea ice when compared to satellite data showing what actually happened. The models predicted a loss of about 2.5% per decade, while the observations were closer to 8%.

The next generation of models did better but were still not matching observations which, at that time were suggesting a blue ocean event would happen by mid-century. Indeed, the latest IPCC climate science report, published in 2021, reaches a similar conclusion about the timing of an ice-free Arctic Ocean.

As a consequence of the problems with the climate models, some scientists have attempted to extrapolate the observational record resulting in the controversial and, ultimately, incorrect assertion that this would happen during the mid 2010s. This did not help the credibility of the scientific community and its ability to make reliable projections.

Ice-free by 2030?

The scientists behind the latest study have taken a different approach by, in effect, calibrating the models with the observations and then using this calibrated solution to project sea ice decline. This makes a lot of sense, because it reduces the effect of small biases in the climate models that can in turn bias the sea ice projections. They call these “observationally constrained” projections and find that the Arctic could become ice-free in summer as early as 2030, even if we do a good job of reducing emissions between now and then.

Walruses on ice floe — Walruses depend on sea ice. As it melts, they’re being forced onto land.
outdoorsman / shutterstock

There is still plenty of uncertainty around the exact date – about 20 years or so – because of natural chaotic fluctuations in the climate system. But compared to previous research, the new study still brings forward the most likely timing of a blue ocean event by about a decade.

Why this matters

You might be asking the question: so what? Other than some polar bears not being able to hunt in the same way, why does it matter? Perhaps there are even benefits as the previous US secretary of state, Mike Pompeo, once declared – it means ships from Asia can potentially save around 3,000 miles of journey to European ports in summer at least.

But Arctic sea ice is an important component of the climate system. As it dramatically reduces the amount of sunlight absorbed by the ocean, removing this ice is predicted to further accelerate warming, through a process known as a positive feedback. This, in turn, will make the Greenland ice sheet melt faster, which is already a major contributor to sea level rise.

The loss of sea ice in summer would also mean changes in atmospheric circulation and storm tracks, and fundamental shifts in ocean biological activity. These are just some of the highly undesirable consequences and it is fair to say that the disadvantages will far outweigh the slender benefits.

This blog is written by Cabot Institute for the Environment member Jonathan Bamber, Professor of Physical Geography, University of Bristol. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Five satellite images that show how fast our planet is changing

Posted on July 19, 2021April 16, 2023 by janet.crompton

You have probably seen satellite images of the planet through applications like Google Earth. These provide a fascinating view of the surface of the planet from a unique vantage point and can be both beautiful to look at and useful aids for planning. But satellite observations can provide far more insights than that. In fact, they are essential for understanding how our planet is changing and responding to global heating and can do so much more than just “taking pictures”.

It really is rocket science and the kind of information we can now obtain from what are called Earth observation satellites is revolutionising our ability to carry out a comprehensive and timely health check on the planetary systems we rely on for our survival. We can measure changes in sea level down to a single millimetre, changes in how much water is stored in underground rocks, the temperature of the land and ocean and the spread of atmospheric pollutants and greenhouse gases, all from space.

Here I have selected five striking images that illustrate how Earth observation data is informing climate scientists about the changing characteristics of the planet we call home.

1. The sea level is rising – but where?

The sea is rising quickly – but not evenly.
ESA/CLS/LEGOS, CC BY-SA

Sea level rise is predicted to be one of the most serious consequences of global heating: under the more extreme “business-as-usual” scenario, a two-metre rise would flood 600 million people by the end of this century. The pattern of sea surface height change, however, is not uniform across the oceans.

This image shows mean sea level trends over 13 years in which the global average rise was about 3.2mm a year. But the rate was three or four times faster in some places, like the south western Pacific to the east of Indonesia and New Zealand, where there are numerous small islands and atolls that are already very vulnerable to sea level rise. Meanwhile in other parts of the ocean the sea level has barely changed, such as in the Pacific to the west of North America.

2. Permafrost is thawing

Permafrost is permanently frozen ground and the vast majority of it lies in the Arctic. It stores huge quantities of carbon but when it thaws, that carbon is released as CO₂ and an even more potent greenhouse gas: methane. Permafrost stores about 1,500 billion tonnes of carbon – twice as much as in the whole of the atmosphere – and it is incredibly important that carbon stays in the ground.

This animation combines satellite, ground-based measurements of soil temperature and computer modelling to map the permafrost temperature at depth across the Arctic and how it is changing with time, giving an indication of where it is thawing.

3. Lockdown cleans Europe’s skies

Nitrogen dioxide is an atmospheric pollutant that can have serious health impacts, especially for those who are asthmatic or have weakened lung function, and it can increase the acidity of rainfall with damaging effects on sensitive ecosystems and plant health. A major source is from internal combustion engines found in cars and other vehicles.

This animation shows the difference in NO₂ concentrations over Europe before national pandemic-related lockdowns began in March 2020 and just after. The latter shows a dramatic reduction in concentration over major conurbations such as Madrid, Milan and Paris.

4. Deforestation in the Amazon

Credits: ESA/USGS/Deimos Imaging

Tropical forests have been described as the lungs of the planet, breathing in CO₂ and storing it in woody biomass while exhaling oxygen. Deforestation in Amazonia has been in the news recently because of deregulation and increased forest clearing in Brazil but it had been taking place, perhaps not so rapidly, for decades. This animation shows dramatic loss of rainforest in the western Brazilian state of Rondonia between 1986 and 2010, as observed by satellites.

5. A megacity-sized iceberg

The Antarctic Ice Sheet contains enough frozen water to raise global sea level by 58 metres if it all ended up in the ocean. The floating ice shelves that fringe the continent act as a buffer and barrier between the warm ocean and inland ice but they are vulnerable to both oceanic and atmospheric warming.

This animation shows the break-off of a huge iceberg dubbed A-74, captured by satellite radar images that have the advantage they can “see” through clouds and operate day or night and are thus unaffected by the 24 hours of darkness that occurs during the Antarctic winter. The iceberg that forms is 1,270 km² in area which is about the same size as Greater London.

These examples illustrate just a few ways in which satellite data are providing unique, global observations of key components of the climate system and biosphere that are essential for our understanding of how the planet is changing. We can use this data to monitor those changes and improve models used to predict future change. In the run up to the vitally important UN climate conference, COP26 in Glasgow this November, colleagues and I have produced a briefing paper to highlight the role Earth observation satellites will play in safeguarding the climate and other systems that we rely on to make this beautiful, fragile planet habitable.

————————–

This blog is written by Cabot Institute for the Environment member Jonathan Bamber, Professor of Physical Geography, University of Bristol.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Jonathan Bamber

Life in the deep freeze – the revolution that changed our view of glaciers forever

Posted on May 18, 2021March 30, 2023 by janet.crompton

Saiko3p/Shutterstock

I’ve been fascinated by glaciers since I was 14, when geography textbooks taught me about strange rivers of ice that crept down yawning valleys like giant serpents stalking their next meal. That kernel of wonder has carried me through a career of more than 25 years. I’ve travelled to the world’s peaks and its poles to see over 20 glaciers. Yet, when I first started out as a researcher in the early 1990s, we were convinced glaciers were lifeless deserts.

Then in 1999, Professor Martin Sharp and colleagues discovered bacteria living beneath the Haut Glacier d’Arolla in Switzerland. It seemed that glaciers, like the soil or our stomachs, had their own community of microbes, their own microbiome. Since then, we’ve found microorganisms just about everywhere within glaciers, transforming what we thought were sterile wastelands into vibrant ecosystems.

So what’s all that glacier life doing? These life forms may be invisible to the naked eye, but they can control how fast glaciers melt – and may even influence the global climate.

The glacier microbiome

Just like people, glacier microbes modify their homes. When I first saw the melting fringes of Greenland’s vast ice sheet, it looked as if a dust storm had scattered a vast blanket of dirt on the ice. Our team later discovered the dirt included extensive mats of glacier algae. These microscopic plant-like organisms contain pigments to help them harvest the Sun’s rays and protect them from harsh UV radiation. By coating the melting ice surface, they darken it, ensuring the ice absorbs more sunlight which causes more of it to melt. In western Greenland, more than 10% of the summer ice melt is caused by algae.

Bright blue glacier ice on rocky terrain. — The margin of Engabreen glacier, Norway.
Grzegorz Lis, Author provided

Again, just like us, microbes extract things from their environment to survive. The murky depths of glaciers are among the most challenging habitats for life on Earth. Microbes called chemolithotrophs – from the Greek meaning “eaters of rock” – survive here without light and get their energy from breaking down rock, releasing vital nutrients like iron, phosphorous and silicon to the meltwater.

Rivers and icebergs carry these nutrients to the ocean where they sustain the plant-like phytoplankton – the base of marine food webs which ultimately feed entire ecosystems, from microscopic animals, to fish and even whales. Models and satellite observations show a lot of the photosynthesis in the iron-starved Southern Ocean could be sustained by rusty icebergs and meltwaters, which contain iron unlocked by glacier microbes. Recent evidence suggests something similar occurs off west and east Greenland too.

A microscope image depicting chains of brown rectangular cells. — Glacier algae from the Greenland ice sheet.
Chris Williamson, Author provided

But glacier bugs also produce waste, the most worrying of which is the greenhouse gas methane. When ice sheets grow, they bury old soils and sediments, all sources of carbon and the building blocks for earthly life. We think there could be thousands of billions of tonnes of carbon buried beneath ice sheets – potentially more than Arctic permafrost. But who can use it in the oxygen-starved belly of an ice sheet? One type of microbe that flourishes here is the methanogen (meaning “methane maker”), which also thrives in landfill sites and rice paddies.

A waterfall at the edge of a glacier. — Leverett Glacier’s wild river, Greenland.
Jemma Wadham, Author provided

Some methane produced by methanogens escapes in meltwaters flowing from the ice sheet edges. The clever thing about microbial communities, though, is that one microbe’s waste is another’s food. We humans could learn a lot from them about recycling. Some methane beneath glaciers is consumed by bacteria called methanotrophs (methane eaters) which generate energy by converting it to carbon dioxide. They have been detected in Greenlandic glaciers, but most notably in Lake Whillans beneath the West Antarctic Ice Sheet. Here, bacteria have years to chomp on the gas, and almost all of the methane produced in the lake is eaten – a good thing for the climate, since carbon dioxide is 80 times less potent as a greenhouse gas when measured over two decades.

We’re not sure this happens everywhere though. Fast-flowing rivers emerging from the Greenland Ice Sheet are super-saturated with microbial methane because there just isn’t enough time for the methanotrophs to get to work. Will melting glaciers release stored methane faster than these bacteria can convert it?

Within the thick interior of ice sheets, scientists worry that there may be vast reserves of methane. The cold and high pressure here mean that it may be trapped in its solid form, methane hydrate (or clathrate), which is stable unless the ice retreats and thins. It happened before and it could happen again.

Waking the sleeping giant

Despite the climate crisis, when I spend time around glaciers I’m not surprised by their continuing vitality. As I amble up to the gently sloping snout of a glacier – traversing its rubbly lunar-like fore-fields – I often feel like I’m approaching the hulk of an enormous creature. Sleeping or seemingly dormant, the evidence of its last meal is clear from the mass of tawny-coloured rocks, pebbles and boulders strewn around its edges – a tantalising record of where it once rested when the climate was cooler.

As I get closer, I catch the sound of the glacier’s roaring chocolate meltwaters as they explode through an ice cave, punctuated by a cascade of bangs and booms as moving ice collapses into hollow melt channels below. The winds off the ice play ominously in my ears, like the whisper of the beast, a warning: “You’re on my land now.”

The author inside a giant icy chasm within a glacier. — Exploring a frozen melt channel of the Finsterwalderbeeen glacier in Svalbard.
Jon Ove Hagen, Author provided

This sense of aliveness with glaciers changes everything. Resident microbes connect these hulking frozen masses with the Earth’s carbon cycle, ecosystems and climate. How will these connections change if we take away the frigid homes of our tiny glacier dwellers? These creatures may be microscopic, but the effects of their industry span entire continents and oceans.

After a period of uncertainty in my own life, which involved the removal of a satsuma-sized growth in my brain, I felt compelled to tell the story of glaciers to a wider audience. My book, Ice Rivers, is the result. I hope the memoir raises awareness of the dramatic changes that threaten glaciers – unless we act now.

———————————-

This blog is written by Cabot Institute for the Environment Director Jemma Wadham, Professor of Glaciology, University of Bristol.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Professor Jemma Wadham

Beast from the East 2? What ‘sudden stratospheric warming’ involves and why it can cause freezing surface weather

Posted on February 9, 2021March 30, 2023 by janet.crompton

A “sudden stratospheric warming” event took place in early January 2021, according to the Met Office, the UK’s national weather service. These events are some of the most extreme of atmospheric phenomena, and I study them as part of my academic research. The stratosphere is the layer of the atmosphere from around 10km to 50km above the Earth’s surface, and sudden warming up there can lead to very cold weather over Europe and Siberia, with an increased possibility of snow storms.

Happy Major Sudden Stratospheric Warming day! pic.twitter.com/DYYelxYYsb

— Simon Lee (@SimonLeeWx) January 5, 2021

In winter the polar regions are in darkness 24 hours a day, and so the stratosphere over the north pole drops to -60℃ or even lower. The pole is surrounded by strong westerly winds, forming what is known as the polar vortex, a normal occurrence which develops every winter. However, about six times a decade, this vortex can break down in dramatic fashion. This can lead to temperatures over the pole increasing by up to 50°C over a few days, although temperatures are so low that they still remain below freezing. The average wind direction around the pole may also reverse, in which case a “sudden stratospheric warming” event has occurred.

The disturbance in the stratosphere can then be transmitted downward through the atmosphere. If this disturbance reaches the lower levels of the atmosphere it can affect the jet stream, a current of air which normally snakes eastwards around the planet, dividing colder polar air from warmer air to the south.

Where the jet stream crosses the Atlantic it usually points towards the British Isles, but sudden stratospheric warming can lead it to shift towards the equator. As air currents are temporarily rearranged, warmer Atlantic air is replaced by cold air from Siberia or the Arctic, and Europe and Northern Asia may experience unusually cold weather. This is what happened when the infamous “Beast from the East” passed through Europe in 2018, causing huge snowstorms and dozens of deaths.

It can take a number of weeks for the impact of stratospheric warming to reach the surface, or the process may only take a few days. These events are hard to predict in advance. Some can only be predicted a few days ahead while others may be forecast from around two weeks before.

A number of factors including a La Niña event in the tropical Pacific contributed to a strong vortex in early winter 2020/21. Strong vortices are hard to shift, meaning a sudden stratospheric warming event was not looking particularly likely. However, from just before Christmas, weather forecast model predictions began to converge on a likely stratospheric warming event in early January.

From stratosphere to surface

Around two thirds of stratospheric warming events have a detectable surface impact, up to 40 days after the onset of the event. This is usually marked by lower than normal temperatures across Northern Europe and Asia, extending into western Europe, but with warmer temperatures over the eastern Canadian Arctic.

It’s not yet clear why some stratospheric warming events take weeks to impact the surface while others are felt days later, but it may be related to how the polar vortex changes around the onset of a warming event. The vortex can split into two smaller “child vortices”, or it can be displaced from its more usual position centred near the pole, to being over northern Siberia.

Early indications suggested that 2021’s event was more likely to be split, but it subsequently showed more features of a displacement. It is not unusual for the vortex to show such mixed signals.

Colleagues and I recently developed a new method for tracking the impact of a warming event from its onset in the stratosphere to when its effect reaches the surface. We analysed 40 such events from the past 60 years, to try and figure out when we might expect extreme surface weather.

Most importantly, we found that warming events in which the stratospheric polar vortex splits in two generally lead to surface impacts appearing faster and stronger. So although there is an increased chance of snow and extreme cold in mid to late January 2021, other confounding factors may act to reduce this impact.

There are always competing forces at work in the atmosphere. Few people noticed the sudden stratospheric warming of January 2019 for example, which had little impact on the European winter. In that instance, there was a westerly influence on the North Atlantic winds, which originated in the tropics. This may have acted to oppose any stratospheric effect favouring easterly winds. In 2021, the battle is between the stratospheric warming and La Niña.

Sudden stratospheric warming events are a natural atmospheric fluctuation, not caused by climate change. So even with climate change, these events will still occur, which means that we need to be adaptable to an even more extreme range of temperatures.

———————————

This blog is written by Cabot Institute member Dr Richard Hall, Research Associate, Climate Dynamics Group, University of Bristol. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Dr Richard Hall

Frozen Empires revisited

Posted on February 1, 2021March 30, 2023 by janet.crompton

Image taken from the front cover of Adrian Howkin’s book – Frozen Empires

The recent release of the paperback edition of Frozen Empires: An Environmental History of the Antarctic Peninsula, offers an opportunity to revisit the arguments I made in this book and reflect on how it continues to shape my work in Antarctica and thinking about environmental history. The book sets out to frame the mid-twentieth century Antarctic sovereignty dispute among Argentina, Britain, and Chile as an environmental history of decolonization. Through a strategy I refer to as asserting ‘environmental authority’, Britain used the performance of scientific research and the production of useful knowledge to support its imperial claims to the region as a territory known as the ‘Falkland Islands Dependencies’. Argentina and Chile both contested Britain’s claim, and put forward their own assertations to sovereignty based on a sense that this was their environment as a result of proximity, geological contiguity, and shared climate and ecosystems. In the contest between British assertions of environmental authority and Argentine and Chilean ‘environmental nationalism’ it was the imperial, scientific vision of the environment that largely won out. There was no genuine decolonization of the Antarctic Peninsula region, or the Antarctic continent more generally. Instead, the 1959 Antarctic Treaty, which remains in force today, retains pre-existing sovereignty claims in a state of suspended animation (‘frozen’ in the pun of the treaty negotiators) and perpetuates the close connection between science and politics across the Antarctic Continent.

Much of my work since researching and writing Frozen Empires has focused on the history of the McMurdo Dry Valleys on the opposite side of the Antarctic continent. I am a co-PI on a US National Science Foundation funded Long Term Ecological Research (LTER) project, collaborating with scientists to ask how historical research might inform our understanding of this unique place. The McMurdo Dry Valleys are the largest predominantly ice-free region of Antarctica and since the late 1950s have become an important site of Antarctic science. Geologists are attracted to the Dry Valleys by the exposed rock, geomorphologists by the opportunity to study the glaciological history of the continent, and ecologists by the presence of microscopic ecosystems. The close connection between politics and science that I identified in the Antarctic Peninsula is also applicable to the history of the McMurdo Dry Valleys. The two most active countries in the region, New Zealand and the United States, can both be seen as making assertions of environmental authority to support their political position. A major difference is that now I find myself on the inside of this system, working with scientists to help produce the ‘useful information’ that is being used for political purposes.

Working as more of an insider in a system I critiqued in Frozen Empires raises a number of awkward questions. Can I retain a critical distance? Am I contributing to the perpetuation of an unequal system? What might the decolonization of Antarctic research look like? These questions are not easy to answer. Not infrequently I find myself looking back on the lack of inhibition I felt while researching and writing Frozen Empires and wishing for something similar in my current research. Academic collaboration by definition leads to entanglements, and these entanglements increase complexity. It is much easier, for example, to write critically about the imperial history of Antarctica than to convince scientific colleagues that this imperial history continues to have an impact on contemporary scientific research.

But for all the messiness and difficulties involved in collaboration, there are also tremendous opportunities. I have learned a lot about how science gets done through working with the McMurdo Dry Valleys LTER site, and I have learned about working as part of an academic team. Place-based studies offers an ideal opportunity for interdisciplinary research, and I think it is vital to have humanities perspectives represented in these collaborations. It takes time – often more time than expected – for effective collaborations to develop, and this process involves a significant degree of mutual learning. Researching and writing Frozen Empires fundamentally shaped what I bring to the table as an environmental historian in the McMurdo Dry Valleys project, and I remain convinced by its argument for imperial continuity. But the process of engaging in collaborative research has unsettled at least some of my earlier positions, and the book I’m writing on the history of the McMurdo Dry Valleys will likely be quite different to Frozen Empires.

—————————————-

This blog is written by Cabot Institute member Dr Adrian Howkins, Reader in Environmental History, University of Bristol.

It has been reposted with kind permission from the Bristol Centre for Environmental Humanities. View the original blog.

Greenland is melting: we need to worry about what’s happening on the largest island in the world

Posted on November 30, 2020April 4, 2023 by janet.crompton

Greenland is the largest island in the world and on it rests the largest ice mass in the Northern Hemisphere. If all that ice melted, the sea would rise by more than 7 metres.

But that’s not going to happen is it? Well not any time soon, but understanding how much of the ice sheet might melt over the coming century is a critical and urgent question that scientists are trying to tackle using sophisticated numerical models of how the ice sheet interacts with the rest of the climate system. The problem is that the models aren’t that good at reproducing recent observations and are limited by our poor knowledge of the detailed topography of the subglacial terrain and fjords, which the ice flows over and in to.

One way around this problem is to see how the ice sheet responded to changes in climate in the past and compare that with model projections for the future for similar changes in temperature. That is exactly what colleagues and I did in a new study now published in the journal Nature Communications.

We looked at the three largest glaciers in Greenland and used historical aerial photographs combined with measurements scientists had taken directly over the years, to reconstruct how the volume of these glaciers had changed over the period 1880 to 2012. The approach is founded on the idea that the past can help inform the future, not just in science but in all aspects of life. But just like other “classes” of history, the climate and the Earth system in future won’t be a carbon copy of the past. Nonetheless, if we figure out exactly how sensitive the ice sheet has been to temperature changes over the past century, that can provide a useful guide to how it will respond over the next century.

A man walks over grassy land with glacier in background — Greenland’s glaciers contain around 8% of the world’s fresh water.
Jonathan Bamber, Author provided

We found that the three largest glaciers were responsible for 8.1mm of sea level rise, about 15% of the whole ice sheet’s contribution. Over the period of our study the sea globally has risen by around 20cm, about the height of an A5 booklet, and of that, about a finger’s width is entirely thanks to ice melting from those three Greenland glaciers.

Melting As Usual

So what does that tell us about the future behaviour of the ice sheet? In 2013, a modelling study by Faezeh Nick and colleagues also looked at the same “big three” glaciers (Jakobshavn Isbrae in the west of the island and Helheim and Kangerlussuaq in the east) and projected how they would respond in different future climate scenarios. The most extreme of these scenarios is called RCP8.5 and assumes that economic growth will continue unabated through the 21st century, resulting in a global mean warming of about 3.7˚C above today’s temperatures (about 4.8˚C above pre-industrial or since 1850).

This scenario has sometimes been referred to as Business As Usual (BAU) and there is an active debate among climate researchers regarding how plausible RCP8.5 is. It’s interesting to note, however, that, according to a recent study from a group of US scientists it may be the most appropriate scenario up to at least 2050. Because of something called polar amplification the Arctic will likely heat up by more than double the global average, with the climate models indicating around 8.3˚C warming over Greenland in the most extreme scenario, RCP8.5.

Despite this dramatic and terrifying hike in temperature Faezeh’s modelling study projected that the “big three” would contribute between 9 and 15 mm to sea level rise by 2100, only slightly more than what we obtained from a 1.5˚C warming over the 20th century. How can that be? Our conclusion is that the models are at fault, even including the latest and most sophisticated available which are being used to assess how the whole ice sheet will respond to the next century of climate change. These models appear to have a relatively weak link between climate change and ice melt, when our results suggest it is much stronger. Projections based on these models are therefore likely to under-predict how much the ice sheet will be affected. Other lines of evidence support this conclusion.

What does all of that mean? If we do continue along that very scary RCP8.5 trajectory of increasing greenhouse gas emissions, the Greenland ice sheet is very likely to start melting at rates that we haven’t seen for at least 130,000 years, with dire consequences for sea level and the many millions of people who live in low lying coastal zones.

————————–

This blog is written by Cabot Institute member Jonathan Bamber, Professor of Physical Geography, University of Bristol. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Professor Jonathan Bamber

Arctic Ocean: why winter sea ice has stalled, and what it means for the rest of the world

Posted on October 27, 2020April 16, 2023 by janet.crompton

Ice floes in the Laptev Sea, Russia.
Olenyok/Shutterstock

Arctic sea ice plays a crucial role in the Earth’s energy balance. It is covered for most of the year by snow, which is the brightest natural surface on the planet, reflecting about 80% of the solar radiation that hits it back out to space.

Meanwhile, the ocean it floats on is the darkest natural surface on the planet, absorbing 90% of incident solar radiation. For that reason, changes in sea ice cover have a big impact on how much sunlight the planet absorbs, and how fast it warms up.

Each year a thin layer of the Arctic Ocean freezes over, forming sea ice. In spring and summer this melts back again, but some of the sea ice survives through the summer and is known as multi-year ice. It’s thicker and more resilient than the sea ice that forms and melts each year, but as the Arctic climate warms – at a rate more than twice that of the rest of the world – this multi-year ice is under threat.

In the last 40 years, multi-year ice has shrunk by about half. At some time in the next few decades, scientists expect the world will see an ice-free Arctic Ocean throughout the summer, with worrying consequences for the rest of the climate system. That prospect got much closer in 2020, due in part to the exceptional summer heatwave that roiled the Russian Arctic.

Shutting down the sea ice factory

The oceans have a large thermal capacity, which means they can store huge amounts of heat. In fact, the top metre of the oceans has about the same thermal capacity as the whole of the atmosphere. Many of us have experienced a balmy afternoon in autumn by the coast even though the air temperature inland is only a few degrees above freezing. That’s because the oceans accumulate heat slowly over the summer, releasing it equally slowly during winter.

So it is with the Laptev Sea, lying north of the Siberian coast. This part of the Arctic Ocean is usually a factory for new sea ice in autumn and winter as air temperatures dip below zero and surface water starts to freeze. That new ice is carried westward by persistent offshore winds in a kind of conveyor belt.

A map of the Laptev Sea with an inset world map.

The Laptev Sea lies off the coast of northern Siberia.
NormanEinstein/Wikipedia, CC BY-SA

This process is powered by the formation of polynyas: areas of open water surrounded by sea ice. Polynas act as engines of new sea ice production by exchanging heat with the colder atmosphere, causing the water to freeze. But if there is no sea ice to start with, the polynya cannot form and the whole process shuts down.

Sea ice in the Laptev Sea reached a record low in 2020, with no new ice through October, later than any previous year in the satellite record. The exceptional summer heatwave across Siberia will have resulted in heat accumulating in the adjacent ocean, which is now delaying the regrowth of sea ice.

Laptev Sea (#Arctic) ice watch —> 😅 pic.twitter.com/O0q6M74Xs4

— Zack Labe (@ZLabe) October 14, 2020

In the 1980s, there was as much as 600,000 square kilometres of multi-year ice covering around two thirds of the Laptev Sea. In 2020, it has been ice-free for months with no multi-year ice left at all. The whole Arctic Ocean is heading for ice-free conditions in the future, defined as less than one million square kilometres of ice cover. That’s down from about 8 million square kilometres just 40 years ago. This year’s new record delay in ice formation in the Laptev Sea takes it a step closer.

A rapidly changing Arctic is a global cause for concern. Thawing permafrost releases methane, a greenhouse gas that is about 84 times more potent than CO₂ when measured over 20 years.

Meanwhile, the Greenland Ice Sheet, the largest ice mass in the northern hemisphere, is currently contributing more to sea levels rising than any other source, and has enough ice in it to raise global sea level by 7.4 metres. And if the machinations of a warming Arctic still seem remote, evidence suggests that even the weather across much of the northern hemisphere is heavily influenced by what happens in the rapidly changing roof of the world.

————————————-

Jonathan Bamber

Siberia heatwave: why the Arctic is warming so much faster than the rest of the world

Posted on June 29, 2020March 31, 2023 by janet.crompton

Smoke from wildfires cloaks the skies over Siberia, June 23 2020.
EPA-EFE/NASA

On the eve of the summer solstice, something very worrying happened in the Arctic Circle. For the first time in recorded history, temperatures reached 38°C (101°F) in a remote Siberian town – 18°C warmer than the maximum daily average for June in this part of the world, and the all-time temperature record for the region.

New records are being set every year, and not just for maximum temperatures, but for melting ice and wildfires too. That’s because air temperatures across the Arctic have been increasing at a rate that is about twice the global average.

All that heat has consequences. Siberia’s recent heatwave, and high summer temperatures in previous years, have been accelerating the melting of Arctic permafrost. This is the permanently frozen ground which has a thin surface layer that melts and refreezes each year. As temperatures rise, the surface layer gets deeper and structures embedded in it start to fail as the ground beneath them expands and contracts. This is what is partly to blame for the catastrophic oil spill that occurred in Siberia in June 2020, when a fuel reservoir collapsed and released more than 21,000 tonnes of fuel – the largest ever spill in the Arctic.

So what is wrong with the Arctic, and why does climate change here seem so much more severe compared to the rest of the world?

The warming models predicted

Scientists have developed models of the global climate system, called general circulation models, or GCMs for short, that reproduce the major patterns seen in weather observations. This helps us track and predict the behaviour of climate phenomena such as the Indian monsoon, El Niño, Southern Oscillations and ocean circulation such as the gulf stream.

GCMs have been used to project changes to the climate in a world with more atmospheric CO₂ since the 1990s. A common feature of these models is an effect called polar amplification. This is where warming is intensified in the polar regions and especially in the Arctic. The amplification can be between two and two and a half, meaning that for every degree of global warming, the Arctic will see double or more. This is a robust feature of our climate models, but why does it happen?

Fresh snow is the brightest natural surface on the planet. It has an albedo of about 0.85, which means that 85% of solar radiation falling on it is reflected back out to space. The ocean is the opposite – it’s the darkest natural surface on the planet and reflects just 10% of radiation (it has an albedo of 0.1). In winter, the Arctic Ocean, which covers the North Pole, is covered in sea ice and that sea ice has an insulating layer of snow on it. It’s like a huge, bright thermal blanket protecting the dark ocean underneath. As temperatures rise in spring, sea ice melts, exposing the dark ocean underneath, which absorbs even more solar radiation, increasing warming of the region, which melts even more ice. This is a positive feedback loop which is often referred to as the ice-albedo feedback mechanism.

Melting Arctic sea ice is increasing warming in the region.
Jonathan Bamber, Author provided

This ice-albedo (really snow-albedo) feedback is particular potent in the Arctic because the Arctic Ocean is almost landlocked by Eurasia and North America, and it’s less easy (compared to the Antarctic) for ocean currents to move the sea ice around and out of the region. As a result, sea ice that stays in the Arctic for longer than a year has been declining at a rate of about 13% per decade since satellite records began in the late 1970s.

In fact, there is evidence to indicate that sea ice extent has not been this low for at least the last 1,500 years. Extreme melt events over the Greenland Ice Sheet, that used to occur once in every 150 years, have been seen in 2012 and now 2019. Ice core data shows that the enhanced surface melting on the ice sheet over the past decade is unprecedented over the past three and a half centuries and potentially over the past 7,000 years.

In other words, the record-breaking temperatures seen this summer in the Arctic are not a “one-off”. They are part of a long-term trend that was predicted by climate models decades ago. Today, we’re seeing the results, with permafrost thaw and sea ice and ice sheet melting. The Arctic has sometimes been described as the canary in the coal mine for climate breakdown. Well it’s singing pretty loudly right now and it will get louder and louder in years to come.

——————————-
This blog is written by Cabot Institute member Jonathan Bamber, Professor of Physical Geography, University of Bristol. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Professor Jonathan Bamber

Antarctica: Looking back

Posted on May 11, 2019April 13, 2023 by janet.crompton

Back on dry land after seven-and-a-half weeks at sea, the sights of the Southern Ocean are already drifting from my mind into the whirlwind of modern life. The threats of land-sickness never materialised and the taste of fresh fruit and vegetables is everything I hoped it would be. Reflecting on a research cruise is not dissimilar to reflecting on a PhD.

“We only remember half”

Looking back can be a glorious thing. We all know the benefits that hindsight can bring. There are few things in our lives we couldn’t improve, whether they be things we said, research we carried out or ideas we had, if we got but one trial run at everything first. But looking back also gives the past a magical quality. The vividness of a blue sky intensifies, the significance of a rare sight swells and all the hardships are suppressed into one dense ball that our mind tries not to remember. The retelling of tales reconsolidates the good memories at the expense of the bad.

Of course this isn’t always the case and, if we really take the time, all of the gory details can be unpacked. I’m reading an amazing book at the moment, The Worst Journey in the World by Apsley Cherry-Garrard, that gives the most warts-and-all description of early Antarctic exploration. His descriptions are detailed, his wit hilarious and his tale harrowing. He is one of three who dragged two sleds to an emperor penguin colony in the heart of the Antarctic winter, being physically frozen into their clothes, losing their tent to a blizzard and of course getting plenty of frostbite. They did this just to collect three penguin eggs for science, as they hoped the embryos could be used to shed light on the evolutionary history of these creatures, which they believed were more primitive than other birds. The following year several of his closest friends died on the return leg of making it to the South Pole with Scott and he had to help recover their bodies.

Needless to say, Apsley didn’t have the greatest time in Antarctica, but still he writes:

Whatever merit there may be in going to the Antarctic, once there you must not credit yourself for being there. To spend a year in the hut at Cape Evans because you explore is no more laudable than to spend a month at Davos because you have consumption … It is just the most comfortable thing and the easiest thing to do under the circumstances.

This book is a definitive grim account of fieldwork and I really had nothing to complain about during our research cruise. To rephrase Apsley:

The [James Clark Ross], as [ships] go, was as palatial as is the Ritz, as hotels go.

A few nods towards monotony in work and some bad nights’ sleep in the previous blog articles in this series are all the negative memories I need to keep, otherwise the rest can go down for the record as one of the most interesting experiences of my PhD.

Southern Ocean Bridgeman Island Bridgeman Island off the Antarctic Peninsula. The sea was a bit choppy that day, but nothing too major to complain about.

Questions remain

I have just completed my PhD viva and, pending some minor corrections to my thesis, I have drawn a line under a four-and-a-half-year period of my life. During that time, most of my intellectual energy has gone into trying to understand what Antarctica was like in the past. Despite having been situated more or less in the same position over the South Pole for over 100 million years, this continent twice the size of Australia hasn’t always been the cold, inhospitable place that Apsley and co. experienced so brutally.

Fossils found on the few exposed outcrops of rock around the coast of the continent, on the sub-Antarctic islands and in the Transantarctic mountain range that cuts across between the Weddell and Ross Seas, show that up until relatively recently, diverse vegetation lived on this continent. (By relatively recently, I mean up until potentially 5 million years ago or so.) Definitely up until the end of the Eocene (the period I researched), much of the continent is believed to have been ice free.

The past environment of the Earth can be reconstructed using all sorts of complex chemistry and dating of past rocks and sediments, but the simplest and sometimes most compelling evidence can be those geological indicators that can be seen with the naked eye. Fossilised leaves, branches and seed pods from a variety of Southern Beech, most similar to modern Nothofagus Antarctica, show quite clearly what kind of ecosystem used to exist.

Nothofagus Antarctica and the Magellanic Forest, Southern Chile: a window into the past environment of Antarctica?

Nothofagus Antarctica and the Magellanic Forest, Southern Chile: a window into the past environment of Antarctica?

Today, Southern Beech forests can be found in Patagonia and other high latitude regions of the Southern Hemisphere. On our one day off we had in Punta Arenas before we set sail, I went with the other researchers from Exeter up into the Magellanic Forest Park just outside the town. As we walked through this ancient forest, snarled up in Old Man’s Beard lichen, with birds singing on a warm, sunny autumn day, I had to think ‘So this is what I (and lots of other people) have said Antarctica might have been like 34 million years ago?’

My research uses climate models to try to understand the processes that could explain the geological evidence of past climate. While there are some things they can help us understand reasonably well, there are other aspects of the Earth system that still remain difficult to explain, even after decades of research. How could the Earth remain warm enough to sustain forests over Antarctica and not freeze up? That is one such question which I can’t definitively answer.

My PhD research also focussed a lot on the importance of deep water formation on the regional temperatures in the Southern Ocean around the end of the Eocene. There could be little fieldwork more relevant therefore than going to try to understand deep water formation occurring around Antarctica today. Through conversations with researchers from all over the UK and beyond on the many long days of the cruise, I got an insight into the uncertainties that still exist in understanding this process today. Compared to the observational data we collected on our cruise, I looked at how the climate model we use compares in how it recreates the present day ocean. While there are some realistic elements, there are also some important differences which have planted future research questions in my brain. If these are the uncertainties in the model for the present day, how uncertain might my simulations of the ancient world be?

Crabeater seal in Antarctic pack ice. Understanding deep water formation remains challenging, in part because of how extreme the environment is.

Terra Australis Incognita

Looking back isn’t always easy. The deeper back in time we try to look, the harder it becomes to find data and to synthesise it with our knowledge of how the Earth and its oceans, atmosphere and biology work. In writing my PhD thesis, I had to come to terms with not knowing all of the answers. There are many, many questions that are too big and too complex to solve even with years of effort and 50,000 words. Stepping onto the James Clark Ross reminded me of that fact like a blast of 40 knot southerly Antarctic air to the face.

In the 17th Century, cartographers grappled with their limited understanding of this world, putting together the pieces of information they had and using artistic license to fill in the unmapped gaps that explorers had yet to reach. This map by Blaeu includes the Terra Australis Incognita, or ‘Unknown Southern Land’. While modern science would generally not approve of such guess work, exploring the history of the Earth system is a similar step into the unknown, with geologists, palaeoceanographers and palaeoclimatologists having to build the picture around what limited information they have.

A section of map by Blaeu (1645-1646), showing the as yet uncharted and hence imagined Terra Australis Incognita. Image courtesy of Special Collections, University of Bristol Library.

From 1646, when Blaeu’s map was published, it was a further 174 years before the first humans saw the Antarctic continent. Now, nearly 200 years on from that first sighting, the Unknown Southern Land still holds many secrets.

Still, looking back also shows how far we have come: a pleasant relief from thinking how far we have yet to go. We know so much more about Antarctica today than we ever have. Unfortunately, with hindsight, Apsley and co.’s journey to find emperor penguin eggs in the middle of winter was a relatively fruitless exercise as the hypothesis they were collecting the eggs to test has since been proven wrong: emperor penguins are actually very specialised and highly evolved birds, not primitive or reptile-like.

Should we give up because we might never know the answers or we might be going down a blind alley? I don’t think so. I’ll give the last words to Apsley, as he really, really earned them.

The question constantly put to us in civilization was and still is: ‘What is the use? Is there gold? Or is there coal? … The members of this expedition believed that it was worthwhile to discover new land and new life, to reach the Southern Pole of the Earth, to make elaborate meteorological and magnetic observations and extended geological surveys … They were prepared to suffer great hardship; and some of them died for their beliefs. …We travelled for science … in order that the world may have a little more knowledge, that it may build on what it knows instead of on what it thinks.

Apsley Cherry-Garrard in The Worst Journey in the World

———————————–

This blog is part of a blog series from Antarctica by Alan Kennedy-Asser, who has recently completed his PhD at the University of Bristol. This blog has been republished with kind permission from Alan. View the original blog. You can follow Alan on Twitter @EzekielBoom.

Alan Kennedy-Asser

Read part one of Alan’s Antarctica blog series – Antarctica: Ship life
Read part two of Alan’s Antarctica blog series – Antarctica: Why are we here again?
Read part three of Alan’s Antarcica blog series: Antarctica: Looking back